#trying to color one panel scares me enough

[menace-sama]

sappy continuation under ‘keep reading’ below ⤵

“Good night, Roman,”

---

This was drawn way before Thomas announced those youtooz dolls. I only have the courage to share it now hhhh

I’ve been whining about wanting a custom roman plushie for months (yes, way before the dolls announcement) I could buy the youtooz ones but the site doesn’t accept paypal plus it’s long past now. still in coping phase, really

[amelizscribbles]

OK, EXPLAINING DABIS SCARRING because @good-lord-not-books asked

*note these are just my hcs and some medical research

I'm putting this under a cut because it's long as hell, and I apologize in advance for any typos or if it's confusing. I have no problem explaining further♡

His scars are hypertrophic. which 1) explains the discoloration. It's what happens when the smaller blood vessels become partially or fully obstructed with scar tissue. They typcially start off pinkish or light red. (like when he woke up from his coma.)

Typically the treatment for this is laser removal. But if you don't have access the color may naturally shift with age/as it natueally heals. But with continuous damage to the areas.. the scar will get darker as the veins and tissue is further injured (the deeper into the skin and possible muscle it damages)

most hyrpertophic scarring can take a year + to heal. but obviously Dabi just keeps making his worse. The scars themselves are cause by the body over producing collagen for wound healing and not actually being able to break all of it down.

Which leaves collagen fibers in the skin to harden and thicken. Hardened skin doesn't allow much give, lessening the skins elasticity over all. Which can be shown in the way his unscarred skin pulls along the edges where the dermal rings line said scars. (my thoughts on his staples acrually being dermal rings will be at the end)

That's not even going into the nerve damage systemically for him considering hes covered in that kind of scar. So when he says he can't feel a thing it's literal as the nerve endings are shot to shit. And that is only going into skin deep level.

Interal organ nerve damage is a whole other mess due to the scaringbeing from burns. As severe enough burns cause systemic damage. (will also go into atfer the scarring part)

His skin looks TIGHT on him. If he did have and semblance of sensation in his nerves it might feel like hella tight/dry skin. Also I think hypertrophic scars are an inflammation response to the body healing.

His body is literally misshapen from it. (and yes we love him the way he is) You can see in panels where the skin is probably softer where there's lack of muscle definition but can see where it's tighter or pulling over his arms/ shoulders/ribcage because the skins elasticity is non-existent. The instances where it's sifter looking is probably due to his body trying to retain as much body fat it can to keep healthy (or as healthy as it's going to get in his state.)

As far as it going right up to his lower lids and having zero tear ducts. that man has chronic dry eye like it's nobodies business. so itchy and possibly bleeding eyes isn't a shock. he probably has several counts of grand larceny in artificial tears alone.

Ok so as for his scaring being from burns, burns affect the whole body and how it works depending on the severity.

It can effect muscle tissue/muscle mass, bone structure and interior organs.

Given he seems to be perpetually giving himself 3rd degree + burns .. his respiratory system and cardiovascular system are probably shot to shit. Just from smoke inhalation and perpetual injury. (hypertrophic scars fill the veins with scar tissue remember) Assuming how deep the burn and scar tissue goes.

But we haven't seen him with much breathing issues so I'm assuming it's whatever. He has mentioned motion sickness and we've even seen him turning down food. So I can at least go into it's affects on his GI tract.

In the GI tract, burns can result in increased gastric secretions, reduced intestinal motility, decreased nutrient absorption, increased GI mucosal permeability, bacterial translocation and increased intra-abdominal pressure. If it's bad enough he may have ulcers or gi hemorrhaging. Severe burns also cause liver and intestinal damage.

The fact that he's been alive this long is wild if he's been homeless this whole time and just committing small crimes to not die. One thing that irritates me is when people think he would be incredibly unhygienic due to the scars and such.

Like do you understand how CLEAN you have to keep burn injuries to keep them from getting infected?? Even if it's layered over already damaged and scarred skin. He might smell like burnt flesh but I doubt he's letting wounds fester.

Yes he could probably just cauterize himself but that's still just burning burn wounds. Especially with 0% health insurance. I always assumed he kept breaking into the Todoroki family home when he knew no one would be there to do basic things to make sure he didn't die on the street over the years.

Quick add on to my thoughts on his staples just being dermal rings to homd his skin together/as a form of human Kinstugi.

They (the rings) are pretty rounded in the manga, surgical staples aren't nearly that large either so I always assumed human Kinstugi regardless of metal color (between manga gold or anime silver) and it was both decorative and necessary for his skin.

I just assumed wherever the rings weren't, it was just spots he couldn't reach.

it's also shown in the manga that he's adjusting/adding more along his scars.

als, in case anyone is unfamiliar with the term Kintsugi, it's this

Kintsugi (Japanese: 金継ぎ, lit. 'golden joinery'), also known as kintsukuroi (金繕い, "golden repair"), is the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery by mending the areas of breakage with urushi lacquer dusted or mixed with powdered gold, silver, or platinum. The method is similar to the maki-e technique. Its the Japanese philosophy that the value of an object is not in its beauty, but in its imperfections, and that these imperfections are something to celebrate, not hide.

which I think suits his character very well when his piercings and dermal rings are gold looking in some of the colored manga art.

ok, I'll shut up now, ♡

[faellain]

The Accidental Baby Trap Incident

Summary: About four years after the events of First Class, Erik arrives at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters with two little twins who he didn't know existed. Thinking he doesn't know what to do, he runs to Charles, not knowing the state his old friend is in.

Snippet 6

[prev] [next]

charles sighs as they wheel down the long walkway to the machine itself. the completed room is gorgeous, all metal panels with projectors ready to show the tour de force of charles xavier's telepathy. dust coated everything in the room.

"these are muscles i haven't stretched in some time," charles says somberly, picking up the helmet. gently, he blew the dust off. for a moment, his lips looked their correct shade, that brillaint natural almost-red. once, erik had insuated that charles' lips were a physical result of his mutation. that had made charles' laugh, wondering what telepathy would have to do with his lips.

raven had raised an eyebrow and replied, "why did my skin have to blue for me to shapeshift?"

charles settles the helmet onto his head. hank preps the machine, warning them before he turns it on. as it comes back to life, charles grimaces. erik quickly puts a hand to his shoulder, squeezing it trying to center him as the room is bathed in red and white. they had considered this- color coding the humans and mutants. his breath is caught in the beauty of it all as he watches charles try to locate sean, try to zoom into vietnam.

instead, the room starts spinning, charles unable to control the though. pained yells scrape their way out of his throat. all erik can do is move to hold both his shoulders, coming around the front. charles' shoulders shake beneath his palms.

"hank, turned the damn thing off!" he snaps.

just as hank comes alive, trying to do so, the power shorts out, plunging the room into darkness. charles all but throws the helmet to the ground, his chest rising and falling in heavy breaths. he's not well; erik doesn't need to be a telepath to know that.

"i-i'll go check the generators," hank murmurs before dashing off to do so.

charles runs his hands over his face, "this was a mistake."

"you said yourself you're out of practice," erik reminds him, "it wasn't cerebro that did that."

charles looks at him ruefully, tired and bitter. his hands shake again as he touches his forehead, "my power comes from here. from," his hand moves to his chest, but he abadons the words. a dispodant death resides in his tone as he sighs, "it's broken. i feel like one of my student's. helpless…"

erik moves to cup his cheek, thumbing at the skin there, letting his fingers trace over the scruffy beard. he finds he still truly hates it. perhaps it's the lack of familiarity to the clean-shaven scholar he had known when all this began.

"you're not," he says, "you've become scared of yourself. i know you. you can do this."

"it's too much," charles tries not to wheeze, still catching his breath, "we need to call your telepath."

"you are my telepath," erik replies, "emma is terrifying when she wants to be, but she is not you."

charles laughs bitterly, leaning back in his chair, "then she's good enough to work cerebro while i can't. i'm not jealous for heaven's sake. i just- i can't do this anymore. there's too much pain."

erik frowns. he knew that charles could know anyone's pain just by touching their mind. their history was an open book to him. he'd known erik's pain, his hurt. but he'd also brought back some of erik's happiness as well.

"let me take some," he offers, "you know my pain. let me have yours."

charles shakes his head, "no. god, no. you have enough pain-"

erik leans down and kisses charles' cheek, slowly, presses his nose against the side of charles' head, "which is why you know i can handle your's. give me your pain, charles. stop bearing it alone."

there is some hesitation, but charles opens his mind to him. everything is on his terms. that is the trouble with only one of them being telepathic. erik must trust that what charles is showing him is not just the truth, but that he withholds few things. but trusting charles has always been easy. no one else ever broke through his barriers. no one else could ever love him him.

and that is why the pain hurt so much.

erik knew there had been a stepfamily in charles and raven's lives, but he did not know they were cruel. their mother, already inattentive, started drinking. kurt marko was cruel. for all the house's beauty, each room had its own reminder of strikes against charles' tender skin who was but a child- a child. bruises should not litter a child's body. screams should not reach a child's ears.

he'd mocked this place, this temple to charles' forgone youth, this church of suffering. yet, charles continued to live here. when he had first started accepting students he wanted to fill it with enough good memories to wash away the bad. now, there were more bad filling up the empty air. charles was suffocating.

a few tears pass by erik's cheeks as charles pulls the memories away. he is crying too, far more than erik is, but it is a silent endeavor. erik kisses charles' cheek again, then his lips.

"i'm here," he whispers, "they're gone."

"i know," charles says, his voice waivering.

erik peppers kisses into charles' hair, "we will fill this place with good memories. you, myself, our children. students and teachers."

charles moves and cups erik's cheeks, "that's a nice thought. really. it is. but you have your world and i mine."

i will start with this school, erik kneels before charles' chair, presses his hands over charles' as though pledging feality to a lord, and then i will make a place for mutants to be safe. a utopia for mutants alone should your humans prove lack luster.

charles blinks away tears, "but erik-"

"i want you at my side," erik tells him, "i want you to hope again. i will build a world you will love brick by brick. with dirt beneath my fingers. with blood and sweat. if you can forgive me, i will give you everything."

as erik cups charles' cheeks, cerebro's lights flicker back on. they both smile and charles nods, letting his cheek lean and rest into one of erik's large hands. hank is on his way back up he can sense it.

"we'll talk more later," charles whispers, pecks erik's lips chastely.

it's not 'i love you'. perhaps, it is not the answer that erik wants to hear, but it's what charles can muster. he can still feel erik holding him, can feel erik screaming his thoughts as a plea to get charles not to plunge another needle into his arm. he'd forgotten how lovely it was to have another mind dance with his.

they have a second chance. maybe this time, things will go right.

hank's footsteps echo as he jogs along the path to the center console, "power's back. do you want to wait?"

"no," charlies replies calmly, "let's try once more."

the second time putting on cerebro still hurts as he forces himself to tune out things that are unnecessary. still, this time, he is successfully. sean is at some sort of facility in vietnam. most likely he'd be moved to a secret base where they might lose him forever. but for now, he was safe behind what should have been friendly lines.

"i've got him," charles says, then frowns, "and what seems to be a handful of other mutants but they're muted. something is blocking them."

erik shakes his shoulder, "i knew it. we have to save them. janos might be among them. "

hank mouths, janos?, to himself but with erik in his mind and he in erik's charles knows riptide's name now.

they deliver the news to raven who is visibly relieved to have some idea of where sean is. erik sits by a window as everyone talks, watching pietro and wanda play with the tire swing. a small smile crosses his face. still, he can feel charles' eyes watching him.

to no surprise when he turns, charles is smiling at him, lips quirked up playfully. fondness is sewn into the lines around his mouth. erik rolls his eyes at charles with exagerattion before turning his gaze back toward his children, cringing as pietro jumps from a tree branch, only avoiding a fall by wanda using her powers to make the ground become a hill to catch him.

"erik!" raven snaps. he looks at her and her raised eyebrows, eyes flashing like amber, "care to join us?"

"i'm listening," he assures, "we need to take the blackbird to vietnam. i'll have to call azazel- if janos is there, he'll want to be part of the rescue."

"he's the teleporter right?" asks hank, "because he seemed so nice when he was dropping fbi agents from the sky."

"azazel is twice the man those government hacks were," sniffs raven. erik smiles at her. both of them have come to deeply care for their russian brotherhood member. he grew up mistaken for a devil, hidden away from the world. he and raven had bonded over that. erik cared for his blunt candor.

"it will be better to have him," charles says, "and emma frost. i would just slow you all down."

"no, you wouldn't," erik argues, "your powers-"

"are still coming back," charles reminds him, voice soft. a gently hand seems to caress erik's stormy thoughts, "and someone needs to be here to watch the kids."

"we should ask angel to stay here," raven adds, "just in case. that way it's not just charles and the twins."

erik hadn't thought about that. missions had hardly crossed his mind when he ran here, but he should have considered it an eventuality. at some point, his kids would have to understand their father had work to do like any other. his was just more dangerous.

"you trust her to stay?" asks hank, skeptically. erik considers punching him, but charles reaches over and physically grabs his wrist.

i wasn't going to do it.

he's still hurt.

raven narrows her eyes, "do you trust me?"

"of course," hank replies, trying not to sound sheepish.

"then you can trust her," she ends the conversation there, standing, "i'm going to call the safehouse. hopefully, at least one of them is there."

erik turned his eyes back toward his kids once more. soon, his mysterious disapperance was going to be revealed. he could practically hear azazel calling him an old dog. charles' fingers threaded with his own, both of them coming to look out the window.

we should talk before you go, charles says, though his eyes train on wanda, trying to undo the small flat-topped hill she's made.

you know my feelings, erik reminds him.

charles shakes his head, we need discuss the school. your brotherhood. how that coexists.

it will coexist if i say it coexists, erik tries not to wrinkle his nose in disgust. instead, he feels the emptiness of charles's hand leaving his.

"stubborn as always," charles replies, though that fondness is still there. he takes his hands and rolls his chair back, "maybe you should speak to your brotherhood before me then."

"but charles-"

i'm tired, charles tells him, i'm going to rest before all the excitment starts. i think you'd better help your kids.

there is affection there, but erik is not a telepath. he can't tell if charles is shielding truer feelings from him. the realization leaves no small amount of frustration bubbling in his chest. nothing mattered but the promise erik had made to him. he would build a world charles could love.

his eyes moved from wanda to hank, thought of raven finally walking around her childhood home in her true skin. he thought of azazel who could not hide in plain sight. they deserved a world they could love too.

[plz-help-meeee]

The shadows are my friends!!

Tw: Mention of suicide, cringe???, logic is none in, death,

A/n: this is my first fic, this is inspired by "get off my screen" by @matrixbearer2024 go check them out their really cool. I really did want to add more to this fic but I couldn't think of anything else so if you have question or have headcannons about this that you want to share you can send them to me.

Synopsis: just a normal teenage dirtbag who can also parts of hell without being dead.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚

It started small with seeing little shadow out of the corner of your eye, Thinking you saw a critter go under your chair but you thought this was all just normal stuff that people always see.

That was until you started to see the sky be a red color only for you to rub your eyes or look away and it to go back to normal. Strange tall figure walking by you and you turning back to see no one there.

One day when you were walking back home you saw what looked to be weird red demons and a wolf girl in an alleyway, you spied on them as they walked through a portal talking about having just finished a job.

You lean against the wall after they were gone, you should have been scared, you should have been panicking but a smile creeped its way up your face. Any other person would have been confused and terrified but to a suicidal teenage dirtbag like you this was the most exciting thing to happen in your dull life.

You started to stare up at the red sky longer wondering how long it would take for it to change back to normal, you drew the figures you would see trying to get as many details as you could get right.

You started to change, you started to say 'good morning' and 'I love you' in a more happy tone, you became for active in school.

You even made little horns made of cardboard and fabric in the style you saw the red demons had, you saw a figure who had spikes on their tail once and you decided to make a tail to go with the horns that looked like the figures, you know it was cringey but it made you happy.

You started to recognize the streets you'd frequently see specific figures at, you'd always see this tall owl thing walk down the street you walk down to get home, the demon you walk by who had spikes on his tail would walk down the park you go to to relax

One time you close enough to touch the spiked tail demon's hat, you got so excited, you started to try and touch every figure you walked by.

There was this one figure that stood still no walking by you, or scooting just out of sight, they were just standing there. The figure was tall, much taller then you, they color palette consisted of mostly blue, they had what looked to be fire as it's head, in fact it had three heads one in the middle and two on either side of it.

You were afraid to look away thinking it would disappear as soon as you did, you tried to reach out to touch one of the heads but you stopped when you heard a voice "Ozzie!!". You turned around to see who said that but you found nobody, the figure started to move and you were able to touch their arm just slightly.

You never really saw that figure again, but that was okay you had plenty of others you could see. You patted the tall owl things shoulder whenever you would walk by him on your way to school, you tipped the spiked tail demon's hat over his eyes for fun when you could.

You kept a journal were you wrote down which figures you passed by on what street and also drawings of the figures with little information panels besides the drawing, you named the owl thing towel (cause tall and owl, get it, I'm not funny I know) the spiked tail demon was named cowboy, the figure that had three fire heads was named Ozzie (Asmodeus???, no that would be absurd, right?)

Everything was going great and you started to improve, you got better at speaking to people, had gotten a better relationship with your mom, heck you even texted your brother the one person you said you would never want to see again.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚

Today you were walking to school like always, you got your backpack, ate your breakfast and got your lunch box. You said by to your mom and was about to leave but you got this gut feeling, something telling you to do something. You walk up to your mom who was on the phone and hugged her, "I love you mom" you said in a genuine voice.

Your mother looked surprised at your hug but decided to hug back, "I love you too baby" your mom said back with smile on her face. This was the first time you two had said you love each other without malice or irritation in your voices.

You walk outed of your house and to your school, on the way you patted towel's shoulder like usual and hummed a song. You were near the part were you had to cross the road.

You saw a little kid run into the street to chase after a duck toy they had, you noticed quicker then anyone that car was heading straight towards the kid. You reacted fast as you ran towards the child to get them out of the way.

You grabbed the kid's arm and pulled them close to you as you kneeled down to shield them. Thankfully the car the avoided you and the child by mere inches, you scoffed when you saw that the driver was on their phone through their car window.

The child looked upset "my-" "toy?" you cut the child off, "right here" you said as you showed them their duck toy that you managed to save in time. "You should really be more careful kid, your life cost more then some toy." you lectured the kid about safety, you felt like a hypocrite saying all this considering only a few months away you were ready to die at any time.

Your lecture stopped when you felt a cold metal press against your head, "you just can't seem to die can you?" a familiar voice said. You turned your head around slowly, "bro-" you were cut off as everything went black.

[i-eat-worlds]

Starcross Chapter 10

Fun fact: my mom got this exact same injury while I was planning this out.

Content: Conditioned whumpee, medical whump, broken bones, caretaking, fear of punishment

Zarian, AFS Starcross, 5/5/4763 Ziar punched the code into Starcross’s outer access panel, backing away to let the ramp come down so they could enter through the cargo bay. The ship did have an upper access hatch that went directly to the third floor, but they hadn’t landed somewhere fancy enough to actually use it in ages. It probably didn’t even work.

“Sorry about this, I know you would’ve preferred for them to come to the clinic,” she said, turning towards her friend Raz. They’d gone to school together on Adaxia before everything had gone to shit, and they’d reunited last year after Elzar had lost a bar fight. Badly.

Raz shrugged. “If you say they’ll handle this better, then I’ll believe you.” He let Ziar lead, then climbed into the ship behind her. “Besides, it’s not everyday you get to see a human.”

“I know that rare species med is a thing of yours, Raz. Wouldn’t deny you the opportunity.” She pushed the button to pull up the ramp.

“Also, you lack a Multi-Species Scanner.” He started to undo the fastenings on his coat. Even though it was his summer one, it was still bulky and thick. Ziar didn’t know how he did it.

She grinned. “I keep trying to get Veya to buy me one for my birthday. She doesn’t know how annoying it is to input the species values manually. And that’s when the info is already available.”

“Happy I could help.” He smiled back.

With their waterproof layers shed, they continued to the elevator, heading up to the infirmary on the second level. Raz set his duffle bag down on the floor as they ascended, but kept his backpack over his shoulders.

“Just a warning,” Ziar started. “They’ve been through a lot. I don’t know well they're going to tolerate this, even being here. And I have no idea how they’re going to react to the sedatives I have on board. Go slow.”

Raz nodded. “You got it.”

The elevator doors slid open, and the two quickly walked down the short hallway, towards the infirmary doors on the far side. They hissed as the two of them entered. Kim was lying in bed covered in a blanket, face unnaturally blank, as they talked quietly with Oka. They quickled waved goodbye when the two entered, having their own list of problems to solve.

Ziar walked up to their bedside. “Hello, Kim, this is Raz, (he/him). He’s here to look at your ankle,” She said, switching from San’daxi to Yeran.

Raz smiled at them, giving them a little wave. “I’m a friend of Ziar’s, and I’m a doctor,” he said, also in Yeran. “I’m here to look at your ankle.”

Kim stared up at them, eyes shimmering with what were probably tears. “Good afternoon, sir.” Their hands tightly gripped the sheets.

He stepped closer to the bed, snapping on a pair of gloves. “Is it okay if I touch?”

“Yes, sir.”

His eyes flickered over to the monitor, vitals recorded by the central diode on their chest. They were all basically fine, with the exception of their elevated heart rate and fast breaths. Kim was absolutely terrified. “I’m going to touch your ankle now.”

Kim nodded. “Yes, sir.” They just barely managed to hide the shake in their voice.

He pulled the blanket back, revealing their swollen left ankle underneath. Carefully, he felt for a pulse, both on the top of their foot and by the protruding portion of their ankle bone. “Both pulses are present, color looks good,” he reported, then turned back to Kim. “Can you feel me touching you?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You don’t need to call me sir if you don’t want me too, Kim.” He pulled his hands away, reaching for his bag so he could get the scanner set up. They didn’t respond to that at all. “How’s the pain?”

“Four, sir,” they said, and Raz wondered if the rule of double for drinks and plus two for pain counted for scared humans in ship infirmaries. From the way this looked, probably.

“Any numbness or tingling?” He opened up the scanner’s control menu, setting it to “fully adaptive,” then “humanoid.”

“No, sir,” Kim said, and Raz wondered if they knew how to say anything else.

“Alright.” He looked towards Ziar. “Have they been able to bear weight at all?”

Ziar shook her head. “Not for four steps.” She picked at the bandage over her arm. “Maybe one-and-a-half.”

Kim’s eyes went wide at that. “It’s sorry it hurt you, ma’am. It..please, ma’am, mercy.”

Raz watched on, face twisted with concern, as Ziar moved closer towards them. “Remember when I said I wasn’t going to hurt you?” They nodded quickly. “I still mean that. No punishment, alright.”

“Yes, ma’am.” They didn’t sound all that relieved.

Raz stepped closer. “I’m going to take a scan of your ankle now. It won’t hurt at all, alright? It’ll be quick.” He carefully took their ankle into his hands, holding it still as he moved the scanner around it in a near three-sixty. They tensed with his touch, and he could feel them shaking with fear. Poor thing.

The scanner beeped, and he moved to set their ankle back down on the bed. Before he could do so, they jerked, body convulsing as their face screwed in pain. “Kim, are you alright?”

They were panting, obviously uncomfortable. Ziar met eyes with them before she spoke. “It’s unrelated. Don’t worry about it.”

Raz narrowed his eyes as he brought up the results of the scan. “Ziar…”

“After the results,” she sighed, motioning for him to hurry up.

He wasn’t going to get a better compromise than that. “Alright.” The scanner’s findings appeared on screen. “It’s stable. Lateral malleolus, non-complete. Good blood flow. Really the ideal fracture. Cast?”

She nodded. “Yep. It’ll go get the stuff for it.”

Kim’s eyes moved rapidly between them, fear growing on their features. When they saw that Raz had noticed their expression, they only grew more terrified. “You-you want to see its implants, sir?”

He swallowed, looking over at Ziar for guidance. She nodded, arms reaching up into a high cabinet. “Are they what caused you to jolt earlier?”

“Yes, sir.” Their voice was achingly soft. “It is sorry.”

“That’s alright.” He set the scanner to the side. “I think it would be good for me to have a look, if you would be okay with that.”

They seemed to hesitate for a moment, eyes a little tearful. “Yes, sir.”

Taglist: @whumpscholar @seth-whumps @itsoundslikeafury @blackberry-bloody @snakebites-and-ink

@whumpacabra @cepheusgalaxy @softvampirewhump @my-little-versaille @pigeonwhumps

@whumped-by-glitter @snaillamp @rainydaywhump @platysaurus @whumpy-daydreams

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@loonybun @paingoes @yassifiedinformation

[onlythegoodpretzels]

"We'll get it out."

Followup to this sketch!

Been coloring this for a while! So many people to shade. But I finished it in time for @augustofwhump's Day 7 prompt: Promise.

Snippet of WIP fic for it under the cut, ft. more promises and Shiro flashbacks.

***

“Ok. Ok, let’s get this off.” Hunk balked for a second, but he managed to reach for the muzzle. Ulas winced but held rigidly still as Hunk ran his fingers tentatively over the surface.

“This isn’t what muzzles are for,” Hunk said into the quiet. “On dogs, I mean. They don’t keep their mouth closed, its only to keep them from biting. They need to be able to pant. This…this is just…cruel. What’s it even for?”

Shiro forced himself to see the mechanism rather than just blur over it. He might know. He might know, and he didn’t want to know, but he might. “Most Galra don’t pant like dogs do.” He shivered. “And they are cruel.”

Curved bars matched the shape of Ulas’ head and neck tightly, holding the heavy cage in place. Tightened automatically, too seamless to pry under. The muzzle’s central panels were dark and opaque, emblazoned with the imperial sigil over where they sealed the wearer’s mouth. The only holes for air were two narrow slits in front of Ulas’ ears, whistling softly as he breathed.

The higher bar, the one that curved under Ulas’ eyes and across the back of his head, was a disturbingly familiar, magenta-ish metallic color.

Dizzy something ached in the back of Shiro’s head, where the crescent scar jagged across his neck. “There’s two components here.” He tried not to wince, and moved slowly as he pointed. “This section, is a prisoner head collar. Across the skull under the eyes.” Hunk froze, fingers shaking on the bridge, but Shiro made himself keep going. “The muzzle was anchored to it. Maybe activated from it.”

They were looking at him, both of them. Katie’s face was torn between furious curiosity and blazing anger. Hunk looked sad and scared and like he knew ---

Shiro couldn’t not blink. He couldn’t not lose the thread, suddenly blotted out by phantom ---

Pain dug into his neck, the sound of his own muffled cries in his ears, hard edge biting into his hair.

Galra words. Over him. “Face down, and it stops.”

He hadn’t. He’d snarled and fought, scrabbling against hard metal, dragging against the awful snap of the shortening chain wrenching on his head. He’d kept his knees under him, his chest off the ground.

“Prove you know the word, olka. Or do you want me to make this worse?”

VRRRR

Pressure crushed suddenly into his jaw, the panels of the muzzle grinding into him from all sides. Pain jagged and sudden, shallow spikes extruding into his cheeks and under his chin.

He screamed.

“Coryx! Enough! You already confirmed ---.” 

“If I wanted your opinion, Ulas ---

“Shiro!”

Shiro blinked, torn suddenly in between. He was down on his knees and he was standing with his arms curled over his face. He was howling into a gag and he was heaving gasping, whimpering breaths in empty air. It was dark, purple, and it was bright, blue.

Ulas the Galra pushed another dark form over him, armored, unbattered,, and Hunk his friend stared up at him, hands out, pale with worry. There were Galra yellow eyes behind Hunk.

He couldn’t keep Hunk safe here! He had to get him out!

“It’s ok. Shiro? It’s ok.” Hunk’s eyes shimmered, like he’d been crying. “I promise. It’s not on you. It’s not going to hurt you again.”

The panic tilted, unbalanced, as the reluctantly focused. Hunk didn’t sound scared. What was going on? At first Shiro only saw the damn head collar, muzzle extended. Not --- not on him. He could see it and all its awful crosses. 

The strap dug wrong into fur, biting into Ulas’s face. The same face. Ulas sat curled in on the table, face narrowed, eyes sharp. He swiveled his ears forward and Shiro realized with a start they were even rounder now. “Shhhhr,” Ulas wheezed, face drawn with pain from trying to talk. “Mkkkkkr.”

The memory had a tail, a faint echo that barely clung on now. Hands on him, holding him pinned. Unhooking the tension dragging him down. Makur, stop. You’re exhausted.

Ulas’ voice. Shiro knew without even having heard it.

He shuddered, lowering his hands. He didn’t want to know anything else right now. He nodded shakily to Hunk. “S-sorry. I’m ok. Let’s just…get this over with.”

Katie watched him, her face clouded with things she wasn’t saying. Like a trap he might fall into someday. But instead she said, “Yeah, now that you pointed it out, I can trace the interface signals between those two pieces.” She waved a small detector wand near Ulas’ jaw. “They are real chatty.”

A small panel lay on the table next to her, with bent metal and detritus next to them. It looked like while Shiro was freaking out they’d made some progress. He cursed being so easy to make useless.

Hunk hesitated, but when Shiro came back, he followed. Ulas didn’t turn his head, jarringly pliant as Hunk reached into a small opening in the neck loop of the muzzle. “There’s lots of conduits in here. And I still have no idea what energy source they use.”

He should stay quiet. He should focus and do what he had to and not jab at any of the rest. But Shiro watched Ulas shudder, and couldn’t. “Tell us if it hurts you,” he ordered quietly in Galran, confused again with how steady his voice came out. “I want to know.”

Ulas twitched, blinking rapidly. Then, as Hunk worked, he began to make small, soft sounds, back of the throat, no attempt to make them into words.

Not very bad then. Despite himself, relief chilled up Shiro’s shoulders. He knew Galra could shriek if they were in pain.

Hunk paused, looking queasy at the sudden feedback from his work. “Is he…um…ok?”

Shiro nodded, swallowing hard. “Quintessence can be intense if it touches skin. Be careful if something splashes.” Tingles across his tongue were something he needed to not think about right now.

Hunk’s eyes widened. “You know what this is? What state of matter is it? Does it sublimate?” He bit his lip. “Wait, I think…”

Before Shiro could answer, the muzzle lit up, awful purple lights. The snap smell of sweet and glass itched along Shiro’s mouth. Ulas flinched, sitting suddenly straight, hoof cloves lurching sharply apart. “Whoa!” Hunk wrenched back, hands fluttering in the air like he wanted to help but was too scattered to know where. “Well it’s on, but it’s expecting some kind of cue? Like a key?”

But something jarred in Shiro’s head. He’d tried to remember this, over and over and over again. “Wait, Hunk, keep it…Ulas, grax.” He caught Ulas’ arm with one hand, curbing and steadying him at once, and reached for his head with the other. Ulas yelped, dragging away from Shiro’s hand for a second. Then he seemed to catch himself, and, slowly, painfully, he come back.

The muzzle’s awful edge loomed centimeters in front of Shiro’s fingers. Some part of his brain was trapped in a screaming circle, convinced if he touched it somehow it would crawl up him and find his scar, bite into it again.

Shiro tapped the muzzle in sequence, thumb and forefinger. He tried to be gentle, and he heard how each key hurt in Ulas’ faint, louder sounds. Jaw. Side. Center. Jaw. Jaw. He let himself slide between which finger and which place quickly, without thinking, just where they ought to go.

Neck.

Neck was last.

Vrrrrrr.

Shiro froze, still touching the back of Ulas’ neck, his entire body locking rigid. The sound made him want to swing at something --- anything --- make it go away. Force it farther from the parts of him it wanted to capture. Hunk startled, pulling out of the guts of the collar as the contraption clacked and shifted. The tight bars glinted hungrily, shimmering as they woke up.

“Hell yeah!” Katie swarmed forward triumphantly, suddenly too close. “Shiro, you’re a genius! I need you to write that down later!”

Ulas reached up as the muzzle began to fall, but stopped as Katie caught it. It kept whirring and unknitting, bright lights glaring like eyes.

It was unlocked. He’d unlocked it. Something about that shook Shiro so hard it was hard to see the parts reconfigure. But he shuddered --- why weren’t the muzzle panels dematerializing?

But he saw Ulas’ face crumple in pain when Katie pulled to ease it off his head. “Wait!” Shiro caught the crest just as Ulas whimpered, ducking to follow the pull. The jarring urgency cluttered so far into him it felt like he needed to run somewhere. Spikes. Were there spikes?

Hunk and Katie stared at the two of them. Katie let Shiro brace the muzzle, eyes wide, and Shiro realized he’d spoken in Galran again.

“Wait. Something’s wrong.” Shiro blinked hard, trying to stay present.

It’s ok. Faelbar’s voice filled up his entire body. We are not hurt.

Shiro wanted to tell him, yes, he knew that, but for some reason it helped anyway. It helped him keep his voice steady, keep the panic roiling somewhere in his fingers from shuddering out into Ulas when he asked, “What? Where?”

Ulas blinked hard, clawing the air between them in small, reflexive motions. This close, Shiro felt a faint double-shudder in his breaths, like something was garbling up his throat. How long had it been on him? Katie hadn’t said how she’d found him, only that it had been bad.

“Show me.” They needed to know. He needed to know.

Slow, tentative, Ulas caught the edge of the muzzle near Shiro’s hand. His fingers were jarringly, confusingly big. He nudged against the edge, angling his head slightly back and forth, figuring out the right way to move with whatever was hurting him. Then, with a wet, ragged pant, he pulled back, the straps scraping deep furrows in his fur as they dragged by.

For a moment Shiro saw his face, so familiar it made him freeze. Long, shallow, inhuman snout, bony, wide forehead, light shimmering off the strange flat span between his eyes and nose. Shallow gouges scraped and scabbed across jutting cheekbones which were incongruous with the hollow cheeks and narrow chin under them.

But Ulas held his mouth open, and then Shiro wasn’t seeing anything else, because a narrow chain snaked between his teeth. As he moved, Shiro felt rattling in the muzzle. It was attached.

Tense, unsettled feeling tingled up Shiro’s fingers. He didn’t recognize this. He didn’t know if it had ever…

Ulas reached some sort of end on the chain. He paused again, orienting, and then leaned away, extending a tapered orange tongue. His hand tremored next to Shiro’s.

No wonder. The chain anchored to a dark eye bolt connector pierced six centimeters from the tip of Ulas’ tongue. Yellow winked around the studs where it had tugged against him. 

Shiro tasted bile. Shit. He’d sounded muffled and pained even when the muzzle let him speak, before the druids changed whatever stopped him short. It must have been there, punishing him for every word. And now it sat tethered so close to the muzzle he couldn’t speak at all.

“Fuck no wonder you couldn’t talk.” Katie’s entire body tremored with fury.

“Wait, that --- that’s what it’s for? That’s awful!” Hunk covered his mouth with his hands, clearly vividly imagining the sensation. “What is wrong with these people?”

Galra who speak against the empire don’t exist. You won’t ever find one.

Shiro wasn’t sure who he remembered saying that. He didn’t want to know. He held still in a way he didn’t recognize, sweat pricking on his neck that he was holding the other end of something that painful. Ulas mumbled wordlessly, falling back forward, trembling from the effort of holding the chain weight.

Damn it. Shiro didn’t think he had piercing scars on his tongue. But now he’d have to check.

“Katie, bring one of those casings.” Shiro was startled by how calm he sounded. The palpable panic in the other two made him very still inside, like if he touched it it would explode. “Hunk, what do you have to cut this?”

Thankfully, having something to do was right for both of them. Katie snatched the nearest capsule of Altean medical something with its square edges. Hunk balked a step away, but he leaned forward, peering at the inside of the muzzle. Shiro didn’t dare glance down himself, keeping all of his attention on Ulas.

“Here.” Katie held the tin out to Shiro.

“It’s for him. Hold it horizontal.” Shiro blinked, forcing himself to meet Ulas’ eyes. He didn’t want to. Something about the tether in his tongue, and how Shiro could feel it dragging even right now, and how clearly trapped it meant he’d been when Katie found him.

He was the one Shiro was supposed to meet. Supposed to find. The voice shouting to him to run in his night terrors.

But he hadn’t been looking. Hadn’t be sure he would. If Katie hadn’t found him… “Bite down on this. We’ll get it out.”

Ulas slowly lifted his ears. This time when he tried to answer it was visible, his tongue bending but then snapped down by the chain. “Uhhzzz.” He winced, and stopped, instead parting his teeth and tilting carefully so Katie could slide the metal jam into the crook of his jaw. She stared, mouthing numbers quietly to herself. Shiro had no idea what for, he just had to assume it would come up if it were important. 

“Shiro?” Hunk grit his teeth, hand fluttering forward but stopping short of touching the metal rim. “I…none of my repair kit tools will be small enough for this.” Instead of looking just upset, he looked…angry? “Maybe the Alteans have something. I’ll find Coran, and --- “

“No.” Shiro blinked, momentarily dizzy, as repercussions and tradeoffs cluttered off his head. Where had that come from? Had he always been thinking like that? “I don’t want them seeing this.”

He kept his worries to himself, that Allura might decide she liked this safeguard, that he would have to explain to an alien sovereign about what humans would and would not do. But not well enough, probably, judging by the sharp, suspicious look Katie shot at him.

Hunk frowned. “They wouldn’t,” he said softly. But he crossed his arms nervously and didn’t keep heading toward the door.

Maybe. Shiro wasn’t sure what he thought was likely anymore. He shrugged. “I can do it.” He flexed his hand, the mechanisms whirring softly.

Hunk swallowed. But he didn’t argue. “Do you have that kind of dexterity with that thing?”

“You can melt metal?” Katie grinned wildly at him, before she caught up with what she said and frowned just a intensely. “That doesn’t sound safe like this.”

“Cut.” Shiro pressed his fingers together, forcing himself to consider. The Alteans felt dangerous. But so was he. It was sort of refreshing to get direct blunt questions like that instead of people being careful. Usually Hunk tried to tiptoe around it. “Yes. I do.” Shiro paused, expecting more from the certainty, some memory, some data. But, no. Nothing. He just knew.

He glanced at Hunk. That was a lot to trust someone’s tongue to. But, then, it was also the least massive responsibility they’d been handed recently.

Hunk set his shoulders. “What can I do?”

Hell he deserved to be so far away from anything like this. Shiro swallowed down the guilt. Two jobs, only one of which he thought Hunk could manage. “Help him hold still.” As Hunk crossed cautiously to Ulas’ other side, Shiro caught Katie’s eye. “Hold this steady?”

She grit her teeth and barked, “Yes.” Her hands were small and she perched on the edge of the table, both of which helped her be stabler than either of them. Katie looked very pale. “It’s ok,” she told Ulas firmly as she took control of the chain.

He didn’t shiver this time when Hunk reached around him. His entire frame sagged minutely, like the support reached much deeper than just bracing his neck and shoulders.

Shiro looked from one grim face to the next. “Ready?”

Hunk and Katie nodded.

Ulas pinned his ears back and let his tongue droop loose. His yellow eyes tracked Shiro’s face, not his hand.

Eerie. Shiro wasn’t sure how he knew where eyes with no pupils were looking. But he did. He lit his arm, the cold rushing through his shoulder like a warning. It lurched him viciously, suddenly alert, ready to fight. 

Reaching between the muzzle and Ulas’ pinned tongue splashed awful light across the gashes in his face. This close Shiro could almost smell them. It glimmered on his tongue, and edged the scabbing there. Shiro caught the chain, feeling desperate puffs of air on his fingertips.

He had to do this exactly right. A mistake would burn, he thought, best case, or cut, worst.

But the chain was slippery, trailing yellow and clear rivulets from Ulas’ mouth. And the links were small with complex jagged edges. Reaching for it, Shiro felt the barbs, the twists. It was designed to hurt even without pulling. It spun between his fingers before he could get a good grip, shrieking at the heat.

Ulas’ eyes lurched too orange, too dark, and he keened. Involuntary motion dragged his tongue back. The piercing clacked when it brought him up short.

No! They didn’t get to make this worse. THis was something he got to do with the arm that helped.

Shiro snarled and crushed down hard, the kind of hard that made his brain balk, ready to feel pain from the metal. But he wasn’t soft like that, not anymore. The chain sliced cleanly off the muzzle.

For a moment, Shiro was too stuck to see anything other than the chain, the muzzle, and how blood beaded up on Ulas’ tongue as he flinched back. Shiro’s fingers ground into the face plate almost of their own accord, while pain screamed out of his jaw and nose. Memory or not, he could barely tell.

Someone. Someone made him want to destroy this thing. Right now SHiro couldn’t quite put a finger on a face or a voice or anything like that. Just the fierce, burning hatred loose in his head.

Ulas shuddered, hand coming up to catch the links trailing down from his mouth. It looked like a snake trying to twist into him, and he made a faint, pitched pain sound that jittered all the way up Shiro’s spine.

Give it to me, Faelbar hissed. I’ll crush it. Shiro had the echoing, massive feeling that the lion knew what the pain felt like, because Shiro had. That he wanted nothing more than to wipe the horrible thing off the face of the universe.

That helped. At least he could make this one let go.

[felixcloud6288]

Higurashi: Festival Accompanying Chapter 1

We know all the secrets surrounding June 1983, but we don't know everything leading up to that month.

Everything begins at some point likely around the mid 1950s. Before she was Miyo Takano, she was Miyoko Tanashi. She was scared of horror stories, loved collecting the flags that came with her kids meals, and loved her parents very much.

S-Save me r/vexillology!! I'm trying to identify all 19 of the flags Miyoko has collected.

The flags I can identify for sure:

Brazil: near the bottom center

Canada: near the center to the right of Brazil

China: in the top right corner

Denmark: In the top left, above South Korea and partially buried under two other flags

Finland: Above Denmark and slightly covering it up

France: The flag covering up Denmark

Germany: bottom left corner

Greece: Center far right

Japan: Near the center

South Korea: Center far left. Partially covered by the drawer wall

Switzerland: Bottom center, next to Brazil

Turkey: Bottom right corner

United Kingdom: Top Center

United States: Top center. Right above Canada

Meanwhile I think these are also in the pile:

Argentina or Austria: The flag under the Swiss and Brazilian flags. I'm leaning toward Argentina because red is drawn in darker shades

India: The flag at the top right above the US flag and partially covered by the drawer

Italy or Ireland: Flag to the right of Switzerland and above Turkey. I'm leaning more toward it being Italy.

I cannot figure out what the flag between Canada and Greece is. At first, I thought it was the Czech Republic, but the shading on this image doesn't match the Czech colors at all. And it's backward too. There's also a flag in the top right corner that is very hidden. All I can tell is it has white on the bottom. My guess is it might be Indonesia. I was also considering Estonia, but Estonia was under Soviet rule at this time and it was illegal to fly the Estonian flag.

I was really hoping the Mexican and South African flags might be in here.

You're placing a curse on your kid if you tell them god will give them happiness if they're good. You're telling them it is their fault when life happens and things fall apart. And almost as if on cue, Miyoko's life falls apart on the same day her father told her that. The only thing you could say she did wrong was she didn't hear her father when he called out to her.

Mr Tanashi losing his right hand in the train derailment is just twisting the knife. It's not enough that Miyoko's mother died in the accident and that she saw her father die. She's also denied one final headpat before he dies.

I want to try being fair to the social workers working on Miyoko's case. This is the mid 1950s. World War II ended at most a decade ago. Around 4% of Japan's population was killed in the war. Two cities were utterly destroyed, and there's the general economic collapse that comes from long-term military action.

No matter how much they may want to help, resources in this environment are stretched thin. Trying to find and contact a single person with no leads would likely be difficult today. It would be a herculean task in the 1950s.

And it's also this kind of scenario that lets an institution like the one Miyoko was sent to to exist. Those social workers were genuinely clueless about how that orphanage mistreats the children brought to it. They genuinely think they're providing the best possible solution given the situation, and the head of the orphanage knows how to put on a kindly face in front of them.

I genuinely don't know if the panel of the man patting Miyoko's head is real or her imagination. Him giving her even the slightest kindness is so out of character. And Miyoko grew up in the exact opposite of an abusive home. Her instinct when seeing someone raise their hand to her is expecting kindness and being utterly confused when she's hit instead.

I love and hate how that first slap to Miyoko is so perfectly executed. A full page image on the right half of the page spread. You just turn the page and see Miyoko violently slapped across the face. It's as sudden to us as it is to her. And right before it happens, the chapter implied that there is hope for her despite everything that's happened. But that one slap knocks the hope out of her and us.

back

[eternal-sacrifice]

Fanfiction thing

So I never ever ever write fanfiction but I wanted to spite Soda so

Erghhhhh I'm so mad this is the first piece of my writing I share on the site

Watcher grian reset thing I guess

One.

Two.

Three.

Click.

"Can you hear me? Is this thing on?"

The sound of static fills your room. You hear it, buzzing in your ears, dulling the rhythmic drumbeat of your heart, digging out your flesh.

"...Please. I didn't want this to happen. Please. Don't kill them. Not again."

The smell of blood. You feel your face instinctively, but the only thing you feel is a bead of sweat on your forehead. Why were you sweating? Why are you breathing so hard?

You don't know. You haven't figured it out yet. It's okay, you will soon. You always do.

"Please, please, please. Please. I know I swore I wouldn't get attached but I'm so scared that they might be gone for real this time- please."

You wonder where the sound is coming from. It sounds… frantic, doesn't it?

There's two sounds.

One inside your head, and one outside it.

A shriek roars through the static and you tense. 

That's the first one, the sound outside. And judging by that noise, it's the one you should deal with first. You can barely even think with the static eating out your skull, anyway.

You trust the second voice. And you look around the room.

You think it's a room. You can't remember, you're not sure. It's so dark- you're afraid to move in any direction. 

It's okay, it's okay. You'll just have to make the choice. You can do that.

You turn around, even though you can't see anything, your footsteps echoing for what feels like forever in a cold, dull, metal ache.

"NO! STOP- GET OUT!"

The shout shrieks inside your ears, the grind of the audio peaking making you wince, but your feet begin to move, and then move faster, and then you are running.

You are thinking get out get out get out get out over and over again, aren't you?

You keep running.

You're running left, or maybe right. Or maybe neither. Or maybe both. Direction doesn't seem to mean anything in this place, where whatever recording is playing never gets quieter and the voice never goes away.

Your heartbeat is getting dangerously fast. Your lungs- your arms- do you have more than two arms? There's something else connected to you, something you didn't have before but you can't think about that now-

Keep running. Keep running. It doesn't feel like you're going anywhere, the recording's sound never changes, how is it playing everywhere? Surely, surely there's got to be some way to navigate by sound, some way this makes sense, some way the endless echoing…

There. To your left. There's a pedestal.

You slow down, but your heart is beating even faster, your eyes are growing wide, your arm reaches out like your body has a mind of its own. You have no idea why you are feeling terrified. And that in of itself is enough to send a chill down your spine, rocking your entire body.

There are buttons. You don't know how you can see them, in the pitch black, but you can. You reach out, your hand meeting the cold marble of the stand, and…

A panel in front of you. It must be glass? It's glowing, that's all you can tell for sure, and now you can finally make out the lettering on the buttons.

Forget

Forgive

Fracture

Your hand stops moving. The panel dims, to the point where you can see what must be your face in its reflection of you.

Glasses. You tilt, trying to get the glasses reflection to move so you can see your eyes.

Messy hair, you can't tell what color. There's something in it.

You reach up, feeling around your hair, and you grasp it.

A piece of… paper. Or something like it. You bring it down to your face, only just reading one of the words written on it- Forgive, the same as the button- before you catch a flash of something in the glass. You carefully move your eyes up to see it, not daring to move.

It's your eyes, finally! But… They're… not… right. Something is off with them. They're moving right and reflecting fine and seeing perfectly well, but- you can't put your finger on it.

You let out a breath of air. You're real, you think. You have a reflection.

And then a thought hits you.

That means this isn't a nightmare, right?

You're… trapped here, in this space, with this glass and-

You don't even realize you've done it, do you?

Your eyes inch over slowly to the marble pedestal, even though you already know what awaits you, and then you realize two things.

The static's cut out.

And you're pressing a button.

You know, somehow, instantly, which one it was.

The glass panel goes dark. You can't even see the pedestal now, somehow it's darker than before.

And as the voice in your head begins to grow louder and you swear you hear footsteps that aren't your own, you realize a few more things, because they're right in front of you, walking towards you and making your heart beat faster with each step.

You don't have multiple sets of arms. You feel your back just to check and they're there, not the warm feeling of skin but the cold of chilled, soft feathers.

You're glowing. That must be how you saw the buttons earlier, though you have no idea where they've gone now if that's true.

You're hungry. You're practically drooling. You have a craving, something specific, some sort of specific want… It's familiar. It's forgiveness.

This is a nightmare. You were wrong earlier.

You back up, staring down the set of eyes right in front of you, staring at the glasses identical to yours, and you scream, you scream at yourself this is just a reflection, even as you are on the floor and I am ten steps away, echoing in your head.

Your vision starts to fade, even as the click click click clack click of footsteps gets louder.

You finally remember, because it's staring you in the face, looking at you in a way that scares you, in a way you should not be able to look, in a way that makes you want to feel terror again, even as it's fading, because that face has no emotion drawn on it, and the face and the footsteps stop as I look down at you with nothing. You reach out before your arm goes limp, desperately trying to hold on to your sudden realization, even as everything else is leaving you, and you grasp it just for a second, cold and clear. 

Your eyes are purple.

[pahichannel]

AnimeExpo Recap Day 1-2!

I like the idea of using Tumblr for more blogging style Pahi rants so... that's what I'm gonna do! Welcome to Pahi's adventures at AnimeExpo! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*✲ﾟ*｡ Boy is LineCon not a joke. Get in a line to get in to get in a line to get into the area you want to go to get into a line to see a paticular artist... it's absolutely wild out here LOL. I really didn't stop walking (or standing) for 11 hours the first day and day 2 wasn't much better. But I GOT A LOT OF COOL THINGS FOR MY TROUBLES!!!

Hitsukuya was my Day 1 first stop because she had limited post cards and I love her OC Hi-chan so I really didn't want to miss it! They were numbered and I was customer #10! Hitsu goes to a ton of cons so I already had most of her stuff but the Honkai stuff was quite new! Next picture is Xeph whom I have a lot of prints from last AX but the Honkai ones are new so I picked up that as well! Then there's Minsgraph who had a holo Silverwolf which looked SO GOOD. I wouldn't be surprised if I accidently double-bought the Gura and already have it... aaaaa I have too many prints. I could stand to more properly organize what I have but at a certain point they're all either on my wall or in a portfolio and you start forgetting who drew what and just kill me. Maybe I should start asking for business cards to slide in with each poster I keep safe. Last pictured is Gyool! They had THE ONLY TOKI I COULD FIND IN THE WHOLE VENUE. I love Toki. Someone please draw more Toki. Also always nice to still see someone drawing Sagiri!

Dealers Hall was next and Inti Creates just reprinted a Lola tapestry I've been looking for forever...??? No seriously, I've been camping Yahoo Auctions, Mandarake and Surugaya for probably a year now for this exact tapestry and it either just doesn't exist or costs 8000 yen plus. And there it was for 25$? Excuse me? Was tempting to buy 2. Probably the happiest surprise of the con for me. As much as I didn't care for the first Gunvolt game the designs are so heckin' cute and Pahicore. I'll probably give the Luminous Avenger games a try at some point...

I have no clue what Fatal Twelve is, I literally pointed at it and said "sell me on this" to the people at Sekai Project and they did a good enough job. I may never make the time to play a lot of visual novels I own but I just love to own them physically and have a soft spot for collecting them up. I'm sure it's just boomer brain where even only 10 years ago visual novels were extremely niche in the west and what was available licensed was incredibly sparse. I'm very happy I can finally buy stuff like Beat Angel Escalayer, something that feels a bit surreal to be a new release given my first encounter with the series was on some backwoods anime hentai site probably 15+ years ago.

Probably my happiest accomplishment was getting alternate color variants of Reimu and Marisa fumos from the AmiAmi booth! It was first come, first serve with a small allotment for them each day so I made the decision to make getting them my mission day 2. At first I just wanted Reimu as she's my favorite 2hu but... she needs a friend right? So I caved lol. Thanks @myrral for joining me to double our chances getting through the crowd for them! I actually had a scare where I thought Marisa was stolen or fell out of a bag but luckily I set it down at a artist friends booth and they kept it safe for me. Glad to have them reunited!

While the entirety of day 1 involved going through all the shops, day 2 I spent a little bit of time in panels! ...getting to them was absolutely awful! I wanted to get to the Lazulight panel but it was absolutely packed and there was no way I was making it with how little time I got there before it started. There was literally a line to get up an escalator so you can get in line for a security checkpoint so you can get in the actual line for the panel, which was capped. I stuck around to get to the next event, a Q&A panel with CDawg and Ironmouse... though that had it's own mishaps. I somehow got ushered into another panel room which was some sort of Studio Bones press announcement panel? I almost gave up and stayed there but I wondered my way out and by some fluke I found where I was supposed to enter the same time security said they can let a few more people inside. They didn't allow anyone to line up once they thought it was full so I got to sneak right in, super lucky!

Day 1 and 2 were so hectic that it ended feeling like I really did everything I wanted to do. I went hard on trying to line up for the things I cared most about and min-max'd my browsing time amongst the artists and exhibitors booths. I'm ready for a much more chill day 3 and 4... so chill that this is my first time I've decided to take a breather and sit in my hotel room the whole con! I'll have a follow up blog for the last days and lots of photos of the general sights and not just what I bought lol. But until then it's time for me to weather the crowds once again though, wish me luck! (￣^￣ )ゞ

[hey-its-cweepy]

A/N: ... Okay so this was going to be a drawing, but on top of the fact that its night time rn- drawing + coloring all the panels is kinda a pain in the butt and my hand still sorta hurts (EVOLNATION OC WILL COME OUT TOMORROW I SWEAR- I JUST NEED TO DRAW THEM-)

IM NOT THE BEST AT WRITING SO PLEASE FORGIVE ME IF ANYTHING OOC-

Mellow belongs to @fumikomiyasaki! Also Im sorry if Im getting annoying with pinging and stuff... This is getting long-

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

Momo ran through the halls after being scared over and over after getting a little lost during the halloween event. Tears ran down her face as she just finished scrambling out of the previous location, being scared from the costumed students.

Once she was far enough, she sat down on the ground with her knees to her chest as she quietly sobbed to herself.

"... Dallas was right, Im so pathetic..." She sniffled to herself "... I c-cant do this... M-Maybe I should just head back to the dorm a-and pretend I was s-sick or s-something..."

Mellow seems to have been passing by after fulfilling another task, about to return to his respective dorm before hearing her quiet cries as he steps in, concerned.

"M-Momo? A-Are you alright?... Did... Something happen?..."

Momo flinches a bit in surprise, quickly trying to wipe away her tears as she looks up at him, trying to not make it obvious she was crying but it was too late.

"M-Mellow! U-Um... I-Its nothing, I swear! I'm... I'm just a little t-tired b-but Im fine" Momo has always been a terrible liar...

Mellow seems to only grow more concerned as he hesitantly sits next to her, his cheeks having a small hint of blush to them.

"Momo, i-if something's wrong, p-please tell me... I w-want to help you..."

"I-I... I..." Momo sighed as she looked away from Mellow and down at the ground, about to start crying again "... Im just b-being a baby... Everyone's just d-dressed in costumes b-but... I dont kn-know its just-... So s-scary..." Momo curls up a bit more with a sniffle.

"H-Hey, you're n-not a "b-baby" for being s-scared... I can s-stay here with y-you for a bit to help you c-calm down if you w-want..."

Momo looks back up at him, a bit caught off guard by the offer "S-Stay here? B-But... But wh-what about your d-dorm?..."

"Im... Im sure they can h-handle a few m-minutes without me... B-Besides... I want to m-make sure you're alright.."

Momo still seems a little surprised by the response as she uncurls herself a bit. "Th... Th-Thank you... M-Mellow..."

She hesitantly scooted a bit closer to him, one of her fingers nervously reaching out to hold his hand, her face a bit red from both crying and the fact that she's touching his hand. Mellow's soft blush becomes more evident as he slowly yet gently holds one of her hands.

"D-Dont w-worry about it... I w-want you to b-be okay..."

Momo appreciated his company but seems very hesitant to do anything more than hand holding... Mellow doesn't really mind as he's also too nervous to advance any further than hand holding.

As time went on, Momo seemed to have mostly calmed down as she stands up despite being a little shaky.

"Th-Thank you, r-really... B-But... I... I th-think I... H-Have to go back..." Momo didnt really want to go back, but she knew she had to if she wanted to go back to her dorm.

"I-I'll... I'll go with y-you..." Mellow gently squeezed her hand as he stood up with her, Momo's face blushed more "... Th-Thank you s-so m-much Mellow... I-I... I r-really a-apreciate th-this..."

"You r-really dont n-need to thank me for th-this... L-Let's go... T-Together..."

Momo and Mellow continued to hold hands as they made their way around the school, with Mellow comforting Momo anytime a student scared her (intentionally or not)

[ripdragonbeans]

On Monday (Take 2) ~INTRO~

Modern!Aemond x femReader

Reader and Helaena are BFFs 

Summary: You and Heleana head over to her place to work on a philosophy project only for you to be thrown into a little matchmaking via Helaena.

Second shot at On Monday, also in a completely new direction compared to the first one. I really want to finish out the rest of the song, mainly because it’s a cute song and the guy in it is absolutely Aemond coded lol. 

No Warnings for this one, maybe except my questionable writing style/format

Mainly set up stuff so there’s only a bit of Aemond at the end.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Hel, wait up!" You laughed as you ran after your friend.

"No, you can catch up!" Called back Helaena.

Helaena had found a moat beautiful sunset moth and was absolutely dead set on catching it, if even for just a little bit. She finally slowed down to creep closer to the moth and crouched down to admire it. You caught up to her but kept your distance knowing that your harsh breathing would probably scare the creature away. Helaena gently guided the moth to her hand and brought the small one up to you.

"Look at her! Isn't she just beautiful?" Helaena wondered out loud. "All her colors, her little fuzz, everything."

You leaned down towards the creature and smiled. "Yes, Hel. She's absolutely gorgeous."

Helaena smiled at you before gently releasing the beautiful sunset moth. She gazed up at it, almost in a daze, when she remembered that you were with her as well.

"Shoot, Y/N it's getting late and we gotta finish that project!" Helaena cocked her head and gently tapped her it trying to figure something out. 

The sky was slowly getting becoming a purple orange as the sun began to set. 

"Why don't you just spend the night at my apartment? That way we can still hang out and actually get some work done." 

You laughed at her little joke. "Of course! Let's get going." 

The two of you linked arms as you made your way off campus and to her apartment. Despite being friends since freshman year, you've never actually been to her apartment before. Helaena told you she just preferred to be on campus basking in the sunlight and hanging in the quad with her friends. As an entomology major it did help to be on campus more often for the labs she frequently had to do.

As you two walked, you talked about everything and nothing at all. Pretty soon you looked up and saw the apartment, a fairly big apartment. Your mouth fell open in amazement. Everything was so sleek and modern, and that was just the exterior.

You felt a slight pull on your arm. "Come on, girl! I know it's a bit intimidating, and if it makes you feel better I miss living in my childhood home. Way more plants and much more inviting, if you ask me, but I promise you the inside is really chill." Helaena shook her head slightly and chucked. 

"Well, as chill as it can be living with my two brothers. They can get a little…heated at times but I think you’d get along with Aemond,” giving you a knowing glance.

"Oh, I didn't know you had brothers! I mean, I knew you had brothers but I didn't know you lived with them," you squeezed out. 

You deliberately ignored her suggestion of her brother to you.

It wasn't a lie. You knew Helaena had brothers but you had no idea what they looked like and absolutely didn't know that they shared her apartment as well. They were simply little thoughts that have never been important enough to question and bring to life until now. Well, at least one of them was. All you ever really heard about in a positive way was Aemond. He piqued your interest, even if you only knew him as Helaena’s brother.

Helaena tugged your arm a little harder, giving you no choice but to follow her. As you neared the door you couldn’t help but take in every little detail. The delicate carvings on the walls created a beautiful texture that shone brightly against the dark grey paneling. Before Helaena could unlock the door it opened up to reveal the same silver blond hair as Helaena’s.

The guy looked you up and down with no shame and no attempt to hide his action. A mischievous smile tugged at his lips.

“Well, hello there,” he drawled.

“Hey, Aegon! This is my friend Y/N and she’s gonna be spending the night with us. We have a project to work on so don’t mind us,” Helaena explained.

“Spending the night, huh?” Aegon’s smile has definitely made his way to his face now. “I’ll be around, don’t hesitate to call me if you want some more…company.”

Aegon gave you a little wink before moving out of the doorway to let you two in. He gave you sneaky vibes, like someone you know would get the both of you in trouble if you decided to become friends with him. Aegon looked like he was on a prowl and his wink and smile solidified that assumption.

As you walked through the threshold, your breath got caught in your throat yet again. The exterior of the apartment was stunning and the interior was no less beautiful. Unlike outside, everything inside the apartment seemed to hold a story, some old and some new. Pictures decorated the wall along with what looked like religious icons and stars.

You could hear some noise coming from a room nearby and you were a little relieved when Helaena led you that way. You met the first brother and were now nervous about the second. Helaena has been suggestive about you and her brother getting to know each other better, maybe something even more than that. Your hands felt a little clammy as you entered the living room. The Planet Suite played softly in the back. 

Helaena called out to her second brother. “Aemond? I know you’re here. I want you to meet my friend, Y/N!”

Soon enough, a tall, lanky body stepped out of the hallway, looking a little annoyed but softened at the sight of his sister. 

“Yeah, Hel?” Aemond asked as he leaned against the wall.

“Just wanted to introduce you to Y/N! She’ll be staying the night and I just wanted to let you know,” she smiled at her brother.

Aemond looked at you and you felt your heart quicken. He was beautiful. He had a violet eye and what looked like a shining blue gem in place of the other with an aggressive scar passing through it. His silver hair was pulled up in a half bun while the rest of his hair cascaded to his shoulders. Aemond’s good eye scanned your body, similar to the way Aegon had done before but in a gentler way. He didn’t seem hungry. 

“Well, make yourself at home, Y/N. I’m going to be working on an essay here if you and Hel are going to hang out in her room.” 

“No! Stay here, Aemond!” Helaena stopped him before he could turn back to get his things from his room. 

You looked at your friend, pretending to be confused as to why she was asking him to stay. Helaena was trying to put a plan in motion and you were both dreading and looking forward to it.

“Helaena, if he was work to do we should leave him alone,” you half whispered to her. Part of you didn’t want him to stay, nervous about what could potentially happen if he did. But at the same time you were curious and wanted to venture into this situation that your friend has obviously planned out in her head.

“Y/N, we’re going to want his help.”

Aemond’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “My help? My sister and her friend needs my help for what?”

You quickly explained what was going on. “We’re just working on a little philosophy project as well, it’s no big deal. You can work and we’ll leave you alone.” Your heart beat a little faster when you locked eyes with him and made fast work to break it.

“Aemond is a philosophy major, and it would be really useful to have him around while we did this,” Healaena all but pleaded. “If it has to do with philosophy then I can help. And if you have Dr. Greyjoy you’re going to want my help,” Aemond simply stated his fact and immediately left to gather his materials.

While he was gone you gave Helaena a desperate look and groaned. She gave you an uncharacteristic sly smile. 

“Oh, give him a chance, Y/N! You need something else in your life besides academics and so does he. It’s a perfect match. Would you rather I try to push you towards Aegon?” She questioned.

“Please, no, not Aegon. He already looked at me like I was his next meal.” You chuckled and took a deep breath. “Okay, I put my trust in you, Hel. But know that if he breaks my heart, you’re going to have to be the one who takes care of me for a few days.”

Helaena squealed. “Yes! Oh, I’m so excited!”

“Excited about what, Hel?” Aemond had come back into the room looking amused at his sister.

“Nothing, nothing! Let’s just get this project started!”

Aemond gave a small chuckle as he plopped down on the couch and you hesitantly took the love se​​at across from him. Aemond layed out all his books and notes and smiled up at you as Helaena took the seat next to him giving you the biggest smile while flicking her eyes between you and her brother.

“So, let’s see how you guys are faring, shall we?”

[kickingitwithkirk]

Frau Perchta or Krampus's Gal-Pal is a Bitch

Characters - Dean Winchester x Witch!Reader x Witch!Sam Winchester

Summary - Its Christmas-Winchester style

Word Count - 2735

*This story contains Dark!fic content-do not read if subjects listed in warnings triggers you

Warnings- Cursing, angst, injury on job, flirting, WIIWD, D/s tone, witchcraft. evil entity, stalking, voyeurism, attack with knife, attempted murder, imprisonment

A/N -for @spnfanficpond @mrswhozeewhatsis #SPNFanFicPond Secret Santa

Story gift for @negans-lucille-tblr

Bingo Squares Filled: @j3bingo -dungeon @spnmixedbingo -Christmas @anyfandomgoesbingo - “screw consciousness, that’s what I say”

A/N II- WIIWD (What it is we do) TPE (Total Power Exchange)

I ran down a flight of stairs heading deeper into the Bunker to lure the evil that has invaded into the Dungeon so I could trap in the heavily fortified room.

One week earlier

“This place is creepy,” I commented looking at rows upon rows of wooden crates haphazardly stacked nearly to the rafters in the large, dimly lit, dockside warehouse we were standing in after a hunter named Gerald contacted us about picking up a case he had to bail on, “it’s like that government storage facility in Raiders. How the hell are we supposed to find whatever it is in all this?”

Dean came up behind me and gripped my waist, sucked on the bruise one of them left on the back of my neck making me hiss, “that’s what we brought Sammy for.”

Sam flattened his lips shooting his irritable little brother face at Dean getting handsy with me on the job flipped through the log-in book again, “the crate is stored in Row Y, #256.”

Two hours of searching later..

“Don’t worry he said, it’s gonna be a cakewalk..” I mumbled to myself trying to find a foothold while climbing up another stack of crates searching the stamped info for the so far elusive one.

“What was that sweetheart?”

Shit, “nothing..my foot slipped.”

“Uh huh, do you remember what I said your punishment for lying would be the next time you did it?” Dean asked me in the tone.

“Yes Sir.”

“That didn’t sound very remorseful. I know he put that panel gage and flogger in his duffel.”

Hearing Sam’s voice I looked down and saw him standing at the base of the stack dusting off his shirt glances around making sure Deans not within sight since we’ve kept the fact I’m a natural witch a secret before gesturing to his eyes, “you see it?”

“No, it must be stored somewhere else, “ I replied, starting to climb back down. I barely set my foot on a crate I’d used coming up when a hellacious cracking noise drowns out whatever being shouted at me.

At the sensations my burgeoning consciousness is allowing I move to touch my head when he grabs my arm, speaking low, “don’t move, you might have injured your spine.”

“Jesus fuck Sam!” I wanted to spit out with venom but came out a bit slurred instead. Sam’s face wars between pissed and overly concerned boyfriend as his eyes change colors giving me a quick go over, “I can feel my everything,” then we heard..

“Is she waking up!”

He quickly shifts his eyes back to normal as Dean appears on my left side clutches my hand, “fuck babygirl don’t scare us like that again! ”

I slowly sat up with their help, rotating my sore shoulder and groaned, “well that’s one way of getting out of punishment for my lippiness.”

I watched the brothers do their oft annoying silent communication, “what makes you think you’re off the hook?”

Smirking, I pointed over the remnants of shattered wood, “cause my spectacular acrobatics found us the crate.”

The Bunker’s Library

When we got back the guys hauled in the symbol covered trunk that was concealed within the crate, sitting it on the table then hustled me into the shower room and did a very thorough examination of my personage for hidden injuries.

Afterward Dean rubbed the ointment I concocted into my shoulder and decided it’s bad enough to bench me.

We found Sam busy going between his laptop, several books containing symbols and his ever present legal pad, “so get this, according to Gerald’s email, the information he came in possession of wasn’t complete and he has no clue what’s actually in it.”

Dean frowned, “doesn’t look like a curse box, don’t recognize any of these symbols so for all we know we could be opening a Cracker Jack Box.”

“Or Sex Toy Box.”

They both gave me the same look.

“What? They both contain fun surprises.”

“That’s two sweetheart. You’re coming close to a red ass to match your shoulder.” Sam informed me and I demurely lowered my eyes as my cunt clenched at the mental image of him sitting on his bed, clad only in jeans and me face down across his lap as he doled out the punishment with his huge hands.

***

Dean and I had been playing for a while when Sam found out and explaining that we were more WIIWD than BDSM, since neither of us would go completely TPE being hunters, was an interesting conversation and depending on the circumstances, i.e. someone screwed up on a hunt or stepped over the set limits, we switched.

I shocked both of them when I asked Sam if he was interested, knowing Dean could be a possessive bastard and Sam was the only other person he’d allow to partake.

After some negotiations, thanks to Sam’s detail-oriented brain, we took our fledgling steps into a polyfidelitous relationship.

***

“Let’s crack this sucker open,” Dean sets his beer down picks up the large hammer hitting the old lock twice before tossing it on the table and cautiously lifting the lid peers in then makes a face, “WHAT THE FUCK..someone has a sick sense of humor!”

He pulls out the most nasty, vile, hideous, revolting, loathsome, repugnant, abominable, stomach-churning object ever created at the hands of the human race and trust me, having seen what I have, that’s saying something!

I screamed scrambling from my chair so fast it fell over and I’m gone before either brother knew what's happening.

“Y/N please open the door.”

“..”

“Okay, can you tell us what happened back there?”

“..”

“Sam quit trying to reason with her.”

“Dean, for whatever reason that scared her and I don’t want to..”

*fist hitting door*

“Open this damn door right now cause if I have to break it down you’re gonna be edging yourself whenever and wherever for the next two months and not be allowed to cum!”

“Dude, we don’t play that hard ..”

I slowly open the door keeping my gaze downward from embarrassment, not submission, “sorry for freaking out, you guys must think I’m a complete idiot.”

“No we don’t,” reassuring me Dean pulled me into a quick hug and kissed the top of my head then handed me to Sam, who wrapped me in his arms and said, “we all have something that wigs us out.”

“Yeah, your clown thing is..” Dean makes that face.

“Hey!”

“Guys don’t start, can we just figure out what..that was doing in the box so we can get it dealt with?”

Sam walked into the kitchen late the next day with a book in one hand going straight for the coffee pot.

“From what I can decipher so far, the markings are some warning against imbibing in cultural taboos.”

I laughed, ”we’re fucked cause probably what, ninety-nine percent of what we do is considered that.”

“Still not sure what the el..”

“Hey,” I snapped, “what’d I say about calling it by its name?”

“Sorry, still not sure what the thing has to do with cultural taboos let alone imbibing in them.”

“Think about what it was created for.”

Sam looked over at Dean for clarity. He nonchalantly shrugged and went back to making his sandwich.

I shook my head walking towards the door at how someone so smart could also be so dense, “whatever. I’m gonna search in the grimoire since Dean finally removed the thing from the library.”

Sam waited to the count of twenty and asked, “you did relock it in that trunk?”

Dean sat down across from him and took a big bite not answering when I ran back into the kitchen pointing an accusatory finger at him, “you asshole, I know you did it!”

“Did what?” Dean asked around his mouthful and I spit out, “put that thing by the Katana sword!”

“Dude, you said you’d secure it in the trunk.”

He raised his eyebrows and kept chewing.

Sam made a disgusted noise and got up giving me a quick kiss, “I’ll take care of it,” picked up his book and mug headed out.

I turned to Dean to tear him a new one and froze.

He continued eating with this look in his green eyes, normally they exude a warmth he’d never verbally express ‘cause, hello, it’s Dean, but they're scrutinizing me in a calculating manner that I haven’t seen since he had the Mark of Cain.

The scrutiny continues over the next few days.

Dean avoided physically interacting with me. It also wasn’t the last time I would find that thing innocuously sitting around the bunker watching me, coming to the conclusion this was his way of punishing me for getting injured.

What should’ve been the tip-off that something wasn’t right was his surliness with Sam but we were too caught up in research to ponder the warning signs.

**

I walked into the library and Sam, not looking up, started telling me about how he’d decipher a few more symbols. I moved next to him and leaned against the table playfully joking they probably weren’t a warning but a dirty limerick.

Sam looked up from the laptop, “dirty limeri..ooh,” his eyes roved over me, drinking in the amount of skin I’ve got on display in nothing but his unbuttoned flannel.

“Do you contribute anything around here besides your three holes?”

I spun gripping the shirt closed, “what the fuck is your problem? You’ve been acting like a complete douche nozzle!”

“My problem? Ever since we got back the only thing I’ve seen you do is spread your legs distracting my little brother from his responsibilities.”

“Dean, that's enough!” Sam got up glaring and Dean taunted, “of course you’d come to the damsel in distress's rescue Sammy..”

“I don’t need anyone to come to my rescue and you damn well know I more than pull my fair share around here,” I snapped, “and I suggested we enter new parameters into the algorithm Charlie created to speed up deciphering that gobbledygook. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna take all my holes and see if your laundry is done,” walking out I yelled, “and between the three of us I’m not the one who’s a whore Dean.”

Christmas Day

I had run into Lebanon early on a last-minute errand when I got a text from Sam that the translation was complete replying I’d be back asap.

I was putting the stuff up in the kitchen when I spotted a smear of blood that made my instincts kick in. I pulled my gun and cleared the hallway. Entering the map room scanning the crowsnest and stairwell for any threat.

Not finding any progress towards the library where I see Sam slumped over at the table softly calling out, “Sam?”

He doesn’t respond, not even a twitch and my stomach seized in anxiety as I slowly climb the three steps checking the reading nooks move towards him hear drip drip drip over the always humming electrics drawing my attention to the dark crimson pool between his feet.

Placing my gun in my waistband I grip his shoulders and pull him upright. His head lulls backwards, once expressive eyes dulled, staring at nothing, as his life drains from where he’s sliced open in disembowelment.

I slap my hand over my mouth to keep from screaming, not knowing where whatever did this is.

Taking a steading breath, I touch his forehead finding a spark of his essence still there and place my hands over the gaping wound begin intoning the healing spell Rowena used on Amara.

Mahday, eelohtah sahn.

Serloh, eelohtah.

I can feel his skin moving, the wound knitting itself together when he takes a gasping breath regaining consciousness rasps out, “Dean..” suddenly his eyes flash and lunging forward tries to get up but instead ends up taking both of us to the floor.

“Sam, you’ve lost too much blood, you need to stop.” He lays back grimacing but stills, “why would Dean attack you?” His eyes drift towards the destroyed books, shredded notes, smash phone and laptop lying broken on the floor, useless.

I lightly stroked his temple, “can you show me what the translation said so we can figure out how to stop him?” He nods then I place my middle and forefingers against both temples and see disjointed images of his hands moving, writing words when a name surfaces.

Perchta

I pull out my phone googling it, finding numerous sites containing similar info.

“Fandamntastic, so when Dean opened that trunk and touched that thing he got possessed by a pagan goddess who likes to punish sinners by splitting their bellies open.” I plopped down on my butt next to him, “and boy do we fall into that category.”

Sam hooked his pinky finger around mine using the connection started projecting, “okay, we have the binding symbols to contain her so all we’ve gotta do is figure out how to extract her from Dean and re-trap her, which isn’t gonna be simple cause she’s got access to Dean’s memories and knows our tricks.”

“That's just awesome but the first thing we’re gonna do is find somewhere to hide since you’re in no shape to fight and pretty sure our abilities have attracted her attention.”

I decided Castiel's room would be the best place to hide since Dean doesn’t know that he had me add some specialized warding to his personal space. It was slow going and when we got to the curve of the hallway I saw the thing sitting in one of the doorways gave me an idea.

I link our fingers again, “I’ve come up with plan H.”

Sam vehemently objected but it was the only thing left in our arsenal.

After I got Sam settled in his room, I took a moment to reach out to see Dean/her moving through the bowels of the bunker smashing stuff in frustration and the thing randomly popping up trying to find us seized the opportunity to sneak into a storeroom for the items I needed.

***

My hands were shaking uncontrollably as I approached the thing sitting on a shelf, so deceptively innocent looking in its red Christmas outfit and saccharine expression.

“Alright you bitch, you want me, come and get me!”

I snatched that elf off the shelf and ran through the bunker with the pounding of boots closing in on me, down a flight of stairs heading deeper into the Bunker to lure the evil that invaded into the Dungeon so I could trap it in the heavily fortified room.

He/she cautiously entered the room finding me standing in the middle of the devil's trap skyclad, Dean's green eyes having a sanguinary glint matching the long knife they're carrying slowly walking around the circle's outer ring trying to suss out what I’m up to.

“You will not stop me from fulfilling my purpose.”

“You no longer have a purpose, that's why you were locked up. And using a thing that's supposed to bring happiness to spy on people,” pointing to the elf sitting on the shelf, “is wrong on so many levels.”

Dean/she sneers at me and tentatively sets a foot across the trap’s ring. When nothing happens, they get bold and come right at me flipping the knife around to slice when I snapped my fingers cutting off the lights revealing the room, and me, painted in glow-in-the-dark binding and protection symbols from the trunk.

“I did my research; you only have power during the Twelve Days of Christmas and you can’t damage the vessel you’re inhabiting. So, on January 6th at 12:01 a.m. when Dean’s body expels you, I will gank you and your little elf doll too.”

He/she laughed, taunting me that during confinement Dean’s soul will be her plaything.

“I don't think so,” holding up a receptacle incantate, “capare!” then walk out shutting the door on a cursing Dean/her and cast an enchantment on the door to only reopen on the specified date and time.

I scrub myself raw in the shower room and setting Dean's soul on the night table collapse next to Sam on the bed and hear him mumble, “screw consciousness, that’s what I say,” knowing he wants to forget the horrors of the day that seem to be the hallmark of a traditional Winchester Christmas.

SPN TAGS: @donnaintx @lyarr24 @flamencodiva @b3autyfuldisast3r

Sam/Jared @idreamofplaid

Dean/Jensen @thoughts-and-funnies @stoneyggirl @akshi8278 @beabutterfly987

[werezmastarbucks]

dreams: kitchen

dreams masterlist

kai parker x ruby summers x reader

warnings: GRAPHIC violence

word count: 1209

not even gonna mention the music i feel it's old of me

Just like that, it was morning. Light, puffy, fresh, pink morning. That kind of pink that makes cotton candy sweet. That gets stuck in your hair with the wind, and smells of sea wherever you are. That glistens on the tops of the roofs, and knocks into windows so gently it wakes up no one. That kind of morning, that splashes mature colors across the sky once it gets confident, and dissolves completely, and one always feels just a little lost in such pure, otherworldly freshness. Absolute cleannes of it confuses. Just like extreme heat, or intense yellow fear, it makes people do... things.

You run into a house, a house just like all others in the row lining up the street. The little house, for average size dreams, not too ambitious or brave, for a future that everybody dreads. One car garage, standard windows, untelling face. But there's something unnatural there. There's something behind the closed white door, gaping, even though there's no opening. Something that makes you run, not even jog, and you flee like the wind, banging on the three little steps up. You put your hand onto the knob and doubt for a second. Just like in a dream... and it is another dream, again, you realize, you just know rather than predict, that something has happened. And you know who it's to do with, and what trajectory it went. There's something behind that door that you won't be able to take, and so, you freeze, your palm caressing the handle, looking into the tiny fake window, black, obscuring what's inside.

The house now looms over you, like it's huge. Like it's a tragic mansion that's about to crack down and bury you under its ruins, and that would be for the best, as compared with what's. Inside. It's like a melody, so sad, you can't stop listening, while almost pressing your finger firmly on the pause button. It hypnotizes you because grief, unlike momentary joy and untrustworthy happiness, is a part of real pattern of life. Grief, you remember, because at the moment of it you're truly alive. Aware of your every bone and every cell. Listening to the sounds of nature around, and the moan of the world. Feeling the breeze and the burning heat of the sun in your eyes. Grief weighs more. Grief stops you dead in your tracks, and, seemingly, all these weeks you've been seeing these dreams, you've learnt the true essence of it. Up until now, it has been almost complete.

You open the door and enter the house, the little hallway that opens to the staircase. The empty, little, nice enough house, a place to die in. The morning light, coming through the windows and colliding with the wood panels on the floor, becomes warm and beige.

You turn and find him in the kitchen.

The boy from your dreams. You never remember his name, but you always know he's the centerpiece of this world. He means something imminent to you. You ache every time you encounter him, again and again, and it always leaves you restless.

He's standing above the kitchen sink, and for the first time, his shoulders are shaking. Before you finish struggling, he turns, and you see that he's not crying; he's not scared. His face is perfectly white, with deep shadows under cheekbones and eyes; his hair is perfectly dark, absorbing the morning shining. And you realize that in the skies, it's the blood that he had spilt. He smiles.

His eyes, the deep black and navy, run across your body and then he passes right by you. Ignoring your existence, he heads to the entrance you just freed for him.

"Don't go upstairs", he says casually. Your head snaps towards the staircase. You try to imagine, in detail, and fail.

"Glad you didn't call me here to clean up after you".

"That", he turned back to you, already standing on the porch, "later".

You see that all his shirt, and all his hands, his chin and left cheek, his neck and elbows, and his hips are covered in blood.

He sits down and you join him, but not before you look into the sink he'd been laughing at. Unsuprisingly, there's a big knife there. Big ass knife, with tiny drops of blood on the gray metal, like finishing touches. The black eye of the sink tells you something you don't want to hear.

You know what his love language is.

He lets the morning air soothe his face but doesn't close his eyes. The extatic feeling of murder has already left him; he's very hard to keep satisfied. He's a very complicated person, and you know it. And he knows it. He looks at you with understanding and with firm seriousness when you sigh quietly.

"I had to do it. I just had to".

You know he's lying. About the headache, and the dreams, and the mania. About the need to do it. You can already almost recall who he is, and you know for sure who's lying upstairs, with open chest and ribs torn out and standing up like feathers on a disembowelled chicken, in her pyjamas. Her pearl-blonde hair, and puffed lips, her doll face. You would have killed her, too. She does look like an angel.

"And she's with the angels now?" you ask, playing along.

"Yeah".

You scratched your knees.

"But for real, though, why?"

A word got hangs in the air, his name, to make it more personal. As you stare into his perfect face, the sight you are gradually growing weary of, because you coud never touch it, you remember.

"Kai".

He keeps silent for some time. The street is marvelously quiet. If only you could get up that early, you'd go for sunrise walks everyday. Without any doubt, the sunrise is the best time to admire the world around you. So tender, so quiet. So pure, like it just cleans itself like a cat.

"Well, I loved her, I'd told you that".

He puts his arm around your shoulder and you can smell her blood. You burst into tears, out of jealousy. It's a grim paradox, wanting to be on her place. You want it, and at the same time, you don't. All you wish to do is to press your face into the angle of his neck and kiss it. Kiss it forever, until he kisses you back. But he never does it, not even in your dreams.

You wake up crying, and wipe your face with the second pillow. You remember Ruby Summers and what he did to her, the sight Kai performed out of her body. All the intricate disfigurments, the torn out joints and broken little bones, the shredded skin on her shoulders, the carvings on her chest, her untouched face, and the fact he never covered it, that he even wiped the blood off it, to keep it clean. The degree of animalistic violence he brought upon his little victim said clearly how much he used to care for her, and inside of you, the similar bloody angel was weeping now, because he was gone now, and you never got to know if he'd kill you in the end.

[221bshrlocked]

A Sky Full of Stars

Pairing: The Mandalorian (Din Djarin) x Fem!Reader

Words: 11340 (I know I say this all the time but this really was supposed to be a short one-shot but it got away from me because I just loved this idea so so much. Sorry not sorry.)

Warning: Nothing but fluff. Some kissing that turns into a heated make-out session that turns into a cuddling session.

Inspired by this tiktok by the lovely ameliagonzales who was gracious enough to allow me to use her idea and write this.

A/N: It's been a while since I wrote something that's fluffy slightly angsty and dialogue-centered. I'm not going to lie, this took longer than usual because of the lovely anon that decided to tell me my characterization of Din is hella off and I realized I don't care if it is because it's my writing and I get to do whatever I want with it. Let me know how I'm doing in the comments and reblogs are always always appreciated. You can add yourself to the taglist here. This is not beta'd btw.

“No silly this isn’t green, it’s blue.” The little girl put her toy away and brought out a new one, giggling at your faux pout as she shoves the new object in your hand and asks you what color you thought it was. You turn it around in your hands, trying your hardest to hide the hurt growing in your chest at not knowing what color it is. You think it’s closer to the first toy she gave you but you’re not sure. You’re never sure. You look at the girl and smile at her before setting the toy aside and wiggling your hands at her. She immediately stands up and screams as you run after her, laughing along with her giggles as you chase her around and watch as more kids join in and run away from you.

You’re not sure how long you’re chasing the little ones and you hear some of them gasp and ‘oooh’ when your young friend runs into a solid figure. You stand up and watch as the girl tears up as she apologizes to the man she just ran into. You’re immediately hugging her and assuring her that everything is okay, turning to the side and narrowing your eyes at the man that scared her half to death.

“Shame on you Mando,” you pretend to smack his shoulder three times and watch as the child in your arms sniffles between laughs when the Mandalorian tries to hide away from you.

“I’m sorry little flower, I didn’t mean to scare you.” You watch as the man reaches for a small bottle in his pocket and slowly hands it to the girl. “Here you go, a token of my apology.”

“It’s okay sweetheart, he’s a nice man...even though he doesn’t look it.” You wink at Boba Fett and giggle along with her when he sighs heavily and pushes the flask into her hand. She takes it and shakes it around, her eyes lighting up when the bottle shimmers at her ministrations and illuminates her hands.

“It’s so pretty! How did you know orange is my favorite color?” The girl slides down your arms and quickly hugs the hunter in front of you before running away and showing her friends. You look at her with longing in your eyes, wishing with all your heart that you saw the gift the same way she saw it.

“Still no color princess?” Fett questions and you shrug your shoulders as you make your way towards Slave I and sit on the ramp.

“Yup, same old same old. Who knows if I’ll ever see color.” There is a hint of hurt in your tone but Fett says nothing as he approaches you and stands to the side. He pats your shoulder once as he takes his helmet off and softly wipes at the visor to clean it.

“Don’t give up, kid. You’re still young...you’ve got all the time in the galaxy and you travel everywhere. You’ll meet them when you least expect it.”

“In this line of work? Yeah, I don’t think so Fett. But at least one of us didn’t lose the positive attitude. If I’m being honest, I was hoping to see color before the next supply run. The chances that I’ll live to go to Pasaana during another Festival of the Ancestors are practically non-existent. I heard they wear so many variations of the same color...maker, it would have been nice to experience that.” You pick up a rock and throw it away as you nervously ring your fingers and brush the conversation aside, not wanting to start the journey with a sour mood.

“Well, lucky for us, we have extra help on this run so it should be quicker. Maybe you’ll see color before you go?” Fett looks up and you follow his line of sight as another ship slowly lands just behind Slave I. You stand up and walk behind your old friend, looking back at the crates to ensure they’re still there before you approach the landing ship.

“Oh no, what poor soul did you manage to rope in this time?” You eye the ship and swear there is something familiar about it but you pay it no mind as Fett puts his helmet back on.

“Hey, I don’t always bend people to my will you know. He volunteered actually...he knows his way around the Narvath Sector and he might even tag along with us to the Forbidden Valley. So, be nice and don’t flirt with him.” Fett warns and you throw your hands up in defeat, failing to hide your smile as you respond with feigned offense.

“I’m not going to flirt with him.” You raise an eyebrow when Fett snorts at your high-pitched voice as he makes his way to the landing ship, and mutters something beneath his breath. The ship powers down after a couple of moments and you take a deep breath when the doors to the docking ramp slide and a figure appears at the corner.

“There he is...took you longer to land this time.” Fett yells to the other Mandalorian, not noticing how you take a few steps back as the man walks down towards the two of you.

“Oh well things just got a little more interesting now.” You break the silence and cringe when the Mandalorian struts past your friend and takes out his blaster. You hold your hands up when he points the weapon at your head and you watch as Fett strides to the two of you and stands in between your body and his brother’s weapon.

“You?” The Mandalorian growls and he tries to step aside and Fett holds his chest and pushes him back.

“Me!” You smile nervously and gulp when Fett turns around and looks at you. You swear you can almost see the look he’s giving you but you say nothing and hope that he can handle this situation for you.

“Oh.” You would have laughed at Fett’s response if there wasn’t a bounty hunter standing not five feet away from you and killing you a thousand different ways.

“You two know each other?” Fett breaks the silence and continues to stand between the two of you, knowing his friend’s short temper and your dumb comments might escalate this situation.

“I wouldn’t say we know each other. I’d say we met very briefly on-” You try to explain what happened the last time you saw the Mandalorian but he cuts you off. He pushes his blaster into its holster and you sigh heavily but keep your hands raised, afraid he'll change his mind any second and try to shoot you again.

“You almost blew up my ship!” The Mandalorian yells and you jump at his exclamation. His irritation seeps into your skin and you narrow your eyes at him as you walk around Fett and begin to nudge at the beskar armor with one finger. Your anger at his unfairness outgrows your fear of what he can do to you and you continue to push on his chest plate as you talk back at him and ignore Fett’s whispers to let it go.

“I did no such thing. I merely tried to fix your shitty cooling radiator panels but you scared the fuck out of me when you came up behind me and suggested I switch the parts, hence why I dropped the cauterizer and burned through the wires. So technically, you almost blew up your ship.” You’re breathing heavily and you’re sure your nose is flaring from how annoyed you are by the man in front of you. A few seconds pass between the two of you and it’s not until the Mandalorian tilts his head that you realize what you’ve just said and done. You take your hands away and swallow the growing lump in your throat as you step back and apologize a few times before you walk to the crates.

The Mandalorian stands there in silence, never once looking away from you retreating form, even when Boba Fett comes and stands him.

He’s missed this, and more than he preferred to admit.

“Little princess is fiery today.” Fett comments and notices when his friend turns and stares at him through the visor. The Mandalorian says nothing as he walks away from Fett and follows you. You’re in the middle of counting the supplies in the crates when you hear the crunching of footsteps approaching you. Thinking it’s Fett that’s come to help you move the supplies, you roll up your sleeves and ask him to take the opposite side.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell at your brother. I was just annoyed because I was only trying to help and he scared me.” When you look up and see that it was the Mandalorian and not your friend, you drop the crate and stare at him. He says nothing as he picks up his end of the large box and waits for you to mirror his actions before he begins to walk back to his ship. Neither of you say anything as you go back and forth until all the crates are on his ship. You walk out and stand next to Fett, waiting for his instructions to see whether you were going to go with him or with the new member of the crew.

“So what’s the plan?” You avoid the Mandalorian standing next to you and turn your body towards Fett, hoping that he’d say that you were tagging along with him.

“You’re going to go with him.” You cease to breathe at his command and clench your fists when you recognize his tone. He’s not leaving room for negotiation.

“W-why?” The Mandalorian walks back to his ship at your question and you pout when you realize that he may have misunderstood your inquiry. Not that it mattered whether or not he misunderstood...

“Fennec...we’ll meet you at Iktotchon.” You look to the ground and shuffle your feet against the sand, turning back to him and nodding quietly as you follow behind the Mandalorian.

“And princess!” Fett calls for you and you glance at him when you reach the top of the ramp.

“Hmm?”

“Try not to get into too much trouble.” You look at him with annoyance and shake your head when you realize he’s just teasing you. Standing at the large doors of the ship, you glimpse one last time at Mos Eisley before you make your way into the heart of the ship. A few moments later, the ship powers up and you watch as the barrier raises and locks just as light filters through the area. You’re not sure what you’re supposed to do or where you’re allowed to go so you remain standing where you are. Not a minute later, you jump when a voice breaks the silence and booms through the ship.

“Come up to the cockpit.”

You take a deep, calming breath as you set your things to the side and ascend the ladder to the cockpit. You come face to face with a door and you’re about to knock when it slides open and reveals the Mandalorian sitting in the pilot chair.

“Sit down and buckle up.” He says as he flicks on buttons across the board. He turns his head towards you to make sure that you’re buckled in before he raises the throttle levers and begins to take off. You hold back from saying something snarky as the turbulence gets worse, only shutting your eyes when it gets to be too much. You’re not sure how long you’re sitting there with your hands clasping the leather of the chair but it’s only when you hear the seat in front of you turning that you realize you were already in space.

You frown when you open your eyes and see the Mandalorian already looking at you, the tilt of his helmet letting you know that he was silently mocking you.

“What?” You break the silence and watch as he rights himself before he turns around and pushes the auto-pilot button.

“You’re a supply dealer who hates flying.” It’s more of a question than a comment and you can’t help but narrow your eyes when he stands up and continues to stare at you.

“So?”

“Not a good quality of life.” If you’re surprised by his response, you try not to show it as you stand up and face him defensively like before.

“Says the man who wears beskar armor every minute of the day.” It’s a low blow and you know you have no right involving his religion. But you’re fed up with his passive aggressiveness and you want to make sure he knows that he can’t talk down to you.

The Mandalorian turns away and looks at the passing stars of the galaxy, softly whispering for you to follow him as he exits the cockpit. You want to apologize for what you said but you hold back instead, following him down the ladder and standing to the side when you see him moving things around.

“This is my cot, and that right there is yours.” He points to two doors across from each other at the end of the hallway and waits for your confirmation before he walks past them and shows you the refresher.

“Help yourself to any of the rations. We’ll arrive at Iktotchon in four sleeping cycles so there should be enough food for the two of us until we get there.” You’re not sure what makes you reach for his wrist when he turns around to walk away. He stands still and looks down at the hand grasping his beskar before he looks at you.

“S-sorry...I- umm, are you coming to Pasaana?” You ring your fingers nervously as you look at yourself in his visor, taking two steps back when he straightens up and looks down at your hands.

“You’re going to the Festival of the Ancestors.”

“Yes. Well, it’s me, Mando, and Fennec. So I was just wondering, you know, if there was...if you had anything lined up after this supply run. Because if not, you can tag along...it only happens every-”

“42 years. I know.” He cuts you off and you’re not sure if his body-language seems more open or not but within a few seconds of chatting with him, he’s suddenly relaxing and leaning back against the metal wall. He’s silent for longer than you prefer so you force a smile and rub the back of your neck awkwardly as you prepare to tell him to forget that you asked since he probably has more important matters to handle.

“Ok.” It’s a simple response yet you feel your skin heat up as he nods at you and walks to his quarters. He hesitates at the door for a moment before he pushes the button and steps into the privacy of his room.

You let out a deep breath and stand in your spot for a few minutes before you slip back to the docking space to bring your belongings to the room. The ship is surprisingly more quiet than others you’ve been on and you remember what he told you about it the last time you saw him. A faint memory of how he defended the size of his ship makes you giggle. Then again, you’ve heard from Peli about the piece of junk he had before this and knew that it was barely considered as machinery.

“Maker, how am I going to make it four days on this ship with him?” You shake your head as you prepare to go to bed. The twin suns were just setting on Tatooine when you were leaving and you knew it was better to get as much sleep in as possible considering how quickly things sometimes escalated on these kinds of runs.

Surprisingly, things weren’t too bad when you left your sleeping cot the following day. The Mandalorian was already awake and cleaning his weapons. You bid him a quick good morning as you moved past him and looked for some snacks. He didn’t seem like he wanted to converse with you so you opted to stay in your room for the remainder of your waking hours. A voice in your head told you to keep the door open in case he did want to chat eventually but as you thought, he never once disturbed you.

The second day on the ship was perhaps slightly more eventful. Although he continued to pass his time in silence, he did manage to ask you to help him fix something in the cockpit. You were shocked he requested your services with ease and said nothing as he stood aside and watched you tinker away with the radar display screen. He thanked you twice when you finished and told you that he’d let you know if he needed your help with anything else.

The third day, however, made you wish you could open the docking doors and throw yourself out in space. You hadn’t seen him all morning long and you thought it was probably because he wanted some privacy in the cockpit. By the middle of the day, you jumped out of your cot and grabbed some spare clothes as you headed to the refresher, wanting to shower once before you landed on the sand-filled planet the following. As you walked to the door and pushed the button, you were met with a heavy fog escaping the room. When the fog cleared, you dropped your clothes and slammed your hands on your eyes, immediately backing away from the room as the Mandalorian scrambled to wrap something around his waist. You weren’t sure how many times you apologized in the span of one minute but when you heard the familiar sound of a blaster turning on, you stood in silence and waited for him to say something.

“Pfassk, do you have no kriffing regard for privacy?” He growled through the vocoder and you shook your head to try and explain to him that you saw nothing but his back.

“I- maker, I’m so sorry. I swear on my life I didn’t see anything except your back. I didn’t know you were in there...I really didn’t or else I wouldn't have gone in.” You sigh in relief when you hear him murmur to himself as he sets down the blaster and shuffles around in search of his clothes.

“What do you mean you didn’t know I was in there? The red light was on, which usually means someone is in the fucking refresher using it.” Hearing him swear shouldn’t make you shiver and yet you do. When you notice that he’s gone still, you assume it’s safe to look at him again. Taking a deep breath, you turn around and lower your hands as you muster up the courage to try and explain to him why you couldn’t see the red light.

And boy was that a mistake. You regret removing your hands from your eyes as soon as you take a good look at him. Turns out, the beskar armor only made him look more intimidating. The man was large, made to be a hunter. He was broad-shouldered, muscular in all the right places and soft in others. You unintentionally frown when you see his bronze skin littered with scars of all shapes and sizes. Maker, the life he led was worse than you thought.

“I- uhh, I don’t...I couldn’t see it.” You hated how much your voice broke when you tried to explain yourself. As much as you wanted to blame it on being afraid of him, you knew it was less about the danger he exuded and more about the fact that you could see more of his skin than you thought you ever would.

“Excuse me?”

“I didn’t know it was red.” You knew none of what you were saying was making sense but this wasn’t exactly a situation that you thought you’d find yourself having to deal with, and with the Mandalorian of all people.

“Are you fucking with me?” He was less hostile than earlier but his words were still spoken aggressively. You couldn’t blame him really, especially when you knew how strict his religion was.

“N-no. I- my species doesn’t see color until- well, it doesn’t matter. My species doesn’t see color. We just see grays. I’m sorry...I should have asked before if there was anything I needed to learn about the ship that required me seeing colors. It escaped me. I’ll try to pay more attention...I promise you I saw nothing.” You take one last glance at the heaving, glistening body in front of you before you turn around and walk in your room. You shut the door behind you this time, knowing that he probably wanted some of his privacy back and that he would need to limit himself should you keep it open.

It’s not until a few hours later that you sit up when you hear a soft knock on your door. You stand up and push open the barrier, finding the Mandalorian standing in front of you with his helmet looking straight at your reluctant expression. You wait for him to say something and when he doesn’t, you raise your eyebrows and silently ask him if he needs anything.

“I didn’t know about your...I didn’t know. And I didn’t mean to scare you with the blaster either, it’s a reflex to- umm.” You nod at him and look down to see what he’s holding in his hands. “You left your clothes lying on the floor.” He pushes the fabric towards you and averts his eyes when he sees your undergarments peaking through the shirt. You thank him as you set them down on your bag and look into his visor again.

“Ad'ika?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m sorry.” The whispered exclamation does little to calm your nerves and you’re not sure what to say to him so you nod and awkwardly smile into the shiny beskar helmet. The Mandalorian murmurs a quick ‘good night’ before he makes his way to the cockpit, leaving you as confused as ever.

You don’t get an ounce of sleep that night, the image of him in nothing but a helmet and some flimsy pants making you wish he had shot you with his blaster instead. You refuse to admit the rising emotions you’re beginning to feel towards him, mostly because it didn’t matter whether or not he reciprocated them.

You still couldn’t see color.

He wasn’t your soulmate.

You’re afraid to leave the room the next morning, not sure which version of the Mandalorian you were going to have to deal with. It turns out, there was nothing to worry about because not surprisingly, you got the quiet, slightly shy man chatting with you. He pretends nothing happened the previous day and you go along with it. You’re just about to enter the atmosphere of Iktotchon when you receive a hologram from Fett telling the two of you of the sandstorm passing through the meeting point.

As you buckle into the seat behind the Mandalorian, he takes a moment to turn around and call for you.

“There’s going to be turbulence.”

“I- I know.” You barely hold back from furrowing your eyebrows at his comment but then he turns around to face you completely and you narrow your eyes at him with suspicion.

“I’ve landed on worse planets.” It takes you a few extra seconds to realize what he’s attempting to do and you can’t help but laugh and break the moment. You quiet down when he turns around and begins to descend to the planet.

“Are you worried about little old me Mandalorian?” You try to distract yourself from the sudden, harsh shaking of the ship but the teasing does little to calm your nerves when you realize that the sandstorm was as bad as Fett made it sound. You shut your eyes and try to picture the calm nights you’re so used to on Tatooine.

“You know, you can just call me Mando.” His voice breaks you out of your haze and you growl in response when you hear a few sounds go off above you.

“No, I- I can’t call you that. I reserved it for the other guy already!”

“You mean the Mandalorian who already told you his name?” He claps back and chuckles when you sigh in irritation at his question.

“Fine okay you’re right. How about this? Can you land this fucking ship without killing the two of us Mando?” You’re screaming at the top of your lungs and grasp the belt around your torso harder when you don’t hear back from him.

“Mando?”

“You mean the ship I already landed ad’ika?” Your eyes shoot wide open and you look around frantically, only to see that most of the turbulence you experienced was due to the sand and gravel hitting the metal of the ship.

“Oh...that was- not as bad as I thought it would be.”

“Anything beats Maldo Kreis.” Mando says as he stands there across from you and the slight tilt of his helmet at your confused expression makes you realize he may not have meant to say that out loud.

“We need to go. The storm will only get worse if we wait until night.” You nod in agreement and follow him out of the cockpit to the docking station. Mando instantly regrets lowering the docking ramp when he sees gravel quickly entering the ship. You run to your room to grab the helmet you brought with you and lock it in as you return to help him with the crates.

It’s a difficult few hours on the planet, and you grow more irritated when the Ikotchi threatens you with less supply exchanges. When his demeanor suddenly changes and he asks you to take the crates and leave, you thank him and quickly take the crates up the ramp with Fennec before he changes his mind. You never once notice both Mandalorians as they subtly push their blasters back into their holsters.

You’re leaving Iktotchon later than you prefer, mostly because both bounty hunters find themselves in a heated argument that Fennec has to end not-so-gently. You don’t bother asking Mando what the issue was when you see him strutting into the cockpit, quickly strapping yourself in when he glances at you to make sure you’re safe.

It’s a rough take off for both his ship and Slave I, but you say nothing of it, knowing that he might not appreciate any light teasing at the moment. Once you’re out of the planet’s atmosphere, Mando puts in the coordinates for Pasaana and sends a hologram to Fett, letting him know that you would be reaching the planet in less than a day.

You want to ask him if you could help in any way but you decide against it and leave him to his thoughts. You want nothing more than to take a long, hot shower to rid yourself of all the sand that managed to seep into your clothes. But then you notice the state of the docking area and before you can talk yourself out of it, you look around for anything that resembles a sweeper and clean as much of the floor as you can. You’re thankful that Mando doesn’t leave the cockpit and when you’re done, you go back into your room to grab a change of clothes so you could use the refresher.

You think you hear Mando passing by your room but you say nothing and make your way to the refresher, halting in your steps when you look at the light and find it turned off.

Great.

“Mando? Are you in there?” You’re not sure if he can hear you or not so you try to ask him again a little louder.

“Mando!? Are you i-”

“No.” You jump as soon as you hear him respond from behind you. Turning around, you clutch at your chest when you see him standing in front of his door without the beskar armor.

“I- uhh, t-there’s no light. And I wasn’t sure what that meant really.” You’re ringing your fingers again, and hope that he doesn’t notice just how nervous you are in his presence.

“Well I- I rewired the electrical circuits of the refresher so you know when it’s occupied and when it isn’t. If the light is on, it means I’m in there, and if it isn’t, then it’s free for use. No more colores.”

You look at him as if he took off his helmet, trying to wrap your mind around the fact that he went out of his way to accommodate you when you’re only on his ship for another few days.

“Thank you,” is all you manage to say before you push the door and scramble in. Mando looks at the door for another few minutes before he remembers that he hasn’t eaten in a while. He cooks up a meal for two quickly and eats his share before you finish your shower. When he hears you walking out, he sits in his usual corner and brings out his weapons to polish them.

You smell food as soon as you walk out of the refresher and you throw your clothes on your cot before you make your way to the large space across the hallway. You’re about to ask Mando about the food situation when you see a plate opposite of him on the table.

“It’s yours.” Mando breaks the silence as he wipes in between the crevasses of his blaster, nodding towards the space in front of him to let you know that you could join him,

“Thank you Mando.”

Neither of you say anything as you inhale your dinner and it’s not until you’ve washed your plates and set them aside that Mando decides to break the silence.

“Can I ask you something?”

“S-sure.” You think he’s going to ask you what it’s like to not see colors and to only see gradations of gray but his question catches you off guard.

“When can your species see color?” If you were uncomfortable by his question, you did a good job hiding it from him. Mando watches as you push off the wall and return to sit in front of him, lazily pushing around the towel he was holding as you answer him.

“This might sound stupid and I’m usually told that it’s not real but I’ve seen those of my kind experience the second they could see color so I know it’s not just a fable we’re told when we’re young. Basically, we see color when we meet our soulmates.” Mando’s heart breaks when you throw him a forced smile, one he’s seen a million times looking back at him in the mirror.

“Your soulmate?”

“Yup, the person I’m destined to be with. My other half. The one that will belong to me and I to him.” Mando nods along with you as he stands up and hangs up his weapons one by one.

“I know what you’re thinking. What’s someone like me going to do at the Festival of the Ancestors? Honestly, I think it’ll be fun to attend it whether or not I can see the colors. It’s a rich culture so I’m sure I’ll enjoy it either way.”

“I can always walk around with you and describe to you the colors, t-the patterns even. If...if you want.” His suggestion throws you off guard and as earlier, you gape at him as you try to figure out what he was playing at. You think he’s pulling your leg and will laugh at you at any moment, but when he doesn’t, you realize that he’s being dead serious.

“That would be nice Mando. I might not see the colors but I could always imagine what they look like next to each other.”

And just like that, the conversation is over as quickly as it begins.

“Good night mesh’la.” Mando murmurs as he makes his way to his quarters, leaving you more hopeful than you’ve felt in a long while.

It’s a weird thing to admit but for the first time in years, you don’t go to sleep wishing you could wake up and see colors. No. You doze off wondering what it would feel like to hold his hand and maybe, just maybe, kiss it. You think of how soft his untouched skin must feel like and how calloused his scarred muscles would look.

When you dream that night, you see faint images of his lips caressing yours and his firm arms bringing you into his embrace.

And you wake up with a lazy smile etched on your face because those dreams, those sweet, lovely memories your brain conjured up during the night, felt as good as seeing color.

You can’t look at him for the duration of the morning, constantly pretending that you’re doing something or other so he doesn’t think you’re avoiding him because the last thing you wanted was to make him think you didn’t want to talk to him. But you just can’t find it in yourself to look into his visor. Every time you so much as glance at the beskar helmet, you remember what your subconscious conjured up and you stutter out a response to whatever he says.

Not surprisingly, Mando notices the shift in your behavior and he waits until you finish fixing the crates’ locks, which were clearly not broken, before he approaches you.

“Mesh’la.”

“Yes Mando?” You’re still not looking at him and Mando starts to genuinely believe that he’s done something wrong. When you try to walk past him to place the tool back in your room, Mando reaches out and takes hold of your wrist before you’re out of reach. You look at his gloved hand wrapped around your skin before you meet his eyes past his visor and Mando holds his breath because for a moment, he thinks you can see straight through him.

“You’re angry with me.”

You never realize until this moment that Mando tends to ask most of his questions in the form of a statement and it’s strange. It’s strange because it never occurred to you that he’s the type to perhaps jump to conclusions when he can’t read the situation. Setting the tool box down, you stand up and fix your shirt as you muster up the courage to respond to him.

“I’m not. I’m not angry with you. I’m- it’s...difficult to explain.” His hold loosens but he’s standing in your space and you think it’s because he’s not totally convinced by your answer and won’t let it go until you give him a proper explanation for the sudden change in your treatment.

“It’s difficult to explain why you’re not angry with me.”

There it goes again, that weird phrasing of his inner thoughts. You huff in irritation and Mando misunderstands your annoyed expression so he steps away and turns to look everywhere else but you.

“No, Mando...maker- yes it’s difficult to explain because you’re- no, not you. It’s not your fault it’s mine. I’m just not used to- gods why is this so hard?” You’re visibly stressed and it must be a sight because Mando comes back to stand in front of you and he rests one hand on your shoulder, waiting until you turn to look at him before he tries to break the anxiety-inducing silence.

“You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to. I- I shouldn’t have offered to walk through the festival with you. I should have thought of how uncomfortable you’d feel before I selfishly asked t-” You perk up at his choice in words and you’re about to ask him what he meant by what he said but he doesn’t give you a chance. “Please believe me when I tell you I only wanted to...I thought it might help.”

“You see, this is exactly why I’m avoiding you.” You’re not sure who’s more surprised by your little outburst but when his hold tightens around your shoulder, you think maybe it’s him.

“So you are avoiding me.”

“Yes okay? I am, I’m avoiding you because the last few days felt like a whiplash of emotions and I don’t know what I’m feeling right now. One minute you’re angry and quiet and it’s as if I’m not in the same space as you, and the next thing I know, you’re rewiring your damn ship so I know how to use it and then offering to pretty much waste your time during one of the most beautiful festivals in the galaxy just to make sure I’m enjoying myself. And...and it’s difficult because I feel myself falling but I don’t want to because I’m afraid...I’m afraid you won’t be there to catch me...because you don’t have to. Because why would you when-”

You’re not sure how you got to this moment but all you know is that you're’ suddenly surrounded by Mando and the cold beskar armor and his natural musk and this unique woodsy scent and it’s-

It’s breathtaking.

“Cyar’ika, I didn’t know...I didn’t know I was causing you this much distress. It’s difficult for me to- to speak my he- to speak at times. I wasn’t thinking of how I’m coming off and I was so busy trying to figure out my- my own feelings...that I didn’t stop and think of what you must be going through.” His voice is low and you think perhaps that it’s breaking with every word he whispers through the vocoder, so you do the only thing you think of at the moment. Reluctantly, you wrap as much of your arms around him as physically possible, hoping he’d understand that you were listening to him and no longer trying to ignore him.

“Mando-”

“I- I volunteered for this supply run.” You’re not sure how this relates to this current affair but you sink further into his embrace, hoping that he wouldn’t shy away from explaining why he’s bringing this up now.

“I know. Fett told me.”

“Did he tell you why?” Mando replies instantly and you furrow your eyebrows even though you know he can’t see you.

“N-no.”

“I- I couldn’t stop thinking of you. Ever since the last time I saw you, I’ve been at war with myself, with what I was allowing to happen. I knew you weren’t to blame with the cauterizer but I couldn’t accept my heart letting you...maker, I can see why you said this is difficult.” He chuckles nervously and you hold your breath in anticipation because he isn’t, he can’t be admitting what you think he is.

“W-what’re you saying Mando?”

“I’m saying I need you cyar’ika. I’m saying, I’ve been dreaming of you for the past 53 sleeping cycles. I’m saying, I can’t bear the thought of not seeing you after Pasaana.” You don’t realize how long you’ve been holding your breath until you exhale against him and Mando pulls away, keeping his helmet aimed to the floor as he continues. “And if- if you can give me a chance, I’d like to- I’d like to...well, I’m not exactly sure what you enjoy doing but I’d like to do it with you. You don't have to give me an answer now. I know I’m being selfish and I know that I- I don’t belong with you because you haven't seen color yet. But please, please consider this. Consider me.” His voice is much more reserved, lower even, than before and you realize it’s because he was probably considering not telling you up until now.

Your heart breaks at his last words because this was never something you thought you’d have to deal with. But looking back at the last few days, no matter how confusing or strange they were, you can’t help but admit how alive you’ve felt.

You know he doesn’t expect you to answer him right away and you know you should take some time to think over what he’s asking of you.

So when you lay both of your hands on his chest and ask him to look at you, Mando thinks you’re going to reject him and you feel his muscles tense when you step closer to him.

“I do...I- I am considering this Mando, I have been for the past few nights if I’m being honest...it’s actually part of the reason why I couldn’t look at you today. I woke up with this unusual thought, well, unusual to me. It’s been so long since I stopped thinking about seeing color and directed all of my attention to something, or rather, someone else.” You smile up into the visor and slowly reach to rest your hand on the space between his helmet and his cowl. The mere touch of your skin shakes him to his core and Mando has to clench his fists so he doesn’t lose control over himself.

“Today was the first time I woke up not caring if I hadn’t seen color because- because being with you, and- and talking with you and staying on this ship with you felt like I’ve already seen color. I don’t know what’s going to happen when I do...if I do, but I know that I’d like to give this, us, a shot.”

“You...you do mesh’la?” He almost sounds like a young child asking his parents for permission to have something and when you nod at him, Mando can’t hold back anymore. He wraps his arms around you once more, and carries you off the ground, smiling to himself when he hears you giggling at his dramatic display of affection.

He pulls away and you think he’s about to say something but a message comes through to the ship and Mando apologizes quickly before he ascends to the cockpit. You stay planted in your spot for what feels like hours before you hear Mando telling you that you’re nearing Pasaana. When you get to the cockpit and take your usual seat, Mando rises from his chair and approaches you, kneeling down at your feet to buckle your belt easier and ensure that you’re safe. It’s a small gesture but you know he’s conveying a thousand emotions in that little tap to make sure that you’re buckled in properly and when you smile at him, he reaches over and pushes a stray hair behind your ears before he returns to his pilot chair.

You don’t feel the turbulence once, mostly because you’re too busy replaying the brief moment over and over again in your mind until you’re sure you’ve committed it to memory.

Mando has to tap on your shoulder twice once he lands, and you nod in affirmation when he asks if you were feeling alright. The two of you make your way out of the ship just as Slave I lands. When you glance at Mando to ask him about the argument between him and Fett, you find him already staring at you. You smile at him and watch as he looks away apologetically. Maybe he really was as nervous as you.

“You’re coming along then?” Fett says to Mando as you make your way towards the desert and you pretend to focus on the dozens of kites flying in the air, unsure whether you were meant to be a part of this conversation or not.

Mando replies in Mando’a and you look to Fennec to ask her something about the kites to try and ignore the two men who may or may not have been talking about you. You’re about to ask Fennec about the colors of the flying toys when Mando steps in between the two of you and takes hold of your upper arm, pushing you ahead of the others so he could get a private moment with you.

“Is- are you okay?”

“Fine. He’s being difficult.” His curt answer lets you know that he wasn’t going to reveal what that whole ordeal was about so you nod and try to fall in step with him. You’re about to ask him about the colors of the kites when Mando leans over and whispers in your ears.

“Those two over there are red, like the color of the twin suns on Tatooine when they’re just setting. And, that one over there, the large one flying higher than the rest, it’s a dark blue...like the night sky.” You try to not let the proximity of his body affect you but the more he tells you of the colors, the closer you want him to get to you.

“That smaller one is light green, like many of the plants on Felucia.”

“I’ve never been to Felucia.” You admit to him as you keep your gaze on the kites, trying to differentiate between the colors but barely noticing a difference between the grays.

“I can take you there.” He offers with ease and you look into the visor and smile at him. “I’d like that.”

You can vaguely feel their eyes on you but you don’t bother to pay attention to them, wanting to spend as much time with Mando as you could. Once you reach the edge of the festival, you thank the Aki-Aki that approach you and wrap a necklace of flowers around you. You laugh when they reluctantly look at Mando and he sighs heavily at your death stare before he leans down and allows one of them to place a necklace around his cowl as well.

“Hey Mando?”

“Hmm.”

“Do the necklaces look the same?” Mando turns around and sees Fett and Fennec look away from the two of you. He waits until they walk the opposite direction before he looks at you and takes hold of your necklace.

“Yours have lighter colors...yellow, orange, white, pink and a few light greens here and there. Mine is darker. This is purple, and these are blue...and all of these are dark red and brown.” He points to each of the flowers and tells you its color, never once noticing the way you’re looking at him and hanging onto every single word he says.

When you hear the sound of distant music playing, you take Mando’s hand and make your way through the crowd, telling him that you want to see what they’re doing on the other side of the festival. Mando says nothing as you pull him through, only responding when you directly ask him about the color of the caravan fabrics and laughing when you joke about how he technically blends into the surroundings. And when you come across a large crate that you can vaguely see some designs on, Mando offers to make room for it on his ship so you can get it. It’s a long argument between the two of you but he wins in the end, telling you that he genuinely wanted to gift you something that you can remember him with and might enjoy some day. You almost cry at the unspoken implications of his words but when he shrugs his shoulders and hands over the credits, you quietly thank him and let the seller know that you’ll be taking it before you leave.

Over the next few hours, Mando never leaves your side once, even when you tell him that he should enjoy his time as well. You notice how he changes the subject every time you ask him to explore by himself and giggle when he responds with an opinion on some of the color combinations. It’s quite comical to be in the presence of such an intimidating individual who’s complaining about how ‘that blue doesn’t go too well with this red.’

As you’re making your way through the different caravans, you notice a table displaying a dozen large cloaks. Turning to Mando, you see that he’s busy asking one of the sellers if they have similar shirts but in darker colors. You walk to the table on the other side and look through the capes to try and differentiate between them. When you realize that it’s of no use, you hold one up and call for him to ask if he should buy a new one.

“Hey Mando, maybe you should get this instead of-”

The question dies in your throat when Mando glances away from the vendor and holds your gaze. Your brain refuses to catch up with what your eyes are seeing for what feels like an eternity and your hand flies to your chest and clench it tightly as your heart skips a beat at the sight in front of you. It takes a few seconds for you to inhale deeply when you realize that you aren’t breathing and you feel your heart skip a beat when you watch Mando strut towards you. He drops what he’s holding in his hands and takes a few strides in your way, not caring to hold back as he wraps one arm around your waist while the other rests on your neck and tilts your head so he could take a better look at you. You still can’t wrap your mind around what just happened and you’re not sure what he’s saying until he lightly shakes you in his arms and raises his voice to grab your attention.

Maker, his voice was unlike anything you’ve ever heard. It was hoarse yet calming, the kind of calming that one could only dream of feeling.

“Mesh’la, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” His voice shakes you to your core and your eyes shift down to his lips, tilting your head to the side when you follow the scruff peppering his handsome features and memorize the different colors of his hair. Gods, you couldn’t put a name to any of them but you knew you liked the combination of the light and dark outlining his sharp jaw.

“I- I don’t...maker. You’re...you’re-” You’re unable to form a coherent thought and as you reach out to touch his cheeks, Mando clenches his jaw but doesn’t dare to move a muscle. He realizes that this is the first time you see him without his helmet and he finds himself praying that you find him, at the very least, okay to look at. His hold on you eases when he feels the palm of your hand caress the side of his face before you push his hair aside. Mando nuzzles into your touch and he shuts his eyes to commit this moment to memory. The last time someone was this gentle with him broke his heart, but he found himself longing for a similar feeling with you. Only if it was you.

“N-no...please. Look at me.” Your whispered request drowns out the music of the festival and Mando’s eyes flutter open immediately. He looks down at you and can’t help but shift his focus to your parted lips as you try to speak again.

“Mando? What...what color are your eyes?” You hold your breath as Mando’s gaze softens when he meets your eyes again. He doesn’t know why you’re asking but he answers you anyway.

“Brown.” His voice breaks but then you’re smiling up at him as you reach for his cheek with your other hand and rest it on his heated skin. He’s not sure what brought about any of this but he can’t care less, not when you were here, in his arms, touching him so gently and looking at him like he was the only one that mattered across the galaxy.

“Hmm...they’re a beautiful color.” The admission sends a shiver down his spine and he doesn’t register the meaning behind your words until he sees your expression change to one of panicked shock.

Oh.

“You can see color?” Mando doesn’t intend to sound so accusative but his tone must have been harsh because you nod and snatch your hands away from him as if he’s burned you. You don’t dare look anywhere else as the reality of the situation settles in your mind.

It’s him. It’s been him all along.

“I- I can see color.”

Mando watches as you blink in confusion before you look to the side. You do a double-take when you see the vibrant colors of the festival and Mando steps away as you walk around him and approach a caravan hanging clothing of all color gradations. You ignore everything else as you softly trace the different colors and patterns on the garments before you walk over to the next little cart and stare at the vibrant jewelry. There’s so much to take in and you forget for a moment where you are. When you look away and turn your eyes to the sky, you can’t help but smile at seeing the kites gliding through the air. You don’t know which one you want to focus on because they’re all so pretty so you stand in there for a few moments to take it all in.

It’s not until you feel a presence next to you that you remember how you came to see this new world. When you begin to ring your fingers anxiously, Mando takes a step towards you and takes your hands in his palms.

“Cyar’ika, do you need anything?” He doesn’t know what to say and your lungs refuse to expand when you finally look at him again.

You spent years conjuring up different scenarios in your head to try and anticipate what to expect when you finally meet your soulmate. But standing here, in front of Mando, in the middle of the Festival of the Ancestors, you realize that this compares to nothing.

“I- I don’t…”

“If you want me to go-”

“No! N-no, please. Stay here with me. Stay here with...me.” Y

ou tighten your hold around his hands to prevent him from leaving. Mando nods and turns back to the caravan he was standing by to grab his helmet. You say nothing as he carries it and looks at you, but your eyes must give you away because Mando throws you a quick smile as he keeps it on his side and leads you through the festival.

Neither of you discuss the new development but you don’t ignore it either. You continue to steal glances from each other every now and then, especially when Mando leans over and tells you about each of the colors. Except this time, he doesn’t tell you so you could imagine what they look like. He tells you so you could memorize what each pigment is and begin to recognize them on your own. It’s almost as if nothing changed with how often Mando describes to you the gradations and patterns, but you know that this was far from the truth. And with the way Mando breathes softly against your forehead when he leans down to talk to you, you sense that he knows this as well.

He’s much more forward with his touches now, perhaps even a little shameless too. Hours ago, he would apologize if he pushed you by accident or shifted closer to you. But now, he was walking with you with one hand on your lower back and he would stand longer behind you as you asked about a new color shade.

As the sun slowly sets across the sky, you turn to Mando and wait for him to finish his drink before you ask him about the others.

“Do you mind if we don’t tell the others just yet?” You watch as Mando’s expression falls and you shake your head immediately so he doesn’t misunderstand the reason behind your request.

“Not because I don’t want them to know about us, I- maker, it’s just that I’ve experienced so many changes in the span of a few days and I want to make sense of things without...without someone asking me too many questions about what I’m feeling. I want to let this sink in? And- and I’d like it if it’s just you and me. Please.” Mando is quiet for a while and you think that maybe it was the wrong thing to say to him.

“Us?”

You can’t hold back your laughter at the soft question and you almost fall over from how hard you’re giggling at him.

“That’s what you took away from everything I just said?” You sigh in relief when he mirrors you and chuckles in return.

“I’m sorry cyar’ika, I- of course. Whatever you need from me.” He’s a man of few words but he somehow knows what to say to calm your nerves.

“Thank you Mando.” You say as you turn your attention back to the setting sun to watch the colors change across the sky.

“Din Djarin.” He whispers to you after a long while, and you meet his eyes briefly, your furrowed eyebrows silently asking him what he was referring to.

“My name is Din Djarin.” His gaze is piercing and you find it much more intense now that you know for a fact that they’re your favorite color. “So you can start calling the other guy Mando again.” Your heart skips a beat when you see dimples appear on his cheeks as he grins at his own joke, and nudges your shoulder so you could relax into him again. You say nothing and lean against his shoulder, resting your head on his beskar armor and enjoying the cold sensation against your heated skin.

You’re not sure how long the two of you sit there in your bubble and watch the festival as it continues on for, but you’re interrupted when Fett approaches you and clears his throat to catch your attention.

“We’re leaving.” The Mandalorian says as he watches you closely. You think you’re being subtle studying his armor but Fett notices how you continue to look between him and Din’s and he tilts his head to the side as he turns to his friend and barely holds back from smirking at him.

Din nods and lets them know that you would be returning with him back to Mos Eisley. Fennec is about to ask why the two of you are acting differently when Fett shakes his head as he looks at you.

“Until next time princess,” Din’s posture straightens when he hears the nickname and narrows his eyes at the man trying to get a rise out of him.

“Usenye.” You snap out of your haze when you hear Din growl at his brother and wave goodbye to him and Fennec as they walk away from you.

“Is everything okay between the two of you?”

“Yes sweet girl, don’t worry about it.” You flush at the pet name and Din notices how you shiver at his touch when he raises your chin to take a better look at you. He slowly leans towards you, never once breaking eye contact as he grows closer to your lips. “Is- is this okay?” He asks and refuses to move a muscle until you respond to him. You’re already breathless and he has barely touched you but you muster up the courage to answer him.

“Y-yes.”

He smirks when your hoarse voice fans over his cheeks and as much as you wish for him to take whatever he wants, you’re thankful that he’s being patient with you and ensuring that you’re comfortable.

“Sweet girl,” Din whispers as he finally captures your lips in a chaste kiss. It’s at this precise moment that the festivities begin to pick up but you don’t notice the fireworks filling the skies or the music growing louder. You shut your eyes and hold onto Din’s wrists as he moves against you and deepens the kiss. When you gasp at his ministrations, Din’s hold on your neck tightens and he pushes you back until you lay on the blanket he set down for you. You moan as he slips his tongue past your lips and swirls his tongue across yours. Fisting your hands into his cowl, you try to pull him closer but cry out in pain when the beskar armor digs into your hips.

“I’m- I’m sorry mesh’la. I didn’t mean to-”

“No no it’s...it’s just your armor. I promise, I- I liked this.” You gulp nervously when you see an amused expression take over his handsome features.

“Is that so?” You don’t have time to react to his question, squealing in surprise when he suddenly stands up and pulls you along with him.

“What- where are we going?” You ask him as he pulls you through the multitude of visitors and Aki-Aki. He stops abruptly and speaks to one of the natives before he pushes you into the caravan standing behind him.

“Din, we can’t just-”

“I asked for his permission. Don’t you know, all of these are for visitors who want to stay the night.” You’re about to ask him why you’re staying the night out here instead of his ship but you can’t seem to form the question because you see Din taking his armor off.

It’s mesmerizing watching him take each beskar piece apart but when he’s down to just his clothes, it occurs to you that this night might be going somewhere else. Your nervousness must show on your face because Din walks towards you slowly and takes your hands in his. He kisses your wrists before leans over and rests his forehead against yours.

“Don’t worry cyar’ika, I’m not… I won’t- we’re not here to do anything other than talk. I didn’t feel comfortable taking my beskar off out there so-”

“I trust you Din.” You interrupt his word-vomit and lead him to one of the corners of the tent so you could lay down next to each other. When you rest your head on the pillow and finally look up, you’re met with a small opening in the ceiling of the caravan that gives you a perfect view of the blue night sky lighting up with fireworks.

When Din finally seats himself next to you, you whine in irritation and pull him down until he’s on his back next to you. Din never once lets go of your hand and he occasionally raises the palm of your hand to his lips to kiss across the skin.

“Can I ask you something?” You don’t look away from the fireworks when you speak, not wanting to miss seeing any of the vibrant shades of reds and yellows as they broke through the clouds.

“Anything sweet girl.”

“Why did you take off your helmet? I thought your Creed prevented you from showing your face.” You hope the question isn’t too insensitive or private, and when Din takes longer than you like to respond, you finally turn to him to apologize. But Din cuts you off before you can even say anything, keeping his focus on your wrist to distract him long enough so he could respond.

“I had a son once, well, he wasn’t mine physically but, he was mine. He was a foundling by Creed and I was tasked with bringing him back to his kind. It’s a long story that I could tell you another time but...when I had to give him up, I couldn’t bear the thought of him never seeing me without the helmet. I needed him to see me, to know what I willingly gave up and what I had to do to ensure his safety. I’d taken off my helmet once before and even thought it was my choice, I didn’t want to. But in that moment, before I watched him go, I decided that he was more important than my Creed. He was...he was everything to me. And it took a long time to realize that personal connections and relationships weren’t a weakness, they were a strength. My strength.” You’re not sure when you turned to your side and nuzzled into his embrace. But you couldn’t focus on anything else but him and the way his eyes twinkled in sadness when he mentioned his kid. It was a shocking admission and you never once thought of him in such a role but looking back at the last few days, you didn’t find it impossible. He was kind, quiet, sweet, adn patient.

“I keep my helmet on almost all the time but I only take it off around people I trust. I’m telling you this because- because I trust you. I trust you cyar’ika. I took it off earlier today because I wanted you to see me...and also because I was trying to pick out a gift for you. I figured if I didn’t preface it with anything that it would be less dramatic but- little did I know.” The indirect mention of the not-so-little change you experienced earlier today makes you smile.

“If I knew you needed to look into my eyes for you to see color, I would have taken off the helmet the first time I saw you.” He trails his nose across your cheek before he kisses your eyes and your forehead, smiling down at you when he sees how relaxed you feel in his arms.

“It wouldn’t have mattered.” Your response surprises him and he pulls away and looks at you quizzically.

“I- I saw you before my eyes saw you, Din. My heart chose you before my soul did. I...I think I knew when I saw you again…I think a part of me knew that you were it for me and that it didn’t matter if I didn’t see color with you because- because you were...you’re perfect.” You feel a weight lift off of your chest when you finally confess to him what you’ve been feeling for the past few days and you shift impossibly closer to him to let him know that you were telling the truth.

“I’m not perfect mesh’la.” His laugh is self-deprecating and he only stops when he feels your hand slip around his back and hold onto his shirt like your life depended on it.

“You are to me.” It’s perhaps too forward for him and Din doesn’t know how to react or respond to your confession so he nods at you and nuzzles into your neck to avoid any more of your intense emotions.

“You haven’t told me yet what your favorite color is.” He tries to change the topic, not expecting your response to shoot through his chest and into his heart like a blaster.

“Brown obviously.” You answer instantly and without hesitation.

“Why ‘obviously’?”

“Well, it’s-it’s your eye-color Din. What other color could be my favorite?”

His heart ceases to beat at your adamant reply and he pulls away again to look into your eyes to see if you were teasing him. Instead, he finds something swimming in your eyes that would have terrified his soul had he met you years ago.

“Ner kar’ta,” Din moans into your ear as he rests up on his elbow before molding his lips with yours again. You don't know what any of the Mando’a means but you have a pretty good idea of what he’s trying to convey in that moment and you wrap your arms around his neck and bring him closer to you. When he lays back down and pulls you into his side, you can’t help but take one last look at the night sky, finding the stars shimmering behind the multitude of fireworks. You watch the different colors blend with each other, and you almost cry when you see the yellows and greens and blues mixing so beautifully together to create new gradients across the galaxy.

But none of them compared to the color of Din’s eyes. And you go to sleep dreaming of the moment those kind, dark, brown orbs captured your soul and whispered affections into your heart.

Translations

Mesh’la - beautiful Cyar’ika - beloved/darling Ad’ika - little one Usenye - go away Ner kar’ta - my heart

Pedro Pascal (and any of his characters):

@pastel-0-princess @feelmyroarrrr @libbymouse @its--fandom--darling @spideysimpossiblegirl @princess76179 @cheekygeek05 @miraclesoflove @purple-mango @freeshavocadoooo @metalarmsandmanbuns @acthenerd @greeneyedblondie44 @cannedsoupsucks @purplepascal042 @talesfromtheguild @f0rever15elf @vibin-hippie @onesmokinbabe @leaiorganas @words-way-of-life @kideyz @lovesickmadsadpoet @niall7inches @rosiefridayrogersunday @tati-adventures @sleep-tight1 @itsfreeekinbats @cybergroupie @vibin-hippie @marsplsstop @mouthymandalorian @diogodxlot @janebby @juletheghoul

Din Djarin: @a--1--1--3 @tanzthompson

[gaycaffeinebee]

This is extremely vague but can u write about a love story that includes a light? If u need more details I'm sorry

Nah man, I love vague prompts that I can personalize <3

The intro is very long but bare with me, there's a point in the end -

(for the benefit of the story line, the lamp is about the size of a basket ball)

B and A had this little colorful lamp they bought together on their first date. After B's death, A didn't have the heart to look at it. But, at the same time, they couldn't put it away.

A remembers one of their favorite stupid arguments with B. B set the lamp down on a table and made A promise to never move it. A thought the promise was stupid and initially refused. They eventually came to terms with the fact that, for some reason, not moving the lamp was extremely important to B. And they needed to respect that.

Any time it was A's turn to dust the house, they'd have to move it to dust the lower part of the lamp. One time, B caught A moving it, and they started pitching a fit over it. After that wonderful predicament ended, the two laughed all the previous angst away.

Several months after B's death, A had had enough and decided it was a good time to box it up and move it.

They walked over to the table and stared into the soul of the lamp for what seemed like forever. A took a deep breath, walked over to the wall and unplugged the lamp.

After realizing what they had done, they immediately fell to the floor, sobbing; all of the confidence the deep breath gave them, now gone. They started thinking that by unplugging the lamp and boxing it up, it would make A forget B. They were suddenly so scared to touch the cord to the lamp.

Days go by, with A staring intensely at the lamp every morning.

On day 17, after the first lamp incident, A started another staring contest with the lamp again.

They were hoping that it would just disappear. But at the same time they wanted it to be bolted into the table so they had no choice but to leave it. A didn't want the choice to be theirs.

On day 19, A thought that some minor "exposure therapy" would help. They had no idea what they were doing, but they hoped that maybe spending a great amount of time within three feet of the lamp would help them cope somehow.

They pulled over a chair and sat down taking yet another deep breath. They sat there for a while; admiring all the different panels of multi-colored glass. The lamp was off, obviously because it wasn't plugged in. But they didn't have the guts to turn it back on since they lost B.

A ended up falling asleep; their head resting on their arm, facing away from the lamp. It was mid-day. They weren't previously tired at all. But the longer they sat there, the more heavy their head grew.

A will later realize that that was one of the best sleeps they've had in a long time. No dreams, just a deep hard sleep.

They wake up around 3 am with their hand on the base of the lamp. As A opens their eyes, they realize that the room is quite bright. They didn't remember turning any lights on before hand.

A quickly comes to and stands up backing away from the lamp. As soon as they stood up the room was dark again. They start asking themself if the lamp was actually just on or if their tired brain was making them see things.

A starts rubbing their face and their eyes as they try to calm themself down; convincing themself that it was just their tired brain being a bitch. They hadn't plugged it back in so there is no way the lamp could have accidentally been turned on.

After about 45 seconds of a lot of deep breathing (once again), they sit back down in front of the lamp.

They decided that they had had enough anxiety solely because of a goddamn lamp. They were going to take it and put it in a box. They didn't know where to put that box but taking it one step at a time was good enough.

A reached their hand out and grabbed the lamp off of the table. The lamp turned on immediately. The light was almost blinding.

They dropped the lamp and the light went away. Because of the weight of the lamp and how far A lifted it off the table, several of the colored panels broke off.

The sound of the tiny pieces of glass hitting the wooden table rang in A's ears.

"No no no no no please! Please, please!"

They tried pressing the panels back into where they were supposed to go but none of them would stay.

"Please turn back on, please!" A says as they plug it back into the wall.

They reach for the lamp and flip the switch on the side of the base.

Nothing happens.

After a short while of struggling with the lamp they sit back in their chair with a look of defeat on their face.

Suddenly, the lamp turns on. But somehow only some panels are admitting light.

A leans in, now extremely curious as to how that could be happening. But as they look closer they realize the panels are lighted in a specific order like it was written by hand.

It was a word.

Their name.

[black-arms-hivemind]

This is a threat, send me all your Darms lore from canon and TEoS (and send pics so I can look at they)

Okay okay so!!!

Canonically they don't have official genders or sexes, I don't think they're ever referred to with any gender related pronouns, but in my lore they're all AMAB, but every single one of them except for Blurk turned out to Not Be Cis, with Cyzer being non-binary while Cregal and Rhygenta are trans girls.

They're wisps that were genetically modified with Black Arms DNA by Eclipse when they were still in their eggs - there were originally a lot more of them, as shown in Shadow Fall, but when Eclipse’s escape pod crashed on Angel Island, a lot of them sadly didn't make it, leaving just the four we know and love.

This is the first time we see them fully revealed in the comic. Did you know that I used to constantly get Cyzer and Cregal mixed up? The two are rather similar and have a shared character trope of "siblings that fight", so let me say that Cyzer is the cyan one, amd Cregal is the red one.

Each of their names are a combo of two different words that describe them in each way, one word being their color, while the other one is just something that's relevant to that Darm specifically in some way

Cyzer (I pronounce it "Ky-zer", yes even tho Cyan has a soft C) = Cyan + Lazer (their ability)

Cregal (I pronounce it "Kre-gul") = Crimson + Eagle (a reference to her ability - which is to give whoever uses them wings to fly with)

Rhygenta (I pronounce it "Re-jen-tah") = Magenta + Rhythm (She's special in the fact that "Magenta" ALSO refers to the type of wisp she is/was originally, and also while in a meta sense, "Rhythm" is a reference to it's ability, since Eclipse didn't know Rhy's ability at the time, it's probably story-wise referencing how they resemble a eighth note in shape)

Blurk (i pronounce it "Bl-urk", that one's a given) = Blue + Lurk (I'm not actually sure how this one relates to him? I figure Eclipse just picked a word that sounded cool for that one. Blurk's ability is to make the person who uses him invincible for a brief amount of time)

Admittedly, Blurk, Cyzer and Cregal in canon are just kinda There. Like yes, they're cute, amd are great companions and "minions" for Eclipse, but they don't have a ton of character beyond a few traits. Cregal and Cyzer are messy, they fight, and give off a vibe of general cockiness, and Blurk is also messy (even more so), grumpy amd one can infer from him apparently needing to be reminded to chew his food - impatient.

Rhygenta on the other hand, has more going on. This first apparence of her and her siblings already sets the tone for the whole ass character arc she gets throughout the Total Eclipse storyline. Eclipse says that while she is well behaved, they don't seem to have any powers.

Rhy's arc is very much a side-plot thing, but there's enough there that it's pretty easy to see why it's the fan favorite among her and her siblings.

We don't see them again until the next issue of the arc, as Eclipse has gone out on their own to hopefully get food, and maybe try again to convert Shadow who knows-

But, ignoring the source pronouns used for Eclipse, here is when the Dark Arms first fully realize the situation they're in, and immediately get an antagonistic view of Team Dark & Friends, obviously pretty pissed off/concerned that these strange people want to harm their caretaker. But for now they're left to let these feelings fester while Eclipse is out fighting.

Take note of each expression in the second panel- Blurk, Cyzer and Cregal are visibly angry, ready to fight, while Rhygenta is scared and worried. Though no words are used to convey it, this is another building block of Rhy's arc.

Once again we're made to wait until the next issue to see these four again, but when we do see them once more - Eclipse has returned to them, amd they make their yearning to join Eclipse in their fight against the heroes known, with Cregal once again being the first one to speak - what a talkative gal! Eclipse is doubtful, not wanting them to get hurt, but agrees to it, which excites them - and probably the reader too, as we're about to get a lot more Darms action!

In a confrontation with Rouge, Relic, Omega and Fixit (Oh. And Julian too. He's our fucker to hate this arc since Death is dead), Eclipse uses a variety of Dark Arms abilities to render them unable to stop them as they take the Master Emerald. Take note of how everyone gets to show off their power - except for Rhygenta. Again, a non-verbal (or non-dialouge-bal?) detail to further along her arc. A lot of her arc is like that, and I find it pretty unique! It's a subtle little B-plot that you more pick up on re-reads rather than your first time through.

Since this post is getting rather long, let me skip to the end of the arc, when the climax of Rhy's arc happens

In the midst of trouble, Eclipse once again calls upon all the Dark Arms, except for Rhygenta. Blurk, Cyzer and Cregal quickly become tired and unable to fight, amd all hope seems lost - until Rhy steps in and reveals that, despite what Eclipse had thought, she is in fact the strongest of all the Dark Arms, blasting Knuckles and Shadow away with a Sonic Boom, giving Eclipse and the others enough time to escape out of the situation alive and well.

That's all for canon lore, and also for the images, as I've reached Tumblr's image limit 😔

BUT

The Era of Shadow is essentially a sequel to this arc, taking place a few years later.

The Dark Arms, while still being kids obviously, have grown a good bit, taking the initiative to learn Hi-Bloosiæne (Blarms language) & English in order to communicate with more of their brethren than just Eclipse. Rhygenta in particular has taken an interest in genetic engineering just like Eclipse, and after doing a ton of research on it's own and with Eclipse, created her and their siblings darkling bodies to inhabit and pilot in order to both feel closer to Eclipse and the other Black Arms once they meet them, and to better be able to present their gender identities. These bodies are able to shapeshift just like regular Blarms, and basically work like bio-mech suits.

While Rhygenta is obviously the most book-smart of the four, none of them are necessarily dumb, and work together with Eclipse and each other very well.

But yeah, that's all really. Might reblog this w/ the darkling suits if I get around to drawing them