#tiny wooden robot fics

[tiny-wooden-robot-fics]

Bloom

Rating: G Media: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan Pairing: Levi Ackerman x Original Female Character Characters: Levi Ackerman, Amelia Martin (Original Female Character of Color) Additional tags: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafes, Fluff, Slice of Life, Domestic Fluff

Summary:

Watching Levi brew coffee is one of Lia’s favorite things to do. If she’s being honest with herself, she will admit that watching Levi do anything is one of her favorite things to do, but the care he takes when making coffee is very high on the list.

She has often wondered if that attention to his craft is a skill he’s honed over his years of running a cafe, or if it was something that simply came naturally to him and serves him well in his current occupation. She makes a note to ask him later, when he’s not wholly concentrated on what he’s doing.

Part 2 of Rhythm of the Rain Part 1: A Break in the Rain

Read it on AO3

“Were you having a nightmare?”

They are the first words she hears upon waking. He speaks to her in a hushed whisper, the kind he always uses early in the morning. There’s something reverent in the gentle way he speaks, as if he’s reluctant to disturb the peace of the day when it’s only just begun. He’s turned the lamp near the bedside on, giving her soft yellow light to see him by. 

She takes a moment to collect herself. Breathe in, breathe out. Feel the rise and fall of your chest, proof that you’re alive. Feel the warmth of his skin on yours, his scent, the closeness of his embrace. You’re here Lia, and you’re alive.  

“I’m sorry,” she offers quietly. “Did I wake you?”

Levi looks at her, his gray eyes still heavy with sleep. “If I tell you no, you’re not going to believe me,” he starts. There’s the ghost of a smile on his lips. “But if I tell you yes, you’ll spend all day feeling guilty about it.”

She shifts in his arms, drawing closer to him. “I was dreaming about the past,” she tells him after a moment.

“You wanna talk about it?” His offer is gentle, and there is no pressure behind his words. Lia knows that he’s willing to listen if she decides she wants to talk about it, but will just as readily accept it if she doesn’t. 

“Thank you,” Lia murmurs, her gratitude sincere. “But I don't think I need to. It’s… waking up and reassuring myself of today’s reality is good enough.” 

He offers her another smile, and it reminds Lia that it is a sight she gets to see more often than most people. “Today’s reality,” Levi repeats. “You mean being stuck with a cranky cafe owner?”

“Yes,” she answers without hesitation. “A cranky cafe owner whom I love.” 

This time, he scoffs.

In the silence that follows, Lia notices the pitter patter of rain against the windows. “I wonder if it stormed through the night.” 

“It rained for a long time after you went to sleep.” He presses a kiss to her temple. “You must’ve been tired - I thought for sure the sound of thunder would wake you.” 

It amuses Lia, the constant theme of rain that has followed her since meeting him. It was rain that drove her into his cafe seeking shelter the day she met him; she’d been caught in a storm walking home from work. The downpour had lasted for hours, prompting her to stay in his cafe and presenting her with the opportunity to spend time getting to know him. 

“I was hoping it would have stopped by now.” One look over at the clock on the nightstand informs her that it’s just past five a.m. “We’ll have to cancel our plans at this rate - even if it stops raining in time, the ground will be all wet after a night full of rain.” 

He pulls her closer. “Would canceling our plans really be such a bad thing?”

“Well… we’ve both been looking forward to this day trip for months,” Lia points out. 

“True,” Levi concedes, “but it’s not like we couldn’t plan it again for another day.” 

He’s right, she knows - both the nursery and Levi’s cafe are closed on Sundays. She’d been surprised to find the latter out. 

“Wouldn’t Sundays be the day you’d get most of your customers?” She’d asked after he’d told her. 

“Not like you’d think,” he’d shrugged. “People go out on Saturdays - they run their errands and buy coffee and tea while they’re out. But on Sundays, people tend to stay in. They make their coffee and tea at home.”

Once he’d explained it to her, it had made perfect sense. She’d felt stupid for asking something that seemed obvious. When she’d pointed it out, he’d simply waved a hand dismissively and said, “Nobody can know everything.” 

“What would we do instead?” Lia asks now, her eyes on him. 

“Anything you want,” Levi replies. “Lounge around in our pajamas, make breakfast together… work our way through some of the shows in our queue.”

She has to admit that it all sounds heavenly - much more preferable than hiking up the side of a mountain in the rain - and so she does. “I’d like that.” 

--

Watching Levi brew coffee is one of Lia’s favorite things to do. If she’s being honest with herself, she will admit that watching Levi do anything is one of her favorite things to do, but the care he takes when making coffee is very high on the list. 

She has often wondered if that attention to his craft is a skill he’s honed over his years of running a cafe, or if it was something that simply came naturally to him and serves him well in his current occupation. She makes a note to ask him later, when he’s not wholly concentrated on what he’s doing. 

When he sets her mug in front of her, she hunches over and breathes in deeply, savoring the smell of the roast. He sets a tiny stainless steel pitcher down, its sides wet with condensation from being chilled in the refrigerator. “Half and half?” He asks, sparing her a brief glance before going back to pouring coffee into his own mug.

“Just a little,” Lia says with a smile. “I’m discovering that if the coffee is truly good, it doesn’t really need anything in it.” 

He raises an eyebrow. “Are you saying my coffee is truly good?”

“You know that it is,” she laughs, pouring just a few drops of half and half into her mug and stirring it with the spoon he’s provided. “I will never drink anyone else’s, not even my own.” 

“That’s a little extreme, isn’t it?” 

“Maybe it is, but I mean it.” 

--

Wordlessly, Levi grabs the box of tissues from the end table and passes it over to her. 

“I’m sorry,” she sniffles.

“What are you sorry for?” 

She sniffles again, this time taking a moment to wipe her eyes before speaking. “It’s just a stupid tv show. I don’t know why I’m crying.” 

Levi lets out a sigh. “I’ll tell you this as many times as you need to hear it,” he starts, his voice gentle, “but you don’t have to apologize to me for being who you are.” He turns to face her full on, reaching out and pulling her close to him. “If a tv show makes you cry, so what? It means it touched you… means you could relate to whatever thing happened to make you cry. I don’t think that’s something you should feel like you need to apologize for. Not to me, or anyone else.” He looks closely at her, his eyes meeting hers somberly. “Understand?” 

Lia hesitates. 

“Look,” he goes on, “I know some habits are really hard to break, and I know there were things that happened before I came along that are responsible for those habits. I know about some of them, and I’d like to learn about the rest of them  if you’ll let me. But in the meantime, I need you to know that you don’t owe me any of the things you think you might. All I want is for you to feel like you can be who you are when you’re spending time with me.” 

She absorbs his words with a slow nod. “Thank you,” she says, after a moment. 

“No thanks necessary,” he responds, and she can tell he means it. 

--

To be loved is to be changed.

Lia has heard the quote often in her lifetime, and whenever she thought of it, it was always with a negative connotation. 

It has not taken long for her to feel herself changing, but not in the negative way she thought she would.  

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Levi asks quietly, after watching her expression change. As it was early this morning, his tone now is gentle, conveying no pressure either way. 

The storm that has been raging all day is still going. The rain hits the windows in a steady drum, adding a layer of background noise to the otherwise quiet bedroom.

This time, Lia decides to tell him her thoughts. “I… I’m not lonely anymore,” she starts, surprising herself with the words. It isn’t at all what she thought she’d say, but she wonders if the words are proof of what’s in her heart. 

“Lonely?” Puzzled, he looks at her. “You mean, you were lonely before we got together?” 

“No,” she says, shaking her head. Then, “Ah, that’s not exactly what I mean,” she amends. “Yes, it’s true that I was a little lonely before we got together. But there have been times when I’ve been lonely before, even when I was with someone else.” She shifts onto her side to face him more fully. “I spent a lot of my life feeling like I was just… all wrong. That there was no one I was made for.” 

He’s watching her, saying nothing, but his eyes encourage her to continue. 

“I don’t know if you ever felt that way,” Lia goes on. “It’s not that I was looking for ‘The One’ or ‘Mr. Right’ or ‘Mr. Perfect.’ I’m aware enough to know that those things don’t really exist - not in the world we live in. Soulmates aren’t fated the way they are in fairytales. I know that loving someone and being with them is something you choose every day of your life, and you have to work for it in order to keep showing that you’ve chosen them. 

“They have to choose you too,” she continues, lowering her eyes. “They have to feel like they can choose you. And even if you both choose each other, sometimes…” She pauses to inhale, considering how to express her thoughts properly. “Sometimes even if you both choose each other, you’re still wrong for one another. And I think that I’ve never really felt like I was right for anyone. I kept choosing and choosing, but it was always wrong.” 

Levi seems to consider her words, turning them over in his mind. Finally, he speaks. “And what about me? Do you feel like you’re wrong for me?” 

“I hope not,” she answers, her voice low. “You don’t make me feel that way.” 

He offers her a smile, and it’s probably the softest smile she’s ever seen on him. “I’m glad,” he says, his voice just as hushed as hers. 

His words aren’t thoughtless - she knows there are things in his past, demons he struggles with. Just like the things in her past, they have shaped the person he is. She knows that there may come a day when he tells her about them, just as she may eventually share her own demons. 

When he pulls her closer, she curls into him willingly. They stay that way for a moment, both silent and pondering their respective thoughts, listening to the rain outside. 

“The hike would’ve been a bust,” Levi says finally, amusement in his tone. 

It makes her laugh a little. “Yeah, I think so, too.” She pauses. “And I liked the day we spent together much better than hiking in the rain.”

~Fin~

Part 3: Seasons of Rain and Sun

[writingwhimsey]

Smut is In the Air!- A Whimsey Event

So, I came across this smutty one liners prompt list and I have decided to make a little event for it (no reason other than I am feeling in the mood to write some smut stories and it's springtime...mating season).

Rules:

Select one of the prompts from the list (linked above).

Select a suitor from the following:

ikesen:

Nobunaga, Hideyoshi, Mitsuhide, Masamune, Ieyasu, Mitsunari, Keiji, Motonari, Kennyo, Kenshin, Shingen, Sasuke, Yukimura

ikevamp:

Comte, Leonardo, Napoleon, Mozart, Arthur, Vincent, Theo, Jean, Vlad, Faust, Charles

Ikepri:

Leon, Jin, Chevalier, Clavis

Let me know the level of spice you would like your fic (if you would prefer straight smut or something more suggestive). Most importantly have fun!

Taglist (and a few others who might be interested): @zulablaise @kisara-16 @atinyliliflower @limonzu @tele86 @selenacosmic @tiny-wooden-robot @venulus

[axyer]

Imminent Sunrise

Lost at Sea (CCCC AU) story, seventeen-hundred and twenty-one (1.721) words

A simple no stakes fluff fic where Heart and Mind talk on a rooftop and Soul stops by to reminisce.

WARNING: Canon-divergence up ahead!

(Read it on AO3! https://archiveofourown.org/works/53570137)

“(Where do we go when we die?)”

A soft layer of a muted magenta hued the horizon.

A duo of unsightly beings seated themselves at the oak brim of a tall building, tired eyes swallowing the large sight of extending ocean.

“[I feel like you ask me this at least three times every month.]”

Consumed cans of strong beverages lay awkwardly compressed, if not slightly destroyed, occasionally set into a roll by the seaside wind.

Cool dew began to appear on neighbouring plant life; quiet water sifted and shuffled atop itself and crumpled at the shore, far below their point in the sky.

“(Yeah, but I mean… Have we ever came to a solid conclusion?)” Heart asked, finger wrapped around the open side of another can. “(Reincarnation, afterlife, oblivion… do we really know, mate?)”

“[We don't, there. Will that put you to rest?]” The robotic id ruffled the other’s fluffy violet hair.

The Sun at once begun to march up the quiet distance.

A dangling blue light hung from Mind’s esca; a luminescent white eye watching.

“(I don't think so. Sometimes I wonder if you and me have had lots of previous lives, each where we were strange, out-of-place beings with no ties to the nature of this world. Or sometimes I wonder if we’re both angels, anchored to this reality without a trace of our memories until we can prove ourselves…)”

“[…Or maybe we’re just really strange animals that bear no difference to the fauna among us, and we just put ourselves on a pedestal for being supernatural.]”

Mind swallowed a sip of hardy flavour; a fine twinge of pine-like water added to his mouth.

“(You’re boring, you know that?)” Heart said, shoving his brother.

“[Watch it, I wouldn't survive a fall at this height.]” Mind smirked, steadying himself.

The waking cries of gulls had sliced through the otherwise silent morning, daybreak crossing the brightening sky.

“(Soul says when we die, we go to Heaven. What do you imagine Heaven is like? There, that should be easier.)”

“[Well… I like the thought that we would be happy. And anyone we’ve loved will be there, and if we don't love them anymore, we can love them again. All those friends we never got to see again… All of those faces we saw a final time… All of those passerby aquaintances… We’re in a state where everyone loves each other.]”

“(How boring. I like the thought that we fight until only one of us remains, and then that person gets to make the next sentient planet.)”

“[Gee, someone’s got an imagination.]”

Soft feathery appendages shifted and contorted into a fine stretch, several tiny crackles clicking from each as they lengthened.

Long violet feathers stretched from the id’s rear; swaying across the wooden rooftop.

“(Okay, but in all honesty… I think when we die, if there’s a Heaven at all, I like to think we’ll live our best lives. If you've always wanted to be a bird, congrats! You're a bird now, but you've got all the advantages of being a human that you liked. Have you always wanted to live at a waterpark? Well good news Thomas Ralph the IV, now you have a waterpark all to yourself that grows forever.)”

“[But why are we even alive then? Why would we want to exist when we could just die and then live happily forever? Seems like give or take eighty years of ‘meh’ and then forever of wonders seems pointless, don't you think?]”

“(Maybe… Maybe we only get a free trial, until the world has ended.)”

Croaks and groans of feet hitting stairs sauntered up the entrance to the hangout area.

The two ids suddenly bore a frantic expression as they scrambled to gather each can and collect them into a decently neat, insidious pile.

“{Did you two stay up again…?}” Soul said, creaky hands washing the sand from his eyes.

“[Yes.]”

“(No.)”

Trailing towards his two beloved parasites, the Host deposited his form into a comfortable slouch, and snatched a can for himself before taking a greedy string of gulps.

“{Ugh, you two brought the weak stuff.}”

“[It makes my head hurt…]”

“{Can’t believe you two came from me.}” Soul tossed the can from his palm to a long plummet down to the sand. “{…I'll clean that up tomorrow.}”

“[You’d better! Did you know fish and seagulls can get their heads stuck in those?]”

“(It’s true! I had to rescue a good few of them!)”

Soul chuckled.

“{For being such little menaces, you two really do care about everything around you…}” He spoke, words like tepid frost, both hands offering firm, soothing scritches into their hair.

“(Well, our time on this Earth is limited. Why not put what we have to good use?)”

“[We don't belong here… we weren't invited. I think it's only fair we help a tad with the housekeeping.]”

With a violet and indigo form leaning on oppositional sides of him, Soul stared out into the approaching dawn.

Their tall, birch home towered into the cold sky; a tiny island among a limitless sea.

Just little visitors in the vastness of this world. Imagine that: These little parasites are just a glimpse into the possibility of what can and can't happen.

Soul remembers the good old days, just when the two were little kids; they were no ordinary children, of course, but it brought a certain charm.

He’d just found refuge from a dark family life, and out split from him were two small souls; one hued purple, the other hued blue.

They had no mouths, but had a lot to say alright; those things sure loved to whimper and whine.

He wasn't even sure if they realised they got all their food from Soul eating overtime; he’d have to grab a lot more bites than usual to sustain them, but it was worth it for their elated faces.

“Oh!” Cameron said, a happy gaze settled on the little page scrunched between two small paws. “What is this?”

“…!” The idfant whined.

“Is it a dragon…?” He cocked his head, an awkward smile lapping at his lips.

The idfant only stared back.

“Or is it… a crocodile?”

Its face lightened.

“A saltwater croc? The one you see on those little shows you like?”

Suddenly, it was bouncing and whimpering with ecstasy.

“Oh, you did such a good job!” It didn't really. He could barely tell what was its mouth and what was its claws.

But everyone starts somewhere, don't they?

As the two idiots melted into his arms, Soul’s eyes settled on a peaceful, sleepy expression.

He didn't expect to become symbiotic in his lifetime, no-less with these two. But he’s sure happy that he got to be the one selected to be a Host.

“What are you building there, little tuna fish?” Cameron smiled, knees bent beside the indigo idfant.

“…” He removed his hand’s position on a brick, then positioning them on a stack of Legos, bundling the flimsy blocks into his palms and propping them to meet Cameron’s eyes.

“Oh!” Cameron’s hands made a rapid series of collisions. “You did that all by yourself?”

“!” Mind nodded hastily, struggling to hold his excitement within his little body.

“I’m so proud of you,” Cameron grinned, giving his hair a firm, delightful ruffle. “I could personally never get into Legos… I never quite had the attention span. But I assume for someone like you, who loves all things logical and analytical, building things that require such attention-to-detail and intricate focus must be very relaxing, yeah?”

From the looks of it, Mind just ignored everything he said.

“Heh… too many big words?”

He seemed to have appreciated the love in his Host’s voice nonetheless.

“I love you. I’ll be sure to buy you lots of Legos this Easter, alright?”

The reminiscing that poured out of him rocked to a sudden standstill as Soul felt his two ids form strokes of heavy breaths at his sides, and Soul made a little smirk.

“{Tired?}”

“(Mmm…)”

“[Kkkkkh…]”

“{That’s what I thought.}”

As a second set of arms poked from Soul’s abdomen, the two ids were collected into his grasp, and he descended the upwards-leading staircase, leading-downwards into the cosy confines of his own room.

Albeit definitely foul-smelling, kicking past the empty energy drinks that made a metal ruckus the Host then lent the two the safety of being bundled up within a large comforter.

Tucked between thick sheets, Heart sunk into Mind’s chest and limbs, the latter burying his chin onto the former’s head.

“{Before you two collapse, would you like one last story?}” Soul smiled, seated beside the cot.

“(Mm…)”

“[Yes…]”

“{Next time I'd like a ‘please’, but okay. I’ll tell you my favourite one: }”

A finger bitten by a worn fingerless glove twirled and pirouetted through the two parasites’ hair, and a simple hum drew from him.

“{Once upon a time, there was a little human child. You may know him as Cameron: Or me. He was very handsome, and very good at everything, as you may remember from yours truly. But he was very sad… and very lonely. He wasn't happy with his life. He was hurt by everyone around him. Everyone wanted to either leave or hurt him…}

“{But he didn't lose hope. He was still kind, and still decided to love. He hung on until the very end, which hasn't come yet in the story. But even then… things could still be rough. It didn't feel worth it sometimes.}

“{And one day, he felt something inside of himself. Just this crazy, burning feeling, that he had to get out of there. So he did! He went to the local beach, and walked across the sea. And he walked, and walked, and walked… until he found a new home waiting for him. And out he released two little baby ids, whom would have made all that pain worth it.}”

Heart and Mind had buried themselves into one another, their breathing hushed and heavy.

“{Alright, that's the abridged version. Go to sleep, you two. We’ll have lots of time to relax tomorrow.}” Soul cooed, crawling into his cot among the two and enveloping them to his body, his warmth seeping into them.

The lights fell to a silent darkness.

Everything was okay in the world, maybe just this once.

[bjorkshire-pudding]

Blog name change!

tiny-woooden-robot -> bjorkshire-pudding

Writing sideblog will stay the same @tiny-wooden-robot-fics

[batteryrose]

Olivia, the protagonist in @tiny-wooden-robot ‘s IkeprixBleach crossover fic Against the Tide.  I’m a big fan of the series and characters and with her permission I drew Olivia 😭 Go check the fic out!!!

[naresnani]

on Violence

Chapter 3

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4

Fandom: Ikemen Prince | Nokto Klein / Adam Kain | Words: 2.4k

Tags: Scriptfic, screenplay format, Political stuff, Slow burn, Route spoilers!

Summary :

Nokto desperately considers, and reconsiders, the prisoner's final verdict.

.

Notes: tagging the people that gave the fic kudos! (If you want/don't want to be tagged feel free to send me an ask) @altairring @tiny-wooden-robot @kissmetwicekissmedeadly

.

ACT THREE

.

INT. THE KING'S BEDROOM - EVENING

Nokto spaced out. It’s all noise. CLINK CLINK of utensils, glass bottles, whispers from whichever directions. The maids are walking to and fro lighting up the candles. The King lays supine on top of the silk bed sheets. His face is colourless. He hasn't been responding since yesterday's supper. 

The sons are told to go see him for possibly the last time. Leon and the twins are here. They stand in the corner where the candlelights don't hit well.

It’s kinda awkward. They’re all thinking ‘What are we even doing here?’

Leon breaks the silence first.

.

LEON

Did you know, the doctor said,

(looks at Nokto beside him) 

That he can still hear us when we speak?

.

Nokto only responds with ‘mm-hmm.’

.

LEON

(Shrug)

Maybe if you got something to say to him.

NOKTO

Do you?

.

Leon glances at the twins. They’re both spaced out. Licht wasn’t even staring at the King. Leon rocks from one foot to another.

.

LEON

Well. I’d try to think of something that hasn’t been said but is there really any?

.

(there are many.)

.

NOKTO

Like what? Guess there aren’t any.

LEON

Something important. Like the most important thing he needs to hear. What do you think, Licht?

Licht turns to him, then only shrugs.

NOKTO

Hmm... future war prevention strategies?

LEON

(sighs, disappointed)

That’s certainly not what crosses my mind.

NOKTO

(chuckles)

Whaat, what d’you want me to say?

Nokto leans his back on the wall. He glances at Licht while they joke around. He wonders if he is even there. 

LEON

(making fun of him)

Look, man I get it, you’re the expert in this situation, you’re a very pragmatic one, not me.

Read more on AO3

[localplaguenurse]

I must offer my congratulations for making me read not one, but TWO fics that feature Reader having/taking care of children. As someone who has never seen kids as part of my life plans, it is extremely unusual for me to knowingly, voluntarily read any kind of fic involving pregnancy or being a parent.

You already know my feelings about Kei.

But I am interested in seeing how Theo turns out; so far he seems like a nice well-behaved boy and I love the idea of Uncle Pants being kind to him, maybe giving him a mora coin or two or a wooden toy from time to time. I'm wondering Theo will grow up differently because of Reader's influence or to what extent Dottore's character is 'pre-programmed' (a whole nature v nurture thing).

Plus I am intrigued by what you mentioned in response to another Ask regarding adult segments being attracted to Reader - do they just live in eternal unrequited torment, knowing that they can't make a move? Have any of them overstepped and been 'decommissioned...? Can I write an angsty one-shot from a segment's perspective because he's upset at the neglect Reader is suffering at the hands of Zandi[c]k (with due 'inspired by' credit of course)?

Anyway, love the Dottore divorce fic because I have been both Reader but also Zandik, with very demanding projects that could not be delegated. You captured his frustration well in terms of being unable to explain exactly why he simply can't hand it over to someone else, even if that person is ostensibly very qualified.

First off, yes you have full permission. Second of all, thank you! I personally like kids and am unbothered by pregnancy and all that, but I also know it’s not everyone’s cup of tea so I wasn’t 100% certain if anyone would be super interested. I want to actually write them as like realistic kids because I’ve been around kids, and get annoyed when it’s either like too much like a baby or too smart to be that young, y’know? They’re just tiny people!

We’ll get more into the segments later, but I’d say the younger segments (think like webttore/Beta) are angsty about it while older segments or specifically Omega, the robot, are fine with their fates or it’s not that big of an issue to them. We’ll also get more uncle pants soon :3 I’m also excited to get more into Theo’s whole deal, the nature vs nurture aspect.

[kissmetwicekissmedeadly]

𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ━ ≪ 𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟐 ≫ [ LINK ]

Good day, taglist! (as well as some mutuals hehe ) xxsycamore's main here! I hope I'm not bothering you with this non-fic notification ((you can always ask to be untagged, no worries!)) - I just wanted to let you know of my latest challenge. I'm going to use this method of notifying you to prevent any problems happening to the actual challenge posts by spamming them with tags. Feel free to ignore!

Make sure to check out the challenge post for additional details and if you're interested in requesting something, while I don't promise anything yet, I'll be sure to let you know! Wishing you a nice day ❤

Taglist: @arsnovacadenza @ale-teodora @kimi00twin @otomelady @privilegedpancake @g-kleran  @thehappycat123 @pumpumnnnp @thesirenwashere @theuwuisunreal @ravenarld @kyokirigiri-22 @kimmy-banana @devonares @animeworldsposts @randomanimatedhusbandoseeker @galaxyprison @trishtori @sadshaxk @starshards26 @pro-cat-stination @acethephoenix256 @ikevamp-shrine-2 @nad-zeta @crystal13unny @keen19thcenturygoatsstudent @lordsister @ikemen-banshou  @themysticalbeing @canaria-blackwell @otome-scribbles @rhodolitesrose @fun-ghoul-neela @salty-fed-up-bitch  @coornn @cilokgoang​ @kpop-and-otome @queen-dahlia @kisara-16 @chaosangel767 @ikemenlibrary @queengiuliettafirstlady @aurora-morning @aquagirl1978 ​ @ikemenlover24 @violettduchess @mcofthemansion @tiny-wooden-robot @joy-the-reader @moonstuck-writing @cilogoang @psychodreamer666 @aceuuuuu @atelieredux @gilbertvonobsidian @delicateikemenmemes @ifthiswingscouldfly @yanderepuck @venulus @lorei-writes @shookspearewrites @ikemen-prince-writers-posts Let me know if you want to be tagged/untagged!

[sowacream]

Actual fanfic motivation has occurred. I have 2 new very bad fics. One is called "It's a Bed You Fall Out Of" and it's NOT Lapidot. It's just cute/sad.

She was pulling as hard as she could, but her strength was running out. She had to keep Malachite underwater, for the Earth, for Steven, but it wouldn't work forever. The chains started to wobble, and then they fell away, uncontrolled.

Malachite was free, and Lapis was falling.

Lapis hit the wooden ground of the barn hard. She was still sweating from her nightmare. The hammock swung from side to side above her with the force of her falling. As she got up, breathing heavily, a green face showed up right by her own.

"Again?" asked Peridot. "Maybe you should get a more stable bed."

Lapis considered her barnie for a moment. "I would," she said quietly, "but..."

She sighed and looked away. "That's not the reason I'm waking up."

"What other possible reason could you have for waking yourself so abruptly and why haven't you fixed it?" replied Peri, indignant at the fact that her best friend hadn't told her about this problem.

"I've just been having dreams about, well, Malachite," she said the name shakily, "and the mirror and Navy."

"Dreams? Like Steven has?"

"Not like Steven has. He has magic dreams. For everyone else, it's like... the thoughts they have mixed up into, I guess something like, a video on TubeTube."

"And is this bad?"

"...Yeah."

Peridot came even closer than she had been before, which was very close, and wrapped her arms around Lapis stiffly and awkwardly.

"Wh-what is this?"

"A hug. It's a human thing. It's meant to comfort you."

Lapis slowly calmed down in the robotic grip. After a minute she returned it.

"I will be your dream guardian," said Peridot after releasing the blue gem. "I will stand over you with that meep morp I made by sharpening a stick using a rock," she went on, and gestured to a pointed stick sitting a foot away.

"Thanks, Peri, but... I think I'll be fine tonight."

"Promise to tell me if you have another nightmare?"

Lapis smiled. "Promise."

The next one is called "Off-Color" and it's an AU about baby Amethyst.

"8XM hasn't emerged yet."

"She'll catch up. Let's go!"

Amethyst tumbled out of her little hole too close to the ground. The other Amethysts turned to look. She looked back up with her wide eye, the one unobscured by her short fluffy hair. Then she stood up and mimicked the others' positions, with an adorable fake menacing expression. She giggled.

"Woah. What's wrong with this one?"

"She's adorable!"

"Quartz soldiers aren't supposed to be adorable!"

"Well, that's not her fault!"

The tiny gem watched the others argue with her head tilted to the side. She thought for a moment, then shapeshifted herself to look more like them.

"Is this what quartz soldiers are s'posed to be and not adorable?" she asked. The other soldiers stopped yelling at each other. One of them stepped forward.

"You don't have to be like the others. With training, you can still be a good fighter." She extended her hand. Amethyst looked at it and un-shifted back to her normal form. She held out her own hand, just like the Amethyst in front of her. The larger Amethyst picked her up, which she seemed to enjoy.

"Wait. Stop," said a calm, pretty voice from behind a corner. A Sapphire came into view, flanked by four Rubies. Her gem glinted on her cheek. "The small one can't go back to Homeworld. She'll be shattered."

A buzz arose among the Amethysts. The small one seemed unfazed.

"I foresaw this whole thing, so I came here to help this Amethyst. You'll have to trust me to take her while you go back to Homeworld. I know a place where she'll be safely hidden."

"Yeah! Trust my Sapphire or I'll kick your butt!" called the Ruby with her gem on her shoulder.

"Behave, Ruby."

"Yes, Ma'am."

The Amethysts exchanged looks. "How do we know you're not sent from Homeworld to shatter her yourself?" asked one of them.

"I'm afraid I don't know how to prove that," said the Sapphire, grabbing the shoulder Ruby's wrist to keep her from attacking the Amethyst that had spoken. "But consider this: if you take her back to Homeworld, she'll be shattered for sure.

"I think she's right," said a soldier. "Give her to me."

The Amethyst holding the little one hesitated before reluctantly handing her over with a pat on the head that she giggled at. The one who had requested her put her down in front of the Sapphire.

"Thank you for trusting me. Let's go, Rubies."

The Amethysts watched the Rubies lead the little one away. She waved, confused about why she was being taken. The Amethysts continued once she was out of view.

She behaved surprisingly well on the Ruby ship. Aside for a few times that the Ruby assigned to control her had to reprimand her for annoying the others, she sat quietly and imitated Sapphire. She actually spent most of the ride shapeshifted as Sapphire. She smiled at the little gem's antics.

They landed in a huge kindergarten, where two gems stared, terrified, at the ship. The one sitting on the head of the four-eyed one was smiling obliviously. The ship door opened as the oblivious one gasped. "I predict we'll be found!"

"I know, Paddy," said the four-eyed one, who lifted her down and hugged her close.

"We haven't come to hurt you," called Sapphire. "We a have another gem we need you to keep safe here."

"Annooothhheeerrrr gggeeeemmm?" said the huge one slowly.

One of the rubies led Amethyst out.

"She's a tiny Quartz guard," said the Ruby. "Can she live here?"

Padparadscha sighed in relief. "They're not hurting us. They have a gem they want us to protect."

Amethyst repeated her.

"She likes repeating others," said Sapphire. "Will you take her?"

The two fusions looked at each other. The big one nodded, and the other stepped forward after putting Paddy down.

"What's your name?" she said, extending her hand toward the Amethyst. The tiny gem mirrored her.

I hate them both.

[yarnnerdally]

I posted 661 times in 2022

That's 661 more posts than 2021!

116 posts created (18%)

545 posts reblogged (82%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@atelieredux

@yarnnerdally

@venulus

@tiny-wooden-robot

@jozhenji

I tagged 236 of my posts in 2022

#ikemen prince - 53 posts

#ikepri - 51 posts

#ikemen vampire - 29 posts

#ikevamp - 27 posts

#ikemen sengoku - 25 posts

#ikesen - 24 posts

#ikemen revolution - 24 posts

#ally reblogs fics - 22 posts

#ikerev - 21 posts

#fanfiction - 16 posts

Longest Tag: 112 characters

#mine is that if i go to someone’s house and they don’t own a cat and their toilet paper is under instead of over

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Hi, Ally! 💜 how you doing?

May I please request 4 + Clavis + SFW + Domestic fluff?

Thank you 🙈

AaaaAAAAH THIS IS SO CUTE I CANT softclavisissosoftwhenhewantstobe

Title: Payback

Rating: T

Tags: Birthday, UnBirthday, pranks, cake, romance, Ikemen Prince, Clavis x Reader, Clavis x MC

Prompt: “You… made me a cake?”

It had been a simple joke, Clavis thought. She was naïve enough to believe him. Let her think that it was his birthday when it very much wasn’t. He, however, did not expect to see Emma at his door looking a little tired, a smudge of flour on her jaw, absolutely beaming at him. The cake was simple yet elegant, with a very proud ‘Happy Birthday Prince Clavis!’ written on it in icing. It had all started earlier in the day when she had been pestering Chevalier in a way that had Clavis rolling every time he witnessed their interactions. From her stubbornness to his disdain, it was always amusing. Everything halted when she asked when Chevalier’s birthday was.

“That’s hardly any of your concern.”

Chevalier’s words were short and his look was scathing. Clavis saw his opportunity and came around the corner, tapping Emma on the shoulder. He grinned as she leapt and squeaked.

“My Belle, I know what should be your concern. Today is, in fact, my birthday.”

Their conversation had waned when Emma became lost in her own thoughts. Clavis had not, however, expected this as the outcome.

“You… made me a cake?” He asked softly, unable to keep the surprise off his face. He felt his heart stutter and something in his core shake at the purity of her actions and the way she was literally beaming at him.

“Of course! I couldn’t just let your birthday go by. I can’t believe no one is doing anything to celebrate and I-” She paused and looked at him. He still looked stunned and even had a faint flush to his cheeks. “Clavis, are you feeling alright? Oh, was no one celebrating today because you weren’t feeling well? I should have asked before-”

Emma’s words were cut off as Clavis quickly brought both her and the cake into his room. He put the cake down quickly on the nearest surface he could before enveloping her in a tight, but not suffocating hug. Emma let out a noise of surprise before gently returning it. “You’re too good for your own good, you know,” he murmured into her ear, pressing his temple gently against her head. “Allowing yourself to be pranked with the most radiant heart,” he continued, giving her a sheepish smile as she pulled her head back. He took it as a good sign that she hadn’t let go of him completely.

“I know.” Clavis pulled back now, blinking in disbelief at the coy smile that appeared on Emma’s face. He opened his mouth to speak but felt he looked rather like a goldfish, unable to form words. Emma giggled and squeezed Clavis a little tighter. “Yves told me. Can you believe he helped me with this cake anyways?” Clavis’ disbelief turned into a genuine laugh, making Emma’s smile go wider. He hugged her close again and placed a lingering kiss on her cheek.

“Keeping me on my toes, little mouse? I suppose you’ll learn a thing or two before you have to leave.”

67 notes - Posted August 20, 2022

#4

NekoCon 2022

Ikémen Revolution

Seth Hyde: royalmystery14

Alice/MC: AllyOra/YarnNerdAlly

See the full post

85 notes - Posted November 7, 2022

#3

Translation: Please get more sleep. You don’t need to worry about this as much as you have been. I care about you and your well-being.

Ugh. He’s so blunt and hot.

166 notes - Posted July 31, 2022

#2

Translation: I can’t stand the thought of you getting hurt so plz don’t 🥺

184 notes - Posted August 12, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Random Ikemen Headcanons:

Pregnancy/Dad edition

Includes 18+ Content

~*Minors DNI*~

IkeRev:

Sirius has wanted a family as long as he can remember. Growing up with little siblings all over the place is a comfort for him. And when you ask him about having kids he’s honestly a little nervous that you don’t want them but respects your choice either way. (That just means he’ll get to be the cool uncle) (Fenrir and Ray disagree) He still gets dad of the year every year, though. Calls the kids ‘sprout’.

Blanc didn’t realize it was his kink until it slipped out one night nonchalantly over tea. “Blanc, I know you like kids but… what about ours?” It was good Oliver had moved elsewhere by this point because you two fucked. Like. Rabbits. While you both thoroughly enjoyed the process of getting pregnant, Blanc absolutely spoils you when you’re pregnant. Massages, carrying you whenever he gets the chance, begging Luka to make you whatever strange food you want. And once the baby is here? Proudest papa when their hair goes white and is admittedly a little nervous that he can be a good dad.

Kyle is excited and nervous the entire time you’re pregnant. Thankfully he has a good role model in his dad and it seems almost effortless how well he parents. You just know you’re in for a world of trouble when you see them, a grown man and toddler, studying a medicine book intently. Guess it’s time to brush up on your genius wrangling skills!

IkeVamp:

Arthur would cry when he learned you were pregnant. There’s 0 way he wouldn’t. Absolutely doting with an edge of being terrified that something will go wrong and he’ll lose the most precious person(s) in his life. A good dose of reality from you and Theo sets him straight. He helped deliver and he was trying not to cry then, too. An absolutely doting father, there’s certainly mischief abound later down the road.

Shakespeare is terrified he’s not going to be a good father. He can put on a brave face all he wants, but you know the man under the actor’s mask. With his history with you and everyone else in the mansion, he wonders what karma has blessed him with a child and without a doubt, come hell or high water, puts you and baby first. He’s initially nervous with the baby but, thanks to plenty of support from you and baby’s 11 uncles, he adjusts just fine. Your favorite is watching Will put them to bed with a bedtime story that he makes up on the spot and never the same story twice.

Leonardo’s cigarillo literally falls out of his mouth when you tell him you’re pregnant. Followed immediately by cursing in Italian before taking you up in his arms with his eyes shining “Cara mia, you’re serious, yes?” His voice is slightly strained and he nuzzles into your neck at the confirmation. He’s excited and he’s already tinkering with wood and paper making toys and puzzles and anything else you could imagine for your future child. He knows you like your independence in doing things but he’s more insistent than usual in helping you to do things. Once baby is here, Leonardo is most often found napping with baby on his chest and an arm around them protectively. Lumière basically became a big brother and seeing all three of them napping was one of the sweetest sights to see in the world. As baby grows, Leonardo slowly works on teaching them everything he knows along with plenty of play (Leonardo wouldn’t admit it but he loved the puppet shows he and every one of baby’s uncles put on with the shadow puppets he made.)

IkeSen:

Hideyoshi is mama bear. Like, to the extreme. You’ll need to remind him to calm down a lot but he’s so protective and loyal to your little (for now) family. He’s the ultimate giver of piggy back rides and learns how to braid hair for his little girl and teaches his sons about dismantling toxic masculinity.

Sasuke is nervous but he studies and studies and studies anything he can get his hands on when it comes to rearing children. He even goes to Kenshin, Shingen, and Yoshimoto for advice. You both thought about going back to the future for this but decided on staying 500 years in the past. Yukimura is named the fun uncle and the kids tease him all the time. Sasuke is ridiculously patient as a dad and you tell him you appreciate him whenever you can. From words to new foods to potty training, Sasuke is basically a saint. You’re only thankful you don’t have to teach them how to drive.

Masamune is ridiculously excited to hear news that you’re pregnant. He definitely flaunts it and is so happy to show you off and dote on you. He gladly makes you whatever crazy foods you want, even trying to recreate things from 500 years in the future for you. Once the baby is here he’s quiet with awe and you swear you saw a little watering at the corner of his eyes. To say he’s a devoted father is the understatement of the century. You just have to reign him in when he tries to do ridiculous things like having a small saddle commissioned for your baby to ride Shogetsu.

IkePri:

Chevalier knew before you did that you were pregnant, surprise surprise. What did surprise you, however, was how much more expressive he was in his protection over you as well as physically needing to be closer to you most of the time. Of course you didn’t complain, receiving a small “That’s ridiculous,” (definitely not Chev’s way of saying yes) conjoined with him nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck when you asked if he felt more protective now. He seemed to read your kind as always, even if he couldn’t be to your now shared room first he had servants draw you perfectly tempered baths and clothing that was easy for you to dress in. The amount of pressure you felt at the upcoming birth was initially astounding until a night Chevalier reminded you that this baby will be here as a result of your love for one another and not the pressures of politics. Once the baby is born you discover that Chevalier has another type of smile: one reserved solely for your baby. It is the softest smile you’ve ever seen him wear and it absolutely melts your heart. Of course his love for books must’ve been built in through DNA because they’re following along with bedtime stories line to line perfectly.

Sariel is shook. He’s calm on the outside, of course, but inside he’s honestly panicking a little. Most of his parenting experience had been with the twins and that situation had been… an intensely unique one. However, you discovered his feelings through a slip of the tongue and you held his face in your hands gently, assuring him he’d be a spectacular father and there was no one you’d rather have a family with. He felt assured and his demeanor had shifted just enough for people to notice, particularly the princes. Once it became known, Sariel’s usual dark aura intensified a hundredfold as he threatened all eight princes and Rio that if anything were to happen to you or your happiness, they would disappear. Once the baby came, everyone was astounded at how absolutely soft he could be, of course Licht and Nokto being the exception to that. To say your baby is treated like royalty is not hyperbole and it takes a rather firm foot from you to keep Sariel from spoiling them rotten.

Rio cried immediately when you told him, lightly sobbing his promise that they’re happy tears. During the pregnancy he’s almost overbearing, managing to tone it down just before you feel the need to tell him to. One restless night he tells you about a dream he once had, almost three months after you had saved him. It was filled with quiet nights like this, cuddling by the fire, laughing together. “That’s when I knew I wanted you forever. And a family with you.” You nearly broke his hand during delivery but Rio’s smile didn’t falter, staying strong to lend you his strength. The baby came and while Rio insisted that you took turns waking up for baby, you’re pretty sure he was the one to get up more in the middle of the night. The moment baby was in the world, he was wrapped around all their little fingers and toes. Sometimes Rio has a hard time with discipline, but it’s something he’s working on.

244 notes - Posted August 21, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[aquagirl1978]

Happy Tuesday, Aqua! 💐

For the writer asks: 3, 4, and 13.

Have a great day! 😌

Hey @tiny-wooden-robot! Happy Tuesday! There's two #3 (I just noticed that - so I'm gonna use the one no one asked yet 😂)

3. What is the longest fic you've ever wrote?

Ghosts of Christmas Past - This one is about 2.5k words, which is saying something about me. I don't write long fics, and may never write something this long ever again.

4. What is something about your writing style that you're really proud of?

That I can write smut and make it classy and not cringey.

13. What motivates you to keep writing?

Today it is spite.

[wolfwarden]

Silent Realms Rescue snippet

3. What is that one scene that you’ve always wanted to write but can’t be arsed to write all of the set-up and context it would need? (consider this permission to write it and/or share it anyway)

@a-little-bit-of-ravioli Rav. I blame you for what I have done. This was supposed to be the answer to your last question. (From this post.) It was supposed to be a fun little break. A chance to share a special scene from a fic I might never get to write because of so many other WIPs that come before it. BUT it was too much fun. I could not stop. So please enjoy my little indulgence of 4600 words of Sky Angst, from my maybe someday fic: “Silent Realms Rescue.”

(Context: Sky has been separated from the other Links in an eerily empty town. Over the past few days, he's been finding their bodies, alive but unconscious. Unbeknownst to him, the invisible spirits of the ones Sky has found can move about freely, watching him, but unable to interact.)

~

Sky trudges up the stairs inside the abandoned inn, wooden steps creaking with every heavy footfall. His breathing is harsh in the otherwise silent building. He hoists Wild’s limp body a little higher on his back, the younger teen’s long hair spilling over Sky’s shoulder.

Down the dark hallway and to the first door on the left he walks, exhaustion and dread threatening to trip him up. But he nudges open the door without incident and slips inside. Red rimmed eyes flicker over every detail in the gloomy room, checking to make sure it is just as he left it. Would that be so bad, Sky wonders, to see some sign of life beyond myself? He almost hopes to see his things disturbed, but no, packs and bags are still stowed around the single chair by the window. Spare blankets pilfered from surrounding rooms remain stacked on the single bed's tiny side table.

And, just as Sky left them, the bodies of his friends lay about the room. They wait for him, eerily still: Four and Wind, side-by-side on the bed, and Legend and Warriors, carefully arranged on bedrolls on the floor.

Sky holds his breath for a moment, gathering himself and catching the whisper-quiet huff of air from Wind. The other three make no perceivable noise. Sky breathes out and moves, stepping calmly and carefully, mindful of Wild’s arms thumping limply against Sky’s chest with every motion.

A stiffness settles over Sky’s features as he restarts his now-familiar routine. Lay them down. He sets a bedroll on the floor next to the wall, leaving space to walk between here and Warriors, before rolling Wild off his back and onto the soft surface. Check for life signs. He places two fingers at Wild’s neck, waiting with robotic calmness. The steady pulse pushes back against his fingers, strong despite Wild's slack features. Don’t let them go cold. Wild’s skin feels warm against Sky's fingertips so he leaves him be.

Next body.

Sky turns to Warriors, face blank. Check for life signs. His fingers reach out to the pulse point. It’s a touch weaker, but steady. Don’t let them go cold. The skin is cool, but not worryingly so.

Next one.

Legend looks small next to Warriors, face oddly peaceful in a way only sleep can bring. Sky is grateful for that, at least. No one is in pain. Not that he can tell, anyway. If they were-

Stop that. Check for life signs. Finding the pulse takes longer, but it's there. Legend's hands are cold, but Sky chalks that up to all the metal wrapped around Legend's fingers. He debates taking the numerous rings off but doesn't move to do so. Some of them are protective, right? What if they're helping to keep him- Sky cuts off his thoughts again. He dredges up that empty floating feeling he holds deep inside, like a dispassionate mask that seals up all the cracks where panic or fear might bleed out of him.

Don’t let them go cold. He manipulates Legend's hands until they overlap right over his chest. The position strikes him as oddly familiar until his mind makes the connection. It’s how they set the bodies for a funeral back on Skyloft. Sky yanks a blanket over the body to cover those hands, holding the scratchy material in place until his own hands stop trembling.

Next one. Don’t stop. You mustn't stop.

Wind's turn. The sailor's skin is pale. Sky pulls over an extra blanket even before he places a hand on Wind's neck. The answering pulse is weak, and Sky doesn't linger on that thought for long. Wind is alive. Sky can see the slow rise and fall of Wind's chest, reliable as the tide. He tucks the blanket tightly around Wind's shoulders. Wind is a fighter. He wouldn't leave Sky. He and Four both. The two of them are in their own league of stubbornness. If they were here they'd-

Sky takes a quick breath, in and out. One body left and then Sky can sleep. He needs to rest or he'll be useless to the ones still missing. He can't take another night where his emotions take control and spiral his mind into endless "what ifs." He can feel it, waiting at the edge of his numbness: a black tornado of anxiety and self-loathing and sorrow that will suck him down until he's sick with fear. Not tonight. He has to be better than himself. He has to be like Time, stone-faced and unflinching in battle. He has to be like Warriors, able to switch off his emotions at a single word and accomplish any task with terrifying efficiency.

One more. Check for life signs.

He sways a bit as he makes his way to Four's side of the bed. The pulse is hard to find, but Sky is patient. He waits and adjusts his fingers. This body was the first one I found. It’s been here the longest. It makes sense that it would be the worst off.

Sky adjusts his fingers again. This body is so small, maybe that's why Sky is struggling to feel the pulse. He waits, then puts his other hand on the thin wrist, checking there. It's fine. Just be patient.

He waits, hands growing cold. Sky pulls back and rubs his hands together. It's cold. It's just so cold in here it's hard to feel anything. He returns his fingers to Four's- to the neck it’s not your friend it’s just a body-, pressing just a bit harder. It was fine just a few hours ago. I checked before I left. I…I checked them all.

He waits. Sky's hand starts to tremble again. Stupid, he thinks, how can you feel a pulse shaking like that? He yanks his hand away, eyes scanning for any minute movement. Beside this body, the sailor’s quiet breathing only heightens the contrast in stillness. The barrier in Sky’s mind holding the numbness in place cracks a bit.

Sky lurches forward and presses his ear against the body's chest. He can't hear anything over the sudden thundering of his own heartbeat. Panic claws at the edges of Sky's mind but he won't, he can't give in to it. It’s cold. He's just cold… Sky rushes to the wall and fumbles for the packs, grabbing at Wild's and scattering things across the floor: weapons, a pair of boots, a hairbrush, a hand mirror….. As he goes to toss a large sword aside, it flickers to life at his touch, a soft orange glow blooming over the steel and immediately warming the air around it. Flameblade, Wild had called it. Sky runs back to lay it in-between the bodies on the bed, careful not to let it touch skin, but he can already feel heat radiating from it and that should be enough to fix this. To fix his friend. He’s fine. Four is fine he’s just cold and that's why Sky can't find a pulse. That's why Four’s heart isn't-

Sky chokes on a cry and forces it back down. Later. He can deal with himself later. Warriors wouldn't cry. He'd know what to do.

But Warriors is unconscious on the floor and it's all on Sky. His hands flutter uselessly over Four, tucking the blanket tighter around his legs, a quick check at the neck for the elusive heartbeat, rubbing slim arms to bring some warmth back to the extremities. He knows he should but he can’t think of Four as a nameless body anymore. This is his friend, perceptive and clever and kind. To strip that away slices into the very core of Sky and he hates that everything he’s tried is not enough. The storm he’s fought to keep at bay is looming over him, tugging at his insecurities and highlighting how woefully inadequate he is for this task. But he can’t stop trying. Giving up is unthinkable. But he’s running out of things to try.

Every movement from Sky echoes loudly in the room, his anxious footsteps, the rustle of his clothes, his harsh breathing. Why is he breathing so loudly? Sky's focus snaps to Four's face, the shadows cast by the window’s cold light painting his features blue.

Did he stop breathing while I was gone?

The thought passes through him before he can stop it and something inside him snaps. He scrambles backward. Away from Four and the stillness and the blue-tinged pallor of his skin. A harsh crack echoes in the room. Sky looks down, lifting his boot to see a small mirror underneath, broken into pieces. One of Wild's things that Sky carelessly scattered. Sky's splintered face looks back up at him from the mirror. It's not calm at all. Not the face of a man stoic and controlled in adversity like he desperately wished himself to be. It looked like the face of a boy, scared and small, trapped in a room with a corpse.

~~~

What is the point of being a ghost, Four thinks, with nothing to haunt? His body appears luminescent in the growing darkness despite not casting any light on the road beneath him. He can’t feel the wind, though he knows it’s there, catching the edge of a rotted window shutter in a nearby house and slamming it shut. Four holds up a hand and marvels for a moment at his ability to perceive his skin and yet see right through himself to the rickety inn beyond. He walks- (Am I really walking if my feet aren’t leaving any impressions on the ground?) -to the meeting place, spotting the blue-green glow of another spirit waiting for him at the main entrance. Warriors stands there, tall and alert, looking for all the world like he’s guarding the doorway behind him despite not being able to halt the progress of a fly.

The captain nods as Four draws near. “Find anything?”

“Nothing of note. Not yet, anyway. Hey Wars, would you say we walk in this form or glide?”

Warriors raises an eyebrow. “Is that important?”

“Yes.”

Wind’s voice breaks in as the sailor himself skids around the corner. “We glide! Did you see that, Four? I definitely think that was a glide when I stopped.”

“No,” Warriors says, “you had a running start. You’d do the same thing with your normal body.”

“No way! I’m a ghost and did the ghost-glide thing.”

“Slide.”

“Glide!”

Warriors shoots Four a dark look. “How is this important again?”

Four examines his boots, pressing into the dirt, but also not. “I don’t feel like I glide at all, but my feet don’t quite touch either.”

Wind laughs and Four can feel a minor burst of triumph inside. They’re laughing and arguing like nothing is wrong, like they can forget for a moment that they are separated from their bodies with no clue how to reattach themselves.

“Where’s Wild and Legend?” Wind asks.

Warriors’ expression stays carefully neutral. “With Sky.”

Wild, Four thinks, would want to see what happened to his body, I suppose. But he’d do more good with us. He wants to ask what Legend's excuse is, why he isn't out here helping, but he bites his tongue.

But Warriors answers the unasked question, looking at no one in particular, “Legend didn’t want to leave Sky alone."

Four narrows his eyes. The longer they've traveled together, Warriors' irritating ability to read people like a book has only heightened. But surely my irritation wasn’t that noticeable. I’m perfectly calm. Regardless of what Legend thinks he’s doing, Sky is alone. No number of spirits hovering about him would change the fact that Sky could see nothing, feel nothing, other than the chill of an empty room. Legend was being useless and sentimental.

Wind and Warriors make their way inside the inn. Toward the room where Sky toils, too quiet and too solemn and there’s something about that room that is just too much for Four. He remains in the street and Wind pauses to cast him a curious look. “You coming, Four?”

There's a burn in Four's chest, a searing heat to rival his forge that intensifies the closer they get to this stupid run-down inn. He'd give anything to turn back around and keep searching the town for clues.

A crash echoes from deep within the inn. The three of them jolt at the sound before they all break into a run, through the splintered double doors, past the front desk, back to the staircase. They should clatter up the stairs, three bodies bumping into each other and stomping on creaking wooden steps, but only the faintest rustle of air marks their passage as they barrel upwards. Down the hallway and to the first door on the left they race. The closed door gives none of them pause as they pass through, three ghostly specters slipping through the wood as they would pass through water.

On the other side, they find Sky tending to their bodies, their real bodies, as he always did before tending to himself. The orange glow of a flame blade illuminates Sky's pinched expression as he bends over the bodies of Four and Wind.

Four looks away, immediately catching the glow of Wild standing amidst a scatter of items across the floor, arms wrapped around himself. Legend’s semi-transparent form nods tersely to the group and Four can see the tightly contained fury building behind the veteran's eyes.

“Who made this mess?” Wind pipes up. “Did someone come in while we were away?”

“No,” Legend replies.

Four wonders how one word can sound so irritated.

“So…” Wind picks his way across the room, careful not to step on anything despite having feet that passed through most objects. “Sky did this?” Wind pokes at Wild, smiling brightly. “What’d ye do to tick him off, Wild?”

Wild doesn’t respond but Four can see the way his grip on his arms tightens, Wind’s forced levity missing the mark.

Warriors passes the both of them, pausing only to give Wind a gentle pat on the back. “Status report, Vet?”

Legend glares back. “A report? On how Sky looks like he’s gonna pass out? Or how he still hasn’t taken the time to eat anything today?” Legend’s voice rises in intensity as Warriors cooly faces him down. “Oh! How about how utterly useless we all are? You want the full report on that?!”

Warriors nods as if Legend just gave him exactly what he wanted. “Understood. So leave Sky be then.”

Legend’s mouth falls open.

“If there’s nothing you can do-”

“You-” Legend’s form flickers to translucent and then the green glow flares. “Just shut up!”

Four holds back, not fully stepping into the group. He agrees with Warriors but…. He watches Sky pull another blanket over the Four lying on the bed, meticulously tucking it around his legs. His stomach twists and he has to look away again.

“There’s no benefit to always staying at his elbow.” Warriors continues. “Leave him.”

Legend’s fist swings out toward Warriors’ face. Warriors jerks back, but he’s too slow. Legend’s fist connects …then passes right through, Warriors’ blue outline fizzing before reforming the familiar planes of his face. It’s hard to tell who looks more shocked.

Legend recovers first. “What do you know? I’m not-” He looks over at Sky as a deep worry paints over his expression. “I’m not gonna leave him alone.”

I hate this. Being here made everything feel muddled. He's relieved and irritated because Legend is being useless and Four knows that. So why does he feel relief at Legend’s stubbornness… and feel like he himself is the coward?

Warriors steps slowly up beside Legend, shoulder to shoulder. “I’m glad to hear it,” he says, smiling at Legend’s surprised expression. “We’ll take it in shifts.”

Legend huffs out a breath. “You moron.” But he doesn’t step away.

Four wants to scream. It would make no difference to Sky if they stayed. They couldn't help him. Was he the only one with sense? The room seemed smaller than Four remembered. He should go.

“Wars!” Wild calls out. “Something’s wrong!” Wild hasn’t moved from his position, still holding himself despite Wind’s attempts to relax him, but all his attention is now on Sky.

Sky’s breaths whistle in and out much too quickly, his chest heaving as his movements become more frantic.

“What’s wrong?” Wild says. Four hates how clearly he can see the panic rise in Wild’s face. He’d seen many times that Wild never coped very well with anyone other than him being hurt.

Legend crowds around the bed with Warriors at his side. “Something going on with Four?”

Anxiety lurches in Four’s chest but he ignores it for now. There’s nothing they can do in the physical world. It’s all up to Sky. And despite everything going on, if there’s anyone I trust to watch out for everyone, it’s Sky.

Warriors reaches out to check Four’s body, his real body, growling in frustration when his hand simply passes through his target. “Four!" He looks up to the Four still hanging back in the doorway. "Are you alright? Do you feel anything?”

Sky stumbles away from the table with a gasp, face blanching white. A loud crack makes everyone jump.

A mirror. Cracked under Sky’s heel. Four’s heart gives a painful thud and he closes his eyes. Just for a moment.

“What is he doing?!” Wind’s cry draws his attention back to the bed. To Sky jerking to his feet, a piece of broken mirror in his hand, lunging toward Four’s unconscious body.

Multiple shouts fill the room as the jagged edge sails for his face, all of them rushing forward. The shard stops right under the body’s nose. They can only watch, specters crowded around the scene, as Sky holds still and waits, all his attention on the mirror.

Understanding hits Four as he sees a faint fogging bloom over the mirror. “He’s checking if I’m breathing,” he says numbly. The words leave his own lips but it feels like someone else is saying them. How odd. At this moment, everything feels odd. Like watching his body lie so still before him. Like watching his friend stretch himself thin with worry and not feeling more than muffled alarm in response.

But that’s good. Four doesn’t have time to be alarmed. He's going to use his brain to help Sky. He's going to figure out the puzzle and be useful and not fall apart.

He holds onto that strangeness, that curiosity, with all he has. It’s better than becoming overwhelmed with frustration like Legend or pulled into fear like Wild. He has to stay calm so he doesn’t go mad. He-

With a soft clink, the mirror shard is laid aside on the table and Sky seems to wilt in relief. His head dips down to carefully rest on Four’s chest.

The five spirits look around at each other, expressions various forms of tense.

“Well,” Wind breaks the stare-off with a forced smile, “that was exciting! But everything’s under control now.”

Wild, voice tight and hoarse, whispers, “He thinks we’re dying.”

“No one is dying.” Legend snaps.

“We’re not waking up,” Wild says. “Our bodies are getting worse and we’re not waking up. H-how long do you think we’ll sleep?”

“It was just a mistake. See? Four’s okay.”

Standing so close, Four can see the details he didn’t want to see before. How Sky has a corner of Four’s tunic fisted in one hand. How deep the dark circles appear under Sky’s eyes. How Sky is trembling.

“Wake up,” Sky whispers, despair written into every line of his bowed figure.

All eyes flicker to Four, the one standing right by Sky’s side. Four feels the irrational urge to throw a punch of his own. ‘Help him!’ is the chant in his heart. ‘How?’ is the answer from his mind. Because he already knows they are useless here with Sky. “We should go,” he says.

“But we just got back!” Wind says.

Four backs away from the bed. “We should be looking for a… for something.” There’s a heavy feeling growing in the pit of his stomach the longer he stares at Sky.

“We’ve already searched the town for hours today.” Warriors’ tone has turned careful again. Four has heard that neutral tone far too many times over the past two days and he’s utterly sick of it. “There’s nothing new that wasn’t there yesterday.”

“There is something. We just haven’t seen it,” Four replies. Sky still hasn’t moved. There’s a weight on Four’s chest like he can feel Sky’s head pressing down on him.

“We should rest.”

“Rest what, Wars?” Legend sneers. “We don’t. Have. Bodies.”

“The mind still needs rest. We’ll take a break and come up with a plan in the morning.”

Stay here all night? Four’s already shaking his head. “No. We should leave. We have to find it.”

Warriors finally looks irritated. “Find what? There’s nothing out there to-”

The calm holding Four together shatters. “The clue! The puzzle!” He’s shouting now. He doesn’t mean to but icy rage grips him fully. “The Din-cursed, glowing something that’ll tell me I’m on the right path! I can’t stay here and watch-” Sense returns to him and snaps his mouth shut. But it’s too late, Warriors is looking at him with that horrible, gentle understanding and Four wants to channel Legend and punch him too.

Sky finally rises and walks unsteadily toward the door.

Warriors nods, “Go ahead. I’ve got him.” He takes up position behind Sky like a sentinel and they slip away into the hallway, Sky unnervingly silent as closes the door behind him with a soft click.

It should be easy to walk away now. To linger and watch Sky suffer is nothing but torturous. But to leave… to leave now is cowardly. And Four is no coward.

He grits his teeth and follows after Warriors, passing easily through the wooden door. “Hey, Captain!”

Warriors pauses in the half gloom ahead, ghostly scarf flaring out behind him like it was undulating in the water. How is it he makes being half-dead look cool? How irritating. He focuses on that instead of the foolish mistake he’s making. “I’ve got Sky.”

Warriors tips his head to the side. “You’re sure?”

“I’ve got him.” Four rubs at the embroidery over the blue patch of his tunic. Unfortunate that he lost his temper. Now he has to prove himself reliable again. “You should go check on Wild.”

“You think so?” Warriors doesn't look convinced.

“He could use some help.” Go butt your nose in there and stop overanalyzing me out here.

Warriors finally nods and steps away. “If you’re sure,” he repeats. Then he’s gone, leaving Four with Sky’s retreating back in the hall.

Four falls into step easily behind Sky’s slow pace. For a moment, he could imagine that nothing was wrong. That this was another day at any other inn and he was herding Sky to bed before he passed out on the floor. Sky was easy to talk to. Four never felt like he had to overthink every word or play mental gymnastics to be understood. Sky listened, earnestly and enthusiastically, even if he didn’t understand blacksmithing techniques or the names of all the local plants in Four’s Hyrule. And Four listened in turn, fascinated and with a thousand questions on the tip of his tongue as Sky talked about wingspans and air currents and old songs rediscovered. Words would flow between them one moment and would stop just as easily.

That was how they worked, Four and Sky.

But the silence between them was never heavy. Not like this. But I’m not here, am I? Not by Sky’s understanding. Again the puzzle teased him. There has to be a way to communicate with Sky. Why else would whatever is responsible for this predicament give Sky their bodies but let their spirits roam free?

Four is pulled from his thoughts as Sky stops his trudging pace at the end of the hallway. Splintering doors loom on either side of them but Sky pays them no mind. The dingy window they passed a few moments ago does it's best to illuminate, but the light doesn't quite reach Sky. He stands alone in the near darkness and unease twists up inside Four the longer they linger. What’s going on? Why did we come here, Sky?

As if in answer, Sky twists to the side and slams a fist into the wall.

Four jerks back. “Sky?!”

His gentle friend draws back and punches again, fist hitting the aging boards with a crack. Then Sky screams, rage and hopelessness and exhaustion blending together in the ugly sound. He hits the wall again and again, wood buckling under his knuckles.

“Sky! Stop!” Four jumps forward and throws out on arm. Sky’s fist passes through, blue light fizzing out of place and then reforming Four’s arm. Sky's burst of violence is fleeting; he sinks to his knees, fingers clawing at his hair as he gasps and then clamps his lips shut to stop the sounds.

No no no what do I do- Four crouches by Sky's side. He wraps an arm around Sky’s shoulders but cries out as his limb scatters into light, giving him the sensation of gentle bubbles popping along the skin.

Sky rocks back and forth on his knees, eyes screwed shut tight.

“Come on, now. Please don’t do this.” Four tries to pull at Sky’s fingers, to untwist them from his hair. He knows exactly what will happen before he tries but he can’t stop himself. His fingers fizz away and won’t reform until he draws back. An angry voice in his head snarls out the truth that burns worse than any wound: “He can't hear you! He can't feel you! You can't help him at all!" He wants to run. Beg Warriors to take back his place so Four can get away.

Four fights down that voice and narrows all his attention on Sky. He lifts one transparent hand and carefully, carefully hovers it on top of Sky's bowed head. "You're okay." Four says, words firm and clear. "Everything will be okay. I know you're doing your best. Don't hate yourself over this. We’ll figure this out together."

Sky’s hold on his hair loosens. He looks up, face blotchy and red from holding back. His eyes stare right through Four.

Four wills Sky to see something other than an empty hallway, to feel a presence in the silence. Your friends are here, Sky, he thinks with all the conviction in his heart. You're not alone.

Sky's arms wrap around himself, blood trickling over split knuckles. He takes in a deep shuddering breath, and his gaze seems to actually focus on Four's face.

"Shhh," Four whispers, the tiniest of irrational hopes threading into his voice. "It's okay." Heart thudding, he dares to ask, "Sky? Can you see me?"

Sky's face crumples and he begins to cry.

The sobs are loud and frantic, grief finally spilling out openly in the dark, and Four fights not to crumble along with his friend. He scrambles for the part of himself that he knows to be rational and smart and useful, but the only thing that part of him is saying is that he knows why Sky is crying.

He cries like someone who has realized they are truly, utterly alone.

[kippin-art]

Okay i am bad at tumblr but just wanted to post the whole page in its own thing. When i get the time i think i want to attempt to draw the whole ficlet. We’ll cross that bridge when we get there ^^;

based off of @tiny-wooden-robot’s fic of my sweet Date Masamune💕 thank you again for writing my request!!

[hoodoo12]

Play and Funtime

I’ve seen lots of screenshots and fanart, but where is the written Robofizz smut?  sigh  Just have to do it myself jk jk

Although writing your first fic in a new fandom is nerve-wracking, I’m excited to do it and I hope you guys like it.

NSFW; Robofizz/imp!reader, TENTACLES YOU THIRSTY PEOPLE

@go-commander-kim @monsterlovinghours @mimiscappinisideblog @jesterfestivle @beetlebitchywitch @realmonsterboyhours @yankyo

Enjoy! `

It wasn’t your choice. You were clear on that.

But coerced by so-called ‘friends’ you found yourself in the very front row in front of the stage, with excited, chattering implings around you and excited, chattering friends on either side, all eagerly waiting for the show to start. You’d even been forced to enter the big top early, “to get the best seats!”, so now you were a combination of both bored and a wee bit anxious.

That clown always unnerved you.

The sparks, the glitches, the unnatural movements that were much more fluid than you thought should be possible--if anything was impossible here, with enough imagination or lacking that, determination and money--the AI that seemed a little bit too good . . . the Robotic Fizzarolli was not your idea of family entertainment. 

But here you were. You vowed to keep your head down during the show, to avoid seeing the robot and his animatronic backup band, then when it was over you could all leave and go do something actually fun.

When the lights went down you dropped your chin. Everyone else was cheering, so no one would notice you were not. 

Just as you remembered from your early imphood, the spotlight lit up and the Robotic Fizzarolli burst onto the stage in full song. The rest of the audience clapped and sang along. You remained steadfast in your resolve to just wait this out, your eyes locked on your clasped hands in your lap. 

Which meant you were completely taken off guard when a hand slipped under your chin and lifted your head. 

You found yourself face to face with the robot, who was focused solely on you, grinning widely, showing a large number of sharp teeth. 

“N-n-not having f-fun?” it asked.

“Wha-what? N-no--I mean yes,” you stuttered in surprised response, inadvertently sounding like you had a glitch as well. 

The robot cocked its head a bit too far to be natural, its optic sensors giving nothing away while it studied you. The crowd in the stands, including your friends, were watching with breathless anticipation. 

“I th-think you could be having a better t-t-time,” the Robotic Fizzarolli concluded, but to your immense relief, it released your chin and returned to the stage to finish its number, to the return of screams and cheers of delight. 

Soon after, the curtain closed and you sighed in relief. Loudly, you told your group, “You got your show. Now let’s get out of here.” “No, look, look!” the imp next to you exclaimed. “You got a token!”

Confused, you wrinkled your brow. “A token?” “She got a token!” “She got a token!” The imps you’d come in with crowded around, more excited than during the show. You even saw some of the imps who’d been leaving the tent turn and give you what looked like envious glances. You had no idea what any of this meant. “Look look look!” Finally you had the wherewithal to realize they were talking about something in your hand. It was exactly what they said--a flat, oval token etched on both sides with the jester’s face, and what looked like circuitry embedded in it. Very tiny letters around the edge spelled out, “Robofizz’s Play and Funtime!” You had to squint to read them. You had no idea where it came from. Your friends continued to talk over each other in their excitement.

“Robofizz gave it to you! When he came down and talked to you!” “Oh my gosh--yes! That must have been it!”

“You’re so fucking lucky! I’d kill to get one of those!” All the chatter didn’t make you less confused. The Robotic Fizzarolli must have given it to you somehow? You’d been so startled when it touched you and addressed you directly you had no clue it’d slipped something to you. Your hands had been clasped so tightly you hadn’t noticed the small token. Feeling overwhelmed, you offered it to them. “Then you can have it! Take it!” But as excited as your friends were, they all declined with explanations that it only worked for the imp it was given to, that there was some technology that imprinted on the imp who touched it first, so as jealous as they were, it was useless to them. You had never heard about anything like this before, but then again, you always bolted out the exit when the show was barely over.

Still feeling overwhelmed and now lost and stupid, you asked, “What do I do with it?”

“You get to go backstage and meet Robofizz!” 

That was something you did not want to do, but your friends would have none of that loser talk. They insisted you were selected, it was a rare treat, you were not letting them down by pussing out on having a private meet-and-greet with the star of the show! Despite your weak protests, you were herded along to a discreet door hear the stage. They--not you--knocked, and when a small window opened and suspicious eyes appeared, they--not you--told whoever was there that you had a token.

“Show me,” a low voice ordered, though the door. Resigned, you held up the disk.

There was a grunt, and the sounds of multiple locks disengaging. In another moment, the door creaked open. There was no one in the hallway beyond. “Come on, let’s go!” the same voice ordered. Your friends pushed you through the doorway, shouting good luck and have fun! The door slammed shut on them and it same clanking of the locks came again to secure it. It was much more ominous on this side. The hallway was dimly lit with flickering bulbs that seemed ready to die, but there was no where else to go, so you carefully made your way down it. 

⁂

You had no idea where you were supposed to go or what you were supposed to be doing. Keeping hold of the token so tightly your fist hurt, you figured it had gotten you past the door so it would get you past anyone or anything else that may ask what the hell you were doing here. But there was no one to be found. In the wavering overhead lights you wandered up some stairs and found yourself on stage, behind the curtain. The animatronic band was silent on their stands, creepier when immobile and staring than when they were booted up to perform, which you had never imagined could be the case. 

The Robotic Fizzarolli was not with them. That surprised you. If these robots were here, where was the star of the show? Chills went down your spine and with a horrible thought, you glanced up into the catwalks above the stage, as if expecting to see it there like a spider waiting to drop onto its prey. 

Nothing. 

“Hello?” you finally called. 

Nothing. 

You started back towards the hallway, thinking this was a mistake. Your soft footsteps echoed oddly in the silence. You would leave and tell your friends there was nothing, that you knew it was all a waste of time. 

“H-hello there. Wel-wel-welcome!” 

Startled, you spun fast enough to trip, and were caught by the robot that haunted your nightmares. 

It leered as it groped you into standing stead on your feet again. “You were the-the one who wasn’t having fun at my sh-show! I’m so-so-so glad you decided to join me!” Your tongue was stuck to the roof of your mouth but you managed to babble, “I wasn’t--I mean, your show was fine, it was good--” A glitchy, mechanical tsk cut you off. “No, no, no--I c-can tell. And th-that’s no good, not having fun. You seemed like you needed a little ex-extra convincing, and I’m pro-pro-programed to accommodate.”

You were sure your friends would know exactly what that might mean, but the leer had not left the robot’s face and it sounded more sinister than anything. You had seen the signage about “Peronal Companion”, but never spent too much time thinking about it--

It seemed to be waiting for a response. “I, uh . . .” You cleared your throat. “I have . . . a token?”

If it was even possible, the light of its eyes shone even brighter at the sight of you holding the disk. “Now those are fun,” it exclaimed, “for both of us. Let’s g-go.” Without another word and without warning, you were dragged deeper into the gloom further backstage. You stumbled to keep up, but that didn’t slow the robot down. There were turns down hallways that seemed to go on longer than should be possible for an amusement part theater, but finally, when you were out of breath and completely turned around, you were hauled to a stop outside another door. 

“Before w-we go in, g-g-giving or re-receiving?”

The glitches in its voice made it even more difficult to understand what the hell it was saying. Several moments passed while you untangled the question in your head. The Robotic Fizzarolli waited with mechanical patience and an unsettling stillness, although its eyes never left yours. “Uhmm . . .” The token had been given to you, like a gift, so would it be odd to ask for more? But you were the guest here. “ . . . receiving? I guess?” That leer returned to its face. There was a faint clicking noise, as if something was shifting inside the robot’s body, and it said, “Excel-excellent choice.”

It opened the door and ushered you inside. 

The room was designed for imps in mind. Well, imps of a certain predilection. Whips, handcuffs, ankle cuffs, ball gags, harnesses, various sizes of dildos--also in various shapes--hung neatly on the walls. Some wooden contraption with shackles at various points stood in a corner. There was a bench that looked as though it could be raised to various heights with the same shackles, but also a split for a tail to fit through if the imp secured on it was on their back. There were other instruments and adornments you had no name for, as your eyes swept the room.

“D-don’t l-look so worried,” the robot assured you, although you weren’t reassured in the least. “All that is only if-if it’s chosen. The selection is com-completely randomized.” You tore your eyes away from the implements in the room. “What do you mean?” “The-the-the token. Put it in the slot, and we’ll see wh-what prize you get.” That made little to no sense, till you realized Robofizz indicated a small slot on its side. Carefully, you raised your hand and pushed the token into it, which made the robot give a full body twitch like an extra jolt of electricity ran through it. You jerked your hand back; the sparks that flew from it haphazardly were one of the things you disliked most about it. 

There was a clanking noise, like the token was hitting and bouncing off things inside its body, plus a odd, whirring noise. You realized a panel on its chest was actually a screen, and something was spinning inside it. It was a blur, but gradually began to slow enough that you could see whatever it was had words etched on it. Now it was slow enough you could read them as they moved into and out of the screen. bdsm tentacles

vibration

Round and round they went. The words continued to flick past, gradually becoming slower and slower.

With a dawning that took you way too long, it became apparent whatever the last word was going to be was the decision. Maybe other imps or demons would use the Robotic Fizzarolli as personal companion and know exactly what they wanted, but there was also a randomizer feature to keep things lively!

The robot continued to stand eerily still as this continued. It was like both of you were holding your breath in anticipation.

The roller slowed enough to halt. The final outcome that you weren’t even sure you were prepared for blinked on and off in tiny white lights on his chest--

“Tentacles,” Robofizz announced.

⁂

“Tentacles?!” you squeaked. 

You got a nod in response. “A very pop-pop-popular feature. Would you like to remove your clothing, or simply re-relax and let me do all the w-work?” “But-but . . . there’s no bed or--” you cast your eyes around the room again, looking for anything that would lend weight to your argument that maybe just a simple handshake and an autograph would suffice. “No bed n-n-needed,” Robofizz countered. “I am designed to not need to sit or lay down, and-and I am pro-programmed to support you in m-multiple positions.” He was between you and the door, and now the aforementioned tentacles made their appearance, slipping out from some unknown port in his back. They were striped and limber, flexing as though they’d been kept in too small an area for too long and needed to work out the kinks. That couldn’t be the case, being a machine, so all you could figure was that it was designed to imitate life. The first of them--you weren’t even sure of their number--moved through the space between you and the robot. “Fizzarolli--” “Oh, such f-formality! No n-n-need for that either, baby.” That was the first time it’d used a pet name, again probably designed to make this all more personable. “Call me Fizz,” he cooed, all the while still showing too many teeth, invading your personal space, and managing to wrap you up with two tentacles. They pulled you into his torso, which wasn’t as cold as you expected it to be. Neither were the tentacles, now that you thought about it. More of them began to nose around you. “Some rules, baby. This can go as hard as you want. J-just say the word. N-n-nothing’s off limits. My-my-my next show is this evening, so you have me-me-me till then . . . you want ex-extra time, you gotta p-pay for it. “Q-Questions?” Dumbly, you shook your head. “Then let’s b-begin.”

⁂

You’d never be able to give enough detail about the encounter. You’d been asked, multiple times, and simply couldn’t put it into words. How could you describe the unusual sensuality of tentacles sliding under your clothing and removing it from you? How could you impress how strong but delicate they were, wrapping around your limbs with the perfect amount of pressure, raising you off your feet so you felt like you were floating? How you could possibly tell them that other tentacles roamed your skin, tickling you, exploring, awakening new erogenous zones you were unware exisited? How could you admit that all of that lasted an indeterminate amount of time, until you were writhing against the restraint, not to get away, now, but to try and pull him--the Robotic Fizzarolli was no longer an genderless it in your mind, but a him--closer while begging for more? When tears filled your eyes at the force of your pleas, he moved in closer to you, almost close enough to kiss. He seemed fascinated by your tears, and from between his sharp teeth came what must be the robot equivalent of a tongue. It lapped at your cheek, collecting the wet. You had no idea what that was all about, but in the next moment couldn’t devote any time to wondering. As promised, Robofizz accommodated. You’d asked, and another tentacle from Robofizz filled you in smooth, firm motion. You arched your back at the pleasurable friction it created inside you.  

How could you continue to admit that your begging didn’t stop, but increased, wanting, no needing more while being fucked suspended in mid-air by an amusement park clown? That the random showers of sparks that you hated before became something you craved, each little spark leaving a mild burn on your skin that didn’t hurt, but only served to make your nerve endings sing out? Or that during it all he’d talked, the rasp and glitching words of dirty encouragement to, “take it deeper” and “you’re soaking w-w-wet” and “gr-greedy little slut”, which only added to the debauchery, that although it was obvious he could and would be rough and aggressive he gave you just what you needed, and all you wanted was more and more and more-- Even after all that, the finale that would be hard for anyone to believe, including yourself if you didn’t experience it: Robofizz telling you, after you’d been wrung dry from countless orgasms, that the tips of his tentacles--and other, specific, parts of his body--were laced with nano-circuitry to simulate nerves, and he could feel every single internal clutch around his tentacle--

The session ended with you sucking on the tips of multiple tentacles, like an assortment of cocks, while still being fucked to a few more orgasms. When you were finally released, your legs were weak and you were drenched between your legs. You’d drooled so much you were laved with spit. It took you a bit of time to collect yourself and get your clothes back on; your hands trembled with residual bliss for long moments. Robofizz, whose tentacles disappeared again, walked you back to the corridor you’d come in. “Five m-m-minutes till showtime,” he told you.

You had no idea if robots had a sense of humor, but you tried anyway. “That was a pretty good show you just put on.” You got that unnatural head cock again, but he grinned and reminded you, 

“You want ex-extra time, you gotta p-pay for it.” “I know,” you replied, already trying to calculate how you could afford to return and book another private “Robofizz’s Play and Funtime!”. You were eager to try out different features. “How do I . . .?” “The-the d-door will remember you. It’s h-his job,” the robot answered your unfinished question, as if it was one he got frequently. You nodded as if you understood, then impulsively stretched upward to kiss him. He wasn’t startled--he was a robot, after all--but you gave him a smile and slipped back through the door to the front of the theater. You had to find your friends. It wasn’t your choice, sitting in the audience to watch a robotic jester entertain a crowd of imps. 

But next time, it would be. 

fin!

[commander-yinello]

A Keeper - Part 2

Fandom: Guild Wars 2 Pairing: Zhou Yao x F!Commander (no specific name or race) Chapter 2 [AO3 Link] Word count: 1071 Genre: Toothrotting, cliché fluff and awkward silliness A/N: We meet Yao! Awkward moments that don’t get better and some surprise guests at the end! I also got a request for gw2 oneshot, so I guess this is a good time to mention that yes, I do accept gw2 short fic requests!

Yao’s apartment was situated above one of Joon’s robotic facilities. It clearly had been a lab or storage of some sort, with large windows and rows of batteries near the doors. The place had been remodeled to a living area with modern hard-wood furniture and green lanterns. Not quite as luxurious as Joon’s, but more cozy than Mai’s had been.

The first thing the commander noticed when she walked inside were the Xunlai Jade posters. They appeared to be motivational, each of them with an uplifting slogan and a funny image of a cat. Her eye wandered further, seeing the main area was the entry hall, living room and kitchen combined. Yao’s place was chaotic, yet clean. There were workbenches with various jade bots and helper arms. On the nearby stool a mountain of rolled up drawings, in the bin more than a few crumpled up ideas. On the wooden cupboards there were tiny statues, mostly cats, a few dragons here and there, and interestingly some toys that looked like jade mechs. The large square carpet showed its wear and tear in the corners. The off-white countertop of the kitchen was bare, save two glasses, and it hit her that they were for her and Yao.

With a sweaty palm, she patted down her clothes. She’d worn something nice, as Taimi wanted. Well, what she thought was nice. Almost everything she owned was battle ready, more practical than stylish - she preferred staying alive over being a pretty corpse. So she hoped that her outfit could pass Cantha’s etiquette standards.

“It’s just a fun, friendly get together. No need to overthink it. They probably don’t care,” the commander told herself.

“Commander?” she heard through the only round door in the room. It rotated, slid open with a soft hum and from the bedroom came the one person that made the commander forget what she was doing.

They had swapped their usual engineer kit for a loose sleeveless top and comfy pants that reached below the knees. They still had their goggles on their head, no doubt tinkering on something small. When they spotted the commander, their eyes widened. “Ah! You’re here! I'm so glad.”

The eloquent diplomatic commander, having stood against the face of terror, dealing with ministers, officials, gods and even dragons, could only squeak as she forced herself to stop ogling Yao and say: “You are?”

Yao had trouble looking directly at her. “W-w-well yeah! I wasn’t sure if the door had let you in, it tends to bug at times,” they quickly added, pulling at long strands of black hair.

Oh. The magical sparkles mysteriously vanished from view, pulling her back into reality. There was an awkward silence where they both realized that this was the first time they were alone together, and now had no clue what to do. Usually Gorrik would chime in with a random bug fact. Why was taking down an Elder Dragon easier making conversation with her crush?

Finally, she thrusted her arms forward, presenting a small basket of fried seaweed chips. "I brought this." Not wanting to arrive empty handed, she had stopped by the night market and bought whatever the nice merchant lady suggested. She sincerely hoped nice merchant lady had not bamboozled her.

“Nice, I love these.” Yao took the basket eagerly. The commander loved seeing them smile. Then they looked at her and back at themselves. “Aw, crap.”

“What?” the commander panicked. Oh no. Her clothes were terrible. She knew she should’ve asked Kasmeer to help her. She was the worst. “What is it?”

“You look great and I look like a slob.” They reached for their goggles and the commander quickly placed her hand on their wrist to stop them from removing it.

“No no, I just threw on something I had lying around.” That was a lie, she chastised herself. “I wasn’t sure what to wear and didn’t want to offend.” Much better. "And it's only a holo-viewing."

Yao laughed. "You're right. No need to make a fuss when we're just friends."

“Haha yeah, just friends,” the commander repeated, completely calm and collected. Rationally she knew that Yao meant that they were glad the commander wasn't the Empress. Internally, in the deepest corner of her mind, she screamed.

It only occurred to them both ten seconds later that her hand was on their wrist. Unintentionally, the commander yanked her hand back as if it were burnt. They both stared at each other with glowing red cheeks.

Yao was the first to cut through the tension and coughed, exaggerating by holding a fist to their mouth. "Would-would you like something to drink? Tea? Juice?"

The commander nodded, agreeing with the first thing Yao mentioned though she didn't remember, and sighed when Yao left for the kitchen. Friends didn't act like this. She was mucking up this entire social interaction.

Was it too late to go back home? Taimi could tell anyone about her skiff skills, what did it matter?

One of the posters caught her gaze. Hang in there, it said. The adorable cat was dangling from a tree branch, staring right at her soul.

The commander clenched her hands. You’re right, poster cat. This was really not a big deal. She was going to sit on the couch, eat chips and have a great time watching the best drama ever with her good friend Yao. Yeah!

With renewed spirit, she searched and found what was obviously going to be their viewing area. A low table with a disc on it and in front a couch. A small couch. A love seat, and there was no separate chair, couch or available sitting cushion.

Oh no.

***

“What are they even doing?” Behind the wall next to Yao’s apartment window, a man with an impressively wide-brimmed hat that he was somehow able to hide, spoke in a very low tone. “By the way, the love seat is my idea. Hid Yao’s single chair in my place."

"Clever," his intelligent and bug-loving sidekick frantically whispered back. "I don't understand why the commander won't reveal her heart's aspiration. This really isn’t a complicated matter.”

"Yao won't either, though they have no problem complaining to me about it. I swear, if they don't do something, Imma go in there and-"

Gorrik started to bounce in place. "Don't! I promised Taimi only to investigate, not to interfere!"

“Okay, okay. I’ll wait.” For now, Rama thought.

[To be continued~]

[jaceyneedsabetterusername]

As Usual

Pairing: Mando x Reader

Summary: When Mando finds himself in need of some help in a tiny village on Arbiflux, he may leave with more than he expected. 

Warnings: Violence, mentions of sexual assault (or at least alluding to it), a lot of unimportant OC’s with names to fill the town

Word Count: 5700

A/N: This is my first Mando fic so I’m really sorry if it sucks. I tried though and if you guys enjoy this, I have an idea for another one.

_____________________________

The Mandalorian caught your attention the moment he walked into your family’s blacksmith shop. Tall, angular, and mysterious, the man landed his ship in the large clearing just on the other side of the river from where your town was and made his way across the utilitarian wooden bridge directly to the shops. You watched in curiosity as this new stranger made his way into your village, a small bundle of something you couldn’t make out walking right next to him. 

You had heard stories of the Mandalorians and the Great Purge, though you were no expert by any means on anything other than simply knowing they existed. Seeing one in person though felt surreal. For all you’d known, they’d been killed off years ago. But apparently not all because one was approaching you quickly. 

“Can I help you?” You asked, taking your worn protective leather gloves off and walking towards the open mouth of your family’s forge where the Mandalorian had approached. 

“I need a part for my ship to be fixed.” He answered shortly in a vaguely robotic voice. 

Tousling your fingers through your locks, you attempted to blindly force the stray hairs into place, “Well, we don’t get too many visitors with ships here. Your best bet for finding someone who can fix your ship would probably be in the city.” 

“Where is the nearest city?” He questioned, lifting a small bundle of tan fabric off the ground. Your brows furrowed when you saw that there was a small wrinkly green baby but the Mandalorian tucked the child further into his chest, almost shielding him from your view for some odd reason. 

Writing the action off, you pointed to your right with your thumb, “About ten miles west.” 

“How long is it to travel?” 

“On foot, about four hours. With a kaadu, maybe two.” You explained, gesturing to the large reptilian creatures in the pens around town. Mando sighed heavily and you got the impression he was on a limited time constraint, “What do you need fixed?” 

The man shifted, “The ventilation system. The fins on the fan are damaged, blocking it from spinning. The oxygen is hardly circulating throughout the ship.” 

“Broken fins? They metal?” You asked, to which the man just nodded, “I might be able to help if that’s the only problem. Can I see?” 

The Mandalorian led you back to his ship and you walked inside, skin crawling with excitement. You’d never been on a ship before. Like you’d told the man earlier, they never really landed in your little village and you seldom traveled to the bigger cities. It was like a metal maze, cramped but still somehow roomy enough to be comfortable. 

You took in your surroundings as he led you through the small hallways, stopping when you saw an almost book-like assortment of massive sheets of a black substance with what appeared to be carvings of screaming people. An uneasiness settled in the air that the Mandalorian noticed, glancing back over his shoulder to see you looking at his assortment of bounties that had been frozen in Carbonite. Since people had come after him, he wasn’t really sure what to do with the criminals he had yet to deliver but the thought was always pushed off. It wasn’t like they were going anywhere. 

“They’re alive. Just should have cooperated.” Your brows furrowed in confusion at his words so he continued reluctantly, “Bounties.” 

“Oh, you’re a bounty hunter?” You asked, relaxing slightly. Knowing that whoever these people were were both criminals and still alive, you felt a little better. They must have been pretty bad people if they had bounties on their heads. 

You were far from naive but you weren’t well experienced in matters of the universe. Arbiflux had been your only home, and, even then, you seldom left your small village. Always work to do, anything to help your family. You’d always dreamed of adventure though, getting off the forested planet and exploring the galaxy. The Mandalorian must have travelled all over the galaxy in his line of work and seen so much. It made you envious. You took his silence to your first question as an agreement so you continued, “I’d imagine work would have taken you all over the place. I’ve never left this planet. Hell, I’ve only ever left the village a handful of times.” 

“I have been to quite a few planets.” His modulated voice humored your musings, turning to continue his way to the ventilation system. 

You trailed behind, vague metal echoes following your boot covered footsteps, “What are they like?” 

“A lot of desert planets. Some have swamps. Some have forests. Some are just cities. A few are all ice. Some are a combination.” As he spoke, you fantasized about all the planets that could be out there. You had done so many times before and every time the new planets became more and more fantastic, sometimes to an unrealistic degree. But how could anything be unrealistic when you didn’t really know the constraints of reality in your own universe? 

“I’ve always wanted to see them.” You mused out loud, “Your ship is really nice by the way.” 

Mando looked back at you and, although you could see no hint of expression behind the helmet you immediately recognized as being made from beskar, he had an eyebrow cocked at you. It didn't sound like you were making fun of him but he knew the Razor Crest was anything but. "You haven't seen many ships before, have you?" 

 With a small shrug and slightly twisted face, you shook your head, "We don't get too many people coming through town and I don't make it into the city often." 

Mando almost felt bad for you. He had learned how to read people easily and you were an open book. It was in the way you stood, the words you spoke, the way your eyes twinkled in amazement at the smallest things on his ship. You were a girl who loved her family and had a sense of duty to them. He assumed by the look of the shop you worked in that blacksmithing was a generational career, probably dating back to your grandparents, at least. He could see the love for your community and home but he also saw a fire for adventure, for anything other than what you knew. With every word, every little subconscious movement, his image of you became clearer and clearer. 

"This is the fan." Mando stopped suddenly and pointed to an open panel in the ship's wall. You halted quickly, having almost forgotten why you entered the Razor Crest to begin with. "The rest of the system works. I was able to fix the wiring. It's just this part here that was damaged and now it won't rotate. It won't circulate the oxygen." 

He stepped to the side, allowing you to step in and inspect the damage. It was a long cylindrical metal piece with five slanted blades evenly spaced around the circumference. There was a mechanism in the middle that led you to assume that it spun around on some metal rod and the blades circulated the oxygen throughout the ship. Sure enough, two of the blades were bent and crumpled, so much so that when you gave the device a little test nudge to see if it would spin at all, it only rotated an inch or so before the crumpled fans hit another part of the system with a klink, preventing it from moving more. 

"As long as these just need to be flattened and straightened out, this should be a breeze. I could have it done by the end of the day." You continued to inspect the blades to get a full understanding of the damage. "So what happened to it anyway?"

"There was an altercation on board with a passenger. A stray shot from her gun hit the panel that used to cover this and it bent everything up." Mando remembered the fight with the Twi'lek woman. She was a fellow bounty hunter, yet another person who wanted the money for the Child. 

The slight black scar from the laser on the wall confirmed the report and you ran your finger over the smudge, curious to see if it would wipe away. It didn't. "Sounds like such an interesting life." 

“You said you could have it done by the end of the day?” The Mandalorian ignored your wistful comment and set the Child on the ground, making sure he stayed in eyesight. He didn’t see you as someone who would harm the baby but he also couldn’t be sure after everything that had happened. 

You nodded, “Yeah, this looks pretty simple. But you’re going to have to take it apart. I have no clue how any of that works and I don’t want to be responsible if it breaks.” 

“That’s no problem.” The Mandolorian stepped over and pulled on a few wires, disconnected a few fuses, and before you knew it, the overall fan had dislodged from its place with a hiss of decompression. He turned it in his hands until he found the button he had to push to unlock the mechanism holding each blade in place. It took no time before he handed you the broken blades one by one. 

You held the blades in your arms, moderately sized at about 18 inches long and 9 inches across. Leaning forward, you inspected the intact ones to get an idea of how these needed to be shaped. “Well, there’s not much to do in the village while you wait, I’m afraid. There’s a little bar you could hang out at I suppose. They serve some decent food.”

“Thank you. I’ll be around.” He responded in his typical concise manner. 

The blades really were quick work, like you’d expected. What took the longest was the order you had before, which was making the metal wedges of Naz Ta’ron’s ridge plow that he’d ordered to be made last week. Farm equipment made up most of your work, unfortunately, aside from the occasional weaponry. The weaponry never took too long, definitely not as much as you’d like. Making swords and hatchets was a hell of a lot more interesting than manufacturing plows and wheels. 

By the time the sun had just begun to set, you had finished the third blade, dipping the last blazing orange, newly repaired fan blade into the large bucket of water, bubbles sizzling aggressively at the contact with the nearly molten metal and cooling it rapidly. After setting it down on the workbench to cool, you untied your leather smock and brushed the loose strands of hair out of your face. As far as you could remember, these looked exactly like the intact fans back on the ship, though in better condition. You had no idea what they looked like new but this had to be close. 

*

Throughout the day, you’d watched from afar as the Mandalorian had wandered through the booths before returning to the ship with what you presumed to be a basket full of supplies. That was earlier in the day and he’d since been waiting in the bar you’d told him about earlier. You powered down the forge and gathered the fans before walking over to the bar. It was only a few buildings down, no more than a few hundred feet away, so the walk was quick. People meandered around town on their usual paths, the ones you came to know each person in the small village to take by heart.

When you entered the bar, the usual people were in there. K’jann Ving, Jared Amavia, and Haera Kiwai all sat in their usual seats with their usual drinks. All so usual. The only thing out of place was the Mandolorian sitting at the booth in the corner with his little baby whatever-he-was. 

He noticed you enter right away, which wasn’t saying much considering the small size of the room. You walked right up to the table, “Fans are all finished up. Figured I’d drop them off.” 

You placed the sheets of metal on the table. The Mandolorian reached down beneath the table and pulled out a small brown bag, “How much?” 

“30 credits?” You estimated, not really knowing how to price such a repair. Compared to other weapon repairs, though this was only slightly more because there were more than one things needing repairing. 

The Mandolorian began to sift through his bag, presumably counting out the coins. The little green baby by his side stared up at you with adorable large eyes and cooed. You couldn’t help the smile that crept on your face when his tiny arms reached out towards you, though you made no move to pick him up, opting to give him a tiny wave instead. Babies had always seemed to like you. Your nieces and nephews had loved you from the moment they were born. 

A commotion sounded from outside the bar that stole your attention away from your payment and the Child. Your brows furrowed when you made eye contact with K’jann, who looked equally as confused as you did. Jared stood up from his spot at the bar and walked to the door, “What the hell is going on out there?” 

Before he could find an answer, a bright flash of light struck him in the chest and he fell, lifeless. You shrieked and jumped at the unexpected attack. “Get down!” The Mandolorian demanded, pulling you closer to him before shoving the table over. He pushed you to the ground, scooped the child up, and placed him beside you hurriedly before you could comprehend what was happening. You were lying on the ground on your back, using the table as a wall of sorts to shield from the gun shots that were assailing towards you. 

“Protect the Child!” The Mandolorian demanded of you, his voice surprisingly calm considering he had just been randomly attacked. 

The baby reached up and clung to your shirt, struggling to pull himself up into your arms for protection. You reached around his body and scooped him up, flinching when a blast of laser zinged a little too close to your face for comfort. 

“You’ve been a hard one to reach, Mando. You could’ve just given us the Child and it would all be done with but now we’re gonna kill you, take the kid, and your shiny armor.” A man’s voice taunted from the other side of the table barricade. 

What the hell kind of trouble was this guy in?! 

The Mandolorian jumped over the table and you reached out for him, his cape slipping through your fingers as he disappeared into the fight “Wait!” You called out to now avail. What the hell was he doing? There were a few grunts and groans. The laser blasts stopped being directly in your direction and began to be shot more erratically around the room. 

“Get him out of here!” The Mandolorian’s modulated voice yelled at you from the other side. 

This was it. You were going to die. This was what you got for craving adventure. 

The baby squirmed against your body, making little fearful noises. Rolling over onto your knees, you scooped up the baby and held him tightly against your chest before reaching into your pocket and procuring a blaster. Peeking around the corner of the table first to ensure that it was clear to run, you took off like a bullet, darting as quickly as possible to the door. 

The Mandalorian was fighting against two humans, a Rodian, and a Cerean woman at once. It appeared like he had them until the massive Cerean woman pinned him on the table, hand crushing over a part of his forearm that he seemed in a struggle to have access to. 

You didn’t know anything about this man other than the fact that he was a bounty hunter with a broken ventilation system. Why did you want to help him? Why were you putting your life on the line to aid him when you knew damn well he could very clearly be in the wrong? Why did you trust him so much when you knew literally nothing about him? 

The Cerean woman fell on top of the Mandalorian the moment you pulled the trigger. He groaned at the heavy weight but used her body to knock one of the human men down. He quickly tapped on his forearm, right where the woman had been pressing, and a large flame shot out towards the Rodian, who shielded his face. 

You began to run towards the door again, so close to escaping with the child, but something hard suddenly knocked your feet out from under you and you crashed to the ground with a painful thud. You clutched the baby close to your chest as you fell, using your body to shield him from the impact. Your eyes opened to see a tall Zabrak woman that you hadn’t seen previously standing over you. 

“Aw, Mando! Using some little village girl to save the kid? That’s a new level of low.” She chuckled sadistically, rolling her eyes from the Mandalorian and back to you, “Sorry, babe, you don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into. Hand over the kid so I don’t have to kill you.” 

You froze in fear for a moment, brain stuck buffering in a desperate attempt to comprehend the situation you were in. 

“Guess I have to kill you.” She continued with an unapologetic shrug after only a second or two. She had a large staff in her hand that she spun around with skill, picking up enough momentum for the black metal rod to look like a blur, before slamming it down right where your head was. Thankfully, you rolled to the side just in time for the stick to slam into the ground with enough force that it very easily could have killed you. 

Without a second thought, you aimed the blaster that was still in your hand just in time and shot her square in the chest. Her body crumpled into a heap of black robes, her staff clattering to the ground. It took you a moment to realize that the commotion had ceased. 

The Mandalorian hurried over to you, “Are you okay?” 

Your whole body was shaking but you nodded, adrenaline pumping through your veins, “What the hell was that about?” You demanded, sitting up finally. When you looked around, you noticed that everyone who had attacked was dead. The other patrons of the bar had seemed to escape. 

Mando reached to take the kid from your grasp but stopped when he noticed how the small alien snuggled into your body like it was the safest place in the galaxy. You looked down to inspect his little body for injuries but he thankfully appeared unharmed. “I’ve been quested to bring him to the Jedi. He was originally a bounty I was supposed to bring in but I learned that the man who wanted him was going to hurt him. I couldn’t give him up. It’s my duty to protect him. People all over the galaxy like this have been trying to get the bounty on both of our heads.” 

“What’s so special about him?” The baby looked like any other baby alien. You hadn’t necessarily seen many baby aliens but this one didn’t seem particularly extraordinary. 

“I honestly don’t know for sure. I do know he can do things with his mind when he wants to, though. I figure it has something to do with that.” He extended a hand, pulling you up to your feet, “I’m sorry you got involved.” 

You shook your head slightly, looking around at the bodies littering the bar, two of which you were responsible for killing, “You said they were going to hurt the baby?” You asked rhetorically, “It’s no problem.” 

“Do all small town blacksmiths just carry blasters on them?” He asked, nodding towards the gun that was still in your hand. 

You tucked it away again, “We’ve gotten a few less than pleasant visitors from neighboring cities and towns. Just some jerks who come to town looking to pick a fight with the men or take what they want from the women. Pull out a blaster, it’ll usually put them in their place.” 

Mando thought about what that actually meant for a moment and a few more pieces of the puzzle that was you began to click together in his head. He couldn’t help but wonder how many times you’d had to pull the gun on a man who was trying to take advantage of you and the thought made his heart sink. He didn’t know you nearly at all but nobody deserved that. There was a twinge of protectiveness in his chest that made him want to track down anyone who’d ever threatened that sort of harm to you and show them just how good at killing the Mandalorians really were. 

There wasn’t time for that, though. If these five bounty hunters were here by now, there’d be more soon. He couldn’t risk getting caught up with any more people who wanted to take the Child. “Well you’re a good shot,” He complimented with a small nod of his helmet, “Anyways, we need to take off now. If they already knew we were here, others will be here soon. You said the parts were ready?” 

You nodded, “They were. I’m not exactly sure where they are now, though.” Your face twisted as you gestured around the freshly wrecked bar, furniture pieces just as strewn out of place as the cups and plates that were on them.

The two of you looked around for the fans and people from around town slowly funnelled into the bar, also helping to clean up the debris from the attack. “You need to go.” Zim Golu, the bar’s owner stood over Mando, who was crouched down to pick up one of the fans that he’d finally found. Zim Golu’s arms were crossed, his cheek bleeding from being hit with something during the fight. 

“I’m sorry about the damage,” Mando stood up, “I just need to find a part for my ship and we’ll be off this planet as soon as it’s installed.” 

Zim Golu stepped closer, “I don’t care about your part. I want you out of my bar.” 

You looked over from the next table over, setting down the chair you had picked up where it was supposed to be. “What’s the problem?” You questioned, walking over to the pair with furrowed brows. 

“There’s no problem.” Mando responded calmly, “We’ll be leaving as soon as I find the pieces I need.” 

“No, he’ll be leaving now.” 

The Child, who had been wandering around the building while you all cleaned, came up and held onto your leg. You glanced down before gently running your fingers over his head. “We cannot leave without these pieces. The oxygen can’t move through the ship without them. We barely made it here as it was.” Mando again was calm but insistent. 

“What don’t you understand, Mando? Look at the trouble you’ve caused my bar and this whole town.” Zim Golu clearly had no intention of backing down, despite the fact that the intimidating Mandalorian towered over him. 

You stepped forward and extended your arm between the men, “Mando, why don’t you go back to the ship and wait there. I will look for the pieces and deliver them when I find them.” You sent Zim Golu a look that told him that that was what was going to be what happened, whether he liked it or not. “How’s that?” 

The bar owner shot Mando a dirty look before pointing to the door, “Don’t come back to this place again.” 

Mando stood strong and emotionless under the shield of beskar and stared down Zim Golu as he walked away. 

“I’ll meet you at your ship in a few. We’ve already found two so the last one shouldn’t take long to find.” Mando looked down at you while you spoke. You handed him the first two fans you found, “Maybe you can get these installed while you wait. I’m sorry about Zim Golu. He’s always cranky.” 

“No, I understand. I’d be mad if my bar was destroyed by strangers too. Thank you for looking. We’ll be on the ship,” He beckoned for the Child to follow him out the door but the baby was hesitant, only wanting to be near you for some reason, “C’mon.” Mando picked up the baby and carried him out. 

Finding the last fan was more difficult than you had hoped. When the table was pushed over, it had been kicked under a shelf in the corner and it took you lying face down on the ground to finally see it. 

When you got to the ship, you awkwardly stepped up onto the ramp that led up to the Razor Crest and just up to the entrance of the main hull, “Uh, hello? Mando? It’s Y/N. I found the fan.” You announced, looking around while you waited for the man to appear before entering the ship. 

He climbed down a small ladder and approached you. You extended the fan blade out to him, “Here it is. Sorry it took so long.” You apologized, following Mando as he took off down the hall towards the ventilation system. “How did the other two fit? Is it working?” 

He stopped by the busted open wall panel that was supposed to conceal the ventilation system and pulled out the cylindrical piece that the blades attached to. He slipped the last one into place and it fit perfectly, “They fit nicely. Now we just need to see if it works.” He slid the mechanism back into place and reattached all the wires that he’d removed earlier. “Stay here and tell me if it spins properly. I’ll head up to the cockpit and activate it.” 

With that, he disappeared before you could protest (not that you were going to) up to where you assumed the cockpit was. You waited patiently until the low hum of the ventilation system kicked on and the fan began to rotate without a hitch. The Child waddled around the corner and right to you, arms up, asking to be held. You lifted him into your arms with a smile and held up your palm to him, “We fixed it! High five, buddy. Or, well, high three, I guess.” You chuckled, counting his fingers. The baby didn’t understand what you were trying to achieve so you gently tapped the palm of your hand against his in a forced high five. 

“Is it working?” Mando’s robotic voice asked from behind you and you spun around to face him. 

You nodded, “Everything’s looking good.” 

Mando immediately noticed the Child in your arms but, for once, he didn’t tense up at it. You felt safe, which perhaps was an error to assume such characteristics, but he couldn’t help it. Besides, he’d never seen the Child so affectionate with anyone other than himself. “Thank you for all of your help. I’m sorry about the trouble we brought with us.” 

“It’s no problem. If I’m being honest, it was kind of thrilling.” You chuckled, looking away with a small blush. That probably made you sound crazy. 

A silence settled over the two of you and Mando watched as your attention quickly turned back to the Child in your arms. “He really likes you.” Mando noted, “He’s not usually like that.” 

A small smile appeared on your face, “Well I must say I’m pretty fond of him too. He’s adorable. And, for what it’s worth, I think what you’re doing is really noble.” You told the Mandalorian. Why did complimenting him give you butterflies? You had no idea what the man looked like. For all you knew, he could have tentacles for a mouth or four eyes. But, regardless, there was just something about him that made you uncomfortable in the best way - in the sort of way that left your skin crawling with excitement and a constant little urge in the back of your head that made you desperate for him to like you. 

“I appreciate that.” 

Another small moment of silence again left you rocking back and forth on your heels. “Where are you off to next?” You inquired curiously. 

“I don’t know. We’ll figure it out though. Tatooine isn’t too far from here. We might go there and lie low for a day or two.” Mando responded. 

A question had been whirring around your mind since the Mandalorian first arrived and enlisted your help but you didn’t realize how hard asking it would actually be. You knew, though, that this was your last chance. “Can I come with?” You asked, the words coming out quickly. 

“This isn’t a passenger ship.” He answered simply. 

“I don’t mean like a taxi or whatever. I mean... “ You struggled to figure out how to ask, “Can I come with you guys? Wherever you go, I don’t really care. I don’t have any money to pay you but I can help however you need. I have some survival skills in the wilderness. I can sort of fix some things. I have child care experience. And I’m a fast learner for anything else you might need.” You chewed your lip while waiting for the Mandalorian to respond. 

“Why would you want to do that?” 

You sighed, “I just… I don’t want to die here knowing I never did anything but smash metal with a hammer. I don’t want to spend my whole life stuck in this little village when there’s an entire galaxy out there to see. I understand that joining you would mean a life of danger but I think I’m willing to risk that.” 

Mando pondered the proposition. He had no actual need for a companion on his journey to deliver the Child to the Jedi but he could see the potential luxury in having one. Clearly, the Child really liked you. Fighting and caring for the Child was difficult at times and having an extra pair of hands would definitely prove helpful. Although you weren’t a trained warrior, you could hold your own in a fight and had no problem pulling the trigger when the moment called for it. You did have the ability to fix things that he wasn’t able to, at least when you had the proper tools. 

Beyond that, he could see your desperateness to leave this planet. Mando had never been what many would call a “softie.” He did what needed to be done and would do whatever it took to meet those ends. He had his ethics, of course, and obviously he felt bad for the people that he couldn’t help but he had to admit that he often had the “not my problem” mentality. Perhaps it was attributed to his newfound position as a father figure or maybe it was because he actually cared about you for some unknown reason, but he found himself sympathizing with your situation. He could see in your eyes that you saw hope in him and the Razor Crest as a way to get off Arbiflux. This was your opportunity to leave behind a life of “the usual.” But he still couldn’t help but find himself stuck on what you said earlier about the men from neighboring towns coming in to take advantage of the women here. The fact that you carried a gun in an otherwise safe community simply to defend yourself against men like that actually enraged him. His “not my problem” mentality seemed to be receding to his yearning to help you in some way, especially after all you’d done for him. 

He couldn’t believe he was doing this. “People try to kill us almost everywhere we go. You will never be safe. Can you handle that?” 

With a hard swallow, you nodded your head. 

“We are leaving in thirty minutes. Take only what you need.”

Your eyes widened with surprise and a big smile spread on your face, “Wait, are you serious?” 

“Yes. As long as you understand what coming with me entails, I could use the help.” Mando didn’t actually hate his decision to allow you to come with. Part of him was actually a little excited to have another person, an actual companion, on board. Of course, he would gladly kill you or strand you on an icy planet the second you indicated any harmful intent towards the Child but that seemed highly unlikely at the moment. 

The way you did a little excited jump made him smile under the helmet. Your enthusiasm and gratefulness gave you a humble, real, and, frankly, slightly adorable energy, despite the badass edge of literally forging blades and shooting people. “Thank you so much! You won’t regret this. I will be right back!” He watched as you ran off the Razor Crest, presumably to your home to grab a bag of personal belongings. 

Mando moved to the main hold and sat on a box, the Child standing on the ground and looking up at him. He could have sworn that the little green baby was giving him that look. It was the look that kids gave their friends when their crush walked by. “Hey, knock that off. You better be on your best behavior for her. She’s willing to help you not get killed so be thankful she’s coming along.” Mando told the tiny being, who just giggled in response. “We’re just helping her! It’s not like that.” Mando insisted to the Child, exasperated with his silent (imagined) insistence. It didn’t occur to him that he really was just arguing with himself. 

He stood up and did a once around the ship to try and work out the logistics of living with you. Frankly, he wasn’t sure where you’d sleep or how living with another person was going to work as it had been so long since he’d spent more than a few days with someone. All Mando knew was that he wasn’t totally dreading your company.