#these types of ships just never fail to make me feel things

[m-o-o-n-f-i-r-e]

my favorite type of ship is 100% the ones where they have unending love and devotion and trust for each other. would do anything for the other. would do whatever the other said without question because they know that whatever it is, their partner knows what they are doing and they would trust them with their life. they could move mountains with their love. they would kill for their love. they would do anything for their love. everyone in the room can see that they are connected on the deepest level and will never be separated. nothing can break them apart. they are always on the same level, they know every thought that goes through their lovers head. when they are in a room together they control everything that happens. when they are apart they would tear up the earth to find each other. they would kill god for their love and give gods throne to their love. that kind of love is the best shit

[fieldofdaisiies]

Just A Little Bit of Your Heart

ship: Azriel x Reader type: angst word count: 2,4k  warnings: curse words, mentions of a one night stand, unexpected pregnancy summary: It was just a one night stand, or that is what you thought... fic masterlist

"The baby will have wings!" 

Your hands tremble. And they tremble so much the plate you are holding slips out them, and then shatters when it hits the floor. Splinters fly everywhere, but your best friend is quick to shove you away.

She is faster than you, gently shoving you away before you can lean down to collect the shards. "Not in your current state! Let me do this."

You huff. "I am pregnant, not fragile or ill," you say, still dried tears on your cheeks, and more burning behind your eyes. 

"Yes, with a winged baby, because this fool did not pay attention." There is so much fury inside of your best friend, you have never seen this side of her before, her voice drips with venom. 

"For making a baby it always needs two people. I am not innocent in this." You crouch down and help your best friend collect the shards of broken glass and—

"Fuck!" You lift your index finger to your mouth, licking the droplet of blood away. 

"I told you to let me do this, you are hurting yourself and—" "And what? They baby will still have wings and I will still be pregnant. I just cut my finger, nothing dramatic."

You swallow thickly, slumping onto the ground. You immediately regret your tone and snapping at your best friend. She only wants to help and be there for you…

But it is so much to deal with and then the hormones just intensify everything you are feeling.

The fear, the apprehension about the baby having with wings and the prospect of having to raise the child by yourself, should you survive the birth, finally reach the surface. You tried hide these emotion for so long, but now you fail — they all bubble up, overwhelming you.

You lean against the kitchen counter behind you, pulling your knees up and fold your hands over your face.

Then the damn breaks, tears running out of your eyes, rolling down your cheeks as you sob into your hands. 

"I am so scared," you bawl. 

Your best friend has already scooted over, careful of the broken pieces of porcelain, and wraps her arm around your shoulders. She pulls you to her chest, letting you cry into her shirt. "I know that the babe has wings, the healer confirmed it. And I am just working in this little shop, I don't earn enough to take care of the child alone."

Your tears wet her shirt, and your best friend holds you tightly, her hand clasping your upper arm. She is becoming your anchor, the only thing you can hold onto in this moment.

"It was so foolish. He said he took the tonic. I also drank the tea the same morning, and neither of those things worked. Conceiving for fae is so difficult, why…"

Your voice breaks and you can't finish your sentence, your throat is dry, burns and the back of your mouth aches. 

"It wasn't foolish. You were both careful, and it just happened." Your best friend's voice is softer now, although inside of her a burning fire of fury about the shadowsinger putting a baby that could harm you inside of you. It could cost you your life and she would never forgive him for that.

You exhale a long breath when you lift your head a little, still leaning onto your friend. You rest your head against her shoulder, staring at the window opposite you. 

A veil of grey is being drawn over the sky, dark clouds passing by — rain is about to start. You keep staring at the window, sitting in silence as the first raindrops start to fall, landing gently on the window pane. You watch as the rain intensifies, and the sky darkens further until heavy rain pours down and wind whips agains the windows and the walls of the apartment building you are living in. 

The atmosphere outside mirrors the whirlwind inside of you, the storm brewing there, the cold and gloomx atmosphere.

There are so many emotions. And these emotions, mostly fear and nervousness, mingle with the hormones that actually make you so very happy that your are growing a little babe inside of you, but at the dame time so sad that the child will have to grow up without a father.

The whole previous evening you spent staring at your round belly in the mirror, sobbing silently to yourself.

With the big wool sweaters you always wear the belly is barely visible, but when naked, one can obviously see the growing bump. 

You best friend draws in a deep inhale and leans her head against the top of yours. 

"You need to talk to him," she says in a soft voice. "And before you protest, I say so because first of all, he has a right to know. And secondly, and most importantly, he might be able to help you."

You sniff loudly. "How should he help me?"

"The High Lord, who he is close with, has a son with wings. And our High Lady is also only fae, so there must be a possibility."

"What if he wants nothing to do with me?"

"Then you at least tried."

"Don't you think I will only be hurt more?"

You lift your head to look at her. There is a small smile on her lips, one that conveys support and warmth, her eyes shining with empathy.

She shakes her head. "You still have me. I won't leave you alone with this. I never would. But you still have to tell him."

You don't want to do it, you don't want to face Azriel, don't want to tell him, but you know she is right. You have to do it. He has a right to know.

This was a one night stand. 

You somehow caught the male's attention in a small bar in Velaris, and somehow he ended up in your bed. When you woke up, Azriel slipped into his trousers and out of your flat within a few moments. He was gone without a word, disappeared into the shadows, and you haven't heard from him since. You don't even know how to contact him. 

You don't know where he lives? Does he live with the High Lord? Or in this huge house on the mountain? With the general of the Illyrian armies and his mate?

"I don't know what to say to him," you whisper. 

The rain outside intensifies. Your friend uncurls her arm from around your shoulder, bringing it forward so she can clasp your hand in hers. 

She places a soft kiss to the top of your head and in a calm voice she says, "Tell him what you told me. That you don't understand how it happened and that you are afraid and want nothing more than his help."

"What if I want more than that?" You bite back a sob and turn your head a little.

"What if I want a little part of his heart. For the baby. If it—if we survive this, I want my baby to have a father. I want my baby to know its father." A single tear slips our of your eye and your friend quickly wipes it away with her thumb. 

"That is something to think about in the future. You need to think about yourself now, sweetie. You matter now, everything else is open for the future."

You nod, trying to agree with her, but the thoughts about the possibility of the baby never meeting its father are gnawing on you. 

And they keep gnawing on you the whole night where you lie awake, shifting and turning, your back aching, and tears still wetting your cheeks and pillow. 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Cold sweat coats your back, your palms. Your knees wobble, and your whole body trembles as you lift your hand, drawing in a deep inhale. Then another. And another. Your hand rests on the cool door handle, but you can't bring yourself to pull it down. 

He really came.

You can hardly believe it. He got your letter, and he is truly here. Until a few moments ago, you doubted it. You did not think he would really follow your invite. You were very vague in your letter, only mentioned that if he remembers you you would have something important to discuss with him. It could have been a trap, but he must have recognised the urgency in your wording, must habe known he could trust you.

Drawing in another breath, you finally pull down the handle and your lips part as your eyes land on him. 

He is…still the most beautiful male you have ever seen in your life, covered in darkness and shadows, expression stoic, eyes glowing with curiosity.

But he came!

"You came," you whisper, voice trembling.

Your heart beats in your throat, hammering so fast and hard you think it might burst right through your ribcage. 

It was just a one-night stand, a fleeting moment of passion, but you still remember him so vividly. How he touched you, how he kissed you, how he held you. And how he left. You felt used and sad after it, but you shouldn't have. Both of you only wanted fun for a night, but still it somehow hurt when he left.

"You called." His voice is flat, no emotion in it as he speaks. His face is not necessarily cold, but nonchalant, emotionless.

Azriel is nothing but darkness as he stands there, shadows swirling around him, stretching out towards you.

He eyes you closely, jaw clenched slightly.

You barely know him, only know his body, but he is now connected to you in the most profound way possible. You carry a part of him inside of you. Your child. His child. 

Azriel's face is a mask of unreadable emotions, some clouds darken his eyes and you can’t tear your eyes away from his.

"I wasn't sure you if you—" "I do remember you."

Something, some unreadable emotion passes over his face, and a muscle in his jaw ticks. His hands, those scarred hands you felt all over your body, are folded behind his back, and he stands in a stance, almost like he is ready to fight whatever is about to come. A stern warrior, and not the passionate male you lay with. 

"Come in?" you say, your voice trembling slightly as you step aside to let him enter. Azriel hesitates, but eventually he walks in, gaze wary as it sweeps through the inside of your room. He is looking for possible danger, making sure the place is safe and you can't blame him for it. Your invite must have sound cryptic, he is careful and that is alright. 

"Why did you invite me?" Azriel asks, finally speaking up and taking the weight from your shoulder to open the conversation. 

You are wringing for the right words to explain it all as you lead him over to the kitchen counter. You lean against it, your gaze moving to his eyes.

You drop your glamour, and try to hold his gaze, but suddenly Azriel starts to sniff the air, his brows furrowing as he looks around him. It almost looks like understanding dawns on him, whirlwinds of emotions glowing in his eyes. He must sense it in this moment.

"I am with child!" you blurt out. 

The words are so loud in the room, they bounce off the walls and hollow through the room. Through your mind, making you feel dizzy for a second. 

You move your hand over your round belly, smoothing out the sweater, to show him the bump. 

 The silence that follows is deafening, broken only by the sound of your own ragged breaths. 

Azriel says nothing, his face pales, his shoulders slump, and his whole expression and posture crumbles. 

He blinks, as if trying to process what you have just revealed. Although his face is unreadable, you can see the storm of emotions swirling beneath the surface. 

"Is it mine?" he asks and you want to face-palm him. You would do it, if it were under different circumstances. 

"Of course, it is yours. The babe has wings!"

The tone you have chosen wasn't alright, he could not have known, you could have been with other males…but why would you invite him and tell him then?

This revelation shatters him truly. Azriel begins to vehemently shake his head, like he can feel the weight of what the baby having wings means.

"No," he whispers, and then repeats the word over and over again. He brings a hand up, brushes his hair back and shakes his head again. "No, that can't be. You took the tonic, I did too. How did that happen?"

"I also don't have an explanation, I only know that I am with child now. A baby with wings." Your chin quivers, lower lip starting to tremble. You feel how your body begins to shake, blood rushing in your ears.

"And I am afraid." 

Once again the damn breaks, and a sob rips itself free.

Azriel says nothing, just stands there. 

"I understand that it is a lot to take in, that this is difficult, but I needed to tell you." 

You suck in a sharp breath, your tears tasting salty in your mouth. "I just thought you deserved to know. It was a one-night stand, and I never planned for any of this to happen, but it did, and I can't keep it a secret from you." 

You feel so vulnerable in this moment, your heart cracking open, everything inside you convulsing. 

It somehow angers you that he says nothing, but you had more time to deal with the newly learned information, he only found out now. Maybe he just needs more time to process. 

"I don't know what to say," he admits, his voice softer, and for the first time he lets his own emotions show, vulnerability flashing brightly in his eyes. "This is... unexpected. Overwhelming."

You nod, biting down on your lower lip. With the back of your hand you wipe away some tears. 

"I don't expect anything from you, I just…if the baby and I survive this, all I am asking for is a little bit of your heart. Not for me, for the babe."

Your voice is so terribly shaky, tears welling up in your eyes again as you try to hold his gaze. "I didn't expect it either," you whisper, wiping away a tear. "But I want the baby to know its father. If it ever comes to that."

Azriel is the one to suck in a breath now, the weight of his own childhood crashing down on him. Everything, every little pain when he was a child, bubbles up inside of him and his body starts to shake. 

The room is filled with a heavy silence once more. It feels like the walls are moving in on you, the room growing smaller and smaller, almost suffocating you.

As you wait for his response, your heart still races, but now it's not just with fear. There's a glimmer of hope, a spark of possibility that maybe, just maybe, he will grant you this wish and be a father for the child if it comes to that. 

"We are going to see my healer, the High Lord's healer. She knows about wings, she knows about babes with wings. You are not alone in this."

Azriel's steps are so fast, so unexpected, he hesitates for a moment, but suddenly his arms wrap around your shoulders and he embraces you tightly, his chin coming to a rest on top of your head. 

"I am not leaving you alone in this. It comes as a shock and I am sorry about my reaction, but this child is as much mine as it is yours, and it will have a part of my heart." His arm wraps around you tighter. "It will have my whole heart." 

He swallows, his chest heaving with a deep inhale and your curl your own arms around him, loud sobs ripping themselves free, muffled in the fabric of his shirt. "And so will you."

~~~~~~~~~~ tags (crossed-out I couldn't tag) : @juulle987 @marimorena06 @danikasthings @younxii@nightcourtwritings @mrofontaine @lunalilyf @whor-3-crux @tired-all-the-time @anni-was-here @ummmmmwat @azbracadabra @j-pendragonx @hollyismentallyillhelp @famousbasementpainter @bsenpai @lena-davina @red-highlady @thesugatoyourtae @azrielsbabyg @aroseinvelaris @moony-thoughts @wrensical003 @cherryjain17 @moonfawnx @crushedcloudsx @devilsfoodcake22  @valeridarkness @azrielscertifiedslut @mulansaucey @cynicalpotato95 @hanasakr @high-bi-andreadytocry @eerievixen @feyretopia @moonlightazriel @randomness-it-is @brekkershadowsinger @eliieee23 @girasoli-e-sorrisi @illyrianvalkyriecarynthian  @kennedy-brooke @highladyofillyria @theworthlessqueen @marina468 @topaz125 @illyrian-dreamer @azriels-mate123 @eos-princess @courtofjurdan @a-frog-with-a-laptop @insufferablebookaddict @callmeblaire

[anxious-witch]

I think the reason why there are so many amazing ships in Dead Boy Detectives is because the show manages to show different versions of love/lust/devotion through different relationships all characters have.

Like, love triangles have been doing the whole "a girl has to choose between two guys who each being out a different side of her" for over a decade in popular media, some more, some less successfully. But the pitfall they often fall into is that those differences seem very shallow and often ignore the other aspect of the main person who have to choose between the love interests.

Dead Boy Detectives makes sure to not do that.

When we look at how Charles is with Crystal vs how he is with Edwin, we can clearly see the difference. In the beginning of his and Crystal's dynamic, he is flirtier and puts more if a bravado, but he pretty quickly opens up to her. Because he sees that she very quickly sees past his facade he puts up with his constant happy-go-lucky persona. Only when he starts opening up to her and showing his emotions does their relationship progress. Because after David, Crystal needs someone who can be emotionally vulnerable with her and in turn, Charles offers her the same, and offers her a safe space.

In contrast, we see that Charles is more at ease around Edwin. They know each other deeply, and are also woven into each other at this point. It's easy, like breathing. One thing it doesn't do is challenge either of them from the status quo they have built over the years. But there is a sense of ease there, and such devotion. There is no question about what they would do for each other because the answer is everything.

That said, while they both bring out different sides of Charles, those sides of him feel intricately linked to one another! Which is why Crystal coming into the pictures begins changing Charles' relationship with Edwin as well! It brings to light things they have ignored. And in turn, Charles' clear and unwavering devotion and loyalty to Edwin prompts Crystal to learn it herself. To quote Jenny in ep 8, "you were about to leave and never see these boys again, but now you are going to save them"? And yes, she does exactly that.

This even has influence on Edwin and Crystal's rs directly, which I can't recall ever seeing in a love triangle before, at least not in a positive sense. But it's so clear that Charles loves both of them that the other learns to love them too, and they realize their own similarities through it, too!

As for Edwin and his many love interests, well. I know there has been a lot of debate, especially around Cat King vs Charles dyankics with Edwin, but the thing is-you are comparing apples ajd oranges here.

The Cat King is enamored, fascinated by Edwin, and yeah above all, attracted to him. This dynamic serves to challenge both of their characters' beliefs and shake up the power dynamics between them. Whenever you like the Cat King or not Edwin clearly reciprocates the attraction part, at the very least.

Charles loves Edwin and is devoted to him and Edwin to him turn, as discussed above. What is difficult about their relationship is that it became stagnant due to lack of communication, which is why they needed other relationships to shake up that dynamic.

But to address the most prominent comparison I saw, which is the Cat King saying he'll wait for Edwin vs Charles going to Hell to save him.

Both are types of devotion, is the thing. A profession of love, if you will. To this day, we consider Penelope a faithful, loving and devoted wife for waiting for Odyssey for 20 years. Cat King saying he'd wait for Edwin isn't any small confession, given he is aware it could take decades, if not more.

Don't get me wrong, Charles going to literal Hell to save Edwin and succeeding where Orpheus and Eurydice failed is an enormous success and a way to show you love someone. I am not minimalizing that at all.

I am just saying that, for who these characters are and given their rs with Edwin, they did exactly what they were supposed to. They expressed in which ways Edwin had influenced them and what they can offer him if that dynamic becomes romantic.

Cat King represents experience, patience. As an immortal he has all the time in the world to wait for Edwin to return from hell, because he believes Edwin is strong enough to return on his own.

Charles represents love that breaks all obstacles in their way. He goes to save Edwin because he believes Edwin deserves to be helped in the way he helps others. He deserves to be saved.

My point is, there is no better of worse way of loving someone. The character in the love triangle choose the person that better alignes with who they are and who they wish to be as a person. So yes, you are absolutely allowed to say "I think this character would choose person a because it alignes better with their character development" but comparing the two as one being superior is kinda pointless imo? Exploring different dynamic of a character is the goal here, right? Either through canon or fanon.

...I was gonna talk about Crystal/Niko and Edwin/Monty too but this post got away from me to uhh. Might do another one if anyone is interested but in their way! I adore the way DBDA explores different sides of characters while still making them feel like a fully rounded person and doesn't shy away from letting one rs influence other rs character has.

[simpingforheros]

Jason Todd Head canon 1#

I’m bored at work so I’m giving yall silly headcannons to make y’all smile. This is very crack! Headcanon vibes because I’m manic as well right now. But, I love my toxic zombie boy.

Redhood! Jason Todd X Batgirl! Reader

If they had became vigilante’s together, they would definitely reconnect after Jason starts to forgive the BatFam.

Would definitely always pair up with her just so they can cause some mischief during patrols.

Definitely play up the flirting in-front of civilians and would definitely encourage shipping just to annoy Bruce.

Would ditch galas to do riding around.

You two basically just resume your friendship until one night, you both got drunk after hanging out at Roy’s and yall wake up the next day with a broken bed and tattoos on y’all’s hips.

If You became batgirl after Jason’s death, God bless you

Jason would be hard on you with the intimidating and dickish act for a long ass time.

He wasn’t as bad as he was with the others because he understands that you weren’t involved with his death and you weren’t a replacement for him as much as you were Oracle’s.

When the moody stage finally passes and he realizes that you won’t put up with his tantrums, he will try a new approach.

Red hood becomes known as a menace to Batgirl in the media.

Whether it be he would somehow end up saving Batgirl while being a snarky ass hole or do behaviors that would cause her blushing face to be on the covers of tabloids.

At the manor, the pair bicker almost as much as they bonded over common interests.

Now the arguments revolve around those interests even if half of them started because of joke either one of them started.

“Bridgerton is just a horny girl’s excuse to not read Jane Austen” “Take that shit back right now!” “Make me.”

When the feelings actually start to develop, the bickering and the flirtation gets so bad that they become the most shipped ‘enemies to lovers’ ship among the tabloids and Gotham’s youth.

Finally, tension boils over when an incident happens where Batgirl was almost killed by a major villain.

Oh shit, Red Hood was not very happy to find out that Batgirl was currently in a hospital bed after a failed recon mission.

He went head hunting after that 🫢 Not that kind of head.

After that, Jason became unbearably protective of her. Volunteering to be on patrol with her, driving her to appointments, stalking her , breaking in coming over to her room/apartment to hang out.

It all boiled over after a heated and trauma dumping confrontation between the two where the neighbors/residents of the manor heard screaming, yelling, maybe a broken vase, and some creaming.

Red Hood! Jason Todd X Civilian! Reader

Ngl y’all, Jason dating a civilian would probably be a little toxic.

He’s either gonna date someone so fucking sweet that it fuels his need to be a protector and act as a balm to his failure complex.

Or he’s gonna date someone as fucked up as him so he feels some form of trauma bond with them.

He probably would spot eyes with them in a busy setting and because he’s very good at reading people, he would immediately start his stalking because he wanted to know if he can trust them before building a relationship with them.

Would probably never approach them as the Red Hood before meeting as Jason Todd unless it was a situation where he had to step in.

Secret lover boy with self sabotaging tendencies.

He would stage their first meeting as a form of meet-cute scenario. Most likely on the street or a bookstore.

Would play the long game of meeting by ‘chances’ and casual little conversations.

Has a weird prey/predator mentality where he wants them to give him their number first or ask him out first but he’s the one actually pursuing them.

If they started dating, he would treat things very slowly or very casually depending on which type they are.

If it’s the sweet one, he’ll play it slow and gentlemanly, like the romance movie lead.

He wouldn’t want intimacy or pressure anything like that even if he constantly thinks about it.

Maybe a little less toxic but more manipulative.

“Oh baby, there’s been a ton of robberies around that area. Let’s just go riding then we can go see that movie you been talking about.”

“Sweetheart, I love how precious you are, but I’m really busy right now. How about I swing by after work with some treats I already had picked out for you.”

His true nature would come out eventually. His vulnerability would show more, but by then his sweet little partner would be so loving and understanding.

They would comfort his nightmares and rub his aching muscles.

It would be 1.5 to 2 years into dating before he would reveal he’s Red Hood.

The fucked up one is getting toxic Jason.

This pairing probably met at a bar/party, and their relationship started out as a casual friends with benefits.

The two would become closer faster than he would with a sweet one, but oh my god, y’all fight for your lives.

Arguments are usually loud and heard throughout the apartment building before they would either screw iy out or have to separate.

Jason would eventually return with either dinner or a gift to apologize. He learnt that from his daddy Brucie.

Unless that man is down bad, in love, he ain’t telling y’all anything.

Anytime he gets asked about where he’s going to at night,

“It’s none of your business.”

“Work, don’t worry I’ll tell her you asked.”

“You know I’m busy.”

Don’t worry, the longer you two stay together, he sweeter he becomes.

Our toxic king will get better and less toxic.

It takes him to the moment he realizes that you really aren’t gonna leave him and that you love his fucked up ass, for him to tell you he’s the Red Hood.

+++++++++++

AN: That’s all I got for right now. Let me know if you want an Arkham Knight version or if I need to calm down with our Toxic King.

+++++++++++

[djarins-cyare]

Never Look Down

Part 1: Din’s Evening

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

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

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

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

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

Word count: 5,330

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

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

READ ON AO3 (author’s preference)

Tumblr version ahead if you prefer…

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

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

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

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

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

Why isn’t Maia picking up?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he can’t do anything about it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He can’t see Maia.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nothing.

He knocks gently, giving it a few moments.

Still nothing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Maia, it’s Din. Can you sit up?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dank farrik, he’s a fucking idiot.

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

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

But how?

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

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

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

Speaking of whom…

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

It kills him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Is she really attracted to him?

He has to know.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fucking. Bliss.

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

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

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

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

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

If only.

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Part 2 →

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tags requested…

@aheadfullofsteverogers @alltheotps @axolotllover225 @burntheedges @copperhalfcent

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

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

@604to647 @cheekychaos28 @djarinmuse @gingerlurk

@joelalorian @kyberblade @readingupsidedown @sunflowersunlight7-blog

@thefrogdalorian @whataenginerd @wrathkitty

[rubydubydoo122]

What are your thoughts on some of the more popular ships? Fanon and canon. For example superbat, bruce x harvey dent, tim x kon, dick x babs, dick x kory, jay x roy, steph x cass, damian x jon, pennywaynes,...

I’ll list them out

Superbat (Clark/Bruce): I find this ok, but personally, I like it when the trinity acts more like siblings, so it’s not my favorite. 5/10

BruHarvey: lovers to enemies? The angst? Amazing. 8/10

Dickbabs: idk. It feels kinda boring to me. Mainly because DC ruined both of their characters in order for them to be together. 4/10

DicKori: they’re soulmates. Idk what to tell you. And maybe you can tell how biased I am. Right now, they are the opitome of right person wrong time. 10/10

Jayroy: I don’t like this ship. It reduces Roy’s character down to a prop, the age gap feels kinda icky and I personally believe in Aro/Ace Jason Todd. 1/10

Superbat (Kon/Tim): the only version of superbat I truly ship. Reluctant friends, to besties, to flirty friendship, to a game of cat and mouse on if that taunt was real or if they were just fooling around? 10/10

DamiJon: I think their age gap never works in their favor. Either Damian’s too old or Jon’s too old, and it makes me feel wrong. And in more recent comics, they’ve been acting much more like siblings than friends who maybe possibly have chemistry with each other. But I do think if you wanted to go the romance route, it could be double unrequited love that was never expressed. Like a 10yr old Jon had a crush on a 13 yr old Damian. Jon left for almost a decade and comes back, looses feelings for Damian, but a 14yr old Damian has feelings for an 18 yr old Jon, but it never works out. 5/10. Just like their Dads

PENNYWAYNESSSS: 100000000/10. Like are you kidding me, this is the best ship ever and I love it so much.

Honorable mentions:

BruTalia: 10/10. My favorite Bruce ship.

Brulina: 8/10. I like it… but I feel like it wouldn’t work out because Selina would get overwhelmed by the amount of wealth Bruce has. Like she thinks it’s what she wants, but it’s too much for her

Birdflash (Dick/Wally): 8/10. I see the appeal, they’re best friends with so much chemistry, but I feel like they would never date bc they value their friendship more and they’re both super busy

JayKyle: it’s the only Jason ship I like, but only because I want it to be one sided, with Kyle failing to flirt with Jason and Jason is completely oblivious and actually just hates Kyle but Kyle thinks Jason’s playing hard to get. (Kyles flirting is just arguing with Jason, so that’s why Jason never gets the hint) 7/10 +300 bc of hillarity

StephTim: I don’t like this ship because Stephanie deserves so much better, and Tim seems like the type to mansplain every little thing, and it would drive Steph up a wall. I also don’t like the notion that they would be friends after they break up. 3/10 bc they had that piano scene

DamiRae: 2/10. Garchel is a better ship, and I feel like their personalities are too similar.

Flatline/Damian: I love them. I think they’re cute, but I don’t see it lasting long. 4/10

StephCass: 9/10. No more needs to be said. But I won’t ever officially write them as being together within a fic bc Steph’s character deserves to be her own, rather than a lover of a Batfam member, and Cass has her own things to deal with

[multixsposts]

Roommates.

Context-> This is about roommate Gojo Satoru being a pervert! he’s overly obsessed with the reader, he invades the reader’s privacy and steals the readers clothing.

kinks mentioned-> bondage, over stimulation.

Fandom-> Jujutsu Kaisen.

Ship-> GojoSatoruxReader!

->please keep in mind that the readers gender is not specified through this short story.

a/n-> this is my first time ever writing something like this, go easy on me! 🤠

this story is for 18+ minors DNI

You were off running your usual errands of the day, getting hygiene products, groceries, Necessities that you need for the house and so on, but during this time while you were out in your own little world. You had no clue that your roommate, Satoru Gojo, was snooping through your room.

Invading your privacy.

Going through your drawers specifically the night stand next to your bed. His eyes widening as the shock never fails to leave him every time he opens this drawer his mind wondering off to what you do with all of this toys you have hidden away.

hidden from him.

yeah he knows his obsession with you is completely one sided, but who is to say he can’t enjoy himself when you go out?. He needs this time. He has to have it.

But lately his mind has been screaming at him to search through your laptop. He’s never gone that far before, never even dared to look through it.

He checked his phone just to see how much time he had left.

You’ve only been gone for about 25 minutes. 10 of it was him waiting in his own room just in case you came back because you left something and or wanted to double check that he didn’t want to come along with you, which happened a lot. and it made his heart swell with more love for you.

But to you?. You were just being friendly. You didn’t think anything of it. never have.

The other 15 minutes?. He’s been enjoying your room.

He walks over to your desk and takes a seat in your chair.

Carefully and slowly opening up your laptop, The excitement he was feeling diles down some when he gets hit in the face with a login credential.

Of fucking course you would have a passcode on this thing. Why didn’t he think of that?.

He huffs out a sigh as he carefully but quickly looks around and in the drawers of your desk just to see if you so happen to write it down anywhere and be so careless to leave out for him- anyone- to find.

He searches for a good 5 minutes finally finding a small piece of paper taped to the underside of your desk drawer. He smirks to himself.

You’re sneaky.

The thought alone made himself twitch in his pants, But he ignores it for now and eagerly types the password in a smile dancing its way onto his lips as it lets him in.

He moves the cursor towards your photo app almost instantly.

He freezes, his dick hardening underneath his sweats as he stares at the nude picture you took just a couple of days ago.

“fuck..” he says a small whine following after his vulgar words.

His hand reaches for his phone as he snaps a picture of it to keep for later while he cums into a pair of your underwear that he keeps underneath his pillow.

He continues to lurk through your photos, pictures of you and your friends, candid photos they took of you. Snapping quick pics of the ones he favored the most.

Something came to his mind.

What kind of porn do you watch?. Vanilla?. No..he believes you’re an absolute slut in bed. You just hide it underneath that do-gooder, personality you have making everyone think you’re as innocent as you look, but he knows you’re not and he’s about to prove his point.

He makes his way to your browser history heat rising to his cheeks when he didn’t even have to scroll down that far.

Holy shit..he looks over to your bed and then back at the laptop. You…couldn’t have done anything before you left right?. He would have heard you.

Like he’s done before. Listening through the other side of your door quietly as you come undone, the soft mewls and whines that leave your lips have him bust in his boxers without him even touching himself.

He groans loudly as he quickly remembers that he took a shower before you left, how could he miss something so important?!.

He curses himself as he clinks on one of the links and he smirks. This is the type of porn you watch?..

Bondage?. You like watching people being tied up?.. as he continues to watch the video his smirk grows even wider.

Over stimulation.

Satoru is 100% sure there’s a lot more than just this video, but just from watching this one ? he could tell right away that he was right. When has he ever been wrong?.

You were an absolute fucking slut in the bed. If only he could experience it in person, He wonders if you’ve actually tried doing this with someone before? He closes his eyes, imagining how you would look tied up to the bed a blindfold over your pretty eyes and his cum all over your-

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!” You had come home to find satoru in your room, your private space. Your face was beat red with embarrassment and anger.

His eyes snap open and he stares at you, eyes wide, hands shaking, heart racing at the fact that he got caught. After all this time of sneaking around he finally got caught.

“y-y/n” he stammers out as he stands up from your chair and looks at you with apologetic eyes.

“it’s n-not what it looks like”

“really?! because it looks like you’re going through my laptop watching my…p-porn!” Fuck, the word porn leaving your mouth just made you want to die even more. This was something you kept private from everyone. and he invaded something so personal, you feel disgusted knowing that someone now knows of your guilty pleasures. That someone being your roommate that just so happens to be a really good looking guy, but that doesn’t matter right now! you are furious! and little hurt at the fact that he would do this to you.

“shit- y/n i’m sorry! i really am.” he defends himself and you scoff. Your eyes glancing down at the very obvious bulge in his pants, the shiver that went down your spine went ignored as you glare at him.

“out.” you tell him sharply.

“y/n-” he pleaded

“OUT” Your voice bounces off the walls as he quickly makes his way out of your room and into his locking the door behind him in the process.

He couldn’t lie though..the fact that he got caught by you made him so hard it hurt.

He knew he hurt you, embarrassed you. He hated being this way, a pervert, but he couldn’t help it. He knew it was wrong but if you’d just let him fuck you like he’s dreamed about every night he wouldn’t be this way.

His dick is pulsating at this point. Though he does something that he’s never done when it came to you. He decided to take a cold shower.

He didn’t deserve to cum to that picture of you, especially in your underwear.

Even though that was thing he wanted to do the most.

[makiandcheese]

i wanna share the genshin impact ships i enjoy and why (mostly rarepairs)

Rosaria/Kaeya - undeniable trust and friendship turned romantic interest. though capable of forming a relationship, their occupation and circumstances prevent them from fully pursuing it. Even if all factors could ignite mutual interest, the fear of ruining the friendship they harbored would stand in the way. What's important in a lonesome city is the same stranger who is looking for the same comfort you seek. Frequent liar or not, he's quite the personality to have around.

Jean/Diluc - everyone says they are exes turned lovers however I view them as the failed chance at love. They are friends who knew each other since they were learning to walk type of friendship. The first love you never forget. If they were given the chance, they could say what they want to the other. "You look even better after you became a stranger to me, pretty woman"

Yelan/Ningguang - The what could've beens. similar to jealuc but in ninglan it's focus is more on the one-sided, unrequited type of love. (using Beiguang for this example) watching the one you love fall for someone you know she deserves hurts. It hurts because you know you could've been with her if not for your own issues. thankfully she will never know you love her since that love will die with you

Rosaria/Jean - oh god where do i begin with this. The "outcast" meets the city's beloved individual. For someone who feels they never belong, its confusing to have the city's hope make excuses to see you. Rosaria and Jean's relationship begins with jealousy due to the nun and the idol deaconess' relationship. What makes Barbara look at Rosaria the way Jean always wanted? Filled with concern and trust that only families have for one another. Giving that to a complete stranger is agonizing.

Lisa/Jean - coworkers to lovers <3. A workaholic learning the simplicities of life from the reliable, easygoing, gentle person. When she'd forget to take care of herself mentally, she'd be there. Unknowingly providing comfort with just her presence alone.

Beidou/Ningguang - Two people who rule and have a significant influence on the community. Bickering and arguing over the smallest things yet loving each other for the same reason. What makes these two so wonderful is the fact that they both witnessed each other overcome difficulties in their own manner. They both achieved goals that brought them together in some way. Competing with which one would make the other prouder.

Venti/Zhongli - centuries have gone and past, and yet home always had the same eyes and breeze. When it comes to gods, the only one they could consider as equal are the same immortals who suffer with them. Why does meeting each other again bring so much comfort and pain? How many friends did they watch come and go like sand through the wind? Thankfully, they can overcome these uncertainties together. Until they could no longer control the corrosion within them.

Surcrose/Rosaria - When your curiosity leads to people questioning your character, the person you gravitate towards is someone similar. Sucrose would have a lot on her mind and would desperately need someone to talk to. Rosaria always wanted to learn more about the world but never had the guts to say it out loud. The mutual silence between them could be a conversation. "I have something on my mind, but I have difficulties saying it" and "Take your time. No rush."

Kaeya/Albedo - Understanding your past from the product of the past can be an interesting combo. Kaeya and Albedo are two perspectives of the Khaenri’ahn existence. The truth is never black or white, in fact, the truth is always relative. Messing around with your coworker because of mutual origins grives a sense of comfort in the city where everyone knows everyone.

Ganyu/Keqing - coworker who has false impressions towards each other. A tender and careful love formed from the desire to protect their city. Patience is a virtue especially for Ganyu. However, with all the years she had lived, days with Keqing always felt like love personafied.

Xiao/Traveler - what cannot be may be. One's duties always hinder relationships, but there will always be someone stubborn enough to reach out. Someone once said that unnecessary suffering is not a proof of strength. Relying on others is difficult but if it's with the person they love, one could only hope that they're not a burden. Thankfully, they don't give a damn about your stubbornness and go out of their way to talk and spend time with you. Since you know that these times wouldn't last.

Ayaka/Yoimiya - The different lives we live shouldn't turn us into strangers. In a life where expectations are laid upon you, finding freedom and happiness incarnate is like grasping sunlight. Ayaka knows she has her duties but spending time with Yoimiya makes her forget the time. Grief and loss often isolate us from relationships (including socioeconomic circumstances). Thankfully the eternal shogun's antithesis stays by your side.

Itto/Sara - Our beliefs do not align, but if someone talks shit about the other. Someone will be getting punched or electrocuted. Being a Yokai in human society always leads to discrimination unless you are equipped with power and unimaginable influence. Seeing each other's most vulnerable sides in the most unexpected times always led to curiosity. Curiosity leading to interest. And interest leading to fondness.

Al Haitham/Kaveh - Unconventional ways of saying "i love you" almost always lead to someone's wrinkly forhead. If turning himself into Kaveh's personal screaming outlet would let him relax, Al haitham would gladly do it. What happened in the past has long gone, and what's left is to continue. Is it so difficult to let him love you?

Candace/Dehya - Every neighborhood child's first loves daring each other. Duty is always the priority. Traveling the world will come one day but not today. If that is someone's belief, then someone will bring the world to them. Even if it's small material gifts, its treasured dearly. Just make sure not to come home bruised and covered in wounds. Else a medicated scolding (and some kisses) would be perscribed by the village's resident guardian.

and that's all folks tell me what you think.

[monstersinthecosmos]

First, you write a lengthy post claiming that Marius treats Armand like an animal, and then you wonder why Armand and Marius shippers are seen as outcasts in the fandom. You present humiliation, disrespect and devaluation as something sexual and normal in their relationship. There is a difference between not seeing Armand as an adult and independent person and not seeing him as a person at all. Like, you're literally doing ALL the work for the antis, LMAO.

If Marius sees Armand as a cat, then maybe he shouldn't be left alone with animals

just saying.

Like, 'Armand, Marius picked up a shepherd dog from the street today. You both share the same level of love, respect, and significance! 😍 But don’t be upset; being someone's dog can be great! And remember, you actually like it! 🥺'

BEST GASLIGHTING EVER

Maybe he’s okay with this situation because he doesn’t remember what real kindness feels like? Roleplay in bed for the sake of temporary humiliation is one thing, but to see someone you’re in a romantic relationship with as nothing more than an animal is just messed up. What are you even talking about? 😭

Yknow what.

I’ve been marinating on this all day and thinking about ways to respond kindly, because I think leveraging literacy at people in fandom arguments is really fucked up and that isn’t the person I want to be. I've even had my own journey in VC fandom because when I first joined Tumblr, the big meta writers were condescending as fuck and used to make me feel really stupid for liking Marius, and that's such a destructive and unwelcoming attitude. It took me a really long time to feel brave enough to even share meta, because of those folks, and now I have to worry about you chodes. And it's just a never ending Sisyphean task to cultivate a space where Marius fans feel safe. And that's for EVERY Marius fan, not just the ones you deign pure & good enough to exist. In fact, it even goes for all the book fans in general. I don't give a fuck if someone likes Marius--everyone is allowed to participate if they're not going out of their way to hurt people. You're an adult. Block people and curate your space, it's not my job to do that for you.

Everyone, at every reading level, is allowed to participate in fandom, and I think we can’t be true leftists if we don’t acknowledge the education problem in the US. (Assuming you’re American because Americans Feelings Yakuza tend to behave like this but if you’re not American, good job blending in, it's really embarrassing for you.) I don’t think I can ethically condemn the degradation of our education system and I don’t think I can condemn this sect of fandom’s violent anti-intellectualism if I don’t also show sympathy for its victims. I'm really sorry that your parents/teachers/whoever failed you this badly and I hope things get better for you, because I don't wish this on anybody.

So when I turn into a cunt in thirty seconds, I want you to know it’s not because I think you’re stupid. It’s because I think you’re a fucking asshole. <3  And I don’t care what the fuck your problem is, it’s YOUR problem, and we don’t have to tolerate this type of thought policing and fascism in a fandom space. You don’t get to talk to me like this just because you don’t like stuff that I write.

Having said that, I also am just, particularly fucking baffled by how incoherent and ideologically unsound this ask is, not to mention how blindingly, willfully ignorant it is. Like, I hate to say this, but it’s SO stupid that I almost can’t believe someone would actually say this to me, and it makes me wonder if you’re like, an outside agitator pretending to be one of these Mariusblr morons to bait me. So I wondered if I shouldn’t validate it with a response, but then I thought,

Fandom deserves to see this lol

You actually did a good job of imitating this attitude that I DO see, for real, in this fandom, so like maybe it’s a public service to bait me to get me to talk about it. So I guess I will.

Now, I did talk about this topic here and I said what I need to say. I already said everything I needed to say on the topic of doting upon the cute little mortal, and to send me this anon after reading that post, the reading comprehension is either ABYSMAL or you’re just pulling an OH SO YOU HATE WAFFLES on me which is like. Why. Lol.

And I can’t help someone who’s determined to misinterpret everything I will ever say, no matter what. But again, I’m kinda posting this as a fandom PSA because this is a great example of the braindead nonsense that goes on in Mariusblr and I think the people deserve to laugh at you lol, so if you want to misinterpret me some more, I can’t help you.

We’re not gonna discuss Marius in this post. What we’re going to discuss is the idea that “””THE ANTIS””” are out to get us, and the irony of couching anti hysteria in this exact message.

So let’s go back to basics and refresh on what the fuck a fandom anti is.

So when you talk about FANDOM ANTIS, I actually have to ask: Babe are you seeing yourself right now? Are these antis in the fucking room? Is the call coming from inside the house?

You don’t get to have a little bit of censorship, or a little bit of harassment.  If someone outside of our fandom saw this post, without the existing context of who Marius and Armand are, they’d think YOU were the anti for telling me how to interpret this ship, not to mention whatever the fuck is this weird kinkshaming. Censorship is bad, full stop. It's not, censorship is only bad when it's the thing I like. Same for leaving people twatty anons. Bullying people is still bad, and you don't get decide who deserves it.

You don’t get to cry about antis and then pop into people’s inboxes to ridicule them because they didn’t read the book the same way you did. You don’t get to lecture me about kink and ship dynamics. YOU ARE NOT FIGHTING ON THE SIDE YOU THINK YOU’RE FIGHTING ON.

And isn’t it ironic that I’ve been Mariusing on tumblr for like, unfortunately, eight fucking years now lmao RIP, and I’ve been harassed about Marius MORE by you fuckin dweebs than I have by the actual antis.

Now, again.

I never want to tease anyone for their reading comprehension. I’m not making fun of you. I’m gonna spell this out because I want to help you, because I can see that reading isn’t your strong suit.

The fight about antis & proshippers & censorship is not a crusade about character apologism and defending ships as being moral, it’s about distinguishing fiction from reality and allowing people to enjoy fucked up art.

You aren’t accomplishing what you think you’re accomplishing here. Like, first of all. I don’t give a single flying fuck about “”the antis””. Let them masturbate in abject shame in the privacy of their pitch black bedrooms. It’s not my business. What horrifies me here is that you yourself are the anti in this situation.

You are in my inbox scolding me for my amoral shipping.

You are in my inbox upset with me because I celebrated that a ship I like is fucked up.

A proshipper would’ve read my post and gone “Eh. I disagree but that’s okay.” And kept scrolling. Maybe they even block me! That’s fine too!

But how the fuck are you gonna sit there crying about antis when you’re the one harassing everybody lol.

And let’s not jerk off here; the sincerity with which you are complaining about antis in my inbox is SO fucking lame. Like can we please go outside?

I’m no stranger to fandom drama (like I said, I’ve been Marius Tumbling for like 8 years and I’ve done my time in Sheith Hell) and I understand when these terms are useful shorthand for a fandom-specific problem. But I also think, what if we grow up and speak honestly about what antis are? It really blunts the harm of the entire ideology, especially when you're misusing it this egregiously, and I think there are times when we deserve to take censorship and fascism seriously, because it's not a coincidence that it's spreading inside fandom at the same speed it's spreading outside in the real world, and I want you to think really hard about which side you're on.

Like, what if we use the term “conservative” or “Frollo” or “fandom police” or “FANDOM MAGA” ?? You come to me upset that I’m somehow giving some boogeyman ammunition when like. THEY ALREADY HATE MARIUS, WHO THE FUCK CARES. When you change the topic from “Fiction is allowed to be fucked up” to “It’s okay to like Marius because he actually didn’t do anything wrong” you’re COMPLETELY missing the point, and in the same motion you are upset with ME for implying that Marius did something wrong.

And it’s so fucking hypocritical? Like this is the same as when the fandom conservatives have ACAB in their bio while also harassing people--you are adopting language to fit into an identity when you don't actually understand what you're saying. I would've thought VC fans--especially Marius fans--would be more aware of cult behavior & groupthink and see the red flags more easily. (Again, having sympathy for you: Please escape this cult.)

How often do we see arguments break out in fandom where we go “If you’re upset with Marius, why aren’t you upset with everyone else?” Or like, I CAN ACCEPT THE MURDERING AND RAPE BUT DRAW THE LINE AT WHIPPING THE 17 YEAR OLD. Like. Where do YOU draw the line?

Is it okay to talk about Marius as a murderer? But we’re not allowed to say that he has some emotional problems? Also didn't one of you chucklefucks accuse me of being ablest lmao the irony.

It’s also fascinating that this camp in fandom is constantly crying about how like, antis DON’T UNDERSTAND ANNE RICE and how MARIUS/ARMAND IS CANON and yet …………………. Was anything I said not also canon? And where do you get the balls to use Anne Rice as a shield when she also said the same things that I said. She wrote the fucking book.

You know what.

I feel really strongly that like, in a fandom, people need to have better etiquette when they complain about THE THING vs THE FANS OF THE THING. For example, I have zero problem with someone coming out of TVA disgusted and triggered and writing analysis of Marius being a disgusting creep. We don’t have the right to tell someone not to feel that way.

What I DO have a problem with is when people say “Marius is a disgusting creep and his fans are gross for enjoying it.”

And what YOURE saying, essentially, is that I’m gross for enjoying Marius in the way I read him.

Not to be like, a fucking, egomaniac, but. I have to say this lol. Do you know who I am?

Are you new here?

Have I not worked hard enough to establish that he’s my favorite literary character of all time and I adore him to death?

But I have different headcanons than you so I’m a bad person?

Anyway.

This has gone on long enough, I think I’ve made my point.

I genuinely can’t tell if someone like ChatGPT’d this anon to me just to rile me up and get me mad at that side of Mariusblr, but the truth is that like. I’ve seen them say these things. I’ve been blocked by these folks. Every time I write meta where I acknowledge that Marius isn’t perfect, they vague me to fuck. So honestly like. It’s not out of the range of possibility and I’m going to take this opportunity to talk about it because some of us are fucking normal about a book and we just want to have fun and post meta and write fics and like. If you don’t like my meta and fics you can simply move along.

And you know what else!!

WE ALL SEE THIS. You make fandom uncomfortable for everybody. Every time I do acknowledge this, I get people in my inbox talking about how uncomfortable you’ve made them and how they became hurt and decided not to share in fandom anymore. That’s you doing that. It isn’t ~ the antis ~. It’s you, because you don’t let anybody enjoy the books the way they want to enjoy the books. And I think it’s really interesting that I’ve noticed that half of fandom sort of cannibalizing itself lately. And I don’t think it’s a coincidence that  this whole group of clowns blocked me around the same time, when their jackass ringleader originally got mad at me for flagrantly misunderstanding something I said. This is that same abysmal reading comprehension and violent anti-intellectualism coming back to bite you in the ass. And so like, I have to also ask, if you have some issue with me, maybe consider the source, and if this person is perhaps a complete douchebag who will cannibalize their own friends the second they step out of line. And I wonder if there are any receipts for my alleged atrocious behavior, or if I was always just minding my own business and writing fanfic and sharing meta and being nice to people, and encouraging people to ship whatever they want, and allowing people to read the book differently than I did.

You don’t get to tell people what type of content they’re allowed to create. If you’re very concerned about how people read Marius, maybe write your own meta. This is MY space, not yours, and you’re not going to kinkshame and censor me, and you’re not going to bully me.

This is ridiculous and you’re a joke.

[hauntingcryptids]

Tell Me That I Belong To You

Dhawan!Master x Reader

Summary - The Reader is having a bad day. So, with the convincing of The TARDIS, The Reader seeks comfort in The Master.

Based On This Request - *This was originally based on a request but the more I continued to write and edit it, the more the fic drifted away from the prompt. So, I am just going to let this be its own fic and write another fic more closely aligned to the prompt.

Warnings - Reader not feeling well, insecurity on the part of the reader, canon typical telepathy. (let me know if I missed anything)

Word Count - 1864

A/n - Gender Neutral Reader. I have a smut version of this fic if anyone would like to read it, but I don’t want to post it if people would just prefer the fluff version. I also don’t know how good this is, but I just wanted to get something out there after feeling awful mentally for a while. So, I hope that you enjoy this :)!

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

You woke up with a headache. The type of headache that no matter how much water you drank, food you ate, or sun(TARDIS created sun) you layed in would cure your malady. Headaches, in general, but especially ones as bad as the one you were experiencing, always made your whole day awful. Oftentimes, the pain in your head would cause you to spiral internally until your mental health was utterly destroyed. That’s where you were now, arguing to yourself in your head about you and your “Humanness” and how you weren’t good enough for The Master. How could you possibly be good enough for The Master? Even if you weren’t Human, why would he want to be with someone like you?

The TARDIS beeped determinedly. You were becoming better at understanding The TARDIS given how much time you had spent within the ship but still you could only understand part of what she was telling you. The bits you could discern were: “The Master loves you”, “you are good enough”, “you have always been enough”, and “The Master would never think such horrible things about you. Ever!”

Eventually, you stopped The TARDIS’s rant about how great you were and that she wished that she could help improve your self-image. You thanked her for everything she said. Even though didn’t understand everything, you could feel her distress over your thoughts and her want to help you.

“The Master could help you where I fail.” The TARDIS finally said telepathically.

“He’s probably busy, though.” You mumbled, worried about upsetting him if you interrupted him while he was doing something.

“Go to him. He wouldn’t want to know that you allowed yourself to suffer when he was there ready and available to help you.” The TARDIS had to say this statement a couple of times in order for you to fully understand, and you sighed in response. She was right. The Master would be furious if he found out that you hid your distress from him, you knew that, he said as much many times before. It’s just that your brain would lie to you when you were upset.

“The Master will understand.” The sentient time and spaceship whispered into your brain. The TARDIS, given her time being The Master’s ship, knew better than anyone how the state of a person’s physical health could affect their mental health. She knew how greatly The Master suffered, therefore The Master would never judge you. The TARDIS just hoped that you knew what she knew.

“Can you lead me to The Master, please?” You asked after ruminating over everything the incredibly kind ship communicated to you. The TARDIS cheerfully directed you to the main library where The Master often lounged. 

Like many times before, The Master was sitting horizontally on the sofa reading. He seemed engrossed in the thick tome resting up against his bent thigh. The alien’s engrossed demeanour made you want to turn back and talk to The Master later, but The TARDIS reassured you with a comforting presence. Both you and the ship knew that the only person who could make you happy when you were feeling off was the rogue Time Lord.

You walked up as quietly as you could and poked the Master’s cheek with your finger. The Master looked up at you with a smile, completely unbothered. Even while agonisingly planning an upcoming plan to toy with The Doctor, you would always bring him joy just with your presence. You were never a bother to him,

“Hello, my little Human. How are you today?” The Master seemed so calm even though you expected him to be upset. You wrapped your arms around your torso anxiously and subconsciously began rocking back and forth on your feet.

“Can I sit on your lap please, Master?” You sounded tired, which worried The Master, though he chose not to react for your benefit. 

“Of course, love.” The Master placed the book he was researching and moved slightly to allow you to sit on his lap. 

As soon as you rested your body against his, The Master scooted his body down the sofa until the two of you were practically lying down. The Master then wrapped his arms firmly around your back, trapping you against his chest with the beating of his hearts rattling throughout your body. 

You breathed a sigh of relief, causing The Master to chuckle lovingly. You then nuzzled against his clothes-covered collarbones and the base of his neck and then breathed in his scent. His presence was comforting, but unfortunately, it wasn’t enough. Your mind still hurt and your thoughts still moved far too quickly for you to properly calm down. You assumed that your thoughts were loud, loud enough for The Master to hear, but you didn’t put any effort into hiding your thoughts. You just wanted to dissolve into The Master’s chest and to let all of your anxieties disappear.

“I’m sorry that you aren’t feeling well, Y/n.” The Master said softly against your ear. One of his hands absentmindedly caressed up and down your back.

“Make me feel good, Master, please. You’re the only one who can.” Your headache seemed to peak right before you committed yourself to asking The Master for some help. The warmth of The Master’s body against yours and the severe pain spiking through your head was too contrasting and too overwhelming to put on a brave face any longer.

“What kind of Master would I be if I didn’t take care of my beloved Human.” The feel of The Master’s smirk against your skin sparked a warmth to spread through you. The Master always made you feel better and more secure, but on bad days you just needed a bit more reassurance.

“Please tell me that you mean that?” 

“Of course I mean it, my love. You are the only person I could ever care about.” The Master adjusted slightly in order to look you in the eye. You shied away, avoiding eye contact, and The Master didn’t push you to look at him. Though he did brush a hand down the side of your face a couple of times before kissing your forehead delicately.

“Let’s go somewhere more comfortable, love.” The Master said this to inform you that he would move the two of you. He would carry you places in The TARDIS without telling you where you were going when you were feeling like your everyday self, but not when you were feeling off. The Master never wanted to add to your anxiety, so he would always tell you when he would carry you off somewhere.

The Master moved the two of you so he was sitting up with you on his lap. He wrapped your legs around his waist and held you tightly against his chest before finally standing up with you securely in his arms. Then he carried you off to your shared bedroom. 

Once in the dark-themed and dimly lit bedroom, The Master gently placed you on the bed and wrapped you up in as many blankets as you wanted and needed. He stepped back from the bed momentarily to remove his clothes that were far inferior to yours when it came to the act of cuddling and resting. Eventually, he crawled under the covers to join you on the bed. He cuddled closer to you, holding you tighter than he did in the library, and then rubbed his hands up and down your back as you returned to your place cuddling into The Master’s side.

“What do you need, my love?”

“You.” You’re speech was muffled by The Master’s neck, but he still understood you.

“Yes, but what do you need me to do? I know that you are hiding something in that beautiful mind of yours.” You felt The Master softly tap a finger against your temple, a little jolt of calmness and relief coursing through you with each tap.

“You won’t laugh at me, will you?”

“Never.” The Master answered with sincerity heavy in his tone. You nervously mumbled your response under your breath and into his neck, making this comment more difficult for The Master to decipher.

“I couldn’t hear you, love.”

“Can you tell me I belong to you?” You asked a bit louder, but you were still quiet and nervousness permeated your question. The Master’s breath caught in his throat. He tried his best to hold in his excitement brought on by your request because this moment was about you. The idea of you belonging to him was exactly what The Master wanted, more than anything in the Universe, probably even the Multiverse. What added to his growing excitement and adoration of you was the fact that The Master didn’t even have to make you feel this way. You wanted him just as much as he wanted you. Somehow, the stars aligned and they delivered the perfect person to The Master. What else could he do but give you whatever you wanted in an act of gratification?

“You belong to me, love. You always will belong to your Master. You’ll be mine forever.” The Master cuddled you impossibly closer, intertwining your bodies in a knot, and whispered into your ear with all the devotion and fervour he felt for you heavy on his tongue.

“And you really mean that -” You tried to ask again, but The Master cut you off before you could finish your insecurity-filled question. 

“Of course I mean that. I would never lie to you, especially about this.” This time when The Master moved to look you in the eye you didn’t turn away. His warm chocolate eyes held all of the sentiments that were laced within his words and even more. If it were possible, you would stare into his eyes forever. 

“Thank you, Master.”

“There is no need to thank me. You just need some rest and then you will feel better.” You huffed into The Master’s neck, just wishing that he would accept your gratitude without dismissing it.

“Come on, rest your head on my chest and close your eyes. I will deal with that headache and those pesky thoughts that were troubling you.” You did as The Master asked, already planning how you would repay The Master for everything he did for you today. 

As soon as you placed your head on The Master’s chest, the sound of his heartbeats immediately calmed you down and the pressure on your mind began to subside. The Master massaged his hands along your back, starting slowly along your neck and then moving further down toward the base of your spine. He smoothed every ache and worked out every knot and kink, all the while placing delicate kisses across your head and face. You heard him whispering praises in your ear, some in your native language and some in his. Even though you couldn’t understand everything he spoke to you, you knew that what he said was entirely comprised of his love. Because of The Master’s actions, you soon fell asleep. You were completely consumed by the rogue Time Lord’s presence, just like you wanted to be when the day began.

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

Idk if you already discussed this but how do you feel about Adrinette being canon when there wasn‘t a reveal yet? Because I think the show just took all the exciting aspects of the love square away by making one side canon and the others strictly platonic.

Sure, they‘re cute and whatnot, but I don‘t think they‘re exactly interesting without the identity shenanigans and stuff? Especially because (to me at least) Adrinette always felt like the weakest side. It‘s a school crush romcom type of love, which is great and all, but like…. You have superheroes in your show?? Hello??? Why not combine the two elements more effectively???The others are either badass superhero couple (I loved the Ladynoir dynamic in the movie for example) or one superhero hangs out with the civilian and they bond. That‘s literally all of fanon Marichat, and I personally think it works with Ladrien too. There‘s different aspects of those relationships that can be explored and create problems that they have to overcome (like the power imbalance with the civilian x hero ships, how do you handle that while dating?)

I wish the writers would use the square more effectively

I'm not against pre-reveal dating, but I agree that Adrienette is the worst side to chose from a story telling perspective because - as you so rightly pointed out - it's arguably the side with the least identity shenanigans and the side that has the least ties to the superhero stuff that's supposed to be the show's main focus. Adrienette is the side you chose if you're focusing on civilian drama which, to be fair, was season five's main focus even though Gabriel had stolen the miraculous and we were all expecting that complication to be the focus of the season five plot.

Instead the focus was "will Marinette ever have the courage to say a kind word to Adrien's face instead of just telling others how much she loves him even though she knows that he explicitly returns her feelings, making this plot kind painful on every level" which was... a choice.... Five seasons and we're still doing this shit? Really?

This may mean that the writer's plan in season six is to continue to focus on civilian drama or it could mean that they didn't think further than season five and we're about to get a lot of awkward writing. Who knows? I have no idea how they're going to handle civilian dating plus secret identities for long since the writers chose the only side of the square where running off to fight akumas isn't a given thing that the couple-in-question knows will happen. My best guess is that the writers will probably just avoid putting Adrienette in the type of situations Adrigami and Lukanette were put in, I guess?

No matter how they handle it, I don't expect major identity shenanigans because the show has never done much with identity shenanigans probably because quality identity shenanigans require you to be able to draw out plots over multiple episodes and then resolve those plots. This show cannot have that kind of plot progression given it's formulaic nature and the "there must always be a secret between Adrien and Marinette" rule, thus the identity shenanigans being so limited.

This means that the side best suited to the show's writing is probably Ladynoir. Still room for the minor identity shenanigans that the show limits itself to, baked-in-yet-low-stakes tension from having to keep the relationship a complete secret, and a much more logical result of the writing in the first four seasons. While Adrien is far from perfect and has issues to rival Marinette's, his crush always felt like the stronger one given that he actually spent time with Ladybug and had a true relationship with her.

Marinette, on the other hand, barely talked to Adrien because the show literally has a rule that she can never successfully confess her crush, so they needed to keep her and Adrien from becoming close to make those continued failed confessions somewhat plausible. Given all that, it's hard for me to buy that Adrien's crush flipped to this girl that he barely knows. Meanwhile Ladybug's crush flipping had a pretty strong setup given that Chat Noir has been her loyal support in her darkest hours.

But that's not what they went with! Instead of having the secret be the low-stakes identities secret, the secret between them is, "Your father was a super villain whose minions killed you on multiple occasions and whose death you were arguably involved with. While were on the topic of your messed up family, you're an artificial being whose creation killed you mother. Oh, and we're also hero partners, which feels like a minor thing compared to all of that, but we might as well mention that, too."

...choice were made folks. Choices were made. This is so not how you write a formula show! You never go this serious!

Since you mentioned the Civilian/hero pairings, let's talk about those both to end on a lighter note and because that's where my personal favorite lies as I am here for identity shenanigans. That's right, folks, I am once again here to sell you on my Ladrien supremacy agenda.

While I have nothing against Marichat, it is not a good fit for canon. It's simply too limiting because Marinette is not a celebrity. There's a reason that of Marinette's canon hangouts with Chat Noir (and almost all Marichat fics) start on her balcony. That's really the only place they can meet up without drawing attention, which should be a major concern for them.

I physically cringed when the show had them go to the movies and on an ice cream date because Chat Noir was being so irresponsible! He cannot be shown to have a close relationship with a civilian, which is the excuse he should have given at the end Elation since that the episode included Gabriel discovering their relationship. The excuse Chat Noir actually gave feels pretty dismissive of his canon relationship with Marinette. She has canonically spent more time talking to Chat Noir then she's spent talking to Adrien and the same actually goes for the amount of time Ladynoir spends talking about non-hero things, so this feels off:

Cat Noir: I’m sorry about what happened, Marinette. You’re right, you have the right to love anyone you want. Even a superhero. But it’s easy for a person to mistake idolization of a superhero for love. So, even if I like this person very much, I could be taking advantage of the situation, and I just can’t do that. It would be wrong.

Evil Illustrator, their heartfelt talk in Glaciator, the movie date in Glaciator 2, and a bunch of other little moments add up to somehow make Marichat the deepest side of the square, which is painfully bad writing given how little screen time this side gets, but it's still what canon gave us. Marinette is not just a fan who only knows him from a distance. They are friends and even occasional teammates. The only reason this pairing doesn't work in canon is because there's nowhere for the relationship to go until a partial or total reveal happens.

Prior to that, it's just these two hanging out on her balcony or maybe going on secret dates around the city. Cute, but not suited to a silly superhero romcom aimed at kids where every story needs to be told in about 20 minutes. It's best left to long form fan content that is allowed to be more about drama and romance than the actual show and also a little more spicy than the actual show because - let's be real here - those rooftop dates would not just be talking. I don't know how you'd write this pairing in a way that's both genuine and well suited to the intended audience. It's simply way more suited to a teen drama than a kid's show.

Ladrien, on the other hand, could work if canon wanted to go there. I don't think it would be a good fit for more than a season*, so Ladynoir is still the better pick for canon's format, but Ladrien could be a nice bit of pre-reveal padding to draw out the reveal and add some fun comedy if the show were allowed to have a reveal.

Because Ladybug and Adrien are both celebrities, you can have them interact in diverse settings without anyone thinking twice. This allows for a good amount of hijinks where Ladybug is trying to protect her boyfriend at public events without revealing their relationship while Adrien is trying to get her to let him run off and transform.

You can also do things like the public seeing them together, thinking they're a couple, and having them both deny it because they aren't, leading to Ladynoir comedy where Ladybug cries because she wishes they were and Chat Noir is like, "Wait, what? You what? ...My Lady, as your loyal partner who is here to support you in all things, I will get you your man even if it kills me!" The thinking-they're-a-couple thing could also be solved via Ladynoir by Ladynoir going public while Adrien remains "single". There's just a lot of potential for the show's style of absurdist humor here.

*Ladrien does eventually fall into the same issues as Marichat where it feels like the reveal needs to happen otherwise you're just repeating the same plots or going too spicy for a kids show via bedroom-based meetups, thus me saying that it's only good for about a season. There's also the problem that Akuma fights and supervillains are endless fodder for Ladynoir issues, but the only issue Ladrien could possibly address is Gabriel and Marichat's got nothing save for maybe Lila? So if you don't want to let a reveal happen, Ladynoir really is the best pick by far. Adrienette can work, but it's way less fun since they have to keep all these secrets while Ladynoir really only has one major secret or, at least, Ladynoir should only have one major secret (the identities). Canon has really dropped the ball on this one.

Now that I've written all this out, maybe the spicy issue is why canon went Adrienette? It's a lot easier to limit their alone time than it is to limit the alone time of any other side. I maintain that you could get away with it in pre-reveal Ladynoir by just ignoring the issue and giving them things to fight any time they try to have a date. You could also end episodes on them starting their date, leaving everything to the imagination but also keeping the setting relatively public (rooftops and the like) unlike the civilian/hero sides whose dates are going to be way more private. I fully understand why a show aimed at 5-to-12-year-olds wouldn't want to go there. That is far more suited to the teen drama Miraculous so desperately wants to be based on the ill-suited plots the writers keep going with.

[lovemyromance]

Do ... do people not understand that the "classic" SJM love interest switch up is already happening... ?

Anti-Elriels love to make the argument that SJM never has a FMC end up with her first love interest (false: see Nesta & Cassian, see Bryce & Hunt) and therefore Elriel is not endgame.

Except. Y'all are failing to realize that Elain's "First Love Interest" isn't Azriel.

Some people would say it was Greyson. She loved that man. Enough to still hold out hope that he might want her even after she became fae. She wore his ring even after she was Made, and she wanted nothing to do with her mate because she wanted her human fiancée.

Now personally, I liken Elain's love for Greyson to be the same type of off-page relationship/love that Bryce had for Connor (rip). Like yes it's there, it was valid, but in the grand scheme of things, it's not really a focus moving forward.

Elain's actual "first love interest" is Lucien. And I know you might be scoffing - "But all you do is post about how Elucien isn't in love!" - correct. They are not in love. I don't believe they will ever fall in love. But I still believe Lucien is her "first love interest" because in the context of this argument specifically, "first love interests" are used as a bait and switch. They are one, among several options available to the FMC as she goes on her journey.

Elain may not love Lucien, but his mating bond with her is essentially the thing that creates drama-tension-intrigue. It becomes a "Will they or won't they" situation with the mating bond in play, and regardless of their current feelings for each other, it automatically makes Lucien a love interest for Elain. By that - I really just mean he is an option. Whether she likes it or not - he has a tie to her that she will have to either accept or reject.

And since Lucien declared "You're my mate" the moment Elain got chucked out of the Cauldron - he became a love interest in her story. The first (real option, since Greyson took himself out the competition of vying for her hand).

Elriel only became a real ship in ACCOWAR. Yes they have some subtle moments in ACOMAF that were cute (see: Azriel Allen Poe), but the first real time I thought they could be a thing was in ACOWAR. After Elain was declared to already have a mate.

You know what that creates? Say it with me now- Drama. Tension. Intrigue.

Elain is already technically tied to Lucien, regardless of whether either one of them wants that. But she still starts to develop feels for Azriel. She buys Azriel gifts for Solstice. She gives him permission to kiss her.

The switch is already happening people. The idea of a rejected mating bond is so original and contrarian and so new, it is exactly what SJM needs. And she knows that - because she's out here writing about how the mating bond can be rejected as early as ACOWAR. She's out here having multiple characters question the cauldron, essentially questioning fate. She's out here on the Today show talking about rejected mates.

Literally, verbatim saying "What if the forces put you with the wrong person?"

The "wrong person" here isn't Azriel. Elriel is not just an obstacle on the path to Elucien. It's the other way around, babes. If Elriel was simply just an obstacle, then Lucien would have received a POV, he would've been way more involved as the future MMC. But who is SJM choosing to spotlight? Azriel. He got the BC, he got the feature in CC3. And if you think this is SJM "just planning ahead" LOL. She's not planning ahead and building hype for the MMC two books in advance when she hasn't even tackled the next book yet.

However you look at it, the fates put Elain with Lucien, but she does not want him. Her defying fate to be with Azriel is the most badass thing anyone could do. But I'd expect nothing less from Elain 'Kingslayer' Archeron 💅🏽💅🏽

[oncewhenalongtimeago]

Hi hi !

More of jealous Hiccup, please 🥺

Or more of castoff 🥺

Love your work, thank you <3

Castoff pt 3

Pairing: Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III x Fem!Reader

Words: 3,044

You listen, and wait.

Tags: Angst, fem!reader, heartbreak, villain reader, unresolved insecurity, anger, canon divergent, RTTE, Httyd 2, dark content, unedited

<Previous - Next>

There was no silence down here, not for long, stale air filled with the angry, mournful, tragic sulfurous breathing of dragons.

You curled in your cell, a square wooden thing with an open, vertical bars caging you in at one end of the wall. The rest room was filled with the violent sound of clanging metal and the hissing of beasts, a steady mix between a barely contained violence and mournful quiet.

Your hair was matted and clothes dirtied, your body pressed up against the cold ship walls as cages filled besides you. Your face was overshadowed by your unlit cell, all the nicer amenities including fire spent on places where the non-prisoner folk roamed. 

The wood felt like ice through your boots.

 Your stomach complained silently to you, burning a hole through your torso only you could feel. 

You heard the rabble of the crew above in the silence between words, rushed feet stomping viciously against the wood floors as their muffled shouting and the clash of metal on metal filled your ears. You’d spent so long at sea that you’d lost track of time. 

You wondered if a dragon above had broken loose. You hoped it did, and killed them all. You knew it was a lost cause.

You watched a dark brown, gray set of boots, not yours, across the way, shifting against charred wood, clenching your fists and digging dry, blood-caked fingernails into cut palms.

You listened to the rattling of chains below, the heavy breathing of dragons come together to make one loud synchronized voice. At times it made you feel as if the very wood of the ship was expanding and contracting with it. 

It couldn’t have been any more than a week, maybe two. 

Your arms were braced at either side of you, your back pressed up to the corner of your small, dank cell as the rocking of the ship became more intense.

You glowered at the stockily-built trapper in front of you, as if he might dissolve if you put enough malice into it. You hated Eret, Son of Eret, who stood with bravado between two stark cages containing a pair of chained and muzzled dragons. 

A Nightmare, like the many lining the edges of this packed room you were stuck in, and a Scauldron.

He glared back, arms crossed over tans furs, a plaintive sneer marring his stone features as the rabble from above grew more intense.

“You cost us dragons.” He said, finally, his voice with heavy amounts of malice.

“You’re hunting them back,” You croaked, voice bordering a hiss just as sharp and jagged as the rest of the beasts locked up around you. Because your life was ruined, trapped here with the rest of the unwanted mongrels, the violent souls the unknowing Riders failed to save.

“You have to tell me,” He quieted down, speaking with controlled, exaggerated breaths.

The stomping from above grew just loud enough to finally draw his attention, breaking his facade for only just a moment. He shot a glance up the narrow stairwell towards the deck, then glanced back.

He was still incensed from your earlier argument. He wasn’t the rageful type, but you found that you had quite the penchant for making him mad.

“No,” It was so cold. You pushed down a wave of irritation, hugging your arms irritatedly in an effort to quell your shivers, and the chattering of your teeth.

The two of you stared at each other in silence as the ship rocked violently, men storming around above. You were at a verbal impasse.

“Either way, I’m trapped.” You broke it. You felt sometimes as if you were still in shock, because you felt no such thing, though you’d never heard of a shock lasting so long. 

“I can’t help you, then.” Eret looked down on you, waving his hands angrily before dropping them onto his thighs.

“You were never goi-” You started, as the trapdoor covering the top of the stairs leading down burst open.

Slowly, steadily a large, scruffed man made his way down, each step dropping heavily against steep wooden staircases, taller than they were wide.

He was one of the thicker men, with a large reddish brown bear that was now stained ever darker by the blood running down his temple. He hunched in on himself, arm on his side, exchanging a meaningful look with Eret, who faced him fully.

“The- the masked- The dragons,” The man groaned angrily, blood dripping down from a large cut on the top of his head, just as a scream rang out from above.

“It’s- This early?” Eret’s head flipped towards you and back. He decided quickly that it was time for him to go, though his eyes promised that this wouldn’t be the end of it. You weren’t surprised, there never was an end.

He didn’t wait for an answer, moving forwards, face exposing his astonishment and determination, running up the stairs to the top, forcing the other man to stumble up with him.

You watched him go unblinkingly, listening to the happenings from above with apathy. Once again, you entertained the mild pipe dream that come what may, they would all be dead by the morning. 

You remembered the way flesh felt on the other end of your knife, living, breathing and human. It terrified you just as you cursed the lot of them with it.

Your hands shook with grief. 

The trapdoor fell to the ground with the loud, hollow slam of wood on wood, just as Eret’s foot disappeared up the hatch.

You listened to the dripping water, the sound of stomping as it traveled through the wood from directly above, the rustling of leathery skin and the storming water outside, to your back. 

You listened to the sound of buzzing in your ears, closed your eyes as they unfocused and the sounds of fighting, the clash and the thump of fist against metal and metal against bone became obvious.

You ignored the splinters digging into your palms, a few out of many, and the blisters that grew there like fungi, a result of your constant grip on the hard surface and the friction brought on by the rough seas.

The rumbling of dragons grew louder as something hummed through the wood above, the sluggish, lazy, weighted sounds of leather dropping softly onto the deck and the delicate scratching of claws kindly rested against flooring, tapping against the metal detailing of the even larger, covered trapdoor that allowed the trappers to settle dragons into the jail.

It was like listening to the world’s worst shanty, all of that mindless noise come to a violent and discordant crescendo.

You listened to loud shouts demanding recompense, then even louder, panicked shouting to move.

Your face burned angrily.

One of the dragons must’ve escaped. 

You sighed with bitterness, jealousy heating up your breath, causing you to expel air much like a dragon expelled fire.

You tensed your arms, released your nails from your palms, shook out your shoulder, anticipation and dread building in your gut.

Room grew hotter with such sudden ferocity that you were caught off guard, unaware until you yourself were nearly baking in it, the sudden onslaught of heat caused the dragons below to rear up, to grumble and crackle zealously and sweat boiled against your temples.

You searched for the source, eyes jumping erratically from side to side. 

The wood above you blackened, eyes focusing on it with immediate clarity.

You startled as the metal embedded into your roof began to glow, simmering a bright, passionate orange before distorting, melting onto the wooden floor just outside your cell.

It was the sound of your breath, louder to your ears than any other, that had covered the breath of another. 

You listened to the crackling hiss of fire, with the dying hope that it was the riders, come after you, finally. But you knew that wasn’t their modus operandi.

A hot jet of fire ripped through the wood floor with sudden ferocity, wood frames snapping viciously as it burst through to your floor that you tried to jump back, forgetting that you were already pressed flushed to the corner of your cell.

It brought your cell to unbearable degrees, infusing the air with smoke and ash and filling every one of your nerves with the urge to writhe away. 

You blinked away the smoke with shaky waved hands and stinking, watery eyes.

You shook, squinting up towards the misty deck from where you were crumpled. 

You could vaguely make out a hole had been burnt into the side of the ship, melting through the varnish and fireproofing as you left out, a new dragon crawling through the hole, slitted eyes taking in your surroundings with vigorous abandon.

Your breath caught. And a dragon, with a great, large crown of thick red spines and a flat, viciously-toothed face. It glared down into the hole with slitted eyes, and you pressed yourself back, praying it had not yet seen you.

It brought you back to your days on Berk before the peace, where everything you knew was ravaged and you could do nothing but hide and wait, ignorant to the flashing world around you. Except instead of your world being awash with a series of bright reds and the screams and shouts of VIkings in fiery battle, it was silent. 

A world marked by muffled shouting and pounding of flesh on wood and something much less forgiving. The sounds of battle were not as loud as they should have been. There were too many a distant shout cut off suddenly and without abandon by the root.

You weren’t sure what was more frightening; Hearing the rest of the crew crumple and fail and hearing exactly how or being left to the silence, knowing deep down that you were next.

The catch and release of a bola reverberated over the silence, a deep hollow flinging sound hollowing your ears before fading off into the distance. 

The disgruntled scream made by the beast came much too late after it was hit, tumbling off and around the side. 

As it fell, it revealed something, someone…. For a moment, you had hope.

Overshadowed in your cell, you peered outwards.

Someone was in a mask, wrapped tightly in leather, their face covered by a heavily spined wooden slab. 

They stood with their shoulders braced, stance confident and body lithe. 

You couldn’t make out their face. The whole thing rendered them rather mysterious.

But it was someone.

You didn’t know there were any riders. You weren’t sure if they were a Rider. 

You kept your head down, pushed up into the corner of your cage, deliberating whether or not you should move. You knew if you didn’t it would be your doom. You didn’t know if you could break the trance you found yourself in.

They peered into the hole, before a sharp, ragged dragon call drew them away, lean legs bringing them out of view and rendering them invisible in the mist.

You shivered.

You waited. And waited, counting the seconds in slow motion,listening to your breathing, experiencing every second. Watching the way ousted pieces of wood fell to the ground and shifted as the ship moved, watched as small embers shifted and puttered out, as the metal marking the front of your jail slowly, slowly cooled off, leaving a large, neary person-sized hole.

You could run.

Your breathing quickened. You should have spoken up

But now you could run.

You stared at your knife, hilted on a mount just by the staircase. 

You stared at the melted metal cage and stumbled to your feet, nearly falling as you made your way over, trying to keep with the rocking of the boat and the dizziness clouding your thoughts and vision.

You stopped in front of it, hands on your knees, before you turned to the side, lifting your leg up ever so carefully and dropping it onto the other side, mindful of the metal that had just cooled itself still.

You felt your foot drop to the other side and you let out a breath of relief before catching it, leaning forwards hard in order to make up for the sudden jolt of the boat, hissing as you grazed the red end of a bar with your arm.

You felt skin there sting as it threatened to blister. You knew it would, later.

You came out the other end hopping on one foot, falling against one of the cages on the other side, grabbing the handle of the bar, gritting your teeth as hot metal burned your hands and pushing roughly away towards the stairs, nearly landing on your knees. 

You looked back at the few dragons who hadn’t managed to escape, trapped and locked down in their cages, pressing close to the far corner.

A Nightmare, chained down but no less ferocious, blew smoke through the small allowance in its muzzle. It glared at you rebelliously just as you had Eret a while prior. Condemning, knowing.

You wondered if you had a right to free it, if you were just as bad as the ones who strapped it down, cut the points of its claws to nubs, let it burn itself to near death as the others laughed and jeered.

You couldn’t help but to reel back at the look in its eye, briefly imposed by the image of another.

You wondered if setting it free might give you brownie points with your masked hero. If they were here to play hero, that was. 

You had a choice to make.

You slipped between the cages, You were much slimmer than most of the trappers on board. Slim enough to slim to the other side and grab ahold of one of the huge locks keeping a set of remaining dragons trapped.

They were built to be hardy, enough to keep the dragons locked in, but delicate enough for a person to undo on their own.

You wedged your knife into the lock, messing with the latch and cylinder until you heard that telltale loud release-click. You had become very familiar with that particular sound over the past few weeks.

You slipped to the side, fabric of your furs getting trapped on a sharp untrimmed end of the cage as a pillar of fire burst past, blowing a hole into the next cage over. 

You pushed open the cage door, though not before the dragons had freed themselves, running from the hole and slithering up towards the top.

You scowled, “Beasts.”

You weren’t sure if you could muster anything besides bitterness for them.

Shaking your head, scanning the empty room, you decided to move, running up fast before crashing up through the trapdoor, causing whatever freed dragons there were to jump away.

Your arms shook as you ran across the deck, both invisible and vulnerable in equal measure.

Through the misty fog, you spotted some masked person in the middle of a fierce confrontation against two large men, which they ended by knocking one of them into the other and allowing their dragon, who had since recovered from the bola, to throw them offboard.

You hid around one of the crates, eyes darting around erratically, looking for a way off the ship, smelling something like freedom.

You ran and ran, hoping to maybe find a dragon to hitch a ride off, or at least a raft which you could use to continue to float aimlessly across the sea until you either found land or drowned. 

You reached the edge of the ship, skidding to a stop, great pounding as you made eye contact with a figure standing tall at the bow, the same person as before, one food on the side of the ship, the other planted firmly on the ship’s deck and they stood tall above you.

You had pushed open the cages, freed the dragons. You had helped. 

“Take me with you,” You pleaded, glancing back at the freed dragons behind you in the mist, fighting off trappers and making off for more open skies. 

You wondered if they knew how a moment so inconsequential, a moment so small,  could become so holy to you. It was your poetry. It was your Pantheon. 

You couldn’t tell anything about them besides their eyes, green and hard, the rest of their features hidden behind leather and rags. You thought you might look pathetic the way you were then in your worn, holed furs, torn to the thinness of rags.

Eerily, it reminded you of the moment you spent dangling off the edge of a cliff, looking into the eyes of someone with a very much similar build.

You stared at them, stuck in a moment of hesitation, which caused hope to well up like blood cut from your still beating heart. You pleaded with your eyes, shoulders, body language, let the knife in your hand loose. 

Eerily, it reminded you of the moment you spent dangling off the edge of a cliff, looking into the eyes of someone with a very much similar build.

You imagined their faces, whatever lay under that mask and Hiccup’s, moving in the same way, though you prayed the outcome would not end up the same.

There was a time when you would have rather been in Hel alone than in Valhalla without him.

Eventually, after a long moment of silence and clear deliberation, the masked warrior shook their head no.

They turned, hooked staff shivering, bone parts wrapped to the staff with twine rattling, conveying a command you could not decipher in full. 

The dragon got ready to take off. You tried to grab on to their coattails, the fins of their dragon, anything as they left. But you were too late.

You choked back a sob as you fell back down, hard against the deck. 

Misty, separated by a curtain from the rest of the world, listening to the steady approach of footsteps from behind. You bared your teeth, knife at the ready, and swung.

You felt the blade drag though you couldn’t see against what before you were nicked back onto the ground.

Sopping wet, you struggled against the men who worked to hold you down.

[honeybeezgobzzzzz]

☠️ Something Dread, Something Red: Chapter Six

Something Dread, Something Red: Stuck in a proposal to a Marine Commodore, you escape minutes before your wedding in one last ditch effort to avoid getting married to a tyrant. Barely making it to the port of your town, you stumble across a ship just starting to leave and beg for passage off the island. You fail to notice that the people you beg for help, are pirates.

Warnings: None.

To Note: “Red Haired” Shanks x FemReader

Word Count: ~3.2k

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The Red Force is closing in on the port of Ingles, a town known for its construction services and lumber milling. The island itself is forested and sports mountains that Benn has described as a wilderness. It’s no wonder that the logging and construction business booms in Ingles, and you look forward to seeing the looming mountains. Kuri Island has hills—the Bonn manor is perched on one—but it holds no mountains nor thick forests. Even your best efforts to act ladylike can’t hold back the excitement running through your veins.

Now you are just standing on the deck, hands clutching the railing as you lean out and feel the wind and salt on your face. The white sleeves of the tunic you wear flutter and flap, dancing to the turbulent wind propelling the large ship across cerulean water. The town means you can pawn off your necklace and earrings for Berry, and then get clothes that fit you better.

You are more than thankful to be wearing Shanks’ spare clothing rather than your wedding dress, but the fabric dwarfs your body and is ill-fitting. The sleeves tend to drag when you help Lucky in the kitchen, and you have to use one of Hongo’s bandages as a belt to keep the trousers around your waist. Add the cut sandals practically taped to your feet… To put it simply, you look ridiculous!

But even in the ridiculous clothes that your mother would faint over if she ever saw you wearing such, you can’t help but bask in the feeling of freedom. You’ve never had the luxury of being in charge of your own clothing, you’ve never even worn trousers before, and there isn’t even a corset in sight! You sigh in happiness once more and beam, wondering what type of clothes you’d want to get for your new life.

Dresses wouldn’t be particularly useful to you, not when you find trousers so freeing and easy to move in, but you wouldn’t mind having one simple nice dress to have on hand. It wouldn’t hurt to treat yourself to a nice dinner at one of the restaurants Lucky has been telling you about. Even you know that certain dress codes are expected in certain places. So one dress will do. But you’ll mostly invest some money in tunics, trousers, two pairs of shoes, and a nice hat to block out the sun.

Then there is the glaring fact that you need to ensure your safety. You are no fool. The Blues are dangerous and filled with both good and bad people. Pirates. You are going to acquire a blade and learn how to use it (yet another task of learning you have to accomplish). Dropping your elbow to the railing, you rest your chin in hand.

“So much to do, I haven’t a clue where to start,” you speak to yourself, eyes watching the whitecaps forming as waves curl and crash.

“Well, for starters, we’re getting you into clothes that actually fit,” Shanks' voice softly floats into your ears over the sound of waves and Yasopp’s off-key singing. Twisting your head, you look at the red-haired captain with a pragmatic smile.

“Oh believe me, the first thing I plan on doing is choosing my own clothing. I’ve never been allowed to pick what I wear,” you reply as he takes a spot next to you. Your eyes look at the cloak he has draped over his arm stump. A cloak, you should get one too; everyone seems to have some sort of overcoat or the like. Shanks’ eyebrow pops up at your word choice but says nothing. He isn’t surprised that you’ve never been allowed to pick your own clothes. You’ve been nothing but a porcelain doll for your mother to play with. Shanks rubs his jaw in contemplation.

“The stores in Ingles focus on practical clothing, the type of clothes that are good and sturdy for traveling. It’ll be nothing like what you’re used to,” Shanks slowly explains, wondering if you’ll be bothered by less-than-luxurious fabrics. He doesn’t think you will be, but he’s yet to see you interact outside of the controlled environment of his ship. A thoughtful look crosses your face before you reply.

“Oh, I look forward to that,” you sigh in pure happiness. “These trousers might not fit, but they are a dream.” You glance down at the threadbare and simplistic trousers. “I’ve never had the luxury of feeling the wind against my feet and ankles.” Shanks wants to tell you that normally pants don’t reveal ankles and your ill-fitting trousers are far from luxury… but the glow of happiness upon your face is something he never dreamed of diminishing, so he keeps his silence on the topic.

“Just wait until you learn all about shorts,” he chooses to say, a grin creeping onto his face at the idea of how you’ll react to your entire legs being unhindered by layers of fabric. Shanks is sure you might even flop into a faint of excitement the moment you realize you could choose to wear something so revealing! He eyes your face a little more closely, drinking in the faint laugh lines and natural curves. The pirate is honestly stunned that you can still smile and appear so full of life after living in such circumstances as you had fled from. Turning his gaze back to the calm sea waters, Shanks looks forward to seeing what other delights are in store for you.

You are greatly embarrassed to say that your first few steps off the Red Force nearly have you face-planting with a far-from-elegant squawk. Benn catches your falling body early, large hands clutching your waist so you comically dangle in his grasp with your arms cartwheeling. You are sure that your face would be beet red if it were anatomically possible when he steadies you and all eyes are on you. Clearing your throat, you sway a little and take a deep gulp of air, trying to steady yourself again.

“Is it always like that?” you question as if you hadn’t nearly just made a scene of yourself. Your eyes are going everywhere in an effort not to look at their faces, for you feel like you might cry in embarrassment. Before any hot tears welling up in your eyes can fall, Bonk Punch speaks.

“Shoulda’ seen Monster the first day he was on the ship, took to sea like a champ, but when we got back on dry land for supplies…?” The man rubs his bald head in squeamish contemplation.

“Monkey vomit, for days,” Hongo rumbles, moving past you. “Tell me if you feel sick before you vomit on me, okay?”

“I’m not going to vomit on anyone!” you huff out indignantly, still dangling in Benn’s hold while the rest of the crew lumbers off the ship with containers to be filled. “That would be rude and unsightly of me!” Monster lets out a screech and swings himself onto a barrel to glare at you accusatorily. You regard the primate with a frank look. “I am a lady, you are a monkey. You have no expectations to meet, Monster. I do.”

Your words seem to make sense in the monkey’s brain because he leaps back onto Bonk Punch’s shoulder as Benn carefully sets you back on your feet. You still feel like you are swaying, but it isn’t nearly as bad as it had been.

“No one expects anything from you, Aria,” Shanks’ voice comes from behind you as he jogs down the gangplank, adjusting his hat. “So if you vomit on Hongo, no one’s going to judge, or care.” The doctor in question begins grumbling while your face burns.

“I will absolutely not be vomiting on anyone, and that is final!” you clearly state, stamping your makeshift sandal on the dock. “Gods, you are all such… such men!” You erupt, flinging your fingers upwards. Shanks only grins at you and holds out his hand to you.

“I’m glad you noticed. Now, why don’t you stick close? We’re going to be splitting up. The men will get supplies while I get you clothes,” Shanks tells you, watching as your face morphs to give him a look. He takes your hand and pulls you along. “And no making passive-aggressive faces at me, Aria. I already said I was paying and that is final.”

As Shanks pulls you along and away from the rest of the men, Benn leans over to Hongo.

“How much you wanna bet she’s gonna argue with him when it comes time to pay?” Hongo snorts and shakes his head.

“I’ll double whatever you’re placing… there is no way that little lady isn’t going to dig her heels in till the last second. Stubborn as a mule, that one…” Yasopp drops his arms over the two men’s shoulders.

“How ‘bout we make bets on how much he’s gonna spend ‘cause we all know she ain’t going to be allowed to part with a single Berry.” Hongo and Benn nod in agreement, fully realizing that no matter what you say or do, Shanks will be paying at the end of the day. “Alright! Who’s betting what?” Berry numbers are called as the crew makes their way towards the market.

You’ve been led back to the alteration room by Annie, the seamstress of Ingles, and stripped down to your lace bridal underwear and bra set. The woman hasn’t said a word about the clearly too formal undergarments but has informed her assistant that you will also be requiring undergarments with your purchase this day. Annie is no-nonsense in whipping your undergarments off to be measured, and within a matter of only a few minutes, you are wearing a set much more comfortable and appropriate for your new daily life.

Shirts are the easiest to pick out for you. You’ve indicated that you want practical clothing, something that will survive the seas but look nice enough milling around a market. Annie packages up nearly ten shirts of varying designs and colors, all to match the simple trousers you’ve picked out. Two pairs you’ve picked: cream and black. Those colors go with everything. You have picked a pair of grey trousers that are too short for your legs, stopping mid-calf, to wear out of the shop. Annie has tried to convince you to try on a pair that fits the length of your legs, but you have stated that you want to feel the wind on your ankles, so Annie has acquiesced. Now you are picking out a shirt to wear out of the shop and having trouble deciding on a color.

“What about this one?” Annie’s assistant offers, holding up a green shirt that reminds you a lot of the tunic that Shanks often wears. You blink at it, squint in observation, and nod.

“I like that color and style. It’s not too tight but also made from sturdy material,” you speak in approval. “I plan on spending a lot of time traveling. Is it easy to clean?” The assistant nods as Annie walks over, carrying fabric draped over her arm.

“That material is resistant to stains and tearing, but don’t go looking for knife fights,” Annie agrees, also approving of the choice. “It’ll be a good one for spending time at sea. The dye used is resistant to sun bleaching, so the green will last longer.”

“I hadn’t thought about sun bleaching,” you softly comment, scolding yourself for not thinking of such a thing. Your clothes won’t be hanging in a closet meticulously cared for by an army of maids. Placing your hands on your bare hips, you nod firmly. “I would like to wear that shirt out, please set it aside with the trousers.”

“Now, dear, you mentioned wanting to have a nice dress to wear?” Annie speaks, tabbing through some fabrics on a shelf. “Something to impress your man out there?” Your eyes dart to the front of the shop where Shanks is presumably reading the town’s paper. Heat fills your cheeks.

“Not mine, not mine,” you utter out frantically, holding your arms against your chest as if they would keep your heart from beating out of your body. Shanks is a very handsome man. Kind and generous too. But he isn’t yours, and it certainly isn’t a good idea to entertain such a thought… never mind that you don’t really know him in the weeks you’ve spent on the Red Force, and for all you know, he is a terrible person having a nice streak!

It would be nice to have a man like him, though…

You clear your throat, quelling the heat within your cheeks.

“Shanks is not mine. He is just being incredibly kind in helping me out of a tough situation I found myself in. Nothing more,” you say that last part more to yourself than to Annie, and the seamstress raises her eyebrow.

“Oh?” she spouts, eyeing you closer. You may think that you hide your emotions well, but the seamstress is no spring chicken. “Well, dear, not just any man spends this much on a single woman unless he’s got a claim.” That makes you sputter.

“But I said I would pay!” you erupt, embarrassment quickly shifting to anger. “I specifically told him that I would be the one to purchase my clothing, and he had already done enough for me!” Annie snorts this time and rolls her eyes. Oh, to be your age again…

“Tell that to the stack of Berry he handed to me when you were changing…” she says dryly, enjoying the way you huff and puff in belligerence. “Face it, dear, he’s paying whether or not you want him to.” You are left stewing in place as the woman begins to build the dress you want from scratch.

Annie has pinned the dress to your body and made adjustments until you are happy with the result, then spent an extra hour fussing over each and every detail of the lavender fabric that matches your hair so well. You don’t understand why she wants to spend so much time on a dress meant to be something that would never see a ball or gala… but she has muttered something about liking details and the beauty of simplicity. So you let her fuss.

Now you are dressing yourself in the grey trousers, green shirt, shoes that actually fit your feet properly, and looking at the selection of hats available. You’ve braided your hair back so it will be out of the way and less of a hassle while sailing the sea. Most of the hats will fit your need just fine, but it is going to be your hat. You don’t want just any old hat. Unconsciously you find yourself leaning towards the straw hats, liking the way they are simple yet will do their job perfectly.

Plucking a straw hat with a wider brim than others, your finger traces the black ribbon wrapped around it until you stroke the neat bow at the back. It is perfect! It is simple, will do the job, and has just enough femininity to it to match your wardrobe. Turning the hat, you place it on your head and adjust it before walking over to the floor-length mirror you’ve spent the morning standing in front of.

Oh my.

You hardly recognize your reflection. Gone is the refined lady of the Bonn family, replaced by a lavender-haired woman who holds herself with regality but looks like she belongs on a ship at sea.

“It’s perfect,” you sigh happily, running your hands along the coarse material of your trousers. There is nothing delicate about your trousers, your tunic, or your boots. They are built for travel, for daily trekking, for use. Fiddling with the strings hanging from your new hat, you turn on your heel and look to Annie and her assistant. “I’ve never picked my own clothes before. Does this look okay?”

“You look like an average traveler,” Annie tells you, walking forwards and nitpicking nonexistent creases in your clothing. “Which I believe is the look you are going for? Of course, nothing you wear will take away from your natural beauty, dear. Can’t hide that.”

“I just don’t want to be found by my family. It was trouble enough leaving them,” you sigh, picking at the end of your short braid. “Maybe I should dye my hair.”

“That’d be a right shame if you did, miss,” the assistant speaks up. “You don’t want to erase yourself trying to find your freedom. You might lose yourself entirely if you do.” She has a point; you can admit that. So you’ll leave your hair alone and hope that your luck will continue.

“Alright then,” you say, turning to address them. “How much do I owe you?”

“A smile, girl, and if you offer me Berry one more time, I’m going to sic your gentleman on you.” Annie tells you with a strict look. Your shoulders slump, and you let out a soft groan, realizing that Shanks has indeed won this battle. Very well. So you give Annie and the assistant one of your best smiles and thank them before venturing to the front of the shop. You can see Shanks standing outside, across the road from the shop, leaning against the railing of the overlook to the port of Ingles. No doubt he has felt cooped up in the shop.

Knowing that Annie will have your dress and clothes delivered to the Red Force when everything is ready and packed up, you depart the shop and quietly walk up to the red-haired man.

“Finally done, eh?” Shanks asks, admiring the view of the ocean and the breeze he can feel on his face. It is a rather nice day, he has to admit, too bad you have spent most of it inside. Perhaps tomorrow he’ll have more of a chance to show you around.

“I am not happy you wouldn’t let me pay,” you announce, stopping beside him and enjoying the view. Shanks chuckles and rolls his eyes. He has practically spent the entire day arguing with you over who got to pay for your clothes. Shanks has ultimately put his foot down and talked with Annie about not letting you pay.

“Consider it a gift, Aria. You’re starting a new life.” Shanks chuckles before giving you a brief glance. Looking back at the horizon, his head snaps back to you in surprise. He knows that you will be leaving the shop wearing new clothes, but he hasn’t realized just how fitting and beautiful you’d look in just pants and a shirt. While he stares at you, drinking in the sight and realizing just how well you’d fit in with the crew now, you blink at him and wonder if you look odd to him. He sure is staring for a long time.

“Do I look weird in these clothes? Annie said I looked fine, but I feel odd wearing them since I’ve never picked my own clothes before.” Shanks reaches up and flicks his finger along the edge of your straw hat, reminded of a certain boy he’d left behind years ago. You have the same passion in your eyes. A frightfully attractive passion he is slowly coming to terms with. Better move on before you catch on to the fact that he is unabashedly checking you out.

“You look like you fit in with a crowd, Aria. The clothes are perfect,” he says before straightening up. “I got word that the men finished with the resupply and found a tavern. We’ll meet up with them there.”

Date Published: 1/11/24

Last Edit: 7/29/24

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[maks-punchout-hyperfixtion]

So about burnt bread discourse

I had a dream i had to make this post once. Aint that ironic.

As a multi shipper i won't lie and say the aran x joe age isn't something. But to me it's just a big age gap between two adults. It's not like aran just got out of highschool or joe knew aran as a kid. If either was the case this ship wouldn't even fall under my radar.

I frankly can't give two shits who you ship in any fandom as long as their legal ages and not relatives. I don't even do ship stuff alot, hell the fucking au based around Punch out ships is more like "what if they had kids and those kids just so happened to also go into boxing" for literally any ship it doesn't even follow the minimum lore i have!

But i want to say some stuff about the original post that started it. Which will be in a under cut because of rants and frankly outright rudeness im presenting. To which i apologize

It feels non genuine. Its just feels like something to just start something up. And my reasoning are simple they assumed excuses, was basically just rude in their second to final sentence, and just randomly slapped proship over it without an explanation

They assume that someone will call them homophobic, and that they don't like the trope aran x joe is. Which by the way can we actually talk about that?

Wimpy x strong?? Im sorry but in my opinion and any fan art i have seen doesn't depict joe as a wimp. At all. Joe is a boxer and dispite being one of the worst he is still giving it his all. Even in canon he isn't, the only "wimpy" dialogue he has is the one about his gloves being too tight and his stomach being mush. And even that was just him complaining about something that actually does get annoying. His "dont punch my jaw" lines are likely because his jaw is probably going to break after to many bouts so he's trying to tell his opponent to not punch there (which obviously fails), and that nap one was probably just to taunt mac! You realize how detirmed and strong you got to be to keep going into the ring after 100 losss? In a total of 201 between the nes and wii game? If that's your definition of wimpy i hate to see what you call people who actually are wimps.

That rant aside lets talk about you second to last sentence "But yea, welcome to the Punch out fandom, were SOME people doesn't care about ages."

That was just fucking rude you know that? I refuse to believe that wasn't meant to intentionally be rude. No matter how big the fandom no matter how close you are to the people you never go and say that type of stuff unless you can provide proof that a good portion you're referring too is actually doing that. Especially after you got your point across.

And look i get proship can mean different things. But you could of atleast give a reasoning as to why this ship is a proship outside the age gap? It doesn't help that you actually only put it in the tags that caused the whole thing.

Frankly actually i don't hate your take, im just hoping you're reading this and seeing there were better ways to bring the point across and to give some better reasons as to why you dislike the ship outside the age gap and why you think its a proship.

So tldr: just reword the actual post better take out the "But yea, welcome to the Punch out fandom, were SOME people doesn't care about ages" part and explain why you think this ship is a proship

[4pfsukuna]

Prof. Nanami puts his two smartest students together for a research project and you just can’t help teasing him…until he teases back.

Black coded reader, cause black af.mdni.

Tapping my long red french tips on the library table i let out another long sigh irritated with my (not chosen by me) partner.

We had been sitting here in silence a dimly lit corner in the back of the library our only exchange was “hey” so what could he possibly be typing.

“So i was thinking we could do our project on—“ i begin to speak taking my hand out of my leather jacket pocket only to be cut off by the dark eyed assailant. 

“No. I’ve already decided” he mutters out not moving his attention from the screen. Resting my chair forward so im no longer leaning i scrunch my nose.

“Theres no way you decided because i didn’t agree” and from the slight view i have of his face i can tell hes rolling his eyes.

This was exactly why i didn’t want to work with him… or anyone. He was quiet, closed off, known as a loner and had these deep dark eyes that felt like he was stairing into the pits of your soul.

“Are you going to do all the work?” I ask with a raised brow before noticing not once has he even looked at me. Pushing even more forward to see what he was typing im unaware of our proximity until i notice the slight red blush covering his cheeks right under the mark on his nose.

Ive completely invaded his space my boobs nearly pouring out of the top of my black crop top and im pressed completely onto his arm.

“Am i making you uncomfortable” i tease and i couldn't help it when you grow up with step brothers like Sukuna and Yuji (our dad wanting to step out of his marriage and explore with an american woman actually explore his kink for black women which in all actuality he had a poor taste in women their mothers who decided it was time for her to live her dreams so she just up and left and mine who shipped me off as soon as she had the birds and bees talk which is all irrelevant since choso is storming out of the library laptop in tow and the last thing i need is to fail this final paper.

Grabbing my oversized purse and slinging it over my shoulder i chase after him and catch him in the hall.

“Wait wait wait” i huff out of breath because these heels were not made for running and he turns around facing me with a bored expression, you wouldn’t even think i offended him.

“Alright that was completely inappropriate and i shouldn’t have joked like that, but i also don’t want to fail or push all the work on you. I want to work on this project together” i breathe out standing infront of him blocking his path but as large as he was compared to me im sure he could step over me if he seen fit.

“What makes you think i want to work with you” he bites out and i let out the arrogant smile that solidified i was Sakunas half sister.

“Do you actually think professor Namami would place  the smartest person in the class with a idiot and have them do all the work? Come on now its Nanami he would put his two smartest pupils together to challenge another and write a final paper hes actually happy to read” i say as if its common sense cause it is. 

Its NANAMI.

I watch the debate in his eyes as he thinks over what i just said before his shoulders drop in defeat. I grin widely sticking my hand out as a form of truce which he painfully takes.

I force myself to bite back the smirk at his clamy hands knowing it was all my doing and use the grip to yank him closer.

“And i would love if you could send me what you have so far so i can begin doing research” i utter lowly licking my lips watching his glare never falter almost as if he's painfully keeping his eyes avoiding my mouth before bidding him goodbye a devious plan forming in my head.

The next afternoon when we meet in the library i offer sweets from a local bakery as an official truce which i can hardly read his expression at.

“Im sorry now that i think about it you dont seem much of a sweets guy” i feel foolish of course he didnt like sweets— my train of thought is interupted by him picking up a creme filled chocolate pastry.

“Shouldnt judge a book by a cover, every smart person knows that” he quipps quickly and my lips twitch in a smile. Ah so he does bite back. 

“Did you call me dumb?” I scoff playfully dropping bait which he quickly takes.

“Does the shoe fit?” He bites back and when i dont respond only send a playful glare i watch as the corners of his lips twitch up feeling proud i could get a smile. “Come on show me your work” 

And we spend the next two hours talking theories and sharing ideas conspiring every concept as his long fingers type away my thoughts later to be put into essay format.

Its not long before he lets out a yawn breaking our silence and i look up at him noticing the bags forming under his eyes slowly being covered by his bangs.

He was actually begining to look disheveled. Two signature buns drooping from running his hands through them bangs more full from the pueces of his buns and the bored expression— actually that was very on brand for him.

“Come on let’s wrap up your tired” i say softly twirling a stand off his bangs around my finger and i knew it was when he was too tired to cover his blush he was exhausted. 

Yup, still got it.

He swats at my hand sending me a pointed look to which i innocently bat my eyes up at him from the seat next to him.

And thats how it goes for the next few weeks smart remarks met by his even more quick witted remarks sometimes followed by a half smirk, my harmless flirting/ teasing which i may have taken too far the day i rested my palm on his inner thigh and he flew out of his seat claiming he needed to use the bathroom only returning 10 minutes later saying he had to leave.

Or the day he asked me to proof read a page leaning away from his computer so i could take it instead i lean forward hand resting on his shoulder unaware just how close his face was to my—

Both occasions i had to bring apology pastries.

And the more time we spent together the more i learned about Choso. How smart he is, what makes him tick, his favorite foods, what makes him blush the way i thought he was a boob man but ive caught his gaze on my thighs several times and i may purpousely wear shorter skirts on days i know were going to be together.

Today was no exception.

The only thing i hadn’t planned on was the air conditioner being on full blast. Probably my karma from the universe wearing the tiniest of clothes to tease him.

“Oh no were going to have to finish another day its freezing in here” i shiver crossing my arms over another trying to huddle into myself for warmth. The black (extreme)  mini skirt with short sleeve white shirt that had bows tying the back together with Sukunas red varsity jacket was such a cute look until he realized i was wearing his jacket and took it . He was now my least favorite brother and yuuji was in the lead, which he typically always was given his competition.

“What?!” Choso nearly begins to foam at the mouth. “Its our last day and were so close to being done we can actually submit it now and im sure we would get an A still” he quickly rambles out dropping our stuff on the table we usually took up. The library was nearly empty so him being loud was no bother at all to anyone probably because most students didnt know where the library was.

“So submit it, I dont do the cold” i shrug ready to grab my bag when he begins taking off his jacket placing it on my shoulders pulling my hair from put under the collar and going to his work.

“Probelm solved, now sit” he bites put and id never seen this side of him but it was kind of a turn on and probably karma rearing her head into me again because through all the teasing i developed a tiny crush on Choso. Like tiny though.

Super tiny.

Extremely tiny.

So tiny i couldnt help but flirt with him every chance i had and notice all his favorite things and Damn did his jacket smell good.

So tiny i knew every detail of the scar on his face and how it swerves slight over the bridge of his nose not just cause it curves but—

Damn his jacket smelled… good wasnt a strong enough word. I was feeling intoxicated from how sensational his jacket smelled.

My crush was so tiny i made sure to bring his favorite pastries every tuesday and thursday because the way he smiled could brighten up my whole day.

My crush was so tiny i wasnt thinking about using my rose tonight to the smell of his jacket and the way he demanded me to sit down.

Imagine hearing that in the be—

Feeling a tight grip on my thigh my head snaps over to him and his eyes give me that bored yet slightly annoyed expression. 

“Stop fidgeting, its driving me insane and just let me finish typing the rest of what you wrote” he says like he cant wait to be done and i pout knowing this would be the last time we’d get to spend together. My crush would stay just that.

My eyes trail down noticing his buff arms veins sticking out something id never notice before. Has he always worked out. Going down even further i notice the silver rings spread across his fingers and almost choke.

I was going to need 10 minutes in the bathroom if he didnt move his iron grip. I just had one question.

“Have you ever fingered a girl with all your rings on?” I blurt… and this time it was a genuine mistake. Of all the shit ive said this was the one i completely wish i didnt.  I was actually okay with us never speaking again, Sukuna says we should never have shame but i bet he would never do something like that.

Ok yes he would.

“Do you want to be the first?” I hear and nearly fall off the table if it wasnt for his iron grip on my thigh. I thank God for my brown complexion because my cheeks feel hot and I’m lost for words completely. Its when he begins to chuckle that i realize he was just giving me a taste of my own medicine. The weeks of comments and sexual innuendos id thrown at him and couldn’t handle one.

I feel the proud smile grow on my face and unknowingly squeeze my thighs together slightly squirming the idea still playing in my mind. 

“What if i said yes” i retort watching as he becomes flustered and that adorable blush comes back to his cheeks.

“Would it make you stop… moving your thighs so much” he struggles his hand moving to my other thigh squeezing  and i grin knowing he had a thing for them and he can no longer hold back. His eyes meet mine until i lean forward placing a few soft kisses on his lips.

“Promise”

Ok that was a lie. It was all a lie.

Sitting on his right leg, my back pressed up against his chest and 2 of his fingers buried inside me the squirming absolutely hasn't stopped but it doesn't seem to affect him one bit as he edits the last bits of parts i wrote for our project.

“This is so good sweetheart, how about a third finger?” He ask rhetorically lips brushing against my ear and i'm so close to cumming at Dom!Choso cause whewwwww what a turn on. He curls his two fingers up as if he’s trying to pull the orgasm from inside of me and my legs clench together trying not to make too much of a mess.

He chuckles right against my ear and I'm losing myself at the stimulation, Biting my lip as he uses a third finger on my clit. My vision begins to blur and I feel myself about to cum for a second time.

“Look at you trying so hard to hold back those gorgeous moans after you spent the past month teasing me, fucking with me… mmm so wet” he groans in my ear spreading my lips causing the squelching sound to be louder. His fingers brush a particular spot deep in my core making me fall apart as I bite my lip harder cherry lip gloss mixing with the iron taste of blood.

“I love every little sound you make Why try and hide it from me, would you really deny me?” He kisses up my neck using his other hand to pull my bottom lip from my mouth releasing a string of curses, his fingers never stopping their exploration of my walls.

He did show mercy, slowing down other hand snaking up my shirt cupping a boob until his fingers found my nipple. 

“You're so wet for me… just me” he groans his teeth leaving marks down my neck to my shoulder and the idea of him being slightly possessive wanting to mark me so everyone knew i was his? My insides clench and he hums at the feeling.

His fingers pick up the pace once more and I have to close my eyes to hold on to every drop of restraint I have left between the way his fingers are moving expertly inside of me, the contrast of his warm hands to the cold rings on his fingers. I could stay here forever, one hand clutching his bicep the other on his thigh.

“Ch-choso i—mmmmm” i try to get out feeling my hips have a mind of their own grinding down on his fingers needily unaware of how he had me completely wrapped around them. He bites onto my neck and my release follows earning a groan from him as im left panting in his lap. What i dont expect to hear is the wet sound of him licking each of his fingers and the sight has me wet all over again my heart racing.

He chuckles pulling my chin toward him as he places his lips on mine i instantly kiss back gently sucking on his bottom lip earning a groan from him. He doesnt hesitate as his hands rub my thighs gripping and squeezing our tongues dancing together until he slowly pulls away lips and cheeks both red. 

“Lets go” i murmur placing another soft kiss on his lips only to receive a confused look.

“Yuji and Sukuna both are going to a party so they wont be back until 7am… i have a free house where i dont have to worry about being quiet”