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gay-dorito-dust · 6 months

Note

Domestic fluffy things you say? I’m here to hopefully help with that!

Can we get some cuddling hcs with the Lin Kuei trio? For example are they big on cuddling, favorite cuddle position, how is it like cuddling with them, ext. Just a lil idea I had and thought was cute and simple and classic also I hope you have a better day :)

Tomas Vrbada

Is MASSIVE on cuddling.

He loves it, lives for it, craves it. Cuddling to Tomas is therapeutic and gets his mind off of things that would normally disrupt his ability to get proper sleep.

It helps ground him and redirects his mind to focus on you and how your presence gives him comfort, reassured him of his insecurities and daily stresses, bringing him into a more relaxed state.

His top 3 would have to be;

Honeymoon cuddle

Sweetheart cradle

Good old fashion spooning

They’re all very self explanatory so I ain’t going to go into details. The man just likes holding you okay?

Cuddling either Tomas is bliss. Utter bliss.

He made you forget about everything that had ever concerned you, everything that had caused you pain, fear, anger, despair. He made you believe that everything was alright because you were within his loving embrace and that nothing else should matter.

Even his evened out breathing made you feel calm as it focused your mind onto his breaths, reminding you that lying beneath you was a living, breathing man who’d do anything you could ever possibly ask for and request for nothing in return. Tomas heart was too kind for most people, even you didn’t feel deserving of something so pure and beautiful despite everything he’s seen and done in the past, you were surprised that such a man still exists in this day and age.

So as a solemn vow, you swore to have this every night, not just for you but for Tomas too, where the both of you would be able to shed the worries and daily stresses. Only to eventually forget all about them as you fortified yourselves within the comforting arms of the other; Sleeping more peacefully than either of you had in ages.

Bi-Han

Isn’t massive on cuddling, he doesn’t like anything that might portray him as weak or soft in the slightest.

A mindset he’s developed overtime, repressing any and all childish wants and desires he might’ve had at the earliest convenience. Not wanting any distractions on his road to power. Plus he’s cold in more ways than one because like Kuai Liang, due to his body temperature, it makes something seemingly easy as cuddling difficult all of a sudden.

Even if you did ask hypothetically what his favourite cuddling positions, Bi-Han would probably say ones that requires the least amount of contact on his end:

Back to back - so he can feel that you’re still there.

Back cuddles- you’re the one cuddling up against that broad back of his.

Shoulder to shoulder - same reason as back to back; knowing that you’re still with him.

Cuddling Bi-Han is…something and I don’t mean this negativity but it’s Bi-Han, what else can I say other than cold, rigid, and a little awkward? The man is on guard even in his sleep and cuddling him the way you do doesn’t necessarily help.

Besides that there’s some semblance of companionship when you press your back into his own. It felt as though you had each made a nonverbal pact to have each other’s back in your most vulnerable states; Something that naturally comes with a sense of trust being put in the other and Bi-Han isn’t one to trust blindly.

Cuddling Bi-Han maybe awkward and a little finicky due to the walls this man had put up in order to protect himself from everyone else, he oddly enough made you feel safe, he made you feel guarded and warm, which was weird considering how abnormally cold he was in every possible way. Yet you knew he held honour- or his version of it at least- highly, so you didn’t feel like you’d have to second guess his every actions because that wasn’t the type of man Bi-Han was…

Even though cuddling him was obviously something he wasn’t attuned to, he nonetheless made you feel regarded in his own special way.

Kuai Liang

Kuai Liang runs extremely warm, which could be considered overwhelming or perfect depending on the type of person you are, so whilst he likes contact; he likes to keep it minimal unless told otherwise.

He prioritises your comfortability over his own and understands that his abnormally body heat can be a bit too much at times. Outside of that he’s more than accepting of cuddling.

Kuai Liang’s top 3 favourite cuddling positions would have to be ones that were less on the physical context but unlike Bi-Han, it typically ends up with him cuddling you in some form of him protecting you:

Leg hug- incase you get overwhelmed by his body heat and need space but also wanting to keep touching some part him.

Face to face - this one’s a personal favourite of his because he loves waking up and falling asleep to your face.

Chest rest -the one where your heads on his chest and he’s keeping you in place with his arms.

Cuddling Kuai Liang is warm and secure because when you’re in his arms, feeling his warmth deep into you just as his arms tightened their grip, you’ve never felt more protected in your life then you did in Kuai Liang’s hold.

You never had to worry about being hurt, especially when Kuai Liang was there to shield you from all possible forms of harm; nor the way he always had his back facing towards the door so that if something were to happen then he was able to keep you safe with his body.

It was his duty to protect you, as he would often say whenever you asked him why this was.

You couldn’t act as though his declaration didn’t have your heart melting into a puddle.

So now you just allow his warmth to consume you like a thick, warm, weighted blanket that blocked out any and all cold that threatened to try and get to you; all the while you snuggled closer into him because despite every last part of you touching every last part of him wasn’t enough, you needed to be even closer to him. You wanted your souls to touch and feel the presence of the other but since you physically couldn’t do that, you settled for forehead touches instead. It was just as intimate after all.

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strawberrysainz · 8 months

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secret garden. charles leclerc

“ charles joining you on holiday was definitely not planned. you begin to have small revelations. is it the wine, or are you truly thinking about his lips on yours? ”

charles leclerc x reader

a warning— crude language, alcohol consumption, mentions of food, slightly mature. some shitty french, italian, spanish.

word count: 4.1k

Your book seems to begin to blur as the lethargy of a Sunday at five o’clock tends to do what it does best; make you sleepy.

That, and your previous glass of wine seemed to be catching up to you.

The universe sends a saviour in the shape of your friend Lila: she pokes your stomach so you that look up through your sunglasses. You shut the book. It’s something about a twenty-something girl in the 1960s, who joins a hippie cult, and the facts make your head spin (you really couldn’t be arsed to focus while the wine makes you drowsy). You pause the playlist on your phone to look expectantly up at her. She’s a little bit drunk too; her hair is mussed up from laying down on the lounger. The Italian sun was perfect today, white wine flowing while you both tanned the day away. Lila had invited you to her fiancé’s (he worked for Ferrari) house in Tuscany for a week in the summer. It was picturesque and romantic, but he had to work for much of it and she wanted to spend the time with a person who was there constantly. With a getaway promised years ago, she finally followed through, and your second day was just as lovely as the first.

“Up for padel?”

“You mean… le sport?” You answer, giggling slightly. “The wine is in my head now, ma chérie.” You tease affectionately and she begins to tidy up her things to go inside. “Yes, le sport,” she mocks, “‘Tonio invited us to play.” “With who as the fourth?” You ask curiously; Antonio had lamented all day yesterday that he was ‘third wheeling, alone’. Lila pauses to focus on the question, delightfully tipsy, and her hand tries to fold the towel as she thinks. “He invited Charles to come stay too, they will train and plot for the season’s second half together. Now we will third wheel on them.”

You nod then, smiling, and pack up, giggling to yourself about the looks you’ll get from those two when you turn up fabulously drunk. “Is it a hazard to play padel with athletes when the wine makes me slow?”

Lila cackles, bumping her sunglasses back up on her face, sliding on her sundress. “Tonio might flip out on us for being useless, he’s so competitive against Charles. Charles is too nice to say anything. I hope I am his partner.” She snorts, and you laugh too.

“I hope Charles brought proper drinks too. Last time we had a party at Lando’s, that tequila he brought…” you sigh at the memory. “I hope he’s also on summer mode. No offence chérie, but your boy cannot switch off unless he has a friend.” You poke fun at the fact that he will only drink one glass of wine with supper and refuse to get drunk as fuck with the two of you. Lila hits you with the pillow.

💋🍷🍝🫂💌

You two Uber to the padel courts Antonio frequents in Italy, too scared to drive (rightfully so, you’re a bit shitfaced). You drink bottles and bottles of water, staring into each other’s eyes to try and sober up, but the dopey looks make you burst out laughing each time.

You end up napping for ten minutes, trying to sleep off the wine. Then you pat each other’s faces, blinking and blinking, but you end up giving up. Padel with two competitive men will be more fun not sober. When the driver drops you off, he tells you he is praying for whoever you speak to in the next minutes. You two end up in tears of laughter from God knows what. It ends with a hefty euro tip, some swear words and catching Lila from falling onto the street. Eventually you make it to the courts, picking up the two racquets the boys left for you on a bench, and you stare at Lila. “I hope we survive this.” You say seriously, and she salutes. You are in peals of laughter when you reach their court.

Charles stares at the two of you with amusement as you nearly trip over the entrance. “Avez-vous bu tous les deux?” He asks, and he receives just a wink from you, pointing at the small wine stain on Lila’s shirt.

He stifles a cackle as Lila goes to kiss Antonio sloppily, who kisses her reluctantly before gently scolding her in Italian. “Tonio, mon rêleuse, we apologise. We have only received your invitation when the wine was flowing. We also bring a level of entertainment.” You announce, brandishing the racquet. Your bluntness makes even Antonio smile. “Alright, alright. I was planning to put you two together, but maybe we’ll each pair with a drunkard, no?” He nods at Charles, who smiles.

“I’ll look after my girlfriend.” He adds, and Lila groans. “No! I wanted to play with Charles, he’s better at padel.” Antonio looks the most hurt you’ve ever seen a man be.

“Le spectacle de merde.” You whisper, at least you think it is a whisper, to Charles. “Ouais,” he giggles. You smack his arm affectionately. “Tu es tellement adorable,” you say, pursing your lips in a sweet way, and he hugs you with one arm, rubbing your back. “Laisse le vin continuer à parler, oui?”

The way in which you solidly keep hitting the ball on the wire makes him laugh.

Antonio cannot keep himself from raging at the two of you being useless, and tries to calm himself down; Lila falls on the court laughing at his aggressive muttering. You cry with laughter every time she misses the ball (which is more often than not) which leads Charles to request a glass of the wine you had been drinking. Padel has never been more fun, in your opinion: your grip gets looser and your shots stronger with every point. Charles carries your team, and you exchange a fist bump every time. Eventually you two win 11-10, and Lila jumps over the net clumsily to congratulate you both. Carlos settles for a reluctant high five. “Antonioooo…” you drag out his name, and the ridiculous grief of a tiny loss on his face makes you grin. “Can you make your tagliatelle?”

Lila clamours for it too, and he groans. “Whatever.” You two jump into each other’s arms; you end up getting another Uber back to shower and change so the boys can stop and grocery shop as well as buy you drinks, ‘not wine!’ under your instruction. When they get back, you’re slightly more sober, having showered and changed into a bikini (for a night swim) and a linen set over it.

Lila is asleep with her head on the kitchen counter while Charles pours you a rum and raspberry. You’re grateful for the different drink, the headache beginning to pound its way into your head. Antonio starts on the pasta, and you three talk about how their training was, how your poolside day went, the tourists in the city this week, paddock gossip and Charles’ new piano song, which he plays a recording of for you.

“That’s very good,” you compliment, and he blushes. Antonio is busy stirring the sauce while you have revelations. Charles clears his throat, locking the phone, and you set the table. “I’m making scones tonight,” you announce, and in the early stages of waking, Lila cheers with a yawn.

“With what?” Antonio challenges, and you wink. “I brought all the ingredients with. Jam and whipping cream. We can have some for breakfast tomorrow.” “Gotta train harder for that!” Lila jokes, flicking Charles’ arm, who giggles in that stupidly funny way.

💋🍷🍝🫂💌

Stomachs full and content, you and Lila float in the light of the pool. Occasionally you swat a mosquito out of your face, and your second R&R slowly slips away. “Still making the scones?” She asks, and you yawn. “Merde.”

You both laugh.

“Ti piace Cha?”

You stare at her.

“Sei pazzo? He’s most likely got some European model waiting for him in Monaco.”

“Ho visto come ti guardava.”

Your head hurts.

“Ma chérie, Cha could not look at me twice. There is nothing.” Lila makes a disapproving sound, and you splash her.

“Ho sempre pensato che non avrebbe mai potuto-“

Charles and Antonio, holding beers, make their way from the house to the pool. You shut up. You notice that they’ve also been drinking quite heavily, like you two- Charles is much too giggly, and Antonio has that drunken seriousness to him. They sit on the edge of the pool. “Where are those scones?” Antonio asks, and you roll your eyes. “Maybe I’ll make them fresh in the morning.” You yawn, making Charles do the same.

“Cazzata!” He replies, and you laugh with Lila. “Promise. I want to go horse riding tomorrow morning, the farm across the way said I could when we went with the dogs.” Lila shakes her head. “¡No puedo enfrentarme a un caballo, especialmente contigo!”

You snort. Antonio downs the beer. Charles is staring at the moon. “You okay?” You raise your eyebrows. “Just remembering last time I went riding.”

There is an awkward silence.

You can’t gauge his tone, and you make eye contact with Lila, frowning. “Well, if anyone wants to come, I would love to have them.” You clear your throat, and Antonio shakes his head. “Gym tomorrow.” Charles groans, putting down the beer. “Putain!” “You’ll have scones when you finish then,” you smile, and make to get out. “I’m going to bed if I want to get up at seven.”

Everyone wishes you a good night, and you make your way up to your room, still uneasy about Charles at the pool.

💋🍷🍝🫂💌

Your third day in Tuscany continues as you walk into the house; you are greeted by the dogs. The door was unlocked - a classic sign of Antonio leaving - so you knew the boys had left. You opened the large windows after taking off your boots, letting the fresh morning air in. You yawn as you put on a playlist, beginning to bake as the soft sounds of music accompany you to it.

About fifteen minutes later the scones are in the oven, and you set out some things to eat them with - as the plates clink, you hear Lila walking downstairs. “Hi,” she drags out the syllable - you smile at her ruffled brown hair - a dog is leaping up at her - and you wish her a good morning, making coffee for the both of you. She comes to sit on a bar stool, and you grimace at the remembrance of last night - where she slept for a moment or so - and she seems to recall the same. “How did you get up at seven?” She laughs. “My head was killing me.”

You laugh. “I have no clue.” “Wasn’t Charles weird last night? Or was I just drunk.” “No, he was so weird.” You are hungry to gossip (you had gone to bed before you could debrief.) “What the fuck was he on?”

Lila covers her mouth, laughing. Yet again, before you can gossip, the loud sound of the front door opening stops you. You groan and take the scones out of the oven. “Good morning!” Antonio says aloud, and you nod at the two walking in.

Lila kisses him on the cheek. “We have been hard at work.”

You grin. “How was neck day?” Charles rolls his eyes. “As incredible as you think it was.”

You laugh then, putting the hot scones on a plate. “Merde, did you do these from scratch? That’s so good.” “You burn eggs and toast, mate. Anything is so good in your eyes.” Antonio nudges Charles, who blushes furiously and smacks his arm.

You stare at Lila. She mouths some unfathomable sentence to you and you shrug as Antonio reaches for a scone. Your phone starts ringing, interrupting this strange situation, and you answer it. “Salut maman.” You answer.

“Ma chérie, comment est la Toscane? Les bons jours d'été avec toi me manquent, mon amour.”

You make a face that’s screwed up with childish embarrassment. “Tu me manques et la famille aussi, oui ? Je dois revenir en France pour visiter.”

“Papa t'envoie du champagne des cousins, et nous allons faire livrer des fleurs. Notre fille nous manque.”

“Pourquoi tant d'amour ?” You laugh.

“Sans raison.” She says innocently, and you stare at Lila, confused.

“Ton frère va se marier!”

“Quoi!” You shout, grasping your chest.

💋🍷🍝🫂💌

The news of your brother’s engagement leaves you still slightly concerned as Charles hands you some sort of cocktail. You take a sip and grimace at the ratio of rum to whatever else is in there. Charles laughs. “Haven’t they been together for a while?”

You shake your head, detailing that you’d met his fiancé - albeit a nice man - only once before. Antonio laughs. Lila smacks his arm. “You haven’t proposed yet, you cannot laugh.” Antonio’s face is a picture as you gasp for breath with laughter.

The sun sets on a slow evening as you laze by the pool with these people; you adore being in their company, you realise. You are still shaking your head with shock. “I can’t believe my brother is the first sibling to be married,” you grimace, and Charles laughs. “Which Leclerc will marry first, you think?” You ask him. “I don’t know. I think Lorenzo, because Arthur’s young. Definitely not me.” He emphasises with a face, and you laugh.

Hours later, you tell stories of your and Lila’s university days while the boys laugh, details of hookups and too much alcohol paint pictures of pure comedy. “Anyone want a scone?” You announce, going to make one in the kitchen. “I’ll come with,” Charles says politely, leaving the couple to themselves.

You end up pouring another R&R while you spread jam and cream, not eager to experience your hangover tomorrow morning. “Je suis un putain d’alcoolique.” Charles dismisses the thought. “S'il vous plaît, vous n'êtes pas spécial.”

You laugh. “It’s nice that you’re here. I always wanted to get to know you better.” You say off topic, switching to English, the languages getting mixed up in your slowed down mind. Charles laughs and pats your arm. “A drink makes you very emotional,” he jokes, and you make a face. “Be quiet.” “Let’s take a picture!” You switch up, mind spinning, and Charles is laughing as he takes pictures of you making scones with slow limbs, dancing, smiling, spinning.

You take a 0,5 of him in return, laughing at the weird expression on his face. You take selfies, air kissing, pulling faces, until your phone tells you you’re out of storage, and the moment is over, lipstick on his face. You laugh. He’s quiet.

“I can wipe it off,” you say quietly, trying not to ruin the comfortable energy in the kitchen. He lets you do it tenderly with a baby wipe, big expressive eyes staring into yours, wide with the relaxation of alcohol flowing through him. He leans in and you lurch back, shocked at the prospect of you two.

He pretends like he didn’t do anything, the little shit, and your eyes narrow as you pinch his ear. He cries out in pain, and tries to get you back, but you’re running with the scones in one hand and the drink in the other, cackling into the dark night, the comfort of the warmth.

💋🍷🍝🫂💌

The next morning is rough.

You’re woken up with a lurching stomach, violently hungover. You decide a swim under the Italian sun is going to help, and change, going to the pool. Antonio is there, swimming laps, and you hover awkwardly around the pool before getting in. He greets you softly, not wanting to disturb the birds chirping down at the vineyard and the peace of the morning. “There’s this song,” you say, dipping your head into the cool water, relishing this delightful feeling that comes with the activity of swimming like a child. “I used to listen to it every day of my last year of uni. It’s this song that makes me feel so great inside. And I realise that I feel that way when I’m with all of you. Thank you for inviting me.” Antonio looks touched, as much as a guy could at that revelation. “You’ve still got three days with me. That could change your mind.”

You laugh, diving underwater.

From the kitchen window, Lila and Charles are talking, unbeknownst to you. She grabs his arm aggressively as he moves to take the fresh cup of coffee. “Do you like her?” He jumps with fright. “Merde- she’s very nice?”

Lila raises her eyebrows.

He groans. “You aren’t going to ask me if I like like her as if I’m twelve.” “Charles!” She folds her arms, and he casts his gaze to you lazing in the pool.

“No.” He says stubbornly, and he might have convinced her but he hasn’t convinced himself. Lila lets out a huff as she turns back to the breakfast she’s making; he looks down at the floor.

💋🍷🍝🫂💌

Charles offers you wine. You nearly smack the bottle out of his hand. “No.”

The early afternoon is the precursor to your declaration of sobriety for the day; you and Lila take the dogs for another walk, getting dragged by their leashes as they leap and bound. You end up at the gym with her afterwards, sweating out your fatigue, and you try not to stare at Charles as he and Antonio walk in. Another game of padel is offered afterwards, and you two accept, playing away yet another lovely day and beginning of the evening. You’re much better at padel when you’re sober.

Then Antonio and Charles want to go clubbing, and you agree wearily, going back with them to change into some little strappy top and skirt. You have never decided your stance on clubbing - you love a night out somewhere, but the thought of it annoys you now, the prospect of a night in after a long bath sounding much better.

You and Lila pretend you’re back in your uni days, dark eyeshadow and dramatic makeup, perfume stinking up the room. You laugh at the two of you as you slip on some high heels, red lipstick everywhere, mascara accidentally smudging as you absentmindedly wipe your face.

You fix it before you’re running down to the car when you hear Antonio shouting about your tardiness. It’s a 4x4, and you slide chaotically into the middle seat next to Charles, Lila hopping in afterwards, your knee touching Charles’, skirt riding up. You let out a breath as Antonio has a bit of a nostalgic moment - he met Lila on a night just like this, with you two, at a club in Madrid.

“I feel nineteen again,” you laugh, seven years ago finding you again, the smell of Charles’ cologne rooting you back in the present. The driver is chattering on about Ferrari as you get Charles to take pictures of you and Lila, posing, then judging the pictures, high-fiving him for his great photography skills. You post one to your story, all wide eyes and pouty lips, and your followers begin to reply things about all those years ago.

You’re at the club twenty minutes later, a Khalid song sending you out of the car. You grab Lila’s arm and hug her, intensely nostalgic. Charles demands more pictures of you - Antonio agrees - you two must look good. He takes more, and then you’re all taking photos in the street light, and you’re handing your phone to some random girl who takes photos of all of you. She mumbles something in Italian and Charles thanks her very much before you’re all bundled into the club.

💋🍷🍝🫂💌

Charles comes to drape his arm over your shoulder an hour later, sweaty, and he’s got lip gloss on his lips. You point at your own lips pointedly and he exclaims something that’s lost in the noise. He lifts up his shirt to wipe his sticky lips and your gaze is caught on his abs as his hand brushes his chest. You look away hurriedly.

A dull ache propels you onto the dance floor, and some guy leans in to kiss you and you let him, annoyed and jealous. But his breath smells terrible, stale, and you’re pulling away, shuddering, and run to the bar for some water.

You’re still retching like a cat with a hairball ten minutes later when Charles finds you again, and he laughs with confusion. You roll your eyes. “I’m gonna go for a smoke,” you shout in his ear, and he follows you, a hand ghosting your back. You shiver and run out into the heat.

You pull out a box of cigarettes and a lighter out of your bag and you light one hurriedly, the taste of that guy still horrid in your mouth.

You offer the cig, lipstick-stained, and Charles hesitates before you shrug. “I didn’t know you smoked,” he said, and you shrugged. “Only when I’m out.”

He nods then; you lift up the cigarette to his lips. He takes a drag, eyes shining outside the fluorescent light of the club. You breathe, and you can see a teenager standing beside you instead of a man in his twenties, sneaking a smile and a smoke in secret.

💋🍷🍝🫂💌

It’s 2:26. You scroll on your phone as Charles talks lowly on the phone beside you (Leila and Antonio found some friends and decided to stay). You stare out at the moon, the light highlighting your face as you look back at Charles briefly. He’s already looking, and smiles slowly, bashful to have been caught. You can’t hide a smile.

His hand is laying tentatively on the middle seat, and your hand is on your knee. You both stare.

💋🍷🍝🫂💌

He’s pulling out a bottle of wine as you tumble into the house, the night welcoming you back to the villa. Your eyes are wide and his focussed on the glasses in his hand, walking carefully out onto the patio. You fall into a slightly uncomfortable metal chair and he pours a glass in the dark, squinting as you hear some crickets. You accept a glass with a quiet thanks and he sits down next to you clumsily, and the wine sloshes out onto his shirt and he curses quietly. You grin.

One of the dogs pad out onto the wood and the click of its nails makes your nose scrunch and it tries to jump on your lap; with a groan you attempt to shove it off and Charles gets up, laughing, pushing, and somehow he ends up staring into your eyes, bending down, and some force of nature propels you to capture his lips with yours. You let out a little sigh as he wraps a hand in your hair, and he’s pulling you up and the glass is forgotten and it’s twilight hours in the dark.

The trembling anticipation of a new lover ignites a new energy there outside. You wrap an arm around his neck and you both push forward against each other. It’s the kind of kiss where everything just works; your lips slot so perfectly, and his hair feels soft beneath your hazy movements.

The dog interrupts by licking your knee, and you move backward with a shudder. He’s moving in again, shoulders taut, and his arms are smooth as your hands grasp them, bodies moving sensually under the light of the crescent moon above.

Your watch beeps and you look down to see a notification from Lila. You ignore it. Charles is instead running fluid hands over your hips, liquid gold, and you’re melting, drowning in the heavy look in his eyes. It’s as if the puzzle piece has just slotted into place. A newfound frenzy causes you to pull him slowly into the house, bare feet meeting the dark wood below. You nearly crash into a glass window before you’re in the kitchen, and he’s bending your back slightly over a counter, finding your neck with his lips, nipping, sucking, and you’re parting your lips with delight, body moving with his.

His facial hair is scruffy, and the sensation causes you to arch a little and he slams you back down. You moan.

He grins.

A hand flits up your back, under the shirt, feeling the skin, and you shiver when he rubs a thumb over a piece of your spine, and he’s leaning back to study you, cheeks pink in the dark, and he goes back in for a kiss, smiling broadly.

#f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #f1 x you #charles leclerc imagine #f1 x reader #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc fluff #f1 one shot #f1 fic #f1

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petermorwood · 7 months

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Microwave Sponge Cake (eventually)

Long ago, @dduane and I had a Whirlpool combi microwave - micro, grill, fan oven - and It Was Great, big enough to use as a proper oven when what needed cooked in a proper oven was small enough that powering up the big proper oven in the cooker was a bit much.

Still with me...?

IIRC it was one of those Christmas presents where Mum, ever-practical, told us; "get yourselves something really useful but not too expensive (I did say practical!) and I'll go halves."

In 2016, after something like 15 years of pretty-well daily use for one thing and another, the old thing expired by stages, micro first, grill second, oven last - it made great bread up until the end - and went to recycling heaven.

*****

We couldn't find a one-for-one replacement (we needed a free-standing counter-top appliance, everyone was selling built-in), so until once was available (optimism) we bought an ordinary microwave.

NB, this and its successors were only used for ordinary microwave things like reheating, defrosting and dealing with freeze-cook stuff. They got nothing like the amount of use of the old combi, mostly because of being incapable of doing a lot of it. As things turned out, this didn't help much.

About eighteen months later, we had to buy another. If a microwave's enamel interior develops a crack (to this day I don't know how), moisture gets in, rust begins and the enamel pulls off the bare metal. That's when you get "sparking".

This demo is deliberate; believe me, when it's unexpected it's even worse.

youtube

A private welder show or lightning storm at the end of the kitchen counter when all you want is a hot cuppa is distinctly unsettling. Also, it's only going to get worse, and we could imagine - boy, could we - what "Much Worse" might look like.

To the recycle dump!

(NB, micros with stainless steel interiors don't seem to do this, probably because they're already tuned to deal with the bare metal.)

The replacement, another ordinary micro, Just Up And Died after eighteen months and, guess what, the quote for a check-up and replacements-if-required was as much as the price of a new one.

(Inkjet printers seem to operate on this principal too.)

To the recycle dump again!

We got a third new one (which BTW is still running just fine, because it's been downgraded to Extra, read on), totalled up what we'd spent on ordinary microwaves, said a few well-chosen words about planned obsolescence and the "Vimes 'Boots' Theory of Economic Inequality" and got ourselves a pre-pay credit card whose top-ups were dedicated to Get A Combi Again.

We didn't bother with GACA baseball caps.

That would have been silly.

I don't know if these cards exist in the USA; we treat them as the modern version of a piggy-bank...

...except that to get at the money you need two people acting in accord.

*****

And in 2021 we got one.

Okay, this next bit is going to read like an ad.

It isn't, because the appliance is discontinued. (Whirlpool FINALLY do something similar but not identical.) It's just enthusiastic users discovering there's even more to a gadget than expected.

*****

The New One even bigger than the old one, which had 28 litres capacity; the new one was 33 L (was .99 ft³, is now 1.16 ft³). In non-tech terms, wow, More Room To Cook In.

Reading the figures was no help (to me, anyway) in visualising what a maw the thing had, but opening the door did that and no mistake.

I said something to DD about "bite radius"...

...and she instantly responded with "anyway, we delivered the bomb".

We're a quotesy household. ;->

BTW, The New One does a very good job on seafood, too...

*****

Since we got this, almost exactly two years ago, we've used it from reheating tea to roasting meat to making chilli / goulash / stew / curry (you can run the oven / grill separately or add simultaneous zaps of microwave for much less cooking time) to baking bread.

One of the best things about it is that when the set cooking time is done, the appliance switches off automatically. No risk of busyness, absent-mindedness or out-in-the-garden-ness ending in clouds of smoke, ruined food and possibly even worse.

As for breadmaking, it has a dough-rise setting which is a Time Machine, reducing a two-hour "doubled in size" rise time to about 35-45 minutes...

It also has the most reliable Defrost Butter setting either of us have ever encountered, turning a rock-solid butter brick from the freezer into something spreadable while never - to date - doing the "never mind a butter-knife, give me a spoon or a paintbrush" thing.

*****

However...

There's also a "Chef Setting" where there are some simple recipes. Here's the pastry page.

Basically, you assemble and mix the ingredients, input the correct settings and the machine does all the timing, heating and cooking.

We'd never used this until yesterday, when DD said, "Let's try the sponge cake..."

Yes, this post was entitled "Microwave Sponge Cake (eventually)..." and here we are...

We did all the measuring correctly and checked it by pouring the mixture into a baking container while on the scale, wondering betimes why the recipe says 900g, the ingredients total 925 and what actually poured into the container reads 906... Weird. Really weird.

Then we put the container into the oven, entered the correct code, and let things do what they were going to do.

A little later we discovered something else about the recipe besides a weight anomaly.

It didn't mention the required size of the container. Or or how much the mixture was likely to rise.

It rose...

Let's say more than we expected...

The fluted ceramic container used for baking this one makes it look like a Vesuvius cupcake; not quite a pyroclastic flow, but a lot of flow regardless.

Once it cooled we separated the sponge-cake from the escaped sponge in the same way as sculptors work with wood or marble - "Chip away everything that doesn't look like a cake" - and found that despite its misshapen looks, it tasted pretty good.

So today DD made another, this time using a larger container.

...and this time it stayed put until removed using the cunning base-and-lifting-straps of baking parchment.

It's not the loftiest or best-risen sponge cake either of us have ever seen (a smaller-diameter higher-sided container would probably deal with that) BUT if there's something needing sponge cake in a hurry - this went from cupboard ingredients to done and cooling in less than 55 minutes - that treatment seems to fit the bill.

We're now wondering what other secrets lurk in the simple recipe pages; falafel, quiche Lorraine, stuffed peppers, even Flammkuchen* from scratch.

(*Though I have my own views about Flammkuchen, mostly involving a plane flight...)

And we'll be paying a lot more attention to what size of dish we put them in. :->

#food and drink #kitchen appliances #combi microwaves #sponge cake #anecdotage #GNU Terry Pratchett #Youtube

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writingseaslugs · 11 months

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Heartslabyul: When You're Sick

So in light of my physical health declining the past month or so, I decided to just begin writing this. At the time of writing this, I can say the “When They’re Sick” version has been written over a month ago…almost two. Glad to be back to writing though!

Also the very start of the headcanons stay the same for every fic, so once you read it once, you won’t need to read it again.

Disclaimer: All characters in this series are aged up. For more information about my version of this world and the type of reader you can expect, please click the “Au Information” below!

Request Information | Masterlist | Au Information

Heartslabyul: When You’re Sick

The worst thing to ever happen to you while attending Night Raven College had to be, hands down, getting sick. You were alone in the dorm with only ghosts and Grim to keep you company, and as much as you loved them, they couldn’t take care of you when you became sick. This meant you had to make do and hope that everything was alright. Normally if you were under the weather, you’d just suck it up and go to class so as to not worry anyone. This time however, that wasn’t an option.

You woke up with every muscle in your body feeling sore and aching with even the slightest movement. Your stomach churned something fearsome and you had a runny nose and cough to boot. You had no idea what illness you had fallen to. Having so many symptoms…you could only assume it was the flu or something akin to that.

Still, there was no way you were making it to class like this. So begrudgingly you told Grim you weren’t feeling good and needed to rest, and to go to class and get your homework so you could do it later. The demon cat was grumpy about not having his henchman, but eventually gave in, leaving you alone to rest in your room and hope that whatever you had would go away.

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle finding out you get sick is like hearing about a crisis situation. He is on it. He becomes worried but tries to hide that fact pretty well, but everyone in the dorm knows how anxious he is the moment you are sick. He’s heading over to your dorm right away to check in on you. He’s going to act like he’s calm and collected, but you can tell he’s worried about your health with how he keeps playing with the skin around his cuticles.

Thankfully his mother was good for one thing, and that was teaching him how to care for others while sick. He was forced to read a few medical books, so he knows the basics. Of course he’s going to be checking in on you and looking over your health to see if you need a proper doctor at first, but once he knows you just have the flu, he is a bit more calm about the entire situation.

He’s contacting the nurse the moment he knows what’s wrong in order to get you the proper medications you need. He’s by your bedside the entire time, even after you’ve fallen asleep, making sure to wake you in time for meals and medication. He’s managed to convince all his teacher’s to give him his classwork so he can work on it in your dorm while you’re dead asleep so he doesn’t fall behind. He’ll be damned if anyone tries to drag him away from your bedside until he knows you’re all better.

Once you’re finally better, Riddle’s mood is going to be light and airy. He’s going to be calmer and tell you that you don’t need to worry about thanking him, since you’ve done/would’ve done the same thing for him. He will be asking you the rest of the week if you’re certain you’re doing better, so just do your best to reassure him that everything is fine and dandy.

Trey Clover

He’s rightfully worried the moment he finds out from Adeuce that you’re at your dorm, sick as a dog. He’s going to just subtly ask them what exactly is wrong with you, and sadly for him Ace might play it up like you’re at home dying and make Trey extremely concerned for your health. It wasn’t like Ace had even seen you, but apparently Grim had told Ace that you were dying in bed and couldn’t even stand…so his worry was at least justified.

Trey has a lot of experience in taking care of others while they’re sick, with being a big brother who was thrusted to take responsibility at a young age tends to do that to you. So he’s always on it when he finds out someone is sick, in fact at the dorm normally it’s Trey who’s checking up on sick students instead of Riddle. Normally it wasn’t something he wanted to do, but when it came to you he found himself wanting to make sure you were okay.

Trey is going to be taking your temperature and making sure you’re coherent as he asks you a few questions. After he’s going to make sure you get medication and make you several yummy things to eat. If you can’t stomach food he’s going to try to convince you to at least try some broth. He promises after you’re all better he’ll make you your favorite treat as well. He is more okay with leaving your bedside while you rest, but he is checking in on you before and after classes, and then on his lunch breaks as well, just to be sure you’re taken care of.

Once you’re better, Trey might tease you a bit. Thankfully he does follow through with his promise, and as soon as you can stomach it, he’s bringing you your favorite treat and eating it with you. He’s just relieved to know that you’re all better, but he will be reminding you that you need to take it easy for the next few weeks to make sure it doesn’t come back. He can be a real mother hen when it comes to these things.

Cater Diamond

When he finds out you're sick he is concerned. He is always worried when someone he knows ends up sick, so he’s going to be heading over to your dorm without another thought. He needs to make sure you’re okay and alive first before he begins trying to figure out how to make you better. The moment he sees you his concern only grows and he’s now fretting. You might actually have to tell him to calm down and that you’re going to be okay. He’s not fully convinced, but whatever,

He lacks skills in taking care of others, since normally he’s the one being taken care of at home when sick. So he’s going to actually be asking Trey for some advice on what would be the best course of action. He’s dragging the Vice Dorm leader to look over you as well, to make sure he doesn’t mess up and give you something that he shouldn’t. It’s honestly a bit comical how disheveled Cater seems to be at the thought of you getting sick.

Once he’s given instructions on what to do, he makes for a half decent nurse. He’s good at making sure you’re taking medications on time, and bringing you some simple foods that wouldn’t be too much on your stomach. He even finds himself enjoying it, and when you’re awake and bored, he’s showing you several things online to make you laugh. His best technique is distracting you from the sick feeling you have until you end up falling asleep. Then he’s definitely taking a photo to save and never show anyone. He might make a post about taking care of a special someone on Magicam later.

Literally the moment you’re better he’s going to be asking you to do things with him. Apparently he’s never heard about taking it easy once you’re feeling better. The boy has been deprived of doing fun things with you though, and he wants to make up for lost time. So go ahead and just go out for a walk or something with him. Let him snap a couple of photos of the two of you and he’ll be super happy.

Ace Trappola

He finds out through Grim and originally he acts as though he doesn’t care at all. You’re just a bit sick, so what? That is until Grim starts to over exaggerate things about your health and now he’s slowly getting worried about you. He’s going to be more irritated in class, tapping his foot anxiously on the ground until Trein tells him to stop fidgeting so much. This is going to prompt him to just up and leave the classroom to go check on you, despite Trein yelling for him to sit back down.

Sadly Ace has no skills in taking care of others while they’re sick. He just assumes a little bit of tylenol or something is all you need while sick. He has no past experience in playing nurse, so he’s clueless. Deuce is probably the one who points out that his methods of taking care of you are horrible and you need proper care with medication that’s aimed for whatever is wrong with you at the moment. Only then will Ace actually stubbornly seek out help.

He gets the nurse, because he’ll be damned if he asks Riddle for help. Thankfully the nurse gives him a list of things to help take care of you, and he does his best to follow it. He will be getting food from the cafeteria though, saying that his cooking might end up just making you sicker than before. He is caring though and you will notice his voice softens a bit as he’s taking care of you, almost like he fears causing you a headache or discomfort. He’ll deny it with every fiber of his being, but he really does want you to get better.

He’s going to be a smug little butthead the moment you’re all better, claiming how well he took care of you. You can either knock him down a few pegs and remind him that it wasn’t until Deuce and the nurse intervened that you began getting better. Or you can simply let him have it, and thank him for doing such a good job in helping you out. He might actually blush if you praise him though, so the latter option is probably the best to go with if you want to fluster him.

Deuce Spade

Another boy who becomes so worried about you being sick that he rushes over to your side. He is checking you over and spamming you with questions, wanting to know if you’re hurt anywhere. He might actually make you dizzy or give you a headache, but you know it’s all coming from a place of caring. He just doesn't know what else to do when he sees you laying there, sick as a dog.

Sadly he doesn’t have the best skills, but it doesn’t mean he won’t be asking for help. He’d go straight to Riddle, knowing that he probably would know what to do. After Riddle checks you over and says it’s not bad enough to see a nurse, he’s going to be hounding Deuce on how to properly take care of a sick classmate. Deuce is going to take everything to heart and take his word as law at that point.

After he’s told what to do, he’s not half bad. He might forget a few things and fumble, but he manages to always make it right in the end. He’s going to be a bit bashful when checking your temperature, using his forehead to do so since that’s how his mom always did it. You can remind him about thermometers, or just let him do his thing. Either way, Deuce is doing his best and will be by your bedside at all times, despite really needing to go to class since he’s fallen behind.

Once you’re better he’s so relieved, but he’s not done worrying. He’ll be asking you if you’re certain everything is alright and once you assure him about twenty times he might drop it. Just expect him to be a bit more protective over you for the next month or so after getting sick, since he’s worried you’ll somehow fall ill again.

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bonefall · 3 months

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For Riverstar’s Heir, do you have any idea where you want to land themeatically? Because from my reading of the possible themeatic directions, with the whole story being about this crisis of politics and succession, it feels like the character who “should” become the next leader of RiverClan narratively should be the Most ruthless/aggressive/willing to resort to dishonorable methods of dealing with rivals (reinforcing RiverClan’s entry into/building up of the early Clans’ emerging systems of battle society)

The alternative “most interesting” option I can imagine would be one that is least likely/least aggressive/some otherwise sort of underdog candidate (maybe not even technically “legal” depending on what qualifications there are for heirship?), but I’m not sure exactly what themes that would play into, other than maybe how the pursuit of power can change someone?

That said, your themeatic instincts are strong enough that I can see you having a strong idea for a “middle-of-the-pack” candidate winning out over the others just as much, so— I am genuinely curious what your thoughts are for where you Want this crisis of succession to end, narratively, even if you don’t have an exact cat picked yet.

Good ask because I'd not been clear about the theme yet, I think. What Riverstar's Heir is trying to get at, at the heart of the issue, is that this is a bloodbath caused by naiive optimism and greed.

The commandments to establish borders and prevent killing are nice, but not enough. You can't just have a society on good will, not when POWER is up for grabs in the scramble. It's about collapse, and how innocent, well-meaning people get caught up in the devastation. Not JUST the troublemakers.

Riverstar was an EXCELLENT king, beloved and wise, but if you don't prepare a proper successor, everything you worked hard to build might crumble to ruin.

Something unique is lost in this shuffle. It's no longer the River Kingdom, and the Wind Coalition also becomes WindClan at this point. For better, and for worse, they both lose a bit of what made them special. Redscar's choice at the end also solidifies the early political power of Clerics, which is eventually broken many generations later with Larkwing's Strike.

So, fragment time,

At LEAST three "heirs" end up getting killed.

So, because these ones are gonna die, I have Three Heir "Slots" that I'm committed to and just need to fill;

The Eldest, Riverstar's oldest living biological child.

The Chosen, Riverstar's adopted heir, a rather meek prince easily pressured into backing off his rightful claim. This one is likely going to be the BB! version of Mossfire.

The Firstblood, directly descended from Riverstar's FIRSTborn child. This one is likely going to be the BB! version of Jumpfoot.

I also have two tentative slots.

The Accomplished... who is a blood relative of Riverstar, but more of a "puppet" for WindCo. Someone they're intentionally propping up hoping for power.

The Diplomat, from WindClan, who is a lot like WindCo's puppet but this one is more subtle about it. Poetic. Happy to purr and remind the world of the wonderful, deep ties that had existed between King Riverstar and Thunderstar.

And, LASTLY, there's The Deputy. The most qualified choice, who served Riverstar, but was no relative.

It feels right that the Deputy is the one who is chosen in the end... hm.

Anyway

After a smaller conflict near the start of the story, either The Eldest or The Firstblood seems to be the favorite to win... but decides to wait for the morning to set out for the Moonstone and take their lives.

In this time period, without selecting a successor, this heir is assassinated.

In fact it might be VERY fun if this heir, being so much like King Riverstar himself, decided to throw a pre-emptive celebration.

Meat! Merriment! MURDER!!!

Having them go out via poison would be a fun way to send a character off.

This is going to be why the "DEPUTY BEFORE MOONHIGH" rule is established, but it's also what kicks off the bloodier parts of the plot.

Thinking about it... a cleric and/or the deputy should probably tell this heir, "Hey, buddy, you should really get going" and they're ignored.

With Eldest Heir gone, the small conflict from earlier becomes an LARGE conflict.

And, like they did back in DOTC, families start to rally together. Especially Eldest's offspring, who think they're just as entitled to the Throne as The Firstblood/Jumpfoot

King Riverstar used to encourage cats to enter the River Kingdom freely. The borders were essentially open, and everyone was allowed in, as long as they were willing to cross the river.

(maybe I'll even have him pull down the tree from Riverstar's Home intentionally, happy to accept other cats into his Kingdom. Then he defends it from Skystar, specifically, but refuses to destroy what he built.)

This had allowed River Kingdom to grow large and powerful, but it also meant everyone in River Kingdom had connections to the other Clans.

Which meant there were cats supporting OTHER bids to the Throne, like the one from WindCo and the one from ThunderClan.

Smelling a way to grab power, Duststar supports his favorite heir, and Whitestar of ThunderClan also begins to stick his nose in.

Each Heir tries to run the River Kingdom, and things start to get hostile. If there's more than just the three heirs, even more of them start to get openly attacked, chased out, killed, until there's only The Chosen and The Firstblood left.

Somewhere around here, River Kingdom is invaded. Probably by the leader of SkyClan at the time, claiming that they don't even NEED an heir to take what these cats clearly don't deserve.

And that's when the internal conflict becomes a FULL-BLOWN WAR between four Clans.

In those days, the camp was at Sunningrocks, right in the middle of the river.

ThunderClan jumps in to help its "Ally" against SkyClan, just like historical precedent, but they have NO IDEA who they're fighting against, because the whole Kingdom is divided. It's not as simple as it was in DOTC anymore.

WindCo came to support its favorite heir, but its cats don't obey Duststar's orders when it comes down to fighting their own friends and family, meaning they're functionally fighting EVERYONE and losing a TON of cats

SkyClan is getting pummeled because EVERY group is pissed at them as well as each other, getting a painful awakening that they are NOT being run by Skystar the War God anymore and they're no longer the biggest, baddest bananas in the bunch

(shadowclan is watching all of this and eating popcorn. moisturized. in their lane. unbothered.)

The climax here, between The Chosen and The Firstblood, is a battle that matches the chapter from COTC. They launch at each other, in a battle to the death.

The first Sunningrocks Battle.

They both wear "crowns" on their head, one custom made for Mossfire's short-furred head, and traditional, braided into Jumpfoot's long, lush fur.

As they claw, bite, and tumble, they plunge into the river.

Fighting and hissing, they try to pull apart to rise up for air-- and can't.

They're STUCK

The crowns became tangled in their skirmish, and neither one can work with the other to bring them both to shore, against the current.

Both heirs, the last with a proper claim to the throne, drown together in the river.

At the end of the bloodbath, the tone is very somber. The rules were meant to prevent The First Battle from ever happening again... but The Second Battle had just taken place.

The body count wasn't AS high as the First Battle, but it was still a bloody loss. Every Clan lost warriors. Even ShadowClan, who hadn't even been IN the conflict, checked its ranks to find that powerful warriors had run off to go fight with their Kin.

Now they could be buried with them, too.

And now, there was no proper heir. If any descendants were still kicking around, they were refusing to take a throne that so many cats had died for. Jumpfoot and Mossfire never emerged from the River, their bodies, and their legendary crowns, were never found.

At first I'd been considering Redscar being swapped to become a RiverClan Cleric, but now I'm thinking it actually makes sense he's still from ShadowClan. ShadowClan was the ONLY neutral group-- it's reasonable for the clans to turn and request their partiality.

So, Redscar peruses the options, having followed the situation from afar.

His choice, in the end, was The Deputy. The most experienced advisor who knew Riverstar, and probably tried to stay at his adopted daughter's side as well. The closest thing they'd had to a leader all along.

(Thought: Maybe this character will be the POV. Make it like a bit of a fake-out title, you THINK Riverstar's heir is Mossfire. But it's actually been this one all along.)

He creates his famous false sign, and from there, the five groups discussed how they could prevent this from ever happening again.

They create the Law of the Deputy, commanding that ALL Clans have a single Deputy who will inherit the Clan after the leader passes away, ending dynasties in WindCo and River Kingdom and centralizing power in the other 3.

With the massive losses that WindCo and River Kingdom experienced, they also restructure, forced to accept a lot of help from ThunderClan and ShadowClan.

The borders began to close up, leading to the sentiment that would lead to Commandment 4, the Law of Loyalty, in just one more generation.

#better bones au #BB!DOTC #Riverstar's Heir #I feel like I need to add in more 'human' moments #But it's also a very broad overview type thing #Having the Deputy be the POV will help immensely I think once I get into the details #Since she'll be thinking about how to keep the Kingdom together. How to feed people. How badly it's all crumbling #And how distracting the violence all is #But this is a broader draft of the major politics when the REAL meat of this story is in the minutia.#(Ottoman Empire ass drama in the background) ``no time for that goku. its fall. the salmon r coming.``#Unsure if this is Flowerstem or Maplewhisker....#The Eldest would make sense as Mothpelt #Again: COTC my beloved

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tyrantisterror · 11 months

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Still Buzzing About Beelzebub

I wanted to leave this at vague blogging but fuck, man, I can't leave it be. I have a special fondness for Beelzebub as a folkloric figure, and I can't help having very intense personal feelings about how he's adapted. So I'm going to blather about the Lord of the Flies for a moment, and there's nothing you can do about it.

Ok, so, extremely oversimplified spark notes version of Beelzebub's history as a demon concept: there was a god named Ba'al who was worshipped by a rival religion to the Israelites, with "Ba'al" meaning "lord." It's theorized the full name of the god was "Ba'al-zebul," which would roughly mean "Lord of the Heavenly Place." Like many other demons, Beelzebub began as a satirical take on a rival religion's god - in this case, Ba'al-zebul becomes Ba'al-zebub, which means "lord of flies." It's a pun, and, like, a grade school playground level taunt. "Haha, your god's not the god of heaven, he's the god of shit-eating bugs!" basically.

Ba'al-zebub eventually evolves through translation into Beelzebub, and by the point it does it's gone from a petty mockery of another god to a major figure of Biblical apocrypha. In fact, when it comes to figuring out the "real" name of The Devil, Beelzebub has probably the second best claim to it, being not only one of the first devils ever named, but also one of the first ones to be listed (by apocryphal sources) to being the leader of the fallen angels - his only real competition is Belial, who might beat him out in terms of seniority on these points, but with folklore this old it's kind of hard to say someone's a clear winner in this sort of thing.

While other devils would later gain more popularity for the position of The Devil (Lucifer and Satan being the frontrunners despite the former being a result of a translation error and the later being more akin to a title than a name proper - "Satan" isn't too far from "Prosecuting Attorney" in its original usage), Beelzebub has always remained pretty damn prominent, often being The Devil's close second in command or at least in his inner circle, such as in works like Paradise Lost and Marlowe's Faust.

Perhaps his biggest claim to demonic fame, especially in recent years, is his position as one of the Seven Princes of Hell, being one of the elite demons to not only rule Hell, but also represent one of the seven deadly sins. Beelzebub is generally placed as the ruler/representative of Gluttony, though occasionally he's repurposed as the demon of Envy instead.

Ok, cool, so why do I have my hackles up? Well, there's an internet cartoon that's set in Hell with a great deal of buzz about it in animated circles, and they've been dipping their toes into demonology now and then. And apparently this is their take on Beelzebub:

youtube

It's... it's a fucking fox. It's just a fucking fox. I mean, ok, it's got fairy wings and second set of arms and, like, a tail made of honey, but still... it's just a fucking fox.

Here's the thing about Beelzebub: the name "lord of the flies" is fucking unique as demons go. It's descriptive, it's different. Most stories that make Beelzebub distinct from The Devil take the opportunity to make his title very literal, because by doing so they make him distinct from his fellow devils - and as a result, Beelzebub tends to be really fucking memorable.

Like, here, look at some of his peers in the Infernal Dictionary;

They're all beautifully illustrated, but most (not all) of them are pretty much what you expect when you hear about a classical demon: hairy goat guys with some dragon features mixed in. But then you get the guys like Beelzebub:

And that hell-fly stand out. He still fits with his peers - the antenna evoke horns, he's got subtle reptilian features like scales and just a bit of a serpentine quality to his abdomen/tail, but in a sea of goat men, he stands out as the only big ass fucking bug guy.

Because that's his thing! He's the bug guy!

Now, this isn't a question of mythic accuracy, because that's a fucking laughable concept, because assuming there's one version of a myth that can be held above all others as "canon" is such a foolish notion in of itself, especially for a character who started as just a satirical nickname for another character and only evolved into his own entity later. Plus there's the fact that, historically, portraying Beelzebub as something other than a big buy monster has been done a lot of times. One early description of Beelzebub goes as follows:

"...a swollen face and chest, huge nostrils, horns, bat wings, duck feet, a lion's tail, and a covering of thick black hair."

Which might look something like this:

And you know, that's not unworkable. A lot of demons have similar depictions - hell, just look back at those Infernal Dictionary depictions. A guy like this wouldn't be out of place with them. But, like, he also wouldn't stand out. It's not that being a big bug is the "accurate" take on Beelzebub - it's that it's the interesting one.

Look at that video again. This is a setting that already has a metric fuckton of canine demons in it. That song and dance number is mostly filled with hellhounds. Why make Beelzebub yet another canine? What's the reason for it, other than laziness or, like, artistic cowardice? 'Cause, like, not to be judgmental of a subculture I'm not a part of, but there seem to be a prominent number of furry artists who, as creature designers, just cannot come up with good designs for non-canine creatures for the life of them. It just feels like a person who looked at the myths, wondered "how on earth can I turn that into an early 2000's deviant art OC covered in hot topic paraphernalia?" gave up after half an attempt and just drew a rail thin emo raver fox girl because that comes to them like swimming does to a duck.

But I think if "emo raver scene party girl circa 2003 Beelzebub" is your character design pitch, you can do that AND make the Lord of Flies look like a big fucking bug. Maybe even work in some body diversity into your series full of rail-thin Johnny the Homicidal Maniac knockoff fursonas. It's Beelzebub, dammit, she has a right to stand out a little!

...

Ok, all this said, one criticism I've heard leveled at the Lord of the Honey-Fox-Fairies here is that the representative of Gluttony should be fat, which a lot of people rightfully pushed back against as being fatphobic. Which, to be fair, it is. But it's also a misunderstanding of Gluttony as a sin, which this take on Beelzebub is ironically also guilty of.

Gluttony is not simply eating a lot of food. Gluttony is the waste of resources that others could use. A person who orders a shitload of food, takes one bite, and throws it all away so no one else can eat it is just as gluttonous as a person who eats every last morsel - perhaps even moreso, since even they don't get use out of the food in question. In recent years the Catholic church classified pollution as part of the sin of Gluttony - because by fouling rivers and bleeding farmland dry with fertilizers, you are wasting valuable resources the world needs. Gluttony is less about what you consume and more about what you keep others - specifically others in need - from having access to.

What's depicted in this song isn't gluttony, because no one in this song is starving. Nothing is being wasted, no one is kept hungry for the sake of the selfish. There's a scene where Beelzebub actually gives a person MORE food, which is... it's literally the opposite of what gluttony is! Gluttony does not feed the hungry - gluttony keeps them starving! That's why it's evil!

In many ways this song is more a depiction of the sin of Lust, which is similarly misunderstood. A lot of people reduce it to "wanting sex," but lust is specifically about pursuing pleasure so selfishly that you neglect your duties to yourself and others. Drinking to self-destructive excess is not gluttonous, it's lustful. Eating sugary candy that has no nutritional value and makes you less healthy is lustful. This whole display of gratuitous self indulgence that the song focuses on - and that fact that said self indulgence hurts the people choosing to partake of it - is the definition of lust.

It's all a very shallow and poorly thought out take on the seven deadly sins and Beelzebub himself, and that's pretty disappointing from a piece of media about Hell that's so strangely popular. But hey, at least Good Omens got the Lord of Flies right.

#Beelzebub #Demonology #The Seven Deadly Sins #Gluttony

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puppetmaster13u · 6 months

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@f4nd0m-fun here (I hope they allow us to ask with secondary blogs soon)

Just how wild do you like your Batfam cryptids? I've got ideas for days.

One is a wing fic where all the bats essentially end up half demon. Thomas and Martha make a deal with Alfred to help fix the city and clean up the curses and everything, and. Alfred asks for 'the souls of your descendants' at the point, not caring much for humanity but hoping to get ahead of those pesky demons in his soul collection (so and so said he has Constantine's soul but that's only a piece! What about a bunch of souls that have been tainted by the spirit of a city that has never had reason to hope? Now those are some rare and dark souls).

The Waynes were hoping he'd take their souls instead but he refuses (maybe they're too full of hope or something) but, over time, he grows attached and ends up giving Bruce a shard of his power, allowing him to transform into a demonic winged form based on an animal for his protection after his parents die. When he's young the form is a snowy owl, but once he come back and became Batman his wings have changed. Each of the babies is the same way. As Robin, they gain their baby wings, but, once they move to a new name, their wings evolve.

'The Demon's Head' isn't just a fancy title, the Al'ghul's are demon descended, so Damien is at least a quarter demon even at the beginning, but Alfred's power can't be passed genetically like they thought, so he was born grounded. In this, he shows up sooner, Talkia asking Jason to take Damien with him to his father since she knows her father will kill him for being wingless.

Tim, poor baby. He couldn't fly as Robin because his wings were a shattered mimicry of Jason's Robin wings. He felt like he was in the shadow of the previous Robin, making the 'replacement' nickname sting even more, but, eventually, he grows into the wings of a cardinal and learns to fly.

I'm not sure if Alfred marks Barbara as his person, but if not, maybe he regrets not doing so, thinking that she might not have ended up paralyzed if he'd given her power. But also she's not really considered a 'Wayne descendant' life the kids Bruce adopted, so he'd have to directly make the deal with her. Maybe he does this with Stephanie when she comes along, still thinking about how Barbara might've been better off with a deal. Also, he keeps trying to hold off on gathering their souls because he's grown attached. I figure he'd probably end up wanting to turn them into proper demons too tho when they eventually die but, for now, until the city has been restored (if it ever will be), the Batfam is essentially immortal, and Alfred might be pulling some strings so no one realizes the Waynes are as well. As a side note, I debated Alfred x Lady Gotham for this story.

Then I had a dpxdc version of this where the wings were still demonic in origin but basically Scarecrow and Bruce are many many family lines removed cousins from an ancestor who was siblings with Jack Nightingale. On top of that, Danny had wings but they got charred when he was electrocuted. This one also has Clock x Pariah and they have wings due to something to do with ghosts, Danny gets a cloak made out of their feathers while his ghost side slowly grows its own wings (but he'll never have wings as a living again).

-----

Sorry for the long send, I got a bit carried away, but if you want I can dig up my AU again and share what I have for the wings at least, not sure what else I've got written down.

#colony of bats AU

Honestly I love both of these ideas, but what if they were say, combined.

Alfred gifts Bruce a shard of his power- everyone knows the Waynes have wings, even if in most cases too small to fly. But the wings are feathered, usually bright and flashy for the men who inherit the trait.

Which means they're very identifiable. But like you said, Alfred gets (ugh) attached to this little mortal. He's practically raised him and honestly thinks it's adorable watching him manipulate the other richfolk at galas into thinking he's such a "polite young man." Bruce is practically his baby!

So he gifts him a bit of his blood (which we know via Constantine can extend ones lifespan including giving them a bit of healing) and an itty bitty piece of his own power. Just enough for Bruce to be able to willingly call upon it. Just enough for him to disappear into shadows. Just enough for his eyes to gain a hint of an unholy glow. Just enough for a hint of claws. Just enough for feathered wings to shift into jagged mimicries of his own.

You know what could be an interesting thing? The wings are Realms in origin. We know the FentonNightingales separated into the Fentons and Nightingales some time after Jack, so whose to say that the Nightingales didn't get into magic. Perhaps they were given a gift to thank them after a bit of protection or assistance. And the infinite realms are well, infinite. It attaches to all worlds, including say the more demonic ones. But whose to say none of the Fentons made a deal or three in the generations following. They were witch hunters after all, perhaps they need something to keep up with the "traitors" of their bloodline.

Perhaps a deal which resulted in those matching wings.

Now, how could they find out their relation with the Fentons? While there could be the adoption route, what if instead it was right after Danny's accident.

He died screaming, visibly got electrocuted, his wings are torched, there's no way they're not taking him to the hospital. Which means things like blood tests, maybe even a donated organ or two because someone doesn't get blasted with that much electricity without consequences.

Which, it's the batfamily, they definitely have alarms set up for any sort of family pings for both themselves and their rogues. Just in case.

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

Also had no idea where to put it but if this includes demons and ghosts feeding on fear, or emotions in general, then Scarecrow could be instinctively attempting to feed and grow his wings. Also he deserves raven or rook wings. Maybe a jay's if you wanna go for color.

Oh my gosh, even if Alfred and Gotham don't get together, they definitely have tea together and spar. They're definitely co-parenting either platonically or romantically, it doesn't matter this is their specialist lil boy. Who then brings even more of the specialist lil ones ever!

God I love the implications of Clockwork and Pariah creating a cloak of wings for a ghostling for them to use as their feathers slowly grow back. Love what that implies for the culture of the ghost zone. Love the idea of it maybe having an influence on Danny's wings in ghost form since a ghost's appearance is influenced by their image about themself.

#ask answered #batman au #batman #dc #dcu #dcxdp #dpxdc #cryptid batman #cryptid batfam #normally I don't really like demon aus #but this is honestly really interesting in implications #I am honestly here for this and am very interested #Would the batfam also get wings (that is feathered ones)#What is Constantine's reaction to Batman #Does it ping similar to a half-demon or something else #Does he just think it's a Gotham thing since like 3+ portals to hell have been opened there #I honestly don't think Alfred would let Jason die #Like demon blood is actually kinda OP in the DC world #We've seen Constantine stabbed through the center (like practically split in half hotdog style) and heal pretty freakin easy #Okay but wings #like wing ideas #Jack has condor wings (very big & also death implications)#Danny deserves lil dove wings as bby before they're scorched #They deserve to be similar to galaxy when grown back #White flecks from Clockwork & the darker bits from Pariah with hints of his own colors swirling together #Jazz has either a finch's wings or cockatoos #OH #Bruce has nicobar pigeon wings #Closest living relative of the dodo #And it is Gorgeous

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johnslittlespoon · 12 days

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i have been dealing with the brainrot of twink college student john and biker gale but then the other half of the post jumped me in a dark alley and all i can think about is john's friend who is used to their friends having crushes on their dad but it's whatever. weird, but whatever, as long as they don't get vocal about it they can just use it as something to tease them about at the worse. john looking up at gale with big doe eyes isn't the first time they've seen a friend do that, they've seen other people who are considered more age appropriate do worse when faced with the gale cleven effect. only it never occurs to them gale feels like he can't breathe right and like is organs are too big for chest whenever he looks at john and feels like he's something too soft than he should allow himself to be but around john it doesn't feel bad, maybe it's a good thing he can unapologetically be soft for someone.

cue the ladies who thought they might be able to win over the quiet, intimating and rugged dilf biker seeing that his heart was stolen by none other than john clarence egan, the son of mr and mrs egan who everyone is sure are moments away from a heart attack.

the au post | GOD same it has notttt left my mind. and you GET ITTT you captured the vibe i was picturing for that version perfectly ugh.

literally 1k+ words of brainrot below the cut... deeply sorry. any excuse to talk about them and i'm spinning in my chair apparently LOL <3

like john takes one look at gale and knows he's not the only one who swoons over him, spends an ungodly amount of time pining from day one. but any fantasies are only fantasies, because he knows (thinks he knows) he doesn't stand a chance, both for the fact that he's his son's friend, and that gale probably thinks he's too immature, and that he's, y'know, not a girl.

but gale is gone too from their first meeting, he's just a lot better at hiding it (and finds it so endearing how bad john is at hiding it despite how well john thinks he's doing lol.) once he and john start tentatively feeling things out, and even before that really, the way he feels when he looks at the doe–eyed boy scares him– a vulnerable softness and urge to protect that he's been just fine with not feeling.

of course there's the conflict when he tries to shove down these feelings at first, because he knows how mad his son (who i headcanon as ken because he and leaving!john would be precious dorky besties) would be if he were to ever indulge in them, regardless of how much john wants it. and there's the guilt of feeling like john would be happier with someone his age, but john is the most persistent, stubborn person he's ever met, and the way he folds so quickly for him is terrifying.

and yet he falls for the attentive softhearted absolute puppy dog of a boy that john is, finds himself as fond of his moments of angsty bite and bristle as he is when he's docile at his side, melting under gale's gaze. there's no proper confirmation ever made to others about their status, no reason to need one, because they're attached at the hip and people learn quickly not to so much as look at john the wrong way, because gale's never far behind him.

and the angsttt of john's parent's disapproval– yeah, he's an adult and he's independent and is off doing college and all, but his parents aren't chill with "that gay shit" and he gets the classic "so long as you're living under our roof, you're not to see that man" talk, and what's an angsty rebellious lovesick john to do but get better at sneaking out of his window and jogging down the street to meet gale at his motorcycle so his parents don't hear it pull up?

i'm sure eventually it would come to a head because they'd find out he's been going behind their back when they catch him sneaking back inside late one night, and he's given the good old "stop seeing him or pack your bags" ultimatum. it takes gale a wild amount of self control to not storm into the house and chew out john's parents when he picks up the phone to a sniffling terrified john at two in the morning less than an hour after he'd dropped him off down the street.

it takes even more self control when he sees the angry red of a handprint on john's cheek when he pulls up and finds him sat on the curb with a hastily stuffed backpack, and his heart shatters when john starts apologizing, as if he'd ever be upset with him. but then, cue domesticity (and a different kind of sneaking around) as john temporarily moves in with him and ken. all ken is told is that john's parents kicked him out and he knows how badly they treat him so he doesn't ask many questions, so shitty circumstances aside, he's over the moon at getting to have his best friend stay with him.

john promises to find someplace to rent a room in as soon as he can because he feels awful for intruding, but gale finds that he really likes having john around, insists he stays with the two of them at least till he's done with his semester so he doesn't have to worry about paying rent. lots of nuance to sort out there but you get the gist. <3

also. john wearing gale's leather jacket sighhh. finding any excuse he can to steal it, face going all pink when gale drapes it over his shoulders when they're out on dates, beaming when gale lets him wear it home with the promise that he'll return it the next day, falling asleep with his face pressed to it, drowning in the smell of gale's aftershave and cigarettes and diesel.

+ slight tangent but the things that could come about from the sneaking around?? minor spoilers for anyone who hasn't seen callum's show 'leaving' that his character in this au is loosely based off of, but there's a scene where he and his milf not–gf are fooling around in his room and his parents get home early.

i have this scene in my head where john thinks he's meant to have the house to himself for the night, invites gale over, they end up in the shower and they hear the front door slam mid–fuck. there's a moment of panic, both of them freezing, john whispers that "dad's probably forgot his wallet or something," assumes gale will stay unmoving until they hear the door slam again.

only gale suddenly rolls his hips forward, and john chokes on a moan, gale's hand coming up to quickly cover his mouth, his other hand squeezing john's hip as he kisses his shoulder and murmurs "you can be quiet, can't you, sweetheart?"

anyway. yeah, this au has me in a chokehold so hard still, i'm 100% still planning on writing it post–dog fic <3 i do love this whole cliche best friend's dad route of this au, but i'm also not sure i feel like tackling the conflict of john having his friend find out about the two of them, and i feel like that would be kinda inevitable to have to write about if i took that route for the fic lol </3 so i think that version of the au will be limited to brainrot like this and when i write the actual fic it'll just be the college student x bikerider vibe, but honestly there's so much overlap with the two concepts anyway that it won't make too much of a difference!

thx for unintentionally encouraging my yapping i love this version of these two so much and i am apologizing in advance for the person i will become when i see the bikeriders in theatres xoxo

#leaving bikeriders au #i cbf to proofread rn i have too many asks to get to so forgive any mistakes lol <3 #johnslittlespoon asks #johnslittlespoon brainrot #johnslittlespoon spicy #buckbucky

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darlingpoppet · 5 months

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Fave Fics of 2023!

A list of some of my favorite fics I read in 2023, though note not all of them are from this year. I feel like I didn’t get to do as much reading as I would’ve liked but I guess at least I was still able to put together a decent list! This isn’t a ranking, I listed everything in alphabetical order.

a bit of earth by @elemmacil (patrochilles)

Character study of Hadesgame Achilles & his time in the house of hades, pre-canon. Also, Zagreus takes care of a plant & it’s so wholesome. Lovely, atmospheric, and fueled by vibes, I adore the secret garden inspiration which slots into the hadesgame-verse sooo perfectly. This is great for the sad girlies like me who recently re-watched the movie from the 90s and thought “what if the whole movie was just us watching lord craven being a sad, pining dilf the whole time?” *clicks tongue* noice.

A Reasonable Explanation by stygius (pza)

I already read On The Ropes by red_smear last year so it doesn’t get to be on this list but I did go into 2023 continuing to seek out some of the “old classics” for this ship (yanno how reading fics that were published before joining the fandom sometimes feels like consuming media that existed before you were born? lol) this one is fun for the subversion on the “relaying messages” trope and taking god worshipping to literal (sexyy) extremes… I think if you wanted a good pza introductory fic this would be a good place to start!

Debased by youcouldbeagod (patrochilles)

Found this on a whim one day while clicking through the tags, as it is pretty much the only dedicated Troilus & Cressida Patrochilles fic on AO3 and it is ＢＲＩＬＬＩＡＮＴ！ The story is simply that Thersites stumbles upon Achilles & Patroclus having sex in their tent and he provides his usual witty and scathing commentary throughout. It truly reads like Shakespeare in prose form, I could easily imagine it being staged, it’s like a deleted scene from the play! The ending is also pitch perfect and still lives in my head rent-free. If you’re familiar with Shakespeare’s version of the characters definitely give it a read.

isn’t it romantic by infinitesle (dillydallybutterfly) (pza)

I was going to recommend a patrochilles fic by infinitesle that I love which is you are the currents that are pulling me onward but I’m pretty sure I read it in 2022 so it doesn’t count, sadge. So instead I’ll recommend another lovely morsel, a pza fic set in the jazz age au that a bunch of us in the pza channel of the hades lounge discord collectively came up with. Idk this might be a “you had to be there” kind of story but I think it still paints a pretty picture and if it inspires anyone else to contribute to the AU I wouldn’t complain. I’ll make my own proper contribution eventually, mark my words!

not the desperate type by @baejax-the-great (patrochilles, side hector/patroclus)

Baejax is well-known for their long fics which are all bangers ofc but personally my favorite piece of theirs this year was actually this oneshot in which Patroclus is engaged to Hector and then cheats on him with his ex, Achilles. They get caught in the act and the results are… predictable, lol. I love that it hews close to the tone of the Iliad where it’s no good/bad guys, just flawed humans making flawed choices and the AITA version of this story would totally be given an Everyone Sucks Here verdict, I’m sure. I’m STILL thinking about the ending even months & months later. Oh and of course, the sex is chef’s kiss!

One Night Of Chaos by Luddleston (pza)

This was technically a Dec 2022 read but I’m making an exception for it because I feel like it’s the flavor of pza I had been craving all along when I was reading through some of the older classics for this ship and it was key in helping fuel the inspiration for my own pza fics this year. There’s just something about Zag being invited into Patrochilles’ little world to watch their charming rapport with one another & being disgustingly in love that’s PEAK CONTENT for me and I loved this spin where he gets to meet them while they’re still alive, pre-heartbreak. Basically everything about it is my personal ur-pza text so if you’ve liked any of my own pza I’m sure you would like this one too. The sequel is also fun and was properly a 2023 read for me so I’ll mention it too haha.

Presentation by @sonderlivra (eruri)

Judging by the time stamp of my comment, I started my 2023 off right by reading this fic by one of my all-time favorite eruri authors! This is an omegaverse fic with a twist, it is well-written, hilarious, and had me guessing up until the very end. I would literally recommend anything this author writes (including the asscreed fics she & other beloved friend @zorthania have been writing this year… I don’t go here but these are my blorbo in-laws and I care them uwu)

sacramentum by fresco_k (eruri)

I didn’t take the time to read many other eruri fics this year unfortunately but I did get to beta some fics for this year’s eruri matchmaking event and this was one of them: a gladiator AU set in Ancient Rome and it was so serendipitous that I got to help with something so close to my current hyperfixation! The premise is very intriguing and it’s off to a lovely start… not to mention the author is a sweetie who knows & has a lot of passion for the time period… so check it out!

the slow mending by meikuree (pikuhan)

I finally got to dip my toes into some pikuhan fics this year and luckily my first one was a real banger! This was such a lovely little canon-compliant Hanji character study along with an exploration of their relationship with Pieck representing the two sides coming together and it was so beautifully written. It feels like the perfect introductory fic for the ship just in general because it really highlights everything that’s attractive about it! Love it!

tight fit by naxtique (zagchilles)

naxtique’s fics pretty much all scratch that itch for hadesgame dead dove of the dub/non-con variety, oftentimes laced with angst. Their particular flavor of Zagchilles with slave-to-his-passion, guilt-stricken Achilles is so compelling it always makes me stare at the wall thinking about it. And this is my favorite one, in which Achilles gets sex-pollen’d and ends up in a compromising position with Zagreus. Another one where the ending haunts my dreams (in a good way). Not for everyone obviously but if this sort of thing is up your alley, it’s great.

you’re a walking disaster, and yet— by @johaerys-writes (patrochilles)

Another patrochilles GOAT well-known for their serial longfics, and this year I’ve been enjoying their modern AU Patrochilles where the two of them grow up together in rural Greece. This one has probably my favorite ever synthesis of takes on Achilles’ character I’ve read so far—brilliant, autistic, and gender fluid. It’s definitely an extreme slow burn and gets pretty angsty & messy at times but it’s also devastatingly realistic & relatable and speaks to me a whole lot :> currently ongoing, definitely worth diving into!

#fic recs #patrochilles #pza #eruri #pikuhan #zagchilles #the only thing missing from this list is a dedicated patzag fic #gotta rectify that

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millersdjarin · 1 year

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I Only See Daylight

Chapter Five

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Rating: E (eventually)

Chapter warnings/tags: slow burn, dad!din, bonding, flirting, injuries (not in detail), negative self-talk, mentions of past trauma/abuse, teasing

Chapter Length: 5.5k

Previous Chapter | Fic Masterlist | Full Masterlist

notes: mando's new ship is basically just a bigger version of the razor crest. im not even sorry for this lack of imagination. :)

i don't wanna think of anything else now that i thought of you

Mando’s cooking left you feeling warm, full, and…taken care of.

He had, of course, cooked for you while you were in the cave, made sure you had enough to eat. But all you had was meat and rations. Here, at your hut, he found ingredients to make a proper stew, and spent a couple of hours at your stove. It was hard not to watch him in his silent concentration.

He could have left by now. He’s got what he needed from all this, and you’re safe in your home, recovering well from your injuries. He could just take his ship, fly to the other side of the planet, and never think of you again.

But after you and the kid ate—kriff, it was good—he sat at the outside table opposite you, and said, “I think I’ll head out in the morning. If that’s alright with you.”

You’d swallowed a gulp of water, nodded. “Yeah. That’s fine by me.” You thought of your spare tent, much smaller than the one the storm had shredded. Then you thought of the empty space on the floor inside the hut, how it’s just the perfect size for two sleeping mats. “You can sleep in the hut. If you’re comfortable with that.”

He’d hesitated, but nodded. “Thank you.”

So now here you are, long before the sun will rise, just watching him. He’s asleep, you assume, his chest rising and falling evenly. The kid is tucked in beside him beneath the blanket, and it’s so kriffing cute, his little eyes fully closed, ears twitching in his sleep. One of his fingers is wrapped around Mando’s hand, holding him close.

Not for the first time, you wonder about their story. How they found each other, and how they became so close.

You don’t sleep. Just doze on and off, at best. There’s a painful dread stirring deep in your belly, spreading to your chest, under your ribcage. You try with all your might to squash it down, to fight it with logic, with the knowledge that you shouldn’t care that you’ll be alone again in a few hours—in fact, you should be happy about that—and that wanting them to stick around is not only stupid and naive, but also selfish.

It’s just, they’re the first people to ever make you feel…safe. Accepted. Free to just be.

You never though you’d find that. Hell, you thought you’d spend the rest of your days here alone, not a soul in sight.

And now that it’s coming to an end, you can’t help the anxiety nibbling through your defences. The wall you’ve built around your heart, around this life of solitude. And you know it’s stupid not just because of all that, not just because growing attached is a surefire way to get hurt; but it’s also stupid because Mando was always going to be here only temporarily. You were just supposed to help him get off-world. Go on a hike. Do a good thing.

It’s turned into more, and you shouldn’t have let it.

So, above all else, the only thing you can do now is to not let it show.

When the sun rises, Mando stirs. You’re in the kitchen making two cups of caf, and before you turn to look at him, you hear him yawning. It comes out all funny through the helmet, of course, but it’s still endearing.

While Mando eats and drinks outside, you pack up a little parcel of berries and herbs that you found on your hike, wrapping it in some old paper and securing it with a string. The kid helps, although mostly he just steals berries when he thinks you’re not looking. You slip in a little gift, too, to remember you by; a piece of the tent that was shredded during the storm. It’s a joke, really, just something to get him to laugh. Because you’ve only heard that a few times, but it’s so lovely.

Except, of course, you won’t be there when he opens this package, when he laughs.

You’re trying not to think about the fact that they’re leaving. That you’re not just going to miss Mando, but the kid, too. If someone had told you a week ago that there would be a bounty hunter with a child that you’d somehow form an attachment to, you’d have laughed in their face.

“For your travels,” you say to Mando, handing him the parcel. You let your hands linger on his, feeling the leather beneath your palms, somehow becoming a familiar feeling.

He looks at the package, then to you. “You didn’t have to…”

“I wanted to,” you interrupt with a smile. Slowly, you pull your hands away. He twitches his towards you, like he wants to follow them, but holds himself back. “So, I guess you’re on your way, then?”

Wordless at first, he nods.

You feel something tugging at your leg. Little arms wrapped around your good calf. Looking down, Grogu is there, staring up at you with wide eyes, ears turned downwards sadly.

As you pick him up, you say to him, “Alright, kiddo. I’ve packed some of your favourite berries in there, but you’ve got to let Mando have some as well, alright?”

He tilts his head, listening. Lifts up one of his little hands, and brushes it down your cheek. His face is sad with a tiny extra wrinkle in his forehead. Gently, you take hold of his hand as it falls from your face, and lift it up, giving his knuckles a little peck.

“I’ll miss you too,” you say, smiling. Mando’s eyes are on you; you can feel them. Warming and comforting and uneasy. You look to him, and give a sad smile. “You’ve got the city on your map, right?”

Parcel still in hand, he nods. “Yes. Only thing on this planet.”

“It sure is,” you remember your first conversation with him, when you told him that there was nothing for miles. When you decided to help him. Some kind of melancholy settles in your chest, too far inside for you to push it away. With one last look to the kid, you wait for Mando to put the food package in his satchel before passing Grogu back to him. The kid clings to your arm for as long as he can, then when he’s against Mando’s chest, tucks his head into his cowl.

You just stare at Mando, entirely aware of how absurd this is. How much of a strange image it is, this strong man of metal with a soft little child in his arms. You’ve been with him for almost a week now, and the contrast still isn’t lost on you.

“Take care of yourself,” Mando says into the heavy quiet.

“I will. You, too.”

He nods. Still, he hesitates, not making a move towards the ramp, even though there’s really nothing else to say. You can’t bring yourself to look away, so you just wait. Maybe the longer you’re quiet, the longer he’ll let you stay like this; in this new little world you’ve found yourself in, where suddenly being alone again doesn’t look like any fun.

It startles you just a little when he steps forward. At first, you’re not sure what he’s going to do, but then he holds his hand out for you.

Tentative, you reach out, and accept it. He doesn’t shake it like a greeting or a farewell. He just holds it, holds you, the bare skin of your palms separated only by his gloves once again, lingering long enough for you to feel his warmth.

“Ret'urcye mhi,” , he says, ray-toor-shah-me.

It takes a moment for your brain to catch up to the fact that you’re not glitching out; he’s speaking a different language. His voice sounds like poetry in whatever he’s speaking, tongue curling over the words, breath brushing across them like a prayer.

“It’s Mando’a,” he explains at your confused frown, his hand still in yours. “The language of the Mandalorians.”

“You speak that?”

“A little, yes.”

“What does that mean? Ray…tor…me?”

“Ret’urcye mhi,” he corrects gently, giving your hand a squeeze that might be involuntary or purposefully reassuring. “It means goodbye. Or…”

Your eyebrow twitches up hopefully. “…Or?”

“Maybe we’ll meet again.”

A breath escapes your lips, a new feeling sliding in beside the sadness inside you. Something like hope. Reassurance, even, that Mando isn’t the only one hoping that might be true. “Maybe we will,” you breathe, feeling yourself smile.

With one last, lingering squeeze of your hand, he nods once, and pulls away. Some part of you tells you to reach out, pull him back in. The part of you that has already accepted the fact that you like him, and you like his company.

The rest of you, though, pushes it away.

Mando leaves the door open behind him. You stand in the doorway, watching as he walks away, the morning sun glinting off his armour. Grogu is looking over his shoulder at you, reaching out one of his hands like a wave.

You wave back, finding your smile turning teary.

You watch until they’re gone, disappeared into the tree line. Then, you just stay there for a minute, gathering yourself. Coming back to your senses.

It’s quiet. So quiet.

The smells and sounds are back to normal. No more burning engine oil, no more clinking of Mandalorian armour or cooing of little green Grogus. Just the forest around you, the distant trickling of the creek.

You used to like it. Solitude. You never thought it would take just one person and his son to change that. But maybe that’s just it; maybe it’s that they’re the first decent people you’ve ever met, and that is drawing you in, making you vulnerable. Maybe you’re just being naive, foolish.

That’s why you’re here in the first place.

But, Kriff. In the distance, you see the glint of sun as it reflects off of his ship lifting into the air. You only just see it by the time it’s high enough above the horizon, a tiny silver dot getting further away.

You close your eyes. So much, you wish that could be you. Leaving. Being free. Choosing where to go, instead of being stuck somewhere just because it’s safe.

The idea only makes a little bit of sense, when Din thinks about it. When he rationalises it.

Having someone else along with him for a little while might not be such a bad thing. It’s been him and Grogu for so long, but they’ve been thrown around from place to place and fight to fight for most of their time together that they’ve never really settled into a routine. At least, not one that couldn’t stand to be changed.

The ship is bigger now; an extra pair of adult hands could be helpful around here.

And he hates to admit it, but it can get pretty lonely. At night, when the kid is asleep and everything in the ship is quiet, Din used to appreciate just having the silence to himself. The space to think, to meditate, to consider his next move.

But things feel different now.

Somehow, after the last week, everything feels different. After you.

So, once the hyperdrive has been fixed—for an extortionate amount of money, too; trust a backwater planet with only one city to charge that much, because they’ve got you right where they want you—he could just leave the planet’s atmosphere, go back out into the endless Galaxy and find his next bounty. Earn money, keep them under the radar. There are still bounties on him and Grogu; at least, there are stragglers who haven’t quite got word yet that the Imps who wanted the kid are long gone. There’s no one to pay the bounty, but they don’t know that. So Din knows they still have to lay low, stay moving.

He could just do that. Just him and the kid.

But he can’t stop thinking about your eyes, every time he told you about a distant world. Every time you asked to hear about one. The way you’d confessed into the quiet of the cave that you wanted to see the Galaxy.

He can’t stop thinking about you, period.

It’s a problem. He knows it’s a problem. He’s not blind to the way he feels when he sees you, how it felt the first time he saw the bright orange sun shining on your face, through the wispy strands of your hair in the gentle breeze. When you touched his hand for the first time, just the brush of fingers. When you were injured, and you tried to push him away, to get him to leave you alone when you clearly needed help, he knew what it was he felt in his chest. Right in his very core.

It’s something he’s not felt before.

And it would be fine, except for the fact that it’s not. He knows he can never have that, with anyone. His life just isn’t cut out for something like that. He has the kid, and that’s all he can give.

And he’s still…finding himself again, after everything that happened. After being excommunicated, realising that he was more than his helmet, more than the thin line he constantly had to walk within the Creed between doing what was right and keeping his face hidden. The disillusion with all he’s ever known is still eating away at him.

He doesn’t even know where his heart lies, let alone whether or not it’s strong enough to give to someone. Whether or not he’s strong enough. If you’d even want that.…

He knows there is so much he can’t give you. So much that you deserve.

What he can give you, though, is a way off this planet and into the stars.

So it’s not really because he needs an extra pair of hands. It’s not even because he’s lonely. But that's just the problem: since when has he felt the need to tell himself, or anyone, anything but the blunt truth?

Finding the piece of the shredded tent in the food parcel you made for him is what does it, in the end.

He doesn’t fly away and never look back.

When he climbs into the cockpit for the first time after it’s been fixed, still sitting on the platform at the repair shop, he sets the coordinates for the other side of the planet.

Kriff.

He’s screwed here, isn’t he?

It’s been two days since Mando and Grogu left. It’s been sunny every minute since. Flowers are blooming in the clearing in front of your hut, bright pinks and yellows in tiny little buds. It’s still so quiet, and for a while, you’d been able to convince yourself that you were enjoying it.

But now, with insects dancing in the beams of sunlight cast in front of your home, the silence is deafening. You can’t pretend anymore.

It’s coming up to noon when you hear something strange. You must be hearing things; it can’t be that someone else has crash-landed here. That would be two in one week, which seems pretty impossible. Maybe it’s a nearby shindl making a nest.

Though, it sounds too…mechanical for that. No, it’s definitely the rumble of an engine, the sky too clear for it to be thunder.

Just in case, you head inside, but sit beside the front window, peering out from one of the corners. Your blaster is at your hip, sniper rifle by the door. If it’s another crash, this time the people might not be as nice as Mando was.

Minutes later, you see it.

The familiar flash of beskar in the sunlight. The calm, collected steps he takes, the swing of his arms. The satchel, a tiny green head poking out from the top.

No. You’re imagining things. The poison has come back, and you’re feverish, and delusional.

Except you’re not.

“Mando?” You question to yourself, closing the clasp on your holster before standing up and heading outside. Sure enough, it’s him, striding casually across the grass towards you, the kid cooing happily from his place in the satchel. They stop in front of you, just feet away. “What are you doing here?” You ask, a smile twitching at your lips.

He’s quiet at first, because of course he is. “I brought you some food from a market,” he says, fishing out a canvas bag hanging heavily with produce. “To say thank you.”

You smile and take it from him, brushing your fingers together, definitely on purpose this time. “You didn’t have to do this,” you assure him, but peer inside the bag anyway, finding bright fruits, grains, vegetables, and some circles of cheese. Cheese. Kriff, it’s been a while since you had cheese. Looking up at him with a wide grin, you step closer. “Thank you.”

He nods. The kid distracts you, then, reaching out a hand towards you in the way he does when he wants to hold your finger. Of course you’re unable to resist him; you thought you’d never see either of them again, despite what you may have hoped.

“I have something to ask you,” Mando says.

“Oh?”

“Come with me.”

Your eyes shoot up to him. “That…didn’t sound like a question.”

His helmet tilts. “…Will you come with me.” He rephrases, still not pitching his voice at the end of the sentence like it’s a question, but you can hear the smirk in his voice.

It makes you weak in the knees. You put all your weight onto your good leg, disguising it as resting your bad one. “What are you talking about?”

“You said you wanted to travel,” he says. “I can take you wherever you want to go.”

There’s that warmth again. Right in the centre of your chest. Even if it weren’t for the sincerity in his voice, you would know that his words are genuine; he’s never said something to you that isn’t. “Mando…” you whisper. His offer settles on you, under your skin and into your bones. You wish you could say yes. Wish it was that simple. “I don’t…have anywhere to go, or anything to my name. I can’t…I can’t leave.”

“You can stay with me. With us,” he gestures to the kid, who is still holding one of your fingers in earnest, big eyes staring up at you hopefully.

You gaze into Mando’s visor, wishing you could look into his eyes, search his face. He really means this. He wants you to go with them. To stay with them. And every single inch of you yearns to agree to it. “It’s not that simple,” your voice comes out in a whisper. Tears hang in your throat, sting at the backs of your eyes.

Fuck, you’ve already had to let him walk away once. Now you’re going to have to do it again, and this time, it’ll be after you’ve turned down the best, most sincere offer you’ve ever been given.

“Why not?” Mando asks.

Your chest tightens. As if on instinct, you pull your finger away from the kid’s grasp. “Mando, there’s…” looking away, you shake your head. Images come to mind of the place you were in before here. The place you fought so hard to escape; the people who would still try to find you and bring you back if they ever got the chance. Fuck, you thought Mando had been sent here by them, at first. There’s nothing they won’t do. “There are people…who want to hurt me,” you confess into the breeze, words so small that he might not have even heard them. You cross your arms over your chest, defensive. “I can’t leave. They’ll find me.”

He’s quiet for a moment, considering. His visor is still on you. “I can offer you protection,” he says.

And, Gods.

You have to close your eyes. A painful pang hits your chest. Yearning, the feeling of having something you want so badly so close but yet so far. You’ve felt like this before. For so many years you wanted to escape your family, and it took you your whole life to find the courage to do so.

You don’t doubt that Mando could protect you. Hell, you know no one will mess with you if you’re hanging around with a Mandalorian. At least, not anyone with half a brain.

But this? Leaving this planet, this safe haven that you’ve found and created for yourself, leaving it all behind for the sake of following your dream to see the Galaxy? This might be even scarier than the escape that took you decades to plan.

“You don’t have to say yes,” Mando’s voice comes through the chaos of your thoughts. “I would understand. We don’t know each other well. But I will protect you from whoever it is you need protecting from, and I can bring you back here if and whenever you need.”

“And what if the people who want me are hunting me for good reason? Maybe I’m some ruthless criminal.”

The helmet tilts along with the lilt of a smirk in his voice, “I…doubt that’s true. Whatever it is, I can handle it.”

Without moving your head, you move your eyes from the floor to him, and feel that warmth blooming, a familiar kind of comfort that his presence brings to you settling in. “I can’t tell you about it,” you whisper. “I just…I can’t.”

“I’m not asking you to.”

“But to protect me, don’t you need to know who you might have to fight?”

“…In a sense. But, you know, I could use an extra pair of hands around the ship. You’d be doing me a favour, too.”

You look away again. “Mando…” you sigh. You’ve run out of reasons to say no.

He’s the first person you’ve seen in years, and somehow the first person you’ve ever really trusted. Maybe it’s the kid, maybe it’s his gentle voice and demeanour beneath the armour, maybe it’s how he protected you against the storm, stayed with you when you needed him, patched you up.

Maybe it’s because he’s different to how you thought he’d be.

And maybe that’s more comforting than it is scary.

You look up at him. Bite your bottom lip. “Are you sure about this?”

“Yes.”

Of course he is. Look at him: all wide shoulders and casual stance, standing here in front of your home like he’s always been here, like he’s always known you. Staring at you like he can never stop. It’s harder to look away from you.

“Alright,” you decide. It’s too quiet, so you say again, “Alright. I’ll come with you. If—if you’re sure.” Melancholy shifts to make way for a new emotion, something you don’t think you’ve ever felt before. Excitement. Anticipation of something good.

He lets out a breath. You wonder if he’s smiling.

The kid definitely is. He makes a happy shriek, waving his hands about excitedly.

You laugh, reaching out to gently bump his nose with your fingertip. Then you look back to Mando, squinting in the light that’s reflected off of his armour. “Thank you,” you say, so quiet he might not have heard you. “I mean it.”

He nods once. “Take your time getting ready to leave. The ship is just in the nearest clearing. We’ll be waiting for you whenever you’re ready.”

As he walks away, you watch him go, admiring the swing of his hips and arms despite the fact that that should be the last thing on your mind.

Kriff.

I’m leaving. I’m actually leaving.

A stir of panic swirls in your stomach, right in the pit.

You expected that.

It’s okay.

I’m okay.

He presses something into your hand, closing your fingers over it, holding your fist.

“Ret’lini,” he says, rayt-lee-nee through his modulator, close to your face.

“What does that mean?” He lets you go and you open your fist, finding a commlink sitting in your palm.

“Just in case,” he translates.

You look back up at him. “Thank you,” you say, feeling like you’re going to be saying that a lot, and put the link in your pocket.

You’ve only got a small bag of belongings. Just some clothes, some leftover meiloorun, and the necklace you brought with you from your old life that will now come with you into this one. It was from your aunt, the one person you trusted before she passed.

Mando shows you his quarters. They’re down in the hull, tucked behind a door that gives a gentle hiss when it opens and closes, with two bunks, one on top of the other. The bottom one covers most of the width of the room, slightly bigger than a single bunk but smaller than a double. The top one is definitely single, and between them both there’s a hammock made from a mixture of leather and soft fabric, with a little frog toy sitting in it.

The ’fresher is next-door, hidden behind a similar door, just a simple toilet, sink, and an open shower. A shower. It’s been a while.

Then, on the main deck, a small living area with a kitchenette, leading into the cockpit where there are three seats; two up front and one directly behind the copilot chair.

Once you’ve put your bag on your bunk—the top one, where a little light sits on the wall, diffused by a metal sconce—you head into the cockpit, finding Mando in the pilot’s chair, Grogu in the one beside him. Mando is looking at holomaps, twiddling with controls on the panel in front of him and above his head. You wonder what it all does, how well he knows the ship.

“Where are we going first?” You ask, tentatively sitting in the third chair behind Grogu.

“Any requests?”

“Uh…I don’t know much about the Galaxy. Is there anywhere you need to go? Or want to go?”

“There’s a Guild outpost not far from here. I could do with picking up a job.”

“The Bounty Hunters’ Guild?”

“Yes. But if you’re not comfortable with that…”

“You have to make your money somehow,” you say. You didn’t go into this thinking that Mando would just stop bounty hunting altogether because of you.

He looks back at you, just the side profile of his helmet visible. “It doesn’t bother you?”

“I’ve seen worse,” you say, then wish you hadn’t, and look away. “I don’t want to interrupt your life.”

He looks at you for a minute, then turns away again, pulling up a holomap. “We can go to Nevarro,” he says, pointing at it on the image in front of him, not that that helps your understanding of where the hell it is in the Galaxy. “I’ve got friends there. While I find a suitable job, you could go to the library, think about places you might want to visit. Have a look at some maps.”

He says it like he’s just fine with you rocking up and saying Hey, Mando, take me here. Take me there.

“Do you moonlight as a taxi service?” You tease, throwing a smirk at the back of his head.

He huffs a laugh. “I’ve been known to.”

“Wait, really?” You find yourself laughing. The idea is funny; this scary Mandalorian just ferrying people back and forth. “I don’t believe you.”

“I’ve been roped into it,” he says, sighing dramatically, “not my proudest moment.”

You smile at him, not sure if the fact he can’t see the fondness on your face is a good or bad thing. “So what’s this, then?” You ask, only finding courage because he’s not looking at you. “Am I another one of those shameful moments?” You’re mostly teasing. Mostly. But a part of you genuinely feels guilty for taking him up on his offer, and if he wants to back out, now is the time to do it. You want to give him chance before taking off.

Surprising you, he closes the holomap, and spins his chair to face you fully. You sit back, suddenly overwhelmed by how small this cockpit is, or how small it feels. “You know that’s not what this is,” he says, “…don’t you?”

Nervous, you swallow. “I’m…not used to people helping me just because they…well, why are you helping me?”

He considers this for a moment, his hands splayed on his knees, helmet tilted slightly as he looks at you. “I could use the help,” he answers, though his voice is smaller than usual, no conviction in it.

“So I’m an employee?”

“No,” he answers. He seems flustered, all of a sudden, though you can’t put your finger on what gives you that impression. “It’s not like that.”

You don’t like the strange feeling that’s suddenly settled between you. You want to look into his eyes, read them. Want to understand him and his voice and what he means when he doesn’t say things entirely candidly. So, changing the tone, you give him a smirk, and say, “So you are a taxi service.”

He laughs again, this time a surprised kind of chuckle. “I’m not dropping you off anywhere in particular, so you’re going to rack up quite the fare.”

You smile, and he leans forward. You find yourself leaning forward too, though you don’t know why. “I’ll find some way to pay you,” you say, your voice dropping to a lower tone, going for teasing, but ending up somewhere else, somewhere that you definitely didn’t intend to—

Nope, that came out all wrong, you did not mean it to sound like that—

“I mean—” you stammer, backing up again, “I—didn’t mean…I meant I can find something to give you—I mean—”

The helmet tilts, and you stop talking.

You’ve seen this before. The tilt, the stillness as he just watches you fumble. He knows exactly what you meant in the first place, and is enjoying your floundering.

“I know you’re making fun of me under that helmet,” you frown, folding your arms over your chest. “And it’s rude. Stop it.”

He leans back against his chair, his splayed hands dragging up thighs in a way that is, quite frankly, far too provocative to do in front of a child—“The helmet has its uses,” he says.

You stammer for a response, for some kind of retort. But your cheeks are burning red still from the insinuation that you would pay him with a service and you can’t form a sentence right now.

“You blush a lot,” he says it quietly, like he’s just saying it to himself, or he didn’t mean to say it aloud.

Your brain actually malfunctions.

“I—what?”

He stays still, quiet, stares for just a second longer before he quickly looks away and turns back to his control panel. Like he’s caught himself. Like he definitely didn’t mean to say it. “Nothing. Are you ready to go?”

“I…yes,” you answer. Welcoming the change in topic, you gaze out of the window, at the forest stretching ahead of you, the spring flowers swaying in the breeze. Five years you’ve been here, made a life for yourself. Found a type of peace that you never thought you’d have.

It hasn’t been easy. And it hasn’t been what you would choose, if you’d had another choice. But it’s been your home, and you’re going to miss it.

But it’s time to make a different choice. And you’re okay with that.

“I’m ready,” you say, even though he didn’t ask you again.

He glances back at you, and nods.

“Are you, though? I might be terrible to live with and then you’ll have to drop me back off here in a day’s time,” you tease.

Grogu hops down from his seat and starts to tug at your leg, asking for you to pick him up. As you do, Mando fiddles with switches and dials, and the engines start to power up behind you, roaring to life.

Mando eventually says, “I can find my way back here if you’re trouble.”

You smile at him, getting the kid comfortable in your lap. His tone is teasing, deadpan. You could hear him talk like that for hours and not get bored; banter with him, wondering if he, too, blushes a lot.

Which, come to think of it, is something you’re going to think about a lot. The fact he said that to you. The fact it seemed like he didn’t mean to say that to you.

You distract yourself by watching the world fall around you as the ship lifts off from the ground. The roof of your hut pokes up through the trees, its small clearing coming into view once you’re up in the air. The sky gets nearer, the ground gets further.

You take a deep, controlled breath. That murmuring feeling of panic stirs again, deep in your belly, but now is not the time. Looking away from the window and the closest thing you’ve had to a real home fading beneath you, you look instead at the kid, who is gazing up at you with wide, loving eyes.

“Hey, kid,” you murmur, quiet enough that it’s just between the two of you. He coos back, lifting his finger to brush it down your cheek.

You close your eyes.

Take a deep breath. In, out.

There are so many more stars up here than you ever could have imagined.

notes: as always thank you for being here. all interactions are appreciated, but comments and reblogs especially make me happy and help with my engagement :) posting schedule is mondays and thursdays!

take care of yourself!

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