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delta-piscium · 1 year

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I wrote this in September and it’s been collecting dust in my docs and staring back at me with judgement whenever I post or write something else so here

“Steve” a familiar voice shouts across the room.

Steve turns around, and there, on the other side of the crowded room is Tommy. It really shouldn’t be as big of a shock to see him as it is. Steve is at a house party on a Friday night, it would have been weirder if Tommy wasn’t here. But still, that doesn’t mean he’s prepared to see him, they basically haven’t talked in three years, ever since Steve ‘chose’ Nancy over him and Carol (aka finally dropped them because they were horrible and didn’t drop Nancy because she isn’t).

Still, he plasters on a smile, making it as polite as he can, and waves. Hopes it will be enough but of course, it isn’t. Tommy starts weaving through people, pushing and elbowing his way toward Steve.

“Its been ages,” he says clapping his hand on Steve’s shoulder, “how have you been man.”

Steve resists the urge to shrug his hand off, but it’s a close thing.

“It has.” Steve doesn’t add ‘because you’re an asshole and I hate who I am around you’ and he feels very mature for it. “I’m good.” He very deliberately does not ask Tommy how he’s been.

“Me too, me too.” He responds anyways, at least he finally removes his hand from Steve’s shoulder which makes him relax marginally. “Still dating Nancy?”

And, okay yeah, he and Tommy haven’t really spoken since he and Nancy were still together but Hawkins is a small town and he’s sure Tommy knows that Nancy had both broken up with Steve, gone on to date Jonathan for two years, and recently broken up with him as well. Actually, he thinks he remembers a shower conversation with Billy just days after she dumped him and went off to Murray with Jonathan, a conversation that Tommy was also present for.

“No, we broke up years ago.” He dutifully replies anyways, because what else can he say?

“Yeah, heard she dumped you?”

Steve is gonna remain calm, play along in whatever game Tommy is playing, and not react.

“She did,” he agrees easily.

“And got with Jonathan right after? Should have listened to us and stayed away.” He grins as he speaks, grins as if Steve is gonna agree with him.

“We’re still friends,” Steve shrugs, letting the fall of Tommy’s smile bring one to his own lips.

“Was for the best that we broke up, we’re much better as friends.”

Tommy squints a bit, his hackles raising and Steve only notices because he once knew him so well. Why he’s still getting defensive talking about Nancy Steve doesn’t know.

“Oh Stevie, you still hung up on her huh?”

It’s deliberate, he’s trying to press Steve’s buttons. ‘Well, tough Tommy-boy.’ Steve thinks, ‘those ones don’t work anymore, have been defunct for ages. You’re gonna have to do better than that if you want a reaction.’

“Nah,” he says, lets his smile be a bit more genuine when he continues, “she’s great but I’m dating someone else.”

“Rebound?” Tommy whistles, “she hot?”

Why Tommy is convinced Steve is still pining after Nancy he can’t say, or maybe it’s the only angle he has on Steve nowadays? Except they basically lived in each other's pockets all through high school and if Tommy really wants to get under Steve’s skin there are other things, better things. Things he has used against Steve before and seen the effect of. Why he isn’t he using them now when he clearly has some agenda Steve can’t say.

Steve is about to respond, has his mouth open and ready to speak when someone calls his name again. Thankfully this time the source is a lot more pleasant.

Tommy turns around to see who it is, completely exposing his back to Steve. It’s probably the last few years of fighting hell monsters that has ingrained a distrust in Steve. Making him hyper-aware of his surroundings and never willing to leave his back open like this to people he doesn’t trust. He knows this but still, he thinks there should be some primal instinct in Tommy to stop him from making himself so vulnerable to Steve, the action speaks of leftover trust that Steve isn’t ready to face.

“Munson? You know Munson?” He turns back around, an incredulous look on his face.

It snaps Steve out of his thoughts and reminds him Eddie had called for him. He leans to the side, stretching out so he’s visible behind Tommy, catching Eddie’s eye and waving him over.

“I do, yeah.”

Tommy’s face twists into something Steve can’t immediately place. He recognizes it, knows he’s seen Tommy make that face before. It’s not disgust or confusion but maybe something in between? Before he can figure it out it clears.

“Oh, King Steve getting drugs? Who would have thought?”

Steve rolls his eyes, the only reason he had stopped smoking weed for a while in high school was because athletes got tested. Why Tommy is pretending Steve ever had some moral issue with it now is beyond him but not much of this interaction has made sense to him so far so what’s one more thing?

“What Steve doing drugs? He’s a very responsible young man and would never” Eddie says, twisting past the last couple of people.

“Right Stevie? You wouldn’t touch the stuff?” Eddie–knowing very well that Steve would in fact ‘touch the stuff’–asks.

“Not with a ten-foot pole.” Steve–who smoked yesterday–deadpans.

“Knew I could trust in you to stay a good boy.” Eddie coos as he steps into Steve's space and kisses him despite where they are. It’s quick enough that no one who isn’t watching would catch it though and the only one who is watching is Tommy. When Steve looks back at him his face slack with shock.

“Hagan,” Eddie says with a short nod.

“You-?” Tommy looks between them, that same look as before flashing on his face, still just out of Steve’s grasp.

Steve contemplates what he should do for a second but Tommy already saw them kiss, already knows. And honestly, Steve doesn’t really care what he thinks and he knows Tommy won't say anything. Steve has too much dirt on him.

“Oh sorry, Tommy this is my boyfriend.” His voice is deceptively sweet as he introduces Eddie as if that’s what Tommy had been getting at.

Steve turns to Eddie, “baby, you know who Tommy is right?”

He’s laying it on thick, asks despite Eddie greeting him by name two seconds ago. Knows others' unabashed confidence and being on the outside are things Tommy can’t handle.

“I think so,” Eddie plays along, “you were friends once right? Before you found better people?”

It’s mean but Steve wouldn't have thought too much of it if it weren’t for the wounded noise Tommy makes. When Steve looks at him again his face is cracked open and it finally clicks what that expression is.

“Aw, you jealous?” Eddie says in a mocking tone, hitting the nail on the head because that’s exactly what that expression is, jealousy.

It’s the same look he had whenever Steve told him about a new girl, the look he’d have when Steve started bringing Nancy around. It’s deeper though, not only jealousy. He also looks like he did when Steve told him and Carol to leave him alone. He doesn’t just look jealous, Tommy looks heartbroken.

He tries to pull it together, scrunching his nose up in disdain, and scowls at them. Quickly looks away from Steve when their eyes catch and his mask falls a bit, instead focusing on Eddie who raises one eyebrow in response.

“Hardly,” he scoffs, it comes out strained, “I would love to stay and chat but-”

He doesn’t elaborate, just turns on his heel and disappears into the crowd.

Steve is frozen to the spot, a war going on in his head. Puzzle pieces he didn’t know were missing falling into place.

“Come on, let's get out of here.” Eddie grabs Steve’s wrist and starts pulling him outside, away from the party. He gets them in his car and doesn’t try to speak to Steve, probably sensing he’s having some earth-shattering realizations right now.

“He liked me,” he finally manages to say. “That’s why he hated Nancy so much. He was...” he trails off, knows it’s true but can’t quite say it.

“Jealous,” Eddie finishes softly.

“You knew?” Steve asks because Eddie doesn’t sound or look surprised at all.

He shrugs, “I had my suspicions.”

“But how-”

“We looked at you the same,” his smile is wry, self-deprecating, “I recognized it.”

And Steve can’t really process this right now even though he knows it’s true so he grasps at straws, “Carol, he was with Carol?”

Eddie reaches out one arm and cups his face in his hand, glances at him quickly before he looks back at the road with a sad smile.

“If you’re in love with your best friend, your male best friend who you believe is straight, you do what you need to do to push it down, to hide it. Especially in high school and in a small town.”

“In love?” Steve rasps because he’d said ‘like’.

“Yeah, sweetheart. In love.”

Eddie brushes his fingers under Steve’s eye and he realizes it’s because he’s crying.

“I’m sorry,” he says, “I don’t know why I'm reacting like this.”

And it’s true, he really doesn’t understand why it feels like a big hole has opened in him. He never liked Tommy, not like that, yet it feels like he’s lost something, fucked something up.

“He used to be your best friend, it’s a big thing to realize.” Eddie parks outside of his trailer, turns to Steve making no move to get out of the car. “Kind of changes everything, or at least puts it in a new context, explains some things.”

Steve feels the blood drain from his face because he’s suddenly remembered something and oh god does it put it in a new fucking context.

“Baby?” Eddie asks when Steve sits frozen again.

“We used to get wasted and make out,” he whispers the words, shame coursing through his veins.

Eddie goes still and Steve rushes the explain.

“Not often and not after he got with Carol, just,” he takes a shallow breath, “It happened a few times. We’d steal my dad's whiskey and get so beyond drunk and, well, kiss a lot.”

He’d smile at the memory if he wasn’t so horrified by it at the moment.

“The first time Tommy had never kissed anyone, asked me to teach him so he wouldn’t fuck it up when it mattered. Then after that it just kind of continued to happen. We’d get drunk, make out, and pretend like nothing. It stopped when he started seeing Carol, he tried but I stopped him. Told him he didn’t need to practice now when he had the real deal. We never talked about or even mentioned it.”

Steve sees Eddie’s arms shake and when he looks up he sees Eddie holding back laughter, eyes filled with barely concealed amusement.

“Are you laughing right now?”

Eddie stops holding back, letting the laughter burst out of him and Steve is so confused because he thought Eddie would be mad at him. He’s not sure why, it’s just that this has been such a deeply buried secret wrapped in shame for years with a big ‘do not talk or even think about it’ sign placed in front of it. That it would be met with laughter was never a possibility.

“I’m sorry,” he gasps through it, “It’s just such a cliche.”

Steve’s confused face only makes Eddie laugh harder. When he calms down he takes Steve's face in both his hands holding him firmly and looking him in the eyes.

“Steve, baby, sweetheart. Tommy used the oldest trick in the book on you, asking you to teach him how to kiss and you did it multiple times because what? he needed practice? That’s the flimsiest excuse to gay kiss your best friend and it’s also fucking done, it’s a cliche.”

Steve blinks, realizes that while he never had feelings for Tommy he had definitely found him attractive, had enjoyed kissing him. Had very deliberately not thought too deeply about his or Tommy's motives because that would have made it something he would have had to face.

“Oh,” he says.

Eddie smiles, wide and warm, “yeah, oh.”

“You don’t think I used him?” Steve has to ask, “if he had feelings for me and I didn’t have any for him.”

“No,” Eddie says, “not more than he did you. And you were kids, just messing around and trying to figure yourselves out in a not-very-accommodating world.”

Eddie squints a bit in thought, “though he probably thought you were more on the same page, that you could continue even though he was with Carol. Must have stung to be rejected.”

Steve snorts, “wasn’t really interested in helping anyone cheat, even under all the pretenses.”

“I know.”

Eddie's eyes are soft, looking at him with so much warmth that Steve momentarily forgets what they were talking about until Eddie's mouth twists into a sly grin.

“I can’t believe your first gay experience was with Tommy fucking Hagan.”

Steve gives him an unimpressed look, “at least I didn’t come in my pants ten seconds in, like some people I know.”

Eddie draws back, clutching his chest with his hands, “harsh words, love. It was at least a minute.”

#the amount of times i used the word realize- Steve in this and kylie jenner in 2016 #🤝 realizing so much #listen Tommy being in love with Steve and them kissing as teenager just takes up such a specific part of my brain always #like look at them- they would okay #don't ask me what this is beyond that #Steve and Eddie are assholes together b #but only (mostly) when it's deserved #Dels steddie thoughts #My writing #my post #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #steddie fanfic #steve x eddie #tommy hagan

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waldosakimbo · 6 months

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It's Been A While: A Disjointed Guide to Explore the Apocalypse

Rated: T 26,743 words By: WaldosAkimbo Art by: @goingsteddi3 Steve Harrington is out in California visiting an uncle on his mother's behalf and it is boring. And he's being sad. And Robin's tired of it. So, when his cousin says he's going to be playing in a Battle of the Bands in town, he tags along, only to catch sight of one Eddie Munson and his band. And it's heart eyes at first insult. But, of course there's bad blood between Steve's cousin and Eddie and they leave on not great terms. Only for the world to rip open and for people to start changing into these crazy monsters with teeth. Now Steve's just trying to get home. Along the way, he picks up souvenirs from the creature's he's defeated, a couple of scars, and, oh yeah. One Eddie Munson, who's really hoping to find his uncle in all this mess. It's a small world after all.... Pairings: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington Characters: Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson, Corroded Coffin (Stranger Things), Robin Buckley, Dustin Henderson Tags: Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, but make the zombies demogorgons, brief mention of Steve Harrington's Parents, Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Steve Harrington, Hurt Eddie Munson, Minor Original Character(s), Flashbacks, pills used briefly, The Party Loves Steve Harrington Trigger Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence

“I’m not in school,” Steve answered immediately, not like it was a sore subject, which it was not. “But, yeah. A little basketball in high school.” That seemed to delight the stranger, who pumped his fist in victory, jangling a few buttons on a faded denim vest. “And swimming, which you didn’t even guess.”

“Damn,” the stranger said and smirked, leaning back on his arm again. “What’re you doing here, Basketballer. This is, and by no means do I mean to judge a book by its cover—”

“You do, though,” Steve pointed out.

“I do, a little. But this is not your scene.”

Steve smirked back. He put both arms on the bar, holding his drink with both hands this time. He nodded, slowly, hunched over a little while someone was making an announcement that he wasn’t even pretending to pay attention to.

“Yeah. Not really, I guess. I’m out here visiting family.”

“Idaho.”

“What? No,” Steve said immediately and clicked his tongue when the stranger laughed again. “Indiana.”

“Close enough,” he said and sipped his beer, ever so slightly wiggling his shoulders in some sort’ve victory dance.

“So, you’re from around here, then?”

“Implant,” he said and Steve made a face that made the stranger laugh. “I mean, technically, I’m from the Midwest, but moved out here.”

“Oh. Idaho?” Steve asked and laughed with the stranger, who punched Steve’s shoulder.

“Okay, fair point. Fair point. So, anyways, Basketballer—”

“Steve,” he said and the stranger paused long enough to gesture at himself.

“Eddie. Pleasure. So, anyways, you’re vising for family, you’re dressed like you just got out of the PTA. You’re drinking goddamn Bud lite from a bottle.”

“It’s not good,” Steve pointed out and they laughed again. “No, man, I know. I know. It’s not for me. But, uh, I just didn’t wanna stay inside.”

“The weather has been fairly kind to us these past few days,” Eddie said thoughtfully and grinned. Impish. Steve had a strange thought of brushing his thumb along Eddie’s dimples. Steve also had random thoughts of, like, jumping off buildings and driving his car a million miles an hour, so it didn’t mean anything. Just a random thought. But he glanced at his beer bottle again just to be safe, to collect himself.

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shyanshippingsociety · 2 years

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Shyan Shipping Society Fic Promo - September & October 2022

last post

the smell of fall in the air, the premiere of ghost files, halloween, and all the fics written by our members in september and october 2022! what could be better than that?

September

Stim Boys Drabble Collection by Gilded_Quill | T, 17K, on-going

A collection of one-shots and drabbles based on a list of Autism-Centric Writing Prompts.

Featuring Stimming, Special Interests, Hyperfixations, Meltdowns, and two boys navigating the highs and lows of neurodiversity. Each chapter will be a stand-alone, and their relationship status won’t be consistent throughout. Nor will the timeline be.

Recycled Air by ouijaboy | G, 1K, complete

It’s a twelve hour flight, give or take, from LAX to London Heathrow. And it’s all going really well, until the seatbelt light turns off, and Ryan’s AirPods die.

A small ode to Shane’s music taste.

The worst anniversary gift ever by Haroldmay | T, 8K, complete

"Why did you put the Professor in the fridge?" Ryan asked curiously while brushing his teeth.

"Why are you opening the fridge while brushing your teeth?" Shane replied from the couch without looking up. He had a headache. -he had been having a headache for a while.

"I'm not sure," Ryan said. He exchanged the toothbrush for the Professor and closed the door before he continued to wander around in the room.

"Also, I did not put him in the fridge," Shane said. He was much too tired to argue.

Ryan smiled at the puppet and the puppet smiled back.

"Divorce Shane and run away with me," Ryan heard the Professor's voice in his head.

Disclaimer: This is just a little joke. More Meme than Fic. It's about the characters Shane Madej and Ryan Bergara and has nothing to do with the real people behind them: Brad Pistachio and Brian Cramblish.

a studdy in earth by TokyoTiger91 | NR, 300, on-going

Starting out with this small bit, this is mostly going to be a collection of any alien Shane ideas or one-shots I have. Tags will be updated with each chapter and if there's any warnings they'll be at the top of the chapter

once again getting an idea from a one-off comment by TokyoTiger91 | NR, 700, complete

"Honestly if I were a kid and I had an Ipad I would never learn anything. I'd be six years old watching LiveLeak, my brain would be ruined"

The Wolf King by PhyllisDietrichson | T, 4K, complete

“Then let’s say it reminds me that I am a man. Will that satisfy you?”

Ryan regarded Shane with an implacable eye. Shane, for his part, withstood this with his usual easy amiability.

Ryan found himself unable to suppress a smile from his face. “What riddles you present me with! It seems impossible for me to ever forget that I am a man.”

Simple Math by TheMouthKing & tripwirealarm | E, 118K, complete

While filming Ghost Files, a joke goes off the rails and lights a long-ignored fuse between its two co-hosts, but what’s initially just some fun fooling around under specific parameters leads to increasingly complicated feelings, and when a situation brings those feelings under a microscope, a choice has to be made.

October

The Beauty of the Beast by Gilded_Quill | M, 3K, on-going

Ryan Bergara is an adventurer trying to find his place in the world. He comes in possession of a mysterious map that details a castle that lays in a nearby forest. A castle that there is no record of, and that no one seems to know anything about. Seeing his chance to find this mysterious lost building and along with it his fame and fortune, Ryan sets off. Instead finding the adventure of a life time wrapped in a mystery for the ages.

How to Befriend the Monster in Your Closet by Golden4278 | G, 142K, on-going

Ryan: Hi God, it’s me again. I just moved to LA and I’m really lonely. I need someone to be my friend, someone who understands me. Maybe… you could send me an angel? Yeah! The nicest angel you have.

Demon Shane: *LAUGHS MANIACALLY*

The Only Way Out Is Down by Golden4278 | NR, 14K, on-going

The Bizarre Death of Elisa Lam episode REWRITE! How would things be different if Shane had been Ryan's co-host instead of Brent?

It's about to get spooky in here.

The Long Haul of Living by kameleonten | T, 9K, complete

Shane gets cursed by a witch to live forever. He tries to hide through history, careful not to make a mark. So how he ended up being a somewhat notable Youtube-star is a mystery even to him.

Beasts and Ghouls by MysticalGoog494 | T, 1K, on-going

The creators of the Mythical Beasts have befriended the Ghoul Boys, and after spending some time together, the two pairs can’t deny the electricity between them. Although Shane and Ryan are only in town for a few days for the collab, the group decides to indulge and explore these attractions.

Who You Gonna Call? by Golden4278 | G, 2K, on-going

Ghost Busters! AU

if you want to read some more fics, you can always check out our ao3 collection! see you soon! ♡

#mod ve #shyan shipping society #fic promo #shyan #skeptic believer #watcher after dark #buzzfeed unclean #buzzfeed after dark

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stories-and-chaos · 2 years

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Okay I just got into The Owl House and I have a shit ton of thoughts and feelings but right now I wanna talk about Camila. Because I get where she’s coming from.

You know you’re old when you start relating to the parents in cartoons. It’s weeeeeeeeird. I’m not about to say Camila did nothing wrong because she has, but she’s a good parent trying her best imo.

My kiddo is neurodivergent. He’s a smart, sweet six year old on the autism spectrum. I love that he loves monster trucks and marbles and hot wheels cars. He’ll tell everyone about time trial races on his marble run and his favorite version of the GraveDigger truck. Did you ask for that information? Doesn’t matter he’ll tell you. At toddler groups he was in his own world, he had a plan for how playtime was gonna go and he was going to stick to it. I could do a huge post about what we’ve done to help our son but the point is, we knew he needed help to learn how to deal with other kids. We got him that help, from specialists in programs for people like him. He’s in first grade and while things aren’t perfect, he’s got the foundation for coping and interaction with others.

Back to The Owl House. We know Luz marches to her own drum. “Luz has always done things differently,” Camila says. Whether Luz is on the spectrum or not (I’d say she is) she definitely has a learning curve to interacting with her peers. She likely would have benefited from similar social therapy programs when she was young. But with Manny’s illness and death, sadly that probably wasn’t a priority for the Nocedas. And to go out on a speculative limb, if Camila had similar experiences as a child, she may not have realized therapy could have been helpful for Luz. She didn’t have specialists teaching her how to cope and navigate the neurotypical world after all, why would her kid need that?

Until said kid is a teen struggling with high school. And Camila is a single parent who’s still grieving and seeing her baby start to have problems just like she dealt with. She loves Luz and her quirks but she knows most kids don’t use sausage links as theater props. But she doesn’t know how to help her daughter. Camila will call people out on people badmouthing her girl obviously. But how to stop the badmouthing in the first place?

Camila doesn’t know that. She can’t teach her daughter to be “normal” because Camila isn’t “normal.” But here’s someone from the school system (presumably someone with more experience of kids like Luz) offering a solution. A whole group of people experienced in helping similar kids be “normal.” Who better to make sure Luz has an easier time at school than her mom did?

Now, summer camp is not cheap. Average overnight camp cost this year was around $450 PER DAY. And that’s for a “cabin life with activities” sort of camp. A specialty (or behavioral) camp could be more. But it’s worth the cost, right? Maybe. A reputable camp with professionals could very well have helped Luz figure out the tools she needs to deal with neurotypicals. A less reputable one focused on churning out results to justify taking all that money from desperate parents, not so much. Either way, fees have already been paid, non refundable, parent testimonials and staff say this place works, so the kid is gonna go.

Well, a kid goes. Vee attends, makes friends, learns how to act human, comes home. Camila likely sees Luz acting like a mature teenager. She’s not using escapism to cope with her dad’s death anymore. Her interests have changed but kids grow out of things all the time. Her daughter seems collected, stable, and ready to fit in at school. Camila is likely grateful that camp helped and Luz won’t have the same sort of hard time she did now. It was a tough, expensive decision and with life going smoothly she’s not going to question the results. Even in “Yesterday’s Lie” Camila goes along with the “game,” happy that Luz has a productive, social outlet for her creativity.

Except it’s not a game and now Camila knows she messed up. She didn’t realize “Luz’s” change in behavior was her being an entirely different person. Not only is her only child trapped in a different plane of existence, she had the opportunity to come home and chose not to. Having my kid prefer my partner’s company over mine the first time was hard enough. Finding out Luz chose to stay in the Demon Realm probably felt like she was being eviscerated. Another limb on my speculation tree here, but it looks like Camila doesn’t have much of a support system herself. Obviously there’s her staff at the vet clinic but they’re employees. No mention of friends or family nearby. Just Manny and Luz. But her husband’s gone. Of course she’d beg Luz to come back and stay.

When Luz does get back (+4) Camila is determined to be a better parent. She messed up before and thought she probably lost Luz forever. She’s going to get it right this time, from figuring out how to feed otherworldly adolescents to learning everything she can about LGBTQIA youth. She’ll even fight demons with her chancla and bat to bring her daughter’s friends home, like she’s escorting them back after a weekend trip. Mama needs a cocktail, a geeky book club, and some parent friends and I really hope she gets some of that in the Boiling Isles.

#the owl house #toh #luz noceda #toh camila #toh luz #camila noceda #mini rant #I haven’t watched all the episodes apologies if I got something wrong #but dang I want to treat Camila to coffee she could use it #just my thoughts #relating to the parents instead of the main character

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leovoid · 2 years

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Keroro Gunso (SGT Frog) is MUCH BETTER THAN I REMEMBERED

Also REGAINING MY WEEB TITLE #4 .3. Hello guys, its been a while ^^;; I’ve been stuck in a rut writing my video on Naoki Urasawa’s Monster so I distract myself by watching more anime ;3; Now typically, I am a big enjoyer of anime filled with angst, philosophy, well structured narratives with a theme to explore. You know, the typical, I wanna be in my feels anime stuff. However this time around I recalled that SGT Frog was reuploaded onto Crunchyroll, and seeing as this was a show I watched ALOT as a child, and finding a high quality upload online was hard to come by until now, I wanted to show this to my fiancé. My mother had first introduced me to this show when I was around 10 - 12 years old, I am currently 29 so we’re looking at roughly 17 - 19 years later to today! Now when I say that this show is alot better than I remembered, I don’t wish to possibly misconstrue you, I’ve always loved this show, I remember (as a child mind you *blushes*) dancing in front of the TV to each of the openings and Endings [This one specifically], collecting all the plushies of the platoon, toys, Gundam models, etc... My entire family genuinely enjoyed this show, so much so that we played it every single day for my little brothers who were infants at the time after buying the first 3 seasons on DVD. I was so into it that even after we passed the DVDs and watching anime online just started becoming a thing, I was watching new episodes every week until around episode 250+ or so (This was around the same time Death Note first started airing, CAN YOU BELIEVE IT?!) So anyway, fast forward to the present, my fiancé and I have watched A TON of anime together, Hunter x Hunter, Monster, Serial Experiment Lain, etc... So I wanted to take a break from the angst and show her an anime I hold near and dear to me, Sgt Frog. Currently we’re at episode 57, and the last thing I expected out of this show was to cry. Thats right.... THIS SHOW MADE ME F*CKING CRY MAN! And not just a little choke and getting watery eyes, I mean I FULL ON CRIED, had a hard time talking/breathing, tears streaming down my face, I was a full on MESS! If I was someone to wear makeup, I’m sure my face would’ve been a site to see XD

I’m quite embarrassed to be honest, but I have to admit, I realized that despite the show that is engulfed in slap stick comedy, filled with tropes and childish antics, this show has incredible writing sometimes, and I often feel that most of the comedy is what makes the viewers feel so connected to the 5 Keronian troops.

So what exactly made me cry in this show? Well it was episode 51 - The Keroro Platoon Retreats! Farewell, Pekopon, Sir!

The episode starts off just as a lot of episodes would start off, Keroro sleeping around his Gundam models, even holding a model piece in his hand. However Keroro is met by his commanding officer, commanding him and the squad to return to their home planet WITHIN 24 HOURS. Upon relaying the news to the rest of the platoon, everyone but the SGT. truly understands the severity of the situation. Keroro, whos only thought is the punishment he’ll receive for not properly invading Earth, (Pekopon) like a child who has an essay due tomorrow at school crams last minute the information needed to properly invade the planet, while the rest of his squad prepares for their final good byes to the friends and family they have made while on Earth.

The next few minutes of the show follows its usual comedic antics, Keroro arguing with Natsumi about getting his invasion manual back, rushing his chores to study quicker, even accidentally destroying his manual in the process, all the while we as viewers wonders when Keroro will put two and two together and realize what is more important, the fact that he did nothing towards the invasion or the fact that he’ll have to say good bye to the friends and family he has made along the way.

7 minutes into the episode, After wasting half of the day trying to find a way to invade Earth, Kululu comes in with a huge reality check for Keroro, telling him that per protocol all traces of their existence has to be wiped from the face of the Earth, not just physical evidence, but also the memories within the inhabitants of the planet too will be gone.

This is the moment when the entire tone of the episode changes, as Keroro finally realizes what is actually happening around him, never noticing for a second how he will have to say good bye to the Fuyuki house hold forever and the memories they made along with it. I normally would like to criticize the show at this point, because a lot of what happens here is just barely unnatural for some of the characters, Natsumi being abnormally nice to Keroro, making his favorite food, the mother being home in time for dinner, helping Keroro with his chores, etc... But I’ll let it slide because the emotional impact it had was probably slightly more significant because of it, and well.... this show is mostly a comedy anyway so I don’t wanna be too harsh haha From here on out, the invasion or lack there of, has completely left Keroro’s mind, the forefront on his mind is that this will be the last moment he spends with them, all the while keeping the fact that him and his squad will leave a secret.

Giroro leaving his unrequited love Tamama leaving the Nishizawas Kululu surprisingly leaving a sarcastic but friendly message to Saburo Dororo and Koyuki saying their final good byes The standard stuff, but this is where the scene and how its presented really takes off

Keroro is presented with the unimaginable task of giving the order to push the button that will completely wipe any traces of their existence on Earth. The rest of the squad follow, and ask Keroro what he wants to do. While it may not have been explicitly shown, but I believe that in the back of everyones mind they wouldn’t have been able to without Keroros order. The loyal and steadfast Giroro, the righteous Dororo and the menacing Kululu all relied on Keroro for the first time in the entire show to make the decision, none of them had it in their hearts to do it, not without the order. Keroro eventually makes the decision to erase everyones memories and all traces of them being on Earth.

Probably because I'm older, But it was less about the fact that they had to leave and more so of the fact that the 2 years they spent on Earth, all the friends they made, the memories they shared was all for nothing as we witness it all go up in the air in sparkly fashion. It was a pretty damning moment, the thought of it made me choke up pretty hard as the scene was presented magnificently, the voice acting, the music, everything set the tone perfectly. However, it wasn’t at this point where I cried, I came pretty damn close though lol Not even 3 minutes passes and the show hits you with another incredibly emotional scene as Fuyuki stares at his globe and remembers the first time he met SGT Keroro

Fuyuki dashes to the basement where Keroros room was, but of course it is now just a normal basement, Fuyuki stares at the fridge which would be a portal to the Keronian Base, but instead finds a lone, unbuilt Gundam Model in the fridge.

Now for those who may not have watched the show, this was the nail in the coffin for me. Keroro as a character is mainly a giant goof ball, where alot of his comedic shtick falls under his unhealthy obsession for Gundam Models, and for his “schtick” to be used in such an affective way, and after holding back my tears REALLY HARD in the scene prior, I couldn’t handle it, the show took the knife out of the wound they already gave me and stabbed me again in the same place. I CRIED, Poured my eyes out crying, I never felt such shame HAHA Now some might be wondering, well what happened next, do they come back?! Well seeing as there is literally 300+ more episodes later, I think we know exactly how this is gonna wrap up, which plays an even bigger part as to me wondering WHY THE HELL DID I CRY OVER THIS! But I digress...

In typical Sgt Frog (Keroro Gunsou) fashion, it turns out that all the Keronians wanted was to provide the platoon a physical check up and nothing more, so all of what they did was for naught, they came back, and everyone somehow, has their memories back, as Kululu resets everything, putting everything back to the way its supposed to be. So all’s well that ends well LOL I’m COMPLETELY aware that I cried for nothing, but DAMN MAN was that scene crafted so well (For a childrens anime) I barely remember what the next remaining seasons are like, honestly I’m kinda afraid of the quality of writing changes after this season, the next few episodes feels a bit different ( I can’t put my finger on it exactly) But I do recall that there will be more episodes like this of such serious nature, so I’m looking forward to watching it again with my fiancé <3 All in all, can’t believe a show like this made me cry, for those who have not watched it, WATCH IT, YOU WON’T REGRET IT.....maybe....probably....hopefully. Till next time, であります! (Dearimasu!)

Me too man....me too..... </3

#sgt frog #keroro gunso #sergeant keroro #giroro #tamama #kululu #dororo #fuyuki hinata #natsumi hinata #saburo #angel mois #nishizawa #comedy #anime

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botslayer · 2 years

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Why (Almost) every member of The Seven is Sympathetic:

Yes I said “Almost” but I want to do this in descending order (With one exception, you’ll guess who quickly). What makes these characters human monsters despite their great power? The only ones I feel no sympathy for at any given point are Translucent and Shockwave.

Okay they lock him in a cage and he really only wants to get out, but remember that he nearly killed some guy (Hughie) for trying to spy on them as he thought Hughie was a government spy. However, while in that cage, he mentions the idea that normal people are nothing to supes. I believe his exact words in once scene were “You’re nothing but a water balloon full of blood and meat.” So when he dies after bouts of bargaining and bribery, yeah. Fuck ‘im. Shockwave is on the extreme opposite end, he’s given virtually no characterization so his death is basically immaterial to the story and I have no clue what level of scumbag I’m supposed to infer he is.

He takes A-Train’s job (Which he can no longer do due to a medical complication). Big deal. He’s just some guy with super speed and a pawn for Homelander that gets taken out before he can do anything as far as the story goes. He looks cool but he’s a nothing character. (There is also Mister Marathon but we don’t know enough about him for anything relevant yet) The Deep, perhaps ironically this far up, is next.

The Deep has a couple of short scenes where I do sympathize. For example when he tries to help a supermarket lobster only for it to be killed, and then another where he invites a woman into his house. Said woman fingers his gill holes much to his protest and apparent pain while they have sex. Does he deserve that? No. But through all of that, and through joining the Church Of The Collective, he never learns the lesson he should have. He doesn’t actually appear to see what he did as wrong just that it’s inconvenienced him so thoroughly. Not to mention the fact that he’s technically committed bestiality (Albeit the sea life he communicates with seem to express roughly human level intelligence or something he understands as that at least which makes it... less bad, arguably.) All the same, the irony of The Deep is that he’s a completely shallow person. He’d do what he did to Starlight again if he thought he could get away with it, you can’t change my mind. I think that’s kind of the point though. Given the shows writing, I really don’t think I’m supposed to give a crap if The Deep lives or dies. He’s done one authentically good thing in the whole show and that was at the very end of season 3 with someone else’s prompting. (Although I won’t spoil that) Next, we have Black Noir, The Seven’s resident ninja. Which I want now.

Black Noir is probably a little high up for some of your tastes but I will say that from Deep, it’s a pretty steep drop to Noir. This physically abused and mentally broken assassin is honestly one of my favorite characters even before we got his backstory. His old and new leaders in the teams he was/is in were/are both absolute tyrannical monsters and he’s blindly loyal to a company that likely sees him as little more than an asset. You almost wanna give the guy a hug. Even when he kills someone it’s stiff and robotic. Like he only does it because it’s what he knows how to do. We also know he has either imaginary friends as of season 3, or basically schizophrenic delusions of cartoon characters. One or the other. This still suggests his brain is completely fucked. Especially when you see a chunk of it fell out in Nicaragua. Noir is ultimately a manifold victim of circumstance that slowly, over time, broke his mind, busted him up, and made him a monster, not because he simply is one, but because he was broken into one. Just like his most recent leader. But we’ll get to him. For now, Lamplighter.

Now, Lamplighter is a bad enough dude, but he feels an all-consuming, soul-crushing guilt. He feels nothing but pain for what he’s done, the thing that broke up The Boys before the show started, killing Grace Mallory’s grandkids. See, he might be a supe and was wrapped up in their wrong doing but he’s committed a great sin and knows its weight full well. His death in season 2 is a release. One that was unfortunate for The Boys but it was for peace. And it’s depressing but I’ll be damned if I don’t understand it and... Sympathize. Rest in peace, Lamplighter. Then there’s Maeve.

Maeve is a bad person. I don’t care what people say. Maeve is a bad person. But the question we have to ask is “Why?” “Why do you leave a plane full of people to die?” “Why do you enable the monsters around you?” Because she wants to survive. You tell Homelander of all people “No.” You tell him he’s doing something wrong and to give a shit. If you don’t go along with it, you don’t know what he’ll do. And it’s the same with people like Translucent spying on people in the bathroom. She’s so surrounded by this evil by this corruption and forced to smile and wave and pretend she’s happy when she isn’t. She’s the strongest woman in the world and ultimately feels powerless against the corporate scumfucks she works for or Homelander or A-Train, whoever else. She might be able to do damage to the others but not on Noir’s watch, not on Homelander’s. Defineitely not on Vought’s. She’s been cut off from the woman she loves for years, her approach to being a superhero is completely warped by what’s happened in her tenure, and the only person on God’s Green Earth willing to try and help her actually act on being a good person is Starlight. There’s a good person in Maeve trying to get out and Starlight helped or at least tried to but it’s a constant uphill battle against everything both of them are surrounded by. She gets a happy ending but the road to it is long and painful and honestly it isn’t entirely unearned even if I would have preferred her dying a hero’s death. Speaking of Starlight: HOMELANDER IS NEXT!

What hasn’t been said about Homelander? He’s a scumbag. He’s a manipulative, opportunistic, hateful, evil, egotistical, violent, sociopathic monster and needs to be stopped. But like with Maeve, the question is “Why?” Put Simply: He’s Superman without the Kents. He was denied something people need in their formative years. Love. He was affection and connection starved and taught to be the most effective weapon, not hero, possible. His super strength he only uses for relishing his horrible actions because his lasers do almost anything he needs quicker, even if it results in more collateral. That’s really not his concern because he was raised more or less not to give a shit. They gave a demigod a fullgod as a son and then denied either of them that bond and spoiled the god they made rotten, letting him think he could do whatever he wants. Homelander, not entirely unlike Noir, is a victim of surroundings. We don’t know what kind of person he could have been if he just had a proper family or at least a father. Vogelbaum certainly wasn’t going to give it to him and he admits that was a mistake. Homelander’s story is a tragedy when you get right down to it. A kind, loving boy forced to endure what could only be called torture just to see what sort of powers he had and then unleashed upon the world with a constant desire to be loved and seen as a hero by the people he’s supposed to work to save and help lead further astray by a combination of the already fucked up superhero culture of the time and his warped psyche. We all want Homelander to die, I think. But I wish I could go back. That I could just help a screaming child get the life he deserved before he became the monster we all know. Up next, we have A-Train.

A-Train is a bad person... Or perhaps was. But do remember the pressure and threat he lives under every day. If he slows down from his records for even a few milliseconds, that’s a few milliseconds someone else can take and use to take his place in the spotlight. Something he, a character from at least an inferably low-money background probably doesn’t want to have happen despite Homelander forcing him to run V everywhere to make “Supervillains” or the idea that Homelander could just, apropos of nothing, decapitate him and face no consequences. And now, given what happened in season 3, even though we know he’s killed more people than Robin and Popclaw, he knows why the things he’s done are wrong. He understands. He’s learned something approximating a lesson about what he’s put others through and is sorry. He understands at long last why what he’s done over the years is wrong, something he had to learn the hard way and he wants to make up for it all but doesn’t know how. At least he’s trying to use his platform for social issues. For whatever that’s worth. Now we come to the bottom layers, Starlight, Supersonic, and Blindspot.

Starlight, or Annie, is a character who kind of represents the average Superhero fan in my opinion. We see Superheroes as symbols of hope and justice. We see them as moral paragons who, while having flaws, let their good qualities shine through as much as possible not just because they’re good for everyone but because they, themselves, are good. They’re kind, caring, and maybe have just a pinch of an ego or show-offy tendencies. However as the show goes on we understand how that image is maintained by Vought in this universe through fake exploits in movies, comics, and shows. We learn that Earth’s Most Mighty, The Seven, are almost all monsters of various different kinds the lot of them are managed by a single company that has its fingers in every pie at once. Annie, upon walking in and experiencing all of this first hand, has to adjust to it. She has to learn to play the corporate game which she already kind of does but only in theoretical ways she HAS to flex to stay afloat. She has to learn how to appeal to her supposed team mates and dance around all their bullshit, even Homelander’s. She gets everything she thought she wanted only for it to be a nightmare, and as it turns out, kind of forced on her by her mother. Annie isn’t a bad person and is probably the best superhero in the show. She doesn’t do what she does because her ego is off the chart or because she’s driven by some abstract agenda. She genuinely wants to help and inspire people with a platform in The Seven. And to the show’s credit it’s not portrayed as a bad thing or superb naivety. She lives in a world of brainwashed people and is kind of one of them. She has to do bad things, even if she doesn’t want to. And that’s the kind of thing that you just feel for. I don’t really have a segue, but Blindspot.

We don’t know anything about him. Okay, he’s basically Daredevil but other than that, virtually nothing. He’s a good dude though and kind of comes off as another Annie. Hopeful, aspirational, and genuinely wants to do what heroes are said to do and help people, stop criminals, that jargon. Then Homelander ruptures his eardrums. We don’t know what happened to him after that, if he bled out or got taken to some variant of medical area and is recovering but all the same Homelander stole a dream of a kind from him and left an entire secondary layer of crippling him. Blind-deaf people can get through life, yes, but he’s got one hell of a learning curve ahead if he survived and it’s all just a sad sight. Just short of finally, Supersonic.

Supersoinc is a lightly developed character. He’s an old boyfriend of Starlight’s and we know for a fact he’s not a bad dude. He, like her and Blindspot, kind of embodies a sort of heroic idealism. He’s overcome a crippling drug addiction, he’s cleaned up his act and gotten back in the game, he’s openly displayed a trusting nature toward Starlight and a willingness to help fight Homelander, so much so he tried to recruit A-Train to the cause because he understood it was worth doing. He dies before the right thing can be done which is arguably worse than dying doing the right thing IMO. Now... The one you’ve all been dreading or perhaps sharpening various weapons and farm equipment edges for: Stormfront.

I’m saying this now: I saved her for last because I know she’s a hard sell. She’s a fucking nazi. Like... There’s virtually nothing else to say. That alone is enough of a reason not to give a shit or relish when horrible things happen to her. She arguably deserves just about everything she gets, key word “arguably,” on that metric alone. Her loss of spotlight and platform and eventual death were good things... But hear me out. This woman was born into a country that had problems. In the years that followed she was indoctrinated into the prevalent, evil ideology, made into a god, and then she outlives... everyone. Her husband, her daughter, lord knows how many friends and other family members. Then she finds a new love, a man who embodies everything her rancid ideology wants. The strength. The power. The lovely blue eyes and blond hair. She’s found the perfect ideal and he’s into her. They’re in love. Homelander loves her so much he introduces her to his son who she tries to indoctrinate into her hateful world view and then that boy does so much damage to her body it’s unreal and her own healing factor can’t keep up with it and she’s left as major burn victim who’s slowly losing control of her body. Not only can she not physically be with the man she loves, she can’t wish a happy birthday anymore because her body is gradually failing her more and more. She can’t wheeze or even blink on command anymore until she kills herself being unable to deal with how, to her own ideological lens, pathetic she is now. I struggle to feel no sympathy because that’s a lot of shit all at once. Again, happy she’s gone. The world of The Boys is a better place with out her. But just because she’s a terrible person, just because I find her to be awful... I still can't bring myself not to feel some sort of sorry for her. But she’s experiencing terrible, horrible things and I’ll be damned if those don’t engender some variant of empathy of sympathy. You may now flog me if you don’t agree with that stance. Anyway the point of this post was essentially just gushing about how I love this show. All of the characters are properly diverse and interesting even in their scummier behaviors. They know how to make them all uniquely scummy and sympathetic at once... All the ones that matter at least.

#The Boys #The Seven #More like the Twelve #Homelander #A-Train #The Deep #Queen Maeve #Maeve #Starlight #Supersonic #Translucent #Stormfront #Blindspot #Lamplighter #Black Noir #Shockwave #Watch this fucking show please it's great I swear

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shares-a-vest · 2 years

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I was initially going to post some death predictions but then I started thinking about who I really don’t want to die *Steve and Robin* so I’m going to talk about that. It’s long-winded (because I’m incapable of writing anything short) so it is under the cut. Plus I’m doing some death speculation, so yeah.

I just think it would be a complete waste of character development to kill off Steve. I’m obviously sooooooo biased because he’s my fave but, why establish his platonic relationship with Robin and show him in the middle of trying to find someone to be with and struggling to transition out of high school only to kill him off? It feels like a character who is still ultimately in the middle of their character arc rather than some other characters who seem like they are reaching finality (Brenner). I would also like to see more of an exploration of the impact all the fighting monsters stuff has on people – including Steve – and more about his crap relationship with his parents.

I feel similarly about Robin. Last season she was cool but was immediately thrown into the thick of a Russian conspiracy. We are really only starting to see her beyond that this season: when she is crushing on Vicky, being besties with Steve and pairing up with Nancy. I would really like to see more of the Steve/Robin dynamic because I have always found there to be a TOTAL lacking of platonic male/female relationships in media and theirs is great, but has so much more potential to explore.

Also straight up - if Robin dies, as a queer person I would find it such a blow. Her coming out scene last season was literally so important to me. For once I was seeing someone come out and it wasn’t entirely about the person they are talking to and it wasn’t a forced outing situation or steeped with queer suffering. And on a personal note, being able to engage with my family about a queer character in a show we all collectively love has been fucking awesome for me and I can't emotionally handle that being taken away.

I don’t want to sound like an anti (shipping wars are dumb guys) but for Nancy to get back with Steve at the last minute – or they declare their love and then immediately die – it undoes like four seasons worth of character development for both of them. And it just kinda leaves Jonathan out completely and dismisses Jancy in a way that feels like actively bad writing on the Duffer Bros part. To me, Nancy and Jonathan are having a rough patch because they have been separated geographically and now they are unable to communicate with each other because everything has turned to shit. Aaaaand they have no idea what is happening with the other AT ALL.

Another problem I have with Steve potentially dying is that it would be like this other level of cruelty to have Dustin working through that death (and likely see it). There are many sad/emotional moments throughout Stranger Things that I feel are completely earned. For me, Steve dying would just be shock value. He is such a popular character and plays this protective/heroic role to other characters and for me it would veer into that space of like, hopelessness that other series go in where it becomes a downer to watch. Personally, I would hate for ST to go in that direction because I just don’t get those vibes from this show and it’s a big part of the reason I love it so much (that isn't to say I need to be handled with kid gloves all the time but, yeah - can i have stuff that isn't an insufferable bummer to watch lol).

#this is rambling and sorta not well structured soz #steve harrington #robin buckley #steddie #stranger things #do i even have a point probably not #ive reblogged better analysis of Eddie than what i could write so go read those smart people talking instead lol

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coconutcows · 1 year

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I answered all the asks in my inbox that I never saw over the past few months and saved them as drafts so I could post them here and there and they’re all gone now 😑 I’m sorry

If you’ve sent me an ask over the past couple months, I’ve seen it and I appreciate them I really do, more than you might think. I’ve been on Tumblr for about ten years now and the past few months is the first time I’ve really interacted with people on here.

Someone said they hoped I was ok - I definitely wasn’t when you sent that message lol, but I am doing better now, not 100% but definitely better ^-^

Someone said it was nice to make my mother the gnome - she loved it!!! I gave it to her before she left for work and it changed her whole mood. And I know you sent it awhile ago but if you haven’t seen it, the spider did turn out quite well if I do say so myself:)

About the exclusivity- I’ve hated exclusivity with a burning passion since I started collecting Monster High dolls when I was a teen, and it’s gotten worse since I’ve seen it with video games and things. I’m not sure how much economics has to do with it, if at all truthfully. I think it boils down to corporate greed knowing fans will pay large amounts for special things to prove they are better fans and them taking payments for exclusivity which just limits their sales in the long run. Leaving a collectable up for three months to order is always going to net them more money than leaving orders up from an hour. They only think about short term.

To the person who sent the message about SSRIs- I’m extremely grateful you sent me that info!!! I saw the ask just before I got really sick for that two weeks, the meds I was talking about are antidepressants and they are SSRIs. When I got sick I was in so much pain and my mom got me some sinus pain relief meds. There was a warning against using them with MAOIs so if you hadn’t sent that I either would have taken them anyway at a risk or I would have suffered with the immense sinus pain and pressure. I do wonder if SSRIs can also affect dreams, I’ve been having a lot more dreams lately

Again, I’m sorry I never answered them earlier!!! I’m having troubles with my phone the way it show’s notifications now makes it easy to miss stuff. But! I will now check my inbox now that there are some very sweet people sending me the occasional message :)

Thank you again and please try to have a wonderful day!!! You deserve it!!!

#Asks #Anon #thank you for the ask!!!#< my ask tags in case anybody tries to see if I responded so they can see my responses #these are cut down mostly but they say the same things as best as I can remember #I do have two I haven’t touched yet so I can still respond to those properly luckily

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write-ur-wrongs · 3 years

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The Death of Me

Pairing: Geralt x reader

Word count: almost 4K - big whoops!

A/N: This was totally meant to be a drabble / blurb, but the story got away from me! A huge thanks to the sweet anon who submitted this prompt - I was beyond inspired and chuckled warmly throughout the entire writing process. This baby isn’t proofread so thread lightly!! I sincerely hope y’all enjoy this one :’)

Prompt: Heya! I saw your post about wanting to practice writing short stories so I have a small prompt for Geralt! What about: the reader and Geralt have always had a difficult relationship, always running into each other at the most inconvenient moments and hence disliking each other. However, while Geralt is passing through a village the reader comes barging into his room bloody and near death, only getting a chance to say “I didn’t know where else to go” before collapsing. I would be honoured if the idea inspired you :3

____________________________________________________

You’d never considered yourself unlucky but lately life had a funny way of throwing you for a loop, or rather, throwing you to the wolves. One wolf, actually. A damn, irritating, and arrogant white wolf.

At first, it was all business. You’d arrive in a village itching for a contract, only to find that a “legendary witcher” had already come through and taken care of every monster within a two-days ride. Furious, hungry, and broke, you set out determined to get as far as you could and as quickly as possible. Your determination got you far enough that you’d managed a full three months of contract work, but not far enough it seemed.

You’d been on your way to collect payment from your latest contractor when you’d heard the buzz on the street; a witcher had come through asking about work, and had been told to wait and see as someone else (a woman! A human woman!) had already committed to the case. Apparently, he was either incensed or bemused at the idea – the brute was very hard to read, so say the town gossips – but it didn’t matter to you. You beat him to it and now you get to eat. When you finally met with the contractor to collect your coin, you couldn’t help but swell with pride as they thanked you, eyes wide, for taking care of a monster no human ought to be able to handle. You could have sworn your pride had given you wings as you floated out of the inn.

That is, until you heard them mumble under their breath, “Thank Gods that lass was able to handle it! Had it been the witcher, I would have had to pay triple!”

“Thank heavens for cheap labour!” whispered their partner, raising their glass to cheers their big victory.

Suddenly whatever weightlessness you felt transferred onto your coin purse. Biting hard on your cheek you pushed up your chin, determined to remain dignified. But then you saw him.

Impossibly broad chested, rippling muscles evident beneath his leather armour, with golden eyes that reflected back to you with a cruel playful nature that made bile rise in the back of your throat. He held your gaze and raised his own tankard to you as you walked past him. His deep voice rumbled through you as you pushed the door open.

“Cheers to cheap labour,” you heard him say, and swore you could hear the smirk on his full lips.

Groaning furiously, you pushed the door so hard it swung back and slammed shut behind you with such force a flock of birds took off somewhere in town. Undeterred, you stomped off towards your horse and set off at a gallop.

I’m going to make sure I never cross his fucking path ever again, you thought searingly.

You were wrong it turned out, but how were you supposed to know that?

You’d gone years without actually seeing him again, but that didn’t mean you were free of him. You’d alternated winning and losing contracts to each other, and the pressure of beating him to the next one stressed you so fiercely you developed ulcers. That alone would have been enough to push you to murder had you not heard from another witcher that their brother, the great white wolf, was losing sleep trying to keep up with you. Knowledge of this fact spurred you on; after all, if you couldn’t beat him, it’s best to be even, no?

The next time fate brought you two together, though, you could not have been farther from on top. What made matters worse, is that you weren’t even in battle when your paths crossed. Your literal paths just simply… crossed.

You’d been riding east for many days and just as many nights. You were tired, sore, and somehow still soaked to the bone despite the fact that the rain had stopped at least a day ago. You were so tired, your muscles seemed heavy in your limbs, and you had to keep blinking hard to bring the spinning world around you back to its axis. As you rode through an intersection on the trail, the sun peaked out from behind the thick curtain of clouds just long enough to pull you fully into sleep, and right off your still-moving-horse’s saddle.

You honestly didn’t remember falling asleep, or off the saddle. You also had no memory of the moment another traveler, who was riding towards the intersection on the other trail, leapt off his mare just as you started your descent and caught you before you could split your skull open on one of the many rocks sprinkled throughout the street. You had no memory of the way he’d pulled you off the path, leading both horses behind him as he’d carried you over his shoulder. Zero recollection of him laying you down on a bed grass, tying your horse to a nearby tree, lighting you a campfire, or filling your pack with some bread and meat.

What you did remember, was the arrogant look on his face when you finally woke up. The condescending tone he took as he reminded you that you were ‘only human’ and had to take care of yourself accordingly was also seared into the annals of your memory.

You hated that he’d saved you almost as much as you hated the fact that you’d been asleep around him. Completely vulnerable for God knows how long and he’d been there to witness it all. Whenever the memory of the look on his face or the way he’d crossed his arms and tilted his stupid head as he condescended your humanity came to you, you couldn’t help but cringe even months after the fact.

***

Your saving grace came a full six months after your damned damsel in distress moment on the trail.

Well fed, well worked, and well travelled, you were taking your time enjoying the market in your town of the week. The work you did wasn’t glamourous, but it did allow you the means to afford a few luxuries every now and then. This time, it just so happened that your coin could buy you the sweetest gift of all: revenge.

The market was busy as ever, you could barely hear yourself think over the cacophony of voices and animal bleats bouncing around the square. Had it been anyone else, the conversation would have been lost among the noise around you, but when that voice came rumbling through the mess of shrieks and shouts, you couldn’t help but seek out the source. You didn’t know why you cared or why you were so surprised to find that the voice’s owner was none other than the White Wolf himself.

“You good?” you asked, making sure to tilt your head, hands on your hips, the same way he’d done the last time you’d met.

“Fine.” He practically barked, not even turning his head fully to address you directly.

The merchant, none-too-concerned with your arrival on the scene, continued as if uninterrupted. “I’m sorry Mr. Witcher, sir, but I can’t go any lower. This is the best I can offer.”

“I can’t pay that much,” he grumbled, hands closed into tight fists.

“I’m sorry-”

“Is this enough?” you interjected, knowingly offering forward far too many ducats.

“Y-yes!” breathed the merchant, looking quizzically at Geralt before picking three coins from your open palm, “thank you, madam...”

“Y/N,” you introduced yourself with a warm smile and a nod.

“Y/N!” Geralt hissed, at the same time, reaching out to push away your hand a fraction too late; the vendor was paid, and you’d won this round.

“What is it, Witcher?” you teased, as the vendor took his sword back for repairs, “been on vacation? Why so skint?”

“Been low on work lately,” he replied coolly, cat-like eyes boring into yours, “not as many contracts as there use to be.”

“Well, I’ll be,” you said, cocking your head to the side and pursing your lips in mock contemplation, “I can’t imagine why that’d be the case! Seems I keep running into monsters to kill.”

“Mmhm.” He hummed, narrowing his eyes at you.

Refusing to let him have the last word, you quickly turned on your heels and high-tailed it out of the market, shouting over your shoulder to the blacksmith to give any change back to Geralt before disappearing back into the crowd.

***

Being even should have brought peace between the two of you but it seemed to have the opposite effect. Your last interaction only fanned the flames of your rivalry. As the months turned to years without coming upon each other again, you still found yourself filled with unreasonable anger whenever you saw a mop of white hair cross you on your travels.

And not that you’d know it, but it turned out that Geralt wasn’t faring any better; finding himself frustrated and acting recklessly whenever he’d come upon anything that reminded him of you.

You were both completely obsessed with one another. Thoughts of the other constantly on the mind. Whether in waking or in dreams, you were both equally afflicted by an intense need to outperform, out run, and also, inexplicably, to impress the other.

It was that need to impress each other that led you to accept a contract you should have never even considered taking. You honestly wouldn’t have even considered it had the circumstances been any different but you’d been hearing about this monster for weeks on your travels. Tales of the mighty griffin tearing people to shreds had been circulating far and wide on this side of the Yaruga, and honestly, with every retelling you’d expected to hear that a witcher had handled it, but that never happened. You’d somehow managed to arrive at the village at the source of these stories before him and had an opportunity to literally rob him of this victory.

Granted, you were the only one who’d been attributing him with this win, but that didn’t matter, not to you. The only thing you cared about when accepting this particular contract was the knowledge that by taking it, you were preventing him from having it, and that was more than enough.

The shock on the villagers faces when they saw you accept the contract only added to your already inflated confidence. The sheer size of the griffin’s wingspan humbled you a little, though, and whatever grand illusions of an easy victory you’d carried into the forest were squashed along with a couple rib bones only moments after engaging the beast. In short, you were fucked.

Some might say that coming out of it alive was enough of a win. Those people would be morons, you thought as you stumbled clumsily back towards the lights of the village, clutching your split abdomen with both hands and blinking back blood dripping from your forehead. Every step you took came with the stabbing pain of additional tearing around your wound. You could barely think, your ears were blocked and caked with dried blood and dirt, your tears stung as they fell across the gashes on your cheeks, and every breath in felt like it could be your last. You’d never admit this out loud, but a part of you wished the creature had finished the job.

Perhaps the only saving grace here was that in your condition, you couldn’t hear the villagers as they pointed and gossiped. You didn’t hear the “told you so’s” or the lewd shouts coming from the drunk men as you stumbled into the tavern. You could barely hear the disappointment in the inn owner’s voice as they reprimanded you for accepting a contract, they knew you couldn’t complete. Rolling your eyes, you pushed your way towards the stairs as quickly as possible – which, as it turned out, was not so quick, praying that someone would call you a healer.

“… and to think a witcher arrived only hours after she went off to kill herself! Tsk-tsk!”

You stopped dead in your tracks, drops of blood falling across your brow as you interrupted the momentum you’d been building. “W-what?” you croaked, turning towards them as much as possible to make sure you’d hear them correctly.

“Yeah! And not just any witcher, lass, the Butcher of Blaviken no less! Checked in with us just as you head out. Had you waited half a day you could have saved yourself a world of – ‘ey! Now where’s she off to?”

As you registered this news, something inside you snapped. Before you knew what was happening, you’d made your way upstairs and started pushing your full weight onto every door you passed. The great White Wolf, the Butcher of Blaviken, was certainly arrogant enough to leave his door unlocked. You might have been wrong about the griffin, but you’d be damned if you were wrong about this.

Fortunate or not, you weren’t wrong about this. As you pushed your shoulder against the last door with whatever strength you had left, the door swung open with very little resistance. The heavy wooden door slammed loudly against the wall at the exact moment that your limp body crashed onto the floor.

“WHAT the fuck!” Geralt howled, leaping off the bed and onto his feet. His wild eyes assessed the situation in an instant, and he bound to you in barely two strides. “What the fuck did you do? What happened?” he asked as he flipped you over, so gently you were sure you’d already passed out and were now dreaming. Or maybe the blood loss was finally catching up to you and you were full-on hallucinating.

“I didn’t know where else to go,” you breathed, barely above a whisper, before losing consciousness in his arms.

Regaining consciousness was a slow, painful process. You’d come in and out of it a handful of times throughout the night, and flashes of what you’d seen before you lost it were coming to you in an almost dreamlike haze; terrifying images of the furious griffin, its blood-soaked talon shining in the setting sun as it reared back to strike you again, and warmer visions of Geralt, shirtless, running towards you with – could it be? – genuine concern in his eyes.

Now as the rising sun cast its glow across the room, you squinted painfully against the light. Your head felt as though it was full of cotton; heavy, and scratchy, and unnatural on top of your shoulders. Hesitantly, you ran your tongue over your teeth and were equal parts relieved to find them all there and disgusted at the acrid, mineral taste the blood left behind. Blinking slowly, you tried to bring up your hand to rub at your eyes, but stopped short as you felt the large bandage draped across your forehead.

Slowly, you started to register the other bandages, on your arms, your cheek, across your abdomen. Your eyes grew wide as you finally registered the man facing away from you in the far corner of the room. Geralt’s broad strong back was hunched away from you as he rifled through herbs and small glass vials looking for something. Inexplicably, you found yourself disappointed to see he’d put his thick black tunic back on. Horrified by that realization, you literally gagged, startling Geralt and pulling his attention squarely onto you.

His big dumb beautiful face was all hard lines as he looked you over, stern eyes flashing to meet yours before dropping back down to the vial in his hands. You couldn’t help be notice the way the muscles in in jaw rippled and tensed as he sighed. He was oozing disappointment and anger, and that infuriated you.

“Am I dead?” you ask, squinting at him a little theatrically as you squirmed and winced in your bed.

“No.” he practically growled, his body tense as he made his way towards you slowly.

“Oh,” you breathed, bringing your eyes up to his before adding, “this isn’t hell?”

To your immense satisfaction, his stern eyes widened into shock, but then something unrecognizable flashed across his features – wait, was he hurt?

“Why, because I’m here?” he shouted, as if in confirmation of your hunch, and slammed the damp cloth he’d been holding back into the basin.

“No, jackass,” you retorted, pleased that despite the position you were in, you still had some semblance of an upper-hand, “because a griffin fucking fileted me like a fish and some poor drunk is probably downstairs slipping in a pool of my blood right now.”

You’d kind of hoped that he’d laugh, or at least have a comeback geared up for you, but Geralt just stood there staring at you, his mouth in a tight line, nostrils flaring.

Uncomfortable by the intensity of his stare and the silence accompanying it, you decide to continue to poke the bear.

“Come on, what’s with the face, Geralt? Pissed I’m still alive? You know you could have just closed the door over my body, let nature finish the bloody job.”

“Fuck, no! Y/n!” he screamed, startling you out of the attitude you’d put on, “I’m pissed because you’re an impossibly difficult woman hellbent on killing herself! I’m pissed because you don’t seem to fucking care about what happens to you! You can’t keep doing this Y/N! Because one of these days you’re going to get hurt and you’ll be too far away from me and I won’t be able to fucking save you, again! I am pissed because I am losing my mind spending every god-awful day wondering if you’ve gone and gotten yourself killed! Fucking hell, woman! If you didn’t find me – I-if I wasn’t here, with these herbs – Damnit Y/N!”

You just sat there, mouth opening and closing like a fish. You couldn’t believe it. You didn’t know what to say. This man, your nemesis, was in front of you pacing back and forth, breathing heavily, looking like a maniac. His nostrils were flaring more than the monster that almost killed you just yesterday. Part of you wanted to correct him and demand he never address you as ‘woman’ again, but his wild earnest eyes kept you quiet. My god… was he crying?

Before you could say anything, Geralt sighed gruffly, ran his large hand over his face and stormed out, mumbling something about needing to get you more water.

Left alone with your thoughts, you couldn’t stop yourself from spiralling. You’d expected him to be angry – hell, you wanted him to be angry! You’d humiliated yourself twice over, enraging him would ease the blow – but this was… different. He seemed genuinely concerned about you. And what was with his whole speech? He spent every day thinking about you? Worrying about you? There’s no way.

Sure, you thought about him daily, but that was out of spite! You hated the man! Why else would your heart race whenever you thought you spotted him in a crowd? Why else would you actively seek out the most dangerous contracts? What, like you were hoping these contracts would draw him out, and therefore, closer to you? As if!

Your ridiculous inner monologue was interrupted by Geralt’s return. The horrible brute knocked gently on the door before stepping inside, and your heart had the audacity to skip a beat.

Oh, you thought, fuck.

“I need to change the dressing on your wounds,” he grumbled, not meeting your eyes. You nodded wordlessly as he settled onto the chair next to you. You watched him work in silence, praying he would attribute your insane heartrate and flushed skin to a pain response from his work.

“Geralt?” you tried, chewing nervously on your cheek, as was just finished up with the last of your dressing.

“Hm?” he hummed, keeping his eyes cast down as he fussed with the bandage on the gash across your abdomen.

“Thank you… for saving me.”

He finally brought his gaze up to meet yours, but said nothing in return. He merely grunted in acknowledgment. You didn’t know why, but his silence in combination with his inscrutable gaze encouraged you to keep talking.

“I honestly only took this contract because I didn’t want you to have it,” you admitted bashfully.

“What the fuck? No one was taking it because they weren’t paying nearly enough! Hell, and you’re just a human,” he fumed, throwing up air-quotes as he said it, “so what – they offered you a third of nothing?”

Laughing lightly, you shoved him with your elbow, “they offered me three whole ducats!”

“Oh, wow,” he laughed, low and rumbling, “so a big pay day for you, eh?”

“Shut up,” you gasped as pain rippled through you with each peal of laughter, “knowing I could screw you over was payment enough!”

“Well congratulations are in order, you did manage to screw someone over,” he chided.

“Me,” you stated dryly, gesturing widely at your busted up body.

“You,” he echoed with a sigh that seemed to deflate him.

He suddenly looked so small, sitting there next to you. You watched him as clenched and unclenched his jaw, rubbing his large hands up and down his thighs – was he anxious? You mind raced as you felt his eyes travel slowly up your body. You held your breath as he worked up the nerve to finally bring his eyes up to yours.

The moment his eyes landed on yours, something shifted. Whatever had been lodged uncomfortably between the two of you all these years had finally clicked into place. This change, albeit small, was palpable. His eyes dropped to your lips and lingered there. He was looking at you like he’d never seen you before. Like he was afraid he might never see you again.

Without speaking, Geralt inched himself closer to you and reached a tender hand to tuck your hair behind your ears before cradling your face.

“You’re not allowed to die, do you hear me?” he whispered, gently stroking your cheek with his thumb.

You gave him a quick nod and brought your hand up to his, nuzzling into the warmth of his palm before giving his hand a quick kiss.

“I need to hear you say it,” he begged, bringing himself even closer to you.

“I do,” you breathed, trying to sit up to bring your face closer to his. “I’m not going to die, not on your watch, but I’m also not quitting.”

“Y/N –”

“No! If I quit, you’d get lazy. Who’d push you? What would be your driving force?”

“Wow,” he scoffed, looking at you incredulously but fondly, “you’re so fucking arrogant.”

“And yet…” you said, quirking a brow flirtatiously as you pulled him closer by the collar.

“… and yet?” he murmured, letting himself be pulled closer to you. His eyes half-closed and his lips slightly parted.

“You love me.”

“I love you.”

And then he kissed you. His mouth claimed yours urgently but his hands were ever gentle, ghosting over your bandages and caressing your skin with a feather-light tenderness that would have brought you to your knees had you not already been bedridden. Any hesitation or doubt melted away under the heat of his touch as all those years of tension sprung apart catastrophically. The knot you had carried in your stomach unfurled into flittering fireflies, their heat traveling up your stomach to your chest as his hands worked their way into your hair.

You didn’t know when they’d fallen, but you let out a shaky laugh as Geralt kissed away the tears on your cheeks, his thumb swiping at the tears his soft lips failed to catch. Breathing heavily, he rested his forehead against yours; his hands cupping your face as yours captured his.

Gods – this man was going to be the death of you.

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sub-hoshi-enthusiast · 3 years

Text

I'm still not writing for bts anymore but I just wanted to get these few requests out cause I don't wanna be a bitch and make these people wait so long for something and then have me say "sorry lol I don't wanna do it anymore 🙃" but anyways this is for @babyboytae1 so I hope you like it (even tho you requested it like eons ago and I only just now made it-)

Making BTS Cum in Their Pants

Jin

In the moment, Jin would find this incredibly hot. The fact that you have so much power over him you can make him cum in his pants like an over excited teenager drives him nuts. His favorite thing is when you don't actually touch him, but just tease him with your words as he desperately ruts against your thigh, a pillow, or anything else you've given him permission to use. You'd be sitting on the couch trying to watch a movie when he comes up to you all hot and bothered, so you just keep staring at the screen while lightly patting your thigh and he gets the message. He'd be grinding against your thigh,whimpering and moaning into your ear and if he tried to take his pants off for some better friction you'd just look at him and say something like "Did I give you permission to do that doll?" And he just shakes his head with a high pitched whimper while speeding up the movement of his hips. From time to time you'd look over at him with a "Is that the best you can do?" or "Look at you doll, so desperate to cum you're using my leg when you could just be jerking off somewhere." Your simple words bring him to the edge faster than he thought they would so he starts begging for his release, hips stuttering as he waits for your reply. When finally told to cum his eyes roll back in his head as he cums all within the confines of his underwear. He'd sit there for a bit before he starts complaining about how he'll have to do the laundry again even though he just did it (I want Jin as my housewife ok, sue me) but he knows he'd do it again in a heartbeat if you asked him to.

Yoongi

If it's just in his jeans or any other regular clothes he had worn for the day I don't really think he'd mind. He loves to make sure that you're enjoying yourself and if him cumming in his pants makes that happen then so be it. He'l be damned, however, if you try to make him do it in pretty clothes he's bought to dress all cute for you. If he's wearing lingerie or a pretty skirt/dress he's found at a store just for you, he's not going to let you ruin it just because you're horny. If you guys are in the foreplay section of the night and you have him grinding all up on you in a pretty pink skirt he wore with a nice white set of lingerie and you tell him to keep it on while he cums he'll just glare at you before ranting about how much it cost and how embarrassing it was for him to go get it and wasn't going to put himself through that again so you can just take what's been handed to you. You'll just giggle at him with a quiet apology as you press a kiss to his lips and carefully undress him before going on with the night you have planned. Sometimes you'll just bring it up as a joke because you have to admit his little rants are pretty darn cute since he talks with a pout on his lips.

Hoseok

Hoseok is very loud and very sensitive so you just have to play with him out in public, what monster wouldn't? So you have definitely made him cum in his pants more times than he could count. In changing rooms, bathroom stalls, even a little ways down an alleyway close to your home when it was dark enough. He's in heaven when you push him up against a wall, looking him in the eyes as you mutter all the dirty things you wanna do to him while rubbing him through the front of his pants. Just that is enough to make him cum. The thought of someone stumbling upon you two and seeing how weak and pathetic he becomes under your touch makes him go crazy. Realistically you've taken precautions to assure that wouldn't happen but the thought is a turn on nonetheless. Long story short- make him cum in his pants in public. If you make him walk around for a bit with his release almost staining the front of his pants (don't worry, you give him a long hoodie or shirt so no one could see it unless they were looking for it) he would be willing to go another round as soon as you got home.

Namjoon

Oh my goodness I've been waiting for this one!! Could you imagine? Making the leader of one of the most widely known groups in the world do something so dirty?? Yes please 🤤! He can look so calm and collected to everyone else but he'll be on his knees humping your leg with his pants still on in a heartbeat if you asked him to. Now that's a pretty picture. The leader of BTS pathetically humping your leg like a mutt, not caring if he ruins the clothes he has on. Even better if you force him to wear them a little while longer into the session, taunting him about what a dirty boy he is and letting him feel his release seeping through his pants and sticking to his legs. Y'know what I think I've thought about this a little too much-

Jimin

Jimin is the kinkiest little bitch, as we all know, so he's down for anything you wanna do to him. He is really into humiliation though so if you make him cum in his pants and then sneer at him while telling him what a pathetic whore he is for getting off so quickly he will become hard as a rock again in seconds. It's not like it's something he would do unless you told him to do so, but he does still enjoy it to a certain degree. The humiliation factor? 10/10 would do it again just to hear you insult him, but he finds it a little uncomfortable after a while with his release sticking to his legs. He does prefer to stay pretty clean for the most part and doesn't like the feeling of cum on his skin. Unless of course you wanna cum on his face, then he's all for that.

Taehyung

Our sweet puppy Taehyung :,). I honestly don't really think he'd like it that much. It's sticky and uncomfortable and like hell he'd let you ruin his expensive ass pants. That shit's probably Gucci so I don't know about you but I couldn't replace that in a million years. He's also just a sweet boy who wants your praise so the humiliation factor isn't too appealing to him either. The only way I could really see him enjoying getting his release on his clothes is if he cums on his stomach or something and you wipe it up with his underwear and then shove it in his mouth as a makeshift gag as you fuck him. Other than that, ruining his clothes is a no go.

Jungkook

Our sweet baby boy is all for experimentation with you. If there is absolutely anything you'd wanna try out with his all you'd have to do is say the word. I think with this situation it would be more like J-Hope in the sense he would love for you to make a mess of him out in public. Making him walk around the rest of the day in his ruined jeans that would probably be more visible that J-Hope's cause Kookie does tend to wear tight jeans most of the time (which is honestly probably why you felt the need to pull him aside and take care of him cause damn those thighs) unless he's wearing sweatpants which still wouldn't help his case. But that's really the only time I think he'd cum in his pants. He doesn't really see the need to do it at home since there are so many other options but if you're out in public he's always down.

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popopretty · 3 years

Text

Storm Bringer Spoilers (4)

Another part from CODE;04, before the final battle, where I think Dazai actually showed some genuine concerns for Chuuya. It is interesting to read. I generally enjoy it when Dazai acts more human like this.

Feel free to re-translate it if you want. Just remember that I am not fluent in either English or Japanese and there might be mistakes here and there.

...

Deeper into the night. The destruction’s footstep is approaching the city.

The entrance of the highway on the outskirt of the city was crushed by the Demonic Beast Guivre. The bridge that supports the road, the direction signs, the median strips in the middle, all crushed in an instant. It happened so fast that hardly any sound was made. The passing vehicles witnessed that. They ignored the lane and turned around to run away. The Demon Beast turned towards them and spat out gravity lines. All the vehicles disappeared without a trace. Together with their entire surroundings.

Chuuya and Dazai gazed at the Demon Beast Guivre that was approaching them like that.

The place they were standing was on top of a large spherical gas storage tank. That was a tank set up in the suburbs to store gas for the city. Its top workbench is even higher than the skyscrapers around the area. They can see the face of the beast waking fast towards them in almost the same horizontal level.

“I guess it is about 30 minutes until Yokohama downtown is turned into a mess.” Dazai idly said while looking at the beast.

“That’s not something we are going to see.” Chuuya said, holding the hat in his hand. “By that time we have already either blown away that thing, or died.”

“Gosh, no way! Double-suiciding with Chuuya is the worst. For once, let’s do it seriously.”

“Fine by me. I don’t feel like dying either. I still have to become an executive before you and order you around.”

“Oh? That’s quite some confidence you’ve got there. That jewelry business? I heard it’s going well?”

“The like of you will never be able to catch up. Our jewelry distribution channel, including carriers, pawnbrokers and appraisers, is number one in Yokohama.”

“Yeah, I know that. I was in charge of that before Chuuya took over, that’s why.”

“What?”, Chuuya looked at Dazai, surprised. “That means the first person who set up that distribution channel was actually you???”

“Leave that for now. It is about time it comes within striking distance.” Dazai pointed ahead with his chin. The foot steps of the Demonic Beast Guivre got closer. Its crimson eyes looked straight at them. Chuuya gazed at the beast for a while, then he looked up and shouted.

“Dazai’s used stuff! hand-me-down, huh?”

“Whatever.”

The giant beast trampled on the roadside trees and tore down the power lines. The signboards and abandoned bicycles were lifted off the ground as a result of gravity anomaly and crushed into tiny dust in the air.

”Remembered the plan?”

“Yeah.”

Chuuya and Dazai stood side by side, facing the giant beast. Their clothes fluttered under the high wind.

“What you have to keep in mind is that this plan is not foolproof. We don’t know what is going to happen. After all, we are going to hit the Demonic Beast Guivre with Arahabaki. I won’t be surprised even if the world is blown away.”

“Like it will!” Chuuya said. “Verlaine survived such thing nice years ago.”

The plan Dazai came up with.

In that plan, Chuuya would open his “gate” and hit the giant beast with Arahabaki’s infinite energy.

“We already know the method to open Chuuya’s “gate”. It’s the control spell that N has said: “Oh grantors of dark disgrace, do not wake me again”. With that, the sealing command will be reset. We will not be able to open the “gate” just by doing that, but that hat will help us.”

The hat that Chuuya was holding was the one that Verlaine had worn. That was gifted to him by Rimbaud, with a piece of ability metal embedded inside. With that, the person who wears it, in this case Chuuya, would be able control the “gate” by his will. Verlaine being able to freely open the “gate” by himself and using the Black Hole power, were all thanks to that hat.

“It’s almost time. Chuuya will jump from here, open the “gate” in front of that monster, and hit it with the power.” Dazai lifted the radio with one hand while looking at the beast. “So I’m going to send an order to my men to prepare for action… Is that okay?”

“Of course it is okay.” Chuuya turned to Dazai. “Why are you asking me such a thing?”

Dazai didn’t answer right away.

That was an unusual expression. It’s like he was trying to say something, but had to arrange the words in his head to decide where he should start. An expression that Dazai rarely shows.

“There is one problem.” Dazai cut off the sentence hesitantly. “It has nothing to do with the success rate of the plan. It is a matter we have to overcome in the end but... it may require some time to decide.“

“What’s with you?”, Chuuya raised his eyebrows at Dazai. “Stop dramatizing it. Hurry up and say it”

“I said earlier about the control spell to open the “gate”. That is used to reset the command formula inside Chuuya, right?” Dazai spoke with a strangely restrained voice. “If we use that, the logs of the command formula that were written in the past will also be erased. That means…. even if the memory erasure command was used on Chuuya in the past, the traces of that will be erased as well.”

“What?”

“I told you before right, the “memory erasure command”. The only way to confirm if Chuuya is a human or not is to check the history to see if the memory erasure command was ever used. It means…” Dazai looked at Chuuya with eyes that he had never looked at him before. Those eyes were serious. “If we use that control spell, the method to confirm whether Chuuya is an artificial personality created by a string of code, or just a normal human being, will be lost. For good.”

The time stopped.

Chuuya opened his eyes and turned towards Dazai, but his eyes were not seeing anything. The wind blew between the two of them. Even so, Chuuya did not blink.

“Verlaine became like that because he was tormented by the curse that he was not human. That only is enough of a big problem. The matter of being human or not.” Dazai took out his pocket watch, gave it a glance then continued. “I can delay the time until the plan starts for about two minutes. I will send an order to my men to wait… You can think about it alone for a while. Cuz I guess it’s hard for you to collect your thoughts with me around.”

Having said so, Dazai turned away and walked towards the stairs, leaving Chuuya alone.

Dazai’s eyes were fixed on the his pocket watch. Two more minutes. Too short for a life decision. But he couldn’t afford more than that.

Inside Dazai’s head, he was planning the procedure to switch to an alternative plan in case Chuuya refused, at a tremendous speed.

After six steps, Dazai reached the stair. He stepped on the stair and started walking down. Three steps down the stair, he heard a *clang*, a cool sound of metal echoing behind him. It sounds like the metal was kicked by the sole of someone’s shoes. The moment he realized what that sound was, Dazai turned around in surprise.

There was already no one at the top.

Dazai was dazed for a moment, then he loosened his lips and laughed.

“Trying to act cool, huh?”, Dazai smiled, both annoyed and relieved. Then he turned to his radio and sent out his order. “Chuuya has sallied. Everyone, get ready for battle.”

....

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #storm bringer #spoilers #bsd spoilers #dazai osamu #nakahara chuuya

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hephaestiions · 3 years

Note

you literally glorified infidelity in your wireless 2020, fic writers like you really need to die out before you damage the community at large

you know, i’ve cycled through many iterations of a response to this ask.

first i thought, let’s respond with a bit of sass. let’s say something like, ‘bold of you to assume i haven’t already died out, that tumblr isn’t just a congregation of ghosts moaning about the lives they wish they had’ or ‘what’s a community’ or maybe even a screenshot of the actual definition of glorification (which, well, i do suggest you look up anyway).

then i thought, why entertain it at all? this is my space, this is my blog, it’s my fic. i can delete this ask, turn off anons and be done with it. i would be within my rights to do that.

i also thought many times of explaining the contents of my fic. of explaining myself. contemplated answering this with poetry that metaphorically explains the many many things wrong with this.

but here’s what i finally settled on:

honestly, anon, i’m feeling a little salty. it seems to me that you want fandom to be a highly sanitised space that fits into your personal parameters of ‘safe’ or consumable. what concerns me about that, and about this particular genre of anon hate in general is– for some reason your safe and sanitised world does not exclude sending people comments such as “...[you] need to die out”. i would argue that suggesting someone needs to die is maybe exponentially more threatening and damaging to ‘the community at large’ than a tagged fic that includes a disclaimer stating i do not endorse the behaviour i am writing about, but hey! personal opinions, am i right?

i’m not going to defend my fic. i don’t feel the need to.

but if you think fanfiction about infidelity, fictional work that does not automatically demonise individuals who do something awful as the worst kind of monsters to exist, will actively push people to cheat on their partners (which is what i am assuming your definition of ‘damage’ to be in this scenario)... i’m going to have to ask you to reevaluate. fiction is not validation. it is exploration in a world where there are no real life casualties or consequences.

i cannot believe that people have to keep repeating this: sanitising fan spaces by censoring content you personally find offensive will not in any way make fandom safer.

in fact, this is literally the kind of comment that puts people and the ‘community’ in danger.

i’ll explain.

imagine this: people listen to you. people say, well, the glorification of infidelity really is quite awful, quite traumatising, we ought to ban it. but who determines what glorification is? who determines what romanticisation is? the line is too blurry anon, the only way forward here is to ban infidelity in fics completely.

now readers who found comfort and solace in reading infidelity fics with hurt/comfort, with forgiveness or with freedom, with a particular quote that resonated with them, readers who turned to this fic at 3 am... they’ve lost it too.

but hey, let’s take it further still, because that’s what this type of censorship will open fandom up to. let’s talk about how this will validate people who find content with any exploration of nsfw themes, r*cism, mis*gyny, homoph*bia, transph*bia, r*pe offensive. let’s talk about how they will approach the showrunners of censorship with the same argument: this content could be traumatising, could be validating for someone’s darker impulses, let’s ban it. and it all gets banned.

enemies to lovers, banned because it might be construed as abusive. a/b/o, might be construed as misogynistic or codependent. hmm. high-school/college, oh god, that could be underage! soulmates? where’s the agency?! kid-fics? a minefield, any parenting is bad parenting to parents who do not parent that way. mcd? let’s not even go there. body-swap? the consent issues!!

“alright. what about ‘there was only one bed’?” “well, i mean, i’m really not comfortable with that, it’s really creepy how writers will just force characters who don’t want to consent to that kind of intimacy into each others’ spaces.”

now i’m not saying that your personal opinions on these tropes, these themes, these topics is invalid. i’m not saying that if you’re triggered or made uncomfortable by these things, you should still read them. i’m saying that enforcing your personal preferences and takes on every single person in a community is not what critical consumers of media do, it’s what fascist and authoritarian governments and abusive individuals who do not understand boundaries do.

here’s the truth about media that antis don’t like: there are antis for the media they actually do like. you ban something, you open up the goddamn floodgates for fluff antis to present their cases about how making characters ooc in fluff can be highly traumatic to people and how it should be banned. you start this brand of censorship, you risk losing fandom and the community you are so concerned about me damaging entirely.

i’ll leave you with a realisation i’ve come to by reading all the posts made by people better with words than i am: the fastest way to create a dystopia is for someone to think their version of utopia is universal.

further reading for folks who might be interested in tumblr posts about fanfic:

fanfiction as a collective exists as a combination of the ideal state and all the broken pieces that are left behind. fanfiction: the stories mainstream showrunners won’t tell. for the people trying to make fandom a better place.

coexistence of hurt and healing

there are thousands of other such posts, articles, books, academic articles, maybe even interviews on the subject, and if anyone wants to send a few mine (and anon’s) way, feel free!

#i apologise to all my followers for this massive post #but yikea #my accessibility as a content creator does not equate to my tolerance of trolls #fanfic #fandom #ao3 #tw infidelity #tw antis #geets loses her cool rip #Anonymous

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harfanfare · 3 years

Text

Aether x Reader || Glaze Lilies

"This one is delicious too," you said, swallowing another piece of the dish. “Paimon would probably create another stomach for these miracles.”

Aether chuckled softly as he bites off another piece of hot roll filled with traditional Liyue-rich stuffing. “I guess even that is not enough when the competition is the Sticky Honey Roast that Amber offered her.”

You smiled in response.

Late fall in Liyue was a beautiful time of the year.

The city was always full of red and gold colours like towns straight from fairy tales, but in this time, when the leaves have already turned dark orange and the air was carrying an aroma of seasonal seed cookies, Liyue looked even more breathtaking.

You were sure that it was Amber who made it possible for you to go somewhere on Aether's day off from doing… everything. Normally, you would be sitting in some restaurant watching Paimon heartlessly ordering all the dishes from a menu without looking at the number of zeros of each price.

But when Amber heard you mention dates accompanied by beautiful, falling leaves, she blushed as the flame of pure determination appeared in her eyes. In the evening she appeared in front of Paimon and offered her to go out to the city for one day.

Oh, if she only knew how much it will cost her...

"[Name], stay close to me, or I will lose you in this crowd." Aether gripped your hand tighter.

"Getting lost in such a big city would be romantic, wouldn't it?" you giggled.

"Getting lost and being found in the wrong place and time wouldn’t be," he replied. “Every city is much more dangerous when the night comes.”

You turned into another street to finally reach the viewpoint in Liyue.

You could see a lot more from there, but less people could see you. Who would twist their neck to see two little dots on top of a mountain?

"It's going to rain soon," Aether nodded at the clouds, which were moving quickly toward the city. He clicked his tongue. “If we don't want to get wet, we should be getting ready.”

"Oh, isn't that Aether?"

You turned around to see a girl approaching you two.

She was gorgeous—her long blonde hair waved in the breeze as if it existed only to be an effect for them. She had every girl's dream figure, bright, sparkling eyes, and rosy cheeks.

Perfect girl.

And the perfect person to compare yourself with to create a trillion complexes about your body.

She had a very charismatic, attractive aura around her, but the way she behaved towards Aether was slowly starting to bother you. Of course, it might just be some kind of funny, totally wrong prejudice against her, but ...

“[Girl's name]?” Aether muttered, not noticing your pleading gaze saying: ‘let's get out of here.’ “—What are you doing here?”

"I was just passing by," she laughed, her voice soft, pearl-like. “I couldn't go without saying hi, haha!” Then she looked at you and fixed you with a stare. It wasn't a cold look, but it wasn't friendly either. “And who is that?”

"Ah," Aether shook his head, as if only now remembering that he had not come here alone. He put his hand around your waist. “This is my girlfriend, [Name]”

“I didn't know you had a girlfriend! You always have to be so mysterious?” Aether rolled his eyes at her words, even if he smiled slightly. Then she turned to you. “Could I kidnap him for a moment? I need help moving my luggage to my new apartment.”

She grabbed his hand without waiting for your answer, as if it were a rhetorical question. As Aether released his hand from your waist, you felt as if you were left alone in a foreign land.

“I'll be back in a minute!” After these words, he turned to the blonde and at an equal pace, they turned around the corner of some house, behind the wall of which you could see an extremely high pile of boxes.

"It probably won't be a minute," you sighed.

You leaned against the railing and stared at the toes of your shoes, telling yourself that you should have opposed her. Would that be selfish? You've been dreaming about a date with Aether for so long, without third parties, and now that the moment has come, it turns out that someone will take from you your boyfriend anyway.

Five minutes passed... eight minutes... ten... thirteen...

After fourteen minutes, you got up and decided to check how much was already packed. Some of the super-heavy boxes seemed to be gone, but that was up for discussion since there were dozens of them here.

You couldn't find a familiar face in sight. Did... they just leave you here? More likely, they were just carrying some luggage into one of the nearby houses, but you couldn't knock on every door to find them—it would take hours.

You felt yourself slowly breaking down.

You knew you were a little (a little very much) jealous of this girl, but more depressing was the fact that this was going to be yours and Aether’s day. COMMON. Now you thought you were the loneliest person in the universe.

"I'm not going to get upset," you repeated aloud, trying to motivate yourself to leave this place. "I'll go... I’ll go somewhere and have a good time... alone."

With a quick step, as if you didn't want to think about this anymore, you turned back and followed the alleys you and Aether had previously travelled. You came to the food stores that you had only glanced at before, but you didn't have time to taste anything else because you were in a hurry to get to the viewpoint.

It is true that you ordered take-out rolls, but the whole range of different types of food seemed very tempting despite the filling bread.

And the smell of such highly seasoned dishes was tempting—very much.

"Sorry," a young girl approached you after you shoved a piece of meat into your mouth. You swallowed it quickly, almost choking on it. “Would you like to buy some flowers?”

“…Why not?” you replied.

The girl put the money in the pocket of her dress. Instead of putting a flower on your hand, she came closer and gently braided a glaze lily into your hair near right ear.

"Here you are," she replied and looked at you. A smile beamed across her face. “You look really pretty!”

"Thank you," you replied. You noticed that this was the last flower in her basket, and because of that, the ten-year-old girl seemed proud of herself. She walked away, thanking again for the purchase.

I think that one more on the other side and all would be perfect...

You glanced at the setting sun and concluded that you could give Aether a similar lily. Wouldn't that look cute on him? There was still some time before it will get completely dark. Even the rain clouds that had previously seemed to be crossing the sky at an alarming pace now seem to have stopped.

You finished eating and walked briskly towards the Danyu Ruins, hoping to find some pretty lilies on your way.

The silence, or rather the sound of the wind and the leaves rustling against each other, were the only thing that accompanied your footsteps since you left Liyue. It seemed relaxing at first, but now that the skies were a deeper blue than orange, you concluded that a travelling companion would not be a bad idea.

“They're here!” you finally found two lilies that glistened slightly in the dark. You collected them quickly and turned to head back into town.

…You were surprised when you encountered many, many roads, each of them unfamiliar.

"I should have left a trail of breadcrumbs," you joked, though panic had already paralyzed your legs.

Your problems were not diminished by the fact that you heard mad laughter near you. You felt your heart leap into your throat, tears welling up in your eyes as a figure emerged from behind the bushes.

Abyss mage.

You have heard about them from the stories of Aether, who sometimes told you about his adventures when you tried to bandage his wounds with a bandage, herbs, or other medicines.

As soon as your heart was beating, so quickly the magician saw you. He teleported a meter away from you and you started running.

Faster, faster, faster.

Before you ran a hundred meters, a mage appeared before you. You didn't even have time to stop when he waved his hand, and a large ice crystal formed in front of him. Huge and pointed towards you.

Almost as soon as it was launched, a certain force pushed both of you backwards. You felt pain in your left leg, but somehow you didn't fall. Strong arms held you and made you be in a comforting, familiar embrace.

You looked up to see Aether running towards the cliff to finally jump, open his gliding set and take you two away from the icy monster.

You didn't say a word to each other all this time.

As soon as you touched the ground, you stepped out of his embrace, as if feeling that you had abused his closeness too much. Instead, he grabbed your wrist, turned to face him, and initiated a long, passionate kiss.

He didn't pull away until you both were breathless, and your cheeks were burning like hot coals. You couldn't say you were cold anymore.

“Why?” He took a deep breath. However, his voice still trembled. “Why didn't you wait for me? If I did not make it on time—"

“I was waiting for you!” You interrupted him. You bit your lower lip as you tried to contain the tide of frustration. “It's you who disappeared somewhere. You went somewhere with that girl. I already thought you weren't coming back.”

Aether, an intelligent boy, immediately paraphrased your words "I was maybe jealous". At the thought, he smiled apologetically.

"Sorry," he said, scratching his neck. “I accidentally dropped a box on her leg and, oh, it was hard to treat someone who screams in pain before even a finger touches them…”

"Oh," you felt a deep flush of embarrassment coming up to your cheeks. Indeed, the previous redness of the cheeks did not disappear, but now it only preserved their shade for the next minutes. “I'm really sorry. I left you, put you and myself in danger, just to find some stupid flowers...”

For the third time since finding you, Aether hugged you tightly. He planted a kiss on the top of your head. You stood for a few minutes in pleasant silence, cuddling tightly to each other, and finally, you both relaxed completely.

You took the tangled lilies out of your pocket; one was practically worn out, but the other seemed to be in good condition. You dropped the massacred one, and you tried to straighten the petals with your fingers.

"Turn around," you told him.

He did it without batting an eye. You ran your fingers through his hair and braided his plant into a braid.

Out of the corner of your eye, you thought yours, still artfully arranged, flashed a pleasant blue light as Aether examined his looks.

"It suits you," you said. You both decided to go back to Liyue and spend the rest of the night there. You held hands all the way back.

"You too," he replied. "We are complementing each other very nicely now with these flowers ...and also without them," he added with a smile.

"So, you still think getting lost isn't romantic?" You looked at him from under your lashes.

“Still. I wish I could have you with me without any excuse that you will get lost.”

#Aether #Aether x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact aether #genshin impact scenario #genshin impact traveler #traveler x reader #genshin x reader

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no-droids · 4 years

Text

Rushed

Part Seven of the Rough Day Series

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 6.9K haha NICE

Warnings: SMUT, mildly jealous Mando, penetrative sex, slight degradation, slight edging, cumplay whoopsies

A/N: Listen I was planning for there to be a soft moment at the end of this where they talk about some personal shit but then the smut went too fuckin hard and I couldn’t make it fit so it’ll happen next time no worries

***

The first thing you see when you blink your eyes open is… green. Green, and sideways. Three little fingers, grabby as usual, clutched onto a strand of your hair and tugging.

Gigantic, pitch black eyes blink slowly at you as you focus your vision, lifting your head just slightly from where it’s resting on a balled-up, makeshift pillow. The baby coos at you, a musical and happy sound, tugging your hair once more as you take in your surroundings.

The cot you’re laying on is pulled out of the hull just partially, just enough to bathe your legs and the lower half of your torso in light while the upper half is still in the confined within the tight space inside the wall, but that still doesn’t explain how the kid got in here with you. How did he climb—?

Something—a hand—comes down to thump over your ankle, not too hard but not really overly concerned about it either. “We’re here,” grunts a modulated voice, interrupting your adorable little alarm clock.

Ah. That’s how.

You immediately reach out and scoop the baby up into your arms just because you can, turning him around and holding his back to your chest as you cuddle him on the bed. “Okay,” you sigh dreamily, kissing his wrinkly, hairy yet somehow also completely bald little head and gently smushing your cheek into it.

You settle back down with the kid for another few hours of rest, only a hand thumps down on your ankle again. “Come on,” Mando’s voice drawls through multiple layers of metal. “Let’s go. Karga is waiting on us.”

Your eyebrows pull together, just as your little, little spoon starts to wiggle in your arms. “What? Who’s us?”

“Us,” he repeats shortly, pulling the bed the rest of the way out of the wall by your ankle but slowing it to a gentle halt right before it can reach the end of the tracks. “Now hurry it up. And stop smothering him.”

You groan and sit up in the brightly lit hull, blinking around at the… remarkably tidy ship.

It wasn’t like this before. Where’s all the clutter? The first aid kits strewn about? The excess pieces of gauze and tape on the floor? The… the blood on the walls?

Your eyes fall to the corner near the hatch almost immediately, the sight of… The Incident. Only you find it completely spotless, not a single thing out of place. Come to think of it, you don’t think you’ve actually ever seen the hull cleaner than it is now, even when you’ve spent literal days working at it.

There should be blood there. There was a pool of blood there. Wasn’t there? There was a pool of blood right there, right in that little space between the—

“Hey.” Your jaw is caught in a gentle grip and pulled left just a little, and you suddenly come face to face with a metallic visor. His helmet is nothing but sharp angles and your own warped reflection staring blankly back at you, but his hold is steady and his voice is soft through the modulator. “Us. You, me, and the kid. Right?”

You blink at him, suddenly reminded of the child held in your arms. And then you nod slowly at him, hearing the baby gurgle softly near your chest as he looks up at Mando.

“I’m not leaving you today,” he tells you, moving his hand up to cradle the side of your face. “But I also have to meet up with Karga. It won’t take long.” He jerks his helmet to gesture over at the open hatch, before looking back at you and brushing a thumb across your cheekbone. “So let’s go. Okay?”

You nod once more. “Okay.” But then you remember the blood all over your hands and clothing. “No, wait, Mando—I have to change clothes—”

“No, you don’t,” he interrupts. “Come on.”

“Yes, I do,” you protest, gathering the child in one arm and bringing the other up to show him. “Look, I still have blood all ov—”

A black, long sleeve tunic. Baggy, clean, and worn. Not what you passed out in. Not actually your shirt, you don’t think. There’s not even gauze covering your arm anymore. The blood’s been wiped away and the wound marring the inside of your forearm completely healed overnight.

“Hey, look at me,” he says once more, bringing his other hand up to hold your face completely still in front of him. The baby makes grabby hands up towards him, but Mando just stretches your neck and makes you lift your chin to keep your attention focused on him. “I let you sleep for as long as I could. But we have to get moving now.”

You nod, trying to figure out how you feel. Grateful, you suppose? That he did as much as he could to erase what happened yesterday? If he asked, you probably wouldn’t want to talk about it, so… so what’s the problem?

Nothing. Nothing is a problem.

***

Alright, so maybe you… get it.

You get it now, why E-Bacta is just as sought after as spice. You can still feel traces of the partial dose lingering in your bloodstream even now, even while trailing behind Mando and his equally reflective spherical shield as you three make your way into the crowded cantina.

You feel… physically, you feel spectacular. Glowing. Radiant and awake. Not so much high anymore, but almost like the Maker hit a reset button on your entire body. You’re incredibly well-rested, no aches or pains, absolutely nothing to suggest something major happened last night. You know you should at least have some trouble walking, but you don’t. Fuck, even your skin feels clearer and healthier than ever before.

If you hadn’t killed someone yesterday, you might even have a spring in your step.

You’re… you just have to stop thinking about it, you tell yourself. You’re being stupid and childish. You killed one fucking person in self-defense. Mando disintegrates people. He’s taken out more people with fucking doors than that, of course he’s not going to openly acknowledge it unless you bring it up yourself.

You’re so lost in your thoughts, you almost don’t respond when a booming voice calls your name over the chatter and music. It’s… it’s almost a bit startling to be recognized first when you’re standing next to someone like the Mandalorian, and you immediately whip around as a warm, equally as loud, “Mando!” soon follows it.

A hand is clapped down on top of your shoulder, Greef Karga beaming at you both as he mirrors his other hand on Mando’s pauldron. “And baby!” He adds brightly, catching sight of the little green monster hovering next to you. “Hey, baby!”

“We don’t have much time,” your companion immediately informs him.

“Oh, of course not!” He turns his head to look down at you with a wide, almost secret smile. “Always down to business, isn’t he. Never one to dally with small talk. Come, join me!”

You casually trail a few steps behind everyone, feeling just slightly out of place in the dusty cantina even with the forward acknowledgement from Mando’s guild contact. You’ve met him once or twice, never for very long. It’s... unexpected, the sudden attention.

Mando unclips his rifle and leans it against the table before taking a seat, and then you slip into the booth next to him, huddling your arms inwards a bit and trying to take up as little space as possible. Greef gestures for a round of drinks from one of the rusty droids prattling around the bar as the bounty hunter beside you eventually presents three pucks to him.

“I seem to remember you leaving with four of those, last time you were here,” he remarks, visibly surprised. You don’t know why, but you immediately stiffen, even though Mando doesn’t move a muscle in response.

“The last one wasn’t worth the effort,” he eventually grunts. You keep your head tilted down just slightly and Greef’s attention is subsequently captured by the droid as it approaches the head of the table, taking three shots of glowing blue liquid from its circular tray and then waving it away. He places one of the glasses down in front of you.

“I like the days Mando decides to collect,” he says to you, holding up the other two shots of alcohol in both hands. “The droids are stupid, they always bring over an extra drink.” He winks at you, tipping one of them in your direction. “My gain.”

He downs the drink, and you blink down at the one meant for you. It would be impolite to refuse it, right? But you don’t really... really feel like drinking right now, especially considering you woke up probably not an hour ago.

“Come on!” Greef eventually gestures, before downing the other shot of glowing liquor. “Don’t tell me you’re as much of a stick in the mud as this one is.”

Your hand comes out for the shot glass without thinking. Mando is completely silent next to you as you tip your head back and drink the entire thing in one gulp, the liquid burning as it slides down your throat. The man sitting across from you smiles, before digging his hands around in his pockets for payment.

A palm quietly settles on your knee under the table.

“As promised,” Greef exchanges a sizable portion of credits for the pucks. “Someone is already collecting the carbonite plaques from your vessel as we speak.”

Mando nods his understanding, but doesn’t say anything in return. Neither do you.

“So.” Greef slowly settles back in the booth, looking between the two of you. “This is new.”

“The next job, Karga,” the bounty hunter next to you reminds him shortly.

“Is he this pushy all the time?” Greef turns and asks you, pointedly ignoring Mando. “This rushed? Or is it just because he doesn’t like me?”

“No,” you answer on instinct, and when neither one of them say anything, you eventually flush a brilliant shade of red and realize they’re waiting for you to elaborate. “He’s not… al-always rushed.”

Greef blinks at you a few times, and then he quite suddenly barks out a laugh, loud and abrupt enough to make you jump. While chuckling, he pushes four new tracking fobs across the table.

“I was only going to give you three of these, since that’s all you came back with,” Karga says, gesturing for another round of drinks with a lazy twirl of his finger. “But I like her. More than you, Mando. So I’ll forgive you this once, but try not to make it a habit.”

“And you’ll get two extra drinks this time as a token of appreciation.” Mando slides his hand down to cup your knee and give it a gentle squeeze. “We’re leaving.”

“Of course you are,” Greef huffs, watching you both scoot out of the booth and gather your things. “It’s already been five whole minutes since you first sat down. Far too much socializing for one day.”

“Thank you for the drink,” you tell him politely. “It was very nice seeing you again.”

“Likewise!” He projects, widening his arms and beaming up at you. “If you ever get tired of him, you are always more than welcome here on Nevarro. You’re far nicer to look at than anyone else in this sector.”

Mando’s palm rests low on your back, his voice quiet through the modulator and partially lost in the chatter of the crowd. “Let’s go, sweet girl.”

Greef waves three fingers at the kid in his metal sphere. “Bye, baby!”

Mando doesn’t let go of you. Not when you turn around and start walking away, not when you leave the cantina, not when you’re making your way through the busy Nevarro marketplace afterwards.

“That was rude,” you eventually turn your head and tell him under your breath, not at all used to him walking side by side with you like this. You usually always trail slightly behind the both of them, but his arm on your lower back keeps your strides aligned with his.

“I know,” he agrees lowly, guiding you through the crowded public square, the kid hovering in his shield next to you and blinking up at all the excitement going on around him. “He was being too bold.”

“I mean us, Mando,” you correct. “We were rude. He was being friendly.”

“Karga doesn’t have friends,” he responds lowly. “He has business associates that tolerate him because of his connections and position in the guild. You were already nicer to him than most of his contacts ever are.”

You don’t say anything back to him. How long ago was it that you were likewise nothing more than a business associate Mando tolerated? Less than a few weeks, maybe?

And yet, it’s only when you reach the ship that he finally lets go of you.

***

You love the kid. Honestly. You’d die for him.

But sometimes. Sometimes you just want to… step on him.

Okay, no—you shouldn’t say that. He might choke you in your sleep with his insane fucking demon powers if he hears that. No, it’s just… it’s like he feeds off the energy around him sometimes. Which is great, especially when you’re exhausted and his naps tend to align with yours. Canto Bight was a different situation considering you were in such an incredibly crowded area, but in hyperspace? The kid only has you and Mando around to take his cues from.

Which means, if you’re buzzing with energy and just waiting for him to fall asleep, guess what? Guess who suddenly gets a second, or third, or fourth wind?

It’s never ending. The moment you think he’s about to pass out, he bounces back with even more energy than before. Sure, he’s cute and all, but that shit only lasts so long. It’s a facade meant to deceive everyone and it’s all just a clever, systematic fucking ploy. After all, if you needed someone else to feed you and protect you and take care of you for the first fifty plus years of your life, evolution would make you adorable as fuck, too.

Hours. Maybe even a full day or so before the little shithead finally decides to close his eyes for longer than a few seconds. Mando so graciously left you alone to babysit him while he shut himself away in the cockpit and navigated to the nearest quarry destination, and the baby was such a handful from the second you stepped back on the ship, you didn’t even catch where you’re headed to.

Not to mention all the cleaning Mando did earlier today leaves you with little to nothing else to do to occupy your time besides supervise the little terror. And of course, the entire time, all you can think about is Mando’s hand on your thigh under the table. The way his voice sounded calling you an endearment in public.

How he felt railing into you last night. How you wish you could still feel it now.

You close the kid’s shield and stow him safely in the pitiful little cot you slept on almost the exact second he falls asleep. You don’t waste any time. You’re immediately climbing up into the cockpit to seek out your armored companion.

Mando is sitting with his back to you in the pilot’s seat when you open the door and quickly shut it behind you. You lower yourself into the copilot’s chair on his flank, completely silent.

He doesn’t move. Neither do you.

Time passes differently in hyperspace. It’s almost like everything somehow drags and blurs simultaneously. Over the handful of months you’ve been partnered together, you’ve probably spent a little less than half that time in hyperspace with Mando, and excluding these past few weeks dedicated to locating this last set of quarry, it’s hard to recall any one singular instance from the hundreds of hours you must’ve spent with him in this exact setting. Hyperspace, silence, and this damn cockpit.

Except—except this time, everything is different. This time, you’re hyper aware of every second that passes as you sit behind him, not moving a muscle. Your eyes are glued to the headrest behind his helmet, your jaw clenched and your nerves buzzing at the proximity between the two of you. Though the ship is deafeningly silent, the energy burning inside you almost makes it feel like it’s too loud in here.

Mando can feel the tension. You can tell, because it’s steadily continuing to rise. If you were just left to simmer by yourself, you probably would’ve just plateaued at some point. As it is, he almost acts like an amplifier, reflecting the anticipation in the air as much as he is the starlight overhead.

You’re feeding off each other like always. But unlike all the times before, this time, you’re the initiator.

This time, you want to fuck.

His chair slowly turns around to face you.

And then you both just look at each other for awhile in perfect silence, like Mando absolutely fucking knows it. Like he knows exactly how much you fucking want him again, and he’s dragging it out. Savoring the way you’re perched on the edge of the seat, staring at him and waiting for him to make the first move.

“If there’s something you want from me,” he eventually tells you, shattering the quiet with his modulated voice. “All you have to do is say so.”

Fuck, he has no idea. You want more than something, you want everything from him. Anything he’s willing to give.

Instead of answering him, though, you quietly stand up and take a few steps closer to him. Mando doesn’t move a single muscle as you slowly hook your thumbs around the waistband of your pants and begin pushing them down your thighs. He just watches you silently as he sits back in the pilot’s chair, likely taking note of the way you consider taking your shirt off for a second as well but then ultimately decide against it.

You probably would’ve taken it off if it was actually your shirt, but something tells you he likes you in his clothes. After all, he could’ve dressed you in your own clothes last night, but he didn’t. He knows where you keep your go-bag, he knows how easy it would’ve been to dig through it for a clean shirt. But he didn’t.

So, with nothing but your undies and his dark tunic draped over you, you carefully brace a hand on his pauldron and lift your leg to settle yourself down on his lap, situating yourself between him and the flight console and straddling the hard beskar on his thighs.

“There is something,” you eventually admit, dragging your palms along the unarmored curves of his sides. “Something I want from you.”

“It’s yours,” he says immediately, both of his hands coming down to settle on your thighs. “Tell me.”

Fuck, the unhesitating conviction almost throws you for a second. The way he’s looking at you through the helmet, so fucking sincere. You bite your lip and consider him for a moment, his body physically barricaded from you as much as he always is but never looking or sounding so open before.

“Will you take this off?” You eventually whisper, pressing a gentle kiss to the beskar shielding his face. “I want to kiss you.”

“It’s—it’s too bright in here,” he tells you, sounding a little out of breath underneath it. “You’ll be able to s—”

“I won’t open my eyes,” you promise, kissing the front of his visor once more. “You can put it back on right after if you want, I just—I need to kiss you. Please.”

His fingers tighten on your thighs, and your own reflection is the last thing you see before you’re slowly and purposefully squeezing your eyes shut in front of him. You carefully let your fingers drift up on his chest plate, over the rigid lines of his collar bones, before finally bumping into the hard metal at the base of his helmet.

His hands immediately lift to cradle yours, quick enough to imply it’s entirely instinctual. While his hold isn’t painful, it’s strong enough to keep you still.

So, you wait. Patiently, with your eyes closed, hoping he trusts you enough to give this to you. When he doesn’t pull your hands down, you press a soft kiss the beskar again, and then slowly begin pulling the helmet up.

“Wait,” he murmurs. Wait. Not a stop, not a get away from me, not a don’t even think about it. Just a… wait.

You pause and don’t move. With the way you’re wrapped around him like this, the tips of your toes barely rest on the ground, but you can still feel the floor of the cockpit start to circle underneath you. Mando’s thighs shift underneath you as he slowly rotates the pilot seat all the way backwards, keeping his hands anchored to yours as you continue to hold onto the bottom of his helmet.

It takes you a second to realize what he’s doing. Most of the light source in here comes from the stars streaking across the observation transparisteel, but it’s concentrated at the front of the ship where all the glowing buttons also happen to be. He’s silhouetting his face as much as he can by facing the ladder to the dark hull.

It’s pointless, you immediately recognize, so you readily let him have it. You know well and good that if you slip and open your eyes for even a split-second once he lets you take his helmet off, the cockpit is too bright to keep Mando hidden regardless of what direction he faces.

These are high stakes. But the prize is far too appealing to pass up.

So you kiss the cold beskar again and slowly begin pulling the helmet up once more. And this time, he lets you. This time, he holds the backs of your hands and lets you keep kissing the metal as you gradually lift it up, your crotch still pressed tightly to his even though there’s now much more open space behind you to utilize now. Your lips touch the hard edge of the helmet and you dip your chin to follow it downwards, and then suddenly you’re touching something soft and giving, something that instantly parts and licks into your mouth before you’ve even removed its shield halfway.

Heat burns through you and you moan in relief at finally getting what you wanted. You completely forget your task as soon as his tongue is in your mouth, but Mando’s hands around yours help you guide the helmet off completely, before carelessly tossing it to the side as he kisses you. He’s grabbing hold of your jaw and fitting his mouth perfectly to yours before you even hear the beskar clang against the metal floor.

You keep your eyes shut tight as you immediately relax into his body, making a soft noise and melting into him.

Fuck, this is worth it. This. This, right fucking here, this is worth everything. Sitting on this forsaken ship and waiting on him for days or even weeks to come back, never seeing his face, always having this damn beskar separating him from you—it’s all fucking worth it when he kisses you like this. When he makes a low sound in his throat and moves his mouth against yours like he was just fucking made for it, wraps one of his arms around your lower back and presses you tight against him while the other holds your jaw open.

You can feel yourself get wetter the longer he drags it out, every second he spends slowly biting your bottom lip and tasting you is another dark spark of arousal between your legs. It’s lazy and hot and so, so good, you nearly whimper into his mouth and push your hips down on top of him.

The navcomp beeps a few times, the autopilot function signaling an upcoming drop from hyperspace. Apparently your destination was much closer than you expected.

“Shit,” he huffs, breaking away from you. “Shit—we were supposed to get bacta on Nevarro, I—shit. I forgot. You… y-you distracted me.”

“Tell you what,” you bury your face into his neck and reach your hand down between you two, wiggling it into his pants. “We’ll just promise each other real hard not to get stabbed until we can get more.”

“That’s not—” his breathing stutters when you grab onto his cock and downright purr into the crook of his neck when you find him rock hard and throbbing, “that’s—n-not funny. You’re lucky I even had that shot to give you. Wouldn’t—wouldn’t have woken up nearly as happy as you did this morning if I didn’t.”

“How much of that would’ve been from the vibroblade though?” You pull him out of his pants and moan hot air into the fabric covering his throat. “Bacta on my arm wouldn’t have helped me walk any straighter, would it?”

Mando gets a single syllable out in response before you’re hooking your panties to the side and moving your hips forward, engulfing the hard underside of him between your slick, swollen lips.

His entire body jerks at the blazing heat of you, and he grits a curse when you gradually begin to move back and forth along the thick length of him.

“I don’t want you to do that next time,” you whisper, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. Your hips drag against his as you slide his cock through your drenched slit, pressing a gentle kiss to his neck. “Don’t do that.”

“You’re—you’re right, I’m—” Mando gasps, tilting his head to give you more room and hands coming down to clamp tight over your hips, “fuck, I’m—I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have been so rough w-with y—”

“No,” you breathe into the crook of his neck, grinding your pussy against his throbbing cock. “The shot. Don’t do that. Bacta kits only,” you gasp, tightening your hold around him as your clit drags over his thick erection. “From now on, that’s all I get.”

“Fuck, come on,” he contests, slowly tipping his head back. “It wasn’t that bad. You barely felt it.”

“I know,” you whine, rolling your hips along his body. “That was the worst part.”

“You—” Mando cuts himself off abruptly with a growl, his grip turning to steel on your hips. “You… you wanted…?”

“I wanted to hurt today,” you moan, trying not to bite down on his neck with how fucking good it feels to rub your cunt along his cock like this. “I wanted to feel you when I walked. When I sat down in that cantina booth next to you.”

His fingers dig into your hips so hard, you’re forced to immediately stop gliding your slick pussy over him. The navcomp beeps once more, this time rapidly. Ten seconds until hyperspace drop.

One of your hands moves to clamp down over his shoulder while the other threads through the thick locks at the back of his head. You pull your hips up and tilt them just a bit, just enough to position the tip of his cock at your entrance. And then you bite his neck and slowly start to sink down on him.

Mando grits out your name, just as the navcomp beeps reach a crescendo.

The Razorcrest is thrown out of hyperspace with a giant lurch in g-force that practically shoves your cunt the rest of the way down his thick cock and then further, pressing him up so far up inside you with such a chaotic shift in gravity that Mando actually chokes next to your ear. You’re surprised you can hear him at all, considering the blast of white noise at the rapid intrusion and the way you sob through your teeth as they dig into the thick muscles wrapped around his neck.

Fuck, he hits so fucking different from this angle. He stretches you and fills you spectacularly, forces you to yield to him while you breathe heavy through your nose, wondering how dark of a bruise he’ll have on his neck from your bite.

Mando fucking likes it, though. You can tell. From the way his hand immediately comes up to tangle in your hair and hold your face in the crook of his neck while you gradually begin to pull your hips up, clamp down around him as hard as you can and slowly drag his thick cock out of your pussy, you can tell he fucking likes this. He likes feeling your teeth in his neck while you start to fuck yourself onto him, riding his cock so steady and unhurried in the pilot’s seat of his ship.

“Fuck,” he nearly spits, his hand squeezes your thigh hard enough to leave a mark. “Is this—is this what you n-needed, sweet girl? Hm? Just a little—little attention?”

You whimper, wondering how it feels so fucking amazing like this. How the head of his cock is pushed up tight against your g-spot, spreading wildfire in your lower belly and seeping through your pelvis and into your upper thighs. Fuck, you grind the head of his cock slow and hard against it and try not to dig your nails into his arms where your fingers are clutching tight to the dark fabric.

“Needed—Needed you to touch me in that cantina,” you whisper, already half out of your mind with the aching bliss, saying whatever the fuck comes into your head first and not thinking anything past it. “Needed you to… to put your hand down my pants while you talked to Karga—”

“Shit,” he snarls, his hips jerking up into yours almost unintentionally with the sentiment. “Shit—I—”

“I would’ve let you,” you moan, starting to move as best you can with his thrusts. The positioning doesn’t allow for him to do much besides roll his hips in short, stunted movements, but it’s just enough to let you slowly build your pleasure until it’s simmering and burning through you. “Do you think he would’ve still flirted with me if he knew you had two of your fingers inside me under that table?”

“Shut up,” he snaps, but it’s way too breathless and worked up to be anything close to threatening. “Maker, you have to—have to sh-shut up or I won’t last—”

You can hear how fucking wet you are. Your pussy is nearly drowning him now, slick and hot and drenched as you roll your hips up and down on top of him. “Does that turn you on?” You murmur, breathing hot air onto his neck and riding his cock slow and steady.

“Fuck—you’re—” Mando growls, tugging a fistful of your hair and fucking up into you as best he can in this position. “You’re asking if it… if it t-turns me on to hear you s-say—say you wanna cum all over my fucking hand while I talk b-business with someone? You f-fucking kidding… kidding me?”

Your cunt starts to tighten around him. Fuck, the power trip you’re experiencing from being on top of him is starting to go to your head. You feel brash. Reckless and bold. It translates to a quicker, harder pace, your hips starting to shove down onto him at the apex of his thrust upwards and hitting a spot inside you that flashes lightning down your spine.

“Fuck, I used to—used to th-think about it,” you gasp, your eyes squeezed shut and just trying to breathe through it. “Some—sometimes. Used to get off thinking about it. Used to think about you and touch myself and make myself cum on the floor of your fucking ship, Din.”

Fuck, the sound he makes is one you’ve only heard once. The time he had a jagged knife wound on his back. An agonizingly tight, ragged gasp of a sound, the one he only makes when he’s in incredible pain and trying to hide it. The blast of heat from it nearly sears through you and suddenly everything is pulling up hot and tight, settling low and locking your hips in position as you start to grind down hard on him—

Fuck, you’re almost there—you’re almost there, you’re almost there, you’re almost—

But then suddenly you’re being lifted up, and you nearly sob into his neck and desperately claw at him when his cock falls out of you with the jostle. But then you’re being carried backwards and your back is slamming down into the floor, and he’s shoving his arms under your legs and positioning your hips up over his thighs. For a split second, your eyes nearly come open with the chaotic shift in position. But as if he knew exactly what would happen, Mando claps his hand over your eyes and braces himself on the floor by your head with the other hand, and then—

And then he starts fucking you.

Actually, no, because that word isn’t nearly good enough right now. One of the very few occasions where a word as universal as “fuck” just doesn’t quite seem to cover it. It would be better to say he shoves back into you and starts shattering your entire galaxy to pieces on the floor of the cockpit, making you scream his name—his real name—as he starts jackhammering his hips against yours, hand held tight over your eyes and legs braced over his broad shoulders.

It’s fucking debilitating. It’s absolute madness, snatching your body up and wringing it dry of any last traces of your sanity. The adjustment to his angle and speed is like a nuclear detonation inside you, and it launches you higher than you thought you could go. You just dig your nails into his arms and sob brokenly for him at the ceiling, letting his hips collide roughly with yours as he fucks you down hard into the floor.

His mouth is at your neck as he grits the words darkly against your throat. “Fuck, you need to learn how to be quiet when I fucking tell you to, understand?”

“I’m—” you gasp, eyes screwed up so tight behind his fingers that you don’t even notice the tear slipping out. “I’m s-sorry—”

“Fuck—shut up,” he growls once more. Stars, he’s hard and throbbing and he’s shredding up against raw heaven inside you, and you can barely hear him over the sound of your crying, so fucking close to the edge and begging for him. “Maker,” he snarls, bringing his elbow down next to your head and shifting his weight so he can reach down in between your legs, “if you want it that fucking bad, I’ll f-fucking do it. I’ll rub your pr-pretty little clit in the middle of that fucking cantina next time just like this. Make you cum right in front of him, show him that you’re fucking mine—”

You feel like you can’t even breathe anymore. “He—he didn’t w-want to fuck me—”

“Everyone in that d-dirty piece of shit bar wanted to fuck you, you s-sweet little thing,” he grits, rubbing tight circles over your clit and pounding directly into your g-spot with such precision and force, your eyes roll back under his hand and your spine suddenly goes rigid.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, Din,” you whisper, your voice frantic and rushed and breathless as you claw aimlessly down his chest plate. Everything pulls up sharp and burning and you’re already starting to bear down on him, starting to slowly squeeze his cock and tighten down hard in preparation for it. “I’m gonna fucking cum—”

“Fuck, yes—” he gasps, “—fuck, let me f-feel you cum—let me feel this fucking cunt g-get wet, little girl, let m—”

He keeps talking, but you don’t hear him. Everything is suddenly drowned out by the roaring of blood rushing through your ears, your body locking down so fucking tight around him that you wouldn’t be able to see anymore, even if his hand wasn’t clamped down hard over your eyes.

Din keeps fucking you as your orgasm slams through you with such force that your voice cracks, the blaze of white hot bliss ripping you apart. He rubs your clit and holds you down and makes you take his cock the entire time, forcing you even higher through the explosive pleasure and muttering filth about how fucking gorgeous you are when you cum on him, how he wants to make you cum again but he can’t hold it back—

You’re saying something. Repeating it, over and over again breathlessly in time with his ruthless thrusts, pleading and gasping it through shuddering tears.

Din—Din—Din—Din—Din—

“Shit, I’m gonna cum,” he groans, stuttering to a halt inside you. You can feel him swollen and throbbing hard inside you now that he’s still. “Can I—can I c-cum—o-on your—”

“Yes,” you gasp, not needing anything else. “Please.” He can cum wherever the fuck he wants to and you’ll beg for it all the same.

So he abruptly pulls out of you and drops your legs down from his shoulders, letting them sprawl out on the floor and shake as he clambers over your body. His breathing is ragged and you can hear him jerking himself off already as he continues to climb over you.

“Fuck,” he nearly wheezes, “fuck, don’t open your eyes, sweet girl, don’t open your pretty f-fucking eyes, I’m gonna—” and then his hand is coming off your face and tangling in your hair to hold you still, “—fuck, you’re—you’re so f-fucking p-pretty, baby, m’gonna c-cum all over your pretty fucking f-f-face, I—” His breath catches, and the only sound that can be heard besides his hand jerking himself off over you is a hoarse, tight, “open your m-mouth—o-open your fuck—ing—”

His body jolts with pleasure above you and a moan tears from his throat as you immediately do as you’re told. And then he’s cumming, spurting thick ropes of his warmth all over your face and parted lips and gasping out curses and his satisfaction with you. Fuck, you feel him paint your cheeks and mouth with it, feel him shudder and hear him growl your name as he lets go.

When Din’s body finally stops shaking and he slows down his hand around his cock to squeeze the last bit of it out of him, you wait a few seconds before asking.

“Do you want me to eat it or do you want me to keep it on my face like this?” You whisper, eyes still obediently shut.

“Fuck,” he pants from above you, trying to catch his breath. Metal clangs next to your head as he braces himself against the floor. “F-Fuck—eat it.”

You immediately bring your hand up to gather the sticky warmth from your cheeks on your fingers and dip them in your mouth. He watches you the entire time, even though you can’t see him. He watches you eat his cum off your own face, your eyes closed and content to just lay here and clean yourself off as he catches his breath.

Suddenly his tongue is hot and wet as it slides under your jaw, gathering a bit that you missed and then attaching his lips to yours and pushing it into your mouth. You hum under him and tangle your fingers into his hair, feeling him move back a bit to stretch his legs and settle himself down on top of you.

You break away from him and turn your face just in time to feel all the oxygen rush out of your lungs the second he plops down on you.

“Maker, you are so fucking heavy,” you say, trying to conserve as much air as possible while speaking because he’s making it so fucking hard to breathe like this.

“Tell me about it,” he sighs, nibbling at your collarbone and sounding completely undisturbed by your predicament. “It wasn’t so bad when I was younger, but now my back is always just fucking killing me.”

“Fuck, get off,” you grab his pauldrons and try and shove him off you, your eyes clenching tight with the effort. He eventually rolls off you, but it’s very obviously because he eventually decides to take pity on you and do it himself. “I don’t even know what fucking sector we’re in but I’m pretty sure we’re gonna be dropping into an atmosphere real quick now.”

“Fuck,” Mando grunts, just as the navcomp starts beeping rapidly. “Fuck, I can’t—can’t get up.”

“You can’t get up?” You bite out, draping an elbow over your eyes so you won’t have to worry about accidentally opening them. “Put your fucking helmet on and fly the ship before it crashes.”

He grumbles under his breath and eventually drags himself off of the floor, and the only thing you’re able to catch as he stumbles into the pilot seat and swivels around to face the console is “Karga” and “I was pushy.”

“Can I open my eyes now?” You ask after a moment, feeling the thrusters kick in and hearing the beeping abruptly cut off. The sound of metal scrapes across the floor before he answers you.

“No,” he eventually says, but the voice is modulated and run through a familiar filter. “Keep laying there with your legs open like that.”

You would’ve snarked back at him if the last part of his response was nearly as sarcastic as the first part. He almost sounds… vaguely serious. “What are y—”

“Don’t move,” he tells you, and you still can’t fucking gauge the tone of his voice, especially now that it’s coming through fucking beskar. “It’s the first quarry and the kid is still passed out. I’ll land somewhere and… we can keep going. Just for… just for a little bit before I leave.”

He… is he serious? He wants to… keep going? What does that even fucking mean? He just made himself cum all over your face, what the fuck does he mean by “keep going”??

All you can do is lay there on the floor, waiting to find out. After all, you stand by what you said earlier.

Mando isn’t always rushed.

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #reader insert #no-droids #rough day #SMUT #Pedro Pascal

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contemplativepancakes · 3 years

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Following the Thread Transcript

AKA all the "canon" there is of Aiden. Google doc to save for easy reference is here. Providing this is entirely selfish of me, please use it and write some lambden <3

EXT. SUPERVISOR’S BUILDING

GERALT approaches a GUARD standing outside of a door.

GUARD: Don’t like folk wandering around here.

GERALT: Oh yeah? Well, got a beast you need someone to get rid of? I’m here about the notice.

GUARD: Ah, supervisor Lund posted it. Yeah, a beast haunts the outskirts, murdering folk. Got ‘em scared to leave their homes after dark.

GERALT: I’d like to talk to this supervisor.

GUARD: Too bad he don’t receive petitioners.

GERALT: So what’s he do, exactly?

GUARD: Delivery relief on behalf of the city council—flour and groats for the paupers. Meaning, he don’t do it personally. He’s got men for that. He, himself, he, uh. (GESTURES BROADLY)

GERALT: Supervises.

GUARD: Exactly!

GERALT: I aim to hunt down this monster.

GUARD: Best hurry, then. Some other bloke’s already after it.

GERALT: Who took the contract?

GUARD: Didn’t see the man. Was just told some brave fool’d turned up.

GERALT: When’d you find the last victim?

GUARD: Just last night. Hubert, a beggar, but a decent man. I’d let him sleep in the shed from time to time—that one, on the right. Eustace hasn’t come for the corpse yet. It’s lying in there, where I found it.

GERALT: Any eyewitnesses to these attacks?

GUARD: No, just the bodies. Beast appears only at night, chooses isolated victims.

GERALT: Thanks. So long.

Geralt goes to the shed and examines it, finding a puddle of blood that’s not human, and Hubert’s body, which is drained of blood. There’s ekimmara tracks in the shed that Geralt follows along the river’s edge, until they disappear at a dock. Geralt swims across the river and finds the tracks again, leading him to another building. Geralt notes that’s there’s rat corpses outside that have been drained of blood.

INT. DARK HOUSE

There’s the sounds of combat upstairs, blade clashing, an ekimmara screeching, and a whoosh from aard. Geralt rushes up the stairs to see LAMBERT fighting the monster. They kill it together.

GERALT: Greetings, Lambert.

LAMBERT: Damn, it’s good to see you, Wolf.

GERALT: Decide to do some hunting in Novigrad? Far as I remember, you never liked this city.

LAMBERT: Still don’t. Thing is, got a certain matter to take care of.

GERALT: What have you been up to? Any luck on the path?

LAMBERT: A lot, in fact. Quite the takings in Lan Exeter. Was asked to hunt down a giant, who turned out to be a forest troll and some bandits.

GERALT: Bandits?

LAMBERT: (SHRUGS) Came as a package with the troll.

GERALT: The matter you mentioned, anything I can help with?

LAMBERT: Hmm. Maybe. But we’ll talk about that later. Got our reward to collect. I’m kinda in a hurry. Let’s say you’ve earned half, what the hell.

EXT. SUPERVISOR’S BUILDING

Geralt and Lambert approach the guard from earlier.

GUARD: So?

LAMBERT: What do you think? We did what we had to do. Time to pay up.

GUARD: Wait here, I’ll go see the supervisor, get your reward.

LAMBERT: Do that ourselves. No reason you should leave your post.

Geralt gives Lambert a sideways glance.

GUARD: Hmm, can’t argue with that logic. Go on in.

EXT SUPERVISOR’S BUILDING, COURTYARD

Lambert and Geralt approach SUPERVISOR LUND in an outdoor space. There’s three guards milling around.

LAMBERT: We dealt with the monster at the docks. Here for our reward.

LUND: Witchers? Since when do you travel in pairs?

LAMBERT: Lots of dangers for a lone witcher. Bandits, for example.

LUND: I’d advise you to change your tone.

LAMBERT: Where’s Jad Karadin? Talk!

GERALT: Who?

LAMBERT: Trust me, Geralt. This is important. There’s something I gotta know.

LUND: I do not know any Karadin. Take your coin for the before and bugger off before I lose my temper!

LAMBERT: (YELLING) Where’s Jad Karadin? Asking you for the last time!

LUND: Guards, to the dungeon with them!

Lund runs out of the courtyard, and Lambert chases after him, leaving Geralt to fight the three guards.

INT. SUPERVISOR’S BUILDING

Geralt walks inside to find Lund cowering from Lambert.

LAMBERT: This guy’s more trouble than the ekimmara.

LUND: Karadin’s disappeared. I swear! The others, too! I only know of Vienne.

LAMBERT: What about Vienne?

LUND: She drinks at the Seven Cats. There day and night.

LAMBERT: See? You can be helpful.

Lambert unsheathes his sword and stabs Lund in the gut while Geralt watches. Lund collapses to the floor. Lambert turns to look at Geralt in challenge.

GERALT: That was murder. Was that really necessary?

LAMBERT: Yes.

Geralt shakes his head.

LAMBERT (cont.): More guardsmen’ll show soon. Let’s go. Meet me at the Seven Cats. Tell you everything there.

GERALT: The tavern Vienne frequents?

LAMBERT: Yeah. See you later.

EXT. SEVEN CATS INN

Lambert is leaning against a rock when Geralt approaches him.

GERALT: All right. High time you explained some things. Why’d you kill Lund? What’s this all about?

LAMBERT: Want the short version or the long one?

GERALT: Lemme hear the whole thing.

LAMBERT: Had a friend. Aiden was his name.

GERALT: You? Had a friend?

LAMBERT: Oh, hi-fuckin’-larious. I met him soon after I'd accepted a contract to lift the curse from the Ogre of Ellander. Aiden had been hired to kill it. He was a witcher from the school of the cat.

GERALT: Far as I remember, the ogre was killed in the end.

LAMBERT: Yeah, after it gutted my employer, we really didn’t have a choice. I cut a deal with Aiden. We joined forces, split the reward for killing the ogre between us. After that, we worked together a lot. Hands down the best man I’d ever met. I mean, I like you, you know that. Still, no comparison.

GERALT: What happened to him?

LAMBERT: Some time ago, Aiden took on a contract to lift a curse off a duke’s daughter. It was a political mess from the start. Then there was the hatred for the school of the cat to deal with.

GERALT: They worked hard to deserve that hate. Basically hired assassins.

LAMBERT: (SNAPS) Aiden wasn’t like that. (PAUSES, LOOKS AWAY) Anyway, some of the duke’s courtier’s had designs. Weren’t all keen on the curse being lifted from the duke’s first born. So, a band of trained assassins ambushed Aiden, murdered him. Our dear supervisor was one of them.

GERALT: And Jad Karadin?

LAMBERT: The assassins’ leader. And the one to deal the mortal blow.

GERALT: Sorry about your friend.

LAMBERT: Don’t need your sympathy, just your help. (PUSHES OFF ROCK HE WAS LEANING ON TO STRAIGHTEN) We have to talk to Vienne. Must’ve had enough to drink by now. Let’s go.

INT. SEVEN CATS INN

Geralt and Lambert approach VIENNE, a lithe elvish woman wearing a deep cut purple blouse with her dark hair in a braid. She has a drinking glass in front of her where she sits alone at a table.

GERALT: Vienne?

VIENNE: What do you want?

LAMBERT: We wanna see Jad Karadin.

VIENNE: (LAUGHS) Now why would I help you?

GERALT: It’s really important to my friend here.

VIENNE: And what will I get out of it?

LAMBERT: Pay for your beer, for starters. Then we’ll see how valuable your information is.

VIENNE: (CONSIDERS, TAKES DRINK) I was part of Karadin’s band, but… When was that? I don’t know where to find him; I’ve fallen out with the lot.

Geralt sits at her table.

VIENNE (cont.): Besides, he’s no longer chummy with his old mates. Word around town is he’s changed.

Lambert sits down, also, now.

GERALT: Karadin’s changed? What do you mean?

VIENNE: He’s dropped all his old connections, stopped taking on petty killings. He’s hidden himself away in some hole. Must be planning something big.

GERALT: Who else was in Karadin’s band?

VIENNE: Aside from me? Selyse, Hammond, and Lund. But they’ve scattered all over the world. Selyse went to Tretogor, Hammond to Skellige, and Lund—

LAMBERT: Lund’s dead.

VIENNE: (CACKLES) Finally met his match. Well, you’ve only Hammond or Selyse to talk to, then.

GERALT: What about you? What’s your story?

VIENNE: Scoia'tael was decimated, so I joined Karadin. They never treated me as an equal. No. I could hit a sparrow from a hundred paces, but I was never good enough for Karadin. He always preferred that cunt Selyse…

LAMBERT: You have a hand in the murder of the witcher Aiden?

VIENNE: Perhaps. I don’t remember.

GERALT: We need information about Hammond.

VIENNE: Karadin’s right hand man, once. When the band broke up, he went back to Faroe whence he had come. He’s a pirate, now. Even the jarls treat him with respect.

GERALT: This Selyse, where can we find her?

VIENNE: She’s done well for herself. Runs a brothel in tretogor, the kind rich men frequent. Whores suck information out of them, then she sells it.

LAMBERT: Name of this brothel?

VIENNE: The Black Lily. Selyse always did have horrible taste.

GERALT: (TO LAMBERT) Satisfied?

Geralt and Lambert both stand.

LAMBERT: She doesn’t know anything. We need to talk to Hammond and Selyse.

VIENNE: Don’t go looking for Karadin. If he senses you nipping at his heels, he’ll kill you without batting an eye.

LAMBERT: We’ll see. As for you…

OPTION ONE

GERALT: No, Lambert.

LAMBERT: Right, better to leave her like this.

VIENNE: What about my coin?

Geralt and Lambert exit the inn.

VIENNE (cont.): Arseholes.

OPTION TWO

GERALT: Do whatever you think is right, Lambert. Not here to preach morals.

VIENNE: (LAUGHS) “Do what you think is right?” Only one thing worse than cold blooded murder—hypocrisy. Informers, racists, snitches!

VAREN: Vienne, bloody hell. What is it?

VIENNE: They’ve come for me, Varen! I told you someone would, sooner or later!

VAREN: (IN ELDER) Don’t be afraid.

GERALT: Shit.

A fight breaks out in the inn and ends with Vienne dead.

EXT. SEVEN CATS INN—NIGHT

LAMBERT: You’ve gotta help me, Geralt. Best thing will be to split up. You sail to Skellige, try to squeeze something out of Hammond. I’ll go to Tretegor and try to get something out of Selyse.

GERALT: Lambert, let’s talk about this.

LAMBERT: Let’s not. This is one of those situations, serious situations, where you don’t ask unnecessary questions and just help your friend.

GERALT: Where’ll we meet once I’m back?

LAMBERT: At the Nowhere Inn.

GERALT: All right, I’m off. Good luck.

They both nod to each other, and the scene fades to black as Lambert walks away.

EXT. PIRATE’S SETTLEMENT, SKELLIGE

Geralt approaches two men standing guard outside of the settlement he’d been pointed to in order to find Hammond.

GUARD: Whaddya want?

GERALT: I’m looking for Hammond.

GUARD: What for?

GERALT: Business.

GUARD: He prays at the chapel on the hill this time of day. If it’s slaves you’re looking to buy, you’ll have to wait ‘til he’s done.

GERALT: He’s praying? Wouldn’t have thought him a god fearing man.

GUARD: Hmm. Yet it’s not something that would surprise any man who knows him.

GUARD TWO: Another snoop! You know the drill!

A fight breaks out with all of the pirates. After Geralt defeats them, he travels across the island.

EXT. HAMMOND’S SHRINE

Geralt walks into the shrine, and it’s an outdoor space with wide, curved beams driven into the ground that create a circle. Hammond is in the middle of the area in front of a pile of weaponry and shields. Hammond is shirtless and wearing a green tartan kilt with a wide leather belt. His hair is in a ponytail, and a leather strap encircles his left bicep. There’s a brown arm guard on the same arm, and there’s a gold band wrapped around his right bicep. There’s a large war hammer strapped to his back.

HAMMOND: Gods of the sea, I’ve never begrudge ye no gifts. Grant me another victory, so I can make an offering of me loot. (STANDS AND NOTICES GERALT) Fuck, what now?

GERALT: Heard you were in Karadin’s band.

HAMMOND: Fuckin’ say what you want. C’mon, spit it out, you arse lickin’ bastard!

GERALT: I’m looking for Jad Karadin.

HAMMOND: And just who the hell’re you?

GERALT: A friend of a friend. I’m looking for Karasin, thought maybe we could make some sort of deal.

HAMMOND: What, our business rubbing some Novigrad pricks the wrong way? Ploughin’ guild! (TO HIS GUARDS) Come on, what are you waiting for? Kill the fucker!

A fight breaks out and Geralt kills Hammond and his three guards. After, Geralt searches Hammond’s body and retrieves a letter on elegant stationary.

Hammond,

Thought I made it clear during our last face to face talk. I don’t want to keep in touch and I especially don’t want to do any business with you. I’ve no doubt the enterprise you proposed would be profitable. Nevertheless, to speak colloquially, count me out.

There are plenty of other potential buyers in Novigrad: goldsmiths, jewelers, and merchants dealing in luxury goods, for starters.

I don’t want to get involved.

Whatever you decide, I will wish you well in it. Treat this letter as our final farewell.

Karadin

INT. NOWHERE INN

Geralt approaches Lambert. Lambert is sitting at a table scattered with gwent cards and with a tankard in front of him.

LAMBERT: What the hell took you?

GERALT: Pretty likely Karadin lives in Novigrad. And he never severed ties with Hammond. They’re actually in business together.

LAMBERT: Mm. Learned something, too. He trades in, uh, live goods on the sly. Owns a ship called the Pearl of the Coast. Runs between here and Skellige. Changed his name, too, to Roland Treugger, who officially is a respected Novigrad trader and philanthropist. Has a residence in Gildorf.

GERALT: Anything on Selyse?

LAMBERT: Hmm. Well, didn’t have you there to stand up for her.

GERALT: All right, let’s pay Karadin a visit.

EXT. KARADIN’S HOUSE

Lambert and Geralt stand in a stone alleyway, looking at several guards.

LAMBERT: Think I know how to get in. Got a plan.

GERALT: If your plan doesn’t include dealing with an escort of guardsmen, best revise it.

The guards approach Lambert and Geralt.

GERALT (cont.): Calm, now. Let them start it.

GUARD: You’re expected. Come in.

Lambert and Geralt share a glance, and the scene fades to black.

EXT. KARADIN’S BACKYARD

There’s a child in a blue smock, who points at Lambert and Geralt and runs to Karadin. Karadin has yellow slitted eyes, dressed nicely, and there’s a sword at his hip.

KARADIN: Make yourselves at home.

GERALT: (TO LAMBERT) He’s a witcher.

KARADIN: Very true. Let me introduce my wife, Laetitia, and my two little tots. (GESTURES TO A WOMAN AND TWO CHILDREN SITTING IN THE GRASS) You know who I am, and I’ve heard of you. You’ve been asking questions about me. That always draws my attention.

GERALT: What school’d you come out of?

KARADIN: That of the cat. So few of us left.

Lambert sneers.

GERALT: Witchers can’t have children.

KARADIN: But they can have wards. Or take in a woman along with her children, embrace them as their own.

GERALT: I could understand a witcher becoming a hired assassin, but a merchant?

KARADIN: Why ever not? Not one among us doesn’t dream of changing our life. I simply did not stop at dreaming. They say no witcher has ever died in his bed. I aim to be the first.

LAMBERT: Remains to be seen.

GERALT: My friend needs to talk to you.

KARADIN: (TO GUARDS) Lads, take the children and Laetitia and leave us. Our guests wish to speak with me.

His family leaves.

KARADIN (cont.): I’m all ears.

LAMBERT: Talk to him, Geralt. If I do, first word he says to me, I’ll lose it and throttle the fucker.

GERALT: Nice place you got.

KARADIN: As it turned out, I’ve a flair for enterprise. Now I’ve coin enough to provide my family with the finer things in life.

LAMBERT: With some left over for philanthropy.

KARADIN: Miss Marabella’s institute does not scorn small donations. Neither does the city's Widow and Orphan Relief Fund, amongst others.

GERALT: Your wife know who you were?

KARADIN: We are thoroughly honest with each other, harbor no secrets. She prays for me each day. You know what? I think it’s working.

LAMBERT: Fucking hell.

GERALT: Relax, Lambert.

KARADIN: I confessed all just before we pledged to marry one another. Began a new life that day, with a clean slate.

GERALT: Remember Aiden? A witcher. Murdered in Ellander. Guessing the killers were paid well.

KARADIN: I remember him as I remember all the others—with the deepest regret. Yet Aiden was different, in a way. Contrary to rumor, we did not set out to kill him. We were forcced to, when he attacked us.

GERALT: What’s your version of this story?

KARADIN: Aiden had accepted a contract to lift a curse from the duke’s daughter. He took the coin, bungled the job, then left once the girl passed on.

LAMBERT: You lie!

KARADIN: We were not to kill him. We were debt collectors. He’d spent the coin already, so we demanded his swords. When he refused, tempers flared. Vienne, positioned as sniper, lost her nerve, hit Aiden square in the eye.

Lambert looks down. Geralt glances over at him.

KARADIN (cont.): Later, she devised her own version of the story. To silence her guilt, I expect.

GERALT: I’ve heard enough.

KARADIN: What now?

OPTION ONE

GERALT: You’ve changed. You have.

KARADIN: Forgiveness. It’s my sole aim now.

LAMBERT: You’re buying this bullshit? Bastard’s lying his ass off!

OPTION TWO

GERALT: You know what, Karadin? Your remorse—it’s feigned. Completely dishonest. You put on a good show, but I just don’t believe you.

LAMBERT: Don’t even know why we bothered with this chat. We came here to kill you.

OPTION THREE

GERALT: Maybe you’ve changed, maybe not. To me and Lambert, it doesn’t matter.

LAMBERT: You killed Aiden. Fuck your new life. I don’t believe in giving second chances.

OPTION ONE

GERALT: Do what you want, Lambert. Your friend, your vengeance.

LAMBERT: Been waiting a long time for this.

KARADIN: (UNSHEATHES SWORD) And I don’t aim to die.

A fight breaks out, ending in Karadin dead.

LAMBERT: Thanks for your help, Geralt.

GERALT: You’re welcome.

LAMBERT: Wanna talk about it?

GERALT: No.

LAMBERT: See you later. Some day.

GERALT: So long, Lambert.

OPTION TWO

GERALT: Leave him. Let’s go.

LAMBERT: What? Are you fuckin’ nuts?

GERALT: Lambert, this is one of those situations where you have to realize you’re pissed as hell, rein it in, and trust your cool headed friend. Let’s go.

LAMBERT: For fuck’s sake, Geralt. Don’t know that I’ll be able to forgive you.

GERALT: I said let’s go. You can always come back.

Lambert storms off.

KARADIN: Thank you.

Geralt sighs and walks away.

EXT. KARADIN’S HOUSE

LAMBERT: Explain yourself.

GERALT: Don’t intend to. Just felt Karadin didn’t deserve to be murdered in cold blood. If you feel otherwise, you can always go back. Without me.

LAMBERT: I feel like beating the shit out of you. See you later. Some day.

GERALT: So long, Lambert.

#the witcher #the witcher 3 #aiden #lambert #lambden #following the thread #reference #contemplative writing

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