#i mean that blankie one with my WHOLE HEART

[hballegro]

i have more conspiracies about MASH that may or may not be true, but ive decided they are. they also just might have been explained, but im dumb, and cant remember. heres your sequel.

in 7x3 where hawkeye tackles bj, bj goes "AAH!' and hawkeye says 'WRONG! THAT STARTS WITH AN H!'. this is because mike farrell's line was 'hey!' but due to the force and drama of the scene, just Yelped instead.

All the dogs that turned up that never appeared again [like the one bj and hawk "ate" when they were trying to scare a visitor, dogs seen in 1 shot, etc] were just dogs that the production crew/cast owned and wanted to bring to work/volunteered their animal for acting duty

in the handful if scenes where hawkeye is actually knitting [and not using the red yarn, for the reason given in the previous edition], hes making a blankie for erin. [co-credit my sibling]

klinger got his ears pierced during the course of the show, starting with clearly just clip-ons and then later declares he doesnt want his ears to close up. some say continuity error, I say commitment (and also it would probably be easier to find real earrings instead of clip-ons)

in s7e2 Peace on Us, no one told bill christopher to tie that red streamer around his neck, he just thought it would be silly

in s7e2 Peace on Us, again, no one told alan alda to drive the jeep back to camp with his leg up like that. he just knows the character well enough to make that call. which he's correct about

the scar on hawkeye's lip was caused by a fishhook in his youth. got called Troutboy a long time afterward because of it.

bj is a vaseline girlie and takes good care of his hair as well.

hawkeye sniffs food because, having grown up partly during the depression, eating spoiled food was a real risk, so giving it a good ol' sniff-test was a given

fr mulcahy cares deeply about his appearance and engages in more grooming activities than any other guy in camp [the shower cap, always looking perfect, owning gardening gloves, manicured hands and feet, etc]. he even irons his stole on a bi-weekly basis and launders his clerical collars

hawkeye's issues with people leaving and not saying goodbye began with his mother after she passed, since his father didnt want him to worry

on nights where charles goes to bed after the other two, he will occasionally clean up a little bit. this contributes to why he's so pissed in 'Pressure Points'- he's been doing his own cleaning and some of theirs without them noticing or caring.

once again these are all just things that came to mind while watching, i didnt think too hard on them. the only one 'researched' on was the food sniffing, solely because i needed to do Year Math lol

[serejae]

WE CANT BE FRIENDS | 20. I DONT LIKE HOW YOU PAINT ME YET IM STILL HERE HANGING

(written)

prev | next

genre : angst | pairing : myungjae x fem!reader | wc : 1458

warning : cursing, major our beloved summer and the notebook references | @onedoornet

mstl

taglist @lilriswife4life @cherrytaesan @tubatu-lovie @woonsbot @guiltysungho @taylorluvation @kage-yaa @lionhanie @dearly-somber @nicholasluvbot @nujeskz @unhakki @lblossom21 @kirbyyluvs @seunghancore @nctrawberries @i03jae @icewons @miidorei @hanbinniesmango @dongminz @helpsplease @sol3chu @letwiiparkjay

the next day of recording was tense. you and jaehyun had been silent the whole day making woonhak uncomfortable. he tried starting a conversation between you two to no avail, when he started recording he had about 17 minutes of interviewing and 30 minutes of just pure silence.

"okay. whats up with you two?" he said frustrated "why are you guys being all tense all of a sudden, and you!" he pointed at jaehyun "why didn't you show up to the recording? did you two get into a fight the day jaehyun got drunk or something? cause if you guys did I'm gonna need you both to get over it and at least pretend you both are friends because that's kinda the whole point of this documentary"

you and jaehyun both fell silent, you didn't bother looking up and just stared at your hands as jaehyun turned to you. "i didn't feel like coming" he said blanky "why? why didn't you feel like coming?" woonhak groaned as he ran his fingers through his hair stressed. woonhak observed the way jaehyun slightly turned his head to you making him sigh, "oh i get it now, you didn't want to come because of yn."

"oh i get it now, you didn't want to come because of yn."

the sentence shouldn't have made you feel the way you did but something in you snapped

"right this is how we always were" you sighed and turned over to him

"all i did was watch you come and go. while we were dating i would wake up wondering if i'd feel someone lying next to me or an empty space. whenever we planned something i'd clear out my whole schedule to get all pretty for you because going on a fucking date was rare, after i'd get all dressed up so you could remember me you wouldn't even show up. all you did was make me feel like a fool."

looking up you saw his blank face, if you're not gonna say it now, you'll never say it. all the things you've been holding in, the things you swore you would curse at him when you saw him again, but instead you were forced to be civil.

"i only could sit there and watch you leave and come back when you wanted. and i hate myself for letting you in and holding you when you wouldn't bother opening my messages all day. but the one time i truly wish you didn't come back was when after you broke up with me out of the blue. we had gotten into a argument but couples argue right, i just didn't think that would be our first conversation after 2 weeks of silence from you. so when you ended things i swore i'd never let myself get close to you anymore scared you'd leave again but i thought, just maybe. i thought you would be different after these two years. and granted you only did this one time but like i said, I'm not allowing you to hurt me the same way you did jaehyun." letting out a shaky breath you continue looking down at the bench

"but somehow i let you, i still let you come back, and i still let you leave, but even worse i still let you make me feel the same way i did two years ago.

like a stray

so it really feels like your back jaehyun"

you heard jaehyun kiss his teeth

"oh stop youre acting like i didnt feel like a stray watching you go ignore me after i tried making it right with you.

i mean look at us! were already arguing just like how we constantly did back then. argue, argue, argue, and you blame me for locking myself away? it was the only time i didnt hear you nag at me!" he said resting his head in his hands.

his heart stung. you had every right to be mad, he didn't mean what he said but he felt let down, by himself. he let himself down the second he pushed you out of his life and the things he saw as doing something good for you both were doing more good than bad.

out of frustration, you stood up in front of him making him look up. he saw the look in your eye and you saw the look in his.

maybe this is what you were talking about, the rug reference. everything had been pushed under it for too long that it had finally overflowed. there are only so many things a rug could cover, and this?

the rug is out the window :///

"well, that's what couples do! they argue, maybe not as intensely as we did but even then couples fight, you tell me when im being a hardheaded loudmouth and i tell you when youre being a selfish loser who cant get more than 2 followers which you were..or are. i don’t know...but im not afraid of telling you anymore, its better to tell you now than to never tell you at all cause as soon as you lock yourself in that room you avoid everything we ever talked or argued about and continue as if nothing happened and I'm sorry jaehyun, but that's not how relationships work. maybe that's why ours failed" that was a petty move, you see his eyebrows furrow and small drops on his forehead.

what great timing.

it was raining

"listen, im glad you feel comfortable enough to leave again but im tired of running in a circle, if youre gonna stay out of my life, do it permanently and forget about me like how you did through these past 2 years" you mumbled just enough for him to hear you. you couldn't put any more energy into him, knowing from jaehyun and your past mistakes, arguing doesn't go anywhere.

this time jaehyun stood up. the look on his face was familiar, the same face you recognized each time you said something wrong or pushed one of his buttons

"forget about you? are you fucking kidding me yn?"

he walked closer to your face leaving a couple inches between you two as the rain got heavier

"forget about you?" he repeated

"what?" you whispered tears welling up in your eyes as you looked into his. his tears were dried at this point, something about what you said made him flip.

"you were the one constantly pushing me away when i have tried to make it better between us, hell even your friend group and mine get along better than we do, i dont know what fucking you want any more when i constantly put my effort in and you don't. i know and understand why you're afraid but are you really going to put the whole blame on me for leaving? you're constantly giving me signals to leave, so once i give up i do but i can't help but come back. its like I'm fucking tied to you"

"guys i hate to interrupt but you guys keep cursing-"

"woonhak shut up" jaehyun said before continuing

"how could you even think i forgot about you? i wrote 846 songs for you. every day i wrote a song about you, for these last 2 years and till this day. every time i thought about you i sat down and wrote a song about you because you were all i could think about. fuck, i wrote one today yn.”

he continued to stare at your tear-filled eyes with his. you could barely make out his face at this point but you kept listening

"in the mornings because i woke up thinking about you, in the afternoons cause i'd wonder what we would be doing, in the middle of the night cause i couldn't sleep without you. the number seems a lot but it wasn't when it was you, so how could i forget about you? how could i forget about you when the thing that drew me away from you brought me back huh?"

your face felt hot and you could barely see the tears fall from his eyes

"yn," he said so delicately as if it was a forbidden word

"how can i forget you or even bother moving on when im still in love with you?"

you didn't know if the excessive water was your tears or the rain but a voice pulled your eyes from jaehyun.

"guys get inside before you catch a cold." woonhak said wearily, rushing into his house as if he were stepping on eggshells

you both walked back inside in silence, after drying off you decided it'd be better if you left first, you stood up from the seat across from him and walked away leaving with a faint 'bye' and exited before you could hear a response back.

you had said everything you needed to say, but what about what you wanna say now?

[thegeminisage]

STAR TREK UPDATE TIME. last night we watched ds9's "empok nor" and voy's "scorpion part i."

empok nor (ds9):

THIS ONE WAS SO GOOD.

firstly, i love when we bring up o'briens war history. SECONDLY, i love when garak has problems

i also really really love nog, but cathy was right when she said it should have been bashir with them - he would have made the perfect hostage tied to the pole while the two of them fought over him. we've never really got a taste of the o'brien bashir garak dynamic and it would have been delicious

GARAK STALKING THEM THROUGH THE SHADOWS. very scary. mwah

also, it's really funny that this station IS ds9, they just turned the lights off. i love budget genre television

and, of course, who can forget the failed government experiments frozen in a tube? this episode had EVERYTHING

i also thought o'brien and garak at the end were very chill considering. o'brien like yeah dude i really was attempting with my whole pussy to kill you and garak like yeah i wouldn't have it any other way can you tell the guy's wife that i murdered that i'm sorry and o'brien is like yeah dude no prob feel better soon see you around. like what is it about garak that encourages this kind of dynamic...he tortured odo and then they become breakfast buddies, he tries to kill o'brien and they brush it off, he did that whole thing (gestures to "the wire") with julian and julian still gives him hugs and a blankie when he has claustrophobia. you can say anything to this guy. he tells nothing but lies but won't accept hearing anything less than the absolute no-frills-attached truth

anyway, 10/10

scorpion part i (voy):

SPEAKING OF EPISODES THAT HAD EVERYTHING.

gimli as leonardo da vinci. janeway and chakotay being sweet to each other. janeway and chakotay fighting. borg. disembodied heads. tentacles oozing into orifices. cgi aliens. janeway appealing to the devil. action. drama. INCREDIBLE

three years ago i didn't even know your name today i can't imagine a day without you i'm going to HURL!!!!!!

chakotay like. hey we havent slept. we havent eaten. you need to do that. and shes like sorry can't! and then he's like we cant go through this space we will die. like i've been semi-borged i know how bad it gets i don't want anything to happen to you and she's like sorry we gotta! and he;s like i'll follow you but i can't support this path and she's like well damn i guess i am alone. AGGHGHGHG

like along with a huge dose of actually suspenseful and scary action (it is always is with the borg) AND the cool body horror (rip harry kim and his mommy issues) we also get this wonderful interpersonal drama...and like i absolutely get why she's not willing to wait in the delta quadrant for a safer way to do this to come along. because you could do that forever. i also get where HE'S coming from because with the risk of death so high maybe it's better to accept the facts...that's what he did in (draws hearts) 2.25 resolutions, and just like in that episode, she does not give up, CANNOT give up, because it means facing not only despair but failure - and in this case, failing more than just herself

shoutout also to the scorpion and the fox parable, which i'd never heard as fox but frog, because it is of course in that one show about the teenage canines

i cannot believe people had to wait months for this to have a follow-up in 1997. EVILLLL

next episode........we finally meet seven. i am Dying to see her

TONIGHT: ds9 s5's last two episodes, "in the cards" and "call to arms."

[corie-is-writing]

↳ ❝ [S Y N P O S I S] ¡! ❞

Y/n L/n, a simple minded reader, is one of the biggest fans of a popular web novel, Twisted wonderland. In their shock after finding out it has ended, they froze in the middle of a busy street and got hit by a truck.

Dizzy and confused, they have awoken in a coffin in the world they adore so much, and must use their knowledge to survive and stop the boys from overblotting.

↳ ❝ [M A S T E R L I S T] ¡! ❞

↳ ❝ [THE CRIMSON TYRANT] ¡! ❞

˗ˏˋ Talks and a request ´ˎ˗

Note: Sorry this took so long, school got in the way, might be the last post until the finals are over.

After the sudden dispute, you and the others took a seat at an empty table– one that some other students definitely did not give up to you after what they have seen.

"Y/n! What a pleasant show you've put on~" The cheery voice of a diamond says, the card duo and Grim practically jump out their skins in surprise as the ginger sits down besides you.

"I didn't mean to do that though..." You mumble, though your words went unheard as Cater slumps and wraps an arm around your shoulder.

"That was super cool! How'd you get so strong?" He asked, eyes sparkling and hand already on his phone ready to make a post about what ever secret technique you use.

"Cater, let's not bother them while they're eating." A certain green haired boy says.

You and the others look up to see Trey appear, taking a seat next to Cater.

"Hang on- Who're you?" Ace asks, and Trey gives a sheepish apology.

"I'm Trey Clover, I'm a third hear in Heartslabyul like Cater." He says, "And you're that student who got put into ramsh- I mean, the unused building, correct?" Trey questions, turning his eyes to meet yours.

"Yep, and it's fine you if you say ramshackle." You say, mumbling that last sentence a bit as you take a bite of your food.

"Anyway! Didn't cha trick us into painting the roses for ya!?" Grim shouts, pointing fingers (claws?) at Cater.

The ginger pouts, crossing his arms. "So mean! I had no choice, it's our dorms rule y'know~"

"You were grinning the whole time though.." Deuce deadpans, staring blanky at the diamond.

"Now now, Deucy. Those rules only apply inside our dorm. Outside, I'm a whole 'nother person!"

"Don't call me Deucy!"

You giggled at the interaction between the two, and listened half heartedly as Grim asks about the dorms and the Heartslabyul 3rd years begin to explain.

Soon, they start talking about Diasomnia.

'EEEK! I COMEPLETELY FORGOT ABOUT MY BBG MALLEUS' You brought a hand to your lips as your jaw hung low in shock, lightly slapping your cheeks to which Ace raised a brow at.

"Diasomnia..Ah, look there." Cater points at a group of extinguished students, they seem to be glowing in all their glory– a whole another level and vibe from the rests.

"Diasomnia is filled with exceptionally talented and great, promising magicians. They're prodigies at almost everything." Trey says.

"They have this kind of aura that makes it hard to approach them, even their dorm leader has this mega "don't you dare talk to me" vibe." Cater adds.

Ace peers to the side, taking a glimpse of the group before confusion appears on his face. "Why is there a kid with them?"

At that, you look to see a boy with choppy pink striped hair, wearing clothes to large for him, he had pointy ears that twitched at Ace's question and ruby eyes that looked to the side, eyeing your table.

"The school allows students enter by skip years, but that's that the case here." Trey says, pushing his glasses up. "He's a third year, his name is.."

"Lilia, Lilia Vanrouge."

The sound of his deep voice startled everyone, looking up to see the little bat floating upside down. His hair fell down and his eyes trailed over his little details of everyone's faces before meeting yours.

"H-he just teleported over here!" Grim screeched, panting heavily with a paw over where his heart should be.

"Are you all curious about my age?" Lilia chuckled lightly, placing himself in the right position before blood pools to his head. "My cute appearance might be bursting with youth, but as your friend said, I am not exactly the age one would call a child."

"Bursting with youth..?" Trey mumbled, sweat forming on the side of his face.

"There's no need to simply look on from afar." Lilia says, giving a little grin with welcoming eyes. "Come up and speak any time you wish. We at Diasomnia always welcome everyone with open arms."

As he says this, he steps over to you, placing a firm grip on your shoulders with a gaze that quickens your heart pace.

'Holy fuck he's so coolaksiqksiqa. AAAAAAAAAAAAA'

Ar his words, your table hesitantly turned their gaze to Lilia's words. You calm yourself and follow their steps– meeting eyes with a certain silver haired boy and green haired simp.

"I don't think your friends feel the same way.." Deuce sweats, giving a blank stare.

Lilia chuckles at that. "Apologies for interrupting you in your meal. Until we meet again."

The bat appears back in his seat, settled in and immediately talking with his group as one last gaze is sent to you.

"Our table is almost over 20 meters away from them, yet he still heard us..?" Ace breathed, shuddering slightly.

"W-well, Diasomnia has many peculiar members." Trey says. "Many of their students excel at all kinds of magic. Their dorm leader, Malleus Draconia, is counted among the top five mages in the world."

"For real, though, Malleus is like, the most super of super crazy powerful." Cater adds, before giving a grin to you, "Maybe you're as strong as him, seeing as you sent that troublemaker earlier flying so easily."

You blush, banging your head on the table– Grim almost jumps in his seat and gives you a worrying look as Cater laughs.

"Though on the topic, our dorm leader is his own brand of craziness." The ginger says.

"So true!" Ginger number 2 joins, "All I did was eat a single piece of tart and he collared me. His narrow mindedness is super crazy."

"Oh, is that so?"

"Sure are. Blew right past "strict" and straight into being a tyrant."

Oh, dear, this is quite awkward.

The mood was stiff and you couldn't help but feel as if fear had struck your heart.

Deuce hesitantly points behind Ace, "Dude..behind you."

The ginger follows his leader in confusion, only to be met with the face of the very person he was talking about.

"DORMLEADER?!"

Riddle had a menacing glare, crossing his arms as he stared dwon the boy.

"R-Riddle! You're super crazy cu-"

"Cater, if you run your mouth I'll take it off together with your head."

That shut him up, not without a huff and a pout.

"Ffgna! This is the guy who put that weird collar on me!" Grim says, shaking in his fur as he hides himself behind you.

"And you're the new students who caused all that fuss about a possible expulsion yesterday." The said students– including you, all had your heads down in shame.

"For goodness' sake, the headmaster is far too soft." Riddle sighs, rubbing his temples. "All he has to do is lop off the heads of everyone who doesn't follow the rules."

"He may look innocent, but the words coming out of his mouth sure do suggest otherwise.." Ace mumbled, eyes twitching a bit.

"The headmaster may have forgiven you, but make no mistake, the next time you choose to break the rules, I will mosf certainly not." Riddle declares, chills are sent down to students who weren't even close enough to hear.

"I was prepared to take off your collar if you learned your lesson..but.."

His voice suddenly became muffled to you, your eyes trailed to his hand and pen, the way his body moved fluidly along with his words that asserted complete authority had given you a funny idea.

"Following the Laws of the Queen of Hearts, No. 339, "Tea after a meal should always be lemon with two sugars. I must go buy sugar cubes from the school store, so I'll be on my way." The red head states, leaving.

"Phew, that was a close one.." Cater lets out a heavy sigh.

"That guy is so obnoxious."

"Hey! That's rude!"

As Deuce lightly scolds the beast, whispers begin to grow and eyes follow the dormleader's disappearing figure, you take that as your que and leave the table– arousing concern and confusion.

You walk right up to Riddle, tapping his shoulder. He turns to you with a perplexed expression. "Is something wrong?"

"Can you collar me?"

"Y/N??!!!"

[brassandblue]

Who are your muses best friends?

Arthur's best friends are: @bertievi's George VI; @admiraltyspride's Lord Nelson; @ageofxail's Daniel/America (husband!!!), Noel/England & Royal Navy; my Jack/London; & @xbasilrp's Toni/Spain (spicy boyfriend).

Not quite besties but very close platonically (unless otherwise noted) are @terrorcaptain's Crozier (very father-son tbh); Thera at @therapardalis; Mycroft at @governmentofficial (also husband!); @hope-on-hope-ever's John Franklin (friends/colleagues in general but also estranged father and bastard son in THAT ONE AU); endearingly fond of @imprvdente's Fish; & Pris at @herstoriies

@honorhearted gets an honorable (ha!) mention because of how complicated Ben and Art's relationship is. Arthur admires Ben but also wants to punch him in the nose. Arthur enjoys punching things though, so take that with a whole spoon of salt. He genuinely wants the Americans to win and believes Ben to be a properly good man--part of the reason he razzes Ben like he does is because there's really no other way (in Art's opinion) to try and shake Ben out of seeing the war as a largely black and white problem. He sees a lot of himself in Ben--they are both educated, stubborn, hot-headed, and courageous in stupid ways, and they both have a heart. Arthur doesn't want to see America get its start as a country with all of the kindness burned out of all its founders. They are... complicated.

I don't like to go godmode people, but Art's "default" is that he is besties with Portugal, France, India, U.S. America. However, I handle that on a case-by-case basis because, again, it would be shitty of me to force that decision on other writers.

Goodsir's besties are: The Henry Collins that lives in my head; @tooxldtorememxer's John Irving; @herstoriies' Priscilla (big fat crush on her too tbh!!!!!); @therapardalis; @terrorcaptain; Silna at @tatteredxsails; @bertievi of course; he's also pretty close with @ageofxail's Noel; & @imprvdente's Fish; & he has........ complicated feelings about @honorhearted's Ben.

Thomas Blanky's besties are: @wantsusdead's Francis (I mean we just started threading but LISTEN-); oh also @terrorcaptain's Francis (+ husband); he's also super fond of @admiraltyspride too; can't forget about the Sidebear, thank u @tatteredxsails; & if I get my way he's going to continue to 'Dad' at @imprvdente!!!!!

The Railroad Man has no besties because he's an abject piece of sh oh wow, Moriarty actually!! @multipleoccupancy

[ddejavvu]

I believe with my whole heart puppy!Eddie would act like my dog (a Jack Russel Terrier Mix)! He HAS to have a blanket over his whole body including head at night because he loves being cozy, he definitely has too much energy, when he wants something he sqeaks and makes it sound like he's the poorest little dog in the whole world until you give him what he wants, he's like a deer in headlights when he gets caught doing something he /knows/ he's not allowed to do, but he is also the cuddliest and nicest puppy I have ever seen.

YOUR DOG SOUNDS SO CUTE :(( yes he loves his blankies!! he has a special blue one that's suuuuper fuzzy, he bundles himself up in it like a little puppy burrito and he snoozes while you're working. you're worried that he can't breathe under there but every time you take the blanket off he whines until you wrap him back up </33

if you do not share your sandwich with him. he will act. like you've been starving him in a dungeon for seven years. his eyes get big and shiny and teary and his lip trembles and he asks why you're so mean to him and why you hate him and you're sitting there with your egg salad sandwich like.. eddie.. this is my lunch.. 'but if you loved me, it would be my lunch too!'

he frequently wears your hoodies but he'll pull his arms through the sleeves so that they're flush to his tummy and then he tucks his legs up to his chest underneath the hem and bundles himself up!! but it stretches the fabric out and you always lecture him when he does it, but it's so cozy :(( anytime you catch him he just :o

[saints-who-never-existed]

Episode Five: Random Rewatch Observations

1. Little stumbles as he enters the room to speak to Fitzjames and it melts my heart every time.

2. Interesting to note, given what is spoken about between him and Crozier later in the mutineers camp, that Goodsir happens to be translating the Inuktitut word for ‘Feet’ when we first see him in this episode.

3. That ‘frozen toe clinking into a bowl’ sound effect really is something!

4. I really like that little detail of Dr MacDonald lifting down a chair from a special hook on the wall. It’s so cool to see all the ingenious little ways they would’ve had to save space on the ship historically.

5. I love Hartnell so much in Dead Room scene – willing to hoist a whole-ass heavy corpse on his shoulder and man-handle it along singlehandedly just because his pal was scared.

6. Also love the combination of Blanky’s double face-palm at Crozier’s unreasonableness and Little’s indignant head-shake and pleading look in Blanky’s direction. I’m sure they must have talked at length with one another before about Crozier’s bullshit – I would so love to have seen more of both their working relationship and their personal one.

7. It’s hilarious to me that Crozier’s first instinct when challenged about the whisky is to deny everything like a naughty schoolboy – “I did no such thing!”

8. Also hilarious that, on closer inspection, not only does he not appear to actually land his punch but he also goes flying into a door/wall right afterward.

9. I’d also love to see more of the relationship between Blanky and MacDonald – two good dudes just trying to get on with their jobs.

10. A great hero moment for Hickey battering off the caulk and being the first one up on deck! He’s another good dude getting on with his job at least in that moment and he’s so ready to help, no hesitation. Heart-breaking stuff!

11. A good hero moment for Hodgson too! I don’t really like the common characterisation of him as a garrulous cowardly dumbass – he’s a good lieutenant and is perfectly ready to charge back into the jaws of Tuunbaq-related death. That’s bravery!

12. God I love that moment of quiet tension when they’re all looking up, totally powerless and trapped as Hickey batters away at the door. It reminds me of a platoon of soldiers all crammed together in a landing craft on D-Day. Just waiting.

13. A possible goof! Little takes his hat off twice in the same scene – once when the toast is called then two seconds later when they’re all gathering in to hold Blanky down.

14. Also, I’ve never noticed before but Little appears to already be in the room with Crozier when the other three – MacDonald, Fitzjames, and Jopson – enter. I’d give anything to hear what could’ve been said between them, but it seems more likely they would’ve just been sitting in oppressively angry exhausted silence at that point. It’s so interesting and weird to me that he’s totally blocked from view for the majority of the scene too, completely inscrutable.

15. Also dramatic, interesting, and very weird for Crozier to order so specifically that the whisky be poured over the Tuunbaq’s blood on the ice. There’s surely a deeper meaning to that though I can’t parse at the moment what exactly it is.

[a-mere-dream]

hey, I loved your response to my martial god yqy ideas... I've been thinking about this poor loser a lot, happy to talk to a fellow yqy stan!!! I have a theory, narratively speaking, (& mb we can talk abt this elsewhere? email? idek, just tumblr asks are a bit weird & I don't log in here a lot), LBH, YQY and Airplane-bro are like some kinda triangle - when LBH pulls the blankie onto himself, the other two are usually helpless. when LBH gets 'healthy', YQY usually gets to be the idiot ex 1/2

2/2 or worse, a creep. SO imagine YQY touches Shen Yuan for the first time and System is like DING, a failed protagonist halo detected! would you like to switch to an alt power source??? by touch I mean the first scene! not sexual touch! so A-Yuan is stuck looking for the lost original goods soul w a budding protag yqy which makes white lotus binghe's halo power off as the story goes on. also turns out YQY and SJ were supposed to be in a whole OTHER story anyway (like Spicy Chicken and co in Magister, who got cut out and inserted later) I hope this is making sense

(When I tell you I scrambled to get this down as soon as possible --)

Shen Yuan doesn't remember a lot from High School. This is, in his humble opinion, a goddamn blessing. Being a teenager is horrible already, but high school? There has never been a more embarrassing time in his life, even while counting that one time his mom came to visit out of nowhere and saw the drying cover of his Luo Binghe body pillow hanging on his laundry line.

So he has repressed most memories, and is perfectly fine with that. Most knowledge wasn't useful anyway.

Looking at the blue screen of the System flickering in and out of view, Shen Yuan wished he had paid a little more in Chinese class.

“What do you mean Yue Qingyuan is a Protagonist?” Shen Yuan hissed under his breath, fighting the urge to slap the System with his fan. “He can't be a Protagonist! There's Binghe already!” And it couldn't be that Binghe didn't have his Halo, why else would the System break that ceiling beam one time with the Skinner Demon?

[Actually, having multiple Protagonists is a time-honoured choice.] The System tries to inform him. [A Dual Protagonist Narrative is when two characters with different goals have their own unique transformation. The characters might not be in direct conflict with one another --]

“I don't care!” Shen Yuan said. “Look at me, not caring in the least.” He was silent for a moment. “Why Yue Qingyuan? He dies in, like, chapter six hundred.”

[Character: 'Yue Qingyuan' dies in chapter 603 of Book: 'Proud Immortal Demon Way.'] The System says. [Character: 'Yue Qingyuan' dies in chapter 3904 of Book: 'The Last Hope of The Mud-Stained Phoenix'.]

At Shen Yuan's disbelieving silence, it adds, almost reticently, [You're the protagonist of your own life. His story doesn't start and end with Character: 'Luo Binghe'.]

“No, it just ends with him,” Shen Yuan says reflexively. “And don't you quote Mob Psycho 100 at me.”

He fidgets with his fan. “Is this — Is this bad? It doesn't hurt him, does it? Not having enough energy? He looked healthy.”

[In Universe-subsets, in lack of a character designated 'Villain' or 'Antagonist', creators latch on to Character: 'Yue Qingyuan'. It is…] A thin balk blinks in and out, like the words are being typed before his eyes, [… Convenient.]

“And the only endings for those are either one of death, physical pain, or of being so pathetic that everyone is content with their current suffering,” Shen Yuan fills in. He tilts his head and frowns. “That sucks.”

He likes Yue Qingyuan. This bleeding heart of a character; Shen Yuan has always taken him to be no-one to be afraid of. How could Shen Yuan not grow fond of him, when he suffered so much and had done so little to deserve it? Tricked by his awful shidi into protecting him, even dying for him while none of that care was recruited…

“What do you expect me to do about it, though?”

[User 002's actions could result in more of the Protagonist Halo being diverted to Character: 'Yue Qingyuan'.]

“Only by being stolen from Binghe.” That didn't sit right with Shen Yuan.

[… If User 002 diverts enough strength from Character: 'Luo Binghe', there might not be enough weight on the narrative to require him to enter Location: 'The Abyss'.]

Shen Yuan lets out a deep breath. “Well, why didn't you say that sooner,” he scolds. Now he had to do it, if only to save Binghe from ever going through that! As long as he made sure Binghe kept enough power to survive any attempts on his life, then surely there would be no harm in this?

* * *

And then he goes on a whole quest to give Yue Qingyuan a satisfying ending, making his story more enjoyable to read so he can attract more fans and through that, more weight on his position as Protagonist. He doesn't know why that has to involve resurrecting Shen Jiu (maybe the story needs a villain? Did Yue Qingyuan secretly resent him? Is that it??) but whoops, now there's necromancy.

I didn't even manage to get into Airplane during all this, sheesh. But holy shit, what a great concept. Luo Binghe hogging the Magical Blanket Of Protagonism.

(And yeah, sure! DM me for my email or Discord, we can take turns screaming over Yue Qingyuan :D)

[daincrediblegg]

the terror ! chernobyl! <333

THE TERROR

Favourite character: Who else but Francis Crozier? My Darling? my beloved? the love of my life? Funniest character: Thomas Blanky (THE MVP!!! though Francis is also close second the man is funny as fuck TO ME) Best-looking character: Also Francis and I will NOT be challenged on the subject (but also in fairness there's a few other hotties on there like JFJ and Neddie and Jop and BLANKY and silna and everybody... but Francis still takes the cake) 3 favourite ships: well obviously the very canonical Lady Terror x Crozier (I am biased and I'm not sorry about it ) or Amelia x Crozier or JFJ (I am biased and I'm not sorry about it) OR Lady Terror x Amelia x Crozier x JFJ (I AM. BIASED. AND I AM NOT SORRY. ABOUT IT.) (no but in fairness in my periphery Silna/Goodsir, and the occasional rossier or fitzier when I start going mad with lust from the lack of reader fic) Least favourite character: rAT BITCH HICKEY( I keep making that Lady Terror with a boat knife joke for a reason. listen I appreciate his character and the role he plays in the narrative and how vital it is, but also he just sucks as a dude in general what with the racism and sexism and how he weaponizes that to inspire it in everyone else when they're vulnerable. like forget the cannibalism there are a great many reasons to throw that whole man out) but also low-key Sofia (look girl I understand where you're coming from but the guy really said there is nowhere I'd rather be and whichever direction leads the altar. no it's not a good match and you're right but still HE IS HEARTBROKEN- I don't feel so bad now bc Lady Terror is on the case but still. I just feel for the fella ok?)

Least favourite ship: Crozier x Sofia (HE! CAN! DO! BETTER!)

Reason why I watch it: reasons are myriad and plentiful (as you damn well know cherry). I like a damn good gothic story and this one is slowly becoming one of my favorites of the lot (and I basically have a concentration in this genre for my major at this point so that says a lot). Never has the rot of empire been laid out so clearly so carefully with a wealth of characters that bring nuance and insight into the subject and especially (and importantly) Inuit perspective on the event. It has so much weight and depth to it and Crozier in particular holds my fascination for his narrative in superposition between colonizer and colonized and just the IMMENSE weight of his internal struggle that is laid out for him throughout the course of the series. Of course naturally I saw that and went "I want to fuck him" because with all that on the line how could I resist (not to mention with how revealing his conversations with Sofia are he's absolutely a romantic at heart I know it) ? But honestly without all that insanely in-depth character work (as played by the ever brilliant ever enrapturing Jared Harris) I would not be as down bad as I am about it. Not to mention just how well it's written how detailed the character work is how ACCURATE everything is to period down to set dressings and props. I'm just bloody in love with it all ok? ok.

Why I started watching it: I was bored and I think we were a few months into the pandemic and I was like "hey I've been meaning to watch this" and then I did and all I knew was Jared Harris and Tobias Menzies and the fella from game of thrones. And then I did another re-watch a few months back (induced by Chernobyl which was induced by TLOU coming out) and here we are now the brain rot has fully taken hold.

CHERNOBYL

Favourite character: Hard tie between the trio but then again... I end up writing for Valery more often than not so... Yeah unfortunately my bias is showing it's Valery.

Funniest character: The Miner Crew Chief. motherfucker really said bare ass into the nuclear reactor tunnel but keep the hats on as a malicious compliance maneuver. Absolute legend (though Boris is close second with his little meltdown like jfc I scream about it every time. And also Valery being an awkward little bean half the time brings me nothing but sheer joy)

Best-looking character:... As TASTY as Valery is technically speaking Boris is more well put together imo (but still... Valery's old man shuffle and pudgy belly have captivated me)

3 favourite ships: Valery x Ulana x Boris are such a supreme ot3 for me (and Intercalculation on ao3 has spoiled me for life) and honestly that's the only one I really have (Well... other than Valery x Boris x Cherry's unnamed Baker OC ofc. and perhaps everyone/lead shielding)

Least favourite character: Dyatlov. Imagine being horribly irradiated and asking for a butter and caviar sandwich? wretched gremlin behavior and fucking criminally negligent to boot! (second only to the fucking snake and head of the KGB himself Charkov. the prick.)

Least favourite ship: ... anyone x the exposed reactor core

Reason why I watch it: I mean honestly? I watched it when it came out (or at least around the time) and it's such a ballsy show for the time. I mean it was pre-pandemic, middle of the trump era. And here's this show critiquing absolute faith damn near to the point of zionism in the state (when the state is, in fact, horribly HORRIBLY flawed). Granted, the manifestation in the Soviet Union is much different than it was in america, but the takeaway (again delivered with insanely remarkable gusto by Jared Harris) remains so profound and pertinent. The "lie" in what is arguably the best tagline ever written isn't about the actual state secrets that allowed chernobyl to occur itself. it's the very idea in the government's infallibility that is a lie- and anyone in my generation knew that before this series, but considering when it came out? it's SO ballsy to say that. And has never been more important. And I just keep coming back to it for the magnificent performances to that end (and especially Jared. love of my life)

Why I started watching it: Lol I remember seeing it and thinking "yo radiation scary" but then the above hit. it was incredible.

[muffindaddystyles]

Soft dom harry makes subby reader upset subspace?

MEANIE ANGRY H :D BUCKLE UP FELLAS

Y/N's day is been shitty so far. It started with an ache in her lower abdomen from Harry’s morning stiffy bulging against her asscheeks fattening everytime he snuggled into her to hoard her warmth and blankies and to stuff his face in her neck with incoherent blabbering.

She wanted to wake him up with her hand, mouth, hole— anything around his cock and to please him and dull the burny feeling in her tummy -- but -- she had an important workshop at UNI that was must needed to be attended.

The time she managed to knock herself out of her needy and lusty headspace, she was getting late and whirling around the room and closest like a thunderstorm -- burying a snoring Harry under the heaps of clothes and littering the floor with her shoes collection, the kitchen got treated much more worst with maids being not around (she’s used to Harry waking up earlier than her and making her a full course brekkie) after making a laughable ruckus of cabinets all she stuffed her mouth with was a chocolate protein bar.

The stars were still not in her favour. She was grabbing onto her hair until far when she missed the bus (she usually don’t take buses, Harry makes sure the driver drop her off safe and secure) and it started raining leaving Y/N with nothing but a bare head to take all of it as she already left the bus shelter to stop a taxi.

If all of that wasn’t much of a tragedy and humiliating, Y/N slipped the moment she stepped out of the vehicle and on the slippery curbs of the building, she saw her life flashing right infront of her eyes as the papers tucked in her armpit fled everywhere and landed on the rainy mud sadistically along her. It gave her a serious hit in her ankle and completely yanked her hip, still being a stubborn-head she picked herself and went inside despite how many glares the cleaning staff threw her way for bringing the dirt with her feed all over the shiny floors.

She felt bad.

Stupidly bad.

Her workshop teachers were kind enough to accept her late arrival, but her designs for fall got rejected and they’d have been a huge milestone for her to get her dream internship.

Y/N felt awfully, teeny, pathetic and little while slumping into the corner of the bus and holding her breath to refrain from crying these little liquidy bitches out of her eyes.

Reaching back home she was met with pure chaos, bumping into petrified and agitated employs from Harry’s company scurrying out of their main foyer and she could persist but to ask what happened only to be informed in stammers that the staff messed up big and caused a loss of million dollars— making Harry terribly mad and fire people left and right.

It wasn’t a joke at all.

Because once, she steps inside, bag falling from her shoulder as she sighs in exhaustion feeling her muscles stiffening everywhere but one particular spot's hurting wrenchingly— her foggy mind couldn’t figure it out yet. She peeks into Harry’s home office to be met by a very annoyed, aggrieved, furious Harry pacing in his office all whilst with a phone against his ear shouting at someone who was destined to be humiliated today just like her and she pouts gingerly seeing his features skewered tightly into displeasure, the vein that curves along his temple prominent with blood pumping erratically in his body.

His head snaps up at the door’s creak and albeit his eyes softens a little, the kink of brows and the scowl on his lips is still there and he watches her paddle towards him carefully knowing anything at the moment would burst his chimneys out and she wants to be good for her daddy.

“Hi.” She speaks timidly, pout getting more rusty when the greetings not returned and instead he keeps all of his attention on the phone keeping a loose arm around her.

She grumbles, when he gestures down at her to give him a sec and untangles himself from her walking away and huffing and puffing into the phone.

How could he!

She feels so denied and rejected and kicked like it’s done to those affection starved lil puppies.

Her clingy tendencies flying high drunk and wooly. The needy beastie inside her wanting nothing more than take a bath where Harry could cream her back in her favourite berry bubbles, massaging her head and whisper sweet nothings into her ear, then lots and lots of cuddles, maybe he'll be generous enough and let her keep him snug inside her while they watch movie because she had such an awful day.

But, No! He's trying to escape free from her because she’s such a burden for him now.

Her eyes turns glassy, her shoulders slumping sadly and out of nowhere she’s feeling cold and barren as Harry’s voice becomes a wafting fume for her— an indication she has gone under too much.

“Daddy . . .” She stomps behind him, circling his footsteps like a whiny puppy and grapples at his dress shirt gasping sullenly when he swats her dainty hands away and glares down at her in dominance, his tone harsh as he blocks the receiver with his palm and mouths at her with a huff, “Stop being needy fo’ once. I’ve clearly some important issues to care for, Y/N.” Poor Y/N's deathly grip on his shirt loosens sorrowfully and her chin wobbles as she nodded still wanting to be good for him and if it wasn’t enough to give her the biggest heartbreak of the year— he even rolled his eyes at her too grumping under his breath about something how he turned her into a spoiled brat himself.

“Okie. . .” Her voice strangled and small. She shrinks into herself but wasn’t paid any heed from Harry and without another word she leaves him as to be it.

Having a huge breakdown in her room didn’t help at all. A painful headache hitting her like a train as she clumsily strips down, wearing one of his t-shirt heavily drenched in his scent he keeps for her under her pillow anytime she needs it and hides under the blankets with tears still running down her swollen cheeks— slipping into a light slumber from all of weariness and crying.

Once the smoke cleared from Harry’s mind and his capabilities of rational thinking coming back to him, he was reminded of how he denied his baby of his littlest of affection and tenderness when she clearly looked so glum and sad and upset.

He wanted to whip himself in head.

He’s such a twat that he let work come between them.

He curses himself. Making a sprint to his bedroom, knowing he’d find her none other than there and he was right puffing out a disheartened sigh when his eyes falls over his princess buried under all of these layers of blankets, he crawls up towards her carefully not to startle her awake.

Grunting at himself when he finds she’s been crying, he strokes a thumb up her blushy cheeks and her wet lashes, kissing her puffy eyelids and her little sad unhappy pout away.

He frowns. Feeling her feverish and flushed under his hand, “Hey puppy . . .” He thumbs down her throat getting a little fretful when she doesn’t stirs, however she’s such a squirmy little one and he moves the blankets away to let her body cool itself smiling proudly at his shirt swallowing her whole is when she snuggled herself more into her stuffie letting the shirt ride up her thighs and hips exposing a ghastly bruise of red and purples and he frowns not remembering it being there before.

Now. He feels shittier. Wanting to jump of the cliff for being a shitty sadist boyfriend to his only beloved.

“No!” Y/N whimpers loudly, squirming away from his touch as he examines her gently and it sent shockwaves to each of her tissues and lions causing her an undeniable pain.

“Puppy, shh, shh. ‘s just me, making sure if y'okay.” He scrambles closer to her towering her to cradle her face and kiss the tip of her nose—- his face falls drastically and his heart cracks miserly when Y/N pushes him away with a sorrowful mumble not even letting him wipe the drool away from the corner of her mouth as he usually does.

“’M okay . . .” She tries to knuckle the sleepiness away with shivery hands, “No you’re not —...” He’s cut off by her angry pout and her silly efforts to keep as much distance between them as possible, “I don’t need, Daddy . . ‘m big and I could take care of me self.” At her puny waver realization dawns upon Harry and his brows shoots up to his hairline feeling nauseous and terrible for not taking care of his babylove earlier.

He’d have never let her be away from him if he knew she was in her subspace.

“Y/N baby . . . I didn’t mean it, darling —--...” With gentleness he tries to approach her but she wraps her arms around her petite figure in a protective manner, haziness taking best of her and Harry’s chest suffocates into itself, being a dom it’s your responsibility to make your subby feel protected, loved and happy and he even failed at that.

He quickly cups both of her hot cheeks in his nippy palms when she hiccups sadly, a sob threatening to slip out, “Yes you did! You meant it. Said you spoiled me, I don’t want your money, promise! I just want you and y'shooed me away saying Y/N’s too needy . . .” Harry flinches at her words. He never even spared a thought to this negativity that she chooses to be with him for his money because he knows out of all the people she’s the only one who loves him out of the boundaries of status and money.

He realises how stabbing they'd have been to her when she was so sensitive and floaty wanting nothing more, just him.

How deep she has gone if she’s taking her own name in third person.

“’M sorry baby. So sorry. Swear on myself, didn’t mean to hurt my baby, knows tha’ work shouldn’t be an excuse t’ make y'feel unloved—- but those bastards got a tick outta me.” He rambles on frantically. Afraid she’ll think he’s lying and would finally make up her mind to leave him.

“You didn’t?” She asks with so much innocence Harry nearly cries out, “’Course I didn’t! How could I? You could never be needy, Bab. I love you so much and you’re my whole word, forgive me please?”

“You’re forgiven,” She let a small smile flutter up her features, a tinge of gleam in her previous dull eyes brightening the whole room and Harry immediately bunches her up in his lap.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks her, not sure if she still needs space from him and would rather be better without him but she bobs her head shyly and he chuckles softly before touching their lips together into a tender loving kiss and brushes their noses up and down murmuring sweetly coy to her.

“Now, could y'tell daddy how y'got this bruise baby? How did ya get hurt?” He coos, brushing her sweaty hair back and rubs her sweet gland behind her ear delicately, “Oh yeah . . . this, was raining and slipped.” She murmurs, hissing a gasp jolting away when Harry glides his fingers gently down her hip bone and fresh tears springs in her eyes as she buries herself in his chest, “Daddy hurts. . .” . “Oh babypie. Daddy’s g'na take care of his love.” He lays her down gently kissing her forehead when she whines for him to keep on holding her, “’M right here darling. G'na prep us a bath, make my baby alright.” Saying this he quickly disappears inside the washroom and next their room’s sursuring with marble tub filling with warm water, Harry throws in her favourite pink coloured bath bombs and rose essences and throws their towels in the warmer coming back with her as he left her to be, he has decided he’s gonna love on her whole night, “My baby’s the best, ain’t she? She’s my bestest girl.” He coos down at her sweetly and slides his forearms under her knees and back picking her up carefully and brings her to his chest securely.

She closes her eyes, biting down a whimper when Harry dips them in the water some it sloshing down the edges of bathtub and it envelopes them and gives a stingy feeling to her bruise before soothing it down.

He rubs her arms, and circles smoothing patterns on her tummy and kisses her a gallons as she melts in his embrace and he let’s her sink into him more, nibbling and sponging wet ticklish kisses on her neck making her purr and become a puddle of softness in his hold while she takes her time to mumble all the bad events that happened to her and he felt so guilty of not asking her how she’s and how her day went when she came to him, in need of some of his lovin.

“I love you so much, bab.” He suckles her earlobe, toying and plucking her bottom plush lip, “Was prick to me love —.. you deserve all my lovin,” He noses at her jaw, not forgetting it to mark it with his pecks and sloppy bites.

“’S okay daddy, y'had a bad day too.” He’s grateful to have her in his life. She cares about him, maybe more than he does for her and he feels himself lucky for it.

“You want me to help you relax?”

“Can I have you?” Her tone bashfully desperate and coy, Harry meanders their fingers together and kisses her knuckles softly.

Considering her wound still being sore and pulp, having sex would be painful for her and she might not grasp it in her hazy mind but Harry doesn’t want to hurt at all.

He plants a little noisy smooch to her shoulder when she nods, she mews and purrs when Harry glides his palm all the way down her body and cups her pussy digging his palm into her mound and coats his digits with her arousal dipping the pads of his fingers into her entrance, “All this wet f'me?” Palming her tits while whispering sweet nothings into her ear when she gasps and closes up on Harry scratching nails into his bended knees.

“Shh, shh puppy, jus' relax hmm? Feel yourself.” With sputtery inhales she does as he says, soon two of his fingers slips inside her and he strokes her pussy and pulls them out making her all whiny and pushes them back with a squelching noise, fucking her with it smiling and stopping when her thighs parts falls again his’s completely.

“Daddy!” She writhes and whines, trembly hands trying to bring Harry fingers back to her pulsating wetness, “You’re the cutest.” He smiles against her lips giving her cheeks several squishes and pats her head loving to see his adorable princess all flustery for him.

On her demands. He slicks his fingers back inside her and caresses the insides of her thighs while she pants and sinks onto his knuckles blabbering out daddydaddydaddy weepily.

“Cum fo’ me, puppy. Feels good? Yeah? My baby feels nice?” He rasps in her mouth, curving and petting the soft spot inside her pussy and sucks onto her upper lip when she moans and mewls loudly gushing all over his finger and he keeps on fucking her till she’s all sleepy and balmy against his chest.

Harry coaxes her tenderly, smoothing his hands all over her twitchy spots and patches sloppy kisses all over her face that makes her all giggly and shy—- the amount of endorphins spiking high in her system.

“Love you so much, daddy.” She mushes puckering her lips into his throat.

“Love you too, pup.”

[mandoalorian]

Handy-Man

An AU in which Din Djarin advertises himself on Craigslist as a man who can assemble your IKEA furniture for 50 bucks.

credit for idea goes to @fleetwoodmactshirt and their post which you can read here; thank you to @clown-bae-anon for tagging me in the post!! 💓

Please please reblog!

You wanted to cry.

Moving out of your childhood home was meant to be your way of asserting your independence and proving to your parents that you could make it on your own. But, as you sat in front of the collapsed television unit, surrounded by an abundance of miscellaneous screws, with broken and bleeding fingernails, you found yourself wondering if you had made a severe lapse of judgement.

Better yet, they were coming over for dinner today— and you knew your dad would give you a mouthful if he saw you hadn’t finished assembling your furniture already. Desperate times called for desperate measures.

Unfortunately, you were brand new to the neighbourhood and hadn’t yet made any friends. You had no one to rely on; no one to ask for a favour. You pondered for a few moments, trying to figure out where you could find a handy man willing to work such short notice. You had no other choice than to turn to Craigslist.

There were a few potential candidates. Boba Fett; but he couldn’t be there until Tuesday. Fennec Shand; but she was extremely pricey. Then, at the very bottom of the website, you noticed a small advertisement. Only a few words.

“Din Djarin: I will assemble your IKEA furniture for 50 bucks. Will take me no more than an hour. I will bring my kid. Call me.”

And underneath, he left his number. You guessed that was the catch: that he would bring his child while he worked. You didn’t mind too terribly, besides, you were out of other options. You just hoped it wouldn’t be a sticky iPad kid who was going to snoop around your stuff and make a mess.

Grabbing your phone, you dialled his number. He answered on the first few rings, but said nothing.

“Uhm, hi,” you greeted, scratching the back of your neck as you tried to figure out how to approach the handy man. You’d never hired anyone from Craigslist before. “I have this huge TV unit from IKEA and I need it assembled before 5pm today. Would you be able to—“

“Address?” he asked, giving you the first taste of his velvety voice. After giving him your address, you were about to ask him about the child, but he cut you off. “I’ll be over in ten minutes.” Then he hung up.

He was abrupt, to say the least. You stood there, phone in hand, reflecting on your short witted conversation you’d had with the handyman. Maybe he just wasn’t sociable? It was okay though, he’d be coming over to work, not chat. You just needed him to assemble the television stand before your parents came over.

And if he was true to his advertisement, he’d get it done in no time.

Din Djarin arrived on your doorstep after seven minutes, carrying his son close to his chest. When you heard your doorbell ring out, you smoothed out your outfit, fixed your hair, and checked your appearance on the mirror hanging in the entrance-way. After all, this would technically be the first person you met in your brand new neighbourhood. And first impressions mattered.

As you swung open the front door, you announced, with a beaming smile crossing your lips, “Thank you so much for com—“

You were awe-struck. He was… breathtaking. Not like the handymen back home. He stood there, blinking his chocolate brown eyes, and nursing a child who must have been no older than two years. His hair was only a few shades darker than his eyes, short and curly, and he had a light graze of stubble donning his jaw and upper lip.

You found your gaze quickly flicking to his hands, only to check for a wedding ring. You hated how that was your first instinct but you felt a hitch in your throat when you saw just how large and thick his fingers were.

Your wild thoughts were interrupted when he cleared his throat awkwardly, and you wanted to curse at yourself how long you’d been standing there, blatantly checking him out. Your grip on the door tightened as you felt a flush of heat cross your cheeks, and you offered the handyman a weak smile.

“S— am sorry, I— hi,” you extended your arm and shook his hand. “I’m new. I mean I’m Y/N. But I’m new too. I uh—“

“I’m Din,” he introduced, cutting your flustered response short. “This is Grogu.”

His child cooed slightly and you were in awe over just how big the little one’s eyes were. You smiled and closed in on the child, offering him a small wave.

“Hi baby,” you cooed back, completely enamoured with him. Now that you were more aware of how you were acting around the handyman, you turned to focus your attention more on him. “Uh, please come in. And make yourself comfortable,” you offered, opening the front door wider and ushering both the man and his son inside. “Can I get you anything? A drink?”

“No thanks.” Din replied, setting down his toolbox and then the child.

“Grogu, are you hungry?” you asked, kneeling down to the little child. He slurped and eagerly nodded his head, causing Din to roll his eyes.

“He just had soup before we left,” Din told you.

“Kids always have big appetites,” you laughed, and finally, your comment had caused Din to break a smile. Albeit it was a small one, you still adored the way the corners of his eyes crinkled with delight.

“You have kids?” Din asked curiously, briefly glancing around your living room in search for any signs of children; but he couldn’t find any toys or printed comfort blankies laying around.

Somehow, you got the idea that he didn’t get around much (other than for work, at least). You got the idea that maybe he didn’t have many friends.

“No, but uh— I come from a big family and I used to have a babysitting job when I was a teenager. Feels like I’ve been around kids my whole life,” you admitted, wondering if you’d offered the handyman a little too much personal information. You quickly made the decision to change the subject, grabbing Grogu’s tiny hand. “Come with me Grogu, let’s see what I have in the fridge.”

Grogu selected some dinosaur shaped crackers and a juice box, sipping on it merrily as he toddled back into the living room where his father was working. You silently leaned by the door frame, admiring Din as he constructed the television stand. You’d only been gone five minutes and he’d already made so much progress.

Unable to escape the feeling, you just couldn’t ignore the flurry of butterflies that were ecstatically circling around in the pit of your stomach. You couldn’t tear your gaze from the attractive handyman who was fixing up your IKEA television stand for only 50 bucks. All of this seemed too good to be true.

He could be a serial killer and you wouldn’t even know. But as you watched his bicep flex underneath his light grey sweatshirt, you considered the many ways he might kill you; and for a split second, you knew that if he decided to turn around and choke you with his strong hands, you wouldn’t be mad at all.

“You want kids one day?” he quizzed suddenly, the question causing you to jump slightly. You were so quiet, you had kind of hoped he hadn’t noticed you were just standing there, watching him work.

“Uhm, maybe. I don’t know yet,” you said, glancing down at Grogu who was just patiently sitting down on your sofa, munching at his cookies. He was so well behaved. Din must’ve been a really good dad. “Did you want kids before you had Grogu?”

You winced after asking the question, hating the way the words had left your lips. It sounded wrong; like you were asking your handyman if his son was planned or not. But thankfully, Din only laughed.

“Kind of a weird story,” He said as he tightened a screw using nothing but the strength in his left arm. “I found Grogu. Or more like, he found me.”

You pressed your lips together as you wondered what exactly that was supposed to mean.

You and Din exchanged more small talk, and you both found yourselves learning more and more menial facts about one another.

You: What’s your favourite colour?

Din: Brown. Like dirt.

You: Cats or dogs?

Din: Fish.

You: Fish?

Din: They’re nice to look at.

Despite the random quick-fire questions you both asked each other, it didn’t stop you from yearning to know more about the mysterious handyman who took his kid with him everywhere.

Din finished the job early. He always did. But he pottered around with the finished television stand simply because he just didn’t want to leave yet. He was enjoying your company so much, and you were so endearing and easy to talk to. Not to mention, you were brilliant with Grogu.

Eventually though, he stood up and dipped his hands into his jean pockets. “Uh, I’m finished. Does it look okay? I hammered the shelving unit into the wall so it looks neater. It’s more stable that way, too.”

You smiled, impressed with Din’s skillful labour. “It’s perfect,” you admired. “You’re my hero. Really.”

That tugged on Din’s heart strings. Your hero. His cheeks flushed pink and he prayed that you didn’t notice his warm blush. You reached into your purse and paid the handyman.

“Thanks again.” you said with gratitude as you saw Din and Grogu to the door. You passed Grogu some more dinosaur crackers for the journey home and he took them from you eagerly.

Din wanted to get your number so badly. In the short time you’d spent together, you had completely bewitched him, and he didn’t want this to be the last time he saw you. You had his number but… the chances that you’d call him again were slim. Unless—

“If you ever get more furniture, give me a ring,” Din offered awkwardly, shying away from the idea of asking for your number outright.

“I will Din, I promise.”

Din nodded and ran his fingers through his dark hair. “Okay. Thanks. Um— bye then.”

“I’ll see you around Din.”

See you around. The words rang in the back of Din’s mind as he drove home as he processed your open-ended goodbye. He really did hope that he’d see you again.

———————

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[xxxsoukokuxxx]

hello! happy birthday!!! hope you have a good one! how about for headcanons: how your favourite character/s would treat their s/o on their birthday please and thank you

Characters: Dazai x reader; Atsushi x reader; Chuya x reader; Akutagawa x reader; 

Warnings: might be spelling and grammar errors; tad bit suggestive

Notes: Hi there anon! I understand that I’m super late on this and I’m sorry! Thank you sm for the birthday wish. Thanks for sending in a request, if this is not what you wanted feel free to request again. This is the most characters I’ve done in a single post, let’s see how this goes, under the cut because it gets long

______________________________________________

How Dazai, Atsushi, Chuya and Akutagawa treat their s/o on their birthday headcanons:

Dazai:

It all really depends on whether you enjoy having your birthday celebrated or not, because he understands if you don’t want to no matter the reason

I can’t really decide whether he’s one of those people who would wake up their s/o at 12:00am just to wish you happy birthday and throw confetti everywhere probably is

He has the whole day planned out

And he knows everything and anything you’d like

This bandage man tries making breakfast for you while you were asleep and could give it to you once you awoke along with a good morning kiss

However, little did you know that while you were asleep, he almost set the kitchen on fire, pancake batter spilled on the floor and he had almost cut his finger off with a knife

But it’s all worth it if it’s for you he thinks to himself

When you awake, the first thing you see is his face in yours, he dons a rather huge grin and then throws his arms into the air and says “Happy Birthday My Belladonna!”

The next thing is he takes you to whatever place you wish to go

But! First things first, he makes sure he gets the day off and leaves behind an angry Kunikida

Want to go to the beach? Park? Movies? Or just sit and cuddle at home under the blankies while watching movies or the likes? He’s down for it esp the last one

He’ll sneak little kisses throughout the day and always somehow manages to put a smile on your face

He might get you a gift but honestly i think he’s already a good enough gift himself

When night finally falls upon Yokohama, he’ll cuddle the hell out of you in bed, whether it be summer or winter. He’d place kisses all over your face until he’d reach just above your chest, you’re just too precious to him unless he decides to spend the night in a different way if you know what i mean

Atsushi:

His smile is so precious i can’t-

Would cook breakfast and it actually comes out good. Although he doesn’t think so, please reassure him it is

He’ll get your favorite flowers and put them on the tray in which he’s gonna put the breakfast on

“Happy Birthday Y/n” you smile sleepily as you awake and find him sitting at the edge of the bed

You’d give him a kiss on the cheek and he’d turn all shades of red

He’ll probably take you to the fair or just like Dazai he’ll take you anywhere you’d like

Prefer something more peaceful and serene? He’s got you covered

Of course he’d ask for a day off from work and he’d actually get it without a problem because he works so hard

Even though he can’t offer the most expensive gift, you don’t mind and either way you’d love it even if he didn’t get you a gift

He’ll hold your hand gently throughout the day and smile at you so lovingly, he’ll thank the heavens that such an angel was born on this day 

Let’s just say that it were Spring, he’d take you cherryblossom viewing

It’d be so lovely, the gentle breeze floating through the air, cherryblossom petals raining down upon the earth, when he’d look at you, he’ll instantly smile

His eyes look like they were in a dream, when he looked at you, admiring you, wondering how fortunate he was

At night, he’d hold you in his arms, might I add that he’d have his tiger arms transformed if you request, although he would be a bit hesitant

It’s the softest, warmest, coziest feeling in the world, and you fall asleep to the soft beating of his heart, he’ll kiss your head and tell you how much you mean to him and how much he loves you before eventually falling asleep himself

Chuya:

Treats your birthday like the most important day ever

Definitely not the type to disturb his s/o during their beauty sleep just to wish them at 12:00am

Like a professional chef, he prepares the best breakfast one could ask for with a red rose to finish the tray off

He’ll kiss your lips, your cheeks and forehead as you wake up and find him smiling wishing you a happy birthday

He’d get the day off, working some things around in his port mafia schedule

He’ll take you out anywhere you’d like, however for dinner he’s made a reservation for two at a fancy restaurant

Sure he seems all fancy, but he doesn’t really spend money on himself, rather he’ll shower you with gifts and praises and acts of love and affection

Would be a total romantic and kiss the back of your hand and hold it like you’re royalty 

He’ll offer only the best gift to you, he’ll know what you like

Be it books/literature, jewellery, anything really

This ginger will admire you with endearing ocean blue eyes, he’ll tell you countless times throughout the day how much he loves you not like he doesn’t everyday

Ends the day of at the restaurant and once night approaches, he’ll hold you in his arms like you’re the most precious thing to him or if he has other plans the bedroom would be lit with soft sweet scented candles, silk bedsheets and everything to scream romantic

Akutagawa:

He kinda freaks out internally as to what to do for your bday

I mean has he ever even celebrated his own?

But would put on an apron and whip up a delicious breakfast, literally puts his heart and soul into it

However, expect to get scared first thing in the morning

This man has high patience, so he’ll just be standing there at your bedside, staring at you waiting for you to wake up because he doesn’t wanna disturb you

Not only is he staring while holding the breakfast and flowers he’d picked for you, he’s admiring you

Taking in every little detail about you, honestly his cheeks turn a little pink from how cute you look asleep

Give him a kiss as thanks and he’ll stop working

Didn’t know at first whether to take the day off or not but decided to do so

Prefers taking you somewhere quiet, serene, better if there are no other people are around actually

Either you’ll both stay at home or go out as per your wish

The idea of cuddling with you under the blankets makes him internally smile

But so does spending the day out with you

He’d love to just sit under a tree in the park and enjoy some peace, serenity, shade and you

A little picnic is what he’d go with. Figs and tea really is all the snacks he needs. He gazes at you, your smile, just automatically makes him smile

He’ll let you lay your head on his lap and read a book, sleep or basically whatever you’re doing, while playing with your hair, twirling it, running his fingers through it

The night ends with him holding you with your back facing his chest, arms wrapped around you, his nose in the crook of your neck and feather light kisses being placed on your skin

He’s not all that good with psychical acts of love and affection but he tries

[beskarberry]

Silver and Steel

Bargaining with Beskar, Chapter 2 (The Mandalorian x f!reader)

It was then you noticed the open wall next to you. The steel panel was slid open to reveal a vault packed corner to corner with more firepower than you had ever seen in one place. Your eyes roamed from blaster to rifle to flamethrower, noticing that not all of them were made for five fingered hands. This wasn't just an armory, it was a trophy case.

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 7.5k

Content warnings: ALOT. Descriptions of violence (a little spicier than canon) blood mention, near death experiences, hurt/COMFORT, fluff, smut exhaustion sex, top!reader.

A/N: I hope y’all enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it but yeah PLEASE READ THOSE CONTENT WARNINGS!! It all works out ok in the end! Also good chunks of this was inspired by a particular filk song called Call the Navigator which I’ll link in the replies so the external link doesn’t ef up my post.

<-Previous Next->

"Med pack... junk....junk....spotchka?....is that all you've got?"

You were bent over a deep supply crate, your legs barely touching the ground while you dug through what you had hoped would be the food stock. There were several banged up tins of rations and a handful of miscellaneous junk, but nothing that looked real food. You were clean and dry after your shower, but the energy that had been spent in this very supply room just an hour or so earlier had to be replenished. "Where’s the rest of it?"

The silence coming from the cockpit was expected, but still frustrating. With a huff you grabbed two food tins and made your way through the old ship towards the ladder. At the top though a small antechamber you found your new comrade seated in the pilot chair, fussing with the buttons on the console. On either side and slightly behind his chair were two other passenger seats, though the one on his left was missing a good deal of padding. The cockpit was poorly lit save for the lighted console and the dusty starlight overhead. Though you were in the air, you could tell you were still on Tatooine. Hooray. Why are we still here? The great Dune Sea stretched out on all sides, sparsely dotted with sand people villages, but you couldn’t see any of the large space ports such as Mos Eisley or Mos Espa. In the ships’ darkness you couldn't tell what the lumpy thing was in the other chair, probably blankets or laundry. You went to toss it off the seat when a pair of huge black orbs peeped out from the heap of fabric.

"The fuck is THAT?!" You rocketed backwards, dropping the food tins in the process. The bug eyed creature made a soft cooing noise and lifted the rest of the blanket off itself, allowing two gigantic green ears to pop into view. It didn't look like a threat, in fact it looked kinda cute, but you knew it could still be dangerous. A pair of stubby three-fingered hands made grabby motions at you, the little creature giggling at your bewildered face. " Where'd you find this thing, is it some kind of pet?"

"He's not a pet." Finished fiddling with the console, Mando turned in his chair to readjust the blanket that had slumped off of the small beastie. It squealed happily and wiggled in its comfy cocoon before noticing the food tins that were still on the floor. He pointed the tiniest claw at them and chirped at you, demanding to be fed. "You'd better give him one of those before he gets mad."

It took you a moment to process what he said before scooping one of the tins off the floor, peeling back the lid and placing the dish in the seat next to the little thing. He greedily scooped the mystery mash into his tiny toothy mouth, gibbering between bites. You picked the remaining tin off the floor and leaned against the door frame, watching it happily chow down.

"If it's not a pet then what is it?"

"He's my..." the Mandalorian paused, fishing for the right words to say, "...he is my child."

That was not at all the answer you expected, if he had said emotional support gremlin you would have been less confused. The baby was still making a mess of his dinner, almost dropping his plate before Mando snatched it and set it carefully back in his lap. You had seen first hand that there was a human under all that metal plating, and your tired brain fizzled trying to make the connection between the two very different beings. Mando could tell by your puzzled face that he had some explaining to do.

He told you the tale of how he had been charged to bring the baby in as a high credit bounty, but after he used the reward to get new armor he went back and stole the child away from its captors. He talked about the Mandalorian concept of a 'foundling' and that he himself was one too. At some point you had popped your food tin open and started eating, though you were so captivated by his story that you couldn't remember doing so. When he'd finished you set your empty dish on the busted chair and gently held your hand out for the child to grab with one mush covered paw, who babbled excitedly at his new friend.

Behind you his parental guardian was rigid, ready to take you out if you made one wrong move against his precious cargo. Though he had been the one to steal you away and forgo freezing you in carbonite he still didn’t exactly trust you, your reputation as a hunter-killer was what had driven your bounty so high. He knew you were disarmed, but what else could you be capable of? However, you weren't paying mama-hen Mando any mind. Instead you let the baby play with your hand a bit before he returned to his food. You decided that the only place left to sit was on the floor. Squished into the tiny space between the passenger and pilot seats was cramped, but it gave you a fantastic view out the rounded transperisteel window into the vastness of the night sky.

“Your story sounds awful familiar.” You turned your attention to the metal clad man, watching him fidget with the steering controls. “You abandoned a guild reward for anothers wellbeing, like I did. Someone that didn’t deserve to be dragged back in cuffs. Is that why you picked up the puck on me? Some kind of kindred spirit something or other?”

“We’re nothing alike.” He was watching out the window, focused on flying the ship to unknown destinations, but he was bouncing the leg farthest away from you. So when the cogwheels turn in your head, the machine moves somewhere else. If you hadn’t experienced his human body first hand you could have easily convinced yourself he was a droid.

“Now that’s not true. You told the guild to get fucked because your moral compass was pointing the other way. I didn't just let that quarry go y'know? It was more than that. There was... there was someone she had to get back to. And the New Republic was just gonna lock her ass up and for what? It wasn't right." You remembered that Togruta woman, pointing a blaster at you with tears in her eyes and her belly swollen with a child that did not belong to the man she was being forced to marry. A few thousand credits weren’t worth another child being made an orphan, and you gave her your ship to escape in while you led hunters on a wild-bantha chase away from her. You knew it drove the guild insane but you wouldn’t have it any other way. A tiny green foot poked itself out from under the blankets by your head, bringing you out of your reverie. On reflex you tucked it back into the safety of his blankies.

Though you thankfully didn’t remember much of your early childhood, you knew you had come from Corellia. You didn’t know if you had parents or siblings, but there had been many other young street urchins in your alley behind the shipyard, and all you had then were each other. You never planned on having any kids yourself, but they were still something to be protected. At all costs, if necessary. “I’m guessing this little dude is happy with that decision.”

Mando had begun to take the ship closer to the ground, it was almost totally dark outside but you could see on the radar there was a large mountainous formation up ahead. Carefully, he landed the beat up craft on a sturdy outcropping of rocks, kicking up whirlwinds of dust and sand. Far out over the sand you could see a collection of lumpy looking ruins that were slowly succumbing to the march of the dunes. You guessed this was where your quarry was hiding out.

The baby was starting to get sleepy, his huge eyes disappearing slowly as the weight of his eyelids became too much. His little head rolled forward, threatening to toss him off his seat. Your big mean bounty hunter heart couldn’t take it, so you scrambled to your feet and scooped the baby up in your arms, sitting down in his seat to get him situated in your lap. He fussed and squirmed a bit, but you had learned a no-fail trick from the Corellian ship builders that would often help to sneak orphaned children onto their ships and off that skughole of a planet towards a better life. Many years ago they had done the same for you.

“Oh, I have sailed the midnight sea from Hoth to Arvala-5.

Seen the Cloudshape Falls of Alderaan, met rocks that were alive.

But soon I came to realize as world to world I roamed,

That nowhere in the galaxy could really be my home.”

The songs you knew were often sang by whole crews of starship sailors, loud enough to shake their durasteel walls, but you dropped your voice low and soft to turn the star-shanty into a lullaby. The baby was watching you with glittering eyes, he had stopped his wiggling and curled up tightly against your chest.

“So call the navigator, set the course and go!

We've stars and planets to explore, my wild heart tells me so.

Beneath the metal decking I can hear the engine sigh

And all I need is a mighty ship and a staaaa-aarr to guide her by”

A tiny yawn betrayed his wondrous eyes, and he gave up and closed them shut, rubbing his little hands on his face. You lowered your voice to almost a whisper.

“I've seen a million beauties and I've known a million fears,

And life is what I've found between the laughter and the tears.

Still I will sail the last frontier through worlds both tame and wild,

And marvel at their strangeness with the wonder of a child”

Soft snores were your only applause, the baby having drifted off mid stanza. You hummed a few more lines of the song to be sure he was asleep. The cockpit was as dark as the surrounding sky, but the glint of silver caught your attention. Starlight reflected off the beskar plates in a way that made the black of his visor seem darker than the heart of a collapsed star, and just as deadly. The Mandalorian was watching you intently, completely motionless.

The precious moment with the baby had made you very forgetful of the dangerous situation you were actually in. You had been captured, you were this man’s prisoner and yet here you were all cozy in the chair with his adopted son in your lap. You glared back at him, matching his fierce gaze when the little green bundle moved to get more comfortable, one tiny hand catching claws in the top you were wearing; a tunic that did not belong to you.

“Here, you take him then.” Your voice was hushed so as not to wake the child, and you raised him up gently to try and unhook him from your shirt. Immediately there were two gloved hands coming to lift the baby off of your lap. He was a monolith of leather and metal, but the way he pulled his son in close was so gentle that all the ferocity of his profession dissipated like mist. Mando carefully tucked the blanket under the sleeping little baby and wrapped him up tight before slowly turning away from you and the flight deck to head down the ladder in total silence, leaving you alone in the dark.

You watched him go, the top of his shiny silver head disappearing into the floor. Without the sounds of life in the cockpit the quiet of the night weighed heavy on your ears. He still hadn’t told you why he had kept you out of the carbonite, all you had done was let him use you as his personal play-thing... and maybe murder off some of his bounty hunting competition, but that wasn’t much to go off of. You had done worse for much less. Put your skills to better use, that’s what he had said. Absently you toyed with the end of your sleeve, no, not your sleeve. His sleeve.

That was another thing, what reason did he have to show you hospitality when his first interaction with you had been so violent? Binding you and marching your ass through the desert after he had fucking shot you. Your escape plan had almost worked, ha! All you would’ve had to do is tire him out and run but that had backfired entirely. The apex of your thighs still thrummed with sensation, warm and blissful. Though you’d had lovers in the past you usually didn’t still feel them so deeply afterwards. The smell of the fresher soap still clung to your body and clothes. Clutching at the collar of your sweater you pulled it to your face and breathed deep, letting the heady scent of it fill your lungs.

“Let’s go. We have work to do.” The modulated voice coming from the ladder startled you from your guilty indulgence and sprang you to your feet, but the source of the voice was already back down the ladder. You sheepishly followed suit.

“You plan on telling me what we’re up to exactly?” Down below the Mandalorian was loading himself with ammunition, each and every slot on his many bandoliers was packed to the brim with charges. His pulse rifle was slung over one shoulder, clanking up against a new piece of equipment you hadn’t seen before. Some kind of jet pack maybe.

“I have two bounties to catch on Tatooine. One of them conveniently fell into a sarlacc pit. The other one's hiding out down there." A bounty fob blinked red in his hand; quick flashes indicated that the target was close by. “If you help me with this, you’re off the hook. I’ll tell Karga you’re dead and the guild will stop sending hunters after you. But-” He turned to face you, he was holding your beat-up old back pack by one ratty leather strap. "If for one second I think you'll turn against me, I'll take the half credits for your corpse."

"You're one to talk!" You hissed, storming up to the gunslinger with the ferocity of a lothcat. "You kidnapped me! I didn't ask to be here."

The man in question didn't budge under your verbal assault. "Do we have a deal or not?"

He forced your backpack into your arms to accentuate his point. You ripped it from his grasp and stormed to the other side of the cabin. Everything was still inside; a pack of bacta patches, a few mementos, three busted tracking fobs and some blaster charges. Speaking of blaster-

"Where’s my gun, Mando?" Your question was answered when you turned back to face him. He was holding it by its barrel, extending the grip towards you. You met his visor with contempt, but took the old blaster from him carefully as not to cause a misfire. It would be nice to not be on the run from a guild you had pledged your loyal services to for so many years, that now wanted you delivered back to them in carbonite; and you knew that Karga would trust his favorite hunter. The life of a moisture farmer wasn’t what you dreamed of when you escaped Corellia. Fuck that. "Yeah, it's a deal. One hunt and I'm gone."

It was then you noticed the open wall next to you. The steel panel was slid open to reveal a vault packed corner to corner with more firepower than you had ever seen in one place. Your eyes roamed from blaster to rifle to flamethrower, noticing that not all of them were made for five fingered hands. This wasn't just an armory, it was a trophy case.

If he didn't want you to ogle his wares he should have closed the panel, but instead he joined you at the wall, picking up some extra plasma cartridges and a vibroblade with a curved handle, which he pushed into your hands. "Will that be enough?"

Either you trust me or you don't, pick a side, tin can. You didn't answer him right away, opting to pull a chest holster and another couple of blasters down from the wall. You cinched the holsters tight and tucked a blaster in on either side, slung a disruptor over your back and stuffed the knife in your boot. Once you had everything in place you stuck your fists on your hips like a superhero with a confidant nod. "Yeah, that should be good."

Mando was watching you with intensity, his visor going over each of your weapon choices. He tugged on your holsters’ cross straps to make sure they were secured. You rolled your eyes at him, "I know how to dress myself, sir."

No answer. Typical. He stopped fussing with your straps and turned back to the wall, selecting a heavy multi-ammo bandolier. He stepped closer to you, wrapping both arms around your waist to fit the belt in place on your hips. You tried to convince yourself that it was the cool beskar of his chest plate pressed up against you that sent a shiver down your spine. The physical contact was over as quickly as it had been initiated, and then he was back in the vault fishing out the tiny silver explosives that fit neatly into the circular latches on either side of your belt, handing them to you without a word. Finished with his selection he pressed a few buttons on his vambrace, one to slide the armory shut and another to summon an egg-shaped hover crib to float to his side. Inside its shell the child was sound asleep, a heart-melting smile on his tiny little face. As adorable as he was, you furrowed your brow in confusion.

“Is he coming too?”

“Where I go, he goes.” Mando said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. He strode back to the supply crate you had been digging through earlier and packed a handful of rations into a bag for the journey through the dunes. Cool desert air gusted into the stuffy cabin as the access ramp fell open, and the three of you headed out into the darkness of Tatooine.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your dreams were hazy and feverish, shots of blaster fire flickered through the fog from unknown assailants. The smell of blood and blast plasma strong in your nose even while unconscious. You saw the sneering face of a Twi’lek twist in agony and purple blood painted his face before he winked out of existence, replaced in your mindscape with bloody hands. Your hands. Then there was cold beskar on your cheek and strong arms hauling you from the carnage. Harsh wind in your ears and the ground spiraling away beneath you. The howling wind so loud you couldn't hear the questions being barked in your face. Pain, the smell of burning skin, then nothing. You felt objects moving frantically nearby, and something soft and green was pressing into your ribs. Your eyes, heavy as they were, fluttered open to see two huge black orbs staring up from your side where bright red blood was staining the sheets under you. Is that ... my blood?

“Hey green bean...what’cha up to?” Your voice was hoarse and weak, scratching its way out reluctantly past chapped lips. Talking made your head pound, you reached up to cradle your aching skull when two leather tipped hands caught yours and held them steady.

“Easy... Don’t move too much. Please.” Your hands were gently set back down at your sides, shooting pain up your arms. A large black and silver body was hunched beside you, frantically sticking bacta patches to your skin.

“Mand...do? What…what happened?” Your voice was barely a whisper, so faint the recycled air of the cabin threatened to whisk it away.

“You got the bastard, but that fucking Twi' managed to get a shot off in your gut point blank before he went down. You shouldn't have survived that but you did.” Is that a compliment? He was wrapping a long gauze bandage around your arm, fixing the bacta patches in place so they could do their thing. It hurt, but not as much as you thought it should have. Down by your side the child had rolled into you face first, passed out cold next to an emergency cauterizer. Mando nodded at his sleeping son, “And if it wasn’t for him, you’d be dead for sure.” 

The baby? How is he involved with this? Thoughts echoed loudly in your skull, and you decided that thinky time was over. The little guy had the right idea, you should sleep now, embrace the comfort of the dark behind your eyes, let it swallow you whole.

“Hey hey hey! Not yet. Stay with me, ok? You need to drink something. Here.” An armored hand slid under your head, urging you to sit up just enough to take a drink out of the metal canteen pressed against your lips. “You need to stay awake, just for a little while.” Cool water graced your dry mouth and dripped onto your chin. Embarrassed by your mess you tried to wipe the droplets away but once again your arms were halted in place. A rough piece of fabric dabbed at your face.

“I’m not a baby, Mando. I can take care of myself.” The creeping sting of blast-burn that still scalded your skin told you that might not be true. The bacta was just starting to seep into your bloodstream, but it would take some time to work its magic.

“I know that. I was with you down there in the fray. A rancor would have been less terrifying to face than you. But right now I need you to hold still.”

Another compliment? Or was that sarcasm? You’re losing your edge, tin man. You tried to roll your eyes but the effort made your head spin; you glanced around the cabin, trying to avoid meeting the visor that was pinning you to the cot. Strewn about the floor of the ship was what was left of your holsters and weapons, splattered with red and purple blood. You couldn’t be sure, but it looked like one belt had been blasted to smithereens, torn strips of leather the only indication it had been there at all. Farther away you saw a dark block in the carbonite freezer. The Twi’lek from your nightmare was frozen solid, though from his limp posture you guessed he had stopped moving long before he was put in the chamber. One of his long lekku had been cut clean off, and even in carbonite you could see the wound was fresh. Something long and curved stuck victoriously out of the center of his chest. Your vibroblade, lodged to the hilt in his sternum.

Mando was still kneeling on the floor by your side, and though you couldn’t see his face his hunched shoulders gave you the feeling that he was distraught. He still had your head resting in his palm, his thumb absently toying with your hair. Maybe it was the bacta running through your system that made you start to feel warm and gooey on the inside, but the sensation of his hand on your scalp felt... nice. Nice to be touched in a way that wasn't just for survival. Though you had already felt his hands on your body this was something else entirely. Sincere. Maybe it was just the first time somebody near you wasn't trying to kill or capture you. You foolish girl, you've already been captured. Are you so lonely that a gentle touch makes you melt? Maybe it's you that's losing your edge.

"You should have left me for dead, cashed in on that half credit reward."

"That is not The Way." His mantra was rehearsed, spoken as easily as he drew breath, but you could hear the exhaustion in his voice.

“Well... thank you for not letting me bleed out.” You could see the top of the baby's green little noggin still curled up against your side, though the part of your ribs he was leaning on didn’t have a single mark. You looked for the blast wound that Mando was supposedly talking about, but aside from a handful of plasma burns your skin was smooth and healthy; the pool of dried blood under you was the only indication anything had been there at all. What kind of mando magic is that? And what did he mean about the child? Your first thought was how disappointed you were there wouldn’t be a good scar. Your second was realizing your top was missing. Shreds of it were still on your shoulders, but the front had been ripped off completely to get to your vanished wounds. Mando seemed like he didn’t even care, he had been so focused on patching you up that the idea of modesty was thrown out the window, but you couldn’t help teasing him. “There’s not a scratch on me, Mando. You just wanted me topless, didn’t you?”

His thumb on your scalp froze, his visor going from your face to your chest with rapid snaps. Without letting your head drop he used his other hand to tear his cloak from his back and throw it over you and the sleeping baby. “Better?”

Party pooper. “Yes, thank you.” Why is he being so nice? He must have ulterior motives, right? Why keep me alive if not to cash in on that bounty? You decided to push his buttons some more. “This bed sucks. Is this why you're so crotchety? Because you sleep on this Maker-forsaken thing? It’s making my back hurt.”

The cot you were on was spartan at best, more of a cloth covered bucket than a bed. It was recessed into the wall opposite of the armory, bits of machinery and droid parts hanging over the space above you. There wasn’t much of a gap between your head and the durasteel plating of the ship’s hull. Your teasing was rewarded with a long, tired sigh. The hand that cushioned your head moved down to your shoulders, pushing on you so that you sat up straight. You scooped the baby off of your side and into your arms, trying to ignore the dried blood from your wounds that stained the sheets before swaddling the sleeping bean in his father’s cloak. The metal man rose from the floor, letting go of you just long enough to remove his cross-belts and unlatch his chest plate, setting them on the floor with a dull thunk. He squished himself between the wall and your back, his dorsal plate scraping loudly without its cape. He scooched one armored leg around you until it was between your hip and the wall on your side, pulling you into his lap and turning his whole body into a pillow, letting your torso rest on his. He was used to the sharp metal bed frame, but that didn’t mean you should be subjected to it.

“Is this ok?”

You could only nod, your cheeks flushing red with a mix of emotions. It was more than ok, his formidable body was warm and comfortable. His arms wrapped around your waist, helping to support not only you but also his foundling. The spice of him was strong now with him on your back, worn leather and metal and that damn fresher soap that was making a fool out of you. Underneath his steady breathing the sound of something rhythmic caught your attention, it was quick and faint, but unmistakably the sound of his heartbeat. His heart is racing. Listen to that engine purr.

Behind you a man with a name you may never know watched your chest slowly rise and fall with each breath, not with lust but something unfamiliar though not unwelcome. He could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears, whether from the ordeal of keeping you alive or the fact that you were in his arms again he couldn't be sure. He sighed, trying to convince himself to calm down, but the deep breath he took only flooded his senses with the essence of you, threatening to melt the beskar off his head with the heat rushing to his face. He couldn't help the way his fingers traced over your skin, careful not to undo any of the bacta patches. He jumped slightly when your hands found his, but the weight of the child still in your arms made it difficult to reach your fingers. The glove you were touching was suddenly empty, and a bare hand snaked out from under the cloak that kept you modest. With the press of a button the child’s pram floated its way over to you from the supply crates. The baby’s adopted father carefully lifted the sleeping creature off your lap and into his hover crib, another button press on the vambrace and the shield door slid closed.

His hand returned to the safety of the cloak, pulling the other glove off before finding your fingers again. His skin was so warm you couldn't help but imagine his hands somewhere more intimate. Evil, evil bacta... Maybe you wouldn't have to.

"I should thank you properly." It was impossible to hide the tiredness of your voice, but he was close enough you only needed to whisper. His grasp tightened around you, your once plush pillow was now a rigid wall of muscle.

"You should go to sleep." the sound of his baritone words so close to your ear made your skin prickle. Too late for that. Slowly you guided his hand down your belly until your tangled hands bumped into your belt line. A low growl rumbled out of the modulator.  “Cyar'ika... you need to rest."

The alien term of endearment made you hum, but you ignored his words of warning and pushed his hand under the tough fabric till his fingertips found your heat, both of you gasping softly at first contact. His free hand fumbled with your button, and after some difficulty you undid it for him along with the zipper. With space to work, with his wrist moved freely, lazily rolling a calloused fingertip against your clit; remembering his lesson from the first time he experienced your body, his touch was light as a feather.

There wasn’t much you could do for him in the position you were in, so you leaned back against him and relaxed, letting him enjoy you at his own pace. The bottom of his helmet was pressed into the crook of your neck, and though it was sharp you could feel something warm and soft underneath it. So there is a real man under there. Scruffy stubble brushed at your skin and sent goosebumps down your chest. Under the beskar his eyes followed the prickling trail that lead under the tattered cloak you still wore to your breasts, watching the way the fabric pointed where your nipples grew hard for him. His other hand couldn’t resist finding its way to your pert peaks, rolling them between his fingers in that way he knew flushed you with heat. Soft gasps rewarded his ears as he worked at your breast and clit, rubbing them in tandem. Your hips rolled into one hand and your back arched into the other, urging him to help you build your climax. He obliged, adding a second finger to pinch your clit softly between strong digits until you fell apart around him.

The pressure that was building behind you and pressing into your spine told you that if you wanted more from him you would have to give him a better angle. You started to get up, but the hands on your sensitive spots held you in place.

“What about your injuries? I don’t want to hurt you.” What injuries? There’s nothing left! His voice was filled with sincerity, a far cry from your first encounter. You didn’t answer him, instead you found each of his hands and squeezed them with a hum, asking him to trust that the bacta had set in and made you comfortable enough to move from your impromptu med bay. He slid his fingers out from your burning core, dragging the wetness from your cunt over your skin until his palms were on your back, helping to push you up off of him. The teeny tiny bed frame made it difficult to spin yourself around until you were facing him, and even more difficult to kick your pants off as you passed over top of him, but he never took his hands away from you to keep you steady until you were seated in his lap.

Straddling his waist you rolled your hips over where his cock was hidden from you, making him shudder under your legs. His arms glided from your knees to your hips, languidly making their way up your sides and past your breasts to the last remaining tatters of the black knit sweater he had allowed you to wear. Hooking a thumb under its ruined edges, he slid it up over your arms and cast it away into the darkness of the ship. His hands went right back to working at your breasts, massaging them like dough in time with your grinding hips. You took a moment to admire how he looked underneath you, his remaining armor glinting in the hazy ship light as his hands searched for every sensitive inch of your chest. You knew from legend that his helmet could never be removed in front of you, but you’d never heard anything about the rest of his clothes. Where his chest plate had been was a strappy flak jacket dotted with magnetic fasteners. Your hands went slowly to the first clasp, and the hands that were so indulged in you froze, his body stiff between your legs.

“Is this ok?” The irony of you repeating his question from earlier back to him made your lips turn in a sly smile. 

“Y-yes.” His voice was nearly imperceptible, and you realized that he was shaking. You looked to his visor, watching him nod in consent before you continued. He dropped his hands to your hips, pulling down on your thighs and rutting up into you while you busied yourself with the complicated under armor until it fell away at his sides, revealing a pair of suspenders and an identical black knit tunic as the one that had been shredded off of you. You didn’t have the energy to peel every article of clothing off of him, so this would have to do. Without his cloak bunched around his shoulders you were able to see the flesh of his throat, so warm and inviting that you wanted to sink your teeth into it.

You bent down to nibble at the exposed skin, and the filthy moan that rattled out of the helmet sent shivers down your spine. The taste of him was exquisite, better than you could have imagined under all that fabric and leather. The overwhelming cocktail of his scent straight from the source made you bold. You kissed your way around the edge of his helmet where the metal met his skin until you found his pulse point and made good on your desires. His body convulsed when you bit down, sucking at the tender skin until you left blooming marks that would be there for days.

“Cyar'ika... Please...“ There was that word again, you didn’t know what it meant but the way he breathed it like a prayer felt like warm honey in your belly. Releasing his tormented neck you ran your hands down his broad chest until your thumbs bumped the leather suspenders that lead you down to his waist line where you were able to tug the edge of his shirt free, giving you a delicious window of his tummy; well-muscled and dusted with dark brown hair. 

“What’s wrong, tin man? Nobody ever touch you like this before?” He was still shaking while you ran your hands under the edge of his shirt and through the soft treasure trail of fuzz from the top of his belt line to the bottom of his ribs. He couldn’t answer you, his breath caught in his throat at the sensation of your hands on his skin, but you were starting to put the pieces of his puzzle together. No, probably not.

You decided not to torture him any longer. The fabric of his pants was nearly stretched to capacity and wet with your slick. You had to stretch one leg out onto the floor to get enough of a footing to lift yourself high enough off him that you could free him from the canvas prison. His cock nearly burst out of its confines, and your face flushed red at the sight of him standing proudly at attention, twitching in your hands with a flood of shimmering precum made just for you.

His chest was heaving, ragged breaths forcing their way out of his modulator before you’d even taken his length. You used your hips to notch him at your entrance and his grip on your thighs clenched like a steel trap. Slowly you lowered yourself onto him, letting him fill you until you were stretched wide. Your eyes met his visor, though from the way it was tilted you knew he was watching himself disappear into you. His arms wrapped tightly under your ass as he thrust into you hard enough that he lifted you off the cot, quickly scooting both your bodies down the bed until he was flat on his back. You tried to stay upright, but his pounding soon had your head spinning until you were falling forward into his chest, digging your arms around his shoulders in a way you were becoming familiar with. Your hands found their way to the back of his helmet to where his hair line started, sneaking a few fingers under the metal edge to tangle in his curls. The Mandalorian’s hands were on your waist, holding you in place while he rocketed up into you, filling the ships cabin with the sound of wet slaps. His thick cock hit different from this angle, grinding up against the sweet spot deep inside you with each rut until you started seeing stars behind your eyes. He could feel you building up around him and he quickened his pace until you were gasping his name.

“M-mando! I... I’m gonna....” Your muscles coiled with heat until you burst, your sweet cunt fluttering around his still pumping cock until he went cascading over the edge of ecstasy with you, his helmet vibrating with a guttural roar. His feverish body shook, giving you a few short thrusts to milk the cum from his cock until it spilled out from where he was lost inside you.

His shaky arms held onto you so tightly, as if you would blast away into space if he let go. The endorphins flooding his head made him want to pour his heart out and tell you everything, bare himself in body and soul for the first time in his life. He wanted to tell you how nice you had looked in his clothes, how the loose knit fabric draped over your breasts was a work of art; even more so when you were standing before him armed to the teeth in his hunting trophies. How seeing you slice that fucking Twi’lek to ribbons was more graceful than any ballet. The sight of the bloody hole that had been burned into your side had made his skin crawl. Mando wasn’t ready to explain the child’s healing powers, he barely understood them himself; but if it wasn’t for the baby he would have been burying your corpse instead of tending your wounds. Instead of experiencing your living body like he was now.

His heart fluttered at the thought of his foundling healing you with his baby sorcerer magic, his tiny green paws pushed on your side where the blood was spilling from your wound. The thought of you dying for his bounty made him sick, but pride flushed the sensation away when he thought back to that first day with you up in the flight deck. How when his baby boy was restless that you acted, not with malice but with tenderness and care. He'd never wanted to rip his helmet off faster in all his days than when you sang his son a lullaby, the sweet tune of it filtering through his sensory equipment, and he longed to hear it as it was meant to be. In that moment he had been entranced, but the fierce glare of his visor had made you feel threatened. He didn't want that. He wanted to make you feel safe. The same way you had made his child feel, the same way you made him feel now. Like the galaxy itself couldn’t tear you from him.

But the ugly truth was that soon it would all end when you both went your separate ways. All the feelings he wanted to confess to you died in his mouth, leaving a bitter taste that brought him back to reality. You still straddled his waist, and though the blood had long since left his cock it still sat neatly in your heat, letting him feel your gentle heartbeat around him. Carefully he pulled himself free from the apex of your thighs and rolled you both sideways onto the unforgiving cot, letting gravity shuffle you down until you were nestled in the crook of his arm. He couldn’t help brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, meeting your half lidded eyes with his own behind the visor.

“I don’t think I can get to the fresher this time.” Your voice was barely a whisper, and the edges of sleep crept unbidden to your eyes; the traumatic activities of the day finally winning over your endurance. “You’re probably going to have to burn these sheets.”

Mando hummed with indifference, though for you he would burn all of Tatooine down if you asked. All the lovely thoughts that had danced through his mind came rolling through again, haloed in the warm light of afterglow. Only one made its way past his lips, sneaking out of the helmets’ modulator like a prayer.

“How does the song end?”

“Mmm?” You were so close to sleep, so cozy and full of cum that you knew would be a fun mess for morning-you to clean up. You wracked your brain trying to remember what the hell he was talking about. The star-shanty? “Why, do you need a lullaby too?”

“N-no. Just curious. When you leave, my foundling might ask me about it.” Liar. The calloused hand gliding up and down your spine brought the original contract you made with him ringing through your skull. One hunt and I’m gone.

“Leave? I’m not going anywhere until I see you tell Karga face to face that I’m rotting in a sarlacc pit. No take-backs. That old dog will probably dance when he hears he won’t have to part with his credits and I want to catch it on holo-corder.”

The rumbling sigh deep in his chest sounded more like an engine powering down than a mortal man, and it told you more than words ever could. The arm you had around his chest was met with strong fingers that intertwined with your own. He doesn’t want me to go. Who are you, Mandalorian?

“Tell me anyway? Please?” His arms tightened like a fortress around you. His words were distant, echoing out from somewhere in dreamland instead of right by your ear. Alright you big softie, if you’re going to beg me. You sighed heavily against him, trying to recall the songs of your distant past. 

“The nights are long between the stars, and lonely too for me,

I wonder how I might have fared with home and family.

But the bonds of friendship I have formed will last my lifetime through,

Security is not for me, my dreams are all of you.”

The same soft snores that had been your original encore with the baby now ghosted in your ear, muffled by the mysterious beskar helmet but still unmistakable. Like father like son. 

The weight of his arms around you was like nothing you had ever felt in your years on the run. You had traveled so far and met so many living beings but not once had you let another share your bed while you slept. You could get used to this. The thought was the last you had before sleep overtook you, your body slumping against his while you dreamed of silver and steel.

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TAG LIST

@mandoinevarro​ @mrsparknuts​ @cookiejuicedesu​

[writingsoftheghost]

Room to Breathe

Based on this post by @sleepyvirgilprompts but I deviated from the intent a lot.

Tw: Panic attack, Unwanted physical contact, yelling, accusations, anxious thoughts, swearing

Ship: Platonic LAMP

Virgil was an idiot, a tired idiot, but an idiot. He’d just wanted out of his room, the shadows and the dark making it impossible to relax that night. Just like it had the night before. He was exhausted, he didn’t even plan to sleep that night, he just wanted to breathe a little. So, he grabbed his blanket and headed to the Light Side living room. It was the first time he’d really left his room in the last few days.

He’d turned the tv to the lowest volume and clicked on the first thing he saw. An episode of Over the Garden Wall. That was fine, Virgil liked the animation.The low volume was soothing, he turned the subtitles on and let himself zone out.

This of course was dumb, relaxing somewhere he shouldn’t be when he was exhausted. Predictably, he fell asleep.

He didn’t know how long he was asleep, but he woke up to the sound of footsteps, footsteps coming closer. He woke up slightly at that realization, looking around and realizing where he was, sending himself into a panic.

He looked around in vain for a place to hide, the tv was still playing softly, when the footsteps sounded impossibly close and Virgil had gone completely delirious with the cocktail of exhaustion and pure panic in his body, he threw the blanket he’d brought over his head and willed himself to stop breathing so loud.

Now, in any other state, Virgil would’ve recognized this as stupid and ridiculous. But right now, his brain seemed to be operating with a child’s ideas of object permanence. “If I can’t see them, they can’t see me.”

So when he heard Princey’s voice his heart almost stopped, “Hello? Patton?”

When Roman got no response, he tried again, “Lo?”

Virgil briefly thought of making a run for it, if he kept the blanket on his head, maybe the prince wouldn’t know it was him. This plan actially sounded pretty good, but just as Virgil was about to make a breal for it, he felt the blanket being tugged away from him.

He was too shocked to resist, suddenly, the anxious trait found himself staring into the eyes of Creativity.

“Anxiety!” The Prince cried incredulously.

Virgil flinched away at the loud noise, “Good Evening, Princey.” He said in a forced casual tone.

“What in Thomas’s name are you doing down here?!” Roman looked mad. Virgil could feel himself moving closer to the edge with every shouted word.

“I could ask you the same question.” Why was he making this worse?

“I live here, you creep!” Roman is in his face now and it’s too much, Virgil has to get out of there.

He pushes Roman away, not hard, but enough to get him to back out of his way. He runs to the stairs, panic blinding him. He bumps into something solid and firm, arms catch him from falling down the few stairs he’d made it up.

“Woah, there, kiddo? Whatcha doing down here so late?” Patton. Patton, oh no oh no oh no oh no...

“That’s what I’m trying to find out,” Roman huffs angrily from the bottom of the stairs. “He pushed me, trying to make an escape attempt. Good job, Pat, you got him.”

Patton frowns, “Anxiety?” He asks softly, “You wanna tell me what’s going on?”

Virgil lets out a strangled cry, Patton’s arms are still holding onto him, keeping him in place and it’s all too much. He can’t get away, he has to get away. He’s settled on flight, he didn’t want to hurt any of them, but he was so close to losing all control. Why couldn’t they just let him go?

“What are you all doing?” God no. Why did they all have to be here? Why couldn’t he have just stayed in his room?

Virgil was hyperventilating, he couldn’t get himself to focus enough to even explain himself. The only thoughts in his mind right now were, “Go! Go! Go! Danger!” And it was making it impossible to even listen to the words being spoken to him.

“Patton let him go, for Pete’s sake! He’s having a panic attack!” Logan snaps.

“Oh no, kiddo, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize-” Patton stops talking when Virgil yanks away from Patton’s loosened grip and immediately starts running up the remainder of the stairs. They all three flinch at the sound of Virgil’s bedroom door slamming shut.

Patton makes a move to follow the anxious trait, but Logan puts a hand on his shoulder, “Don’t.”

“But he-”

“Is in a serious state of distress, due to the both of you. I doubt he wants any comfort right now. Give him space,” Logan interrupts irritably.

“He left his blankie...” Patton mumbles sadly.

“Logan, that fiend was down here doing gosh knows what, and you want us to give him space?” Roman cries indignantly.

“Ro,” Patton frowns at the prince, “He probably didn’t mean anything by it. He hasn’t come downstairs in days, why’d you chase him out?”

“He was hiding under a blanket,” Roman rolls his eyes, “That’s pretty suspicious. You need to stop being so nice, Pat. Not everyone is good.”

Logan descends the stairs with a blank expression, he looks around the living room critically, “It appears he was watching television,” he drawls.

“Well, yes, I’m sure it appears that way,” Roman defends weakly.

“You chased my dark strange son away for watching cartoons,” Patton looks like he might cry. “Ro, he may never come back down here again!”

“While I doubt that’s true, he may be reluctant to leave his room for the foreseeable future.”

Patton shoots Roman a sad look. 

Roman huffs, “You won’t make me feel bad. It’s not happening.”

“Ro...” Patton whispers in a pleading voice, “He didn’t even do anything.”

“Maybe not this time,” Romman mumbles defensively.

“Any-” Logan pulls out a vocab card “-beef, you have with Anxiety is merely because he’s doing his job. Just because you don’t like it, doesn’t mean you can treat him like a criminal for every little thing he does.” Logan states firmly.

Roman groans, “Why do you always take his side?”

“Because he needs the support,” Patton shoots Roman a firm look, “You shouldn’t be so mean to him, Ro. He doesn’t mean to make you mad, he’s just doing his job.”

“Okay, okay! Enough with the guilt trip! I’ll apologize to him!” Roman stomps up a few stairs before Logan stops him.

“Not tonight,” Logan looks at both sides seriously, “Neither of you should bother him anymore tonight. He needs some time to breathe. We can discuss it in the morning.”

Patton nods sadly, “My poor kiddo...”

Roman rolls his eyes, “Whatever, I’m going back to bed.” He never even gets the glass of water he came downstairs for in the first place.

*****

Virgil spends the rest of the night on edge, waiting for the other shoe to drop. For someone to come pounding on his door, demanding an explanation for the previous night, and his solemn oath to never do it again.

Neither of those comes, not even in the morning, when Virgil is sure everyone will wake up angrier than before.

Roman was probably furious. His worst enemy lounging on the couch. 

Virgil waited all day for that pounding knock, it didn’t come. Instead he spent the whole day expecting it. And being shocked when he heard a soft tap early on in the evening.

“Kiddo? I brought you some pizza?” Patton. Probably to lull him into a false sense of security. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to ignore the moral trait.

“No thanks, I’m good.”

Outside the door, Patton frowns. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” Virgil wants him to leave, he wants him to leave. The silence stretches on for long enough to make him start to think he had.

But then, “Anxiety, I’m sorry Roman chased you out of the living room last night.”

Virgil freezes, his entire body tenses up. He knows he should say something but his entire mind has gone blank.

“He really shouldn’t have done that, kiddo,” Patton continues, “I’m sure he feels bad about it.”

Virgil seriously doubted that, Roman didn’t feel bad. About anything, ever. “It’s fine, I shouldn’t have been down there anyway.” His voice sounds nonchalant, but the fact that this was just another way he’d never be accepted made his heart ache.

“Oh, Anxiety, no!” Patton cries in a horrified voice, “Kiddo, you’re allowed to be in the living room.”

“Yeah, sure. Thanks, Pat.”

“I mean it.” Patton’s voice had done solemn and serious. “Roman shouldn’t have chased you out, you have just as much of a right to be there as the rest of us.”

Virgil sighs and climbs off the bed, he stalks to the door and swings it open. Patton blinks at him in surprise, “You don’t really want me there. I appreciate the thought, I really do. But you and I both know I’d make it awkward. No one really wants the embodiment of fear and nervousness in a room, Pat. Thanks anyway.” He attempt to shut the door, Patton stops him with his foot.

“Wait! That’s not true at all, Anxiety. I’d love for you to come downstairs and hang out with us. Logan doesn’t mind you doing so, either.”

Virgil nods, “And Roman?”

Patton grimaces, “He’ll come around. But he doesn’t own the living room. You have just as much right to be there as he does.”

Virgil shakes his head, “I don’t want to piss him off.”

“Language,” Patton warns lightly, “and he’ll get over it. Why don’t you come down with me? I won’t let him chase you out again, promise.”

And he looks so hopeful, and Virgil didn’t even realize he’d nodded until he felt Patton’s hand grab his and suddenly he was being pulled along downstairs.

“Wait, Patton!” Virgil protests.

Patton stops in the middle of the hall, “If you don’t want to go, I won’t make you. But I really don’t want you to feel like you’re not allowed downstairs.”

Virgil nods, “I just don’t want a repeat of last night, I’m sorry I ran away. It was just...”

“Overwhelming?” Patton offers, “that’s okay, Anxiety. You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m just glad you’re not mad at me, I shouldn’t have grabbed you like that. And besides, Roman promised me he wouldn’t do that again.”

“He did?”

“Yeah, I think Lo and I made him feel bad. He shouldn’t have chased you out.”

“I—are you sure he’s not more mad now? He did find me downstairs in the middle of the night.”

“Which you’re completely allowed to do,” Patton replies.

“I’m just saying, it was odd. And I know I’m not the easiest person to trust. Just...don’t be too hard on him about it, okay? He doesn’t deserve that.”

“Do you really mean that?” Virgil whirls around to see Roman standing at the end of the hall.

“Jesus! Are you trying to kill a guy? Who sneaks up on Anxiety?” Virgil cries exasperatedly.

“I wasn’t sneaking up on you, I just happened to over hear. But you really aren’t upset with me for last night?”

Virgil shrugs, “I was in your living room in the middle of the night. It’s fine.”

Roman shakes his head, “It isn’t, you...you were just watching cartoons. I’m sorry.”

Virgil’s eyes widen in surprise, “Thank you.”

Roman offers a tentative smile, “Would you like to come downstairs and watch a movie?”

Virgil smiles, “Yeah, thanks, that sounds great.”

Patton squeals excitedly, “I’m so glad you two made up! Now! Let’s go get Logie to make us snacks!”

__________

I just ran with this i don’t even have an explanation

Taglist: @idont-freaking-know @aceawkwardunicorn @emo--nightmaree @a-yeet-bop-bop-boom @me-a-mess-morelikelythanyouthink @katlikethesword @tranquil-space-ninja @book-limerence @cute-and-angsty-princess

[writefightandflightclub]

Tell it to the stars (Poe Dameron x reader)

Summary: between your Resistance duties and having to move quarters, you are STRESSED af. Luckily, you have a very helpful Commander-shaped friend who knows just how to soothe you.

Rated: TEEN

Author’s note: I’m doing soft blurbs this week bc you all deserve a hug from one of our fave fictional husbands. Let’s all destress and be comforted one blurb at a time, okay? (I’m doing these quickly so I can do as many as humanly possible, so they’ll be a bit scrappy, please forgive!). P.S. I LOVE POE.

Warnings: kissing; alcohol consumption but no drunkeness; stressed reader.

GIF: off-duty Poe in huggable space jumper @lady-arryn​

Poe looks sidelong across the room at you as you sit cross-legged on the floor, almost entirly obscured in amongst a pile of papers and packing materials. You look like you’re about to weep into one of the boxes, to be honest, and Poe decides he’s had quite enough of seeing you this way.

“Okay. Intervention,” he announces, as he watches you bury your head in your hands and rub your fingertips over your temples- the sure sign of a tension headache. 

You’ve had a stressful day. Ok, week. Year, in fact. Your Resistance duties have been piling up, your paperwork is piling up, and now on top of everything, you’ve found out that you have to move quarters. It’s all just too much. You’re at your limit, and Poe knows it.

In fact, he has been keeping an eye on you all week. On your clenched fists. Your teeth worrying your lower lip. Your mussed hair and curt tones and increasingly frequent sighs. Has been listening out for the sound of your boots pacing relentlessly in the hangar.

Even around his busy Commander’s schedule, he has tried to find small ways to help you out. He offered to help you pack tonight, for one, hoping it would help, but now he realises you need something a little more drastic than that.

“Like I have time for an intervention?” you protest tiredly, indignantly, snapping at him without meaning to, your voice thin and strung-out, on the edge of tears. 

“I’m telling you you do. Don’t make me pull rank,” he says firmly, walking purposefully around the room and fishing a few choice items out of your boxes.

“Poe I’m supposed to be packing, not unpacking,” you sigh in frustration, grabbing a handful of rogue spanners and chucking them haphazardly into the wrong box.

When even the noise and movement of this wonderful man buzzing around you becomes annoying, you realise that maybe you do, in fact, need a break.

Poe stuffs the random items he’s selected in a backpack and tosses it over his shoulder, before lifting you up from the floor, his palms under your elbows as he guides you to a standing position.

“What exactly do you propose, Commander?” you say, resigning yourself to him.

“Marriage?” he smirks, and you huff out air in exasperation, turning away from him and back towards your packing. You certainly don’t have the time for him to avoid straight answers. For silliness.

“Ok, I’m sorry, I’ll be serious,” he promises, catching you and squeezing you firmly by the shoulders. You give him another chance and look into his eyes expectantly. “The hill. Blanket. Stars. Fire whiskey. My disarmingly handsome face for company.”

You want to remain impassive, but even in your foul mood you can’t help but crack a smile at his straightforward and genuine enthusiasm. He seems so certain that he can stop you from feeling... like this. You’d very much like to stop feeling like this.

“Fine,” you agree, folding your arms and setting a quick pace out of the door, abandoning your boxes with no further argument. 

“What sold it, was it the handsome face thing?”

“Nope. You had me at fire whiskey,” you tease, throwing a wink in his direction and elbowing him gently in his side as he skips to catch up with you.

You both track up to the hill, and Poe runs ahead as you approach to spread the blanket out for you, smoothing it out on top of the grass.

The summer evening is clear and still, the temperature balmy enough even at this hour, and, as you sit down and tilt your head up to the skies, you have to admit that the stars are glorious. It sounds ridiculous, for someone in a galatic war, but you had almost forgotten they were there; you’d barely looked up lately, spending your days hastening from one item to the next on your ever-extending to do list.

You glance over at Poe as he seats himself next to you on the blanket. You hate to admit it, but despite the fact he’d been by your side all week, you had almost forgotten he was there too. Had forgotten to look up at the stars in his eyes as much as you should have. Sometimes, you daren’t look at all because he is too dazzling, and you have too much to focus on without letting your crush get in the way. Now you’re looking though, and he’s looking right back.

Better late than never.

He uncorks the half full bottle of fire whiskey and passes it to you for the first swig. You wordlessly take the bottle, Poe’s fingers brushing yours, and you tip it back for a swig. You enjoy the warmth blooming in the centre of you, though you’re not entirely sure whether it’s a result of the spirit coursing down your throat or from the way his eyes blaze as he looks at you, Either way, it’s a damn sight better than the stress that has knotted itself inside you of late. 

You pass the bottle to Poe and he too takes an eager glug, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand when he’s done. you can’t help but notice that his lips flush with colour from the pressure.

“So,” he probes gently. “What’s stressing you?”

You look at him indignantly. Is he taking the piss?

“Poe, are you serious?” you begin, voice thin and high-pitched again, your hands waving helplessly in the air. “Where do I even start? I don’t have time to get everything done. It’s not packed, it’s not ready, I have so many mission reports to write, an inventory of...”

“Stop.” Poe interupts softly, but firmly, halting your racing speech. “Don’t tell me. Tell it to the stars.”

“What?” you question, face scrunched up in confusion.

“Tell the stars what’s bothering you.”

You look at him blanky.

“Come on,” he grins. “Humour me. It’s a trick my mom used on me when I was little.”

You’d resist him, but his face is disarmingly handsome, isn’t it? He wasn’t wrong. 

You smile tentatively -though your eyes remain full of scepticism- and you tip your face up to the skies overhead, beginning to speak again, listing out your worries. You feel a little foolish, but you don’t have to for long, as Poe interupts you once again.

“Nuh-uh. The stars can’t hear you like that. You have to lie back. Come on.” He taps your thigh with his palm and nods his head towards the blanket, indicating for you to recline on it.

You throw him another sceptical scowl, but the playful, gentle expression on his face has you complying with him regardless.

You settle yourself down, flat on your back and arms limp at your sides, the fleecy material soft under your fingertips.You shuffle until you’re comfortable, and your body sinks into the blanket and the cushion of grass beneath it.

Once you’re in place, Poe lowers himself to lie beside you, folding his arms behind his head. You twist your head to look at him, but he’s looking up, his lips curved into a small smile, and his perfect, chiselled jaw tipped up towards the sky.

“Go ahead. Tell the stars,” he encourages, and you look up too.

You look up.

You look up at the swirling colours and patterns of the stars, twinkling and winding themselves into constellations and galaxies, vast tapestries of sparkling threads endlessly dying and being reborn. The sight is beautiful, and it causes some of the tension to ebb away from your body as you enjoy something which catches you entirely off-guard. Something you didn’t schedule or have to tick off a list or plan for. Just the stars and you and Poe. 

“Well? I’m waiting,” Poe says, and you think Shara’s trick starts to become a little clearer.

To yell at the stars, of all things, about not having enough time? To speak about paperwork and to do lists to these raging infernos in the limitless, infinite sky? To tell the vastness of the galaxy your worries about shifting your boxes? The stars don’t care.The stars only care that you look up.

Poe has done this for you, because he cares. How could you doubt that now? You know for a fact he hasn’t used this trick to dismiss or invalidate your numerous worries and very real stresses. You know he never would. You understand that, instead, he’s simply provided you with a chance to look up from them. To lift your head from the details of life and see the big picture. To take a moment to breathe.

The moment, lying here with him, is so simple and yet so profound, that tears glisten in your eyes, echoing the stars, and even so a soft smile spreads over your face.

“Everything will be fine,” you say, letting go of a weight from your body, shaking your head in disbelief as you feel like you’re defying gravity. How does Poe always make everything better?

“Everything will be fine,” he repeats, in that warm, sandy voice of his, and in the space between you, his hand reaches over to clasp yours where it lays on top of the blanket, giving it a gentle squeeze. 

Your breath stalls in your chest as his fingers find yours, but, instantly, it feels natural to entwine your fingers with his, and so for a moment you just lay there, holding hands, and your heart racing.You wonder if his heart is racing too.

“Besides,” Poe says, and you can tell from the way his voice filters more directly towards the shell of your ear that he’s tipped his head towards you, “don’t forget the whole reason you’re moving,” he says with a playful drawl.

The real reason was that your block was crumbling and Leia had to reissue your room. But, you had a feeling Poe had another reason he intended to cite.

You let your head loll towards him on the blanket, until you are nearly nose to nose.

You can’t help but notice that Poe is both awfully and delightfully close. And still disarmingly handsome, for sure. 

“Oh yeah?” you ask, following his lead. “And what’s that?”

A cheeky and dazzling smile blooms on his lips. “To live closer to me, right?”

Your eyes dance with humour as you gaze back at him from across the blanket, his hand still holding yours tightly, his thumb now stroking tentatively over your knuckles.

“You must be mistaken, Commander. That’s not the reason,” you insist from beneath your lashes, your tongue suddenly feeling inordinately heavy in your mouth as you realise you are close enough to smell the fire whiskey on his breath. 

Poe shifts on to his side, bringing his whole body closer to yours. “Ok, fine. Maybe it’s not the sole reason,” he says softly, nipping his bottom lip beneath his teeth as his gaze wanders hungrily between your lips and eyes. “But it sure as hell is a bonus, right?”

You turn on to your side too, and bravely throw your arm over him as stars twinkle in his eyes.

Ever so slowly, Poe inches his mouth closer to yours, and when your lips finally meet you can’t tell whether the warmth suffusing through you is from his kiss or the taste of fire whiskey on his lips. So, you kiss him again just to be sure.

That kiss knocks every coherent thought out of your head. You barely remember what you were stressed about. All you know for sure, is that you’re so glad Poe made you look up. Suddenly you remember how beautiful the stars in his eyes are, and it really puts things into perspective.

Sod the kriffing boxes. You have everything you need right here, under the expansive night sky.

The stars might not care about your worries, but Poe sure does, and he’s just melted them away.

[spacegaywritings]

“Snuggles” - Part Three of “Little Tales” (an age regression series)

General Audience

Little Roman, Little Remus

Summary: Ree and Ro are cuddly when smol. When Ree comes in, teary and short of words, Ro knows it is cuddle time for not just him but his best little bean too. They snuggle up and babble about nice things. Ro colours and Ree just clings to him while holding a little goblin plushie.

Tags: age regression, little roman, little remus, plushie, snuggles, tears, soft, cuddles, post-split, darkness, mentions of Janus and Virgil, mentions of other sides, mentions of bad relationships to Virgil, rat mention, tall things, night time, absolutely adorable littles being together. Mentions of patton, mentions of dark/light side split, past warmth

Please be mindful to not tag/ add any ships or shipping content - this is age regression and there are no relationships of any kind happening. Please respect that.

Previous parts: 1 // 2 // ao3 1 // ao3 2 // ao3 overview // masterlist

My KoFi  - Support me ♥ or Commission me 

Note: If you miss any tags, have issues with links or any other concerns, please feel free to contact me. Anon is on and my DMs are open.♥

Links broken? Inform me, please!

Story under the cut (Wordcount: 2k)

It was dark when Remus slipped out of his bed.

 Everything was so tall, so big. The little gently clutched his blanket. It was thin, soft. His favourite blanket. It was light grey and had little rats on it. They had different colours and were special and precious to him.

He patted the fabric, as if to pat his favourite rat friends. They all had names, they all had a story and a place in his heart.

He drew the fabric closer around him. It provided little warmth but it was as good as it would get for now. The smell was rough and rubbed his nose.

 It was still dark. There was not a single source of light in his room. His bed was too big, too spacious and far away from the door or the window.. Remus looked around, black wrapping around his tired eyes.

Darkness was scary... and he felt too small and tiny to deal with it. He was just tiny and wanted snuggled.

 And his little Harry Snuffles was missing, too!

 “Mean..”, he mumbled to himself.

 Remus had his blanket wrapped around himself, a bit like a cape. He held onto the light fabric and slowly stepped out of his room. His mind was hazy and somewhat light. It was hard to think but he had to pay attention where he set his foot on. His room was a chaotic mess and if he stepped on legos, he would cry on the spot. With calculated steps, routine-led feet guided him from his bed to the big door where he slowly pulled the door open.

 Just a small peek... only for a bit, he told himself.

 The little slowly tapped forward, steps soft, silent. He could hear Virgil’s music buzzing in the background. The dim purple lights illuminated the space under his door. Remus wanted to go to him but the emo was so mean when he felt tiny... Memories of their interactions flooded his mind and pulled his lips down. A small layer of liquid covered his eyes and Remus shook his head.

 No, he would not go.

 His eyes wandered over to the other doors in the dark hallway but he shook his head at them as well. There was no way he could go there. Remus took his blanket and quickly moved down the hall, putting as much distance between himself and the other doors around him.

 Soon, the lights and voices were gone. No other sides were behind him. Instead, he crossed the intersection of hallways and turned to move into the direction of the only room to bring him comfort during these trying times.

 He waddled forward and as he did so, he approached the big gate before him. It was already impressively tall but the closer he got, the more the gate revealed of its gargantuan nature. It hovered above his metaphysical butt.

 Hehe, butt.

 Remus hugged his blanket closer. He shook his messy hair. It was brown but a funny skunk-like strand started appearing in it. Janus had said it was because he was so stinky.

The little was not a stinky but he liked the word. Stinky, stinky, stinky. Stinki mans! He was a stinki boi!!

 He giggled.

 His small noises filled the room as much as his heart. The darkness of the hallways seemed to let go off him and he slowly pushed at the door to gain entrance. The big emblem, a red shield, parted into two halves. Remus sneaked through the little space between the two doors and shut it completely behind him. He tried his best to be as quiet as he could but it still made a muffled sound when closing.

 The heavy stone plates clacked together because Remus was not only a stinki mans, he was also a stronk boi! He moved things!!

 Once inside and having sealed the entrance, the little relished in the small victory. He had gotten here all by himself like a really tol boi and he was not hurt and did not make anyone angry. Also also!! Nobody was disturbed by him taking a walk around. Everyone was still napping hard. Remus giggled to himself again.

Pride welled up inside of them and he carefully made his way forward, his grip on the blanket softer than before. It was a holding more than a gripping or even clutching. He loosely kept the blanket around him for the warmth and comfort.

 It was only now that Remus took the time to look around and take in all in.

 Compared to his dark, chaotic room, this one welcomed him with open arms. There was a warmth in the caring hug whenever he set foot on the light side territory. Roman’s room was right at the edge of it.

 The little followed the strings of fairy lights hanging from the sides of the room. It was the perfect system to lead him over to what and whom he was there for.

 The sound of his steps were loyally muffled by the rugs underneath. They smelled clean and warm. Remus stood for a moment, simply curling and uncurling his toes. His feet shifted a bit and he walked on the spot, just rubbing his feet into the soft little nubs underneath him.

The rug was red. Red like his former self had been, too.

 Another layer of hot tears build up in his eyes and Remus sniffled silently, sinking into the rug. He had not even reached the bed he had came for. The little hugged his blanket, burying his head in it.

 “Stinki..”, he mumbled into his fabric. It did not smell warm, it was rather harsh and lacked any kind of hugs.

He rubbed his nose into it and whined at the missing warmth in his heart.

 “Ree....?”

 A tiny voice arose from the dimly lit room. Shuffling and rustling happened. It came from the bed and Remus clenched his teeth together, his jaw somewhat hardening.

 “U got my stuffy!”

 He turned to Roro, tears in his eyes and blanket bundled up in his arms. In his sniffling frenzy, he had started pulling it together as if to make it into a companion for hugs, a companion for who was meant to be next to him.

He sniffed once more, a pouting look on his face as he turned to the sleepy Roro. He was in his room, so it was not a surprise to see him in here.

 “Giv it back.”

 Remus stepped closer, rubbing the tears out of his eyes. Roman shifted in bed and patted the space next to him.

 “Ree...”

 He whispered, the words almost lost between them. The distance separating them was spatially just about a foot but metaphorically marked by a whole border.

 “Mn... Nu, I wan my lil fren back.. Wan my Snuffles back!”

 Roman tilted his head and sobbed a bit.

 “Awaw.. I - I wan my Ree back..”

 The addressed little cried and climbed in, holding his blanket dear.

 “Gimme Snuffles n I gib u cuddles.”

 Roman looked at him, eyes innocent and face soft. He shrugged and done in to hug his Ree and hold him close.

 “Snuffles..”

 He pointed at his lap, softly pulling the blanket away. It was a warm white with golden symbols all over. The fabric seemed to be cotton. It felt cold but warm and questionably comfortable.

 Ree saw his fren with his fren and slowly reached out for it. Instead of reaching for it, he took Roro’s hand and squeezed it.

 “Fren.. Frens hug n snuggle for hapy feels!”

 Happy tears rolled over his cheeks and Roro nodded, squeezing his hand back. He shifted closer to his Ree and hugged him closer. He inhaled the harsher smells he had missed, he bathed himself in the lovely chaos and the comfort of unlimited creative frenzy.

 They hugged, feeling whole at once.

 Ro nudged the other and patted the space next to him. Ree took the hint and they laid down together. The light side nudged the stuffie over and pouted a bit. Ree felt his little stinki toi return and he held Harry Snuffles close. It was a green cyclops with a big big club in his hand.

 The plushie was returned to his arms and Ree gently cradled him close. He sniffled, hugging his plushie against his face to dry his tears. Ro drew blankets around them and curled up with Ree. They had a next of warm and cuddly blankets. His bed had veils covering him from the world. The perfect addition when he got smol and wanted to hide and snuggle a bit.

He conjured up another blankie and used it mark the sides of his bed with more warmth and comfort.

 Ree looked up at him, a soft smile on his face as he wrapped his arms around Roro, holding him close. Harry Snuffles was between them and rested in their shared embrace. The littles looked at one another after a while and giggled a bit.

 “Share!”, Ree demanded and Roro happily giggled, excited squeaks coming from his side.

 Roro shook his light head and patted his equal ever so gently.

 “We share? Share share!!”

 Another bout of energy hit him and the light side bounced on his shared bed. It was so big, but with Ree in it, it was just big enough for the two! Ro moved and grabbed his white blanket. It was big but soon covered their legs, then their upper bodies and even the pretty cyclops between their chests.

 “Shar’n s.. s gud.. s car’n”, Roro philosophised.

 Ree nodded sagely and snuggled up under the blanket until his face could barely be seen. His eyes and the light strand peeked out from under the white fabric but other than that, he was covered up. Roro pulled a set of pillows close and giggled as he patted one of them.

 “Wawamewons!”

 Ree looked at it and curled up, poking it a bit.

 “Hihi.. wawawemons”, Ree chuckled under his breath. Ro’s voice dissolved into another set of giggles and he carefully drew Ree closer.

 “Siwwy!”

 Ree giggled, nodding.

Little tears built up at the corner of his eyes and he grinned at his Roro, enjoying the fruits all over the pillow. Ree curiously tugged it closer until it was between them. His hands moved to place the cyclop’s head on the pillow as if Harry Snuffles was to sleep.

 “Hawwy gets scawwy! Needs lotsa lotsa snugs!”

 DEmonstratively, he placed his arms around the stuffie and Roro did as told, holding Ree and the pillow-Snuffles combination.

 “We.. we snug.. n .. n we hug”, he mumbled, speech slurred.

 To enforce his point, Ro nodded weakly. It was barely visible and Ree felt the same. His body felt heavy with the warm and heavy blankie on them. Roro holding him was nice and the smell made his eyes flutter shut and then make them too heavy to stay open!

 He blabbered a bit.

 “Mwen, mwean,, eys... he-heb,,hebby,,-”

 His speech was just as unclear as Roro’s but that was because the little was fighting every bit of sleepy whims. His eye lids shot up for a moment but immediately fell back to sleep and when he tried to kick his legs to annoy the other or move the blankie, his limbs were too heavy to be moved.

 He fought his eyes open one more time, catching a last glimpse of Roro holding him close and the watermelon pillow between them where Mister Snuffles was located on.

Before him was the comfort and the warmth he missed ever since the split.

 “Mw..k..kin..”, he started but he fell asleep before he could say any more. His hands were around Roro and another one rested on Snuffle’s upper arm.

 His mind was foggy, thoughts lame as the overwhelming tiredness lulled him back to sleep with tempting dreams and memories of being whole.

He sighed in his sleep, sleepy head letting go off his grip on the reality that was the mindscape.

 In a few hours, he could wake up again and be the stinki mans Janus saw in him.. but until then, he would be with Roro and snuggle and feel loved like when Patton used to when he made him his rat blankie.

 He sniffled.

 It was good to be back.