#i had a massive headache while drawing this

[shockmagnum]

What do you think of tundra man?

[kyonshi-8610]

サニー坊っちゃん

(なんか未完成。もう諦めたよ)

[lionheartapothecaryx]

PROTECT YOUR NECK ! Lyonessa’s Speedy Tutorial for Sharp Shootin

Protection, Uncrossing & Curse Freezin in a Traditional Hoodoo style.

A good practitioner eventually has the good common sense to be diplomatic and avoid a witch war. Avoiding drama, means avoiding headaches. It’s easy until it isn’t. Smoothing sailing isn’t always a guarantee in this world. Stay vigilant and well prepared.

Knowing how to protect, defend, uncross and cleanse yourself is a basic but crucial part of the Hoodoo practitioners spiritual hygiene.

Now this is a quick basic tutorial, to set you straight and keep you right.

⚔️ - KEEP YOUR HEAD SHARP & CULTIVATE COMMON SENSE

Hot heads, I’m talking to you. Emotional self control can save you from the stress of unnecessary witch battles with other practitioners. Be respectful, be mindful but take no shit. Try your best to avoid witch wars with other practitioners. I’ve seen these things be drawn out for years and it’s a huge colossal drain of energy and finances, usually over something very petty. Usually the person with most financial backing and resources wins but I’ve also seen clever maneuvering outweigh more powerful players.

It’s so easy to get caught up in drama in the spiritual community and have it spiral out of control. As your developing relationships, try to avoid warring and argumentative personality types so you don’t get caught in their crossfire. Committing all of your energy to constantly defending yourself from petty attacks is a waste of your energy. Cultivate social discernment & wisdom. This is not an invitation to live fearfully but smart. This is also something that takes time and practice.

On the other side of the spectrum, as you gain experience do your best to not become mad with power & trigger happy.

Constantly throwing jinxes, hexes or curses takes it’s toll mentally, energetically & physically, in some cases it can cause serious physical health problems further down the line. Don’t develop a god-complex. Stay grounded. Now I can’t tell you where to draw the line in the sand when it comes to certain situations, because every practitioner has their own code of ethics.

I’ll use myself as an example. On my spiritual journey I’ve acquired and invested in vast amounts knowledge and other resources which have made my defensive and offensive skills pretty extensive. Some of the things, rituals, and spirits that I have access to would be overkill depending on the circumstances. Coming into a massive powerful spiritual inheritance so early was hard.

I had to learn by trial and error to be more respectful of my own power. I was an overpowered baby witch shooting lightning bolts, while burning my own hands. Learning to practice emotional regulation allowed me to hone my skills better. I had to do shadow work and confront my traumas.

Cultivating a respectful working relationship between yourself, your own power and your emotions can save your life.

⚔️ - PRACTICE GOOD OFFENSE

A good practitioner will use various methods of divination to spiritually strategize before moving to attack. Attacking blindly without any knowledge, can cause all sorts of problems, especially if you’re dealing with someone who has strong spiritual or ancestral protections or a higher rank then you, worst case scenario you’re going up against a coven.

Excellent offense means doing recon. Good Reconnaisance skills means gathering information about your target, through various means of surveillance. Gather as much information about your enemies or targets resources, spiritual force or power, protection and activities. You should approach this like a military operation. Once you’ve got enough information, then you can strategize, prepare and do divination on what your next move should be.

This isn’t always easy either, depending on the skill of your target. People can cloak, shape-shift, even have guardian or monitoring spirits or ancestors to alert them. When in doubt, always use stealth. Always make sure to cloak and protect yourself when surveilling your target. It’s the most practical form of offensive protection. I’ve seen practitioners attack folks just for doing surveillance. Don’t get caught out here lacking, put on your damn armor.

All Power is intoxicating and life altering. Without self control you can seriously injure yourself and others. Ego often makes many people in this community think they are invincible, until they get humbled, tale as old as time. Respect your powers & yourself. Cultivate self control & discipline. Resist wild impulse. Build habits that protect you in the future.

Our plant allies are crucial to our practice and connection to spirit and the earth.

ASSORTED TOOLS & HERBARIUM

🌿 Mint- protection, cleansing, mental clarity refreshing, brings vitality and a fresh start. This herb is perfect for regular cleansing or removing negative energy, hexes, evil or crossed conditions

🌿 Angelica Root - strength, protection, warding off evil, safety, creates a happy home. This incredible ally is associated with Archangel Michael and said to be blessed by him in angelic lore.

🌿 Lemon Grass - clears out negative stagnant energy, breaks blockages, rejuvenates and brings positive vitality, breaks curses, uncrossing.

🌿 King Solomon’s Root - Protection, Wisdom, Wards off All Evil & Negativity

🌿 Red Brick Dust - creates an protective energetic shield around your spiritual and physical being.

🌿 White, Black, Sea or Kosher Salt - Cleansing, Purifying, Protective

🌿Rosemary - Cleansing, Purifying, Stabilizing, Protective

🌿 Camphor - Cleansing, Purifying, Protective, Wards off Chaos, Negativity, Evil Spirits, Hex Breaking

🌿 Cayenne Pepper - Speedy, Fiery Protection, Cursing, Hexing, Jinxing

Redbrick dust, Solomon & Angelica Root can be sprinkled along your widows or the four corners of the house to create a protective house space. This same blend can be mixed with holy water, an a petition and frozen as a defensive protective ward to temporarily freeze the effects of a curse, until you can remove it. This same mix can be used in a bowl, outside the freezer as regular defensive ward from any potential threats.

Lemongrass and mint can be used to make a cleansing spiritual bath to remove jinxes, crossed conditions and break blockages, while rejuvenating your spiritual energy. Angelica Root can be added to this bath for extra protective effect.

These herbs can also be used in candle magick, mojos, poppets and more.

Traditionally our Elders used beeswax, oil lamps, bonfires or cookpits, utilizing whatever the resources available, to conduct pyromancy. Color correspondence was utilized in other ways, with herbs, scarves & many other things but can also be used with candles etc

COLOR MAGICK

🕯White & Blue - cleansing, healing, purification, innocence

🕯Purple - increased power, strength, protective, the mind, wisdom, spirit

🕯Red - increased energy, protective, offensive attacks

🕯Black - energy removal, protection, reversals, hex breaking

It’s important when practicing candle magick to practice fire safety.

Place all glass & tin candles on plates, pans, aluminum foil or fire safe surfaces to prevent damage, burn marks or wax on surfaces, like wood and linoleum.

Never leave candles unattended for long periods of time or overnight without attendance, remove nearby flammable hazards, hanging debris + keep a wick & fire extinguisher on standby.

⚔️ - PROTECTION, UNCROSSING & CURSE FREEZING TIPS

- Salt & Lemongrass, on a black candle can assist with uncrossing and cleansing yourself from negativity or hexes

- Cayenne, Angelica & Brick Dust on a black candle can create a decent protection spell.

- Cayenne, Rosemary, Mint & Angelica Root on a blue candle can assist with protected healing, quick recovery and rejuvenation especially when one is under attack, or restoring their energy.

- Holy Water, King Solomon Root & Red Brick Dust Boiled and prayed over, bottled & frozen in the refrigerator can freeze or slow down the effects of a hex or curse, without alerting the magician, it’s also an effective ward against curses and hexes.

- Bathing in Solomon Root, Rosemary & Mint regularly assists with good spiritual hygiene cultivating a protected aura and promoting spiritual health & wisdom, cleansing out negativity or gunk, purifying and stabilizing your soul.

- Solomon Root, Mint & Rosemary on a purple candle, cleanse and protect your mind from chaos psychosis & confusion, an give you protected mental clarity and inner stability. This is handy for curses, jinxes that are designed to make you go crazy.

- Four Red Bricks, with Psalms 91:3-4 written in sharpie, washed in holy water, placed in the four corners of your property creates a spiritual hedge of protection for you & your home against violence, evil and chaos.

- Rosemary Plants Potted are natural spiritual wards of protection, stability and purification and are great herbal ally, to have planted in your garden or keep in your home. You can tag lock these plant to alert you of any curses or hexes, sent your way & they will naturally filter and cleanse the energy of your space.

- A mirror washed in holy water & smoked cleansed with solomon root, angelica, mint and rosemary, can be commanded to be spiritually locked & sealed with Psalms 147: 13.

⚔️⚔️⚔️

Hopefully this speedy guide, has been ultra helpful for y’all. This is just a quick guide to wet your whistle and provide a good foundation of protective magical knowledge. As you grow in experience and power, your skill set and knowledge, about protective magic will grow even more.

Be smart. Be strategic. Don’t be a dumbass

xxx

Lyonessa Hart.

[cultofdixon]

Only for You

Daryl Dixon • They/Them Pronouns • You’ve always found little trinkets and goodies on your runs by yourself or with others. Everyone noticed you only gifted to one certain archer…when will you just tell him how much you appreciate him? • SFW/Smol Angst • TW: Anxiety / Injuries / Canon Violence

Requested by: Anon

“Daryl!”

The archer turns toward the voice he could listen to forever watching them run over to him just in time before he left to hunt. Y/N smiles handing him two acorns that were attached together by their hats.

“Cool right?”

“Right” Daryl smiles at them holding the gift as they made their way back to the rest of the camp. Why is my heart beating so fast?

•

Daryl couldn’t help the angry tears from flowing when he went to his tent for a moment. A moment to take in that his brother, his only family, was left behind chained to a roof. He flinched to the sound of someone tapping his tent, thinking it was a walker given his tent is out of bounds with the rest of them.

The archer quickly opened it about to plunge his knife into the stranger only to hesitate and relax seeing Y/N.

“Sorry”

“It’s okay, I uh. should’ve known better” Y/N laughs nervously holding a ball of some sorts in their grasp before handing it to him. “Just thought you’d like something to squeeze instead of bashing the new guy’s face in”

“Thanks…” Daryl investigated the item seeing the smile on the yellow ball as he was about to ask Y/N where they found it but they had already went back.

•

When the herd broke through and he wasn’t there to begin with, Daryl’s anxiety for the best of him and the pounding in his ears turned into ringing as he draws closer.

“Watch out!”

Daryl quickly turns around to find the walker approaching him but before he could take it out, a bullet shot past going straight through his head. Making the archer quickly whip around spotting Y/N with their rifle.

“Thank fuck” He approaches them checking their person as they followed his wondering eyes before pressing their hand against his chest.

“I’m fine. Did you find Merle?”

“No, but it’s whatever. He’ll turn up one way or another…” He frowns as his eyes scanned their person once more while they went into their pack real quick. “What are you doing?”

“Found something, wanted to give it to you but clearly we were in a pickle” Y/N states pulling out rock but it wasn’t a plain rock, a shiny one. “Thought you’d like it”

Part of him wanted to question “why a rock” but another made him laugh softly. He took the gift happily feeling how smooth it was and this small moment made him forget about the pain he was feeling about his brother. Made him feel a little better.

When the group decided to head toward the CDC, Daryl packed up his brother’s bike in the truck watching Y/N help the kids get situated before looking around. He jumped at the opportunity and whistled for their attention gesturing to the free seat in his truck.

Now why is my heart beating fast again Daryl thought as the corner of his lips twitch up when they smiled in his direction making their way over taking him up on the offer.

•

The drunken archer stumbled into the room he was sharing with the other single in the group which happened to be Y/N as he noticed them folding something in their lap. His attention was instantly grabbed as he brought himself to sit on the floor resting his head on the couch watching what they were doing in their lap.

“What is that?”

“Origami, I used to do it a lot as a hobby”

“What’s the shape?”

“I made a swan already. Trying to see if I can make a fawn”

“Deer?” Daryl knows what a fawn was, his drink self just wanted to be reassured as Y/N nods.

When the morning came, Daryl woke with a massive headache turning toward his stuff to find a bottle of aspirin and an origami deer that looked like it’s seen better days. But it still got a smile out of the man.

•

Sophia is missing

Carl got shot

Nothing more could go wrong right?

Well.

My fucking head hurts Daryl sighs curling up a bit more in the bed, instinctively covering his body when he heard the door open.

“How are you feeling?” Carol asks while she sets down the tray with his dinner.

“As good as I look…”

“Brought you some dinner…you must be starving” Carol frowns worried for the man that had risked his life to search for her daughter. She leans over to him kissing his temple as a thanks.

“Watch out I got stitches…”

“You need to know something…” Carol waited till the archer looked directly at her. “You did more for my little girl today than her own daddy ever did in his whole life”

“I…I didn’t do anything Rick or Shane wouldn’t have done” He says rolling back over.

“I know” Carol shot him a smile. “You’re every bit as good as them…every bit” and with that she took her leave.

What she said resinated with him, there’s good in him after everything. Once he heard the door click close, Daryl slowly sat up turning toward the food and finding a little trinket on the tray. It looked like one of those monopoly pieces. The ones you play as. But it was a bike. Nothing close to the one he’s got but close enough to have meaning behind it.

Daryl knows it came from them and part of him started to feel better.

•

The months before the prison were cold, stressful, and extremely quiet at times. Rick rose as a leader, naturally. Daryl and Glenn sort of became right hands. Meaning they were always doing what Rick asked for the most part, like leaving the group to hunt or gather in near by houses. The group has been moving a lot since the farm fire.

“Take Maggie and Y/N, Glenn. More hands to carry things” Rick states watching the three bug out as Daryl kept close to the window watching go more into the neighborhood. “Daryl. Let’s go hunting”

“Doubt we’ll get anythin’ good before the winter comes in”

“We’ll get what we can and start eating up some of the cans”

“Like goats?” Daryl jokes knowing what the retired sheriff meant even if he did groan to the response.

Once the two returned they were met with the group organizing a buttload of cans that the three found—-more so Y/N found. There was a house that had a basement, the previous tenants seem to be doomsday preppers. Guess they didn’t live long enough to see an actual form of doomsday.

“Well done” Rick smiles patting Y/N on the back as they handed Lori one of the coats they found that would keep her and the baby extra warm for the winter storm approaching. “We’re thinking of stayin’ put for the winter. So we gotta start barricading in case of any sickos walking through the neighborhood”

It was easier than expected given they were held up in a one-story at the moment. Everybody kept in the living room and dining room for the most part. Hershel did inventory on their food supply while they were held up for the winter just so they could prepare for any shortage. Not likely to happen since Rick gives 2/3rds his portion to Lori and Carl, Hershel did the same with his daughters. They were naturally rationing while the others didn’t finish their meal in a day, tried to keep it lasting for a few.

Daryl kept watch by one of the windows they nailed a few planks to, courtesy of the previous residence’s tool box and dining room table he took apart. He would also glance every now and then to Y/N as they were fiddling with something in their hands. His curiosity almost got the best of him if it weren’t for them getting up and approaching the archer.

They didn’t say anything this time and gave him what looked to be a can opener but in the shape of a beaver and the piercing part was the tail. Weird souvenirs  people would buy. He thought but his smile gave him away that he liked it.

•

The Governor was…a character. We didn’t need to suffer the way that we did before getting the safety that we wanted. The infusion of the new people was quick and awkward having so many strangers. But in order to reach this point…we lost a lot. T-Dog…Lori…and hell, Merle. He was an ass until the very end where he did one good thing for most he thought didn’t deserve it.

So one would think…he did it for him.

Daryl kept to himself since finding out what his brother did and that he had to take him out. He sat outside on one of the benches that wasn’t destroyed by the end of the world.

“Hey”

He looks up to find Y/N carrying something as he thought one of their usual trinkets to gift him. And they did have something but their worry-filled expression said something else.

“Yea need somethin?”

“Uh. You. In a sense…”

The archer scooted over for them to sit beside him. They handed him a picture which wasn’t a trinket or something shiny. Literally the oddest one out of everything Y/N has given him.

“Don’t get mad”

“…where did you find this”

“On Merle. The others may have not wanted him to be buried with T-Dog and Lori but uh. Let’s just keep it between us who the third plot was” Y/N states which lead to Daryl looking up in the direction of where the graves were now knowing who was in the mysterious third one that appeared that night.

The picture found on Merle was an old one of him and Daryl when they were kids.

Daryl felt the tears start coming and his grip on the photo made Y/N worry a bit more than they usual do.

“Why do you do this?”

“Do what?”

“Give me these little things and do something like this…I’m not deserving of any—-“

“Shut up”

That caught him by surprise. Y/N did feel bad after saying such, resulting in a sigh as they fiddled with the bracelet they had on.

“You do a lot for us. Even when we didn’t deserve it in the beginning. Gift giving has always been my “love language” or whatever that is. And it’s the end of the world…there’s not much I can work with and everything I find or made brings me a bit of joy. Thought I’d share that with you…”

The two looked at each other for a moment and something changed.

•

“Is Daryl hovering Y/N?”

“Why?” Rick questions Carol as the two were at the outdoor grill. “Never took Daryl as a hoverer”

“He’s kind of. Following Y/N whenever they are back in the prison.”

“Eh I wouldn’t think too much about it. But Y/N always giving him things? Clearly he’s their favorite”

“Where is this conversation even going?”

Rick shrugs picking up the mulch bucket back up after finishing his lunch and going back to work on the garden. Leaving Carol with her original thought of why he’s so close with them when they don’t talk much.

They do talk. But when no one is around. Daryl likes the privacy as does Y/N.

Daryl was on nightwatch when Y/N came back from their usual runs that happen at night. Everyone thought it was a little weird but they can go by unnoticed since they only carry what they need and light on their feet. He was always the one to wait for them at the gate regardless if on the nightwatch or not.

As the gates pull open, Y/N smiles warmly to the archer turning off their head light that they found in the prison. Daryl instantly brought them into his embrace hearing them sigh, glad to be back.

“What yea find out there?” He parted watching Y/N take their backpack off to show him what they’ve got.

More baby blankets

A few cans of food

Some pills

A notebook [they were gonna take apart for their origami hobby]

But Y/N took the notebook out for a moment, opening it and showing the pressed flowers in it. They offered the flowers to Daryl, making him a bit bashful but his smile from them coming back stuck.

“Thank you”

“Of course” They smile closing their bag and heading toward the prison with him beside them. “No more watch?”

“Nah. Waited for yea to get home before getting back inside”

“Home huh?” They teased the archer who started to get comfortable in this place.

•

The illness passed through, even got a few of their own. Carol went missing during the chaos. Y/N got sick. Daryl felt like he was losing everything but he can do something and that being getting medicine to help their people. Help them.

When his group came back with the medicine, Daryl stayed by Y/N’s side while they slept for a bit. But when they woke it was like they had something to do in that moment.

“You shouldn’t get out of bed”

“Mm already feeling better. ‘Sides, it’s in this room”

Daryl watches them confused when they leaned over the bed, he tried stopping them thinking they were going to fall out but all they did was grab something from under the bed.

“Found it before I passed out in the yards” Y/N returned on their back on the metal bunk before handing him a ring. It was shining in the sun and it caught their attention of course…they knew who they wanted to give it to.

“Yea askin’ or something?”

“Eh. Someday. But I’m giving it to you now cuz I found it, don’t want to lose it, and definitely didn’t want to die before saying it”

“Before saying it?”

“That I appreciate you, more than you think…and that I love you”

•

I should’ve said it back

Why didn’t I say it back

Daryl struggled against the restraints and bitten down on the gag trying to remove it while he, Glenn, Rick, and Bob were on the chopping block.

Then the explosion took Gareth’s attention away, then they managed to get their window. With the help of Rick’s anger. Next was getting their weapons back and then getting the hell out of that cannibal infested sanctuary.

“They weren’t in there…”

“Don’t lose hope, D. I didn’t just save y’all from a hellish situation” Carol states with a smile directing the group to a small shed in the middle of the woods.

Out from the shed came Tyreese carrying Judith, making the Grimes quickly run toward the two. Then Carol shoved Daryl forward which confused the poor man but then a third came out the room. Y/N had stepped out putting their backpack on but keeping mind of their arm in a makeshift sling. The frown on their face after dealing with an asshole and the running from a herd with a dislocated shoulder previous to such…faded the second their eyes locked on Daryl who was already sprinting his way toward them. He didn’t crash right into them seeing their injury from a mile away but it didn’t stop either of them from latching onto the other.

“I love you”

Y/N laughs slightly in his embrace, not surprised by him taking his time telling them. But thank god he said it. The laughing turned into sobbing quickly because they were afraid of never seeing him again. He feared the same.

“I’ve gotcha somethin’” Daryl says while parting from Y/N to reach something in his pocket.

“Really? It’s usually me gifting…you…” Y/N noticed him wearing the ring they gave him before the fall of the prison and when he presented what he found, it was a similar ring but gold unlike his silver. “Now before you put that on me…it doesn’t have a random engraving on it from the previous owner”

“Nah I checked before I picked it up”

“Good. Now hurry the fuck up Dixon” Y/N carefully extended their hand given the one in the sling is the hand he needs. Daryl was extra careful before bringing them back into his arms.

“This don’t mean you gotta stop alright?”

“Oh when we find a place to make up camp, Imma give yea all the things I found while we were apart”

[acatalystrising]

I’m back!

I know it’s been a while. 2024 hasn’t been kind to me, and my creative spark just wasn’t there. But I’ve had so many stories I’ve wanted to write, and as always, Boba has been there as a comfort character to get me through. So, now as the year is drawing to a close, I want it to end better than it started…with new content!

I’m currently writing the next chapter of Moth to a Flame, but in the meantime, here is something entirely new, the first chapter in The Way That You Were! I hope you enjoy!

(Also, @daimyosprincess I finally wrote this! So sorry for the delay 😅)

Pairing: Boba Fett x (F)Reader

Rating: Explicit 18+

Trigger warnings: Injuries, blood, emotional distress, abuse, capture

Series synopsis: A desperate bounty crash-lands on Tatooine and seeks sanctuary in the palace, only to discover the greatest bounty hunter of all time rules from its throne. Will she find mercy, death, or something more?

Ch 1 - These Burning Sands, Your Scarred Hands

“I’ve found, in my experience, that the most desolate place can bring healing. Wastelands can flourish. Heartbreak can mend, and love begin anew. Even the mighty desert can once again bloom.”

You didn’t remember the crash, only that you’d awoken to the charred wreckage of your ship, blood stained clothes, and the acidic tang of grief heavy on your tongue.

You honestly didn’t know how you survived, tangled in the debris. Part of you wished you didn’t.

Despite this, you kept going.

Forcing yourself to climb from the wreckage, even as your vision spun. Searching it for anything you could salvage, finding very little. Realizing that it had nothing left for you, and you’d hopefully have better luck moving on. Ironically, your past was also something better left behind, just as smoldering as the husk of metal you were abandoning.

You weren’t familiar with this planet, one your ship had registered as Tatooine before it had plunged into the atmosphere, one that boasted the biggest desert you’d ever seen. In fact, you wondered if the entire planet was just one massive, windswept wasteland.

Your pain had reduced to a pounding headache, nearly distracting you from the burn of muscles unaccustomed to traversing a desert’s shifting terrain. It couldn’t distract you from the deep gash in your shoulder, out of your reach, the extent of the damage unknown. There was no point in staying with the ship, not when you needed to disappear. You were alone, wounded, and running out of options.

There were too many hunters after you, but perhaps you could disappear on a planet as vast as this one. Maybe the sands would be your savior, instead of your doom.

You peered up at the setting suns, a fierce burning duality sinking behind the cresting dunes. They made the sand shimmer, and for a moment, you could have sworn the fiery light transmuted the sand to gold. Despite your circumstances, it was beautiful, but your awe didn’t last. It would be dark, soon. Despite your lack of desert experience, you knew it would only grow more dangerous once night fell.

You had to find shelter, quickly.

You stopped on the sloping hill of a dune, boots sinking in the sand, and cast a glance back the way you’d came. The faint dark trail of smoke from your crash was still evident on the horizon, cutting through the sky like an ugly wound. You hoped you’d made a far enough distance away, even though you had absolutely no idea where you were going.

Your crash was a beacon…one that would draw far too much attention.

Sighing, you crested the dune with clenched fists, blood trickling down your arm and dripping into the sand, blossoming like a macabre flower. Great. You were no doubt leaving an easy trail that even the most inexperienced welp of a bounty hunter could track. You didn’t want to think of the experienced ones.

Your vision blurred, and you blinked, panic finally, truly, setting in. You were losing blood, moving too slowly, and rapidly running out of time.

You turned your quivering gaze ahead, eyes wearily scanning the horizon, falling on a massive building that seemed cut from the rock itself. It was tan, like the sands, sporting a domed roof that was a stark contrast to the jagged rocks surrounding it. And judging from the lights you could see from within, it was occupied. You found yourself trudging in its direction, despite your reservations.

You would die out here, injured and alone, and finding shelter was your best option.

You only hoped it wouldn’t cost your life, but at this point, you had nothing to lose.

-

The building towered above you like a waiting beast, maw-like gate slowly opening wide with a grinding roar.

You felt every bit like a mouse entering a trap, a deep fear setting in your chest when two armed Gamorrean guards approached, eyes narrowed to suspicious slits. You doubted they saw you as much of a threat - your weary frame and bloodstained clothes surely made quick work of that assumption. As you suspected, they merely grunted, gesturing for you to follow.

I’m doomed, you thought, as you stepped further into the dark cavernous maw beyond.

The sand at your feet was cool, and judging by the sheer size and craftsmanship of the hewn stone around you, this wasn’t a mere home. It was a fortress.

Perhaps the mouse had jumped right into the loth cat’s stomach.

The halls were long and narrow, but surprisingly well lit. You didn’t see any signs of filth or decay, which was astounding for a place in such a seemingly seedy area, but you knew first impressions weren’t everything. Anxiety twisted deep in your gut when you heard a bark of raucous laughter somewhere ahead, every alarm ringing in your frazzled mind. The Gamorreans walked on, framing you between them, a silent reminder that you were trapped. But you’d come here willingly, perhaps foolishly, seeking shelter - and you didn’t have anyone to blame for whatever would happen to you then yourself.

Even if you’d never intended to land on this maker-forsaken planet.

Despite that fact, you felt fear creep down your throat when you reached a set of downward sloping stairs, a multitude of voices echoing from within the chamber.

Your knees locked up, but the Gamorrean behind you gave your shoulder a nudge with a grunt. Pain flared to life, and you winced, nearly tripping down the steps as you entered the room, heart hammering so loudly in your ears you thought it would burst.

Your eyes swept the room, which was filled with all manner of ilk, and your heart sank even further upon realizing very, very quickly, that many, if not all, were likely bounty hunters. Your gaze was pulled to the center of the room as if gravity itself demanded your attention, and your world ground to a screeching halt. Only one thought managed to escape your panicked mind before terror and recognition seized your heart.

You should have let yourself bleed out in the desert.

Maker, I am such an idiot.

An idiot who was about to die. A fool who had gone out on a limb, one last ditch effort, to survive. Instead of being rewarded for your final act of desperation, fate had decided to give you the most cruel, ironic end possible.

Because sitting before you, impossibly broad frame sprawled on a carved throne like the very Galaxy was his footstool, was none other than the notorious king of the very beasts you’d been trying to outrun.

Boba Fett.

His dark green helmet tilted down at you, the angle harsh and predatory, torchlight flaring like shattered glass on his visor as a terror unlike anything you’d felt before settled its way into the pit of your stomach.

You were a dead woman walking.

There would be no escape. The Gamorrean guards stood behind you, narrow eyes fixed on your every move. A dark clad woman with a deadly rifle leaned against the dais, gaze sharper than a vibroblade boring into you. Everyone fell silent, still, as if made of stone. Not stone, you realized, simply pieces in a larger clockwork puzzle - all here to serve him. You were trapped, hopeless in Fett’s clutches, merely waiting for the hunter to strike.

A hunter who should have been dead.

He leaned forward, muscles rippling even under all that armor and cloth - unseen gaze undeniably focused on you. Maker, he was more frightening then any of the stories could ever capture - a warrior in every right, someone who didn’t have to boast of his power or even show it.

He simply was.

A deep voice spoke, carrying a dialect that was foreign to you, one you instantly thought was both alluring and deadly, even as you also noted it was coming from the very person staring you down.

“What,” the tone was all thunder and calculated coolness as he flicked a small projector to life on his gauntleted wrist, displaying a listing with your face for all to see. “Do we have here?”

Stars above, you were doomed.

Chills ran down your spine. Your lips parted, but no words came, as if your own mind conspired against you. Fear was all too familiar a paralysis, doom settling deep in your bones. What could you say to him? What even was the point? You knew the stories. Tales larger than life spread across the Galaxy of this man, this legend now in the flesh before you. Begging would be pointless. Hoping for mercy, even less so.

But kriff, you hadn’t survived this long to simply give up, either.

The Gamorreans grunted behind you, and a meaty hand shoved your wounded shoulder, knocking you to your knees. You yelped in pain, blood trickling down your back in rivulets, the cool tile beneath you the only thing grounding you from your agony. You looked back up, sweat beating your forehead, finding Fett’s unseen gaze tilted down, watching you in silence. Waiting. Expecting.

You were, after all, in his court.

A heavy silence had fallen, as every hunter watched your exchange with bated breath. Surely they wondered if Fett would claim your bounty, or if you were up for grabs. Terror settled deep in your chest, and you winced, pain radiating from your wounded shoulder. Fett suddenly shifted forward, and your words bubbled from chapped lips, as if sensing your impending doom.

“I…I seek sanctuary, my…” you blinked in confusion, wondering what honorific would work best, “my lord. I’m aware I have a bounty. I…”

Your world spun, everything fading to a muted blur. You could barely keep your focus on the armored figure looming above you. Shit, you’d lost too much blood. You tried to keep your head high, your quivering body fighting against your every move. If Fett didn’t kill you, you’d surely die first. Either way, you were doomed to die alone, among strangers, in the den of the very wolves you’d sought to escape.

His helmet tilted to the side in a gesture you could almost interpret as curiosity, remaining silent. Leaving you to desperately amble on.

You swallowed hard, clenching your hands to fists. You saw your reflection in his black visor; a pathetic image of a broken, bleeding, scared woman. A shell of the fierce warrior you once were.

“I crashed in the desert,” you tried to continue, you really did, even as your body grew oddly warm, exhaustion and blood loss taking their toll. “I was…betrayed. I didn’t…”

Your knees shook, fresh blood dripping freely. Several of the hunters amongst the crowd shifted closer to you, their eyes sharp, hungry. Kriff, they were like sharks, drawn to the blood you spilled. Interestingly, Fett’s helmet flicked their way, as if in a silent warning, and they quickly backed off without a single complaint.

You didn’t have the time to process the action.

Your vision flickered, as if a light switch had cut off and on, and the last thing you saw was a swirl of green and red hovering over you before darkness mercifully took over, and you collapsed to the ground, unconscious.

-

“Want me to put her in a cell, boss?” Fennec’s voice was low, calm, in Boba’s ear. “She’s garnering too much attention.”

Boba deigned a response, too focused on the unconscious woman before him, your bedraggled state, and the blood staining his floor. You were near death, that he could determine, but that wasn’t the only thing that drew his intrigue.

Strung around your neck, just peeking out from under your shirt, was a mandalorian necklace. And not just any necklace, but the very mythosaur sigil he bore. He generally didn’t give a damn about Mandalorians. They were a stubborn lot, fiercely independent. On that, he supposed they were similar, and that was exactly why they didn’t get along. That was, until Din. Their interactions had brought back memories of his father, of a past he’d long been haunted by. Perhaps, in some ironic twist of fate, that past was still revealing itself in new, unexpected ways.

You’d come here for sanctuary, knowing you had a bounty, which clearly indicated you hadn’t known where you were, or that you’d stumble upon him. Judging by your shocked expression, you’d clearly recognized him, but he doubted you’d known he was alive.

There were enough reasons to ask questions, at least, before final judgement.

“No, Fennec.” Boba kept his voice low, for her alone to hear. “Take her to the medical droid. Give her a room, keep it locked and guarded.”

“Hmm. Almost hospitable.” Fennec’s angular brow lifted, but she didn’t press further. “To what end?”

Boba found himself looking back down at you, an emotion he could almost interpret as concern flaring in his chest. Something about your broken, bloodied form twisted in his stomach like a knife, and he sighed, clenching his gloved hands to fists.

“I have some questions first.”

-

“Jaceyn!”

The alarms blared like sirens in your ears as your ship spiraled out of control. Lights swirling, screams echoing, panic overriding common sense as the escape pods ejected, the crew leaving you to your doom. Your footsteps pounded down the hall, sweat beading, dripping into your eyes, desperation flooding your chest.

Your ship was crashing, your armor was missing, and your love…

“Jaceyn! Wait!” Your plea flung into empty space like the shrapnel that had torn into your shoulder. Tears blurred your vision as you bolted after him, heart pounding desperately in your chest. “Please…”

A fist connected to your chest, throwing you backward onto the doomed craft. Pain burned through your body like fire as you watched the final pod eject, leaving you to crash to your death.

The damn coward’s back was turned.

The ship spiraled down, down, and down, reducing your world to an agonized blur of pain and confusion, fading until there was nothing left but sand and blood.

Your eyes snapped open, heart pounding like a war drum, sweat drenching your body. You gripped the sheets with panicked gasps, fingers quivering, limbs shaking. Your breaths were ragged, as if from knife-torn lungs.

You were swathed in darkness, and swore you could still taste blood on the back of your throat. Your confusion subsided enough for you to register that you weren’t in the wreckage, but rather, a large bed.

What the…

Panic grew to sheer terror, and even with all your training, you felt your limbs locking up. Where the kriff were you? You took a deep breath, steeling your nerves. You hadn’t lived this long by being stupid, nor would you start to engage in foolishness now. Your gaze swept the room, starting at the far corner, analyzing every detail, cataloguing every potential threat.

You certainly found one when your eyes fell on the same armored figure you’d seen before you’d passed out, that T-visored helm fixed on you with deadly precision.

So, you were still the infamous Boba Fett’s prey. A curse flew from your lips before you could stop yourself, finding yourself wishing you’d bled out in the sands.

“I’ve been called worse.” Fett’s voice was deep, dry, and void of emotion.

Your lips snapped shut, and you instantly went to shift out of the bed and away from him - as far as you possibly could. Your body lurched in pain at the movement, a dull agony cording through your veins. Kriff…you were too wounded to move much, especially to be able to run.

You were hopelessly trapped in his clutches.

“What…” you blinked, swallowing hard as you dared to glare back at his visor. “Did you do to me?”

“You were dying.” His tone was matter of factual, curt. “Needed bacta.”

Now you were even more confused. He was helping you? Surely it was to receive a higher sum of credits for your bounty. You couldn’t fathom a different reason.

“I get it. You wanna fetch a higher sum for me.” You shot him a blank glare despite the fear thrumming in your heart like a living thing. “Sorry I arrived as damaged goods.”

Fett fell silent, and you couldn’t tell for the life of you if he was angry or simply bored. When he finally spoke again, there was little change in his tone, other than what you could only guess was curiosity.

“The mandalorian necklace.” His helmet tilted slightly downward, at your neck. “Where’d you get it?”

You glanced down at your chest, eyes falling on the necklace that was bared freely for him to see. Another curse rushed from your lips. Fett’s helmet tilted to the right. If you were to reveal your true identity to him, a bounty hunter…you were as good as dead. The last remaining vestiges of the Empire would pay handsomely for your blood.

It was as if Fett could read your mind.

“I’ve no interest in turning you in.” He leaned forward, a warning thrumming in his deep tone. “Unless you give me one. Understand?”

You felt yourself nodding, as if your body managed what your brain could not. Judging by the tilt of his helmet, Fett seemed pleased.

“Now.” He leaned back in the chair, arms draped over the armrests, a finger casually tapping the polished metal. “Who are you?”

“I…” you swallowed your fear, pushing it back, already theorizing ways you could escape if he didn’t stick to his word. “I’m a mandalorian. My clan was killed by Moff Gideon. I escaped, but was betrayed…so forgive me if I seem doubtful, but I know your kind. And I know how many credits I’m worth.”

Fett remained silent, his helmet tilting slightly to the left in a gesture that could have nearly been interpreted as curiosity. So, you continued.

“I know I’m wounded, but,” your eyes narrowed at the black, impassive t-visor staring you down, “I won’t go down without a fight.”

“That, I believe, little one,” Fett finally spoke, his voice softer than you’d expected. He slowly stood, as to not alarm you, hands hanging loose at his sides. “You need rest. Stay here, where it’s safe. I’ll ensure it.”

He turned to leave, armor glinting faintly under the light of the moons.

“Why help me?” You watched him pause, heartbeat fluttering, worry that he’d change his mind coursing through your veins.

No one could be trusted.

“My father was mandalorian.” His tone was rougher, more ragged, yet constrained. “I would not wish to see you meet his fate.”

He left without another word, the door shutting behind him, leaving you in confused silence.

Exhausted from your struggles, you collapsed on the bed despite yourself, wondering that dreadful, or nebulous, fate the Galaxy held for you next.

[parvulous-writings]

Don’t push it. // Miguel O’Hara x reader

Summary: You nurse an ill, and very reluctant Miguel

Warnings: I’m bad at Spanish, Miguel has a cold and is grumpy git. Gender neutral terms used around reader to the best of my ability! 

Words: 2.3K

Notes:  Am I somewhat out of it? Yes. Shush.  My requests are currently open! My pinned post (found here) contains both a list of characters I write for, and a masterlist! Original character list - please request for these too!   If you’d like to support me more, consider donating to my kofi! I’d appreciate it loads!!  

Not my gif

It wasn’t uncommon for Miguel to be grumpy; the stress of everything pertaining to the multiverse weighed heavily on him. He could not have what happened to him, that gut-wrenching loss of life, happen to anyone else. He would make sure that everything stayed in order, that canon events happened when they were meant to, that all spider-people were on the same trajectory. The task and the past that it stemmed from weighed heavily on him, always. So, statistically, he shouldn’t have been surprised when he started developing cold symptoms - he was under so much stress that his ability to fight off illness had been heavily affected. He found the symptoms mildly annoying to begin with, but since he was still able to continue his work without much impairment, he did so, trying to make sure he did as much as he would normally do even though he could feel his nose getting steadily more and more blocked.  After a few hours, an ache began to make itself known on his forehead; a massive headache. Miguel tried to power through this, too, but steadily it became very overwhelming to him. The lights - which were typically dimmed anyway due to his sensitivity to them- were starting to bug him. 

“Lyla.” 

Hell, he sounded sick, like he was pushing his voice past it’s limit. 

“Turn out the lights.” 

Without a word, everything went black, asides from the soft orange glow of the screens around him. Typically, Lyla would have given him a quip, or a joke in retaliation, but she didn’t even try this time, she could tell he was too ill for things like that. She appeared near his shoulder, only just in his peripheral vision. “You’re not looking too hot, y’know... You want me to call someone?”  “No.”  “You should-”  “I said no.” He replied gruffly again, “Just let me get on with my work.” He shirked his shoulder, as if Lyla actually physically stood there. The hologram tapped her chin, pouting slightly as she thought - well, as much as she could think at least. She knew exactly the course of action she’d have to take here. 

Your phone buzzed on the kitchen side, prolonged and repetitive - the screen flashing with the caller ID: Lyla ✨. She had added the emoji herself a while ago, and you hadn’t had the heart to remove them. If Lyla was trying to contact you without just randomly materialising in front of you, something was off. You didn’t need Spidey-sense to know that it would be about Miguel. You tapped the screen a couple of times, answering the call and putting it on speaker, so you could continue in the kitchen, making yourself some lunch.  “Go on, Lyla, fill me in.” You said to her. “Well...” Lyla began, drawing out the syllable an almost humorous amount of time. “Miguel is ill, and he’s refusing to rest or take a break. I think you’re going to have to come in, to either get him to rest here, or just take him home. He’s going to tear someone’s head off if we’re not careful...” She warned. You sighed quietly, you knew she was right, even if she was slightly exaggerating.  “Alright... Give me ten minutes, okay?” And with that, the call finished. You quickly got through your food, before putting on your shoes and heading out of the apartment, hoping to catch one of the speeding trains to the edge of the city. One of the perks of getting to reside in Nueva York, was that there was at least somewhat easy access to the place where your beloved worked - and practically lived it felt like. It also helped that most of the Spiders knew you, and helped you to navigate the rather large, and confusing building. If you needed to be somewhere in the building quick, you knew you didn't have to be afraid to ask one of the many, many Spiders milling around every corner of every room in the structure. Thankfully, that wasn't the case today - you weren't entirely sure that a lot of fast paced swinging would help your food go down. Instead, you were taking one of the many elevators installed, straight up to the top of the building; of course, the dark, brooding Miguel O’Hara had to have something that could only be described as a lair. The fact that the lights were off were not helping the matter, either. 

As soon as you entered the room, you knew where he was - Miguel was always  in the same place. His shoulder twitched slightly as the doors slid open quickly for you - he had picked up the minuscule change in light. He hadn’t, however, realised it was you entering the room; one downside of not having the spider-senses so many others seemed to be blessed with. “Go away.” He gruffly called down to you, not even turning around.  “Fine way to greet your other half...” You chuckled softly, and it was then that he glanced over his shoulder, eyes wandering down to your distant silhouette.  “...Corazón... What are you..?”  “Lyla called... Come down, Miggy...” You spoke softly, not taking his former gruffness to heart. You knew he didn’t mean it, not really. He was sweet to you always - a softie through and through, beneath the rough and ragged exterior, the front that he put up in front of others, to keep them at arms length. At an almost comically slow pace, his platform began to descend. It seemed like forever had passed before Miguel was shuffling towards you. You open your arms when he gets close, and embrace him. For a moment, you both just stand in the hug, drinking in the sense of being in one another’s arms. After a minute or two, you pulled away slightly, cupping Miguel’s face carefully in your hands, subtly examining him. Miguel still noticed what you were doing, though. “Stop, mi amor... I’m fine...” He told you, bringing one of his large hands up to your own, and resting it on top. “Absolutely fine...” He reiterated, but of course, you could see it wasn’t true. His entire face was red, and hot - and you knew that for once, it wasn’t you that had caused this. You stayed quiet, thinking. How could you get him home to rest, without agitating him too much? Not an easy task, no. 

“Come home for lunch, sweetheart...” You suggested to him. “I’ll make you something special...”  He was going to protest about this - you could see it brewing behind his eyes, but you kept going. “Then you can come back here later... okay?”  “The multiverse isn’t going to watch itself...” The man grumbled, his brows furrowing together, putting creases through his forehead; ones that had been used so many times before throughout his life.  “I’m sure it’ll be fine for a little while... And besides, Lyla can keep an eye whilst your gone, can’t she?” You look off to the side, where the glowing little form of Lyla was hovering, jumping back and forth, before giving you two thumbs up. “’Course I can.” She confirmed. “That’s what I’m here for.” She chuckled softly, before zipping away to examine the many amber monitors at the back of the room, before Miguel could try and protest that she wouldn’t be able to; not that the glowing AI would take no for an answer anyway.  “The trip home isn’t too long, Miguelito...” You told him, carefully starting to lead him out of the room, though he was putting up some resistance now; you had called him the nickname primarily used when he was ill.  “I’m not sick...” He protested, before glancing over your shoulders to the door that was about to snap open, and he stopped in his tracks, unmoving though you tugged at his arm. “... The lights are on out there...” He mumbled, red eyes glancing down at you. You knew all too well that he would not be able to handle any of the light on the way home. You hummed quietly in thought, before looking at him. “Did you bring your sunglasses with you?”  “No,” He scoffed. “I didn’t need to, when I came in.” He told you, his wide arms crossing over his even wider chest. “I don’t need to go home..” He insisted, “I will be fine..” Considering you now had no way to get  him back to your shared apartment without giving him the biggest flashbang, and biggest accompanying headache of his life, you figured you’d have to make do with whatever you could find in his office. Your eyes darted this way and that, trying to find anything soft that you could use as a pillow, so that Miguel could actually lay down, and rest. There were a few chairs, of varying plushness, which you could perhaps repurpose for nap time.  You moved quickly and with purpose, moving items this way and that to create a small nap area for your partner. “There we are...” You announced after a few minutes, stepping back to admire your work. Was it five star hotel worthy? Perhaps not, but it would do for the moment. Miguel seemed to sneer at  the sight,  but after a gentle push on the arm, he acquiesced. Maybe amusing you wouldn’t be such a bad thing. Carefully, you guided him down onto the bed, comprised of plush desk chairs. It was an awkward fit, but with a little bit of work, Miguel was just about comfortable, though he still looked very grumpy. “You didn’t have to do that.” He muttered, “I was fine as I was.”  “You continuing as you were would have ended up with slobber all over the consoles.” You joked, shaking your head as you tried to help him get a bit comfier.  “I don’t drool in my sleep.” That was a flat out lie - he knew he did. It was hard not to, what with his fangs; it was hard enough keeping them in his mouth when he was awake sometimes.  “Uh huh, alright honey, if that’s what you say..” You tease quietly, quickly pecking his cheek. “Now... You try and have a snooze, okay?”  “... I’m not five.”  “Have a snooze, Miguel.” You repeat, just as soft as before- there was no use in being too hard on him when he was like this, he was going to be stubborn no matter what you did or what approach you had decided to take. He huffed, a frown clear on his lips, despite the darkness in the room.  “Yes, mother.” He replied sarcastically. As much as he was protesting, however, he had to quietly admit to himself, laying down and closing his eyes for a moment did feel nice. Almost heavenly, in fact. 

“How quickly did the symptoms come on, Lyla?” You asked, your voice nothing more than a whisper.  “Fairly quickly.” She replied. She wasn’t forcing her voice to be quiet like you were, she had only turned her volume down in a literal sense. “Started sniffling, then on came the headache.” She shrugged. “Though I do have to say - never seen him give up that quickly before. Usually Peter B argues with him for at least an hour before Miguel even takes a five minute break, let alone a whole nap. I’m impressed.” Her golden form zipped away for a moment, clicking a quick selfie with the already sleeping Miguel, before returning to her prior  position. “Well, I suppose being his lover does help a bit... I’d like to think he has a soft spot for me.” You chuckled, joking with Lyla. You had always been fond of her, even if she wasn’t human, she certainly knew how to act like one. Miguel always acted like he found your bond with his AI companion to be more trouble than it was worth, but in actuality, he found it rather cute - he too had his own unique relationship with the software.  “Yeeaahh, I think you’re right... I think he’s got more than just a soft spot for you, though. He’s just soft for you.” She told you. “Now, don’t tell him I told you this, buuut... You know how he keeps way too many tabs open at once?” Anyone who even took one sideways glance at Miguel’s floating desktop knew how many tabs he kept open at any one time, so you just nodded. “Well... By my calculation, about 53% of those are centered - one way or another - on you. Like your favourite food, song, tv shows and movies, as well as-”  “Alright, alright, I get it, Lyla...” You laughed gently, your eyes landing on the peaceful form of your sleeping boyfriend, who was already starting to gently snuffle in his sleep; the cold had overcome him quicker than he could have ever expected, and it was clear that his body was thanking him - and you - for giving it a moments peace. A little bit of solace from the immense pressure that never went away. “C’mon.. let’s leave him be for a little while... D’you know where Peter B is?” You asked, slowly starting to move towards the door. “Might go tell him that Miguel is having a nap, at work of all places.”  “Oh, he’s going to love that,” Lyla replied, taking a seat on your shoulder. “Though I think he’ll keep asking how you managed to do it... I think he’s in the cafeteria.” She chuckled, waving vaguely in the direction of your new destination. Your voices both faded off into the distance as you strolled down the hall, leaving the sleeping O’Hara to whatever dreams his mind could conjure for him, and there he would likely stay for the rest of the day - he certainly did need that rest. 

[shiorimakibawrites]

One of Those Days

Okay, fair warning, this was written in a rush and is largely unedited. And I might have made Frank Castle out of character since I don't have a firm grip on his character yet but @bellaxgiornata isn't having the best day and was looking for Frank fics.

This is only a very short one-shot but I hope it helps you feel better, Bella.

Well, got to get back to writing Alley Cat.

Summary: You have a bad day but Frank makes it all better.

Pairing: Frank Castle x Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Frank possibly being out of character

One of Those Days

You were having one of those days.

You had overslept and had been late for work. Your boss was in a fool mood and while he didn’t fire you for your lateness, he did yell at you in front of everyone. In front of her. That woman that shared your office space. The one who had taken one look at you, decided she didn’t like you, and proceeded to make your life miserable. Judging by the little smile on her face, she enjoyed watching you get humiliated.

You wanted to quit but you couldn’t. You needed this job. The rent wasn’t going to pay itself. So you swallowed your embarrassment, blinked back tears, and moved to your desk with as much dignity as you could manage.

Work was more tedious than usual. The computer had hiccup that corrupted the entire file you had been working on and forced you to re-do the entire thing. Which wasn’t difficult but was time-consuming. Which only irritated your boss further.

You ate lunch at your desk, trying to type with one hand while you ate with the other. And of course, ended up with mustard on your blouse. Somehow you managed to finish your tasks by the end of the day, which only earned you an annoyed ‘finally’ from your boss.

You had taken some pain relievers earlier but you could feel your headache sulking behind the medicine, threatening to turn into a migraine the moment said pain-killers wore off.

It decided to start raining when you were walking home. And not a little rain either. A massive downpour that had you soaked down to the skin within minutes. Because you had been in such a rush this morning, you had forgotten to grab your umbrella.

By the time you reached your apartment, you were tired, wet, cold, and really wanting to cry. Your hands were shaking so much that you couldn’t get your key in the lock. That was the last straw. You gave up fighting your tears and let yourself cry.

You didn’t know how long you stood in front of your door, bawling like a baby, before it swung open.

“Honey?” asked a familiar deep voice. Frank. Who wasn’t supposed to be back until tomorrow . . .

“Got done early,” he said, making you realize that you had said that outloud. “Thought I’d surprise you with dinner.”

Now that he mentioned it, you could smell the distinct odor of garlic and tomato sauce wafting out of your apartment. The thoughtfulness after such a terrible day did nothing to stop the tears but Frank seemed to understand that you were at the end of your tether.

“Come ‘ere,” he said, drawing you into a hug. He ignored your weak protests that you were going to get him wet, just wrapped his big arms around you and pressed you against his body. You gave in, buried your face against his chest, and sobbed.

Again, you don’t know how long you stood there. Frank didn’t complain, acted perfectly willing to stand there all day if that was what you needed. But when you squeezed, Frank loosen his hold enough to shepherd you into the apartment. He lead you to the bathroom before letting you go to turn on the shower. After adjusting the knobs, he stripped you out of your soaked clothes and gently encouraged you under the spray. The hot water felt so good that you almost started crying again.

“I gotta check on the food but I’ll be right back,” he said. You slowly nodded in agreement.

True to his word, Frank was back within five minutes. In his hands were a bundle of clothes that he sat on the counter.

“Do you want to wash?” he asked. You thought about it and then nodded your head. You watched as he striped out of his clothes, normally something that would have you getting wet in a different way but today, you were too emotionally wrung out for sex.

Frank seemed to sense this because he didn’t touch you that way. Just soaped up the washcloth and helped you clean the day off of your body. Just washed your hair and gently massaged your scalp, which eased the still pouting headache. He wrapped you in the biggest, fluffiest towel you owned before he dried himself and changed back into his clothes.

You were feeling steady enough to dry yourself off and start to dress yourself. He had picked out your most comfortable clothes. But with your pile of clothes was one of his hoodies. You sent him a questioning look as you held it up.

“Put it on, honey, it’ll keep you warm,” he said. What went unsaid that he knew you loved wearing his hoodies. Being loose on him and all his muscles, they were way too big for you but that’s why you loved them. That and they smelled like Frank.

You smiled at him. It was a little thing, barely a smile, but it was first one that you had all day. He smiled back and said, “There’s my girl. Let’s go eat.”

Frank claimed that he wasn’t much of a cook and maybe it was the stress of the day but it was the most delicious spaghetti that you had ever eaten. After you had eaten your fill, Frank had taken care of the plates and otherwise cleaning up the kitchen, ignoring your protests that he had cooked, you should be the one to clean.

“Pick us out a movie, honey,” he said, shooing you out of the kitchen.

Realizing there was no point in fighting him on this – especially when you didn’t especially want to do the dishes after a day like this – you settled on the couch and started strolling through the streaming options. You had picked one, a romance that you had seen a dozen times, when Frank came into the living room with one of your blankets.

Through you knew perfectly well that romance was not his favorite genre, he just nodded at your movie choice, and encouraged you to snuggle with him under the blanket. Warm, comfortable, and filled with good food, you fell asleep about halfway through the movie.

The next morning, while having coffee, Frank casually mentioned that he knew of a law firm that was looking for a new office manager. No pressure, just something to consider. After the day you had yesterday and how much you were dreading today, that little white business card he left with you was very, very tempting.

[heatobrienswife]

quick doodle of an oc i'm messing with c:

not exactly the best doodle but i had a headache while drawing him so that's the excuse i'm gonna use kjgjkfjfgj

anyway his name is mint

hes 5'10", late twenties early thirties, works as a mechanic, prone to accidents (the scar under his eye n bandage), blind af (thems some thiccc glasses), grew up in the foster system n has no idea who his parents are (no desire to find them either), can appear very spaced out/ air headed but is actually too focused on his fantasy world inside his head to pay attention to the world around him, deep into dnd, massive sweet tooth n always has some form of candy in his pockets, plants many plants, home is basically a garden, has no strong goals or wants all he wants is a comfortable life with his many plants

[seenoversundown]

Amongst The Stars: Chapter Three

Josh x Quinn (Nonbinary OC)

Warnings: Misgendering of a nonbinary character, Men (that’s it. That’s the warning), Wallet chains, Jake being Sweet. Word Count: 4.1k Summary: Josh has always loved love,  and he's finally found it. Buuuut, he can't exactly tell anyone. Join him as he navigates the ins and outs of his sweet, secret romance. Author's Note: We are officially on our regularly scheduled programming. Every monday, babies. I hope you all enjoy this one and the little dual POV action. I just had to get quinn back in there for a little bit at the end :)

Can't Take My Eyes off You - Frankie Valli  “Pardon the way that I stare There's nothin' else to compare The sight of you leaves me weak There are no words left to speak”

I can’t stop thinking about Quinn after they leave. Every little thing I do draws my mind back to them. I know it’s wrong, and I shouldn’t be, but I am jealous of their partner. God, Josh, you sound insane. Pining for a person you’ve met one time, being jealous of their partner. Their partner doesn’t respect them, so their partner doesn’t factor in. Sometimes, I wish brains functioned like an etch-a-sketch because I try shaking my head to clear those thoughts, but it doesn’t quite work, and I end up with a minor headache. Oh well. I walk back up to the front of the store, disinterested in actually working now that my day has been positively derailed by a lovely and mysterious person in a pair of beat-up Doc Martens. 

I stand by the front registers, waiting to greet customers as they walk in. Hobby Lobby has never been my favorite place to work, but it really isn't so bad when you're a manager and can choose to fuck off on the clock if you want to.Which I do. I want to fuck off on the clock badly. I look down at my watch, noting that I only have 20 minutes until I can clock out for the day. There's no sense in starting a new task, I smile to myself. I'm pleased I've managed to time my “greeting responsibilities” so well with the end of my shift. I stand around for a minute, bouncing back and forth on the balls of my feet, and I let my mind drift back to Quinn. Their lips looked so plush and biteable. It should be illegal that they nibbled their lips in front of me while I didn't have the option to offer my assistance. 

I ponder their lips for another moment before my mind slips back to their concerning comment. “He’d done a lot worse for less…”  My eyebrows furrow as I try to imagine a situation in which I would be anything short of sweet and kind to Quinn. 

I meander out of the first set of sliding doors and step into the area where only the ugliest furniture goes to die. Goin’ to the Hobby Lobby lobby, I sing to myself as I take stock of the atrocious seasonal items that no customer would ever think to purchase. That's a lie; old women exist. I walk the area and make a mental note to bring the feather duster out tomorrow to tackle the growing piles of dust that inhabit the, reasonably, rejected items. I run my finger along the gilded frame of one of the paintings that’s propped up atop one of the fucking ugliest baby pink chalk-painted tables I've ever seen. Of course, it's chalk paint, I shudder. My thoughts return to the painting; it’s massive, at least two and a half feet long—a highland cow with fluffy hair covering its eyes and an inexplicable crown of leaves resting upon its stupid little horns. 

“Oh, Bessie,” I whisper, pulling my finger back from the frame and examining the dust that came with it. “They could never make me hate you. I may hate everything in this sad room, but never you.”  I decide to check the markdown schedule tomorrow because, as much as I love this goofy little cow, I will never take her home at full price. I do have some standards. 

As I'm about to turn around and head back into the store proper, I hear the entrance door slide open as a man about my age, give or take, walks through. 

“Oh! Hey, man. Welcome to Hobby Lobby,” I greet him.  “Lookin' for a dude named Josh.”  Me? I take a second to look him over. Curly, blonde hair that sits a bit too close to his eyes. Nondescript black tee with baggy jeans. A wallet chain attached to his belt loop. A fucking wallet chain. What year is this? Well-worn Adidas sneakers. He seems safe enough. A bit worse for wear, but he doesn't seem scary. 

“Ah, yep,” I stick my hand out, offering it in greeting, “that’d be me!” He looks at my outstretched hand and scoffs.  Okayyyyyyy, maybe I misjudged.  “I just wanted to talk with you, man to man.”  “About…”  “About you flirting with my girlfriend,” he cocks an eyebrow.  “Not sure what you mean, champ,” I let out an awkward chuckle.“Don’t pull that shit with me, man.”  “I’m afraid I really don't know what you're talking about. I haven't said more than ‘hi, welcome to Hobby Lobby’ to a girl in weeks.”  “So, you're gonna act like you have no idea who Quinn is?”  I narrow my eyes,  putting two and two together. This is Quinn’s shithead partner.  “I don't think they’d appreciate you calling them your girlf—” “I don't exactly care what she’d appreciate right now,” he cuts me off, “I'm here to talk to you.” 

Oh, so he reallyyyyyyyy doesn't respect them. Noted. 

“Yeah, so,” I roll my eyes, “you can talk at me, but you're not talking to me until you show some respect.”  I watch his face contort in confusion, quickly morphing into anger. “Why should I respect you?” He spits out quickly.  “Are you delusional? Just stupid?”  I can't help but laugh at the look on his face  “I’m not asking you to respect me,” I continue, “I'm asking you to respect your partner. It’s ridiculous that you're in here, trying to talk to me ‘man to man’ while you're misgendering them.”  I watch as realization dawns on his face.  “Come on, you know I didn't mean that.”  “I’m assuming you’ve been with them long enough to know better,” I watch his eyes slowly shift away from mine, “not that length of time has anything to do with respect.” 

His eyes fall to the floor, properly chastised. 

“I—”  “For what it’s worth,” I cut him off, “from the few minutes that I talked to Quinn today, in a purely professional capacity, I think they deserve better than whatever it is you have to offer.”  “Hey—”  “AND, don't forget that they’ll realize that one day. And when they do, someone will be waiting to treat them better.” 

I check my watch.  Time to gooooooo! 

“Anyway,” I pause, narrowing my eyes at him in a silent gesture to get his name.  “Craig.”  “Anyway, Greg, my shift is over. I don't intend to mention this to Quinn the next time I see them, and I’d suggest you don't either.” 

I turn on my heel and book it to the break room, practically sprinting by the time I make it to the double doors. I push through, throw my smock on one of the hooks above the time clock, and punch out. Finally, finally, I sit on the worn-out leather couch across from the lockers and let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding in. 

“What the FUUUUUUUUUUCK,” I lean my head back and groan. 

I didn't have “getting accosted by a fucking freak” on today’s bingo card, but I suppose I'll have to tick it off regardless. Who does he think he is? Who do I think I am? I don't talk to people like that. I pull out my phone and send a text to Jake, chuckling at his nickname in my phone. I'm five minutes older, and I will never let him live it down. 

Me: I think I messed up  Kiddo: Elaborate on that?   Me: No 

I slide my phone into my pocket and stand up from the couch, shaking some of the nervous energy from my limbs. I’ll explain everything to Jake when I get home; I just need him to know I may be in a mood. 

I let out a long sigh and slowly made my way out to the front of the store, praying to whatever gods existed that Craig would be gone by the time I got there. I thank all my lucky stars as I walk out of the first set of sliding doors and find myself alone. I glance once more at my girl Bessie, then head out to the parking lot. I glance in every which direction, ensuring that Craig isn’t hiding anywhere, waiting to pop out and murder me. Perhaps I am being dramatic, but my gut tells me you cannot trust someone who wears a wallet chain unironically. And I always follow my gut. 

I make it to my Jeep truck and sigh as I plant myself in the driver's seat, connecting my phone to Bluetooth and clicking into my Apple Music Discover Station. Occasionally, I find something new that I enjoy. The opening notes of a pop song filter over the speakers as I back out of my parking spot and pull through the parking lot. Sam would hate this; I’ll have to add it to the bar playlist. 

I bob my head to the music, driving down the road back to my apartment “I’m your dream come true when it's on a platter for you…” For some reason that brings Quinn to the forefront of my mind, I can’t help but think about what a piece of shit Craig was to me today. I hope he’s better to them, but something tells me he isn’t. The things they said about him today…My stomach clenches thinking about it. Someone like Quinn deserves the world, and Craig is obviously not giving it to them. I could. Okay, no, that’s crazy. 

I sigh, pulling up to the stop sign next to the bar that Jake owns. We’ve lived in the apartment above it for years, but the prior owner finally decided to sell it, and Jake took him up on the offer. Jake got a job down at the docks when we were freshly graduated from high school; he decided he didn’t care about college and just wanted to set himself up with a good job that would pay him enough to put money back in savings and have a little spending money on top, and in Portland… That’s the docks.  Not that he ever needed spending money; he didn’t (and still doesn’t) ever do anything for himself. He’s always been too busy taking care of everyone else. I can’t even remember the last time he took a nice girl out for dinner. 

I pull into the back side of the parking lot and slam my car into park, practically jerking my key out of the ignition and running through the backdoor of the bar, ready to see my twin after the horrendously long day I’ve had. 

“Uh, hey, bub,” Jake greets me from behind the bar with a confused wave.  “Hey, kiddo,” I sigh, sitting at the bar top, “can I get a salty dog?”“Sure thing, gin or vodka?”  I raise an eyebrow at him, signaling he doesn't need to be in customer mode with me.  “Surprise me.” 

I watch as he takes a bottle of Tanqueray gin from the top shelf, pours a measure of it into his cocktail shaker, and then adds grapefruit juice, lime juice, and ice. He shakes it, then strains it into a highball glass rimmed with salt and slides it over to me. 

I take a sip, and, of course, it's delicious. Jake indeed found his calling here — no one on this earth can make a cocktail like he can. 

“Perfect as always, Jake.”  “I don't make them any other way,” he starts, “now, wanna tell me about how you ‘think you messed up?’”  I slam back the rest of my drink and shake my glass, asking for another.  “Slow down, you're gonna drink me out of house and home,” Jake scolds, but prepares another one, nonetheless.  “I need a little help loosening my lips.”  “Get real, you've never had an issue talking in your life. If anything, you're too good at it.”  I roll my eyes but secretly know he’s correct. I'm a known yapper.  “I resent that, you know.”  “And I don't care, stop changing the subject.”  “Fine,” I huff, “I got into a fight with a customer today.”  “Physical or…”  “Verbal, obviously. Do I look like a scrapper?”  He chuckles, wiping non-existent dust off of the spotless bar top.

“Anyway, some crazy dude wearing a wallet chain, of all things, came in and yelled at me for hitting on his partner.”  “What?”  “Yes, Jake. A wallet chain. In 2024. I was baffled, too.”  “No! Not that, you weirdo. He yelled at you for what?!” “Oh, he thought I was hitting on his partner.”  “Well, were you?”  I sit and think for a moment. I wasn't not flirting with them, but it wasn't my initial intent.  “Maybe a little,” I sigh, “I didn't realize they were in a relationship. And I do have eyes. They were too cute. I had to try and shoot my shot or whatever the kids say.”  “You’d ‘shoot your shot’ with a wall. I’m honestly shocked this is the first time this has happened.”  “I resent that, too.”  “Add it to the list.”  “Anyway, I think the guy was just insecure. But I may have been rude to him.”  Jake slowly blinks at me.  “You were rude?”  “I know,” I laugh, “he just brought it out in me.”  “How rude were you?”  “Well, I jumped his ass for misgendering his partner.”  “That's not exactly rude,” Jake jumps in, “it’s quite the opposite, I'd say.”  “I’m sure he didn't feel that way.”  “Why do you care? You did what was right; plus, it’s not like you'll ever see this dude again. Hell, you probably won't even see his partner again. No harm, no foul.”  My stomach flips at the thought of not seeing Quinn again. We don't have time to unpack that. 

“Yeah, you're probably right. I’ll never see either of them again and, as of right now, he hasn't reported me to corporate. So, no need to stress.”  “Exactly right, bub.” 

I finish up my drink and set the glass down. 

“Thank you, Jake.”  “You don't have to thank me, I’ll always be on your side.” 

I reach out and pat his arm. 

“Also,” Jake starts, “I don't know the situation, but it’s pretty serious if you actually act rude to someone else. So, don't discount those feelings.”  What is he saying? I fix him with a confused look.  “I don't understand.”  “Look, Josh,” he sighs like he’s preparing to explain physics to a five-year-old, “I’m not telling you to get in the way of their relationship. But, if the opportunity to explore this arises, don't let that opportunity go to waste. It’s no small thing that you felt connected enough to this person to do what you did today.” 

“You know, I did tell the guy today that if he doesn't treat them right, someone else will be there waiting. Maybe I’m that someone.”  “You could be, if that's what you wanted.” 

I simply hum a response. Jake has given me too much to think about. 

“I appreciate you lending me an ear, brother,” I shove my stool back from the bar and stand, “but I have chores to take care of upstairs. Text me if you need a hand down here.”  “Will do.” 

I open the door to the apartment that Jake and I share above the bar. Home sweet home, finally. I kick my shoes off and walk into the living room, planting myself on the couch, thinking about Quinn the whole time. Something about them piqued my interest. I can't help but feel that if we’d met at a different point in time, we’d be together right now. That's ridiculous. You've spoken to them for a total of 3 minutes. 

It is true that I've only spoken to them for a few moments, but I noticed them the first time they ever came in while I was working. I've watched them from afar, hoping to find a way to actually converse with them. I was shocked when they found a way to converse with me first. Jake may joke about how I’d hit on anyone, but that's not true. I’m nice to everyone, and I'm flirty with a lot of them. But Quinn is different. And it's unbelievable that I feel that way. I don't wink at every single person I see, nor do I tell them how important their work is. I certainly don't get into verbal altercations defending other people. Verbal altercations are reserved for when someone is talking shit about my family. So, what makes Quinn different? I keep replaying our interaction in my mind. I got butterflies when they complimented my tattoo. I was practically shaking when they pulled me in for a hug. I was angry on their behalf when they insinuated that they don't have people who support them. 

What. Makes. Quinn. Different. 

I never act this way about strangers, but it's as if their soul called out to mine, and mine answered. It's the only way I can explain the way I handled Craig. I called him GREG just to piss him off. I never do shit like that. But he was an absolute chode. He kind of deserved it. I can internally debate whether he sucks or not all night, but it doesn’t change the fact that I don’t speak like that to people, and if Quinn, sweet, curious Quinn, weren’t involved, I likely wouldn’t have spoken to him that way either. Regardless, I really need to find a way to get closer to Quinn. Good job; that sounds so creepy. What I mean is that I feel a soul-deep need to know this person. I don’t know in what capacity because it seems as though I’m entering their life a little late for it to be romantic. Which is what I want. But I could be just in time for friendship. I’ll take it if they truly want to extend the offer, but only time will tell. 

When Craig makes it back home, shopping bags in tow, Willa and I are roughly two and a half sheets to the wind. 

“Well, well, well,” Willa points an accusatory finger at him as he walks through the door, “The prodigal Greg returns.” I can’t help but snicker, knowing how much it pisses him off when: 1) Willa is here without warning 2) Someone calls him by the wrong name. 

“Hey, Willa,” He plastered on a pained smile. Willa turns to look at me, shock written on her face. That may be the nicest he’s been to Willa in months. Craig walks into the kitchen and places his bags on the counter. 

“Didn’t realize you were going to be here,” He half shouts from the other room, “But you’re welcome to stay for dinner if you want.” “Does he even know how to cook?!” She whispers. “He knows how to heat food up,” I shrug. “I’m making Eggplant Parm.” My eyes light up. It’s my favorite meal. “Maybe this is his way of apologizing,” I whisper to Willa.  She rolls her eyes but cuts me a devious look. “That sounds great, Craig. I’d love to stay if you’ll have me.”

“You girls just stay in there, and I’ll have it out in a jiffy.” “Jiffy?” Willa mouths, fighting back a laugh. “Girls?” I mouth back, shaking my head, and Willa’s face instantly sours. She knows that Craig has a hard time with my pronouns and prefers to ignore my identity. This is a regular point of contention in my relationship with Craig and, by extension, my relationship with Willa. I don’t understand why he does it, and she doesn’t understand why I let him get away with it. I don’t understand why I let him get away with it. He is quite literally just a man. 

Willa and I fall into silence for a moment before she grabs my hand and stage whispers just loud enough that Craig may hear. “I bet Stock Boy wouldn’t misgender you.” I hear a small crash from the kitchen, and I clap one of my hands over her mouth. “Stop!!”

I feel her tongue dart out and lick between my fingers, and I let out a squeal. I pull my hand back from her mouth and wipe it on her shirt. “You are an absolute monster. I’m not sure why I allow you to call yourself my friend.” “Oh, Quincy,” she lets out a cackle, “You wouldn’t know what to do without me.” 

I roll my eyes, but it’s true. She is the only thing that has kept me sane since we moved to Maine. She’s my rock. Kind of sad that your own partner isn’t your rock, Quinn. Willa picks up our empty wine glasses from the coffee table and shoots me a wink before heading into the kitchen. Surely, this will be fine. Willa trapping Craig in a room could not possibly cause anything terrible to occur. 

I can hear their muffled voices just enough to make out their conversation. ‘So, Craig. What did you get up to after Gamestop?’ I wince, waiting for his response to that emphasis. Willa has always been phenomenal at telling him that she knows precisely when he’s messed something up.  ‘Oh, uh. I just stopped by the grocery. Wanted to make it up to Quinn.’ Interesting.  ‘You were gone an awful long time to have just stopped at the grocery.’ ‘Mmm, yeah, well. I had to figure out what to make and how to make it. I’m not exactly a chef over here.’  ‘That’s an understatement,’ I wince again. What is she playing at? This situation is already precarious. ‘But, I suppose you get half of a point for trying. We’ll see.’ 

Willa walks back into the living room with two more glasses of wine for us. 

“He’s–” She starts at full volume before I shush her, connecting my phone to the Bluetooth speaker in the corner. Once the music starts playing at an acceptable volume to cover our conversation, I motion for her to continue.  “He’s lying. I can smell it on him. He didn’t just nip over to Hannaford and come home.” “I mean, obviously. He was gone for like three hours.” “You don’t care that he’s literally lying to your face.” “Technically,” I poke her side, “he lied to your face. And no, not really. If he came home and decided to be sweet for once, I’m not gonna question what it took to get him there.” “Quinn,” She says softly, reaching a hand out to pat my leg. “I know, Wills. But, just let me have this for the moment.”

She hums a non-response and drops the conversation. 

I should have questions. I should care. But, if he’s going to be sweet, I’ll take it where I can get it because these moments are becoming fewer and further between. 

“Dinner’s done,” Craig pops his head into the living room, “Y’all’s plates are already on the table.” Willa and I scramble to the kitchen table.  “Thanks, babe.” I kiss Craig's cheek before sitting down. “It looks great.”  “Anything for you, babe,” He beams. 

I see Willa’s lips quirk up in a slight grin and brace myself for whatever she’s about to do.

“So, Quincy. I’ve got a photography project I’m working on, but I need some supplies. Wanna come to Hobby Lobby with me tomorrow?” I let out a massive sigh as the color drains from Craig’s face, and I begin mentally preparing myself to do damage control, but Craig impresses me.  “That would be nice, Quinn. Y’all can get out of the house for a little bit. I’ll stay behind to clean up around here.” 

Willa sits in shock, clearly not expecting that response. 

“Oh, and Willa,” Craig smiles at her, “If you want to stay over tonight, I’ll take the couch. Don’t want you to drive home after you’ve had all that wine.” 

Maybe he’s turning over a new leaf. 

Even if Craig has decided to be a bit nicer after his moment earlier; I still can’t help the little shock of excitement that rushes through me at the thought of being able to see Josh again so soon. I’m not sure what it is about him, but I want to learn more about him. He’s the most compelling person I’ve met in a long time, and perhaps he feels the same about me. 

I’m excited to see if our friendship may blossom. 

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

ATS Masterpost | The Caravel Tavern Series | Masterlist

Reply or Fill out this form to be added to the taglist:

Taglist:

@gvfsstardust @myleftsock @imleavingyoufornewyork @mindastreamofcolours @dont-go-home-without-me @literal-dead-leaf

@mackalah @writingcold @edgingthedarkness @takenbythemadness @i-love-gvf @threadofstars @earthgrlsreasy

@peaceloveunitygvf @gretavanfan @jazzyfigz @musicspeaks

@demonrat444 @josh-iamyour-mama @wrldabomination @imleavingyoufornewyork@gvf-luna @lilbitx @gvfstuddedmajesty

[harmless--dreamer]

I should draw my clone squad OCs that I have along with their Jedi General. Don't get attached because all bar one are dead.

ALSO I KNOW ONE IS UNFORTUNATELY ACCIDENTALLY A CANON NAME I STOLE. I tried to Google as many of them as possible but I gave up because being a teacher is tiring as hell. Also there's like 6.2 million clones so chances are a couple of names got repeated.

The squad itself is split into a few different batches. The first set of batch brothers are Seven, Stims, Static, Base and Glint. Click joined separately after his initial batch died. The second batch of brothers were Storm, Rogue, Torch. Their other batchmates were reassigned after their first few postings. They're a small team, just them and their Jedi (then later, also, their Padawan), so no big ship or thousands of troopers- just a smaller elite squad.

Here's the squad anyway:

Commander: Seven

Sev is firm but fair. He was in a relationship with their Jedi prior to his death. It was well known amongst their squad but not outside of it. They all kept the secret. Seven is a good soldier and a better leader. He cares deeply for all of his brothers. He was the clear leader out of his batchmates and was always fascinated by the Jedi. His fascination led to a desire to work harder to be at their side.

He got close to their Jedi over time, nights spent doing paperwork or days in the med bay together. Eventually his squad realised he was into him and started teasing him, which led to their Jedi finding out. They took some time navigating the power dynamics, but eventually settled. Seven was a father figure to their Padawan and tried to keep her out of trouble, especially trouble the vode tried to drag her into. Seven had many a grey hair from his brothers antics- both him and Stims were going grey and they commiserated together. Stims would often complain that he had it worse, since he also had to deal with Seven and their Jedi being insufferable lovebirds.

Sev dies protecting his squad, his Jedi and his padawan. Not that he succeeds, because his squad (bar two and the jedi padawan pair) all die.

Medic: Stims

Stims is harsh and blunt. He takes no shit and has no time for it. He is kind, deep down, but he hides behind his outward persona of Tired Grumpy Medic. He absolutely would die for his brothers and their general and padawan. He does everything he can for his brothers and takes their health very seriously. Even if that means throwing a ration bar at their head because they haven't eaten yet today, the whole time muttering angrily about the headache they're giving him. He's honestly a massive grumpy bastard, but he's their massive grumpy bastard who loves them.

He's one of the only survivors from the attack that kills his squad, but he's presumed dead- taken as a POW by the Separatists. When he's eventually found, his Jedi has left the order, his padawan is a criminal, and only his youngest squad mate survived. The medical care he managed to apply while dying himself saved a few of them.

Assistant Medic: Storm

Storm was softer than Stims. While Stims will throw a nutrient block at your head, Storm would hand it to you and give you a short lecture- threatening to tell Stims if you don't get everything back in order. He was a regular trooper before he approached Stims asking for further med training. Stims was more than happy to have someone else to help out around the med bay. He would spoil their Padawan and got on best with the ""youngsters"" (himself, Torch and Rogue).

Demo Expert: Torch

Torch was... A little bit of chaos. He enjoyed explosions and fires and will take any opportunity to explode the clankers. He wanted to make a fire hot enough to melt the clankers. He was a bad influence on their Padawan along with Glint and Rogue. He'd make any excuse to start a fire or an explosion, often arguing for blowing a base up rather than leaving it to stand. He got drunk the easiest out of his brothers.

Stealth Expert: Rogue

Rogue was quieter but arguably the most feral of the bunch. When their general would get himself hurt doing force knows what to save their asses, he'd be the one curled up at the foot of the bed like a cat. He walked near silently and would frequently do so to scare his brothers. He was not above biting and would play dirty to win a fight. While his main skills lay in all things stealth, he was a heavy hitter and could absolutely handle the clankers. He always indulged their Padawan and would assist her with any pranks she wanted to pull. No questions asked.

Tech and Comms Expert: Static

Static buzzed constantly. Either he'd be making low grade chatter, constantly narrating his work under his breath, or his many tools would. He wasn't the most overly energetic, but when he was excited by something he would practically vibrate. He was more of a constant, low grade energy- like static on a TV screen, there and buzzing along constantly. He made the prosthetics for their Padawan and general, with the help of Click and Stims. He could hack into whatever they needed and could make whatever they needed with the help of Glint or Click. Ironically, Static was best friends with Stims because the medic said he gave him the least headaches.

Sniper and Weapons Expert: Click

Click could sometimes be rowdy and loud, despite being a sniper. On missions, he'd be serious and composed, the only sound you'd hear from him being the click of his blasters or mission critical information. Outside of missions? He was active, sometimes boisterous, and cared deeply for his family. He was one of the more tactile brothers and would often lean on the others or casually sling an arm around them. He was closest to Seven, Static and Stims. Often his work would coincide with the four of them so they naturally drifted close- despite him technically being one of the younger crew. Seven trusted him with difficult missions and would consult the trio whenever he needed advice. Click did however swear he hated children, and initially avoided their Padawan like the plague. He was a liar and they ended up getting on well- but he was more reserved around her. His voice is one of the deepest out of his squad, and when he wasn't overly excited it was fairly quiet- but full of emotion and well animated.

Heavy Weapons Unit: Base

Base was a little larger than your average clone trooper, always spending his time trying to get stronger and stronger. He wasn't the brightest bulb in the pack, but he was kind and loved his brothers. He doted on their Padawan, always willing to drop everything to help her. He's everyone's friend, always happy to help. Even if it was helping Torch set some recreational fires- though he was most often helping Glint or Stims and Storm. He did like to tease the shinies by scaring them with stories of their Jedi. One particular time when Hazard joined them, after Glint's death, he tried to scare the shiny by talking about how their general lost his arm. He also has what is widely considered the most ugly armour, since they all paint it themselves and Base isn't much of an artist.

Engineering Expert: Glint

The first to fall, Glint died prior to the mission that saw the entire squad wiped out. I wish I could say he died a hero's death, that he went down protecting his brothers like Base did, or Click, or Rogue, but he didn't. It was an unlucky shot, a stray blaster bolt catching him in the neck. There was nothing Stims could do, except heed his brother's last wishes. Glint couldn't talk, given he was rapidly losing oxygen and blood, but he held Stims hands and fixed him with such a fierce look- mouthing "look after them" desperately with tears in his eyes. Before his death, he would indulge their Padawan's every whim and was fiercely protective of his brothers. If Seven or Stims wasn't free to mediate a problem, he'd be the one.

After Glint died he was replaced by Hazard. Hazard is my partner's OC (<3). He's the only other survivor other than Stims.

[slowandsteddie]

I was a brat last night and I have to share it with y’all because I cannot stop laughing about it.

Important note before I get into the story: Squid is my cousin (14).

Fun fact about the note: I was babysitting him about 7ish years ago overnight, woke up with a massive headache. He tried to show me a drawing he had done and I tried to say “that’s so cute, kid,” but what came out was “Squid.” He was like “did you just call me Squid??” and it stuck.

Squid has a Xbox in his room and he generally uses it to play Spotify on. When I open Spotify on my phone, it asks me if I want to join Squid’s jam. Most of the time, I say no.

Last night, I decided to say yes.

I added the song “Feel Good, Inc.” by the Gorillaz to the queue. I’m giggling to myself from my room across the hall. The song starts and he immediately skips it.

“That little shit,” I said while adding the song to the queue again. I let his current song get to about the halfway mark before I skipped to my song and turned the volume up.

Suddenly, I’ve been kicked from the jam session, and I laughed so hard I couldn’t breathe. Squid came into my room: “what the fuck are you doing?” He’s mad and I’m crying with laughter. “I know it was you! It told me that Yeet joined the session!!”

I collected myself a bit and wiped my eyes. “It’s a good song, isn’t it?”

He groaned and went to leave the room. He spun around. “You aren’t going to do it again, are you?”

“No, of course not!” I said while giggling again.

“Why do I not believe you,” he grumbled while leaving my room and closing the door.

I waited. I bided my time. About an hour has passed and I knew he was about to fall asleep.

I opened Spotify again. I joined the jam again…

I queued up “Feels Good, Inc.” by the Gorillaz again and I wait. Patiently. I let his long ass (8 minutes!!) song play out.

My song started.

The screech that came from his room had me laughing so hard I almost peed myself.

[tgrailwar-zero]

THGW-Zero 1Y Anniversary Side-Story: Searching for One's Purpose

The Saber of the Red Faction was a truly imposing man. His stature was grand, his bulk taking up the entirety of the massive throne he rested on, with perfect posture and an unflinching gaze.

The Rider of the Red Faction had never seen him lift a blade himself, only his proxies, but that in no way meant that he doubted his power. He considered Saber a worthy ally, and while they were ‘equals’, that was where things seemed to become complicated. Not much good came from having multiple ‘kings’ present, and so he had ceded his regality for the sake of being a warrior. He didn’t have much to be proud of in terms of his reign in the first place, so it was a simple solution in many ways.

However, that conflict wasn’t the reason he was standing before the Saber.

Things were tense within the Red Faction. Caster and Saber had found themselves at odds for reasons beyond his personal understanding, and so the team was fractured. Even with that in mind, Rider had still felt a desire to leave.

The ‘Strange Voices’ that had established themselves as his ‘Masters’ had, ostensibly, caused him naught but trouble and then ditched him. In many cases, this was where he couldn’t cede his regality, and felt lucky on their behalf that he wasn’t as stringent as his fellow Roman Emperors. However, despite those facts, he had felt what he could only describe as a ‘pull’. Nothing tangible, or even greatly supernatural, just a sense that simply waiting and participating in the War wouldn’t bring him very far. 

...Even if he did have a feeling that it’d be much less of a headache, in both a literal and metaphorical sense.

But, leaving without cause (or more aptly, desertion) would be massively disrespectful to his allies. So, he had opted to speak with Saber, and ask for permission to at least leave temporarily.

The throne room was massive and ornate. Rider had seen brilliant things in his time, the architecture of his country was something truly beautiful, and yet even he felt dwarfed by Saber’s ornamentation. In many ways, it painted a stark difference between how he and the Saber saw the world- as Rider was summoned as a warrior, a general, a tactician-- and Saber was summoned as a king, a ruler, and a paradigm.

The king sitting on the throne spoke, his deep voice echoing off the wide walls.

“I hold no dominion over you. Truthfully, I have no concerns about the war, my ambitions are greater. This war is but a distraction, after all.” The Saber commented, with a sense of regal arrogance that Rider couldn’t help but envy. “If you wish to go support your Masters, then go. Your support of the Red Faction is always appreciated, but my proxies and I already bolster our forces enough to put the Blue Faction at a standstill at the very least.”

It was an unexpected response, even if it was favorable. Before Constantine could respond, the Saber spoke again.

“Still… you’re a very dedicated man to this cause? To chase after your whims seems unlike you, so what draws you to them? These mysterious Masters?”

That gave him pause. He really wasn’t sure what he felt about them. Frankly, their entire experience together it was pretty apparent that they were itching to get away from him and back to their Avenger. As far as his personal pride went, he didn’t owe them a thing. He was an Emperor of Rome, playing ‘second best’ was nothing but a waste of his time, he was certain that if he brought up that point the emperor before him would absolutely agree.

For all intents and purposes, they had left him. And, as a being of mana, an entity that needed a ‘Master’ to live, he was rotting from the inside out because of it. His body hungered, ached, that growling pit within his ethereal soul desperate for fuel. Perhaps ‘survival’ would have been a good enough reason, but that didn’t seem accurate. If his only reason was his own personal survival, then he’d sooner die, and he didn’t have the pettiness to leave in search of revenge. His ambitions needed to be deeper than that, surely.

He had no reason to dedicate anything to them, they had made their choice, and he had fully expected to cross blades with them the next time they met.

And yet…

“...I’m their Servant.” Constantine replied, after far too much silence. 

“I see.” The wizened king scratched his chin, looking upwards with a thoughtful expression. “They’re strange ones, with a bloodstained past and an unclear destiny. A man of your bearing… a man of our bearing, may find the inclination to snuff out their flame if it begins burning in an unpleasant manner.”

Constantine couldn’t claim to fully understand what the grand king was musing about, but asked a simple question in response.

“Are you a man that believes in destiny, Saber?”

The Saber, in an almost unbecoming manner, shrugged.

“I believe in providence, but to many the difference is negligible. Why do you ask?”

His feet shifting slightly, Constantine closed his eyes in thought. “I was summoned to fight for the Holy Grail War… at least, that is what I was told. And yet, I feel as if I’m tied towards those strange voices that visited me on my search for the keys. Perhaps as an ally, perhaps as an enemy. Either I was summoned to be their sword, or be the blade pointed against them.” Opening his eyes to make direct eye-contact with the Saber, he looked up with determination.

“I’ve never been one to wait to see what providence has in store for me. And so, I’ll march out there and grab that fate for myself.”

As though his answer was amusing, the Saber held back a smile, simply nodding.

“Very well then, Rider. I wish you well, and I’m sure we’ll meet again.”

“Right. Until we meet again, Saber.”

And with that, the Rider of the Red Faction set on his way.

[mischievouslittlecreature]

Part 12: Fashionably Late

Fandom: Inception

Pairing: Robert Fischer x OC

Summary: They need to get ready soon, unless they want to be late.

Word Count: 1,474  

Notes: Warnings for depictions of sexual content.

Previous Part • Series • Next Part

“Which one for tonight?” Robert emerged from the door of the walk in closet, a hanger dangling from each hand. He was quite a sight, standing there in just his boxers, hair all ruffled with two extremely expensive suits in each hand. Alice sat up from where she had been lounging in the bed, propping herself up on her elbows to get a better look at him. The collar of Robert’s t-shirt, an old, incredibly worn one that she was pretty sure was from back when he was in college, slipped precariously off one of her shoulders at her movement. She eyed the suits and oh, it was incredibly unfair of him to make her choose between those two in particular. 

The first was a lovely dark pinstripe. It made him look sleek and powerful. And the warm hued maroon or purple ties he often paired with it brought out the warm tones of his hair. She narrowed her eyes, head tilted to the side as she tried to remember the last time she had seen him wear it. Was it that trip they had taken to Japan a few months ago? Yes, that seemed right. He had worn it on the plane only to strip the jacket off halfway through the flight, smirking at her when he caught her practically drooling over the white button down, tie, and suspenders he had been sporting underneath.

The second suit was charcoal gray, double breasted, and did a lovely job of hugging the trim, lean lines of his body. Robert often wore it paired with the light blue tie that brought out the piercing color of his eyes. Alice had a pretty, lacy blue dress she could wear that would match it nicely. 

The last time she had seen that suit, it had been crumpled up in a heap on the floor of their hotel room in France, her head thrown back in pleasure while Robert thrusted frantically into her on the massive king sized bed. 

Whatever suit she picked, she was thoroughly doomed to spend the better part of the evening wanting to climb him like a tree.

“The charcoal one,” she said finally. Robert smirked, turning to hang the pinstripe suit back in the closet, setting the double breasted charcoal one down on the chair. “And wear the light blue tie with it?” she leaned back and stretched, not missing the way his eyes raked over the strip of bare abdomen that was revealed when his shirt rode up at her movements. 

“Of course.”

She kicked the blankets away, moving to get out of bed, but he had already moved to stand in front of her, hands sliding through her hair before he caressed her jaw and tilted her head up to kiss her. Alice sighed happily against his lips, allowing her hands to frame his hips and draw him in closer to her. His chest was warm when it pressed against her, the scent of his cologne all around her. Lips parted from each other only for him to earnestly pepper kisses over her jaw and neck before he stopped, allowing his head to rest with his face buried in her neck for a moment before he sighed.

“If we don’t get dressed now, we’ll be late,” it was already late afternoon, and they had to get ready and then drive all the way across town to where the gala venue was. 

“Mmhm,” but she made no move to get up or push him away, only stroking her fingers through his soft hair, leaning closer when his thumb began to rub circles into the bare skin of her hip. Robert’s breath was warm against her shoulder. Alice pecked a kiss to the side of his head and he whined, borrowing closer against her.

“I don’t want to go,” he leaned back and pouted at her. She laughed, tracing her thumb over his bottom lip. 

“I’ll fake a headache or something a few hours in, insist that you take me home,” it wouldn’t be the first time one of them had faked an illness to get out of a boring business gala. He nuzzled closer to her, those beautiful piercing eyes so soft and adoring that it made her heart ache.

“You’re my favorite,” he insisted, kissing her shoulder and peering up at her sweetly. “What?”

Alice shook her head and smiled. “Nothing. You’re pretty,” she leaned in to press a kiss to his nose. “And you’re my favorite too.” 

The little blush that spread over his cheeks was incredibly cute. Warm fingers toyed with the hem of her shirt. “I like you in my clothes.”

She didn’t have time to really process the slight growl in his voice before he was kissing her again, and then his mouth was pressed back to her neck, kissing there softly, and then more roughly, hands beginning to push up the t-shirt covering her body.

“Robbie,” she breathed out warningly, pleadingly, even as she arched her back and let him crawl over her, pressing her firmly into the mattress. “Sweetheart, we’re going to be late,” she giggled as his lips ticked the sensitive skin of her shoulder, his palms warm as they smoothed against her sides.

“Don’t care,” he mumbled back. Snorting, she wound her arms around him, his body slotting perfectly between her legs, warm. His mouth found hers again hungrily, shirt half pushed up her body, hands rubbing up and down before squeezing at her waist.

“Honey, we really should get ready…” she mumbled, even as her legs lifted to wrap around his hips and pull him closer, moaning as she felt the beginnings of an erection already growing in his boxers. “Okay. Okay, seriously,” she laughed as she pulled back. “Stop. We’ve got to get ready.”

He pulled back from her immediately, rolling off to lay on his side next to her on the bed, head half propped up with one hand.

“You’re right,” he said, fingertips reaching out to stroke her cheek. 

“What?” she asked, head cocking. It wasn’t like he was normally excited to go to galas, but he didn’t usually drag his feet or pout as intently as he was this time. 

“Nothing. I just…” he sighed, rolling over to lay on his back and stare at the ceiling. “Sometimes I wish that we didn’t have to worry about any of this.”

“What? The company?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, forearm resting upon his head. “There are times where I wonder what it would be like if we just, I don’t know…” he trailed off, biting his lip. Alice rested her palm on the center of his chest.

“Ran away together?”

He laughed, softly. “Yeah. Something like that.”

“I don’t think that there’s anywhere we could go where Maurice wouldn’t be able to find us.”

“Yeah, probably not.”

“But…if you ever wanted to give running away a shot…” she smiled gently, “I’d go with you.”

The back of his hand stroked her cheek. “I love you.”

She kissed the center of his palm. “I love you too.”

His thumb petted her bottom lip, before he huffed and pulled away, standing and going over to the suit he’d had her pick out, resigning himself to preparing for the dreaded event. Alice stared at his pale back; the light freckles dusting across his skin, lean muscles moving in his shoulders as he started to fumble with the suit. Swinging her legs off the bed, she rose quietly and padded over to him, arms wrapping around his waist while she kissed one of his shoulder blades.

“Look at me,” she said, quietly, turning him around to face her. Robert’s baby blue eyes blinked at her owlishly as she stretched up on her toes and kissed him. “I know work’s been hard, lately,” she told him, feeling the knots in his shoulders as her fingers ran along his back. “It’ll be okay.”

“Mm,” he swallowed hard, nodding as his head dropped to nuzzle at her. “Thanks, Al.”

“Mhm,” she stroked his hair, pressing her lips to his cheek, then his jaw, down his neck.

“What’re you doing?” he asked with a small laugh as her hands ran over his naked chest. Alice just hummed against his pale throat.

“Nothing,” she purred innocently.

“Uh huh,” he chuckled, hands landing on her hips while she began to suck his neck. Using the tip of a finger, he tilted her chin up, kissing her deeply once her head was angled upwards. He moaned softly against her lips as she pressed closer, palms spread out over his chest. And then his hands were on her ass, gripping her tight and hoisting her up onto his hips, carrying her back towards the bed without even breaking the kiss.

In the end, they were very, very late getting to the gala. 

Previous Part • Series • Next Part

Thank you for reading! Please consider leaving a comment, reblog, or like. I always appreciate feedback and love getting the opportunity to interact with you and hear your thoughts!

[thebeingofeverything]

Ok I’ll bite, I’m curious:

Mephisto/Amaimon - why ship it? (All 3 q’s)

Rin/Shiemi — why don’t you ship it? (I hope I’m asking this right)

I think we will probably have similar reasons but it never hurts to ask!

Mefiama, why ship it:

1. Ok! So for the first, really my og aoex ship was amairin bc I'm a battle couple shipper first and foremost but mefiama was a close second and it's bc I'm a demon lover after everything lololol

Specifically, I've loved characters like mephisto and amaimon as long as I can remember, starting from my og fav yyh Yoko Kurama and Hiei (which in my head is a different ship than Hiei/Kurama). But, like that ship, I actually never really liked/like the ways fandom portrays them. Characters like Hiei and Amaimon both end up woobified and turned into stereotypical uke characters with the big sexy dom/seme mephisto/Kurama to seduce/play with them.

And to me that always pissed me off bc of how ooc it made them all out to be. I love Hiei and Amaimon bc they're little feral shitheads who have a massive independent streak to them and act/are totally inhuman. They both poke at each other and cause each other headaches and I live for it lololol

They're spicy as hell too and I love that in a ship. The second I saw Mephisto keeping Amaimon strung up on spears in the cuckoo prison that was it for me 😩👌🔥

2. The draw for these characters and the ship is that they're both inhuman creatures that only pretend at humanity, or in amaimons case, is forced to play nice by mephisto if he wants to be stomping around his territory.

What I really love about them, though, is that while Mephisto has the upper hand in the dynamic, Amaimon also knows his character and can see past his clown mask bullshit. He knows the demon Mephisto really is under all the sparkles and show boating. He's an observer and even when Mephisto is focusing on his goals and plots and shows, Amaimon is there on the sidelines keeping tabs and picking everything apart. I think Amaimon thinks Mephisto is interesting or has potentially interesting ideas. The thing about demons is they're constantly looking for something to keep them interested through their eternal existences and with Mephisto, Amaimon has a source of enrichment lol

I also like the fucked up premise of how Amaimon has an inherent trust in Mephisto that gets abused in canon. We saw him getting incredibly hurt by the shiemi reveal, as if Mephisto keeping that info from him meant Mephisto was treating him like one of his human pawns and not with respect as another demon king.

3. I'm not sure if there's an unpopular opinion I have for them, except that I tend to find most fandom treats them incredibly ooc and it makes it difficult for me to enjoy content of them from others. Mephisto as the over simplified seductive seme, doing typical melodramatic evil villain stuff and Amaimon being reduced to a uwu baby idiot who has never had sex despite being a who knows how old demon king. I've got a ton of bitching I've done over the years about it (and it's the same treatment Hiei always got back in the day so I'm used to the frustration) 😂

Rinshi, Don't Ship:

1. Man I feel really bad to say this but this is one of the most vanilla/boring ships in the fandom outside of bonrin. It's just so typical hot headed anime boy protag/girl next door love interest, even as much as they're both incredibly well developed characters, and as much as I love Rin.

It really just comes down to Rin being a, like, base ingredient for me as a ship. Like him being involved in a ship isn't on its own enough to make me enjoy/ship something. (Amaimon, on the other hand, immediately spices any ship up and I've even got a few rinamaishi fic aus out there lol). But I've never been interested in the sweet, hard-working character archetype. I can't help it, I'm into edgy bastard gremlin characters, the antagonists and anti heroes lololol (The exception to this in aoex is Yuri and that's bc she's got that little mischievous bad girl zing to her I love lololol). Shiemi just doesn't have that spice I need to really invest in a character.

2. What would have made me like it is just if Shiemi was a different character lololol like, she's just too sweet for me, like a marshmallow. Her in her string Independent woman era isn't really doing it for me either bc it feels like all her character development got cut out in that training arc she was just in. We missed a good opportunity to see her reconcile things with her grandma and her growth just to watch her toss an Amaimon copy and it feels like we got cheated out of her character arc.

If she just had that little spark that Yuri had it might work for me but I haven't seen it and until then it feels like every other typical anime main character/love interest ship, and it's just never been a dynamic I've never been into.

3. Positive things I have to say are that I think Kato has always done a phenomenal job making her characters feel realistic and not the usual anime shallow stereotypes. So when ppl tell me they enjoy the ship I'm like yeah, if ur into those kinds of characters and that ship dynamic, you've come to the right series to get a really well developed couple who feel fleshed out and who have had a developing relationship throughout the series. Totally understandable, just not for me.

I hope I actually answered these right 😂 thanks for the ask @philosophicalparadox 🩷

[messinwitheddie]

Somehow this anonymous ask was deleted as I posted it?? So, hopefully whoever sent this asks sees it. Luckily I had the questions written down (helps me visualize sometimes)

1: Was tallest Red sick? If so, how long did he have it and did Purple see the signs? When did he die?

2: Hitz is the one out of the three whose upgraded vessel didn’t get destroyed during the last battle. Where is he now at the time?

3: I like to learn about tallest Spittle. He is one nicely built Irken. Confident enough to pose naked and loving how it intimidate his rivals.😆 what has he done for the empire during his reign? How did he pass away? Who was his closest staff workers?

4: How Was Hoola’s encounter with humans so far? What does he think of them and has he done any study of their world or at least learn form one?

5:How fond of Hitz and Soxx was of Dava? Enough to want to ally with her? Want her to be their life mate and have their sworms?(or was that towards Kii?)

6:Did Purple survive the battle against the control brains? Did he take back his throne or did he sit this own out? If the 6th era started, how is irk fairing after all this trauma over the years being led by each crazed, power tripping leaders and super computers?

7:If they can go back to the natural way of breeding, would they? If the irkens can find a way to limit the rick factors and death tolls. And only using the smeetiry method if it’s in dire need for population control. Surely there must have been a small amount of irkens who wish to have smeets of their own?

8: Out of all tallest, who’s reign was the least damaging to the empire and is more towards fixing itself from the inside while trying to gain Allie’s and trading partners on the outside? Any in favor?

9: When the time comes for them to die, will Zim and Dib see each other in the afterlife or will their paths be separated? Will they still watch over others?

10:What’s Cini’s favorite color? What would it be like if Lich was to be his personal guard? How would the interaction be between the two for the most part?

(Sorry this is all text. I will absolutely illustrate to these answers at some point... Catching up on other drawings this week. I like the numbering system; helps me stay focused. I is shit at focusing lol)

1. Red wasn't sick exactly. He and Purple suffered chronic joint and back pain, especially after their official measuring process which limited their physical activity. Red slowly developed a drinking problem after ID I, so his robes were a little tighter on him than Purple, even if on livestream that seemed unnoticeable. Red's reoccurring headaches started shortly after the Massive escaped the florpis hole.

The Massive's medical staff was OVERLOADED with emergencies at the time. Maybe something ailing late Red was misdiagnosed or overlooked in the chaos, but he was young and relatively healthy for his abnormal height. Nothing concerning showed on any of the maintenance tests Medic Hoola or the imperial PAK technician ran on his PAK. Late Red's death via aneurysm was unexpected. It shocked the empire. It nearly destroyed Tallest Purple. Purple didn't take Red's complaints seriously for a while. He will always blame himself for this. At the same time, a repressed part of him wonders if Red's death wasn't a freak coincidence. Tallests are telepathically/ wirelessly synced directly to the control brains. They often express displeasure with Red/ Purple's work performance... Maybe this was their way of punishing them? Their way of keeping Purple humble and in line...? He tries not to wonder. Outside his personal chambers, they can hear...

The exact date Red passed away, I honestly don't remember when I said originally or if I ever specified. I would have to look it up... In my AU Zim left earth a little under 2 years after the events of ETF. Red passed away some time between then and when Zim returned to earth (18 years after the events of ETF).

2. Self indulgent ending for Hitz (or his updated flesh vessel at least). The exact details have not been fleshed out. To sumarize, the one single surviving back-up flesh vessel, Purple winds up adopting the newborn updated Hitz and raises him as his own on Mem's mystery planet. New Hitz is a very big, very challenging smeet, but the evil, greed and hatred that infested his original vessel never infests new self. New Hitz is showered with love and friendship growing up. He has the same compulsive need to be orderly and follow rules and a logical routine, but he has no desire to enforce rules through violence and fear.

3. (Trying to gloss over this part, but… yeah) Spittle was the 21st tallest of the 4th era. He wasn't the brightest drone; he could barely manage the label on a nutrition shake. BUT, he had the good sense to surround himself with bright drones and listened to their counsel. He trusted the judgment of his staff, frylords and military nobles.

Spittle had a competitive streak and inferiority complex. He also had body image issues, if that wasn’t obvious. So in his efforts to build a strong, thriving empire and a flawless physique to match he invested large sums of monies and resources into medical research; improving the irken population's overall health.

Improving quality control and labor-drone's burnout on Producia, Foodcourtia and the other major snacking systems was advised by the frylords of his day, so he enlisted more service drones and made it mandatory for encoded full-time soldiers to work shifts for service drones due for a reprieve (vacation). For a soldier to refuse to show for service-drone duty or fail to perform the job correctly was considered a punishable offense. His advisor and battle pilot comrad, Blinx, cautioned him about declaring war until the armada was upgraded. So Blinx invested heavily in military research. Within the first century of Spittle's reign, he commissioned and mass produced three new battle crafts, the Spittle Runner (named after him), the shuvver and the ripper. Navigational tech upgrades were installed in all the Armada's ships. Maintenance on all crafts were performed more often and the regulations themselves were updated and reinforcedmore strictly.

Spittle had enlisted for battle pilot training when he was a cadet, so he especially enjoyed discussing battle crafts, space battles, racing stats ect.

Funding for Irken military and battle pilot academies was increased as was the number of training hours needed to graduate. Training improved exponentially and the stats of cadets across the board improved. The youth of his day confidentiality believed Spittle was leading them into a platinum age of Irken history...

He seemed untouchable, but Spittle had two character flaws; he had a habit of showboating and taunting his enemies and he never learned his limits. After declaring the only war during his short reign, Spittle started a strict body building regimen. He injured himself at the gym. In an attempt to rush his recovery and gain results, Spittle went against the advice of his medic. He took a cocktail of performance enhancers. His heart gave out.

His advisor, Blinx was measured the next tallest and the war Spittle declared lead to the pandemic that decimated the Irken population when Cini was a smeet.

4. The only two humans Hoola has interacted with so far is with Reg (Dib's oldest child) and Lyr (Gaz's only child). He is pleasantly shocked by how kind they are to him, considering how much these humans know about the Irken race and their endless warpath. He likes these young humans. They're funny creatures; very expressive and curious. Reg especially asks a lot of questions. Hoola knows giving away too much information may be a punishable offense, but he is sick of the injustices plaguing the empire and his life clock has been detonated, starting his 10 year retirement countdown to death.

He enjoys participating in Reg's interview. Lyr is especially fond of Hoola. He considers him their Irken grandpa. Lyr is deeply troubled when Hoola explains to him how retiring works in the Irken empire.

5. Dava was long dead when Hitz, Soxx and Kii ruled as tallests if their respective hives. Soxx and Hitz would have HATED Dava. Dava allowed her drones too many perks and freedoms. She encouraged disobedience. She spat on tradition. Kii ruled the same subterranean territories Dava and her allies ruled. She admired Dava or how her legacy described Dava, as a smeet but failed to honor her memory in the long run.

6. Purple survives several battles against the control brains. He dies long before the final battle. He lived a comfortable-ish life in Mem's hive. He did what he could to help the resistance.

7. I think it would take a few generations to get used to the idea of a natural/ smeetery option birthing system. The smeetery has been the only method of birth permitted in the empire for thousands of years. Most Irkens would choose to let the smeetery replenish the population, but if the alternative method is decriminalized eventually more drones might find the natural method appealing. It would be a huge win for drone rights if natural pregnancies weren’t a punishable offense.

8. Hmmm… Late Cini probably fits that description as far as my ocs go. Spittle is a close 2nd. But I haven't written lore fot 17 or 18 other late reigns of tallests.

9. I'm sure Zim and Dib will run into each other. Where and when I'm not certain. Zim is relieved Dib has kept tabs on his family / descendants. Otherwise, it would take Zim forever to recap.

10. Cini's favorite color is neon pink. He is also fond of iridescent silver or iridescent pink, and sequins of any color.

[milliesmusings314]

Headcanons on Gold and Red Rings, Chaos Emeralds, and Sonic's Iconic Forms

I've been wondering for a while about how the rings and Chaos Energy in the world of Sonic the Hedgehog might work, and I've come up with a few ideas that I'd love to explore.

Of course, my musings don't take into account all of the established canon, as some elements have been changed or discarded over the years, and said musings started before the two latest games in the franchise. But this is mostly just self-indulgent creativity anyways, isn't it? No need to think too hard about the absolutely pin-prick fine details of a franchise that's been ongoing for 31 years and counting, I'd be giving myself a massive headache if I tried.

So, without further ado, let me share how I like to imagine the way that rings and Chaos Energy work in the Sonic universe.

I like to imagine that the golden rings found throughout the zones are a physical manifestation of positive energy. Depending on the amount of positive energy present in a location, the rings can range from being abundant to scarce. For example, when nature is being oppressed and drained of life by the mad doctor Eggman's machines, the rings can become increasingly difficult to come by, as he saps the resources from the land and tramples on its life. In contrast, the buildup of negative energy in an area could lead to the manifestation of red rings, similar to those found in Sonic.EXE fan creations, especially their portrayal in "An Ordinary Sonic ROM Hack", but, y’know... without the crappypasta entity really being at all involved. These rings have the power to cancel out the collected golden rings, thereby weakening the player who is not protected by positive rings.

It would honestly be pretty cool to see SEGA add something akin to this, and develop this whole concept of positive and negative energies further, after involving positive and negative energy in the plot of Sonic Adventure 1 and not touching it again past that.

The Chaos Emeralds, on the other hand, possess limitless energy, but said energy is inherently chaotic and discordant. The Master Emerald, capable of unifying the chaotic energy, serves as a controller, enabling its user to create or destroy. If one uses the energy from the Chaos Emeralds without unification, the result is purely chaos and discordance, a mishmash of positive or negative energy.

Super Sonic is a result of harmonizing the energies of the Chaos Emeralds towards the positive end. You know the deal with that - fifty rings, seven emeralds, and you're golden. Literally.

Hyper Sonic involves harmonizing the energy through the Master Emerald instead, before this energy somehow being purified and refined by the user. Hence the white quills that flash the colors of each of the emeralds - purity of energy combined with a resemblance to the energy’s source. This is the part I've thought the least about, but I still feel like this makes some amount of sense, or at least I hope it will.

Fleetway's version of Super Sonic, meanwhile, came about from the raw unharmonized combination of positive and negative energy within the Emeralds, resulting in disharmony, dissonance, discord… chaos, aptly enough, which is exactly what the transformation resulted in.

Drawing from the negative energies, finally, results in Dark Super Sonic. When Dark Sonic appeared, the only real source of negative energy anywhere near Sonic were the fake Chaos Emeralds. Sonic had previously been able to utilize Chaos Energy by using a fake Emerald that was created by Tails in Sonic Adventure 2, which allowed him to Chaos Control himself back onto the Space Colony ARK, but I personally doubt that Sonic would be able to sustain a real Super transformation with fake Emeralds, even if he had as many as he would normally need, especially since there were very obviously more than seven fake Emeralds visible during the scene in which Dark Super Sonic made its singular appearance. I’d probably say that Sonic has some innate positive energy enabled him, one, to utilize the fake Emerald to perform Chaos Control, and two, probably just to be as powerful (and don’t forget fast!) as he is by default.

This explains Sonic's ability to effortlessly use the Chaos Emeralds. With others, it appears to require either extensive training, such as with Tails in Sonic 3 & Knuckles, who was only able to transform once the energies were already harmonized through the Master Emerald, but became able to use only the Chaos Emeralds alone to transform once Mania came around, suggesting Tails’ adventures in the interim allowed him to somehow gradually unlock the understanding of how to harmonize the energy of these gems, or a deep knowledge and understanding of these gems, such as Knuckles after serving as the guardian of the Master Emerald for fifteen years by the time Sonic and his friends arrive.

Not only that, but it also explains positive energy of Sonic explains why the Dark transformation was easy to undo with just some words from Eggman. Unlike the Super transformation, which adds positive energy on top of positive, Sonic's innate positive energy actually hinders his Dark transformation. This is because his positive energy cancels out some of the negative energy, and since, once again, the supply of negative energy from the fake Emeralds is limited, the transformation wasn’t going to last very long if it were left to continue anyways, with how much of it Sonic was using up at once.

TL;DR: Gold rings represent positive energy, red rings represent negative energy, Chaos Emeralds contain chaotic energy that needs harmonization, Super Sonic is a positive harmony transformation, Fleetway's Super Sonic is unharmonized chaos, and Dark Sonic is a negative harmony transformation, hindered by Sonic's innate positive energy when the negative energy is limited.