#though I know those are from my neighbor they have an infestation

[simplyghosting]

Love how every summer every bug in a 10 mile radius decides my house is the best rated air bnb of the year

[cactuscoolerr]

character: itoshi rin cw: nsfw-ish (??)

sypnosis: exboyfriend!rin invites you over

rin had finally come back home from his match overseas but you didn't make an effort to go and visit him and he didn't make an effort to come and visit you. it's not like you wanted him to anyway, despite having cried over him nearly every time you thought about him. you were only trying to convince yourself he wasn't worth crying over and you didn't love him anymore and it was working.

that was until your phone lit up in the middle of the night. you didn't pay any mind to it at first, walking back in the bathroom to continue brushing your teeth and taking care of your skin.

when you walked back to your room, your phone lit up again and you sighed softly, suddenly remembering that someone must've been texting you.

at the sight of rin's name, you nearly dropped your phone in surprise. your heart rate picked up and you took shaky breaths before hesitantly answering his call.

“hello?” you breathed out and listened as the other side stayed silent for a second.

“come over,” he said plainly and you had to resist the urge to roll your eyes. “and why would i do that?”

“because i have things of yours that i’m sure you’d want back”

his words made you pause for a second, squinting your eyes slightly before replying suspiciously. “and what would that be..?”

the other side was silent for a few seconds, “those stupid stuffed cats you got us,” rin spoke almost in a whisper, “i still have them here” your small gasp was enough to make rin smile slightly and he listened as you cleared your throat, likely to compose yourself.

“you’re holding them hostage”

the simple tone in your voice made rin snort out a laugh, pressing his phone a little closer to his ear more of your reactions to his words. “so are you gonna come and get them?”

you sighed loudly and switched your phone to your other ear, “your roaches and mites probably infested them by now”

“ew what,” rin made a face full of disgust, even though you couldn’t see him. “you don’t want them then? i’ll just throw them out” he spoke, knowing damn well he’d keep them as a reminder of you if you didn’t come over and get them from him.

“i guess i’ll come over,” you sighed heavily, making rin smile once more. “only because you’re holding them hostage..”

rin snorted and you rolled your eyes. “i’m coming over now”

“fine”

you didn’t wait a second longer before hanging up the phone and moving quickly to pull on a sweater.

it wasn’t until you were walking out of your front door did you realize that you were going to see rin. you felt as if you hadn’t seen him in forever, which wasn’t necessarily an understatement.

you tried your best to rid yourself of the burning feeling in your cheeks, but it seemed impossible, even when you walked in the cold weather.

"why couldn't he have just brought it to me," you muttered to yourself, rubbing your hands together to keep warm. "what a fucking dick. fuck him, dude"

you continued to mutter complaints the whole way to rins place and once you finally stood in front of his front door, you didn't hesitate to knock rapidly and insanely loud until rin came and opened the door.

"my roommates and neighbors are fucking sleeping," rin hissed as soon as he opened the door and you only responded with a mean glare.

he let you inside and you wasted no time in making your way towards rin's room to save your babies from his evil clutches.

a loud groan sounded from you when you noticed that they weren't where they were meant to be and you quickly turned around to glare at rin once he entered the room. "where are they?"

rin only stared at you for a few seconds until he looked away, taking off the rings he wore on his fingers to place them on the dresser. "i hid them"

you deadpanned at him and slapped your hands over your face. "what do you mean, you hid them? rin, i didn't come here to fuck around"

"hm.. well i told you to come here for that reason, so sorry i guess"

a small noise of confusion was the only thing you could let out before rin practically pounced on you. his lips immediately found yours and you whined loudly at the contact.

"rin!" you yelled, out of breath with burning cheeks when you pulled away. "what the hell are you doing?"

he was just as out of breath and you watched him closely. "i suppose i should've asked you first, sorry" he muttered and you groaned loudly. "what the fuck are you doing, rin" your tone was desperate and his eyes met yours.

you noticed that his eyes held concern as he watched you, but you weren't entirely sure why. it wasn't until he made hesitant steps towards you and gently wiped at your cheeks.

"why're you crying, y/n" his tone was gentle and you took shaky breaths, slightly leaning into his touch. "i don't know.." your voice broke and rin was quick to pull you into a tight hug. "god, i love you, y/n"

his words made you sob as you held onto him tightly, not wanting to let him go again. "why would you do that to me?"

"i'm sorry.." rin muttered into your hair as you continued to sob.

"you hurt me so bad" you sobbed and rin gently ran his fingers through your hair in attempts to soothe you. "i know.. i know, baby"

a choked sob sounded from you and you pressed your face deeper into his chest, not caring that your tears were completely soaking his shirt. "i really fucking hate you sometimes, rin.."

he stayed silent this time, likely not knowing what yo say, but he continued running his fingers through your hair. you could feel the way rin's heart beat rapidly against his chest and you only hoped that it was for the same reason yours was beating just as fast.

"y/n," rin spoke suddenly and you let out a small whine, intending for it to be some kind of response. "i need to kiss you again.. can i?"

you tried your best to stop crying before pulling slightly away from him and nodding.

rin's lips found yours once again and you practically melted in his arms. he held onto you tightly and you were sure that was the only thing that kept you from falling to the floor. and he must've known that because he pulled you closer before gently picking you up.

your legs were quick to wrap around his torso and one of his hands reached to grip onto your thigh while the other stayed on your back to press your chest against his.

a low moan sounded from rin and you couldn't help the way your hips bucked forward into him. you whined and rin took the opportunity to press his tongue into your mouth.

you didn't see a reason in resisting him, so you allowed him to do whatever he wanted.

"fucking love you so much," rins words were breathless as he pulled away to attach his lips onto the side of your neck. "my perfect girl.."

a shaky moan from you only encouraged him to keep going as he led you to his bed and laid you down on the edge. his lips attached to yours once more before he trailed gentle kissed down your jaw, as well as your neck, and towards your collarbones.

he nipped lightly at your skin and you shuddered, forgetting the feeling from when rin was away. "how's that feel?" rin breathed against your skin and you nodded quickly. "it's good.. feels good.."

"keep feeling all this for me, ok?"

"ok.." you breathed out before a quiet gasp fell passed your lips when rin began sucking roughly on your skin. all you could do was moan as rin moved onto other areas of your chest when he was satisfied with the bruises he was leaving on you.

slowly, rin moved lower, unzipping your jacket just a tiny bit as he moved.

"please, just hurry.." you whined and you felt rin's breathy laugh against your skin that invoked goosebumps across your skin. "patience, y/n.. thought i taught you better than that, baby"

you whined once more and laid your head back to stare at the ceiling as rin continued his slow descent down your chest.

"fuck," rin said shakily as he pushed the sides of your jacket away to stare at your loose tank top you wore. "no wonder you were so fucking cold"

you glared at him and brought your knee up to hit him lightly in his ribs. "i was in a rush, shut up"

"eager to see me?"

his teasing smirk made your cheeks burn but you rolled your eyes once more and laid your head back down to stare up again. "just shut the fuck up and do what you're supposed to be doing"

"fucking brat," rin muttered and bit down on the fat of your breast. a quiet moan sounded from you and he gently kissed where he bit you. "you know i don't like that shit"

"get over it" you said shakily and you just knew that rin was rolling his eyes.

"you're lucky i love you, brat" he scoffed before leaning down to suck on your skin again. you breathed out shakily at his words and your brought your hand to grab gently onto his hair.

you didn't mean to grow emotional again, but you seriously missed the way he said 'i love you'.

it didn't take long for rin to hear your gentle sobs and he stopped his attack on your chest to look up at you. his eyes were curious before they were replaced with complete concern.

"hey, hey.. what's wrong, angel?" his tone was gentle as he moved quickly to lay down beside you and pull you into his arms. "i love you, baby. it's okay.."

his words only made you cry harder as you buried your face into his chest. "i love you.." your words were muffled but rin still understood you. "i know you do. you're okay, baby"

rins body was warm against yours and you quickly calmed down in his gentle hold. it was quiet between the two of you, but neither of you seemed to mind it. it felt comfortable with rin, and you realized that this was the only thing you needed.

"i'm sorry," rin spoke softly against your hair. "i don't know why i did that to us"

you didn't respond, only moving closer into rins touch. his soft laughter made you smile as your eyes began to flutter closed.

"guess you're sleeping here then," rin chucked softly and kissed the top of your head while his arms tightened around your smaller body. "goodnight, my love"

rin's voice was gentle and just the thing that put you to sleep while your soft and rhythmic breathing was enough to put him to sleep.

[oceanbug]

when worlds collide

smau non!idol ningning x reader

8.5 movie night part 2

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Now here you are, letting the schools' richest, most spoiled students into your roach-infested dorm. You never believed in nightmares coming true, yet here you are in one.

“Oh, What a nice place you have!”  You could see Ningning gritting her teeth throughout the whole sentence. “Really? It looks like shit to me.” And there goes Haewon onto the ground from a not so subtle jab from Ningning.

 “Ok, So what movies next? Let’s let Wonyoung pick!” You tried to steer the conversation away from that embarrassing reminder.  

“You just feel bad that you knocked her out.” It did not work.

“Anyways….Wonyoung what movie?”

“Hm, I heard ‘My Best Friend’s Wedding’ is a good romantic comedy! It’s about being hopelessly in-love with your best friend and trying to win their heart!”

Your stomach began to churn.

it’s definitely just a coincidence that she chose that, right? 

“Aw, that movies so cute! I wish I could experience being in love with my childhood friend!” 

Ok, now it’s starting to feel intentional.

“Y/n, you ever felt like that before?” So, bumping into them wasn’t a coincidence at all. This was on purpose. Still, no way they would blurt out your secret, right? It was obvious at this point that you were nervous, and the silence in the air began to drag out.

“No way she has! She’s only grown up with Yujin and me. We would know if something was going on in her life.” Jimin defended you, but why did that still hurt so much? You felt a ping in your heart, and your stomach dropped. All you could do was laugh and agree, yet the air in the room didn’t get any less awkward.

“So, are we starting the movie?” Yelled an impatient, loud Yunjin, and so the film began.

You hated the movie. All you could do was relate. Would you stop Jimin from getting married? Would you ever tell her how you felt?

You began to feel overwhelmed and slipped out of the dorm while everyone focused on the film. Stepping outside, you let a long breath out. You didn’t even realize how tense you were feeling inside. The thought of Jimin seeing your reaction, Yujin potentially having another slip-up, or those rich assholes teasing you was enough to make you incredibly stressed.

This moment of peace didn’t last, though. You heard the door open and quickly straightened up. You couldn’t let your friends see you so anxious. Only it wasn’t your friend at the door; it was your psych partner?

“Why’d you run out?"

“I don’t have time for you, Ningning. Just leave me alone.”

“I didn’t come to fight, honestly.” How could you ever believe that? She’s the whole reason that you’re feeling like this.

“Really? Then why are you out here?”

“I know what it feels like, y’know. To be in love with a friend, just for it to end badly.”

You found that hard to believe, but stayed silent.

“Yeonjun and I grew up together as neighbors. He was everything to me. We did everything together, and he even gave me a promise ring when we were 7 years old. Sure, it was a daisy he tied around my finger, but it’s the thought that counts. Then that bitch, Aeri, came in and took him from me. I know I blame her a lot for it, but both parties were responsible.” Ningning’s voiced started to crack up.

“ It ruined me for a while. I couldn’t show up to school and told everyone I was going to Paris fashion week; In reality, I was hauled up in my room eating mint chocolate ice cream.”  Was she actually being genuine? She wouldn’t even turn to look at you, is she trying not to cry…?

“Oh, I’m sorry that happened.” That was all you could say; you couldn’t help but actually feel bad for Ningning. You could feel the hurt in her voice. Is she really trying to relate to you? Well, if she’s pouring her heart out to you, what do you have to lose? She already knows about your crush.

“If it makes you feel any better, I can kind of relate. You already know how I feel about Jimin; It’s not a surprise anymore. We blame friends our freshman year of high school. When I first laid my eyes on her, it felt like my whole world turned into color. She was always so attentive and never left me behind, no matter how popular she got. Yet she could never see how I felt about her. I watched her date person after person, always wondering when it'd be my turn. Sophomore year, on Valentine's Day, I even got her a chocolate bear and bouquet; in return, I got a ‘Thanks, you’re the best friend a girl could ask for.’ The one time I decided to be brave enough and confess, I was too late.”

Tears started running down your face before you could even process them. You never told anyone how you really felt before; besides Yujin, you never could. Jimin was always part of your friend group, so it would’ve just made things weird. So being able to vent, even to someone you hate, felt good.

You waited for the awkward silence to start, but instead you felt a warm embrace. The same person who was threatening you less then 12 hours ago, is hugging you.

“It’s okay; your secrets are safe with me. Don’t worry about Jimin finding out; she won’t.”

Before you got a chance to respond, you heard the door slam open and a loud “LET’S GO!” Came from Haewon. You’ve been outside so long that the movie had ended. Quickly drying your tears, you waved goodbye to your surprise guest of the day and apologized once more for hitting Wonyoung.

“Y/N, are you okay? Did she say anything to you?” Yunjin was defensive and ready to chase Ningning down if she did hurt you.

“Nah, we were just talking about the midterm project. Anyone up for one more movie?”

And so you spent your night laughing and crying at various movies with your friends, still wondering what would come from the conversation with Ningning.

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masterlist ~ next

(Synopsis) Y/N had never been the type to take life for granted. You grew up with the mindset that if you wanted something, you had to work for it; So getting paired up with the university’s “Rich Bitch” Ning Yi Zhuo for your midterm was the last thing you wanted. Are you willing to step into the world of fame for an A+?

taglist (open): @azraism ; @kimsgayness ; @sewiouslyz ; @winieter ; @llluvbluy ; @i06kkura ; @everydayiloveyves ;

[darklordazalin]

Azalin Reviews: Darklrod Anton Misroi

Darklord: Anton Misroi Domain: Souragne Domain Formation: 635 BC Power Level: 💀💀💀💀 ⚫ (4/5 Skulls) Sources: Domains of Dread (2e), VRGTR (5e), Ravenloft (3e), Dance of the Dead (novel)

Anton Misroi, the so-called “Lord of the Dead” (not to be confused with me, the KING of the Dead), is the Darklord of Souragne, an insufferably humid, insect infested cypress swamp. Souragne is the Florida of the Demiplanes except instead of tourists and Disneyworld you have hordes of shambling corpses.

Souragne is an Island of Terror (though I suppose all the Domains are such in 5e lore) cut off from the Core purely because Anton REALLY didn’t want any neighbors. The western side of Souragne is dominated by the Masion d’Sablet swamp. Misroi’s tiny domain contains three settlements that are so insignificant he couldn’t bother to rule over them and the Souragiens govern themselves. The only “law” Misroi maintains is that the dead must not be cremated or buried until four days have passed. You know, just in case you were wondering where all those zombies were coming from, Anton makes it quite obvious.

Misroi has the outward demeanor of a gentle nobleman, all curtsey and smiles until one gets on his bad side. Before he was a Darklord, he was much the same. An owner of a large farmstead, Misroi was a wealthy, powerful, and cruel lord. He even had a favorite “murder spot” in the nearby swamp. Many servants he had deemed “insubordinate” met a slow end there. He also dabbled in spellsinging, which requires one to perform a dance or song to empower one’s spells. Seems an exorbitant amount of effort for little gain, I shall stick to my scrolls and books.

Misroi’s wife despised her existence and as her kindly neighbor was trying to comfort her, Anton walked in on them and assumed his wife was being unfaithful. Never one to listen to anyone but himself, Anton ignored their explanations and had them bound and dragged to his aforementioned favorite murder spot, a patch of quicksand. He had them tossed into the quicksand, then dismissed his assistant murderers so he could enjoy watching their slow death by himself.

A true gentleman, Misroi allowed his neighbor to attempt to save his wife and did not interfere when he hoisted her up onto his shoulders, but once he was completely under, Misroi pushed her down with a pole. She cursed him as the sand filled her mouth and the darkness heard her. His wife and neighbor were brought back to drag him under. Anton screamed into the void that he did not want to die and of course the Dark Power responded and turned him into a Zombie Lord.

Now an undead, rotting corpse, he was driven out of his land by his former servants. An outcast and coward, Anton hid in the swamps for years, studying the creatures and spirits that lived within. There he met the Maiden of the Swamp, the personification of life and tricked her into believing he was the same as her. She taught him the nature of life and death, of the demiplanes themselves, and workings of natural, elemental magic. Through her teaching, Anton was able to learn his own form of magic, the Dance of the Dead, which allows him to cast any Necromantic spell without having to properly learn it. He also regained his lost humanity, but in doing so, became like the spirits of the swamp. Because of this transformation, Anton is bound to the swamp and cannot set one foot outside of its boundaries.

In 5e, Souragne and Anton have a short write up, but have changed significantly. Anton is now a prison warden who’s violence led his prisoners to revolt and drown him in the swamp. He rose as an undead searching for more prisoners. Souragne is still described as being mostly dominated by swamplands, but only two of the three townships are mentioned.

A dancing, living zombie lord who doesn’t even rule his own Domain and kept his Domain separate by wishing hard enough. It was Anton that taught Larissa Snowmane the Dance of the Dead and his skills in Necromancy, though tainted by unnecessary dancing, are quite impressive. It’s fortunate he’s stuck in his little swamp.

[its-chili]

Vititi Fames

(Taken from a journal that washed ashore off the coast of Norway. )

The tide was brash and roaring, as it always is out in the great blue whirlpool where I had found myself a frequenting neighbor. Upstairs, on the deck, I heard the muffled shouting of scraggly men who had wasted away their years forming thick calluses on their hands and thicker hunger for beer and brandy. They paid me mind, sometimes, only when I had to come up from my forsaken little hole of damp barrels and barnacle-infested crates to scrounge for sustenance and drink. The brutes, well... they were a far contrast from those I would have rather conversed with. Alas, academics don't tend to know how to sail. I had been out on the sea for almost 5 months, not out of pleasure, I can assure you, dear reader. No, this had been dreadful in every sense of the word. The indescribable feeling of never having privacy to do your business can be overlooked, though, with a grand enough prize. And this...oh, this was indeed a grand prize. The manuscript of Sir Illipith Thorne, his Vetiti Fames.

I originally heard tale of this ancient text in my old college library. I was young and had yet to make my mark on the world, so naturally, curiosity was my guiding compass. One of my professors, Dr. Felidae, who was a learned but albeit strange scholar, was hidden in a corner of the library, discussing something in a hushed voice with a stranger. This stranger wore a deep blue trench coat, the type of muddled blue you would find buried deep in the Pacific underneath seaweed and algae. His face was long and square, the features of which were tucked away under folds of wrinkled skin. I remember his eyes, peering out from underneath the flabs of skin like crystalline pearls uncovered by shifting sands, gleaming brilliantly for just a moment before being hidden away forever. I remember his smell... a mixture between rotted fish and cinnamon. I am unsure how long they had been there conversing before I had spotted them, and even more unsure how long they had been there before I had arrived that night. They were talking about knowledge. Secret, destructive and beautiful knowledge that had the ability to crack the minds of profound academics who had spent their entire lives studying the weave of space and time and all manner of things inbetween. They talked about a lost scholar, his name wiped from the annals of history only to be resurrected by the two men who were daring to speak of him. Apparently, this voyager of intellect had discovered this profound knowledge and wrote it all down in a book. "How to overcome the limits of your brain," they said, "How to become more than flesh and see into worlds locked behind our fragile minds." My younger self was enamored. A book that could expand the human mind enough to become a god? How was such knowledge even possible? They spoke far too solemnly about something so incredible.

I ended up spending the rest of my college days stuffing my nose into every dust-covered and moth-eaten book I could get my hands on, scouring feverishly for any information about this so-called "Illipith Thorne" or his infamous creation. I pondered the idea of asking Dr. Felidae himself, but he resigned from the university a few days after his and the stranger's conversation. Perhaps he went off in search of the tome himself. My own search took me all across England and then some, pervading rancid alleyways and rotting bars. The people I had to go through. The things I had seen. Any other woman I had discussed this matter with told me I was going to end up gutted and left out like yesterday's garbage in a street somewhere. There were nights that this caution was fully realized. But my unyielding want- no, need- to unveil this pandora's box lit a fire beneath me that no drunken hobbler could douse.

Eventually, I ended up gaining the respect of a rather renounced pirate by the name of Gouttermange. He was as strange and disorderly as the rest of the seafaring men I had met on my travels, with his gnarled wood-toothed smile and matted salt and pepper hair. He had a limp, too, due to some sort of sickness he had acquired out at sea that had yet to completely devour him. He was barred from the waters by others like him, a walking wanted poster forged in the blood of his adversaries. However, it seemed like ground-life had stilled his bloodlust, at least, at the time I had met him. He was empathetic towards my decade-long plight, apparently having one of his own that his body had grown too diseased to chase after. "A missing friend," he said. I couldn't really care to expand upon the details. Although he refused to set sail himself, he offered to refer me to some of his, very few, accomplices. The next week, I got on a boat and sailed North.

There I was, practically a willing prisoner on a teetering water coffin smelling like rancid flounder. I don't often think of my complexion, but I swear to you my once long golden hair had soured into a muddled brown in those conditions, and my glasses had become clouded and cracked.

Sundown hit and the waves were quiet enough for me to be able to climb up the stairs and look about the endless black sea. The crew were few, and even fewer still as they conducted their nightly routine of foaming indulgence and playing cards. Two men were on deck keeping an eye out for whatever might disrupt our voyage and another was up in the crow's nest completely hidden by waves of rolling fog. The captain... oh, what was his name... I must assume he was awake, for the light behind his closed cabin door was the only thing illuminating the ship. I don't believe I had actually met the man, as there was always someone else I had to go through to get anything done here and I wasn't usually around in the daylight. My night studies and alley conquests had long since tarnished my sleep schedule...and even so it was impossible to get any sleep on that constantly moving death machine. Perhaps it was better that way. I don't like to ponder on the idea of being the only female on a small, unregistered ship in the middle of nowhere. Even when I did try to make conversation, which I had learned to keep at a minimum, these sailors looked at me a certain way. Something in their eyes... something in the miniscule twitch of their lips... They knew I was funding this journey, but as to why, well... I had gone to great lengths to ensure they didn't know the fortune I seeked. Not as though they would have known what they were looking for if it was handed to them. As far as they knew I was just a well dressed erudite needing anonymous passage.

I stared out at the sea, arms folded on the ship's rim and letting the salted breeze gently wash over me. The stars shimmered overhead, glinting on the waves as though some of them had sunken beneath and were calling out to their ethereal brethren from below. My gaze followed these stars, hanging there for what feels like a lifetime. I blinked away, something wet in my eyes. And there... in the stillness... I saw it. A singular silhouetted obelisk protruding from the deep a few thousand meters away. I rubbed my eyes and slapped myself to ensure I wasn't hallucinating. It wasn't the first time. But the thing didn't move aside from its quiet, bobbing motion. Was I to wake the crew? Alert them of my findings? No. My nails digged into the wood, and something in my chest flamed.

I looked down, mind racing as my eyes adjusted to every atom of the ship. I could see the lifeboat. The little, pathetic excuse for a waterborne vessel, barely hanging onto the twine ropes as it gently bumped against the hull. I was beside myself for a moment, completely torn by the furious need to reach that obelisk and the hinduring knowledge that I do not know how to swim. You would think after all these years, a fear of water would be a fluttering, nonsensical feeling I could swallow. I turned to the few silhouettes of life that still stalked like ghosts about the ship. I could theoretically cut the rope and try to maneuver that small wooden box to the site, but realistically one bad wave could be my end and all of this would have been for naught. I could not have that. "Hey!" My voice croaked, nearly startling me by how gravelly and hoarse it had become, "You there! Come over here!" I pointed to one of the figures, of whom startled just the same. That might have been our first time interacting. "Ma'am" The man sauntered over to me, curiosity etched into his features. He was wiry, arms like bound seaweed and legs stretched like saltwater taffy. Matted brown locks were tucked beneath a checkered bandana, obviously trying to control the amount of sweat from the day's beating sun. I pointed to the distant wreckage, but by the way his face tangled in confusion I can tell my gesture was too vague for his thickened skull. "The wreckage. Let us take the lifeboat and go to it." He put a hand on his neck, staring out at the graveyard of protruding iron and damp wood. "Aye... perhaps we'da tell the cap'tin.-" "No." I cut him off and he recoiled. "No. Just you and me. No one else."

For a split second I could see the hint of a smile on his face, as if a crude joke was stirring in his head. That smile evaporated under my gaze. Soon we were in the boat and out in the sea, slowly rocking back and forth in the water. It's strange. I had been out at sea for months, yet I still could feel bile churning in my stomach.

The wreckage was maybe 4,000 meters away or so, and all the while the two of us didn't make a sound. The oars pressed us forwards, and the mariner was good at gently setting them back down in the water. Over and over. I envisioned the script in my hands. The worn tablet or scroll, detailed in exquisite lettering with perfectly drawn images and ancient runes. The words would come singing to me, a beautiful menagerie of ethereal chords depicting things I could not quite understand in that form. I imagined the taste of that knowledge on my tongue as I tore into the script with the air of a hungry dog, feasting on the arithmetical constellations of time and space all mixed and interwoven together. I could hear it. Calling to me in the darkness. "Eiola." It whispered, "Eiola, come find me. You're so close now." I hardly noticed as the boat bumped into a stray plank of wood, as I must have been so lost in my own thoughts that I didn't even realize how far we had come.

The scene that laid out before me... I... I'm not sure if any words in the English language could fully depict the sight. Calling it a wreckage, well, almost seemed silly. No, this, this was the ruins of a city, felled under some ancient force. A whirlpool, perhaps? Some sort of monstrum storm? Pillars of blackened cedar grasped at the darkened sky, communities of barnacles clinging to their edges. I looked down into the water, my eyes widening. In the center was... was a light! A warm, yellow pulsating thing no bigger than the lifeboat itself. If I was paranoid I would say it could have swallowed us whole if it decided to rise to the surface. The whispers serenaded me once more as I leaned closer. "Reach out, Eiola. Come to us." It almost seemed alive. Familiar.

Everything from there was a blur. A cold, wet, suffocating blur. I remember that sailor yelling after me, his voice muffled and drowned. I remember closing my eyes but never, never seeing anything more incredible. The darkness broke away for spectrums of color to burst, twisting and dancing and leaping, a painting liquidized and brought to life. The freezing cold I had felt moments before soothed into an unimaginable warmth. It reminded me of my mother when she used to hum to and hold me when I was ill. All around me angelic voices harmonized, their words incomprehensible but comforting. I had never seen such a vivid spectacle. I suppose, in theory, I still haven't. And never will. My euphoria was halted almost as quickly as it came when I found myself somewhere... else... with nothing but this journal that I write in now.

I am in a dark place. A sick place. I can't feel or see my hands, yet somehow, I know that I am writing. I can't feel the ground beneath me, yet I am not floating. There was never a book, and I doubt there was ever a "Sir Illipith Thorne"... his name always did seem concocted. By who though, I could not ever hope to know. I don't know much, actually, despite this obsession to know everything. I don't know how long I have been like this. I don't know if anyone is looking for me or even remembers who I am. I don't even know what my mother's face looks like. Sadness nor regret plagues me, though, as I know it should. And when I stare up at the moonlit sky dusted in stars I know I should feel longing. But I am a void. A blackhole that devours endlessly. I feel nothing but insatiable, all consuming, hunger.

[milkywaygg]

The Cosmas Revamped Chapter 4

Linnie hid behind his textbooks as he entered the classroom, sinking in his seat as he kept his eyes glued to the action in front of him. With no teacher in sight, Nora was seen in the front, clutching the white dress of a pink haired, dark-skinned fairy, who was also much thinner and slightly taller than Nora. Her teeth were also much better kept and wore a decent amount of make-up, squirming around as Arthur begged and pleaded Nora to let her go.

“Yea fat fucking chance, cheater!”, Nora yelled, before yanking the girl closer to her, “Who the hell do you think you are talking to my man like that?”

“Aye! Lemme go crazy bitch!”, the girl yelped, “I-I didn’t know he was taken!”

“Yeah yeah, that’s what they all say.”, Nora snarled, her eyes shifting focus from her to Arthur, “What the hell is your problem, little man? After all I do for you?”

“Er…I…um.”, Arthur fiddled with the top of his sweater, unable to find the words to smooth things over, “She um…N-Nora please! Just let her go! I can explain everything.”

“Heh, you better.”, Nora smirked, dropping the girl hard on the ground, earning a small yelp. Shoving the girl aside, Nora floated near Arthur’s desk and placed both of her hands in front of him, aiming her red face closer and closer, making him squirm in his seat like a worm stuck on the pavement.

“H-How did you even find out?”

“Well sweetheart, let’s just say you need to do a better job of cleaning your room.”, she snapped as she dug around in her backpack, pulling out the offending pair of underwear for Arthur to see, alongside all of his surrounding classmates.

“Nora! You couldn’t have just left those there! You’re gonna embarrass Willow.”

“As she should be! I didn’t realize you had a thing for STD infested sluts.”

“Which would explain why he was with you-“, the girl, Willow, remarked as she got up and placed her hand on Arthur’s shoulder, snatching the underwear away before most of her classmates could get a closer look.

“I…I just…”, Nora growled, fire fuming inside her body as she looked at the couple, neither of them looking sorry nor regretful. As a matter of fact, they stood before Nora as if they were a married couple and Nora was but merely their neighbor. The man that she had dated all throughout high school, who she thought would grow old with, and who she had hoped she’d have the honor of asking out to the prom that was coming up, stared at her as if she were a stranger; almost as if the last 3 years had meant nothing to him. “Arthur….if you weren’t happy, then why didn’t you tell me? I-I thought I was enough for you. Why the fuck didn’t you say anything?”

“Well..I..”, Arthur stammered, wishing that the teacher would hurry up and get here, “Ah…there’s not really an easy way to explain.

“Then let me, dear.”, Willow said, the word dear stabbing Nora in the heart as if she were shot. Willow’s pink eyes looked haughtily into Nora’s cyans as she smirked, her hand on Arthur’s shoulder as if he were her little prize that she had just won. “Nora, I really do hate to tell you this, but I’m afraid you’re not exactly what Arthur was looking for.”

“Which was?”, Nora growled, her fists clenching, though Willow paid no mind.

“Oh nothing in particular. Just someone prettier, smarter, sexier…and maybe a bit less..well less like my ancestors were a bunch of whales! Haha-“

WHACK!

Nora’s fist sprung to life as they slammed onto Willow’s eyes, causing her to stumble backwards and hit her head on the corner of Arthur’s desk. Linnie hid as he watched the scene, while the rest of the class cheered, whooped, and hollered over the fight that was going down. Arthur got up from his seat and tried to push Nora off of Willow before finally, Nora landed a punch on Arthur’s face that made the entire class freeze and gasp; the spark behind Willow’s eyes bursting into flame.

“How…dare you!”, she yelled as she picked herself up and shoved Nora away from Arthur, nearly slamming her into the teachers desk, “Who the hell do you think you are, hitting a boy like that?”

“Who the hell do you think YOU are? Calling someone a whale.”

Fists continued to fly as the fight began to evolve into a brawl, with a few throwing in paper balls to instigate. The screaming, shouting, laughing, and cursing kept going on and on until finally…Ms. Skylar had finally arrive to the class, alongside Principal Riverstream, holding a rather thick book of detention slips in her hand.

She thought it would never end. Clutching her ice pack close to her eye, Nora walked out of the detention room at around 5, but not without tripping Willow down the stairs in the process. Desperate not to go for a suspension, Nora detoured towards the back of the school towards a hidden staircase and left the school through a set of double doors on the backside. As much as she’d love to wallop Willow again, Nora just couldn’t find the strength to stay in the building much longer. Unsure of where to go, Nora dub her hands in her jacket pocket and began to take a walk, unsure of where the road would take her.

She had considered going back to the café once again. Even if it closed during the late hours, she’d at least be warm for a little while longer. Deciding to head towards the city center, she took a right onto a street that separated the school from some of the neighborhoods, including her own. Being a rather low-income neighborhood, it was plagued with trash along the sidewalks and graffiti, some if which was still wet, decorated some of the buildings. She held her breath as he passed by a smoke shop and a gas station that looked to be about 100,000 years old, with one pump just barely functioning.

Then, as she was about to make another right, she passed by a bar that had a cup of bronze liquid sitting casually outside the window. Out of curiosity, Nora paused in her tracks and got closer to the drink, noticing the bubbles still forming in the liquid. Looking around to make sure no one was looking, Nora took a sip of the drink, allowing it to massage her taste buds. It was a rather bitter taste, and Nora had initially grimaced at it’s lack of sweetness, but the more sips she had, the more she had gotten used to it, and the more the drink disappeared, the looser Nora felt. She felt like she was on cloud nine after the plastic cup collided with the sidewalk, replaying plummeting Willow’s stupid face on the ground.

Nora was so lost in a trance that she hadn’t noticed that she was swaying back and forth as she turned the corner and found herself tripping on some of the steeper cracks on the sidewalk. As she continued forward however, she felt her phone vibrate in her pocket. Ready to curse out Arthur for everything he was worth, she felt her heart drop as she saw it was not Arthur’s number….

“Get your ass home right now. We need to talk.”

Feeling her heart pound furiously, Nora sobered up somewhat quickly and picked up the pace, flying through the city enter past the café, her original destination. She turned towards the cul de sac about 1000 feet behind and made her way back towards the house with the cyan roof; a poorly kept house with shattered windows and mold on the outside. Knowing that the beast was expecting her, Nora didn’t even bother digging out the key as she walked into the living room, careful not to fall over some of the whiskey bottles that lied on the floor.

Nora’s mother, Mary, a rather fat woman that shared Nora’s curly, cyan hair and bloodshot eyes, sat on the couch with the TV off for once. Instead of the remote in her hand however, Nora saw a white envelope resting in its place, with the top ripped wide open.

“Mom?? What the hell you going through my mail for?”, Nora yelled, almost immediately receiving a slap.

“Don’t talk to me like that, you little shit! I swear you and your father are both the same. Both of yous think it’s ok to talk to the breadwinner of this damn household, you got another thing coming.”, Mary ranted, smirking a little bit as small tears fell from Nora’s eyes, “Aw, don’t give me none of that crying shit. You weren’t crying when you was fucking around in class!”

“What the hell are you talking about?”. Nora asked, before remembering the detention she had receive, “Hey in my defense, that bitch was asking for it!”

“What? What bitch? I dunno what in the hell you’re talking about, but it sure as hell doesn’t explain the note that I got.”

“You mean that I got-“, Nora sassed before receiving another large smack to the face.

“It was in MY mailbox, maggot! Don’t you understand anything?”, Mary screamed, before she finally threw the letter in Nora’s face, “Read this.”

Dear Nora Cosma

We regret to inform you that the admissions committee of Wishbrook Academy was unable to offer you a spot in the fall’s upcoming class. We have received a large application pool and applications were received at a new record high in our history. Although we are not able to consider you at this time, we wish you the very best and encourage you to apply next year.

From,

Prof. Heath Caldwell

“Soo…what happened?”, Mary’s voice dropped suddenly, “Thought you were a shoo-in, like you claimed?”

“I-I….”,Nora stammered, unable to make eye contact.

“Didn’t I tell your stupid ass a million times that you needed to study?!”, Mary shouted, making Nora flinch as she clenched the whiskey bottle from the table across. Threatening to hit her with it, Mary instead took a breath and lowered it, looking at her daughter with disgust, “You know what? Pack the rest of your shit and get out. You’re officially kicked out now. Live under an underpass for all I care. I don’t raise failures.”

Already aware of this but not wanting to make her mother any angrier, Nora simply nodded as she went into her now ex-room, grabbing the rest of her clothes, schoolbooks, and anything else she could think of before walking out, managing to sneak a whiskey bottle from the kitchen once Mary had passed out. Hoping never to see this place, Nora dragged her bag behind her, unsure of where the road would take her.

[cosmicseapop]

i decoded the journal from /fortressdelve Dage took since i needed it for another thing, so enjoy

The shadows are too arrogant to spend their time on the scritch-scratches of a broken vessel.

I write to you as a fellow mortal. Expose the Shadows and the Doom that infests our gentle Darkness. 

They wish to make slaves of us all. 

---

The Mysterious Strangers of the Shadowscythe. 

Of all of the Strangers, their power and memory is the strongest. 

They remember their Master, wish to emulate this Master, and have gone through great pains to trap Valen Pulchure in their grasp. 

Brick by brick, they built the Shadowscythe Empire.

It ordered the other active Strangers to serve it, for only they can see the Master’s plan vividly. 

This is their fifth attempt.

One last chance. 

It has no face. No identity. It is the Master’s will and only the Master’s will.

---

Daji, in flames. 

The antithesis to the Shadowscythe’s Mysterious Stranger. 

Brings civilizations to ruin and prevents the mortals from evolving too fast. 

Countless lives, the promise of a better future, the ingenuity and inventions of humankind, all lost to its Shadows.

It enjoys our torment, our torture, forcing us to be pieces in its political games, watching in delight from the Shadows.

But, in return, it was set aflame and still remains aflame, tormented and tortured like its victims.

It traveled to the Fortress to seal away the deceased Champion of Light’s weapons in exchange for a favor. 

“Leave me be. Let me return across the sea.”

---

The Worm that Walks.

Weakest of the active Strangers, yet able to bore into a mortal’s body and mind with ease. 

It infests Lore just as the Shadows infest the Darkness.

Your neighbor could be infested and you would never know.

The Worm’s pride drives it to be doubtful of the Shadowscythe’s Stranger.

“We will not be your marionettes. Not when your favorite puppet has been ripping off its strings.”

“Lies. You are envious of my influence.” So said the Stranger of the Shadowscythe.

“No. I am envious of the scion of Light’s influence.” So said the Worm. “Already, it steals your control. Nothing you say to your puppet will stop the Light now.”

---

The Colossus.

A Stranger that is as vast as the night sky. 

It engulfed entire continents in Shadow during the ancient Planar Conflicts. Millions of lives and untold amounts of history, sunk to the sea. 

It was within this sea that ‘something’ tore the Colossus in half. This Stranger’s insides became its outsides and nothing can stop the bleeding. 

“If the weak no longer have the will to serve the Master, then that leaves only you and I,” so said the Shadowscythe’s Stranger to The Colossus.

“Give up,” The Colossus responded. “I despise those who can not see that have already lost. Abandon your failing schemes, and turn your attention beyond the Light.”

The only way to regain its former glory was to take back the half that it lost to the abyss of the sea.

It had no interest in the coming downfall of its peers.

---

Enraged, the Stranger of the Shadowscythe attacked The Colossus. 

The ensuing skirmish shook the foundation of the Flying Fortress. Fire spread from Daji, scorching the others with the flames the mortals used to execute it. 

The fragments of The Worm were dug from my body, forcing it to flee.

Spited and without direction, the Shadows scattered, leaving the Shadowscythe’s Stranger burned and with tangled puppet strings. 

Though weak, these Shadows will grow again. To whoever finds these words, do not allow the Shadows to escape. 

Find them. Destroy every last one of them. 

My name?… I no longer remember if I had one. The Shadows had me for too long. 

But finally, I am free. The Darkness is quiet and gentle. 

Finally, I can fall asleep.

[newstfionline]

Monday, December 4, 2023

Air Traffic Controllers Pushed to the Brink (NYT) One air traffic controller went into work drunk this summer and joked about “making big money buzzed.” Another routinely smoked marijuana during breaks. The incidents were extreme examples, but they fit into a pattern that reveals glaring vulnerabilities in one of the most important protective layers of the nation’s vaunted aviation safety system. In the past two years, air traffic controllers and others have submitted hundreds of complaints to a Federal Aviation Administration hotline describing issues like dangerous staffing shortages, mental health problems and deteriorating buildings, some infested by bugs and black mold. Air traffic controllers, who spend hours a day glued to monitors or scanning the skies with the lives of thousands of passengers at stake, are a last line of defense against crashes. The job comes with high stakes and intense pressure, even in the best of conditions. Yet the conditions for many controllers are far from ideal. A nationwide staffing shortage—caused by years of employee turnover and tight budgets, among other factors—has forced many controllers to work six-day weeks and 10-hour days.

Kissinger’s unwavering support for brutal regimes still haunts Latin America (AP) In Chile, leftists were tortured, tossed from helicopters and forced to watch relatives be raped. In Argentina, many were “disappeared” by members of the brutal military dictatorship that held detainees in concentration camps. It all happened with the endorsement of Henry Kissinger, the former U.S. secretary of state who died Wednesday at age 100. As tributes poured in for the towering figure who was the top U.S. diplomat under Presidents Richard Nixon and Gerald Ford, the mood was decidedly different in South America, where many countries were scarred deeply during the Cold War by human rights abuses inflicted in the name of anti-communism and where many continue to harbor a deep distrust of their powerful neighbor to the north. “I don’t know of any U.S. citizen who is more deplored, more disliked in Latin America than Henry Kissinger,” said Stephen Rabe, a retired University of Texas at Dallas history professor who wrote a book about Kissinger’s relationship with Latin America. “You know, the reality is, if he had traveled once democracy returned to Argentina, to Brazil, to Uruguay—if he had traveled to any of those countries he would have been immediately arrested.”

One dead and two injured in Paris attack near the Eiffel Tower (Reuters) One German tourist died and two others were injured after a man attacked tourists in central Paris near the Eiffel Tower on Saturday evening in what President Emmanuel Macron described as “a terrorist attack”. Police quickly arrested the 26-year-old man, a French national, using a Taser stun gun, Interior Minister Gerald Darmanin told reporters on Saturday. The suspect had been sentenced to four years in prison in 2016 for planning another attack, was on the French security services’ watch list and was also known for having psychiatric disorders, the interior minister added.

For eastern Ukrainians, the ordeal of war is entering its second decade (Reuters) Yevhen Tkachov, a volunteer aid worker and devout Pentecostal from Ukraine’s eastern Donbas region, spent much of his life travelling to the world’s war zones helping civilians in need. Nearly 10 years ago, his own homeland erupted into conflict, and the war never went away. “Right now I think it makes the most sense to help my own people,” said the 54-year-old, who is also a qualified veterinarian, after making his daily dash to deliver aid to the residents of Chasiv Yar, a once-sleepy, tree-lined town of 12,000 where he grew up. Like most people from Chasiv Yar, Tkachov has moved further from the fighting though some remain. All of them have lived through nearly a decade of war, a reminder that for millions in eastern Ukraine the conflict has rumbled on since 2014, long before Russia’s full-scale invasion in February last year grabbed the world’s attention. Ukraine and its Western allies say Russia infiltrated eastern Ukraine with fighters and intelligence operatives to stage a coup in Donbas in 2014 which Moscow subsequently supported with regular troops. Russia denied those allegations at the time, describing the events as a local rebellion against a government it accused of hostility to Russian speakers, which most Donbas residents were.

Unusual Names Can Complicate Life in Japan (NYT) Growing up, all Yuni Matsumoto wanted was to fit in. But his name made that hard. It was highly uncommon in Japan and, on top of that, essentially unreadable as written. Middle school classmates ridiculed him. The bullying got so bad that he eventually dropped out of school. Mr. Matsumoto, 24, had what is known as a kira-kira—meaning “shiny” or “glittery”—name. A growing number of Japanese parents are choosing these unconventional names, often in hopes of making their children stand out in a country where pressure to conform is strong. Mr. Matsumoto’s parents were driven by that same desire for uniqueness, but to him, his name was a shackle. This spring, he went to family court and had it changed to a common one, Yuuki, written in a way anyone could read. Japan is far from the only country where unusual names are on the rise. But Japanese children with unconventional names face societal and practical challenges unique to their country and its written language. Citing those difficulties, the government is now moving to rein in the practice, while insisting it is not closing off space for parents to be creative.

Strong earthquake that sparked a tsunami warning leaves 1 dead amid widespread panic in Philippines (AP) A powerful earthquake that shook the southern Philippines killed at least one villager and injured several others as thousands scrambled out of their homes in panic and jammed roads to higher grounds after a tsunami warning was issued, officials said Sunday. The U.S. Geological Survey reported that the quake Saturday night had a magnitude of 7.6 and struck at a depth of 32 kilometers (20 miles). The Pacific Tsunami Warning Center said it expected tsunami waves to hit the southern Philippines and parts of Indonesia, Palau and Malaysia, but later dropped its tsunami warning. In Japan, authorities issued evacuation orders late Saturday in various parts of Okinawa prefecture, including for the entire coastal area, affecting thousands of people. Thousands of residents stayed outside their homes for hours in many towns due to the earthquake and tsunami scare, including in some that were drenched by an overnight downpour, officials in the Philippines said. Defense Secretary Gilberto Teodoro Jr said that initial reports indicated there were no major damages except for two damaged bridges and pockets of power outages.

Freed Palestinians Were Mostly Young and Not Convicted of Crimes (NYT) Israel released a total of 240 Palestinian prisoners and detainees in exchange for 105 hostages freed by Hamas during a weeklong pause in hostilities, an arrangement that diplomats had tried to extend before it collapsed into fighting on Friday morning. A New York Times analysis of data on the Palestinians released showed that a majority of them had not been convicted of a crime. There were 107 teenagers under 18, including three girls. Another 66 teenagers were 18 years old. The oldest person released was a 64-year-old woman. Israel detained all of the people on the list for what it said were offenses related to Israel’s security, from throwing stones to more serious accusations like supporting terrorism and attempted murder. More than half of the cases were being prosecuted in Israeli military courts, which try Palestinians in the occupied West Bank but not Israeli settlers who live there. Nearly all Palestinians tried in Israeli military courts are convicted, and those accused of security offenses can be imprisoned indefinitely without charge or trial.

U.S. officials warn Israel to protect civilians as airstrikes resume in southern Gaza (Washington Post) Top U.S. officials warned Israel to protect civilian lives as it resumed aerial attacks on Gaza after a week-long pause in fighting, including in the south, where the majority of the Strip’s population is now crowded after Israel instructed people in the north to evacuate. “Too many Palestinian civilians have been killed,” Vice President Harris said Saturday. Defense Secretary Lloyd Austin said he “personally pushed Israeli leaders to avoid civilian casualties,” saying that a failure to do so would drive Palestinians “into the arms of the enemy,” undermining its war efforts against Hamas. Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu said the military was determining “safe areas” for Gazan civilians. Since the pause ended, Israel’s military has hit hundreds of targets in Gaza, including dozens in Khan Younis in the south, according to the Israel Defense Forces. At least 193 people in Gaza have been killed since the fighting resumed after the pause, the Gaza Health Ministry said. At least 15,207 people have been killed in Gaza and 40,652 wounded since the war began, the Gaza Health Ministry said. At least 1,200 people were killed in Israel during the Oct. 7 attack by Hamas.

Netanyahu’s goal for Gaza: “Thin” population “to a minimum” (Intercept) Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu has tasked his top adviser, Ron Dermer, the minister of strategic affairs, with designing plans to “thin” the Palestinian population in the Gaza Strip “to a minimum,” according to a bombshell new report in an Israeli newspaper founded by the late Republican billionaire Sheldon Adelson. The outlet, Israel Hayom, is considered to be something of an official organ for Netanyahu. It reported that the plan has two main elements: The first would use the pressure of the war and humanitarian crisis to persuade Egypt to allow refugees to flow to other Arab countries, and the second would open up sea routes so that Israel “allows a mass escape to European and African countries.” Israel Today and other Israeli media are also reporting on a plan being pushed with Congress that would condition aid to Arab nations on their willingness to accept Palestinian refugees. The plan even proposes specific numbers of refugees for each country: Egypt would take one million Palestinians, half a million would go to Turkey, and a quarter million each would go to Yemen and Iraq.

Commercial ships hit by missiles in Houthi attack in Red Sea, US warship downs 3 drones (AP) Three commercial ships in the Red Sea were struck by ballistic missiles fired from Houthi-controlled Yemen on Sunday and a U.S. warship shot down three drones in self-defense during the hourslong assault, the U.S. military said. Responsibility for the attack was claimed by the Houthi rebels, who are backed by Iran. The attacks marked an escalation in a series of maritime attacks in the Mideast linked to the Israel-Hamas war, as multiple vessels found themselves in the crosshairs of a single Houthi assault for the first time in the conflict. In a statement, U.S. Central Command said the attacks “represent a direct threat to international commerce and maritime security. They have jeopardized the lives of international crews representing multiple countries around the world.” The Carney, an Arleigh Burke-class guided-missile destroyer, has already shot down multiple rockets the Houthis have fired toward Israel so far in the war. It hasn’t been damaged in any of the incidents and no injuries have been reported on board.

[rhondarossano]

All Creatures Great and Small

Slender Brown Scorpion

I have shared many amusing, beautiful, and unusual creatures we have encountered since arriving here. Not all denizens of Belize are so welcome, however.

One evening recently, I was reading in the great room and noticed the cats chasing something across the floor. I thought, " Oh dear, they finally caught the lizard that has been eluding them for nearly a week." I got up to rescue the poor creature from those prickly paws and stopped in my tracks. That was no lizard; it was a scorpion! This is the Slender Brown Scorpion that is fairly prevalent in Belize. Their stings are akin to that of a hornet.

Now, I am not generally squeamish around spiders and snakes. Every creature has its place and purpose and, unfortunately, sometimes their place is invaded by unwanted lifeforms; sometimes creatures wander from their purposeful place. In the latter instances, I try to return the misplaced critter to its rightful home. This, however, was a scorpion-in my house! I had never encountered a scorpion before and wasn't sure how to safely capture and transport it back to the outdoors.

Our neighbor who was trying to quell a bee infestation at is house earlier that day had advised us to always keep a can of insecticide on hand. I grabbed what we had (not the brand recommended) and sprayed that scorpion until he quit moving. I don't know if the chemicals killed him or he drowned. Nevertheless, he was dead, and I became a killer. Not before, however, he stung Mango whose sweet furry face swelled up. Maybe I can plead not guilty since I was acting in defense of my cat.

Both of the fuzzies are fine; Mango's swelling was gone by morning. They continue, though, to find interesting creatures to harass.

[d3mon-ology]

On Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’s Americanah and Finding Roaches in Your Apartment During a Black-Out:

This is the third time this year I have lost power for multiple days. For all of Metro-Detroit, our energy is serviced by a singular company: DTE Energy. As of August 25th, their stock prices went up by 0.47%. Their yearly revenue is approximately 19 million dollars. This summer, they decided to raise their rates. There is no other choice for us — it is DTE or bust. We were still vocal about the hike in prices, commenting on the proposal’s official posting, You want to raise our bills because you’ve already fixed our infrastructure? Then why did I spend almost a week without power this February? Or something of a similar rhetoric. This summer, some people reported that they began paying 4-digit monthly bills. Personally, my bill jumped from $50 to $170.

For those who do not live in Michigan, please know our summer has been the mildest and weirdest one I’ve experienced. It is August, typically the hottest, most humid time of year, and it has been overcast, wet, and cold, like it is November already. The past two days have brought us terrifying, violent storms where lightning cracked. I thought we’d lose power that first night. Instead, it was the strip of apartments facing ours. I remembered thinking, Finally! This winter, my strip of apartments lost power first and was fixed last. I thought it fair, almost, that they lost power and we got to keep ours. Our neighborhood, clearly zoned for low-income housing and apartments, was always the last to get power back, but instead of paranoia about this resonating me, it was the idea that DTE chose to bless the other apartments. As though a couple hundred dollars in rent per month was the determining factor of who deserved heat in the winter or light in the summer.

So I rejoice our luck — we got to keep our light, our air. Until yesterday morning, when I woke in a sticky sweat to silence and a depthless black. Having always been afraid of the dark, I scrambled for my phone. I tried my lamp, though I knew exactly what had happened. I got up to look out the window at the rain, and I grumbled at the sight of the other strip’s twinkling porch lights. I couldn’t help but resent them, which my neighbor noted later when she lent me her flashlight.

I reported our outage on my DTE app. I tried to go back to bed, but I am in the midst my biannual, irrational fear that mice and cockroaches were infesting my kitchen. Making homes out of my stove or the empty pizza box we left out because we didn’t want to throw it out in the rain. The pitch black only worsened this, so I waited for the sun to rise with my phone’s flash light on and my battery draining. It occurred to me then how soft and plushy I was, how I would not survive long without the accoutrements of my life. Or maybe I would, I thought, and I would have to just get over myself. Become a heroine of my own design.

So my mind wandered in the early morning, looking out for the first sign of light. Eventually, before I fell asleep, I thought of the book assigned for this semester’s course: Americanah by Chimamanda Adichie.

The lives of Ifemelu and Obinze have been eye-opening and a delight to read. Their romance was, in my opinion, a bit spottily rendered, but I didn’t care about their romance. I enjoyed Ifemelu’s portrayal. Adichie avoided a pitfall many Western authors, even the most bra-burning, Bechtel-testing, still fall prey to: the madonna-whore complex. Ife was a woman who was sexual, who had desires beyond men but who saw them as another delight in the wealth of life’s bounty. Following her middle-class Nigerian life and her immigration to America and then return home, I thought Ife so refreshing to read, relatable but also wholly unique in her perspective. She was human, but there was also something a bit invincible about her. It was not that she was able to overcome anything, but rather that she never once wallowed in her weakness. She found something else to sustain her, and I admired that quality. It made her my favorite character, honestly. Reading her story was like reading the life story of a family friend you considered an older, more enlightened aunt who had traveled the world and treated you like a sister.

In particular, she was unfazed by roaches during her first night in Brooklyn, noting that if she had been at home in Lagos she would’ve gotten the broom and killed the fucker without much thought at all. But she didn’t, claiming this American roach as different, as though the weight of a new country had softened that brazen edge to her.

This moment in the book came to me when I finally gave up on sleep. I dressed in the dark, and I decided I was going to drive around. My phone was nearly a corpse, and frankly, I just wanted to sit somewhere and watch my Webkinz iceberg video in peace. I didn’t want to think about mice scratching to escape my pillowcase, roaches emerging from under my sink, or bed bugs, which my coworker recently got and who I, selfishly, worried had given them to me. More so, I was tired of that unhinged feeling that repeated intrusive thoughts instills in me. Like if I did see any of these things, I would be hallucinating, and it would go beyond just idle superstition into a territory where in-patient seems mighty necessary.

So needless to say, I lost it when I walked into my kitchen and saw a cockroach, grasping a small crumb in between his pinchers. He’d just left the pizza box and was ambling across the floor. Much like Ifemelu, I did not kill it. Unlike her, it was not because I felt defeated or so out of place that to interact with my environment felt sinfully wrong. It was because I had never had to. Despite my history of infestations, roaches had never actually crossed from the ephemeral into the real.

Aristotle, who I fucking hate but has a few things of real merit, said that wisdom comes from experience. That’s why it is so valuable in learning virtue. Having lived on my own at 17, half homeless and without any adult supervision, I have grown to see adulthood as a list of first experiences that are necessary but ultimately shift one’s paradigm with each “first.” When I totaled my first car, I learned the wisdom of not leaving your car in the impound lot for five days, of how it is okay to trust scrappers on occasion when they are sweet boys who give you an extra hundred because they recognized struggle and pitied it when they saw it, and of getting back into a car after you realize how fucking stupid you and other drivers are. Dealing with roaches is another one of those “first” experiences, accompanied by a growth spurt, but much like totaling my car, it’s not one I want to learn how to overcome.

So I panicked. I woke up my partner, told him to come quick, annoyed when it took him a minute to clamber up. By the time he followed me into our small kitchen, the roach was gone. This was when I burst into tears, feeling all the weight of the past 48 hours — the sleeplessness, Ifem’s first days submerged in Americanah, the weeks of paranoia that had crescendoed to a singular moment that confirmed all my worst fears. I had felt inspired by Ifemelu’s resilience, balmed by her depression in those first few American months. Adjusting to a new country and being an adult are such disparate experiences that the Venn diagram between them is two circles, but it is a testament to Adichie’s writing that I found connections nonetheless. Learning the nuances of American English follows the same structure of learning a new “first”: you learn by a series of experiences. I calm down, I stop crying, and I think with hope and dread that this is life. After all, Ifemelu has to relearn the nuances of Lagos life after returning to Nigeria. And the same applies to each reoccurrence of a “first.” Life is a series of wisdoms being gained, and I think this is why I admired Ifemelu’s resilience.

So I look at the roach’s mangled body. I hug my partner, tell him we’re getting a closed-top garbage can tomorrow. “Some spray, too,” I add. I put down some diatomaceous earth. I turn off the flash light, and I watch the window. The sun comes up, and I go to sleep.

[dailyadventureprompts]

You know the joke about level 20 shop keeps to keep murder hobos in line? What about like an actual reason for a level 20 something shopkeeper? Like a retired adventurer selling off the contents of their many bags of holding. Great place to get magic gear, plenty of potential adventure hooks, and a retired adventurer would have a great many connections.

Shopkeep: Agiviv Stoneeye, The Alchemist under the Hill

The title? It’s my little joke, I always said I’d be in my grave before I gave up on the great work, so after I retired I found myself a cozy little barrow in which to continue my studies. Still brings a smile to my stiff old jaw each time I think about it.

Setup: The Sad truth is that age catches up to everyone, even heroes, and those that live the adventurers life tend to age faster than most. If it isn't the life sapping curses or the devouring jaws of beasts that get you, it's the slow accumulation of innumerable breaks, stabs, burns, and mishaps that accumulate in a body along with years of hard wear and stress.

Such was the case for Agiviv and his companions, a once celebrated band of heroes who saved the world in their own small way before settling into happy obscurity. After their mission was done each wanted different things, some family, some to return to the duties they left behind, but for Agiviv the whole point of adventuring was to secure the means by which he could continue his studies, and by the gods did he ever find it.

While each of his retiring friends took a hero's share of their accumulated wealth Agiviv (who served as the group's quartermaster) ensured he was left holding the bags: the bags of holding containing years of accumulated treasure, crafting ingredients, and dungeon junk. Settling in one of the first dungeons cleared by his companions, close enough to a town to make a supply run but not so close that he’d be bothered with neighbors,  the old Orc now works away happily on all the projects he never got around to during his life on the road.

 Hooks: 

Joke as you would about alchemists and their search for gold, Agiviv was always the most business minded of his companions, and has spent the intervening years setting up storefronts in several major population centers across the kingdom. Each one is minded by one of his apprentices, who discuss the needs of customers as they enter and browse through catalogs before popping into the back room to secure the stock. These “back rooms” are in fact portals to Agiviv’s workshop, where the apprentices can clear any important transaction with their boss or shift down to one of the many storerooms to retreive the stock. When the party visit their local “Stoneye’s Alchemics” only to have its attendant disappear for a protracted period of time, their curiosity may lead them to intrude upon the workshop and begin to poke around where they don’t belong.  Depending on whether they decide to do a smash and grab or actually investigate the disappearance, they may later encounter a very angry Agaviv or one thankful to them for saving an apprentice that’d fallen victim to a long unnoticed mimic.

Given his talents lay in the crafting of potions and other alchemical wonders,  Agaviv is more than happy to part with various bits of armor, enchanted weapons, and miscellaneous doodads too impractical to be of any use in his research. One of these items happens to be a very dangerous book that Agaviv accidentally mislabeled saving it from his “Very cursed do not sell” Pile. Sold to the party as a genuinely useful and benign object, the group’s spellcaster may only learn of it’s true nature after it has become attuned.

Though the dungeon Agiviv claims as his home was cleared out years ago, one wing of it has become infested with pests, which the shopkeeper may send the party to clear out as a bit of a nostalgic lark. What he doesn’t suspect is that these creatures actually crept out of a portal to the underdark, and their reckless burrowing has created a fissure that the party will inevitably fall down and will be forced to climb their way back to the material plane. After braving an unusually long road of trials, Agiviv will be shocked to realize he’s going to have to move or risk his entire operation falling into the world beneath. 

Art

[baldwinboy5ive]

I call this Cobra Drive. AU where a sad boy meets another sad boy in his building elevator and they just stare longingly at each other for extended periods of time. (Daniel LaRusso, who made the crane kick famous, gets to add to his repertoire of bird karate moves by stomping Mike Barnes to death in the same elevator like a secretary bird.)

I also wrote some crap for this AU, even though I am not much of a fanfic writer. However, it’s not that bad. It’s just regular bad. 

“If I drive for you, you get your money. You tell me where we start, where we’re going, where we’re going afterward. I give you a five minute window when we get there. Anything happens in that five minutes and I’m yours. No matter what. Anything happens a minute either side of that and you’re on your own. I don’t sit in while you’re running it down, I don’t carry a gun, I don’t do karate - not anymore. I drive. Do you understand?” 

The well-rehearsed speech was delivered in an accent that was undeniably East Coast, but from a man who knew well the 100,000 streets of Los Angeles. Daniel ended it every single time with a secret tribute to his beloved mentor, whose life lessons were always punctuated with “Understand?” 

And Daniel did. He always understood what Mr. Miyagi had told him, and replied “Yeah, I understand,” even if some of his lessons had taken awhile to really make their impact on him. 

-----

Daniel moved frequently. It was routine now for him. Funny how things changed. He often remembered how monumental that first cross-country move had been, how the course of his entire life had shifted that summer of 1984. Now, his moves were quick, efficient, and all within LA. 

On his second day in his newest building, Daniel returned to his apartment by elevator. Another building resident stepped in with him, hauling a basket of laundry from the basement. 

He was familiar. Daniel kept his eyes trained at his feet while he felt the familiar man’s gaze on him for a moment. He allowed himself one quick glance, but didn’t manage to time it as well as he’d wanted. The golden-haired man who now shared a building with him was still staring back at him. 

His eyes were beautiful and sad. 

It was Johnny Lawrence. 

-----

“You just move back to LA or something?” was the question Johnny finally settled on after he and Daniel hauled his groceries into his second story apartment. There was too much he wanted to ask. It had been 34 years. Something in those 34 years had hardened the look in Daniel’s eyes.

“No, I’ve been here for awhile.” 

“So just new here?” 

Daniel nodded. 

“What are you up to now, LaRusso?” 

“I drive.” 

“Like, those internet car things?” Johnny asked, a touch of confusion on his face. 

“No, for the movies.” 

“You mean all the car chases and stuff?” 

“Yeah.” 

Johnny let out a soft laugh. “Isn’t that dangerous?” 

Daniel fully met Johnny’s eyes, and stared challengingly, the words “Oh, now you care about my safety and well-being?” hanging between the two of them unspoken. Daniel’s lips quirked into a slight grin. So did Johnny’s. Then Daniel knew. Johnny remembered it all. 

The intensity of Johnny’s bright blue eyes and the pain they carried eventually became too much for Daniel, who was the first to drop his gaze. He broke the silence by saying placatingly, “It’s only part time. Mostly I work at a garage.” 

“Where?” 

“Reseda Boulevard.” 

After a few more beats of silence, Daniel nodded his head towards the teen boy sitting at the kitchen table doing his homework, as if only just noticing him even though he’d rode up in the elevator with them. “He yours?” 

“They sometimes just come with the apartment. Old place here is infested. Overrun with roaches, children, teens. You might want to check under your kitchen counters and shit if you haven’t already, LaRusso.” 

The boy snorted, not offended in the least. “I’m Miguel,” he said. 

A door in the apartment slammed open, and another teen boy wandered into the kitchen. “Who’s this?” he asked, pointing at Daniel.

“This is LaRu- Daniel. Daniel, this is Robby.”

Daniel stared at the two teenagers. Neither of them resembled Johnny. Perhaps Johnny hadn’t been kidding about them surfacing from under the kitchen counters. 

-----

At the garage, a sly smile spread on the face of the man who’d given Daniel all of his jobs. “Oh, you and the kid know each other,” he said, gesturing rapidly between Daniel and Johnny while leaning over the open hood of a car he’d been working on. 

“Don’t,” Daniel warned. He stalked off, but not without grinning at his employer. 

“Uh…” Johnny began. A “He kicked me in the face when we were teenagers, but I did sort of deserve it a little, and it’s actually at least a 126 minute-long story” died on his lips. 

“We’re neighbors,” Johnny said. 

“Ahh,” said Daniel’s employer, as if that was all there was to know. 

Johnny explained in more detail what was going on with his Firebird, and was told that the repairs would take a few days. 

“Miguel, call us one of those car things from your iComputer.” 

“It’s an iPho-” 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” cut in Daniel’s employer. “You and the kid are neighbors! He’d be happy to give you a ride.” 

Johnny met Daniel’s eyes from across the garage. He did indeed look happy.

---

“Hey, I know you. Come on, we met last year! Well - met again. It’s me. Snake. You drove me and Dennis back from Palm Springs. Hey, I got this sweet job planned out --” 

Fury blazed in Daniel’s eyes. Someone both recognizing him and talking to him about his jobs was more than enough to make Daniel disappear for a few months, but this wasn’t just any someone. This was one of Terry Silver’s men. Over the years, Daniel had done everything he could to be free of Terry and his mob. But every time Daniel thought he was safe, eventually, Terry would always come back. And there would always be a job. 

Terry’s man - and therefore Terry himself - reappearing in his life would have been bad enough before, but now? Now he had Johnny. He couldn’t just pick up and leave. He realized with anger burning up in his chest that he didn’t want to pick up and leave. 

Daniel cut Snake off with a low whisper. “How about this? Shut your mouth. Or I’ll kick your teeth down your throat, and shut it for you.” 

All Daniel had wanted was to finish his dinner and coffee in peace, until it was time to drive Johnny to the bar for his night shift. Daniel stared at Snake, never taking his eyes off of him until Snake quietly retreated from the diner. Only then did Daniel feel comfortable returning to his food.

-----

Daniel’s face took on a detached and aloof manner when he addressed the man Terry had sent. 

“When you get your money, his debt’s paid. He’s out for good. And you never go near his family again. Do you understand?” 

-----

Daniel did everything in his power to keep his voice even. Confident. Balanced. But that voice on the other end of the phone would always terrify him. Some things never changed. 

“I’m going to give you a time and a place and you’re going to come and get your money. Do you understand?” 

Terry barked out a laugh. “What do you get out of it, Danny boy?” 

“Just that: out of it.” 

Daniel hung up. For once he had the satisfaction of dictating terms with Terry Silver. 

-----

“They came to my apartment. How did they know where I live?” 

“I told you, I was going to call Kreese, I just wanted him to know that… that it wasn’t about the money… that you’re not interested in the money… that you just did it for him.” 

Daniel exploded at the man who had been his longtime employer. So this was how Kreese and Silver and known it was him. “Why?! You told them about Johnny! Why did you tell them about Johnny?!” 

“Calm down, kid. Just calm down.” 

“I should fucking kill you - you told them about Johnny! That’s how they figured it out, you know - that it was me. You told them about Johnny and then they knew it was me.” 

“I just wanted him to know… that as soon as you returned the money, that was the end of it, that’s all! I didn’t know. I didn’t know. How was I supposed to know?! How was I supposed to know… that everything led to Silver!” 

Daniel’s voice was breaking as he screamed at the old man. Daniel’s eyes were wild and he was breathing hard. Breathe in, breathe out, echoed the voice of his dear sensei in his head. Soon, his racing heart slowed just enough for him to calmly tell his employer, “They came for me, and now they’re going to come for you, too. You have to get out of here. Do you understand?” 

-----

John Kreese pleaded with his lifelong friend. “Anybody finds out you stole from the family, we’re both dead. The money always flows up, Twig. You know that!” 

Terry Silver fell uncharacteristically quiet amidst their shouting match. He looked at Kreese ruefully. “That’s why this driver’s gotta go, Johnny. That’s why he’s gotta go. He’s gonna tie me to this robbery.” 

It was too bad. Terry had always been fond of Daniel. 

-----

Daniel hoped he would never again have to fear for Johnny’s and his kids’ lives. He flicked his eyes up to the rearview mirror. Miguel and Robby were fast asleep in the backseat - and safe. Alive. 

Daniel did, however, find comfort in knowing that he didn’t have to pretend anymore, didn’t have to keep his karate hidden and tucked away. If Johnny ever needed it again, Daniel would use it. He’d help Johnny remember his. He thought fondly of the way Mr. Miyagi had once insisted that only Daniel’s root karate came from Mr. Miyagi, and had urged him to make his karate his own. 

If Daniel could do it, so could Johnny. Johnny’s Cobra Kai would be better - different, new. A product of the goodness Daniel was confident Johnny had inside of him. Johnny would use that goodness to teach Robby and Miguel. And Daniel vowed to be there with them. 

If anyone ever again tried to hurt any of them, the four of them would be ready. 

Another Mr. Miyagi lesson surfaced in Daniel’s memories as he continued driving. Back in 1994, Mr. Miyagi had returned to Daniel in LA after a long stay in Boston, and over the course of several days, had told him all about Julie Pierce, and the lessons he taught her. The final lesson had been: “Fighting not good, but if must fight - win.” 

That was what Daniel had done. 

Daniel smiled at the beautiful man in the passenger seat next to him, whose sadness never left his eyes, but who, despite this, could now smile back warmly at him. Daniel checked the rearview mirror once more, never taking his attention from the road ahead of them. Miguel and Robby were both still asleep. 

Daniel turned his gaze back to the road for a moment, feeling the hum of the car around him and those he loved. 

“I’m yours. No matter what. Do you understand?” 

-----

OH SHIT i forgot to mention, the idea for the cobra on the back of the jacket AND for including Robby both come from @idontknowkaratebutiknowcrazy !!!! Thank you for your moral support and help on these concepts! I always knew I wanted Daniel to be the Driver, so it didn’t even OCCUR to me to have the cobra on his jacket, until @idontknowkaratebutiknowcrazy said it, and then she said he can give it to Johnny later (even though it won’t fit him haha!). Just a note - I changed up the cobra design from the Cobra Kai logo though because the original logo looked kinda goofy as a silhouette. 

[a03bkdk]

fantasy bkdk fic rec list

a certain kind of magic by eatdirt

((4590-1/1))

“Forgive me, kind witch! I—I do not wish to disturb you, but I’m afraid it's urgent!"

Katsuki will later blame his bewilderment that anyone—let alone a human boy in filthy rags—would drag themselves all the way out to his home on the outskirts of civilization, for why he stalks down the stairs and cracks open the door.

“Are you a fucking idiot?” he growls.

Or, the one where Katsuki is a witch in a weed-infested swamp and Deku won’t stop coming around.

the shrinekeeper and the harvest god by bkdkwritingsdump

((smut-30148-18/18))

Izuku keeps the shrine of the harvest god, a minor god mostly worshiped by farmers and ignored by everyone else until the yearly harvest festival. During a spring thunderstorm one year, a mysterious man named Katsuki shows up at his shrine seeking shelter from the rain, but ends up over staying his welcome by a few months. In that time, Izuku not only begins to become suspicious of his identity, but finds himself longing for something more between them.

cupid, draw back your bow by almasaga

((i dont remember if there is smut-16496-2/2))

Cupid remembers the oath he took, remembers the broken arrow, remembers the wrath of his mother and goddess, remembers his roots, remembers that he is a god.

But when he hears him he forgets it all.

“Are you there still?” Asks a voice, clear and never wrong. The only voice he wishes to hear.

“Always,” he says and it blows through his beloved.

solar by kindaopps

((smut-7037-1/1))

Here he is, a god, wanting a mortal.

deku by mirachadoodles

((smut-20852-9/9))

Neither seemed willing to look away in the tense silence that fell, drawn to one another as if by a thick and brilliant thread.

The boy viewed him thoughtfully, as though he recognized him from another life, as though he knew him.

It was odd—he felt the same way.

---

Or, shortly after Katsuki's dragon went missing, a naked man attempted to break into his family barn. Izuku had no memory of his past life, and apparently had no idea how to be human, either. He was just acting on instinct.

a cat named deku by  silentsongbird

((6662-1/1))

Bakugou begrudgingly takes in a stray cat that has been hanging around his home. He says he's motivated by the weather turning colder, but he just can't resist the little fur ball. One night, Deku decides to let him in on a little secret.

if the stars align, then for us they were meant by runawaydeviant

((smut-17485-6/6))

Katsuki and Eijirou crash land in a forest to the south of their homeland. Injured and stranded, they befriend a local nature spirit, who is much more than he first appears to be.

soulmates in steel and (p 2)mine is yours by lalazee

((3000-1/1)) (p 2(smut-2509-1/1))

Midoriya Izuku returns to a tribe long lost and forgotten to claim his rightful throne. At least, that's what King Katsuki assumes of him.

(p 2) One large, calloused hand spread sparks down Izuku’s chest, ribs, rested at his lightly bruised hip. Izuku knew fingerprints still remained from last time, and the last, and the time after that. He felt more like a dappled deer now, all those spots smattered across his thighs, ass, hips, wrists. King Katsuki was certainly a man who marked his territory.

but the entrails are the best part! by supercrunch

((15278-1/1))

The boy straightens up. He’s about half a head shorter than Katsuki, face soft and youthful and sweet. He turns to look at him properly. His dark hair shines in the dying light, basket of blooms looped over one arm and mouth quirked into a tiny half-smile. The sun hits his face and makes his eyes a bright greeny-gold, just like emeralds.

Katsuki likes emeralds.

“Pretty,” he says, reaching out and picking the stranger up around the middle. He’s surprisingly heavy, although Katsuki doesn’t mind. “I like you. Come see my nest.”

The boy hits him.

He’s stronger than he looks, turns out. Katsuki drops him and falls onto his back, pain blooming across his face. Birds sing. The sky’s a lovely shade of orange, clouds floating lazily by. The boy scarpers. He leaves his basket of flowers behind, footsteps thumping on the ground and fading away as he escapes.

The sun sets. Katsuki, lying flat on his back with a bloody nose, decides he’s just fallen in love.

happenstance by merrywetherweather

((78566-22/22))

When Katsuki was just a child, his mother, the King of Lucia, took him to enact diplomacy with the Midoriya's, the royal family of the neighboring country of Tayloria. After that day, his fate was sealed, his marriage arranged to the Midoriya's elusive omegan child.

At the age of twenty, he leaves for Tayloria again, this time, to finally wed his fiance and cement the allyship of the two kingdoms indefinitely. Only, his fiance turns out to be the child he had met on his very first visit, a naive, idealistic young prince who wants nothing to do with marrying the prince of Lucia.

Good thing he just assumed Katsuki was only part of his fiance's entourage.

An arranged marriage between two princes aob au where Katsuki tries to abide by Izuku's desire for a natural romance to develop without letting Izuku know his true identity.

plums by Ivillpunchyouinthethroat

((14116-3/3))

There’s a boy stealing plums from the garden below the balcony Katsuki’s lounging at for the night.

Correction.

There’s a boy stealing plums, very badly, from the garden below the balcony Katsuki’s lounging at for the night.

mermaid AU breathe In by contrarybee

((series-smut-3 works-45236 in all))

Midoryia Izuku was born in captivity. He's never known the ocean.

His human carer Yagi-san tells him they're getting a new merman in the aquarium, one that they hope Izuku might like. Having been alone since his mother's death, Izuku is beyond excited to have a new mer around, but Bakugo Katsuki might prove to be too much. Or maybe he's just right.

fishy by warschach

((smut-19417-1/1))

Izuku’s convinced his hot co-worker/neighbor, Katsuki, is a mermaid-or merman- you gotta consider genders even with mythical creatures- and plans to prove it.

(or this is kinda like the show ‘Monster Quest’, except Izuku actually finds said monster, falls in love, and have sexy times.)

home is where the waves crash. by tiredwrites

((4105-1/1))

Izuku thrashes in his cage, the fins that line his large tail flare with a dangerous purpose. The claws his fingers taper into slice through the water and catch the light that filters into the clear water of the aquarium tank he's in.

His gills flare in irritation as he flips around, muscled tail ramming into the three-inch glass barrier with a thundering BAM!

Bioluminescent sacs under clear scales flare and glow, flashing a brilliant toxic green. The team that had brought the merman into the tank watch the mer flail and roar, flexing the powerful jaws that can often unhinge, like a snake.

only the roses know by katyastark

((13193-5/5))

Izuku didn’t want to marry a foreigner. The person he wanted was here… somewhere. He didn’t have a face or a name to ascribe to his admirer. Only roses. For every name day and holiday since he was thirteen, he had received a perfect orange rose. He’d never seen anything so beautiful. The roses never failed to make him feel doted upon. It was their secret, and Izuku cherished it more than anything else in the world. He didn’t want to give that up for some stranger, for an alliance through a loveless marriage.

torn fur, blunt teeth by scribespirare

((smut-43013-17/17))

After eight months of being collared, Izuku is finally free. But a dark, stormy city is no place for a lonely shapeshifter on the run.

ignorance leads to bliss by nikawithspice

((smut-3941-1/1))

A brave wandering adventurer swoops in and saves a beautiful prince from danger, gets dragged to a celebratory bonfire and has a night that he could only have dreamed of!

Or, the one in which Midoriya Izuku accidentally gets married to a Dragon Prince but wouldn't have it any other way.

[holykillercake]

Heavenly Demons

paring: Doflamingo x Reader

word count: 1.7k

summary: How far down would you go to rise with the person who makes your heart beat stronger?

highlight:  ¨Haste is the enemy of perfection, Doffy. We shall have all the time in the world.¨

warnings: implied smut, Doffy himself is already a warning, right?

notes: Hey guys! So, I have read a lot of stories where the main character contrasts with Doffy, but I wanted to write one where the reader kinda shares his ideologies. I really hope you like it!! <3

𝕷𝖊𝖆𝖛𝖊 𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖒𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖘, 𝖗𝖊𝖖𝖚𝖊𝖘𝖙𝖘, 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊!

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath as the salty fresh air cooled your body down. The waves crashed violently, and thunderings cut across the skies, shouting to all eight seas to prepare themselves. You were coming for the throne. You were coming for the golden seat above the great serpent soaked in blood. 

Large hands caressed your belly, fingers flirting with the soft skin of your breasts. You felt Doflamingo's naked and burning skin brush against your back, salty splashes of seawater blending with the salt of your sweat bodies. 

¨Do you remember what you told me that day?¨ his voice was low and deep, masking the ferocity of a roaring predator.

¨Every word.¨ 

¨Can you repeat it?¨ you smirked, words already engraved on the tip of your sharp tongue.

He gazed at the ocean with thirst, recollecting all the sacrifices he made, all the breaths he took and raised a glass for all the blood he was yet to shed.  

¨One day, you will rule them all. You will stand above their fallen bodies and step on them as they lick the floor you walk on.¨ His grip tightened on your waist, nails slightly craving into your skin. 

¨I´m ready.¨

¨You have always been, Doffy.¨

¨Y/N.¨ he called you after a moment of silence.

¨Hm?¨ You hummed in response. 

The man behind you struggled, brain fighting the words from coming out of his mouth. He pulled you away from the window, lifting you up while your legs wrapped around his hips. The ship rocked aggressively, rolls of maps and unlit candles rolling across the tapestry.

Doflamingo pressed you against the wall, tongue gliding furiously with yours. You felt his body growing stiff again, moans masked as grunts being muffled by your intoxicating kiss. 

Whines came out with each heavy breath, your chest rising and falling when he finally parted the kiss, a single strand of saliva connecting both sinful lips. 

You took that moment to look him in the eyes. This time, instead of the glasses adorning his beautiful features, the flashes of lightning from the storm illuminated what he was constantly trying to hide.

The eyes of a monster. A monster for whom you would kill, for whom you would slaughter. The eyes of the man for whom you descended from the Holy Land and got your hands dirty to help him rise above the so-called Gods.

You remembered your words as a child. 

¨Those are not the true Gods.¨ he spoke in your ear. 

Shivers ran down your spine, and your core twisted when you felt the tip of his manhood touch your sensitive and sore skin. 

¨We are the true Gods.¨ a deafening thunder echoed through the structures of the Numancia Flamingo the moment he slipped inside you, covering your cries of lust and pleasure.

                                                               <~>

It was difficult to keep up with the man you followed. After all, he was tall and had incredibly long legs. At no time did he help you when you tripped over a piece of garbage and fell or when your legs gave up on exhaustion.  On the contrary, he just kept walking.

¨May I ask for your name?¨ 

That's what came out of your mouth. You knew that shouting and imposing things would not work, not here. This was the territory of humans, and you would have to deal with it if you wanted to get to the boy.

¨May I ask...¨ he mocked you. 

Your small hands, balled into fists, clenched while you snorted with hatred.

¨Calm down, brat. It´s over there.¨ 

Standing on the toes of your expensive shoes, you saw a well-known figure among sheds and piles of metal, with blond hair and dark glasses.

¨DOFFY!¨ 

¨Y/N!?¨ he sounded surprised to see you in such a filthy place. 

Your steps hurried to get to him, ignoring the other people on the scene who looked at you with suspicion.

The ruffles of the skirt were now dirty from the trip, and your hair, always so neat, flew loose with the breeze and even got entangled.

¨What are you doing here?¨

¨Just making sure you got home safe.¨

¨Nyeh, nyeh, who is this, Doffy?¨ a disgusting old man with snot running down his nose asked.

¨She is the girl I told you about. She helped me escape.¨

¨Do not come closer!¨ you exclaimed to the man when he turned to you. The gooey thing swaying with every movement.

Doffy invited you into what he called home and offered you a shabby wooden stool so you could rest from the trip.

Even so young to understand the meaning of love, your heart ached when you saw the precarious situation in which he found himself. No, he was much greater than that.

Your families were neighbors in the Holy Land, so you constantly spent your free afternoons in the company of the Donquixote brothers. It fascinated you how different they were, like two opposite poles of a globe.

At some point, you noticed Rosinante's absence and assumed he had died like their parents. He too was not like you. He would never last.

¨What will you do? You can not accept this, Doffy.¨ you walked over to the boy in front of a window, eyes locked on the piles of scrap metal. 

¨I know, Y/N. I am just thinking.¨ He hesitated to ask for your help, even though he knew how much more clever you could be.

The others just watched the interaction between the two children, the boy chosen by the heavens and the girl who spoke to him as an equal.

¨Claim what is yours, Doffy.¨

¨I tried.¨ his fingertips turned white from squeezing the window sill ¨I served my father´s head in a tray for them to feast, but-¨

¨That is not what I meant.¨ He searched your eyes for the first time, knowing that you were planning something. ¨You are a rightful king, the real deity, not them. Those are not the true Gods, Doffy. We are the true Gods.¨

The slimy man got up from the pest-infested couch, squinting at you. The brilliant idea he hadn't had before coming out of your mouth like a prophecy.

¨Dressrosa, the World Nobles, from the depts of the ocean to the six moons... one day, you will rule them all. You will stand above their fallen bodies and step on them as they lick the floor you walk on.¨ 

Electricity ran through your bodies, and tears of excitement filled your eyes.

¨Nyeh, your name is Y/N, right? ¨ the miry man asked, keeping a respectful distance from you. His voice annoyed you just as much. ¨It looks like you have a plan, behehehe. Tell us more about it.¨

You looked at him with contempt and mistrust.

¨It´s ok, Y/N. They are my family now.¨

That day you shared the plan that would shape the course of the Donquixote Pirates' operations, and everyone listened in silence, bewildered by the strategic mind of such a young child.

¨I will be your eyes and ears up there.¨

¨I´ll be quick, Y/N. I promise.¨ You shook your head.

¨Haste is the enemy of perfection, Doffy. We shall have all the time in the world.¨

That same night you returned to wealth and abundance, but your heart remained between the scraps and the boy, the Heavenly Yaksha.

For the next two decades, you focused on studies, following like a mantra the striking appearances of the Donquixote Pirates in the newspapers.

The World Nobles feared Doflamingo for his knowledge regarding matters that should be kept secret. Secrets you provided, tearing down the wall of the puny Gods, brick per brick.

Over time, your periodic visits to the world below the Red Line have become more intimate, going from an affectionate gesture to a dinner for two and the satiation of carnal desires. 

But maybe there was love. Among the sins and horrors committed, there was a lull after a nightmare. When your fingers ran through his blond hair, and he took off his glasses before pulling you to his chest.

When you laughed at childhood memories or projected a future together. 

Maybe it was love. But how could two beasts like you know for sure?

Perhaps it was not necessary to know the real meaning. When the sun came up again, you would be there together, ready to conquer, rule, and destroy.

When traitors raised their weapons and the weak perished, they would see the true face of God. Majestic and merciless.

When the weak rulers gave in to pressure, you would take the dirty hands of hopeless people and raise them up. And they would kiss the ground where you walked, freely and willingly.

¨Do you like our new home?¨ he asked, bringing you inside the feathery pink coat. 

You stood in front of the window, watching the country over which you would make prosperity reign.

¨It´s amazing, Doffy.¨ 

¨Are you staying for good now?¨

A smile grew on your lips ¨I am, Doffy. I´m staying for good.¨

His laughter filled the room. He took your hand and guided you to the armchair, where you sat on his lap, already opening the zipper of your dress.

¨Twenty years, Y/N...¨ he put a lock of hair behind your ear ¨I have waited for twenty years, and now that we accomplished this, I am not letting you go again.¨ 

You leaned slowly and torturously, flirting with his mouth, teasing him. You wanted to feel each moment, each touch, and each spasm making your body squirm with pleasure.

¨We have all the time in the world...¨ you whispered, placing a kiss on his lips ¨I want to make this very slow and very pleasurable.¨ 

This time when the sun comes up, you would not have to leave.

He laughed again, wrapping his hand in your hair and pulling enough to make a moan escape your mouth. 

¨I can´t promise slow...¨ his voice was low in your ear, weakening your entire body ¨but I will give you pleasure.¨

The trail of kisses on your neck made your guts twist, and your hips move against him, seeking relief. 

¨I´m gonna take you right here and right now...¨ he pulled your hair a little harder ¨and I´m gonna make you my Queen.¨  

Hey @vemuabhi! Here I go again hahaha

[no-droids]

Can you describe the exact moment where Mando knew he wanted to fuck the reader?

I think tumblr ate my ask, so (in Bernie Sanders’ voice) I am once again asking if you can describe the moment Mando knew he wanted to fuck the reader and couldn’t deny his feelings any longer.

(((Your second ask included another question, so I’ll write for both, ALSO SPOILERS FOR SEASON 1 OF THE MANDALORIAN YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED)))

***

The first moment Mando knew he wanted to fuck you?  Or the moment he couldn’t deny his feelings any longer?

Different moments.  Completely different moments.  Took place weeks, if not months apart from one another, in fact.

If… if he’s being entirely honest, the first one probably isn’t that interesting of a story.  He’s almost certain the thought crossed his mind before you ever said a single word to him.  Actually, now that he’s actively thinking about it, he’s pretty sure he hadn’t even seen your face when he was first struck with the idea.

That really isn’t all that uncommon for him, though.  Of course, Mando has never been immune to the charms of women, but as he grew older and in his more recent years, he learned it’s almost always best to just avoid the hassle altogether.  

That doesn’t mean he never thinks about it.

In fact, not having sex surprisingly causes people to think about sex more, if you can believe it.

Not that anyone would ever know it, obviously.  Most people are entirely capable of keeping their thoughts to themselves, but Mando does them two better and keeps his words and his face to himself, too.  Nobody truly knows what’s really going on behind the helmet, and he prefers it that way.  He can think whatever he wants, let any emotion play over his face without once worrying about its potential impact on another person.

Nobody ever knows.  Nobody knows when he’s smiling, when he’s gritting his teeth.  Nobody knows if he’s sleeping, or if he’s just choosing to sit remarkably still.  

Nobody knows how often he looks at you, especially if his head is facing a different direction.  

The beskar offers solace in that regard.  He has many personal qualms with it, but on occasion, there can be.  Benefits.  Specifically, it was incredibly useful the first time he saw you.  That day was one of the rare occasions he remembers being truly grateful for the helmet.

At that point in time, Kuiil had been dead for a few weeks, and realistically, Mando had no real reason for even being there.  He had no real reason for landing the Crest somewhere in the outskirts of his late friend’s abandoned moisture farm.  He could make up some excuse about the blurrgs weirdly getting to him, how Kuiil’s enclosure was likely too well-built to escape from and they’d probably be nearing the point of cannibalism by now.  But realistically, he had no reason.

Secretly though, if anyone ever asked him to cut the shit and just fucking explain himself—give them a legitimate, valid rationality as to why the fuck he bothered wasting the fuel returning to this desolate planet, why he delayed collecting payment on Nevarro in order to visit a barren moisture farm he knew would be empty—Mando could.  He wouldn’t, obviously, but he could.  It was stupid, it was completely fucking illogical, it was absolute fucking nonsense, but there was indeed an underlying motivation attached to his actions that he likely wouldn’t even admit to himself.

He was looking for something.  Or, someone, to be more specific.  Someone like Kuiil.  His good friend’s affinity towards children and his abilities as a versatile mechanic were incredibly useful when he was still alive, and while Mando wasn’t stupid enough to think those things came from the water here on Arvala-7, whatever trace amounts of it there were to be found in the air, he was… well, he was getting a bit desperate.

The kid was a fucking handful, always getting into trouble while he was out trying to hunt down bounties.  It would be irresponsible to take him with Mando, but it was also irresponsible to leave him in the ship by himself.  He couldn’t do both at the same time.  No matter how much he wanted to, he couldn’t continue to be this child’s caretaker and provider.  It just wasn’t physically possible.

He needed help.  But he had no idea where to look for it.  Kuiil was one of the only people to whom Mando ever extended an offer of partnership, one of the only people he ever trusted to look after his ship and his kid.  So, after a few weeks of unsuccessfully juggling the responsibilities of a single-parent/bounty hunter, Mando figured that if he needed to start somewhere, he should probably start at the very beginning.

He wasn’t expecting much of anything.  When he hid the sleeping kid in the stowaway cot on the ship and silently made his way across Kuiil’s land, he wasn’t expecting much of anything at all.  In fact, he kept inwardly scolding himself for even bothering.  He’d let the blurrgs out of the corral, try not to get immediately eaten by the starving beasts, and then probably just have to figure something else out in regards to the kid.  Sorgan, maybe?  There were some nice, trustworthy people there.  Maybe he could find one who’d entertain an offer of adventure.

If anyone pressed him about it, Mando supposes what he was expecting was an empty house.  Rabid blurrgs enclosed a few hundred feet away, either in the process of dying or already dead.  He even braced himself for the possibility of a dismal, scavenged scrap pile that those Maker-forsaken Jawas would leave behind if they decided to raid Kuiil’s farm while he was gone.

He… he absolutely was not expecting the sound of someone moving things around in the house.  A quiet voice murmuring unintelligibly to itself as pieces of scrap metal clanged carelessly against the floor.

Mando stepped around the corner.  And then he saw you.  Bent over, rummaging around in one of Kuiil’s spare junk bins.

And…

There.

That’s the moment.

That’s when he knew he wanted to fuck you.  Seeing you wave your ass in the air, completely oblivious to his presence as you continued rifling through Kuiil’s things.

Not very interesting, he said before.

The thought struck him a split-second before an immediate flare of anger at your blatant disregard for his friend’s memory.

His third emotion was his blaster in his hand.  That’s—admittedly, not really an emotion, but then maybe somebody should tell him why Mando sure as fuck seemed to feel it often enough.

“None of that shit is yours,” he remembers saying through the modulator, his voice rough from a day or so of disuse.  Your body snapped upright at the first word, hair pulled into a high ponytail and hands black and greasy as they immediately flew up into the air over your head, clutched tight around a few frayed wires.

“Oh shit, I wasn’t—”  You started to spin around, but you froze halfway through the process at the sound of Mando clicking off the safety of his blaster with his thumb.  Based off your positioning relative to one another and the way a sweaty tendril of your hair hung in front of your forehead, he could just barely catch a sliver of your face at this angle, but it was enough to see you try to look at him through the corner of your eye as best you could without lifting or turning your head.  “I was just here taking care of th—”

He wasn’t in the mood, and Kuiil deserved better.  Kuiil deserved better than a lot of fucking things Mando handed to him.  He deserved so much better than what happened to him, but no matter how much Mando wilted under the guilt of being the main reason Kuiil wasn’t here right now telling you to get your fucking hands off his personal belongings himself, he simply couldn’t change the past.  He could, however, right some wrongs right here and now.

“I can see how well you take care of things,” he grunted sharply, cutting you off.  “A good man dies and you think his shit is yours to scavenge?”

The wires immediately dropped from your hands and you whipped around entirely to look at him in the eye, disbelief and shock painting your expression.  “Kuiil is… d-dead?”

He… he wasn’t expecting that.

Okay… any of those things, really.

First, he wasn’t expecting you to be surprised, much less upset by the news.  Second, he wasn’t expecting you to know Kuiil’s name, or third, to move so rapidly and carelessly under a loaded blaster in response to his, in hindsight, incredibly cruel taunt.  Looking back, he wishes he made even a marginally better first impression with you, but as Mando quickly comes to learn, you’re too forgiving.  You never bring it up again.

Fourth, and notably, one of the things he remembers thinking most is how he wasn’t expecting you to well… look the way you did.

You were a young woman in the middle of this arid, fucking Jawa-infested desert and you somehow managed to look well-fed.  Vibrant, even.  Bright eyes, soft features, blinking up at him from under long lashes, plush lips parted and chin beginning to wobble like he just broke your fucking heart.

Pretty.  Grease smudged across your cheek bone, fingernails dirty, hair a complete mess.  Still.  Devastatingly pretty.

Fifth.  Strangely, and perhaps more jarring than anything else—Mando didn’t expect you to stare right into his eyes the very first time you looked at him.  Most people ended up focusing their gaze somewhere near his forehead, maybe even down to his nose on occasion.  You managed to hit him dead-on.  On the very first try.

Sixth.  He faltered.

Mando faltered under your stare, your words, your appearance.  He took way too long in responding.  He remembers watching your hands fall to your side in a shocked sort of dismay, and then he remembers silently holstering his blaster as you all but plopped down on the ground, right where you were, the stricken horror of realization painting your expression a hauntingly empty tabula rasa.

“Oh,” is all you said.

Over the next few hours, Mando learned a few things about you.  Some things you told him, other things he figured out.

Things you told him: You were one of Kuiil’s neighbors.  When you didn’t see him for a few days, you set up base here to keep things running smoothly, feed and take care of the blurrgs while he was gone.  You were waiting for him to come back.

Things he figured out:  You liked animals (even those stubborn overgrown creatures that look like they’re missing the middle-third of their body) and from the immediate softening of your expression upon catching sight of the bleary-eyed kid peeking his head around the doorway at some point, you liked children as well.  You were a moisture farmer like Kuiil, an occupation that required you to be a wide-ranged and skilled mechanic.  You lived alone and managed to stay relatively healthy in such an unwelcome environment, which meant you were hardworking and resourceful.  But the state of your clothing said you needed money.  And the way you looked at him told him you were lonely.

The last one was a shot in the dark, he’ll admit, but Mando has always been observant.  Your house had to have been a reasonable distance from Kuiil’s, just based on the sheer square acreage of his land alone.  Sometimes you tripped over your words, like it’d been just as long for you without speaking as it had been for him.

Admittedly, you were… quietly endearing to him.  In a way.  Soft spoken but sharp, capable yet entirely untested beyond this tiny little rock in the backskirts of the outer rim.  The kid liked you.  He had good instincts, and he smiled a toothy little grin every time you turned your attention to him, clearly finding the little one much easier to talk to than Mando.

And, he supposed, at the very end of the day, Kuiil apparently liked you.  Kuiil apparently trusted you.  And Mando… Mando very suddenly remembered someone—something else.  Something else Kuiil once trusted, and at that time, Mando sure as fuck didn’t.  He probably couldn’t have distrusted that fucking bounty/nanny droid more, and yet… Mando ultimately trusted Kuiil, and he ended up being completely right.  Mando was wrong, and Kuiil was right.

Weeks after he covered his body in rocks.  Weeks of silent overthinking, of the guilt of his friend’s death weighing heavier on his shoulders than any armor he’s ever worn.  Well.  Mando wasn’t about to start second-guessing him now.

Perhaps, the real question is why you ever agreed to join him when he casually offered.  A chance at adventure, at finally leaving Arvala-7?  The promise of good money, of not having to constantly worry about farming water from the atmosphere just to have a sip of it?  

To this day, he still has no fucking idea.  That’s probably something best to ask you.

Now.  The second question.

When Mando couldn’t deny his feelings any longer.

He… he feels like there’s something weird about phrasing it like that.  It’s probably better to ask about.  The turning point.  When everything either fell apart or came together, depending on how you want to look at it.  The split-second realization that shit had changed.  The exact moment when Mando knew he was well and truly fucked.

Before he starts, he should probably preface.

Mandalore isn’t known for their fine arts.

Anything creative he did as a foundling that wasn’t also inherently, at its core, strategic, wasn’t rewarded.  Ever.  His people have always been a militaristic people, and art is for peacetime.  Mandos aren’t known for their music, painting, or architecture.  Their specialty is smithing, combat, and depending on the clan, espionage.  Their symphonies are war chants.  Their murals are blood-streaked battlefields.  The last person he really remembers hearing sing, if only just for the love of it, was his father.

Maybe that’s why it originally took him so long to figure out what that fucking sound was.

He was in the pilot’s chair of the Crest, almost asleep at that point.  The door to the cockpit was shut tight, and last he checked, you were entertaining the little one in the hull.  After a few weeks with your company, he had come to expect certain things from you, if not based off the terms of the deal you two struck, then simply based off newly established precedent.

You took good care of the kid and fixed mechanics, yes, but you were also apparently a decent pilot.  You even took to the habit of cleaning the ship whenever Mando was gone.  That was never part of the agreement, but you did it anyways.  You were surprisingly helpful.  Sweet, in that regard.  Not difficult to be around, nor to work with.  And if he was being honest, you were just about the furthest thing from difficult to look at.

But mostly, you were quiet.  In general.  The record for the longest conversation ever occurring between the two of you was still held by your very first introduction.  As a quiet person himself, Mando had grown accustomed to the average individual’s insatiable need to fill the silence for him, talk his ear off out of nervousness, discomfort, or an annoying combination of the two.  In contrast, and like him, you barely said a word unless it was necessary.  It made for a peaceful journey around the galaxy, if ever a silent one.

Even more surprising, you were usually very good about keeping the noise down even with a small child in tow, and excelling where Mando failed (mainly, stopping the tears before they evolved into screeching sobs).  Because of that, the unfamiliar sound he could just barely hear from his place in the ship was that much more intriguing to him.  It was audible through hyperspace, through a metal door, and through sound-absorbent beskar.  So quiet, but loud enough for him to wonder what its source was.

He remembers standing up and slowly walking over to the door, straining his ears and listening to the volume marginally increase, but not by much.  Just to the point where he could finally place it, though it took him far longer than it should’ve even considering the situation.

A gentle melody.  Humming.  Sweetly reverberating throughout the ship despite its deadened acoustics, when Mando didn’t think he’d heard a song in years.

He must’ve stayed like that for a few minutes at least, just standing statuesquely in front of the door leading to the hull.  Either… either you were singing to his son, or you were singing just because you felt like it.  Somehow, each one of those possibilities managed to move him more than the last.

Only it was still too quiet to truly hear.  There were still just too many pieces of metal separating him from you.

So, at that point, he had two choices.

Well, three.  Mando had three choices.  He could always just fuck off and go back to the pilot’s seat, up the noise cancellation setting on his helmet just slightly and try to pass the fuck out, but that wasn’t… realistic.

So he had two viable choices.  Each one came with its own set of problems.

One, he could press a button on the panel and open the door.  Potential problems included the noise it would make while shifting to the side, and the ability for you to catch him eavesdropping if you happened to be standing right under the ladder to the cockpit.  Statistically, the prior was much more plausible.  If it happened, and it was very likely to happen, you’d stop singing and the ship would be silent.  Once again.  Like always.

Two, he could.  He could… take his helmet off.  But—

—But here was the thing about that.  Mando hated doing it.  Even when he had to take it off to eat, he hated doing it.  And not because of the reason most people would probably expect.  It wasn’t because he felt uncomfortable or exposed without it, even when barricaded inside an enclosed space like this by himself.  It wasn’t because he felt guilty about it, either.  Technically, he would probably be violating his oath by removing it unless absolutely unnecessary—eating, for example, or bathing, or about to bleed out and die from a head wound, etc—but Mando probably couldn’t have given less of a shit about the details.  He was always more of a big-picture person.

No, the reason he hated doing it was because… well, because of how much he really fucking loved doing it.

When he was younger, he’d always looked forward to any excuse to breathe fresh air.  He’d drag out his meals for as long as he reasonably could, trying to memorize the way everything looked without a digital interface shielding his eyes.  He used to have absolutely impeccable grooming habits, really taking his time shaving his face and deep cleaning the beskar and filter every single day.

That… that only lasted a few years.

Eventually, it became harder and harder to put the damn thing back on again.  Only, he had to.  This was his life.  After a handful of decades, taking the helmet off became less about savoring the moments without it and more about just prolonging the inevitable.  Making it that much more difficult to accept.  If you knew you were going to starve, would you want a full course buffet in front of you the entire time?  Let the visuals of everything you could never have, the aromas torment you until your very last breath?  The blissful temptation started to eat away at him, until eventually he just grew to dread taking it off altogether.

Eventually, those few moments of relief from the torture of wearing it just became the worst torture of all.

It was easier keeping it on.  Physically, emotionally, whatever.  His body would acclimate to the metal and padding wrapped tight around his skull, and some days he happily forced down the growling in his stomach and skipped meals altogether.  He hated taking it off.  He hated the fresh air.  He slept in the helmet.  When he had to, he scarfed down his food.  He learned how to eat with his eyes closed.

So.  To reiterate, Mando had two choices.

One.  Run the incredibly high risk of you stopping entirely.  

Two.  Do the thing he arguably hated doing more than anything else in this galaxy.

He silently turned and pressed his back against the closed door, sliding down to the ground and weighing his options.  Technically this was a non-problem.  Technically he was just making things difficult for himself.  He could always just say fuck it and mind his own damn business.  He could always just… he could…

He—

He took the helmet off.

He cradled the beskar between his knees and stared down at the visor as it glared judgmentally back up at him, his spine resting against the closed door and listening to your soft humming for as long as you felt like doing it.

And…

There.

That’s the moment Mando knew he was fucked.

That’s the moment the countdown started.  From that point on, it became only a matter when he’d give in, not if.  Before, he could at least pretend everything was fine.  Before, he could at least tell himself with reasonable certainty that while he genuinely liked you as a person, he’d never push your relationship past the point of quiet, yet friendly, business acquaintances.

But that was the moment Mando knew he was full of shit.  That sooner or later, there’d come a point, a shift, when his resolve would eventually snap.  And like his kid and the ship, he’d let himself get taken care of by you, too.

He didn’t know how long it would take, or the catalyst that would set everything off.  It could be anything.  A close brush with death.  A soft, much needed touch.

Fuck, even just a really rough day.

[quickspinner]

Snake in the Silk

Written for the @lovebugs-and-snakecharmers Sprint Challenge, using the @mlweeklyprompts Next Door Neighbors. The fic is supposed to be 45 minutes plus "editing," but I kind of doubled the length in editing, so...oops.

I received a lot of prompts for my 500 follower celebration that I never used (although I did end up writing a surprising number of them eventually, when I looked at the list), and I was sharing them with the sprint server as possible future prompts. One of them involved Luka getting an exotic pet, which collided with the neighbors thing in my brain, and thus this fic was born.

As always the irrepressible Dingo King belongs to Verfound, who's kind enough to let me use him.

Rated T, mostly for innuendo and language 

Find it on AO3

“I hate you,” Luka fumed, keeping the phone pressed to his face as he kicked his door shut behind him. “I hate you so much right now.”

“Not true,” Dingo said cheerfully over the phone.

“I’m serious, you jackass, I can’t trust you with anything!” Luka threw his bag in the corner with probably more force than he should have, and then winced. He set his guitar case down more carefully. 

“Also not true,” Dingo said, a little sheepishly this time. “Buuuuuuut I’ll grant that maybe you shouldn’t have trusted me with this.”

“I didn’t have a choice,” Luka snapped as he stomped through his apartment. “Juleka was with me, and Evan’s a freaking pansy, and—” Luka stopped dead and sighed as he stared at the empty cabinet—the cabinet he had personally, carefully refurbished and remodeled to be as escape-proof as possible. Not that any of that did any good, with the door sitting ajar. Luka swore and only barely resisted the urge to kick something. “If anything happens to him,” Luka warned his best friend, “I will murder you, do you hear me?” 

“Fair,” Dingo sighed. “Look, Lu, I seriously am sorry, and I would never have left except I had to work, and as soon as I can find an excuse to bail I’ll—”

“No,” Luka gritted out. “No, it won’t matter if you’re here or not. Don’t lose your job over it. I’ll figure something out.” 

“It’ll work out, Lu. That stupid snake adores you, he won’t stay gone for long.”  

Luka made a frustrated noise in the back of his throat and grit his teeth around the things he wanted to say. “I gotta go,” he finally managed to grind out. “I’ll deal with you later.”

“Right.” Dingo laughed nervously. “I’ll bring takeout and beer and then we’ll turn your place upside down looking for the little bugger.” 

Luka hung up without saying anything else, and jammed his phone in his pocket. He put his face in his hands and screamed quietly, then dragged his hands down his face and surveyed the empty enclosure again—as if Sass were just going to show up and slither right up his favorite branch and flick his tongue out like ‘Sup . 

Okay, he needed to think. It wasn’t the first time Sass had taken a little pleasure jaunt. Think. How many places could a four-foot corn snake find to hide in a small apartment like this? Luka didn’t even have that much stuff, so he shouldn’t be that hard to find.

If he was even still in the apartment. Luka swallowed hard. That had never been much of a worry on the Liberty, since while there were about a billion little crannies that a snake could crawl into, most of them were unpleasant for a cold-blooded reptile, and at least he couldn’t escape the ship entirely. But here, who knew? And this was the first time he’d escaped since Luka had moved into the apartment, so Luka didn’t know what his favorite places were likely to be, and— 

And standing here panicking was not doing anything to find his beloved pet. For all that Sass was a little shit of an escape artist, Luka had raised him for years and he loved the quirky little snake and his stupid little snakey face with those bright black eyes and— 

“Come on, Sass,” Luka muttered, looking around helplessly. “Don’t do this to me.”

Okay. First things first. Luka swung the front of the cabinet open wide, so that if Sass did decide he preferred his (very comfortable, Luka thought with a little pout, he had done a lot of work to make sure it was) home to whatever random, dusty corner he’d managed to find, he could get back in. Probably if nothing else, Sass would come back when he was hungry, if…

Luka sighed, and took Sass’s little pool out of the bottom of the enclosure to dump it out and refill it with fresh water. He made sure the heating mat was at the right temperature, and checked under the substrate and poked around among the various hides—damnit, he’d worked so hard to make this habitat, and that stupid, ungrateful little—

A muffled but clearly audible scream broke into his thoughts, and Luka froze. There was a second, yelping shriek— from the apartment next door, he suddenly realized, and he ran for his apartment door, knocking over his guitar case in his haste to get it opened. 

He’d barely had time to turn from his door to the next door down when it burst open and a young woman stumbled out of it, eyes wide in panic. She collided with Luka and he grabbed her arms on instinct. 

“Are you okay?” he asked stupidly, as she looked up at him. 

“I—there was—” she panted, clearly still panicked. “A snake in my panties!” 

Luka stared at her for a moment, uncomprehending as he took in big blue eyes, pink cheeks, and a soft mouth that was opening and closing without saying anything, and then she balled her hands into fists and closed her eyes and shrieked, “There’s a huge snake in my underwear drawer!” 

Understanding hit him like a lightning bolt. “Oh thank God,” Luka sighed, and the young woman gaped at him as he moved her aside and went into her apartment. 

“Wait, what are you—” she spluttered. “Where are you going? Hey!” 

Luka halted about four steps into the apartment, abruptly realizing that he didn’t know where he was going, and she crashed into his back in her rush to follow him.

  “Sorry,” Luka said, turning and holding his hands up placatingly. “Sorry, it’s just—my friend was watching my flat, and he let my pet snake out and I’ve been frantic to—find...him…” It struck him all at once that the young woman currently staring at him had wet black hair hanging around her shoulders, and a red and black polka-dotted silk robe wrapped haphazardly around her very nice body. It was still sticking to her in places and he suddenly felt like his tongue was glued to the roof of his mouth.

“That thing is yours?” she demanded, pushing her wet hair back and gripping her robe more tightly closed with the other hand. “I don’t know whether I’m mad at you or just relieved the whole building isn’t...infested or something.” She looked around nervously. “So there’s no more? Just the one?”  

“No,” Luka laughed, burying the fingers of one hand in his hair. “No, no, no infestation, just one irresponsible best friend and my freaking Houdini-wanna-be pet snake. I’m so, so sorry he scared you, but if you show me where he is, I’ll get him out of here and you can get—uh, get on with your day, um….Miss.” 

“Marinette,” she sighed, tugging the robe around herself a little self-consciously, her cheeks turning an attractive pink. Shit, she was cute, and this was really awkward. Ugh, Luka was going to kill Dingo, and maybe Sass too for good measure. 

“Luka,” he said, offering his hand. “I live next door and I promise I don’t let my snake out all willy-nilly.” 

Marinette snorted and covered her mouth with one hand as Luka blinked at her, feeling his face slowly turning red. “I can’t believe I just said that,” he muttered under his breath, and Marinette laughed aloud.  

“Come on,” she giggled. “This way. Um, watch your step...I’m still getting unpacked and all and...okay that’s a lie, it’s always this messy, but it’s organized, I swear—”

“Hey, I’m not gonna judge your housekeeping choices, trust me,” Luka told her absently as he followed her down the short hall. “I don’t think I’m in any position to judge you at all, given the situation. Even if I did that kind of thing. Judge people, I mean. I—I don’t, or I try not to, at least—” He paused and took a deep breath, trying not to let it out as a frustrated sigh.   

Marinette pushed open a door and edged into the room—her bedroom, it was immediately obvious. She stayed pressed up against the wall. “It’s, um, over there,” she said, pointing to a pink and black chest of drawers, the top drawer of which was hanging open. “I just opened the drawer and there it was and I—” She fluttered her hands. 

Luka went over to the drawer and surveyed the contents. “I don’t see him,” he sighed. 

“What?” Marinette’s voice jumped several octaves. 

“It’s okay, he probably just—” Luka reached out, and stopped just before he touched anything, hand hovering over the rumpled pile of silk and lace in the drawer.  “Uh…” Luka looked back at Marinette. “I mean, do you mind if I…” he gestured weekly at the drawer full of underthings. “See if he’s underneath this stuff?” 

“Oh,” Marinette blushed again, but waved a dismissive hand, shifting nervously. “Go ahead. Do what you need to do. I just want you to find it.” She cracked a small smile. “Thanks for checking, though.”  

“Sure,” Luka grunted, carefully lifting a pair of lace edge panties from the top of what had probably been a neat pile before Sass decided to rummage it into a nest. He shifted things aside carefully, trying not to look too hard at any of it. “Come on, you little shit,” he muttered. “You’re killing me here.” 

“Um, could you actually, uh...maybe hand me a pair of those?” Marinette said, and Luka glanced back at her in some surprise. She was still pressed back against the wall and her face was red again, and she was clutching her robe tight around her, fingering her wet hair as she fidgeted— oh . 

“Oh, yeah, uh...any particular...color?” he asked weakly. She seemed like the kind of girl who liked to match. Which was such a weird thing to be thinking right now. He was definitely going to kill Dingo. Slowly . Maybe feed important bits of him to Sass before he murdered his beloved pet, too. 

“Anything’s fine,” Marinette replied, with a slightly hysterical sounding laugh. 

Luka lifted another pair, trying not to think too hard about which pair he grabbed and what it might say about him. He tossed the panties to her, and then quickly turned back to the drawer.

“I’m just gonna step outside for a minute,” Marinette muttered, and Luka swallowed as he heard her bare feet pad away. 

“This is the weirdest fucking day,” he muttered under his breath, carefully moving more underthings aside and trying not too hard to think about what other kinds of things a lady might keep in her underwear drawer. Ugh, why did the damn drawer have to be so deep—wait, was that—

Luka picked up a distractingly pretty blue pair decorated with black ribbons, and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the familiar tip of Sass’s tail sticking out. “Got you, you little shit.” 

“You found him?” Marinette said behind him, and Luka jumped. She was wearing shorts and a t-shirt now, and she’d pulled her wet hair back into a ponytail. She stood on tiptoe to look around him, though she still kept back behind him. 

“Yeah, now I just have to get around to his head and get him out without spooking him,” Luka said, reaching into the drawer again. “The last thing I want is him musking all over your things because I grabbed him too quickly and startled him.” 

Marinette wrinkled her nose. “I don’t know what that means, but it sounds gross.” 

“Trust me, it is,” Luka said, removing another pair of Marinette’s underwear and adding it to the pile he’d been making on top of the dresser. “I am really, really sorry about this. I shouldn’t have trusted Ding—my friend. He’s got a good heart but he’s a little loose on details.” In the drawer, Sass shifted, and lifted his head, tongue flicking out curiously, a pair of teal, scale-patterned panties draped over his head. Luka bit back a laugh. “Hey, buddy,” he murmured, moving his fingers near Sass. Sass’s tongue flickered once, and then again, scenting, and then he moved forward, sliding out from under the pile of panties to glide onto Luka’s hand. “There we go.” Luka brought his other hand forward to move under Sass’s body, and finally, carefully, lifted the pile of snake out of Marinette’s underwear drawer. Far from looking stressed, Sass seemed as relaxed and laid back as ever, gathering his nearly four-foot length into Luka’s hands like nothing was amiss. It kind of made Luka want to shake him, but that would have been really dumb, so he didn’t. He sighed with relief instead, feeling his shoulders go slack as Sass poked his head up towards Luka’s elbow. 

“I wasn’t imagining it,” Marinette murmured, keeping behind him, but still leaning on his arm to peep curiously around him at Sass. “He really was that big.” 

“He’s pretty near his full growth,” Luka agreed, and lifted Sass up to eye level. “Which is why I built you that nice, big habitat and made it so comfortable, so that you had room to be you. I can’t believe you just bailed on it.” Sass swayed forward, bumping his snout against Luka’s face. “Yeah, it’s me, you little dummy.” 

“Does he bite?” Marinette asked, and Luka snorted softly, moving his hands to keep the snake supported as Sass began to slither up his arm. 

“Not usually. Sometimes he bites me just to make a point, but not enough to hurt,” Luka told her, “For the most part he’s well socialized, and friendly. Really, he’s harmless to anything much bigger than a rat. I promise, you were never in any danger from him. I’m sorry he gave you such a scare, though.”

“Can I...can I touch him?” Marinette asked, as Sass slithered across Luka’s shoulder and extended his head out a bit, tongue flickering. Luka grinned at her.

“Yeah, sure. Here, let’s just...” He backed up a step and sat down on the edge of Marinette’s bed, then reached up and took Sass off his shoulders to gather him between his hands again. Apparently no longer inclined to stay put after his little panty-nest nap, Sass began to slide up his arm again as Marinette set down next to him. She reached out a tentative finger to stroke Sass’s body as the snake moved up towards Luka’s shoulder. “Oooh, that’s so weird,” she said, but she was grinning, and Luka chuckled. 

“I’ve had him since he was a baby about the size of my hand,” Luka told her, closing one eye as Sass poked his snout into Luka’s cheek. “I was freaking out, thinking that I’d lost him. I’m sorry we interrupted your day, but I’m grateful you found him, and didn’t hurt him.” 

“Hurt him ,” Marinette laughed. “ He just about gave me a heart attack. I just moved in, you know, and—well, I’d seen a mouse a couple of times so I was already a bit jumpy, and then I saw that and suddenly I was sure the whole place was crawling with pests. Which was maybe a dumb thing to think, but I...it’s my first time living on my own and I guess I’m a little paranoid.” She shrank a little, reaching up to tug at her still-dripping ponytail. 

“I don’t think there’s any reasonable reaction to finding a snake in your...er, unmentionables.” Luka coughed as Marinette snickered.

“Unmentionables,” she snickered. “You sound like an old man.” 

Luka laughed with her, only a little self-consciously. “I, um... don’t think you’re going to have a mouse problem anymore,” he commented, stroking a swollen place in Sass’s belly. “I guess that’s why Sass ended up here. He probably smelled it.”

Marinette eyed the lump in Sass’s otherwise sleek form with a conflicted expression, but she only sighed. 

“If it’s any consolation, I’ve been here a few months and I haven’t had any pest problems,” Luka continued.

“I don’t guess you would,” Marinette laughed, looking at Sass. “They can probably smell him and stay away. Maybe I should borrow him sometimes.”

“Well, clearly I could use a better babysitter,” Luka chuckled. “So if you’re interested, we can definitely work something out.” He turned his head to look at Sass, who was draped along his shoulders again. “No more hunting, though. That mouse could have messed you up, you little jerk.”

Sass yawned, tongue flickering, and then stuck his head down the collar of Luka’s shirt. Luka rolled his eyes. “I should let you get back to your day,” he said, standing up. “And I should get this guy back into his cage.” Sass slid further into Luka’s shirt, and then reversed course, his head peeping back out. “What are you even doing right now?” Luka asked him. “Missing your heat rock?” 

Marinette giggled. “He’s kind of cute, actually. He’s very pretty, with those markings...wait, is that him?” She caught the edge of Luka’s sleeve, lifting it slightly to reveal the top of the tattoo on his upper arm. 

“Yeah,” Luka grinned, shifting so she could see it better. “I love that one. They made him look amazing.” 

“They really did,” Marinette said admiringly, and then her eyes widened slightly and she dropped his sleeve, moving back as her face reddened. “Um, sorry.” 

“No worries,” Luka chuckled. She was really adorable, and sweet when she wasn’t screaming. She’d certainly warmed up to Sass quick enough, too, so he gave her points for courage and open-mindedness. 

“Well, it was very nice to meet you, Sass,” Marinette said to the snake, bending down slightly to be eye to eye with him. “Next time I’d appreciate it if you’d wait for an invitation, though.” 

Sass slid up and away from Luka, stretching out toward Marinette as if planning to explore her shoulders next, but Luka put a hand under him and lifted away. “None of that, Casanova,” he told the snake, redirecting Sass back to his own shoulder. “Let’s get you home.” 

Marinette walked them to the door, and when she opened it, Luka paused on the doorstep. “Um, thanks again for being so understanding,” he said, trying not to stare at her too intently. “I’m glad to have met you, Marinette. If you ever need anything, well.” He gestured vaguely. “I’m right next door, and I owe you.” 

Marinette smiled at him, pink tinging her cheeks, and his stomach did a little flip. “Thanks, Luka. I’m glad to meet you too. I’m sure I’ll see you around.” 

“Yeah, definitely,” Luka smiled back, and then practically fled back to his own door. “See you.” 

She gave him a little wave before closing her door, and he was grinning widely when he opened his own. 

He took Sass straight back to his enclosure, and Sass eagerly slid from his hands, beelining for his favorite warming spot. “I’m really mad at you,” Luka told him. “I was worried. I’m definitely still killing Dingo.” He couldn’t keep his face stern, though, a smile twitching his mouth. “I might owe you big time, though. That was a hell of an icebreaker.” Luka sighed, and shut the enclosure, making sure it was securely latched. 

He went back to the door where he’d dumped his bags, and picked up his guitar case, leaving the suitcases where they were for now. He got out his guitar and settled down on the couch with a sigh. 

He lost track of how long he’d sat there, playing a soft tune that reminded him of blue eyes and giggles and silk. When his phone buzzed in his pocket and brought him back to himself, he could see sunset colors through the window. 

“Oi, mate,” Dingo said when Luka picked up the phone. “I finally escaped—ooh, poor choice of words...I mean I’m off work now. I’ll grab some takeout and meet you at your place so we can—”

“I found him,” Luka interrupted, wincing a little. He probably should have texted Dingo hours ago to let him know. 

Oh well, the bastard deserved it.

“You did?” Dingo repeated, obviously relieved. “Yes. Good. Okay. Welp, cancel that then—”

“Oh, no,” Luka interrupted him. “You’re not getting out of bringing me dinner. I still need to kick your ass.”

“Not exactly incentivizing, mate.” Dingo sighed. “You want your usual?’ 

“Actually,” Luka said, thinking fast. “I’ll text you my order in a minute.” He hung up before Dingo could protest, stuck his phone in his pocket, and went out the front door.

“This is stupid,” he muttered to himself, rubbing his palms on his jeans before he knocked on Marinette’s door. 

She opened the door and her curious expression morphed into a smile. “Luka.” She was fully dressed now and made up to boot, and just as cute as he remembered. 

“Hey,” he managed to get out, and hoped his smile didn’t look too manic. “Um, my asshole best friend is bringing me takeout to make up for being a dummy, and I’d really like to buy you dinner to make up for earlier.” 

“Oh,” Marinette’s expression shifted into uncertainty, and she bit her lip. “I’d hate to intrude…” 

“If you’d rather, I can just bring your food over when it gets here,” Luka offered. “But you definitely wouldn’t be intruding, I’d love for you to join us. Totally your call, though. You don’t even have to decide now. Do you like Thai?” He pulled out his phone to show her the menu.

“I love Thai,” she admitted shyly, taking the phone he offered her. “Um...but you really don’t have to…” 

“I want to,” he told her sincerely, and the smile she turned up at him made his heart rate kick up a few beats. 

“Okay,” she said, and he nearly stopped breathing as she pulled up his contacts. “How about I just add my number and you can text me when he gets here, and...I’ll come over for a little bit, if you guys really don’t mind.”

“Y-yes, yeah, definitely, go ahead,” he said quickly. 

Smiling to herself, Marinette did just that, and then sent herself a text before she handed him back the phone. “I’ll text you my order, it’s a little complicated,” she told him, “and then I guess I’ll see you in a little bit.” 

“Yeah,” Luka smiled at her. “Looking forward to it. I’ll text you in a bit.” 

He managed to make it back into his own apartment without cracking, and then he had a (very quiet, since she was still next door) freakout in his living room as he texted Dingo both of their orders and hit send. He found himself in front of Sass’s cage, trying to slow his pulse with some deep breathing. Sass was looking right through the glass at him, and if Luka didn’t know better, he’d have thought the little bastard looked smug. 

“I’m still mad at you,” Luka insisted, but the grin splitting his face probably wasn’t very convincing. “Don’t look at me like that.” He sighed. “Dingo’s never going to let me hear the end of this. If she’ll even speak to me ever again after she meets him.” 

Well. That was a problem for future Luka. Present Luka just got the number for the hot girl next door, and she thought his snake was cute, and—

“Yeah, this dinner with Dingo is going to be a disaster,” he laughed helplessly, flinging himself down on the couch.