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carolperkinsexgirlfriend · 9 months

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Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 70

Part 1 Part 69

Steve can barely feel the ache in his nose past the thrumming anxiety churning through him as he runs. Of course, Dustin Henderson would be the one to ring in their doom. He is the worst child, and that’s including Mike, if they qualify it by who causes Steve the worst headaches.

Still, when he sees Dustin sprinting out the front doors of the middle school, looking small in his oversized hoody, Steve runs up to him, hands clasping his shoulders.

“Don’t hurt him,” Dustin says, lip wobbling pitifully from beneath his ball cap. “Wait, what happened to your face?”

“Nevermind that,” Steve says, gritting every word out past his clenched teeth. “Don’t hurt what?” Dustin’s just a kid whose heart is bigger than his brain, and that’s saying something, seeing as Steve only understands one in every five words he says when he really gets going.

“Dart,” he says, eyes big and wide and sad in that way that seems to come naturally to him. “He trusts me.”

Steve closes his eyes, squeezes Dustin’s shoulders comfortingly as he takes a few deep breaths. “What is a Dart?”

When he opens his eyes, Dustin is grimacing up at him. “He’s my friend.” When Steve continues to just look down at him, his shoulders slump and he rolls his eyes. “He’s about this big,” he says, holding his palms a few inches apart, “and a terrestrial pollywog.”

“A…what?”

“Like a tadpole, Steve,” he says, rolling his eyes. God, the attitude on this kid.

Will and Eddie finally catch up then, Will red in the face from exertion, and Eddie gently windswept. Steve wants to tuck his flyaways behind his ears. He squeezes Dustin’s shoulders once then drops his hands, stepping back to expand the circle.

“Where’s dweeb three and four?” Steve asks, lips curling upward when it makes Eddie snort.

Dustin, after rolling his eyes for the third time, responds, “they’re looking for him in the school.”

Eddie walks up, wrapping his arm around Steve’s shoulder, and rubbing his hair viciously until Steve bats him away with a laugh. He swoops his hair back into its usual coif, feeling warm. “How about me and this guy search the grounds while you kids check out inside the school?”

Will nods, smiling innocently between them as best he can with his blotchy cheeks. “Yeah, we don’t want one of our teachers to call the cops on you.” He walks back toward the school without another word. Dustin guffaws before following him.

They both stand there, staring at the pair’s backs until they disappear into the school.

“Did he just call us perverts?” Eddie asks.

Steve laughs, even as he shifts his gaze over to Eddie, wondering how far off the assessment really is. “Come on, let’s go find this tadpole,” Steve says. “You go that way.” He points to the left, toward the playground, “and I’ll go this way, and we can meet up in the back of the school.” He throws a thumb behind his back.

Before he can turn around and start his route, Eddie asks, “should we be splitting up?” He’s biting his lip, looking worried.

Steve laughs. “Dustin said it’s this big.” He measures the space with his pointer and thumb, lessening it just a smidge since he’s met Dustin and has an unfortunate familiarity with his penchant for exaggeration.

Eddie looks down at the measurement, brow furrowed before nodding, still looking reluctant to leave. Steve softens. “Don’t worry. I’ll always be able to find you,” he says, patting the spot on his sternum where he can feel his connection to Eddie and Will. Where they both live within him.

Eddie smiles, small but dimpled until he raises a curl of hair to cover it. “Okay, Stevie,” he says, reaching out to grab Steve’s hand and kiss the back of it gallantly. “See you on the other side.”

They part. Steve walks slowly, keeping his eyes peeled for anything at all. Luckily, this side of the school is practically barren, but he rustles through the three bushes he finds, waiting for something small to jump out and bite his face off. How a tadpole will be jumping at all, he can’t quite picture. Dustin wasn’t exactly expansive with the details.

He's just rounding to the side, entering the little alcove before he hits the gym. Steve used to sneak out here with Carol and Tommy instead of going to class. It was always empty, and once, they’d found a pack of cigarettes one of the teachers had forgotten. It was just lying there on the curb.

Tommy had picked them up, opened the pack, and crowed with delight when he’d pulled out a Bic lighter that had been stuffed in there with them.

“Wanna try?” he’d asked, smiling at both of them, and pulling out a cigarette before either of them had gotten the chance to respond.

He was clearly imitating what he’d seen on TV, with the way he kept his wrist slack and kept the cigarette jammed between two of his fingers. It did make him look cool, though. Until he’d struggled to light it, cursing as the thing ignited and stuttered in his hand.

“I think you’re supposed to suck in when you light it,” Carol had said, nose raised. She would know. Her Mom smoked religiously, afraid if she stopped, she’d gain weight. All her clothes always smelled of the cloying smoke that clung to her.

“You’d know all about sucking,” Tommy muttered, glaring over at her. But he’d still shoved the end in his mouth and breathed in while he tried to light it. It caught immediately, embers burning as Tommy inhaled smoke into his lungs.

He looked cool and poised for approximately three seconds before his face turned red and he coughed so loudly that all three of them had run, cigarette discarded on the pavement, afraid of getting caught by a passing teacher.

It’s empty now, though. No teachers. No students. No cigarettes. Just an empty stoop with two closed metal doors that can only be opened from the inside.

He blinks.

Flecks of ash float in front of his eyes. Steve wonders, suddenly, if this place can only be unearthed by the darkness behind his eyelids. He doesn’t have time to think about it further. Because it’s not just ash that’s dancing in front of him – the shadows move across the bricks of the building, expanding until there’s no spaces between them at all.

Steve turns.

He looks, up, up, up. The thing is looming above him – a shadow casting its own shadows. Steve turns, jamming his fingernails into the crevices of the locked doors, trying to pry one open. Neither budge. He closes his eyes, curls into himself, wishing desperately for Eddie, or the real world, or the enclosed false safety of his closet.

It's still all shadows when he reopens his eyes. No Eddie or Will. Good. That’s good, right? Because he can almost feel the cold of the thing behind him leeching all warmth from his back.

His breath shudders in and out of his lungs as he turns back around, ready to face his fate. Running will bring Eddie. Eddie has always seemed drawn to any shiny thing that moves, and Steve refuses to be his lure. His doom.

He plants his feet.

The tendrils of the thing’s legs are closing in, and up close, they look more like smoke than shadows, spinning and spinning in their own little gravitational pulls. Steve wonders if he’ll get sucked in, as they twine around him, closer and closer and closer.

One trails over his face, over, then in. It feels like drowning, chlorine clogging his nose and lungs. Or like falling from a great height. He used to sit at the edge of the quarry, feet dangling over the edge. He’d imagine what losing his grip on the ground would feel like, how the wind would whip about so quickly that it'd leave him breathless.

He feels like that now. Breathless. Drowning.

His life was easily dissected into two categories: Before and After. Before the Upside Down, and Eddie, and Will, and all these people who tether his feet to the ground.

But this is After, and he’s coming untethered.

Steve clutches the ties that bind and yanks, like a dog on a leash, hoping his owner will hurry up and come with him.

Part 71

Taglist: @deany-baby @estrellami-1 @altocumulustranslucidus @evillittleguy @carlprocastinator1000 @1-8oo-wtfbro @hallucinatedjosten @goodolefashionedloverboi @newtstabber @lunabyrd @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @manda-panda-monium @disrespectedgoatman @finntheehumaneater @ive-been-bamboozled @harringrieve @grimmfitzz @is-emily-real @dontstealmycake @angeldreamsoffanfic @a-couchpotato @5ammi90 @mac-attack19 @genderless-spoon @kas-eddie-munson @louismeds @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @pansexuality-activated @ellietheasexylibrarian @nebulainajar @mightbeasleep @neonfruitbowl @beth--b @silenzioperso @best-selling-show @v3lv3tf0x @bookworm0690 @paintsplatteredandimperfect

#steddie upsidedown au #my fic #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #will byers

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starreo · 8 months

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thank god for you,

isagi.

cw: fear of failing, throwing up, anxiety

if it wasn't for you, i'd still be crying on my bed, wrinkling the sheets of my physics test paper. if it wasn't for you, i'd still be hurling at the sight of anything less than an A. if it wasn't for you, i'd still be sad, upset and frustrated. which is why, i thank god for you.

when the teacher calls out my name, telling me i've got a 70 in her subject, and i can smile genuinely while accepting the paper, i think of you.

i still remember that moment like it was yesterday.

it was six-thirty in the morning, i was scrambling through the papers, struggling to find the page with all the code words...if i couldn't find them...it'd be all over. there would be nothing left...i would fuck up the most important test of my life.

my overworked brain was starting to forget everything. all the important questions, the notes i'd made, the keywords...it was all gone!

i only realized how badly i was crying when suddenly i was struggling to breathe with teardrops falling down to the floor. my hands, still too busy opening the books, flipping the pages to at least find the sheet with the codewords. i can't mess this up, i'd promised my parents i'd do well...what about the teachers? what will they think of me...the other kids...they'd totally make fun of me...

no no no, this is all wrong! i've worked so hard...i've been so good...how could i mess up this bad...

i sat down in my seat, looking across the examination hall, everybody looked prepared...everybody except me...i was gonna fail...i was gonna be a failure...i was gonna disappoint everyone. and there it was again. the fear forming in my mind, made my stomach twist. feeling the sudden flush of saliva in my mouth, i jumped up from my seat, and ran out of the hall. desperately trying to look for a washroom, i ran in immediately when i saw the toilet sign. paying no mind to the blue walls, i rushed into an open stall, on my knees as i threw up. my hair, thankfully tied into a ponytail as my hands gripped the edge of my hoodie.

disgusting disgusting disgusting.

having emptied out everything, i finally pushed myself back. taking a second to breathe. "u-uh...are you alright...?" a boyish voice said...your voice. shocked when i realised i was in the boys' washroom, i immediately wiped my face and flushed the toilet, turning around to see you. you, standing there with a worried look on your face, a napkin already held out towards me, as you tried to say something.

i looked like such a mess. i smelled worse. and yet, you were so kind. giving me a gentle smile as you raised the napkin to my lips, cleaning the side of my mouth. "are you nervous about the exam too?" you whispered carefully, your genuinely soft eyes questioning mine.

i didn't say anything. i was too ashamed to. i didn't wanna admit it. but you still went on.

"it's okay if you are...we all have our good days and bad days. there have been times when i've been the king of the court and there have been times i wasn't able to even reach the ball on time. you don't always have to be perfect, y/n. you have to be human." you said, giving me a smile. a smile i would remember for the rest of my life. just like the words you said to me.

when the teacher calls out my name, telling me i've got a 70 in her subject, and i can smile genuinely while accepting the paper, i think of you. and i think of how i'm not perfect, because i am a human.

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shuttershocky · 6 months

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hiya shutters,

hope you're doing okay!! on a scale of sad wet cat to anxiety but with guns - how much are you looking forward to the jessica alter banner? if i can pick your brain for a bit, do you have any insights about her or the other ops coming our way?

Hi!

Jessica the Liberated is actually my favorite kind of 6 star: versatile, packing a lot of weird tech/utility, and damage high enough to do the job without being high enough that she becomes instapull Youtuber clickbait. As always, i don't recommend pulling beyond the guaranteed 10 roll when not on limited banners, since she can always spook you later (and will also definitely rerun), but I would raise her to E2max at once if I get her.

Jessica's big draw is that she's currently the only Defender with a summon—a shield that doesn't attack, and can only be deployed in the 4 tiles adjacent to Jessica, but has a +1 Taunt buff on itself. What's the point of a summon that doesn't attack you ask? There's 4 important pieces of info to consider

The Mobile Shield has stats almost as high as Jessica's, and is Block-2 to boot. When you consider that Jessica is a 6 star Defender, that's a really tanky summon. If you go all the way and max her module too, the mobile shield gets higher max HP and DEF than Jessica herself.

Jessica temporarily changes her direction to face the Mobile Shield. She's so far the only Operator able to turn around, useful when enemies try to surprise you out of nowhere, or when dealing with map gimmicks that involve Operator facing like Near Light's shadows.

Since the mobile shield doesn't attack, it can stall enemies that activate skills upon being attacked. Simply form an L shape direction (the long line is Jessica + shield, the short line is the enemy) so that Jessica herself can't shoot the enemy because the Shield is blocking them from entering her range. Flagbearers, Seaborn Reapers, any enemies whose ATK stats can't overcome the shield's DEF stats, you can stall them for a very long time, as the shield lasts 50 seconds.

It's not written in the skill descriptions on Gamepress but the Shield has +1 Taunt, meaning you can deploy operators after it and ranged enemies will still attack the shield. It's a free ranged tank on top of your regular tank! Oh and did I mention at E2 when the shield takes damage Jessica gets a 50% chance of getting +1 SP? If the shield draws fire, it also charges Jessica faster.

But let's say having a 2-in-1 tank package doesn't excite you. Let's go into her skills.

S1 is an infinite duration, AFK skill where Jessica modestly boosts her ATK and DEF by +70% while also increasing her mobile shield duration by +30s. As AFK skills go it's not the greatest, since it doesn't expand her modest attack range and the DPS is low at 800 (though has a modest 1000 DPH), and when it comes to AFK tanking you have Hoshiguma S2 (or my personal favorite, Croissant S1) to compete with, but if you need your AFK tank to also be dealing damage, it's not a bad deal. The mastery gains are huge too, Level 7 goes from 90 SP cost to 70, still large, but a 20 SP cut is a 20 SP cut.

S2 is a range expansion to Spreadshooter Sniper range, +75% ATK, speeds up her ATK interval to 0.3s from 1.2s, and has a very juicy 75% Physical and Arts dodge. Now Arts dodge is very rare even among dedicated tank units in Arknights, and 75% is also really damn high. For a skill that lasts 15 seconds and also boasts a very high 3.5k DPS, this is a damn neat tanking skill, even if still chance based. It should be noted that this skill gets a big upgrade when Sentinel modules are released, since the Sentinel module reveals invisible units inside a Sentinel's attack range. Limited but useful for most Sentinels since they only have two tiles of range normally, but Jessica's S2 expands it into spreadshooter range, making her both a decent invis counter while her really high DPS lets her kill them herself.

S3 expands her attack range by 1 tile, slows down her ATK interval to 1.8s, gives her +310% ATK and +80% DEF, while the Mobile Shield gets +170% DEF. If the mobile shield is deployed, Jessica fires a cannon shot that deals 250% of ATK as damage and stuns enemies in the AOE for 6 seconds. Uses 20 ammo.

Oh boy that description is so long I'm making a new paragraph for the explanation. It's funny, an AOE 6 second stun on a 40 second cooldown is practically Mostima's whole S2M3, except here it's just one feature tacked on to the rest of Jessica's S3. There's a ton of tricks you can do with the cannonshot I won't list down here (refer to the S3 section of this video if you want to learn them), but the general gist is this is a very high DPH (2.5k) tankbuster skill that gives Jessica 1.4k DEF and the shield 2k DEF, making the pair extremely tough. When you combine this skill with Jessica's ability to change directions, you have a very flexible skill that can AOE crowd, control tank, and tankbust all at once, and it uses ammo too so it won't waste any duration when there are no enemies. This lets Jessica S3 cheese enemies that freeze her (since she can't attack them, she won't run out of ammo so her DEF buff lasts forever), or lets her keep her DEF up the whole time while being pelted by ranged enemies she can't hit back yet. There are a ton of ways you can abuse this skill's various quirks, making Jessica the Liberated a favorite unit for players looking into making optimized clears for challenge stages.

_____

Now, whenever anyone talks Arknights meta, people always favor units that are the best of the best in one aspect (usually, DPS) and disregard everything else. However, I feel that's a bit disingenuous, given that Arknights' best game mode and probably the game mode that will outlive Arknights' live service itself is Integrated Strategies.

In the roguelike mode, versatility is king. An operator that can do two things but isn't the best at both will struggle to compete in normal Arknights when you can bring whoever you want, but when you're assembling a well-rounded team at the mercy of voucher rng? Suddenly second-best looks real attractive when they can also do a second role in a pinch.

Jessica the Liberated is one of the most valuable picks you can possibly get from a Defender voucher. Tanking? She can do it. Attacking? She can do it too. Anti-air? She's one of the very few Defenders able to do it, and she's also really good at it with S2. Crowd control? Cannon. Weird map layout? She can change directions. DP is tight? She costs 21, cheaper than a tank like Hoshiguma at 23. Invis reveal? She gets that too eventually, as if she wasn't packing enough options.

The only thing this girl's not doing is fucking healing, incredible given that she's interned at a hospital for years now and somehow came out of the experience with heavy weaponry and zero bandaids.

Ah but we're not done yet. Apart from packing enough utility in a single voucher to make Saria start sweating, Jessica also has a ton of different possible relic combos. To use Spinach relics with her cannon shot, simply deploy the mobile shield before S3, so as soon as S3 activates, she instantly fires the cannon with the Spinach boosting its damage. Any Phys+, ATK+, DEF+, or DEF- for enemies works as well as you would think on her too. Her S3 cannonshot can have its stun duration extended by relics, or deal extra arts damage by relics like Children's Puppet. Being a melee unit with extra range means Scout Scope works on her for both S2 and S3, while S2 having 75% Arts and Phys dodge means she can take advantage of dodge relics too. She's got a summon, so relics that boost summons can boost her shield, and IS4 has a new relic that boosts an operator's ATK when their summon is deployed too.

We can go on and on here, but you should get the idea now. Jessica never solved her anxiety, but she did bring an arsenal big enough to handle almost any situation you can throw at her. I think she's a great unit, and if you're a new player when you get her she's absolutely capable of being your rock.

#arknights

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penvisions · 1 year

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of beskar and kyber {chapter 4}

Pairing: Din Djarin x Force Sensitive! Reader (the Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader)

Summary: The Mandalorian succumbs to more than one of his instincts regarding recent quarries, a fight to maintain that which he deems worthy of saving ensues.

Word Count: 5.4k

Warnings: mentions of suicidal ideation, canon typical violence, canon typical fighting, guns, gun violence, shooting, injuries, blood

A/N: please excuse any mistakes with the mando'a, i've been using a combination of a translation code and star wars lore to piece together the language. this chapter was a little hard for me to write, it was a heavy one and my weeks have not been great lately. but it's here, i worked through it and i will be out of town for a few days to get some much needed mental space before the semester starts.

thank you so much to everyone for the love and support, and hello to the 70(!!) new followers i've gained recently ♡

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist

Watching him leave the space of the Crest and down through the entrance of the city had a foreign feeling settling in your chest. There was a weight to it, something that you hadn’t experienced before. It was akin to panic, your palms sweating and your heartbeat tittering. Your brow was smooth, though you worried your bottom lip between your teeth, some kind of anxiety taking over all of a sudden.

The shine of his newly minted armor in the blue light of dusk was a beautiful sight to behold. The strong form of the Mandalorian backtracking to right a wrong he didn’t have the resolve to stick by, despite everything he had done and every action he had taken up until this point to ensure the completion of his job. His steps were sure, his hands still at his sides, his helmet facing forward. The cape he had allowed you to use as a resting pad billowed with his steps, moving behind him in a mesmerizing show, the rifle strapped down his back holding most of it still, save for the end of it.

Eyes tracked him almost greedily until he was lost in the maze of the buildings that lined the streets. You were usure of how much time had passed since he had disappeared, though the sun had begun to descend toward the horizon.

A beeping started down in the hold, causing you to startle a little. You wracked your brain to figure out what it was without moving to inspect it. It wasn’t your ship after all, you didn’t want to go snooping around and find something you weren’t supposed to. Or, with your luck, end of messing with whatever was making the noise and get injured or blindsided by a trap. Then it clicked. It was the tracking fob he had carried around on Arvala-7.

Climbing down into the hold space despite how sore your body was, you found it atop the bed that was in his small personal quarters. The door had been left open in his haste to get back into the city. It was flashing a red light, the beeping continuing at a steady pace. Your nerves tingled as you realized what it meant. The job was back on for the entirety of the Guild. It would be a free for all, the hunt for the Child back on. You took it with you back up to the cockpit, watching as the sun began to disappear on the horizon, the fob tight in your hand.

You had managed to silence it, but the light still glowed red on the face of it.

You were still in the cockpit, taking in the surroundings of the ship when you noticed the way the same busy streets you had been watching all day seemed to clear, nearly desolate in the waning day. They had cleared as twilight had delved into early evening; the sun having dipped completely below the horizon now. A lot of the main throughways had emptied at the same time. The panicked feeling grew stronger in your chest.

It was something that made your instincts itch to run, to warn the Mandalorian. But you had no way to, the integrity of his armor had been damaged and then replaced with a completely new set. You doubted the outdated communications cuff you had in the bottom of your old bag would even connect to his, if you even had his chain code or communications number. You had no idea if you could maybe contact somehow with the controls on the ship, there was no time for you to figure it out.

Mechanics weren’t your strong suit. You could fly should the need arise, but you didn’t know enough to comfortably mess around with the older model of this ship without risking messing something up or throwing something out of sync in the settings. Silently cursing this ugly planet and dangerous city, you took off into the streets you had been monitoring.

You wandered a few streets into the city before actually beginning to search for what you wanted.

Making sure you hadn’t gained the attention of anyone or were being followed. Cautious as always. It was an odd feeling being down in the winding streets, it had been so long since you had been anywhere of your own volition. It was not lost on you that you were out on your own for the first time in who knows how long, to be seeking out help for someone else in your first moments of pseudo freedom. You had no motivation to seek out a ship of your own, to hide, to run. You had a mission, one that you felt deeply enough about to put your own true freedom to the side for the moment. The Mandalorian had somehow etched himself into your mind and you wanted him to succeed in this endeavor. In this rescue.

Not just for the sake of the Child. It was also for the man who had obviously connected with him, sensed something in him enough to regret turning him over as agreed when he took on the job.

It made you wish that someone had felt strongly enough about you to free your own fate. Or at least to aid you in achieving it yourself. You had been honest and ready to face the ramifications of your request upon the Mandalorian’s arrival at that compound. Asking him to kill you, to take the one thing you held close throughout your entire life, you had been ready. Ready to be free of the cycle that played out time and time again. You were tired of the running, the hiding, the scheming. Of watching over your shoulder every time you dared to leave a safe haven, a hiding place, the comfort of being alone for the sake of absolute safety. You didn’t see anything other than this being your life, until the end of your life.

You would agree with anyone that called you a coward, too afraid to take your own life but willing to ask for it. You would agree with them in absolution, it felt like a betrayal to those who had seen potential in you. To those that had taken you into their temple, taught you everything you knew, had seen the gift that they claimed you held. It would feel too much like disrespect, a slight to them in their deceased states after fighting so hard to protect what they believed in, who they believed in only to fall themselves. It would be a smear on your entire existence, to take your own life after they had laid down their own in protection. Despite the very fact that the gift they had seen in you, had set you on this very path.

The Mandalorian hadn’t mentioned anything other than this being a hub for the Guild in passing, where he would retrieve pucks and return captures. But there was something else about the city that had to mean something to him, to keep him returning and adamant about it as you had looked over his travel logs stored in the control system. He seemed to return here, to this outer rim location more than any other, sometimes stopping between every other planet. It had to be other Mandalorians.

Jobs, you were mostly sure of getting his payment and to obtain more, but he couldn’t possibly be coming back just for employment. You spied a large figure lingering in a doorway down the same street you were on. The streetlight glinting off of his helmet for the barest of seconds, but it was enough for you to see a similar looking visor. You knew it wasn’t him, it didn’t feel like him, but the figure still brought a sense of comfort low in your nerves. You had been correct in your hunch, it was other Mandalorian’s bringing your captor back to this planet time and time again. As if it were a base of operations for him.

You watched as the large figure moved about the streets, his armor glinting blue in the pale light of the moon beginning to show her face as night blanketed the planet. Unlike the Mandalorian you were currently captive to, this one had what appeared to be a jet pack fastened to his broad back. Large machinery was attached to him as well, but you couldn’t make out if it was a blaster or some other kind of weapon from your distance.

The figure deemed the street safe enough to briskly make their way down the length of it and around the corner of a building. A gloved hand came up to the side of the helmet and pressed something, as if they had activated something in the visor or mechanics of the helmet. They continued on, dipping silently down a flight of stairs that led into a lower-level alley. They paused in front of a nondescript door, the wood barely kept together with how warped it was, but as he reached for the handle you closed the distance with a deliberate scuff of your foot and spoke softly to them.

“Jatne vod, gar vod cuyir o'r burun.”

Sir, your brother is in danger.

The armored man swung around quickly, his hands going to the handle of the rather large machinery tethered to his form. Gun, it was a gun of some sort. Perhaps a modified blaster? His visor aimed down at you and tried your best to keep calm. Instincts not liking the focused attention. You didn’t know this man, but you knew of his Creed. He would cause you no harm unless threatened. While fighting and weaponry of a part of their culture, so was respect and the willingness to aid those in need.

“Pehea vaabir gar kar'taylir mando'a? bic cuyir a ranov'la joha par ner adate. Ner adate shi.”

How do you know Mando’?. It’s a language for my people. My people only.

“Gedet'ye, Jatne vod. Ni cuy' ti solus be gar vod. Kaysh cuyir o'r burun. Te beroya. Gaa'tayl, kaysh's at cuyir ru'ram'or jaon ad'ika.”

Sir, I am with one of your brothers. The bounty hunter. He is to be attacked over a foundling.

You knew of the Mandalorian culture putting great worth on foundlings, on those in need of guidance in the face of whatever circumstances that left them alone and needing for it. You hoped that the mention of one would help to convince the man in front of you to give aid to your captor. The Child deserved to be protected, to have someone looking out for him. And if that person needed help in the beginning of their journey, then you were going to kriffing make sure that he had it. You were worried about them both, wanting for this to story to have a good ending even if you weren’t going to be so lucky.

No one was ever going to be in your corner half as much as you had witnessed with the Mandalorian and the Child.

“Te beroya cuyir kovid. Kaysh liser akaanir.”

The bounty hunter is strong. He can fight.

“Jatne vod, anade. Val cuyir at jehavey'ir.”

Sir, everyone. They are to ambush him.

You shook your head at his words, not wanting to argue with him. He needed to understand that you weren’t diminishing their strength, either as a whole or individually in the case of the Mandalorian you were trying to save. If the entire Guild and the remnants of the Empire here on this planet were to mark him as a target, there was no way he would leave the confrontation alive. He was capable, but not when up against impossible odds. You had faith in him and his abilities, his title, the way he lived his life. But this….this was going to be a carefully executed slaughter. Your captor would need someone watching over his back. He would need help of his own.

“Pehea vaabir ni kar'taylir ibic cuyir nayc gaanaylir par mhi an?”

How do I know it’s not a trap for us all?

The armored man so similar to the Mandalorian you knew, gruff nature. Hesitant to take words as they were presented, seeing the threat in them even if it was false and only a misconception of one. It was what kept them alive in the face of attempted extermination, you would know. The Jedi and Mandalorians shared a similar history, though you knew they were once fierce enemies. If the tables were turned, you would have already walked away from him. You would have seen it as a ploy to get you out into the open as well, to be attacked yourself and to be captured.

“Ni ru'kel vaabir nayc such kebi.” You stood your ground, despite having to look up at the visor of the taller figure now staring you down. His gloved hands were at the ready atop his control cuff. Prepared to either take you out or to jet off with his pack as far away from you as possible. You closed your eyes in a long blink, gathering the courage to admit something aloud. Something that had become rather apparent even back on Arvala-7, even despite the circumstances that you came to know the Mandalorian in the first place. “Ni ganar baatir par val oyay.”

I would do no such thing. I care about his life.

The man must have felt the truth of your words. For his next move was to lower his hands from his weapons and face you in a completely open manner. He looked you up and down, the helmet moving with the scape of him taking in the way you were standing tall, trying to hold firm to your decision to seek him out. He noticed the fading bruises around your neck, the collar of the borrowed Mandalorian’s shirt wide on your shoulders. The bags underneath your eyes were still visible, but you were aware of how you must’ve looked. Like a spooked thing recovering from something awful, hiding in the shadows of the dirty buildings in this seedy settlement. All to seek out help for someone you barely knew anything about.

You could feel his gaze burning over you, dissecting you for everything you both willingly and unwillingly put on display.

With a nod, he said he would take your words seriously in Basic, and he disappeared down the street.

You took your time getting back to the ship, making sure no one had been witness to the exchange that had just taken place. If you were to be recognized or targeted, at least your last moments had been used to ensure the safety and protection of the Child, of a foundling in need of family and support. You kept your head on a swivel, not wanting to be taken off guard or to run into anyone who might have connections with the fallen Empire that was very much still alive on this outer rim planet.

As you turned down one of the more narrow streets, there was a figure slumped down on the ground, upper half leaned up against the side of a building. They were completely still, you weren’t sure if they were passed out as a result of too much spice or drink or dead. You cautiously swiped the bag of credits that had been on display, dangling from the man’s belt. You pocketed it, the borrowed pants the Mandalorian had loaned heavy as you made your way back to the ship.

After swiping the credits, you felt distant eyes watching over you. There was no hint to where or who they were, but you had a feeling it had to do with the Mandalorian you had sought out. Maybe he was keeping tabs on you to ensure the truth of your words, or had appointed someone else to do so.

As you began to ascend the ramp of the Crest, you turned to look over your shoulder one last time. You had hope that whoever it was that was tailing you hadn’t been brave or foolish enough to follow you aboard the ship. It wasn’t yours, but as you hit the button to close the ramp, a figure stepped out of the shadows and turned down the main street. It was a Mandalorian in yellow and orange armor. They had a hand held up close to the bottom of their helmet, no doubt reporting what ship you had just boarded via commlink.

The sight of Mandalorian at the head of the main street, having come out of an alley had you standing from where you were daringly seated in the pilot seat. That same, nearly panicked feeling, from earlier sparking in your chest when his beskar armor reflected the moonlight that shown down. The wrapped bundle in the crook of his arm was still, but you knew he had been successful in his rescue.

As he had turned onto the main street, bounty hunters appeared all around him. From the entrance of alleyways, down the main thoroughfare of the street, from parked speed bikes and smaller inner-city transport ships. The man you recognized as Greef Karga, from the transmission the Mandalorian had watched with you in the cockpit, stood near the entrance archway. His back to the shipyard and to you. He had people flanking him, seeming to be the one in charge as the head of the Guild. You couldn’t make out what was going on from so far away and within the relative safety of the ship, but you could tell words were being traded.

The Mandalorian didn’t have any weapons at the ready, his focus had been on the bundle in his arms. He snaked his right hand down to hover over the blaster in the holster at his hip. He had blasters of all shapes and sizes aimed at him, though you weren’t sure what the specifics of his new armor was but it had to be enough for him to still hold the confident air you could see on him from here. He stood his ground, not making moves to take in his surroundings. He had to have known that he was utterly surrounded, even from above where you could spy sharpshooters stationed on rooftops.

Some sort of agreement seemed to be achieved, as the Mandalorian began to take slow steps toward a wide, open speeder. Every pair of eyes and blaster barrel followed the armored man’s movements. He came to a halt right in front of the speeder, helmet aimed down at it as he thought something over. He notched his head to look at the bundle in his arms, still as a statue.

In an explosion of movement, he jerked his hand down and wielded his blaster and was firing shots in seconds. He continued to shoot as he jumped up and spun to land lengthwise within the interior of the open speeder. The lip of it and the cargo it contained helping to shield him momentarily from the barrage of shots that rained all around the street. Lights of blaster bolts bright in the early night.

The speeder began to move forward, and as it did so the helmet of the Mandalorian popped up over the top of some strapped down cargo. He had just enough vision to shoot a few bolts, the hits landing and taking out some of the opposing figures. The speeder only got about halfway down the street before someone had the thought to take out the droid that had been operating it. It came to a crashing halt, the hover optics were no longer working and it slammed hard into the ground.

Everything stilled, bounty hunters slowly approaching the downed speeder. But the Mandalorian’s rifle made a slow, steady movement and a shooter up above was taken out. Their body disappearing in a burst of ash and the bits of fabric from their clothing that didn’t burn up flitted down to settle on the street below. Other people began to disintegrate as the Mandalorian took aim again and again. Some took cover, some took off completely. But it was still far too many for him to take on alone and make it out unharmed, let alone alive. You worried for the Child, who was surely not enjoying being caught in the middle of the chaos lest he have awoken during your separation.

Dust flew up, making it hard to decipher anything else below. Flames erupted from where you knew the Mandalorian was still hunkered down in the speeder. It was a chaotic scene of blaster bolts lighting up all around. Suddenly, figures in familiar armor and helmets descended down into the street. Jet packs aiding them in quickly gaining the upper hand. You heard the ramp of the ship open, but you hadn’t been the one to initiate it. The battle raged on for a good while, until you finally saw the form of the Mandalorian cross the threshold of the archway that let into the city. His silhouette having formed before he appeared through the smoke and dust of the fighting.

He was walking briskly to the ship, the Child safely in his arms.

You rushed out of the pilot seat and began to make your way through the upper space of the cockpit. A foot settled on the first rung of the ladder when a voice you didn’t know sounded through the space from behind the Mandalorian. He turned to face the man standing at the top of the lowered ramp, beside the carbon freezing chamber. You rushed down, coming to stand just behind your armored captor.

“Hold it, Mando.” You watched from behind the broad wall the Mandalorian made, fighting down the urge to gently reach around him for the Child and bring him into your own arms. You saw the way that the Mandalorian’s arms tightened the hold he had on the bundled up form in his protection. “I didn’t want it to come to this. But then you broke the Code.”

The helmet moved to the left, seeing that he was positioned just beside the freezing chamber. He discreetly pressed a button on his cuff, a metal cord shot out and activated something in the chamber.

Just as a thick steam began to fill the space of the hold, the shine of a blaster being pulled from a hidden holster flashed in the lights of the ship from the opposing man. The determined man aimed them both at toward the interior of the ship. A barrage of shots rang out, fuzzy lights filling the space between you all.

One of them pinged off of the newly fashioned cuirass protecting the Mandalorian, another settled itself in your ribcage. Others rained around you, pinging off of crates and the floor. It hadn’t been a blaster that had hit you, it had been some sort of gun with actual bullets. You tried to muffle your shout, not wanting to disrupt his concentration should he need to continue the standoff. But both men were good shots, the Mandalorian’s had landed directly over the opposing man’s chest. His one to the other man’s many.

You carefully lowered yourself to the ground as something buried in your skin protested, the warm feeling of sticky blood soaking the fabric of your borrowed shirt was paired with a sharp pain that made it hard to take in a full breath. You realized that the wheezing sound was you, Greef Karga was unconscious at the end of the boarding ramp that had begun to close. Your eyes caught his form still on the ground as your own began to convulse. Your wheezing turned into a wet cough, followed by another and another.

Hands were on you, searching your back for the injury that was causing the concerning sounds to fill the enclosed hold space, the steam clearing. You were trying to hold yourself up on your knees and your left arm, your right held to your mouth as you continued to wheeze and cough intermittently. You tried to shake the concern off, he needed to get the ship up in the air. He needed to get away from the people that would surely follow up into the air and space given the chance.

“The ship!” You ground out, bringing your hand away from your mouth, eyes widening at the alarming amount of blood that was puddled in your palm, dripping thickly to the durasteel flooring of the ship. A groan sounded from you unbidden as you felt yourself be turned over onto your back, the dark fabric of the Mandalorian’s shirt shiny with your blood. Your eyes were getting heavy, you closed them, lips parting to try and bring air into your stinging lungs.

“You’ve got to get us into hyperspace. They’ll kill you for the Child.”

“This isn’t a blaster shot.” His large hands had lifted the fabric up enough to see the entrance wound, gunpowder marring the skin around it and mixing with the steady flow of blood that was seeping from it.

“The ship, jatne vod.” You wheezed out, grabbing his hand and removing it. You pushed at him weakly, hands on his cuirass. He didn’t so much as budge, his helmet was aimed down at you, the dark visor bleeding into dark streaks across your vision. When he stood, it was then that you realized in the back of your mind that he had been holding you up off the floor with one arm and checking your wound with the other. Your body moved easily as he held you behind your back and underneath your knees.

“They’ll kill you and take us both, please.”

You found some strength as panic seared in your very psyche. Your hands gripped the cowl underneath his helmet and you brought it down closer to you. You pressed your forehead against the metal of the helmet over the visor, eyes straining to focus on something, anything beneath the dark of it. For him to understand that you didn’t want that, you didn’t want him killed and you didn’t want to become someone else’s captive alongside the Child. The arms around you tightened.

“D-don’t let them take me.” A sob wracked your injured body, suddenly overcome with everything that had happened the past week. Overcome with the thought that you had risked everything to save the Child, to save the Mandalorian. To give them the chance you so desperately wanted for yourself. Your head fell back from where it touched his armor, eyes clenched shut, his arms curled around you more securely. He didn’t say anything, the sounds of people shouting and approaching the ship ushering him into motion.

Blaster fire pinged off the exterior of the ship, prompting the Mandalorian to walk a little faster further into the ship.

“What were you thinking.” It wasn’t a question, not really, not with the way the words were growled at you through the modulator, static seething into them. His hands were light on you as he settled you into the chair to the left of the main one in the cockpit. He pushed your own hands down on the wrap he had put around your middle, urging you silently to keep them there. “I have to get us up and out, stay put for two fucking seconds.”

He kept glancing back at you as he got the ship up into the air and prepared to jump. The weapon you had been shot with had been modified. You couldn’t keep yourself upright, legs shaking and arms holding your middle. You slowly moved yourself to the floor, not wanting to chance falling over and tearing open the wound anymore. Of twisting the piece of metal that was imbedded deep in your ribcage. Time passed, you don’t know how long, vision and awareness fading. You didn’t see the Mandalorian salute another as they came up into the airspace around the Crest and bid him an all-clear sign.

You were brought back to the present by the feeling of soft leather and something cold and sharp digging into your skin. The ship had jumped, you were sure of it, the mesmerizing colors of hyperspace cascading into the cockpit. Your eyes could barely make out anything other than the washes of celestial light panning over the beautiful armor of the Mandalorian, his focus on your injury as he used a metal tool to retrieve the bits of the bullet that was making it hard to breath. You were whimpering at every small movement of the tool inside your skin, pieces of the offending thing pinged along the durasteel floor of the ship the second they were wretched from your skin. Bloody and smearing the clean cabin as the ship continued to travel on.

You cried out, lungs punching air out of your entire body in a painful surge as the last and largest piece was pulled from you and thrown to the floor with the tool he had been using to retrieve them. You felt fresh, warm blood trickle down the side of your mouth. It coated your lips, you could feel it between your teeth and the taste of it was dizzying. Your head spun, your body hurt, your lungs burned, and your vision began to gray. His voice was sounding but you couldn’t make out any words. Suddenly the visor of his helmet was the only thing you could see through hazy eyes, the darkness of it beckoning you and you were ready to follow.

A sharp, hot feeling washed over you as the sound of another tool buried itself into your head and made you nauseas. You could feel your body jerk but could do nothing to stop it, a pressure was on your chest, over your heart that was holding you still. The quick, disjointed beating of it surely could be felt through your skin. The Mandalorian was working to close the wound with that same cauterizing tool he had used back on Arvala-7. Your mind going fuzzy and all sense of being zapped away as he tried to close the bleeding wound.

“Where would you want to go, if given the chance?” The question bubbled up from his chest before he could stop it. The color draining from your face and the blood soaking the worn leather of his gloves pulled it from within him. He wanted to know something personal about you, he realized. He wanted a small piece of you should this be one of your last moments. He wanted someone somewhere to know something real about you, not only what you were capable of and wanted for. He wanted to be that someone. It was against his creed to ask such questions of someone if your intention wasn’t courting, the notion lost on him in his anxiety.

Your lashes fluttered as you tried to train your eyes on the black of his visor. To not be swallowed by the darkness in them. Your eyes were so dull, a heavy feeling settled in his stomach as he realized he was losing you. The cauterizing tool fell from one hand to clatter soundlessly on the floor. His ears were strained, watching your lips move as you tried to get words out.

“I’ve never been asked that.” You sobbed as you felt him remove his hands from you, leaving you alone and untethered on the floor of his ship. Tears raced down your cheeks, warm and salty when they cascaded over your nose and down to your lips. It was just for a moment, his hands were pressing a bacta patch to your middle, light pressure to make sure the adhesive stuck to your skin. His eyes moved to watch the white rag soak up your blood as he wiped it across your skin, not able to take the sight of your face going slack. You murmured one last thing before your body gave out on you. “I’ve always loved the forest.”

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taglist: @moonknight-s-cumdump @js-favnanadoongi

dividers made by the lovely @cafekitsune

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jmrothwell · 2 days

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Fic writer asks:

4, 11, 16, 24, 44, 70

(there are too many great questions!)

Thank you thank you! They are really good questions!! (found here)

Long post is long so there's a read more cut. (Question 16. (How many fic ideas are you nurturing right now? Share one of them?) gets especially long because I decided I want to discuss all my WIPs.)

4. Where do you find inspiration for new ideas?

This is a wonderful question, and honestly it depends. Some ideas definitely are me reading or watching something and forming an AU around that. Sometimes it's listening to music and a vibe strikes me that I am like I must write a story that fits this vibe. Other times, I'll be daydreaming and a single scene will pop into my mind and haunt me until I write it down which usually leads to creating the world and circumstances to allow that scene to happen. Sometimes I get an impulsive (in the cases of my darker angstier stuff intrusive thought) and my brain is like wouldn't that be messed up? (Like Crash Pad, Ch 11 solely happened because I built the backstory for the POV character and brain went, you know what't be really screwed up?)

11. Link your three favorite fics right now

Oh geez. But there are so many good fics!! At this moment the immediate top 3 that jumped in my head were:

-It's a supernatural delight by @invisibleraven (JatP fic) -Trip of My Life (Every Time You're Touching Me) by @daintyduck99 (JatP fic) -Prince Charming's Jacket by hitechlatte (Rise TMNT fic)

16. How many fic ideas are you nurturing right now? Share one of them?

So most of my fic ideas are in some WIP phase. (I'm serious when I saw I need a focus schedule to help me out) We Run Together - This next chapter is all Reggie being all anxiety riddled because Cam and Bobby take him shopping . . .still not sure if we're gonna get to the plane ride this chapter or next. Bobby's first since turning and Reggie's first period. . .it's a miserable affair for the two of them. I have this mental image of them during a layover just sprawled in the waiting away noses shoved in some sort of fast food bag or peppermint bag fighting off the queasiness of being trapped in a metal tube with a bunch of people, including young kids. . Hello Baby June, Goodbye Heart - I keep going back an reading what we have for the next chapter and all our notes. I don't know how much Ash is ok with me gushing about details bu I'll just say the stuff we've got planned it's literally that meme of "give me fic. 'you have to write it.' no write only fic." A lot of of my JatP wips are on rotisserie skewers in my brain right now, rotating, coming into view, reminding me of their presence, enticing me to work on them. And they ALL have moments that I am like, you were the scene! The reason I started this fic in the first place and I still haven't gotten to you yet!! . Crash and Burn - Gotta get through this last chapter of Crash Pad, which is gonna be fun. But then Glowing Embers!! Aaaah, the Donnie POV side of Crash Pad!! Especially Ch 9-11 of Crash Pad like I am at that point of must write this that I have worked myself into a frenzied state where writing is no longer possible . Finally the Donnie Double AU - This AU has so much angst potential. Right now I have two planned fics for it. An unnamed one where Mikey goes after the Donnie Duplicate to try and coax him back to the lair. Only instead he sets him off. And like I said, it gets angsty. The Donnie Duplicate 1000% believes he is OG Donnie, it is hardwired into him, no amount of evidence is going to convince him otherwise. Also hardwired into him is the belief that the only way to get his life back is to kill the entity that stole it from him i.e. OG Donnie. Which leads me to the second planned fic Meant to Be(working title, it may change). This is the reader insert(possibly OC) led fic. Essentially the premise is Donnie Duplicate runs into MC, and initially begins clinging to them out of an 'I just lost my entire support system' desperation that turns into a really unhealthy obsessive possessiveness. When I say it is pulling a lot of vibes, especially the planned ending, from Meant to be Yours from Heathers the Musical I ain't lying. In fact most of the vibe songs I am pulling for this lean into dark and angsty feels. Straight up have been listening to a song called Stalker's Tango on a loop for planning parts of this fic

24. Worst writing advice anyone ever gave you?

Hmmmmmm, this ones tough, if it was bad advice I most likely purged it from my mind. The thing is sometimes what is great advice for one person and their way of writing may be terrible advice for some one else. Like even the write daily advice, I think this is great advice. But it needs to be tailored to some extent. When I got back into fic writing I worked myself to the point where I am now needing to reevaluate my expectations of me and my writing. Because I can no longer keep up with the way I wrote a few years ago. The same advice I would have thought was great then would kill me now.

44. What mistakes do you keep making no matter how many times your beta corrects you?

This question would be easier if I had a regular beta XD. Personal mistake of my own that I keep noticing, I don't let the story breath enough.

70. When asked, are you embarrassed or enthusiastic to tell people that you write?

I have no hesitations telling people I write. I might not always discuss what the stories themselves are. But the brilliant thing about fanfiction is I don't have to, I can just talk about the joy of exploring the characters outside of canon, exploring how they would behave in different circumstances. At my sister's wedding a couple years ago, most people didn't even care about the what I was writing, more on the how I found the time. Because this was when I was in peak production mode, where I was slowly burning myself out with the sheer amount of writing I was doing without pacing myself at all.

#thanks for the ask!#writer asks #JatP #rise of the tmnt

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sakuracoloring · 2 months

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Cami's Commentary! #9 - Movie Rants + Jumpscare

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「ようこそ！」　。。。

Good morning/afternoon/night to whoever may be reading this! Sorry for not being very active these last few days :( I'm gonna be moving and so I have to pack my bags n say goodbye to my friends, yk? So that's been taking up a lot of my time. Anyways, it's time to hear me ranting >:)

Dirty Dancing: I watched this movie yesterday and WTF????? IT WAS SO GOOD!!!!! Like, it gives so much Sessão da Tarde energy and I love it sm (probably because it airs all the time on Sessão da Tarde lol)! Also, to y'all who aren't familiar with it, Sessão da Tarde (Afternoon Session) is a television program on TV Globo, probably the biggest and most popular TV network in Brazil, in which movies (mainly older movies) are shown from Monday to Friday during the afternoons :) If I had to describe it using 3 movies, I'd definitely say Dirty Dancing, Clueless AND White Chicks. (They really love White Chicks lol) That's the kind of movies they show (at least last time I checked lol)

To Wong Foo, Thanks For Everything! Julie Newmar: After some time that my friend recommended it to me, I finally watched it and it was very fun :D I really loved the story and the characters, and honestly Noxeema was so real (though Idk if she's my favourite. Like, this is the kind of media where I really can't pick a favourite character lol) <3 If you haven't watched it yet, I definitely recommend!!

My Bodyguard: I finished watching it like an hour ago and wow! Definitely better than I expected. Also, something that I found really funny was how similar Clifford was to Luigi (from As Aventuras de Poliana, a brazilian telenovela based on the Pollyanna book series). Like, their blue eyes, the curly hair in THAT shade of brown, their overall body types as well. Even the personality lol, though Clifford was Luigi with less social anxiety. Also (unrelated to my little comparison) Matt Dillon looked so fruity in this movie, especially with that hair lol

Despicable Me 4: I watched it yesterday as a little goodbye hangout with my friends and as I expected, it's one of those movies that probably should've never happened and is just a way of milking the brand. Like, it was pure dogshit, but honestly so dogshit that it became funny at times (also did anyone else notice the BTS symbol on Poppy's phone case?). The only scene I actually liked though was the ending scene with Gru and the weird cockroach-fetish-having villain singing Everybody Wants to Rule The World (Tears for Fears) while previous villains danced along. It was very wholesome :3

Also, tell me they don't look alike:

This is Nicolas Germano btw (brazilian singer) Every scene this cockroach fetish villain was in, my brain just went ''wtf he looks like someone'' but I just couldn't put my finger on it lol

Anyways, jumpscare time 😍😍😍😍:

So, I just opened up tumblr and the first thing that showed up to me was a post with a screenshot of an article talking about Matt Dillon apparently fucking girls in his trailer during the filming of The Outsiders n stuff, and so I went to the comments to not only find the source but to also see what other people had to say. And so I found the OP's comment talking about how they couldn't seem to get the link but they did share the website's name, and so I decided to search it up. No biggie ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I searched it up, but I had gotten the order of the letters wrong so a bunch of websites on pension started showing up, and that made me realise ''something's not right'' and so I searched it up again, correctly. But then it just showed me this private all-girls school in Maryland(???) and so I was like ''huh?'', which made me search up the website name + matt dillon ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ No biggie. But as I click on the first website that appeared, BOOM! Two porn ads. (Idk if that website focused on porn or if these just were ads) For like 5 seconds, I was in shock. ''How tf did I get here???'' is still a question I ask myself, and so I clicked off, very confused. Idk if that's the actual website OP found it on and these are just ads, but my eyes aren't very happy after this experience 😍

Thanks for your attention :3 It means a lot to me

number 9...number 9...👁️👁️ (If u got this reference ily)

See you next time! ☆

-Cami

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lilac-dawn-103 · 1 year

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Draco Malfoy Headcanons

(Because it's time for the revival of my Harry Potter phase)

𓆙 *•°~

Hey so,, Hi. This blog has been sat postless for too long so to hell with waiting to think of aesthetic things to post. Have some Draco headcanons because I've been having crazy brainrot recently. Hope you enjoy~

(this is assuming he isn't an absolute prick like he was intended to be in the books.)

𓆙 *•°~

- Dimples. He has the cutest damn dimples anyone has ever seen. People don't often see them because he doesn't smile quite bright enough, but they're there and it's vv cute.

- Silver jewelry. Mostly rings. There's a couple that he never takes off but then he has afew that he switches out depending on what he's wearing.

- Speaking of clothes,, bro has a stupidly good sense of fashion. If you want an honest opinion on an outfit, go to this man. As for himself, he takes forever in the morning to choose the perfect outfit, and he always looks good.

- Has a thing for glasses, inexplicably so. He just finds them generally adorable. For some reason though, he does find thick-rimmed glasses much cuter.

^^ To follow up on that, he also does random things for his partner if they have glasses like pushing them up or randomly taking the glasses and cleaning them.

- With his partner, his arm always manages to find its way around their waist. He finds it very comforting to keep them so close, plus it's a sort of instinct. It's very cute if he's just with his partner in the library looking for books and his arm snakes its way around them.

- If, miraculously, he knows any Muggle music, it's definitely stuff from the 60s and 70s. Probably jazz in particular. He just gives those vibes.

^^ Favourites are probably Frank Sinatra and maybe Elvis??

- Building upon him knowing about Muggle stuff, I feel like he'd really enjoy slushies?? Maybe it's in a streak of rebellion against his father's perfect vision for Draco, but he loves a slushie. His favourite is probably blue raspberry, though he hates that it makes his tongue bright blue.

- Since Narcissa is probably quite busy alot (rich people things idk-), so when he was younger Draco learnt how to style hair. He does his mother's hair pretty often and he's actually very good at doing it. His speciality is probably braids; quite easy to learn at a young age and you can do lots with them.

^^ Because of this, if you have long hair and you're a close friend of his, you best believe he'll style your hair for you if you ask. He even carries around a couple of hair bands in case.

If his partner has long hair, he loves to just play with it and run his hands through their hair to relax. He also randomly does little braids in their hair, and finds it quite theraputic.

- Poor thing probably has some kind of anxiety. I think it gets worsened by the pressure his dad most definitely puts on him. Draco always seems abit fidgety when it gets close to the Christmas and Summer holidays because he has to go back to such high expectations n such. (Poor boy :((( )

𓆙 *•°~

And that is all! Probably could think of loads more but I need time for my brain juices to start working more. Anyways, hope you enjoyed! :))

Edit: forgot to tag @sugarschnaps since they came up with some of these headcanons, so... Ty bestie love u mwah

#harry potter #draco malfoy #draco lucius malfoy #hp fandom #hp #hp headcanon #draco headcanons #slytherin #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry

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judgeanon · 1 year

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Plastic Skies of Betrayal - Model 12: F-5E Tiger II “Area 88″

So this model is a little special. I know I said the same thing about the last one, but while the Raptor build came with a heavy dose of anxiety and frustrations, the next build turned out to be a nice planetary alignment of materials and people all coming together in an incredibly rewarding project. Just like the Raptor, however, talking about it involves talking about other things first. In this case, a late 70s manga that set up camp in my brain months ago and refuses to leave.

Have you ever heard of AREA 88? If not, you’re about to.

So there’s this plane called the Northrop F-5 Tiger II, which I’d actually never heard about until I played Ace Combat 5: The Unsung War. That game famously starts you off in an F-5 and locks you there for the first four or five missions, so I became pretty well-acquainted with this tiny little fighter. Some people might recognize its shape from the original TOP GUN, where it was painted black and used as a stand-in for Russian MiG planes, but on the other side of the Pacific, a lot of people know it best as one of the signature planes of one Shin Kazama.

Shin is the protagonist of AREA 88, a manga by Kaoru Shintani that started all the way in 1979 and ended in 1986, the same year TOP GUN came out. I first heard about it while looking at some model kits, and since I was (and in a lot of ways still am) elbows deep in fighter jets at that time, I started to dig a bit deeper. Three OVAs and half a manga series later, I was absolutely hooked. The air combat is fantastic and the manga pulls a bunch of incredible visual tricks to render it, but it’s the intense melodrama of the characters that really kept me in. It’s a tremendously engaging, compelling and interesting series from every angle. And funny enough, I’d actually seen it once, over a decade ago. Just not as a manga or as an anime.

As it turns out, AREA 88 had a videogame for the SNES that had been brought to the West as “UN SQUADRON”, and I had actually played it back when my computer was so underpowered that all I could play were emulated retro games. Running into the game’s source material again in the midst of a wild craze triggered by another videogame was a strange but fun little return, and along with my growing obsession with said source material, cemented my decision to make my next model AREA 88-themed. And the universe seemed more than happy to provide.

My current favorite hobby shop turned out to have a 1/72 Tiger II model for a very nice price, made by the same company that made the F-16 model I’d built some months ago. To make things even better, it was also the exact same kit I’d already seen a much better hobbyist than me turn into Shin’s plane and upload tons of great reference pics online. All I really needed would be the decals, so I asked the shop’s owner if he could get me in touch with someone who prints customs decals. He obliged, although in the end that wouldn’t be necessary.

The build itself was pretty sweet, although not without its hiccups. There was no family drama to distract me this time nor lingering feelings of guilt. Even money was no longer an object. Feeling more relaxed than usual, I took my time with it, and challenged myself to add a few extra touches. For example, taking the thinnest brush I have, dipping it in red paint and giving the stick a little button,

The other thing I also tried out was, for the first time, primer. Yes, I’m a dummy. Yes, I’m not sure how I got this far without it. But I’d never actually needed primer before until disaster struck and some patches of paint began to fall out of my Raptor model kit. I’m still not sure what caused it exactly, but priming models from now on seemed like the smartest solution. As we say down here, better to prevent than mend.

That said, I don’t think I fully understand this whole priming thing yet. Without an airbrush or a spray can, I just used a brush to coat the kit with it, right off the bottle. I’m not sure if this is a good way to use it but at least it smelled really good. And not in a thick chemical kind of way, just genuinely sweet smell. But anyway...

Painting had to be paused for a moment after I let a friend borrow my white paint, so for a week or so only the Tiger’s tail saw any paint, but once I had everything back things moved pretty quickly. I was a bit worried about the blue part since masking tape and me don’t see eye to eye. Still, it worked out alright, and any imperfections were quickly corrected with a bit more paint. Which is something I really appreciate in model-making: if you mess up, you can usually paint over it. Usually.

Like with the stick, I took the time to paint a few other little details like the position lights. Decals and weathering also worked out pretty well, thanks to HobbyBoss’ decals being really good and the plane itself being really small compared to the last couple ones I’d made.

The other thing I felt quite proud of was my paintjob on the transparent parts. I’d been scared of canopies for so long that a bunch of my first models are still purely transparent there, but thanks to a couple of really comfortable brushes and some experience, I’m feeling far more confident about it nowadays. Plus, I’d fallen in love with this shade of blue, so adding more to the plane was its own reward. And speaking of canopies, another little touch I’ve been adding to the planes since the Raptor is to give the whole thing a coat of matte varnish, but then use gloss for the canopy, giving it a nice shiny finish. Although that led to a moment of anxiety when a drop of varnish went inside the canopy and stayed there, giving it a very ugly thick white curve that I feared was permanent. In the end I went to sleep and woke up to the varnish having completely dried out and disappeared, so that’s a good life lesson: sometimes you just need to sleep things off.

So with that and a combination of black and gray panel liner, the Tiger was done! ... or was it? After all, this wasn’t just any Tiger, this is supposed to be Shin Kazama’s Tiger. It was still missing a couple of very important touches. But for the time being I was pretty damn satisfied with the model, top to bottom.

A couple of weeks passed and I never really got around to contacting the guy I’d been recommended, but then I ran into something interesting: a local hobbyist in our local version of eBay was offering custom display bases for model kits at a pretty affordable price. I’d been thinking about getting or even making a humble display base for pictures and stuff, but when I noticed that he was offering custom touches, an idea came to my mind. And that idea lead to a frankly pretty amazing moment of pure human connection.

So after I got paid, I reached out to the guy and asked about getting a 1/72 base made with some extra touches. First, he asked for a picture of the model I wanted to go on the base, so he could take some measurements. Feeling pretty proud of my work so far, I sent him a picture...

... and I swear, the very first thing he said was, and I quote:

“Oh, is that Shin Kazama’s F-5 from Area 88?”

To which my answer was “Ok, that simplifies matters.”

On top of immediately understanding the assignment, new friend even offered to throw in a little extra: a Shin Kazama scale figurine, free of charge. I said yes, of course, ‘cause momma didn’t raise the kind of fool that says no to free stuff, and also asked if he knew anyone who could help me with the decals. As it turned out, he did know a guy. And the combined efforts of three different people living nearly 400 miles away from each other all came together to make something that makes me incredibly happy.

Like everything else I’ve made so far, it’s not perfect. The tail decal couldn’t be easily printed in transparent paper, so it was printed on blue paper that’s ever so slightly a different shade than the one on the plane. But the results are still more than good enough for me.

In the end, this kit turned out to be a very welcome de-stresser. The difficult parts turned out to be a lot less difficult than it seemed, and the base and decals story is something I know I’ll always talk about with a smile on my face. In a hobby that’s usually pretty solitary, that little bit of long-distance camaraderie went a long way. And left me a very nice base for all future projects.

#My Stuff #Hobbies #Journals #Area 88 #F-5 Tiger II #Lovely human beings #Being nice to each other

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icedmetaltea · 6 months

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I'm supposed to go back to my apartment tomorrow... or at least start, it's a 9 hour drive. Considering I can't go 30 mins in a car without a panic attack, I'm guessing I'll have at least 5 a day, and considering even one is traumatizing enough??? I'm gonna fucking die I swear to god

There's still so much to do, so much to pack, so much to clean, dishes to wash, laundry to do... I've barely eaten today and I didn't even notice till now. My stomach hurts but I'm not hungry, couldn't dream of eating rn

I've had this awful choking, lump-in-throat feeling come throughout the day, got really bad this past hour, just been laying in bed trying to not swallow cause whenever I do that makes it worse. I keep coughing, trying to get it out, but nothing helps... I know it's gotta be anxiety but in the back of my brain I'm worried it's asthma, like I've had mild asthma this whole time and just didn't know it and I'm just lucky I haven't died yet

Sure feels like I'll suffocate. People liken it to breathing through a straw and yep I've sure felt that a lot. I also noticed it gets worse when I use perfume so that leads me to think it could be that more...

Nothing is helping today. I've tried staying distracted by playing games but no, ofc it's 70 degrees... is that normal in march?? I don't even know anymore. It's supposed to get to 80 on thursday. My only hope is that the conditioner my parents are lending me will work better than the shitty window fan in literally one room in my apartment.

I don't want to go back there. Realistically I know I have to, I still have a lot of stuff I'd need to throw out before I could move, and if I did move... where?? There's nowhere to go. I could move to an apartment in the state my parents are moving to but they're in the process of moving in and it could take like half a year or longer for them to fully move in, and even then I don't know if they plan to stay there or only go there in a specific season.

My sister isn't that far from the apartment, maybe 20 mins ish, but she works and I don't know her schedule, plus she has kids and will probably not be available most of the time if I have a bad panic attack or there's some kind of emergency

Everything is just so fucked right now. The economy is in shambles, women's rights are getting stripped away more and more every day, we're on the brink of like multiple wars and I'm just trying to get through my last semester and don't know if I can due to all this shit plus my dyscalculia

Even if I do... what then?? I don't have a plan for my future. I would never make it as a therapist. I would never make it as any of my other dream jobs through the years. The only thing I can think of is some computer science job but my eyes cross when trying to do that, I'm the opposite of logic-minded, I really just have no skills or passions or anything to set me apart

And my blood pressure keeps getting high for some reason. I know it's probably the anxiety but what the fuck am I supposed to do about that??? I tried therapy for half a year and it didn't help, might've made it worse bc she kept saying I should just give up and go on disability (which as we know would probably just lead to poverty) I can't get on meds because the ones I've tried make me suicidal (er) and I've tried healthy eating + exercising as much as I can considering I can't do anything more than walking and guess what??? I still have anxiety

I just want to live with my parents forever but even if I did, they're still going to die someday. Everyone I love is going to die and I'm going to be alone and/or abandoned again and again and again. It's be just like danny all over again.

Like genuinely what am I even alive for?? People always say it gets better and sure it does... for a while. Then I end up back at rock bottom. And I always will. Because I'm a failure

#irl stuff #vent #tw anxiety #suicide mention #tw depression

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gayfranzkafka · 5 months

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also then after that i went to library and happened to randomly pick up this book called A Century of Women Cartoonists which happens to actually be such a lovingly crafted and inclusive work by a woman who was very much involved in the underground comics movement of the '70s and happened to have died literally this week while I was having my brain exploded by her book? and i did in fact use ALL of my anticipated tax return on my credit card buying out of print books that collect gay comics from the '80s and female comics from the '20s and '50s and a collection of this woman considered to be the first Black American cartoonist who also wrote about environmental justice in syndicated comics in the '70s which is so cool??

and what's insane is that most of these were uncollected forever and then they each got like ONE collection which is now AGAIN out of print and none of them were insaaaanely expensive but it's really activating my weird anxiety about the ephemeral nature of art like i love comics soooooooooooo much and it's been weirdly super transformative seeing all these minority artists' work collected in this book i'm reading and yeah i am now buying a lot of the collections that are easily accessible but it's like these are all out of print who is taking care of them who is ensuring future generations have access to this history????????? HELLO????????

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nixiemcretro · 6 months

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Me, Myself and Progesterone

I touched on progesterone (P4) in my last transgender update post. I am not quite sure if progesterone is working in the way I want it to. My biggest annoyance with it is feeling like my brain is on fire just before trying to sleep.

Rewind to late February 2024, for almost three weeks my progesterone dose was doubled to 400 mg of oral, micronised, compounded progesterone – 200 mg twice a day. That’s up from the 200 mg once at night.

I had also ceased finasteride. And finasteride interferes with the progesterone (oral) pathway conversion to neurosteroids such as allopregnanolone. This is because finasteride blocks *most* of the activity (~70%) of the 5-alpha reductase (5AR) enzyme. In turn, reducing levels of allopregnanolone – or at least slowing their conversion to neurosteroids.

My sleep quality has been pretty broken for a while now. Look at those orange blocks. And here I was looking forward to some of the benefits from progesterone. Anxiolytic? Yes please! Sleep improving? Definitely!

Instead I get this whole brain fire thing and feel like I’ve taken an anxiogenic. That got me thinking, brain on fire? Throw in some formication and it’s what feels like a glutamate rebound or surge. Excitotoxicity perhaps?

I’ve experienced similar feelings while withdrawing from pregabalin (decreases glutamate levels) and trusty old diazepam (increases GABA levels). Definitely that same feeling though. It appears that taking what I would consider a small dose (2 mg) of diazepam negates the insomnia pretty well. Even though diazepam isn’t a terribly good choice for sleep. It takes me from being a wired insomniac to sleeping beauty in about an hour.

Another interesting side effect I am seeing a lot more of is dissociation. Ordinarily, I would only experience this while in high stress, high anxiety situations but recently I’m noting it a lot more just doing chores around the house – which is a little concerning.

Regardless, it seems that something is messing with my GABAergic system and metabolites of progesterone fit the bill. Armed with my two-thirds of a biomedical science degree I went digging for more information on the metabolites. Up above is an image from my last health blog post. Note the action of finasteride on progesterone – blocking allopregnanolone (THP) and isopregnanolone.

I wonder if moving to a more potent 5AR blocker, such as dutasteride, would reduce the side effects of a higher dose of progesterone? A question for my endocrinologist I suppose. I restarted my finasteride to at least partially block some of the following progesterone metabolites. Let’s look at the metabolites a little closer and how they act.

Allopregnanolone (Tetrahydroprogesterone or THP) Positive allosteric modulator 9 hours

Pregnanolone Positive allosteric modulator 1 – 3.5 hours

Isopregnanolone Negative allosteric modulator 14 hours Targets allopregnanolone only

Epipregnanolone Negative allosteric modulator Half-life unknown

Alright, so a bunch of neurosteroids are doing a bunch of things. A few are being blocked, but also produce negative side effects when they weren’t blocked. Hormones are messy. Where does that leave me? I guess I am left questioning whether I should be taking progesterone at all. At minimum a dose reduction is definitely called for. I will probably return back to 200 mg and see what symptoms, if any, follow.

My search revealed some interesting data with overlap in symptoms shared with premenstrual syndrome (PMS) and premenstrual dysphoric disorder (PMDD) in cisgender women.

PMDD is believed to be caused by fluctuations in gonadal sex hormones or variations in sensitivity to sex hormones.

If sensitivity to level shifts is reason for the negative side effects, then single or even twice daily doses are probably not enough to smooth out the levels of neurosteroids for me, allowing me enter a withdrawal state, perhaps? Brain on fire? This paper offers some great insight into the mechanisms behind it all with some interesting side notes on SSRIs.

Interestingly, SSRIs increase allopregnanolone levels in the brain, rapidly and at low doses, as demonstrated in rodents as well as in patients with depression.

Could this be one of the reasons why I can’t tolerate SSRI/SNRIs? At the very least, it’s some food for thought. Worth noting that the original study has been questioned a little further along in the paper. Let’s circle back to those progesterone levels again. From Wikipedia

Progesterone levels tend to be less than 2 ng/mL prior to ovulation and greater than 5 ng/mL after ovulation.

What were my most recent levels again? 9.1 nmol/L or should I say 2.6 ng/mL (freedom units). That’s at 200 mg once daily at night, measured in the trough. I really need to ask myself, do I want to have symptoms of PMS/PMDD? Is that even a question that needs to be asked?

Looking at the levels on Table 1 in this paper give an idea where my levels line up. If you factor in the short half-life of most of the metabolites, once daily dosing is probably a bad idea. Ideally, I should look into getting the dose split to 100 mg twice daily.

Of course I have to be mindful of negative risk such as the androgen backdoor pathway. This has the potential to generate unwanted androgens like DHT – which will affect the hair on my head. That’s why the finasteride is here to stay until most means of testosterone generation is removed from my system…

It’s not all bad though. Finasteride competes with progesterone for the 5AR enzyme – which results in even less 5AR being available for testosterone -> DHT conversion. Another point worth considering is that progesterone has a positive effect on bone-building cells (osteoblasts). This can help with avoiding or reducing effects of osteoporosis.

Touching on side effects I’ve noticed, Progesterone should increase libido. Which is something I do not want due to past trauma. However, I wonder if the finasteride side effects are at play here. Again, I don’t consider them negative side effects either.

Other oddities I’ve also noticed my facial hair has become darker at the higher progesterone dosing at 400 mg. My upper lip now has dark black hairs, that’s new and unwanted. It might be useful for IPL treatment. But now there’s shadow on my upper lip I never had before. It isn’t just the thinning of skin either. The hairs are black instead of blonde.

One big uncertainty is that I’m not sure what my levels of estradiol will be at the next blood test. Are the 200 mg of pellets doing their job properly? Or did they fail? Does the dose need to be increased?

For now, I’ve been supplementing the implant with the remainder of my 2 mg estradiol pills while the pellets stabilise. One pill gives me ~85 pmol/L in estradiol levels. I’ve only just ran out of those so now I’m adding in some of the estradiol gel (Sandrena branded). These gave ~200 pmol/L estradiol per dose according to my most recent blood tests. In theory with one a day, I should be guaranteed to be in the late follicular phase – regardless of the implant levels.

Anyway, that was one heck of an info dump. I think that sums everything up that has been on my mind lately.

TL;DR 400 mg oral progesterone makes my brain go on fire. Progesterone metabolite levels shifting around are very activating for me. I will now target cisgender progesterone levels in the late follicular phase. Hormones are complicated. One size fits most seems to be at play when it comes to progesterone. Nothing like some trial and error! 🙃

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