#road accident dialogue

[studyonline365]

Most Important Dialogue For Classes 6-12 Students.

Important Dialogue for 2023 students

You will get 100% common in the exam if you read the following dialogues carefully. Read the 3 star dialogues carefully and practice writing them so that you can actually write them accurately in the exam. 

[laneaconite]

How to Stay Alive

"You know what is my system?” the driver asks As we're speeding down the Five, weaving between Sunday Drivers And forgotten fragments of car wrecks. He laughs as sharply as he turns, “I have to forgive them!" “Oh, yeah.” I watch the man breathe and my mind reflects over our conversation— Criticizing the merge speed and naming worst states to drive in— Like rivers split in runnels across the hippocampus: “Because otherwise you wouldn't keep going." A quiet awe occupies the space, and then he fills it, "We always have to keep going."

-Lane Aconite,

January 24th 2024

[redheadspark]

may i request a benedict bridgerton shot? prompt #10 and dialogue #4

A/N - This is sweet! Thanks for reuqesting this, anon!

Roots

Summary - Benedict remembers the very spot where you two fell in love

Warnings - Just fluff !

“I shall like to propose a toast, to the love of my life!”

The room cheered as you were sitting at your table, a massive grin on your face as your new husband was standing right next to you with his glass in hand.  The room was filled with your families, but his family and yours as they were all watching in anticipation while your husband was standing tall and with pride.  

“There are those of our guests who know how long my bride and I have known one another, and some of not.  I will like to start in the very beginning, if you all will indulge me,” 

Chuckles and giggles were heard as your husband looked over at you.  You saw the smile of pure joy on his face, the sparkle in his eyes that seem to shine a shade lighter than in contrast with his dark brown locks and black tux.  On his left hand was a wedding band, silver and standing out song his hands as you beamed at him.

Benedict Bridgerton, your childhood love and now husband.  

“My wife and I met as children, and to say I was instantly in love with her would be a understatement,” Benedict explained in a chuckle, “We both grew together as friends from childhood into adulthood, and I never had another companionship as rich as that one I had with her.  Perhaps I didn’t know then that it was love, how I felt about her and how I wished to see her everyday.  It may have seemed childish as well, and my dear mother and matriarch of our family can agree,”

Your eyes glanced over to your new mother-in-law, Violet Bridgerton, whom was smiling in pride at her son and then over at you.  You could see where Benedict got his warmth, you’ve known for some time when you two met and grew up together as friends.  She was always kind to you, a second mother when your own mother was busy at times or was tending to an emergency.  You instantly knew it took hard work and dedication it took to raise 8 children on her own, and you admired her all the more.

“Now my wife and I had a special place we would go to together, we stumbled upon it by sheer accident one afternoon in the spring.  The very place where we were wed today: under the massive tree in the Bridgerton Garden,” He explained, some of the guests looked in shock and were mumuring to each other in excitement while Benedict kept talking, “It was our safe space to go and find one another.  I can recall plenty of afternoons under that very tree, reading side by side, my love critiquing my artistry and not being shy about it,”

You laughed, hiding your lighter behind your hand as some of the other guests were chuckling too.  Benedict looked back at you, taking your spare hand and kissing the back of It lovingly as you were blushing like mad.

“Whenever I was in melancholy, I found myself there under the leave where she would wait for me.  With her thoughtful advise, her kindness that would bring me out of my darkest days, and later down the road, her unique and selfless love.  We grew to love each other under that tree, and I am proud we were wed there as well,” Benedict recited, keeping your hand in his own as you were thinking back to all the moments under that tree.  

You did love that tree, how massive the branches were and how it always give the best shade.  No matter the day or the season, you had the perfect spot near one of the big roots that owed up from the ground.  You’ve sat on top of the root so many times, it was then your safe space.  With the wildflowers growing to the left and grass under your feet, it was the perfect spot.

It was even more perfect with Benedict there in your company, you both finding one another under the tree if you were either bored or simply wanting to chat with one another.  He would tell you all about his siblings, you gossiping about your parents and their unique quirks.  Laughter would be heard from the pair of you, Violet Bridgerton could watch you from her spot in her parlor and simply smile.  Seeing her son happy with another, a close friend who would brighten her son’s day with a smile or a joke on your lips.  

Years came and went, you both outgrowing your childhood and still finding a way back to one another.  The growing pains of life rocked the both of you in your own ways.  Yet at the same time, you both were enjoy one another’s company.  Perhaps it was the years of knowing one another so well that brought on the feelings that you had for him. Yet the growing pressures tat you were feeling, coming out to society and then needing to find a husband, it was making your worry.  Worry that you were going to loose what you had with Benedict and your growing fondness of him, worry that he would not reciprocate the same feelings that you had towards him.  You had no idea what to do.

But that all changed the very year you were attending balls.  During the season and going from one party to another, you were in a whirlwind of suitors and bachelors that were wishing to make your acquaintances.  But none of them really caught your eye, which seemed to make your parents worry since your other friends were being courted left and right.  Then again, you did go on one of two courting dates, monitored of course, they seemed to be fine.  Those men were kind to you, nothing out of the ordinary, but still nice.  You never mentioned it to Benedict since you figured that he would not wish to hear of it, and surprisingly he avoided asking all together.  In fact, he seemed stand off to the topic, which made you concerned. 

Until one night, under the tree as you were perched on your root in tears and still in your dress from the ball you attended hours earlier.  Benedict found you, taking your hand in his and seeing your glistening eyes watch his as he finally poured his heart out to you.

You listened as he was telling you all about the pain he felt when you were going to the balls and dancing with those suitors, how your mother read father would try and pair you up with someone they thought would be suitable for you.  How he felt defeated and unable to say what was on his mind, until that night when he saw you crying under the leave and with the moon thing through each leaf to give you a glow.

“I was always jealous of them and it took me some time to realize why,” He explained, then cupping your face in his hands and wiping the tears away with his thumbs as you were under his spell, “I’ve been in love with you for some time.  And I cannot go another moment without you knowing and understanding that I wish to have you in my life, for all my life, until my last dying breath,”

You both sealed your fate with your first kiss that evening, 

“Here’s to my wife, my first and only love that will always meet me under the tree, under our shared space where I love grew.  I cannot wait to grow old with you, as old as the tree if we’re lucky, and I am proud to call you mine and to share the Bridgerton name with you,”  He ended his speech, you getting up from your chair to kiss him soundly as the rest of the seeing guest cheered. 

You both would come back to that tree every once in awhile after your wedding, even bringing your infant daughter to the same tree where her mother and father fell in love.

The End.

June Prompt Session

[pinksturniolo]

Biggest Fan: Part One

Chris Sturniolo x Fem Reader

Summary: The one in which a fan gets rear ended in a car accident by none other than Christopher Sturniolo during her stay in Los Angeles.

A/N: This is my first series I will be publishing on here! There will most likely be 3 or 4 parts. I hope you like it and I’m really excited to share with you all. :)

Content Warnings: smutty smut, oral receiving/giving, penetration, slight degradation, fingering, teasing, overstimulation, swearing, brief mentions of blood, head injuries, mentions of a car accident

side note: there is no smut in this part, but it will be coming soon I promise! ;) It's pretty long because this is part of a series so I like to develop the plot and use a lot of dialogue, but I will be doing shorter stories, like one shots in the future as well! enjoy <3

word count: 3,076 😮‍💨

I was inspired by this song:

𐮙ღ✰☾✿ღ𐮙

Summer 2023

Your toes sink into the sand, the warmth of the sun beaming down on your skin, as you take a cold sip of the cheap wine cooler you bought before you came to the beach. You and two of your closest friends from college decided on a whim to take a road trip from your hometown to Los Angeles, California. You all had the next week off for summer break and getting drunk and sunburnt on the West Coast sounded like a pretty great idea. You watched dozens of people walk along the coastline, several enjoying the water and others playing in the sand, some groups playing volleyball. You can’t remember the last time you went to the beach or even on a vacation. The last two years, you have been completely immersed in your studies, barely having time to relax, let alone have any time to yourself.

Los Angeles was the perfect getaway. Tonight, you had all agreed to splurge and go out to eat at a restaurant in Hollywood, just to get the full experience. Maybe even spot a celebrity or two. Your mind briefly thought of the idea of running into the Sturniolo Triplets, who you were obsessed with recently (which your friends were painfully aware of). But of course, that was delusional and the odds of seeing them were one in a million.

After a couple hours of enjoying the sun and sand, you headed back to your hotel to get ready for dinner. You chose to wear a pair of cute mom jeans, a tube top and cardigan, and a nice pair of sneakers. You didn’t want to dress up too much as you already felt tired from the beach and planned on crashing out in your bed right after dinner. You all went to eat at a gorgeous Italian restaurant, thoroughly enjoying the night, laughing and talking over good food and wine.

Once you got back to the hotel, you told your friends goodnight and went to your separate room, immediately hopping in the shower and changing into a comfortable pair of flannel pajama shorts and an old band t-shirt. You had talked about going out to a club or bar but you felt exhausted. This was your first day of vacation and already you had been stressing about your classes. Your friends forced you to leave your computer at home so that you weren’t tempted to do some extra credit for your school work. Sometimes you found it hard to just relax and take a break. You were trying to learn to simply live in the moment and stop thinking so hard about what to do next. Still, your mind raced as you lay in bed, attempting to sleep. Rain pelted the window of your room as it started to storm outside. You loved when it rained, the calming sound of thunder and raindrops on the roof usually coaxed you to sleep quickly. But tonight, you couldn’t stop tossing and turning. You were wide awake. You had the sudden urge to get up and do something – anything – to entertain you that hopefully would tire you out enough to finally go to sleep.

You got out of bed and slipped on your converse, not bothering to change your pajamas. You had decided to just go to the drive through and get an ice cream. A midnight snack would be just the thing you needed.

These were the events that had led up to you now in your car halfway down the street from the Wendy’s you stopped at, vanilla frosty in your hand, the other hand on the steering wheel as you stopped at a red light. The radio played softly as you ate your ice cream, streetlights illuminating the dark streets. There were only a few people on the road being that it was nearly one in the morning. The palm trees swayed slightly with the breeze, rain still coming down although not as hard as before. This is nice, you thought. This is my vacation. There is no time for stress. Once I get back to my room, I’ll get some rest. Tomorrow, me and the girls will go out sightseeing. Maybe even go to the–

Your thoughts were interrupted by a loud bang behind you as you felt your body jolt forward harshly, you frosty dropping out of your hand, vanilla soft serve spilling all over your lap and steering wheel. Your air bag went off, a piece snapping painfully against your forehead. It happened so quickly you barely had time to register it. After a good thirty seconds, you realized you had just been rear ended. Great. You thought. This is the last thing I needed. You looked out of your rear-view mirror to see a Kia attached to your bumper. The culprit, from what you could see through the tinted window, looked to be a boy around your age with long brown hair. You sighed in frustration, leaning your head back against the headrest. You hated confrontation, especially in situations like these. Not to mention you’d have to file this with insurance and that was another headache in itself. Reluctantly, you opened your door, stepping out into the wet street.

Fuck. You didn’t have an umbrella with you. Talk about the fucking cherry on top. Luckily the rain had significantly got lighter than earlier, and it wasn’t thunder and lightning anymore. You closed the door, walking towards the other car but stopped dead in your tracks once you recognized the person that had crashed into you.

There was absolutely no way. Had you actually fallen asleep in your hotel room and were currently dreaming? Because there was just no way that you were standing in the middle of the street, rain currently soaking through your pajamas which were also sticky with ice cream, staring at Christopher Sturniolo who had rear ended your car. Who also happened to be in a yelling match with Matt and Nick at the current moment. You had to be dreaming.

Your feet were frozen to the ground as you stood there, physically unable to move. How does one even go about approaching them? Oh, hey funny to see you guys here. I know you just crashed into my car but don’t worry about it. I’ll just be on my way back to the comfort of my bed so I can completely avoid this insane situation and also avoid making a complete idiot of myself….

“Chris, are you fucking serious?!”

“This is the last time I ever let you drive, you’re obviously incapable.”

“Will both of you shut the fuck up! I can’t find my phone; I think it went under the seat.”

“Oh, you can’t be serious. He just hit another car and the kid is worried about his phone.”

“I’d be more worried about the insurance and how much we’re gonna have to pay for this!!”

“Oh my God! I said shut the fu-“

They didn’t seem to even notice you, too caught up in their bickering as you had slowly walked closer, your voice quiet and timid.

“Uh, hey… Don’t worry about insurance or anything. If you don’t wanna claim it, I’m cool with that.”

You interrupted, trying to hide your visibly shaking hands and crossing your arms.

All three boys halted their conversation, turning to look at you with wide eyes as if they almost forgot there was another human being inside the car they had just hit.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry. Excuse my brother, he actually has half a brain and apparently the inability to drive.” Nick said, an apologetic look on his face and then turning to glare at Chris.

Chris glared back at him, finally finding his phone from underneath the seat. He made eye contact with you, his glare turning into a sheepish look. He ran a hand through his hair, his mouth opening to speak to you, but Matt stepped in front, approaching you.

“You don’t have to worry. I’m actually the one who owns this car and I have great insurance so I promise it will all be taken care of.” He says, with a nice smile. You smile back politely, still holding onto your arms and trying not to freak out at the fact you’re actually conversing with these people right now.

“Are you sure? I mean, the damage isn’t that bad. I wont mind just forgetting this happened and calling it a night.” You laugh nervously, glancing at the busted bumper on your car. In all honesty, it actually wasn’t too bad. You would need a new bumper for sure, which might put a dent in your wallet but at the current moment you wanted nothing but to get the fuck out of there.

“No way! It wouldn’t feel right if we just walked away from this. Matt will get all the details and take care of it.” Nick chimed in, an identical smile to Matt’s on his face that made you feel just a little more comfortable.

Meanwhile Chris leaned up against the car, unusually quiet and with a look of stress over his features, stealing glances at you every now and them. He definitely felt guilty for causing the accident and he knew he would never hear the end of it from his brothers. He stared at his shoes and tucked his hands in the pocket of his hoodie, waiting while you exchanged information with Matt.

You typed your insurance information into Matt’s phone handing it back, while he handed you yours. You suddenly felt a twinge of pain on your forehead and winced, reaching up to touch it. It was then that you noticed there was about a 2-inch gash from the airbag snapping in your face. It didn’t feel too deep, but it hurt. Matt and Nick both noticed and Nick instinctively reached out to grab your arm. “Are you okay? It looks like its bleeding.” He said in concern. Chris then snapped his head up, his attention fully on you now. He walked over to Nick and Matt, a look of pure terror on his face as he stared at the cut on your head.

“Oh, I’m fine. I’ve had worse, I promise. I just need to get back to my hotel and clean it up.” You say reassuringly. But they were not buying it.

“Are you sure? Maybe we should call an ambulance? I really don’t want anything bad to happen.” Chris says.

“An ambulance? Don’t be dramatic, Chris. Maybe she just needs to sit down for a while.” Matt responds quickly. He looks at you like you’re an injured puppy, concern filling his eyes.

“Yeah, I agree. Let’s have her sit in the car for a bit. It’s not helping that we’re also standing in the rain like idiots.” Nick quips, guiding you to the back seat of their car.

You laugh nervously again, taking a seat. They crowd around you, looking at you like you might fall dead to the ground.

“Look, I really appreciate that you guys are being so helpful. But I’m not gonna lie, I’m freezing right now, my clothes are wet, and I just wanna get back to my hotel and go to sleep. Also, no offense, but I know you guys from your YouTube videos and this is a very awkward situation for me.” The words spill out in a rush, and you cover your face with your hands in embarrassment.

“Oh! I’m such an idiot. Here, take my hoodie. I have an extra one in the back.” Chris says, seeming to completely ignore the fact that you admitted you knew who they were and reaches around you to grab his dry hoodie from the back seat. He hands it to you, and you hesitantly take it, your eyebrows raised in confusion at his nonchalant response. “So you can at least warm up a little.” He smiles, trying to make you feel more comfortable. You do nothing but grip onto the soft hoodie and look over at Matt and Nick who also seem to not care a thing about what you just said. Matt says, “I’ll go look at your car if you don’t mind and make sure its safe for you to drive and then once you warm up, you’ll be free to go!”

He makes his way towards your car and Nick climbs in on the other side of the back seat next to you. “Sorry again for everything. I’m pretty sure this wasn’t how you expected your night to go.” He says. You then find yourself genuinely laughing for the first time tonight and start to pull the hoodie on, grateful to feel something warm over your wet clothes. “Yeah, definitely not what I expected.” Chris climbs into the passenger seat, turning back to look at you. “This is where I normally sit.” He states with a cheeky grin and you giggle, feeling a slight blush creep onto your face. He really was just as attractive in person, if not more, you realize as your nerves slightly settle down. “But I guess you already knew that.” He adds, his grin turning into a smirk. “Yeah and it’s gonna stay that way, you idiot.” Nick interrupts, making you erupt into more giggles as Chris’ smirk turns into a glare. “Shut up.” He mumbles, turning back around in his seat as Matt walks back towards their car, opening the driver door and getting in. He has a serious look on his face now, turning to look at you in the back seat.

“So… there’s an issue. It looks like Chris’ dumbass rear ended you so hard that your rear tire is flat. And I really doubt any tow truck is going to come at this time of night. Even if it does, it will take a while. And I wouldn’t feel safe letting you go alone. It looks like the best option is to drop you off myself at your hotel and have them tow your car in the morning. We can push it to the side of the road so there’s no issues.” Matt says, your heart sinking and you lay your head in your hands in frustration before he even finishes his sentence. Nick frowns and sighs, putting another reassuring hand on your shoulder. “I’m sorry. We’ll pay for all of it, I swear.” He says. You look at him with a smile and turn to Matt, ready to just agree with him so you can be done with this night already before Chris interrupts you. “Why don’t we just take her to the house? It’s literally 5 minutes from here and we don’t know how serious her head injury is.” He suggests.

Chris knows this is a crazy suggestion. First of all, you’re a fan, and you just met not even 30 minutes ago. You could be a psycho killer for all he knows. But Chris likes to believe that he has a strong intuition, especially when it comes to people and he just knows you’re not the type. To be quite honest, he hasn’t been able to take his eyes off you since he first saw you. Even with the rain completely drenching you and what looked like to be some sort of frozen dessert staining the front of your shirt and shorts, he thought you were beautiful. He already felt horrible for fucking up your car and causing you bodily harm. The least he could do was take you to his house and attend to your wounds. Only to make sure you didn’t drop dead on some random hotel carpet. Right?

Everyone looks at him like he has three heads. His brothers exchange concerning glances, awkward silence filling the car. Since when did he just invite random strangers into his house?

“Uhh.. Are you sure? I mean, how do you feel about that..?” Matt asks, looking at you with hesitation. You didn’t respond just yet, still adjusting to the fact Chris Sturniolo is voluntarily inviting you to their home.

“I don’t know…. I think I agree with Chris. I don’t wanna be responsible if you go back to your hotel alone and end up with a concussion or something. No offense.” Nick adds, shrugging his shoulders.

You scoff, extremely surprised at the fact that they’ve taken it this far. “No no no, look. You three have been really nice to me over this whole thing, but its just a little cut. I promise I’ll be fine. My hotel isn’t that far either. I don’t want to intrude and-“

Chris suddenly reaches out and lightly touches your forehead, blood still trickling out and starting to run down the side of your head. You wince in pain and recoil from his touch, your head starting to throb. “See? It’s not just a little cut, is it? You’re actively bleeding, and it obviously hurts. I know you’re just being modest, but I promise I just – we just- want to make sure you’re okay.” He says, his eyes trailing down your face, admiring it briefly, his fingertips ghosting over your jaw before he pulls his hand back. You remain frozen in your seat, butterflies swarming in your lower abdomen from the light touch he left on your face. “Unless you really do feel uncomfortable, then I understand. We can take you to the hotel. But like Nick said, we just don’t want anything bad to happen.” He added softly, turning back around, raking a hand through his hair. Nick and Matt exchange looks again, noticing the obvious tension.

You take in a deep breath and pull Chris’ hoodie tighter around you. “Fine. I guess I see your point. You can take me to your house but once I get this stupid cut on my head cleaned up, I’ll call my friend to come pick me up.” You finally say, buckling your seat belt. You can’t help but notice a small, smug smirk on Chris’ face through the passenger side mirror.

Once they pushed your car to the side of the road, Matt takes off with you in the backseat, your head leaned against the window.

I must be dreaming right? I’m definitely in my bed right now and this is not happening. You think to yourself, the intoxicating smell of Dior Sauvage cologne filling your nose, as you press the sleeve of Chris’ hoodie to the throbbing wound on your head.

[bokutosbiceps]

activities

gojo satoru x f!reader | fluff + smut | 2.9k words

summary: you may or may not have forgotten about reservations that satoru made for your first anniversary…but you find something better at home anyways.

warnings: cursing (both in dialogue + narrative), ass groping, fingering, cunnilingus, oral sex (male receiving + female receiving), multiple orgasms, vaginal/penetrative sex

a/n: it took everything in my power to not make gojo’s nickname jojo. we’ll call him satoru…for now 😉 also i think this is the dirtiest thing i’ve ever written. i’m going to confession tmrw.

18+ MDNI

The sun felt so nice on your legs that you had pushed your cozy blanket aside and changed into shorts before laying back out on the couch, resting your laptop on your tummy and scrolling absently through various social media sites and articles that piqued your interest.

Satoru had gone to Jujutsu High to “tie up some loose ends” so he could come back to your place early to spend the rest of the evening with you, since it was your very first anniversary. One year with the idiot, and you had never been happier.

A gentle vibration on your butt brought you out of your social media daze and you arched your back to fish your phone out of your pocket. You answered the call, you already knew who it was.

“Hey, schnookums.” Satoru lilted, drawing out the disgusting pet name for emphasis. You frowned.

“I thought we agreed you would stop calling me that, Gojo-san.” You drew out his last name to bother him. He whined.

“Baby, I told you not to call me that! You sound like one of my students.” Satoru’s cheery tone returned. “Fine, I’ll stop calling you schnookums. How about…sweetie? Sweetheart? My love? My everything?” 

“What happened to babe? Baby?”

“We’ve been a couple for a year and you know what they say about relationships after the first year…it’s all downhill from here.”

“Do they even say—?”

“Anyways, I thought new nicknames would spice things up a bit!” You could practically hear Satoru smiling over the phone. You figured he was heading back to your place since you could hear the throaty roar of his car as he no doubt was speeding down the roads in Tokyo, after “tying up his loose ends”. You knew this meant he had had another meeting with Yaga, to discuss his behavior. He was just as much a troublemaker as any of his students, probably even moreso.

“I will continue to call you babes. You can call me whatever you like…as long as it’s not—”

“Late for dinner!” Satoru laughed, you heard him snap in the background and just knew he had thrown up finger guns at the road. You dragged your hand down your face, smiling nonetheless.

“I was gonna say as long as you don’t call me schnookums.” You sat up a little bit, adjusting your laptop on your tummy and continuing to scroll absentmindedly. “Also, keep your hands on the wheel. Could you imagine if you died in a car accident because you were doing finger guns at nothing?” You giggled a little bit.

“Wah, you know me too well, sweetheart!” Satoru chuckled. “Anyways, I'll be by you in about ten. Be ready, okay? I love you.” You mumbled a reciprocation and ended the call, pushing your phone back into your pocket and diving back into the virtual world.

Barely five minutes later, you jolted as the front door opened and Satoru bolted into your apartment, making a beeline for the bathroom down the hall. He placed a quick kiss on your forehead before continuing his race to the bathroom.

“I just have to use the bathroom real quick then we can—” Satoru stopped, hand on the bathroom door knob, staring at you. “What are you doing?”

“I was just waiting for you to get back?” You closed your laptop and sat up straight, relishing in the sight of him. He was wearing a white button up with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, black dress pants, and his dark shades. This was his usual outfit when he wasn’t wearing Jujutsu High’s uniform or casual streetwear, but he still looked delectable. 

“I told you to be ready.” He chuckled and shook his head, entering the bathroom. You waited for him to come out and watched him as he approached the couch and peered down at you over his shades. “What am I gonna do with you, babycakes?”

“Can you please fill me in on what’s going on?” You stared up at him, wide eyed and bottom lip jutting out just a touch. Satoru couldn't even pretend like he was mad at you.

“It's our one year anniversary.” He started slowly, you nodded, pressing him to continue. “I told you about those reservations I made at that Sugar Factory place downtown. Y’know, the place where they, like, blow sugar to make it look like glass but it's totally edible! They bring out these huge parfaits with sparklers in ‘em and all the waiters sing and dance—”

You reached up and grabbed Satoru’s hand, squeezing it tightly to signal to him that you got the memo. He pauses and looks down at you sheepishly.

“I’m sorry, honey, I totally forgot. I thought we’d be spending the night in. We just went to that super fancy sushi place last week. I thought that was to celebrate this!”

“Nah, that was just cuz I love you. I wanted to take you out, show you off…y’know.” Satoru smiled at you gently. “Anyways, you're not dressed and the reservation’s in, like,” Satoru checked his watch, “ten minutes.”

He looked semi-disappointed, which absolutely wrung your heart out. You wanted to hug him. You tugged on his hand to bring him closer but he flopped down on top of you, causing you to huff out a breath of air. He giggled. 

“It's okay, sweetheart. We can go for our two year anniversary!” He sat up on his knees and placed his hands on either side of your head. “You got any ideas as to what you wanna do tonight instead?” His shades started to slide down his nose so you plucked them off his face and set them on the coffee table. 

“We could order in? I'll pay. We'll get that really gross yakisoba from that little hole in the wall joint you love so much.” You placed your hands on his cheeks and brought his face closer to yours and placed a kiss to the tip of his nose. “As for activities, I’m down for whatever you wanna do.”

Satoru smiled mischievously, his bright blue eyes sparkling as he gazed down at you. He thought for a moment before smiling again. “You.”

“What?” A hot blush spreads across your nose, cheeks, and down your neck as Satoru leaned down, pressing his nose to your cheek. He pressed a kiss to it before moving to the other cheek and doing the same.

“You asked if I had any activities I wanted to do, and I said you.” He mumbled against your skin before moving to your lips and sucking on your bottom lip. He slid his tongue past your parted lips and sealed his lips to yours, running his hands down your waist, hips, and thighs to come back up and squeeze your ass.

Your hands immediately found their way to his hair and started to tug and your legs moved on their own to wrap around his waist as you returned the kiss, much to Satoru’s delight.

Satoru broke the kiss, leaning only a few centimeters away from your face. You could feel his breath fanning against your face as the two of you caught your breath and stared at each other. Without much warning, Satoru hoisted you up by your ass and slung you over his shoulder. As he marched to the bedroom, he dug his fingers underneath the crotch of your shorts and panties to slide his fingers in between your pussy lips.

“Satoru!” You squeaked, fully not expecting the sudden contact against your cunt. He smirked in satisfaction at how much of your arousal he had been able to gather on his fingers in just one swipe, inspecting the slickness that you had left on his fingers before cleaning it off with his tongue.

“So much sweeter than anything we could’ve had tonight, don’t you think?” Satoru lilted as he laid you down on the bed, pressing your back into the mattress as he kneeled above you. “Oh, how rude of me, you didn’t get a taste.” With that, Satoru expertly slid your shorts and panties off your body in one smooth motion before returning his fingers to your pussy, dipping them in and out until he had gathered a good amount of your arousal.

“Open wide, sweetheart.” He cooed, smearing your slickness against your lips. You opened your mouth obediently and sucked on his fingers, earning a moan of satisfaction from Satoru. He watched you hungrily, palming himself through his slacks as he pushed his fingers further down your throat, trying to make you choke. Another moan of pleasure escaped his throat as he watched tears spring into your eyes and felt your throat close around his fingers. He pulled his fingers out of your mouth and got to work on undoing his belt.

“I wanna choke on your cock, Satoru.” You begged, trying to help him take off his clothes. He grabbed your hands with one of his hands and placed sweet and gentle kisses to your wrists before placing them in your lap.

“Patience, love. Why don’t you work on taking that top off, hmm?” You obeyed him immediately, gripping the hem of your sweatshirt and bringing it up and over your head. Satoru felt his cock grow even harder as he watched your tits bounce out from underneath the confines of your sweater. He quickly disposed of his pants and underwear, only able to get to the third button on his shirt by the time you had gripped the base of his cock and taken his shaft into your mouth.

His hands flew to the back of your head and pushed you down his shaft further until your nose was pressed against his pelvis. His hips jerked slightly as he felt your throat close around his cock and saw your body tremble slightly as you choked. He sighed, it couldn’t get much better than this. But, yes, it could.

He gently pulled you off of his cock and shivered at the sight of your lips forming a small ‘o’ around his tip right before you parted from him. You watched him expectantly, waiting as he undid the last of the buttons on his shirt and flung it somewhere in the bedroom. He laid down on the bed and beckoned for you to come over to him. You crawled over his body and sat on his abdomen, smearing your wet pussy against his skin.

“Turn around, honey, lemme take care of you while you blow me.” Satoru made a twirling motion with his finger, his eyes filled with amusement and a smirk playing on his lips. You obeyed him for the third time that night and lifted your ass in his face to give him a full view of your pussy while you licked up the underside of his shaft. You circled his tip with your tongue and faltered a bit when you felt Satoru stuff three of his fingers into your cunt, spreading them out against your walls. You moaned against his dick and opened your mouth to take all of him in once more, willing yourself not to gag when he bucked his hips against your throat. You began to move backward to get his fingers deeper inside of you, using your hand to pump up and down his cock as your head lolled down.

Satoru’s fingers pulled out suddenly and you were about to whine in protest when you felt his hands grab your thighs and pull your pussy to his mouth, immediately latching on to your clit and sucking on it. It took all of your willpower to continue jerking him off, but your mouth hung open in pleasure, letting Satoru hear your mewls and moans of pleasure. He slid his fingers back into your pussy as he continued to eat you out.

“That’s it, baby love, you’re taking my fingers so well.” He mumbled against your clit, the vibrations sending a shockwave up your spine and to your brain, effectively pushing you over the edge. Your back arched and you pressed your forehead against Satoru’s pelvis as you came, unable to even focus on jerking him off.

Satoru grabbed you by the hips once more, unraveling you so that you were leaning against his chest and sitting on his lip. He pressed kisses to your neck and shoulder as he reached up with one hand to He sneaked two fingers back to your clit and rubbed until your thighs were shaking once more and you were begging Satoru for him to fuck you.

“Come on now, honey, help me help you.” Satoru chuckled at your exhaustion, body still limp and somewhat trembling from the two quick orgasms he had just ripped out of you. He helped you turn around so that you were facing him and straddling his hips, cunt positioned perfectly above the tip of his dick. 

You gingerly lowered yourself onto his cock, eyes rolling into the back of your head once his cock was sheathed completely inside of you. Satoru hissed at the way your walls were already clenching and fluttering around him, taking a few gentle thrusts to loosen you up a bit.

Before long, Satoru’s fingers were digging into your hips as he slammed you down on his cock to meet each of his thrusts deep inside of you. He fucked deep into you and with such vigor that you thought he might split you in half, but you held on for dear life until you thought you wouldn’t be able to take it anymore. You started to clench around him, crying out with every thrust that Satoru drove into you.

“‘Toru, I’m gonna—” You whined the rest of your sentence, too fucked out to form the words that he needed to hear you say.

“C’mon, sweetheart, I need to hear you say it.” Satoru watched as you threw your head back and arched your back while allowing your pussy to milk the cum out of his dick.

“I’m cumming…” You managed to hiss out as your third orgasm tore through your body before slumping against Satoru’s chest. He fucked you through his own orgasm, pressing hard enough on your hips to leave bruises, and moaning your name right in your ear while he filled you up.

Satoru rested his cheek against the crown of your head and ran his fingers over the crevice of your back as you both caught your breath. He held you gently as he moved to the side to pull his dick out of you, unable to keep his lewd smile from playing on his lips as he watched his cum spill from your pussy when he pulled out. 

“What are you smiling at, hmm?” You asked, exhaustion laced in every crack of your voice.

“Oh, nothing.” Once Satoru made sure that you were tucked into bed all cozy like, he got up and retrieved a washcloth to clean you up before focusing on cleaning himself up.

He let you rest for almost an hour, no sly quips or awful horrible jokes—just his arm around you and your head pressed into his chest while he cradled you.

“You hungry?” He asked quietly, rubbing your shoulder. You stirred and rolled over onto your back, peering at him out of the corner of your eye.

“Couldn’t just let us have a nice moment, huh?” You teased, mustering enough strength to sit up on your elbows.

“Hey, now, you were practically sleeping on me for almost an hour! Do you want me to starve?” Satoru leaned over and pecked your lips, an easy smirk playing on his lips. You leaned onto one of your elbows while you used your other hand to caress his face. He closed his eyes and leaned into your touch, causing your heart to melt. 

“Order the food, babes. You know my credit card information.” As soon as the words left your mouth, Satoru was up and out of bed, digging inside of the pockets of his forgotten pants to find his phone. He jumped back into bed beside you with his phone in hand.

“Best anniversary ever! I love you, y/n.” He pecked your lips once more and added a second, lingering and gentle kiss before unlocking his phone, already thinking of the yummy, slimy yakisoba he was going to order.

Satoru shot straight up in bed, staring at his phone with wide eyes. You leaned over and rested your head on his chest to see what got him so riled up after such a sweet moment. Then you saw the email from the Sugar Factory.

A $50 no-show fee has been charged to the card on file. Have a great night!

[squids-comics]

So, I've been thinking about Spider-Punk a lot (as I normally do) and noticed a fun little detail that made me appreciate the punk side of the Marvel universe a lot more.

Remember in Edge of Spider-Geddon #1 when Kang the Conglomerate came to Earth to kidnap Hobie so he could turn him into a highly marketable punk poser?

This is a pretty clear reflection on how Marvel may treat Hobie in the future. Marvel's a company looking for profit, not societal change. Over time, Hobie will have his rough edges smoothed out to make him more marketable. And we can already see this in action! Edge of Spider-Verse #1 opened with Hobie beating a nazi (Thunderstrike) with a baseball bat.

(I cropped out the nazi and the dialogue about the nazi before I posted this. Thanks past me. I'm sticking with this though cause I'm too lazy to grab a different pic. Go read the comic yourself! It's great!)

Contrast that to his own series where he's all happy and bubbly with his Spider-Band, going on a road trip in his Spider-Van.

As much fun as I had reading Hobie's series, it does significantly round his edges and soften him up. Edge #1 made a point of Hobie's hatred of the name Spider-Punk. He thought it was demeaning, and wanted to be called Spider-Man like the rest of the Spider-Verse. This point is completely dropped in his series (titled Spider-Punk), where people call him Spider-Punk and he offers no resistance.

While these apparent changes are a little disheartening to see, it has made me appreciate Edge of Spider-Verse #1 a good deal more. The writers saw what was coming, and warned us. Which brings us to the point of this post. They weren't just warning us about Hobie, he was just the most obvious.

Edge #1 also introduced us to Hobie's good friend and partner in punk, Captain Anarchy.

Apart from being a variant of Captain America who's name keeps the same initials, Captain Anarchy is also the name of a song by the punk band Anti-Flag. The song is about someone who is punk in name alone, who has the aesthetic of a punk without the heart behind it, a punk poser. In case you don't want to listen to the song (which you should, it's good) here's the chorus to give you the gist.

Whether intentional or by accident, the allusion to this song is a genius choice that warns us this entire punk branch of of the Marvel Universe could very easily be punk in looks alone if given the wrong writer. It's a very neat detail that I just found out today, and one I thought I'd share with you guys! Thanks for reading!!

[ladamedusoif]

Tempered in the Fire - Part One

See the Series Masterlist for complete content warnings, historical event information, and series notes.

Cross-posted to AO3.

Pairing: Blacksmith!Din Djarin x F! Reader

Summary: Ireland, almost a decade after the rebellion of 1798. You are an unusual woman: married, but alone; a widow, with no certainty her husband is dead. When your local blacksmith is badly injured in an accident and unable to work, you have no choice but to travel to the next forge, run by a man of few words whose uncertain origins and dark complexion make him stand out among the locals. You are immediately intrigued by this mysterious, taciturn figure - and the striking little boy he’s taken as his apprentice.

Word Count: 3.3k

Rating: Mature (chapter); Explicit 18+ (series)

Content (chapter specific): Blacksmith!Din AU; historical setting; references to violence; references to spousal abandonment; strong language; almost certainly inaccurate depictions of blacksmithing; slightly wonky history; likely slightly wonky renderings of Irish language (technically my third language!).

A/N: Translations for any dialogue in Irish are provided at the end of the chapter. The Irish language was one of the casualties of the colonisation of the island, as it became associated with a lack of education (though the tide turned somewhat in the late nineteenth/early twentieth centuries) and has never recovered. (Go and listen to ‘Butchered Tongue’ on Hozier’s latest album for a musical reflection on this, it even includes references to 1798)

Tagging interested parties and my usual taglist people - sign up via my taglist if you want to be added (or let me know if you’d rather not be tagged!): @gracie7209, @yourcoolauntie, @tessa-quayle, @lunapascal, @julesonrecord, @trulybetty, @fuckyeahdindjarin, @katareyoudrilling, @perennialdoll247, @joeldjarin, @sunnywithachanceofjavi, @iamskyereads, @tieronecrush, @javierisms, @pedrostories, @readingiskeepingmegoing, @rhoorl, @red-red-rogue, @survivingandenduring, @khindahra, @love-the-abyss, @fictionismyreality, @imaswellkid

This is a quiet place, a landscape rendered in greens, greys, and whites, the simple rural dwellings peppering the good agricultural land that stretches across the county.

Appearances can be deceiving, though. What seems to the outsider as a long-established peace is the result of a more recent and more violent pacification. The fields where young men lost their lives in the pursuit of a dream of freedom give nothing away today, almost a decade after the rebellion was brutally crushed. They didn’t stand a chance against the arrayed ranks of muskets, being armed only with tall, sharp pikes, hammered for them on the anvils of sympathetic blacksmiths around the country.

The people who live and work here bear the scars - some literal, some psychological, but all livid, fresh, and painful.

In this idyll where trauma and anger simmers beneath the surface, his forge is a long, low, whitewashed stone building roofed in thatch. It’s a little outside the nearest village, sitting just off the main road on the way to the next big town. Like most of those who ply this trade, the blacksmith here lives alongside his place of work: one half of the building is the forge, the other is the neat, simple home he shares with the little boy he’s taken as his apprentice.

He’s an essential figure: he makes all manner of metal goods and repairs them, too, in a world where nothing is disposable. He shoes horses, too, and his gentle care for the elegant beasts is well-known around the county.

Still, he’s not the most obvious candidate for a ‘pillar of the community’. Unlike other smiths in the area he’s not known for holding court while he works, regaling his customers with yarns and stories. He keeps himself to himself, mostly, though he comes into the village with the boy to buy supplies, collect items for repair, and return what he’s mended to their owners.

He’s been at his anvil for twenty years, or thereabouts. As is the way of a small community, all manner of stories circulate about where he came from and why there was no obvious family of origin. Most assume he comes from travelling people, who are known for their skill with metalworking.

Such is his reputation for consistently good work, fairness, and decency, though, that no one would ever dream of pushing him to say more about himself. This man of few words, who wears his apron like his armour and sometimes wraps a band of grey cloth around his mouth and nose when he works, to protect his lungs from the soot and smoke, is both insider and outsider in a place where such binaries are normally strictly enforced.

“You’ll be living high on the hog soon enough, then, Din? What with all the work that’s coming your way now.”

He looks up from the horseshoe he’s hammering into shape, dark eyes staring at the silhouette of the local priest, framed by the light of the forge’s small front window. Father Carthy has come to have his horse shod - and, it seems, to discuss the blacksmith’s fortunes.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

The priest steps closer to the anvil, a look of surprise on his face when he realises the blacksmith hasn’t heard. “Bad accident over in the forge at Donapatrick. He’ll be alright, but their smith is out for the next few months, at least. He’s lucky to be alive.”

Din dips the shoe into a tub of cold water, sending a hiss and a plume of steam into the air.

“So they’re coming to me?”

“Most of them. Your reputation precedes you.”

He wipes the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. “Not sure I can take on all that extra work.”

Father Carthy scoffs. “Don’t turn it down, Din. Lean times are always waiting round the corner, just when you least expect them.” He peers around the stone forge at the centre of the room, trying to spot the little figure who’s been hiding in the shadows.

“Sure you have an apprentice to help you, don’t you?”

The little boy stares silently, intently with his huge, dark eyes at the man clad in clerical black.

“Well, he’s inherited your gift of the gab, Din, anyway. Look, you’ll be glad of the few extra shillings. I know it’s not always easy making ends meet, between looking after yourself and the lad.”

Din pulls himself up to his full height, cutting an imposing, broad figure in his soot-marked shirt, leather apron, simple brown woollen breeches, and boots.

“We manage. Gró?” The boy appears at the blacksmith’s side. “Tabhair dom na tairní, maith an bhuachaill.”

He swiftly locates a box of horseshoe nails, each made by hand at Din’s anvil. The priest raises an eyebrow.

“He’ll need English, Din, or he’ll get nowhere. I’d be glad to teach him if-“

Din cuts him off with a pointed sigh. “He understands every word. But this is how we talk to each other.”

Behind him, the sandy-haired boy narrows his eyes and scowls at Father Carthy.

You know it’s not usual for a woman of your age and station to ride alone, but then you’re not usual for a woman of your age and station. And your washtub is leaking, and your horse needs to be shod. Needs must.

You saddle up the horse, strapping the tub on one side, and wrap yourself up in your shawl, securing it at the waist with a well-worn leather belt. You mount the little brown horse and turn her in the direction of Donapatrick and the local forge.

“How did you not hear?” Seán, the blacksmith’s apprentice, stares up at you in astonishment. “Everyone heard!”

You feel like kicking him in the ribs for talking to you like that. He’s no more than thirteen, and yet here he is talking to a woman who could comfortably be his mother (and then some) like she came down in the last shower.

“I didn’t hear because I wasn’t told, and because I have better things to be doing than gossiping around the village.”

He rolls his eyes. “Well, regardless. You’ll have to go over to the other forge - the fella over the bridge, about twenty minutes away. You know it?”

You do know it, though you’ve never had reason to go inside. Why would you, when Peter’s forge is so much closer? You don’t even know the other blacksmith’s name, and in this part of the world that’s a strange situation indeed.

“Right, so.” You gently dig your heels into the horse’s sides, she starts to walk, and you make your way to the road that leads down to the river, the stone bridge, and, eventually, the whitewashed forge beyond.

Just as Father Carthy had predicted, Din was snowed under with extra work since Peter’s accident a week or so before. He is exceptionally well-organised by nature, managing his own accounts and records with great attention to detail, and he has extended the system to help him cope with the new demand. With Gró’s help, he organises the items for repair into separate sections, labelled according to whether they belong to existing or temporary customers. He sets up a new ledger to take account of custom orders from people who normally go to the other smith, and takes note of new faces who come to have their horse shod.

Din is cross-checking his records at the table in the main room of his home when he hears the sound of hooves approaching. He asks Gró to peek out, to see if it’s a familiar face or another new customer.

The boy climbs up on the deep windowsill to look out through one of the small cottage windows.

“Is bean ar chapall í - ’s stráinséir í.”

Din stands up and goes to the door, reaching for his apron as he does so.

He cuts an unusual figure, this blacksmith. There aren’t many people around here who look like him. You notice the penetrating dark eyes first, taking you in as you slow and pull up the horse. His dark hair is wavy, curling in places, and you are surprised to see that he’s bearded - if you can call the patchy scruff around his mouth and jaw a beard.

He’s younger than you’d expected, maybe forty, and well-built - broad shoulders, strong, muscular forearms marked with scars from his work, his shirt loose and open to expose a stretch of his tanned chest. He ties on a leather apron as you dismount, and walks out to greet you.

“Good day. I was hoping you could help with a repair? And my horse needs to be shod, too. I’m sorry, I usually go to Peter up in Donap -“

He cuts you off with a nod. “I know. Yes. That’s fine. The tub, is that the repair?”

You raise your eyebrows at how direct he is. Curt, almost. Rude, some would say.

“It is. It’s leaking at the side, here.” You undo the strap and he takes the washtub down. It looks strangely tiny against his substantial form.

He turns and gesticulates with his head in the direction of the open door. From the dark interior, a striking boy emerges, clutching a piece of paper, some string, and a stubby pencil.

The blacksmith gives him instructions and he diligently scrawls a number on the paper, before attaching it to the tub with the string and carrying it into the forge.

“Do you only speak in Irish to him?”

The smith has turned his attention to your horse, examining each of her hooves in turn. He looks at you quizzically.

“It’s what he prefers. What we prefer. He understands English perfectly.”

“Unusual that he’s fair and you’re dark. Is his mother fair? I suppose she must be.”

He sighs.

“I don’t know.”

You can’t stop yourself from letting out a little gasp. He looks up at you, dark eyes frustrated at your constant chatter. But he knows this needs explanation.

“He’s my apprentice. He’s a foundling. I’ve taken him as my own.”

You feel your face heat, embarrassed. “I’m sorry.”

He strokes the horse’s muzzle, not looking directly at you. “You didn’t know. I can shoe the horse now, though you’ll need to wait. The tub will take a day or two.”

You nod in agreement.

“What’s her name?”

His voice is softer. He’s still looking at your little horse, who’s loving the attention from this new person.

“Réaltín.” She has a perfect little splash of white between her eyes, in the shape of a little star. You couldn’t have named her anything else.

He repeats the animal’s name, and you see the tiniest hint of a smile cross his lips before his serious expression returns.

It turns cold, and you wait it out on a stool just inside the door of the forge, glad of the warmth.

You watch as the blacksmith heats up and works the metal shoes at his anvil, so they’ll fit Réaltín’s smaller hooves perfectly. The light from the fire illuminates his features as he works, highlighting the beads of sweat on his brow and picking out the various shades of brown in his eyes. He has pulled a band of grey cloth over his nose and mouth, which draws your attention all the more to his dark gaze.

The little boy stares at you while the man works, occasionally helping him by fetching an implement or helping work the bellows. You give him a little wave and a smile, hoping he’ll respond. He doesn’t come any closer, but you see him grin for a moment before he disappears behind the broad figure of his master - well, his adoptive father, if what the blacksmith said is correct.

Peter’s forge is always full of chat and song and gossip, a kind of social hub as much as a vital service. In contrast, the only music here is the singing of the anvil as the silent, stoic smith works, interspersed with the whoosh of the bellows and the hiss of the cooling tub. He doesn’t look at you, eyes always trained on the task at hand or at his little apprentice. He doesn’t speak, except to the little boy.

After a few exchanges, you realise something. “Is he called Gró?”

The smith keeps working. “That is what I call him, yes.”

“Funny to call a little thing like that after a poker.”

He turns his attention to the fire for a moment before he answers you. “He kept trying to stoke the fire on his own when I first took him in. I said the word so much it became his name. He likes it.”

Silence. Singing metal. Hissing steam.

He makes sure Gró watches him at every step as he removes the old horseshoes, cleans Réaltín’s hooves, files them carefully, and attaches the new shoes. Throughout, he quietly explains to the boy what he’s doing, and why.

Your stomach is rumbling, and you remember the supplies you brought with you (and had forgotten about).

When they’ve finished the last hoof, you speak up. “I - I brought a cake of fresh bread with me, in case it took longer. And I have butter, too, and a little crab apple jam. I’d be glad to share it with the little lad.”

Gró’s enormous eyes widen with excitement and he grins. (He really does understand English perfectly, you think.)

“We have enough food for ourselves, thank you.”

The boy’s face falls.

“I just meant as a little treat. A thank you, for taking the job when you’ve so much to be doing.”

He sighs, again. “Well… ach. Yes. Come in.”

Their home is neat and simply furnished, and he evidently knows how to look after a household as well as a business. You sit at the wooden table in the main room, which serves as kitchen, living area, and office for the blacksmith’s records. Out of the corner of your eye you spy a ladder going up to the attic, which you presume must be used as a sleeping space. A door leads off the main part of the house to what looks to be a smaller room.

Gró is already on his third piece of bread, butter, and apple jam, a shiny orange smear on the tip of his little nose.

“I hope this tastes okay. It’s always so hard to know when you churn butter, isn’t it?” You sip some of the cool water he’d poured into an earthenware mug for you.

“I don’t know. I’ve never churned butter.”

His reply is so deadpan that you wonder for a moment if he’s joking. You decide he isn’t.

“It’s not that hard,” you continue. “And I have the cow and the milk so why not?” You chew on a bit of bread, appraising your handiwork. “Actually, not bad at all, this time.”

He grunts in agreement. “You have a farm?”

“A very small smallholding. Tenant to the lord, like most of us.”

“Your husband works the land, then.”

You stare at the crust of bread in front of you, and clear your throat.

“He doesn’t. He’s…not here. He’s gone.”

The blacksmith’s eyes soften. “I’m very sorry for your troubles. Sickness, or was it in the fighting -”

You look at him directly. “That bastard wouldn’t fight for anything, not even his wife. He’s not dead. Or at least, I don’t think he’s dead. But I wish he was, because then I’d really be free.”

For a moment it looks like the stoic blacksmith is going to choke. He reaches for his own mug and drinks deeply.

“Well, now, I -“

“He upped and went. A few years back. God knows where he is now. He’s not around here, anyway. I’d say he’s skipped to Belfast or London.” You finish your bread. “Lucky the smallholding had come through my father, so I wasn’t out on the road.”

He’s flushed, and evidently a little uncomfortable. Well, he started it, you think.

“How do you survive - do you have children, too?”

You shake your head. “No, a blessing not to have them. And I do what I did before I married - I sew. Mostly alterations and refashioning and repairing, now, but at least I have a trade.”

The smith nods to himself. “A useful one.”

“Not as useful as yours.”

He gives you a tiny, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it smile.

You stand up and start to clear the dishes. “Keep the rest of the bread and the butter and jam. I’ll collect the jars when I come back for the tub.”

He starts as if to speak, standing up from his chair, and seems nervous.

“Could I - we - ask you to do something for us?”

“It depends, but…”

“Clothes. Gró’s clothes are in need of mending. Badly. Would you be able to help?”

You smile and nod. “I’d be delighted to. Lord, has the poor lad been going without mending for this long?”

The smith opens a wooden chest and takes out a small bundle of tiny items of clothing. “Not quite. Peigí normally does it, but she’s been so busy with the work in her yard lately that I didn’t want to ask.”

Peigí is something of a legend in the area, a fiery woman who stubbornly insisted on taking over her father’s trade in repairing carts and wagons - and succeeded. You smile wryly to yourself at the vision of her wielding a needle and thread.

He hands you the clothes, wrapped in a faded piece of red and white cloth. “Oh, hold on.” He reaches back into the chest and retrieves a dark grey knitted sweater that has seen better days. “I don’t know if you darn, too, but he’ll need this in the colder weather, and -“

You take the sweater, handling it with care, and clutch the little bundle to your chest. “It’s no bother at all.”

He smiles, genuinely smiles, at you for the first time. You marvel at how such a stern, hardy man can reveal himself to be quite so soft - eyes crinkling, expression warm and friendly, teeth white in that tanned face streaked with grime from the forge.

“Thank you…?” He pauses, waiting for you to introduce yourself. You tell him your name.

“And you’re…”

“Din.”

“Din. And Gró.” The little boy swivels in his seat at the sound of his name, and sends the sneaky spoonful of apple jam that he’s been enjoying flying to the flagstone floor.

Din accompanies you as you strap the bundle of clothes to the saddle, and mount Réaltín for the journey home.

“I’ll be back in two days for the tub. I’ll bring his things then.”

Din gives the horse an affectionate pat, and nods as you turn and head back up the narrow road.

Gró has come to the door of the house.

“’s bean deas í, a dhaid.”

Translations:

Tabhair dom na tairní, maith an bhuachaill.

Give me the nails, there’s a good boy.

Is bean ar chapall í - ’s stráinséir í

It’s a woman on a horse, she’s a stranger.

’s bean deas í, a dhaid

She’s a nice lady, daddy. (Can also mean ‘pretty lady’).

And yes, ‘gró’ in Irish can mean crow-bar - or, in older dialect, a poker.

[fictiondotbored]

I'm very new to DND type of games, Baldur's Gate 3 is the first of this type i've ever played and so when I say this game is full of surprises to me and has managed to flabbbergast me more than once with its dialogue consequences and all, goddamnit i mean it

Aka: how i met Karlach and how she nearly squad wiped my whole party

So.. i picked up Karlach when I was just short of reaching level 4 and eager as I am I immediately put her in my party to then take care of her first quest: defeating those three people at the risen road cabin/house thingy. Arguably a stupid move as I didn't realise how fcking OP that one dude is with his sword move. He absolutely slaughtered my party, knocking down Astarion and Shadowheart. AND THEN HE DOUBLED DOWN and hit my boy AGAIN. I was gobsmacked and could only watch in pure horror as Astarion died. THE DISRESPECT i didn't realize that my companions could be decimated like that. I dreaded his next turn like nothing else as Shadowheart was throwing her dice to save herself right at his feet. Just having to wait a whole turn, knowing he could kill Shadowheart with one last swing, it was awful. Before i managed to kill him, he also knocked down dear Karlach, thankfully sparing Shadowheart.

When the fight was over I wanted to help up each of my companions one after another, starting with Karlach as she was closest to me at the time. We had dialogue and she got excited, burning the whole thing down. Now here's the kicker. I DIDN'T NOTICE THAT, i was still grieving my poor vampire and trying to figure out how to revive him when I caught fire and then out of nowhere, Shadowheart just died. Only then did i fcking realize that Karlach was unintentionally killing my companions and then she accidently killed herself too, in her own flames!

Brother.

I was just stunned, quickly ran out of the flames and just stood there for a few minutes. Just speechless and motionless. Once I stopped losing my fcking mind i started reviving them all, this time around leaving Karlach to revive last. Tell me why that woman then turned to my Tav and talked about "how they couldn't even lay a finger on her and how so nice it felt to let off some steam again" GIRLY YOU DIED WHAT DO YOU MEAN THEY DIDN'T LAY A FINGER ON YOU?? THERE WAS NO MORE STEAM TO BE HAD after killing yourself in your own fire

Anyway, Karlach is chilling at my camp for the time being, until i continue her personal story quests

Might write an actual oneshot about this because bruh, i went through a lot of emotions in that battle

[maxfandoms]

Day feelings towards Night

Hi, Hello! I see a lot of people who see Day blame Night for the accident and are like but "Day's actually the one at fault in the end for taking his eyes of the road" or "Day is just taking his anger out on Night" and you're right but

Day know it was accident, he know deep down that Night didn't do anything and it also not just as simple as Day taking out his anger on Night, it is part of it but it's more complicated than that

So as someone who is familiar in the department of "Being angry/furious with family members who did sh*tty things but are trying to move on or be better" and also as someone who has been right about Day's emotion before I'm just here to give a rambly perspective on things. So Let's Start

(Also side note: I am going to talk about how Day's view Night more and not actually how Night is because this two are so completed different things for now at least)

We know that Day's know it was accident, and even if it was in someone choice it was Day's. Day choose to go the club and Day choose to take his eye off the road and the things is even before this episode, and even when I wrote my thoughts on Night & Day i kind of knew that would be Day's choice that lead to the accident in a ironic way (I was thinking that maybe Day knew he shouldn't be playing because that could risk his vision as well but that didn't happen) But I still understand because

What Day is actually angry about

Let start bit by bit, First with this line by the dad especially this part right here "You once wanted him to be". Combine this with Night saying "Who's the big brother?" it paints a picture of relationship where Day was the more responsible of the two (the national badminton player, seems good at school) while Night feel like maybe he was lost and maybe partying so Day was the one taking care of Night

It says a lot that the first flashback we got about Night & Day is Day in the role of taking care of Night, making sure he's will get home safe when now it's Night doing that

Also just look at difference in the way Day looks hearing Night, like in the first one has a bitt of annoyance, but there's a care and fondness that make me cry a little bit since I knew what was coming

With this dialogue, Day makes it clear that he doesn't feel Night's action are genuine, that they don't come from Night's care and love for him. And can I just say, Day is not completely wrong on that assumption

Night loves Day? Yes. The thing is though Night's guilt is def a factor in the way he's behaving right now and despite the fact that Night's recklessness was about his own struggle than his feelings towards Day's. Day doesn't know that, what he does know is that after the accident, Night became more caring, gentle towards him.

What think happen in Day's mind every time that Night is kind is this: "Now you can be a good brother? Now that you think you hurt me so much you can be what I wanted you to be? Now that the spot of the 'golden child' is vague? Not out of love on genuine care? Why couldn't before? What was stopping you?"

And a lot of you may be thinking that is should be easy to connect the dots, however it's not. Because I think Day thinks that if he were to try and reach out towards Night, it would just go back to the way things were and Night would fall back in the same recklessness behavior (Could this be a little projection? Yes but let's not talk about that)

This part can be interpret in a lot of ways, because from what asked around Day uses ‘เสียใจ’ which means ‘sad’ but it could also mean ‘feel sorry for something’. So this could be that Day's is feel like he taking a responsibility for the accident, I think that could be one way to interpret it

But what if it's more than that? What if he's also feeling sorry than he can seem to let go of his resentment, that despite Night's trying Day is not ready to trust him to be a good brother?

TL:DR Day's anger is not about the accident, but about everything that Night is doing after it. Day blame Night for not being able to be a good brother BEFORE the accident which it unfair because Night was dealing with own thing before but Day needed a big brother for long time that he is hurt from the waiting

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

I spent way too much time on what is essentially a shitpost...

But anyways. Post-Meursault road trip AU because it's funny to me and I couldn't rest until I drew this. (Read right to left.)

Basically, Sigma gets the information needed to stop Fukuchi but Fyodor escapes with the help of Hohol. Cat thief is alive and the four of them escape the prison and have to chase after Fyodor, leading to an impromptu road trip none of them want. Along the way, they pick up Adam to help with tracking him down.

Chuuya speaks to everyone else but is very adamant about not talking to or responding to Dazai at all - giving him the cold shoulder, basically. Dazai can't decide if he is more insulted that Chuuya isn't talking to him or that he's resisting his attempts at goading him through sheer determination. Adam is concerned at how tired Chuuya is and keeps making occasional offers to drive but he knows Chuuya's driving because he needs a distraction. Sigma is terrified someone is going to snap and he's going to get caught in the crossfire. Cat girl is having the time of her life.

(If you can't read my shoddy handwriting, here's the dialogue:

Thief: "Did you know that even with seatbelts, people die all the time in car crashes?"

Thief: "I thought that was interesting."

Adam: "Master Chuuya, if you are getting too tired, I would be happy to switch -"

Chuuya: "Nah, 'm good."

Adam, musing to himself: "The majority of accidents are caused by human error. If human drivers were replaced by androids, the roads would be safer."

Adam: "By which I mean the latest autonomous models, like myself. Those 'self-driving AI' are a disgrace."

Dazai, muttering after flicking a crumpled paper: "Chuuya, pay attention to me.")

@single-use-ship-of-theseus You get it!!!

[donelywell]

Question if u dont mind- is it called roadtrip au cus they travel or smth?? Anyway LOVE that au jesus christ *explodes*💥💥💥

To be honest, Road Trip was a name I thought of on the spot. For a week after I made it, I always kept calling it 'Road Side' by accident. (I could have sworn I got the name from a line of dialogue I wrote before, but I went back to look and it's not there.)

But yeah, this au is called that because they like to travel (Sonic, Tails, and Knuckles mostly. A lot of characters are actually stationary).

Maybe if I put more thought into it, I'd have come up with a better name, but tbh, Road Trip is a pretty nice title.

Also thank you!! I freaking love it too!!

[mcflymemes]

PROMPTS FOR NEIGHBOR INTERACTIONS * adjust as necessary, send 'reverse' for the reversal of action prompts

DIALOGUE PROMPTS

could you turn the music down?

thought i'd come by and introduce myself.

could i borrow a cup of flour?

something strange is happening around here.

when did you move in?

welcome to the neighborhood!

it's a quiet road. you shouldn't have any trouble.

if you ever need anything, i'm just next door.

something smells good! what are you making?

the walls are thin. i hear everything.

that's the nosy neighbor i was telling you about.

you should come over for dinner sometime.

i hear your door shut every morning.

did my package get delivered to your door?

i'm having a party tonight. wanna come?

hi! i'm your next door neighbor!

why don't we exchange numbers?

need me to run out and grab a few things?

that's what friends are for.

i like what you've done with the place!

make sure you lock your doors at night.

your place or mine?

wanna walk me home? it's literally right there.

so you're the one making all that noise.

i haven't seen you outside in a while.

i rang your doorbell a few times, but you never answered.

sorry, am i interrupting something?

if you've got company, i won't intrude.

i don't mean to be a bother.

i locked myself out. could i wait here until the locksmith arrives?

your lights were on all night.

oops, sorry. wrong door.

ACTION PROMPTS

[ moving ] sender moves in next door and receiver comes over to introduce themselves

[ party ] sender storms over to receiver's door to complain about their loud party

[ accident ] sender accidentally tries to use their key to unlock receiver's door, and receiver catches them

[ comment ] sender has been spending so much time over at receiver's place that receiver finally notices

[ invite ] sender is hosting a party at their place and invites receiver to join

[ note ] sender slips a note under receiver's door and hurries away

[ cooking ] sender makes too much food and brings a plate over to give receiver

[ tinker ] sender fixes something at receiver's home

[ chat ] sender and receiver sit together on one of their porches and chat

[ angry ] sender angrily pounds on receiver's front door

[ outdoors ] sender and receiver tend to one of their gardens together

[ window ] sender sees receiver through their window, and the two start communicating through movement and gestures

[ package ] sender gets a package meant for receiver and brings it over to them

[ bbq ] sender and receiver have a barbeque together

[ flowers ] sender brings receiver some flowers from their garden

[ produce ] sender brings receiver some vegetables from their garden

[ suspicious ] having seen some suspicious activity happen at receiver's home, sender finally confronts them and asks what's going on

[ snoop ] sender is snooping around receiver's property and receiver catches them

[ fire ] sender accidentally starts a fire while cooking and receiver rushes to their rescue, putting it out and saving the day

[moondaeznuts]

Debut or Die what-ifs

random thought but what if keundal driving

major spoilers about keundal if you don't know him. this takes place sometime after the series ending

Technically, he has his driver license but he never driven before soooo I can see Chungwoo and Moondae teaching him how to drive.

ew cringe dialogue incoming

"Keundal, I think it's about time to get a car."

"But hyung... It's cheaper to take public transportation instead? Besides... I still don't know how to drive...."

"There's going to be a debut line-up for our hoobaenims, yes? You're going to be their manager soon. You'll need to take care of them and drive them to their schedules if they can't."

"Oh, Right! I see it's safer that way too compared to taking public transportation instead."

"I've already talked to Chungwoo hyung about this and he said he'll teach you how to drive when he's free from his schedule. If not, then I can teach you instead. However, I'm not able to do much."

"Hyung, how come you haven't got your license yet?"

"...I don't need it."

I 100% believe that Moondae likes being the passenger princess that's why he's delaying getting his license again

Moondae would teach Keundal the rules of the road/basic driving laws and meaning of signs while Chungwoo helps Keundal with the driving experience he needs.

Keundal would be a very cautious driver and pretty aware of his surroundings because he doesn't want to get in a wreck. flashbacks to testar car accident

[pixies-love-envy]

Chapter 2: March

It’s 8 am on a Tuesday, and the sun is shining down on me through the sunroof of my car. My phone vibrates in my pocket; I already know it’s one of my brothers.

We’re triplets and have never been apart for more than three days at a time. When I was getting my bachelor's degree, they got an apartment two blocks away from my dorm. Dorian and Reese never went to college and instead started a clothing brand called Vanilla Flame. I’m actually wearing their gray sweatpants right now. They’re very comfortable and perfect for long drives. I’m embarking on a 10-hour road trip to my new apartment near Redwood University, where I will be studying for the next five years. My brothers think I’m absolutely insane for moving this far away from home.

“Dorian, you know I hate getting calls while I’m driving.” He does this on purpose to piss me off, but when I get into an accident because he divided my attention, he’s going to be sorry.

“Dude, did you know Red U’s mascot is a booby.”

“Yes, I did.” I most certainly did not know that.

Reese chimes in because, of course, Reese is there too. They’re never far apart. “Okay, but, listen to me when I say this, March, it’s a blue-footed booby at Red U.” He puts emphasis on blue and red. “Doesn’t that bother you? It bothers us!”

“Why on earth would that bother me? I’m not going for the sports anyway.” It bothers me a great deal. I can’t believe I have to rep the Redwood blue-footed boobies. This will surely tarnish the Starling family name.

“Shut up!” says Dorian. “I know it bothers you, and that’s why you have to turn that car around immediately and come back home.”

“Dori, I love you and Reese the most, but I have to go. I’ve got a scholarship and a once-in-a-lifetime internship.” Red U is home to one of the most prestigious research labs in America, and I have an internship there. It’s the whole reason I applied to the university; the scholarship was just a bonus—the perks of being a straight-A student.

He groans, “I know. We know you’re going to go out and do great things.”

We’re just gonna miss our little Marchmallow,” adds Reese in that weird baby voice he’s famous for. My heart sinks at the use of my childhood nickname.

“I’m gonna miss you guys too.” More than I’ve missed anyone ever.

“Alright, man. I’m gonna leave you alone. I know you hate talking and driving,” Dorian says, and I know he’s feeling a little uncomfortable.

“Love you, guys.”

“Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

The line goes dead, and I know I should feel some sort of sadness, but really, I just feel loved. I am deeply loved, my future is bright, and today is an omen.

Too Sweet Masterlist

Chapter 1 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Looking for FEEDBACK on my first few chapters. They are really short and are easy reads. Any feedback is welcome. Tell me about anything you think can be improved upon or anything that you liked. Comment on the prose or the dialogue. Literally anything that comes to mind that can help.

@yourpenpaldee @arrowmoose @mundanemoongirl @frostedlemonwriter

[fawnhoards]

a collection of dialogue from season one of netflix’s dragon age: absolution. to be used as sentence starters. as per usual, feel free to change pronouns or whatever you see fit. mentions / implications of death, murder, violence.

❝   now you know i hate to question your decisions, but—   ❞ ❝   just couldn’t stick to the plan, could ya?   ❞ ❝   always so sure you know better.   ❞ ❝   i don’t care about your apologies.   ❞ ❝   please, not here.   ❞ ❝   so nice to finally meet you in person.   ❞ ❝   next time, aim a little more to the right.   ❞ ❝   seems like a good time for a new venture.   ❞ ❝   you were magnificent, you know that?   ❞ ❝   people like us don’t change the world.   ❞ ❝   people pay you more to blow stuff up if it’s for something they believe in.   ❞ ❝   we have a very small window of time.   ❞ ❝   you’re our only hope of pulling this off.   ❞ ❝   will you help us, please?   ❞ ❝   i should have told you everything, and for that, i’m sorry.   ❞ ❝   i’ve left it at that. i suggest you do the same.   ❞ ❝   you can’t be serious.   ❞ ❝   i’ve survived things that make the deep roads look like a pleasant stroll.   ❞ ❝   i assure you, you’ll lose your nerve long before i will.   ❞ ❝   lengthen your stride and shut the fuck up!   ❞ ❝   hold. state your business.   ❞ ❝   light of the maker shine upon you.   ❞ ❝   we won’t be here for long, okay?   ❞ ❝   i don’t like the sound of ‘could’.   ❞ ❝   ain’t it obvious? we’re the muscle.   ❞ ❝   if you’re trying to distract me, it won’t work.   ❞ ❝   fair play on that one.   ❞ ❝   i don’t like your implication there, friend.   ❞ ❝   what happened here?   ❞ ❝   i just can’t stay out of trouble.   ❞ ❝   you think that did anything except risk our mission?   ❞ ❝   do you want to talk about it?   ❞ ❝   if you don’t come back, i’ll kill you myself.   ❞ ❝   that’s more your problem than mine, ain’t it?   ❞ ❝   tevinter is home to the most powerful magic in the world.   ❞ ❝   careful, you might offend the chantry.   ❞ ❝   spirits, demons, they’re all dangerous.   ❞ ❝   i, for one, cannot recall any good coming from something powered by murder.   ❞ ❝   maker’s breath, don’t you think that’s worth investigating?   ❞ ❝   i am not letting you face one of those things alone.   ❞ ❝   many before you have sought to bring back the dead, and failed.   ❞ ❝   by name and by nature, mortals are doomed to die.   ❞ ❝   nothing goes against nature without consequence.   ❞ ❝   just because something hasn’t been done doesn’t mean it can't be done.   ❞ ❝   i won’t risk losing you.   ❞ ❝   please don’t make me protect you from yourself.   ❞ ❝   one way or another, this will all be over soon.   ❞ ❝   i mean, he’s cute, but yikes.   ❞ ❝   you think i’m scared of you?   ❞ ❝   no one ever saves people like us.   ❞ ❝   i have always wanted my own song.   ❞ ❝   well, there goes my last vain hope that this was an accident.   ❞ ❝   i don’t need your protection.   ❞ ❝   it’s pronounced ‘thank you’.   ❞ ❝   i’m here to help, for some reason!   ❞ ❝   but i just got you back.   ❞ ❝   aw, maker’s titties.   ❞ ❝   less talk, more run.   ❞ ❝   no one’s going to hurt you. you’re with me now.   ❞ ❝   i’d prefer not to kill you, but i will.   ❞ ❝   blood magic is not the answer.   ❞ ❝   now is not the time for great moral stances.   ❞ ❝   you can’t tell me this doesn’t feel weird.   ❞ ❝   well, of course it doesn’t make sense when you say it like that.   ❞ ❝   i have nothing to say to you.   ❞ ❝   that isn’t fair and you know it.   ❞ ❝   i’ve made mistakes. but they were mine.   ❞ ❝   you live because i will it.   ❞ ❝   are you really trying to claim the high ground?   ❞ ❝   are you really the last one to figure out that you’re the villain?   ❞ ❝   hey, look at you, making good choices.   ❞ ❝   you’re holding it wrong.   ❞ ❝   no one ever saves us. so we save us.   ❞ ❝   hey, that is a completely unfair assumption.   ❞ ❝   i just need you to say that i’m more important than this.   ❞ ❝   holy crap, we’re alive!   ❞ ❝   i am, uh, usually not this lucky.   ❞ ❝   you don’t have to come. i won’t hold it against you.   ❞ ❝   i will have my war.   ❞ ❝   and after this, we can go to the hinterlands and make cheese for all i care, so long as we’re together.   ❞ ❝   that’s the thing everyone forgets about dragons. they aren’t monsters, or gods. they’re just alive, like us.   ❞ ❝   as much as i love hearing about my failings in the eyes of the maker, i thought a walk might be a bit more pleasant.   ❞ ❝   i won’t say i’m not scared, 'cause i am... extremely scared, but i know this is the right thing to do, so i’m definitely gonna help you anyway.   ❞

[spaggyspagly]

a theory and some hcs i have on rocket anything after screenshots is what i speculate about him would've posted this sooner like on his birthday but i got nervous on how people would see this but oh well fuck it we ball tw for self-destructive behaviors, addiction, mentions of violence and ptsd!!! stay safe all ❤️ (copy and pasted from a friend's dms)

"me and another person did a long analysis on rocket since it's his birthday tomorrow and RAHHHH

it gave me a whole new perspective on who he might actually b

so rocket (he's 22) as you can see from his dialogue is very into fighting and will even sneak away from his dad zuka (who has been retired from fighting because he went into a big accident that costed him his right arm) so he can go off and fight

from the looks of it, he's one of the phighters who flame out more easily and he has a much shorter temper than the others

it's confirmed that he doesn't like t hang out with the people in playground (i'll mention why later)

some of what he says suggests that he doesn't actually care about whether he hurts himself in battle and that he jokes about his trauma (i'll get into depth about this too)"

(medkit dialogue)

(there's a little more dialogue with sword assisting but the wiki hasn't been updated)

"so he came from playground, a place full of energetic and extroverted demons but a specific group of demons went up on him and that resulted in his arm and leg blowing right off, hence his prosthetics zuka found him and adopted him before he himself went into an accident where his right arm blew off (so he can somewhat relate, however rocket started after his accident and zuka stopped after his)"

"from what happened with him when he was young, i wouldn't b surprised if he was still genuinely traumatized or isn't able t properly process what happened t him considering that healthcare is already low, so anything like therapists is out of the question as well"

theory time!!

"he can get a lot more easily agitated or aggressive than other demons which is deadass a sign of ptsd

he likely has flashbacks of that day (who wouldn't thas traumatizing as fuck)

he ALSO likely can't handle the stress he hasn't processed + the stress he has now because of how short his temper seems t b

he also makes lots of jokes poking around his limb being legitimately blown off which is something many people do t cope with stuff, which does involve shit like abuse or stuff like that

the reason why he might b into fighting so much is likely because he's used it as an outlet of the anger and stress that he could never get out otherwise

it's likely gotten t the point where it's an unhealthy addiction + a way of self harm for himself

the way he's so secretive about getting caught by zuka and that he asks other phighters not t tell his dad about it makes me think that he KNOWS the risk of fighting but does it anyway (which is a sign of addiction)

also, zuka found rocket while experiencing the same thing, so he full on knows the consequences of fighting and he knows why zuka is so persistent in not letting him fight, yet he does anyway and he goes out of his way t LIE t zuka on whether he went out fighting or not

the way he jus doesn't like the playground kids even when they very well may not b the ones that harmed him is a sign that he hasn't fully healed from what happened with him, that he still hasn't processed his accident

the amount of recklessness he shows for himself is very prominent, as he's too stubborn and too focused in fighting t even care that he's slowly killing himself

he has all the warnings, but he's addicted t how this is the only way he can feel better and that this is the only way he can even remotely cope with his childhood

whether he knos this or not, he's on the road of slowly killing himself if he keeps exerting himself like this" (bonus hc)

"honestly i thought that his trauma was so fucking severe that there's no way that he hasn't been affected, then when i saw that he was into fighting t the point where he will ignore zuka's reprimands despite knowing the harm that will happen i jus kinda thought that fighting was how he was coping this entire time

a friend said that this might b his norm or that he sees this as normal behavior and i agree!! because he was exposed t violence and the debilitating shit he went through when he was young + zuka found him before he retired so he more likely than not taught rocket his ways it's clear that rocket still does admire zuka because he carves his horns t look jus like his but he might even miss how approving zuka was of him for doing what he knows best before" side stuff: i mention his age t prove that he isn't doing this t b a rebellious kid since he's too old for that what i mean by "rocket started after his accident and zuka stopped after his" is by them fighting i'm aware that other phighters like banhammer and shuriken have shorter tempers too but they're also more aggressive demons when it comes t killing so my point still stands you could say that he isn't joking when he mentions his limbs getting blown off and thas fair!!! but the way he casually mentions that horrific event on a whim reminds us of how we did something similar with our trauma (don't ask, also yes most of it has been processed relatively healthily nowadays, we're ok rn) - if it isn't tru, then it also brings up another point that he might b completely desensitized t what happened with him + how he may not see the severity of the incident (we've done this too) - it further proves that he sees violence as something thas normal from how overly exposed he was t it (this was us a couple years back) and how his potential addiction is even more suggested

p.s.: keep in mind that these are all hcs and that i in no way think that i kno rocket more than the people who made him!!! i wanted t see him more than jus a silly guy who blows up stuff and i hope this is somewhat accurate t his character :,D 2/5/24 EDIT: i actually have no idea on whether zuka lost his limbs before or after he met rocket, i thought i read that he lost them after adopting rocket but iiiii can't remember if it was the opposite or not it doesn't affect my argument too much but i jus wanted t point that out also rocket says, "Dad's been helping me with my aim!" which i can't tell if he's being deadass or not but if thas so then AHEM? HEY?