#these are temp names until i care about the ship and care about naming it better LOL

[dreemurr-skelememer]

What about Gin x Dream? I actually like this ship

what's it like? having hearts too big for your bodies?

i like to think they just look at each other and a million words are said and that's enough. they're next to each other. and that's fine

[grilde1chesse]

ODDLY SPECiFiC RESiDENT EViL HEAD CANONS

characters i’ll include

jack krauser

leon kennedy

ada wong

albert wesker

luis sera

jill valentine

chris redfield

claire redfield

WARNING: childhood trauma/abuse, implied/referenced violence, mental health

JACK KRAUSER

she jack on my krauser till i major

transgender and mlm. no room for argument. it’s canon, i’m capcom

was the youngest of 3 brothers

grew up on the country side with traditional parents

his parents were physically abusive to both each other and the kids, meaning he grew up with out a healthy understanding of love. he doesn’t know how to express affection or love outside of violence because of this

ran away and joined the army at 18 and didn’t leave until operation javier. the army became a second home and he never learned how to function in society outside combat.

he hates that he’s gay and because of this he resents anyone he falls for (also partially because of how he communicates affection). liking boys not only insults his masculinity, but also makes him dysphoric, as he sees that aspect of himself as the remaining female side of him that he’ll never be able to get rid of

building off of the last bullet, this is why he’s so hard on leon. i’ll probably make another post diving deeper into their dynamic so i’ll leave it at that

he doesn’t listen to music often, but when he does it’s metal

LEON KENNEDY

he was the first protag i ever played as so i’m biased😞 ik i’m a basic fan i’m sorry gang

he’s more of a dog person and probably had one as a childhood pet, but has been scared of them ever since raccoon city

bisexual

was an amateur guitar player for some time but dropped it once becoming an agent

mamas boy

had a bit of chub before becoming an agent

older!leon has a dad bod & beer belly. i don’t make the rules it’s canon, trust

not even a ship really (maybe it is idk) but i feel like him and chris experimented with their sexuality together? idk take that how you will

i feel like he’s got facial or body dysmorphia and is extremely insecure about how he looks / talks, or at least used to be

bleaches his hair

building off the last bullet again, Leon was blonde when he was younger, but his hair gradually got darker as he grew up. eventually he started bleaching it because he didn’t want to have brown hair. his natural hair color from re2-re4 is dirty blonde. he stopped dying it as he got older

no matter how badly he wants a normal domestic life (to settle down, start a family, and give his kids the childhood he never had) he’s secretly terrified of the idea. he doesn’t know how to function outside of work, even when on vacation he can’t seem to relax

speaking of a domestic life, he’d name his kids some stupid shit like hunter or something

autistic. he has trouble decoding social cues (like when ashley jokes with him) and is fairly awkward. was definitely the “weird kid” in middle school

played hockey as a kid

i feel like he comes from somewhere cold, and because of that is fairly adapted to cooler temps but also can’t stand heat (like at all)

sleeps with a billion pillows

chronic gum chewer. it’s a comforting, absent minded movement that keeps him grounded on the job. i wanna say his favorite flavor is just regular bubble gum but maybe that’s just because i hate mint idk

has sensitive skin and eczema

ADA WONG

ada’s hard because she has no canon backstory or even personality really💔

has cherry blossom lip gloss and re-applies it religiously

has drop foot (i genuinely can’t think of any other reason she’d always been wearing high heels 😞)

mommy issues

was in and out of foster care her entire childhood only to end up back with her mom everytime

because she was so heavily neglected as a kid & basically raised herself, ada’s become extremely self sufficient and refuses to rely or depend on anyone

she has issues identifying her feelings and honestly doesn’t care enough to work through them. because of this she isn’t sure if she even likes leon at all. she can’t tell if she loves him or just finds him useful, ether way she wants him around/safe and she isn’t sure why

she smokes sometimes but hates it, so she only falls back on nicotine when doing horribly. she carries cigarettes around with her on missions

ALBERT WESKER

kitty meow meow

on the aro/ase spec

has autism, ASPD (psychopath), and a god complex (obviously)

sees himself as better than average people because he doesn’t experience sexual attraction (no hate to ppl who think otherwise, i just really can’t see him any sort of sexual context). he views sexuality as a weakness and looks down on it

mlm

i feel like him and chris have somewhat of a krauser/leon dynamic if that makes sense. he sees chris as an almost equal, but also as a threat because of it. he respects him to a degree. again, i’m probably going to make a post on them later so i’ll leave it at that

i haven’t finished 6 yet so correct me if this has been disproven in canon, but i like to think he had jake on purpose. while yes, he didn’t know about jake, i like to think he hooked up with ms muller with the goal of having a child. he probably deemed her as suitable, and had desirable traits that he wanted to carry on, but never knew she actually got pregnant

listens to classical music & maybe 80s as well?

not a head canon, but the band she wants revenge reminds me of him a lot

insane skincare routine

sensory issues & sensitive eyes because of uroboros (leads to overstimulation sometimes which makes him even more of a grumpy bitch)

loves flowers

doesn’t smoke often but when he does he prefers camels or marlboro blues (i don’t smoke (except for when i’m missing you) so idrk what i’m talking about)

LUiS SERA

inclusivity win! the scientist that helped make the tyrant actively chasing you down is gay!

mlm

grew up in a casually christian household & still holds onto some core ideologies, though in a more superstitious way than religious

holds onto a cross necklace from his childhood & prays when in tight situations

his parents smoked and that’s how he picked it up

speaking of, he’s extremely picky when it comes to what cigarettes he smokes. he prefers marlboro reds (again idfk what im talking about)

his jacket is custom tailored

he came from a poor household

probably wears eyeliner

has been to a gay bar

very physically affectionate & probably kisses people when drunk (platonically)

JiLL VALENTiNE

her name is jill sandwich!!!!!

lesbian. sorry i don’t make the rules. she’s gay. sorry chris & carlos

i mean just look at her she’s lesbian

has a little sister

can speak some french, though not too well due to lack of use

still has blonde hair from re6, but dyes it. (wesker absolutely killed the melanin in her skin and hair.) because she doesn’t have time to be constantly re-dying her hair so she has blonde streaks & roots.

has a cat

her favorite fruit is a pear. idk why she just seems the type

CHRiS REDFiELD

something about a boulder

bisexual

has been horribly down bad for jill for years (she sees him as a brother ;-( tough luck big guy)

was the stereotypical overprotective brother when him and claire were younger, always scaring the shit out of anyone she brought home

extremely good with dogs - actually considered being a dog trainer when he was younger

god knows that man RARELY does laundry - if at all. probably smells like a dog & uses 4 in 1 shampoo. stinky vermin

speaking of laundry, he probably wears swim trunks on the regular bc all his clothes are dirty

terrified of commitment

total adrenaline junkie with a savior complex (then again, doesn’t every resident evil protagonist?)

would be an amazing dad but is terrified of the idea of settling down. no matter how badly he wants to have a domestic life he doesn’t know how to adapt to it

has a german shepherd

can’t cook for the life of him; lives off microwaveable meals

literally the definition of “damn girl, you live like this???”

insanely high pain tolerance

CLAiRE REDFiELD

thinking about how she was 19 during raccoon city (making her you her than ashley was during re4)

dyes her hair auburn

bisexual

has probably punched at least one person for saying some stupid bigoted shit

she’s 100% messy, brash, and assertive, & i’m sick of pretending she’s not. she was raised by chris, the boulder punching fist for brains? no way is her room organized

has kissed jill before

her and chris used 2 do target practice in junk yards together & she once accidentally shot herself in the leg after shooting at metal

has always had crazy high pain tolerance, it runs in the family

because of her high pain tolerance she used to get hurt a lot on accident as a kid (doing stupid shit like messing around with fire or blades)

hates wearing her hair down

[emocl0wnpp]

Okay so because i just have too much shit to share

BAM

Little infopost about my main ship :D

How they met:

In short, Claws stumbled into Jack's circus while running away from the police and campers(in her story Jack's circus is in a forest), and Jack decided to play a few jokes and tricks with her...though once he realized she meant no actual harm he let her stay until she was safe.

After that they just sort of...stuck together as partners in crime(later on Jill joined too but she ain't important here((sorry Jill ily)) ) and slowly but surely became friends..and then they realized that they liked eachother,though it took them quite a few months to,first of all accept it (with Jack not wanting to be abandoned again, and Claws being having commitment and trust issues after what her ex did),and second of all,to actually confess to eachother.

But after a lot of pushing from friends on both ends, Jack ended up confessing first and they lived happily after :D

Fun fact time!!

Like in the picture, Jack is the big spoon and Claws is the little spoon...even if she's much taller

Claws always sleeps on his chest,ALWAYS

She drools,leaving huge puddles on his chest,and on top of that she snores...LOUD

Jack LOVES that she's a plush doll..she's soft as hell,though her skin is cold,which balances out Jack's warm af body temp.

Jack finds it hilarious that Claws is absolutely obsessed with Pennywise while dating him(and fought for her attention with her plushes a few times)

Claws often scoops him up in her arms and refuses to let him go(not like he'd want to leave anyway)

Black cat and racoon duo!!

The olive theory. (Claws loves olives while Jack hates them)

She wrote poems about him and drew him in secret before they started dating...she still does it but it's no secret anymore lmao

They're married and have 2 kids

Since Claws is a cannibal, Jack always makes sure to stack up on guts(her favourite food besides like...human food-)

FOREHEAD KISSES!!

She always cooks and refuses to let Jack in the kitchen(he set it on fire by accident)

Claws,having hungarian blood in her non exsistent veins, made him taste many hungarian dishes

And Jack surprisingly likes them

Jack makes candy specifically for her all the time and hides it in her work bag

Claws often calls him "szerelmem"(it means my love in hungarian....if you couldn't tell i'm also hungarian and im totally not projecting)

And Jack calls her candy and sweets related nicknames (muffin,gumdrop,muffincake you get it)

After Claws got comfortable with physical touch again she never let him go,always kisses him. Probably more clingy than he is

With that said, he ALWAYS wraps his arms around her waist....since he can't really reach anything else

Jack got her name tattooed impulsively as a surprise,so just in case something bad would happen Claws got his name tattooed as well(don't ask how they tattooed a plus doll)

Killing spree dates<3

Jack always snuggles up to her whenever he can,doesn't matter if she's cooking,reading,showering,in the middle of gutting someone, he must hug her

Matching "im with stupid"(Claws' half) and "im stupid"(Jack's half) shirts

Jack always tries to cheer her up with magic tricks and jokes. Surprisingly they work nearly everytime

Claws always takes care of his wounds,and Jack always stitches her when needed

Jack takes photos of her in secret

And watches her sleep whenever he can't

A playlist for my goobers

And the two kids in question,Liam and Lau :D

(Small fun fact abt them: even if Liam looks more like his dad he acts a lot like his mom,and Lau looks more like her mom but acts like her dad and even more like Jill-)

[offbranddrpepsi]

okay so i don't see a lot's of stuff with jett on here so i was thinking if could you write headcanons for her? both sfw and nsfw if possible! thank you ❣

Of course! NSFW below the cut

SFW

Jett has really bad ADHD and often makes little gusts when she starts zoning out

Parkoured ALOT before getting her powers which made moving around with her powers so much easier to learn.

Accident prone for most of her life and is no stranger to broken bones or sprains

Is either the middle or oldest child of her family and is the best big sister

Hasn't had many serious relationships but isn't really upset about that

Did martial arts as a child and teen. Originally was going to go to college on a sports scholar ship for either that or a similar sport but gave that up to help take care of her family

Played alot of sports! Track, soccer (shes bad at it because she kicks the ball way too hard), vollyball, basketball, swimming (also bad at that because she finds it boring), Gymnastics etc. Always up for pick up games

Prefers suits over dresses but can rock those half shorts half skirts. Is a bit self conscious about her legs so doesn't wear them often

Kiss goblin. Im talking covering her partners faces in smooches and being a big supporter of kissing the homies good night

ultimate hype girl

Goes through shoes SUPER fast because of how she uses her powers

great at skate boarding

Really into the olympics and womens soccer

LOVES taking her partner (s) on dorky dates

has a photo booth strip for pretty much anyone shes taken on a date

chronic clothes stealer but also begs you to wear her clothes because you're cute in them

crushing hugs

NSFW

More experienced with woman than she is men due to being less critical when it comes to hook ups with women. for anyone gender non conforming it depends heavily on their vibe

VERY dominant and prefers topping or service topping

its almost as if her hips were made to wear a strap. Shes so fluid with it and has near perfect control of it

Likes fucking people until the point of their exhaustion. If you aren't sweating or tearing up from over stimulation then her job isn't done

has hella stamina and likes going for as many rounds as possible or until the straps cutting into her too much

Really good with her hands, not as much her mouth but very adamant about either

if you've got a cock and want to fuck her then shes about you being rough.

likes more 'creative' dildos aka fantasy ones, ones with some sort of feature or neat design, etc

likes the thrill of everything but not one into anything more dangerous than choking.

Would be up for semi public sex such as her parkouring you two up a roof top and going to town up there

Likes casual sex as much as committed and is super okay with fucking her friends

brat tamer

sucks at dirty talk because shes too casual and calls you bro and dude instead of pet name

sometimes it gets a bit windy when shes really into it

Rides your face like her life depends on it

A little shit like she is normally, asking if you like that to tease you mainly or just idle picking

big supporter of snack breaks, has an entire drawer of her night stand for post sex snacks

Okay with both unprotected and protected sex but only unprotected if she knows the person personally

Has a thing for topping people taller than her

Ass girl

Would write her name on her partner, usually on their thigh, ass or as a temp womb tattoo

[juviliar]

DON’T   DO   THE   CRIME,       IF   YOU   CAN’T   DO   THE   TIME.           independent   and   selective   portrayal   of     NOA   OLIVAR     as   seen   in   the   HBO   series   pretty   little   liars   :   original   sin.     canon   portrayal   is   show   and   headcanon   based.     exploring   :   teenhood,   bearing   the   weight   of   others   burdens,   guilt   and   its   repercussions,   and   more.   triggering   content   such   as   drug   mentions   will   be   present   and   tagged.   please   do   not   follow   if   under   twenty.   spoilers   will   be   tagged   as   #taswatchespll   until   a   week   after   the   show   ends.   as   lied   for   by   tas,   woc,   twenty-six.                  temp   rules   under   the   cut.

one .          this blog is a mutuals only and private portrayal of    noa olivar   from the tv series   pretty little liars: original sin.   this blog will   NOT   be spoiler free, but for the time being spoilers will be tagged as appropriate. spoilers will be tagged as   #taswatchespll   until the show finishes.   all graphic credits go to loml macy @faryant​. 

two .          formatting on this blog will consist of small text, some spacing, and will range from icons to icon less. if any of my formatting is an issue please let me know and i would be happy to change it for you. activity on this blog will be   painstakingly low and slow,   as per all my other blogs. i work full time, i have very little energy to begin with. so expect this blog to be low activity low stress, it is not my main blog.

three .          despite the mun being above 18, noa is primarily a minor in most her content. so   no sexual n/sfw   content will be found on this blog but dark, and triggering topics will be discussed including but not limited to murder, death, drug abuse, etc. i will tag as appropriate. please tag car crash visuals and mentions for me.

four .          very minimal to no shipping will be done on this blog. although i write noa through various phases of her life, shipping is not my primary goal here and her main content is during her highschool years.

five .          the usual rp etiquette applies. don’t be a dick, i don’t care much about reblog karma but don’t use me as a meme source either. i don’t think i need to say it, but don’t be a freak and we’re chill. this blog will be  entirely drama free,   i‘m too old too tired for that shit. don’t be weird.

six .          last but not least, the name’s tas. i’m 26, woc, and have 325835290 blogs and zero percent of the attention span to handle them all. <3 this blog is 20+ and will only interact with muns 20 and over.

[svgarpills]

For the drabbles, would you do an ishimondo one where mondo has a high fever and taka has to take care of him while he sweats it out? Mondo may even talk in his sleep while he hallucinates stuff idk fever dreams can be weird but knowing mondo and his past he’d probs say some weird stuff and taka would just be there the whole time trying to get his temp down

Ooh ok lets give this a shot

--

Ship: Ishimondo

Characters: Kiyotaka Ishimaru, Mondo Owada, Makoto Naegi (briefly)

Warnings: n/a

*I wanted to somehow add Chihiro into this, like make it after their death but idk i couldn't make it work with the context of chapter. 2 and its timeframe

--

Kiyotaka was in a living hell.

Forced to watch his classmates kill each other and then be sent to a trial where he had to watch another classmate die in front of him. Monokuma's shrill laugh still echoed in his ears when he sat in his dorm each night, head buried in his hands. The only reason he was still going was because of the unlikely friendship he managed to form with Mondo.

Speaking of the biker, he...wasn't in the dining hall. Kiyotaka had a system in place, and ignoring the sickening feeling he got when he saw the empty seats of Leon and Sayaka, he noticed one more that should be filled. That was...odd. Mondo might've been foul-mouthed and quick tempered most of the time, even as Taka's friend, but he always showed up to Kiyotaka's meetings.

"Has anyone seen Mondo?" He asked. The students all looked at each other before shrugging or shaking their heads. Fighting the looming sense of dread building in his stomach he cleared his throat. "I'll go get him, then! There's no excuse to be late!" Determinedly, he stood and exited the dining hall, where he allowed himself to take a shaky breath and rush down the hall.

Mondo couldn't be dead, could he? Surely there was no reason someone would risk becoming a blackened so soon after the first trial. Mondo could defend himself, but he couldn't stop himself from worrying as he swallowed thickly. He reached Mondo's door quicker than he thought possible and raised his hand to knock. He didn't mean to be loud, but his shaking arms didn't allow him much control over the gesture.

The rooms were soundproofed, so he couldn't determine if Mondo had heard him or not. The lock turned and opened slightly, violet eyes meeting vibrant red. "Ah, you're awake!" Mondo stared at him and Kiyotaka noticed the beads of sweat formed on his skin. "Are you feeling alright? You look..." he trailed off, not sure if it would be rude to point it out.

"'M fine," Mondo muttered, voice rough and a bit scratchier than usual. "Had a 'lil fever for the past day or two, 's nothin' serious." Kiyotaka reached out hesitantly to place his palm on Mondo's forehead and recoiled at the heat. "I'm fine, bro. Now c'mon, that dumb bear might do somethin' any second now."

"It is something serious! You need to be resting, Mondo, not investigating." He crossed his arms over his chest. "Go lie down, i'll ask Naegi to grab a water bottle or something." He knew a bit about fevers- not much, but whenever he was too sick to overwork himself he tended to just lie in bed and drink water. So that would...probably work. Why was nobody here an Ultimate doctor?

"Fine. You're not gonna stop talkin' about it so I might as well." Kiyotaka couldn't sense any real hostility in Mondo's voice, so he nodded in agreement. "...What're ya standing there for? Go tell Makoto and then come back, if you're gonna be so worried y' might as well stick around." He blinked before clearing his throat and muttering an agreement. Thankfully he knew where Makoto most likely was, probably waiting for him.

Once he had explained the situation and gotten a couple bottles of water, he returned to Mondo's room. He hesitantly turned the doorknob and found it unlocked. He'd have to tell the biker how dangerous that was later, when he was actually able to comprehend the lecture. It'd be annoying to have to repeat everything when he wasn't feverish.

"Bro?" The room was a bit dim, but still bright enough for him to see. Nothing answered him, so he stepped further into the room. He set the water bottles down on a table and wiped the condensation off on his sleeves. It was just a bit of water, it'd be fine. "Mondo?" He noticed the bed, or more specifically the teen passed out on top of the blankets in a postion that seemed more uncomfortable than anything.

Ah, that's good. He needs the rest. Taka pulled one of the spare chairs to the bedside and sat, resting his hands in his lap. This was just to make sure Mondo didn't get any worse, he told himself. It was perfectly reasonable logic, there was no way to send him to a real doctor, so Kiyotaka would just have to monitor him until the fever left.

Mondo shifted slightly in his sleep, brow furrowed slightly as his face turned from peaceful to more troubled, lips pulled down into a barely visible frown. Maybe he was having one of those dreams Kiyotaka had heard about, the ones that made no sense and often accompanied a fever like this. He didn't want to wake the biker up unless it seemed truely necessary, so he just watched as he shifted again.

"Daiya..." That caught Taka's attention. That name was unfamiliar, he didn't know anyone named Daiya. "...'m sorry, wasn't...wasn't strong 'nough." That just added to his confusion. Mondo was plenty strong, so what could've caused him to say something like that. The biker muttered something else, but it was soft and incomprehensible, delusioned mutters and slurred words as the fever slowly worked its way out of his system.

Taka was still sitting in the chair when Mondo's eyes opened again, bleary and slightly confused. "Oh, you're awake!" Mondo groaned and sat up, nodding slowly. He still seemed a bit out of it, either from the dream or the fever, but he didn't look as bad as before. Taka took that as a success.

"...Taka, bro, did'ya sit there the whole time?" He raised an eyebrow, slight amusement on his features as Taka blushed and stumbled out an explanation about watching over him while he was sick. The moral compass passed him one of the water bottles, cap slightly askew, and told him to drink.

"You need to keep hydrated to fully recover! I expect to see you at the next meeting if you feel better tomorrow, bro!" Mondo rolled his eyes fondly and took a sip from the bottle as Taka pressed a hand to his forehead. "You don't feel as warm, which is good. Keep resting the rest of the day and you'll probably be fine tomorrow."

"Whatever you say, bro." Kiyotaka nodded and left the room. Mondo would be okay, he was sure of it. The fever was going down and he seemed lucid enough to take care of himself and follow Kiyotaka's instructions. As he walked down the hall, he couldn't help but spare one more glance at Mondo's door before reassuring himself everything would be fine.

-

Kiyotaka couldn't help but feel nervous as he waited in the dining hall, trying to resist the urge to pace back and forth on the smooth floor, but when Mondo entered and called him 'bro' just as confidently as always, he felt some of that anxiety slowly melt away as he replied with just as much energy.

Maybe not everything in this killing game had to be awful.

[seasonsofeverlark]

Memories in Winter

Author: @hutchhitched​

Prompt: I would love an Everlark fic based on the Pentatonix song “Coldest Winter”. Any rating. [submitted by anonymous]

Rating: M

Summary: Peeta’s alone with only memories to warm him on a cold winter night. Until the phone rings.

Author’s Note: Welcome to your holiday dose of angst. Sorry about that. The lyrics for the song on which this is based is under the cut. Happy holidays!

____________

On lonely nights I start to fade

Her love’s a thousand miles away

Memories made in the coldest winter

Goodbye my friend will I ever love again

Memories made in the coldest winter

It’s 4 am and I can’t sleep

Her love is all that I can see

Memories made in the coldest winter

Goodbye my friend will I ever love again

Memories made in the coldest winter

Goodbye my friend will I ever love again

If spring can take the snow away

(If spring can take the snow away)

Can it melt away all of our mistakes

(Can it melt away all of our mistakes)

Memories made in the coldest winter

Goodbye my friend (goodbye my friend)

Will I ever love again

Memories made in the coldest winter

Goodbye my friend I won’t ever love again

Memories made in the coldest winter

Peeta Mellark pressed his forehead to the window and watched as it fogged over from the warm breath escaping his nose and mouth. It was cold outside. It always was in December in the mountains in West Virginia, but this year the temps had hovered in the teens for two weeks even though there were still ten days left till Christmas.

He couldn’t sleep. It didn’t matter that it was four am or that he had to be at the bakery he helped his father run in an hour. His mind wouldn’t allow him to shut down earlier, so he’d lain awake for hours sifting through memories and missing her so much his insides hurt. He knows she feels the same whenever she has time to remember him.

Katniss Everdeen was his best friend for years before they decided to take their relationship to the next level. They’d been so, so young and naïve and stupid as hell, but they’d also been head over heels for each other as they basked in the throes of young love and few responsibilities. He should have known better. He really should have. He’d had a built-in safety net—a job at the family business—while Katniss struggled to make her way in the world. She’d worried about her career and financial status until she’d finally enlisted in the military to ensure a solid future.

Peeta hated her deployment, despised an economy that extended so few options for employment that his best friend, the woman he loved, had no other options than to sign over her body and service and ship out to another continent. He couldn’t even think about the possibility that she was in danger on top of it all.

It’d been 16 months since he’d seen her in person. Sixteen long months since he’d held her in his arms and felt her body pressed against his. Too long since she’d sighed his name as she welcomed him inside her, since he poured his love into her, since they were together and united and blissfully happy.

He didn’t know why he kept waiting, wasn’t sure why he believed it would ever end. He wasn’t this strong. He needed her, and he needed them, and he’d made mistakes, and she’d done things that hurt him. How could they ever overcome any of it, let alone make all the wrongs right?

He didn’t deserve her. He wasn’t sure he deserved anyone after some of the things he’d done, but he wanted her, needed love like he needed air. Man could not live by bread alone. Peeta could feel that truth in his very bones.

Snow whirled outside, coating the trees and scampering along the window panes. Clouds obscured the moon and stars, so only weak light from the streetlamps shone. The effect was apocalyptic, turning the world around him a sickly yellow with a reddish hue. Maybe that’s how his life would be from now on. Perhaps he deserved a life of despair. How could she ever forgive him, and was it possible for him to accept her after what she’d one to him?

Conflict resolution should be taught in schools. Instead of teaching to a test, teachers should pit students against each other and force them to fight fair through words and sharing feelings and healthy debate. He’d been too passive, too willing to take what was offered instead of what he needed and to give what didn’t help her. If he’d only listened more, he could have been part of the solution instead of the problem.

His forehead was freezing, but he didn’t move. He needed the chill to thaw the numbness. It didn’t make sense, but neither did the way he loved someone he couldn’t have. He knew she cared about him, but sometimes love just isn’t enough.

His phone rang, and he jumped at the sound penetrating the calm and quiet. He only had a few minutes before he needed to head to work, but a 4:30 am phone call wasn’t normal. He stared at the phone screen, considered the blocked number, and felt his heart thump twice in his chest.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Peeta. Merry Christmas.”

“Katniss,” he sighed. His body relaxed, his eyes pricked with tears, and he sank into the couch on unsteady legs.

“I miss you. I love you. I can’t wait to see you again.”

Her words were balm to his wounds and a salve to his soul. Her voice lilted like music as it escaped her lips, and he felt it wrap around him, binding him up, making him whole. He gripped his phone, his knuckles white, as he clung to his lifeline.

“I miss you, too. Love you, too. Please come home soon.”

“I miss the cold. It’s so hot here. I miss curling up with you. I miss the hot chocolate, and I miss the way you kept me warm when we were stranded that one time.”

He remembers it so clearly it’s like a movie reel plays in his head. Car trouble on a back road. Their frosty breath as they kissed. The way her chilled skin grew heated as they moved together. The way she moaned as he moved inside her. The euphoria of their climaxes. The sound of his name on her lips. Those three words binding them together. The wash of headlights on the trees when their rescue arrived.

“You still love me. Real or not real?” he asked, his voice husky with remorse and longing.

“Real. It’s always real, Peeta.”

“You’re still trying to protect me.”

“I’m trying to protect everyone. That’s what the military’s supposed to do.”

He closed his eyes. He could barely block it out, but he tried. He really did. He wanted to believe her, needed to know he wasn’t alone in this.

“When will I ever see you again?”

It was a plaintive cry, but she didn’t scoff. Instead, she told him what he’d been dying to hear.

“I’ll be home in the spring. I have to go, Peeta. We’re moving out. I love you.”

“I love you. Stay safe, Katniss.”

He wasn’t sure she heard him before the call disconnected. He only knew she’d given him what he’d been waiting for. She’d be home in the spring. They’d reconnect when the earth was reborn. He’d make her a crown of dandelions and ask her to be queen of his heart. Until then, it was winter, the coldest he could remember. Only memories of her could keep him warm.

[pastelpaperplanes]

Calling in a Favor part 4

Ultra Magnus was not having the best of cycles.

The cycle had started with him waking up with a crick in the neck, and it had been joined by a headache caused by the presence of one Sentinel Prime.

He reminded himself that everyone grieves differently, but the ego of his second was honestly starting to grate on his patience. 

Half way through reading a report, he caught the sound of a commotion not far from his ground floor private office, taking a long suffering sigh, he got up, poured himself a cube of high grade, and stepped out to deal with whatever Sentinel was likely upset about this time.

Had some poor bot put the filter in upside down in the general energon dispenser again?

Was there a tiny crude drawing scratched into a surface he spotted?

Maybe his attempt to flirt with First Aid had backfired in his faceplates again and she was giving him the what for…

Or perhaps his second in command was having his faceplates smashed in by the business end of a wrench that a familiar pseudo retired medic was wielding. 

Ultra Magnus let the shock show on his features for a few moments before he schooled them and spoke up, using his ‘I’m in charge’ voice that he knew carried well enough to get everyone (hopefully Ratchet included) to stop what they were doing and shut up.

“What, in the infernal pits of Kaon, is going on here?!”

Everyone froze.

Except Ratchet who got one more good swing in past Sentinel’s feeble attempts to prevent it.

He looked between Sentinel and Ratchet, expression furrowed into a frown. “Ratchet, this is not like you, what has happened?”

Sentinel, who was pinned under the older, smaller, supposedly not as aged as he looked mech, growled. “What does it look like Sir?! This maniac attacked me!”

Ratchet got up, but kept a pede firmly planted on Sentinel’s chassis, likely leaving a dirty footprint on his shirt. “Oh, you don’t know, I’ll tell you, and every bot here what happened.” He paused, the dramatic effect was certainly felt. “This morning, I heard a ruckus above my clinic, I go to investigate, only to find one of the tenants, Bumblebee, in hysterics and screaming at his apartment mate Bulkhead, it took me getting two cubes down him and four trips to the can to purge before he spat out what happened.” 

Another pause for an effect, but this time it felt more like the medic was taking a moment to compose himself before trying to continue, the look in his optics suddenly becoming haunted. 

“Optimus is dead. The mob got him. Bee was a bartender at one of the clubs apparently, one of the goons told him why one of his best friends hadn’t shown up. They took him to the Docks last night and he never came back.”

The words hung in the air for a time no one present really thought to keep track of.

What broke the silence was the cube of high grade Ultra Magnus had been holding, the cube smashing on the ground just ahead of him, spilling its contents across the floor. 

The sound of the cube shattering snapped Magnus back to the present. “My upstairs office. Now. Sentinel, you too.”

Sentinel grumbled as he got himself upright and trunched after the two senior mechs, barely squeezing into the lift between Ratchet and Magnus before the doors closed, having chosen to turn around at face the doors along with the two so as to avoid optic contact with the medic who’d just been trying to rearrange his face with the wrench he was still holding, he could feel energon dribbling down his faceplates. 

Once they were all behind the soundproofed and locked door of Ultra Magnus’ entire upper floor spanning office, did he turn and address Ratchet. “Ratchet… I understand your distress, I was of the impression you had taken Optimus under your wing so to speak… But…  You are aware you just assaulted my second in command with a wrench, correct? I really should be arresting you for that, but I have a sneaking suspicion you had a rather good reason for targeting Sentinel, correct?”

Ratchet’s gaze locked on Sentinel and turned murderous. “Looks like you never told your boss, how about you tell Magnus now what you’d been holding over Optimus’ helm?”

Sentinel, with his now rather smashed in faceplates, still managed to look like a mechabuck caught in high beams. 

Magnus turned to look at Sentinel as well, an incy disposition falling over the head of the Elite Guard. 

“Sentinel Prime… What in the name of Primus… did you do.”

It was at that moment that Sentinel knew… he was slagged… and Optimus wasn’t alive anymore to take the fall for it… not again.

The Polaris

Optimus waved Shrike and her younglings goodbye, they’d been paged by Shrike’s lieutenant about a fight breaking out in the main engine room, not a joor after they’d finished touring that area. 

Apparently her way of dealing with such issues was to, and to quote Rumble, a youngling, directly ‘Bea’ tha bolts ou’ ah those slag suckers!’ 

He distinctly remembered that some of those slag suckers were the twins sparkling sitters when Dust managed to catch Shrike and attempt to put the femme back together. 

Optimus shook his helm at the whole thing, making a personal note not to take a trip to the engine rooms unannounced, as lovely as all those giant oil and grime caked mechs and femmes had been, they were all rather quick to brawl, and some of their fists he swore were bigger than his whole helm.

He turned to regard the door Shrike had left him standing outside, and after a moment, knocked, Shrike had said something about him finding his direct supervisor inside. 

The door swung open after a swift ‘Coming!’ and he was brought faceplates to faceplates with a pure white armoured femme who came up to about his chassis, who had a metric ton of vibrant organic plumage sticking out from one side of her helm, specifically around her audio. 

The femme looked up, took in the sight of him, and tutted. “Orion right?” He nodded. “Goodness Shrike took you to the engine rooms! You’re filthy!”

He jerked his helm down to look over his casual attire. “Oh! Oh no this was just the first stuff I grabbed out of my r-”

The femme didn’t let him finish, promptly dragging him by the collar into the room. “Everyone! Calipso! Get me a dressing gown! Eion put down the optic liner and help me get this mech to the showers!”

Mechs and Femmes alike, all of them arguably some of the most beautiful and gorgeous bots he’d ever seen all spun in their make up chairs to look him up and down, some of which still applying make up to their features as they did so. 

Two jumped up, a mech who was mostly soft greens with a red highlight colour that framed his lithe figure, and a femme of soft lilac and blue who looked half dressed if the fact she was only wearing a form fitting dress and nothing else was anythign to go by, she wasn’t even wearing shoes. 

All of this he was able to take in in the few short moments he had until the mech, he assumed to be Eion, pulled him into what he guessed was the mech shower room, and began setting up a stall for him. 

A dressing gown was tossed at him before the doors were shut to the shower area, leaving just him and Eion. 

The mech chuckled and offered a servo. “Eion, Orion right? Congrats on getting the spot.”

Optimus’ jaw was hanging a bit. “Um… what? I’m sorry I’ve been told… very… very little about what’s going on here… where am I?”

Eion laughed. “You’re on level four, and this chunk of the level is set aside for us Entertainers, the femme who dragged us in is our supervisor, Jadarite. The rest of us, you now included, all work in the main entertainment district of the Polaris. Dancers, wait staff, table jockeys, that kind of stuff… got any experience with dealing out tables?” Eion asked.

Optimus shook his helm. “Um no… I was just a waiter and danced back at the club… sometimes I also sang, sometimes.” He flushed the full way through the admission of his previous roles.

Eion smiled, hopped up and patted Optimus on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’ll help you get up to speed, but Jadarite was, well, right, you are filthy, c’mon, showers work like any other shower, but be careful, the max temp is only the max temp because we have some sadomasochists on board who get their jollies off going to Dust for scalded plating!” He grinned and giggled as his own apparent joke, whacking him on the shoulder quickly.

Optimus knew his jaw was hanging a bit, it felt like it was going to be a permanent expression on his features for quite a time to come. “Why do I feel like… at least half of this ship is on their way to going insane?”

Eion really laughed then, waving the mech off. “Comes with the territory! I’m assuming you’ve never been off the home world before?”

Optimus shook his helm. 

Eion grinned. “Then don’t worry, you’ll be one of us in no time in that department too! Now wash up! And dump those clothes in the hamper over there, they’ll be given a proper wash and sent to your new quarters long before we’ll be done with you for the cycle!”

And with that, the green and red mech slipped back out, closing the door behind him and leaving Optimus to stand alone in the mechs showers holding a dressing gown and wondering what fate Megatron had thrown him to.

Tentatively, Optimus got to undressing, spotting the hamper Eion had mentioned and dumping them all inside and silently hoping he didn’t loose them, he hadn’t had time to pack anything at all, not even a spare change of briefs. 

He didn’t bother to don the dressing gown just yet, putting it up on one of the hooks a safe distance away from the showers next to where a number of unbelievably plush towels were hung, they were so soft…

Before he even knew what he was doing, he had one of the towels and was just rubbing his face against it, it was so soft and fluffy he could just melt!

He supposed otherworldly soft towels was a good quality he could chalk up to working here.

Knowing he’d get to wrap himself up in at least two of those towels once he was washed, he moved over to the showers and inspected them, the controls looked simple enough, hot and cold were colour coded and he just needed to lift the lever like nob up to increase the pressure.

Picking a temp a bit below the ‘you sadomasochists’ engraved plaque that was over the dashed part of the red, Optimus braced himself and turned on the shower head he’d found himself under.

HOT.

He jumped back, luckily the tiled floor was dry so he didn’t slip, but Primus!

Oh right, he’d not had a hot shower since his cycles at the academy, wanted to avoid paying a high heating bill.

Steam was already starting to billow out from around the spray, bringing up the humidity of the area.

He reached past the spray and notched down the temperature and tested it again with two digits, still warm, not scalding. 

Bracing himself, he stepped back under, and got to work trying to get himself presentable, making use of a handy little solvent dispenser that was mounted on the wall in a little wire basket just to his left. 

Eventually the suds and solvent were all washed away, and the water running off his frame was just as clear as when it hit his helm and the broad span of his back. 

Turning off the faucet Optimus looked out at the steam filled room, and carefully, mindful of the now wet floor, stepped over to the towels and where he’d left the dressing gown.

The first one he used to rub down his frame to get the water that was taking it’s time vacating the panes of his frame, the second smaller one he used to rub his faceplates dry, as well as focus on the harder to reach spots. 

All done with drying off, he slipped the dressing gown on.

And oh he was never getting out of this, the inside lining was even more soft, and fluffy!

He gave himself a few kliks to just melt into the softness before he moved back to the door that led back out to where all the other bots were.

He cracked the door open, and found many of the bots from before were gone, Eion was still there, as well as Calipso and Jadarite, but only two others remained, and they seemed to be just finishing the last of their apparel.

Jadarite turned to regard him and smiled. “Much better darling, c’mon out, there’s no need to be shy.” She coaxed, she was an older femme who had apparently perfected the ‘soothing frightened bots’ voice, because the moment her servos took his, he was more than willing to step back out into the main area, despite only wearing a dressing gown, he should feel more… not ashamed, he’d done nothing wrong, embarrassed? No… considering how communal everything in this area was, he couldn’t imagine these bots around him being very prudish. 

Jadarite patted his shoulder once he was seated at a vanity that was much more barren than the rest of those in the room. “Alright dear, let’s see how we can gussy you up right pretty with what we’ve got here.”

He nodded, and just let them do what they wanted. 

Three joors, a number of rambles about Knockout’s skill of being better than him at this sort of thing, and a whole reel of measuring tape, and the, dress prep? Was complete. 

Jadarite clapped her servos together, and spun his chair to face the mirror. 

Okay, he’d bite, he looked good, the eyeliner in particular was really framing his optics well while also defying the laws of physics to a truly astonishing degree.

Calipso, who was a rather timid thing, gave him a small smile. “We’ll figure out stuff like what colours work best with you and if plumage works next cycle, do you wanna keep that stuff on and wash it off later or do you prefer us getting it all off now?”

He glanced to the three who’d laboured and experimented away at his features for the last three joors to get him looking this good. “Um, I’ll keep it on? So… what next?”

Jadarite beamed at him. “Now’s the fun part, the shows over for the night, so everybots gonna be coming back to finish up for the cycle, and from there, we’re all hitting our private bar here on deck four. If you want to come along, I’m sure Unverlo will be able to lend you something comfortable, he’s a bit bigger than you so you shouldn’t have any issue with fitting into something of his.”

“You’re sure he won’t mind?”

Apparently the mech in question didn’t mind at all, and had an apparently love for big, fluffy and baggy jumpers, which hung off one of his shoulders no matter how many times he tried to adjust it while he found himself sitting at the Entertainers private bar and had conversations struck up with him by basically everyone he was going to be working with.

The Bar was, Optimus couldn’t describe it in a single word, but everything seemed to of been designed for relaxation and winding down.

There was dim mood lighting that pulsed around the room, the only stron light coming from the vibrantly coloured tanks of energon that bubbled and churned behind the bar. 

The opposite side from the bar was where the tables were, built into the wall around circular tables, the padded seats had enough room for everyone.

Opposite from the entrance, and passed a small dance floor, with a familiar pole mounted in the centre, was a floor to ceiling window out into space, the stars beyond providing a stunning backdrop to the bots dancing.

Unverlo, the mech he was currently sitting next too at the bar was a soft spark with a love for neo-felines, he apparently had four in his own suite and he had maxed out three data-pads image storage with pictures and videos full of the brightly coloured, highly affectionate things.

Unverlo admitted he spoiled them all rotten with treats and affection.

Optimus had cooed over every picture and goofy video he’d seen, even asking at once point if he could be taken to see them one cycle.

Unverlo was more than happy to accept, setting a date and time right there and then before taking a cube of mid grade, he apparently wasn’t too fond of high grade, something about his tanks not agreeing with it, before he vacated the seat next to Optimus and let someone else quickly take it.

Which turned out to be Calipso, who struck up her own quiet conversation with him.

The rest of the night cycle continued like that until Jadarite announced it was time for everyone to retire, which many did without too much grumbling.

Some left in pairs, others in small groups, Eion offered to show him where his room was and he gladly accepted, Unverlo had already left so he assumed the soft baggy clothes would be returned to the mech the next cycle when clothes more suited for him were ready.

Admittedly he’d miss the jumper.

Eion led the way to his new room, providing some idle chatter about this and that as Optimus took the time to appreciate just how, luxurious everything was.

Him bumping into Eion’s back was what snapped him out of appreciating the decor. 

Eion held up a key, not a key card, but an actual key and passed it to him. “Don’t loose it, okay? The smith here on the ship doesn’t like it when bots loose his keys.” 

Optimus nodded in understanding. “I understand, thank you Eion… would you be willing to collect me tomorrow? I fear I may get lost a number of times before I get proper bearings of this place.”

Eion smiled up at him and nodded. “Sure thing! I’ll come pick you up before morning feuling, see you then Orion!” The mech waved goodby as he walked off, heading towards his own suite.

Optimus watched him go for a few moments, before turning his attention to the door and sliding the key into the keyhole.

A quick twist and the sound of a needlessly complicated locking mechanism coming undone later, and he was stepping into his suite.

The moment the room registered to him, he did a double take.

It was larger than his shared apartment back in Iacon!

His jaw was dropped once more as he took in the sprawling open plan suite.

A glance to his right revealed a modest kitchenette, fridge, oven, energon dispenser, sink, a number of sleek engraved cabinet doors…

A glance to the left revealed the open door to a lavish wash rack, there was even a bath large enough for him to submerge in completely!

He walked into the washrack and felt his lower jaw threaten to fall off, it wasn’t just a bath, it was a Primus be damned jacuzzi! 

He found four dressing gowns hanging by the door, and soon discovered his alias designation of ‘Orion’ had been stitched into each on the breast pocket in cursive text, in golden thread no less.

He found some make up wipes in a draw under the mirror in the washracks, and after a bit of hesitation, wiped off the makeup he’d been wearing, he was planning to locate the berth and pass out, and he didn’t want to make a mess of the pillows he had a hunch were going to be just as lavish as everything else. 

Finished with cleaning himself up, Optimus stepped back out into the open plan living area, there was a number of pieces of furniture dotted about with little tables and table lights next to them, perfect for some light reading under soft light. 

He’d have to see about acquiring some data pads from the Library Neolock had mentioned earlier, apparently it was two floors down nearby that floors branch medical bay.

Walking through the door into the berthroom, he had to do a double take.

That berth could fit four of him!

He was hit by a sudden wave of exhaustion, and suddenly he didn’t care that the berth was massive, wider than his old room in Iacon was, he reached the end, fell into a crowl, kicked off his shoes, and slid face down onto the covers and just took in the smell of freshly washed sheets.

Running his digits over it, he marveled at the texture, cool to the touch, but promising to trap heat…

A bit of fumbling later and he was under the covers, snuggled into one of the ludicrously plush pillows.

Recharge claimed him before he could even turn the rooms lights off.

A few moments later the lights flickered out, and an airy giggle came over the speaker nestled in the wall.

“Sleep well new crew.” An autotune voice whispered, as the lights in the rest of the room shut off, and the door left unlocked deadbolted itself shut.

[double-daredevil]

folklore ; chapter one

din djarin x reader (no y/n)

words: 6.2k

rating: T for swearing i guess. its a slow burn there isnt anything sexii yet lol

themes: slow burn (like y’all its so SLOW lol), eventual angst, no Y/N, eventual smut, eventual EVERYTHING this is like the establishing shot of a movie its gonna be a FIC lmfao. dont get attached the end is already planned.

notes: set before the tv series. canon doesn’t exist anymore. i make the rules here pals. yes it is named after the tswift album so that gives you some fuckin HINTS 

--

Accident.

Pretty much everything that happened to you happened by accident, but you weren't one to complain. Without much control over your life for your adolescent years, seeing as you were raised as an Imperial trooper and just followed orders, you happily let yourself float along in life whichever way the forces led you. 

That doesn't mean you don't have, say, a moral guideline.

It's difficult to explain to people once they get to know you better and eventually squeeze out of you that yes, you were trained Imperial. Details are not awarded to most people, in fact— you’re not sure anyone except one of your commanding officers in the rebellion knew that you were a clone. 

You have spent countless hours trying to transition from regret to simply shame. After all, how is it your fault you did what you were told? If you didn’t, you would have been executed. Tossed to the trash like a faulty toy. The greatest decision in your life was the first decision you, personally, got to make— to run. It took you a few years to plan the scheme, but you defected successfully. Your moral issues were simply too strong to subvert, and you had to leave. So you did. That's all. You don't like to talk about it much.

After you mustered up some vengeance by joining the rebellion, you had to find a living once the major fighting died down for a while. With your particular skills— too deadly to be a simple security guard, or any occupation that doesn't involve tactical warfare, you settled on hoarding money through bounties. Not quite professed in the field of bounty hunting, you would latch on to more experienced hunters and offer to split rewards 20-80 for your help. The meager money filled your pocket enough for food and lodging while you learned the ways of the trade and, subsequently, your new way of life.

That's how you met your first Mandalorian. 

A mutual acquaintance from the Guild had a heavy quarry, a difficult one that he had trouble passing off. Too complex and detailed for just you, your acquaintance told you that when he found a suitable hunter to take the lead, he'd hail you to tag along. A week after the quarry was first put on the table, a renowned bounty hunter— this Mandalorian, rolled into town to collect the tracking fob. Part of the agreement was to take you along. The Mandalorian agreed. A brief encounter mediated by your mutual acquaintance and you were following the beskar-clad hunter to his ship, which you’ve come to know as the Razor Crest. A dingy, huge hunk of metal that could use a good list of upgrades, but you quickly grew accustomed to the flying garbage can. 

And somehow, after that singular bounty hunt, where you actually got to assist in the capture and the shoving of the unruly quarry into the carbonite, Mando offered you constant refuge aboard his ship in return for some pay and help on his harder bounties. That conversation, so far, has been the longest exchange of words between you and him, and it only lasted maybe five minutes. That’s all. You’re not one that aches for human interaction, having been commanded all your life by others, so you almost welcome the silence.

Almost.

—

Officially, you have been a part of Mando’s crew for nearing six months.

You hear metal clanging against metal, and you glance over your shoulder to see him climbing down from the cockpit. “Are we headed to the next quarry?” You ask.

“Yes,” comes through the vocoder. “Carajam.”

“Oh lovely,” you say, voice dripping with sarcasm as you focus on polishing the trigger of the blaster in your hands. “Another desert planet in the Outer Rim.”

“Our favorite,” Mando deadpans as he walks over, sitting across from you at the janky table. 

Once you were an official employee of his, you spent your first few payday collections on your own blasters. In all honesty, weapons never made you nervous, as you grew up in a space station that was literally just a giant weapon, but owning your own seemed… different. Blasters are weapons made just to kill, and you are allowed to have that power again. But, anyway, most of your money goes to savings so you can buy a house to retire to one day. One day. 

The Mandalorian rolls his shoulders back to adjust his cape out of the way of his hands as he starts to dismantle the blaster that’s usually holstered at his hip. Piece by piece, he sets his blaster on the table like a new jigsaw puzzle, and you’ve just finished polishing the little blaster you’ve decided to keep stashed in your boot.

“How long until we arrive?” You ask.

His visor is focused downwards, at the metal pieces on the table, his right gloved hand hovering over the pieces like an excited child in a candy shop trying to pick his favorite one. “Not long,” he replies, picking up the barrel and beginning to wipe it clean with a cloth. “We will arrive once it becomes night on the planet. Cooler temps.”

You nod, letting out an appreciative sigh. That meant you had a night’s rest before the hunt began. As he finished up with the barrel of his blaster, you removed your longer, daily use blaster and began dismantling. You two stay like that, at a dimly lit table cleaning the blasters, until the ship notified that it was about to drop out of hyperdrive. 

Mando quickly reassembled his blaster, slipping the completed gun back into its holster as he stood and hustles over to the cockpit. Following suit, you dusted off any last specs of dirt on yours and planted your feet firmly against the floor, as the ship dropped out of its easy glide through the stars and into the gravity pull of Carajam. The Razor Crest isn’t the smoothest rig, but you’re still very appreciative. And, you like to think you have good balance, so it’s not a hard task to stay stable.

You want to say that Mando is a good pilot, and you really think he is, but you can’t help but miss the sheer amount of credits that the Empire was able to spend on simple luxuries to make their lives easier, like enhanced stabilization in and out of hyperdrive, cleaner hyperdrives, even, and— 

The Razor Crest lands and you shake those dark thoughts out of your head, reassembling your blaster but with clearly less finesse than Mando. Stars, are weapons actually part of his religion, or was that a joke as well? It’s quite the challenge to pick up on the subtleties of somebody who wears intense armor literally every waking moment, but you’ve grown accustomed (more or less) to the separate circles of things that Mando talks about. Those circles are: one, things he says and means, two, things he says as a joke, and three, the gray, shadowy area where those two circles meet and you’re still deciphering what brief conversations and quick remarks belong there. 

As the ship starts to rest, expelling various airs and sighs itself as the sheer weight settles on the landing gear, you clear off the table and slip your smaller blaster back into your boot, and your other into your holster that’s banded to your right thigh. The Mandalorian comes down the cockpit ladder soon enough and goes to stand at the main ship door. You hop up from your seat and stand next to him, as he punches something into the control pad on the archway and the large door hisses and starts to lower. The first glimpse of the planet you get is the peak of the spectacular night sky, and eventually the ramp meets the sand on the ground and you see it all. Mando struts down the ramp to go and meet the landing dock manager and pay for the spot here in this spaceport Danan Karr, but you wait aboard still, leaning against the open doorway and gazing out into the night. Planets are always easier for you at night, as they were calmer— at least, those that don’t have an avid nightlife. A few that you and Mando have stopped at have been busier in the dark hours than the light, but it was always fitting. 

The breeze of the desert planet comes sifting around you, caressing your cheeks with warm air and particles of sand, but you don’t mind. Raised in space, you have an affinity for the ground and real, non-recycled air. Although it’s never any trouble for you to stay inside a ship for however long, there is always something alluring about fresh air. Plus, this planet in the Outer Rim isn’t exactly prime vacationing, so there is nearly no light pollution. It was almost hard to wrench your eyes away from the bright stars speckling the dark blanket of the sky. 

You almost don’t notice when Mando comes walking back up the ramp, too busy basking in the breeze to notice the beskar-clad hunter. He stands at the top of the ramp, slightly in front of you, for a good few seconds as you look straight over his head.

“Hey,” he calls for your attention, and you look down at his face. Or, well, the specific area in the T of his visor where you’re pretty sure his eyes are. He tilts his helmet to the side and you know he’s begun to worry about you.

So you flash him a smile. “I just love the air here,” you say, and turn around to step back inside the ship. Mando walks the rest of the way up the ramp and inside, pressing a button to raise the ramp.

“Rest tonight,” he starts. “Tomorrow we go on the hunt.”

“Yes, sir,” you reply, going back to sit at the janky table to clean one more blaster before retreating to your bunk.

The Mandalorian sits at the table as well, after having taken his ambam rifle out of storage for a quick clean. In silence you two work on your respective blasters, caring for them as they are just as important to the job as the tracking fob. Perhaps an hour or so went by, and as you were putting your blaster back together piece by piece, the comfortable silence was broken. But this time— not by you.

“What did you say about the air?”

You look up from your blaster and see that Mando isn’t looking at you, but still at his rifle. The fact that he’s trying to start casual conversation accidentally makes a smile appear on your face. You quickly look back down at your blaster, but your smile still remains.

“I said that I loved it,” you reply. “Because the air here is very fresh. Even though there’s like, no trees, there’s almost no people. No pollution.”

He hums in understanding and continues cleaning. 

Back to the comfortable silence. 

—

The Razor Crest looks large from the outside, but it’s pretty cramped inside. The majority of its bulk is for it’s engines and practical components— hyperdrive, fuel tanks, cooling systems and whatnot. It was once a gunship, and that fact does put you on edge. Ships like this used to transport troops and drop them in combat. So, there is a large portion of the ship’s cargo bay that remains unused, as Mando doesn’t usually transport large quarries. The living space, or at least that’s what you’ve called it in your head, consists of an open area with a small but sturdy table, a few stools to sit on, and various crates that contain meal rations and tools and various trinkets. You’re almost one hundred percent sure that this ship was never meant to be lived in. You estimate that maybe four or five people could stay on the ship before everyone felt claustrophobic. 

There used to be only one cot hidden in the walls, you’d knocked against one of the panels and the door would swoosh away, revealing a simple bed and just enough room to roll around to attempt to be comfortable. The night after the first bounty you helped Mando with, he let you sleep some in the hidden nook as he piloted you two back to Nevarro. While you were standing outside the ramp and helping unload bounties, the Mandalorian inquired whether or not you would want to join him on future bounties. With an assurance that you would get your own cot, you obliged. 

—

The bounty that you two are hunting on Carajam, the lovely desert planet, is hiding somewhere in the caves and cliffs a few klicks east of the space port that you are staying in. From the info you’ve picked up talking with a few locals, the quarry likes to hide in the sand caves because he has no friends. Well, actually it’s because he’s murdered about a person per household out of everyone who still lives on the desert planet. You thank the locals for their information with a few credits and a jug of desirable water.

You make your way to the only cantina on the planet, and by cantina you mean what is quite literally a bar top and six stools outside the shop of a local mechanic. The Mandalorian is sitting, waiting, on the last stool, facing the expanse of the desert that is a mere fifty feet from the edge of the little star port. You swiftly occupy the stool next to him.

“So,” you start, and he swivels in his stool to face you. You brace your elbows on the table. “About seven klicks east towards the main expanse of cliffs, and then about two more klicks north to the caves. One of the caves will look obviously occupied, trash and debris and whatnot. That’s what I’ve gathered.”

“Good work,” comes through the vocoder. “Are you ready to head out?”

“Yes, sir,” you smile, adjusting the straps of the small backpack you have. “After your lead.”

He swivels again and hops off his stool, and waits a moment until he hears you following him before beelining to the edge of town. You follow, obedient, as he weaves through the sparse crowd to another shop, lined with speederbikes and a few larger landcrafts. The Mandalorian walks up to the shop owner and exchanges a few words, and a few credits, and then moves to two of the speederbikes. 

“You know how to ride?” He asks you, as you stand beside one and he the other. 

“Yes, actually,” you say, always having a soft spot for fast land vehicles. You briefly wonder that, if you had said no, would he have made you sit behind him on one bike? The thought makes you smile, bashful, and you wait until he mounts his bike before climbing onto yours.

“Seven klicks east,” Mando says, repeating your earlier words and firing up his bike.

You turn yours on as well, and grab a pair of goggles from your backpack. You pull up the bandana you keep around your neck to cover your mouth, and then put on the goggles. You give a thumbs up to Mando, who was glancing over his shoulder to wait for your cue.

And then he zooms off. And you diligently follow.

— 

You two reach the caves in a quick hour, specifically saving some hours of daylight just in case this job takes a turn. The two of you park your speederbikes about half a klick downwind of the cave, just in case. You keep your goggles on and bandana over your mouth, as the wind out here doesn’t seem to want to settle. Dust and sand weave around your feet like a clingy pet as you scale the short cliffside after your Mandalorian, following him quickly toward the cave. 

You hover around the mouth of the cave as Mando stalks in, somehow still quiet despite his sturdy boots against the rock. To see down inside was near impossible, even as you took off your goggles. You hear some sort of scuffle, a few clatters, and then Mando is shoving a handcuffed quarry your direction. You reach up and steady the quarry, your hands on the man’s shoulders. Stars, he was a large man, so you assume that Mando only managed to shackle him due to surprise. 

“Let go of me, you kriffing bitch,” the quarry seethes at you and aggressively shrugs his shoulders to loosen your grip. Mando takes a step towards him, you imagine he’s reacting to the derogatory term thrown your way, but you beat him to it— 

You release your grip on the quarry, and while he’s stunned for a moment from it, you kick his foot out from underneath him. He falls hard on his ass and plops to the side, unable to stifle his fall due to being cuffed. With a slight smile, you watch him struggle on the ground.

“F-fuckin’ bitch,” he groans out, trying to roll over to a kneeling position. Once he manages that, Mando comes and grips the man’s shirt— lifting him inches off of the ground towards his helmet. 

“Watch your mouth.”

And then Mando drops him. 

The quarry gasps at the contact back on the ground and groans, almost falling over again. You go up behind him and grab the cuffs, wrenching him upwards and forcing him to stand. You grip the cuffs tightly in your left hand, and hold your blaster to the quarry’s back with your right.

“Let’s go, then,” you say. 

The Mandalorian leads the way back towards the speeders.

—

After tying up the quarry to transport him on the back of Mando’s speederbike, you settle nicely back inside the Razor Crest. Mando already froze the quarry after he wouldn’t stop blubbering about how sorry he was for mindlessly murdering the people in port— he couldn’t help himself, apparently. 

“Nobody is born a killer,” the Mandalorian tells the quarry before freezing him.

You avert your gaze away from him once the carbonite process is finished, allowing him to believe he had privacy with the quarry during their discussion. You had tucked yourself around a corner to avoid letting him know you like listening to the Mandalorian’s stern and assertive remarks to unruly quarries. You take mental notes on the way he talks, mostly to figure out what he believes in. A Mandalorian follows a creed, and your Mandalorian hasn’t mentioned a single thing about it since you’ve met him. By now, after half a cycle, you’ve figured out the basics. And the bottom line is that Mando is generally a good guy— a moral guy, you guess. Kind of like a vigilante who upholds his own justice, but a good guy nonetheless. If Mandalorians picked sides besides their own people, you think he would’ve joined the rebellion. 

“I’ve set us on course back to Nevarro,” you offer as Mando walks back through to the main area of the ship and raises the ramp. You lean against the metal wall in one corner, watching him fulfil his routine.

“Good,” he says, appreciative in his own way that you know that he likes to be constantly on the move. “What’s the ETA?”

“Only a few hours,” you say, pushing yourself off of the wall and going to the ladder to the cockpit. The ramp closes as you grab the rungs, looking back to Mando as he shadows you at the ladder. “You should get some rest before we arrive,” you offer.

He’s silent a moment while you face back to the ladder and start ascending. You hear him mutter a ‘okay, thank you,’ through his helmet before you climb your way fully into the cockpit. Once you’ve ascended, you don’t hesitate to go and sit in the pilot’s chair. Although you’re not the best pilot, favoring studying combat and languages instead of flight and mechanics, you manage. 

You settle in the seat and grab the flight controls, and hear Mando stepping onto the floor of the cockpit. You flick up a few switches and start the ship, letting her rumble to life while you look back over your shoulder at your Mandalorian.

“Sleep well,” you say with a hint of a smile.

He gives you a nod, hesitates, and then opens the door on the wall behind the cockpit, leading to the captain’s quarters. Once you hear his door swoosh close after his retreating footsteps, you let out a breath and encourage yourself, grabbing tightly onto the handles. 

Just get it into the sky, and the autopilot gets you there, you tell yourself, forcing the Razor Crest into the air. She succeeds in ascending, and you raise the landing gear and disarm any land security protocols. Following a mental list, you do exactly as you’ve seen Mando, and get the ship into space in no time. A little shaky, sure, but you don’t think it was enough to stir the captain out of bed.

—

One cycle.

You two take a brief break. There aren’t any bounties worthy of your time, anyway.

The smoke crawls up your wrist, wrapping around your forearm before dissipating into the air. You hold the ornate stem of the smoking pipe to your lips, inhaling shallowly, and let your arm drop as you try to breathe the smoke in deeper. A heavy sigh and the smoke passes back out of your lungs, past your lips, forming a cloud in front of your face. You wait, still holding the pipe, and look expectantly at your hosts.

Upon landing on this planet, at what seems to be the only one semi-decent town, the Razor Crest was surrounded by the inhabitants. Seemingly human-esque, you and the Mandalorian walked out of the ship with no weapons in your hands, ready to barter for some fuel and lodging for the night. The people of the planet, through an interpreter, were more than happy to allow you to stay.

Under one condition; uphold their welcoming traditions and take a huge hit off of the pipe the dude who seemed to be the chief was eagerly thrusting towards you two. 

Startled at the proposition, and more so by the growing ruckus of the onlooking crowd the longer Mando tried to deny the offer, you grabbed the pipe. The chief smiled widely and the crowd calmed, but Mando whipped his head towards you.

“Don’t smoke that,” he said. “You have no idea what it is.”

The interpreter tried to reassure you that it was safe, it was fine, a common plant that everyone on the planet enjoys. The longer you held the pipe without smoking it, the smaller the smile of the chief was and the more and more the rest of the people stirred. Eventually, it did devolve into a shouting match between Mando, the interpreter, the chief, and a few people in the crowd who were brandishing weapons. 

So you smoked it.

You’ve smoked a few things before in your experience, not a lot. Drinking was always more your thing, knowing that once the liquid passes through you it will be gone from your system. Inhalants? You could never be sure. But you would be a bad sidekick to the Mandalorian if you didn’t sacrifice your lungs for ease of service.

After the first inhale, the chief smiled again, and gestured for you to smoke some more. Ignoring the verbal protest of Mando, you brought the pipe back up to your mouth and puffed again. A bit bigger of a hit this time.

Well, much bigger, judging by the size of the cloud you just breathed out. Surprised, you let out a chuckle, but the irritation in your throat causes your laugh to turn into a hearty cough.

And the crowd cheered.

The chief took the pipe from you and draped his arm over your shoulders, guiding you and Mando behind you into the town. It’s a little town tucked into a small clearing beside a freshwater river and a thick grove of forest, tall and green trees that seem to tower over everything— perhaps the tallest trees you think you have ever seen. On this planet, there are three suns, and they are constantly setting in succession. So, it’s never really nighttime. 

And it seems like these people take advantage of that.

As the chief leads you and your Mandalorian through the stone streets lined with dark, muddy brick houses, your head starts to get light. Like, the tension in your neck loosens and your shoulders go slack. It’s nice— well, it would be, if you didn’t quickly associate it with whatever the chief insisted you smoke. The chief’s arm was still draped over your shoulders and he excitedly explained, in his native tongue, what you assume to be a detailed history of the town. All you could do was feign a smile, probably looking a bit dumb considered you don’t know if your cheeks are numb or just used to your wide grin by now, and nod in fake understanding. The Mandalorian is exactly three and a half paces behind you.

The interpreter is walking beside Mando, re-explaining everything the chief is saying. You aren’t able to listen to both the chief and the interpreter, somehow lacking the mental capacity to focus back and forth between the two, now. The crowd of people disappeared once you smoked from the fancy pipe, save for a handful that you assume are the chief’s servants, so the little troop led by you and the chief eventually hits the end of the main street. 

The chief removes his arm from your shoulders and gives you a nice, hard slap on the back. He says something, while gesturing to a small cottage that bookends the houses lining the road. You’re too busy staring off in the distance, past the green grass that traces the treeline and river. One of the suns is setting, casting a mesmerizing red haze over the tips of the trees, painting the freshwater of the river golden. 

You hear the Mandalorian call your name, and turn to face him.

And he’s standing there, at the door of the cottage the chief is letting you two use for the night, practically glowing with how the setting sun is glinting off of his beskar. 

“Are you okay?” He asks, a second time, but you didn’t hear the first.

You cannot help the unabashed grin that swallows your face, and stumble over to the door. “Never better. Everything is great. You should’ve smoked that shit, too.”

You hear him sigh and he opens the door for you, stepping back so you can walk in first. So you meander in, hand lightly following the wall because you’re suddenly doubting your balance. You find a seat at the small table that’s placed in the middle of the room, and you still can’t stop yourself from smiling. 

The Mandalorian drops a bag at the foot of one of the cots that he must’ve gone back to the Crest to get, but you don’t remember him doing that. And then he drops your night bag at the foot of the other cot, and you wonder when he went and got your bag.

“Thanks,” you croak out, still smiley, and brace your elbows on the table. “D’you have any idea what I smoked?”

“No,” he admits, voice monotone as usual through the vocoder. He pulls out the second chair and sits across from you. The cottage, small but spacious enough for two people to not knock elbows, was alight with soft sunshine filtering in through the numerous windows. Who needs light on a planet that is constantly day?

“How do you feel?” He asks, visor intent on staring you down. 

“Spectacular,” you reply, staring back at the visor. You used to wear a gaudy helmet when you were a trooper, so you’re pretty damn sure you know exactly where his eyes are behind that mask. 

“You look drunk.”

Your smile, instead of faltering, is drawn a little wider and your elbows slip forward on the table until your chest is pressed up against the wood, your chin almost touching the tabletop but your cheeks are squished by your hands, keeping your head up. “I feel like it, too. But, different at the same time, y’know?” 

“No, I don’t know,” the Mandalorian says as he leans back in his chair. His hands are flat against his thighs, and you’re 99% sure he is simply watching you. Out of worry or annoyance, of course you can’t tell, but you’re leaning towards annoyance.

So you tilt your head to the side, staring back, trying your fucking hardest to stifle the stupid smile on your face but you just can’t. “Want me to tell you what you’re missin’?”

Surprisingly, the Mandalorian tilts his head as well, mimicking you. “Enlighten me.”

“Have y’ever got so drunk that you just had to sit there and wait ‘til the booze gets filtered out of your system?” You start, letting your head— so heavy— fall further to the side and land on the table, a nice foundation to ground you. You’re so slumped in your chair your legs are straight, sticking out of the sides underneath the table as you stretch your arms to dangle off of the table. “And yet it’s like, the best part of bein’ sloshed is comin’ up so you don’t want to sober up and y’just— just— sit there, stewing.” 

He lets out a hum, letting you know he’s still politely listening to your ramblings.

Any thoughts in your head blur, images and words swishing around behind your eyes as you try to focus on what you were saying. “And nothin’ hurts or aches and you get to forget ‘bout everything bad you did that day and just look at the stars. Y’get to look at them, and for the first time you see them, see the life they hold and foster and you feel special knowin’ you’re a part of it all.”

There is a moment of silence, or— you think so, but your breathing is a little heavier than usual. The moment draws out, longer, and you’re beginning to wonder if you actually said that stuff out loud or if you simply thought it.

You bolt upright in your chair, cheeks red with embarrassment— but the fucking smile is still on your stupid face. 

“I don’t know what’s up with me right now,” you admit, eyes focused on one of the windowsills off near the door, so you don’t have to look at that helmet and feel the stare behind it. “The chief said that they smoke this stuff all the time and don’t sleep a wink, but I feel super tired.”

In your peripheral vision you see the dreaded helmet glint in the sunlight. He’s looking at you, quizzically. “What do you mean?” He asks. “The interpreter didn’t say that.”

“No,” you agree, looking back at him. You try to focus where you know a face is behind the helmet, but you can’t get the image to clear in your head. It’s all a little blurry at the edges, and your Mandalorian is all edges. “I said the chief said that.” 

“He didn’t speak any Galactic Basic. When did you hear him say that?”

The edges blur some more. “He said it when we were all walking, I dunno. He just said it.”

The Mandalorian looks toward the door, thinking. 

“It must be the ganja,” you offer.

He looks back. “The what?”

“The offering. That’s what the chief called it. But, well, I dunno if that’s what it’s actually named or what they call it,” you say, unable to look at the sharpness and crisp lines that make up the beskar armor. What’s going on with you? You weren’t concerned until now, reaching a hand up to trace your bottom lip and finding that you have control over your face again. No more creepy smiling. “I feel fine, though. From smoking.”

You steal a glance at him and find that he is still, predictably, staring at you. Your cheeks grow hot again, suddenly feeling like a burden to your employer. He is not a babysitter, and you don’t want him to feel like he has to watch over you as you ride this high.

“Really,” you add. “I feel fine. Things look weird, right now, and my head is fuzzy, but it feels good.”

He stares, and you bitterly wonder if that’s all he’s good for.

So you stand up, eyes scanning the room and you notice the heavy curtains tied neatly above each window. “Guess we should sleep,” you say, stepping towards one of the windows to let the curtains down to block out the never-ending sunlight.

But, your ankles feel a little weak, and your balance falters. 

Before your hazy head even registers that you’ve lost your footing, the Mandalorian is at your side, his right arm tucked behind your back, his right hand firmly on your right hip. His left hand is grasping your left upper arm tight enough to bruise, but without his strong grip, you would have crumbled to the floor like a tossed blanket. 

“Are you okay?” He asks immediately, and holds you tighter and hauls you up back onto your unsteady feet. Once the words finally registered in your brain, you briefly thought that he really did sound concerned— masked voice a little higher in pitch than usual.

Your fuzzy head decides the best thing to do in response is laugh as you stood up back on your own. “I’m okay,” you assure, a hint of laughter still in your voice, and you raise your hand to lightly shove him away, not needing his support anymore.

But, since he’s solid as a fucking rock, your hand just brushes against the beskar chestplate uselessly. That causes you to laugh a little more, and he lets go of you once he’s sure you can stand solidly on your own.

“Are you sure?” He asks, still with that higher pitch that the vocoder almost hides. He’s hovering close to your side, ready to catch you again if he has to. 

Curious, you raise your hand and tap your knuckles against his chestplate, and the resounding thud thud makes you smile. “Fuckin’ hardcore, Mando. I’m so jealous of your armor.”

“Yeah, you’re not okay,” he says, but you swear you hear a lilt in his voice, as though he finds you amusing. “You should try to sleep it off.”

He gestures towards one of the beds but you don’t look over to it. Instead, you tap your knuckles against one of his pauldrons. Tink tink. 

“Really,” he insists, and you for sure hear the smile on his face in that one word. “You need some sleep.” He grabs your shoulders and turns you around, slowly, so that you’re facing the bed. 

“Would you close the blinds?” You ask, stumbling forward to the bed. You flounce on top of the blanket, as this planet is quite comfortably warm— or are you just warm? — and let out a heavy sigh. A real bed.

“Of course,” Mando replies, strutting to each of the five windows in this small, quaint cottage and letting down each of the curtains. In the back of your hazy mind, you know he can see in the dark with the HUD in his helmet. The thought makes you slightly jealous, and you wonder if, as you turn to lay on your back in the blackness, if he may be looking at you. You blame the ganja for the fuzziness that overtakes you at the thought.

“Thank you,” you call into the darkness.

You hear his friendly hum somewhere in the room, and hear him sit down at the table again. Truly, the inhabitants of this planet know how to utilize the sun, and how to hide from it, as you open your eyes to stare at the ceiling and see nothing. It is completely pitch black, and you’re impressed.

The feeling of the mattress underneath you is almost too soft. You can’t remember the last time you were able to sleep on a real bed— if you ever had the pleasure. It reminds you of floating in deep salt water, the effort of staying afloat taken away from you as you just let it happen. Currently, you’re not sure if your eyes are open or closed, as it makes no difference. Your breathing is stable, and the haze in your head is tolerable. You must be coming down from the peak, and it’s making you tired.

Quietly, you hear the Mandalorian’s gloved hands grasp metal, but you’re not sure what. You hear something slightly heavy placed on the table.

He calls your name, softly, and unfiltered. 

“Yes?” You reply, breathless. Did he take his helmet off?

“Go to sleep,” he says. His usually gruff voice sounds gentle without the vocoder.

“Okay,” you say, and you do indeed need to close your eyes. The blackness behind your eyelids seems almost darker than the darkness of the room. Unbeknownst to you, you must’ve been extremely tired, because you pass out almost immediately.

[galahadwilder]

buggachat laptop fic: Ladybug keeps setting patrol schedules to pair up Multimouse and Aspik, having told Chat Noir it's because she ships Multimouse/Aspik. Chat Noir does not know what to think of this. Adrien isn't supposed to know Multimouse is Marinette; Marinette isn't supposed to know Aspik is Adrien. But there's still the nagging similarities between Marinette (when she doesn't think Adrien's listening) and Ladybug, and he only gave Multimouse his ring bc he KNEW she was Ladybug lying...

(2/3) Further to my Aspikmouse request for the buggachat laptop fund: substituting Adrien wielding any Miraculous but Cat, Snake, or Ladybug works too, as long as Ladybug knows it’s Adrien. As does substituting Marinette wielding any Miraculous but Ladybug, Rat, or Cat, as long as Chat Noir knows it’s Marinette. (Come to think of it, Snake!Marinette/Rat!Adrien could be all kinds of amusing…)

(3/3, two sentence prompts) (sometime after Desperada) “Why would I offer him a different Miraculous, Chat? Did I not put him through enough hell the first time?”

Unwise

Chapter 1: In Which Chat is Slightly Less Helpful Than He Thinks He Is

Fic written to help fund @buggachat‘s laptop repairs. Original idea from @sweetmeatdale.

*

Ever since Max got Akumatized again, patrol has been a quiet hell. Chat is fairly certain he knows why: based on comments she made during the Gamer fight, it seems like being Ladybug and training to be the new Guardian (and whatever else she has going on in her civilian life—she may not be Marinette, but given how similar they are he’s willing to bet she’s just as busy as a civilian) has left her with no time to do any of the things that calm her. Apparently Fu outright told her that her training was complete way earlier than she expected, meaning she has a mantle of responsibility she isn’t ready for but none of the choice that goes with it. His Lady is quietly collapsing, and try as she might to hide it, he can tell. The bags under her eyes are extending past the bottom of her mask, and her shoulders are almost constantly up by her ears.

It’s only been a week, and Chat realizes that if this keeps going on, Ladybug is going to burn out. Which means he has to do something. Her responsibility is Paris; his responsibility is her.

She misses a step, on a rooftop halfway through patrol, stumbles into his arms—he can’t help noticing how familiar it feels. “Okay,” he says, quietly. “We’re stopping here for tonight.”

Ladybug shakes her head. “I can keep going,” she mumbles, her eyes closed.

Chat cradles her cheek in his palm, and it’s a testament to how exhausted she is that she melts into it without even a token protest. “You keep telling me that ‘can’ doesn’t mean ‘have to,’” he says, trying to control his voice as she snuggles into him. “You need rest, Bug.”

“Hypocrite,” she mumbles, lazily smacking his side.

“Expendable hypocrite,” he retorts.

She opens her mouth to protest, but he sits down, yanking her into his lap before she has time to speak. She squeaks instead.

“Kitty purrs time,” he says, pressing her against his chest as he begins to rumble.

She gasps, quietly, snuggling in closer, and his purr interrupts for a moment as he swallows, trying to control his breathing, his blush.

They sit like that for a few minutes, Ladybug sinking into his arms, before Chat decides she’s calm enough to talk things through. “I think,” he says, “that we need to start bringing on some teammates. Full-time.”

Ladybug stiffens. “Chaton,” she whispers, “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

He closes his eyes and sighs. “Bugaboo, we can’t keep doing this by ourselves,” he says. “How long has it been since you’ve slept a full night?”

She looks away instead of answering.

He begins to press his palms into the small of her back, working out the kinks in her muscles. “We need help,” he says, carefully avoiding the word ‘you’—if she thinks she’s the only one hurting, he knows she’ll accept that and keep shouldering the burden until it breaks her. The only way he can convince her is if she thinks he needs it too. “I know Rena would jump at the chance, and Carapace seems like he would do anything if she asked.”

“I don’t want to put this on them,” she grumbles. “This is our job. They have lives outside of—”

Chat snorts. “Your job is to protect Paris,” he says. “My job is to look after a hyperactive genius who thinks she can’t go to bed until she’s personally solved every problem in the city.” He squeezes her protectively, not missing the way she whimpers in his arms. “If that means I have to meow annoyingly at you until you agree to start sharing the burden…”

“Chaton, I’m fi—“

“MEOOOOOOOWWWWWW!” he screeches into her ear.

She shrieks, trying to pull away, but he’s holding her too firmly. “Dammit, Chat!” she cries. “We can’t just have the other Miraculi out!” She shudders. “What if Hawkmoth ambushes one of them as a civilian?”

“What if you’re so sleep-deprived you can’t figure out how to use your Lucky Charm?” Chat rebuts. “Or I’m too slow and you get hit by something I can’t block?”

“Chaton—”

“Meeeeoooowwwww!” he interrupts, then takes a deep breath. He didn’t want to do this, but… he has to go for her weak spot. He knows how painful this is to her—he knows about the night terrors she keeps having, the reason she was so wrecked once Gamer got taken down, but if it keeps her alive and sane he will do whatever it takes. “My Lady,” he says, “if we don’t start bringing on a team I am going to die again.”

She stiffens in his arms. “Don’t you dare,” she hisses.

“It’s not like I have a choice!” he snaps. “You can’t—”

She scrambles out of his arms, shingles cracking beneath the force of her footfalls, and jabs him in the chest with her finger. “Don’t act like you can’t do this without me too, Mister Bug!”

He snatches her wrist. “Not as well as you can, and I think Reflekdoll proved that!” he growls. Then he sighs. “Please, My Lady,” he says. “If you won’t do it for yourself… at least do it for me.”

She blinks up at him. “Chaton?” she whispers.

“I haven’t slept right in months,” he says. Not since Desperada, but she doesn’t want to know that part. “I keep seeing us… losing. You dead and broken and… and I’m by myself, and there’s nothing I can do to save you…” He’s shared more than he intended to, and his voice breaks as his chest squeezes tight. “Please,” he whispers. “At least Carapace. I can’t keep protecting you on my own.”

That got… uncomfortably truthful. He hadn’t meant to share that—hell, he hadn’t even known he was feeling like that. But it’s obvious now, after his mouth ran away with him, that he’s as overwhelmed as she is. He’s been putting on a good show for his Instagram, but… when’s the last time he’s slept a full night?

Ladybug stares at him, her lip quivering, and for a moment he’s sure she’s going to snap at him again. But then she sets her jaw. “I’m not bringing Queen Bee back,” she says. “I don’t trust her.”

The levee in Chat’s heart breaks, and his whole body is flooded with emotion at once. Instantly, his head is in her lap, pressed up against her stomach. “Thank you,” he gasps. “Thank you thank you thank you.” He’s sobbing into her lap, and she strokes his head, scratching just behind his ears in the way he loves so much; bliss shoots down from his scalp through his spine as he purrs urgently against her.

“Rena and Carapace, obviously,” she says.

He squirms, snuggling deeper into her arms. “Viperion seems competent,” he mumbles. “Thoughts on Monkey?”

“Hmm…” Ladybug says, and he can hear the mirth returning to her voice for the first time since he backed off the platform. “Childish and irresponsible. Keep him temp, I think.”

“Okay.” Chat nods. “I like Pegase, though.”

Ladybug nods. “Yeah, he’s pretty good,” she says. “I’ve been thinking about bringing Ryuko back too—she did pretty well against Gozen.”

“Agreed,” Chat says. Then the side of his mouth quirks down. This is probably not the best time to bring this up, not when she’s actually agreeing with him and this might cause her to reconsider, but… it’s kind of important. The rules are set for a reason. “Wait,” he says, “I know who Pegase and Ryuko are.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, so?”

It’s a bit petulant of him to ask, but… well, Marinette is so impressive that she’s the only person he’s ever seriously considered might be Ladybug, and if he hadn’t seen them both together on two separate occasions he’d still be pretty suspicious. “I thought you weren’t supposed to bring back wielders whose names I know?”

Ladybug launches to her feet, sending him sprawling out of her lap—then she leans down and locks eyes with him, and crushes his bell in her fingers. “No,” she spits, yanking him forward into a suspiciously exact replica of Marinette’s famous Penance Stare. “I am not putting her back in the field.”

He’s not sure what to say. He knows she doesn’t want Multimouse back but he doesn’t know why—he has suspicions, but there’s no way, right? He’s been so careful with this whole conversation, and now Adrien Brain, which is so obsessed with rules and consistency, has just launched his foot through the ground into an occupied fire ant nest. His lungs shudder at the fire in her eyes, unable to even speak.

(He’s disappointed in his Chat Noir Brain as well, for being so excited at the incongruity of her reaction. Even after everything, she’s still oddly vehement about not using Multimouse.)

He wants to tell her that’s not what he meant, that he’s worried about bringing Ryuko and Pegase back but—something about her refusal to bring Marinette back rubs him the wrong way.

“Why?” he croaks, finally. His bell clonks a little bit in her hand instead of jingling. “You know she’s the best temp we’ve ever had—she did both of our jobs!”

Ladybug’s eyelid twitches, and he realizes he’s crossed a line he didn’t know about. There’s something between her and Marinette; something he’s not aware of. The two girls have had some kind of relationship since before Evillustrator…

Ladybug trusts Marinette so much and has never specified the gender of the person she likes. And nobody seems to know who Marinette has a crush on. Is she… trying to protect her girlfriend?

She stares for a second, then collapses next to him and sighs. “Maybe I should bring her back,” she grumbles.

“What? No!” Chat says, gripping at her wrist. “If you don’t want her back—”

“It’s not a want thing,” Ladybug says. “I’m just… not sure she can.”

Chat bristles. “What?” he cries. Maybe… not girlfriend? Does she… not like Marinette? Is that it? “My Lady, I love you, but I will not allow you to besmirch the abilities of my precious mouse.”

Ladybug opens her mouth, but all that comes out is a weird gagging noise as her face turns bright red. “You have… that much faith in her?” she croaks.

Chat raises an eyebrow. “My Lady,” he says, “I only gave her my ring because I thought she was you.”

Ladybug chokes.

Chat can’t tell if she’s flattered or angry. “I remember you were friends,” he says. “Did something… happen between you two?��

Ladybug closes her eyes, licks her lips. “Have you ever worn two Miraculi at once?” she murmurs. “It… does things to your body.” She leans back against the shingles. “I think I asked more of her than I ever should have.”

“Oh,” Chat says. “No, I—no, I haven’t.” He has, actually; he’s wondered why he felt so tired as Aspik. He thought it was just being awake for three months, but Viperion never seemed to falter. “Is she okay?” He doesn’t think Marinette’s been any worse, physically—but then, she’s been running so ragged lately, how can he tell?

Ladybug shrugs. “She’s fine,” she says. “Just needed a good night’s sleep.” She sighs, pressing her chin into her fist. “Wish I could bring Adrien back on,” she mumbles.

Chat’s heart inflates painfully in his chest like a balloon hooked up to an oxygen tank. Even after he failed her so many times, she still wants to bring him back on? “That guy you chose for the snake before Viperion?” he squeaks.

Her head snaps toward him. “You—you knew about that?” she hisses.

Chat snorts. “I saw Agreste with the egg-hood,” he says. “That is not what Viperion looked like.”

Ladybug frowns. “Right,” she says. “Also?” She reaches up, flicks his nose. “Not happy with you for stealing his joke.”

Chat rolls his eyes, jabbing her in the tummy. “He stole mine, My Lady,” he says. “Anyway. Bringing him back on sounds like a great idea!”

She smiles, her cheeks dusting pink, then her face falls. “No,” she says. “No way.”

Chat’s chest squeezes. Oh, good, she hates him. “Why?” he says. “I mean, he may not have been the right snake, but that doesn’t mean he couldn’t be good for another—”

“Why would I offer him a different Miraculous, Chat?” she snaps. “Did I not put him through enough hell the first time?”

What?

Chat looks at her with confusion. She… doesn’t hate him? She’s been concerned about him?

“He spent three months trying to save me without sleep,” she says. “I’m… pretty sure it broke him.” She clutches at her shoulders. “I trust him, Chaton, but… I can’t put him through that. Not again.”

Oh. Oh god.

“My Lady,” he says. He can see the guilt is killing her—he doesn’t want her to keep beating herself up over something that was his choice. “You… he talked to me about that, actually.”

A look of horror flashes across her face. “What?” she says. “When?”

“Party Crasher,” he says. That’s plausible—Viperion was there, it was Adrien’s house, and there was a period Ladybug was unaccounted for. “He was actually hoping he’d get another shot to help you out.”

Her eyes widen, her cheeks dusting red. “What?” she squeaks.

“I—”

“Okay!” she yelps, shooting to her feet. “Okay okay.” She starts pacing, pressing her palms to her forehead. “I—Okay. So, I—I can bring him back?” She does an excited little bunny hop, and his head leaps. “I can bring him back!”

“You’re—pretty excited,” he says. “You know him?”

She freezes, her foot skittering on the roof. “That’s… complicated?” she says. “Anyway, we should decide who pairs up with who.” She sits back down, folding her knees into her chest. “Multimouse might be more comfortable with a more… experienced wielder?”

His eyebrows shoot up, and his stomach begins to flip. “Aspik has more experience than anyone except us,” he says. “You said three months, right?”

“Yep.” Ladybug starts shaking a little. “And… oh, this is—I’m not sure this is a great idea.”

“Why not?”

“Well, uh…” Ladybug bites her lip. “She’s, uh, she’s in love with him.”

Chat’s ears—both his human ones and his cat ones—are suddenly crushed under a burning vise, and his lungs are full of cotton candy. “She’s what?” he croaks.

She looks askance at him. “Wait,” she says. “You didn’t know?”

“No?” he says.

Ladybug snorts. “Come on, Chat,” she says. “You’ve been watching that class, right?” She reaches out and squeezes his shoulder. “I think the only person who doesn’t know about her crush is him.”

“Who did you hear this from?” he asks. “The—the Ladyblogger? She’s not exactly objective when it comes to them—”

Ladybug shakes her head. “Marinette told me herself,” she says. “She just hasn’t been…” She closes her eyes. “Able to say it.”

*

Marinette loves him. She said she loved Chat Noir, and Ladybug said she loved Adrien.

He arrives at the meeting place for his and Multimouse’s first patrol, unspooling the trompo into his hands, and sees Multimouse’s familiar space buns. That’s Marinette right there—Marinette, his best civilian friend aside from Nino. A girl who he would—and has—dropped everything to help. A girl he hasn’t been able to get out of his head for the last week, since Ladybug dropped her bomb on him. A girl who, if it hadn’t been for Ladybug, he would absolutely be in love with.

She looks up at him, her eyes widening, and she squeaks. “H-hi!” she yelps. “Are you, um, Queen Bee’s replacement?”

“Yep,” he says, pressing his fists to his hips with an exaggerated gaze off into the distance. “Sapis, at your service.”

“Sapis?” she says. “Wisdom?”

He grins. “Old Latin pun,” he says. “Si sapis, sis apis.” He holds out a hand to shake hers. “If you’re wise? Be a bee.”

She stares at him, and for a moment he’s worried that he’s ruined his third first impression with her—but then she lights up, and starts to laugh.

It’s bright and sunny and it shoots right through his heart, and he realizes: I am completely and utterly screwed.

[oneunexpected]

I love Free Day because it means I can do Whatever I Want and I get to rb it to tucweek along with the incredible art pieces and insightful analysis other people have made and mine’s just, like, TUC as vines.

Anyway. Here’s the definitive power ranking of all minor characters* in the Underland Chronicles. It's quite long, because I tried to use every character.

Icarus -this DUUUUDE. This GUYYYYY. SUCKS! -“uh-oh looks like I’m infected with the plague better fly directly into a social gathering” -would be an anti-masker probably  0/10

Reekwell and Gushgore -Fangor and Shed part two, but unfunny this time. 1/10 y’all suck give me Fangor and Shed back

Purvox -Purvox is apparently a beautiful red spider who teaches Hazard how to “speak” Spinner. That’s cool. -that’s it. Why did Suzanne even feel the need to name her? I’m grateful for the extra details but 2/10

Ajax -mean. -nobody likes him -this is probably why he gets on so well with Solovet -some sort of flier general, it seems, which is pretty cool 2/10

Hero & Kent -twins, I guess that’s fun -they’re only like eight but they still Smirk Evilly. Good for them 2/10 just because there’s 2 of them

Anchel & Daphne -some randos Keeda mentions as dead. They probably had some sort of significance to be mentioned by name but We’ll Never Know. 2/10 RIP though. I’m sure you’re worth higher than this but I don’t even know who you are

Horatio -crony #1 -has a crush on Dulcet. Didn’t we all 3.5/10. Boosted solely by association with Dulcet

Marcus -crony #2 3/10

Wevox -thought her name was Weavox until I began writing this post -sort of “Was Margaret Thatcher a Girlboss?” vibes -“As it is, Vikus, we will not drink. Web them” is a RAW line and it bounces around my head sometimes -the spiders are clearly very crafty about their political relations but she was not going to hesitate for a MOMENT to consider the ramifications of killing the monarch of Regalia and we gotta respect that -docking points for the girlboss thing, though. 4/10

Stellovet -queen of insults you gotta be honest -had an INCREDIBLE amount of impact for only having like three lines. I remember being like 11 and reading so many fics on Fan Fiction Dot Net where she was a scheming villain -funny how Luxa thinks her endgame is just becoming a princess. She doesn’t care beyond that she just wants to be royalty 4/10

Chim -baby -ok she’s 5 -doesn’t do anything but look confused and help provide a gateway for Howard to look like a good person 5/10, for years of life. What’s even your name? Chimney?

Andromeda -she’s good. She is an Absolute Beast when she crosses the Waterway with Howard and Mareth, definitely saved Mareth’s life -loves Mareth very much :) -shuns Ares at first but comes around, we still gotta knock her for this though 5/10

Clawsin & Bloodlet & Ratriff -Some folks who go to Ripred’s side, Clawsin gets blinded from the Bane, Ratriff gets his arm ripped off by the Bane, it is what it is 5/10 collectively

Reflex -man’s got jokes -very helpful with the code -shoots streamers of silk around the room when they break it -came to Regalia secretly... secretly to whom? The spinners? The gnawers? Whatever, he’s a rebel either way -I had to look up his name though, so apparently not a lot of impact. Sorry Reflex 5/10

Treflex -announced he was joining the quest, then IMMEDIATELY died. Yes king give us nothing -made a good snack? Gross. 5/10

Cevian -the scene where they find her body is beautifully written and so heartbreaking. She’s the catalyst for the entire fourth book -gives Aurora the opportunity to make her first ever big impassioned speech. It’s what Aurora deserved -still, she doesn’t get any dialogue so I can’t vote her super high 5/10

Euripides -seems nice -always described as “Vikus’ big grey bat,” never just big bat, never just grey bat -tells Luxa to teach Gregor how to ride a bat because his neck is getting bruised lol -nice of him not to embarrass Gregor though 6/10 speak up for yourself, king

Pend -takes Boots back to Regalia after the moth brings her to the crawlers’ land -Vikus recognizes him by name which is really impressive since crawlers look pretty homogenous, although we are told Vikus is better than most at picking them out. Still, Pend is probably a high rolling crawler. 6/10

The scorpions -I know I’m supposed to be doing named characters but they’re pretty cool. The passage they’re in is a really fun read. Mad respect 6/10 I’ll see y’all in Scorpio szn, baby

Razor -showed SHAME and GUILT in the first book when he got called out by Ripred -raised Pearlpelt as if he was his own. In payment, Pearlpelt knocked him off a cliff and then tried to eat him to hide the evidence 6/10

Fangor and Shed -funny dudes. -apparently constantly drunk 6/10

Gox -Gox got shit DONE, okay? Gox got shit DONE. -would eat your carcass without a moment of hesitation. It’s fine. 6/10

Hermes -this guy is great! -brings Luxa her crown -gets seriously injured while protecting Lizzie on their way to Regalia -might be dead tbh no one ever says 7/10

Keeda -okay listen. Keeda’s great. Keeda is that warrior at the Battle of Marathon who ran all the way back to Athens to report their victory and immediately die, except Keeda was reporting that the gnawers were about to invade -listen I know she was dealing with some other stuff, but Vikus asks, “how many rats?” And she says “many. Many rats” ??? No estimate? “An army?” Whatever. We give her a pass. 7/10 RIP

Pandora -FUCK -her death was possibly the MOST disturbing passage I’ve ever read. I could see it so, so vividly in my head. Man I remember the horror -she just wanted to explore 7/10 but also 2/10 for emotional trauma

Queen Athena -ICONIC one-liner in Curse of the Warmbloods, absolutely demolishes the gnawers over their treatment of the nibblers -I’m really biased towards her because Athena is my favorite goddess -probably could’ve done more for Ares, especially as seeing she’s supposed to be perceptive and a really good judge of character and whatnot 7/10

Daedalus -flinches in fear when Boots says she’s gonna sing a for him, specifically -basically pledges his life to Lizzie in the event the Code Room is attacked so that’s very nice 7/10

Heronian -she’s in a full body cast, but that will not stop her. 8/10

Susannah -can we talk about how she lost both of her siblings and she just keeps trucking along? -REALLY wish we knew more about her -clearly Very Kind. Can you please ask your daughter to be nicer -takes really good care of everyone she comes across :) 8/10

Min -creaky old cockroach dance 9/10

Frill -was cool -taught everyone the marks of secret -taught Hamnet about pacifism and stuff too -I get the feeling she was wayyyyy more important to Hazard and Hamnet and their survival than Gregor’s narrative really dives into 9/10

Mr. Cormaci -nice man. Gave Gregor quarters. 10/10

Gregor’s grandma -cool lady, you can’t deny! -tells Gregor he can’t outrun his issues -has a super cool quilt -who IS Simon??? 10/10

Scalene, Euclidian, Root, Cube, and Newton -felt obligated to include all these kiddos because they are, in fact, named, even though none of them get any dialogue or anything else for that matter, really -Scalene was a little nibbler pup that found her mom in the Arena, Euclidian and Root are two more that the mom was looking for, Newton was one that no one claimed but some other guy was like “any of us will take him” which is :’) but also, so, so sad. -Cube was the pup Luxa named that ended up in the pit in the Firelands -Scalene and Newton survived a genocide and Euclidian which is baller any way you swing it 10/10

Tick -:( :( :( -the selflessness. -I shipped her with Temp when I was 8? I can’t answer for that 10/10

York -LMAOOOO this guy’s a LEGEND -7 ft tall. -fights with a zweihander. -says fuck, canonically. -hosts hundreds of nibbler refugees -very loving uncle to Luxa, helps her learn how to rule - his exasperated affection towards Howard when he finds out Howard stayed in the Firelands even after he got sick was very cute 10/10

Honorable mentions: Perdita and Dulcet Their roles are too big in the last book to be included in this list, but these ladies both get a 10/10.

[diaxfeliz]

WHAT SHE WANTS • Ren

» Star Wars / Kylo Ren … Y/N is the Knights of Ren’s entrusted machinist and armorer, and when they return after a long time of not seeing her, she meets the new Ren.

A/N: I just read The Rise of Kylo Ren graphic novels to learn more about the Knights, but Kylo, baby, I never knew you cared about killing people for once in your life. I still refer to him as Ren though cuz that’s what Hux calls him sometimes.

Status : Acquaintances, Colleagues Relationship : Professional

WORD COUNT: 1163

Long time help that crosses new generations, confusing new generations of the helped.

The day had been a calm one in your workshop as you tinkered with your blaster. A deep rumble distracted you from your work and so you took a quick glance at the partially blinded window beside you. You had not been expecting any visitors so this was something to be curious about. You lowered your blaster on your desk and further drew the blinds to see a familiar ship approaching your home.

It was the Night Buzzard and you could only suspect it to be the Knights of Ren. A smile lit up your face when the ship landed and you rushed outside to meet them. Your outfit was ruddled, your hair was messy, and your face had multiple miniature cuts across it from the bits of metal that scratched it, but you knew the Knights well enough to present your true self in front of them.

The ship landed and the ramp lowered to reveal your black padded Knights. You smiled as you removed your gloves and tossed them to the side. You counted seven when they stepped off the ramp, but Ren wasn’t with them and one of them was new.

“It’s been a hot minute, Knights.” you said with a light chuckle. “Where’s Ren? I’m expecting flowers. He promised me flowers the next time you seven’d come.”

The Knights didn’t say anything and only looked away almost as if they were ashamed to tell the news. You had been expecting it though, Ren not returning with them. It didn’t stop your heart from cracking just the slightest bit.

You pursed your lips and shrugged. “Dead, I’m guessing.”

A quiet air fell upon you all, except the new confused Ren. He didn’t know you, and you didn’t know him, but that never stopped you from treating the Knights all the same. You walked up to him and took the saber from his belt despite his protests to examine the shallow scratches you hadn’t seen before.

A soft vibration coursed from the hilt to your body. You could tell there was something wrong with it. Ren curiously watched as you grazed your fingertips over the hilt and hummed curiously.

“You broke the Kyber crystal.” you said, startling Ren about how you knew. You didn’t even activate it to find out the problem. “This lightsaber was one of my favorite pieces, to be honest. Ren agreed with me.”

Ren accepted the saber when you handed it back to him without further examinations of it. Ren had felt the flow of the Force through you, even the Shadow, but he didn’t want to question you just yet, he didn’t even know your name yet.

“You must be the kingpin’s replacement.” You placed your hand at the side of his face and tangled your fingers into his hair, something you often did with the Knight’s former leader. “The new and younger Ren.”

Ren huffed and grabbed your wrist, tearing your hand away from his face. You weren’t afraid of him. You’d lost the feeling of fear from the previous skirmishes on your villages you had to endure. It lead you to live in isolation, only accepting to help certain groups of people if they agreed to respect your space. Your father introducing you to them gave you the opportunity to befriend the Knights which you successfully had done.

Ren looked into your unshrinking irises, infuriated that you weren’t afraid. He huffed, tightening his grip on your wrist. “Who do you think you—”

Ren was immediately cut off by his fellow Knights jumping in to shield you from his violence. He was taken aback when they drew their weapons on him that he almost drew his own lightsaber at them until Trudgen stepped forward.

“Kylo, this is Y/N L/N.” he said, gesturing to you being protected by Cardo and Ap’lek. “Her father had been our machinist and armorer for the longest time, and now she’s the one who took over for him.”

“Didn’t he have any sons to take his place?” Ren scoffed.

“I have brothers, yes,” you said. ”but they’re… incompetent. The Knights had met them before. They can vouch for me.”

They all nodded in agreement, making Ren feel as if he was outsider to them. You all calmed down eventually to give you the opportunity to asses their ship problem.

“Make yourselves at home.” You gestured to your treehouse-like home. “Kuruk and I’ll handle the problem with old Night Buzzard.”

You left with Kuruk to check on the ship as the others headed inside. Ren was still curious about your character. You were a young woman who had contacts with legendary mercenaries known throughout the systems. With the way you treated the Knights gave them the suspicion you were more than what you wanted to be seen as.

“Trudgen, can I ask something?” Ren asked as Trudgen was heading inside. “Who is Y/N, really? She talks as if she’s Ren’s significant other.”

Trudgen looked over to you at the temp as you talked with Kuruk. He smiled under his mask. “Not exactly. They just hit it off well when her dad introduced her to us. She’s like that towards all of us.” He shrugged. “She’ll be upset over his loss, but she understands our position — she understands us.”

Ren looked over at you the same, but with a scrunch in his eyebrows. “I can sense the Shadow in her. Is she not a good candidate for a Knight?”

Trudgen sighed. “Ren already tried. She’s content helping us this way and we’re content letting her help us this way.” He shook his head. “Y/N uses the Force to detect problems in a machine. This gives her the capability to be seen as an excellent machinist. Yes, she can’t fix it with the Force, but the skills she had learned helps, but she can definitely break it with the Force.”

Trudgen laughed, remembering past confrontations between you and his former leader. When Ren would annoy you, you’d threaten to break the Night Buzzard beyond repair. You hadn’t known of you abilities just yet back then, but they still took you seriously because of your capability to do so without the Force. When Ren really pushed you over the edge this one time, you placed your hand palm flat against the exterior of the ship and the engine exploded out of nowhere.

“We’d seen it before when she and Ren got into an argument.” Trudgen explained. “It was the first time she displayed her ability to use the Force.”

“That means she could sabotage complex security systems and even security droids.” Ren hummed. “Are you sure about not making her a Knight?”

“We like letting her decide, and this is what she wants. Try not to provoke her into destroying our ride.” Trudgen said before turning to leave. “And by the way, Ren had given us strict orders not to harm her in anyway. That applies to you now too.”

[inkatheart-fandom]

Ranty Plot #001(B)

You can find Part 1 Here.

Modern AU where Geralt, Jaskier, and Yen are in a poly relationship. But what about the other characters? Well, prepare for Lambert’s piece of Modern AU.

Fandom: The Witcher

Ship: Lambert/Aiden

Tags: Emotional Constipation, Stubborn Boys, Friends to Lovers, Lambert is a Good Friend, Happy Ending, Some Homophobic Language (Aiden is an ass).

Geralt dropped out of High School his Jr. year. He was getting mediocre grades and had no desire to do much outside of school that he wasn't already doing. He was a simple man with simple pleasures. He liked working on the ranch and loved the horses and had 0 desire for higher education. Vesemir tried to encourage him to at least finish High School but it just wasn't gonna be. 

 Eskel graduated with a 3.9 GPA. He was on the water polo team and got a full-ride scholarship. However, he instead decided to go serve in the military after High School. Joined the Marines as a Linguist. Later became a part of MARSOC. He served for 8 years before he suffered a major injury. He was going to recover, but took the honorable medical discharge so he could return home.

LAMBERT. Lambert always struggled with school. As a kid he was never enrolled in school, so he missed out on Pre k-4th grade. He also had dyslexia, so by the time he did get enrolled he was way far behind and struggled hard. 

Vesemir spent a lot of time trying to get Lambert the help he needed. Eskel helped whenever/wherever he could before he went away.

But during Lambert's Sophomore year he met Aiden who was a year ahead of him. Lambert hadn't made many friends outside of his brothers, and most other kids thought he was too loud/aggressive/mean looking. He and Aiden though, there was something there. They got to be thick as thieves lightning fast, but Lambert was the only one happy about it.

Aiden also came from a fucked up home, but unlike Lambert he didn't get some guardian angel to come rescue him. So there was quite a bit of jealousy there on Aiden's part, and he made sure to put Lambert down about it whenever he could. 

Aiden and Lambert got into a lot of trouble together though. They were quick to jump into fights, started messing with drugs and alcohol, and by Aiden's Senior year he had been in and out of Juvie several times. But no amount of trying to convince Lambert was going to break his bond with his bestie. So all Vesemir and Geralt could do was watch and step in whenever they had the opportunity.

Shortly after Aiden turned 18, he ran away from home for good. He packed a bag and showed up on Vesemir's doorstep at 3am. He told Lambert to come with him, they were going to get the hell out of their shitty little podunk town and go make some names for themselves. 

Lambert was beyond temped, and in reality he just wanted to keep his friend from getting in trouble. But he knew that he couldn't just leave behind his life and family here and he begged Aiden to stay. They could work something out with Vesemir, hell Lambert offered to drop out of school and get a job so they could split rent on an apartment together.

Aiden called Lambert a coward, mocked him for being soft for being a surrogate kid to some creepy old man. He said that he and Lambert were closer than Lambert and his 'fake family.' When none of his cajoling worked, he finally left with a few more scathing remarks.

Geralt had heard it all though, ready to step in and stop Lambert from making the biggest mistake he would ever make. Instead he was there to comfort his brother after having lost his best and only friend. 

Lambert didn't hear from Aiden again for five years. He managed to barely graduate High School, but didn't go for anything beyond that. He was good at developing his own skills though.

He joined the police academy, figuring that if he could do anything he might as well try being a force for good. Unfortunately, due to problems with his temper and morally questionable choices at times, he never made it as a full fledged officer.

It was late one night when he got a call. The voice on the other end was familiar and alien all at the same time. Aiden was drunk and in pain. He'd been arrested several towns over, caught gambling. He was looking at some serious charges that involved him having some bad gambling debts, and didn't know what to do. 

Lambert ended up driving all night to go bail Aiden out, but this man wasn't very recognizable from his old friend. Drugs and alcohol had made him a shell, and he was involved with some pretty bad people that had him in a constant state of paranoia.

Unsure of what to do, he just sat with his old friend in a hotel room and listened to him for hours.

So Lambert made a deal with Aiden. If Aiden cleaned himself up, no more drugs or alcohol, Lambert would clear all his debts. He wasn't entirely sure how, but he had some ideas. It took some effort, but Aiden agreed in the end. 

Lambert had himself made into Aiden's temporary guardian (I forget the actual term, my brain's fried) so that Aiden couldn't discharge himself.

So over the next six months, while Aiden worked on getting clean, Lambert spent every waking moment working. Between working for Vesemir on the ranch, he used his Academy training and some help from Eskel's military knowledge, and started bounty hunting. 

 He was surprisingly good at it. Started making a name for himself. He scraped together the money needed to pay off Aiden's debts and some of the rehab. So when Aiden was finally cleared to leave, he was free from his old life.

Lambert wasn't sure what he was expecting. Aiden wasn't the type of person to shower someone with praise and affection or gratitude. He swore he would pay Lambert back somehow. Lambert didn't care about being paid back, he just didn't want to see Aiden fall back into old habits.

The next several years were a lot of push and pull. He and Aiden have a lot of ups and downs, but it didn't take long for Aiden to join him in bounty hunting. And they made a hell of a team together. 

 But of course, Aiden is always going to be Aiden. The debt that he thought Lambert held over him was always there, always sitting sour on the back of his tongue. So he saved what he could until one day he gave Lambert a check for the money Aiden thought he owed and said that he doesn't owe Lambert shit anymore.

Of course, two dumb boys being two dumb boys, it ends in one hell of a fight. A lot of things are said that can't be taken back and Lambert and Aiden walk away with deep wounds.

Lambert moves in with Eskel, goes back to working on the ranch, and Aiden disappears again.

Lambert finds Aiden trying to pack his shit and leave. He begs Aiden to stay, and Aiden falls back into his old habits of verbally lashing out. He starts digging that Lambert must be some kind of homo and wants to suck Aiden's dick like a chick. That Lambert really must be fucked in the head if he's that broken. 

 But Lambert has a nerve there, and Aiden knows it by now. Not only because he does have reluctant romantic and sexual attractions to his best friend but because Aiden starts taking stabs at Lambert's family. "Geralt's one of them too, shouldn't surprise me." It's at this point that Lambert kinda snaps.

Lambert socks Aiden right across the face and lays into him. Because maybe he is a fucking homo, and he's the stupidest motherfucker in the world for being in love with such a selfish prick. He never asked or expected Aiden to return any emotions, that's not how Aiden works, but fuck it all he's happy just being friends and not thinking about it. 

 So it's actually Lambert who ends up leaving. He goes off the grid for a few days, takes his bike and just fucks off into the ether for a while. By the time he gets back it's to an empty apartment. He argues with himself over what to do with the check, because he knows what Aiden is going to do. Everything they'd worked for will be gone.

In the end he cashes it and opens an account to store the money because he knows that, one day, Aiden is gonna need it. He never considers it his money, he's just holding onto it because Aiden is a danger to himself.

Another year or two passes. He gets not a single word from Aiden in all that time. For all he knows Aiden is dead in a shallow grave somewhere and it eats at him, but there's not shit all he can do about it. 

 Then one day he gets the call he's been dreading.

Aiden's in the hospital two states over. He was found during a bust of a local gang and was in bad shape. When they got ID on him, Lambert's name was the one that came up as the emergency contact. It was hard to say what would happen because Aiden was in bad shape. 

 So of course, Lambert withdraws all the money and a chunk of his own savings. He knows he's an idiot, thanks-you-Eskel. But his brother insists on joining him because Lambert shouldn't go in alone this time. And even he knows it.

Aiden's in rough shape. He'll live but it was damn close. But what he isn't expecting is the person there when he goes to see Aiden. He calls himself Aiden's partner, and it takes a while for Lambert to realize that the guy means a hunting partner. 

 Aiden had stayed straight. Instead of falling back on drugs and gambling he'd thrown himself into bounty hunting. He and his partner had gotten caught in an attempt at the gang boss and they'd grabbed Aiden. 

 Hurt that he'd been replaced, but also relieved to know that his friend hadn't gone back to his old habits, Lambert just uses the money to do what he can for Aiden's medical bills. Eskel is there with him the whole time but stays quiet for the most part, playing emotional support. 

 They're just about to leave when Aiden's partner asks why Lambert won't even go see Aiden. He's mad because Aiden won't shut up about Lambert, and is always comparing him to Lambert, and it's infuriating. So it's Eskel who nudges Lambert to at least go talk to his friend - which is the first time that's ever happened.

He's there when Aiden wakes up. They sit in silence for a long while and finally all Lambert asks is, "You want me to stay" and Aiden just says, "Yeah." And that's enough for Lambert, because that's the closest thing the other gets to verbal affection. 

 Aiden needs time to recover, and Lambert drags him back home with him and Eskel so the other can do just that. There's no more scathing remarks about Lambert's attraction, no more anger. It's a slow process to getting Aiden back on his feet, but the man doesn't immediately bolt so there's that at least.

Lambert doesn't prod or press. Aiden stays through his recovery, he joins Lambert on a few hunts, they go to the bar together. Aiden doesn't get anything more than two beers, he'll order them both and then tell the bartender to not give him any more no matter how much he asks. Lambert is proud and unreasonably happy about this.

Eskel's apartment is only two bedrooms, and after the first week of letting Aiden have his bed, Lambert complains about sleeping on the couch. Aiden doesn't say anything about Lambert sleeping in the bed with him. They keep to their respective sides, a total no-homo situation. Just two bros bunking together.

One month turns to two, then to three. Their friendship is calmer this time around. Aiden is...relaxed. Eskel's lease runs up and he talks about getting a bigger place. Instead, Lambert and Aiden decide to try again. They get another place together, two bedrooms. They use the second bedroom as an office.

Nine months in and hey, what's an adrenaline-fueled kiss between bro's. No-homo right?

Ten months, "The water bill is too high." "We don't pay for the water here." "...shut up and get in the shower with me dumbass."

And the rest is history.

[anyu-blue]

~

I'm just venting here cuz I don't have anyone to really vent to right now.

I know I'm being 'too much' and 'over the top' again... I know I'm throwing a hissy fit I don't need to, and I recognize I'm hurting at least one person with it.

But God damn I'm pissed and I guess I want to be pissed.

There's so much I want to do and so much I feel obligated to do and more... A lot of what I want to do... I just don't have the energy for. I wanted to make all these custom cards for my family since I should be able to ship stuff out this week... But I pulled Everything out and found... I just really didn't want to put that effort in..I mean I REALLY do... But just... Everything was turning out terrible. I'm honestly shocked I managed the 14 for my ex's family for Christmas... I want to do it... But at the same time I don't.

Cuz what's the point? All that effort.. all that care.. when I could just buy them a stupid card instead. So I'll go buy them a card... Because my eldest and younger sister decided to head to the grocery store without me and now I have to steal the car right when I'm off work to do my own necessary shopping anyway (or risk not being able to go at all this week). All because they were nearly out of toilet paper and Tevie wanted to get me cash for her car insurance bill...

Now I wouldn't be so mad except... They didn't even ask if I had extra toilet paper in my bathroom, which I do. AND I told Tevie that she didn't have to worry- I have enough to cover the insurance for her car.

But no. She just HAD to go today so I could have the money by tomorrow when it pulls!!! Um... Tomorrow (technically today, now) is SUNDAY. How the FUCK am I supposed to deposit the $ into my account like she wants when it's a freaking Sunday?! Or or at all when uh.. she has the car until like... 7pm every day anyway?!

Uuuugh... I already told her too, I'm not depositing Anything unless I absolutely need to either. Which I don't cuz I just got paid. AND I told her her insurance will be a part of what she pays me (if she does) for all her other bills!! If I got it I got it. What part of that is so hard to understand?

Apparently all of it...

Or none of it, but it doesn't matter because she doesn't pay attention to stuff like that anyway. Literally just does whatever she wants.. and you know what? I know that's absolutely fine. Sure it inconveniences me because, well, I needed to go to the store too (and told her as such), and had nothing for dinner while they fed themselves again (didn't even ask me AND used a service I have/can get free stuff with if they use my account like I've asked EVERY SINGLE TIME we've EVER used it!!!). (Why did I EVER cook and feed them so much? I was 100% right in that they have no interest in doing the same. They BARELY cook for themselves!! And you can probably already guess what I'm going to say about it... It's all JUNK!!! Cheeto mac and cheese, ramen, air fried chicken and fries, microwaved meals- you should see our pantry right now. Almost entirely instant meals and it makes me want to vomit. What's not instant is the stuff I picked out/ingredients that have just sat since I stopped cooking.. you should see our FRIDGE right now!! Not a vegetable or fruit in sight!! It's all warm fruit cups for Tevie and idek what W0lfie eats to get her vitamins and nutrients- cuz the vitamins I bought haven't been touched except for by me, Though I told them it would be a good idea of they took some each week too.. I'd wager she doesn't!! And that's partly why she's so gd MISERABLE all the time!! She doesn't take care of herself!!)

But in reality it's whatever. Technically Tevie did nothing wrong. She's just living her life how she wants to live it. Who cares about wasting more gas? Apparently not Tevie even though she told me she did... Apparently that's out the window. Who cares about my needs? Apparently not Tevie Though I've been fighting with our property managers and walking her through every gd adulting problem she has (I'm even supposed to help her with her taxes AGAIN cuz she can't do it) and taking care of the house and all the paperwork and all the phonecalls and everything... So it's not like I've been looking out for her and our little sister at all 🙄 or thinking of them and trying to make THEIR lives easier or nothing.

They don't owe me anything obviously... Not even the requests I made of them to do particular adulting tasks on their own (like put in a simple maintenance request, or cover up the open window downstairs, or even buy the materials so I could take care of that stupid problem better than I already have with the shit we had on hand).... It's up to them if they want to follow through. And they don't. Like ever. Because it'll just be done by me because I actually DO care about how much our power bill is.. Tevie sait she does and then pulls that shit. W0lfie says she does and then pulls the shit like letting her room get ULTRA cold- which guess what happens when she opens her door for the day? You guessed it. The temp of the house goes down and the heat/furnace churns and chugs to make up for it.

I'm so FUCKING DONE.. but guess what? I CAN'T be. I'm not even supposed to be pissed about this stuff!! I'm the bad guy!! Because I'm mad!! Because I can't just let it go or deal with it quietly. Or not be a bother.

GOD DAMN IT I AM SO SICK OF BEING/GOING QUIETLY

I HAVE BEEN QUIET AND CALM AND SWEET AND WORKED MY ASS OFF IN THE WAYS I CAN FOR SO FUCKING LONG

I AM THE REASON THEY HAVE THE SHIT THEY DO!! THE ROOF OVER THEIR HEADS, TEVIE'S CAR, LOWER BILLS (not just because I pay my part, but because I literally put in all the work to make sure stuff is taken care of and that I don't use excess/as much as I want or need sometimes), PAID BILLS (EVERYTHING comes out of my account. I've asked Tevie to do it. Several times. To set it up or to even just pay it once or twice... Has she ever? No. Not even when I showed her how and offered to write it all down for the future- and still she comes back at me like 'well you put them in your name' like, bitch... The water bill HAD to be in my name because at the time they only set it up in person!! Doesn't mean you can't pay it!! All the information is RIGHT THERE!!! You have my permission!!! In fact I've ASKED you to!! And the internet- we switched it to my name so it would lower AND give us a better speed!! And autopay gives us a discount anyway- Something YOU approved of!! And GUESS WHAT? The power ISN'T in my name!! It's in yours!!! Why on EARTH do you still expect me to pay it every single time?! It's not even on autopay!!! And the car insurance.. well SORRY if you have a wreck on your record that would make the premium double or triple what it is now!!! I did that for you!! I even called and asked and compared and did EVERYTHING FOR YOU YOU WOULDN'T/COULDN'T!!! And the cellphones are in my name because years ago when we GOT the plan you didn't have a credit score which was REQUIRED... Guess who did?! ME!! So guess who did all that and set up autopay so we wouldn't get charged $20 more a month?! It's not like we COULDN'T change these things, YOU just DON'T want to deal with it OR you want those discounts and agreed to it in the first place- so your 'well they're all you're responsibility Because they're in your name' is BULLSHIT), EXTRA MONEY EVERY MONTH, EVEN TEVIE'S BANK ACCOUNT, EVERY DOCTOR/DENTIST/SPECIALIST SHE HAS EVER SEEN AFTER OUR MOTHER WAS KICKED TO THE CURB... Even W0lfie is not exempt... Because what I don't do for her, she goes to her mom to take care of. And she's told me things and I've had to ask why she hasn't taken care of it. Well. She either doesn't know how (and in some instances refused to learn cuz it happens again), or was just going to suffer through it because she assumed that was what was right (without asking anyone or even GOOGLING the information)... Gods... Half my 'knowledge' comes from google and checking at least two or three sights and sources before I act... I feel like I'm the only one in my house who has that skill despite the top-notch cellphones and computers and shit laying around everywhere. Despite my little sister literally building her computer... Can't adult life at ALL...

And I just... I just...

I'm so mad and upset.

I want to have the carefree lives they have some days... But then I realize someone wild have to be doing all the shit I do for them for me... And then I get depressed Because literally no one would or will. Even Lon didn't... He took care of his bills sure... But everything else? Well.. unless I asked him to step up, he never would.. and he to never would more than the day I asked. Another red flag I shouldn't have let slide...

No matter how sick I get. No matter how crazy I go... It's still all up to me. I don't have people I can go to to ask to do these things and know they will... I have tos er Everything up and do all the work or it never happens. Especially not more than once.

I hate nagging... And I'm just the bad guy if I try anyway.

Idk what the point even is anymore. I hate my life.

I want so badly to love it and be happy to be around... But I just want to disappear and see what happens when that happens. Would they step up? I mean they'd HAVE to and then I'd be the bad guy again... But ugh...

None of this is easy. None of this is easy especially when all alone.

Few people reach out to me... The ones that do are just as overburdened as I am and can barely talk too because they're so busy... But we try...

I appreciate every one of them/you and I feel awful I'm so drained I can barely say thank you or reply.

I know what it's like... I do... Maybe I don't 100% know the specifics of the reasons behind what you're feeling, but I can feel it with you.

I'm trying. I'm angry. I'm tired... But I'm trying my best.

[tempthornton]

😴 - have you ever given up on a blog and regretted it?😘 - what charectors are you currently writing?😫 - do you prefer fluff, angst, or smut?

Okay, time to sit down for a long post, doing these out of order cause... I got a list:

have you ever given up on a blog and regretted it?

I don’t really ‘give up’ on blogs. I might not be active with them, but I never give them up. The few I’ve had to delete were crackpot ideas I didn’t get to really start. I have a lots of characters, but my characters never vanish. I might have someone I wrote about once and three years later I’ll be like ‘oh! I have lore now to back this character up. Part of that is what happened with Temperance. I wanted a witch from Drustvar and started to make her. But then I made another character who took my interest and Temp was put on the side until inspiration hit.

With Shadowlands coming and the fact that Drust magic is necromantic I thought I would mix one of my favorite books series as a child to reinspire me to play Temperance. So far it’s working. It also helps I have some amazing RP friends who want to meet my innocent witch. I find if I have at least a friend or two who want to play with a character the character stays as a more active blog.

do you prefer fluff, angst, or smut?

Ummmm.... All but with different reasons. I love me some good fluff because it helps give my character times to lick their wounds. Angst is fun if I want to torture a character. Like Temperance with her crush on Laurent is all me wanting to have some angst with her, Son’Ispa, and Alexander. As for smut... I have Quin for that. Quin is my hypersexual, bi to pansexual, Dom. He’s just, just the most controlled asshole I have and man he makes writing smut fun. I don’t write smut publically and I’ll only write smut with people I know well. It’s not something I do all the time though since sex gets really boring to write if that’s all you write, but I am always good for some foreplay scenes with him and his soulmate. They are my OTP and I will never change my mind about that.

what characters are you currently writing?

*cracks knuckles cause this is going to take a bit* I play the following characters. Complete with their Tumblr names:

Malura Underchild: @maluraunderchild

Mal is my oldest WoW character, before warcraft, she was a D&D character. Malura is a half high elf Timewalker and she has done everything. The last ten years in game playing her I have had her living with the Forsaken, being a soldier, being a ranger, living with the Tauren, she was a spy, a political manipulator, a leader, and just so much more. She’s really got a lot of baggage but she plays stuff off because if she focuses on it for too long... she realizes just how messed up her life as been. But Mal will always be my main, I might not play her as much, but she’s always in my heart.

Earl Darsa Carrington: @darsacarrington

Darsa is my loud mouth half Gilnean half Lordaeronian noble. More he’s a lord of Lordaeron but his dad’s family is Gilnean. He’s a giant of a man but has a heart of silver. Darsa used to be a drug dealer until a lot of stuff happened, he found out he was a noble woman’s bastard and now has an island outside of Tirisful Glades that lets Forsaken and humans live together. He’s also a monster hunter and wants to give monsters the option of a place to live if they won’t kill people outright.

Duchess Alle Beithloch: @allebeithloch

Alle... oh Alle. Alle is based on the Grimm’s Fairytale ‘Of All Kinds of Fur’, or as I lovingly call her ‘a Lovecraft Disney Princess’. She’s a very careful woman and has her Duchy as a haven for people who can’t fit in with the Alliance. There’s a lot of homebrew lore I use for her and I normally try to warn people before they RP with her. But if you ever need something for a storyline, Alle might have it. Her family specializes in making deals, but everything you ask for will come with a price. It might be as simple as a strand of hair, or your firstborn child, you’re never going to know with this woman. I am not including them separately, but Alle lives with 10+ sayaad who she considers her family. The woman has a soft spot for monsters and demons.

Quin: @subjectragnar

Quin is going to be going through some changes this year. With Shadowlands coming he’s about to find out some stuff about how he was born. Quin was an experiment by a select group of Kirin Tor, the experiment that made him ‘failed’ and as the product of the experiment he was banished and sentenced to death as a baby. His adopted father a then High Elf found him starving in the streets of Dalaran. Quin is something most mages fear though, he’s a black hole for all magics if your skin touches his skin your magic is negated for as long as he is touching you. It’s a big boon for him but he’s always seen it as a curse. Instead of using magic to solve his problems he became an engineer and after some really messed up stuff, Quin also became a serial killer who targets slavers and other horrible people of the world. I always joke Quin is what would happen if Batman and Jigsaw had an anti-magic baby. He’s really on the top of my list as one of my favorite characters though... And he’s half of my favorite OTP with him and his soulmate Alice ( @alas-ward)

Lorcan Beithioch: @lorcanbeithioch

Lorcan is Alle’s distant cousin. Yes they have really similar names, I messed up naming Alle at first and decided when I made some extended family for her that they would have the correct name. Lorcan is my Drustvar witch... the one who distracted me from Temperance. Lorcan is more on the Drust side, he’s paraplegic and uses Drust constructs to walk. He’s a bit of a savage, but his family is all like that. They’re not... normal and are very tribal in their thinking. For the last 100 years, they were preparing for a massive face-off with another family, now that they don’t have to worry about that anymore Lorcan’s clan has been relaxing and trying to reconnect to their noble cousins. Lorcan is also Olivia Lovecraft ( @olivia-lovecraft)’s biological cousin and Lorcan is very devoted to keeping his newfound family safe. This includes his soulmate @vermilion-valentine who is right now a ghost after being murdered in front of him. Lorcan actually feels the pain of her being dead, but he’s working on getting her a new body so they can be together again.

Lord Anthion Soulshade: @anthionsoulshade

Oh Anthion. Okay, Anthion is my grumpy vampire. Unless someone else plays a san’layn or other vampiric creature I normally keep him away from people. He has very limited morals and only cares about a few things. 1. His mate Alle Beithloch. 2. His children Quin and Alice 3...... nothing else. If your character is an enemy of the people he loves, he won’t think twice about trying to hurt people. Hence I keep him away from most RPers. Now, after that disclaimer, Anthion is a massive homebody and a bit of a grump. He’s undead but has a love of beautiful things and loves being around clever people (At least clever people who don’t insult him). He loves to cook, even if he can’t eat and he would be a psychologist in our world. His old experiments were studying the mind and seeing how it could heal or be broken. Now he supports Alle while pretending to be a void elf in the Alliance.

Dr. Carl Krogen: @carlkrogen

Technically one of my ‘newer’ characters Carl is loosely based on the Hellboy character Karl Kroenen. Carl is a relic hunter who is searching for immortality. After the fall of Lordaeroon he had a mental breakdown and started to have horrible survivor’s guilt. Being a skilled doctor he replaced his heart for health reasons and slowly made himself look undead. He’s not actually Forsaken but he looks like one and lives between the factions working for whoever will pay him the best. He’s currently dating Olivia Lovecraft and I am all down for this ship cause romantic immortality is so freaking adorable.

Isola Dia: @goddessinthemachine

Isola’s real name is The Machine. She’s one of Anthion’s experiments who... well her greatest wish was to become a god. She now lives as a living island in an undisclosed location and I originally made her be able to stop Quin if he went off the rails. Well people saved Quin and made him his vigilante self and Machine was given a body that looks like a living person. She’s been using it to travel the world and collect any technology she can so she can integrate it into her larger body. She’s a fun romp into me figuring out how someone would act if they believed they were a god, and Isola also scratches my H.R Giger love... cause she’s basically body and cosmic horror.

Temperance Thornton: @tempthornton

.... I almost forgot to write down Temperance. I don’t think I need to make too many introductions, but, Temperance was me watching Penny Dreadful and saying ‘it would be funny if the demon possessing the girl was just protective but still a monster’. Son’Ispa was made to be Temperance’s ‘guardian’ and I built up a few other cast of characters that might one day get their own blogs. Like Alexander, a void entity stuck in a human body? It just sounds like so much fun to write. I love it when big horrific monsters have to be human. It just makes me smile.

I have a lot of other characters I play, but these are the ones with blogs. I am debating about making Malura’s future boyfriend a blog, but I’m still feeling that out.

((Thanks for the ask @jacobdcheshyre))

[xxladylovexx]

It used to be that when a 13-year-old wanted a binder for school, it meant a trip to Staples. For today’s tweens and teens who identify as gender-nonconforming or transgender, shopping for a binder may mean a compression undergarment worn to flatten breasts.

Made of thick spandex and nylon, binders resemble tight undershirts, creating a masculine profile. The American Academy of Pediatrics has estimated that 0.7 percent of 13- to 17-year-olds in the United States, about 150,000, identify as transgender. Dr. John Steever, assistant professor of pediatrics at Mount Sinai Adolescent Health Center in Manhattan, who runs its transgender health program and has evaluated over 500 patients from ages 8 to 23, said that almost 95 percent of the transmasculine teenagers in the program bind.

Binders are not classified as medical devices, but some doctors and parents have concerns about their safety. (Common-sense binding guidelines include: Don’t use Ace bandages or duct tape, don’t bind at night, limit a binder to eight to 10 hours a day, don’t shower in it, don’t wear two, and don’t wear one that is too small.)

Though breast compression has been around hundreds of years — think of corsets — commercial binders, primarily sold online, have been available for about 15 years. Marli Washington, 26, a transgender man and founder of GC2B Transitional Apparel, an online binder company, wrote in an email that the company had had “at least a 200 percent growth” since 2015.

Some transgender teens say they buy binders so that they can “pass” as male or to diminish feelings of discomfort with the body known as body dysphoria. And though wearing binders is temporary, their use can be associated with later medical transition. Dr. Steever said most of his patients who use binders “then tell me the next things they want to do, like testosterone, mastectomy and maybe phalloplasty. Ninety-five percent of the people I’ve evaluated get started on cross-hormones.” (Cross-gender hormone treatment in young people may affect future fertility, but data is limited.)

For transgender or gender-nonconforming teens who cannot afford binders, which start at around $30, there are free binder programs. FTM Essentials runs an application and lottery for those age 24 and under. Point of Pride, a transgender nonprofit based in Eugene, Ore., ships binders free to people of any age who express need and has sent over 4,000 nationally and internationally.

Often, teenagers first learn about binders through YouTube videos hosted by young people. An instructional video called “Chest binding” by a Norwegian teenager named Kovu Kingsrod, who wears as many as three sports bras a day, has more than a million views.

Tami Staas, 51, a schoolteacher who lives in Tempe, Ariz., and is president of the Arizona Trans Youth and Parent Organization, has a 21-year-old son who was assigned female at birth and who started binding at 12. He wore a binder about 12 hours a day for five years. He had trouble in gym class and breathing trouble.

“It was like trying to run a marathon in a tight bustier,” Ms. Staas said. “It was difficult for me to weigh: Am I doing the right thing? Is it causing irreparable damage? It was very difficult to watch him cause himself physical pain in order to be comfortable in his own skin.” At 18, he had a double mastectomy, or top surgery, and now takes testosterone weekly.

A 17-year-old in Phoenix who binds daily and asked to be identified only by the initials J.M. said he started binding at 13. To maximize the compression, he bought a binder one size too small and wore it at night. “My arms and hands would feel numb and tingly off and on,” he emailed, “from how tight the material was around that area.” When he removed the binder, he found his skin “severely chafed and raw.”

He added: “The divots left behind from those times took months to heal. In all honesty, I couldn’t have cared less about the damage being created, just that my chest was flat.”

Dr. Ilana Sherer, a pediatrician and founder of the Child and Adolescent Gender Center at the University of California, San Francisco, Benioff Children’s Hospital, emailed that “binders can be physically very uncomfortable and can cause problems especially if overused or ill-fitting, so it’s important that every youth weigh the risks and benefits for themselves and have access to quality, well-fitting binders.”

But even those are correlated with negative health effects. Though there have been no studies on binding and adolescent health, because of ethical concerns about research on minors, a 2017 study by students at the Johns Hopkins Bloomberg School of Public Health, the Boston University School of Medicine, and the Boston University School of Public Health looked at 1,800 transmasculine adults with a median age of 23. Seventy-eight percent of respondents said they had bound for over a year, over half bound an average of seven days a week, and 66.6 percent were interested in top surgery. An additional 13.1 percent had already had the surgery.

Participants reported a statistically significant improvement in mood after binding. They also reported decreased gender dysphoria, anxiety and depression. As for physical effects, 97.2 percent of the group that bound reported at least one negative physical symptom, such as back pain, overheating, chest pain and shortness of breath. Other symptoms included numbness, bad posture and lightheadedness.

Commercial binders were highly associated with negative outcomes (20 of 28 negative outcomes), as were elastic bandages (14 of 28), and duct tape or plastic wrap (13 of 28). One reason may be that commercial binders lend a false sense of security, leading wearers to keep them on too long or sleep in them.

The American Academy of Pediatrics does not have an official position on binding. But in a policy statement last year on care of transgender and gender-diverse children and adolescents, it advocated a “gender-affirmative care model,” where providers convey that “variations in gender identity and expression are normal aspects of human diversity.”

But some worry that parental efforts to affirm a young person’s identity by supporting binding may contribute to self-hate. Jane Wheeler, a co-founder of an organization called Rethink Identity Medicine Ethics, which examines standards of care for gender-variant children and youth, said binding “feeds into a normalization of body hatred, that some forms of body hatred are O.K.”

Brie Jontry is the spokeswoman for 4thWaveNow, which describes itself as “a community of parents and others concerned about the medicalization of gender atypical youth.” Her daughter, now 15, told Ms. Jontry that she was trans at 11 and wanted a binder. Ms. Jontry bought her a running bra, but her daughter felt it was not constricting enough, refusing to leave the house until she got a binder.

The first one she tried, at age 12, was too tight, Ms. Jontry thought, so they returned it and ordered a larger one. Her daughter, who was home-schooled, bound at home and every time she went out. She stopped running, rock-climbing, backpacking and swimming.

“We would go for our evening walk and she would get winded and dizzy,” Ms. Jontry said. “She stopped climbing trees. She stopped doing things where any degree of upper-body flexibility was important.”

“Binding is not benign,” Ms. Jontry said. “It encourages the idea that people’s distress and anger and trauma should be turned inward toward their own bodies instead of outward toward the culture that feels oppressive to them.”

Dr. Sherer wrote in an email that “it’s strange to me that someone would think of a binder as being a form of self-harm when there are so many other garments used by gender-typical people to change their appearance that are also extremely uncomfortable (hello high heels …).”

But binder use in teenagers may become a thing of the past. Ms. Staas, the Arizona teacher, said that several members of her group take hormone blockers to prevent developing female sex characteristics.

Those youths, she wrote in an email, “will not develop breast tissue and therefore will not have a need to bind their chests.”