#since he can block any shots really easily

[pocketramblr]

AU where Giran is Geten’s Dad

i was going to say something about how much worse it'd be if his own kid sold him out to ReDestro, just compounding the betrayal, but like... i think if Geten was raised by his dad Giran, he wouldn't have ended up in the MLA lol. like he'd have been taught to see them as idiots, lowlifes so bad even his dad won't work with them. even if late teenage rebellion had him striking out, i think it would manifest as him trying to join the league in physical fighting, instead of just sticking close to his dad's business. which means then after every mission Geten would be silently fuming because he wants to complain to Giran about how much trying to work with Dabi sucks, but can't because then his dad can say 'i told you so'.

[djarins-cyare]

Never Look Down

Part 1: Din’s Evening

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Prompt: “I don’t know what’s happening but I love it.”

Summary: Din has been ignoring his crush on Grogu’s babysitter for a while now, with varying degrees of success. But after a misunderstanding leads to some revelations, there’s no denying things any longer. Sometimes you just need to look at things from a different perspective.

Rating: Mature (18+) with a smidge of explicit

Pairing: Din Djarin x Original Female Character (for his POV scenes) / Din Djarin x Reader (for her POV scenes)

Word count: 5,330

Tags/warnings: alcohol, drunkenness, vomit (no description), numerous references to erections, some swearing, references to sex, non-explicit smutty thots, Din carries OFC a short distance, masturbation (male, semi-explicit, but I don’t think enough to push up the rating), 3rd person POV (part 2 will be 2nd person POV and OFC will become reader/you).

Author’s note: This was originally supposed to be for @beskarandblasters’ Din Djarin Fic Club Drabble Event, although drabble this is not! Kel said there was no word limit, but it grew so long that I couldn’t even call it a one-shot anymore, so I’m uploading it in two parts to make it easier to read and I think that probably disqualifies it from the Drabble Event. But Kel, thank you so much anyway for the prompt – it resulted in me finally pushing through my writer’s block and finishing/uploading something new, so I’m eternally grateful!

READ ON AO3 (author’s preference)

Tumblr version ahead if you prefer…

He’s panicking. It’s stupid, really – he’s been in situations far trickier and more critical than this. But Karga said he needed help urgently, and now his babysitter isn’t answering her comlink.

Should he just go and leave Grogu here? It’s not like he never left him alone on the ship.

Except… something’s changed since the adoption. Din has started to care what others think of his parenting style. He hears people whisper that fatherhood clearly isn’t coming easily to him (he thought he was doing alright). He watches how his babysitter closely monitors every move the kid makes (the Mandalorians never watched him that closely). He listens when people talk about how they raise their own children (he hadn’t realised it was such hard work). And it’s made him feel as if he’s… lacking.

He hates feeling less than adequate in any area of his life, but somehow, failing as a father cuts deep. Perhaps it’s because he grew up without one. Plus, that scolding Peli gave him after she found Grogu alone on the Razor Crest still haunts him.

Although the Mandalorian method of letting them learn from their mistakes has merit (and it never did him any harm), he wants to be there for his son. So, no. He won’t leave Grogu here alone. He can’t risk him waking up and wondering why nobody comes if he calls. The kid has probably had enough of that in his past.

Why isn’t Maia picking up?

Din paces the cabin’s length, listening to the gentle ping of the comlink as it tries to connect with the one he gave her. Even the soothing pulse doesn’t ease his frustration. Diligent parenting is hard.

Just as he’s wondering if he can wake the kid and bring him along, the comlink crackles to life.

“—know what the stinking stang is wrong with it! Ah, frotz! Hello? Is this thing totally borked?”

For a baffling moment, he can’t work out whether he’s shocked or thrilled. She certainly doesn’t use that type of language around the kid, but he’s delighted to hear her voice nonetheless.

“Maia!” He interrupts her frustrated confusion as loud as he dares, lest he wake the sleeping child downstairs.

“Shiny, hi! It works! What’s up, my metal man? It’s late… is this a booty call?”

Once again, Din can’t decide if he’s shocked or thrilled. However, his dick’s instant twitch of interest proves that it, at least, is clearly siding with the latter. Dank farrik, he wishes it were a booty call. “No, Maia, I need—”

“Course it’s not!” she interrupts, giggling inanely. “Sorry, that was ridiculous, ignore me. Go on, you were saying?”

He takes a deep breath and tries to push past the stab of dismay at her labelling the idea of a booty call as ridiculous. At least she sounds in a happy mood.

“I’m sorry to contact you so late, but Karga has some kind of crisis. IG-11 is still with the Anzellans for repairs after the last crisis, so he’s asked for my help. Grogu’s asleep, but I’m gonna need you to come over and wait at the cabin until I return. I’ll pay you double your usual rate. I just don’t wanna leave him here alone.”

“Suuure! I’ll haul my jets over to you now. Five, ten minutes, tops. If you wanna take off now, I know your door code. I’ll check on the li’l bug as soon as I arrive.”

Din breathes a relieved sigh. “Thank you, I owe you. I shouldn’t be long.”

“Happy hunting, Beskar Boy! Or happy dispute settling!” Maia signs off with a melodic laugh that instantly makes him grin beneath his helmet, despite the stupid nickname.

The grin fades as he processes the meaning of the words preceding her addictive laughter, and he sighs. She’s probably right, although he hopes he’ll at least need his blaster for whatever mess the High Magistrate wants him to clean up.

Karga was once able to intimidate the townsfolk, but these days, they see him as purely a leader and captain of industry. They respect his ability to govern and improve the town – he’s more than proven himself capable in those roles. But whipping out a blaster from beneath those ridiculous robes now gains him little more than dubious raised eyebrows. By contrast, Cara was a fearsome and capable law enforcer, and now IG-11 keeps the citizens in line.

Except a reptavian tore off both of IG’s legs a few nights ago. Apparently, whatever the droid equivalent of ‘sick leave’ is, he’s taking it.

Din doesn’t mind helping out when he’s not on jobs for Carson. As long as Karga doesn’t solicit his help too often, it’s an easy way to make a few extra credits. He supposes that kind of makes him a part-time deputy, though he’ll never accept a title or a contract. But if tonight’s job is nothing more than a neighbour dispute, he’ll be a little peeved. His friend is aware of his skillset and wouldn’t contact him unless it required weapons and armour. He hopes.

He checks on Grogu once more, then equips himself with his usual arsenal, making sure to lock the weapons cabinet behind him. For some reason, his blasters fascinate Maia. He’s given her several shooting lessons, and she always asks to hold them whenever the cabinet’s unlocked. Although he doubts she’d handle them without his permission, he’d rather be present if she’s caressing his things.

Truthfully, he’d prefer it if she handled and caressed something else entirely, though he buries that thought for now. He has work to do, and an ill-timed hard-on would be awkward at best, if not downright perverse. He can torture himself later.

Din wraps up the problem in less than an hour. It does require his blaster, in fact, and he does have to shoot someone. Okay, it’s in the shoulder to disarm him, but the guy is only on his drunken vendetta because he’s heartbroken. He doesn’t deserve to die.

A year ago, he would’ve just shot him in the head and gone home. But he’s lived among the citizens of Nevarro for several months now, and he’s almost starting to feel like part of the community. Passing through it to visit the old covert was different. The Mandalorians were a separate (secret) colony, and he was merely a visitor who lived on his ship. Even though his new home is still on the outskirts, Grogu attends the school in town, and he already knows many of the other parents by name. These days, the market stall owners try to chat with him instead of looking away in fear as they used to.

The guy standing on a table in the cantina tonight with a blaster trained on his ex and her new flame is someone Din recognises. He can’t recall from where, but disarming rather than killing him feels like the right thing to do.

Once he has him in binders, he delivers him to Karga and hurries straight home. The lava flats are quiet and peaceful this time of night, free from the nocturnal bustle of the town and lit only by the celestial display above. There’s no sulphur fog tonight, and the air smells fresh.

But as pleasant as it is, he doesn’t dawdle. Just like every other time he’s left Maia in charge, he relishes the chance to walk into his home and see her there. As if she belongs. He finds that image far more dazzling than the constellations sparkling above him. It’s far sweeter than the fresh air he inhales through his helmet filters as he hastens toward his cabin.

He can’t pinpoint when his interest in her changed from professional to passionate. Grogu made it clear that he liked her best out of the several childminders they auditioned, so he gave her the job. At some point between then and now, he became enamoured with her.

But he can’t do anything about it.

His loyalty to his son means he can’t fuck the babysitter, so for now, Maia belongs to the kid, and Din sleeps alone.

Even though he’s had no serious relationships in the past, he imagines he’d be willing to try it with her. But since it’ll never happen, it’s not worth dwelling on. He’s noticed a few locals checking him out, so he can always approach them if he’s looking to get laid. He’s much more used to casual encounters.

But none of that stops Din from thinking his babysitter is beautiful. It doesn’t stop him from wishing he could run his hands over her welcoming body, indulge in her tender touch and heady scent, sink into her depths over and over until she’s crying out his name as they shatter together in ecstasy….

Dank farrik, he’d better quit thinking like that. He has enough trouble controlling his physical urges around her as it is. In fact, it’s starting to become a problem. He’s lost count of how many times he’s had to dash off and furtively rearrange himself so his stomach padding hides his boner. He can’t wear the flight suits with the tight pants around her anymore, so the looser-fitting ones are getting much more use. In fact, he’s wearing his last pair. (That reminds him: he needs to do laundry tomorrow.)

Maia teases him whenever she can, but it’s always friendly, not flirty, and it doesn’t come close to being sexual. He’s never caught her looking anywhere other than directly at his visor. Still, he can’t help feeling embarrassed whenever something she says or does causes his cock to harden. He simply can’t control it.

Din reaches the cabin and punches in the door code, happy to note that his guest has locked it from inside. Her diligence and attention to detail certainly helped him trust her in his home from the outset of her employment.

Stepping across the threshold, he notices all the lights are out except for the one above the kitchen sink, which is unusual. Stranger still, all it illuminates is a near-full cup of water standing in a pool of condensation.

Nonetheless, it’s bright enough for him to survey the rest of the room cast in shadowed shades of grey.

He can’t see Maia.

Instantly, his heart rate rises, although he doesn’t panic. She’s probably just in the refresher or the kid’s bedroom with him. But the amount of moisture surrounding that cup shows it’s been sitting there almost as long as he was gone, which is curious. And there’s no light coming from downstairs either.

The cabin is small, with an open-plan kitchen and living space, and a staircase leading down to two bedrooms and the refresher. Din’s priority is his son, so he creeps down the ferrocrete steps, well-practised at following the route silently. With his night vision on, he can see that Grogu’s door is open a crack, and he pushes it wider. Little purring snores verify that the kid is sleeping soundly, and he slides the door fully closed to ensure he stays that way. Good.

Since his babysitter wasn’t in that room, and she wouldn’t invade his private space without permission, there’s only one other option. He bypasses his own bedroom opposite Grogu’s and heads to the door facing him – the refresher. He can’t pick up any sounds from within, but he’s not about to invade her privacy by listening too intently. The door is fully shut, but there’s a faint glow through the ventilation grill at the bottom, too weak to be the usual lights. A glowrod?

That’s rather odd. He’s grateful that Maia avoided putting on the hall lights while Grogu’s door was ajar, but she could’ve switched on the refresher lights once inside.

For an unsettling moment, Din isn’t sure how to proceed. He really doesn’t want to interrupt her if she’s busy. But… his instincts are telling him something is off, and he wants to know she’s okay.

He’ll give her a little longer. He’d rather be cautious than a perv.

He retreats upstairs again, conducting a thorough check of the living space and kitchen but finding nothing abnormal or suspicious. Nothing besides that abandoned cup of water, at least. Next comes his nightly check of the cabin’s weak points – the windows and entryway. He secures them all, figuring he can escort Maia out when she’s ready. Tipping away the water, he runs a fresh cup, turns his back to the stairs to lift his helmet and drink, and refills it. Finally, he disarms himself of most of his weapons, leaving one blaster in its holster and his vibroblade in his boot. He likes to bring some of his usual arsenal downstairs with him, even though he has multiple spares in a secure cabinet near his bed.

Which is where he’s headed now. Din sets the drink on his nightstand, switches off his night vision, and switches on the dim bedside light. His guest has seen him armourless a few times before, so he begins removing his beskar and the rest of his kit. He’s almost finished – just his armourweave stomach padding to go – when he hears a thump from the refresher.

In seconds, he’s outside it again, listening intently for any further clues. He’s been in the business of handling unconscious bodies for decades, and that sounded like an unconscious body.

“Maia?” he tries, keeping his voice low to ensure he won’t disturb the kid.

Nothing.

He knocks gently, giving it a few moments.

Still nothing.

Okay, now he’s really starting to worry. He returns to his bedroom, grabs his vambrace, and flicks through his visual settings until he’s replaced his night vision with the thermal overlay. He hopes he isn’t crossing a line here, but what else can he do? Walking to his doorway, he takes a deep breath… and directs his visor at the refresher.

Dank farrik, she’s on the fucking floor. Why didn’t he check sooner?

Jabbing off the thermal overlay, Din throws his vambrace on the bed, then rushes to the refresher door. He keeps his voice low in case he wakes Grogu, hoping it reaches her anyway. “Maia, I don’t know if you can hear me, but I hope you’re decent because I’m coming in.”

He gives her five torturous seconds to respond or get decent if she isn’t already, and then he keys in the override code. The door slides open, revealing his unconscious (but blessedly fully clothed) babysitter slumped near the toilet, lit by a glowrod on the floor next to her. He can now hear her breathing heavily, though it doesn’t sound laboured, just a deep state of sleep.

His helmet isn’t sealed, so straight away, he’s able to detect the lingering smell of vomit. A somewhat grim consequence of being both a bounty hunter and a father means Din can also distinguish types of vomit. Although she has flushed, there’s no air filtration with the lights off, and the residual odour tells him that Maia has been drinking alcohol.

It also explains her unconscious state, so his worry dissipates a little, and mild annoyance starts to creep in.

She agreed to look after his son when she’d been drinking?

He kneels down next to her, laying a hand on her shoulder. “Maia. Wake up.” He shakes her, but she doesn’t stir.

He assumes she slipped from a propped-up position against the toilet, and the thud he heard was her slumping onto the ferrocrete floor. Did she bang her head? If that didn’t wake her… shit.

He tries shaking her again with as much force as he dares, and she groans and curls up even more. She’s fighting it, but he sees consciousness sluggishly returning.

“Maia, it’s Din. Can you sit up?”

“… y’can’t make me sing for the cup….” She’s still half asleep and confused, but that’s not surprising. A few seconds later, she cracks open her eyes, becomes aware of her situation, and slams them shut again. “Oh… fuuuck… no no, m’sorry… so so so s-sorry… please don’t be mad at meee….” She’s tearful and rambling but mostly coherent, even though she’s still curled on the floor with her eyes squeezed closed.

“What happened?” He can’t think of anything else to say until he’s established her culpability. He knows she wouldn’t drink on the job, so she must’ve been drinking earlier this evening. It certainly explains her overzealous response on the comlink. Dank farrik, he should’ve realised. But, no, he was busy revelling in his own drunken high from her joke about it being a booty call. Idiot.

“It was accidet— ac-ci-den-tal,” she continues from her foetal position. “Tried to call you back, but m’comlink’s busted… figured better I’m here drunk than not at all… ’m sorry sorry sorry, kark, pleeease don’t hate me. I jus’ wanted to make sure the li’l man was okay. I didn’t realise how much I’d had till I stood up, n’ it hit me worse on the way over. But Grogu’s fine, I checked. But I’ve grossed up your ’fresher, ’m sorry…”

Din sighs. In the scheme of things, Maia did the right thing. He’d rather she was here puking in his refresher than risk his child waking up alone. And it occurs to him that she achieved a surprising amount while seemingly drunk as a pirate. She secured the cabin, poured herself some water, stomached a few sips, managed to descend the stairs unscathed, and checked on the kid. Then she sealed herself inside the refresher and threw up neatly into the toilet bowl with no spills, even managing to flush before she passed out. And she did all that by the light of a glowrod so she wouldn’t wake Grogu.

In many ways, his babysitter’s actions tonight were more responsible than some of his own questionable choices regarding his son’s safety. He can’t be mad at her.

He tells her so. “I’m not mad, Maia. Thank you for coming over anyway. Can you sit up? I need to know you’re okay.”

Her eyes are still clamped shut, but she cracks them slightly as she tries to push herself off the floor. It doesn’t go well, so Din reaches forward to help, and together, they get her into a stable sitting position. Nevarro’s volcanic environment means the basement maintains a cosy warmth, so he’s not surprised she passed out down here. It’s not exactly soft, but those who grow up in the Outer Rim spend their lives making do. He likes that she’s a survivor. Like him.

“Everything’s s-spinning,” she groans. “N’ my mouth tastes like bantha balls.”

Din suppresses a snort. “Hold on.” He climbs to his feet, retrieves the cup of water from his bedroom, and then passes it to her. “Here, sip.”

After she’s taken a few delicate sips, Maia gives him back the cup. “Don’t wanna puke again.”

“You won’t,” he assures, placing it in her hands again. “Pretty sure you got all the alcohol out of your system already. You gotta rehydrate, or you’ll feel worse.”

Kneeling down next to her again, he watches her try to follow his instruction, pleased she trusts him. He can’t help but admire how adorably dishevelled she is. Her hair is mussed, her clothes are wrinkled, and she keeps pouting between sips… but it’s all so… cute.

Once she’s had half the cup, he accepts it back, though she follows it up with more apologies. “M’so sorry… , m’such a karkin’ idiot… I get it if you don’t want me to look after Grogu anym—”

“Stop,” Din interrupts sharply, unwilling to let her beat herself up. “This is as much on me as it is on you. I didn’t ask you if you were busy. I demanded you come over and bribed you with extra credits. I didn’t question why you sounded different on the comlink. And I didn’t wait for you to arrive. If I’d done any of those things differently, you might not have ended up on my ’fresher floor. So I’m sorry too.” Maia doesn’t reply besides blinking at him a few times, so he asks, “What was the occasion? For the drinking, I mean.”

“One year of freedom from a terrible relationship,” she states resolutely, and for a moment, she seems a little more sober. “Me n’ Zandi, we were both in deep with some mudscuffers who locked us in when we were too young to know any better. But we got lucky. Marshal Dune caught them dealing spice, and now they’re spending a decade mining the asteroid field at the edge of the system. The Nevarran tribunal sentenced them a year ago today, so we drank to celebrate our freedom.”

Din doesn’t really know how to respond. She’s made some previous passing remarks about the toxic relationships she and her friend escaped from, which he’s always taken as hints of her wish to remain unattached. It’s yet another reason he wouldn’t feel right about making any sort of move on her. He settles on, “You… deserve to celebrate.”

“Thanks, Shiny.” He bristles at the nickname out of habit, but he secretly likes that Maia has numerous nicknames for him. “N’ you deserve a ’fresher without a woman on the floor. I should get outta your way, Beskar Boy.”

She tries pushing herself up but instantly becomes dizzy and topples to the side. Din’s naturally quick reflexes kick in, and he positions himself to catch her, letting her fall into his chest as his arm snakes around her back. Before he can even process what he’s doing, he’s slipping his other arm beneath her knees and lifting her up.

“Whoa!” she exclaims, grabbing onto his flight suit with one hand while the other flies to grasp his neck. He almost shivers from feeling her clutch at him so keenly. “I don’t know what’s happening, but I love it! Thanks for the lift, muscles!”

He’s glad his bold move has amused rather than perturbed her, so he doesn’t answer, too busy willing his cock to remain unreactive to this sudden closeness. His main goal is to get her off the ferrocrete floor and put her down somewhere softer as fast as possible. As he elbows open the door and navigates out of the refresher, he makes a split-second decision. His bed is closer than the couch.

“Shiny! This is your bedroom!” Maia whisper-shouts as he steps through the door. At least she’s lucid enough to keep her voice low in case Grogu hears across the hall.

Din grunts in agreement as he approaches his bed and starts carefully lowering her onto it.

She keeps going in a gleeful whisper. “Is this…? Are we…? Kriff, I never thought I’d actually end up in your bed, metal man! I mean, it’s been a dream, sure, but I figured your creed thing meant, like, no sex or whatever. But holy frotz, I guess tonight really was a booty call! Count me the fuck in!”

He’s already laid her down by the time he fully processes her words.

Dank farrik, he’s a fucking idiot.

He will never have sex with any woman in this state. He’s not that kind of guy. The fact that being with Maia is a dream for him too is meaningless, and so is the possibility that she might actually want him. Because does she really? Maybe this is still the alcohol talking. It has to be. Right?

It doesn’t even matter. All Din needs to do is extract himself from this situation in the least awkward way possible and without having to reject her verbally.

But how?

He points a finger at her. “Stay put.” She bites her bottom lip and acknowledges his order with a sloppy salute.

Damn it, the image of her lip caught between her teeth is now burned into his brain, haunting him with forbidden promise.

He pads back to the refresher in his socks and closes the door, relieving himself, flushing, and then pouring some cleaner down the toilet to sit overnight. He then washes up at the sink as fast as possible and refills the cup of water. Returning to his bedroom, Din places the cup on the nightstand along with the glowrod that belongs to his guest.

Speaking of whom…

In his brief absence, Maia has toed off her shoes, stripped naked and strewn her clothes across the floor, and burrowed under his covers. She’s still bleary from the booze, but he sees fire and lust behind her hopeful gaze as she blinks up at him.

It kills him.

He remembers he never finished removing his armour, so he retrieves the vambrace from where he threw it and places it on its shelf. Then he finally removes his stomach padding and puts that away too, directing his visor anywhere except at the naked woman in his bed. He’s doing everything possible to deny the physical reaction her presence is giving rise to.

When he’s done, Din approaches the bed again, acutely aware that she’s tracking him with a hunger he shares but can do nothing about.

Fuck, this is torture. The blanket has slipped down (or maybe Maia has arranged it) so low that it’s daringly close to exposing her nipples. She’s right there, waiting for him. Wanting him.

But she’s drunk. And she’s his kid’s babysitter. He tries to quell his ache by thinking about how she’s thrown up this evening, which would make kissing gross. It helps for a second, although the idea of kissing her at all ends up eclipsing the negatives, and he hardens even more.

Shit, he cannot think about kissing her. Or how naked she is. Or anything like that. Vomit. He should focus on vomit.

Okay. Din taps off the bedside light and picks up the glowrod, then heads to the door in the dark, stumbling over her clothes strewn on the floor. He can’t activate his helmet’s night vision without his vambrace control, but he won’t put it back on just to navigate his escape. Nor will he switch on the glowrod yet because he doesn’t want to see any dismay or regret in her eyes as he leaves her. He wants to remember the hunger he witnessed there.

Hazardous garments notwithstanding, he finds his way to the exit.

Crossing the darkened doorway’s threshold, he whispers, “Get some rest, Maia.” Then he fumbles for the control and taps the door close button, releasing a sigh as it swishes shut behind him.

Switching on the dim glowrod, he traipses upstairs. It’s going to be so kriffing awkward in the morning. Nonetheless, one thought keeps repeating itself to him above all others, one he can no longer prevent his dick from swelling at the prospect of.

Is she really attracted to him?

He has to know.

Din extracts another blaster from his cabinet, knowing he won’t sleep without one beside him. Then he sits heavily on the couch, thinking about how often he used to sleep in his helmet before this cabin became his home. It’s the first place he’s felt secure enough to remove it at night, so he’s no stranger to sleeping beneath his beskar mask. It’s almost a comfort in a way.

With his face covered in a darkened room lit by nothing but a glowrod while those he cares for slumber downstairs, more memories return…

Sitting in the Crest’s darkened cockpit, fucking his fist by the swirling glow of hyperspace, chasing a release during those first stressful days as a fugitive. In theory, if something had pulled him out of hyperspace, someone could’ve quite literally caught him with his dick in his hand. But the odds of anyone being close enough to peer in through the transparisteel at that very moment and notice his furtive actions were slim. Back then, he was so untethered that in his weaker moments, he desperately sought anything that made him feel good. Fleeting moments when he could pretend his life wasn’t falling apart yet again. The risk was worth it.

Here, too, although he’s locked up the cabin and closed the shutters, there’s a risk of Maia sneaking up the stairs and finding him. But a similar desperation fills him now – the utter frustration of loss. Back then, it was the loss of a stable income, the loss of his covert. Now, it’s his missed chance – the loss of what could’ve been with the woman downstairs. And maybe even the total loss of her in his life. Perhaps she’ll be too embarrassed about this evening’s events and quit. Din couldn’t take that, nor could Grogu. It’s why he tried to avoid this.

Can they get past this? Maybe he ought to find someone else to care for the kid. Would that be best? This is getting too complicated. He doesn’t want to think about it anymore.

So, right now, he’ll imagine the positive and lose himself in the fantasy, just like he used to. He’ll think about the hunger he saw in her eyes and let himself believe it wasn’t merely the alcohol. Just for tonight, he’ll believe it’s the truth. The risk, once again, is worth it.

He’s already tenting his loose flight suit pants, so he fumbles to expose himself and relaxes against the couch cushions behind him. The wet spot on his underwear displays just how profoundly turned on he is simply by the idea of being with Maia.

After all the temptation it’s endured this evening, his cock is extra sensitive, so he begins with measured, lazy strokes. Whilst he’d love to revel in the fantasy, he knows he won’t last long. As he imagines joining her in his bed, filling his palms with those half-exposed breasts he saw, pressing his naked body against her, his movements begin to speed up and his pressure increases. Very soon, he’s plummeting toward the edge of ecstasy like a podracer pilot with the finish line in sight.

His helmet tips back to stare at the ceiling as he pictures how it would feel to sink into her warm depths, and the notion ignites his fuse, burning rapidly. It only takes a few more strokes before the powder keg within him explodes into a million tiny raptures. His hips stutter, his muscles clench, and his orgasm tears through his body. He comes hard, and a fractured groan far louder than he’d intended escapes through the modulator as he spills forth his pleasure…

Fucking. Bliss.

Din’s mind is blank for some time, just a sense of fulfilment and contentment gently rippling throughout his relaxed form.

As the real world filters back in, he’s able to think clearly, and he now knows what he has to do. He doesn’t like it, but it’s the mature and sensible option. It’s also a fucking daunting prospect, but he’s faced worse. Has he? Yes, he has. He can do it. 

He tucks himself away and finds a cloth to wipe down the mess on his flight suit. That task makes him realise he’ll have to sneak into his bedroom tomorrow without waking Maia to grab his armour and some fresh clothes. And now he really needs to do laundry tomorrow. The only pants he has left are the tighter ones, which he tries to avoid wearing around her. Great, there’s another reason to dread the morning. Although it’s not as if he’s ever caught her checking out his package – she may tease him verbally, but her gaze is always polite.

For now, he’ll enjoy the security of darkness and the lingering swirl of happy chemicals in his brain.

Din lays down on the couch and switches off the glowrod. With a deep sigh, he surrenders to the relaxing state of comfort brought on by his orgasm, letting himself fall into a contented sleep. Before he drifts off, his last thought is of Maia’s beautiful lips… leaning in for a kiss….

If only.

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Part 2 →

Those of you who've read my work before will be familiar with my copious end notes:

As usual, it’s British spellings I’m afraid. Demographic stats say about 60% of you are American, but I can’t help where I was born, so sorry about all the extra ‘u’s and ‘l’s and for using ‘s’ where you would expect ‘z’. However, I’ve channelled my inner linguist and used American language and speech patterns since the show is filmed in the US and Din’s accent is American. All other wording is internationally neutral, including Maia’s dialogue (since the next chapter is written from her POV and I’ll be switching to second person reader insert for that, e.g. you/your pronouns). I’m a little sad I didn’t get to include any Mando’a linguistics in this fic tbh. Maybe another time.

The cabin’s layout is inspired by the concept art by Christian Alzmann that appeared in the closing credits of s3e8, in which there appears to be a staircase leading down to a lower level. That makes sense to me, as Din would need total security to sleep without his armour on, and a windowless underground room seemed appropriate. I also like the parallel that on the Razor Crest he used to sleep on the lower level in a windowless room too.

I know Carl’s absence is going to be felt when we finally get the movie, so I wanted to write something where Karga is still around. If this had been a longer piece, I would’ve had him actually featuring in it instead of being in the background, but in any case, Karga lives forever in the universes I write.

The reference to Din wearing looser pants is, weirdly, Canon. One of the ways you can tell it’s Brendan Wayne in the suit is because he seems to prefer these weird baggy clown pants. Contrast to Pedro who likes them tight (Din Peña?), as does Lateef Crowder, and as did Barry Lowin in season 2. Since Brendan did the majority of season 3, we saw Din in the loose-fitting style a lot more, so I decided to write in a reason for that beyond actor preference.

Though we have no information on Nevarro’s judiciary system, they’re an independent world who have a marshal and a magistrate, so my guess is they’d adopt the New Republic’s system of having a tribunal. Generally, group decision-making is favoured during this era, in contrast to the single-judge system of the Imperial era, so it seems more likely that Karga would encourage citizens to serve on a tribunal rather than unilaterally passing judgments himself.

Apologies to @the-mandawhor1an for using the name of your longtime established OC – it was coincidental, I promise! I chose it after looking up the most common female names in the world, one of which is Maria, and I settled on the variant Maia because it sounded like a more Star Wars-y version (and for another reason which you’ll see in part 2). I only realised when you reblogged my WIP Wednesday snippet, and it was a bit late to change it by then. I guess it’s a common name in the SWU too! But I’m sorry and I hope you don’t feel like I’m muscling in on your domain. Your Maia is of course the original Maia 💖

I made the GIF myself. Sorry it’s a bit blurry, I’m not very good at making them yet. I tried to use Tumblr’s GIF-making function, but it wouldn’t let me crop out Grogu’s ears, so this was my alternative attempt. It’ll have to do.

Definitions: Comlinks are those little cylinder comms they all use. Glowrod is a catch-all term for anything portable that produces light. All the swears/insults (stinking stang, frotz, borked, kriff, kark) are from the Legends list of phrases and slang this time (it’s longer than Canon). Nevarran reptavians are the ones that Grogu saved Karga from in s1e7 and that the Mandalorians were roasting in s3e7. Ferrocrete is a compound building material (Canon and Legends) made from concrete and iron, used in roads, reinforced bunkers and building foundations. I figured Din would only be happy with something strong and defensible, so Karga had the cabin built with it. Transparisteel is used for windows and ship viewports, as well as helmet visors.

Part 2 is written and will be uploaded next weekend once proofing/editing is complete. What do we think? Is Din gonna be dumb and tell her she can’t babysit Grogu anymore? Deny himself what he wants for Maia’s own good?

Tags requested…

@aheadfullofsteverogers @alltheotps @axolotllover225 @burntheedges @copperhalfcent

@foomoosworld @jude77 @secretelephanttattoo @stagerightlauren @the-mandawhor1an

Those tagged below showed interest in my masterlist and WIP snippets (comments/reblogs), so I thought I’d sneak in some extra tags. Apologies if it’s too forward, if you’d prefer I didn’t tag you in part 2 just let me know…

@604to647 @cheekychaos28 @djarinmuse @gingerlurk

@joelalorian @kyberblade @readingupsidedown @sunflowersunlight7-blog

@thefrogdalorian @whataenginerd @wrathkitty

[starlightandfairies]

Helloooo :) i hope you’re having a wonderful day or night! Or just both lol. Anyways, is it okay if I ask for a Klaus Mikaelson x Female reader one-shot? For me, I don’t like where the reader just falls in love with him so quickly, despite everything he has done. I was thinking of something with fluff and he has to work for her love? So basically, reader has been friends with Elena, Bonnie, and Caroline since childhood, but she’s still human. And she hates Klaus for what he has done to her friends and family, but despite everything he has done he hasn’t don’t anything to harm her physically in any way. (Hint hint, cause it means he likes her lol). And because of this, he tries to show he genuinely cares about her. It takes her a long while to eventually warm up to him.

Sorry, this is a lot -_-…uh, and not very detailed lol. I wanted to leave it up to your imagination, but totally fine if you can’t cause writers block and other things. Anyway, an idea: maybe reader gets saved by Klaus and he admits he likes her but she kinda plays hard to get. of course, she can’t help but to be flattered by his accent, his flattery, his looks, etc. And because she is human, being tortured or just kidnapped by supernatural beings is genuinely terrifying and he comforts her? I hope this is all okay! Of course you can change or add whatever you’d like. I love Klaus so much, and I love your writing!

Description: If the great Niklaus Mikaelson wants to become closer to the reader then he would have to push through thick and thin to do so.

Warnings: she/her pronouns, fluff, swearing

*Requests are open, please send through as many requests as you want, check my character list and requesting rules.*

Thank you for requesting this! I hope you enjoy it! I really tried my best to show this eventual bonding that is more realistic, while also not rambling on for a story length.

Key: Y/N = Your Name, L/N = Last name, POV = Point of view, F/fs = favourite flowers

Word Count: 1, 915

First Person's POV 

Niklaus Mikaelson drove me insane, I do not understand how he thought he could follow me around, begging for my interest like he hasn't done anything wrong to those around him. The great Klaus Mikaelson was many things but he wasn't the type of man I would bend over backwards to show that their past didn't matter. I won't lie, there were times when it was hard to really show my distaste for the Hybrid due to that accent, his looks and his charisma but I do like to pride myself on my stubbornness and the fact that I'm not that easy to charm. 

Besides Matt, I was the only other human, sure Bonnie was in a sense human but she had her magic to protect her and I had nothing. I didn't have any of that. I was just a straight-up human who could die at any second or become permanently injured if tossed around too harshly. The girls have grown to somewhat like him and every now and again will remind me of the fact that not once has he ever tried to hurt me, not once has he ever used me as bait or tried threatening me in any way shape or form.

Bonnie, Caroline and Elena have all expressed their hatred for the man and it only fueled mine. I have no clue what it would take for me to show any sign of sympathy for the man or any sense of forgiveness considering what he's done. There were times when I even disliked Damon and Stefan for what they've done. Sure, it might be contractionary of me to like the Salvatores and not hate them like I did Klaus... but still. 

It's at least been a good two years of having the Mikaelsons in our lives. Rebekah and Elijah were tolerable. I felt for Rebekah and Elijah seemed true to his word, even if he was sometimes conflicted between his family and his morals. Klaus was 

"Hey, Y/n!" I huffed, stopping in my tracks, knowing there was no use in continuing on when he could easily Casper the ghost right in front of me. I crossed my arms over my chest, raising an eyebrow, not impressed by his persistent attitude. 

"What do you want Niklaus? 

"Well, love... I was hoping I could treat you to some dinner. Show you some of the best places. Things you couldn't possibly comprehend seeing." I rolled my eyes, shook my head, sucked my lips into a straight line and raised an eyebrow.

"Really, Niklaus? Every time it's been a no. What makes you think this will be a yes?" 

"I saw your play last night, I think you are a pretty amazing actress." I didn't believe him, I think that he's making stuff up, trying to show that he's a good guy. 

"Prove it, what happened when the actor playing Stanley threw his chair." Klaus chuckled lightly, licking his lips for a moment before he walked closer and leaned in for a moment. 

"You tripped over your own feet, fell over... you worked it into your performance, no one in that audience would've known any different. I think skill like that is pretty talented. I have seen many performers across my lifetime and not many could do that." I rocked on my feet, biting my lips and huffing for a moment. 

"You came to my performance?" I questioned my tone soft for a moment, surprised that Klaus came. The girls weren't able to due to supernatural issues happening again, I didn't want to show any sign of falling for his charm.

"Yes, I did. I don't know why you sound so surprised..." I shrugged, taking a breath, glancing away for a moment trying to remain as stoic as I could.  

"I have to go, goodbye, Klaus." I carried on my way, going back to doing what I originally planned on doing before. Tonight was the closing night of A Streetcar Named Desire the girls were meant to show but once again due to the new big bad in town, they didn't show. I stood in my dressing room, wiping off my makeup before the tears could come. I was just about to open the door before I was stopped by Klaus.

"K-Klaus... what, what are you doing here?" He handed me a bouquet of my F/fs, I took them with a small smile and stepped aside to allow him into the dressing room. 

"You got your own dressing room, that's pretty neat..." The Hybrid trailed off, glancing at the desk that was covered in tissues, I moved to clean them up but he moved in front of me before I could. 

"Why are you crying...?" 

"I'm okay Niklaus." I turned to him hearing his chuckle, I raised an eyebrow in question, how dare he laugh at me!

"I promise, I'm not laughing at you, I'm laughing at the fact that when I'm getting closer to breaking down your walls, you call me Klaus but when you realise that you're dropping your walls you go right back to calling me Niklaus." I sat back down, staring at him surprised that he picked up on something that I hadn't actively been aware of doing. 

"My friends couldn't come. They promised that they would but because of the new big bad in town... they couldn't and because I'm human-" Realising I was sharing my than I would like to Klaus, I bit my lip trying to remind myself that I couldn't get close to Klaus. 

"Let me read you something." He pulled out a newspaper, I gave him the benefit of the doubt, just for once but turned my attention to continuing to remove my makeup. 

"Y/n L/n's performance as Blanche DuBois has been spectacular on all nights of the production. In my years as a critic, I have never seen this much dedication and accuracy similar to the vision Tennessee Williams had when picturing Blanche DuBois. I admire Y/n greatly as a performer and know that she is an actress highly dedicated to perfecting her characters' mannerisms and hope that she goes far with her acting journey." I stared at Klaus surprised, I jumped to my feet, staring at Klaus with intrigue and took the paper from his hands. 

I read the words, staring at them in shock that this was actually true, the author's name is what shocked me the most. Klaus M

"You wrote this?" 

"I did." 

"And you mean it?" 

"I do." Maybe... maybe if a man who didn't know me could make the time to watch all of my performances... maybe he wasn't so bad. 

"Thank you, Klaus... it means a lot." 

It took two years, four months and 18 days for Klaus Mikaelson to get me to warm up to him, I think I deserve a trophy for just how long I've made him work to get to know me better. The truth is, I am terrified of getting killed, kidnapped or tortured by the supernatural me, I mean what if someone worse than Klaus comes into town and because I am one of the very few humans left in town I get used as collateral? 

I was walking home from the Grill, minding my own business until everything went dark and I finally came to find myself tied up in a chair, blood dripping from my nose, head and stomach. I cried out, looking around terrified of who could be hurting me and what they would do if they didn't get what they wanted. 

"Hmm, you're awake again. Try not to pass out this time... the blood loss will really be screwing with your head. I would apologise but I really don't care I just need that damn hybrid to come forward and save your ass-" 

"Who are you?" I cried out, trying my best to not show weakness but the pain in my limbs and the fear that was coming in made it impossible to think of anything but my pain. 

"Who I am isn't important, I tried to keep your face pretty but you know." The unknown figure shrugs, leaning in closer and grabbing my face in his hands with a glare forming and with a snarl he reveals his fangs. I shake my head, feeling his breath on my skin and whimper feeling his fangs pierce my neck. 

It fades away swiftly, the tears cascade down my cheeks, and I stare in shock seeing Klaus standing there and dropping the man's heart onto the floor. Within an instant I was in his arms, I grabbed onto his shirt letting out a sob and whimpering as the pain seemed to increase. 

"Shh, love, it's okay... you're gonna be okay. I've got you." Klaus reassured, biting into his wrist, he gestures to his wrist and I slowly suck on his wrist. 

"I won't let anything happen to you, love. I am very fond of you, I will not let anything happen before I can tell you just how fond I am of you." I stared in fascination as my body healed instantly, it always surprised me and always made me curious to realise how lucky these supernatural beings were. 

"Please, please don't let them hurt me. Don't let them get to me." 

"It's okay, love. I've got you." 

"I'm so scared, every day, I'm scared that I'm going to be kidnapped or tortured... being human, I know I'm nothing compared-"

"I won't let that happen. Love, I won't let anyone hurt you, not again. I swear to you." He hummed lightly, rocking me in his arms and whispered over and over again kind and soothing words. I decided to bring it back to his starting words, once I felt okay and able to move on from what just happened. 

"You're fond of me? Nothing new-" I stated, with a shrug, biting back the smile I wanted to show, Klaus chuckled and helped me to my feet. I stared at him, surely making a weird expression as I hid my emotions. 

"I am fond of you, I like you, quite a bit and I want you to know, love I will do anything to keep you safe. Even if you hate me for the rest of eternity, I will do what I can to keep you safe." My heart skipped a beat, it made me feel special knowing that someone cared for me that much, I nodded and sucked in a breath gradually letting a smile come through. 

"Thank you for saving me... "

"You're welcome, love. Love, I hope you know how gorgeous you are." I blushed, scrunching my face up as his normal charm got to me more than normal. 

"Flattery only gets you so far." 

"Yet, it got me to becoming closer to you." I shrugged, smirking for a moment and sucked in a deep breath. I grabbed his hand, smiling happily and tried my best to not focus in on the blood on my clothes, his clothes and the floor from the attacker. 

"Well, then, perhaps I'll let you in closer." 

[yanderes-galore]

here's a Mauga request <3 Could you do a short of him with a darling who's a soldier of overwatch? I just love the idea of him having something he wants being out of his reach but he keeps getting teasing glimpses of it on the battle field. Thanks in advanced!

Imagine just trying to do your job, only for Talon's infamous tank to take interest...

Treat

Yandere! Mauga Short

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Stalking, Possessive behavior, Violence, Blood, Licking of blood, Implied forced "relationship".

You're such a tease to him... like a dog to meat.

It's so difficult for Mauga to not just pounce on you any chance he gets. You're just so small compared to him. Despite that, you're so agile in your field that you can take on big targets....

It irritates him that you have to look to tantalizing... but be with Overwatch.

He scoffs, Overwatch.... That team should've been long extinct ever since what happened with Blackwatch. But, no, instead they're back up and running due to Talon and Null Sector.

You're a new agent for the hero team, already making your presence known to the world. People see you and the rest of Overwatch as heroes. Mauga always sees you on TV... always sees you in the battlefield...

But he never gets a damn taste.

He bets you don't even know how much you tempt him. He already knows as part of Overwatch you hate his guts. You know all about him due to his files.

That's fine... He's done his own research.

He remembers the first time you fought. You ran circles around him due to your smaller figure. He could easily pick you up from the ground... but he's always been one for a little fun.

You had attempted to run past him to save some civilians, but Mauga quickly blocked your way. He found how desperate you were adorable. It was so satisfying to have you trapped in his arms, cornered like prey before him. He really wanted to continue playing such games... yet he got orders to head back to base.

He was irritated the whole day after that.

Now, ever since your close encounter, Mauga has craved you. He wants to corner you again. He wants to hold you and never let go. He's real damn tired of being teased by you.

Your luck was bound to run out....

It was yet another mission and Mauga knew you'd be there. He was adamant on going there, claiming to Talon they needed his guns. Mauga may like to play games... but he's getting tired.

You stroll through the battlefield, taking down Talon agents whenever you can. You expect it to be an easy mission. Just storm some known Talon territory, track down a base of operations... You even got in the base and was doing some decent damage.

Only for you to hear heavy footsteps.

"Talofa! Been awhile, hasn't it?" Mauga chuckles, his large frame stalking close to you. You gasp, holding up your weapon with a glare. You... can't afford to fight him like this.

You're too close.

"Aww... is the little mouse scared of the big bad cat?" Mauga muses, seeing the way your weapon trembles in your grasp. "You shouldn't be so scared... I missed our time together! You telling me you don't feel the same, teuila?"

You back up, but Mauga is quick to close the distance. You let off a few shots but Mauga just laughs. He's experienced much worse....

"Don't you want to take me in? Take me down like Overwatch said you should?" Mauga laughs, smacking the assault rifle out of your hands with one of his large chain guns, "Don't start fights you can't finish, love!"

You yelp when Mauga knocks you to the ground with ease. Oh, to him it's so satisfying to finally have you. He's been waiting too damn long, he always gets what he wants.

He's tired of you being just out of his reach.

"Are you trying to be a little carrot on the stick for me, dear?" Mauga muses, tossing his guns to the side momentarily to pin you to a nearby wall with ease. "You're so cruel...."

You struggle against his tight grip, yet his grip doesn't allow much room to move. Mauga merely chuckles, gripping your sides. His gaze travels up and down your form, a grin on his face.

"Ohh... Someone's bleeding." Mauga hums, using a thick finger to wipe the top of your head. It appears he was too harsh... you're fragile.

You watch as Mauga admires the slick red liquid on his finger. He glances at you with a dark gaze before licking the digit clean with a smirk. You grimace when he hums in pleasure.

"You taste good... like a treat...." Mauga hums, "Always knew you'd taste sweet...."

"Please! Please, let me go... I won't say a word...!" You plead, which makes Mauga howl in laughter.

"What...? Scared because your intel said nothing about me? That I wasn't meant to be here..." Mauga sighs, squeezing you in his grip. He looks irritated for a moment before responding again.

"I had a friend tell me all about you. I've been hunting you, teuila..." Mauga admits, using a hand to tilt your head up.

You struggle against the grip on your chin, yet Mauga prevents you from pulling back by holding the back of your head. As of now... you're a ragdoll in his arms. Weak, pliable...

Prey.

"You still think I'm going to let you go?" Mauga chuckles, seeing the desperate look in your eyes. "Well... Maybe... Maybe I will... but, for now..."

Mauga pulls you closer, lips ghosting over your own. Your breath hitches in fear... which only makes Mauga more eager. He's wanted this.

He's wanted you for so long...

"For now, won't you allow me more of a taste...? Then... maybe I'll let you go...."

He isn't going to let you go regardless of what you do... not when he finally has you to himself.

[milf-murdock]

Heyyy been reading your fics since you were writing for matt murdock🥹🤭 idl if you take requests or not but if you dont just ignore this!!🌸

Can you write smthng for reader with asthma? With simon riley or john price☹️🫶🏻 plss

Sweet Anon!!! 🥺 My oh my, you have been here a while!! Your support means the world to me 🫶 I absolutely loved this request! I am a sucker for a sweet Simon and injured reader. I apologize in advance for any inaccuracies though. I don't know too much of what an asthma attack feels like, but I did my best. If anyone has any constructive criticism, my inbox is open and I'm willing to make adjustments to make it more accurate. I hope you enjoy, sweet nonny!!

Asthma Attack - Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

TW: Asthma Attack, potential medical inaccuracies, protective Simon should come with his own warning

“Just one more block,” you thought to yourself, focusing on the steady rhythm of your shoes hitting the pavement. The familiar tightening in your chest set in about two blocks ago, and you struggled to keep your breathing steady. It had been a minute since you’d had a flair up, and you silently cursed yourself for not bringing along your inhaler. You should’ve known better. 

Simon easily kept up pace beside you. He enjoyed joining you on your jogs—the exercise light and refreshing in comparison to the type of intense training he was used to. He didn’t really gain much from the easy workout, but the peace of mind that came with knowing you were safe every step of the way more than made up for it. 

As your flat came into view up ahead, your breathing became more labored, a slight wheeze tinging each breath. Simon shot a concerned look your way. 

“You ‘lright,  love?” Simon’s deep voice cut through your growing panic, grounding you as you barely made it to the steps of your flat. 

You collapsed on the steps, your hand coming up to press against your chest as you struggled to get down air. 

“I can’t—“ 

“I don’t—“ 

“Simon—“

You struggled to get out a full sentence through your choppy breaths, your chest rising and falling at a rapid pace. You were borderline hyperventilating now, and breaths only became harder to manage. 

“Fuck,” Simon murmured to himself as realization dawned on him. A wave of panic shot through him: you were having an asthma attack. He inwardly began cursing himself for not recognizing the tell-tale signs sooner. He should’ve seen the signs. He should’ve stepped in sooner. 

Simon stopped himself, forcing himself to tamp down on his fear and let his tactical instincts taking over. 

Assess the situation. 

Simon knelt down to your level, pressing two fingers to the pulse point on your neck. “Alright love, I need you to try to take a slow, deep breath,” he coached, nodding to himself as he mentally took note of your elevated heart rate. “You’re gonna be okay.” 

Make a plan. 

Sliding one arm under your knees and one under your arms, he pulled you up to his chest from the stairs.  Your arms wrap around his neck and you try to force yourself to slow your breathing and control the panic. You focus on breathing in the familiar scent of Simon, the faint notes of oak and gunpowder mingling with the salt of his sweat. 

Simon makes quick work of the steps, managing to unlock the flat one handed before stepping inside. “Where’s your inhaler, darling?” He asked as he gently set you down on the sofa, making sure you’re in an upright position. His voice was calm, but his eyes betrayed the panic beneath the surface. 

“Kitchen,” you manage to gasp out, tears stinging your eyes as you feel your attack getting worse. 

Simon’s back in seconds, shaking the inhaler before ripping the cap off and bringing the plastic cylinder your lips. “Okay, breathe in, sweet girl,” he coaches, pressing down on the canister. You do as your told, pressing your eyes shut as the first hit settles into your lungs. 

“Hold your breath. 1…2…3..4…5. Okay, again,” Simon gave the inhaler another shake before administering a second dose, counting down again.

“Good job, love, keep breathing. Slow, deep breaths, just like that.” The sense of urgency was slowly fading from his tone as he watched your breaths ease up. He pressed another two fingers to your jawline, checking your pulse. 

“Atta girl, give me one more for good measure,” another shake and puff following up the last hit. You finally felt relief as your airways started to expand, taking in full breaths, trying to follow the deep breaths Simon was modeling for you. 

Simon raised a hand to push back a stray strand of hair, tucking it behind your ear. Your entire body was shaking in the aftermaths of your attack. 

“Thank you,” you muttered breathlessly. Your chest was aching and you felt such pure exhaustion sweep over you as the adrenaline slowly left your body. 

Sensing that the emergency was over, Simon gingerly pulled you to his chest. You couldn’t help but notice how fast his heart was beating under the soft fabric of his hoodie. 

“Fucking hell, sweetheart, you scared the shit out of me for a moment there,” he murmured, pressing his lips to the top of your head. “You alright, then?” He pulled back, his attentive gaze raking over your body, conducting his own assessment. 

“‘M’okay,” you whispered, suddenly feeling like even carrying on a conversation was too much. 

With a nod, Simon took the hint, pulling you back into his arms once more. A strong hand rubbed up and down your back, the motion soothing you. “Let’s take a rest then, yeah? Eventful morning.” The subtle nod of your head against his chest gave him all the approval he needed to help you up off the couch and guide you back to your shared bedroom. 

He made sure to get you settled under the fully duvet first before pulling off his hoodie and crawling in on the opposite side. 

“Come on, have a proper cuddle,” he coaxed, pulling you to rest against his bare chest. Exhaustion swept over you, and you struggled to keep your eyes open as  the steady beat of his heart brought a sense of comfort and familiarity. 

“Thank you, Si,”  you breathe out. “Thank you.” 

“O’ course, darling. S’what I’m here for.” Simon held you a little tighter, thanking every lucky star out there that he was here for you and that you were okay. He’d always make sure you’re okay.  

[the-nysh]

Hi there!! I just saw your tags on the Vash marksman appreciation post and I really REALLY gotta know your thoughts on the fight choreography bc while I did martial arts as a kid I don’t remember everything and just extremely curious!! Wanna appreciate the thoughts put behind making this boyo!!

👀👀!!! Yes, hello! (Note: I'm also about 10yrs rusty out of practice in hapkido--a Korean defensive art that combines many styles from judo/aikido/etc, so while I may not remember all the formal terms and stuff, I can still SEE the very real and very sexy close combat choreography + randori/grapples/ground work they're smoothly throwing in there!) I've briefly tag-ranted on some former gifs I've reblogged here & here but OK, I can indulge into a little more detail! :D

Let's start with this gif, which is such a nice introductory tease!

The point-blank bullet dodging is some of that sick looking 'rule of cool' inhuman spice, but oh what's this?? 👀 The other dude is dumbly holding his arm out (non-defensively, since if that guy were smart about close fighting, he'd have his other hand up at the ready too) right in Vash's personal space, ripe for the taking - to which OH YES he easily blocks with the prosthetic arm and transitions right into a throw for the takedown. Where he shoves the fool over his shoulder with a lot more power (which is hard to do, esp from a standing position without a solid grip on any lapels either; woo he just goes right in for it), rather than using the dude's own momentum against him, since the guy's literally just standing there (as a stationary weight) rather than trying to punch him in a brawl. But LOOK what else Vash does!!! His block with the prosthetic becomes a grip that both holds/pulls onto the guy's arm during the throw and disarms the guy - by tossing his gun away, in one swift movement! :O Not only that, but there!! We see the first quick tease of him reverse-griping his own heavy brick of a gun into a tonfa position to strike the guy at the back of the neck for a non-lethal stun!!! That is SO cool!!! ;o; Some galaxy-brained application of his no-killing fighting style (using both arms + his revolver in his repertoire...oh wait, that already makes up the title's literal 3 guns *gets shot*) where it looks so fresh and seamlessly smooth af. Great stuff.

Then the Livio fight, despite him being double-armed with long-range weapons, is full of close-range gold from the way Vash tackles him, straddles him, and pins him to the floor with a (forceful!) choke to the throat (like whoa excuse me hello), but ALSO from the self-aware way Vash always has his guard up to keep both of Livio's guns out of the way at all times. D: Whether parrying bullets with his prosthetic, blocking/holding the guns away with that arm too (as shown), or even using his own gun defensively as a tonfa-shield to reinforce his blocks as well.

So then we get to THIS GIF, the same sequence that drove you insane for his smooth marksmanship tracking, drives ME insane for his immediate close-quarters holywhattheflyingshit did he just DO!?!?!?! 👀👀

LOOK AT HIM!!! Honestly it's kinda hard to see everything from how fast he goes, but I love the way he zips in there to grapple Livio off-balance, and ahh!! Look at the way Vash ducks and defensively keeps both arms up (this is SO important, because once you've trained you'll notice how in so many movies/comics' 'rule of cool' martial arts moves, they'll often have a character wildly swing their arms out to the sides to counter-balance kicks and stuff, but no--that's bad/unsafe form; bc if you're in a real fight you need to keep both arms up and ready at all times if you want to protect your core/face from getting blown off! Which just as you've noted, is something that needs to be practiced! The fact Vash has kept his unblemished pretty face for 150yrs is testament to that~) Vash knows how to simultaneously use his prosthetic AND his gun as needed--cause look at that, he swiftly holds it reversed as a tonfa again to block Livio's gun swing, which is a really cool way to use a gun as a shield to protect his own flesh arm from the incoming blows.

But that's not all, because ahaaa~ Fighting defensively is not all he's got up his sleeve! The little boxing jab he throws to Livio's face with his prosthetic arm makes me giggle, because OH YEAH that's a real thing! A type of distraction strike you pull - the same as stomping on a foot or kicking someone in the balls, to disorient your opponent off-guard first before you serve your real (offensive) move. Which in Vash's case leads up to a....O___O;;!?!? TF is THAT.

Here's where they're teasing in more of that inhuman spice again, because Vash holds Livio's guns out of the way (as usual) and revs up for a....fucking one-punch to the solar plexus at point-blank?!? D8 Whatwhatwhatwhat!!! Because that wasn't his gun's doing at all; he was still holding it defensively in that arm as a tonfa! That was his real arm's natural brute strength bitch!!! aaaahaha!!! wow I love it. The guy modestly says he's not much of a fighter but that's not trueeee at all, is it~ ;) I can SEE real proof of that otherwise and I can't wait for what else studio orange will show us to blow our minds.

*Ahem* So anyway did I ever mention how much I like the way he reverses the grip on his gun to use as a tonfa? (both defensively as a shield to protect himself and offensively to stun/strike his opponents with) For thematically how much it seamlessly works for his fighting style to never kill, for how the improvised (but practiced!) close-range practicality and versatility of it looks crazy awesome, and because damn, that shit's hot.

[prettyoatmeal]

Love to Hate Each Other (König x Fem!Reader)

Hello!! I promise I'm not dead!!! I've been super busy recently and had some writers block but I'm doing better now!! I'll be finally answering the requests I've had and upload some more from my drafts :)

CONTENT WARNING: Smut <333 Hate sex, unprotected sex, creampie, size difference, enemies to lovers, arguing, pettiness, sexual and non-sexual degrading (receiving and giving).

SUMMARY: You’d been a part of TF141 for a while now as their best sniper, however, it was recently stated that KorTac would team up with you lot for a mission. You’ve been training with him since and got that little bit of extra skill in your possession, you have the upper hand which drives König mad. You were put in charge of him as to test your leadership skills however it doesn't go as planned.

Word Count: 2926

Masterlist here!

***************

The fucking nerve of him. Would it kill him to show you just a little bit of respect? It had happened all too quickly. The way his voice boomed at you could've killed you in an instant. All you could do was think back to the argument.

...

"Can you stop shooting at me for fucking once, König?" You'd sneered at him after getting to the safe house. "I know I'm a better sniper than you but you don't need to be all petty 'bout it." "I'm sorry, maybe if you weren't snooping around and staying at your dedicated post like you were supposed to, I wouldn't have shot at you." He wanted to slam the door but knew better than to create another loud bang, "and you're not a 'better' anything than me, your ego is just too high."

"Oh, really? Then why did YOUR commander put you under my supervision for this mission, huh?"

Those words made let out him growl under his breath. He knew the truth, though he was too stubborn to admit. You had skill, but he just didn't and to give you that satisfaction.

"Forget it, just keep your whiny voice down. Don't need anyone hearing us a mile away." His accent got thicker as he hissed his words out at you. "My voice down? Really? Maybe if you hadn't given our spots away every ten minutes, we wouldn't even need to be hiding here! You ought to fix that little issue of yours.”

And that’s what set him off.

“You know what I think your issue is, little miss perfect? I think your problem is that you’re not ready to being a leader, yet they put you in charge of me anyway and you go along with it, ja?” With each word he spat out, he took a step towards you. “I am fully capable of working on my own. YOU left your post. YOU put yourself in danger. You don’t get to be an incompetent little rat then proceed to blame me for it.”

With large steps he’d leaned over you. His piercing eyes felt as if they'd stabbed you, looking down at you with anger, annoyance, disappointment through his hood. You could hear those words become unfamiliar, fuzzy, distorted. Guilt set in.

"You may be a better sniper than me, but you'll never gain that role of leader. It was a mistake they made to put you in charge of me."

König was never one to take advantage of his height with his teammates, he wasn't like this in general. He had a lot of pent up anger towards you, and by god you were scared out of your mind. But you couldn't show that. Not now, you couldn't let him know how much he frightened you. But he knew. He could easily tell. And so you just stood there with an unchanging composure, taking any of the words he'd hurled at you.

"I don't need someone to tell me what to do, and especially not someone like you. Go sleep your bitchy attitude off, I'll take first watch." And with that, he stormed away from you.

...

The bed was uncomfortable. But you weren't sure if it was the bed or if it was the tension in the room. You couldn't sleep. So you just laid there on your side, the argument rerunning itself over and over and over again in your mind. You were uneasy, on edge around him, even if his attention wasn't focused on you. Just being in the same room as him was enough. Yet you still felt petty enough to need to have the last word.

"You're an asshole." Muttering it out made your heart race, but you couldn't care any less.

The rustling of whatever he was doing stopped and after a while, you heard him let out a groan of irritation, muttering something in German under his breath.

"Will you quit it? It's over and done with. Hush up and go to sleep."

The way he'd growl at you to quit talking sent goosebumps over your body out of fear, yet you couldn't bring yourself to keep yourself quiet.

"No, I'm not going to quit." You'd said as you sat up from that uncomfortable mess called a bed. "You're an asshole. You need to hear that." You'd shot him a look of disgust as his eyes met yours from across the room. The lights were dim, but you could still see him quite clearly. You could feel as the air became thick again, the tension between you two growing once more.

"What are you expecting out of bringing it up again, Miss Perfect?" He'd shot back as his eyes glanced back to god knows what he was that he was doing, you couldn't quite make it out.

You'd yanked your legs over the edge of your so called bed, "I think you're forgetting I'm still in charge of you. I'd certainly accept an apology."

He didn't even look back up at you, it was as if he couldn't care any less.

"For what? Hurting your feelings?" He teased.

"You were extremely disrespectful and-"

"And nothing. Go back to sleep." He’d groaned, feelings of annoyance filling his system. Cutting you off just like that. But you were taking none of it.

“What is your problem with me!?" You'd stood up, making your way over to where he was sitting. Your own lips curled to a snarl, pointing fingers. "You have no reason to be so pissy with me, I've done nothing to you!"

This wasn't a common occurrence. Not for you. But he'd really ticked you off. König was being difficult, and you were too, but that didn't take away from the fact that you had no idea what he was so upset about with you. What he was REALLY upset about with you. As terrified as you may be by the hunk of the man, you weren't going to let yourself be demeaned by him.

You could see his eyes narrow at your words. His figure rose, towering over you. Your heart pounded in your chest as you felt your knees getting weak at the sight of the beastly stature leaning towards you.

"You really want to get into this, sweets?" Hands on his hips.

"I'm not going to let myself be degraded by you! Let alone someone I'm supervising."

And so you stood there, staring each other down. The tension was thick enough to cut with scissors. König, the very person you'd been training with for the past few weeks, standing over you for the very sake of intimidation. You'd almost thought he'd raise a hand at you, but you knew that he'd known better than to do such a thing. The person you'd become good acquaintances with staring down at you, seething, fury in his eyes.

"You want to know why I'm so upset?" jabbing his gloved finger at your chest, he took a step which caused you to take one back. He leaned down, making sure you'd hear every last word which escaped his mouth. "You know how much it kills someone when someone has the skills with a sniper you could only dream of? When you've been in the game for longer than you could imagine, and some little girl who's barely been in the game suddenly has the upper hand."

You couldn't believe it. Your eyes softened for a second before your expression had contorted again, taking a hold of his wrist with an iron grip and pulling it away from your chest.

"You've got to be kidding me..." you sighed, "this whole time your problem was THAT!?"

His eyes stayed focused on you with no sign of leaving.

"God, I hate you so fucking much." You snarled with a sick chuckle. This whole argument could've been avoided.

"The feelings' mutual, Schatz."

His face was so close to yours, you could practically feel his hot breath through the hood he had been wearing. Your hand was still latching onto his wrist, though your hand was starting to give in from putting all your pressure into your grasp.

You had nothing else to say, so you stayed silent. You both did, eyeing each other down to the core. It took a good while before you two had taken glances to the side where you held his wrist put. It seemed you'd both had the same idea as your grip loosened before he mirrored your wrist with his, taking your wrist into his palm. It fit perfectly. The way his hand could so easily wrap around it, taking a tight hold. It made your knees weak.

Your breathing quickened as you kept your eyes on his. The tension continued to thicken, though not just anger this time. There was something else filling the air. The feeling of that intimacy lurked around you two. It was too intimate for your liking, but you couldn't bring yourself to pull away. Your cold eyes glanced back to König's, but he wasn't looking at you anymore. No. His attention was centred on your lips. Fuck. You knew what would be coming next.

One minute, you two were ready to tear each other's heads off, the next, you two were making out. His lips against yours, hungry. Starving. Forceful, but not, both at the same time. The way his arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you closer, before he made you take some steps back enough for your calves to hit the frame of that pitiful thing you have been calling a bed.

You pulled away to catch your breath, a string of spit still connecting you two before the fabric of his masked fell to cut that string apart. He'd pushed you back as if he was in a rush, like if he was catching a train in an hour, lifting your legs so they'd wrap around his hips.

"If you really hated me, you wouldn't let me all up on you like this." He let out a sly chuckle as his hands pinned your wrists to you sides.

"Shut your fucking mouth and keep kissing me." You ordered, looking away from him in a bashful manner.

"Yes, Ma'am." He replied as he guided your hand to push the fabric of his mask away, revealing his lips once more before they crashed against yours. You both needed to let off some steam, it seemed that this was the most efficient way for the two of you.

You let out a small whimper as König began to move his hips against yours, grinding against down onto you. It wasn't long before he'd removed your trousers and pushed his middle finger inside you. He'd sucked on it a little beforehand to coat it with saliva, but it wasn't like it was needed anyway. You were practically soaking by the time he'd pushed it in, and it wasn't long either until he'd begun to curl his finger inside you which made you whimper at the feeling. He felt so much better than your fingers alone.

"Look at you, so wet already. Think you're ready for another finger?"

You couldn't help but tighten around his fingers already as he pushed a second finger inside you. You'd muttered a small 'fuck' under your breath at the feeling, earning a small hum of approval from König. His fingers could easily hit against that bundle of nerves. He knew he found it once you let out that cry of pleasure, making him chuckle as he rapidly pressed against the same spot over and over again which made you let out a symphony of moans and whimpers as your wetness grew.

He soon decided you were ready, becoming rather impatient as he'd quickly slide down his bottoms to reveal his growing erection. Your eyes gawked at him for how big he was. How would it ever fit.

"You sure you want to do this? Can't guarantee I'll be able to stop once we're started." His voice was low, the arrogant undertones tied in with the way he spoke irritated you.

You nodded.

With no time wasted, he lined his tip against your pulsing cunt before pushing into you. You let out a long sigh in unison with him as you felt him stretch you out with a mix of pain and pleasure. It wasn't long before he'd started moving in and out of you, and soon your voices filled the room along with the slapping noises of repeated skin-on-skin contact, making your eyes flutter closed as your legs wrapped around him.

The way he moved inside you was different. It felt different. It wasn't like anything you'd felt before. Perhaps hate sex was your new biggest turn on. Oh boy. This definitely wasn't going to be a one time thing. You could already tell.

You could feel yourself getting closer, and you could very much feel the way König was throbbing inside you. The bed creaked non-stop, the room reeked of sweat and sex, with no feelings behind it. Just sex. And goodness, did it feel good. Mustering up the strength, you propped yourself up onto your elbows to take in the sight of the man pounding into you. And like that, your eyes met his once more. Half closed with the slightest distortion, he let out a low chuckle as he gripped onto your wrists once more and pinned them next your head. With a single, extremely forceful thrust, he was able to hoist your hips up further against him, almost like in a mating press. The new position allowed him to hit a whole other region, able to slam against your g-spot over and over again, causing a harmony of whimpers and moans to emerge from your throat which you just weren't able to hold in. You were so lost in the pleasure, as you almost couldn't comprehend what König was speaking. Leaning down to press his lips against your neck, he whispered to you;

"See, Schatz? You're so much prettier when you're not unnecessarily running your mouth."

That stupid nickname. That stupid term of endearment he used on you drove you insane. Well, did he hate you or not? You could never tell. The way his hands slipped upwards, unballing your fists so he could intertwine his fingers with yours, the way he'd pound into you as rough as he could yet he'd still make that time to hold onto your hands, the way his lips would brush over bruise and bite mark he'd leave on your skin. It was all so confusing. So mind boggling. It made you want him even more.

"Y-You don't- oh fuck.. -hold the hand... of the person you hate during sex.." You'd managed to choke out a single sentence between König's thrusts. And he was having none of it.

"Shh, shh.." He'd shush you, "Halt die Klappe, stop fucking talking... stop talking. Keep quiet for me, Schatz." His hips began to slam against you faster, making sure to hit against every nook and cranny inside you. Schatz. That word echoed in your mind.

You were in no room to argue again so you did as you were told, you stopped talking and let your moans continue to spill out. You could feel yourself getting closer to your orgasm by the second, and it was only a matter of time before he removed a hand from your wrist and moved it between your legs, his fingers moving against your clit in a circular motion. He knew what you wanted, and he was going to give it to you. You could hear your heart pounding in your ears. His hot breath hitting against your sensitive, overly bruised neck, the way his fingers circled your plump bud, the way his thrusts felt like there was still no end in sight was all too much.

Taking in a deep breath, you rolled your eyes back before squeezing them shut. You were unable to hold back that loud cry of pleasure as your orgasm hit you like a tsunami, coming fully undone to those fingers of his. You could feel yourself pulsing and throbbing against his fingers, your hearing gone fuzzy by the time. You squeezed tightly around König's cock, in complete euphoria as he made you ride out your orgasm. Your hips bucked against his as you just barely opened your eyes again.

"Oh, Schieße... (Y/N)!" He'd moaned out as he pulled away from your neck and crashed his forehead against yours, gripping onto the flesh of your hips as he practically pulled you into him with each slam. One more thrust and he'd let out a final moan before filling you up with his seed. There was... a lot. You could feel his cum oozing out of you before he even pulled out.

Your breathing was heavy, both of you coming down from cloud nine. The best sex, and best orgasm, you'd ever had.

"You don't hate me." You were the one to speak first. The fabric of König's mask was pushing up against you every now and again with each heavy breath he'd release, "you don't kiss someone and hold their hands like that when you hate them..."

His eyes opened, staring right back at yours,

"You seemed like the type to need that emotional support, I was simply just trying to provide it."

"So you do still care about me."

He went silent before he closed his eyes again, burying his 'face' into your neck.

"... Halt die Klappe,,"

***************

[angeart]

:o are we allowed to ask about Mr Beak?? Because I have been dying to but I figured it was for Future Rambles so I've been holding back.

Especially because both you and Link drew Grian with his wings out, no cloak, and Grian actually using his wings for a smol hug in your bit.

-🎀

yes you're allowed! it is for future rambles, but we made a concession if you promise you'll still read the rambles as well when they come out! :D

mr beak gets acquired in vex arc, part titled "a night for living". let me take you through Never Before Seen basics! just a quick little rundown :3

grian and scar get accepted adopted into a vex commune! which is a pretty safe place considering that it's full of vexes who are seen as warriors. it's settled in the forest, in what used to be a hunting village. (it was taken over.)

now i won't say exactly how things go, but- there's definitely an adjustment period! especially since grian is an avian in a place filled with only vexes, and scar is... well, not a typical vex!

but they settle in. and they start to tentatively have some security. their own walls, and a bed! there's a LOT to say about the whole vex arc, and i can very easily be swayed, but i'll skip to mr beak. (under the cut because this is getting rambly <3 expect RP snippets too)

there's a big night at the vex commune, one they meticulously prepare for. make sure there's no hunters anywhere nearby, brew homemade alcohol, etc. they make a huge bonfire, set up various games (prizes are mostly more alcohol, lol. special bottles of types from rare fruits and stuff, with a strip of fabric/ribbon tied to them to mark them as the victory bottles) and just... go wild!

it's during this night when scar and grian challenge two other vexes (frens???? 👀) to a game of (drunk) archery. scar pretends he can barely hold a bow. it's very funny when he shoots a bulls eye, trust me.

scar kind of jokingly asks if there are other prizes - like big stuffed bears, for example. and once he wins, the best out of three shots, he again jokingly says he'll take the bear as his prize. and grian joins in, asking for the bear!

(mini rp bit!!)

Excitedly and triumphantly, Scar loops his arms around Grian as well, lower and more securely wound, and lifts, spinning him around like a loon just because he wants to and he can. “The man wants a bear!!” he announces to the world, boisterous and goofy.

anywayyy... yeah, no, the vexes don't have a stuffed bear. but there's an idea. and someone digs out a discarded plush from somewhere.

it's a chicken.

kane is meant to hand it over, but... he's very hesitant. and he wouldn't be if it was a couple of weeks ago, but! he's been learning! about avians and things that upset grian. about how sensitive he is about other birds or bird-like things.

uncharacteristically hesitant, he calls scar over first, trusting scar's judgement on these things much more than himself.

aaand. what if i throw more rp snippets at u? 👀👀👀👀 (1,7k words because my hand slipped— enjoy :D)

-

SCAR

Kane waits until he's sure Scar's body and wings block Grian's view, and then he tentatively unfurls his own wing, showing the worn plush toy in his arms: a pale brown chicken, a little clumpy, but soft-looking. Squishable. "We have... this," he presents, a bit flatly, waiting for reaction.

It’s unfortunate, really, because in any other circumstance Scar would not hesitate to give the awkward little chicken to Grian. It’s so adorably lumpy, and he wants to squeeze it immediately. 

But… 

“Let me see,” Scar says, taking it from Kane. He appreciates the hesitance now. Despite claiming victory during their previous dispute over insensitivity, Kane clearly cares to get this right, and it warms Scar’s heart to no end.

Kane keeps the doll hidden as he passes it over to Scar, who analyzes it carefully, squeezing at the center and feeling the material. It’s soft, not at all feathered, and the insides seem to be cotton, possibly with beads interspersed for weightiness. 

But it’s still a bird.

Scar looks to meet Kane’s gaze, both of them uncertain, but Scar sighs and offers a weak smile. “You’re a good man, Kane,” Scar declares, nodding appreciatively at him. 

Ultimately, it should be up to Grian if he wants this. Scar can look out for potential triggers, but it’s not his place to decide for him. 

Scar can’t protect him from everything. Shouldn’t either.

(Plus, it is cute. Scar hopes that fact overwrites any potential anxieties.)

Scar turns around, offering the plushie over to Grian with that same timid smile. “What do you think, G?”

-

GRIAN

nico's murmuring things to grian, praising his and scar's aim, wanting to know where they've learned to shoot like that. it distracts grian sufficiently, thrown off and glancing at the targets where someone was collecting their arrows now so they could keep playing.

"we... had a lot of practice," grian replies, unsure how to phrase it any better. to say that they didn't need to worry about running out of arrows—or lives—ever was something too bewildering to put out there. "it's just been a while," he adds, grimacing at where a vex was trying to climb a tree to reach the arrow grian shot first. 

nico laughs, amused but bright and kind. "well, you know. as long as you don't lose the arrows, you guys can come here and shoot at the targets anytime."

grian perks up at that, but before he can answer, scar's turning to him and offering something to him.

grian's gaze lands on the bird-like heap in scar's hands, and his head short-circuits.

bird.

it's a bird.

memories of [REDACTED] slam into him, and he swallows thickly, rebooting. 

a bird.

this world doesn't have birds. but here one is, silly-looking and soft, offered to grian to hold. (to cherish. to protect. to keep.)

with gaze solidly focused on the toy, grian hears himself try to joke. "i think that's not a bear."

kane huffs, although there's something tentatively relieved in the sound, possibly at the lack of a more outward freak out on grian's part. "i told you we don't have bears."

grian's only half-listening. his chest feels askew and tingly, wings semi flared out, but he's taking a step forward and reaching out his hands for the plushie.

-

SCAR

Scar is about to say they don’t have to take it. They could easily accept one of the prize bottles. He could even make a show of tying the decorative ribbon on one of Grian’s fingers as a silly romantic callback.

But Grian is reaching out and Scar doesn’t have it in his heart to deny him. He offers the toy to him gingerly, still nervous, but willing. 

“Not a bear, but… look at its little beard!” Scar tries, letting his index finger fiddle with the red tufts of fabric as he pulls away. “…do you like it?”

-

GRIAN

wordlessly, grian takes it, holds it out, feels its weight settle in his hands. his fingers squeeze lightly, testing it out, feeling its softness. (it's not made of feathers. not feathers.)

some tightly held knot in grian's chest unspools, and he finds himself laughing a little unsteadily at scar's silly gesture.

his hands flap the chicken's wings, and unthinkingly, grian's own wings mirror the motion. there's a part of grian's brain that's happy at this, already growing attached, and it's probably weird, for a toy to trigger instincts that whisper flock against the nape of his neck, but the affection and protectiveness rise up in him anyway.

he pulls the chicken tightly to his chest, his gaze flicking up, meeting first scar's eyes and then swivelling to kane's. "... i can keep this?" he asks, a bit shyly, even as his hold signals that he would not let go even if he was told no.

-

SCAR

Scar’s heart swells again at the sight of Grian flapping the doll’s little wings, and gosh it’s unfairly adorable when he does the same with his own wings. Scar grins, leaning back into Grian’s space as he turns to regard Kane. 

“We’re taking this,” Scar declares.

Kane scoffs, cheeks heating up as he takes mostly fake offense. “As if I’d take it back, come on!” And then he’s grinning as well, clearly satisfied that the prize went over well, all sourness from the competition completely faded away. “You won it fair and square, mister liar.”

“Sober liar,” Nico tacks on, earning a bark of laughter from his mate.

“Hey, I’m getting there, I’m getting there!” Scar insists, leaning down to reclaim his and Grian’s bottles. He hands Grian’s back to him with a bright smile. “…It’s precious.”

-

GRIAN

grian instantly slots himself next to scar as he returns to his side, still clutching the bird tightly. 

"mister sober liar," he repeats teasingly at scar, nudging him a little and giving him a big, bright grin.

no matter how the others want to spin it, the fact is that they did win, and scar did insist on a prize for grian. (and man, the way his hands were capable with the bow is hot. although it's not something grian'd admit out loud.) he's grateful for it, a bit of playful games and a reward at the end of it, presented with such care. 

with boundless affection, grian leans against him and presses his wing against scar's lower back, under his vex wings, in a little squeeze. hoping his thanks translates. 

he untangles one hand from the chicken only to reach for the bottle, and he lets it clink against scar's. "cheers, to our victory." 

nico's ushering them a little bit to the side, to make space for new contestants, while kane lifts his own drink, cheerfully joining in with drinking. 

"there's more games to play, if you want," nico remarks with a chuckle, then adds: "but no more non-bears to win."

grian glances at him. "what about yes-bears?"

kane sputters a laugh, almost choking on his drink.

nico offers a grin instead, with a small chuckle. "none of those either, i'm afraid."

"bottles, mostly," kane says all too happily. "but some games have donation piles and if you win, you can pick something someone else left behind." he shrugs a little, clearly much more interested in the drinks the vexes worked so hard to make. "mostly useless stuff. wood carvings, dull daggers, scraps of clothes, chipped mugs. things people found and don't have use for, or that they don't want anymore."

-

SCAR

“What you’re saying is we get to thrift shop for prizes?” Scar asks excitedly, wings fluttering before one slots over Grian’s head in a purposely goofy manner. “Whatcha say, G-man? More games? Want to see how red in the face Kane can get if he keeps losing?”

“Hey!” Kane shouts, grabbing at Scar to try to dig his fist into the top of his head playfully. Scar unfortunately allows it, not willing to give up his spot next to Grian and how his wing is tucked under him so tenderly. But he laughs at the abuse, clearly unbothered.

-

GRIAN

grian ducks a little at the wing over him, but then he straightens up, chirping and meeting it. he has his prize chicken in one hand, still pressed to his chest, and a bottle in the other, wing still slung across scar's lower back in a casual, if a little clingy way.

"more games!" he cheers, toothily looking over kane and nico. "so what's next, fellas? what do you want to be beaten at this time?"

nico's chuckling, lips curved in a smile, taking this for friendly jest, but kane's getting riled up. his tail swishes aggressively. "you can't thrift prizes if you don't win first," he accuses.

"what game?" grian presses. "what do you think you have a chance at?"

it's a cheeky jab, and grian's delighted as he sees it work. 

"sparring!" kane huffs out, clearly ready to tackle them until he can prove his dominance or something.

"or obstacle course," nico offers as a counter argument.

"sparring!" kane repeats, insistent, shooting his mate a glare. "we win at this one!" 

-

SCAR

Scar yawns exaggeratedly. “Drunk sparring? Sounds like a vex slapping fest to me.” He waves his hand with the bottle dismissively at that, eyeing Grian as he does. Then he takes a large sip of his drink and flares out his free wing. “What kind of obstacle course we talkin’?”

Both sound less fun than archery to Scar, but he has a feeling the obstacle course would be preferable to Grian. Sparring just sounds like an invitation to get hurt.

-

GRIAN

grian is honestly glad scar is steering this away from a fight competition, but kane deflates, looking like he was just betrayed. "you don't want to spar?" his ears flick, then he crosses his arms, upset. "it's 'coz you know you'd lose. you're just picking what you're secretly good at!"

"i dunno, you could've been better at it," grian brushes him off, referencing kane's archery skill in a way that makes kane sputter.

"the obstacle course," nico takes charge, starting to walk in a more solid direction, "has many things. some you get under, some you get over. gliding is allowed." he eyes grian. "outright flying might be considered as cheating."

grian gasps dramatically, his wing losing connection to scar only to flap in playful offense. "i'd never!" and honestly, it's hard to think of himself actively flying, so it's not exactly wrong. it's not just theatrics, but they make it easier to bear, to hide behind.

---

i was gonna stop earlier but figured maybe you'd like to see the banter :3 maybe you'd like to see the new characters and these dynamics. (they're all tipsy at this point and scar and grian have been living here for a while, just to be clear.)

other big things happen that night besides winning mr beak :3 just sayin'

vex arc is fun <33

[lola-andheruniverse]

Hi Lola!

Do you have any advice for overcoming writers block? I've tried a few methods out myself. Can't seem to get myself out of this rut lol I really admire your dedication to promoting fanfic so I thought I'd pick your brain! :) I mainly dabble in Caryl but I've ventured out into other fandoms I like. Caryl is where I am stagnant right now. Thanks a lot for any words you can give me lol Caryl on!!! :)

Hi, anon! Thanks for sending this ask, I love to talk about all the things fanfiction and writer's block intersect with my real life job too so we can kill two birds with one stone. 😊 First, since you write for other fandoms, it might be interesting to try to understand why you're particularly stuck with Caryl. You might be very invested in writing for our ship and that can be triggering anxious responses that make it hard to concentrate in your task. Or you might being affected by the emotional roller coaster our fandom is currently experience. Switching between highs too high and lows too low is emotionally exhausting and affects our disposition to do everything, including things we love like writing. Taking a time away from the fandom can help with that. Re-watching caryl scenes or re-reading your favorite fics (and here you can definitely include your own work) can help to restart the joy. Second, there are practical things you can do to help with your block. I'll list a few that work for me: 1. Try to establish a writing routine that makes sense and works for you. You don't have to write everyday or for the same length of time every time, but you can do little stuff that signal to your brain 'hey, it is time to write'. For example, setting a timer so you can write uninterruptedly for short amount of times; listening to a special caryl playlist to get you in the mood or white noise if you get easily distracted with external noises; having a glass of water and a snack right from the start with you so you don't need to get up when you feel thirsty/hungry; creating a comfortable environment to write by sitting in a good chair and having adequate light; 2. Write those scenes that you are dying to write for first. You know those scenes that are the heart of your chapter/one-shot, that you keep daydreaming about? Write them first. Put what brings you joy about your story right on paper and, then, later, fill up with every other scene that leads to it or comes after it. This might be easier than trying to write in the right order, because opening scenes can be very difficult and the main scenes will help set the tone of the rest of the chapter/one-shot;

3. If you're having a hard time describing images or voicing your character's voices and feelings, write the dialogue first. It will help to establish rhythm later when you get back to it to fill the blanks. You can do something like this: [description of the cabin Carol and Daryl are, the sofa is still plush and of a faded pink and there's dust everywhere] " What about this room?" Daryl asks [need to indicate later that he's feeling frustrated but with another noun]. " It'll do for tonight." 4. If you can't put anything at all on paper, you can brainstorm with yourself (or a friend) and write key words that will help you later when you're feeling more inclined to write. Same example than before: evening - abandoned cabin - just a light little coming from outside - lux pink couch - daryl frustrated - carol feelings - small talk - elephant in the room about major plot point You can elaborate as much as you want, turning keywords into key phrases, writing a sentence or two and building on that. 5. Okay, not even key words are working? Get your phone and record what you are imagining on an app that translates audio to text. Come back and edit it later, turning it into workable prose.

I hope these tips help you out, anon. Thanks again for the ask. If you manage to finish writing your caryl fic, no matter who short it is, please let me know so I can read it? It will be a pleasure, I'm sure of it.

[lover-of-mine]

I think my thing is BT shippers not only make a fake Tommy to fit their narrative but also fake scenarios. And I will try to make sense of what I mean.

As a buddie shipper... It's not technically Canon, but yes, I highly believe Buddie shared a bed or sleeping space during quarantine. You had 4 adults, makes sense. Would I argue in posts it happened no. But I think we can all agree they shared space while Chim and Hen probably shared the other.

It's not Canon but yes I firmly believe when Eddie was home after he was shot that Buck did camp longer on the couch. He's one of the only ones big enough to assist Eddie. Who Eddie trusts. And maybe it gave relief to Eddie because he also could help with Chris you know.

But I can't explain it so maybe you can say it better for me. After years of watching these 2, I can easily insert things I think possibly happen between them because logically, it makes sense in their relationship dynamics and personalities.

I had to block BT not because I hate the posters, its that yes they were maybe inferring as I have in the past but there wasn't a origin story and in turn they were calling me the crazy one..

And to add insult to injury. At the time, I was being called crazy because Tommy is clearly the love of Bucks life and better than all female LI..... They didn't have yet access to the deleted seen where Tommy admits they are fuck buddies. I might agree to logical debate if you move your goal post back to reality.

Sorry if that was too much of a ramble.

Personally, I think everyone got too excited that Buck was kissing a guy, and things got out of hand, I've been saying this for a while, the show didn't give any development to the relationship, but since Tommy is pretty much a blank slate they had a whole month to play with before canon gave them anything, everyone went crazy with the headcanons. Obviously, things got out of hand with the cameos and Lou "confirming" said hc and even adding in his own, that kinda made a portion of them decide that they know more than the actual show and that portion refuses to let that go when discussing canon. I'm never gonna tell anyone that they can't hc something about a character or relationship, but we reached a point where they were demanding we treat their hc as canon when we have nothing to back them up. We can't really infer the relationship developed offscreen when what we have on screen is not painting Tommy in a good light in that relationship. And the show made very purposeful choices to not develop it and to make sure we know that they aren't a good fit, but for some reason since we are dealing with a man now, that kinda just flew over people's heads. It happens. And we, we are all assuming some things, but we have enough on canon to back up most claims, but either way, I'm not gonna go pick a fight with someone if they don't agree with the way I think Buck and Eddie shared a bed during quarantine or that Buck has a drawer on Eddie's dresser or that they have clothes they don't know belong to who first because it kept getting swapped in their shared locker. But there is a portion of them that will go to war if you don't agree with some of the stuff they say, and that's a lot of the issue there. We could've all been playing in our own sandboxes if these things where somehow not agreeing with what they are hc means you are delusional or crazy or worse.

[chiarrara]

(part two of this ask from @distorzija-misli6 <3)

Basketball AU: I don't know as much about Basketball as I do about Baseball, so this is a good chance for me to think through positions & what each character's role on the court would be! (and decide if I want to make them taller than their canon heights)

Nobara: I talked about how Nobara likes to drive to the basket and draw (or make) fouls a lot. She's also got a good midrange shot and can make three pointers. She can play anywhere on the court, she's a really versatile player, and she always goes hard. She's also a huge shit talker. She has a reputation for elbowing, pushing, and doing anything to get the ball. Basically, the way she sees it, everyone on the other team is an enemy and she doesn't care what happens to them as long as she gets the basket & her team gets the win. She's not super sappy and motivational with her teammates, she's more into tough love. But she's also super loyal and trusts her teammates fully. I maintain she'd be a sixth man off the bench who can easily sub in for a shooting guard or a forward. (also I might bump her up to be at least 5'5" or 5'7" girly is so short)

Maki: She's a team leader. Cool headed, very skilled, hard worker--she practices more than anyone. She's great at taking charge on the court & directing plays. She's an amazing ball handler, she can dribble the ball up the court, make tough passes, get out of traps, and throw the ball in, all without making a turnover (losing the ball and giving it up to the other team). She has a natural commanding presence and her teammates look up to her and follow her lead. She is absolutely a tough love girly, though. She will tell you exactly what you suck at and need to improve, and you're not gonna get a lot of praise from her. But that just means it means even more when you do get it. Ya girl is a point guard with a good shooting arm and amazing court sense and game knowledge. (I might bump her up to 5'9" or 5'11" just to keep her height on Nobara)

Megumi: Since Megumi is also really strategic I think he started out as a point guard on the men's team, but when the teams merge, he and Maki have to compete for the spot. He kind of wants to just give it to her, but she absolutely won't let him so they play for it. Unfortunately, when it comes down to it, he just isn't as driven, is too unselfish with the ball, doesn't go all out and loses (queue Gojo-Megumi heart to heart). After that, I think he transitions to more of a shooting guard/small forward position. He's a defensive focused player, he gets near the basket to get rebounds, he creates opportunities on offense by running plays that confuse the defense, he blocks players on the other team to create scoring opportunities for his shooters. He can score from anywhere on the court, but he often passes the ball when he should be taking a wide open shot. Room for improvement. (we'll make him 6'1"-6'2"?)

Yuuji: He's a tough player, strong and athletic, but he's not fouling on purpose like Nobara does. He plays under the basket a lot, he's a strong shooter. He's got all kinds of layups, jump shots, and the occasional three. Any opportunity to dunk he's taking it. Any opportunity to block the other teams shot, he's taking it. He's extremely coachable, if you tell him to jump, he literally asks how high. Great free throw shooter because he can just turn off crowd noise & distraction and focus in. He's the notorious D1 athlete in a post game interview. His answer to everything is "we left it all on the court" or "we gave it 110%". One time he broke his nose colliding with a guy and had to wear one of those bizzare looking face guards for like a month after. (6'0" he's gotta be shorter than Megumi, sorry)

Yuuta & Toge: They're both shooting guards, knocking down three pointers. Yuuta tends to defend more under the basket because of his height where Toge is out on the perimeter. Toge's a great ball handler and can make quick passes and weave around the defense. Yuuta's great at getting in position, side-stepping, shot faking, at shooting from mid-court. They're both supportive teammates and are great cheerleaders from the bench. (Yuuta is 6'4" and Toge is only 5'10" on a good day)

Panda: He's the tallest, the biggest, and the strongest. He's posted up under the basket making layups, blocking shots, getting rebounds, and boxing dudes out so they have to take bad shots. He can go absolute beast mode on a counter attack and jump over a dude to get a slam dunk. He's the biggest morale-booster & the heart of the team. (he's still 6'7")

Shoko: She was the head coach of the women's team and when they merged, she got the position to coach the coed team. She's decisive, outwardly unemotional, and extremely effective. She doesn't pump the team up with big speeches, she's much more subtle, but she develops the relationships in practice and throughout the season so when it comes to a make or break moment, her team believes her when she says, "Well, I know you can win, so are you going to?

[808err0r]

0̪̙̙0̦̫͜?̡͓͖.̫͎͓USER INFORMATION LOADING_I̡͚͎N̫͙̺T̘̪͙R̢͓͍O̢̟̼:

heyo! i'm bobbi, crash landing here with my work in progress muse eight ! ( who's yongpal? he doesn't know ). i'm still working out a bunch as you can tell, but i wanted to get up a quick intro to get plots going! i have discord if you'd prefer to plot there but im's work for me too! i'll be slowly updating his pages over the next couple days, but i'm happy to brainstorm and give any info you need ( including his most embarrassing secrets and that one story from the orbit christmas party back in - ) anywho -- please enjoy this ramble!

001. GENERAL-USER-INFORMATION:

# - NAM YONGPAL ( prefers to go by his nickname EIGHT ). your current avatar is registered as PARK JIHOON. you have been logged in for 25 years since 08 AUGUST 2998. your highest ranking stats are ANALYTICAL and STANDOFFISH. please select your playlist from BLANK STARES or CRUSHED ENERGY DRINK CANS SCATTERED ACROSS THE BEDROOM FLOOR for today. last saved activity: working as a GAME DEVELOPER AT ORBIT GAMING. resume your ongoing game for GLITCHED OUT as VOID?

002. SOURCE-CODE:

# - raised an only child by his meditation instructor mother and community garden leader father, and considers them both to have some seriously flawed programming. # - despite their best efforts, eight was never too interested in the family business of life-coaching/candle-making/yoga-retreating/whatever flavor of the month it was, and retreated more and more into himself. # - he found solace away from his parents and their various wellness endeavors in vr rooms, preferring to spend almost all of his time outside of studying playing games and watching the majors. # - though he never felt good enough to go pro, he found himself drawn to development side of things, and thus his dream of working at orbit gaming was born. # - he's worked his way up to a developer role once he'd finished uni but things have been relatively lukewarm since. his initial ideas were shot down, he's barely made any waves on his team, and for the past 6-ish months he's been dealing with a severe case of creative block. # - on the bright side, his team seems too preoccupied with whatever that broadcast was to really discuss his performance...

003. ADDITIONAL-USER-STATS:

# - can be very hot-headed ( although outbursts are very rare ), can be seen taking a few cleansing deep breaths and counting to 10 on most days. # - very soft-spoken ( he's working on it ), there are a number of people around orbit who probably have no idea what eight's voice sounds like. # - fueled by caffeine and his tailored comfort playlists. you'll never catch him without his headphones or an energy drink in hand. # - prefers the late hours of night ( less opportunity for social interaction ), and would live nocturnally if he could. # - has a somewhat photographic memory and incredible recall. can remember even the smallest details from various locations he's seen, easily remembers license plate numbers, and never forgets his shopping list even if he's left the note at home. # - often plagued by nightmares of being in what he considers liminal spaces the likes of which he can't escape... but those are just random dreams that don't mean anything. right... right? # - though he keeps his opinions to himself, he feels very strongly that there is something very off about terra.

003. WANTED-CONTRIBUTERS:

*I'm big on brainstorming to get my plots going, but here's a few ideas to kick us off that i'll probably add to later!

# - eight is rather reserved in his every day life, but finds his voice on various online forums. the two could be bonding over their music tastes, debating film rankings, or discussing conspiracy theories on the forum which shall not be named and eight has no idea what you're talking about. # - you live next door to eight and occasionally are disturbed by the BOOMING VOICE ( he's still getting used to that mod - ) yelling at the panel over some minor inconvenience in the middle of the night. # - vr room buddies that he meets up with regularly, or a vr room nemesis that never lets up on eight and shows no mercy in every game. # - someone that makes it their mission to get him back in the flow state when it comes to ideas for the next big game ( dude doesn't have a creative bone in his body it feels like so good luck with that - )

[wolf-in-a-trenchcoat]

A little one-shot I tried to write and probably failed. I had motivation to write this, but most of it was at like, 3-4 am? I just wanted to write Izzy getting his ass handed to him by a bard (Frenchie) with very little swordsman skills. That's a lie, I have a headcanon Frenchie is actually really good with a sword, just prefers more... manipulative tactics or close combat tools, and by extension likes to make opponents think he's a clumsy idiot who can't hold a sword. (Turns out, he can and will rip you a new one)

Same rules go for this one, btw! Critique- both good and bad- is invited and urged. I want to better my skills.

Inspiration: conversation regarding server members and how they got together ❤️ also me wanting Izzy's ass whooped (an Izzy enabler, apologist, and lover)

○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○

Israel Hands doesn't lose duels.

That's what he had been thinking as he stepped up on deck with his rapier drawn and twirling languidly as he let the weight become an extension of him again. It was a part of him, his identity and his being- "born to wield a blade" he had been told many a time in his life.

It was how he lived as long as he did, how his captain used him. A sword, right hand man, the like. First mate. Izzy's near permanent scowl remained as he heard the shuffle of feet and a small mumbled curse as the sharp clatter of metal on wood made him turn to face his opponent- the damn bard that resided with the Revenge crew.

Izzy scoffed in appallment. He didn't know how this crew lived as long as they have. He had previously assumed the deft fingerwork this man had while playing a mandolin would extend into holding a sword, but he was proven wrong.

"Pick up your fuckin' sword."

"Right... yeah. Sorry."

Izzy's eyes follow the bard's hands as they reach for the sword, lifting it up and testing its weight in his grip before giving a couple aimless swings. Another scoff leaves Izzy, a look of disgruntled judgement on his face now. He couldn't believe he would have to duel this atrocious example of an opponent.

As they took their places, Izzy a few paces from the bard, they get into their stances. The one thing that caught Izzy off guard slightly was how firm the man's posture became, the excitement glimmering in the warm chocolate depths of his eyes. Like he was preparing for this moment. Like he was waiting forever just to have this chance.

It was the bard that moved first. Their swords meet, Izzy easily parrying then slipping aside and taking his own offense. The opponent blocked, and the clash of metal on metal sounded like angels singing in his ears.

Izzy relished the song, and lived the dance that came along. How the bard kept up was beyond Izzy, but the effort brought savage focus to his face. Well, what Izzy had thought it looked and felt. His heart raced, the singing of the metal cacophony nothing more than music as the men viciously danced around the deck.

°°°°°°°°°

Frenchie wasn't exactly sure what had let the idea of challenging Izzy to a duel into his mind.

When he had initially approached the first mate of Blackbeard, Frenchie was sure that he'd have his head bit off by the man. Based on his experiences with people like that, he couldn't let them off the hook. An odd interaction where Frenchie had gotten irritated at Izzy being a petty asshole while the bard was trying to do daily care for his mandolin had lead to an aggressive "I challenge you to a duel, you spiteful ship goblin" and a very calm and very ominous "Challenge accepted".

Now here they were, on deck and Frenchie basically fighting for his life.

He hasn't picked up a sword since some time before Stede, to which he laid down arms and settled for his original plan- playing music to keep the time. Though, this duel wasn't much different than any other song and dance, he learned quickly. Each step was specific, him returning blows almost like it was second nature. He didn't know how he had been able to fend off Izzy for so long- he was sure his demise was imminent.

Unless Izzy was going easy on him?

The look on the man's face said otherwise- he looked thoroughly pissed, but that was an constant thing and any change from it was most likely the end of the world. Frenchie's arm came up to block the overhead swing Izzy tried to land, and the taller man ducked lower and shoves Izzy back with a pretty heavy shoulder hit to the torso. The shorter man stumbled back, Frenchie following up with a slash towards Izzy's abdomen.

It was blocked easily.

Another back and forth ensues, sweat beading on Frenchie's brow as the adrenaline wore off and he began to falter. Izzy came in hot, like a blazing fire as anger fueled each movement. It honestly had Frenchie enthralled and how fluid the older man moved.

Dancing, is what the bard akinned it to. An idea sparks, and his own offense became more focused on keeping Izzy's blade with his own. Each step was like the makings of a dance when Frenchie moved, as did Izzy in kind. Swords met, feet step into another mirrored position, the noise of clashing metal like their own tune.

°°°°°°°°°°

It was glorious.

The bard has clearly impressed Izzy, and the older man could feel his lips pull into a genuinely entertained grin. That was, until Izzy let the realization that this fucking bard could've done so much more than sit and play music this entire time during raids.

Their dance was broken when Izzy attempts a punishing slash to Frenchie's abdomen as a comeback to his previous attempt towards Izzy, the bard bringing his sword up in response and pushing Izzy's blade up and over in a strained arch, then to a clattering slide across the deck. The look on the bard's face was that of surprise, yet it was returned with Izzy's own- then clearly spiteful anger.

Before it changed to... pride?

Izzy was proud of this man, even as Frenchie raised an ever-so-subtly shaking sword tip to the first mate's throat. Izzy could easily continue this fight, but something in his being tingled with anticipation, like he could get something more from this. A small smirk settled on his lips as he heard the unsure tone in Frenchie's voice.

"Do you yield?"

"I... yield."

The look on the bard's face was near priceless. It almost made Izzy bark out a laugh at how seriously shocked Frenchie was to have bested Izzy Hands.  He actually enjoyed this look on his face. While he'd usually be more than furious someone had beaten him in a single round, this was an odd exception. His eyes meet Frenchie's, and for a moment, he felt a flutter in his chest.

"Best two out of three?" Frenchie offered, breathing coming in slightly labored. His hand had steadied slightly more in the pregnant pause of the victory, a cheeky smile now gracing his face. Another flutter.

Izzy accepted as the bard lowered his sword. His gaze follow the man as he went to retrieve Izzy's rapier, handing it to him. Izzy returned the smile with one of his own- and he took note of the subtle flush of pink across Frenchie's face.

"Two out of three, then. Don't expect to have the same luck this round. I won't go easy on you now that I know your level of experience."

He raised his rapier to Frenchie's blade, the sharp shink of metal on metal signifying his further acceptance. And with that, another round began.

To say Frenchie lost would've been a lie- it had appeared to the crew Izzy was talking out of his ass when the bard won the next two duels, albeit with more difficulty each round than the last.

[hellcatinnc]

Piofiore Fated Memories - Nicola Francesca Review

Includes Spoilers...

I was going to write this with all the guys from Piofiore but I just can't do it there is so much for me to say and share pics that I'm sure tumblr will block me using too many pics so going to do each guy from there as separate reviews as I do their route. So far I only did Nicola and I only plan to do the good routes because I know the bad routes are super dark.

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

This man grabbed my attention from the moment he first winked I have such a thing for flirty guys so "Hello Nicola" my journey I was ready to begin with this beautiful green eyed sexy man. He isn't as flirty as I'm used to but there is something so attractive in how he caries himself and how he talks to Lili. You can tell he cares so much about Dante and has been there for him since they were little this is so honorable of him and shows true loyalty.

His genuine need to protect Lili from the start is so sweet and gentle you can't help but love this man. He talks about being part of the mafia and don't get me wrong he has a rough side but I think he starts falling for Lili even before he realizes it. He lets his walls down so fast its not hard to see how they are so connected and the fact they have in common not the best childhood.

He gets jealous easily but I think thats because Lili is the first person who has come into his life that could truly be his and I think he is scared he could lose that.

He goes out of his way to try to give Dante his life and get him out of the mafia and yes he betrays them which I really am glad they clear up in the end because he really did everything for Dante. That being said there was a strong bond between them that even Dante wanted Nicola to go to her when she was in danger. There was alot of ups and downs between these 2 but over everything he chose Lili even before his own life.

The way he tenderly touches her is breath taking to watch. For a man who spends his life killing people the way he holds her the way he touches her is so sweet makes your heart melt watching how he interacts with her.

The moment he gave in and kissed her the first time was like magic you felt yourself rooting them on then when he does this it was like awww moment. He had never wanted for anything or anyone besides to take care of Dante so when she was willing to give her life to save his he lost it. The battle he had been fighting to not hear her say she loves him and to not feel her touch his walls instantly crashed and she had his heart from there on out.

He was so protective and the fact he was scared to leave her behind tells so much volume about his character and how genuine deep down he is everything else is for show to scare people as he needs to. The moment he gave in to his pleasure with her he couldn't get enough. This man is one of them insatiable men trying to keep their sex drive fed is going to be a task but I'm sure she will enjoy every moment. Then the moment he confesses he is in love with her I had tears in my eyes I was so happy.

Then there is the one other that was so sexy in the short story area after when he says "Good Girl" I melted...

The fight that ended it all he was even sexy when he made it clear to Roberto the shitty psycho cop that she was his. Of course jealous motherfucker couldn't handle it and when he tried to hurt Lili Nicola lost it and shot him cold blooded no thoughts just knew he wanted him dead more than any other. His love for Lili and Dante will be the reason he will kill someone with no remorse. That being said its one thing I love about him because honestly there are a few people close in my life and I would do anything to protect them no matter what. This is what you call a loyal man and that makes him already one of my favorites. Will he be my number one favorite for this game only time will tell but he does have a good happy ending route.

UPDATED REVIEW OF OTHER ROUTES CAN BE FOUND HERE!

[writerwhowritesao3]

First Lines of 10 Fics Game

rules: share the first lines of 10 of your most recent fanfics and then tag 10 people. If you have written less than 10 fics, don’t be shy and share anyways :)

Thank you for the tag, @sunwarmed-ash !!!!! Tagging: @dastardlydandelion, @mourntheantagonist, @lucdarling, @keziahrainalso, @weird-an, @ihni, @lilies-in-a-vase, @harringroveheart, @memes-saved-me, @bentnotbroken1fanfiction

Jump In The Fire

Chapter 1: “Hey look, there’s another cow.”

"Okay, what are we listening to?" Billy held up two cassettes. "Scorpions or Metallica?"

"Blondie."

"No."

"Come on," Max pleaded. "You always choose the music."

"Yeah, 'cause it's my car," Billy laughed. "When you start driving, you can choose the music. But until then..."

He took the Scorpions tape out of its case, jammed it into the player, and put the Camaro into reverse to back out of the driveway. Through the windshield, he watched Susan step out of the front door to wave goodbye.

"Have a good day, guys!" she called out, her voice muffled through the glass. He and Max waved back and then they were on their way.

Night Shift 

One-shot

That past November, after setting the tunnels on fire and exorcising a monster out of Will, Nancy had poured them a shot of vodka and toasted to saving the world and to the hope that they would never have to do it again.

Really, they should have known that things would never resolve that neatly. Maybe they did on some level.

Talk To A Green Tree

Chapter 1: November, 1980

Susan got a call from Billy's school at around one in the afternoon.

She had been married to Neil for about seven months at that point and at the start of the school year, they had updated Max and Billy's school forms to reflect their newly formed family. Updated Billy's "in case of emergency" contact to list her first, since she was more easily able to leave her job at the bank in the middle of the day than Neil was at his job at the security desk of an office building a few blocks away.

The call was from the school nurse, Thelma Stevens, who politely and professionally informed her that Billy had thrown up and was running a slight fever, and asked that Susan take him home for the rest of the day.

Is There Something I Should Know?

One-shot

Max took another swig of her Coke as Dustin illustrated his points about time travel by drawing a scattered series of lines and circles and spirals on a page in his notebook. They had gone to her house after school that day to study for a test they had in their shared history class, with the agreement that Dustin would be gone by the time her mom and stepdad got home from work. Well, really by the time Neil got home. It wasn't like Max wasn't allowed to have friends over; she was. It was just that none of her friends here had met Neil before and Max kind of wanted to delay that inevitability for as long as she could. Neil, and Neil's moods, were unpredictable. When the time came that he met any of her friends, whether they were boys or girls (and Max had been becoming more friendly with some of the girls in her class), Neil might be friendly, welcoming, and normal.

Or he might come home in a rage and start yelling at Billy for something stupid, like parking his car two inches away from where he should have. He had never hit Billy in front of non-family members. But there was no guarantee that he never would. Max really didn't want to be known as the Girl With The Crazy Stepdad.

Take It As It Comes

One-shot

Steve wasn't freaking out, okay? He wasn't freaking out. He was just very upset. Because when he pressed Billy up against the wall of Steve's bedroom as their kisses became more heated, Billy let out this short pained hiss when his back made contact with the surface behind him.

"You okay?" Steve asked.

"Yeah," Billy said. He connected their lips again, teasing Steve with the tip of his tongue. Billy kept himself upright, about an inch away from the wall.

Steve ran his palms over Billy's shoulders, lightly squeezing. Billy didn't make another sound, but his shoulder twitched, just a little, almost imperceptibly. Steve pulled away from him.

"What's wrong with your back?" Steve asked directly.

"Nothing," Billy said. "I'm fine."

Burning From The Inside

One-shot

It's not like Billy couldn't have sex.

Sure, after That Party, after That Asshole and those frantic hookups afterwards with Nate and those two randos at the park, Billy might have felt a little gun-shy. A bit skittish. So disinterested in sex that he didn't even jack off for months. He had honestly thought that there was a chance that he would never want to have sex ever again. Never want to take his clothes off and let someone touch his bare skin again, especially below the waist.

Even when he had that crush on Chris Phelps, his thoughts never ventured beyond kissing. And after Billy had kissed him that one time, it's not like he fantasized about doing anything further.

Billy had sort of resigned himself to the idea that sex would never be a part of his life ever again. And if it ever did re-enter his life, he wouldn't enjoy it. He would enjoy getting attention from other men, but sex itself would be one of those "close your eyes and think of England" type of deals.

Until he moved to Hawkins and met Steve. And then it was like the hormonal flood gates had burst.

Fire Burns Below

One-shot

"Remember, we're staying at the Rosebud Hotel," his mom said as she double checked the contents of her briefcase. "I'm leaving the phone number and address for you on the fridge."

"Got it," Steve said around a mouthful of Cheerios.

"And we're leaving right from the office tomorrow," she said. She pulled a file out of her briefcase, opened it, scanned the first three pages inside, and neatly tucked it back in. "But we'll be back by Sunday evening, so you'll only be home alone Friday night and all of Saturday, and just Sunday morning and afternoon. Okay?"

"Uh huh."

Steve's mom closed her briefcase and took a sip of her coffee, keeping her eyes on him. Steve watched his mother watching him.

"Are you going to be okay?" she finally asked.

"Yeah...?" Steve said. "It's just one weekend."

His mom was quiet for a moment, then took a seat at the table in the seat next to him. Steve braced himself for whatever his mother was going to say next.

"Honey, your dad and I noticed you've been checking the locks again," she said gently.

What Is And What Should Never Be

Chapter 1: January 1985

On January 1st, 1985, Billy Hargrove showed up at Jim's door with a bruise across his cheekbone.

At the time, Jim didn't think anything of it. Kids, especially teenage boys, got all kinds of bruises in all kinds of ways. Especially teenage boys who played sports and got into fights with their classmates.

Billy wasn't there long; he had just come to pick up his kid step-sister Max (not "Maxine") Mayfield (not "Hargrove"). He wasn't there long enough to have any sort of conversation, especially not one about a bruised cheekbone that could have been the result of anything.

So. On January 1st, 1985 Jim let Billy walk off his porch, get in his car, and drive home without any questions, because at the time, Jim didn't think that he needed to ask Billy any questions about the bruise on his face. The fact that he had seen it slipped out of his mind not even five minutes later.

Cat People (Putting Out Fire)

One-shot

Neil got a call from Susan towards the end of his shift on Friday.

He was at the front security desk of the office building he worked in. McKinley was seated next to him, rambling about his wife who didn't put out, his adult children who never called, his grandchildren who he never saw...Neil was only paying enough attention to nod and give an mmhm periodically. He had no sympathy for McKinley. The man was a career drunk who was only able to keep his job because their boss, Stan Hinton, was his wife's cousin. And there was no way that Hinton had never seen McKinley take a swig from his flask on the job; the man barely even bothered to hide it.

Neil's father, Jack, hadn't hid his alcoholism either. "I have a shit life. Can you blame me?" he would snap if anyone dared say anything to him about his drinking. He would go into a tirade about it. How his family had lost their farm during the Depression and how he and his parents and his five siblings had to make the drive from Oklahoma to California. How the entire family had gotten typhus when they were passing through Arizona and how it killed both of his parents and his two youngest sisters. He would rant about how he and his three remaining siblings (a sister, a younger brother, and his own identical twin brother) could only get the worst, most back-breaking labor jobs because no one wanted to hire Okies

On With The Show

Chapter 1: Dustin and Steve

Not even two years ago, Dustin had thought that Steve Harrington was a total douchebag.

Maybe it wasn't entirely fair. Dustin didn't know Steve back then. He had only heard things from Mike. Things like how Nancy would spend all night talking about him with Barb (may she rest in peace) on the phone and how right after Will went missing, Mike had caught Steve sneaking into Nancy's bedroom window and when he and Mike made eye contact, Steve had tried to play it off like he wasn't doing anything sketchy, like Mike was some kind of moron.

Mike thought Steve was a douchebag and so he had told his friends that Steve was a douchebag.

The thing was...Steve really wasn't. At least not to Dustin.

[istandonsnowpiles]

I really love all your infrared photography and it honestly makes me want to do some myself, but I don't know the first thing about photography hardware -- what sort of specialist hardware (or software?) do you use for it?

So glad you like my photography! Thank you!

I’d recommend checking out Rob Shea’s Introduction to Infrared Photography. I learned a ton from him & he has a ton of videos on IR photography.

Infrared photography does require some special equipment. I’m gonna talk about digital cameras here, but you can also shoot infrared on film.

First things first you’ll need a camera. I’d recommend a mirrorless camera as DSLRs tend to be trickier to do IR with but any camera will do as long as it shoots RAW. It’s possible to shoot jpeg infrared stuff, but I wouldn’t recommend it. You’ll need to do a decent amount of editing (more on this later) so RAW is the way to go.

Digital cameras have an IR cut filter over the sensor that blocks out almost all IR light. So, you need to adjust what the camera can see before you can shoot IR like you’ve seen here. There’s two ways to do that.

1. Get a filter. The most common one around is the Hoya R72 filter. It goes on the front of your camera’s lens and blocks out most visible light, leaving infrared light.

Since you’re blocking out most light and the camera’s IR cut filter is blocking most IR light, you’re gonna need to use a really long shutter speed when using this filter. You’ll need a tripod to do this properly and the subjects you can shoot will be limited due to the long shutter speeds.

I really do mean long shutter speeds btw. If you were gonna take a shot at 1/250th shutter speed without the Hoya R72 filter, you’ll need to use a 1 second shutter speed with it on. You ain’t hand holding that 😅

This filter route is definitely the cheapest option though. Easily under $100 and you can go shoot IR with any camera. It’s not how I shoot IR tho, I use:

2. Get your camera converted to infrared. There are companies that will take your camera, tear it down, and remove the IR cut filter from your camera’s sensor. This is a permanent modification of your camera and involves some risk. It’s also kinda pricey. Depending on your camera, it’s between $300 and $500 to convert a camera. Two companies do this in the US, Kolari Vision and Life Pixel. I’ve used cameras converted by both companies and they’ve been awesome.

A converted camera has one huge advantage: it sees way more infrared light. That means you can use faster shutter speeds and you don’t need a tripod. It’s a lot more fun and opens up all kinds of possibilities.

There’s a lot more to infrared hardware but I’ll leave it there. Happy to talk about lenses and the different types of conversions if you’re interested. For now, let’s talk about editing.

I use Lightroom for most of my editing, but like all editors, it’s designed for editing photos taken in visible light. That means the adjustments you can make to the white balance you can set in Lightroom isn’t enough to properly display an IR photo.

So, you need special profiles just for IR to adjust the white balance beyond what it can usually be set to. Rob Shea has them available for just about every camera. After that, you can edit as normal. But with wacky colors.

You can use a similar trick with special profiles to swap colors around. That technique is called False Color and I use it all the time!

Soooo yeah, is there special equipment? Yes. Special software? Kinda. A lot to learn? Absolutely.

I hope this was helpful!