#I’m reading it in the voices I have for the characters and it’s glorious | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nhasablogg · 1 year

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Mixing all the colors like we're making a Monet

Fandom: Stranger Things

Characters: Steve/Eddie

Anonymous said: Maybe Steve painting on Eddie?

Words: 1.7k

(Read it on AO3)

Steve claimed he did it because Robin had told him to. “She says I’m stressed and restless?” He’d said it with such a casual air, scoffing as if the very thought of him being anything but okay was ridiculous despite everything. “Figured I would humor her.”

“It’s been scientifically proven that people who work on art or any type of craft have an easier way of dealing with their emotions,” Robin had told him when Steve was out of earshot. “You have your music,” she added. “And DnD, as do the kids. Nancy always keeps her mind intellectually busy. At the very least it can keep him distracted.”

What about you, Eddie wanted to ask but didn’t, watching Steve return to them with a plastic bag filled with art supplies. He made a great show of looking annoyed about it, but Eddie caught him smiling as he showed them his purchase, all the colors and different brushes which all did different things, the idea evidently appealing to him even though he for some reason tried to act as if it was the opposite.

Eddie left him alone at first, not wanting him to feel crowded, but as days turned into weeks and Steve was still painting nearly every damn day, Eddie found himself sitting next to him, fiddling with his guitar or simply watching. It was calming, watching him figure everything out. Steve wasn’t necessarily a natural born talent, but not many were. He’d gone from simple drawings of houses and trees and had started trying to draw people, using a pen to sketch somewhat recognizable interpretations of Dustin, Max, Robin, sometimes even Wayne. He never asked people to pose until he asked Eddie.

“I did notice you haven’t drawn me yet,” Eddie had replied and Steve had rolled his eyes. “Figured you’d get offended that I can’t capture your oh so glorious beauty.” Both of them knew Steve wasn’t joking, but they let his words hang in the air, unchallenged.

Eddie had sat on the porch, head slightly turned to the right since Steve claimed he could never get a whole face right. He was holding his guitar, lightly strumming the strings just to keep himself from squirming too much. In the end, Steve wouldn’t let him see the finished product and Eddie didn’t push, although he suspected he probably was drawing him more often now since he’d stopped showing him his pieces. Eddie blushed each time he thought of it, which was ridiculous in itself, but nothing about him and Steve was rational anyway.

“Have you moved on to pencil full time?” he asked him one day as the sun was setting, turning the sky pink and drawable.

Steve looked up from his sketchbook. “I guess? Not on purpose though. It’s just easier when I’m not sure what I’m doing.”

“Mm, I miss finding specks of paint on you though,” Eddie replied with a grin. He’d once found a streak of green on the side of Steve’s neck and had gotten the privilege of hearing Steve giggle his head off as he’d tried to rub it off for him.

“That’s exactly it. It’s so messy.”

“I think you’re turning it into too much of a task the longer you avoid it.”

“I’m not avoiding it.”

“Uh huh.”

“I’m not! I can paint for you right now.”

“Okay.” Eddie leaned back where he was perched on the stairs. “Paint me.”

“That’s very narcissistic of you.”

“No, no. I mean-” Eddie smirked at him, not realizing he was plotting his own demise. “Paint on me.”

Steve flushed, but he did a good job of keeping his voice steady when he said, “You want to be my canvas?”

“Precisely.”

“It’ll get messy.”

“Oh, I’m counting on it.”

When the idea had briefly crossed his mind Eddie imagined Steve blushing, avoiding his eyes as Eddie stripped to give him access to bare skin, all the power in his possession, all the delicious nervous energy bouncing around them.

But he’d forgotten that brushes were soft and paint was cold and Steve was gentle and his skin too sensitive, and when Steve started at his chest because that was the easiest spot to get to as Eddie leaned back with his shirt off, they both seemed to simultaneously realize the direction this would mostly be going in.

“Stay still,” Steve said, grinning now as he ran the brush down toward Eddie’s abdomen, Eddie’s breath having hitched at the same time as his eyes had widened.

“It’s cold,” he said, and it was, but he knew Steve wasn’t fooled. “Fuck, Steve, be careful.”

“I am. Be still or we’ll get your clothes messy, and you wouldn’t want that, right?”

They probably looked strange to any on-looker, only they knew they were hidden from view there, unless Wayne decided to come out of course. But despite the obscured view Eddie knew people could hear them, and so he clamped a hand over his mouth, head leaned back as his other hand darted between covering his face and moving toward Steve. He started giggling much too soon for his liking.

Steve seemed delighted. “I think your neck should be pink,” he was saying, fluttering the brush back and forth on his lower belly, the green soon covering each inch of it. “Your feet can be blue. Oh, and if you’re bold enough to pull your shorts down lower I can paint your hips red, to signify your most ticklish spot.”

The acknowledgement of what was actually happening made Eddie’s giggles turn into full on panicked belly laughter and his flailing hand finally settled on top of his other one, pressing hard to keep from being too loud. “Steheheve!”

“What was that?”

“Fou ou-”

“I see.”

Eddie dug his heels into the ground, the sensation so light and yet so unbearable. There was something about having to keep quiet, about not being able to stop him without getting paint on more parts of him, that made it all the more maddening. The brush he was using wasn’t even one of the wider ones, and yet it tickled enough in such a specific way that it sent shocks through his nervous system. The stairs were starting to hurt his legs where he was pressing them flat against them, but he was afraid he would crumble completely if he tried to fold any body part in on himself.

“I might make you my canvas forever,” Steve was saying, giving Eddie a moment to breathe as he wiped the brush to switch to pink. “You’re doing so good being still.”

Eddie found himself blushing at the praise. “Oh my god, shut up.”

“What? I’m just being honest.”

Steve’s smile was so excited that Eddie had to close his eyes for a moment to compose himself. “Well, at least you’re painting.”

“Right? Robin would be so proud.”

“You won’t tell her about this, right?”

“Oh, no. It’s our little secret. Now move your hand. I’m going for your neck.”

“Please don’t.”

“Are you interfering with my artistic choices?”

Eddie opened his eyes and found he was hovering over him, although the brush was held far enough from him that it didn’t make him nervous yet. “Yes. Human canvases have rights too.”

Steve hummed. “Fine. Not the neck then, but we need a good replacement to dampen my disappointment.” He glanced back. “The back of your knees? Would that work or are you too ticklish?”

“I hate you so much.”

“Hey, this was your idea.”

Eddie sighed. “I didn’t expect it to be so-”

“Ticklish?”

He let out a laugh. “Yes.”

“Well, I’m glad it is. I like hearing you laugh.”

Eddie flushed, but noticed that Steve’s face pinkened as well and found he couldn’t lament the situation he found himself in after all.

“Back of knees are fine,” was all he said, accepting his fate as he shut his eyes again. “But if you get paint on the stairs Wayne will probably kill you.”

“No paint on stairs. Got it.”

This time the brush on his skin made him yelp, knee bending on impulse to get away from the sensation. He should’ve told Steve to go for his knee caps instead, he realized belatedly. The squirming wouldn’t be so messy then.

“Ugh, it feels weird,” he said, craning his neck to look at Steve who had backed off when Eddie had bent both his knees, pressing the paint between his skin.

“If you get paint on the stairs now it’s your fault.”

“Is anything dripping?”

“No.” Steve suddenly grabbed his calf. “Maybe your ankle. Or should I go back to upper body? Lift your arms.”

“You’re so persistent.”

“I’m only getting started and you keep interrupting.”

Eddie huffed but lifted his arms anyway, grabbing onto the door frame as best as he could with the door shut. “Be nice.”

“I’m always nice.”

He wasn’t able to cover his mouth this time and was laughing loudly and freely the moment the brush touched his armpit. Steve hushed him, although he was laughing too, and slapped his palm over Eddie’s mouth in a way that had his thumb brushing the underside of his chin, another much too sensitive spot, and Eddie found himself spiraling into hysterics.

It was foolish to think he would be able to stand it for long, and within seconds he had paint not only on his hands and clothes, but also somehow in his hair from how suddenly he’d started fighting back. The stairs, somehow, were left spotless.

“You caught me off guard,” Steve told him later, helping him rinse the last of the pink from his hair. “You ticklish idiot.”

“Hm, I seem to remember another day where I was the one scrubbing your ticklish skin clean.”

“Speaking of that, I’ll help you get the paint off of the rest of you.”

“Oh, no, it’s okay.”

“No, I’m offering! It’s my fault anyway, right? I heard it’s really hard getting it off of armpits especially.”

“Steve, I will kill you.”

“And I think I saw some on your hips too. No idea how that happened. Oh, and your neck.”

Eddie groaned. It was going to be a long shower.

#tickling #ticklish!eddie #steddie #ticklish!eddie munson #steddie fic #n writes #mixing all the colors like we're making a monet

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ak-vintage · 15 days

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Quarry - Chapter 11

Pairing: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) x f!reader

Summary: Din Djarin is on what he expects to be his last bounty hunt for Greef Karga. After all, Nevarro is swiftly moving away from its previous reputation as a Guild member’s paradise, and Din has more important concerns now, like finding a Jedi to train his mysterious foundling. However, after capturing a wanted starship engineer who would rather go anywhere other than “home,” the Mandalorian is forced to reassess his priorities.

Your taste of freedom had been brief but glorious. Now you are a prisoner of the most infamous bounty hunter in the Outer Rim – it’s only a matter of time before he turns you in. There isn’t much you would not do to keep from being sent home, but as you find yourself growing closer to your captor and his strange little companion, you start to wonder whether escape is really what you want.

Set after Chapter 13: The Jedi but before Chapter 14: The Tragedy.

Chapter Tags & Warnings: 18+ MDNI! Reader is Mando's live-in starship engineer, second-person POV, Din Djarin POV, no use of Y/N, minimal descriptors of reader character, unresolved sexual tension, pining, angst, Din speaks Mando'a

Series Masterlist | Read on AO3

True to his word, Mando returned to the ship – a scrawy Human male wearing a shattered pair of glasses, dirt-scuffed robes, and an impressive black eye in tow – just after midday the following day. Though the impassive visor of his helmet gave little away, you had spent enough time with him to be able to read his body language. The bounty hunter was exhausted.

He spared you only a brief nod of greeting when he spotted you waiting for him at the rear exit of the hold. His gait was slow and stiff as he ascended the gangplank, his limbs heavy as he wordlessly pressed the smaller man back into the carbonite freezer and slammed the control panel under his palm. When the gasses dissipated and revealed the matte gray carbonite outline of the unlucky quarry, you watched as he wrestled the slab out of the recessed wall unit and onto the storage rack, a task that normally wouldn’t even cause him to break a sweat now leaving him panting through his vocoder.

He took a moment then to wordlessly lean against a stack of cargo bins, catching his breath, and you offered him a small, close-lipped smile. “Rough one?” you asked, sympathetic.

Mando inclined his head in a gesture reminiscent of a nod. “Tired.” His voice crackled through his helmet dryly as though from disuse. Pointing vaguely in the direction of the newest addition to the carbonite rack, he added, “Finally found the son of a mudscuffer hiding out in some smuggling tunnels under the shipping district, right on the water. Barely put up a fight once I did, but I lost count of the number of smuggling parties I ran into while I was searching. Didn’t want to let me go after I’d seen their faces. Feel like I’ve been in one fight after another since I left.” He let his head drop back on his neck, rolling it from side to side, the low light of the cargo hold arcing across the dome of his helmet. “I’d almost have to call it clever, letting them wear me out like that. If he weren’t such a hu’tuun.”

“Are you hurt? Want me to get the med pack?” you offered, feeling your eyebrows drawing up in concern.

He shook his head minutely. In your mind, you pictured eyes falling closed behind the visor screen, muscles finally loosening, jaw finally unclenching, safe again within the durasteel hull of his ship. “I’m all right, gotabor’ika. Just need to rest,” he replied, and a now-familiar warmth settled in your stomach and bloomed in your cheeks at the sound of that word in his soft, gruff tone.

Buoyed by that warmth and before you could think better of it, you closed the narrow distance between you, reaching out and wrapping your fingers gently, carefully around the strap of his satchel.

You felt the bounty hunter’s body tense immediately beneath your touch. His helmet snapped forward to meet your gaze, his hand flying up to wrap firmly around the delicate joint of your wrist. The heat of him on your bare skin felt like a brand even through the well-worn leather. “What are you doing?” he rasped.

You swallowed thickly, pinned down by his stare. “Helping you rest,” you replied. Your voice was soft, no more than a thready whisper even to your own ears. “Relax. Let me take this for you.”

Mando simply stared for a moment with his hand still gripping your wrist, and as clearly as you felt you could see what was happening behind that helmet mere seconds ago, it now felt completely impenetrable. He held you there for a moment, then another, silent, seemingly studying you, but just as you were about to let go and pull back, he released his hold on you and nodded once.

The faintest smile tugged at the corners of your lips at his acquiescence. “Thank you,” you murmured, slipping the strap of his bag up and over his head. You set it off to the side, hanging the strap from the handle on the weapons locker, then crossed to the chiller and pulled a frosty canteen of fresh water and a ration bar out of its depths. “Here,” you added, passing them both into the bounty hunter’s hands. “Drink. Eat. ‘Fresher’s all yours if you want to clean up. I’ll go get us in the air, let you have some privacy.”

“The kid?” he asked. “What happened yesterday – ”

You shook your head. “Don’t worry, he’s fine. Napping.” You gestured over your shoulder toward the bunk, the sliding door shut across its entrance. “He woke up about an hour after we talked last night, starving but otherwise okay. He about cleaned out our stock of bantha jerky, but then it was like it…never happened.”

Mando nodded slowly, more to himself than to you. However, as you went to excuse yourself to the cockpit, certain that the conversation was over, he extended a hand toward you once more.

Catching his pointer and middle fingers in the pocket of your cargo pants, he tugged you toward him.

Heat slammed into you at the contact, the back of your neck abruptly damp with sweat, the apex of your thighs pulsing at the graceful ease with which he dragged you into his space. He said nothing, simply continued to stare at you, and you gasped and stammered helplessly in an attempt to fill the suddenly tense silence. It was…intimate, the way he held you in place, the way your knees knocked gently against his as he lounged back against the cargo bins, the way you could feel his eyes on your face even without being able to see them. The feeling made it difficult to breathe.

Before you could manage to utter a full sentence, the Mandalorian dropped his grip on your pocket and instead brought his fingers up to caress the loose tails of the embroidered scarf tied around your head.

He rubbed the cloth between his thumb and forefinger pensively. “You like it?” His voice was rough, gravelly, and warm, feeling almost private in the close atmosphere of the cargo hold. Your imagination immediately supplied the sensation of what that voice might sound like in the dark, hot and moist on your neck, behind your ear. You shivered at the thought.

You nodded, the motion causing your jaw to brush against the leather of his palm. “Very much,” you replied, trying desperately to keep your voice even, to keep from turning your cheek into his hand.

“I’m glad,” he confessed. “It suits you.”

You drew your lips between your teeth, embarrassed but biting back a pleased smile at the compliment. “Thank you.”

You stayed like that for a moment, keenly aware of the negligible gap between your bodies, the way Mando’s touch lingered on the fabric. If you didn’t know better, you would have said he seemed reluctant to release you, like he was prolonging the contact.

Perhaps he was, you considered. Surely it couldn’t all be in your head anymore, could it? The frequent, extended eye contact, the gentle affection in his voice when he spoke to you, the way he continued to defy any sense of your personal space… The kriffing scarf – sturdy and soft, delicate and durable, beautiful and immensely practical. Perfectly suited to your tastes even though you knew you had never shared them with him, now a permanent fixture in your daily wardrobe. You couldn’t be imagining all of that.

Could you?

You felt trapped, dragged in by the gravitational pull of the expanse of his shoulders, the breadth of his hands, the muscle of his thighs, and you weren’t sure how much longer you could continue to fight it. One day soon, you were going to succumb to the magnetism of his orbit. It was going to draw you down and strip you bare, leaving you open and vulnerable before him. On that day, when you finally collided with the irrepressible force of him, you wouldn’t be able to pretend you were just his nanny, just his engineer anymore.

The thought scared you more than you liked to admit.

“I-I should get up to the cockpit, let you settle back in,” you stuttered, your voice thin and breathless. “I don’t want to intrude.”

A soft, rasping huff, an almost-chuckle, crackled through the Mandalorian’s vocoder, and with one last, gentle tug on the tails of your scarf, he released you. You took the gesture for what it was and stepped back, suddenly in desperate need of some air.

“Always so sweet to me, gotabor’ika,” he replied. “Go ahead then. I’ll join you in a bit.”

Reaching for you one final time, he gently chuffed the backs of his knuckles against your chin, the gesture affectionate and almost…flirtatious? Your knees weakened at the touch, something not unlike hunger throbbing in your core.

Before you could do something truly foolish, you reached for the cold, steady durasteel of the ladder and practically threw yourself up it, taking the rungs two at a time. You had known Mando was dangerous from the moment you met him, but this kind of danger – a danger to your dignity, a danger to your sanity – you never expected.

___

Stars, but you were dangerous.

Every time Din thought he had finally managed to develop some semblance of control where you were concerned, all it took was a look, a smile, a gently-spoken word, and all that beskar-clad self-discipline went out the airlock. He had hoped that a few days away would be enough to reestablish a bit of space, a bit of restraint, but he couldn’t have been more wrong. He had no idea what to make of his own behavior, no idea who he thought he was touching you like that.

All he knew was that he had spent the last several days getting his ass kicked over and over and over again. He knew that he was tired, a bone-deep kind of tired that would normally have him staggering to his bunk and passing out the second his head hit the pillow. And he knew that he was weak – too weak to keep from basking in the ease and the calm of your presence, from languishing in the softness of the way you cared for him.

To say that Din was unaccustomed to such comfort would be an understatement, and yet you gave it so freely. He glanced down at the ration bar and the canteen in his hands, frosted on the edges from the cooler locker and dampening his gloves in rivulets of condensation. It was the smallest of gestures – greeting him at the door, relieving him of his bag, offering medical aid, food, water. Reassuring him of his foundling’s safety, easing his worries. You expected nothing from him in return, he knew. You simply knew what he needed, and you were happy to give it.

The trouble with that, of course, was that it never failed to make him want more. More of your time, more of your attention, more of your care. More of your sparkling laughter echoing through the hull of his ship, your tools scattered across the floor, your silhouette in his copilot chair with his child on your lap. More of your scent – warm and spiced like him, soft and feminine like you – clinging to his pillow like it was yours, like he was yours. Like you belonged there right next to him, tangled in his arms, Grogu in his little hammock right above you both.

Like you were a family, a clan of three.

Perilous things for a man like him to want.

As the number of tracking fobs in his pocket dwindled by the day, the bounty hunter grew painfully aware that the moment he had been putting off for so many months was quickly closing in. He only had a few quarries remaining, and when those dried up, Din knew that he would be out of excuses. It would finally be time to take Ahsoka’s recommendation seriously – it would be time to take Grogu to Tython. There, he would reach out with the Force and search for another Jedi to train him, to care for him. And then, if all went according to plan, it would be time to say good-bye.

With Grogu gone, would you leave, too?

His time playacting as a father was almost at an end. Why should he get to continue playacting as a riduur?

Din shook his head then as though to banish the sobering thought. Regardless of the ticking clock that was his time with his foundling, after these many months, you had more than earned his trust, and the story of Grogu’s past and how he came to be here was long overdue. You had seen it now – the things he could do, how special and powerful he was. You needed to understand what that meant and how important it was that he be kept safe until he could be reunited with his people.

He would share it all with you, and when you understood how finite your time was with him, Din could only hope that you would decide to stay.

___

The galaxy streaked past, arcing paths of white starlight and inky blackness illuminating the dim cockpit and backlighting the silhouette of the Mandalorian. In your favorite copilot’s chair, you sat with your legs crossed and folded up under you like a child, and in the weighted silence that stretched between you and the bounty hunter, you could have sworn you could hear your own mind racing, whirring and spinning and trying desperately to keep up with everything you had just learned.

Grogu was a Jedi. A Jedi.

When Mando had said it, you thought at first you had misunderstood. You hadn’t heard that word since you were a child, when your father had told you bedtime stories of an ancient order of magic-wielders who bore weapons made of light and kept peace across the cosmos. Like Mandalorians, they had existed to you only as legends, something far from your small, monotonous existence on Chardaan, more myth than reality. To know for certain now that not only were they as real as the man sitting in front of you, but that your sweet boy was one of the few that had survived their slaughter made your heart ache in your chest. You couldn’t begin to imagine how lonely it must have been for him – spending nearly 30 years in hiding, always on the run, everyone he had ever known and loved long gone. And then, of course, the hunting had begun.

Bile burned in your gut at the thought of it, caught somewhere between terror and rage. You pictured him with his wide, dark eyes, so small and frightened, tracked across the galaxy like a prey animal on the run. Even in the relatively short time since Mando had been in his life, Grogu had been chased, kidnapped, assaulted, and subjected to who-knows-what varieties of experiments and medical procedures.

How could I ever hurt him? You had asked Mando that question your very first day on the Crest, the first time you had held Grogu in your arms. You understood now what the bounty hunter had meant when he said that others had tried. It all made sense now. The Mandalorian’s hypervigilance when it came to the child’s safety when they were in port, his insistence on repairing the carbonite freezer, the way he had come to so deeply value the way you cared the foundling… You knew intimately what it felt like to live always looking over your shoulder, always waiting for the other shoe to drop, always anticipating the next threat. You wouldn’t wish that experience on anyone.

You wondered if perhaps Grogu had sensed that in you when you first met. Maybe that kinship had been one of the reasons why the two of you bonded as quickly as you did.

And now he was leaving.

Not now, you knew, but soon, and just the thought of it was enough to make your throat swell shut. You felt choked by it, the grief of his inevitable departure like a looming specter you hadn’t known was there until moments ago but now couldn’t ignore if you tried. You had nearly lost him once before, when you had thought you were being returned to Chardaan, but at least then, you had known that he would be safe with Mando. You could picture them in the Razor Crest, hurtling through deep space with Grogu on the bounty hunter’s lap, secure and cared for – each of them the guardian of the other. If all went according to plan, this time, he would be in the care of a stranger in some unknown corner of the galaxy, perhaps not alone but not with you and certainly not with the man who had become like his father.

Your heart was breaking already – for Grogu, for yourself, but also for Mando.

“I know that was a lot to take in,” the bounty hunter said, dragging you out of your thoughts. “I assume you have questions.”

You hesitantly drew your lower lip between your teeth. “Just one,” you admitted. Silent, he inclined his helmet in your direction, urging you to continue. “This temple you’re going to take him to, on Tython… How do you know it will work?”

If you didn’t know better, you would say there was something almost defensive in the way Mando folded his arms across his chest at that, but you couldn’t allow it to deter you. Perhaps he had already made up his mind, but if he thought that you were just going to step aside and allow Grogu to leave with some mysterious person you had never met without a fight, he had clearly underestimated you.

“You and I both know that the Jedi were wiped out decades ago,” you continued. “The fact that you were able to find even one of them left alive is a miracle, and it sounds to me like she is sending you on a wild bantha chase on nothing but a hunch. Let’s say you get him there, you find these ancient temple ruins, Grogu sends out his little Force message…then what? How do you know there’s anyone on the other end to hear him? And for that matter, who’s to say that the person who hears him is someone you’d even want to train him?”

The Mandalorian appeared to consider you for a moment, his head cocked to the side in thought. “Ahsoka seemed to believe that she wasn’t the only surviving Jedi. I don’t think she would have suggested this if it wasn’t at least possible that there could be someone, somewhere, who is in tune enough with the Force to be able to sense Grogu reaching out.”

“But could you trust them?” you pushed back. “He might not be completely helpless, but he is just a child. How could you know that he would be safe with them?”

The bounty hunter shook his head dismissively. “You haven’t seen what the Jedi can do. Fully trained, they make Grogu’s abilities look like child’s play. I…” He trailed off then, the low rasp of his voice sounding as though it was fighting past a lump in his throat. “I can’t imagine him being any safer than he would be with one of them.”

“Then why do you sound like you’re trying to convince yourself?” You were starting to get heated now – you could feel it swelling in your chest, flushing your face, raising your voice. You had never fought with him before, not since the sass of your first day on board, but you were feeling dangerously close to it now. “Don’t bullshit me, you don’t believe that for a second.”

Rather than match your energy, however, he instead spun his chair back around to face the ship’s controls, seemingly determined to disengage entirely. “It doesn’t matter, my decision is made. I will find a Jedi, and Grogu will be reunited with his own kind.”

“His own kind?” you echoed, incredulous. “Who cares about his own kind? Mando, you’re like this – ”

“I’m not! I’m not his father,” Mando snapped. Your eyes widened at the sharp sound, his voice barking through his helmet modulator and crackling with the volume. It was the closest the stoic man had ever come to shouting at you, and to say it was disquieting would be an understatement.

You watched as his grip on the flight controls tightened. The leather of his gloves stretched taut and thin over his flexed knuckles, and he paused for a moment then, seeming to gather himself. When he spoke again, his words were careful and deliberate. “When I took him in, I swore that I would protect him, keep him safe from the people that hunted him, until I could bring him back to the Jedi. He isn’t… He’s not mine to keep.”

Your heart beat thickly in your chest, heavy against the inside of your ribcage. For once, it didn’t matter that you couldn’t see the Mandalorian’s face. In this moment, his measured words and his impassive visor might as well have been transparent. The idea of giving Grogu up was hurting him just as much as it was hurting you. He was fighting it, but you could see it in the tension in his broad shoulders, the strangling clutch of his hands.

“Why not?” you asked, your voice softening. “Why couldn’t you keep him? Anyone with eyes can see how much you love him.”

“It’s not enough.”

You scoffed a laugh, but there was nothing mirthful about it. “What are you talking about? It’s not enough that you love him? What more could you need? What more is there?”

You watched as his head dropped forward on his neck, as he stared into his lap. “You wouldn’t understand,” he growled, his jaw tight, grumbling through his teeth.

You couldn’t stop yourself from recoiling at that. Had the man slapped you across the face, it might have hurt less than those words. You had thought that by now you might have earned his trust, that he might have come to value your perspective. How many months had it been now that you had been sharing his ship, sharing his home? Not to mention your relationship with Grogu or the sweat and the labor and the love you had poured into the Crest.

Did he truly think so little of you, that you wouldn’t at least try to understand what was going on inside his head? He had to know you better than that.

“Oh, really? Try me.”

The venom of your words hung in the air for a moment, unchallenged. However, before long, Mando sighed through his vocoder, the sound sputtering and staticky, and spun back around in his chair to look at you once again. Something in him seemed to gentle and ease in the face of your biting challenge, and rather than severity, the way he leaned toward you read more like a plea.

“In my culture…” he began haltingly, “if I were to adopt Grogu, if I recognized him as my son, I would be responsible for his training.”

“Okay. And what does that mean, exactly?”

“It means that, by Creed, I would be the one tasked with teaching him how to be a warrior. I would be the duty-bound to guide him in how to use his skills for his own survival and for the betterment of the Tribe.” Mando watched as you nodded, encouraging him to continue. “And sure, there are things I could teach him – I could teach him navigation, survival skills, how to wield weapons. I could teach him our histories, our songs, what it means to walk the Way of the Mandalore. But Grogu…”

The Mandalorian trailed off, shaking his head. His masked face fell into shadow as he broke your gaze and instead stared into his palms, flipped up against his thighs as though reaching for something.

“He possesses powers I could never hope to understand. The things he can do… they’re closer to magic to me than they are teachable skills. And he deserves more than that. He deserves the opportunity to live up to his potential and grow into everything he’s meant to be. Only a Jedi can give him that. I would just be…holding him back.” The deep, warm baritone of his voice grew thick with emotion, and you swore you could feel that voice scraping the depths of your soul, tugging at your heart. “How could I keep him, when I know that I could never give him what he needs?

You released a breath you hadn’t realized you had been holding and felt it tremble on its way out. A part of you felt somewhat vindicated that you had been right, he was grieving just as much as you were over this, but the rest of you just…hurt. “I suppose I never thought of it like that,” you confessed, voice small and tinged with remorse.

Mando glanced back up at you at that and replied, “If I were his buir, it would be my duty to think like that.” He allowed that statement to linger between you for an instant, allowing you to feel just a touch of shame at your assumptions, your vitriol. “You’re right, there’s no way to know if this will work. There’s no way to know if anyone will sense him or if they will even be able to train him if they do. But I have to try. I have to do right by him. I’m honor-bound by Creed to see this through. And it’s what he deserves.”

The Mandalorian perhaps had underestimated you, but you realized then that you had done the same to him. Mando was a man of honor, of principle. He loved Grogu deeply – no one who spent any time with the two of them could dispute that – but you felt a bit naïve now that you understood what that love meant.

Drawing your lower lip between your teeth in contrition, you found yourself nodding. “I understand. I just…I don’t want to lose him.”

Wordlessly, he rose to his feet, hovering over you in your copilot’s chair in a way that ought to have felt intimidating in the confined space but instead felt almost comforting. You liked being close to him, you realized; his proximity made you feel safe, looked after, even after having just argued. It was bittersweet then when he reached down and rested his palm on your shoulder, thick, warm, and heavy.

“This is the Way,” he said, a note of finality in his voice that made your chest ache.

He ran his thumb softly over the ball of your shoulder just once, and then he opened the cockpit blast doors, slipped out, and disappeared into the cargo hold.

___

Mando'a Translations:

hu'tuun - coward, the worst possible insult in Mando'a riduur - spouse, a gender-neutral term buir - parent, a gender-neutral term

#din djarin #the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal characters fanfiction

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whateverisbeautiful · 1 year

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Reveling in Richonne

#177: The Unstoppable Life (11x24)

Y’all, I can’t help it. I have got to revel in Richonne right quick. 😋 It hit me that we very much got a Richonne sequence at the end of the series finale and, as are the rules, if anything Richonne-related was recorded and released, I gots to analyze it. Even years later. The Richonne love never ends cuz they are the gift that keeps on giving. 💯

And boy were we blessed with Rick and Michonne’s first return to the franchise after years away. How absolutely perfect is it that this show ended on the two of them, Rick and Michonne’s impeccable unstoppable love, and their precious family! They’re the show’s heart and my heart, y’all.

There’s a lot to react to in their final moments of TWD so, finally, it’s time for more reveling. Because our lovely Richonne is back!! Won’t He Do It!

(Also I’m still extra years later when it comes to R&M so I thought I could do a brief reveling, especially since I’m rusty...but it still ended up being a 2-part dissertation 🫣🤗)

R&M’s return was every last thing and it was wonderful to see them be the final note of the series as they prepare to bless us ten times over in a spinoff show further dedicated to them and their love. Like this is legit what dreams are made of. 🤩

So to start, while I completely stopped watching TWD shortly after Michonne left, I returned to watch the series finale with hopes of one thing and one thing only - seeing the return of our king and queen.

And truly all it took was seeing them back on my screen for my brain to be consumed with this couple like old times. The hold they have on me lol. But how could you not adore the GOAT TV couple and this special love story that was incredible from beginning to “end.”

Just when it was looking like the finale was about to close with Daryl riding off to his spinoff, a single match was lit. 😏And y’all what a glorious match it was.

Finally, after years, we see him. Rick Grimes is back. And just the very first glimpse of his face had me rejoicing.

Rick’s face is lit by a fire as he looks down and writes fervently to someone. And learning who he’s writing to - it’s perfect and it only makes sense for Rick’s return to the show to be so focused on Michonne.

Then we see gorgeous Michonne also writing a letter by a fire.

And seeing both of them back, this was legit my reaction the second Michonne and Rick were on screen...

And I love that they both look goodT, with a capital T at the end. 🤩 Like they both age like fine wine, and I know Rick won’t know what to do with himself seeing Michonne’s stunning new look, and Michonne’s gonna love that her handsome man’s curls are back lol.

I also love the use of fire to tie Michonne and Rick’s final moments together. I’m sure there’s more eloquent symbolism to be drawn, but I just love the visual and the way it can feel like their actions (and their outfits) are still so in sync and aligned. They’re sharing this moment, even apart and in different time periods. And there’s so clearly a burning fire within them as well, as they continue to resolutely search and long for one another.

It also just reminded me of a time when they really were together by a fire in the s4 finale. How far we’ve come in their journey since then ☺️ and how wonderful it’ll be when they’re finally together again.

We start to hear bits and pieces of their letters, with Rick’s iconic voice beginning, “I think of the dead all the time,” as a montage plays of the many memorable characters throughout TWD. The first character shown is fittingly young Carl wearing the sheriff hat which is precious and emotional. 😭

Rick goes on to say he thinks about the living that he lost too, because he lost literally everyone when he was carted off on that helicopter. It’s so sad knowing it was all taken away from him so quickly without a single goodbye. But while he physically lost them, it’s clear they haven’t at all left his heart.

Then Michonne’s sweet voice reads her letter to Judith and RJ about how she tried to get back to them “again and again,” but she’s too far for the radio. I adore the many layers of Michonne, with her Mama Michonne side being one of my favorites, so I’m glad that was spotlighted in the finale.

Michonne then breaks my heart and warms it all at once when she states, “But I still got you and you got me. We’re connected. We’re still connected.” Y’all one thing about Danai, she never misses when it comes to perfectly delivering lines. Like sis makes the right choice every time in just how to capture the emotion behind the line.

As she speaks, we see sweet flashback moments between her, Judith, and RJ. And truly, what a testament to the power of Michonne that amid all the trauma and loss after losing Rick and Carl, she still gave her kids a good life filled with love and smiles.

The montage continues with more clips of past members of TF and one thing I noticed and appreciated is that the clips used for each character aren’t of them in action or being walker-slaying warriors, but rather quieter moments for each character, during times where the character might have most believed in hope and a future worth living. Such as Abraham looking at Maggie and Glenn’s sonogram.

I feel using these type of flashback scenes was a subtle way to further emphasize the show’s final message about life and the living prevailing. Even if some of them are not literally living, their legacy and impact lives on and it was the simple, familial, human moments of their life that they’re remembered by.

Rick says he thinks about them all everyday, which of course. Still the family man we know and love. I know some people were worried that after so many years Rick would be forced to move on or even start to have a foggy memory of his family, but that’s not Rick Grimes. I think even if Homeboy were to have literal amnesia he’d somehow still remember TF, and especially still remember and think about Michonne.

I love knowing that while he’s been away, he’s held those he loves so close to his heart nonstop. And as his letter will further confirm, he’s not just thought about them but been fueled to keep going by them, and most of all by Michonne.

Rick acknowledges how he thinks about what he learned from TF and how those in his life made him who he is, even more so than all the stuff he’s experienced while away. All these years away and still no one has been more impactful than the family he was taken from.

I love Michonne saying, “We’ll always be together. Even when we’re apart. We together are the strongest thing.” That sentiment is why she’s still so connected to Rick all this time.

And Michonne later shares the uplifting gospel truth, “We’re love. And love is endless. We are endless.” Amen.

I also love Rick acknowledging “all of our lives becoming one life,” because one; he still feels so one with his family and two; he and Michonne’s lives really did become one and then created a life in RJ. 🥹

So then we get to the best part of these flashbacks.

Because time-jump Rick finally looks up over the fire as if there’s one particular person he thinks of that most takes up his mind. One person whose memory he doesn’t just recall once or twice, but several times because he can’t stop thinking of her once he starts.

And we don’t have to guess who he’s thinking about, who’s fueling him, because four different flashbacks of Michonne then come on screen and y’all…perfection.

Very telling too that Rick and Michonne are the only ones to get four back to back flashbacks. It just so emphasizes their love, their importance, and them being the drive of this show and of each other’s lives.

I love that Rick also emphasizes, “We’re together. Pieces of a whole that just keep going for what we gave each other,” as we get Michonne flashbacks.

In Rick's mind, heart, and soul, he and Michonne are still together. They’re still one. Rick knows Michonne gave him the most valuable thing possible by giving him a love worth fighting for and a life worth living. That doesn’t die, regardless of distance.

I love the choice of Michonne flashbacks too. They’re all sweet and significant in their own way.

We first see Michonne arriving at the fence for her iconic entrance into Rick and TF’s life, which I still say is the most significant introduction between any two characters in TWD. It’s the unforgettable moment where R&M’s lives became intertwined and forever changed for the better.

Then it’s the always amazing s5 moment where Michonne places a comforting hand on Rick’s to ask if he’s ready to head into Alexandria for the first time. It’s pre-canon but still such a confirmation of how they’ve become partners that support, lean on, and encourage one another.

Then it’s Michonne smiling and looking like a glowing mother in s9 while painting with Judith during one of the most calm and domestic times she and Rick got to enjoy. It’s joyously casual moments like that one that I know Rick wanted to live out for years to come with his Grimes girls. Moments like that morning are why life was still so worth living.

And of course, there’s the special moment when Michonne and Rick first held hands over mints, where the rest was history and R&M never looked back nor held back their love for one another from then on.

Rick’s letter then just gets better and better y’all. Because then he starts to get specific. This is when it becomes clear this letter isn’t just to anyone in TF but to Michonne directly. 👌

He states, “One unstoppable life. You showed me that.”

And it’s just perfection and the utter truth. She really did show him that time and time again. It also reminds me of blessed 7x12 when Rick tells Michonne in the van how she led him. Rick always happily has taken to heart what Michonne says and shows him, and he still does here, miles and miles away This love story is something else, man. 🥹

I love that Rick and Michonne both believe so strongly that their resilient love is unstoppable and endless. It absolutely is.

After Michonne’s flashbacks, we see current-day Michonne finally looking up, also reflecting on the man that still has her whole heart.

And I especially love each of the four Rick flashbacks, especially one subtle s5 scene in particular that had me thrilled.

Fittingly, they pair Michonne and Rick’s first hand hold in 6x10 with their last hand hold in 9x03.

I love these hand holding visuals because it just illustrates how united they are and have always been. They’re always in it together, as both their letters reiterate.

We get Rick’s reaction to Michonne at the fence in s3, as he takes in the woman that will change his world and become the love of his life. It’ll forever be gold.

But then…y’all then!! The third Rick flashback is from season 5 where Rick is in his constable outfit and leaning against the wall. And y’all can I say why I love this!!

I immediately remembered this scene when I saw it return in the finale, and I knew this is when he’s staring at Michonne in her matching constable outfit.

This is a pre-canon moment but was still so clear that Rick had an attraction to his then-bestie, Michonne. And y’all this scene was during that one storyline-that-shall-not-be-named, so in my mind, using this scene in the final moments of TWD is just further confirmation that Michonne was always who Rick wanted. Always. 😌

And the final flashback of Rick, is him beaming up at Michonne during their romantic candle-lit dinner in the treasured 7x12 episode. The day he and her established they want the rest of their lives to be the two of them, “you and me.” And while a major curveball was thrown with Rick being taken, it’s clear they are still very much embarking on life the “you and me” way.

Seeing that whole Rick and Michonne sequence I was like ‘did we really just get a Richonne fan edit at the end of TWD?’ #Blessed. 🤭 I love that every single one of their flashback moments were Richonne-related. And like I noted earlier, a lot of these flashbacks are from when the characters were at some of their most alive, happy, hopeful, and human. So of course all Rick and Michonne’s flashback scenes were with each other.

The reading of the letters concludes with my favorite part, Rick saying “You gave me that.”

Y’all Rick is literally writing love letters to Michonne, telling her that she gave him life. 😭🥹🥰 Unstoppable life. #WeWon.

And his statement is truer than he even realizes. (I promise you my heart will soar to another dimension when Rick learns about and meets RJ, his son, and the life he created with Michonne, cementing their love is truly endless.)

Also I love how Rick is still trying to ensure that Michonne knows her impact. He did so right before he left in season 9 by thanking her for everything, and years later it’s still important to him that Michonne know all she’s given him. I love their never-ending love.

And y’all while that ends the little letter overlap part. There is still more to take in. So you know my extra self has to do a part 2. 😁

#richonne #finale #s11 #twd 11x24

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greenteaanon · 2 years

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Another DnD reader Brainrot in SAGAU

Dungeon Master

Reader

Summary: You get Somehow Isekaid with your player party of 3 to a game you also love playing Genshin Impact.

GN!reader, semi imposter AU, also Semi Self Aware AU.

Part 1 >Part 2

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"God I'm Beat!" One of your party members, Angel flopped down on the couch said pulling out her phone. "I mean to be fair....They Did add a lot of puzzles and mind fucking stuff, AGAIN" another one of your friends Ben, glared at you. "Oh come one, it wasn't that bad" you mused.

While Jake who was your rouge, slammed his can of soda down and pointed at you voice cracking like he's about to cry shouted "YOU MADE DO A MY LITTLE PONY PUZZLE A MY LITTLE PONY PUZZLE" Everyone bursted out laughing. After finishing up the left over chips you all decided to Co-op in Genshin. Getting super lucky pulling for artifacts and mob drops seem to multiply. "man I'm sleepy.." you said. "C'mon just a couple more domains just to finish up my transient resin" Ben said stretching.

"Alright fine... I'll carry your sad asses again" you breathed out. And some how after you all entered the domain you all got flash banged, not from your phones and devices but from the room. "JESUS CHRIST!" You guys all jump awake at that shout from Angel. "What the fuck angel!" Ben said hitting the back of her head.

"I'm...I'm touching Grass" Jake looked happy. "bro to would grass be doing in my apart...ment, Why the fuck is there Grass!? and Why are we outside!?" you got up quickly in confusion, you were in your apartment a while ago. "Man my back hurts what am I laying on." Jake said stretching his back till it pops. Under him was 4 binders, an oddly Bedazzled one, one covered in stickers, a simple plain binder, and a familiar binder with your name on it. All had the same thing on the side with your names on it. "Our DnD Binders..." you read and spoke in a whisper. Angel started picking hers up. "There's a new character page in mine" she said. All of them flipped through it. "Why do I have a new one as well....but a story" you said flipping your binder to show them. "DMPC maybe?" It was a logical possibility. "But I didn't write neither of these??" You were just as confused as your friends but neither did they.

After Discussing you all decided to play along as the characters. You started walking around high on guard for what ever may appear. When your Binder glowed. “What does it say?” Jake leaned on you trying to read it. “Beware the Glorious ones for something is wrong, for something has grown and took the throne, Oh Glorious ones restore the dream, Remove the fear from all the peoples hearts, and nature would be evergreen.” You read carefully. “Man I hate how you write cryptically” Ben who is apparently more horrible at puzzles and cryptic messages than you thought. “Well that explains the 8 at your intelligence...I’m starting to hate it too” whispering the last part.

When suddenly someone who bares a resemblance to a familiar character ran up to you. “HALT IMPOSTERS, YOU ARE UNDER ARREST FOR IMPERSONATING THE GLORIOUS ONES” You all looked at each other. “Man that’s Bullshit” Angel said, that’s the 1st time she cursed in person. Well I guess you guys don’t have much choices or do you?

#greenteaanon #sagau #genshin fanfic #genshin sagau #genshin impact sagau #genshin impact #genshin impact cult au #genshin cult au

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literary-illuminati · 11 months

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Book Review 19 – All The Names They Used For God by Anjali Sachdeva

This is the second short story collection I’ve read this year, and of the two the only one that was really trying to be a coherent work in its own right and not just a grab bag of smaller pieces. I actually picked it up entirely off of a tumblr post, of all things – there was an excerpt from the story Killer of Kings that really got stuck in my head, and having read it I just needed to see the context and the rest of the work it was from. So, score one for viral word of mouth advertising I guess.

Killer of Kings – about the writing from Paradise Lost, from the perspective of Milton’s politically unreliable angelic muse – is absolutely the best story in the book, but there weren’t really any that struck me as bad. The overall tone is kind of dreaamlike – mythological, or in many cases the kind of story you’d expect to hear on a weird fiction podcast (if a very literary one). High on the uncanny and numinous, on weird situations and the touch of something transcendent, and just on people being put in situations. Low on high action, or really tension or plot at all – the narration usually feels like it’s at a bit of a remove, or if not then like one is observing the inevitable machinery of fate more than anything to really get excited about and caught up in. Dreams or fables, or something in between.

The writing is good enough to generally make the remove work, I think. Beautiful imagery in a lot of places, and very distinct (if occasionally pretty broad) voices for the points of view of all the different stories. Call prose lyrical is essentially just a buzzword at this point, but I think these mostly qualify.

There are nine stories in the book, and aside from the aforementioned fairy tale about regicide and mutinous angels, I’m afraid that I remember absolutely none of their titles. Or, no, that is a lie – the story about a pair of Nigerian girls abducted as brides by Boko Haram who escape after learning how to magically compel and dominate their husbands shares All The Names They Used For God with the whole collection, so I do remember that one. The other stories that really stuck in my head were of an albino homesteader in the Ozarks abandoning the farmhouse to explore and lose herself in the labyrinthine cave system she discovers, the modern day sailor in a dying fishing village becoming enraptured with the mermaid he glimpses as the ship he works gluts itself on the bounty of fishes she has called to feed the shark she’s become fascinated by herself, and the near-future story of identical septuplets created by their geneticist parents who are each struck by accident or disease as they go through adolescence and increasingly haunt their surviving, doomed siblings. (They’re all like that).

So clearly the plots and settings vary pretty wildly, but I do mean it when I say that the book was the most cohesive set of short stories on an artistic or thematic level I’ve read in quite a long time. Every story in the book (I’m pretty sure, at least) has a real sense of some vast and unseen mechanism of the universe brushing up against the mundane world, some intrusion of something grand and overwhelming and uncanny into the protagonist’s life. (It’s the title, after all – ‘God’ in a broad, rather pentheistic sense, but still, the glorious and uncaring clockwork behind the curtain.) And the culmination of each story is the protagonist (not always the point of view, but the character actually driving the plot) in one sense or another succumbing to the unknown, abandoning what they have and take a leap of faith into some transcendent self-destruction.

All to say the collection really works as a whole more than the individual stories do on their own. Which is probably entirely normal for short story collections that aren’t pulled together based on being based on the same property or written by the same author without much curation otherwise, but I really don’t read many of those that are also actually good.

#book review #literature #sff #all the names they used for god #Anjali Sachdeva #short stories

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ryuichirou · 5 months

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Replies

Another bunch of replies! Some are related to our latest Rollo artwork, some are related to the headcanon post about the guys being dads, but as always, some are miscellaneous (fun fact: the amount of times I wrote this word without making at least one typo is 0).

Anonymous asked:

Can't believe rollo let a bunch of flowers fuck him

I know right? I guess it’s better than those nasty magic users…

But also damn, Rollo and his self-punishment mechanisms.

hipsterteller asked:

It's 2am here and this is what I saw...beautiful

Thank you so much <3 I feel like 2am is the perfect time for this type of artwork lol

I’m very happy you like how it looks.

Anonymous asked:

Where does the thing about Trey and teeth come from? I've seen multiple people mention it and I don't get it, I feel like I must have missed something

Oh he just really cares about dental hygiene; it was mentioned in canon a couple of times. I don’t remember where it was mentioned for the first time, but he did ask Deuce and Riddle if they packed toothbrushes 12 times when they were packing for the symposium…

It was also definitely mentioned in some of the vignettes and voice lines.

Anonymous asked:

I have an headcanon of Kalim also developing an overprotective side as a father, keeping his child away from situations that he deems to risky for an Asim. Dunno if he would be like that right out of the gate, or if this behaviour would be triggered by someone making an attempt on his child's life, but the idea of Kalim turning into a bit of an hypocrite and not allowing his child to have the same (relatively) carefree childhood that he had makes sense to me. He just can't bear the idea of them going through the same experience. It would also make him want to spoil them even more as a way to make it up to them. "Of course dear, you can have everything you want! Uh? Go to school with the other kids? But we already have the best possible teachers here at home, just for you! Are lessons a bit too heavy? How about we double, no, triple your recess time, hm? You can't get that kind of deal in regular old schools, now can you?". It would take a lot of efforts for him to be comfortable enough to let them be independent.

I'm so sorry, I wanted to ask something about Glorious Masquerade, but I go distracted and started a Kalim rant. I'll leave that question for another time, since this ask is already long enough.

You know, Anon, it could also be a thing, I kind of like this take. All of the assassination attempts are the things that actually influence the way Kalim interacts with the world and sees it, so the moment he realises that his kid could be in danger it could make him very paranoid. So yeah, the kid can have anything they want as long as they don’t go anywhere, don’t talk to anyone other than a trusted circle of people and don’t eat anything but the food that was cooked inside the Palace. Watch out, Kalim, or your kid is going to sneak out and meet a street rat lol

Thank you for sharing your thoughts, Anon, and I’m looking forward to the Glorious Masquerade ask! :)

Anonymous asked:

So have you ever thought on what the TWST cast be if they dated any women? Not like having them official but being interesting if they do. I know they haven't experience dating women except Ace (still an asshole he is) given that Ghost Marriage, but I am curious about it. Like how Lilia had feelings for a certain woman before.

To be completely honest, Anon, not really. We’re just not too into het (with rare exceptions), so my head about this particular topic is kind of empty. We’re more interested in the boys having crushes on each other, I guess lol When I wrote my post, I imagined them being either single dads or being with another character.

That being said, we did read a dj about the Tweels clowning Azul for being dumped by yet another woman, and it was funny…

Lilia and a certain woman have certain potential, but it’s a bit early to talk about them for me…wink

Anonymous asked:

Ah well, it does feel like a weight lifted off my shoulders since I left so it's not too bad

I'm glad I didn't share any of my socials where I post art because I am very vocal about being proship on them

I'm also glad I did some more snooping research into most of the members' accounts and carrds since I would have never known otherwise that they're so childish

Good to know, Anon! All’s well that ends well, I guess :D

Yeah it sucks that you have to check every single person just to be safe, but on the other hand, it’s great that this type of people is usually quite vocal about their views.

#replies

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vendetta-if · 1 year

Note

Hello! I just found ur game today and i finished reading the demo <3 I LOVE IT AAAAAA here's the list of things i like:

1) Ash. ????? He's so sweet help?!?!?! I LOVE HIM. Dear ash u have successfully own my heart, u have them wrapped in ur pretty fingers the second page u appear

2) Dad, I love you w/ all my cold dead heart<3 DAD?! DAD!!! DON'T DIE PLS DAAAAAD NOOOOOOO tHE ANGST HELP ME I'm so sad now :( pls i need a snippet w/ happy moments to heal from this trauma :')

3) Uncle Luka strides across the lobby as if he owns the place. Oh wait, he does.

AHAHAHHAHAHA I'M DYING uncle i love you too :'D

4) Mom, respectfully, 🖕🏻

5) Also, mr. Takashi u r freaking me out a lil bit...... you're uh.... A little bit uhh... creepy...?

6) Well, actually, he has the bad habit of blinking in near someone without any warning and scaring the shit out of them.

😂Uncle u r my soulmate

7) oh no, there's rin!..... and they stole my heart too! What do i do?!??...... haaaaaaaaaa

8) oh god the fighting scenes are so cool!!?! perfercto<3 oh mc is so cool. I'm so glad we can be cool<3 hehe

9) awww yeah my first kill! Scratch that, it's five!!! I killed five people yall!

10) oh my god please stop flirting right in front of us! You guys r cute, really but gods,

Alright, that's already too much detail about your uncle's sex life for tonight.

Not for tonight yo, for ever.

11) #the reason why i killed 5 ppl bcz i rlly rlly don't want to disappoint uncle & grandpa help #cuz mc is morally dubious/grey character, yay? yay!

.... Hmmmmmmmm oh lastly!!!!!

Thank you so much for creating this

glorious✨

Magnificent, beautiful, absolutely trophy worthy game! I love it so much mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmh! I i love all the characters (oh they have so much life!) I love the fighting scenes (superpower badass?! Count me in!) I love how we can choose revenge as our main goal (f u distorted voice person. I will hunt u down to the ends of the earth. And I'll take everything u ever hold value, then let you live, cause life can be ur greatest blessing or ur cruelest nightmare, and I'll make sure you'll never have a peaceful dream for the rest of your counting days.), i love the family dynamics <3, i love how ur game can make me feel (oh the moral dilemma.... i almost almost let the cop live... but what abot uncle+grandpa disappointment?!?! I-i can't live with that! So off with ur head lil hypocrite police officer man!)

....sorry that's another paragraph......... I'll uh I'll stop now.... heheh... Sorry again if this bothers you, i won't send it again if it is.... :')

Okay! Have a good day/night/life dear author <3! Here have a 🍰🍩🎠 to light up ur time! Adios~

Aww thank you so much for the kind words 🥰 And don’t worry! I love reading these little snippets of comments on sections of the demo! 😁

Ash is only sweet for MC and Luka for now, of course ☺️ They’re mostly prickly and abrasive towards other people 😆

And yes 😭 Viktor… He’s such a good and loving dad 🥺 In case you haven’t read it yet, I recently released one of the Patreon side stories for public in celebration of hitting the 2K followers here! Here’s the link to the story! It’s a wholesome and fluffy side story, so hopefully it’ll help you recover from the angst 😆 I also have another 2-part side story from Viktor’s POV on my Patreon 😄

Please forgive Takashi, he’s just still a bit heartbroken about Viktor 😔 He’s usually a (pretty deadly and ruthless) himbo 😄 And glad you’re loving Luka as well 😂 He sometimes takes too much liberty with his teleporting/blinking ability 😆

It is indeed hard to not get charmed by Rin 😩 You might not have to choose between Ash and Rin 😉 (And yes guys, Ash and Rin poly is currently planned although might not get implemented right away yet since I’ll need some additional planning to accommodate it).

And yes, gotta make MC fight with style, you know? 😂 Gotta be cool and all, like Luka. Also, I’m a bit touched that your MC agreed to kill 5 people to make Grandpa and Luka proud 🥺 They would most certainly be happy to hear about it later on 😉

🤣 Luka agrees with your sentiment that it’s enough detail about his sex life for the entirety of MC’s life 😆

Ooh this is the second time I’ve seen someone wanting to let the killer live but not out of compassion and forgiveness, but to make them suffer even more 🤔 Interesting…

And wholesome family dynamics is just my weakness 😭 I have to include it in my first ever IF.

MC’s close bonds with Luka and Ash and Grandpa might be one of the little things left that MC really holds on to after the death of their dad, their mother figure (Cara), and their grandma. And loyalty to their remaining family is one of the core cornerstones that all MCs will share with one another no matter what.

I’ve always seen close family bonds between the Morozovs to be one of their most defining characteristics and strengths (and also weakness at the same time).

It’s the reason that Viktor couldn’t cleanly leave his past behind and sever Luka and Cara completely out of his (and MC’s) life after he ran away.

But at the same time, it’s also the reason MC survives the attack and is able to grow up to become the person they are today, loved, cared for, sheltered, and protected from the harsh underground world by combined efforts from Grandpa, Luka, and Ash.

This will also be the reason that Vigilante and Superhero MC won’t be able to turn against their own family. And the reason Luka and Grandpa and Ash wouldn’t leave MC behind and abandon them even when they chose those paths for themself.

#asks #anon ask #if: vendetta #chapter 3 #lore #char: mc #ro: ash #ro: rin #ash/rin poly #char: takashi #char: luka #char: jackal #char: grandpa #if game #if wip #dashingdon #choicescript

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secretswiftymarvelfan · 1 year

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I hope it's not to late to send in a headcanon for your birthday

How would the Chris characters would react to reader being on her period.

It’s never too late! Especially for you 😘 and thank you for sending in a prompt! Its been a while since I’ve done a Chris and Co. Headcanon!

Warnings: Period talk! Language!

Masterlist

Send me some Birthday headcanon and Drabble Prompts

Chris Evans

With his job and schedule it meant Chris couldn’t always be with you when mother nature came to visit

But that would never stop him from trying to help you feel better

He would order stuff to be delivered to the house, like your favourite icecream, snacks and even a new set of fuzzy comfy PJs

Whenever he got the chance he would FaceTime you and help distract you

And if you were in a real need of a pick me up he would text his ma and ask if she could bring you some of her cooking which he knew you loved

Andy Barber

Since Andy was a busy man with a very important job you never wanted to burden him

But no matter how busy Andy got with a case he would always notice when something wasn’t right with you

And even when you tried your hardest to play it down and act as normal but Andy knew your tell tale signs, he could just tell by the tone of your voice

So he made sure to leave the office on time or early if he could, pick up some more supplies and head on home

He would cook you a glorious meal and then you would curl up on the couch together watching whatever film or TV series you wanted

Mechanic!Curtis

Curtis knew just how bad your periods could get, the both of you having to cancel plans just because it was that tough on you

But despite how bad they could get, you never let them stop you from working, your patients needed you

So when you got home Curtis made sure your evenings were as easy as they could be

He had comfy clothes already laid out, hot water bottle’s ready to be filled, heating pads, a couple flannels in the fridge for your headaches, and meds all ready

As soon as you stepped inside he would swoop you up into his arms and wouldn’t let you lift a finger

You’d often end the evening laying between Curtis’ legs, your head on his chest as he read whatever book you we’re currently reading out loud to you

Biker!Ari

He knew something was up as soon as he stepped inside the bar

Your brows were pinched together and you weren’t your usual self, a lot more closed off than normal

He tried to ask you multiple times what was wrong but you waved him off each time, but Ari was persistent and he wasn’t gonna let this go

So he kept asking, right up until you practically bit his head off “Ari I swear to fucking god! It feels like I’m being ripped to shreds from the inside out I do not need you badgering me like a five year old!”

Ari didn’t say anything he just stood from his stool and walked behind the bar, your eyes wide with shock as he towered over you

“Go lie down for 30 minutes I’ll cover the bar” he states.

“Ari no, I’m fine” you sigh tiredly, running your hands down your face

“No, you’re not, go lie down” he says putting his hands on your shoulders “30 minutes at least”

You let out another long sigh, your shoulders dropping “fine, thank you Ari” you finally said

Ransom Drysdale

To begin with Ransom was pretty useless

He would just let you deal with it since he had absolutely no clue how to help

He didn’t know what really changed but one day he saw you really suffering, holding back tears suffering, so enough was enough he had to do something

Pulling out his laptop he began googling everything he could before heading out to the shops to get what he needed

When he got back he found you up in bed, curled up in a ball

“I brought you some stuff kitten” he says putting multiple grocery bags down on the bed

You frown sitting up and looking through all the bags “Jesus Ransom did you buy the whole store?”

“Maybe I just wanted to get anything you might need, I’m sorry if I’ve been pretty useless” Ransom apologises.

You smile softly over at him “thank you Ransom, its the thought that counts”

“Well from now on tell me what you need and I’ll sort it” he swears

“All I need right now is for you to hold me” you admit

Ransom doesn’t hesitate as he climbs into bed next to you and pulls you into his embrace “anything for you kitten”

Lloyd Hansen

Lloyd actually was useless

It didn’t affect him so he didn’t care

He would leave you to it, throwing you his credit card

“Just use that for whatever you need or want” he’d huff as he leaves

So maybe he did care, just a little bit

SEND ME SOME BIRTHDAY PROMPTS!

Sharing is caring to please reblog this if you enjoyed it and leave a comment to really make my day!

Masterlist

I don’t have a tag list but follow @secretswiftymarvelfanlibary and turn on post notification to keep up to date!

#Niamh's 24th Birthday Celebrations #Chris Evans and Co.#chris evans #Andy Barber #Ari Levinson #Biker!Ari #Curtis Everett #Mechanic!Curtis #Ransom Drysdale #lloyd hansen

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silly-thinkings · 2 years

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Twisted Daydream~

Sorry for just ghosting, motivation for writing has been pretty slow. but my fics are being worked on! (The Cursed stone is what I've been focusing on recently. only 3-4 chapters need to be written)

I've received many kind words on "Vacation gone wrong". and it is a stand-alone story. This is just filler ya know. will a narrative come out of this? Maybe... I have been thinking about A plot. But this has been sitting in my Docs for a while now and I'm happy with how it came out. Let me know what you think about it :3

P.S this is a long read-- Tumblr isn’t letting me post all that sooooo.... this is broken up into parts;-;

Please do not Repost my work. Likes and reblogs are appreciated. I do not own any of the DC Characters. This is just Fanfic

The gentle rays of the sun graced your face as you took a deep breath. You looked out the window of your small cottage home and reviled in the beautiful view of the grand farm in front of you. You were in paradise. A paradise perfect for you and Bruce to spend the afterlife.

“You know, I still can't believe I made it up here” You heard Bruce say as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

“Whatever do you mean?” You adjust your body to face him.

“Well… the things I've done, as Batman-”

“What? Beating up the bad guys?” You said with a giggle before placing a hand on his cheek “Bruce, you’ve done so much good. And then some. Besides, plenty of magic users foretold that we’d be together in the afterlife.”

Bruce smiled, your comforting words easing his mind. He placed his forehead onto yours as the both of you just enjoyed each other's space.

That was until the scent of fire invades your senses. Bruce immediately was put on high alert as a green liquid slowly began to engulf his body.

Your breath hitched as he slowly backed away “Bruce? What's happening?” Suddenly a sharp pain began to overrun your body causing you to fall to the floor.

Bruce felt cold as if he were submerged in water.

“No… no no NO!! Can’t I have any PEACE!” He shouted as the liquid consumed his body.

You felt helpless as you reached your hand out to Bruce. Your face pained him “Y/N… I think someone is bringing us back.”

“The pit?”

“Yes…”

Bruce noticed how You had a different substance corrode you. A blue fire began to surround your body. He pulled you into him. “Y/N, I will find you. I will fix this” Bruce cradled your form as the fire spread faster.

The pain you felt crescendo before you whispered one final time “ see you soon.”

Bruce watched as the fire engulfed all of you before he too disappeared from paradise.

****

The surrounding guards watched as Bruce rose from the waters with such a rage they've never seen before. Bruce was rabid, Punching and kicking every guard who dared to cross paths with him.

“Don’t Shoot!, we can't afford another death.”

That voice, Bruce immediately turned to attack the woman before he was successfully subdued with a tranquilizer gun. The woman slowly walked forward to the now sleeping man. “Welcome back my beloved, we have much to do.”

~Elsewhere~

A scientist slowly backed away from the grand tank that housed the one and only Y/N Wayne. He was tasked with the impossible, to resurrect the dead. With some help, and a mysterious liquid that was given to him by an unknown source he believed he’d done it.

“Yes… yes yes YES! HAHAHA, the Court will finally accept me now.” He hollered in joy as he hugged the tank.

Y/N Floated in the teal-colored water as her body slightly twitched. The sound of a phone caused the Scientist to break from his glorious accomplishment “Tucker speaking. I'm busy”

“Is that so? I hope that you have the results we are hoping for.”

Tucker gulped as he realized who was on the other end of the phone “Lady Angelica. I- I didn't expect a call… especially so soon”

“The court and I wanted to know if the little project we were funding had progressed”

Tucker turned to the glass tank and smiled “Yes well, Ms. Wayne has returned. H-however I still need more time.”

There was a long pause before Angelica spoke “Excellent work Mr. Tucker. I will send a Talon your way for protection. We don't want any vigilantes spoiling our plans.”

There was a click on the other end of the phone. Tucker stared at it wide-eyed before whooping in joy “Thanks to you Wayne, ill finally be recognized in this city.” He walked over to his desk and pressed a button, draining the water “You and your husband rejected my plans for Gotham. Even Luthor thought I was crazy. But now I’ll-”

“GRAH!” Y/N slammed her head against the glass, causing Tucker to jump a bit in shock. Blood trickled down her cheek as she pulled her fists back to slam the glass.

“No no no” Tucker pressed another button causing water to drain faster before smoke began filling the tank. He watched as Y/N’s body swayed from side to side before falling limp.

“Great. She’s not really back…” Tucker placed his hands in his hair in a panic before freezing “No… I’ve essentially reset her! She is nothing more than a wild beast that must be tamed.” ~~Continue Here~~

#batmom reader #batmom #angst #BatFam #batman angst

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gal-palanaeum · 3 months

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Calamine by kaoinim

Rated Teen, 74,000 words, Marasi/MeLaan A Bands of Mourning AU where Marasi gets agency, a proper character arc, and, most importantly, a hot shapeshifter gf

For two glorious hours, Marasi Colms mattered.

VenDell wanted her. Sure, he’d gone to Waxillium first, and made no attempt to hide it. Sure, it was only her connection to Waxillium that made her relevant to the kandra’s interests in the first place. Sure, Wayne’s request to return to the mansion was a completely unsubtle ploy at getting Wax involved.

But none of that mattered, because Waxillium wasn’t working with them, and she was-

-and then he walked in, and she just knew that it was all over.

“Sorry about this,” she said, trying and failing to keep the colour from her face. “We were going to go to my flat to talk, but Wayne insisted…”

“Needed some nuts,” the man in question said, tiny fragments of half-chewed walnut flying from his lips as he spoke. “When you invited me to stay here, you did say to make myself at home, mate.” He was slouched in an easy chair with his filthy boots up on the coffee table, MeLaan draped over the other chair in the set next to him.

The kandra woman (if the word ‘woman’ even applied) was wearing a new body, one Marasi hadn’t seen before - tall and lean, straight blonde hair in a simple tail, wearing a loose blouse and trousers that looked almost uncomfortably tight. Her posture was similar to Wayne’s, loose and relaxed with her hands behind her head, but where Wayne’s was practised, deliberate insouciance, hers had more of an air of effortless confidence about it. Marasi wasn’t sure if it was part of the character MeLaan was playing, or a quality MeLaan herself possessed - if there even was any such thing as a ‘real’ MeLaan.

Waxillium tucked his thumbs into his belt, something Marasi had noticed he did when he wanted to appear authoritative but not intimidating. Part of his ‘rough country lawman’ schtick- affect. His affect.

“I’m still unclear as to why you needed a place to talk,” he said slowly. All eyes in the room had turned to him, and he seemed to unconsciously settle into the centre of attention. “I said I wasn’t going to help.”

“Quite so,” VenDell said. “As you were unavailable, of necessity I turned to other options.” That’s me, Marasi Second-Choice Colms. Maybe someday they’d start calling her that, the way they called Wax “Dawnshot”. “Lady Colms has been so kind as to listen to my proposition.

“Marasi?” Wax asked. “You went to Marasi?”

VenDell said something in reply, but Marasi didn’t hear it. She clenched her hands into fists at her sides, focusing on the thin crescents of pain to keep her from saying something. A lady is polite and courteous, a lady does not lose her temper. A small part of her brain, the one she ignored most of the time, whispered a warrior is blunt, a warrior is unafraid, but listening to that voice had never led to anything good.

Whatever VenDell had said, it didn’t seem to have convinced Wax.

“You’re trying to get to me through another route, aren’t you?�� he accused VenDell.

“Look who’s full of himself,” MeLaan replied from her chair, saving Marasi from opening her mouth without thinking.

Keep reading

#femslash february #wlw cosmere #cosmere femslash fic #cosmere fanfic #marasi colms #melaan cosmere #melaan mistborn #marasi/melaan #marasi x melaan #mistborn #mistborn era 2 #mistborn spoilers

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ak-vintage · 15 days

Text

Quarry - Chapter 8

Pairing: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) x f!reader

Set after Chapter 13: The Jedi but before Chapter 14: The Tragedy.

Chapter Tags & Warnings: Please note new TWs in red!!! Reader is Mando's bounty, second-person POV, no use of Y/N, minimal descriptors of reader character, hurt/comfort, discussions of slavery and indentured servitude, power dynamics, trauma

Series Masterlist | Read on AO3

It had all happened so quickly, your brain was having a difficult time keeping up.

The long, silent walk from the Razor Crest into the city, the anxiety and the fear flaying your nerves until they were raw.

The strong, steady grip of Mando’s hand on your arm, keeping you warm and upright.

The moment your gaze landed on Orron, the feeling of time standing still. The sinking numbness that cloaked you like a shroud at the sensation of his pale blue eyes on your body as he examined you, the stabbing sharpness of his fingers in the hinge of your jaw.

The endless, burning pit of fury roiling in your stomach as that bastard dared to look Mando in the eyes and claim that he had any right to your labor, to your life.

The cortical tracker sinking its awful metal prongs into the meat of your neck had been painful, of course, but it was familiar, and something about that made it easier to process. What you weren’t certain you would ever understand, however, what had your mind racing and your joints feeling like water, was the sight of Orron being escorted out of the office with three purple cloth bags, heavy with credits, clutched in his wiry hands.

It was over. You never had to go back to Chardaan again. You never had to see him again.

25,000 credits. An unthinkable sum. And Mando had just…handed it over. Without a single thought or protest.

How would you ever be able to repay him?

“Are you all right?”

Mando’s voice cut through your spiraling thoughts like a hot knife through butter, pulling your awareness out of yourself and back into the present. Swallowing heavily, you nodded, ignoring the shooting pain the motion caused. “Yes. Yes, I’m fine.” You hardly recognized your own voice. You sounded breathless, confused, small.

The bounty hunter didn’t seem convinced by your reassurance. “Let me see your neck,” he said, curt but somehow still gentle. With a delicate touch, as though you would break if gripped too hard, he cupped the uninjured side of your face in his hand and turned your head so he could see the damage left by the cortical tracker. He appeared to study you closely for a few moments, his helmet cocked to the side, his visor impassive as always, but when he spoke again, his voice sounded almost relieved. “You’re bruising. Badly. But the puncture wounds are small. We’ll stop by the medical clinic and pick up some high-grade bacta topicals on the way back to the ship. We’ll make sure you get healed up.”

Your throat dried and your heart sped up at his word choice. “We.” Were you a “we” now? Did you want to be?

Before you could think on it further, the other man in the room, the one called Karga, spoke up.

“Perhaps you’d like to tell me what’s going on here, Mando,” he grumbled. “As I’m sure you can imagine, I try not to make a habit out of taking back bounties.”

Guilt festered in your gut at the admonishment, but as the Mandalorian dropped his hand from your face and turned to confront his Guild agent, you saw nothing in his posture that looked like shame. In fact, he looked more determined than ever.

“I gave you my word that the exchange would be completed, and it was. The bounty transferred custody, and payment was given,” he asserted.

Karga frowned at that response and folded his arms across his broad chest. “You’re scraping by on a technicality, and you know it.”

Mando inclined his head in a single nod, wordlessly acknowledging the older man’s point. “But I did not break my word.”

It became clear to you then that the conversation between these two men that you had overheard from the cargo hold a few days ago had not been some kind of standard check-in. They had been discussing you. Had Mando been planning this? Had he known when he brought you here that you wouldn’t be leaving with Orron?

Oblivious to your inner turmoil, the Guild agent shook his head, a humorless smile twisting his full lips. “No, I suppose you didn’t.” He sank into his high-backed office chair with a groan and a shrug. “Well. It looks like our business is concluded for now. The two of you are free to go, I suppose.”

It appeared, however, that the Mandalorian wasn’t quite finished.

“Have you given out your remaining bounties? The ones I left behind last time?” he asked.

Karga’s gaze was hard as he stared back at the bounty hunter. “No, I haven’t.”

“Would you consider giving them to me?”

“Ordinarily, yes. Without question,” the older man replied. “But…as your Guild agent, after the stunt you just pulled – ”

“This was an exceptional circumstance,” Mando interjected. You felt your cheeks flame at that, and you looked down at your feet, guilt and pleasure warring with each other in your chest.

He had called you exceptional. The descriptor made you want to melt into the floor and grin in equal measures.

Karga, however, appeared skeptical.

“You know I can resolve them faster than any of the other hunters in this sector,” Mando added. “You’d be able to move on, focus on your…political career. Focus on Nevarro.”

The Guild agent appeared to consider the argument for a moment, running his fingers across his short, white beard as he glanced meaningfully back and forth between you and Mando. You wondered what he saw when he looked at you. A bounty hunter’s charity case? A friend? Something…more? What assumptions was this man making, this man you had never met before today?

Did you even want to know?

With a heavy sigh, Karga seemed to come to a decision. Opening another one of his desk drawers, he produced five bounty pucks and five tracking fobs, spreading them out evenly on the desk in front of him. “Fine,” he said, his voice resigned but not displeased. “But I want all of them in carbonite this time, understood? This may be my last batch of bounties, but I’m still a professional. And so are you.”

If you didn’t know better, you would have thought that you could hear the Mandalorian release a quiet breath of relief. In a handful of long strides, he crossed the room and scooped the pucks and fobs into his hands and tucked them away in his innumerable utility pockets. “I understand,” he replied, low and serious.

A small, genuine smile quirked the corner of Karga’s mouth at that. “Good. Now…as your friend? That was some quick thinking, Mando. Well done.” The man’s gaze had transformed from aggravated to fond, and you felt your regard for him soften a bit in turn. “Dealing with slavers is the ugliest part of our business. I’m glad to see that this one wasn’t allowed to win today,” he continued.

“That man had no honor. He got better than he deserved,” Mando growled. You watched as one of his gloved hands balled into a fist seemingly of its own accord, the black leather of his gloves straining against his knuckles.

“Yes, well, I appreciate your…restraint,” Karga said with a strangely knowing chuckle. Meeting your gaze for the first time, he added, “And you! The very best of luck to you. Perhaps we shall meet again, hm? That is, if you decide to stick with our Mandalorian friend, here.”

The Guild agent’s words left you mystified. If…I decide?

“T-Thank you,” you stammered.

Am I…staying with Mando?

___

“Mando.”

“Yes?”

“We have to talk about what happened back there.”

The moment the two of you had departed from Karga’s office and emerged back into the town center, your thoughts had begun racing once again. Without a word, Mando had taken off down the winding street, clearly expecting you to follow him. You did so without protest, feeling as though you were moving on inertia alone, and he had led you to a blue-painted building two blocks away. The faded white text painted on the battered, durasteel door read “Community Clinic” in Galatic Basic.

You had watched, silent and wide-eyed, as he traded a not insignificant amount of his remaining 5,000 credits for two tubes of top-shelf bacta gel, and while you had felt as though someone might have shoved cotton in your ears while you weren’t looking, Mando had listened intently to the droid behind the med distribution counter as it outlined the application instructions in excruciating detail. He had placed the tubes in your limp hands then, murmuring, “Stick those in your pocket” before heading back out into the city.

Now, you were trailing behind him a couple of steps, seemingly following him back to the Razor Crest. Your mind was buzzing as though it were full of winged insects, the bacta in your pocket felt shockingly heavy against your leg, and no matter what you did, you couldn’t seem to wrap your head around the events of the last few hours.

Your split lip stung. Your jaw and cheekbone throbbed with the beat of your heart in the shape of Orron’s backhand. Your neck felt impossibly stiff, and you could sense the crust of dried blood on your skin.

You were free. Finally, after all these years, you were actually, definitively free.

Except…were you?

“Mando?” you said again.

He nodded then – you watched the back of his helmet bob up and down in acknowledgement, and you almost breathed a sigh of relief. “We will,” he replied, his voice soft and cautious. “But you’re injured. And I don’t trust Halcard to leave this alone. Let’s get you healed and get back into hyperspace. Then we can talk.”

Something like a smile passed over your lips. “You don’t have to worry about him coming after me,” you reassured him. “If there’s anything Orron loves more than control, it’s money. After what you just paid him… I’m sure he’s already long gone. He wouldn’t have wanted to give you a chance to change your mind.”

“You may be right,” Mando agreed. “But I’d rather not risk it.”

The tension gripping your chest loosened a bit at the protective edge in his voice. Even if you were now indebted to this man, you appreciated his concern for your well-being. It had been a long time since anyone had looked out for you in that way, and although you would be lying if you said that protectiveness didn’t chafe a bit against your desire for independence, a part of you wondered whether, in time, you might get used to it. Might grow to welcome it.

Your thoughts remained fitful for the rest of the journey back to the spaceport, so much so that the sound of the blast doors opening and the gangplank extending from the rear of the Razor Crest caused you to jump, startled. Mando wordlessly gave you a once-over, concern evident in his body language even though you couldn’t see his face. However, before you could assure him that you were all right, your eyes landed on the small, green figure drowning in brown robes waiting right at the top of the gangplank.

Grogu squealed the moment he saw you, his little arms immediately stretching out, his three-clawed hands grasping for you, his smile toothy and wide, and you could feel your face crumple as tears flooded your eyes. You were up the ramp in an instant, sweeping the boy into your arms and cradling him close as you choked back a sob.

“Hey, kiddo,” you murmured wetly, your tears soaking the collar of his robes, your voice shaking. You pulled him from you gingerly, holding him out a bit from your body as your gaze eagerly traced over his little round face, his wing-like ears, his wispy white hair. “It’s so good to see you.”

Just a few short hours ago, when you had exited the Crest, you had been certain that your paths would never cross again. You had already mourned that last cuddle, that last giggle, that last shared meal. Holding him again, it felt as though a part of your heart that you had lost had been restored to your body. You could feel it snapping back into place in your chest, as real as the feeling of the boy’s coarse robes under your fingers.

And that seemed to be all your overwrought nervous system needed to open the floodgates that had been tightly sealed over the last few hours. The grief at the impending loss of your freedom, the fear and anxiety at seeing Orron, the pain of his abuse, the relief and the joy and the hope – all of it came bursting forth in that moment. With a whimper, your knees weakened under you, and you sagged against a cargo bin, Grogu still clutched tightly in your arms as you wept. You felt a tiny, three-fingered hand reach out and touch your cheek in comfort, and you smiled through your tears.

It wasn’t until you felt the vibration of the gangplank retracting back into the ship that you realized that Mando was now in the cargo hold with you, standing back a respectful distance, watching silently. Grogu turned and gurgled at him in greeting, and you sniffed heavily, dragging the back of your sleeve across your wet cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” you said instinctively, your face burning with embarrassment.

He shook his head. “There’s no need to apologize,” the Mandalorian replied. His voice was soft, gentler than you had ever heard it, and it made your chest ache and your breath catch in your throat.

The two of you gazed at each other for a moment, the image of your face reflected in the blackness of his visor. The silence hanging between you felt weighty, significant, but before you could think of something to say to break it, Mando seemed to make a decision himself. With two slow, measured strides, still holding your gaze, he crossed the cargo hold to stand before you. From your position atop the cargo bin, you could feel the warmth of his body radiating mere inches from your own, his thighs very distinctly not touching your shins where they hung over the edge.

Then, slowly, carefully, like a farmer approaching a spooked animal ready to bolt at any moment, the bounty hunter reached out his large, gloved hand and delicately brushed your cheek and the edge of your jaw with the backs of his fingers.

You swallowed audibly, your eyelids fluttering shut at the contact.

“Be generous with the bacta,” he rasped. “Don’t just focus it on the puncture wounds – get the surrounding muscle, too. And your face, or that will be swollen and bruised by morning, too.” A lingering tear fell from your eyelashes onto your cheekbone, and you felt him sweep it away tenderly. “Take all the time you need. I’ll be in the cockpit when you’re ready.”

Your heart was beating a tattoo on the inside of your ribcage, but you managed to offer him a nod. “Mm hm,” you murmured. Your voice was suddenly a higher pitch than you were used to, almost a whine, and you felt your flush deepen. You couldn’t handle this right now – this rush of want suddenly warring with all of the other emotions currently rioting inside your body. You needed him to leave.

Thankfully, he made good on his promise not a moment later, pulling his fingers away from your skin and climbing up the ladder without another word.

Grogu watched you with wide, knowing eyes as you gathered yourself. The well-worn fabric of your boilersuit sleeve was abrasive against your skin as you wiped your tears, only adding to the ever-increasing sources of discomfort on your face and neck. Sitting the boy down on the cargo bin beside you, you pulled one of the tubes of bacta topical from your pocket with shaking hands and offered him what you hoped was a comforting smile.

“Don’t worry, I’m okay. I got hurt, but your dad got me medicine,” you explained, showing him the tube. You felt a bit of pride that your voice only trembled a little now. “It will be all better in no time.”

The bacta gel was translucent, viscous, and cold to the touch, and it smarted where your wounds were raw – your split lip, the puncture wounds in your neck. Everywhere else, though, the places where you could feel deep, throbbing bruises already forming, the cooling sensation was heavenly, and you found that you hadn’t really needed Mando’s encouragement to apply the gel generously. By the time you had coated every surface that hurt, nearly half the tube was gone.

As you sat there in the cargo hold, giving the miracle gel a few moments to start taking effect, you could feel the turmoil begin to rise in your chest once again. Of course, you were thrilled to be out from under Orron’s thumb – that much you felt confident about. And of course, you were filled with joy at being reunited with Grogu. The two of you had grown incredibly attached to each other over the months you spent on the Razor Crest, and parting with him had felt like ripping away a piece of yourself. But all of that happiness didn’t seem to be enough to stamp out the confusion, the apprehension, the unease around what this new development meant for you.

It didn’t change the fact that Mando had paid more money than you had ever seen in your entire lifetime for you.

Did he…expect something from you now, in exchange? Would he want you to pay him back? Could you ever hope to do that?

As you mulled this over, uncertainty sitting heavy in your abdomen, you felt the telltale vibration of the engines turning over, the rapid ascent of the Crest through the atmosphere, and a moment later, the stomach-dropping lurch of a jump to hyperspace.

You made up your mind then. You tucked the half-empty bacta tube back into your jumpsuit pocket, and you slid down from your perch on the hard, gray cargo bin. Gathering Grogu to your chest, you dropped a brief kiss onto his wrinkly brow for strength. You couldn’t live another moment with this kind of ambiguity, especially not with the blossoming softness you could feel taking root in your heart for the Mandalorian. It was more than you could bear.

___

The sight that greeted you when you entered the cockpit was one so familiar, it was almost painful. The glow of the instruments and control panels, the bright, streaking light of the stars filling the view window, the way it all reflected off of Mando’s beskar. You bit your lip and settled into your preferred co-pilot seat, nestling Grogu in your lap like you had a hundred times before. However, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something about this felt completely different than it had in the past. And you couldn’t leave that hanging any longer.

“Where are we headed?” you asked, your eyes trained on the back of the bounty hunter’s helmet as he faced forward.

“Trandosha,” he replied. His competent hands moved over the controls, monitoring your speed, your pitch, keeping an eye out for any objects in your path, making minute adjustments to avoid them, always thinking three steps ahead. Most people these days preferred having a flight computer or a navigation droid do that kind of work for them, but he seemed to favor a more manual approach. You loved watching him fly. He was a natural pilot, like you.

“What’s on Trandosha?”

He shrugged, mirrored starlight arcing over his pauldron. “Picked one of the new bounties at random,” he said simply.

You paused at that for a moment, blinking in the darkness. “So…that’s it?” you said, a hint of incredulity making its way into your voice.

You watched as his hands paused on the control panel, hovering in place. You had his attention, but still, he did not turn to face you. “What’s it?” he echoed.

“We just…go back to how things were before? Like nothing’s changed?” There was more than a hint of suspicion in your tone now. You sounded almost accusatory to your own ears, but you made no attempt to censor it. Your mind had been steeped in confusion and insecurity since the moment you had watched him hand over all those bags of credits, but it seemed to you as though Mando had no such compunctions about his decision.

“If that’s what you want,” he replied. Unpretentious, unbothered.

How could he be so casual about this? Did he give no thought to what this change might mean to someone like you?

You scoffed, disbelieving. “What I want? What do you want, Mando?”

That did it. The Mandalorian turned in his chair, swiveling around as best as he could to face you, meet your gaze. He studied you for a moment, taking in your rigid shoulders, your flushed face, your grip on Grogu’s body as you held him close in your lap. “I’ve upset you,” he said, not a question but rather a statement.

You sighed heavily, your body sagging, softening under his stare. “You haven’t upset me…” you said quietly. “Well, you have, but – ” You groaned, hiding your face in one of your hands, bracing your elbow on your knee. “I think I’m just confused.”

The bounty hunter remained graciously silent as you gathered your thoughts.

Eventually, the question that emerged was, “What you did back there… I never would have asked you for that, you know that, right?”

Mando nodded once. “Yes.”

“Because that was…that was an absurd amount of money. That was almost every credit you earned over the last two months. And you just…dropped it. Just like that!” You could hear your voice getting higher, your heart starting to speed up.

Still, the bounty hunter appeared unaffected. His low, rasping voice crackled calmly through his helmet vocoder as he replied, “The kid and I don’t need much to get by.”

“Maybe not, but still…” You trailed off, the root of your insecurity suddenly staring you in the face. Before you could stop yourself, before you could pause and examine in further, it was spilling out of your mouth, meek and fearful. “Mando, I’m not worth 25,000 credits. I’m just…I’m not.”

At that, the Mandalorian drew back slightly, leaning back in his chair and cocking his head to the side in a gesture that you had learned indicated confusion. “Of course, you are,” he insisted. He sounded completely taken aback, almost angered by the implication.

You could feel the burning sensation of a flush rising in your cheeks at his vehement disagreement, but you fought it back, tamped it down. You weren’t done. Now that you had found the words to express your fears, you didn’t seem to be able to stop.

“Well, since you…bought me, what are you planning to do with me?” you demanded. “Do you want me to…work on your ship some more? Be Grogu’s nanny? Something…something else? Am I supposed to call you ‘sir’ now?”

“What? No, no, nothing like that.” If Mando had sounded angry before, now he was downright offended. He leaned toward you, his hands braced firmly on his thighs, his knees spread wide, almost startingly close in the cramped space of the cockpit. “Let me be…perfectly clear,” he continued, slow and deliberate. “As far as I am concerned, I did not buy you. I bought your freedom. It’s yours to do with as you wish.”

And just like that, it felt as though all of the wind had been taken out of you. You felt yourself deflate, sag in your chair, loosen your tight grip on Grogu’s little body as the bounty hunter’s words hung in the recycled air. I bought your freedom, he said. Your freedom. The word echoed in your head, your mind suddenly blank. He couldn’t be serious.

“W-what?”

Mando appeared to take in your utter confusion, and he sighed your name, soft and gentle. “I expect nothing from you. You owe me nothing,” he said. His voice had lost its edge. He was no longer offended, only sincere. “Your life is yours. You get to choose what you do next.”

You swallowed thickly, tears threatening to prick the corners of your eyes once again. “So. So if I want to…go back to where you found me, go back to waiting tables in a cantina, you would let me?” you asked.

He nodded. “Yes. I would take you there myself.”

You pushed. “If I wanted to go back to Nevarro, settle there instead?”

Again, the Mandalorian nodded. “Of course. I would introduce you to the marshal. She’s a friend of mine. I would ask her for recommendations on places for you to stay.”

You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, something dangerously akin to hope welling up in you as the possibilities for your future expanded before you for the first time in your adult life. “What if I wanted to go to Coruscant? Would you ferry me all the way to the Core?”

At this suggestion, Mando finally seemed to hesitate. But still, he said, “I…prefer not to travel so far inward. My ship draws too much attention there, and I’m wanted by the New Republic. But I would take you to a spaceport and help you book passage there yourself.”

You gave that revelation a moment to settle, gave yourself a moment to process what he was saying. He would really let you go. After all the time he spent toting you around the galaxy from hunt to hunt, all the effort of keeping you safe for months so he could turn you in, all the money he paid to cover your so-called “debts” and release you from Orron’s grip, he would actually allow you to leave – all you needed to do was say the word. You understood that now. What you didn’t understand was…

“…why?”

“Because everyone deserves the freedom to choose their own path,” the bounty hunter replied simply. “And you have a generous spirit. Especially now that I have seen where you come from…it is a great strength, to remain kind in the face of such hardship.”

You lost the battle against your tears in that moment, and you immediately dropped your gaze to your lap. Grogu cooed at you sweetly, reaching out and stroking your long, braided hair in a clear attempt at comfort. You offered him a weak smile in return, but you didn’t trust the steadiness of your voice to speak.

You had never seen yourself as strong before. Or, at least, not in the way that others were strong. Not in the way Mando was strong.

“However…”

You snapped your head back up to face him once more, uncaring for the moment about the embarrassment of the tears tracking down your cheeks.

Mando held your gaze as he spoke, his voice confident, genuine. “In the time you spent on the Razor Crest, you have proven to be an…invaluable asset. The ship is in the best condition she’s been in in years, you’re a good pilot, and I trust you with the child. I would happily offer you a job, a real job, here – as a member of my crew.” You felt your eyes widen in shock and your tears cease. After a moment’s silence, during which he must have interpreted your reticence as displeasure, he quickly added, “You’ve seen the lifestyle I lead, so you know that the pay would be…irregular, but it would be generous. And it’s a dangerous line of work, so you would have to work on your combat abilities for your own safety. But. If you want it. You have a place here.”

You drew your lower lip between your teeth, biting down as you considered the offer. “Is that what you want?” you asked, hesitant.

The Mandalorian shook his head immediately, hardly allowing you to finish your question. “Like I said. It’s not about what I want. The choice is yours. I will make sure you end up wherever you decide to go. Do you want to stay?”

You allowed yourself a few moments to reflect on it, and your eyes dropped down to Grogu, busying yourself with tidying his downy hair, straightening his collar. When you first escaped from the shipyards, your only goal had been just that – to leave. You had given little thought to where you might be headed when you boarded the freighter that unknowingly ferried you to freedom. Your plan had been to stay concealed as long as you could, and at your first opportunity, abandon the freighter and melt into the crowd. You hadn’t been looking for adventure or even another ship builder who would compensate you fairly for your talents. You just wanted the opportunity to choose. So you chose a mining planet, a waitress job with horrendous hours, a busy hostel that smelled like old fish – because you could, and it’s what you could afford.

Now, you were being presented with the chance to choose again, and this time, the galaxy was at your fingertips. You were no longer on the run, no longer in hiding. You had transport to wherever you would like to go. You could pursue any dream you desired. And yet…

You ran your gaze over the tiny, green child in your arms, felt the warmth of his little body snuggled against yours. You recalled the sensation of the Mandalorian’s hands on your face, your neck, your wrists, the rugged softness of his leather gloves burnt into your memory like a brand. The deep rasp of his voice accompanied by the hum of the twin engines you had grown to know like the back of your own hand echoed in your mind.

Was it possible to be homesick for a place, for people that you hadn’t yet left?

You looked up again, into Mando’s visor. “Yes. I want to stay,” you said.

You were certain that if you could see his face, you would find the bounty hunter smiling. “Then you are welcome here as long as you wish.”

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tenthousandyearsx · 9 months

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Hey! I'm curious, pls indulge me: which book or fic that you've read in 2023 has made the most impression and why? x

Hi magpie! What a great question to find in my inbox. ❤ I actually rarely look back or make lists for some reason, so it was lovely to do so just now!

Books:

I saw someone reading “Lanark” by Alasdair Gray on public transport last December. I had never heard of it before, so I looked it up and it ended up being one of the wildest things I’ve ever laid my eyes on. I really, really liked the first book, it made me think of The Master and Margarita (which I adore!) and it seemed plucked entirely from the author's unconscious, which is always a bonus with me. But as I read the other three books, I got progressively more frustrated and annoyed, so I honestly don’t know if I’d recommend it. That said, the opening book was such a shock, I can’t stop thinking about it. I just keep wishing I could unread the rest. 😬 (Sorry for the conflicting rec! You might have read it already – and if so, I’d love to know what you think).

Because I'm so conflicted about choosing the novel above, my second pick is a reread of a book I used to love as a teen, but that nobody seems to have heard of. It’s called ‘The Only Alien on the Planet’ by Kristen D. Randle. It has nothing to do with aliens; it's a getting together YA novel about a boy who refuses to speak or be touched and the female protagonist, who's a transfer student and doesn't know what she can or can't do around him. It was my first time rereading it in almost two decades and I still loved it so much. I have no idea what it would be like to read it for the first time as an adult though. CW for childhood trauma – but it’s not a heavy novel. I fell for the male character all over again 🥲.

(Also, because I know you like danmei as much as I do, I just want to add here that I’m dying to read Nan Chan – but I haven't yet!!)

Fics:

I’ve been binging a lot of Alhaitham / Kaveh fics – their characters are so compelling and I cannot get enough of the whole quarrelling scholars living together dynamic they have going. On top of this, I discovered only a couple of days ago that Alhaitham is based on Tagore among other things, so now my brainrot is even worse.

This is probably not a ship you’re interested in, but if you are, I loved "pure conjecture" by shrimpheavnnow. It's 5.7k words PWP but it’s so them, and I thought the premise was hilarious. I also need to mention a wip I’m following, which is very much on the same vein but looks like it's going to be 12 glorious chapters of PWP: “testing, testing” by Lithopus.

Drarry: I don’t normally read memory loss fics, but I read "Somewhere in My Memory" by maraudersaffair while I was stuck at home with covid and it brightened my week so much I’m still thinking about it months later. I’m personally really bad at writing domesticity, and I thought their day-to-day looked so effortless here!

Oh! I also read astolat’s Jeeves and Wooster fic for the first time a few weeks ago ("Jeeves and the Blessed Indiscretion") and I thought her Wooster’ voice was brilliant.

Sorry for the long reply! I was probably supposed to pick only one but I got a bit carried away.

If you have any fic recs, especially wangxian and hualian, I'd love to hear them! x

#reply #magpiefngrl #thanks so much for asking!

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reikeip · 2 years

Text

Crossroad ♱ Crowd 5

Location: Underground Livehouse

Rei: “♪~♪~♪”

“Fuhahaha! Tremble, ya fuckin’ idiots![1] Every single one of ya looks tired of livin’—do ya not get the point of bein’ born~?”

“The war is over, and from it we rose! What do you desire in this time of peace? Scream it loud!”

“If ya keep your mouth shut, nobody’ll know~ Don’t ya dare be a buncha obedient babies~!”

“Guess I’ll have to say it for ya. You wanna take this wishy-washy, laid back world and fuckin’ destroy it—right?”

“Well then, shout! Bare your fangs an’ bite! Roar ‘till it comes echoin’ back to ya! Shout! Shout! Shout!”

“Vomit up your love, your curses, an’ pray! Bathe in blood an’ guts—go through the birth canal a second time, an’ be reborn!

“Give me your first cries—let me hear the sound of humankind! Rock’n’roll…☆”

♪~♪~♪

Koga: (Yeah! Wow, Sakuma-senpai’s sending shivers down my spine! I feel like I’m gonna die from this euphoria!)

(The crowd’s going wild, and I’m really standing on the same stage as Sakuma-senpai right now…!)

(It’s like I’m dreaming! Oh, don’t ever let it end! Even if my voice goes hoarse and I start throwin’ up blood, even if I start suffocating from a lack of oxygen, I want to keep singing with you…☆)

(Just look at me, Sakuma-senpai! I admire you!)

(I’ve been strumming at my guitar day after day, and I’ll keep going until it gets so worn out it disappears!)

(So recognize me for it! If only you would face me, and look at me with those crimson eyes that belong to hell’s king!)

(At that very moment, I could die…!)

“♪~♪~♪”

Rei: (Hey~... It’s great you’re havin’ fun and all, but ya should be facin’ the audience—not me.)

(These people are takin’ precious time outta their lives to gather here with us. If they feel like they wasted it, you’re dishonorin’ us idols.)

Koga: (Oh! Got it, Sakuma-senpai! This god will raise your stage, makin’ it more and more lively! Kyahahahaha…☆)

Keito: “♪~♪~♪”

(...Those two, they’re communicating through eye contact. Well, I have no clue if they’re really holding a proper conversation or not.)

(Though, I’m rather surprised. I caught a glimpse of it when we were doing lessons, but Oogami is more than just talk.)

(He has talent, the potential to blossom beautifully—but he’s still unripe, and far too wild.)

(When Sakuma-san is close by he becomes shockingly steady, as if he’s following after his example.)

(He must really like Sakuma-san, huh… Love, it makes one stronger.)

(That is a constant in all stories, a universal truth.)

(I was right to choose rock as the theme for this stage. It’s a genre Oogami likes, and something Sakuma-san has experience with.)

(When you compare the two, rock is actually more prevalent in culture overseas than our concept of idols.)

(What’s more, Sakuma-san really got a read on the underground livehouse’s clientele.)

(So, he’s making an impression by talking in extremes. Like, good grief, what’s with the whole “tremble, ya fuckin’ idiots” thing?)

(I’m the only one who’s been slacking in my studies here, but I put in enough hard work in the past week to at least match their rhythm.)

(I can see it. I can feel it in my bones—right now, we are strong.)

(We’d be able to stand toe to toe with Valkyrie, who are already well renowned and respected by the entertainment industry—no, we could even compete to stand beside professionals.)

(Aah, this is fun. I’m being involved in something greater—being melted down to the marrow of my bones and fusing with it.)

(My silhouette has disappeared, and I’ve become a part of something glorious.)

(With a passion I cannot produce on my own, I can venture into a story I’d struggle to ever reach on my own.)

(I love this feeling. I have a similar—or even stronger—feeling of omnipotence to that I get when I’m drawing manga.)

(In this moment, for just a short period of time, we are gods—the rulers of this world. That’s the illusion I get.)

(In this world, this reality, it feels like I’ve become one of the vital characters to the story.)

(I’m so happy, so blessed, to the point I can’t believe it. Ah, this is why I wanted to become an idol.)

(Writing manga allows you to become a god-like figure to that story. But, I’d prefer to do that in this world, where I live and breathe—)

(I don’t have to be the main character, I’m not cut out for it. But, I’d still like to take on the role of a character in a wonderful story.)

(A character who everyone cheers for, recognizes, and loves.)

(Even that unreasonable childhood friend of mine, Eichi, fell captive to the charming concept of idols…)

(And I, too, wanted to be one of them.)

(Idols, they’re the kind people who live in all the novels, manga, and stories I eat up. They’re fascinating.)

(They don’t live deep in the mountains, cut off from earthly life—they live mixed in with the world, with chaotic worldviews.)

(I admired them. That’s why I descended from the mountains, stepped into the world of the living, and that’s how I came to sing on this stage.)

(I am a novice who’s slacking on my Sadhana—It would be justified to lecture me, for I am such a vulgar person, so far from attaining enlightenment.)

(I want to have faith that this dream—this prayer—is not some wrongdoing.)

(Eichi. Your dream and mine, they aren’t really the same.)

(It could be that your goal of becoming a better idol aligning with mine is a coincidence… that is a possibility.)

(Even as someone who’s met you long ago, I can’t understand the corrupt, murky, pitch-black hatred that seems to burden your soul.)

(A darkness that, no matter how many sutras I recite, I cannot exorcise.)

(But still, I want to recuse you. You’ve always been the one person on the same page as me.)

(Like two halves of the same soul, we are no strangers—you are my best friend.)

(What’s more, I am the son of a Buddhist temple. To embrace, love, and rescue even a strange, unloved creature—that is the role of a monk.)

(You’re just like me, so by rescuing you, I feel like I can reach salvation myself.)

(Making your dream come true, that’d be the same as making mine come true.)

(...Isn’t that right, Eichi. My first, and only, reader.)

(Together, let’s weave a story. Let’s enjoy ourselves, just like we did as little kids.)

(O Buddha, please guide me; May the path I walk on be that of righteousness.)

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This is actually Koga's signature, “震撼しやがれ愚民ども”, which is often translated to “shake to your very core, ignorant fools” and the likes. It's found in melody in the dark as well as various stories.

#reikeiptls #rei sakuma #koga oogami #keito hasumi

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