#wandering monk bikes

[wanderingmonkbikes]

Well, it’s officially the last day of our 2024 season and it’s definitely starting to look like winter outside. Inside however, it’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas.

Thank you to everyone who helped make this a great year! We look forward to even more adventures next year and we wish you all an amazing and happy holidays.

[lotusrootdesignerpants]

24/12/24 couldn’t sleep went for a 5am run like the dumbest whitest girl ever it OBVIOUSLY devolved into walking (weaving) and then a street cat pied piper fish offcut procuring mission. I have these mewing little rabies vector ragdolls scooped into my arms and the street vendors are already cooking in the blackness. Bikes and rising steam. No one cares about my cats, that’s just the rhythms… 7:30am I swam laps in the incomplete hazy dawn was ravenous by 9 ate three courses of breakfast (from salmon don to pandan jam to grilled banana leaf sticky rice. with pandan!) got my period had to go to the shopping centre all day… yeah so I’ve got prawns at six of the last six meals. Sick of seafood, its crude elasticity, its gravitas as (after all) animal. Probably thirty lives for which I’ve been responsible in two days. Oh yeah, the sixth, I’ll put the seafood pasta in the appendix: I tapped out after two bites, which unfortunately comprised both the prawns that were in there, and gave the rest to my dad, and then bought mango sticky rice instead. I had just watched fifteen monks get ordained in a temple and felt a phantom twinge in my since-excised vegetarian heart. Couldn’t eat the mapo tofu either because she was heaping pork into it — “I’m so sorry, I can’t have meat” — “no, not meat, pork!” — not a funny or noteworthy moment per se but could feature html-rendered on a twee olde webbe travel blog. Wandered around the markets all evening. Fried scorpions and chrysalis and whole skinned alligator. Waiting for our grab now in “tourist ghetto” sorry Thai passeig de gracia. I’m communicating mundanities because the rest and the chaos you’ll just get if you get it. Affordances for the reader and their imagination. I have faith you can all give birth to a dancing star

Appendix

Postscript

I’ve been asked to log everything I eat anyway for reasons you can probably figure out & I’m locked in a long war against the pen-and-a4-binder-book system so I might as well do it here… I might as well…

[nerdstreak]

don't think twice

1133 words

some hanzocto comfort bc a prompt in a discord im in got me Thinkin

Today was a training day, and so Hanzo and Hannah decided to take a slot later in the afternoon, focusing on strengthening themselves. Although it was far from a traditional date, they supposed it would be nice to spend some time together in any way, how any newer relationship should start.

It was raining on the range, so they focused on exercising in the indoor gym. Hannah used the hand weights and exercise bikes, while Hanzo took to the punching bags.

As he struck the stuffed bag, his mind went back to his martial training back in the Shimada clan. He was always told to channel hatred in his strikes, or else it would only be weakness. He was always able to beat any enemy in this way. But then his thoughts suddenly wandered to something that monk omnic had said to him.

And what of the enemy within?

Enemy within… he never wanted to listen to that nonsense that worked on his brother. He was not Genji. He was the eldest son of the Shimadas, who he betrayed, crumbling his own life apart. If anything, he was his own enemy. And he deserved every. Last. Blow.

Across the room as she worked on her own sets, Hannah noticed his workout intensifying, intense anger slowly twisting his face until he was practically about to bust the punching bag off its chain.

She rushed over, calling out to him. “Woah, woah, Hanzo!”

He snapped out of his enraged trance, startled by the sudden voice. He’d forgotten he wasn’t alone. He’s always been alone, but… things were different now. He supposed he was still getting used to that. He didn’t turn towards her, but he at least acknowledged her by stopping.

Hannah spared a glance at his calloused knuckles, cracked, and even starting to bleed some. “I think… it’s time for a break,” she gently suggested, taking one of his rough hands into her own.

He didn’t say a word, but flinched slightly at her touch, as she led him to the other side of the training room, where a first aid kit hung upon the wall. He sat as he was then instructed, avoiding her gaze.

She took some gauze and antiseptic out the kit, sitting next to him and starting to tend to his injuries. Usually his fists remained clenched, but around her they would usually soften. Even as she cleansed the blisters, he barely flinched, the only tell of his pain a slight grunt stifled in his throat.

As she wrapped the gauze around his bruised hands, he said not a word, the circular motion almost hypnotic as he remained deep within the rough waters of his mind. Seeing such delicate hands treating his own with such care… it should have eased him, made him feel happy, even. But still, even now… he didn’t know if he deserved this, any of it, at all.

When Hannah finished, she looked back up at his face, recognizing that he was lost in thought, sullen. Even when he had nearly maimed that punching bag, he seemed distracted. “Hey… you alright?” she asked earnestly, hands still lingering on his, until he pulled away.

“Nothing you should concern yourself with,” Hanzo dismissed, gaze glued to the floor.

“Well I am concerned. I can tell something’s on your mind. Don’t already start pushing away from me…” She placed her hand on his shoulder now, along the dark clouds and lightning on his inked skin. A tumultuous storm, much like himself, but nothing that couldn’t be weathered through.

He heaved a deep sigh, admitting to himself that she was right. Just a few weeks ago they had opened their hearts to each other, it was cowardice to retreat into himself now. “...I do not… deserve this…” he quietly started.

“Deserve what…?” she probed further.

“...You. Your… kind words, your delicate touch…” He raised his now bandaged hands to look at them. “No matter how I try, I still feel… unworthy.”

She frowned at that. “Don’t say that… Everyone deserves caring and compassion, especially you. I care about you because I like you, love you, even. I can’t stand to see you still hurt yourself over your past. Was that what got you so worked up on the punching bag?”

He listened to her words, as hard as his mind was protesting them otherwise. He slowly nodded at her question. “Truthfully… I was imagining my own self as my opponent.”

She gasped a little, nearly teary from such a worrisome statement. She moved closer towards him, now bringing her other hand up to his face. He tried to turn away, ashamed at his confession, but she gently fought to get him to face her. “Hanzo. Look at me.”

He did so, deep brown eyes looking back at her soft blues, and within them he saw an ocean of love and compassion, and he did not look away.

“You’re more than just your past. What matters is now, and the man I see before me now is one I love and care for.” She then pressed her forehead against his. “You’re gonna be okay, okay?”

And the dam finally crumbled. Her niceties turned him into putty in her hands, leaning into her touches. Tears that were shoved far far down bubbled to the surface, a thin stream rolling down his cheek. “I… understand… Thank you…” he shakily replied, hands also trembling as he went to hold her close as well.

The hand on his cheek thumbed away some of his tears, and she placed a kiss on the other to catch some on that side as well. She then leaned to wrap her arms around his large frame, rubbing soothing circles into his back. Her hug was soon returned, his strong arms holding her so tenderly.

Some part of Hanzo felt ashamed still, but he knew now the woman in his arms wouldn’t dare think less of him for this. Even so, he knew his burdens were a lot to bear. “I-I am sorry—” he attempted to say, but he was cut off by gentle hushing from her.

“It’s okay… Let’s just relax now and get back to base, okay?” Hannah leaned back, giving him an assuring smile. “It is suppertime after all, you wanna order some food? Does a warm bowl of ramen sound good, with cake for dessert?”

He finally smiled back, huffing a bit. “I should not have disclosed those being my favorites. You’re going to spoil me if we order that too often.”

“Call it a cheat day, we worked hard,” she retorted with a playful wink and a pat on his arm.

He chuckled again, then sighed, content for now. “Silly girl,” he remarked, leaning forward and placing a kiss on her forehead. “Thank you, blossom.”

[langurecotravels]

Bhutan: A Himalayan Escape for the American Adventurer

Craving a travel experience that transcends the ordinary? Look no further than Bhutan, the "Land of the Thunder Dragon." Nestled in the Eastern Himalayas, Bhutan offers a breathtaking blend of ancient culture, pristine landscapes, and a unique philosophy of happiness. Langur Eco Travels (bhutanbirdingtours.com), your trusted guide to Bhutan, creates unforgettable journeys specifically designed for the adventurous American spirit.  

birds of Bhutan, eco travels, bird photography, wildlife tours, Buddhism tour

Beyond the Tourist Trail: Unveiling a Hidden Kingdom

Bhutan is not your typical vacation destination. Forget crowded beaches and bustling cities. Here, time seems to move in slow motion, allowing you to truly immerse yourself in the rich tapestry of Bhutanese life. Explore ancient monasteries like Paro Taktsang (Tiger's Nest), perched precariously on a cliffside, or wander through the bustling markets of Thimphu, the vibrant capital city. Witness the mesmerizing spectacle of masked dances, performed by colorfully adorned monks during vibrant festivals, and experience the serenity of a candlelit evening prayer session in a monastery.  

A Feast for the Senses: Unforgettable Encounters

Bhutan is a sensory delight that will leave you with lasting memories. Immerse yourself in the unique philosophy of Gross National Happiness, prioritizing well-being over material wealth. Savor the distinct flavors of Bhutanese cuisine, where Ema Datshi (chilies and cheese) and Shakam Shakam (dried beef strips) tantalize your taste buds. Explore local markets brimming with handcrafted souvenirs, intricate prayer wheels, and vibrant textiles, each imbued with the essence of Bhutan's rich culture.  

Adventure Awaits: Untamed Nature Beckons

For the American thrill-seeker, Bhutan offers a playground of exhilarating experiences. Lace up your hiking boots and conquer breathtaking mountain passes on a challenging trek through the Himalayas. Encounter diverse flora and fauna, or simply soak in the tranquility of pristine valleys. Challenge yourself with a white-water rafting adventure down cascading rivers, or test your endurance with a mountain bike ride along scenic trails.

Curated Experiences: Crafting Your Dream Bhutan Adventure

At Langur Eco Travels, we understand that every American traveler is unique. We offer a multitude of Bhutan tour packages specifically designed to cater to your specific interests:

Cultural Exploration: Delve deep into Bhutan's rich Buddhist heritage by visiting historical Dzongs (fortress-monasteries), attending vibrant festivals, and exploring ancient temples.

Adventure Expedition: Hike through breathtaking landscapes, test your limits with a white-water rafting adventure, or explore the wilderness on a mountain bike excursion.

Wildlife Encounter: Embark on birdwatching expeditions in search of rare species, delve into the diverse flora and fauna of Bhutan, or simply soak in the tranquility of pristine valleys.  

Responsible Tourism: Travel with a Purpose

Langur Eco Travels is committed to sustainable practices. We work closely with local communities, ensuring your trip benefits the preservation of Bhutan's unique culture and environment. By choosing Langur Eco Travels, you're not just a tourist; you're a contributor to the continued well-being of this remarkable kingdom.  

Planning Your Dream Bhutan Journey:

Bhutan is a destination that stays etched in your memory forever. Contact Langur Eco Travels today and let our team of expert travel specialists design your dream Bhutan trip. We'll handle all the logistics, including securing permits, arranging transportation and accommodation, and designing a personalized itinerary that perfectly aligns with your interests and desires. Relax and get ready for an experience that will redefine your concept of travel.

Must-See Places in the Land of the Thunder Dragon:

Paro: Home to the iconic Tiger's Nest monastery and the Paro International Airport, Paro is a charming town steeped in history.

Thimphu: Explore the vibrant capital city, visit the imposing Tashichho Dzong, and lose yourself in the bustling markets.

Punakha: Witness the majestic Punakha Dzong, hike through the Phobjikha Valley, a wintering ground for the Black-Necked Crane, and experience the serenity of local monasteries.

Bumthang: Discover ancient Buddhist temples like Jampey Lhakhang and Jakar Dzong, explore the Jakar Valley known for its apple orchards, and immerse yourself in the local culture.

Haa Valley: Escape the crowds and explore this serene valley known for its unique architecture, pristine forests, and friendly locals.

Activities for the Intrepid American Traveler:

Explore ancient monasteries: Delve into Bhutan's rich history and culture by visiting majestic Dzongs and witnessing traditional Buddhist rituals.

Hike through pristine landscapes: Embark on an unforgettable trek through the Himalayas, surrounded by breathtaking scenery and diverse flora and fauna.

Experience local festivals: Immerse yourself in the vibrant culture of Bhutan by attending colorful festivals like Tsechu, with its masked dances and traditional music.  

See more

spring bird, Eco travels, wildlife tour, ecotours, Himalayan Monal

historical sites, Eco Travels , Thimphu, Paro Taktsang, trip to Bhutan

birds of Bhutan, eco travels, bird photography, wildlife tours, Buddhism tour

[himmalehwanderings]

Unraveling the Magic: Best Leh Ladakh Tour Packages with Himmalehwanderings

Nestled amidst the majestic Himalayas, Leh Ladakh stands as a testament to nature's unparalleled beauty and grandeur. With its rugged terrain, pristine lakes, ancient monasteries, and vibrant culture, it's a destination that beckons adventurers and wanderers alike. If you're longing to explore this enchanting land, look no further than Himmalehwanderings for the ultimate Leh Ladakh experience. Our meticulously crafted tour packages promise an unforgettable journey through this Himalayan paradise.

Discover Leh Ladakh: Embark on a journey of a lifetime with our carefully curated Leh Ladakh tour packages. Whether you're an adrenaline junkie seeking thrills or a soul searcher craving tranquility, Leh Ladakh has something for everyone. Our itineraries are designed to immerse you in the essence of this mystical region, allowing you to explore its hidden gems and uncover its secrets.

Adventure Awaits: For the adventurous souls yearning to conquer the rugged terrain of Leh Ladakh, our packages offer a plethora of adrenaline-pumping activities. From exhilarating treks amidst towering peaks to thrilling bike rides along winding mountain roads, get ready to experience the thrill of a lifetime. Traverse through remote valleys, cross high mountain passes, and camp under the star-studded sky – every moment promises an adventure you'll cherish forever.

Immerse in Culture: Beyond its breathtaking landscapes, Leh Ladakh is steeped in rich culture and traditions. Our tour packages provide a unique opportunity to immerse yourself in the vibrant heritage of this region. Visit ancient monasteries perched atop rocky cliffs, witness traditional festivals come to life, and interact with the warm and hospitable locals who call this land their home. Let the mesmerizing chants of monks and the colorful prayer flags fluttering in the wind enchant your senses, leaving you with memories to treasure.

Unwind in Nature's Embrace: For those seeking solace amidst nature's embrace, Leh Ladakh offers unparalleled tranquility. With pristine lakes reflecting the azure skies, verdant valleys carpeted with wildflowers, and snow-capped peaks piercing the heavens, it's a paradise for nature lovers. Our tour packages include leisurely walks by the tranquil Pangong Lake, serene moments at the Nubra Valley, and breathtaking views from the mesmerizing Magnetic Hill – allowing you to unwind and reconnect with the natural world.

Why Choose Himmalehwanderings? At Himmalehwanderings, we understand that every traveler is unique, and we strive to cater to your individual needs and preferences. Our experienced guides ensure your safety and comfort throughout the journey, while our carefully selected accommodations provide a perfect blend of luxury and authenticity. With our attention to detail and commitment to excellence, we promise to make your Leh Ladakh experience truly unforgettable.

Conclusion: Embark on an extraordinary journey to Leh Ladakh with Himmalehwanderings and discover the true essence of this Himalayan wonderland. Whether you seek adventure, cultural immersion, or a peaceful retreat amidst nature, our tour packages are tailored to fulfill your dreams and create memories that will last a lifetime. Book your adventure today and let the magic of Leh Ladakh unfold before your eyes.

[universaladventures1]

Conquering The Mystical Land: Embarking On A Leh Ladakh Adventure By Bike

Introduction:

In the heart of the majestic Himalayas lies a paradise that beckons adventurers from every corner of the globe. Leh Ladakh, a region known for its awe-inspiring landscapes, rugged mountains, and serene lakes, has captured the imagination of wanderers and thrill-seekers alike. While there are several ways to explore this magical land, embarking on a Leh Ladakh tour on bike offers an unparalleled adventure that will leave you with lifelong memories.

Unveiling the Mystique:

As you mount your trusty steed, ready to take on the challenging terrains, the wind whispers tales of ancient monasteries, pristine lakes, and breathtaking valleys that await your arrival. The engine roars to life, echoing your excitement as you set forth on an unforgettable journey.

The Dance of Landscapes:

As your wheels roll through the rugged terrain, a kaleidoscope of landscapes unfolds before your eyes. From the barren expanse of the majestic Himalayan desert to the verdant valleys adorned with vibrant wildflowers, every twist and turn reveals a new masterpiece of nature's artistry. The sheer diversity of Leh Ladakh's landscapes will leave you spellbound, making each moment on your bike an exploration of wonder.

Monastic Serenity:

Nestled high up in the mountains are ancient monasteries that exude a sense of tranquility and spirituality. Riding through the narrow mountain passes, you'll encounter these architectural marvels that seem to defy gravity. Their vibrant prayer flags fluttering in the wind, the chants of the monks, and the scent of incense wafting through the air create an atmosphere of profound serenity, allowing you to connect with your inner self.

Lakes of Eternity:

Prepare to be mesmerized by the enchanting lakes that grace the landscape of Leh to Ladakh bike trip. Pangong Tso, with its ever-changing shades of blue, captivates your senses and invites you to lose yourself in its tranquil embrace. Tso Moriri, nestled amidst snow-capped peaks, reflects the magnificence of the surrounding mountains, leaving you awestruck by nature's masterpiece. These pristine lakes offer a respite from the rigors of the journey, inviting you to soak in their beauty and rejuvenate your soul.

The Triumph of Endurance:

Embarking on a Ladakh tour by bike is not just a physical journey; it's a testament to your endurance and determination. The challenging terrains and high-altitude passes test your mettle, pushing you to your limits. But as you conquer each obstacle, you emerge stronger, more resilient, and with a deep sense of accomplishment. The sense of triumph that fills your heart as you reach the lofty Khardung La, the world's highest motorable pass, is unparalleled.

Conclusion:

A bike tour to Ladakh is a pilgrimage for the intrepid souls who seek adventure and yearn to connect with nature's grandeur. It is a voyage that transcends mere sightseeing, immersing you in a world of raw beauty and spiritual awakening. So, rev up your engine, embrace the thrill of the open road, and embark on an unforgettable journey through the mystique of Leh Ladakh. Let the mountains be your guide as you create memories that will forever be etched in the annals of your adventurous spirit.

“For more information — https://www.universaladventures.in/state/Ladakh”

[officialinuyasha]

InuYasha Wide Edition #6 - Miroku

Original Japanese Scans Provided by Me

Spanish Scans Provided by muffin_0626

Translated by @marusamaa-tradus​

Proofread and localized by me

Rules: No screenshots or using my photographs, copy/paste, not using without permission, reblogs/linking only

The wandering monk who trained at a temple

He inherited an outstanding spiritual powers since his father and his grandfather were buddhist monks too. He grew up at Mushin’s temple, who was a friend of his father, and was trained in Buddhism and martial arts since he was little. Besides, his cruel fate made him stronger both physically and mentally. Thanks to that, apart from his wiseness and physical abilities, he obtained the power of purification, which allows him to defeat common demons. After leaving the temple, he wandered several places and lived purifying and exterminating the demons who were occupying the rich’s houses. Even as a vagabond, he’s ingenious and skillful, that’s why he never had problems living comfortably. His wiseness and his capacity to say evocative words were acquired during his buddhist training, and thanks to his generous way of speaking that reaches the audience’s heart, apart from facing demons, he also carried out characteristic jobs of a monk, such as the rituals for the deceased. He’s a monk with great experience despite his youthness.

Physical abilities acquired after training

Despite looking like a normal young man, the truth is he’s had an arduous training and possesses striking physical skills. He could perfectly ride Kagome’s bike despite being the first time he tried, something that InuYasha achieved after falling several times. Besides, after two days he could ride it at great speed. As a human, his physical skills are outstanding.

The eyesight that finds the evil

Miroku has sharp eyesight, something typical in a monk who’s trained a lot. He’s able to feel evilness and distinguish the sacred. Even though he’s a human, his senses are something that common humans don’t possess.  

(page 2)

The warring katana that annihilates demons

Miroku’s fighting skills aren’t just the buddhist powers he has or the wind tunnel, which will be addressed later. He can intimidate and fight against demons using his staff. We think that Miroku, after having dealt with demons all alone by himself for many years, has resorted to physical strength several times. That’s why he’s used to using weapons and is able to face foes who can’t use buddhist powers without fear. The first time he faced Inuyasha, he stopped Tessaiga with his staff and their combat strength was almost matched. If we think about Inuyasha's strength and their physical differences, we can appreciate that he’s a very skilled fighter. In the same way, when he fought against Naraku, a quick movement with his staff could push him. Even if that wasn’t Naraku’s real body, he fought so well that he was able to cut one of Naraku’s hands. Miroku’s intelligence is remarkable, however, he has a high level in the art of combat which makes him a great fighter.

The tunnel in his right hand that sucks everything

Miroku’s most powerful weapon is his wind tunnel. It’s normally sealed with prayer beads. However, when he takes them off he can suck everything in his way. It has impressive power and can easily suck something as big as a horse and send it to another dimension. Its range is very wide, it once since made a demon that was very high that InuYasha couldn’t reach, to come closer. It’s a skill that’s very worthwhile for the group of InuYasha and it’s very useful when they have to defeat a great number of enemies at once. Along with the abilities of Tessaiga, it was very helpful during the last fight with Naraku. It seemingly is a perfect ability, but it has some weaknesses. If it absorbs too much evil power or poison, his body might get hurt.

Naraku took advantage of this weakness and sealed the wind tunnel using a big number of poisonous insects. Even if the tunnel is a great weapon, at the end it’s a curse created by Naraku and placed on Miroku’s grandfather when he fought Naraku. Miroku’s father inherited it and later Miroku did too. It is said that its sucking power increases as time goes by, until its bearer gets absorbed by it without leaving any trace. This curse only ends when Naraku is defeated.

(page 3)

A strong mind forged by a cruel destiny

A childhood where he was aware of his lifespan

As a child, Miroku saw how his father was sucked by his own wind tunnel. This scene marked him and he’s never forgotten it. He has to live keeping in mind his own death, facing a cruel destiny since he was a kid.

Time alone

Before joining Kagome’s group, he wandered around several places. As he had no idea about when his death would take place, he didn’t deeply relate to others and his only traveling companion was the demon raccoon. He just traveled to defeat his enemy, Naraku. Even after meeting Kagome’s group and joining them, at first he was unable to open his heart. There was a time when he didn’t share his problems with others and tried to solve them on his own, so he was in danger. Miroku’s soul, who hardly ever opens to others, went through a lonely childhood and adolescence. However, his outlook on life changes as he relates with his companions and receives emotional support from them.

Wiseness and decision-making power observe objectively the situation

As Miroku went through a buddhist training, he battled against many demons since his childhood, has wide knowledge and can make right decisions at crucial moments. In InuYasha’s group, where everyone is temperamental, his objective decisions have guided the group several times.

His opportunistic, false love

Maybe because he has his death in mind, every time he sees a woman he courts her and asks her to bear his children. This had been happening before joining Kagome’s group and the habit remains while traveling together, as he always talked lightly to women he met on their way. Apart from talking to them, sometimes he touches their butt. He’s a total womanizer.

(page 4)

His courage to sacrifice himself

Miroku’s soul is strong. He doesn’t display the fear that the curse of the wind tunnel may inflict in him and acts with grace and energy. When his companions are in danger he doesn’t hesitate to use the tunnel, even if that means getting closer to his death. This way of fighting without worrying about sacrificing himself if the situation calls for it is not just great courage, it’s Miroku’s way of living.

The person who became his most important one without realizing it

Miroku’s lonely soul changes gradually as he travels with Kagome, Inuyasha and their companions. His heart, which was closed due to his cruel destiny, also opens gradually. His purpose in life was to chase after Naraku, who cursed him with the wind tunnel, but now he has another one: to protect his companions. For Miroku, who was all alone until then, his life was just for him. However, after meeting his companions he realizes his life is not just his. Besides, his love, which used to be recklessly directed to every woman, begins to be directed to one person in particular, who has eyes only for him. Miroku chooses to protect his dear ones instead of living distantly and always prepared for death. Miroku’s soul grows when he realizes what he really wants and what he has to protect.

(page 5 - interview with Rumiko Takahashi)

I wanted a buddhist monk character

Miroku was created when I thought of adding a male companion to InuYasha. I wanted a buddhist monk/priest, though I don’t think the monks from that time wore the same clothes as him. Originally, the clothes of sotoshu monks that look like dressing gowns seemed great to me and therefore I wanted him to wear them, but when I had to draw them I didn’t remember how they were… That’s why he’s wearing what he wears. When I drew him, he turned out to be different to sotoshu monks.

I always call him “houshi” and never “bouzo”. This is because the image that comes to my mind when I think about bouzo monks is shaved heads, and this doesn’t fit his image… that’s why I don’t call him “bouzo”. “Houshi” is more fitting. His hairstyle and image are like this because when I was drawing him, I saw an artist with that style on TV and I decided to use that design. I suppose that if he’s stylish, nowadays kids will also approve.

The wind tunnel that forged his character

If we mention Miroku, we immediately think of the wind tunnel. This idea came to me because there are many characters that take out things from their hands, but I had never seen a character that sucks things with his hands. I thought of carrying out the idea and so he remained. Miroku is defined by this wind tunnel. He’s also able to use houriki but he’s not so powerful when using it, and besides, his personality is defined by the curse. I think that’s the origin of his character. He saw his father die due to the curse and his relationship with Naraku is based on its existence. I created these backstories little by little, but thanks to the tunnel I could create Miroku naturally.

A very useful individual able to do all sort of things

First of all, Miroku is very useful as a character to explain things. He can also make jokes and be serious… He’s a very complete character. InuYasha is a serious person, though he doesn’t look like it, that’s why, in contrast, he can be an ingenious cheater to make up for what InuYasha lacks as a character. Miroku is a proud person who doesn’t want to show his weaknesses, and at the beginning there was a part of him that had given it all up, but after meeting Sango and Inuyasha’s group he starts to show interest in life. He changed. Miroku is a person who decided to accept the curse and learned the art of living.

[clandonnachaidh]

Light Across The Seas That Severed (Ch3)

AO3

Even after years of friendship, of seeing each other through some of the best and some of the hardest times of their lives, Jamie Fraser would still need to catch his breath at the sight of Claire Beauchamp when she really laughed. With her head thrown back, her whisky eyes would screw shut and she would run her long fingers into her beautiful hair in comedic exasperation.

If watching her laugh was a sight to behold, making her laugh was the best thing in the world.

They were sat across from each other surrounded by a pungent cloud of smoke, both of them situated on plush sofas of green leather that was cracked and worn from use. With each passing minute, Jamie felt like the sofa was beginning to swallow him. He made the mistake of voicing his concern to Claire.

She thought the whole thing was hilarious, obviously, and told him so before taking a bite out of the space cake that she had cut down the middle to share.

“Edibles are stronger, you’ll only need half anyway,” she had said in her matter of fact way that she had, taking charge of the situation from the minute they’d stepped foot in the coffee shop.

Jamie Fraser, being the good catholic boy that he was, had never been inside such a place and he certainly hadn’t experienced anything like the Red Light District that they had just walked through. Of course he had heard of Amsterdam’s relaxed laws when it came to sex work and drugs but seeing it first hand was something entirely different. When he caught sight of the first woman in the window, her long blonde hair tumbling around her bare shoulders, he felt the blush rise to the very tips of his ears as Claire just laughed and dragged him by the hand, deeper into the belly of the beast.

The plan had been for them to spend two days in the city before they said goodbye. Claire was following her heart (which took the shape of one Frank Randall, the same bastard who’d stood her up the night that Jamie and Claire had kissed for the first and only time) to Boston where she’d managed to get a placement in a surgical programme while Frank would teach at Harvard. It had taken everything in Jamie not to break when she told him, the smile that she had plastered on her face not quite reaching her eyes as she surveyed his reaction over her coffee cup. He had swallowed the rising panic in his throat and felt as it soured in his stomach but he managed to calm himself long enough to take a deep breath and tell her the truth — that he was proud of her and he would miss her. He would miss her so much.

Jamie knew that she was lying about not being able to book a more straightforward trip from London to Boston and he strongly suspected that she had orchestrated the two day layover in Amsterdam for the sole purpose of asking if he’d like to join her, a mini break that they both sorely needed after an arduous final year at university. He hadn’t even needed to think about it before he agreed and in the week leading up to it, he had struggled to think of anything but watching her as she wandered around the Rijksmuseum, oblivious to the art hanging on the walls when he had his own masterpiece right in front of him.

“I canna believe I’m in such a place wi’ ye, Sassenach, and for breakfast no less,” he said, hearing a laugh that didn’t sound quite like his own. Frowning at himself, he looked across at her as she chuckled kindly at him, her index finger dabbing a crumb from the corner of her mouth before popping it between her lips. The lips that he had tasted just once years ago in what had been agreed as a funny drunken lapse of judgment in a grubby old pub on the edge of their college campus.

“You just need to relax and you’ll enjoy it, I promise,” she said. It had been her idea to get high first thing in the morning and then spend the remainder of their final day together strolling around the museums and parks of the city, allowing themselves to get into the spirit of the place and cut loose for once.

He watched her waggling her eyebrows suggestively, looking to him like furry brown worms, “You seemed to enjoy the ladies outside well enough.”

He went bright red and tried to sit up straighter amongst the sofa cushions that were trying their best to swallow him, “Dinna be daft, ye ken I wouldnae pay a woman to do that sort of thing.”

“A lot of people pay for sex, Jamie, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. Two consenting adults and all that.”

He had always known that Claire was a very liberal thinker and she spent a lot of time and energy educating herself on things to broaden her perspective of the world. Jamie admired her for it even if he did enjoy poking fun at her sometimes, just to watch the spark catch fire in her eyes as she told him precisely why he was wrong.

“Aye well, that’s all fine an’ weel but I winna be dealing wi’ it myself, thank ye.”

“Oh, live a little, Fraser. How long has it been since Annalise? Seven months?” She asked him directly as he made a very Scottish noise in the back of his throat in an attempt to dismiss the conversation about his ex-girlfriend.

“I’ll thank ye to leave her out of our weekend,” he warned her jokingly, delighting in the corner of her mouth quirking upwards in amusement. Before he knew it, the words were tumbling out of his mouth, “Besides, Lise and I, we never…”

He watched as Claire’s eyes almost burst from her skull as she leaned forward, her beautiful mouth gaping at his revelation. Why the hell had he told her that? They never spoke about the personal details of their respective relationships, it was the unspoken rule between them. Don’t ask, don’t tell. Jamie could think of nothing worse than sitting and listening to Claire regale him of her sexual exploits with the uptight historian. It also meant that Claire didn’t know exactly how much sex Jamie wasn’t having.

“Never?! You were together for a year!” The amazement in her voice was evident and Jamie flopped backwards in the sofa, raising his hands to his face. He cursed the effects of the marijuana that had relaxed him to the point where he was divulging information that he would usually keep behind his teeth.

“Never, okay?”

“Wow… okay… not sure what to do with that but okay,” she mirrored his body language, collapsing back onto her sofa and tucking her legs up underneath her. “So you’ve not had sex in what, just shy of two years? Good God, you must have the patience of a saint.”

“Something like that,” he mumbled into his palms, refusing to remove them for the fear of her gaze seeing the truth that he was trying desperately to keep hidden but that was on the tip of his very stoned tongue.

“Longer than two years?” He heard her whisper in disbelief.

“Try 24.”

They sat in silence for a few seconds before it became too much, he had to look at her to gauge her reaction to his honesty. He had expected her to laugh or to yell in surprise but he realised that she mostly just looked curious, like she was trying to figure out the answer to the puzzle that was sat opposite her.

“You’re a virgin?” He nodded in response and watched as her shoulders dropped slightly, smiling kindly at him. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because we dinna talk about things like this,” he sighed. He could see all the questions that were threatening to slip past her lips.

“Have you not wanted to? Because that’s okay, maybe you’re just not into the thought of-“

“Christ, no! No, I’m definitely into the thought of it,” he laughed. “From the age of thirteen to seventeen, I barely thought of anything else. Besides, I said I was a virgin, no’ a monk. I’ve done stuff.”

She laughed at that, “So why not? I’m sorry, you absolutely do not have to tell me but I- just… how? Why?”

“Was just waitin’ on the right woman,” he shrugged in an attempt to appear nonchalant about the whole thing. Whether she was buying it or not, he couldn’t tell but he was certain that if she listened hard enough, she could hear his heart beating out a rhythm in time with the syllables of her name.

Because that was the real truth, wasn’t it? That he had been waiting for her.

She didn’t say anything in response, just leaned to cut the remaining space cake in half again, offering the larger half to Jamie that he almost snatched from her, anything to distance himself from the conversation that they were having.

He was grateful when she left it at that, being able to intuit that he wasn’t comfortable with the line of questioning. That night, when the effects of their morning had worn off, they rented bikes and attempted to navigate the city like the locals did, getting horribly lost and ending up drinking a beer by the canal as the sun went down. Jamie watched as the rays painted her pale skin gold and the wind caught the folds of her sundress, settling the material delicately against her bonnie wee shins. It had been the perfect day and Jamie didn’t want it to end. But he knew that it had to.

In the morning, she was getting on a plane.

“Shall we head back, d’ye think? It’s been a long day,” he said quietly, pulling her out of the daydream that she was sat in. She turned to face him with a dreamy smile on her face as she nudged his shoulder with her head.

“The best day,” she said simply. “Let’s go.”

They walked the short distance back to their hotel in silence, neither of them needing to fill it with words as they just existed in each other’s company. When they got to their hotel room, he made light work of pulling off his hoodie and collapsed onto his twin bed with the remote in his hand as she shut herself in the bathroom, the lock gently clicking behind her. Jamie ran a hand over his tired face and tried to concentrate on the tv. He had an ear for languages, being the proud new owner of a First in Modern Languages and Linguistics from Oxford, but the rules of Dutch seemed to be far removed from that of the French and German, and a little Italian, that naturally clicked together in his brain.

He strained to listen in an attempt to isolate some of the sounds, let his mind create patterns and try to fill in the gaps but he was tired and gave up quickly, punching the pillow that was under his head to prop up his neck a little further so that he could look out of the window. He heard the bathroom door unlock.

That was when he saw her. Really saw her for the first time. And it wasn’t because he could see more of her skin than he had ever seen before but because of the look that was painted on her face. Her beautiful face radiating a vulnerability and softness that he had never seen the depths of before, never as unguarded as she was in that moment. She smiled shyly at him and her hand came to cover her bare stomach slightly. Panic clutched at Jamie’s chest as he watched her wall build itself back up.

He was on his feet before he even knew it, pulling her hand back down to her side and lacing their fingers together.

It was always easier if they touched.

“What are ye doin’, Claire?” He tried to keep his voice soft, to not let the need he was feeling flow out in every word. She blushed and ducked her head, as though looking him in the eye would break the spell.

“I just thought…” she trailed off before defiantly bringing her head up and fixing him with a stare. “I can’t stand the idea of you having your first time with someone who doesn’t appreciate you.”

She had sounded strong and sure but Jamie’s head was birling. He took a step closer to her, so close that he could feel her breath on his chest and looked down at her body, barely an inch of space between them. The swell of her breasts were contained by a lace bra, a lilac so soft that it made her pale skin look like ivory against it. She was wearing matching underwear, just a scrap of material really, and his cock twitched at the thought of what she must look like from behind. The amazing arse of his best friend that he had shamefully lusted after for so long.

He raised the hand that wasn’t tangled with hers to hover over her heart, not quite touching the skin but watching as the goosebumps appeared anyway. She let out a shaky breath through perfectly pursed lips and he knew then what she was doing, the gift that she was giving him. Because she knew or at the very least suspected how he felt about her. She’d have to be blind not to see it.

She was saying goodbye.

“Claire… lass, we dinna have to do this. You dinna have to do this for me,” he whispered but he barely managed to get the words out before she popped up on her toes and closed the gap between them.

For a moment, they stood still. Neither of them moved a muscle for fear of breaking whatever magic had been cast over them. But then his mouth moved instinctively, applying pressure to her lips in an attempt to open them so his tongue could reacquaint itself with hers, so many years since they first kissed. He heard her, felt her, sigh softly and that was all the proof that he needed to wrap his arms around her and pin her to his chest, his mouth greedily seeking hers. Her hands found his face and thinking that she meant to push him away, he immediately let her go and took a step back from her, breath bursting from his lungs.

“I’m so sorry, lass, I didnae mean to get carried away-“

“Jamie, stop. You’re overthinking this,” she interrupted him by pressing her body back to his and put a steady hand on his cheek, his face leaning in to press a kiss to her open palm. The reality of the situation filled him. When the sun came up the next day, she would pack her things and they would travel to the airport to say goodbye. His chest tightened and he exhaled heavily, trying to take a steadying breath but it shattered in his throat and he tried to suck another in. Noticing that he was beginning to panic, Claire urged him to look at her. “It’s just me, Jamie, it’s us. Do you want this? Do you want me?”

“Oh God, yes.”

Their mouths snapped back together and all was right with the world. He couldn’t stop touching her, desperate to elicit sounds from her that she had kept hidden from him for so many years, ones that he thought he’d never have the privilege of hearing. An errant thought passed through his head, that maybe he should feel nervous about his first time, about not satisfying her, but the way that she was reacting to his kiss put his mind at ease. He would take everything in, commit everything to memory and be attentive to what she seemed to like and not like. She was terrible at lying, his Sassenach, and he was secure in the knowledge that he already knew her better than anyone else on this earth.

He was pulled from his thoughts at the feeling of her hands on his zipper and he groaned into their kiss as her hand brushed against his painfully hard cock through the thick material of his jeans. Everything was happening too fast and at the same time, not fast enough. He wished to be utterly consumed by her, to share something that neither of them would ever be able to take back. Something that he knew he would carry with him until the day he died.

Claire’s skilled fingers divested him of his jeans and he refused to break their kiss as he wriggled out of them, swallowing her giggles when she realised what he was up to. He ran his hands from her hips up the soft planes of her body, feeling her delicate ribs under her skin and brushing around the lace of her bra to where it joined in the back. Whether it was intuition or he fact that he practically ripped the clasp apart in blind need, he had no idea, but his fingers fumbled less than he had anticipated.

“I want to see you too,” she whispered against his lips, pulling his t-shirt over his head in one quick movement before she fixed him with a stare, licked her tongue down the palm of her hand as Jamie’s eyes widened in disbelief before her hand disappeared into the waistband of his boxers.

“Christ,” he shuddered, screwing his eyes shut in an attempt to contain the feel of her warm, wet hand on his cock. Her grip was firm on him as his jaw hung open and she greedily claimed his mouth once more as she quickened the pace.

When her mouth disappeared from his, Jamie opened his eyes in confusion to see that she’d dropped to her knees in front of him, her index fingers taking the fabric of his boxers on the same descent. The sight alone nearly undid him but it was nothing compared to the heat that enveloped him as she took him inside her mouth. Fingers immediately threaded through her hair, he squeezed his eyes shut with a gasp as she took him as far back as she could, which was no small task given the size of him. His mind betrayed him with a memory of Annalise trying her hardest but he was never truly convinced that she had wanted to do it, suspecting that she felt like it was an obligation which meant that Jamie could never really enjoy the act. As though she knew that his mind had wandered, Claire’s fingers gripped him tightly as her mouth kept a steady rhythm and his hips jerked forwards instinctively. An attempt at a stuttered apology was on the tip of his tongue but she beat him to it, moaning around him and sending delicious vibrations down his length. Knees buckling slightly at the sensation, Claire’s whisky eyes peered up at him, her lips plump and wet and with a hollowing of her cheeks and a hard suck, she sent him crashing over the edge, moaning her name as he did.

As the stars that had burst into his vision began to fade, he fought to get his breath back, feeling the brush of her body as she got up from her knees.

“Did that feel good?” She whispered as he nodded furiously, bumping their noses together in his enthusiasm. She laughed quietly and went back to kissing him, the feeling of her smile on his lips.

“It was amazing,” he told her. “Thank you.”

She laughed at his earnest gratitude, “I know how you can make it up to me.”

Taking his hand and leading the both of them towards her bed, Claire didn’t allow for too much space to come between their bodies as she lay back and pulled him down with her. Jamie’s mind raced as the sight. How many times had he imagined this? And how pitiful his imagination had been when conjuring it, missing the exquisite details like the way her her skin trembled at his touch and the softness of the sole her foot trailing up the back of his calf as he lay on top of her.

He knew that he was the luckiest man alive as he kissed down her body and a found a freckle on the inside of her thigh. To know the secret parts of her, to have her share them with him when she kept everyone else at arm’s length. How could he not be in love with her?

“Touch me, Jamie.”

He knew that those were the words that would wake him in a sweat for the years to come as he revisited this moment in his dreams. Hearing them fall from her throat was a blessing and he wasn’t one to squander such an invitation. He was trying to be gentle with her so as to not scare her off but in that moment, his trembling fingers became sure and shredded through the thin lace of her underwear, ripping them from her body with a deep growl that he didn’t know he was capable of producing. He felt her body melt into the mattress as his middle finger found her wet centre, her legs quivering in response.

“Oh, my Claire… how beautiful you feel,” he whispered as she moaned loudly, pushing her hips towards him in an attempt to receive more attention. His warm hand left her and closed around her hipbone as he kept her at a distance, blue eyes blazing into whisky ones with so much love that it made her mouth water. Not breaking eye contact, his fingers flexed around her hip, holding her in place as he brought his mouth to her core.

Claire threw her head back against the pillow, mouth agape.

“What the fuck,” she gasped. He had told her that he wasn’t entirely green behind the ears but it was nice to hear the shock in her voice as he set his tongue to work. Within minutes Claire’s body was writhing, one hand fisted in the bedsheets like she was holding on for dear life. It still wasn’t enough and so he shifted his arms underneath her, running them up the length of her back and pulling her closer into his mouth. She squeaked with surprise as she settled her weight onto her shoulders, trusting that Jamie’s strength would hold her steady as he relentlessly licked and nipped at her.

“Jamie, I’m-“

Claire was unable to finish as her words were replaced by a loud moan, Jamie’s growl indicating that he was not willing to let her go without knowing what it felt like for her lose herself on his tongue.

Fingers gripping his curls, Claire pulled slightly and he felt her entire body go rigid as she tried to control the feelings that were coursing through her body. Jamie slid two fingers into her and lightly flicked his tongue against her, holding her steady as she began to convulse in his arms. He was fascinated to learn that she didn’t make a sound, only screwed her eyes shut and let her mouth hang open as she rolled her hips against him, riding out her orgasm.

When he felt her shy away from his tongue, he gave her a final kiss and moved up towards her, delighting in the way that she curled her hand around the back of his neck and brought his mouth down to hers, tasting herself on his lips.

“Not a monk indeed,” she laughed breathily as she ran her fingers through her hair, her eyes shutting slightly as the aftershocks ran through her.

“I’m a man of many talents, if I do say so myself.”

“I wonder what else you’re good at,” she raised a single eyebrow above a pair of seductive eyes and Jamie took the opportunity to press his renewed erection against her thigh.

“Only one way to find out, I suppose.”

Her hands sought out his body again, as though they were always meant to be touching and she moaned a little when she felt that he was hard so soon after his orgasm.

“We can stop here, Jamie. This is your choice. Whatever you want.”

“I want ye so much, I can scarcely breathe. Will ye have me?”

“Yes,” she sighed deliriously, “Yes, I’ll have you.”

“Come here to me, Jamie,” she whispered as she took him in hand and lead him to her opening. He steeled himself, taking a deep breath and basking in the look of wonder on her face, soon replaced by a quiet, exquisite joy as he pushed himself home for the first time.

She was like velvet. Impossibly soft and hot, wet with her need and it was all he could manage not to immediately race to his finish, to take her with a force and a desperation that he knew was painted on his features. With the strength of an army, he stilled himself and raised his face to hers, nearly coming undone when their eyes met.

Claire had never looked at him like that. Her cheeks were flushed from her pleasure, her pupils blown wide and stunned. His soul was laid open to her and hers to him. And he knew that his face showed the unfathomable depth of his love for her, incapable of hiding it when they were joined like this.

Jamie could have stayed that way forever but his physiology had other ideas, his hips responsively snapping into hers. She moaned and tilted her hips to meet him, raising a knee upwards to cradle his side and deepen the angle of him inside of her. Jamie was completely unaware that something could feel this good and he lowered his head to capture her lips as he began to rock his hips against hers.

All worries that he may have had left him when he watched the way she responded to his body, her fingertips digging into the muscles of his biceps until he was sure that they would bruise. She was panting and moaning beneath him, making tiny movements with her body that produced huge waves of sensation in his. He was so distracted by his own pleasure that the first time she clenched lightly around him, he wasn’t even sure that it had happened. Looking down at her, he mimicked the movement with his hips and earned himself another wonderful contraction coupled with an urgent moan that ripped from her chest.

He slowed his pace, not wanting to be undone before she reached her peak and moved his fingers to her mouth which she accepted greedily. Screwing his eyes shut at the sensation, he trailed his hand down her body to the place where they joined and lightly found the bundle of nerves at the top of her sex. She convulsed, eyes snapping open in pleasure and he wished for the hundredth time that he could drown in them.

As his fingers began to stroke her, he watched as her body changed from pliant and soft to frantic and needy. Her hands moved to his arse and pulled him into her, keening at the feeling of his cock coupled by the pleasure that he was seeking in her from his fingers.

“You’re going to make me come, Jamie,” she sobbed in surprise and he doubled down his efforts to find it for her, to let her chase her pleasure before he gave in to his own. What a gift to be able to feel the way her body reacted to his, to know how it felt when she came close to her orgasm. Her tight muscles fluttered around him as he watched the flat plane of her stomach clench in an attempt to control the pleasure that was crashing through her body. It was all too much.

“Give me your mouth, Sassenach,” he gasped as he sealed his mouth to hers, their tongues hungrily seeking the other. It was the moment of combustion when they finally met and her body convulsed once more before she began to shake uncontrollably, noises coming from her that he never thought he’d hear. It was everything he needed in that moment as he began to pour himself into her, unable to stop the frantic jerk his hips as he experienced a blinding white pleasure that he’d never felt before.

Only just managing to shift his body so that he didn’t collapse his entire weight onto her, Jamie rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling as he waited for his heart rate to slow. He was hyper aware of Claire’s body beside him, of the rise and fall of her chest as she descended from waves of pleasure that he had elicited in her. He’d expected for his mind to be running a hundred miles a minute but all he felt was serenity. In that moment, the world was exactly as it should be.

“Christ,” Jamie huffed, unable to stop the air bursting from his lungs. The question fell out of him before he had a chance to stop it. “Is it always like that?”

He didn’t look at her, couldn’t force his eyes to look at her face in case he didn’t like what he saw. But his eyes began to drift closed at the feeling of Claire curling her naked body around his, bringing a bent leg to rest over his abdomen and her hair splaying on his chest.

“No, it isn’t.”

[insomniamamma]

Blue Morning: Fennec Shand x F!Twi’lek Reader

A/n: for Writer Wednesday. Don't @ me about canon this second dose of the covid shot is kicking my ass. Thinking of that blue Twi'lek chained to Bib Fortuna's throne in the sneak peak we got of The Book of Boba Fett. I’m not sure who to tag so @autumnleaves1991-blog, and @clydesducktape, and @flightlessangelwings. Also, this is my first time writing fxf fic so please be gentle. ‘Spotchka froths’ are mentioned. Picture a neon blue Sno-Cone with booze.

Warnings: Mentions of enslavement, cannon typical violence, Fennec Shand in formal wear is her own warning, mentions of death in a mythical context. Food mentionsl Alcohol consumption.

“Kiss me again, like you mean it.”  (i botched the prompt a little)

           You scrunch your eyes shut, expecting the blaster-shot to be the last thing you ever hear, chain still gripped in your hands, as if you haven't tried this every day since being sold to Bib Fortuna. You tug the chain in your sleep sometimes, curled on the rough-hewn stone, wake yourself up doing it, Fortuna and his cronies laughing at you.  You open your eyes and you are somehow not dead. The gunslinger stares at you, her mouth slightly upturned, jerks her head towards the tunnels, telling you to run. And so you do.

          Your bare feet slap over the cool, damp stone of the tunnels, carrying you to your quarters without any thought. You have to go. Blaster fire echoes above. The door to your chambers slides open and you close it behind you. You can't lock it. Slave quarters have no locks.         "Kriff." Your tiny closet holds only the filmy costumes you are permitted to wear. You can't make it across the desert in any of this. You have nothing to your name but these ribbons and silks. You don't even have proper boots, just dainty slippers meant for nothing except looking pretty in. Part of you thinks to just run. Just grab what you can and bolt, twin suns be damned. No, think, Blue, you've got to play it smart. There's speeders in the bay. Swoop bikes, you make it there and none of the rest of it will matter. Get a speeder and you can be to Mos Eisley before the suns have time to cook you, you think you know the way, stole glimpses through the half-shuttered windows of the hover-barge that brought you and the other unfortunates here. You grab a few things out of your quarters, the slippers, a few pieces of gaudy jewelry, probably fake, but might net you a handful of credits. Kark. The suns are going to cook you. You yank the threadbare sheet off your cot and wrap it around yourself in a makeshift robe. Now or never.         You creep your way towards the bay. The vast doors are open, why wouldn't they be? The palace has plenty of speeder traffic, though you don't see anyone moving, maybe the raiders found what they wanted and cleared out, maybe--         "Going somewhere?" Dank farrik. Your skin prickles from the ends of your lekku to the tips of your toes. You raise your hands instinctively. The gunslinger. The one who shot through your chain and not your skull.         “You told me to run,"        "And I assumed you weren't stupid," she says, "You got a pickup waiting? If not, you'll be dead in half a day."        "You're going to give me back to him,"        "Who?"        "Bib Fortuna."        "Bib Fortuna is dead," she says. A ghost of a smile touches her lips, "But you are not. What's your next move? You got any contacts in Mos Eisley?"  You shake your head.        "Fennec? Sitrep." You hear the crackle of her comms.        "Found a straggler," says Fennec, "Non-hostile."        "Bring them up."

       Fennec grips you arm lightly, leads you back up through the tunnels to the throne-room. Your insides quiver. Nothing good has ever happened to you in this room. The only thing that came close was when Fortuna would have one of his lackeys bring you the beautiful old Nabooan hallikset to play for a spell. He kept it displayed on the wall, just beyond the reach allowed by your chain, but when you were allowed to play, the room would grow quiet, the lackeys and scumbags and hangers on would stop their chatter and just listen, and there would be something like peace for however long Fortuna would grant it. He'd flick a hand at one of the guards who'd take the hallikset from your hands, and then he'd wrap an arm around you in a sideways hug, and sing your praises as if you were his talented daughter and not his property. And now he's dead, lying in a heap in front of his own throne. You eye the corpse. His eyes are wide open and clouded, obviously dead, but still--        "What have you brought me, Fen?" You look up at the man on the throne. Oh, Maker, a Mandalorian. You've never met one, but you've heard tales. They are feared for their efficiency and brutality in battle. And yet some of the stories paint them as honorable.        "Found her in the vehicle bay," says Fennec.        "Come here," he says, "Let me get a proper look at you." Fennec nudges you, her hand on the small of your back in a gentle push.        "Go on," she murmurs, soft so only you can hear. You step around Bib Fortuna's cooling corpse like it might still try to reach out and grab you. The absurdity of the situation hits you. The man on the throne will decide your fate one way or another, a blaster shot through the heart or he'll send you packing or he'll keep you here, just another Bib Fortuna, maybe better and maybe worse and here you are, wrapped in a bedsheet.        "Show me your hands," he says. The dark of his visor reveals nothing, but he offers his own gloved hands, palms up, so you do the same. The Mandalorian examines your hands.        “So you have worked with your hands."        “Yes, sir."        "Good." You feel something loosen in your chest. If he was going to shoot you, he would have done it by now. He brushes your fingertips.        "You play an instrument," he says. Your eyes flick to the wall where the hallikset hangs.        "Yes," you say, "I was an apprentice--" Here you struggle, to translate what you were supposed to be into Basic, "Tale-singer?" Kriff, it sounds stupid in Basic. Before you were taken, you were tasked with knowing the stories, the songs of Ryloth, but also given the responsibility of finding new tales to tell, not all of them truthful. Utter fabrications and harsh truth are both equally dull, your mentor had told you, lie enough that the tale has interest, but keep truth enough that the message comes across. "Bard. I guess."        "Show me." His helmet jerks towards the wall where the hallikset hangs. The collar is still around your neck, the stub of the chain thumps against your spine, but, for the first time since you were brought here, you go and get it by yourself, cradling it to your chest like a baby. You sit yourself at the foot of the throne and play like you have so many times before, the first song you learned, a lullaby old as Ryloth itself, the three moons racing across the sky as bothers, big brother and middle brother get in a fight, and the youngest wins the race. You sing in Ryl. You end the song. No one speaks.        "I'm sorry. I'm rusty. It's been some time." The dark visor gives you nothing. You gingerly lean the hallikset against the throne and back up, careful not to tread on Fortuna's robes. You back into Fennec, who grips your arms gently.        "What is your name, girl?" You give your name in Ryl.        "But everyone just calls me Blue," you say.        "I am Boba Fett." He says, "My associate is Fennec Shand. You work for us now. We will discuss the exact terms later. Take that collar off her, Fen. Find her some proper clothing."        "You should have seen your face," Fennec grins at you.        "Are you out of you suns-stroked mind?" You mean to yell,  but it comes out  more like a choked-off laugh "Why didn't you warn me?" You stab your arm back towards the throne room, "That's Boba karking Fett! If I'd've looked at him wrong he could've SHOT ME!" Fennec laughs, a brief baring of teeth.        "He wouldn't have hurt you," she says, "He's Mandalorian."        "What does that have to do with anything?"        "Mandos have a habit of adopting people," says Fennec, "You are part of clan Fett now, like as not."        No one touches you. No one makes you dance wearing leather and ribbons. For the first time since being abducted from Ryloth you are treated with dignity and respect. They pay you. It's not always much, but it's something, your own money, your own room with proper locks on the doors. Sometimes you play court musician, sometimes scribe, sometimes bartender, sometimes majordomo. Whatever role is required, your instructions are the same, eyes and ears. You are a soft thing in a crowd of hunters and hustlers, people have told you the most incredible things, thinking you are too naive, too stupid to understand, all happily spilled to Boba and Fennec over spotchka shots once the audience chamber clears out.          And when Boba doesn't need you? You and Fennec are free to explore. The palace complex is huge, full of tunnels and chambers that the two of you are slowly mapping, marking the doorways and passages you've explored with bright paint. The B'omarr monks who built the palace still skitter through the passages. The first time you the two of you ran across one, Fennec drew her rifle.        "No," you said and stepped between her and the stiffly walking spider droid, the brain inside it's housing bobbing gently in the cloudy liquid, "They have no weapons. They can't hurt us." You place your arm over hers and gently lower the rifle.        "So you just let them wander around?"        "They don't do anything. There's no point in hurting them."        "Huh."

       "Maker and stars," you mutter, "All this was down here the whole time?" The room looks like a Canto Bight rummage sale. All manner of art objects, furniture and rolled tapestries in stacks. Plast-sheeted clothing on racks. Paintings leaned haphazardly against the walls and each other.        "You tell me," says Fennec, "This is your stomping ground."        "Yeah, but I've never been this far down." You run a finger along one of the ornate frames, greasy with thick dust.        "You think the boss will want any of this?"        "Perhaps some of the art," says Fennec, "A lot of this is very old. Could fetch us some credits." You wander over to a rack of clothing, colorful dresses and robes in all lengths and cuts, some plain and some gaudy with pearls and lace. You lift the sheeting and stroke fabric that's softer than anything you've ever worn.        "You might as well pick out a couple," says Fennec, "It'll all end up in market stall or a burn-pit anyway."        "A couple? I'm taking this whole karking rack. Help me shove."        "Stupid," she chides, "Let's call the mule-droid."        "You know, this one with the dewflowers on it would look really nice on you." Fennec gives you that barely there smile, though her eyes glitter with merriment.        “Never. In. Your. Life." You twitch your lekku in the equivalent of a shrug.        "Fennec Shand, you are no fun." She raises an eyebrow.        "I'm fun," she says, "I'm tons of fun."        “Threatening to murder people does not count as fun." Fennec grins.        "Don't knock it till you've tried it, Blue."

       Slave One streaks up into the bright sky. Boba has to go off world for a handful of days, some sort of personal business to attend to. I expect to see this place still standing on my return, he'd said, try not to get yourselves arrested.        "Who, us?" Said Fennec.        "You end up in the drunk tank it comes out of your pay."        "Noted."

       "There's a festival in town tomorrow," you say, moving the cards in your hands. You and Fennec are playing Sabacc, a friendly game, no stakes, just to hone your skills and learn each other's tells so you can hustle in the cantinas.  Not because you need to but because it's fun.        "Yeah? An official one?"        "No," you say, "Just a local thing." The Republic and the Empire both had sanctioned holidays, but in the Outer Rim that doesn't mean much.        "The festival of the Twin Suns," you say, "It's about love. About being in love." You feel heat creeping from the tips of your lekku and over your face. You shake your head.        "I don't know the whole story. Something about star-crossed lovers with a bad ending," you say.        “You've never been," says Fennec.        "No," you say, "But I always wanted to. They dance in the street. Everyone wears bright colors. Fortuna had after parties some times. Everyone seemed so happy."        "We should go," says Fennec.        "Really?"        "Why not? Unless you just want to hang out and lose at Sabacc."

       "Holy-karking-hell--" You mutter under your breath. Fennec wears a long, double-breasted jacket that looks straight out of some Old Republic holodrama, a tie the exact same blue as your skin tied at her throat, her traditional braid exchanged for something less severe, blue ribbon threaded through instead of the usual red.        "Close you mouth before something flies in," she says.        "Fen...wow,"        You clean up nice too. Let's go."

       The Twin Suns Festival is every bit as loud and colorful as you imagined, brightly colored flags hang from every building, rainbow pennants and lanterns strung over the streets. Treaded crawlers drag mobile stages through the thronging streets, laden with musicians and dancers. Every so often, the sky explodes in a riot of fireworks. You and Fennec walk arm in arm so not to lose each other in the swelling crowd. You find a row of food stalls and share bantha kabobs so spicy your gums try to peel back from your teeth, followed by chilled spotchka froths to kill the burn. You share syrup smeared haroun bread and smile sticky smiles. In the streets, people hug, people kiss, people dance, all kinds of people, humans and Weequay and Twi'leks, a pair of Gamoreans lurk in a doorway and rub noses. A pair of Trandoshans point up at the starbursts of light splitting the night, their child laughing, gripping their parent's head ridges, a Bothan leans doubled over in laughter at something his Rodian friend just said.        But not everything at the festival is happy chaos, as two of you wind your way towards the Great Square, things become more subdued. Rainbow colors still fly, but now the sills and doorways are lined with low burning lanterns and small candles. Small make-shift altars line the streets, again and again a portrait of two women, one in the simple garb of a moisture farmer, the other in a gown and headdress befitting a queen. Some iterations are crude, stick drawings pressed into tiles of sun-baked clay, others are ornate, woven tapestries threaded through with gold, bright pigments painted on stretched, scraped bantha hide.        “This is them," you say, "The lovers. The twin suns." A pavilion stands in the center of the Great Square, draped in gauzy white fabric and lit with small hanging lanterns. Fennec takes your hand and tugs you towards it.        "It's a shadow-play," she says, "I've never seen one."        "Me neither." The Rodian at the tent entrance greets you warmly, presses printed flimsy flyers into your palms, a playbill of sorts, the names of the puppeteers and voice actors in bleared ink. You toss a few credits in the basket marked "donations" and make your way inside. You and Fennec seat yourselves towards the back. Children and smaller species sit on cushions right in front of the parchment screen. The screen is framed with heavy fabric on all sides to block the light.A few more patrons drift in and then they hood the lanterns. Delicately cut and articulated paper puppets tell the tale. The voices and narration are done in Basic and Huttese, one following the other, but the story is simple. A princess and the daughter of a moisture farmer fall in love. They keep the affair a secret until the princess is betrothed to an Outworld royal to cement a political alliance. The shadow-puppets dance behind the screen, backlit by flickering lanterns. A dance as old as the galaxy. A princess ensconced in a tower, pining for her true love. A clever pauper who scales the tower and frees her princess in the moonlight. Lovers who ran across the wastes and were swallowed up by the sands.        "Searchers spread for days," says the narrator, "But the great dunes had drunk everything down. The hot winds erased every footprint." On the flickering screen two cut-paper women hold each other and slowly sink beneath swaying ripples of sand and then the line of the screen itself.        "The shifting stands of our world are unforgiving," says the narrator. The light behind the stage changes color to the pinks and violets of dawn, "But it is said that the love the farmer and the princess had for each other was so powerful that the old gods of rock and wind and dune rejected their deaths."          The shadowed dunes shift and sway and the lovers rise from beneath them, the ornate puppets replaced by simpler shapes, no crown for the princess, no dusty robes for the farmer just two mirror images facing each other. "Their souls rose from beneath the dunes and were carried on the currents of the Force--" They rise, paper girls floating in an imaginary sky "--to the suns that shine upon our world--" And with this the paper women flash into red flame, a collective oooh from the audience, and two stars appear, the greater and lesser Suns, cut from some red material that the light shines through, filling the white tent with ruddy light, the color of blood, but also of life "--The Suns of Tatooine burn hot, because, even through ages long lost and forgotten, their love for each other remains strong. The warmth you feel after the long cold night, that is their warmth, their gift to you, and to all of us."

       There is a beat of silence and then applause erupts. Your cheeks are wet with tears. The puppeteers and narrators emerge from behind the dark curtains and bow. You paw at your face, hoping  Fennec doesn't notice, which is futile. Fennec notices everything. She puts her arm around you and squeezes, her eyes seeking yours.        "You ok, Blue?" She asks, but she's not teasing at all this time, her face gives nothing but concern.        "Yeah, I'm good," you say, "I never knew the whole story. It's really kriffing sad. I kinda knew what to expect, but still--" Fennec tugs you to your feet. You were so engrossed in the shadow-play that you didn't realize you were still holding her hand.        "C'mon," says Fennec. Her eyes shine in the low light, but that little smile creeps across her face, "Let's get a couple more of those spotchka froths so we can cry into them." You snort laughter.        "That sounds like a plan."

       "Oh, kriff," Fennec's expletive snaps you back to reality. You'd been lost in the music, grooving out to the horns, dancing because you wanted to and not because some sleemo holding the end of your chain expected it, moving your body in the way it wants to move. Fennec sounds scared and you are instantly a shade more sober.        "Oh, kriff what?"        "Kanjiklub," she says, and jerks her head towards the other side of the street, a trio of armed roughs argue loudly with a vendor, "They've got a price on my head. They see me, I'm dead." She pulls you into a shadowed doorway,        "Quick, kiss me like you mean it!" You press your mouth to hers, flick at her lower lip with your tongue and she opens for you. The kiss is slow and languid, the gentle slide of your tongues, the plush heat of her mouth, the soft sounds she makes in the back of her throat. You cup her cheek, the pad of your thumb stroking the faint scars there. Her fingers brush the length of a lek, the faintest of touches but enough to light you up. You push her into the wall and kiss her harder.        When you break the kiss, the two of you stand, foreheads pressed together, arms wound around each other, your chests heaving in tandem.        "Hey Fen?" You breathe against her lips.        "Yeah, Blue?"        "I think..." you press your lips to hers again, a chaste kiss that she smiles into, "I think I meant it."        "I think I meant it too," says Fennec, "How about we go home and do something about it?"        "Yeah, let's go home. Just keep any eye out for those Kanjiklub goons."        "What Kanjiklub goons?" She smirks and you huff.        "Menace."        "Your menace."

@honestly-shite�� , @draper-bobbie​, @artemiseamoon​

[halothenthehorns]

Moon and Stars

Chapter 9: The Ghoul in Pajamas

PLEASE READ FIRST; I will forewarn you this one has some rapey themes, Remus does hold Sirius down during this, but nothing explicitly happens, it stops the moment it heads that direction when it's no longer fun for Sirius, but I would never wish any triggers on anybody with that kind of surprise. It's entirely in Sirius' POV.

As usual, the italics are the scene before for context in the fic, but if you just want to read the sexy stuff it's in normal font.

HPHPHPHP

Sirius started humming to himself as he circled the bike, running his hands over the engine and tapping his wand on the tires, eying every loose bolt and exposed wire with such a deep desire to know more about it Remus couldn't drag his eyes away as he felt the others leave. They didn't have to hide out anymore, and that was weirdly freeing, but he was pretty sure this would have happened regardless. Prongs had only been in it for the fun of the ride and would leave this in Padfoot's capable hands as he kept interacting with the others, but he could sit here and watch Sirius for hours get invested in this.

Padfoot began picking up scattered tools and arranging them, his wandering eyes traveling the dusty ground to make sure he didn't miss any, and seemed surprised to see him still in place, just leaning against the wall and watching him with a fond smile. "You weren't actually mad before, were you? About me kissing you in front of everybody?" He sounded more concerned than actually curious like he seemed to want to as he forced a smile at the end.

"No," he said quickly as he shifted guiltily in place for Sirius thinking otherwise. He would have thought kissing him in the hospital wing had cured Sirius of that lie. "More surprised than anything, you've never done anything like that with one of your hookups before. I didn't realize there would be a change when you committed, but no, didn't really bother me."

To his horror, Sirius made that horrendous face again, the one he had back when he'd first confessed his crush. Remus went painfully stiff and wondered again if Sirius had even fully accepted himself there was a difference.

Sirius shook himself though and said quickly, "okay, just making sure."

He kept himself in place and would not let him deflect, or this would get far worse very fast. "Sirius, what was that?"

"What?" He said sincerely enough, and Remus pressed his lips together as he eyed him. Sirius kept meeting his eyes and fidgeting with his hands, he kept shifting in place like he wanted to go back to the bike already now that he was sure nothing was really wrong, perfectly normal.

He started fidgeting with the sleeve of his robes and tried for a moment to think how to ask, before as usual just letting his mouth run, it often got the best results with him, even if he did acknowledge himself a hypocrite for scolding Sirius for doing the same. At least he kept his thoughts crowd friendly. "I, um, I'm just worried you haven't quite realized yet that, I'm going to run out of ways to keep you, ah, newly entertained in bed one day. Please don't feel the need to pretend otherwise if you, still think, you want something else. The sooner you rip that band aid off, the better."

There was the briefest pause as what he said really sunk in.

"There, that face!" Remus said quickly as Sirius tried to smooth his expression back out. "Tell me what you were thinking, please?"

He bit his lip first with something that could not possibly, actually be guilt as he sighed and sunk down onto the bike and said, "that, I'd live like a monk first because I wanted to be there for you if you really wanted me in that way."

He walked carefully forward, watching Sirius like the thinnest of smoke that would vanish the moment he looked away as he sat down beside him, head spinning too much to not do so. "Don't be so dramatic, at least try vanilla first."

Sirius laughed, thankfully. There really was no better sound on Earth to him. Sirius reached up and brushed under the edges of his eyes, though the self inflicted scratches were long healed as he watched him carefully as he explained, "I, just keep thinking, Prongs has always been an idiot around Evans, but he, I don't know, always kept hoping she'd like him regardless, but I never got why. She used to be so snobby, and I don't know, we all noticed she was easing up on James and started acting much less bratty for it. And how Frank's been so, well, less of a git because of Alice. I'm pretty damn confident of that anyways, she definitely never had a problem with you when he did. So I, kept asking myself, shit, I don't know, would it, would I-"

He stopped and made that face again, and Remus finally realized he was trying to put into words what he thought of his own past behavior towards him! "Bloody hell," was all he had in himself to whisper for several long moments as he caught Sirius' hand and just held it. "I, never asked, or wanted you to-"

Sirius looked extremely sheepish for the admittance now, even more wrongfooted like he'd been caught doing something of the greatest of embarrassment. "I know you didn't," he shrugged, but his face kept getting more red. "I just, I was so pissed at myself you hid your crush from me! It was the only thing I could think of, agreeing to give dating you a shot, I hoped you'd never want to lie like that again if I, um, gave you a reason not to, so I kept telling myself I'd do better if you were my-"

He was stopped abruptly by Remus practically attacking him he locked their lips together so fiercely.*

Moony had him pressed down into the handlebars in moments, and it was a good thing this was still broken as he felt several buttons deplete, but the bike only vibrated around them which only riled Remus up more as he started groaning, his teeth already dragging along his lip.

It started shaking dangerously beneath them, the engine making a loud whine of protest as he eagerly snogged him back, but Sirius was apparently far more concerned about it exploding around them than Remus for once. Moony had one wrist still pinned in his hand, the other was crammed between his boyfriend and the bike and he barely had the mobility to move, so he reached up to put his hand on his throat, fingers digging in firmly as he tried easing him back with a breathy, "this thing's going to go off before I do if you don't let me up."

Remus huffed and still didn't entirely release him as he helped him sit up, his hands roughly trying to coax Sirius to turn and sit on the bike proper as he swung his leg over with a teasing, "thought you were going to give me a ride?"

Now that he was off the multicolored dash, the bike began to quiet but still shook enough it was pretty invigorating and his groin was pumping far too hard to pretend to ignore the insinuation as he threw himself down in front of him and leaned his head back to tease, "isn't that your job?" He paused though, even as Remus started eagerly brushing his hair aside and asked in some concern, "did you mean that? I haven't offered-" it was sort of his point, he'd been pretty damn selfish constantly flaunting his many hook ups and never even properly asked Remus what he did want out of this, it was no wonder Moony felt the need to keep his mouth shut for so long!

"Maybe later," and his voice was just too heavy to be anything but turned on right now as he eagerly took over, his hand at once cupping Sirius while the other gripped his waist, lips pressing roughly to his jugular.

He hummed with pleasure and hooked his hands onto Moony's knees encouraging him to really go, but Remus seemed content this way now he had Sirius. His hand was tightening painfully so that Sirius fully felt it through his pants, fighting back the urge to rip them off any second, his lips were growing rougher by the second upon his neck, but the bike was still the only true movement.

Sirius' own hands couldn't stay inactive, one pressed over Remus' and he began moving beneath them, his other reaching up and hooking onto Remus's neck and starting to pant a bit at the hard nudge he could feel building behind him.

Remus was being weirdly unhelpful though, holding him down tighter as Sirius finally got the button of his own pants undone, but couldn't go farther as he was finally grinded from behind but Remus' hand went back to gripping rather than any movement. Sirius was starting to feel weak at the knees, even more sweat beading along the back of his neck now which was only encouraging his lover, Sirius could feel teeth there now and his tongue working furiously against his pulse.

Sirius' hands tried to work from behind him, to help Moony along but the act was impossible, his grips were turning bruising on all three, leaving Sirius' hands a worthless mess as he clung again to Remus' wrist instead, the other spasming uselessly on his knee once more no matter his desire to try and relieve Remus of the same.

He didn't seem that concerned, nudging harder and harder along Sirius' backside while grinding against him as the bike amplified everything, soft little growls starting to erupt from his throat as he kept up the friction when Sirius couldn't properly settle, the grip on his dick was starting to hurt most of all for not being able to touch himself as the heavy rocking continued not nearly as much as he wanted. Remus should well know this wasn't his preference, what was he playing at?

Moony always had a tendency to go for the neck. He'd gained more hickeys from being with Remus than all of his past put together and it had never bothered him a lick, usually it was pretty hot. Now, even in the haze of bliss and his blood pumping through his ears as well as everywhere else, he may have to reconsider for this one, he could already feel through the deep pleasure what this was going to do to him.

It only belatedly occurred to him to tell Remus to get off, and he started trying to figure out how to do that in his head nicely considering the last time he'd spoken about this Moony had definitely withdrawn in himself a lot, but that was becoming harder by the second to keep any organized thought together as he actually started to try pulling his wrist away.

The bike's flimsy kickstand was not going to last, this was not as fun anymore as he groaned heavily now, intentionally jerking under him uncomfortably. Remus wasn't letting him though, and anger was rising fast as he twisted impatiently! The movements were timed with the still saddled boy behind him, keeping him painfully in place, who was using all teeth on that same spot along his still soft flesh where just as much blood seemed to be pooling as his groins-

Sirius gasped and fell to the ground as he was released, he almost landed wrong but thankfully saved himself at the last second and did not actually hit his throbbing area on anything below. His hand still hovered protectively as he glared at what had been holding him up, but Remus was already running out the door.

[samwritesforyou]

Booked (pt.2)

Summary: you decided to go grocery shopping since the amount of people in your house significantly grew and diego keeps you company. after that crazy hargreeves family prompts you for a beach trip?

Warnings: gender-neutral reader

Wordcount: 2.1k

A/N: this fic is making me feel things, i cant quite place it. like... whenever i write it i feel weirdly at home?? idk :D feel free to share your thoughts either in tags or comments! its Very appreciated and motivating, actually! have a lovely day! <3

part one can be found here!

“Okay but if we kill them, nobody will have any questions, will they? We just bought a house and they moved somewhere far away!” was the first thing you heard, as you have awakened from your “nap”, deciding to keep your eyes shut just for a moment longer, not to lose it again.

“Five!” seems like everyone else said that in unison, grunting and groaning.

Okay, they don’t want to kill you. That’s great. You think it’s safe to open your eyes now.

You were laying on the king-sized bed upstairs, all siblings huddled up around you, watching intensely.

All the chatter between them came to a stop when they noticed that you woke up.

“So.. you’re like all superheroes or something?” you said tiredly, despite feeling rested.

Your mind still felt fuzzy from that info, hearing about such thing only from the tv series or sci-fi genres.

“Guess so,” Luther piped up, shrugging his massive shoulders and offering you a small smile.

Your eyes slowly drifted towards the kid standing by the frame of the bed, wearing a serious expression.

He sighed and frowned at you.

“To be clear, I’m not a kid and I’m actually older than all of you here. I’m a time traveller and I witnessed more in my life than any of you,” his passive-aggressiveness was directed at you, but by the choice of words it felt like he was talking to everyone who was present in the room, “There’s going to be an apocalypse by the end of the summer and our job is to stop it. We failed once, but we won’t fail twice. We rented this house, thinking it would be a good place where we can practise our powers without anyone interfering with us, so please,” his face turned into an exaggerated, wide smile, “don’t get in our way nor mention it to anybody. Thank you,” and as he finished his angry monologue, the blue colour filled the space around him as he disappeared in the thin air, right in front of your eyes.

Hm. Okay?

Only two seconds passed after that, when another sibling started talking to you.

“And I can talk with the dead!” he said happily, spreading his hands in the air like so monk preaching.

“We have a dead brother who’s named Ben and one day I will definitely let you two meet once I learn how to properly conjure him,” he concluded, very pleased with himself.

“Hi, Ben,” you just said with a warm smile on your face, somewhere into the air next to Klaus.

He literally cooed at your action, coming over to you and giving you a quick hug with a pat on the back.

“Okay, maybe we can reveal all our powers later, but let’s leave (y/n) to rest a bit, alright?” Allison proposed, rushing everyone out of the room and then just sparing you a wave and an apologetic smile, closing the doors and leaving you alone.

Maybe you can get used to all this madness. To this family.

You really rested after that.

A room had a roof-window, so laying on that bed allowed you to look up at the sky and lazy, white clouds that every so often rolled along with the blue background.

Soon enough you heard muffled chatter downstairs, this old house being absolutely the worst in being soundproof.

It all reminded you of simpler times, actually, no matter the crazy circumstances.

But enough was enough, and closer to the middle of the day you managed to get out of the bed and descend to the first floor by the wooden stairs, looking around.

Suddenly it seemed quiet.

You shrugged at that and just made your way towards the door, energetically jumping down the few stairs from the veranda and felt your feet hit the hard tartan surface.

Since it was six (plus one spiritually) more people than you were used to having in your home, you decided it was only logical for you to go and buy more food into the local store.

You almost reached the gate to go outside of your property as you heard some fast steps behind you, catching up to you.

When you turned around, you saw a man with longer hair and almost expression on his face.

“Uh... hey, you’re going somewhere?” he asked, brushing the back of his neck.

“To the market, why?” you asked, tilting your head sideways at him.

“Well.. don’t laugh, but I wanted to jog a little, but got concerned that I might get lost..” the end of his sentence was almost inaudible already as he lowered his voice, “so.. mind keeping me company?”

That kind of surprised you and as you slowly realised the meaning of the said words that came out of his mouth you bit the inside of your right cheek *hard*, just not to laugh.

What a silly guy. Getting lost in this hole?

But sure, why not keep him company.

“Be sure to catch up with me though,” you teased as you basically broke into the run, opening the gate and hopping straight onto your bike and starting pedalling really hard to get as far away from him, finally bursting out laughing at the significant distance.

“What?!” was the only thing you heard from him and then you felt the breeze from the hot summer air caressing your cheeks as you were passing your neighbours in the well-known road.

“You seem happier than usual today, darling!” some granny said to you from her garden and you just waved in reply with a huge grin plastered on your face.

After spending last years of your youth more or less alone, you couldn’t even phantom the thought of people your age living with you for the eternity of one summer.

You could never complain about a life you had here, it was all you ever wanted, but the connection with the people of the similar age to you was really lacking sometimes.

And the absolute joy that was washing over you right now was the witness.

You slowed your pace after some time, pretty soon being followed by jogging Diego, beads of sweat rolling down his muscular hands.

Your gaze lingered for a second longer than necessary and you quickly tore it away from him, a slight blush creeping on your cheeks as you now looked straight ahead of you at the road.

“I’m not the best runner, but also not the worst, hun,” he said between the breaths as you continued your ride/walk and you just smiled.

“Pretty decent, I’d say,” you finally stopped at the market’s “parking lot” where there were two spaces for cars and at least a dozen of handles for bikes.

You put yours into one of them, not even bothering to lock it. Everyone knows each other here and everyone knows you.

A young person in the village mostly consisted of people in retirement.

“Alright, what do we have here,” said Diego as he followed you into the store that reminded him of something out of the 70s, really old school design and brands that he never heard of before.

“Everything is mostly homemade here,” you answered, making your way towards the fridge with cold drinks, opening it and throwing him a cola can, “except these bad boys.”

“Hell yeah,” he smirked and then looked around, but his gaze kind of kept wandering back at you, while you were too busy picking the right type and amount of groceries.

Why would you live here all by your lonesome?

“So..” you finally heard him say, as you checked out and we’re both putting the groceries into the deep basket on your bike, “you seem pretty chill with us being.. abnormal.”

You briefly looked up at him when your fingers accidentally touched between the cans of soda and glasses of milk and then your hand moved the other way, eyes too.

“Well.. who’s to say what’s normal and what’s not in this world, honestly?” you jumped on your seat when you were done with loading and started your ride back.

“I know,” he agreed, jogging way less intensely now as your pace appeared much slower, “but seven siblings all having some weird shit powers is... kind of crazy, don’t you think?”

That made you nod, “Yes, of course. But still, I’m not too baffled about this. What are the odds that a village person like me would even get into a situation like this?” you asked rhetorically, gaze fixed on the rocky-sandy road ahead, “You should accept life as it is! Confusion and denial are a waste of time,” you concluded and extended your left hand as you were driving past an apple tree and managed to rip two fruits at the same time, offering one to Diego - all while still riding a bike.

“I have my superpowers too,” you laughed a little and winked at him, making him flustered as he tried to hide it by biting into his apple.

.

.

“What do we have here?” Klaus welcomed both of you at the entrance to the summer house, topless and in a skirt.

“We just bought some groceries since we’re capable of eating the whole fridge out in a day,” Diego deadpanned as he - despite your protests - unloaded your bike storage and went into the house to put the bags there, his arms showing extra muscle that’s normally hidden when his body is relaxed.

Your stare lingered for longer than necessary and Klaus *definitely* picked upon that.

“Darling, if you want to get Diego, be a bit more straightforward with him. He’s a dum-dum,” with the last word he knocked on his own head with a finger and rolled his eyes, giggling playfully afterwards and smacking you on the shoulder.

You defensively did the same, blushing and looking anywhere but at Diego nor Klaus.

Hmmmm, such interesting trees you’re having at your own garden all of the sudden.

“But hey, we’ve all decided that before we start training for the inevitable doom of us all, we would take a break for at least a few days and just go to the beach. When we were coming up we noticed the sea behind all the forests, like.. four kilometres from here?” he looked at you with question, “Have you ever been to the beaches there? Could you guide us?”

You gave it thought only for a brief second and then nodded with a confident smile.

“Sure! I haven’t been there in a year or two but the beaches are still the same, I bet,” you answered and put your hands on hips in a cool posture.

“Thank god!” he impulsively hugged you and let go that instant, “otherwise Five said he wouldn’t let you go with us,” he pouted and then sighed, making his way towards their rusty turquoise-ish car.

You followed him, his words piquing your interest.

“Why does he hate me so much? And why is his name Five?” you narrowed your eyes, plopping yourself on the front seat and sat sideways so you could look at Klaus while talking to him.

“Well, darling...” he started, animatedly throwing his arms in the air, “Five was always a strict man, especially after he came from the future, where he spent like billion years and now he’s 50 year old and always shoves this fact into our young baby faces,” he clearly complained and with annoyed expression continued, “and he’s Five because my name is “officially” Four, but Five was the only one of us who disappeared from the house before our dad even bothered to give us names instead of numbers,” he finished but then remembered and continued, “Actually, it was our AI robotic mom Grace who gave us names,” now he was finished, from somewhere materialising a bottle in his hand and taking a sip from it.

“Anyways, beach trip, babeyyyy!”

“Huh..” you just blinked a few times at him as you heard a hoard of different voices going your way.

You wanted to get out of the car to let them sit however they wanted - you were the odd one out after all - but then they all hoarded in there so quickly that you couldn’t even react, being left in the front seat.

Driver’s seat next to you was empty for now.

As you looked back, Klaus was sitting right behind you, next to him Vanya and on the other side Diego, looking out the window.

Behind them was supposed to be a storage area but they apparently turned it into some diy seats as well, Luther and Allison sitting there, not minding the small space.

Soon the blue sort-of-teleport appeared next to you at the driver’s place and Five briefly threw his gaze at you, swiftly starting the car.

The whole inside of the vehicle roared and you were on your way towards the beach, with you as a main gps they had.

Lovely taglist: @radcloudenthusiast @spacenerdpascal @white-wolf-buckaroo @a-girl-who-loves-disney  @undead--ghost​

NEXT PART→

[wanderingmonkbikes]

Custom paint job to give this Novara a cleaner look. Got rid of the overly excessive branding and added a little orange accent for pop.

[chyrstis]

FC5 GFH Tag!

@sharky-broshaw​ and @shellibisshe​​ were lovely enough to tag me to see what my Dep would say as a formal FC5 Gun For Hire, and after spending most of the day thinking this over instead of writing, I think I’ve mostly nailed her down! ;)

Deputy Hana Vao

With Fangs for Hire

Boomer: “Whoa there, buddy! Aren’t you a sweetheart? God, I...I really wish Rae-Rae were here to say hi to you too, and see how good of a boy you’re being.”

Peaches: “I’m a cat person. I’m not a hundred percent sure it extends to being a big cat person, but I’m willing to try.” / *in a ridiculous voice while sneaking through the brush* “Who’s an adorable murder machine, yes, you are!”

Cheeseburger: “Whoever decided it’d be entirely possible and plausible for me to spend my free time hanging out with a bear, I’d like to give the biggest high-five to, because this? This is really fucking awesome.” / “I’ve always wondered if I’d have the chance to meet a local celebrity, and now I’ve met two! What are the odds of that?”

With other Guns for Hire

Sharky

*after inviting him* “Oh, now it’s a party.”

“So, apparently karaoke night at the Spread Eagle used to be a thing. You’ve been holding out on me! *both start trading stories about signature songs they used to pick, until they both settle on one and start singing along to it* *some of it’s good, most of it isn’t*

*after a fight* “That was the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever seen in my life. Do it again.” / “Hey, Shark? How about you dial it back a little next time? It kind of got a little too close for comfort there.”

“You know what they say about any big bads, right?” *along with Sharky* “If it bleeds, we can kill it! *laughs* God, you’re the best.”

Grace

“Hey, Grace? I know you mentioned last time that I really need to work on the whole sneaking, and being quiet, and-” “Not throwing a block of C4 at every problem you see?” “...Shit. I knew I might’ve forgotten something. Let me get back to you on that.”

“Grace? If I offered you twenty dollars to shoot [a hat off of a scarecrow, a can off of a fence, the helmet off of a Peggie, etc]. Would you do it?” *Grace asks if she’s that willing to go broke* “Maybe. I still think that would be pretty cool to see.”

Hurk

*calls Hana Ms. V* “Hurk! I thought we agreed not to go with that one!” *he throws out a slew of nicknames each one more absurd than the last* “...Um, okay. Maybe that one’s not so bad after all.”

“Hey, I have to ask. What’s with the chimps?”

*calls Hana Depu-Vee and pretends to relay a top-secret message* Hurk, hon. We’re face to face. I’m looking right at you. We don’t need codenames right now.

Adelaide

“I...that’s definitely a description I never thought I’d ever hear. Or visualize.”

“Okay, so I’m only going to say this once, but...” *speaks at a mile a minute* “Fuck John, Marry Faith, and Kill Jacob, and there’s nothing left for Joseph, so just fuck him in general. Done and done.”

Nick

“I swear to God, if you ever ask me to fly Carmina again I’m going to crash her. Not on purpose, I’m just that damn bad at it, so please. I beg of you, don’t.”

“How’s Kim doing? If you two need anything at all, don’t hesitate to give me a call.”

Jess

“Jesus, you’re a hell of a shot. Shooting an apple off of someone’s head would probably be nothing, huh?” *Jess asks if she’s volunteering* “It’s not that you aren’t a badass, because you totally are, but you know how some ideas look fun at first pass, but are probably a disaster in the making? That? That would be one of them.”

In Combat

Seeing an enemy: “You got eyes on them?”

Sneaking:*snaps a twig* “Shit! ...Um, shit. Sorry.”

Killing an enemy: "Yippee-ki-yay, motherfucker!” / *if you score the hit* “Holy shit, that was a shot!”

Reviving: “It’s okay, I’ve got you. I’ve got you.” / “Hold on! Can’t have you dying on me now.”

Hurt: “Ow, motherfucker!” / “Jesus, walk it off. Just walk it off.” / *flamethrower, or Sharky* Shit! Nearly singed my hair...

Downed: “Really, really pissed that they made me bleed my own blood here.” / “Keep moving! Don’t worry about me! *pained sound* “Fuck!”

Driving

If asked to drive: “You sure? Well, buckle up and hold on tight. I promise I’ll try and be gentle.” / “God, this is really making me miss my bike.”

Reckless driving: “Jesus, now I know how Grace feels.” / “And here I thought you’d leave the stunt driving to old Clutch. I’m game if you are.”

Changing radio stations: *starts singing along if Barracuda’s playing* / *’if Oh John’ starts playing* “...Fucking asshole.” *sings an off-key, ‘bold and brave’ before making a sound of disgust*

Idle

“Hey, hon. How’re you holding up? Better than me, I hope, because I could really go for a cigarette. Might have to bum one off of Sharky the next time I see him.”

“You know, I’m not from around here. I’m from Detroit. Moved around a lot when I was young, so I don’t remember it well to begin with, but my mom took a lot of photos of it. Kept them all in a photo album for me to look at when I was older, and always told me we’d head back there someday to check them out again ourselves. ....Well, I’m about 95 percent certain that when the cult burned my apartment down, it might’ve taken that album with it. Pictures of those places. Of her. All of it up in smoke, just like that. So, here’s hoping there’ll be a Detroit left after all of this, depending on whether or not Joseph’s talking shit, or actually right. Because I’d really like to have a second chance to see all of that. And have a chance to honor her too.”

“I’m a city girl, so the silence out here is...it’s a little overwhelming. But I’d gladly take it over the sound of gunfire. This place is beautiful, and the kind of peaceful you don't really appreciate until it’s gone.”

Hard to believe I wouldn’t have ended up here at all if the Sheriff hadn’t taken a chance on me. He’ll say differently, but there’s a reason why Staci called me-calls me Rook, and why Joey always took the time to answer every single silly question I had. I didn’t have a whole lot of experience before heading here, and...they made it all worth the risk on my end too. Made me feel welcome when anyone else would’ve just shown me the door, and I’ll do damn near anything to get them back.

Location-Specific:

By any body of water: *voice pitched higher than normal* “Hey, you’re not-that’s looking pretty deep. Think I’ll um, hang close to the shore just in case.” *wanders around it, but never enters it*

At the Spread Eagle: *hanging close to either Mary May by the bar* *Mary May jokes about Hana spending more time talking to her than drinking* “Hey, I’m sparing you both the bad dancing and the bad flirting! Trust me, you don’t want to see either.” / *if by the jukebox in the back, can be found swaying to whatever’s playing*

After liberating the Radio Towers: “I really need to talk to Wheaty about getting Queen on the radio here, because we’re suffering from a real lack of that. Tell me you wouldn’t be ready and willing to kick all kinds of ass after listening to them for a bit.” / *near a Wolf Beacon while it’s blaring* “Jesus, Jacob really took a page out of every horror movie here, didn’t he? Note to self, stay far, far away from these at night.”

In the Henbane: “You want to trust your eyes. You also want to trust your ears, and every last bit of sense you’ve got, but here? You can't. And that honestly scares the shit out of me.” / “You see Faith too, don’t you? Right at the corner of your vision before you blink and she’s gone? Word of advice? Don’t approach her or talk to her. You’ll like what she has to say at first, but...not so much the wolverine taking a piece out of you afterwards.”

At Seed Ranch by the Boat Launch: *if present when Sharky drops the dingus line, she starts giggling until she snorts*

In Holland Valley: “Can you do me a favor? If you ever decide to do a little redecorating - like, say, make modifications to a giant, white three-letter sign up in the mountains - take me with you. Because pissing John off’s really what keeps me going, and lighting that ‘Yes’ sign up would be a thing of beauty.” / *later when John calls post-destruction she mouths, ‘Oh shit’ while 100% making this face:

Tagging: @amistrio @ma-sulevin @shallow-gravy​ @foofygoldfish @guileandgall​ @ofravensandgenesis​ @fadedjacket​ @seedlingsinner @teamhawkeye​ @redroci​ @risenlucifer​ @tomexraider​ @finefeatheredgamer​ @narcis-the-monk​ @scarlettkat86 @hawkfurze @raisinghellinotherworlds @fromathelastoveritaserum @shelliechen and anyone else that’s interested! I’d love to see your GFHs, so totally tag me if you do!

[jabbajambler]

22

Human

The Mandalorian/Din Djarin x f!OC

Word Count: 2,031

*GIF by @tintinwrites​*

         "Ouch... Ouch! Ouch, watch it!" Myrah snapped and ripped her arm away from the Mandalorian. Her bicep was red and crusted in dried blood.

         "If you had told me about it sooner, we wouldn't have this problem." He grumbled under his breath as he tried to pull the strings of her shirt that stuck to the somewhat fresh wound.

         She shrugged and looked down at the cut on her arm. It was bright and swollen, but it wasn't too deep. All it needed was a good cleaning and bandage. She couldn't figure out why he was so upset about it.

         "Well, we had more pressing matters at the time. You know, dealing with Fennec and all."

         "So this was when we got knocked off the bike?" He sat back on the stool he had placed next to the cot where Myrah sat. "We could have wrapped it."

         "But if I had told you back then," she grabbed his hand and pulled it from her arm, "we wouldn't get to play medic right now." She sent him a playful wink and her signature charming grin that made his heart beat faster.

         He sighed and pulled his hand away, trying to calm the rapid pulsing of his heart. "Take off your jacket."

         "Woah!" She raised her hands in the air and let out an innocent giggle. "You could at least take me to dinner first."

         "Shut up and take off the jacket." He snapped.

         "Pushy, much?" She rolled her eyes and peeled off her jacket to reveal the black long-sleeve she wore beneath it. Din tilted his head in judgement and crossed his arms over his chest. "What? You want me to take this off too?"

         "It's that or cut the sleeve off." He paused. "How many layers do you have?"

         She shrugged and brought her hands to the bottom of her top, starting to strip it from her body. Din's hands quickly caught hers and pulled the shirt back down to hide her stomach.

         "We should just cut the sleeve." His face began to warm and flush red beneath the helmet.

         "Don't want to see me shirtless, Din?" She drew out the name, the corners of her lips quirking up.

         "Stop." He growled and grabbed the knife from his boot, quickly slicing the sleeve off her shirt.

         Her face contorted into one of disgust. "When was the last time you cleaned that? Didn't you use it on the mudhorn?"

         "Yup." He answered simply and grabbed a few items from the medic box, setting them next to her on the small bed.

         "Ew." She shuddered and watched him work. "You know, maybe it would be easier if you didn't have those beefy gloves." His head snapped to hers in a way that she couldn't interpret. "What? It's not against the code. Don't forget that I know the rules too."

         He nodded and hesitantly pulled his gloves from his hands, his gaze never leaving hers. Her lips lifted into a smile that made his heart swell. He was upset that she hadn't told him she was hurt, but seeing her smile made him realize that he could never stay mad with her.

         Myrah's eyes wandered down to his hands, wanting to reach out and trace her fingers over them. It felt crazy to want so desperately to touch his hands, but she had been so deprived of anything else from him.

         Sure, they had their playful banter and bonding moments, but never physical. The closest they had been was when she fixed his wound way back when. Since then, she hadn't seen even a sliver of skin, no proof that he was even human.

         But here? Now? All she wanted to do was hold his hand, run her fingers over his skin just to know what it felt like. She could feel her hands twitch in anticipation, her heart leaping from her chest as the air grew thick.

         Her thoughts were interrupted once she felt his hands gently grasping her arm to hold it in place. He poured a small canteen of water on her wound and wiped away the blood that surrounded her cut.

         His hands were softer than she expected, but he did wear gloves all of the time. At first she suspected they would be rougher from years of hunting. The gloves must have protected his skin from becoming worn out.

         She winced slightly as he used a soft cloth to dry the area. His eyes lifted to meet hers while he carefully rubbed a healing ointment into her skin. He studied her behind his mask. From the way she closed her eyes and took slow deep breaths to her relaxed posture and how she leaned into his touch.

         He took a deep, shaky breath and forced himself to tear his eyes from her. He found himself lost in thought, wondering if her hair was as soft as it always looked. He had to stop himself from reaching to brush away the gentle strands that fell in front of her face.

         With the bandage wrapped firmly around her arm, he stood up, happy to pull himself away from a potentially messy situation. Then he felt something warm grasp his hand and pull him back. He couldn't bring himself to fight it.

         "Where are you going?"

         "I was going to fly the ship." His voice came out soft and low.

         "It's on autopilot. Besides, we don't have any specific destination." She didn't know why these words were spilling from her mouth. She desperately wished she could keep her trap shut for once.

         He couldn't look at her. He knew that with one look he would stay and never want to leave. "You need rest."

         "So do you..." She sighed and packed away the medical supplies in a small cubby. "Care to join me?" She held out her hand and scooted further back. She already figured she was in too deep, too late to stop now.

         He watched her movements from the corner of his eye, feeling a soft fluttering in his chest that drew him to the woman in his bed. After a moment, he nodded and flicked off the main cabin lights, leaving nothing but a dim light above the bed to light the area.

         Din awkwardly sat at the end of the cot, his posture stiff and tense. It was a small space and he certainly didn't want to make her uncomfortable, but he had no sense of what to do. He was no monk, but this was different. He cared so much for her and was terrified of making a mistake.

         "Relax." She giggled and grabbed his hand, feeling his hand immediately grip hers.

         Her fingers traced the lines of his palm. Slowly, dauntingly, causing a ghost of a shiver to roll down his spine. He could have melted into her touch no matter how small it was.

         "Come back here."

         At this point, she didn't have to ask him twice.

          He pushed himself to the back of the small cot, still sitting, but present and there with her.

         "You know... If we turn off that light, it'll be pitch black in here. I won't be able to see anything." She glanced up and threaded her fingers between his, pressing their palms against one another. Din swore she could feel his heart speed up.

         "You could take off the helmet and be comfortable." She whispered and squeezed his hand.

         He didn't say anything, not even so much as a nod. He simply reached up and pressed the button to the light. Nothing more needed to be said.

         Darkness immediately encompassed them, not even a shadow could be seen. The ship was silent, the child was asleep, and they were peacefully soaring through the skies.

         It was a few moments before Myrah felt his hand leave hers. She heard a soft hiss, followed by the clink of metal against the stool beside the cot. That alone made her breath hitch and caused her heart to pick up speed.

         His hand found hers again, playing with her fingers. He simply enjoyed the feeling of her soft hand against his. His heart had dropped to his stomach in fear. Of what? Who knows. But he was nervous as hell and just wanted to hear her say something.

         Myrah managed to steady her breath and leaned against him. Her hand pulled from his and reached up towards his face, her fingers barely brushing against his cheek. His jaw clenched and tensed against her touch.

         "I'm sorry." She mumbled nervously. "Is this okay?"

         "Mhm..." He hummed and allowed himself to relax. He couldn't remember the last time someone had touched his face, even so much as a graze. The feeling was exhilarating yet absolutely terrifying.

         "Well, you need to shave."

         He chuckled, a warm, soothing chuckle that Myrah found so much sweeter without the modulator. If she could hear the sound on replay, she would.

         She turned her body to face him and cupped his jaw in her hands, rubbing her thumbs over the slight stubble. Hesitantly, she pulled her leg over his hip and slid onto his lap, running her hands through his soft hair. The closeness was something the two desperately craved.

         "And a haircut."

         He let out a quiet gasp and slowly wrapped his arms around her waist. "Maybe you can help with that sometime."

         There was the voice. The voice she was waiting to hear. It sent a shiver down her spine and brought goosebumps to her arms.

         "You'd trust me with scissors around you when I can't even look at you?"

         He hummed and lowered his head to the crook of her neck while she played with his hair. She was intoxicating to him. Everything about her left him wanting more.

         "Din?" Myrah felt his nose press into her neck with his lips relaxed against her collar bone. It nearly drove her mad.

         "Yes?"

         "Thank you..."

         "What for?" He lifted his head and moved his hand to her hair, running his fingers through the strands.

         It was just as soft as he imagined.

         His fingers trailed down her jaw and held her chin as though she could break at any moment. She sort of felt like she could.

         "For trusting me... After everything I did, I-"

         "How could I not? We're in this together, right?" His other hand rubbed soft shapes on her back through her shirt. He felt like everything in the galaxy could stop and he would be perfectly fine with it.

         "Right." The word came out breathy, hardly spoken at all, but Din heard it.

         His hand wrapped around to the back of her neck, wanting more than anything to pull her closer. This was something they both wanted, right? He was ready to risk it all. The code, the emotions, the wall he had built.

         But the sound of a gentle cooing put all of his actions to a halt.

         They both groaned in irritation, especially when they heard the soft patter of the child running.

         Myrah rolled off of Din and onto her side next to him, facing the wall. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Looking down at the woman next to him, he wondered what would have happened if there was no interruption.

         It didn't seem like she would have stopped, but what would have happened to them? Would anything have changed? Would they pretend it never happened? Why did he-

         "Lay down." Myrah mumbled and struggled to find his hand behind her. "Relax, Din. Sleep."

         He rolled his eyes, but did as he was told. He unbuckled the rough armor and laid down next to her in the underclothes he wore.

         It wasn't as uncomfortable as he expected from the small area. His arm draped over her waist, allowing her to hold his hand as she had wanted while he rested his head against the back of her shoulder.

         "Will do, Princess." He purred as they both drifted into arguably the best sleep they've ever had.

[sunbird-tells-stories]

I was rewatching one of my favorite episodes of Xiaolin Showdown lately and I’ve been thinking of Jesse’s/Jessie’s character. I really like her a lot. I was always fascinated with that character from the moment I first saw her. Clay was my favorite Dragon, so to learn he had a sister??? Who was a biker girl??? And a BAD GUY?! Like, it was crazy! I loved the episode, and I still love it to this day. I love the lore, the aesthetic, the Black Vipers, the story, and the ending with Jesse under a starry desert sky flying off into the moon leaving behind a magical rainbow trail behind her? Like, tell me that’s not awesome!

So, since I’m bored and have Xiaolin on my mind, I’m gonna rant about her for a little bit.

First off, Jesse’s listed in the credits with the male version of the name, aka Jessie without the “I.” And the first thing I thought about when I mulled over this choice for a name was that it reminded me of Jesse James, who was a famous outlaw back in the days of the Wild West. So it was maybe a crew choice to give her that name as a shout-out to her criminal nature, and because of that, I like to think that in the show’s universe, Jesse used to be Jessie but dropped the “I” the day she left the Bailey Ranch. You know, to show that a) she was starting a new life and leaving her old persona behind and b) maybe to challenge the stifling old gender norms she was relegated to at the ranch. I mean, Daddy Bailey, as cool as he is, did ooze vibes of toxic masculinity in the one episode we saw him. If he was hyper focused on making Clay the manliest man, then it makes sense that he’d push Jesse to be the girliest girl.

But like, Jesse’s her own person, man. She’s hotheaded and stubborn and determined, and she’s got enough grit and pride in her to say “You know what? Screw this. I’m not happy here, I’ll never be enough for you, and life is too short to live in a place where you’re either ignored because everyone’s paying attention to your brother or being pressured and prodded into being something you’re not.”

So she left. I mean we never got a backstory on that (and I would have loved one, trust me), but she left, and she left on bitter terms too, considering Clay’s instinctive animosity towards her on sight. Like, no “hey, how’s life” or “where have you been.” The first thing he did after recognizing her was to call her a varmint. A nuisance. A lowlife.

That’s....uncharacteristically harsh, Clay. You’re supposed to be the sweetheart of the group, and the first thing you do when you see your baby sister after who knows how long...is to insult her?

Wow. There’s a story there. And if we don’t get any background on it, then maybe I’ll write it later? There’s always fandom, kids! And fanfic. And fanart.

But Jessie really does fascinate me as a character. Like even more than Ashley, or Wuya, or Shadow, or even Kimiko! Out of all the (very few!) female characters in the Xiaolin lore, she’s the one I’m interested in the most. It’s everything about her you know? It’s her backstory, it’s her personality, her skills, her likes and dislikes, the way she chooses to live her life, the way she’s constantly double crossing everyone around her - even her brother! No one is safe from her except for her loyal Vipers, who must also like her and trust her a lot too, since as soon as there’s a brief void in the leadership role, they automatically welcome her and her alone back into it, instead of squabbling over who should be the leader of their biker gang. For all their trouble and deceit, the Black Vipers stick together.

Probably because they’re all they’ve got.

I mean the girls live in a MINE! (An abandoned mine, like seriously, how cool is that?!) and they’ve got pet vultures, and know every inch of their hideout, and the place is falling apart in some areas but it’s HUGE and awesome and it looks wicked cool so it balances out.

But that alone implies that none of them have actual houses or trailers or apartments or condos where they actually crash. None of them have a home to go home to.

And why would they? I mean, you don’t just wake up one day and choose to live a life of crime. The show always likes to hammer in the fact that the world’s not black and white. Everyone’s got some good chi and bad chi in them. Everyone’s a shade of grey. And that includes the Vipers. And something tells me that they’re a darker shade of grey than most girls, and not entirely by choice either. Girls don’t just wake up and become bad guys. It’s a lot more complicated than that.

I worry about these girls. All of them are so young, early-late teens at most, but they’ve each got a criminal record and have scored enough infamy to be known all through the American Southwest. That’s kind of awesome. But mostly really, really sad.

Sadly we don’t get much personality from the girls, but I wish we did, I love the quirks in their character designs like WallEyed Short Girl and Tall Freckled Mopey Girl, and even Belle! Yes, the redhead has a name, and it’s Belle. Personally she’s my favorite design out of all four Vipers. The bright red hair paired with the turquoise in her necklace and hat is simple but unique. And her sass! And the fact that she’s like the ONLY XS character with brown eyes. Aaah! I love her so much!

But even with their lack of screen time or even voice lines, there’s enough evidence to infer that these girls are each other’s family. They’re sisters. They’re partners in crime wherever they go, from the arid deserts of Arizona to the neon casinos of Nevada, from the white sands of New Mexico to the empty-hearted prairies of Oklahoma, and hey maybe even as far west as Baja California!

And of course, Texas.

It’s interesting that even though she cut all ties with her dad and her brothers and her mom (I mean, if she even has one), she still wanders through Texas. The last thing she screamed at Jack as he took off in a huff with no Wu was “Don’t Mess With Texas”! She may have turned her back on her family and the ranch, but she’ll never turn her back on her home state. That’s kind of beautiful. It’s nice to think that the big bad biker chick who rules over a gang that kidnaps people and robs them blind....still has a soft spot.

But I mean, of course she has a soft spot. She’s a person, right? Good chi and bad chi coexisting together in a single human being. She’s got dreams, right? Secret wishes that keep her up at night, keep her going when the chips are down, keep her going when things get hard for her gang and she has to be the one to stay strong and lead them through it despite being a KID...yeah. It’s abundantly clear that Jesse is an adventurous soul. I mean, you gotta be if you spend your days riding through the desert and running from cops, and your nights sleeping in a creepy, abandoned mine that goes on for miles underground. That’s certainly not a lifestyle for the faint of heart, but Jesse seems just fine with it.

Because as crazy and as sad as her situation is, a teen girl with no home and, thanks to her record, no happy future to speak of, she’s happy where she is. Probably the happiest that she’s ever been in her life. She certainly has a lot more freedom, and values that freedom to Hell and back (probably.) She’s seriously gotta love the sweet, simple feeling of going wherever she wants and doing whatever she wants. Stealing from people probably gives her such a thrill, and with the jumps she made with her bike during the Showdown in her one and only episode...yeah, our girl’s an adrenaline junkie. Fer sure.

I wonder if she’d ever leave the desert at some point in her life. I mean, being an outlaw is cool and all but it’s definitely got a lot of drawbacks, and it isn’t very sustainable. And, I mean...people change. Maybe someday she’d just grow out of the lifestyle. Maybe one night she’d sit her Vipers down for one last talk, pass her leadership over to Belle, give them all one big hug and wish them luck, get on her bike and just...leave.

I wonder where’d she go then. Definitely not back home. Probably not with Clay. Being a Xiaolin hero, going to monk school, fighting over Warts...that’s his life, not hers. And I mean, she does have that inferiority complex, which aren’t exactly easy to grow out of. Maybe she’d secretly feel that she wasn’t good enough to be Xiaolin. But she definitely wouldn’t want to go full evil and switch to the Heylin side.

Jesse’s not Xiaolin, or Heylin. She’s just....Jesse. And that’s why we love her so.

I think she would wander. She’d wander all over the US, through every last state, seeing all that there is to see. Some places impress her. Some do not. Some remind her far too much of her home back at the ranch and some are so alien and foreign that her heart almost breaks from the loneliness. Sometimes she falls in love. Then, she falls right out of love, never unexpectedly, but only sometimes by choice. And after a few hours of heartbreak and self care, she’s back on her feet again, hunting down her next adventure. If she sees a Wu, she contacts Clay, and waits for him and the others to come. It’s easier to talk to him now, so they talk often. She sends him a pretty postcard from each city she visits. And with each message, she writes an animal fact about a local critter, just for him.

Home is....it’s not home anymore. Daddy Bailey, Mama Bailey, even Patrick...they don’t consider her family no more. At least that’s what she believes. She never writes to them. She doesn’t see the point. As far as she’s concerned, they all said what they had to say the day she left the ranch. Soemtimes she’s overcome with the temptation to give them a call and see how things are. But no matter how hard she tries, she always hangs up as soon as they answer.

It’s too late to fix what I broke, she tells herself.

And sometimes, she believes it.

But no matter what gets her down, Jessie’s a tough girl. She’s smart and clever and knows how to get by on her own. Her independent nature was hard-earned. She can take care of herself. So she does. And she wanders. And she sees the world beyond the desert.

Hey, remember that one line during her episode where she says “the only thing better than riding is flying,” or that out of all the Wu she could have kept for herself - out of all powers she could have had at her disposal - she opted to keep the Wings of Tinabi, aka the flying Shen Gong Wu?

I like to think that Jesse, like her brothers, is a smart cookie. But while Clay’s got animal facts and Patrick’s got computers, she’s more of an engineer. I mean, she’s got to keep her rides in tip top shape right? And those weren’t ordinary motorcycles either. I wonder if she was the one who designed the Black Viper’s iconic bikes. Maybe she built them all from scratch. Maybe they all did.

And maybe building bikes isn’t all she’s good at. I like to think that as Jesse gets older she takes on a whole new kind of project. As soon as she gets enough material and enough space to house her new baby, she gets to work on something she’s always been wanting to make in the back of her mind but never could before. It’s more complicated than motorcycles or cars or even tractors, and there’s a lot to lose if something goes wrong. But Jesse’s a risk taker, and a dreamer. And above all, she believes in herself. She has to. She’s always had to, because no one ever else did. Not until she chose to be her own biggest fan did she ever have someone in the stands cheering her on. She can do it. Of course she can. She’s Jesse Gotdang Bailey, and she can do anything.

I like to think, after a while on the road, exploring every last corner of America, and hey, maybe even Canada and Mexico, she finally gets around to building herself a plane. Wheels and steel are a beautiful combination, but wings? Wings can take you anywhere. They offer a freedom like no other. Hundreds and hundreds of people over countless generations have looked up at the sky and wished to be up there. And Jesse wouldn’t be any different from them.

I like to think that she finishes it right as she reaches adulthood. I like to think that she actually goes legit - for once - and gets herself a pilot’s license. I like to think that she gives her new ride a bright coat of paint, puts on the last finishing touches, gets herself a viper tattoo as a way to honor the occasion, and takes off towards the Xiaolin Temple the very next morning to show Clay how far she’s come.

And I would like to think that on the side of the plane, in beautiful rainbow lettering, is the name she chose for her new aircraft:

The Wings of Tinabi.

[furblrwurblr]

@linbin-in-tenjin BOY HAVE YOU GOT SOME READIN' TO DO

Elise:

My self insert, a smol lil chaos bean

Not sure what to put here, so I'll do the RAD ID card fields, hmu for any other info

Birthday: Jun 15

Race: Human??

Likes: Her boyfriends, Mammon and Kayne (belongs to @ross-like-a-boss ), sweets, bike rides, the sun

Dislikes: prejudiced people, waiting, wINTER

Anvindir:

If you told those who know him now that he was once a kind and giving man, they'd never believe you.

Anvindir once put others before himself, helping whenever possible and putting years of effort into every bond he made. Until it cost him everything.

He had harbored a refugee and her child in his ancestral home and was discovered before he could get them to safety. As consequence, he was bound and forced to watch them eaten, his screams almost covering the sickening sound of his markings being removed. Once he was stripped of himself, his identity, he was set to wander the northern regions knowing little more than his first name and what generosity got him in the end.

He made his way south and came upon a monastery that welcomed him with open arms. He developed a sort of narcissism there, taking their doctrine of the optimal condition to extremes. His body is toned to his idea of perfection and his aura resonates in perfect harmony with the sky. The only pleasures he allowed himself was the pride in his knowledge and the feeling of his air magic’s improvement with his condition. When he wasn’t honing the balance of body and sky, he was in the library for hours studying anything he could get his hands on. After he’d read every book, tome, and scroll in the monastery, he’d taken to making his own by journaling his observations and experiences in daily life.

Once he was satisfied with the new identity he’d created for himself, he settled in the nearest town. Helping those who could benefit him in return made for a very good strategem in securing a fairly large piece of land on the village outskirts. He spent his days procuring anything he can find on atoning and regaining one’s markings, hoping to unlock some new part of himself.

Now, I'm not sure how he atoned, but I do know what becomes of him afterwards.

His focus on regaining his markings is so deep that it becomes his entire purpose to better himself, without regard for others. Once he gets his identity back, he realizes that the only reason he regained them was because of those who aided him. He focuses on making real relationships. The optimal form of himself is nothing if he has no bonds with those around him, as only through their influence can he create a real identity.

He still maintains his form and broadens his knowledge, but he lives in the present instead of dwelling on his past. His life and friends are his priority once more.

Øyvind Quinrrith:

As a child, her parents sent her through a portal to escape the abyss as Malcanthet was leading a violent coup. She wandered for months, hunting with her claws and trying to find shelter. All she remembered of her time in the Abyss at this point was her name, Øyvind and the name of the deity she worshipped: Malcanthet.One day, she spotted a passing caravan and called for help. After helping her into the caravan, they bound and gagged her. Her kidnappers had intended to make her a slave but discovered her ever-changing abyssal features that activate when she’s scared. She was instead sold as a gladiator. Over the years, she'd come to accept her fate and had even fallen in love with a kind half-orc monk who was taken soon after her. 

One day, an elf paladin entered the arena, saw her, and immediately wanted to help. The holy knight set Øyvind free and helped her flee to the north. 

Soon after she’d settled in a small home on a small canal (arcana fans know the one), a woman dropped a small spyglass at her feet. She picked it up, but when she rose the woman was nowhere to be seen. She put it up to her eye and dropped it with a gasp. After ensuring it was unharmed, she slowly raised it once more. In a few seconds of holding it, she began to hear the screams of the people shown. This was no ordinary spyglass, this was a rare cursed item that shows the viewer’s worst nightmare. Øyvind trembled as she watched the people she’d met slaughtered and her town burned under the demon king’s banner. She tucked it away into her pocket with a new resolve.

That week, she sought out the town witch for counsel. The crone, who she recognized from the street, was expecting her and made it clear she needed to keep the spyglass. The crone then presented her with another gift: an earring with an accompanying horn accessory made to contain souls. After a bit of discussion, she made a blood-pact with Malcanthet. Øyvind trained with the witch, perfected her magic, and became a fully-fledged warlock.

Not long after, she makes a mistake when stealing from the weekly food market and is caught in the act by a gnommish bard. (Surprised she made it this far, being over eight feet tall with dark red skin...) He didn't turn her in and instead took her into his care, gifted her a lyre, and taught her to play. She joined his band and learned to dance, tell stories, play the viol, and grace banquet halls with the ungodly presence of bagpipes.

She traveled the northern half of the region with them, learning to channel her powers through performance. Eventually, she parted ways with the merry few realizing she had a destiny to fulfill. She now makes her way farther and farther south, gathering information and allies to take down the southern slave trade. She hopes to find her orcish lover, and deep in her mind she has every intention of returning to the abyssal plane to end the coup that killed her parents once and for all.

Go check out their askblogs for any questions you have and more art!

@anvindir-askblog @skinnypoorandalittlebitofawhore @hit-em-with-that-furry-shit

Øyvind's is finicky :(