#originally this was a draft for week 13
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weekly fic recs #14
gonna start including a list of fandoms at the top, so you can just go ahead and skip if the fandom ur looking for isn’t there.
fandoms: bungo stray dogs, the owl house
ships: soukoku, kunikidazai, fyozai, (yes these r all dazai ships SHHH), some shin skk and ranpoe, lumity, and ofc some gen fics
Oneshots
write my name in blood (branded things are meant to last); kanekei - bungo stray dogs
teen and up | 3.6k words | chuuya/dazai, chuuya & dazai
summary:
Dazai might have what people consider a slight phobia of dogs. Of course, when Dazai breaks into Chuuya’s apartment he isn’t aware of the newly adopted furry beast dwelling inside of it.
Chuuya gives witness to his dog-induced meltdown, and Dazai wishes he had just knocked. Like a normal person.
the gift that is you; ProPinkist - bungo stray dogs
general audiences | 7.5k words | dazai & oda, ango & dazai & oda, oda & his kids, dazai & oda’s kids, ango & oda’s kids
summary:
Oda, Ango, and Dazai spend Christmas together, and learn the warmth of that which they've never had.
Take Responsibility For Your Own Actions; pickleurpickle - bungo stray dogs
teen and up | 5.1k words | chuuya & dazai, chuuya/dazai, dazai & mori, chuuya & mori | READ TAGS
summary:
A mission goes wrong and Mori's bored so he locks Chuuya and Dazai in a prison-esque room and forces them into sleep deprivation. Chuuya's pissed at Dazai, Dazai's out of his mind and they're both tired and stressed.
Or Dazai panics, Chuuya tries to help while still being mad at him
when there’s a will, there’s a way (or a pending lawsuit for stalking); whiteautumn - bungo stray dogs
teen and up | 6.5k words | dazai/fyodor
summary:
What’s the difference between a cat and a lawyer?
One is an arrogant creature who will ignore you and treat you with contempt unless it can get something out of you. The other is a furry household pet.
...Except Dazai is the catty one, and Fyodor is the lawyer, and Fyodor is hellbent on getting Dazai to notice him.
In which Dazai and Fyodor are soulmates, Dazai tries to run as far away as possible, and Fyodor chases after him.
Relentlessly.
Written for Fyozai Week 2022 Day 5 - Soulmate AU + Hurt/Comfort
this house of scales; whiteautumn - bungo stray dogs
teen and up | 2.3k words | dazai & fukuzawa & ranpo & yosano, dazai & ranpo
summary:
June nineteenth. The day Dazai hated the most.
Ranpo had plans to change that.
Dazai wished he didn’t.
An alternate universe to meltdown, where the Fukuzawa-Ranpo-Yosano trio had found Dazai instead.
Happy birthday Dazai!
(Not necessary to read the meltdown main storyline, or vice versa.)
a cumbersome and heavy body; walking_meme - bungo stray dogs
teen and up | 718 words | chuuya/dazai | READ TAGS
summary:
He paused, his hands hovering over Dazai’s pale skin. “Can I touch you?”
Dazai took a shallow breath and nodded, closing his eyes.
“Don’t go to sleep.” Chuuya warned, pressing a wet rag to his skin. “Or I’ll drown you.”
For scaring me. For not showing up to missions or answering my calls. For making me care–
Guilty Pleasure; PreppyVampire - bungo stray dogs
mature | 11.4k words | chuuya/dazai, akutagawa/atsushi | READ TAGS
summary:
At the end of the day, all you're ever left with is yourself.
.
.
Dazai finally has a breakdown when his past starts to catch up with him.
the tragic (pony)tail of dazai’s downfall; sarcoline_snails - bungo stray dogs
teen and up | 6.6k words | dazai/kunikida, dazai & kunikida
summary:
“So it wasn’t a dream,” he whispers, squinting at the yellow curls spilling over Kunikida’s shoulders. “You really do have hair.”
His partner seems taken aback, eyes widening before he laughs incredulously. “What does that mean? Of course I have hair!”
“I know that! But… b-but it’s never like…” Dazai’s face burns as he gestures ambiguously at Kunikida’s head. “You know… that.”
———
or, five times Kunikida has his hair down, and one time Dazai ensures it stays that way.
glimpse of us; daeniera - bungo stray dogs
not rated | 15.9k words | chuuya/dazai, dazai & oda | READ TAGS
summary:
"What's that?" Atsushi questions, pointing at the rusty device. It's worn, and there's scratches and dents on the sides. Some kind of video camera, he concludes. Something weird that Dazai owns.
"A camcorder." Dazai replies, lifting his eyes to gaze at the camera. He opens it, tilting and angling the lens so it focused on Atsushi's face, the camera lens zooming on him. "Why? You want one?"
"Who gave it to you? It looks old."
"Ah." Dazai laughs, the sound bittersweet. It's not hollow, but one full of anguished memories and something so bittersweet. "Someone special. Someone who I considered a close friend."
i died a week ago; fizzseed - bungo stray dogs
teen and up | 3.7k words | atsushi & dazai, dazai & kunikida | READ TAGS
summary:
I’m home, he mumbles lazily before heading straight for the liquor cabinet. The liquor cabinet, as if he has much of anything else in any other cupboard, and as if the only thing his fridge is regularly stocked with isn’t beer. He grabs a glass and a bottle of strong alcohol, the first of both he finds. It doesn’t matter, not really. He has one goal tonight, and that’s drinking just enough to avoid alcohol poisoning.
Osamu pours dark amber liquid into a glass that’s definitely not meant for whisky, much less without ice, and drinks.
▻
Dazai Osamu, and the people that care about him.
tenderly; cookie (vinkie) - bungo stray dogs
teen and up | 1.3k words | chuuya/dazai, chuuya & dazai
summary:
“Don’t move,” Chuuya says hesitantly. He knows Dazai won’t do anything, especially not in the state he’s in—but the sudden betrayal from the Sheep still feels incredibly vivid in his memory—he can remember the exact moment that Shirase stabbed that knife rubbed with rat poison into his stomach. He can visualise the pain that emanated from the initial stab—to the swirls of fragmented reality that took place in his body as the poison seeped into his system—to his loss of strength as he could only sit there and suffer.
Don’t move, Chuuya silently begs as he walks out of the room in an attempt to search for bandages and a brush. Don’t go, or else I won’t know how else to make you stay.
-
aka: chuuya sees dazai's wounds for the first time
Maternal Deprivation; thebackwardsstep - bungo stray dogs
teen and up | 9.3k words | chuuya & dazai, chuuya/dazai
summary:
“Chuuya.” Dazai squeezed his hand. “I won’t laugh.”
The boy stared back at him, piercing his gaze through the darkness, trying to latch onto any sign of insincerity or malicious intent. But Dazai was a master, and he couldn’t find anything.
He’d just have to trust, something that was hard for them both outside of risking their fates for each other on the battlefield. It was absurd, but there was a difference between trusting each other with their lives and trusting each other to hug them and tell them it was okay. The latter just wasn’t them.
But, somewhere, Chuuya decided to take that chance.
“I miss my mum.”
And Dazai’s heart stopped.
Soukoku miss their mums.
EMS: Emergency Mackerel Services; Techni Kolor (KaiserKorresponds) - bungo stray dogs
teen and up | 2.2k words | chuuya/dazai
summary:
Chuuya sighed.
"You still alive, shitty mackerel?" He asked the lump of bandages marinating in the mid-day traffic.
Dazai hummed a warbling string of notes.
"I'll take that as a maybe."
—
Dazai has a reoccurring role as the star of almost every 911 call placed in Yokohama with his frequent and often bizarre suicide attempts.
Chuuya is the exasperated paramedic who keeps having to deal with him.
and he won’t tell you that he loves you (but he loves you); poeticallychaotic - bungo stray dogs
teen and up | 7.3k words | chuuya & dazai, chuuya/dazai, dazai & kouyou, chuuya & kouyou, dazai & mori, dazai & hirotsu, chuuya & hirotsu | READ TAGS
summary:
Spring had finally settled; the sun shone annoyingly bright high up in the sky and the warm air threatened to make him want to dispose of his covering coat and the birds were singing in a way it made him want to know what it felt like to be free like them. Dazai thought it suited Chuuya.
"Hey, there, Chuuya~! How are you doing? You look good. Have you changed your perfume?"
"Asshole! Stop looking at the wall, I'm down here!"
Silence fell over them as they froze.
"... 'Down here'?" Dazai burst into genuine laughter, bending at his waist from the force of it.
and you're trying not to tell him that you love him (but he reaches over and he touches you); poeticallychaotic - bungo stray dogs
teen and up | 5.4k words | chuuya & dazai, chuuya/dazai, chuuya & kouyou | READ TAGS
summary:
"Why the fuck would you invite me here and forget your fucking wallet?!"
"I didn't forget it; it was deliberate."
"That's even worse!" Chuuya groaned. "You should be the one paying!"
"Why, though~?" Dazai batted his ridiculously long eyelashes at him in expectation.
"Because," he reiterated, growing more frustrated by the minute. "You were the one to invite me, shithead!"
"So," the brunet made a pause as if he was a kid playing to be a lawyer who was trying to make a point in front of a stuffed-animal court. "I take it you admit this is a date?"
Withdrawal; rutu14 - bungo stray dogs
teen and up | 8k words | chuuya/dazai | READ TAGS
summary:
Chuuya can see the parallels between Double Black and Dazai's new partnership at the ADA. He just wishes they didn't exist.
It's not getting to him. Really, it's not.
Addiction; rutu14 - bungo stray dogs
teen and up | 7.4k words | chuuya/dazai | READ TAGS
summary:
Dazai has decided that pushing Chuuya away will be better for both of them, in the long run.
Sequel to Withdrawal. Can probably be read on its own, but will make more sense with the other work.
Joint Training; amabe - bungo stray dogs
not rated | 3.3k words | chuuya/dazai, akutagawa/atsushi | READ TAGS
summary:
He didn’t even see Dazai rip the gun from Kenji’s hands, just the surprised gasp.
Oh fuck. Chuuya thought as he saw those eyes narrow familiarly. He thought he could see Akutagawa’s tremble from here.
“I’ve been very patient,” Dazai said as he trained the gun on the two of them. Atsushi’s eyes were wide as the first bullet, like thunder in the clearing, headed toward his head. Akutagawa was there in a second, eating the space.
“I’ve even been nice, but you aren’t learning.”
Dazai loses his temper in a joint training session.
Just a Cough; amabe - bungo stray dogs
not rated | 4.3k words | chuuya/dazai, poe/ranpo, akutagawa/atsushi | READ TAGS
summary:
“No? Just a cough,” Dazai said frowning, “Chibi, what if someone who has a grudge out for me slipped it into the food down at the market.” He gushed, feigning shock. “Chu-chu what if I’m dying?”
“As if,” he snorted. “Although maybe you wouldn’t have to worry about this if you stopped pissing so many people off,” Chuuya's gaze returned to his partner and the deep circles under his eyes. Chuuya couldn’t tell since most of his skin was hidden by the bandages, but he could see the raised skin on his hands.
Dazai was sick.
The Private Life of the Demons; AAAStarboyAAA - bungo stray dogs
teen and up | 10.8k words | dazai/fyodor | READ TAGS
summary:
After the events of Dead Apple, Fyodor just… follows Dazai home. They live together now. They are still enemies, they've just been married the whole time, just, doing other things. Anyway, they caved and Fyodor just moved in, and the two of them have a mentally unstable girl monday.
bone deep; saffroncassis - bungo stray dogs
teen and up | 7.2k words | chuuya/dazai
summary:
“Don’t you at least want to change so you look less...“ he waves a hand at Dazai’s whole situation.
“Hideous?”
“Like a victim of a bear mauling,” Chuuya corrects.
“I quite like the mauled-by-a-bear aesthetic. Besides, it’s not like I care much about my appearance anyway.”
“Sure you don’t.”
“I don’t.”
“And that’s why you avoid mirrors and only wear baggy clothes.”
Dazai’s not comfortable in his own body, and that’s fine for him because that’s how it’s been for as long as he can remember. Who it’s not fine for, because he’s an annoying, goody-two-shoes, stick-your-nose-where-it-doesn’t-belong chivalric wannabe, is Chuuya.
where are you?; doeinstinct - bungo stray dogs
mature | 2.8k words | chuuya/dazai | READ TAGS
summary:
Dazai holds the phone tight as it rings. He almost thinks he won't answer. He's still angry at Dazai, so why would he? But then--
"What do you want, mackerel?"
Dazai let's out a shaky, relieved breath, pulling his knees closer to his chest.
"Hey," he whispers back. He hears shuffling on the other line and smiles to himself pressing his face to his knees.
"Where are you?"
"In front of your apartment."
"I'm on my way. Don't fucking move."
holy titan, what happened to you?; twothousandandseventy - the owl house
not rated | 2.8k words | eda & hunter, darius & hunter
summary:
Slowly, ever so slowly, his hand moves from Hunter’s wrist to gently cup his cheek.
“Little prince?”
And somehow, it’s that stupid old nickname that seems to break the dam.
His own vision blurs with tears. This poor fucking kid.
OR
Hunter finds Eda and the others and leads them to his friends. He sits on the sidelines of the tearful reunions and assumes that no one would come for him.
He couldn’t be more wrong.
Respect is a Gift That is Earned and Not Granted; KOKICHINOLIE - the owl house
general audiences | 2.3k words | hunter & lilith
summary:
Hunter finds it hard to breathe in the mask, and for a while he’s too stubborn to take it off, but all of a sudden he’s sweltering and the dyspnea combined with the boiling heat of his fever has him throwing off his mask and taking long gasps for air once it’s finally off.
This is the first time Lilith is seeing his face, and it’s the first time she’s realizing this is a titandamn child.
~
In which Hunter falls ill working in the emperor's coven, and Lilith learns he's not the pampered brat she thought he was.
Complete
The Envelope; Anonymous - bungo stray dogs
mature | 5 chapters | 16.1k words | chuuya/dazai, ADA & dazai | READ TAGS
summary:
Something horrible in Dazai's past comes back to haunt him in the form of a brown envelope full of pictures.
He expects to be abandoned and shunned, but for all his precision in foreseeing outcomes, he finds that he is not the best at predicting the emotional reactions of those that care about him.
____
Slowly, Dazai bends down and picks one of them up in a shaking hand.
Kunikida has never seen him like this.
"I don't understand..." Atsushi is saying, but he stays with Ranpo, Kyouka and Kenji where he is, "What are those pictures? What's going on?"
Dazai is terrifyingly held together and calm and collected, his eyes half-lidded and hollow, when he gathers them up from the floor and straightens, when he moves towards the desk and sets them by tapping them against the top, and then carefully puts them back in the envelope.
The silence that follows after is deafening and unbearably long as Dazai stands there with his back to the room, his head bowed, his eyes hidden by his hair.
"I'm going to kill him," he whispers, so quietly it took Kunikida several seconds to make it out.
In one swift motion, he turns with the envelope in hand and storms out of the office.
meltdown; whiteautumn - bungo stray dogs
teen and up | 15 chapters | 48k words | chuuya/dazai
summary:
Something’s different today.
Chuuya grinned, eyes sharp and anticipatory. It’s been a while since anything exciting has happened. Whatever comes at him today, he’s ready.
Two boys meet, and it's the beginning of an earth-shattering relationship.
Chuuya has found what's his, but everyone has their own motives.
Including Dazai.
Incomplete
Fledgling; AShipOnTheSea - the owl house
not rated | 9/? chapters | 33.5k words | eda & hunter, hunter & luz, flapjack & hunter, hunter & lilith, everyone & hunter, amity/luz
summary:
*AU and not end of season 2 or season 3 compliant*
Hunter isn't totally sure how he ended back in the belly of his worst nightmare, but it doesn't take him long to realize that time magic was somehow involved. Which is fine, you know, if not for being stuck in a time when everyone hates him, he regularly has to report to Belos, and the Day of Unity is approaching which no one knows the truth about. So yeah, this situation sucks, but he has goals now and people he cares about - even if they don't care about him. He's not a pliable, little pawn this time, though, and he knows that if he plays his cards right things might end up for the better.
(AKA, the one where Hunter somehow time travels, is sad about it, and is determined to make some real changes while everyone else has a collective freak out that he might actually be Eda's long lost son.)
(Got inspired by 'A Grim Reminder' by LazyCoyote so go check them out, too!)
#[.grims weekly recs]#[.grims recs]#fic recs#reclist#bsd#bungo stray dogs#bungou stray dogs#bungo stray dogs fic recs#bungou stray dogs fic recs#the owl house#toh#wow look at how much longer this one is#a miracle if i do say so myslef#originally this was a draft for week 13#but thats already posted with a grand total of 3 fic recs#...i don't knwo why i kept it in my drafts after posting it#toh fic recs#the owl house fic recs
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TC's Practical Writing Tips
Like I said before, I'm not gonna sit here and pretend that I can teach anyone how to write – that's a level of hubris even I'm not capable of –but in honor of my rapidly approaching ~quarter century of writing original fiction anniversary~, I did figure I would share the tips that I live by when it comes to the act of writing.
So without further ado:
Write it now, fix it later
2. It is always permissible – and usually enjoyable – to write the stupidest possible version
3. "Inspiration" is great for poets, but poison for people who write prose
3.1: if you want to write often, you need to write often, and then you will find that you don't need to be "inspired" because you will have made a habit of it and it will come naturally
3.2: even one sentence a day is still one sentence a day. And even one sentence a week is still one sentence a week. It does not matter how slowly you go as long as you do not stop
3.3: believing in the concept that you need to be inspired to write will trap you into believing in the concept of writer's block
3.4: if you are having difficulty getting out words that satisfy you, lower your standards and keep writing (see point one)
4. A few months down the line you will not remember which words came easily and which words did not
5. It is always permissible to set a project aside for now, or forever, if you need a break
6. Read widely and often, both in your favorite genres and outside of them
6.1: pay special attention to both things that you love and things that you hate - study them, engage with them, learn what makes yourself tick and your writing can only get stronger
7. Never write for the lowest common denominator, via wise words I once heard: "if you open the window and make love to the world, your story will get pneumonia", have an audience in mind and the people who like what you write will find it
8. Never write for the bad faith critic, those people will always exist and you will need to deal with them at some point if you put your writing in the world, but they don't matter and you cannot live in fear of them
9. It's fine and normal to want engagement and praise, however you must find a way to make the act of writing joyful in and of itself – make the praise the cherry on top, not the entire sunday
9.1: writing is hard work, and it's a lot of work, if you lose the ability to enjoy the journey and are proceeding only for external rewards from others, you will gradually write less and less if the ratio of work to rewards is unsatisfying
10. For anything other than final copy editing, always write a new draft into a new document, or else the words you have already written will trap you from being able to make large, sweeping changes
10.1: any change you make will invariably snowball, and you must give space for that snowball to roll
11. If someone tells you that something doesn't work for them, believe them, because people know what they like. But if people try to tell you what to do to fix it, take that with an entire serving of salt because you are the author, not them
12. It is always morally correct to look at a critique that you received, even if you asked for opinions via beta reading, and decide that it's bullshit and doesn't apply to you
13. "write what you know" means "write what you're interested in"
14. "Show don't tell" applies to screenwriting, not novels. This is the thing that drives me the most insane every time I see it. Novels are words on a page, not images on a screen. They require a lot of telling. Not all telling, but a lot of telling. Become comfortable with that.
15. It is always, ALWAYS acceptable to use "said", do not listen to the lies of others
16. Have fun, do it out of love and you will never go astray
17. Become comfortable with who you are. Your work is always going to be yours and it is always going to sound like you wrote it, and this is a good thing! No one else is ever going to write exactly like you, and you should be proud of that
17.1: the concept of "originality" is vastly overrated, every culture has some version of Cinderella and we still love it. Your writing is yours because you wrote it, and it will always be unique because of that
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sharing some of my disorganized jojo musical thoughts now that ive had a week to sit on it and ive rewatched it several times over. i intended to wait to publish something like this until a subtitled version was available, but im not seeing any indication that thats happening any time soon so for now youll have to deal with my loose interpretations from my extremely rudimentary and rusty japanese… so take what i have to say about the finer points of characterization with a grain of salt. gratuitous spoilers below obviously, both for the original source material and the changes made in the stage production
my feelings are OVERWHELMINGLY positive. of course there are things i can criticize or that i would have personally done differently but oh man… i have literally not thought about anything besides this fucking show for a week. im 100% confident in saying this is a better adaptation of the source material than the tv anime. sorry to the davidpro staff, i respect their hard work and their love for jojo and their dedication to what is by any metric a pretty difficult property to adapt off of the page, but i dont know if i can ever forgive them for leaving half of the first episode’s storyboard on the cutting room floor in order to fit a standard half-hour tv slot, especially considering that what they cut is some of the really crucial character-building stuff. happily those scenes are not only reproduced in the stage version, some of them are expanded upon!
with the quick disclaimer that i’ve only managed to get my hands on the final 4/14 performance with shotaro arisawa and yoshihisa higashiyama, from what i’ve seen the casting is perfect. i’m sure there’s a rip of the 4/13 performance somewhere (i’ve seen clips) but i haven’t been able to find one… every single performer knocks it out of the fucking park, the cast chemistry is incredible and even the minor characters are loaded with charisma. and mamoru miyano… my god… mamoru miyano i owe you an apology. i was not familiar with your game. of course hes been killing it for decades at this point but i had soured on him a little bit recently because i felt like he was overcast in everything and i just didnt connect with his dnt reinhard at all, so when the casting was initially announced back in august i was underwhelmed, and of course my standards for the dio role in particular were astronomically high… i’ll go more into detail later in the post because i have so so many things to say about dio’s characterization here but mamoru miyano’s performance is like, life-changing. i had impossible expectations and he exceeded them.
sorry if im gushing. i am a hater by nature. its unusual for me to be so thoroughly pleased with something. im not even a musical theater guy. these are strange new feelings for me.
just to balance things out i’ll talk about a couple of the things that didn’t really work for me: first of all, the music is just ok. my initial draft of this post called the music “bad” but three additional viewings later i have warmed up to some of the songs. i don’t know if this is a shortcoming by dove attia as the composer or if it’s just me, as i said i’m not a musical guy and a lot of the genre conventions of musical theatre are not really the things i look for in music that i enjoy, but like… even at their worst they are serviceable. nothing here is sonically unpleasant to me. high points are “resolve of the ripple” (zeppeli’s hamon training song, a jazzy swing number - it’s simply catchy and fun to listen to) and the closer “phantom blood” (a sweeping ballad that reprises the earlier “light and darkness”/”golden spirit” leitmotifs into an epic duet between jonathan and dio as they join hands and walk off into the darkness together… made me cry! i wont lie! on every single one of my numerous viewings this one got me misty eyed!)
wait i forgot this is supposed to be the part where i’m being critical. ok my most loathed song in the musical is “dio’s world”. sorry dio nation. it doesn’t really work for me. i think this might be a case of my standards/expectations being too impossibly high because it’s not even really the worst song in the whole thing. and of course miyano eats it up so it’s not really his fault. i just find it kind of underwhelming… i find the melody a little grating, it’s kind of just a generic rock number, it’s just missing a particular je ne sais quoi…. the essence of dio isn’t there… lyrically though i am obsessed with the premise of dio recruiting his minions by selling himself as a kind of social revolutionary who is upending and inverting the brutal hierarchy of post-industrial victorian society with zombie blood magic. you win some you lose some.
the second sticking point for me is the costumes. they’re perfectly serviceable… adequate… but i mean when it comes to jojo “serviceable” and “adequate” costume design obviously falls well below what’s expected, right? a lot of the outfits have kind of a boxy, almost flat-looking kind of unflattering fit on the actors, which if i wanted to be generous i could attribute to the challenge of bridging the gap between these frail slender musical theater twinks and the two-meter-tall 250lb roided-out beefcakes theyre meant to be embodying. (bearing this discrepancy in mind a lot of the insane martial arts stuff in the second act doesn’t really land with the oomph that it should, but i also understand logistically why this kind of casting is not practical, and all things considered i think shotaro arisawa does a really incredible job of embodying jonathan joestar even though he kind of looks like i could snap him in half over my knee like a twig. he’s very cute. so i’m not mad about it.) of course, again, logistically, i understand that in a stage musical production, where actors only have minutes to complete costume changes, some sacrifices have to be made to the creative vision in the name of practicality. nevertheless this is jojos bizarre adventure!! i want to see some fucking baubles!!!!!!
which is all to say that… after carefully considering it for some weeks… i still have extremely mixed feelings about dio’s grink ass feather bathrobe look. it’s not that i dont think its something he could wear (the concept of dio lounging around in his gothic vampire palace doing re-animator style body horror experiments on the local wildlife in this “officer i have no idea what happened to my husband”-ass nightgown is nothing short of hysterical to me) but then he wears it into combat and i felt a little disappointed… it has the same unflattering fit issue as the other outfits in the show, and it is just such an un-araki-like design… where are the gaudy color combinations? the bizarre geometric patterns? the tease of an exposed boob/thigh/midriff? erina gets a stage-original dress design that i have fewer issues with because the excessive pleats and ruffles have more of an araki-esque sensibility, but every time i look at dio’s robe it feels like there’s something missing. i’m going to choose to be nice about it because it’s not at all a deal breaker and, again, mamoru miyano devours the look. it’s fine. it’s always fun to have a new dio outfit. if anything, the fact that the blu-rays are being marketed as “2024 cast version” gives me hope for the possibility of a future production with a new vision for the costume design. (although the fact that this was such a difficult production - with stunts and pyrotechnics and moving setpieces - that its entire first week was cancelled indicates to me that the prospects for a future production from a different company are impossibly slim. i guess there’s always hope?)
in terms of the writing and the changes that were made from the original narrative, honestly i don’t really have an issue with anything that was cut. sorry if there are any diehard stans of Poco’s Unnamed Sister out there who are steamed that their favorite minor late phantom blood character got the axe, i kind of understand how you feel because i’ve been malding over david pro cutting the Danny Lore for eleven years, but i think it was the right choice and the story flows so much better. the real juicy meat at the core of phantom blood as a narrative and the thing that brings it head and shoulders above so much of the rest of jjba is the character-driven drama - that deliciously pulpy victorian gothic family tragedy - and the relationship between jonathan and dio. the musical beefs up the character drama and slims down the action-driven second half by trimming out the extraneous battles. the only real downside i see to this is that the absence of tompetty and his prophecy makes zeppeli’s arc and death feel INSANELY abrupt, but tbf that’s not a deal breaker for me. sorry zeppeli. you were born to die.
okay. okay. i think 1500 words into the post is enough fucking around so let’s talk about the real reason why you and i both know we’re here
musical dio is SO fucking sad. he’s positively wretched, you guys. he was born in a wet cardboard box all alone and forced to eat cement when he was six. he cries even more than he does in the source material and even when he’s not crying he frequently delivers his lines as though he is moments away from bursting into tears. back when the musical first opened i was snooping on the reactions on jpn twitter and one commenter said they could see miyano’s tears and snot from the nosebleeds even without opera glasses, a remark i initially assumed was hyperbole but that i now think probably was not. araki’s dio is certainly tortured and a deeply pathetic crybaby beneath all the cruelty and posturing, but changes in the musical and miyano’s embodiment of the character bring this pathos to the fore. he is literally haunted: dario’s ghost lingers, a manifestation of all of dio’s traumas and insecurities that emerges from the recesses of his memory to taunt him with the reminder that he will always be his father’s son, all the way up until the very minute that jonathan breaks down the door to his vampire lair. i am OBSESSED with this - not only for the obvious reason that i delight in dio’s suffering personally but also because kong kuwata is a delight and he fucking kills it every time. also lends itself to a category 10 leitmotif moment at the top of the second act when dio emerges from the charred ruins of the joestar estate singing dario’s theme and calling out to jonathan - if i had to pinpoint this is probably the moment when this musical stuck for me as the Real Deal. they Get It.
the first solo number in the show is dio’s disney princess I Want song (amazingly, simply titled “dio”) where he weeps for his late mother and his wretched lot in life, and then - in a creative decision that made me clap my hands and hoot and holler at my screen in real life - there is a reprise of this number (delivered, naturally, through tears) when dio is almost arrested for murder and decides to become a vampire instead. so there’s this amazing hopeful uplifting inspirational orchestral music accompanying the onstage action of dio ruthlessly slaying jonathan’s dad and then getting pumped full of lead by a bunch of cops. it is brilliant. 10/10 no notes. it’s moments like this that i think really sell the “softening” of dio in the stage version for me, even though i am historically Not A Fan of fanworks that take a similar angle - like, yes, he is sad, but specifically he is narcissistically obsessed with the spectacle of his own suffering, he is boiling over with bitterness and rage for everyone around him who (by his own estimation) could never hope to have suffered as much as he has. this sensitivity and self-pity he wallows in are not expressions of a guilty conscience or a desire to change - they’re entirely the opposite - every cruel and monstrous deed dio commits is always justified to himself because he is simply the saddest little boy who has ever existed. he has been done wrong by the world and so there is no limit to the depravity he may reasonably respond with. i’ve seen several commenters describe this as a drastically different interpretation of the character from araki’s dio (and someone told me on twitter that mamoru miyano himself has also said this, but i cba to go digging for an actual source so take it with a grain of salt?), but i… dont think thats the case! dio’s obsession with his own weakness and his self-perception as the eternal underdog (as compared to jonathan) are certainly more exaggerated in miyano’s performance, but i don’t think this is an angle to the character that’s been manufactured out of whole cloth. the genre conventions of the stage musical force the melodrama up to eleven and dio’s incredibly repressed angst is the most rich vein to mine for that. hair-trigger sadist dio is still here, it’s the same guy, he’s still killing people mercilessly, you’re just getting to see him sing a big ballad about his feelings instead of confining those to an internal monologue.
if anything, the exaggeration of dio’s pathetic/cowardly/crybaby traits combined with his megalomaniacal aspirations and bottomless well of cruelty is just right. it’s perfect. fucking around, finding out, and then trying to weasel his way out of the consequences with crocodile tears just so you don’t see him drawing his knife to cut you clean open… yeah. thats the stuff. thats my one true blorbo. sad to say i will love him for ten thousand years.
i think that might be all i have to say… or at least all i feel like saying here… most likely ill come back and edit this post later. i certainly have some additional thoughts and some more esoteric/controversial takes but they’re not suited for a public blog. real ones will understand. im keeping my eyes peeled for somebody to translate this thing but to be frank i am kind of enjoying this little corner of fandom as it is right now: just the asians and the true hardcore phantom blood phreaks. i have not had this much fun in jojo fandom in almost a fucking decade. as soon as somebody publishes an english version my timelines going to get flooded with all the most deeply annoying “kono dio da” “speedwagon waifu” reddit guys and 15 year olds and my suffering will proceed. unfortunately this is my lot in life and i am doomed to be here forever because dio put a worm in my brain
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MCYTBLR AU Fest: General Rules and FAQ
TIMELINE:
May 13: Writer creation starts, Discord opens.
May 13-15: Writers seeking Beta Readers can sign up (having a Beta Reader is optional)
May 17: Beta Readers can claim stories and be assigned to Teams (having a Beta Reader is optional)
May 29-30: Team Check-in #1
June 12-15: Writer seeking Artists can sign up
June 17-18: Artists can claim stories and be assigned to Teams
July 1-2: Team Check-in #2
July 10: Podficcer creation start. If you are working with a podficcer, this is your creation end date, and their start date.
July 17: Main creation end. Unless you have an extension, you should both be ready to post at this point.
July 17-23: Posting Week
MCYTBLR AU Fest is a mini big-bang event where artists and writers work together in teams to make stories and art inspired by MCYT and set in an Alternate Universe.
Expectation:
Writers must deliver a story of at least 5k words.
Artists must deliver a finished piece of art inspired by the story they signed up for.
Dark or triggering topics or themes must be tagged for.
Rules:
You must be a member of the discord, for team matching.
Because of Tumblr, Ao3 and Discord TOS, you must be 13 to participate.
Make a good-faith effort to respect streamer boundaries
You agree to work together with your teammate(s) to make a piece of art and a fic together.
All works must be MCYT-centric and set in an AU— no canon-compliance.
No AI-Generated content.
Links:
Discord: Here
FAQ:
What is MCYTBLR AU Fest? MCYTBLR AU Fest is a minibang-type event where writers and artists come together to create fanworks centred on MCYT and set in an alternate universe from canon.
How does it work? Writers will have a month to start work on a draft. After a month, at the half-way mark of their draft, they create a short summary/synopsis of their fic, which is posted anonymously for artists to view and claim. Teams are assigned by mods, and then teams will then have another month of creation time. Artists will create art based on the story they chose, and writers will finish their fic (minimum 5k words).
What type of MCYT is included? We welcome creations based on any SMP, whether or not they have a canon tag on Ao3. Mianite, DSMP, Hermitcraft, 3rd Life, Lifesteal, Witchcraft SMP— it's all welcome.
Can I join if my Art is a Playlist/Web Weave? You can particpate as an artist if your art is:
Digital/Traditional Art
Podfic
Playlist
Web Weave
What are the requirements for art? The requirements for different forms of art are:
Digital or Traditional art: a minimum of one piece, finished, inspired by the author's work.
Podfic: a podfic of the author's work, edited to whatever a baseline level of editing is for you.
Playlists: a minimum of one playlist inspired by the author's work per 5k, rounding up, to a limit of three required playlists. Playlists must be a minimum of an hour each.
Web Weaves: a minimum of one web weave inspired by the author's work per 5 k, rounding up, to a limit of two required web weaves, with at least ten elements each.
Other Art Form: other art forms such as fan games, original songs, would fall under this category. If you wanted to sign up with an Other art form, you need to contact the mod team and work out what minimum expectations would be for your art.
If I want to make more web weaves, can I? You can make as many pieces of art as you wish, the limit is just on what is required/expected by the mod team. For example, if your writer wrote a 10k work, you would be required to make two web weaves– but you could do as many as you want. If your writer wrote a 50k work, you would still only be required to make two web weaves, but you can do as many as you want.
Is anything required from me if I'm working with a particular type of artist? In general the requirement is just to be collaborative and communicative with your artist, but the one exception is if you are working with a podficcer. A podficcer can't start work until your work is complete (including editing), so to make sure they actually have time to record, anyone working with a podficcer will be required to finish a week early (so your writing completion deadline would be to finish by the 10th of July, instead of the 17th). In addition, podficcers will be generally expected to post near the end of posting week, so that they have two weeks to do the recording.
I heard there was web weaves, can I sign up for web weaves only? To increase matching opportunities, as a creator you must opt in to at least two types of art.
Is shipping allowed? Yes. For the comfort of the greatest number of participants, we ask that participants make a good-faith effort to ensure that any shipping is boundary-respecting, but because there is no broad fandom-wide consensus about how that is defined in specific cases (whether it's okay to write beeduo as /r or /p is an obvious case) or between specific fandoms (lifesteal approach to shipping is different from HBG is different from DSMP), the mods will not be policing any specific understanding of boundaries across the event. The event will operate on Don't Like Don't Read, in that everyone will have the chance to pick for themself if they are comfortable working with any specific ship, romantic or platonic, and it will not be permitted to change the nature of a relationship to /r after teams are assigned.
Is NSFW allowed? Yes, nsfw is permitted as long as it respects creator boundaries. When pitching a work, it must be clearly stated that the work contains NSFW content. To sign up to create an NSFW work everyone on the team must be 18+, and adding NSFW to a work after teams have been assigned is not permitted, even if everyone on the team is 18+. For the comfort of the greatest number of people in the exchange and the mod team, nothing that would warrant the tags Underage, Rape/Noncon, Dubcon, or Incest would be permitted.
If noncon isn't permitted, is non-consentual touching (platonic) allowed? As technically a punch in the face counts as non-consensual touching, and pvp is a classic part of most MCYT canons, we find banning all nonconsensual contact to be unnecessarily restrictive. As long as nonconsensual contact is not sexual in nature, it is permitted, however, it must be tagged for adequately along with any other potentially triggering content.
Do you allow dark or violent content? Yes. The lore of many mcyt servers includes death games, abuse, cannibalism, murder-for-hire, and other dark or violent themes. However, all potentially triggering content must be tagged for and those tags must be part of the sign-up, so collaboraters can make an informed choice to get infolved or not. Moreover, if your fic is rated E for any reason (including violence or gore), your team must be 18+.
How can I get involved? You can participate in this event as a:
Author
Artist
Pinch Hitter (Artist)
Pinch Hitter (Writer)
Beta Reader
You can even sign up for multiple roles, as long as you're very sure you can make your deadlines!
What is a Pinch Hitter? A pinch hitter is a person who saves the day and steps in when the original creator is unable to deliver their work for whatever reason, making a new work on an accelerated timeline. In case of pinch hitting a fanfic, you will will be asked to either write using the original writer's outline, or pitch a new story for the artist to pick among. If you are an artist, you will step in to make a new piece of art for a writer whose original artist dropped out.
Can I participate as a beta reader? Yes! Matching with a Beta Reader will be optional, but creators will have the opportunity to sign up to have a Beta Reader join their team for brainstorming, accountability, spellcheck, editing, or whatever else they need. Matching beta readers will be first come first serve.
What kind of a summary will I provide as a writer? How long or detailed? We ask that you keep your summary to two paragraphs or shorter, about as long as the AO3 Summary + Author's Note boxes. When you write out this summary, you should be about halfway through your draft, so you will have a general sense of how the story goes. In addition to a description of your fic, we'll ask that you list out the Server it takes place on, what type of AU it is, any ships (romantic or platonic), the expected word count, what age group of people you are okay working with, and any trigger tags that you expect to take place in the story.
When do I have to join the discord? You have the option to join the dicord and hang out as soon as creation starts on May 13, and if you are signing up either as a Beta Reader or wanting to be matched with a Beta Reader, you need to join the discord before signups close on May 15. If you don't need a beta reader or you already have someone you normally work with, you only have to join the discord before author sign ups close for artist matching, which is June 15.
Why do authors have to be halfway through their draft to sign up? How are you checking this? This is both to decrease the number of people who drop out halfway through, and to make sure that the artist definitely has something to work with. If you write your entire fic in the weekend before the posting deadline, that means the artist has a matter of days or hours for them to do their work, which isn't fair. Writers will be expected to submit a google doc with their half-draft in it at sign-up, for mods to verify word count.
How does team assignment work? We will release a document with all the summaries in it, and shortly afterwards we will release a sign-up form. Artists will be expected to list out out a top-five of stories they want to work with, and mods will match artists with stories on a first-come-first-served basis.
What happens if there are more artists than authors, or more authors than artists? If there are more artists, some fics will be assigned multiple artists. If there are more authors, we will put in place a question where artists can specify that they'd be willing to make multiple pieces, and a (hopefully small) number of artists would be assigned multiple teams.
What if all the fics I list have already been assigned? If artists outnumber authors, mods will set your list aside for later. Once every fic has one artist, we will assign you as a secondary artist to one of your chosen fics. If authors outnumber artists, you will need to submit another claim. While mods will update the form throughout the claiming period and remove fully claimed fics, there may be some delay with removing fics if we are unavailable.
I’m in [insert time zone here]. What if I’m not awake when claims open? There will be a spot to input your time zone in the discord. Mods will try to open the claims at a time that works for as many artists as possible. The fic summaries will also be available for 24 hours before claims so that everyone can read the summaries and pick out the ones that sound most interesting to them. We will aim for claims to open between 7 a.m. and 1 a.m. for as many artists as possible across all time zones. If claims fall outside that zone for you, you'll be able to contact a mod and we'll work out an alternative method for claims for you.
I don't know what time zone I'm in? Go to timeanddate.com and enter the nearest major city, and it will tell you your current time zone.
What's a check-in and how do they work? Check-ins are there to make sure everyone is on track to finish their piece in time, and to communicate any issues with the mods! If you know that you won’t be able to check in on a specific date (lack of internet, etc), please contact the mods in advance.
How long should my fic be? The minimum word count is 5,000 words! There is no maximum word count, but we ask you to be mindful of how much you can actually create in these two months.
If I wrote a multi-chapter work, do I have to have it all posted by the end of Posting Week? You must complete your work by the end of posting week, but in the cases of longer works, you may want to stretch out posting. In cases where you want to extend posting, you will be able to send in your draft to be verified by the mods, and then post just 40% of the draft during posting week.
What does AU mean in this context? AU stands for Alternate Universe and in this case means anything that would make the work not able to be tagged as canon compliant. Alternate endings, role reversals, complete setting or plot swaps, and crossovers all count. As this is a fest specifically to celebrate AUs, we ask that the AU be a significant and celebrated part of the work, not something that could be skipped if you aren't paying attention.
Can I create two pieces of art? Absolutely! There is no maximum for number of pieces you want to create, but again, be mindful of not biting off more than you can chew in a month of creation time.
Can I sign up with two fics? You are welcome to sign up as part of the fest with multiple fics, especially given that the word count is reasonably achievable for many people. However, if you do so, we will ask that you prioritize which fic you want to be matched on first, and you will only receive a match to your secondary fic after everyone else has an artist. We're going to proritize every particpant getting a team before we prioritize every story getting a team.
Can I sign up with a writing buddy— as part of a collab team? You are welcome to sign up as a collaborative team! We ask that you make sure you work together well, and when you sign up for an artist, you must declare that you're a team, so people know that they'll be getting multiple writers and not one.
Can I submit a fic that is part of a larger story? All stories must stand alone, you can't have it so that your artist has to read other works to understand your existing work. The fic also must be written specifically for the event. We ask that you not submit a summary for a fic that was already written prior to the start of the event. Brainstorming or outlining starting early is fine.
What if I need to drop out? It is your responsibility to communicate with us if you need to drop out of the event for any reason, and we do need that communication. We know that life is no respecter of fic and art deadlines, so no hard feelings if something happens. However, we would hate for any writer to end up having no art for their fic, so please think about this if you are thinking of dropping out close to reveals. Likewise, it would suck if an artist put a lot of effort into creating art for a fic that ends up not being written, so authors, please inform us in advance if you must drop out or think you will not be able to complete your fic on time.
Dropping out after the last check-in without informing the mods will result in not being permitted to take part in further events run by this mod team.
I have a question not answered here? Send us an ask on tumblr, contact @antimony-medusa on tumblr or discord!
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Settling The Score With; Tangerine
A/N: Hello again! This one’s been chilling in the drafts for a minute, and I know it’d bother me if it was left unfinished. Thank you all for the love lately, I appreciate the support on my work so much. Genuinely encourages me to keep writing. Enjoy!
T/W: Slightly graphic descriptions of injury; cursing
Summary: The one with the sour homecoming, and the sweet aftermath.
Tangerine has had, what he believes, the worst fucking two weeks of his life. A quick catch and release job turned kidnapping mission turned right-fuck disaster. Lemon had mis-read the briefing yet again, the first time Tan allowed him to take responsibility of it, and dead last, too. His skin is more bruises and cuts than anything else, and there’s a dull throbbing in his head from a particularly harsh blow.Though he can’t quite recall it’s origin.
He rests his head against the elevator wall, avoiding the disheveled, battered man reflected in the mirror. Usually, he’d make sure to clean up before coming home. He’s much too exhausted though, and the pouring rain showering down outside is enough convincing to head straight home.
Home. Thank God. The thought pulls at his impatience as he glances at the floor levels rising. The lift is not moving nearly fast enough, considering he hasn’t gotten to see you in 13 days, 6 1/2 hours and, he checks his watch, 36 minutes. You’ve only gotten to speak over the phone a handful of times over the entirety of his absence. Your schedules rarely synced up, and it wasn’t like he was in any condition to give you a quick ring through rounds of gunfire. He’s always guilty when it’s been this long, or even on the shorter trips, for that matter. You’d known what you were signing up for, but that didn’t make what he asked of you any less difficult. He’s just wanted to see you, hear your voice, feel you beside him so he could get more than an hour’s sleep for fuck’s sake.
Finally, the bell chimes and the doors open, allowing him to make a bee-line to your apartment. Ensuring the jingling keys and creaking front door don’t make too much noise. The apartment is almost pitch black, aside from the warm-tinted lamp illuminating the couch across the way. You’re almost invisible, curled small under a throw blanket and an array of pillows. Tan releases the breath he’s been holding in the last two weeks, comfort and pure relief overcoming him. There’s a thud of his bags dropping to the floor, but you don’t stir.
Not until he’s on his knees in front of you, supporting his heavy head with one arm as the other raises to stroke your hair. You wince in your sleep, deep breathing aching at the exhaustion in every bone of Tan’s body. He could probably pass out right there. And he almost does, until those long, pretty lashes of yours flutter to life.
“Hi, sweethear-” He’s barely finished before you’re on him, tackling him into a startled, half asleep embrace. You hear his laugh, the vibration of his chest sending beams of joy throughout you.
“Tan.” Is all you can say, voice scratchy and soft with sleep. His heart melts, and a strong arm wraps even tighter around you. “Thought you said another couple of days?”
“Thought it’d be. But we managed to catch an earlier flight. And instead of staying in the hotel with Lem I just drove straight here.” You pull away despite his resistance, pushing at his chest with narrowed eyes. Your cheeks are puffy with sleep, and he finds it terribly difficult to feel intimated under your chastising gaze.
“You drove the whole night? In the rain?”
“I know, I know. But I had to get home, couldn’t stand another second away.” He holds your jaw in his palm, thumb caressing over your lips. An action he knows calms you no matter how upset you get. “Surprise?”
“You know that’s not safe, Tan. You look exhausted.”
“Way to boost a man’s ego, darling.”
“I’m serious, it’s dangerous.”
“Baby, if driving in the rain is what you consider dangerous for me, I think you should reconsider what my occupation entails.” You pout further, wondering how he thinks that’d make you feel even the least bit better. You turn away from his oncoming kiss, fighting what you’ve craved the last 13 days in a meek attempt at discipline. “I’ve only just gotten home, and I’ve already got you angry at me? New record, I think.” You bite back a smile, pressing kisses to the array of cuts adorning the handsome features you’ve missed so much. His eyes blink closed, taking in all he’s missed with a deep breath. You avoid his oncoming lips again, keen on teasing him despite your own desperation.
“Please.” Your compliance to his muttered request is practically immediate, unable to hold up the act any longer.
“Missed you.” You manage to get out between gasps for breath, skin igniting with electricity.
“Tell me about it.” You smile with his confession, craning your neck to give him more access for exploration of skin. He eventually stops despite himself, clutching the couch cushion for moral support as he pulls away. You chase him, eyes fluttering open with enough time to catch his satisfied smirk. “I really need a shower.” Your brows raise in disbelief, throwing yourself ack into the cushions with swollen, pursed lips.
“You can’t be serious.” He scrunches his nose, guilt-ridden whilst his hands snake under your (his) shirt and squeeze at your sides in apology.
“Join me?” You shake your head, watching his face fall with a small sense of payback.
“I just washed my hair today.”
“I wasn’t necessarily insinuating a proper washing, love.” He bellows a laugh when you push your foot into his chest, knocking your leg so he can lift the hem of your shirt and press an array of ticklish pecks just above your belly button.
“You’re terrible. Haven’t seen me in two weeks and all you can think about is getting laid.” You run a hand through his messy locks, pulling him away for your skin so he’ll meet your eyes.
“I’m only human, my love.”
“Go away, you actually do reek.”
“I wasn’t gathering that from you just a minute ago.” He nips at your exposed skin, finally getting to his feet when you shove at his shoulders.
“I’ll be ten minutes.”
“Yeah, tell that to the water bill.”
“Bloody hell, I missed that sass.” He calls from the corridor, grin clear in his tone. “And stop wearing my clothes. Proper tease, you are.”
************
Alright, so it was a little bit longer than ten minutes. But it’d been the first hot shower with any actual water pressure in weeks. So really, he couldn’t be blamed.
Tangerine wipes the steam from the mirror, wincing when he presses on a particularly fresh cut just above his brow. He’s definitely due for a shave, but it’ll have to wait for tomorrow. For now, he wants to savor every moment he has with you. Him and Lemon have agreed after this past shit show, at least a week’s break is warranted. Thankfully, you’ve spent the past few days busting your ass in order to get ahead on all of your work, and won’t have to go into the office for the next few days. Tan feels entirely underserving of someone so accommodating, considering he’s a right prick more times than he isn’t.
The damp fabric is wrapped tight around his waist as he approaches you, hanging his head over the back of the couch in hopes of startling you. Only to find you’ve fallen right back asleep, his discarded suit jacket clutched in your grasp. Tangerine swears he’s fallen in love all over again, sick with admiration as he watches the rise and fall of your chest.
Carefully, he tugs the jacket out of your death-grip, freezing when you release a deep sigh. You don’t wake though, so he continues. Sliding his arms under your form and lifting you up. Your head goes right into his neck, subconsciously shielding any light from your eyes.
It’s a quick trek to the bedroom, though the stairs remind him of the long drive and the week’s worth of combat with each step. He’s relieved once reaching the bedroom door, turning sideways to fit through. Eventually, you’re fully settled under the sheets. Allowing him to change into fresh clothes.
It’s almost surreal, sliding into the silk sheets with you beside him. The thundering rain outside only egging on much needed rest. Tan pulls you into his chest, recalling how much he’d craved your warmth for so long. He takes a moment to soak it all in, reveling in everything he’d missed so much. It’s times like these he’s convinced he’ll never work another job again, not if it means leaving you. With another rumble of distant thunder, and one last kiss to your temple, exhaustion overcomes him.
It could only have been another couple hours when Tan startles awake, a crash from the kitchen catching his attentive senses. He’s a light sleeper, has to be in his line of work. When he observes his surroundings and realizes you aren’t beside him, bile rises in his throat. He’s out of bed with a gun in hand before he can even register his own movements, bounding down the steps to tear apart whatever sorry fuck picked the wrong house.
There’s a thought, only a second, where a horrifying image flashes his mind. You on the floor of the kitchen, having succumb to whoever’s intruded. Maybe all these years of him and Lemon’s work has caught up to him, and karma’s finally struck. Maybe they fucked with the wrong guys, and they’ve come to seek revenge on the only piece of solace the assassin has left.
An even stronger wave of rage consumes him, seeing red as he burst into the kitchen. You’re stood by the counter, arms shooting up in instinctive compliance once staring down a barrel of a gun. “What the fuck, Tan” You shout, eyes wide in shock still as he sets the weapon down.
“What the fuck me? What the fuck you! I thought you were being fuckin’ murdered!”
“I just wanted a glass of water, Christ.” You run your hands over your face, observing as he hunches over, face paling.
“Fuck me, I’m gonna be sick.” He clutches his knees, glaring when you muffle a laugh.
“Please don’t hun, there’s glass everywhere.” That snaps him out of it, eyes narrowing in confusion when another round of fear overcomes his features.
“Darling, you’re bleeding.” Wordlessly, you look down, surveying the sea of red escaping your foot. You blink quickly, gripping the counter when your head spins. Obviously, you’re not as accustomed to blood as your boyfriend. It’s when the pain settles in too, so you barely register Tan’s lack of self-preservation as he lunges over to catch you. Not even bothering to protect himself from harm.
“Hey, hey, you look at me. Just look at me.” His hands clutch either side of your head, face taught with concern. You let him lift you onto the counter, watching as he reaches over to grab a dish towel hanging from dishwasher handle.
“Clean?” Is all he asks, pressing it to the gash on your foot as soon as you nod.
“F-fuck.” Is all you manage, nails digging into his forearm at the searing pain.
“I know, baby. I know, but it needs pressure.” He presses a kiss to the crown of your head, hand pushing hard into the appendage.
“These are the decoration towels.” You frown, wincing when he pulls the fabric away for a better look.
“Is that why it’s not soaking anything up? The fuck is a decoration towel, anyway? Just supposed to hang there and look pretty without a purpose? Bloody fuckin’ stupid, is what it is.” He leans over to rummage in the drawer beside the sink, grabbing an authentic one before switching them out. Your eyes catch the blotch of red on the discarded cloth, back of your head hitting the counter in a dizzied frenzy.
“Oi, what did I say? Eyes on me.” Tan’s stern, but there’s no real meanness to it. His voice shakes despite his order, and you watch as strong hands tremble against your seared skin.
“T.” You reach for him, unable to make contact since he’s turned to fully focused on the damaged area. “Baby?”
He can’t really hear you, heart thrumming so loud it rings in his ears. He blinks hard, unable to register why his vision’s blurred. Feeling foolish when he realizes its tears.
“Tan.”
“What, damnit?” There’s twinge of venom to it, but you don’t take it to heart. Anger is his defense mechanism to just about everything. Guilt, sorrow, fear. You quirk a brow, questioning his tone.
“Sorry, love. I’m sorry” It’s immediate, sincere and ashamed. You reach for him again, kissing his shoulder when he side-steps closer.
“I’m alright. Everything's okay.” He feels stupid, then. Being comforted when you’re the one that’s actually hurt.
“I know that.” He defends, straightening with a forced bravado. Alright, tough guy. You offer a kind smile, incredulous.
“We’re gonna need to clean it.” You shake your head, attempting to scoot back on the cold marble. With a glare, his free hand wraps around your calf, pulling you back toward him.
“No, absolutely not. Fuck that, it’s a small cut.”
“A deep cut, one that needs to be sanitized in order to heal properly.” He searches under the sink, snatching the first aid kit and pulling out the necessary supplies. “We’re just gonna flush it out with saline right quick, promise. Then some petroleum jelly, then wrap and gauze. Real simple.” He washes his hands as he speaks, avoiding your frightened eyes, as he knows it’ll only make this more difficult.
You bite your tongue, holding back any more argument because you know he doesn’t want to do this just as much as you. Besides, no pace to fuss when he’s had much worse. He pulls you again, having your foot hang over the sink so as to avoid further mess. You quirk your head when his movements stutter, about to turn on his heel toward the dining room before he points to you.
“Stay.” He looks down as he exits, ensuring to avoid any excess glass.
“Woof.” Is all you mutter, resting your head on the cabinets above and closing your eyes. Slow, deep, breaths to calm yourself down. Something clinks as it’s set beside you, brow quirking at he bottle of scotch.
“Is it gonna hurt that bad?” Tan licks his lips, meeting your eyes for only a moment and then focusing on removing the cork. He’s never been able to lie to you, so he passes a shot’s worth to you instead. You down it, cringing at the taste, but revealing in the soothing burn that ensues as it goes down.
Tan pours a double’s worth for the same glass, barely even blinking as it passes his lips. Showoff
Rolling his shoulders, he clutches the bottle of saline and glances at you for permission. Your knees are bent so you’re sitting up, much closer to him now. You wrap your arms around his free one, nodding.
He tries to block you out, stomach turning when you suck your teeth and something short of a yelp is muffled into his skin. He’s holding your leg so you won't pull away, and Tan swears of all the shit he’s ever gone through, this is by far the worst.
You’re doing your best to be good, he knows. But there are also 7000 nerves in the human foot, more than most parts of the body. If anything, your reaction is tame. Your nails dig crescents into his skin, but the pain almost helps him block your poor noises out.
“That’s it, baby. We’re done.” He kisses the crown of your head in apology, head maneuvering to meet your eyes that try to avoid him.
You feel stupid for crying. Him and Lemon have suffered far worse, but it really had fucking hurt. The gash is spliced into the arch of your heel, just the thought of it makes you cringe.
“I’m sorry love, I had to. I’m sorry.” You shake your head, letting him hold your face and his thumbs swipe under your eyes to collect the trailing tears. He kisses each one of your cheeks, and finally the tip of your nose. It makes you want to cry even more. You keep it together, for his sake.
“I’m sorry, I know you’ve had worse.” He pulls away immediately, looking offended, and even angry.
“Don’t do that.” His brows are taught with sternest, brushing the strands of hair from your face. So gentle you wonder how he has the job he does. There are times he’s so soft with you, so vulnerable. You recall a time he’d been so closed off, the way he still gets sometimes. You wish he’d be this open all the time.
Gently, you reach for his abdomen, tugging up the fabric of his grey sleep shirt. Fingers tracing over one of the many scars that placate his skin, raised and slighly discolored. A bullet wound. You raise your brows at him, a clear ‘are you even gonna try and argue otherwise?’
“Comes with the job, lovely. You work a 9-5, don't think that was in the fine print.” You laugh despite it all, his heart flutters at the sound. He hates how soft you’ve made him, sometimes. “I think you’re pretty tough, for what it’s worth.” You roll your eyes at his reassurance, too fond of him for your own good. Watching as he applies the gauze and begins to wrap the medical tape all around the appendage. When he’s done, he caresses the new cloth, pressing a kiss to the damaged skin. You’re lovesick and exhausted, contented despite the insistent throbbing.
He insists on having you sit while he sweeps us the mess, ensuring he’s got all the shards and discarded them into the bin. You nurse more scotch to fight the stinging pain. Wordlessly, Tan turns his back to you, arms outstretched behind him.
“Are you seriously offering me a piggy-back ride right now?”
“How else are you getting back to bed?” You shake your head in disbelief, fighting a grin as you maneuver into his grasp. You must look ridiculous, clinging onto him as he ascends the steps, but you’re both all smiles anyway. He sets you on the mattress, pressing a short kiss to your lips and disappearing into the bathroom. He’s back seconds after, painkillers in hand.
“This is weird, I’m usually the one playing doctor.”
“I know, it’s much better the other way around.” It’s lighthearted, but there's a hint of sadness to it that only you’d detect in his tone. The bed dips as he sits beside you, rain still pattering against the window overhead. It’s a comfortable quiet, both relishing in one another’s company. You come up behind him, arms snaking across his shoulders and down his chest to wrap around him. He leans into the embrace, trailing kisses up your arm as he clutches your elbow.
“Sorry for scaring you.” You mutter into his neck, muffled and hesitant to break the calming quiet.
“I suppose we’re even now.” He’s alluding to his work, voice rasped with exhaustion. You hold him tighter, reminded how apparent his absence is every time he leaves.
“We’ll never be even.” He knows you’re right, so he doesn’t argue. You both know every time he walks out the door, there’s a chance he won't come back. He only pulls your arms tighter around him, exhaling when you rest your head between his shoulder blades.
“You think you’ll able to sleep? With the pain, I mean?” You nod against him, but you both know it isn't true. The throbbing will go on for some time, you’re sure. Tan taps your arm, signaling your release as he leans for your book on the coffee table. You’re confused at first, watching intently as he settles against the bed frame. A silent invitation for you to lay beside him when he lifts his arm.
“You’ll read to me?” You say it so gentle, so hopeful, his nonchalant resolve almost crumbles from the sheer adoration. You always beg him to read to you, comforted with his heavily accented voice. He usually finds it silly, but you’re in pain and he’ll do just about anything to make you feel better.
“Don’t make a big deal of it.” He lets you shuffle into him, resting your head on his chest with a chaste kiss to his jaw.
Your eyes follow his fingers dancing across the pages, eyelids heavy with oncoming sleep. He absentmindedly traces circles into the skin of your arm as he reads, looking over at you every now and again. Admiring how the moonlight that pools into the room illuminates a pale blue hue to your skin. After a while, he notices you’re fighting sleep, wanting to hear him as long as your body will let you.
“Close ‘em, love.” You grin as his hand goes over your eyes, feeling chastised. You pull him away by the wrist, bringing his knuckles to your lips and letting your lids finally close.
Eventually, sleep overcomes you. Tan reads on anyway, hoping so savor the moment for just a little longer. Comforted in the steady rise and fall of your chest against his. A piece of him wishes to be in this moment forever. Trapped in time, forever content. After some time he’ll set the book down. Shuffle further down the bed and tug you even closer to him. Just to feel the weight of you atop him, commit it to memory. You won’t hear, but he’ll lean close, whisper how much he loves you, and promise to always come home. Just because he knows you’ll be waiting for him.
#tangerine#lemon x tangerine#tangerine imagine#tangerine x you#bullet train imagine#bullet train#bullet train fanart#bullet train fanfic#tangerine fanfiction#ATJ#aaron taylor johnson#aaron johnson#imagine#fanfic#tangerine fluff#tangerine angst#tangerine and lemon
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Writing Update: Jan 2024
I figured I should keep you guys updated on some of the stuff I'm currently working on. I've been busy catching up with work since I'm dealing with a new project that started last Dec, but I'm trying the best I can to also catch up with fic updates. So here it goes:
Bedroom Hymns (myg x reader)
⏤ this month's target/estimated word count: chapter 12-13; 14k words in total
⏤ progress written: 1,5k words (from my writing goal only)
Currently in rough draft writing form, but I also skipped ahead to a smut scene that may not happen until waaayyyy later. So there's that lol
(ps. the moodboard above contains spoiler to what's going to happen in the next chapter)
A Christmas Fix (kth x reader)
⏤ estimated word count: 40k words (originally planned as 30k but you know me)
⏤ progress written: 25,050 words
Already on second/final draft writing with 3,5 more scenes to go. I'm hoping to be able to finish this one this week because it's been delayed for too long already. Cross some fingers for me!
Hot Mess (kth x reader)
⏤ estimated word count: 6-7k words
⏤ progress written: 5k words
Yes, I originally was close to finishing this when I took a break and focused on the xmas fic. Might be able to post this as soon as my other Tae fic is done
note | If you’re interested in being added into my permanent taglist, please enter your url on this link. If you only want to be added on a specific update, please add your url and the fic you’re looking for in the replies below, and remember to make sure that your url can be easily found/tagged.
xoxo,
Dia
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okay so im drafting this at like 8am on a sunday and while i usually don't feel comfortable posting milestones, this felt like an important one and i am so incredibly grateful for you all
i saw this morning that i hit 1k followers which is absolutely insane to me
i want to thank everybody who has ever followed me, supported me or inspired me especially as of recently and i apologise to anybody that i may have missed from tagging below (i originally tagged everyone in this post but it wouldn't let me because of stupid tumblr block sizes so please check the reblog down below) and there is absolutely no pressure from my end for you to interact at all! i just wanted to say thank you and that i really appreciate every single one of you and whether or not you were aware of it, you had an impact on me both as a person and a writer. im simultaneously in awe and trying to process why so many people on here have even tolerated me on this godforsaken hellsite
i greatly encourage any and everybody seeing this to check out any/everybody i have tagged below in my reblog and their writings/blogs, i can guarantee you that you will not be disappointed
i feel like i have been able to grow so much as a writer since publishing my first fic on this app, lavender haze, because of everybody's support and i just cannot even comprehend how so many people could actually enjoy what i write or listen to all my ramblings
when i was 13 and writing fanfic for the first time back in 2018, i never would have imagined being welcomed into a community so wide and meeting so many incredible people through this fandom let alone people actually enjoying what i write and following me at all
this horny fandom feels like a second home sometimes and i want to sincerely thank every single one of you from the bottom of my heart for being here for me even when i overshare and talk too much ☠️
sometimes i feel like i've only just typed howyouloveyourdragon into create account for the very first time and sometimes it feels like it's been a year already but hey only a few more months to go and the anniversary of howyouloveyourdragon will be among us
to celebrate you all joining me on here, i think that i will be finally buckling down and finishing as many of my drafts as i can and publishing them asap for you all to enjoy
i will be uploading a poll shortly to let you decide how i should prioritise them
unfortunately i doubt that i will able to celebrate in this way on the same day as this milestone as i will be in another country as of friday 28th but i will be trying my hardest to deliver these fics as soon as possible and as of this week i am reopening some malnourished drafts as i type this
to all of my followers, mutuals and friends thank you so very much
#thank you#you don't know how much this means to me#thea talks too much#follower milestone#tumblr you beautiful bitch you
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Approaching Sun (36)
Author’s Note: Hey again! Surprising you all with a new chapter a week apart. I had to cut the last one short and this one short as well, essentially dividing one chapter into three. This doesn’t mean the wordcount is short. This one comes in just under 10,000. But keep your eyes out for the next part. I also wanted to drop my linktree here: linktr.ee/anerdinallherglory so it’s easier to find all my info in one place. Please go and check it out! I am also looking for beta readers for my own personal novel. I’m even considering starting a newsletter or posting it back on Wattpad as a pre-published draft, but haven’t decided on that 100%. I will let you all know as soon as I decide. The tracks I recommend for this chapter: 1) Let Me Touch Your Fire by ARIZONA and 2) Daylight by Crypto/DEIIN. Thanks again for reading!
Pairing: SasuSaku
Previous Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 35
Chapter 36: Demons
When Sasuke stepped into the brothel disguised as a bathhouse, an empty room greeted him. Not a single soul was in sight, and Sasuke wasn’t quite sure what he was expecting, but the place being deserted was the worst possible outcome. It meant no traces, no answers, and Sasuke dreaded finding Sakura’s trail end in this damned place. It also made his stomach knot at the thought that this might be what the room typically looked like on an average night considering the private and concealed activities that occurred in separate chambers.
Despite the absolute darkness, Sasuke could make out giant undisturbed baths beyond the reception counter, the water a still onyx glass as if the baths were only there to serve as a display, never to be used. And that’s probably exactly what they were: a lie to disguise the truth of what this place actually was. Only Sasuke’s Sharingan could make out the alcove, the inconspicuous hallway in the back that Sasuke crept toward in the shadows.
His visual abilities revealed the outline of the door at the end of it, where someone without visual prowess might find nothing but a wall. Sasuke placed his fingertips against it to push on the barricade, not detecting any sort of seal or rigging to prevent it from opening. Sasuke wasn’t surprised that there wasn’t considering this particular establishment housed regular citizens and not ninja. If ninja did inhabit the space, Sasuke figured that it was for a short, purposeful visit, not long-term residency. The door gave to his pressure and a faint light glowed through the opening as Sasuke silently slid the door until he had had hairline’s width to peer through.
A group of women were the first thing Sasuke noticed, all gathered in the middle of the floor, some holding candles in various states of distress. Muffled, crying sounds reached his ears and Sasuke naturally found the dimly-lit faces where the noises originated, paths of light-reflecting tears striping their painted faces. There were also lavish styled chairs scattered throughout the room, some tipped on their sides and others still erect in rows.
A gruff male voice interrupted the women’s soft, plea-filled weeping and Sasuke’s uncovered Sharingan eye instantly narrowed as he located three supervising figures that towered over the distressed girls. They stood just outside of the candlelight between Sasuke and the group they were terrorizing, their shadows passing in front of the light source which made it very easy for Sasuke to trace their movements, even without his Sharingan. Their mistake, Sasuke thought to himself, as the words became more substantial.
“There must be something else that she said,” hissed one man as he reached forward and fisted one of the older woman’s robes, yanking her forward from the group. The other girls screamed, clutching at the dangling woman and halting her movement forward. One girl was kicked down by the man because she dared to stand before him in an attempt to wrestle the woman from him. “You’re the Mother, aren’t you?!” he spat viscously in her face. “How could you make such a mistake? You let the enemy in, and you will pay for it!”
“We already told the last group of men here,” the woman gasped, tearing at the sleeve of the arm that held her in the air by her throat. “She’s gone to the Land of Fire’s border. That’s all we know. Please let me go.”
“Where?! Where at on the border?”
“We don’t know!” a fair-headed girl pleaded, crawling forward to the man’s feet to look up imploringly into his shadowed face. “That’s all she said after she took the men away.”
“There must be more,” another man spoke, coming forward to respond to the girl and glare up at the hanging woman, too.
Sasuke waited, dampening his eagerness to intervene. A situation such as this one was not typically one to cause any sort of reaction from Sasuke, but as his conscience had come back to him over the years after the Fourth Shinobi World War, these types of intimidation tactics on people who didn’t deserve it were the sort that pissed the Uchiha off in an unforgiving sort of way. But he couldn’t be too rash, considering the information he, too, was receiving from the exchange. Unfortunately, Sasuke was still the sort of person who would let that woman dangle for an eternity if it meant that he would get the answers he needed about Sakura’s actions and whereabouts. But at the same time, Sasuke was desperately hoping she knew nothing.
The woman choked, face purpling. She was beyond being able to speak now, her body no longer receiving the oxygen to use words, so the girls huddled on the floor made implorations on her behalf.
“Stop this! You’re killing her!”
“Give me more information and she we will live!” the man shouted down at them. “Or stay silent and she dies!”
Another minute of silent crying had Sasuke’s hand itching toward the door, not certain how much information there was left to learn. Their tactic worked as intended, however, and Sasuke stilled himself once more when a dark-haired girl shuffled forward on her knees, barely old enough to be considered a mature adult. With beseeching hand movements, she disclosed, “I’ll tell you everything. Just let her go.”
“Talk first!” snarled the offender, shaking the matron for good measure.
“All I know is that she dyed her hair after arriving. She’s in disguise,” she confessed with a shaky voice.
Finally receiving a scrap of intelligence, the man threw the matron toward the group of girls and there was more shrieking as she landed roughly among them, and their hands all scrabbled in unison to catch and break her fall. The matron coughed violently as color began to return to her face.
“And?” the man enticed the young girl to continue, leaning down to fist her dressing gown next.
The young girl returned his gaze with a fire that wasn’t there before. Now that she had replaced the matron’s spot in the face of the zealot, she laced her next words with venom. “And,” she murmured. “She’s going to kill every single one of you bastards.”
There was a loud strike against flesh, but the sound was infinitesimal compared to the crack of lightning that suddenly struck and shook the ceiling above them. Everyone fell to the ground at the sound, covering their ears and crawling toward one another instinctively. Even the three men crouched in surprise, but they were the first to recover, casting their eyes about wildly.
As the three extremists turned to assess the room’s entrance, the door that separated them from the Uchiha was now fully open, the darkness of the hallway consuming all of Sasuke’s person except for his unconcealed blood red eye. When he stepped into the room, the three ninja prepared themselves to face the new threat, which was a mistake, because all three of them locked eyes with red and purple.
Without a second of passing time, the three men fell back to their knees and their screams were positively delicious sounds as they succumbed to the horrors Sasuke had planned for them in his genjutsu. They would suffer and the chakra it cost the Uchiha to do it was worth it based on their screaming alone.
The girls scrambled to collect the candles they had dropped out of fear when the lightning had struck, each of them desperate to claim some light to reveal what monster had just stepped into the room with them. When the youngest girl successfully secured one, she brought it to her face only to reveal Sasuke’s dark outline standing before her. When she looked up into his Sharingan, she dropped the candle once more.
“The devil,” she whispered, speaking the word as if doing so had sealed her fate. “He’s finally come for me.”
Panicked gasps, crying, and prayers fabricated into existence around Sasuke as the other girls beheld the apparition of him for themselves, a phantom of black and red and purple delivering punishment to the three begging men now behind him.
Sasuke crouched before the young, dark-haired girl, the very one who had revealed information about Sakura to the three anti-peace members, all of whom would soon not be able to remember anything but Sasuke’s katana as it penetrated their bodies over and over. How fitting a description, Sasuke thought to himself as he remembered Itachi, whom the genjutsu he now used was modeled after, how devil-like the Uchiha clan became when they were set on protecting something they cared about.
“Not for any of you,” Sasuke responded coldly, wasting no time to reach for her terrified face over the flickering circumference of the discarded candlelight between their bodies. When he clutched her chin between his fingers, her eyes widened in fear, which was positively advantageous for the Uchiha as he peered through them to search her memories.
Sasuke moved through this girl’s memories just like the phantom she imagined him to be, gliding through the very sins she committed tonight until he saw the scene he was looking for: Sakura’s face coming into view as she entered into the dark room in which this girl and a man were coupled on a lounge, both still wet from the bath. They were wrapped in one another’s arms, exchanging sweet whispers to each other in the dark.
Sakura seemed surprised by this fact, as if she hadn’t expected to find them nestling into one another there. Sasuke watched his teammate hesitate for just a moment until a needle sank into the man’s flesh. The girl from whose eyes Sasuke watched his former teammate, gasped at the sudden attack. Untangling himself, the man swung in Sakura’s direction. “You,” he had hissed. “You’re—” he began before falling to the floor lifelessly, incapacitated by the drug that Sakura had injected him with.
Sakura stared down at him for a moment, eyes flashing back toward the girl, before she reached down to flip over the man’s body, so that he could breathe freely.
Sasuke couldn’t focus on anything other than the raven black of Sakura’s tinted hair. A small part of his heart wanted to linger on the scene, imagine a child with Sakura’s features and Sasuke’s hair. He fisted the emotions and shoved them back, resuming the memory.
“Hae, what are you doing!?” screamed the girl, scrambling from the lounge onto the floor beside the man.
“I am sorry, Tabi.” Sakura whispered, biting into her thumb and performing a summoning jutsu that Sasuke was too familiar with. Katsuyu, Sakura and the Fifth Hokage’s summoning familiar, materialized into existence on the spot on the floor where Sakura had pressed her five-fingered seal. To Tabi’s extreme horror, the slug, human-sized, began to encapsulate the man she desperately tried to shield away from the creature. But her hands disappeared into the mucusy flesh of the gastropod, failing to gain any purchase.
“Who are you?! Why are you doing this?” she cried, backing speedily away when the creature began to absorb her hands as well.
“There’s not much time to explain,” Sakura replied, coming to bend down before the girl. Sakura knelt before the girl, revealing a small canvas bundle of small bottles, needles, and medicines. “I’m not really in this business as I made all of you believe. I’m a doctor and I only have a few minutes to help you.”
When Tabi said nothing else, just stared at Sakura in confusion, she asked carefully, “Do you suspect that you’re pregnant?”
Tabi’s mouth fell open at the revelation and her hands moved to her stomach at the mention of pregnancy. The tears that began to fall from her face was confirmation enough for the medic. She asked her next question. “Do you want to keep it?”
“What?” Tabi asked, wondering how the woman before her could have suspected something Tabi only was beginning to experience the symptoms of.
“Do you want this baby? There are ways to—”
“Yes, I want it!” Tabi cried, hugging herself and flinching away from the unrolled canvas parcel of vials as she began to see the collection in a new light. “The baby is mine and—” she protested, turning back to the man who was now completely encased by the slug. “What are you doing to him?!”
Sakura’s eyes flicked over to the man and only Sasuke was able to recognize the regret in them. “He’s one of the members of Zenshin,” Sakura informed the distraught girl. “It’s my mission to eradicate the organization.”
“Please,” Tabi begged, grasping Sakura’s arms with her hands, stilling them over the bag of medical supplies. “You can’t take him. He’s different from the others. We love each other.”
Sasuke saw Sakura chew her lip in thought, rerolling the canvas bag into a tight parcel. He instantly knew Sakura was thinking of him, his face flashing in her mind as she faced Tabi. The confliction there let Sasuke know exactly what she was thinking. Just as Sakura so desperately wanted her own happy ending, she also wanted Tabi to have hers. But her eyes hardened, and she removed her arms from Tabi’s hands. In that very same instant, the slug dematerialized into nothing, taking the man with her to wherever the slug disappeared to.
“If Toka loves you, he will come back to you once I am finished with him,” Sakura divulged, looking pointedly at her stomach. “Does he know?”
Tabi shook her head, more tears streaming down her face. “I was going to tell him once he left them. He was going to do it soon—run away with me.”
Sakura nodded and shoved the canvas bundle into Tabi’s shaking hands. “Give these to the other girls and have them follow the directions inside. I don’t know how well you guys are taking care of yourselves here, but there are medicines in here. To prevent pregnancy— and to protect yourselves from diseases. As a medic, I can’t leave here without doing at least this.”
Sasuke flinched at the scene before him, knowing that Sakura had carried that on her person, probably having prepared it in advance for this very mission in this damn brothel, intended for her own personal use. Sasuke had never been so close to wanting to vomit in his life. He wanted to reach through this memory and grab her arm and force her to explain all of this to him. Why would she take such risks for a mission—abuse herself in this way?
“Where are you going?” Tabi beseeched, focused more on the fact that this parting gift meant Sakura’s immediate intentions to depart along with the man she loved.
“The border of the Land of Fire,” Sakura responded without hesitation as she met Tabi’s gaze with hers. “You can tell that to whoever comes asking questions,” the woman who Tabi had believed was named Hae added. “It’s the truth and it’s not a secret. Let them come.”
Sasuke closed his eyes at the intentional crumb she had left for the enemy. She had probably told every girl who had asked this information the same response. It was obvious that she was luring whoever was left of the organization out of Tanigakure. They had more of a personal vendetta against her now after her actions tonight and would definitely pursue, especially since they believed she was acting alone. It would be perfect for them, to eliminate their Number 1 and get revenge in the same motion. The temptation to chase would be too great.
As Sakura stood and headed back for the door, she turned back to Tabi, who was still kneeling on the ground and clutching the bundle of medications to her stomach, shielding the small flutter of life that had started there.
When Sakura’s eyes met Tabi’s, Sasuke suddenly felt as if Sakura were looking beyond them, into the memory itself until her eyes met Sasuke’s within. “In case you’re watching this, I can handle this alone. I don’t need your help.” Sasuke felt Tabi’s confusion as the girl failed to comprehend Sakura’s last words. Sasuke, however, knew exactly who those words were for: the Uchiha, himself. So, she knew. Sakura had known that he was here in Tanigakure searching for her. She had predicted that he would track her to this place and perform this very jutsu.
When Sakura closed the door behind her, leaving Tabi to sob uncontrollably to herself, Sasuke rewound the memory further, past the indecencies between the girl and the man called Toka, until he was watching the same man spin Sakura in front of a crowd of lust-hungry brutes. Sasuke froze the scene before him, eyes narrowing as he memorized each of their faces. One man came forward and grabbed Sakura, pulling her into his lap. His eyes were tightly bound, and the blind stranger leaned his mouth against Sakura’s ear in the dimly lit room. To Sasuke’s extreme dissatisfaction, Tabi had not heard, and therefore Sasuke could not decipher what the man had whispered in his teammate’s ear. Sasuke was beyond disappointed to miss the very words that he would repeat to the man as the Uchiha eviscerated him. The memory of Sakura ended once more as Toka led Tabi away to their private room.
Thoroughly enraged at what he had just witnessed, Sasuke cursed to himself as he released the young woman’s chin. Tabi gasped when Sasuke retreated viciously from her mind, and she fell back on her wrists away from him. Sasuke’s crimson gaze fell on every girl who clustered in the darkness, gaping openly at him in terror, and he couldn’t help but picture Sakura in all of their faces. They, too, had been feasted upon by the eyes of despicable men, dragged into laps and so much more. In another life and in different set of circumstances, who knows if Sakura might have ended up trying to earn her living doing such a thing, too. He pitied every woman who had no other options. Sasuke would not consider himself a sentimental or feeling person. In fact, he wanted nothing more than to turn on his heel and vanish from the room in the same manner in which he had appeared, letting his fire-style impede the very building in which he stood. But he wavered, glancing down at the tiny swell of Tabi’s malnourished stomach. With his Rinnegan, Sasuke could see the tiny orb of light there. It pulsed like a tiny, throbbing sun.
Leaning fully into the devil character they believed him to be, Sasuke did something very much unlike himself. He took the time to say, “Leave this place and do not come back. Every single one of you.” He turned back down to Tabi once more and said, “Your child deserves a peaceful world. The next generation does not need to suffer for the sins of their parents.”
And then Sasuke, like a demon specter made of shadows, turned and vanished back into the blackness of a hellish night.
.
.
.
The downpour lasted long into the night and Sakura swore at her bad luck. Sakura had quickly snagged a set of clothing from one of the smaller ninja that she had rendered unconscious back at the bathhouse. Even still, the man’s clothes hung loosely on her thinner, angular frame and Sakura had apologized to the palm-sized version of Katsuyu that clung to Sakura’s skin at the slug’s initial repulsion to the smell of the stranger’s attire. Sakura hadn’t had time to find her original set of clothing once her mission had begun; the tight-fitting robes from the bathhouse had been insufficiently insulated, so Sakura had tugged on one of the radical’s dark pants, black jacket, and matching vest in the presence of one of the horrified girls without explanation as the girl watched Katuyu absorb another person and whisk them away. Strategically, Sakura had even adorned her forehead with the five-spiral headband tucked away in the man’s vest just in case it was slightly advantageous to do so. Sakura had only seen the forehead protector twice before, but more recently caught a glimpse of it in the desert when Mako was thrown the identical headband for successfully kidnapping her.
With her shadow-colored hair tucked hurriedly under the jacket’s stiff-fabric hood, Sakura pulled the shirt’s loose-fitting collar up and over her nose so that only her eyes and the headband were visible on her brow. She had hoped such a disguise would at least get her out of Tanigakure unnoticed in the night. Surprisingly enough, Tanigakure’s “peaceful” reputation and open access to travelers made it relatively easy for Sakura to locate a small mountain path that exited the village undetected. The kunoichi also allowed herself a moment of pride, because not being stopped also meant that she had been quick enough with the execution of her plan. She had handled any immediate threats back at the brothel, making it out before any other Zenshin members could discover the cookie crumb she had left behind for them to find.
It was dark, and the rain was merciless as Sakura skirted the side of the mountain, taking refuge from the rain in the dense tree cover that blanketed the landscape. The tree limbs bowed beneath the weight of her hurdles as she bounded from branch to branch, arms thrown behind her as she mercilessly raced toward the border between the Land of Rivers and Land of Fire. Once she had guided her likely pursuers into the Land of Fire, Sakura would be able to handle the rest of them as she pleased, as recklessly as she pleased. She would no longer have to worry about causing any catastrophes in Tanigakure that the Leaf or the Sand might have to take responsibility for.
She had expected a pursuit. Mako had told Sakura that there were Zenshin members all throughout the shinobi world—eventually, they would come for her, too—but the remaining Zenshin members in Tanigakure would be absolutely desperate to prevent her from reaching the border. But what Sakura had not expected was the speed in which some of them had caught up with her.
When Sakura had first picked up on the footfalls that those without the sharpened senses of a ninja wouldn’t be able to distinguish beyond the crashing rain against the canopy above, Sakura had immediately halted her movements in the branches. Tucking her body tightly into the bough of a tree, she contemplated her options as the voices began to near her. Considering that it took Sasuke and Sakura two days of leisure travel to reach Tanigakure from Konoha, Sakura was predicting that it would likely take her a fraction of that time to reach the border—which was located much closer to Tanigakure than the Leaf—at the speed in which she was travelling now. If her estimations were right, it would be essentially six hours, four of which had already transpired since her exit. Could she simply outrun them for another two hours?
Maybe the solution was something simpler, something E-Rank that Sakura hadn’t used since her Genin days. Sakura thought back to her interaction with the second man she had spoken with at the brothel, “the clown” of the group as Rugo had called him. Sakura’s initial target who had asked Sakura questions, investigating if she were “new, new.” Sakura focused on his features as she performed a transformation. The Transformation Jutsu had its flaws, which is why it wasn’t used too often, especially in the presence of experienced shinobi or those who could see chakra with a visual prowess like the Sharingan or Byakugan, or detect chakra signatures like the ninja, Karin. But a confrontation was going to be inevitable regardless of whether or not Sakura could fool them with a jutsu; she would just have to face them head on sooner than she had wanted. If it were the latter, then the jutsu possibly failing was a moot point, so there was no harm in crossing her fingers and going for it. The jutsu wouldn’t have to be flawless to be effective.
She could hardly assess them, the rain a thick sheet between herself and the enemy. There were three of them, all cloaked and protected from the elements. The low number made Sakura suspect that this was one of many search parties and their likelihood of finding her had less to do with their skill at tracking and more to do with fact that at least one group was going to guess her direction of travel correctly and encounter her by chance. She waited until they were practically under her perch to make her choice.
Without a second more of hesitation, Sakura dropped several feet in front of them, shouting in a voice that had thickened into that obnoxiously loud tenor from the brothel. “I think she went this way!” Sakura didn’t wait to hear a response as she darted forward into the night.
“Araki?!” came a woman’s voice as she was the first to recognize the man whom was Sakura’s current disguise. The female immediately followed as she continued to shout after who she believed was her fellow Zenshin member.
“Hurry!” Sakura screamed back in reply but did not slow her pace for them. One of the Transformation Jutsu’s innate failings that made it unfavorable to use, was that it was difficult to converse with others or perform other mental feats because a ninja had to pour a lot of focus into channeling chakra into maintaining the transformation. It’s the very reason why a lot of transformations didn’t last too long; some people were better at executing it than others. It wasn’t overly difficult for Sakura to engage in conversation while transformed, but she didn’t know her enemy very well or their various jutsu and talents, so she decided to take advantage of the chase element of their interaction to avoid super close proximity.
Like shadowed hounds that thought they had found one of their own kind, they pursued after Sakura, barking after her as their feet collided with the ground, thinking they were joining the hunt when in fact they were chasing the very goose they were after.
“How do you know she went this way, Araki?” a male voice called up to her through the thundering rain, and Sakura barely made it out.
“She’s making a run for the Leaf Village, but we have to catch her before she gets too far over the border!” Sakura called back with the same arrogant confidence Araki had spoken to her with at the brothel.
“How did you escape? Weren’t you with the others at the bathhouse? What happened to them?” the woman’s voice called out again, firing questions off faster than the rain could fall from the sky, and maybe Sasuke had started to rub off on Sakura the past couple of months, but the relentless inquiries were beginning to annoy her.
Sakura didn’t know if she should even attempt to respond. She knew very little about this Araki’s personality, other than the fact that he was loud, bold, and talked incessantly as well. But Sakura was not comfortable sustaining an unrehearsed act for long segments, and was unsure exactly what types of ridiculous comments were normal for the man. A little too late, Sakura wondered if Rugo or Toka would have been a better choice to impersonate with their various stoicism in comparison to Ataki; their seriousness would have suited Sakura’s current circumstances better. As a side note to rationalize her choice, Sakura wasn’t too sure about how Rugo’s blindness affected his abilities, and Sakura naturally wanted to steer clear of casting Toka in more of a negative light in case he really was trying to cut ties with Zenshin as Tabi had claimed.
“We have to move faster!” Sakura deflected, pretending not to hear them as she bounded further ahead of them to create a safer distance between them.
Sakura relentlessly pushed them forward, a shadow before them that they could barely distinguish as it was. She was desperately clinging to the transformation even as she strategically considered her next move. Sakura had crossed the river she and Sasuke had camped at on their second night of traveling together hours ago. She was only minutes away from the border now. For the most part, Sakura had chosen to stick to the same remote path she and Sasuke had taken from Konoha because it was the most recent in her memory and it was a small miracle she wasn’t getting the four of them completely lost in this starless monsoon. At some point over the past hour, she dissected from that trail, travelling northwest for the plains she remembered passing through during a mission with Kakashi, Naruto, and Sai.
The forest thinned as Sakura neared the space between forests, the sizeable meadow surrounded by rocky plateaus like the very mountain the Leaf was built up against. Seeing such familiar forested landscape, Sakura could have wept in relief. Her lungs shuttered from the relentlessness of her breathing and her legs practically felt numb and cold from the freezing rain, but the pain was absolutely miniscule in comparison to the absolute thrill she felt in her bones when she took her first step across an imaginary line only a ninja who had crossed it multiple times would remember even in the hours just before sunrise. She stumbled to a stop in the knee-high grass, wading through ankle-deep flood waters, stealing herself for what was to come. As much as she wanted to fall to her knees, tilt her head up to face the rain, and not get back up, she couldn’t quit yet.
The three ninja following her burst from the trees behind, lurching to a halt when they realized their front-runner had finally stopped. “Did you find her!” one called out to her, but Sakura didn’t answer as she turned to face them. Sensing a change, one of the ninja suddenly stopped in his tracks and held his arm out to halt the others.
“Araki?” he asked, preventing his team from moving any further toward her as she stood unmoving and waiting for them. Sakura wasn’t intending to suddenly act so predatory, her shift in nature causing them to hesitate like all prey before a hunter, but she was just so tired of pretending. She let the transformation fall away and the girl in the group gasped. Sakura could still sense their confusion, and their assessments of her outfit and headband that mirrored their own was almost painful to watch.
Deciding that the charade was truly well and over, Sakura relieved them of their nervous bewilderment. “Unfortunately, no,” she called back, talking loudly to reach them through the persistent deluge around them.
“I was wondering why he was being so quiet,” one of the male voices answered, pushing forward to stand in front of his teammates. “It’s her. The Haruno girl. She’s in disguise.” Sakura could hear the girl gasp again before she grabbed onto the man’s arm fearfully to pause his advance.
Sakura pressed against the inner-pocket of her jacket, whispering, “Are you still with me, Lady Katusyu?”
“Yes, Sakura dear,” the small slug replied, slithering out to greet her despite the rain. “I’m here if you need me.”
“Hang on tight, then,” came Sakura’s instructions as she tucked her back away. “I’ll be sending more your way soon.”
A laughter broke out near the tree line and Sakura saw one man shove forward, past his concerned and apprehensive teammates. Sakura could make out his flashy, red cloak for the first time now that he was closer in the downpour. “You’ve given us exactly what we wanted—lead us far away where no one can help you, now! I am going to have so much fun beating you within an inch of your life!”
“What are you waiting for, then?” Sakura goaded, pleasantly surprised when the cloaked man rushed forward despite his teammates’ beseeching council.
The man charged at her, sloshing his way through the muddy field, and Sakura let him come, let his momentum carry him face first into the punch she had waiting for him. He sailed backward, right into his other male companion and they skipped like scattered stone across the flooding pasture. Even in the dark, Sakura could see the mud [SR1] that sprayed up around them, covering their once distinguishable features in total blackness. That felt so good. After days of secrecy, disguising her power and identity, the release of her physical abilities was positively glorious. Sakura didn’t have a ton of chakra left at her disposal after her repetitive use of the Summoning Technique, but she had the adequate amount remaining in order to take care of these three and anyone who decided to show up later.
The girl, who had avoided the collision, came for Sakura next, and as she neared, Sakura was able to finally get a decent look at her. Her hair was white beneath her black cloak’s cowl and her brow was adorned with the anti-peace symbol. Sakura wanted to talk to her, ask her opinions and learn her story, investigating her personal vendetta against the peace they had all fought so hard for during the Fourth Shinobi War. The girl quickly began to form the signs for a fire release and Sakura’s eyes widened as the heavy rain suddenly steamed around her as it hit the girl’s body and hissed into hot air. When the floodwaters pooled at Sakura’s feet began to bubble, Sakura cursed as she jumped back and into the air to avoid the boiling water below. At first, Sakura feared that the girl might have the Boil Release Kekkei Genkai, a transformation of water and fire nature energies, but as Sakura began to descend from her fall, the girl met her in the air, and Sakura soon realized that she had a unique fire release that allowed her to direct heat from pinpoints on her body. Sakura’s shielding kick that made contact with the girl’s stomach was instantly scorched through her boot from having touched her, and Sakura hissed.
“Die!” the ninja screamed, grabbing onto Sakura’s calf muscle with both burning hands and swinging her right into the arms of her knife-wielding companion. But Sakura gripped the man’s arms and simultaneously kicked against the girls’ stomach, deeper into her magma flesh, gritting her teeth at the pain, but directing her immense strength into the blow. The girl went sailing into the trees just as the red-coated man had done seconds before this second confrontation. Using the same momentum, Sakura swung up and over her captor’s shoulders, slipping easily from his grasp.
She landed behind him, a dark-haired, broad-shouldered man with silver pupil-less irises that reminded Sakura of the Kazekage. She saw these eyes clearly despite the darkness and the mud smeared across his face practically made them glow. The ninja turned on his heel to intercept her next blow, his knife catching her cheek just before he also received the brunt force of her physical strength.
Sakura could feel the water around her already tenderized ankle start to boil again, and Sakura swore, locating the girl with her eyes. Sakura had to admit that this girl was quite literally making it impossible to remain standing on her own two feet. Even if Sakura summoned chakra to the soles of her feet to walk on the surface of the five inches of saturation, Sakura knew that the water would quickly melt through her stolen shoes completely, so Sakura came up with another solution. She wouldn’t let this girl scald her from a distance; if this fire-nature ninja wanted to land another injury on Sakura, she was going to have to get up close and personal, just as Sakura liked it.
Sakura exhaled when her uninjured hand collided with the ground at her feet. “SHANNARO!” she screamed as the entire landscape fractured beneath her, spiderwebbing across the plain until all the rainwater succumbed to gravity, falling down the sides of new projectiles of earth, and down into the fissures. Sakura perched on top of one of the new pillars like a bird of night, staring down at her three recovered enemies who stared up at her with a new appreciation.
“You bitch,” the female spat up at Sakura, but Sakura ignored her. She fisted the anti-peace forehead protector on her brow and tossed it down to the three of them. She pulled back her hood and looked up into the sky as it fell on her face, the rain fingering her dyed tresses until streaks of black began to run down her chin along with the blood from her sliced cheek. Keeping it always on her person, Sakura reached into her vest and revealed her own shinobi headband, the red one bearing the Leaf Village symbol she had worn as a chunin. She tied it tightly against her forehead and across the back of her ink-dripping crown and thought how fitting it felt to bear her flag now that she was standing in Land of Fire territory. She saw her enemies’ shocked and exchanged expressions when green regenerative chakra began to glow around her knuckles, her cheek, and the various burns on her leg and ankle, healing the damage in seconds.
“You guys didn’t do a lot of research on your target, did you?” Sakura called down to them. She couldn’t understand it, the surprise. If they were not originally from Tanigakure, who had been neutral, that would mean they had all fought together in the war. So how did they not know every detail about Sakura? Sakura began to collect various pieces of information in her brain and a realization formed. Most of the members of this organization that Sakura had encountered in Tanigakure so far had not been overly remarkable. Aside from the shade she went head-to-head with in the sands surrounding Suna, everyone seemed to know the bare minimum of Sakura’s power. They knew of her, but not what she was capable of. In fact, they seemed content to hang back and relish in the fear created by their superiors, and Sakura suddenly realized why some of them might be interested in a world that created bitter and stronger generations to follow them. They were those ninja who hung back during the war, who let others—the strong and fearless—do all the work because they could not; it’s why they wanted to mimic conditions that would create strength in other ninja for them to hide behind. Huh, Sakura thought privately to herself. She wondered who exactly was taking advantage of ninja like this to kill off others who stood in their way. Who exactly was the leader?
“We know enough to kill you,” the silver-eyed one spoke, and his voice was raspy and menacing. Even his voice reminded her of the Kazekage, along with the sand-weilder’s path to redemption, and Sakura tried not to be distracted as she imagined this dark-haired ninja capable of a future where he could redirect his efforts into a righteous cause. This type of thinking, while keeping her intentions toward others good, would cloud her judgement now.
“We have to get information from her first and then deliver her to the boss,” reminded the red cloaked one, whom Sakura had all but forgotten was there after she sent him flying for his bold move to attack first.
The other two swapped looks of apprehension to one another, as if they weren’t sure they were going to be able to restrain and deliver blows to get her to talk, after all. And Sakura smiled because, she too, knew that wasn’t going to be happening.
Sakura’s finger bled once again when she bit back into it, and now that the rain had washed away most of her ivory face paint, the Hundred Healing’s seal spanned out across her forehead in black stripes. It was still activated since her very first summoning of Katsuyu, and Sakura could feel the steady drain of chakra from her body that it was costing her to maintain the states of all her captives where she had reverse summoned them back to Katsuyu’s home in Shikkotsu forest. Since Sakura wasn’t having to heal her horde of hostages, but rather, keep them all in an unconscious state, cryogenized in the chamber of Katsuyu’s flesh, the chakra being loaned to her familiar was a trickle, but it was still depleting her already diminishing levels.
“Are you alright, Sakura dear?” came Katsuyu’s voice from the inside pocket of her vest, the slug sensing her labored breathing and strain on the chakra connection between them.
Sakura nodded, whispering, “Yes. I have a few more summons in me. If more enemies appear here, I might not be able to hold onto the jutsu. The connection will be severed between us. What happens then?”
Katsuyu’s answer came back as a whisper in the relentless pattering of rain against Sakura’s flesh. “It will take them all some time to come out of comatose. When they do, they will have nowhere to go. The Shikkotsu forest is an endless maze of jungle. They’ll be in the same spot when you come for them.”
“Excellent,” Sakura responded, reaching into her waistband, and withdrawing three vials of sedative. Privately and expertly, Sakura filled three needles with the drug and placed each between her teeth until three needles protruded from her mouth like the fangs of a demon. Next, Sakura palmed her bloody hand into the top of the jagged steeple of earth on which she still stood and cried “Summoning Jutsu!” as clearly as she could manage with a mouthful of liquid sleep.
The three human-sized divisions of Katsuyu’s body slithered down the sides of the post and came to a stop when Sakura’s own feet touched level ground once more, the water no longer coagulating around her ankles.
“Here she comes!” shouted the girl, and Sakura smirked as she sprinted straight towards them through the rain, engaging each one in a pirouette of hand-to-hand combat.
Just as Sakura had once fought Sasori’s countless puppets on the end of Lady Chiyo’s chakra threads, Sakura took control of her own strings now and navigated smoothly between her enemies’ strikes like a leaf darting on the wind. Deflect, block, strike, defend, parry, punch. The actions were faster than Sakura could even think of which move to execute next, and she let her muscles act on memory alone.
She could feel the heat of the white-haired girl’s skin every time one of her open-palmed strikes grazed Sakura’s body. She was aiming for the most incapacitating of areas like the eyes, her hands, legs, or any other placement that might cripple Sakura temporarily. But every time the ninja got close to landing a hit on her, the sound of sizzling rain would alert Sakura’s sharp ears to her nearness and Sakura would dodge just in time. Sakura focused on the mud covered, silver-eyed enemy before her, turning to the side to dodge his kunai stab to her stomach. She fisted his own weapon hand with her own and used his own piercing thrust to direct it into the stomach of the red-cloaked shinobi who had come up behind her and fisted her inky, wet hair. She heard his cry at the same moment that the grip on her hair slackened. When the white-haired kunoichi recovered and came at her again, Sakura was ready. Grabbing the silver-haired ninja by the leg as he fell, Sakura swung him like her own weapon, right into the burning arms of his companion. The two of them collapsed into a tangle together, and Sakura’s knee was in the man’s back as she sank his body deeper into the lava skin of the fire-wielding ninja until he began to scream. Sakura used his screams to motivate the white-haired ninja. She would eventually stop her fire-nature jutsu.
Sakura couldn’t risk incinerating the needle, so she waited patiently, yanking out the syringe of her mouth in the meantime. She saw the girl’s eyes widen at the damage she was inflicting upon her partner, and the melting instantly stopped. Sakura plunged the needle into her neck, followed by a dose for the silver-eyed ninja. [SR2] They both fell unconscious against one another, and two of three Katusyus had already crawled to meet them.
When Sakura pulled the last syringe from her mouth and turned to face the red-cloaked man who had been stabbed, she was surprised to find him already standing before her in the darkness. He knocked the syringe out of her hand and seized Sakura’s throat, slamming her against one of the pillars of earth at Sakura’s back. The very blade that had lacerated his stomach was now pointing into her navel, still bloody and dripping from his own injury. Sakura’s next move was going to be to knee him directly where his wound bloomed the same shade as his cloak in order to create a safe space between them again. Even if he managed to cut her open, Sakura would use her Mitotic Regeneration Jutsu to heal herself before the blood loss rendered her unconscious. However, his next words made her reevaluate her actions at the last moment.
“When Mozai finally has his way with you, I’m going to enjoy every minute of it,” he snarled as he pinned her body with his. The knife in his hand dug into her flesh with every word and Sakura hissed at the sudden pain.
As she reached up to push against his hold on her throat, she choked out, “Who’s Mozai? Is he your boss?” She pretended to weaken at his hold. She needed to keep him talking and feeding her the information she wanted.
“Someone who will do a lot worse to you than I’m about to do.” His knife suddenly pulled away from her and began to snake up Sakura’s clothing, cutting a trail of blood up her bare stomach. She gritted her teeth against the pain, holding back the instinct to break the wrist around her throat. If Sakura could just get him back on the topic of her choice.
“He’s nothing without his henchmen. Didn’t you want to know what happened to the others?” she strained to ask next, spluttering the words, trying to regain his attention.
He laughed, a cruel, wicked laugh that reminded Sakura of the deranged Orochimaru. It was the sort of laugh that alerted her to his madness, the deeper and more dangerous kind of madness that a medic such as herself was easily able to recognize no matter how hard one tried to hide it. “He knows where you’ve run off to, and we will find the others soon enough now that I know your pets have taken them.” He pushed harder against her throat and despite her efforts to remain calm and focus, Sakura’s vision still blackened from the lack of oxygen and her grip on him tightened. In that moment, Sakura barely even felt Kaguya’s small body drop from her clothing. With her squinting eyes, Sakura witnessed the small slug make a dash for the syringe that Sakura had dropped earlier. At the same time, she realized that Katsuyu knew that it was their last dose of sedative and the slug wanted to either protect or retrieve it for Sakura.
The rain was still coming down so hard, a shower soaking every inch of Sakura’s newly exposed stomach. It made the knife he was ghosting her skin with wet and slick as it bounced against her skin, causing knicks and superficial lacerations where it touched. Sakura couldn’t tell if she was only feeling the rain, or the trickling of her own blood. Was it pooling at her feet with the man’s own colors of red?
“But he won’t mind if I have my fun with you first before he gets here,” came his thickened voice as he placed the hilt of his kunai between his teeth and replaced the pressure against her stomach with his fingers. They caressed her abdomen, smearing the blood there. Sakura realized in this moment that the game of holding back for information was over.
But before she could act, break his hold on her, and shove him away from her, Sakura’s stomach dropped as her vision came to focus over the man’s shoulder at the shadow that stood there in the rain, red eye flashing as he unsheathed his katana. The rain rendered him nearly invisible in the dark and Sakura sucked in a breath of alarm.
“You’re going to die if you don’t let go,” came Sakura’s hurried warning to the man still inching his hand up her shirt. The vice on Sakura’s throat instantly slackened when a blade came across the man’s throat, not hesitating to sunder the man’s head from his shoulders. Before the damage was inflicted, Sakura’s hand shot out and grabbed Sasuke’s katana just in time, the bite of the blade sliding against the palm of her hand until she stopped its movement completely with her grip. She fisted the quaking blade, and it was immediately abandoned.
Sakura was powerless to stop what happened next. In the very next second, the man was thrown from her, catapulted near across the field as Sasuke pivoted to ram his fist into the side of the man’s face. Sasuke, too, disappeared as he teleported, switching positions with the bloody kunai the man had possessed. Before the kunai stuck true in the grass at Sakura’s feet, the Uchiha was on top of his victim in a millisecond, and Sakura could hear the man’s screams as she ran toward them in the rain, still clutching Sasuke’s katana in a bloody grip.
“Sasuke, don’t!” she screamed, desperate to reach him in time. Sakura soon realized that the distance the man had been sent wasn’t just a coincidence. It served two purposes: to deliver a harder impact, and to generate enough space from Sakura to give Sasuke the extra second of time to exact whatever revenge he had in mind. The kunoichi spared one minute to find Katsuyu, a bright pinpoint of white in the overwhelming darkness. Beneath the slug, lay the last injection of sedative, and she scooped them both up.
“Follow me,” she instructed the last of the three summonings of Katsuyu’s body.
The screaming was Sakura’s only compass in the storm, guiding her to the source of the brutalization. When she finally neared them, two dark obscurities in the night, Sasuke was fisting both of the man’s hands with his single grasp. The black flames of Amaterasu were already ravishing the bones of his ten fingers.
“You seem awfully fond of these hands of yours,” Sasuke sneered, “let’s begin here, shall we?” The flames spread to the man’s palms and then his wrists, a drawn-out creeping of flickering black that couldn’t be anything other than an intentional deliberateness—to maximize the pain of it. The red-cloaked ninja’s screams were louder than any suffering Sakura had ever heard.
The kunoichi could see the smirk on Sasuke’s face as she finally came around to face him, and her stomach turned to ice. Even his words delivered a blow to her heart in a familiar way. It was like the Chunin Exams: the ferocity, the visible fury rolling off of him in waves, the embracing of inner-darkness. Sakura had only ever seen Sasuke resort to methods of torture a few times in her life, and the sight struck such fear into her heart. Don’t you see? She thought to herself at the terrifying vision of the Uchiha stooped over the scorching man. Don’t you see what the price of his love will be?
“Sasuke! Stop! You can’t kill him!” she shouted over the rain and guttural begging, grabbing onto the Uchiha’s clothing, fisting the wet fabric in her fingers. He didn’t budge, just let the fire spread as he watched and drank the pinned man’s screams, as if hearing them would quench a deeply buried thirst.
When Sakura’s immense strength lifted Sasuke to his feet and pulled him away from the man, Sasuke’s leer twisted into a frown and a different sort of fury filled his eyes. As if Sasuke sensed her impending interference and decided to finish the job before she could convince him to stop, the fire erupted over the man’s chest with a quickening ferocity. At his resolve, Sakura panicked, making Sasuke look at her with two palms to his face.
His dead eyes found her, and he spat a response to her previous demand, “He doesn’t get to live.”
The earsplitting screams intensified, and Sakura physically shook Sasuke, but he just glared down at her as the flames resumed their feast upon the man’s vaporizing flesh. “You’re not going to do this. You can’t kill someone because of me. I won’t let you go back to that!”
The words broke Sasuke’s carefully controlled anger. “I have spared hundreds today in your name! If it weren’t for you, they would all be dead. One of them can die, and it’s going to be him.”
“This isn’t who you are anymore!” Sakura shouted, willing her words into a truthful existence. She would hold on to him, the Sasuke she loved. The Sasuke who could see reason, act on ninja principles, and not let his emotions override his judgment. Not anymore. As a last attempt, she added. “You can be merciful. You don’t have to kill unless it’s absolutely necessary.”
Sasuke scoffed, choosing not to hide his smoldering ire as he broke eye contact with Sakura in order to survey the damage being done to the man who had attacked her. “It’s necessary.”
When he didn’t say anything else, Sakura demanded, “Spare one more. This is my mission and I need him to live.”
After a moment of deliberation, Sasuke snarled, like an animal being forced to give up its kill, and turned his back to her. With the dying of the Amaterasu, the screams turned into painful whimpers as the man spasmed on the ground.
Sakura knelt beside the man, who now looked at her with desperation in his eyes. A begging for mercy that hadn’t been there earlier, now glistened with tears. “Remember that I spared your life,” Sakura told him, penetrating the vein in his collar with the needle of the syringe. “Maybe one day, a future version of you will deserve it.” The man’s eyelids fell, and even in his unconsciousness, Sakura could sense the relief that came with oblivion. The third slug had appeared by her side, and Sakura watched as Lady Katsuyu began channeling Sakura’s chakra in order to heal the man’s injuries. They were deep, penetrating wounds that would require intensive medical treatment. The draw on Sakura’s reserves zapped her, real fatigue coming over her now.
“I can’t hold the summoning,” Sakura relayed to the two Katsuyus, one small and gliding over Sakura’s shoulder, the other encapsulating the injured man as the creature healed his injuries. She was the first to vanish, just like all those summoned before.
“Don’t worry about me,” came Katsuyu’s small reassuring voice. “I can handle the rest until you arrive. Will you be okay?”
Sakura nodded, “Yes. Thank you, Lady Katsuyu.” With the last of the jutsu released, Sakura exhaled a sigh of relief as the drain on her chakra reserves lessened. She caught her breath, sitting in the muddy grass for a moment.
When she turned to Sasuke, he was standing over her, silently brooding with an emotionless mask slipped back into place.
Sakura wanted to yell at him for his recklessness. For interfering when she was more than capable of handling this herself. “You have potentially jeopardized my mission,” she informed him bitterly, rising to stand toe to toe with him.
He didn’t respond, unmoving as he received her rebuke. Even the rain hailed down on them harder if that were even possible. And then the Uchiha was moving, taking her bloody palm, the hand that had come between Sasuke’s killing blow and his victim, between his fingers. She fisted it rebelliously, stiffening her arm, not quite ready to let her anger go.
And so he grabbed her wrist instead, pulling her with him toward the circumference of trees closest to them.
“I can’t leave,” she protested, digging her heals more firmly into the ground. She became immovable. “More of them could be on their way. I need to intercept them.” Sakura didn’t know how many more there would be, or what she was going to do to incapacitate them now that she was no longer able to summon Katsuyu. She would have to dig deep, fight until she couldn’t stand, pummeling them until she knocked them unconscious.
Still not looking at anything but the wrist in which he gripped as if Sakura could be ripped away at any second, Sasuke confessed. “Every person who was headed in this direction in pursuit of you tonight was handled. I shoved each of them into another dimension.”
Sakura’s eyebrows rose as she stared at him speechlessly. For the first time since she observed him, Sakura noticed his heavy breathing. His Rinnegan eye was closed and the Sharingan deactivated, and Sakura recognized the tell of his exhaustion. He had overexerted himself, definitely a sign that he really had transported an unknown number of men through his Rinnegan’s portal tonight.
“At least for now, let’s get out of this rain,” he told her. “There’s a place not far from here.”
Sakura pulled her hand free from his grasp and Sasuke didn’t move to take it again, accepting and mirroring her own frustration. After a moment, he turned, and Sakura followed the coiled back of the Uchiha into the shelter of the trees, allowing him to lead her from the battlefield.
#naruto#ssfanfiction#naruto fanfiction#sakura hiden#sakura haruno#sakura uchiha#approaching sun#narutoshippuden#naruto gaiden#approachingsun#sasusakufanfiction#sasusaku
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The Doctor Who Script collection dropped earlier this week and I've already spent, uh, many hours digging through various scripts (including all of the SJA scripts!), but if you've been here awhile, you know that the first one I went for was School Reunion.
It was really fun reading through what was changed, what beats were scripted vs. which weren't, and the emotional backdrops. One of the things that struck me most was that, for a very bittersweet episode, the script absolutely leaned harder into the bitter side of bittersweet than the episode as aired did. There were elements that I'm very glad didn't stay as well as moments I desperately wish had been kept. Overall, it was a joy to see the original draft of the story that got me into Doctor Who all those years ago.
He's so happy. Transported. Mesmerised. Dazed, reeling from the encounter. Oh, my HEART. This scene was pretty much aired as written, and David played it to the nines, of course, but it's really sweet to see how explicit the script is about how overwhelmed the Doctor is in this moment. So much of the episode focuses on Sarah's emotional reaction (rightly, if not always perfectly) and the hurt/discomfort that colors their relationship once she realizes it's the Doctor, so to have this moment of the Doctor's unadulterated happiness to see her is really lovely.
More highlights (including things that were cut, changed—for better or worse, and just directions that made me happy or that I found interesting) under the cut!
This scene was definitely different. The script didn't include the bit about them both investigating at the school and it has a bit more flippancy. I can't imagine this scene without the iconic slow shot of Sarah backing up and turning to see the Doctor behind her, so I'm really, really glad that they moved away from the idea of them colliding into each other and leaned into the gravitas a bit more.
Oh, what I would've given for them to have kept this!!!
On to the diner scene...oh boy, feelings about this. I've written essays about this scene—how in some ways it feels perfect and appropriate and Sarah's grief/lines like "you were my life" make a lot of sense in the context of the shock and hurt of an old wound reopened so violently, how that shouldn't be taken to mean that she'd wasted her life or that she's been paralyzed by a broken heart for thirty years, how everything is heightened and that's okay even if, on their own, some of these beats paint a grim picture—but whew. This would've been harder to swallow with the last bit, which I remember Lis having mentioned as something she fought back against.
I actually do love that she mentioned UNIT and Harry! But yeah, very glad that Lis talked them out of the last lines. There clearly wasn't an effort to adhere to Big Finish canon but minimizing and deflating her successful career on top of everything else would've been upsetting, and there just wasn't a good reason to paint her entire life as tragic outside of the raw reactions the Doctor's return illicit.
"If I thought about you..." Project it onto my GRAVESTONE!
THIS WAS SCRIPTED I AM SCREAMING, this is one of my FAVORITE little beats of the episode (so much so that I made a gif out of it like 13 years ago!)
The Sarah/Rose dynamic was a little 🙄 in the episode and a little more-so in the script, but I liked this bit:
The explicit apology is nice, but goddamn, I wish they'd kept "He doesn't deserve us."
I'm fascinated by the fact that in the script, she shrugs him off! The script generally has a slightly more bitter tinge than the episode itself did, which is so interesting to me, and that I'm glad was tempered.
The goodbye scene as scripted is set in the ruins of the school. I like that they moved it and created some space and time—everyone's changed clothes, they've had some breathing room, emotions have cooled a bit. It serves the scene better than I think this would have. This bit of the script includes a line that I always assumed had been cut given her line in the episode about "And like I said, I wouldn't have missed it for the world". Other than that, the dialogue and beats are pretty much what we see onscreen.
And then:
I have a very messy tangle of feelings about "Last chance" / "I know" that I'll be sorting out for the next 4-6 business weeks, so...stay tuned. (I also have an essay about ace-spectrum Sarah Jane that builds on the "he was a tough act to follow" line that WILL exist outside of my head at some point!)
Anyway! This was a fun deep dive 💞 I got a Doctor/Sarah-inspired tattoo earlier this month so I'm really in my renaissance era here!otp
#doctor who#sarah jane smith#school reunion#i will be going through the sja scripts next if anyone cares#otp: my sarah jane
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WIP Tag Game
Rules: Post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! Then tag as many people as you have WIPs.
I was tagged by @cosmic-lullaby and @iamfandomcrazy!
Oh boy ok this will take a second. My files are very organized. Let's simplify and go by fandom.
The Addams Family
The Multi-Chaps
All Roads Lead to Rome
Chapter 1, 2, 3, 3 raw draft, 4, 5, Notes, Notes General
2. I Bit Him so He's Mine
Hyde Wednesday AU Notes, Chapter One, I Bit Him so He's Mine Tyler's POV, I Bit Him so He's Mine Wednesday's POV original document
3. I See You
I See You chp 1, I See You Notes, I See You Prologue
4. Love Letter AU Chp 1
One-Shots
5. Day 6 Mind Control hurts Wednesday whumptober 2023
6. Day 10 Body Swap au Whumptober 2023
7. vamp tyler scrap
The Series
8. Tyler Raised By Werewolves AU
My Best Friend's Brother Chapter 1
My Best Friend's Brother Chapter 2
Enid Sinclair
My Boyfriend's Sister
Tug of War
The Blood Moon
9. Tyler's Bad Year
Day 24 Failed to Escape
Day 25 nightmare flashback why didn't you save me whumptober 2023
Day 26 magical exhaustion or injury curse whumptober 2023
Day 27 forgotten locked away whumptober 2023
Day 28 hair pulling oxygen deprivation sweating whumptober 2023
Day 29 the easy way or the hard way bargaining forced to choose whumptober 2023
Day 30 possession mind games coma whumptober 2023
Day 31 PTSD headaches crying
10. Her Monster Verse
Her Monster Sequel Notes
Her Monster Verse
11. Just a Couple of Teenage Tearaways
4 October Outreach Day
5 November the 18th
12. Soulmates Aren't Found
13. Vampire Tyler
5 Times Nevermore Caught Wednesday with a Bandage and One Time Donovan Caught Her
5 Times Tyler Nearly Outed Himself and One Time He Revealed Himself
5 plus one
14. Warning: She Bites verse
Warning She Bites Sequel Notes
15. Weyler Week 2023
Day 2 If the Good Die Young I Want to Live Forever
16. Designated Dick Dealer Sequel
17. Til Death
Til Death Part 2
Til Death Part 3
Notes (These are all pure outlines unconnected to anything else)
18. X File Crossover
19. Wylercest au
20. Wednesday isn't a ghost au
21. Tyler finds Fran au
22. Tyler deadname Stacy au
23. Tumblr Prompt Ask Amnesia au
24. Tumblr Posts (collection of prompts i have on my blog)
25. trans tyler post top surgery romcom au
26. The Blood Oath Notes
27. Tale of Two Wednesdays
28. Steal your boyfriend au
29. Series of Dhalias au
30. Secret Identity not so secret au
31. scene scraps
32. scene scraps (2)
33. Refusing the Call General Notes
34. raven drunk sex fantasy au
35. Pregnant Wednesday and Panicking Tyler au
36. Tyler Pizza Boy au
37. mtf tyler x lesbian wednesday au
38. Just unlocked missing time au
39. hybernation au
40. hostage au notes
41. heat sex fic but it's only aftercare
42. grindr au
43. ghoul tyler au
44. Ghost Wednesday au
45. Faux Monsterfucker au
46. Enid mtf knots Tyler ftm
47. Donovan Wednesday morning after
48. cucking xavier au
49. clone wednesday au
50. bianca x tyler siren call au
Okay I'm losing patience. I have after this files for:
Crossovers
Encanto
Hannibal
Harry Potter
MCU
mermaid
Original Works
Teen Wolf
The Umbrella Academy
Twilight
Until Dawn
I will include my wips for Until Dawn and if anyone wants to hear what's in the others, I will make a new post.
Until Dawn
Multi-Chaps
51. Blackwood Mountain
Blackwood Mountain Outline
Blackwood Mountain Part 1
BM PI Chp 1
BM PI Chp 2
BM PI Chp 3
tagging: @obsidianpen, @mister-tom-a-dildo-lover, @mistressvera, @realisticintentions, @realmermaid333, @suchaladyy, @leavesdriftinginthewind, @dispatchvampire, @dark-visitors
#wednesday addams#wednesday netflix#wyler#tyler galpin#my writing#weyler#wednesday fanfic#the addams family#tag game#donovan x wednesday#tynid#tyler x bianca#wyclair#until dawn#josh washington#this is just my wips in two fandoms and this is just the ones that have official documents rn
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OC's as obscure references
Thank u for tagging me @vspin 🖤
I was tagged in this like two weeks ago, saved it in my drafts and then forgot about it, but now I have another oc and remembered!
A lot of these are suggestions from my friend cus im really bad at the writing part of my OCs...
also I spent a lot more time on this than needed cause I needed an excuse to make more gifs/edits of my gals 🥰🥰
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤFREYJA / ‘SE TIMPA VELKRYS’
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤLILLITH / ‘THE DARK URGE’
FREYJA
ANIMAL: White stag
COLOURS: deep oak, silver white, bronze, navy, black / gold, deep crimson, amber, black (post-resurrection)
MONTH: January
SONGS: Playlist (soon oops)
NUMBER: idk
PLANTS: Evergreen trees, hydrengea / black dahlia (post-resurrection)
SMELLS: witch hazel, leather, mint, firewood, rosemary, lavender
GEMSTONE: Labradorite / Spessartine (post-resurrection)
TIME OF DAY: Dawn
SEASON: End of winter
PLACES: (not sure of real places soo) The Underdark, Temple of Bhaal
DRINKS: Cherry spiced wine
ELEMENT: Necrosis (is that an element? I dunno)
ASTROLOGICAL SIGN: Aries
FOOD:
SEASONINGS: Rosemary, ginger, cardamom, mint
SKY: Misty sunrise
WEATHER: Cold, rainy, misty and stormy / Solar storm (post-resurrection)
MAGICAL POWER: Wall of ice / Wall of fire (post-resurrection)
WEAPONS: Long sword, long bow
SOCIAL MEDIA: nope
MAKEUP PRODUCT: eyeshadow
CANDY: Black licorice
METHOD OF LONG DISTANCE TRAVEL: Horse
ART STYLE: Renaissance
FEAR: Dying alone
MYTHOLOGICAL CREATURE: The White Stag, Leshen (post-resurrection)
PIECE OF STATIONARY: Ink
THREE EMOJIS: 🌫️ 🐺 🗡️ / ❤️🔥🦌🌄(post-resurrection)
CELESTIAL BODY: WISE J085510.83-071442.5 / Betelgeuse (post-resurrection)
*post-resurrection is just something in terms of game of thrones stuff, inspired by this fanfic I’m reading, but with some changes hehe :)
LILLITH
ANIMAL: Starling
COLOURS: Wisteria, crimson, black
MONTH: December
SONGS: Playlist
NUMBER: 13 (according to my friend hehe)
PLANTS: Lily, bat flower
SMELLS: Fresh blood, jasmine blossoms, rosemary, cognac, bergamot (she gets more of her nice smells from Astarion…)
GEMSTONE: Garnet
TIME OF DAY: Late night
SEASON: Winter
PLACES: (not sure of real places soo) The Underdark, Temple of Bhaal
DRINKS: Cherry spiced wine
ELEMENT: Necrosis (is that an element? I dunno)
ASTROLOGICAL SIGN: Aries
FOOD: Liver (origin of said organ is unspecified for legal reasons)
SEASONINGS: Saffron, rosemary, red chilli flakes
SKY: Full lunar eclipse
WEATHER: Dark/Cold/Foggy
MAGICAL POWER: Circle of death
WEAPONS: Greatsword, dagger
SOCIAL MEDIA: she don’t know what that is
MAKEUP PRODUCT: Black lipstick
CANDY: Cinnamon hearts
METHOD OF LONG DISTANCE TRAVEL: walking mostly, even though she got no damn shoes on
ART STYLE: Romanticism
FEAR: Father, the Urge
MYTHOLOGICAL CREATURE: Valravn
PIECE OF STATIONERY: she isn’t much of a writer… more of a stabby stabby… so maybe a letter opener?
THREE EMOJIS: 🩸🌑🗡️
CELESTIAL BODY: Triton, moon of Neptune
Credits: x | x | x
tagging: @whoopsitsloobis @tugoslovenka @catching-fire-in-the-wind @julietvoid @hazellblogs @aeternaamantess (sorry if u have been tagged before) + anyone who wants to do this! You can say I tagged you :)
#tag game#bg3#bg3 oc#oc#oc: lillith/the dark urge#oc: freyja baratheon / se timpa velkrys#yes they have the same face and hair but lets just PRETEND
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Oh My God, You Did Not!
Words: 1095
Warnings: angst, reference to reader and Spencer having previous relationship, me almost writing smut but stopping cause...year, probably poor writing and OOC characters but whatever
Criminal Minds Masterlist
Main Masterlist
Join my Taglist
Just a reminder in case none of you read my fic "I Would Tell Them If I Could, But I Can't" Reader and Spencer had a relationship for about 2 years before they broke up and then they just kinda slept with one another after bad cases which lead to the reader getting pregnant. They kinda have a co-parenting lifestyle where reader is the “lead” parent and Spencer get’s child (Avery) on weekends and some weekday
Takes place around Season 13 Episode 3 (episode where Matt keeps his wife from going into work on time...which is sorta how I got inspired for it)
I literally forgot about this…it’s been sitting in my drafts for about 1-2 weeks lol
This was originally written for my OC Abby (which a longer version will be posted on my other account @imnotobsessedwfictionalchracters later)
Anywho, enjoy
Love Z <3
Y/N opened her door and was surprised to see Spencer there. She gave him a soft smile but before she could say anything, he took a single stride in and grabbed her face in his, kissing her harshly. She hardly had time to breathe as he kissed her. When he finally pulled away, she breathed heavily and held her hands on his chest.
“I want you. I don’t care that it’s against the rules. I don’t care that we could get kicked off of the team or out of the FBI as a whole, I just fucking need you.”
“Spence, Avery is--”
“Asleep. I think I still know her sleep schedule. It’s past 3 am. She’s asleep Abs.”
“But you just--”
“I know, I know. I worked to get reinstated, but I don’t care.” He brushed some of her hair out of her face, “If I get kicked out because I love you, then I don’t care.”
She gripped his shirt and this time she was the one who pulled him into the kiss. This time his hands went down to feel under her shirt, she made a noise that was swallowed by the kiss. She moved backwards and heard him kick the door shut. Her hands fumbled as she walked backwards and tried to unbutton his shirt. They stumbled a few times but eventually made it to her bedroom where he kicked the door shut there as well.
She felt her knees reach the back of her bed and she allowed herself to fall back on it, pulling him down with her. She smiled as she finally succeeded in unbuttoning his shirt and he shrugged it off and she also pulled her top over her head. Spencer attached his lips to hers again and she felt his hands fall down to the buttons of her pants.
She pulled away for a moment, “We won’t get in trouble if no one finds out. N-no one has found out about,” She stopped mid sentence as she moaned after he bit and sucked her chest. “About Avery. No one has to know anything.”
“I’d like that. Keeping you as my dirty little secret.”
She nodded, “I do too.” She glanced over at the door, “Is it locked?” He nodded his head vigorously as he pulled her pants down. That was the last confirmation that she was fine with this.
----
Y/N groaned as she woke up. Her whole body was sore. She felt the spot next to her and was surprised to see that Spencer wasn’t there. But that was when she clocked just how much light was coming through the window. She shot up, which she regretted but pretended it was alright and grabbed her phone. Letting out a string of curses as she realized the time. It was 30 minutes until she was supposed to be at work and it took her that much time to get there, without traffic.
She unlocked her phone after she saw the text from Spencer that was sent to her around 2 hours ago. When she usually would wake up and get Avery ready for school.
“I’m getting Avery ready and taking her to school. You needed
the sleep you were getting and I didn’t want to wake you.”
“I’ll see you when you get in the office later.”
She tossed her phone on her bed as she stumbled over to her bathroom. She turned the faucet on and tossed the washcloth in and her toothbrush. She quickly brushed her teeth and spit the excess out in her other sink. She tossed her toothbrush in her holder and wiped her mouth before she grabbed the washcloth and soap and washed her face. She moved as fast as she could while putting on her makeup, thankful that it was just second nature for her at this point. She grabbed a clip and quickly brushed her hair before tossing it up.
Running into the closet, she grabbed a set of clothes and got ready as quickly as she could. She grabbed her phone and bag as she was slipping her shoes on. She smiled as she ran into her kitchen and realized he had made coffee, happy that she had a new pot that kept it warm for a few hours. She grabbed her travel mug and made her cup before grabbing her keys and dashing out the door to her car.
----
Y/N wasn’t even sure if she had locked her apartment as she stood in the elevator. She was 50 minutes late. She knew that Luke and JJ would give her shit for it. And once Emily would be done getting mad at her for being so late, she would too.
She ran into the office and tossed her bag on her desk as she ran to the conference room. Spencer had already texted her that they were meeting about a new case. She nearly tripped and fell into the room from running.
“Sorry! Sorry! I know I’m late! My alarms must have not gone off. I’m so sorry!”
“It’s alright Y/L/N. Just grab a file and get your go bag, we’ll get you up to speed on the jet.” Y/N nodded as she breathlessly grabbed a file, refusing to give a glance to Spencer. She walked out of the room and back to her desk in order to grab her go bag.
“So, why were you late?”
She looked up at JJ, “I told you, alarms.”
“Nah, I don’t believe it. You have a...look on you. Something I haven’t seen in...around 5 years.”
Y/N looked down bashfully, “Shut up.”
“Oh. My. God. You did not!”
She grabbed her go bag from underneath her desk and just shrugged. She saw JJ lean forward on her desk and look at her intently. “Spence told me he got to take Avery to school. Won’t deny, I found it weird, but I just thought you had something to run and do this morning. When I asked Emily she said you hadn’t mentioned needing the ability to come in late. And so when you do, you’re flustered. Just like you were back before Avery was born. Spence looked less stressed and tense and so do you.” JJ gave her a smirk, “Or maybe I’m just delusional again.”
Y/N rolled her eyes, “Even if what you were suggesting was true, I cannot say a thing as we are on the clock.”
JJ smiled and leaned back, “Guess I’ll just have to wait for the next time our kids hang out.”
Y/N smiled, “I guess you will.”
#spencer#reid#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid imagine#criminal#minds#criminal minds#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds imagine#x reader#imagine
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Asking some writers/artists I follow:
Is there anything in your fic/comic that you as the author know about, but won't end up in the actual story?
oh for sure
i'll start with the TMNT stuff first because of your PFP, but we gonna be here a while.
[lab rats stuff at the bottom]
warning: fic spoilers galore
In WIBE, one of the characters we meet is Yuichi Usagi, who works at the human ROTM. He also works in the original ROTM. He was robbed while on a trip to the Hidden City, and is originally from a different city entirely. Hueso is doing his best to help him out, but it'll likely be a long time before Yuichi gets to go home.
Some other WIBE background characters in WIBE include: MM!Kendra, MM!Robyn O'Neil, MM!Irma, & MM!Casey Jones. I don't have a lot to say abt Kendra and Irma, since it's been a long time since I wrote any of it down, but I can give it my best shot with Robyn and Casey.
Robyn has been diagnosed with Generalised Anxiety disorder for a few years pre-fic. She's in her first year of college which is out-of-state, and does her best to check up on her family via phone call at least every other week. She's also sort of invested in all of April's new drama, but she won't admit it.
Casey's been playing hockey for as long as he can remember, and intends to keep at it for as long as he's physically able. He's also got a knack for engineering, and I'd gamble that sometime not long after the ending of WIBE, he'd start up the Casey Jones vigilante batshittery. His parents are divorced, but he spends most of his time with his Jewish mother, and while he's never been actually taught much about his religion he accepts it as a part of his identity, and if people don't like that then they shouldn't be around him in the first place. He finds the existence of the turtles to be one of the coolest things ever, but after actually getting to know Raph and the others, it doesn't impress him as much as it used to. (If I had time, I'd add in a tiny crush on Raph, but I'm an aro with WAY too many ideas for this tiny fic)
Then there's experienced fighters, where the main thing is me ALWAYS knowing what song is playing in the background. I really love how much music is in MM, and I love being able to say hey! here's the musical vibes of the environment!
sort of on that topic, i've got a hc that any song with even small references to space are songs that rise, 2k12, and MM leo are more likely to enjoy. they don't realize these patterns, but they sure are there.
and to end off the music rant, one of these days i'm gonna make a playlist of songs that I think the rise crew all collectively agree are good enough (this is what space feels like, goodie bag, punk tactics, etc. etc.)
there's also two in one, which is based off an au by @blackfire-fanfiction. I have to be real cautious abt what I put in there, because a lot of people are looking at it instead of the extended context of the real thing, not to mention how many Thoughts that aren't really canon I have about it.
For instance: today I had a good 30 minute daydreaming session abt the concept of rise!Donnie reading leonardo's notebook while he's comatose post-rise movie and finding out about the switching
in dimension desync, I poke a bit at my head canons about peni parker's movie universe and her mental health at home, and have expanded on this even further in an abandoned draft. this is going to be LONG, so here we go:
Gwen Stacy and Richard Parker were around in Peni's universe before she herself was, each piloting a mech of their own [Ven#m and Sp//DR]. A few months after Peni's mother is pregnant with her, Richard dies in action, and a few months later, Ven#m sort of devours Gwen (go read the comics because it's really fucked up but idk how to describe it)
So then the role of SP//DR is forcefully thrust upon Peni at the age of eleven, and her connection with SP//DR isn't exactly... perfect.
in my team blue universe, I'm fleshing the hell out of Sam-13 and Shadowcat (both from earth 65). Sam was created by corrupt parts of SHIELD (that have yet to have been identified as corrupt) but now is just a regular agent. Cap returned to their dimension when he was 14 and has been in charge of training him ever since. Cap is stubborn to a fault and is def being manipulated by the corrupt agents, but none of the kids have gotten close to that bigger picture yet. Meanwhile, Kitty was inducted into the weapon x program (or 65's equivalent of it, I don't remember much of the wolverine origin story) at the age of 8, and despite odds survived. Wolverine took her in, and she's been helping him bounty hunt since about 13, even though he's trying to stop her.
team blue is also starting to extend to universes that the spider-verse movies don't really deal with through plants that have yet to be explained. but miguel's spite at e-199999 has definitely transferred, which means that, if they were ever to interact, not many of the main team would like the mcu-vengers
in my very obscure mech-x4 series, Olivia (who is only referenced by name once in the show) is veracity's little sister, who is 7 years old.
This series is more of a set of vaguely connected oneshots, but still.
i could go ON AND ON about Oliver in all of my mighty med/lab rats fics, but in short: arcturion made his hair start growing in blonde, which he hates. Horace is his adopted dad and so it sucks ass when he dies. Oliver also comes with built in hypothermia!
This is also definitely a headcanon, but I think that in EF once the rats have the upgraded chips, Chase's laser bō is green instead of blue, and his super senses are togglerable (to a degree)
I also like to imagine Kaz's lil bro Kyle is his number one fan and nobody in his family listens to him when he claims that Kaz is one of the bionic guys on the news.
... yeah I think that's enough for now
#asks#wibe#wouldn't it be easier#z rambles#headcanons#rottmnt headcanons#TMNT headcanons#lab rats#mighty med#elite force
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Alright I have decided that ALTA is my current hyperfixation after seeing so many videos on TikTok and Twitter (will NEVER call it X). Therefore, I drafted an entire timeline for the show with aged-up characters and Zutara endgame. Without further ado here is my idea:
Zuko – 16 (original) => 18/22
Sokka – 15 (original) => 17/21
Katara – 14 (original) => 16/20
Aang – 12 (original) => 14/18
Toph – 12 (original) => 14/18,
Suki – 15 (original) => 17/21
Azula – 14 (original) => 16/20
Winter Solstice (1st half of S1) – characters two years older
Same start as the show, Aang is told of Sozins Comet by Roku, of the power it holds and the destruction it left the last time it was over the world.
Norther Water Tribe (2nd half of S1)
This might take a little longer than in the show mainly bc the group stays in the NWT longer; they stay closer to eight months allowing Katara to surpass Pakku in waterbending (misogyny is still there). Sokka also is able to flex his brain muslces a bit more in military tactics by being part of the planning of dealing with the FN and how the NWT is gonna help (he gets them to send benders to where their father might be). Princess Yue still becomes the moon spirit…she in fact helps out Katara and Aang later on in the series. Zuko and Iroh have the same storylines happening, however, they might have a small head start being fugitives within the Earth Kingdom, Zuko starts some of his journey as the trio is still in the NWT.
Timeline is a year.
Earthbender Teacher (1st half of S2) – characters three years older (takes place over six months)
Same concept as the show, might have prolonged the moves around the Earth Kingdom closer six months. Think of them spending a few weeks in each location that they can with the added benefit of Azula/Ty Lee/Mai hunting them down. During the Anti-Avatar Day doesn’t get solved in a day but over a few weeks, the villagers are mad and they wish to be assholes. Plus they chase our Sokka and Katara after they arrest Aang, this forces the siblings to have a heart-to-heart about what they are doing. Once they get Aang back, they continue on like normal and meet Toph who is still the Blind Bandit, she is 13 when they meet. The talk with her family is a bit more uptight and formal, think nobility that thinks they are royalty and not just rich merchants (add an additional month onto this). Still run into Zuko/Iroh/Azula and have the BEST scene ever. Appa being taken still happens, Katara has to stop Aang in the Avatar State…the solar eclipse they discover takes place in a year.
Journey to Ba Sing Se (2nd half of S2) – takes place over eight months
Glaring difference is that Toph discovers Iroh and Zuko in the Lower Ring with their tea shop. She is unsure about what to do until Iroh sits down with her for some tea and explains things to her. From there everything else happens at a much slower pace, the King will still not see them, the Dai Li are still an evil organization, Azula still takes over Ba Sing Se, Zuko still betrays Katara in the catacombs, Aang is still killed, and Iroh is still taken prisoner.
Timeline is a year.
Road to Invasion (1st half of S3) – take places over a year
Aang is out for five months after being shot with lightning, the group hides in with the FN population. Katara becomes the Painted Lady, however, none of the group learns of her activities and she maintains the persona well after. She runs into the Blue Spirit along their stint across the FN. Zuko was brought back as a hero and then sent on a tour of some of the colonies closest to the FN where he maintains his Blue Spirit persona. Tour isn’t super long but during that time he learns this isn’t what he wants, Mai also is understanding and leaves with Ty Lee during the Day of the Black Sun arc. He also knows the Avatar is still alive (boy isn’t that stupid but he is still angsty). Katara still learns bloodbending, she is more harden in this version and she promises Aang not to do it anymore BUT she also takes a moment to think things over at night.
Sozin’s Comet (2nd half of S3) – takes place over a year
Same start to this arc. Zuko isn’t as awkward, but he still has trouble explaining what he means (boy is GUILTY). Katara still threatens to kill him. Instead of Combustion Man, FN soldiers find them bc Ozai told them to trail Zuko when he left to kill him. He saves the Gaang and starts to become his teacher. Boiling Rock happens bc of course it does but it takes place over an entire month, only this time Azula doesn’t have Mai and Ty Lee with her, she just had soldiers to help catch them. Zuko starts to see his sister slipping a bit (we still getting the Angi Kai though, Azula will just be a little more unstable). Southern Raiders happens and Katara kills the man bc he wasn’t that weak and defenseless as the show made it. Ember Island takes place over six months. Aang leaves soon after the Ember Island Players, for the first time (give it two weeks where he starts to work through his emotional intelligence). Aang with leave again, a month before the Comet which will have everything happen as it should. Ozai defeated, Azula defeated, Ba Sing Se reclaimed.
Timeline is two years.
Total timeline is four years.
Fifth Peace Summit – takes place over three weeks
Zuko – Fire Lord, 27
Sokka – Future Cheif of Southern Water Tribe, 26
Katara – Master Waterbender, Mater Healer, Ambassador for the Southern Water Tribe, 25
Suki – Head of Fire Lord Zuko’s Security Detail, Kyoshi Warrior Captain, 26
Toph – Beifong heiress, Master Earthbender, Master Metalbender, Creator of Beifong Metalbending Academy, 23
Aang – Avatar, Peacekeeper, Ambassador for the Air Nomads, 23
Azula – Fire Nation Princess, 25
Ursa – Fire Lady, age unknown
Iroh – Retired General, Fire Nation Councilman, Tea Shop Owner, age unknown
Zuko and Katara had a moment at Ember Island but once the war ended, they decided to work on their nations, to help bring about peace. They have not seen each other besides at the summits for the last four years, during the first year Katara stayed at the palace for six months healing Zuko’s new scar but left soon after to go back to the SWT to bridge the gap between the NWT. They have spoken via letters, spoke about their frustrations, dreams, and desires that they have for the new world. Their unspoken desire for each other has not faltered over the years and in fact was flamed via their written correspondence. While no one knew about their moment on Ember Island, their friends and family were not blind to what was going on between them.
#avatar the last airbender#katara#avatar aang#sokka#toph beifong#suki atla#zutara#fanfic#I have no idea where I did this#yet here we are
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Quarry - Chapter 9 (Part 1)
Pairing: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) x f!reader
Summary: Din Djarin is on what he expects to be his last bounty hunt for Greef Karga. After all, Nevarro is swiftly moving away from its previous reputation as a Guild member’s paradise, and Din has more important concerns now, like finding a Jedi to train his mysterious foundling. However, after capturing a wanted starship engineer who would rather go anywhere other than “home,” the Mandalorian is forced to reassess his priorities.
Your taste of freedom had been brief but glorious. Now you are a prisoner of the most infamous bounty hunter in the Outer Rim – it’s only a matter of time before he turns you in. There isn’t much you would not do to keep from being sent home, but as you find yourself growing closer to your captor and his strange little companion, you start to wonder whether escape is really what you want.
Set after Chapter 13: The Jedi but before Chapter 14: The Tragedy.
Chapter Tags & Warnings: 18+ MDNI! Reader is Mando's live-in starship engineer, second-person POV, Din Djarin POV, no use of Y/N, minimal descriptors of reader character, unresolved sexual tension, pining, light angst, implications of nudity
Series Masterlist | Read on AO3
A/N: I see this chapter as the first half of a two-parter. I split it in half for ease of consumption and because when I originally wrote it, I hadn't been able to post in ages. Enjoy these two little vignettes! You will get two more in the next "half."
___
The Refresher
After your conversation in the cockpit on your way to Trandosha, life aboard the Razor Crest returned to normal almost startlingly quickly. Mando permitted the ship to travel on autopilot for once, allowing the flight computer to calculate your path, and spent hours researching the last known locations, backgrounds, and crimes of the newest batch of bounties he had received from Karga. You fell right back into your routine of splitting your time between ship maintenance and occupying Grogu; the boy seemed positively thrilled to be back in his leather carrier strapped to your back as you puttered around the cargo hold. He was full of chatter, cooing and babbling and squealing more than you had ever heard. Not for the first time, you wondered whether he might eventually speak Basic or if perhaps his species simply didn’t communicate that way, but you decided that regardless, you liked the extra noise. You could almost imagine what he might be saying, and you found yourself filling in his half of your conversations in your mind as you went about your work. It passed the time, and it made you smile.
Now that you felt confident that you would be spending the foreseeable future in this way, with the Razor Crest as your home, it took you less than a week to come up with a draft for your largest improvement project to date.
“Hey, Mando – do you have a minute?” you asked, poking your head into the cockpit where the Mandalorian sat, bent over one of the computer consoles in concentration.
“What is it?” he replied distractedly. He did not meet your gaze and instead remained focused on the screen before him, which appeared to be a topical map of a dense, verdant forest.
You tucked the datapad you were holding close to your chest, rubbing your thumbs over the edge nervously. Stepping fully into the cockpit, you said, “I have a proposition for you. I’d like your support to start on…kind of a big project in the cargo hold.”
That was enough to get his attention. Pausing his perusal of the map, he turned in his chair to face you, planting his hands on his widespread knees. “What kind of project?”
His voice sounded cautious, and you could understand why. Most of the work you had done on the Razor Crest up until this point you had done without his involvement. He had purchased supplies for you when you requested, and he was always happy to review the reports you generated to demonstrate any efficiency gains you had achieved, but otherwise, you each had kept to your own activities. This was the first time you were asking for his blessing on something before simply doing it.
You took a steadying breath and explained, “With both of us living here for the long term, I really think we should invest in installing a fully functioning refresher.” You paused for a moment then added, “And an additional bunk, if I can figure out how to make one fit in the space we have.”
Mando was silent at first, appearing to consider the idea. “Is that possible?” he asked, his helmet cocked to the side skeptically. “The water storage and recycling systems on ST-70s weren’t designed to support full ‘freshers.”
You nodded in agreement. You had thought of this. “Yes. With the size of the water tank we have right now, you’re right – we could maybe support a running water sink and a privy, but never a shower. But I’ve been taking a look at the schematics, and I feel like there’s a better way to organize the forward space in the cargo hold.” You tapped through a few controls on your datapad and pulled up your sketch of the design, which you had laid over a copy of the Razor Crest’s blueprints. You held it out to him to examine. “It would be tight,” you added, “but I think, if you’re comfortable with it, I should be able to rearrange the hardware that is currently there in such a way that would allow us just enough space for a water tank one size larger than our current one and a ‘fresher.”
You watched, your lower lip between your teeth, as Mando zoomed in on your sketch, silently making note of all of the proposed changes. “Sounds…cramped,” he said after a moment.
You shrugged reluctantly. “It would be, a bit. But it would have a fully functioning door, instead of a curtain,” you argued. “We’d have somewhere to actually brush our teeth instead of using those chalky cleaning tabs. We’d have somewhere to store our toiletries. And we could take showers.” You almost groaned aloud at the thought. How long had it been since you had experienced such a luxury? “Actual, real, hot showers.”
On the space station that orbited Chardaan where the workers’ barracks resided, rows of sonic showers in communal bathrooms had been the norm. Sonic showers were efficient and generally more practical for space living, as they required very few resources to power, and at the very least, they removed dirt and oil and kept everyone from smelling like they had been living in a metal sphere with recycled air for months at a time. However, to you, something about sonic showers never left you feeling fully clean, and after months without access to even that, you were starting to feel truly uncomfortable in your own body. You yearned for the sensation of hot, soapy water sluicing down your skin and foaming up your hair, and if that was your experience, you could hardly imagine how Mando felt, wearing that suit of armor all day every day.
The bounty hunter nodded slowly as he silently reviewed your plans. “And the bunk?” he asked.
You grimaced. “That one I haven’t quite figured out yet,” you replied hesitantly. “I’m still sketching some ideas. I feel much more confident about the ‘fresher.”
“Hm,” he hummed, passing the datapad back to you. “Well, I approve of the refresher idea. Your design looks sound. Make a list of the materials you’ll need. I’ll see what I can do about getting them during our next stop.”
“Ugh, thank you, Mando!” You sighed heavily with relief, excitement buzzing in your chest. “You won’t regret it!”
A week later, after a successful first hunt, the Mandalorian returned to the Razor Crest with a large, male Trandoshan in binder cuffs and a repulsorlift sled laden with bins of supplies dragging behind him. It was all you could do not to fly down the gangplank and fling your arms around him at the sight. Instead, you managed to funnel that energy into just bouncing in place on your tiptoes as you began unloading the sled, your fingers positively itching to wrap themselves around your new toys.
You could have sworn you heard a rasping chuckle filter through your companion’s helmet as he watched your unbridled enthusiasm, and although it made your cheeks burn, you couldn’t bring yourself to care.
From the time you took your plasma torch to the first piece of durasteel bulkhead to the time the refresher was complete and ready for use ended up being about two weeks of constant labor. But Maker, if it wasn’t a labor of love.
Piece by piece, inch by painstaking inch, you systematically disassembled everything to the left of the bunk, starting with that heinous multi-species vacuum ship head (which you had despised since your first day on board) and going all the way to the forward end of the hull. Water filtration? Enhanced. Clean water tank? Replaced entirely with one of a larger size. Scanners, jamming devices, antennae, even the ship’s headlights – all of it got taken apart down to its components, condensed, rewired, and fit back together to make room for the new space. Aside from the work you had done with Peli on the carbonite unit, it was easily the most challenging work you had ever done on a ship of this age, and you relished every second of it. You had always enjoyed puzzles, ever since you were a small child, and fitting each one of these systems back into the reduced space while still ensuring that everything functioned as it was designed was an especially rewarding puzzle.
Once you felt confident with your modifications, you began installing the refresher itself. Mando had been correct in his assessment when he evaluated your plans – the space was cramped, and due to budget constraints, it was almost excessively utilitarian. You had selected plain durasteel for the walls, privy, and running water sink. A single pane of transparisteel separated the shower from the rest of the room, left open on the far end to allow for easy entry without needing the space to accommodate a swinging door. You had managed to convince Mando to spring for a box of tiles of industrial, anti-slip flooring that would keep you both from sliding around in there, particularly when you were in flight, but other than that minor upgrade, everything you requested was about as economical as you could find.
It was far from glamorous, but by the time you finished waterproofing all of your seals and stepped back to admire your handiwork, you felt a rush of satisfaction at the sight. The Razor Crest was Mando’s ship, Mando’s home, but for the first time, you thought that perhaps one day, she might feel like yours, too.
When you finally felt ready to give everything a true test, Mando was out on a hunt. He had landed the Razor Crest on a remote planet in the middle of a humid forest, well-hidden by a copse of trees hung heavily with vines and moss, and you had neither seen nor heard from him in several days. You and Grogu had just finished your dinner for the evening, and the boy’s wide, dark eyes were heavy with fatigue. Seizing the opportunity, you tucked your little green charge into his hammock above the bunk, gave him a couple of gentle rocks until he began to nod off, and then eagerly dove into the newly-finished ‘fresher.
It was even better than you had expected.
The water from the shower was hot on your skin, almost shockingly so, and steam collected quickly in the cramped space, the fan you had fabricated working overtime to draw the excess moisture out of the room and into the exhaust vents. You had come across a lone bar of soap and a singular bottle of shampoo at the bottom of a storage bin one afternoon, and you used them both liberally. With how long it had been since you had last done so, it took multiple washes of both your hair and your body before you felt fully clean, but you couldn’t say you minded the extra time. It was an unspeakable luxury, to be able to stand under running water like this in a pre-Empire gunship that spent most of her time in hyperspace, and you found you couldn’t begrudge yourself the opportunity to bask in it.
Besides, the soap was clearly Mando’s. It was rich with the warm, spicy, masculine fragrance that you had first smelled in his bunk, and surrounding yourself with it like this had your skin flushing and your nerve endings buzzing. Perhaps you ought to have been embarrassed by your body’s reaction to nothing but a scent, but something about being tucked away in this tiny, little room, with its close walls and its own door that locked, knowing that Grogu was fast asleep and Mando wasn’t on board, had you feeling a bit bold. A bit shameless.
So caught up were you in your own enjoyment that you completely missed the sound of your comm link going off in your jumpsuit pocket, left crumpled in a pile on the bunk. On the other side of the door.
It was several more minutes before you found the motivation to turn off the water and step out of the shower. The prolonged heat (and perhaps also the arousal burning between your legs) had left you feeling a bit light-headed, so you toweled yourself off only briefly before wrapping the soft black material around your body and sliding open the door to get some cooler air.
However, to your great surprise, rather than being greeted by an empty cargo hold, you instead immediately met the impassive gaze of the Mandalorian.
His beskar was caked with mud, though he appeared uninjured, and he was in the process of freezing what looked to be an unconscious female Zabrack in carbonite. The gases were just beginning to dissipate and reveal her serene face outlined in matte gray, and although his body was facing her, his visor was fixed intently on you.
“Mando!” you gasped, your hands flying to your chest to grip your towel.
Silence, dense and significant, hovered between you. The bounty hunter continued to stare in your direction, and you could feel your throat begin to dry out and your heart speed up as you suddenly became acutely aware of your state of undress. Your towel was a little thing, a maintenance rag hardly meant for this purpose, and although it managed to cover from your breasts to the very tops of your thighs, that was hardly comparable to your typical boilersuit. And you had barely taken the time to dry yourself off. Your exposed skin shone in the dim cargo hold lighting; your long, unbound hair dripped a puddle onto the deck near your bare feet.
You felt strangely caught out, almost ashamed, as though the Mandalorian had discovered you in some compromising position.
A familiar, ill-timed wave of arousal flashed through you, raising goosebumps across your body and tightening your nipples as you caught a whiff of the scent that now clung to your damp skin. His scent.
Perhaps he had caught you.
Just when you thought you couldn’t bear the weight of this silence anymore, Mando replied simply, “Apologies.” Even through his vocoder, his voice sounded dry and deep, as though he had pulled the word from the depths of his chest, as though it had been a struggle to do so.
You swallowed thickly and shifted on your feet. “The, uh…” You cleared your throat, awkward and positively burning up from the inside. “The ‘fresher’s done. And the shower’s perfect. You should, uh…you should really give it a try.”
He offered you a single nod. “I will.”
You nodded, too. Your head felt loose on your neck, your mind spinning. “Okay. Good.”
Another silence, and you chewed on your lower lip as you cast your eyes around the room, searching for something, anything to look at that wasn’t Mando’s piercing gaze. Eventually, you landed upon your work boots, stacked neatly at the foot of the bunk, and the rumpled mess of your clothes spilling out of recess in the wall.
“Um. If…if I could just – ” you began, gesturing toward the pile of clothing with a little jerk of your head.
That, it seemed, was finally enough to pull the bounty hunter out of whatever shocked trance your appearance had seemed to inspire. He physically startled, turning away from the bounty in the carbonite chamber and drawing himself up straighter, and he dropped his satchel to the floor with a thud.
“Of course. Yes,” he said curtly, already moving toward the ladder up to the cockpit. “I’ll…start the take-off sequence. Let me know when you’re – ”
You found yourself nodding again. “Yeah, for sure. I’ll meet you up there in a bit,” you replied. Your voice sounded overly bright and forced even to your own ears, desperately eager to move past the heart-racing, thigh-clenching self-consciousness of the last few minutes.
You watched then as Mando retreated up the ladder with a speed that you had never seen before. Tightening your hold on your towel, you slumped back against the ‘fresher doorframe, weak-kneed, and let the durasteel cool your flushed skin.
You weren’t ignorant to the tension that had been building between you and the Mandalorian over the last weeks, but it had never felt like…that. Like his gaze had been a physical touch on your skin, like your core had melted into liquid heat.
Like the delicious, warm slickness now coating the insides of your thighs.
Nothing had ever felt like that.
___
The Bazaar
Din supposed he ought to have known the question was coming sooner or later, but he still found himself somewhat taken aback the first time you asked to leave the Razor Crest during a hunt.
He had been guiding the ship in a steady descent through the atmosphere of Trevi IV, aiming for the spaceport port outside of Trevi City, when you broached the subject.
“I…really desperately need of some new clothes. And hygiene things. Now that we have the ‘fresher, you know,” you had explained haltingly, a charming flush burning high on your cheeks at the mention of your most recent project. “If you’d be willing to give me an advance on my pay, that is. I won’t need much – promise.”
The Mandalorian had found himself almost needing to bite back a groan at the mention of the ‘fresher. You had been correct, of course – the addition of that space had been a marked improvement to the quality of life on the Razor Crest since its completion, but no matter how many times either of you managed to use it without incident, he couldn’t help but recall the sight of you standing in the doorway – cloaked in steam, clothed in nothing but the mere suggestion of a towel, miles of soaking wet skin on display, and smelling unmistakably of him. The vision had nearly unmanned him in the moment, and still it continued to haunt him, even many days later.
It was entirely unprecedented, the way you had come to affect him. The lilt of your laughter at Grogu’s antics, the scent of your hair on the pillow in his bunk, the strong, capable grip of your hands on your hydrospanner, the dark, glossy shine of your eyes as you ran your gaze over his body when you thought he wasn’t looking. All of it had burrowed into the very depths of him, nestled itself near his heart, immoveable. He had never experienced anything like it in his life.
However, rather than confessing any of that, Din had instead simply nodded.
“Sure,” he had agreed. “I need to go to the bazaar district first on a lead anyway. You and the child can join me when we land, get what you need.”
The grateful smile you had sent his way had the Mandalorian feeling his face heat up even under his helmet.
It looked to be around midday local time when the Razor Crest finally landed, and by the time Din was ready to depart, he found you already waiting by the rear blast doors, Grogu strapped to your back in his favorite leather carrier and an eager expression on your face. You had dug an old satchel of his, threadbare and dusty, out of one of the storage compartments, and it hung limply across your body, empty and ready to be put to use. With a wordless nod and a hidden smile, he gestured in the direction of the doors. After you.
It occurred to him as he watched you descend the gangplank that this would be the first opportunity you had had to explore any of the planets he had taken you to thus far. Of course, your time with Peli had certainly been a change of pace from daily life aboard the Razor Crest, but that had been months ago now, and you hadn’t been permitted to leave the hangar at the time. And since then, he had all but insisted that you stay on the ship when he left to hunt. For your safety, and for the child’s, but regardless of how well-intentioned the reason, it wasn’t lost on him how little of the galaxy you had been allowed to see in your life.
Din resolved himself then that although today you would only be visiting a market, only purchasing some necessities, and although he was technically in Trevi City on a hunt, he would not allow you to return to the Crest until you had had your fill of the experience. He was on your timetable today. He would ensure you made the most of it.
It had been some time since the bounty hunter had made his way to Trevi City, but he found it mostly unchanged as he led you and Grogu out of the spaceport’s docking yards and into the city proper. Trevi IV was a desert world, featuring miles of dusty plains and dramatic plateaus, but Trevi City was an oasis. Nestled against the craggy shores of the largest body of water on the planet, cooling, salty breezes wound their way through flagstone streets and buffeted against sundried brick buildings. Shops, stalls, carts, and tents of all shapes and sizes stretched in every direction, around every corner, and the crush of people was truly remarkable. Merchants – both local and traveling, customers of every age and walk of life, street performers in bright costumes, children and small animals darting in and out of the throng. At first glance, it seemed incomprehensible – the epitome of chaos.
And although Din had never been particularly fond of crowds, he couldn’t help but feel a small surge of satisfaction at the look of pure joy that spread across your face as you took in the bazaar.
First on your list, he knew, was clothing, so with a gentle nudge to your lower back, the Mandalorian steered you in the direction of the textile district – a few blocks down and to the left. The stalls there were draped in sumptuous fabrics, decorated with gold tassels, and staffed by women with sun-worn skin and friendly, welcoming smiles. You looked back at him then, uncertain, but Din gave you a wordless nod and scooped Grogu up and out of his carrier without preamble.
“Go on. I’ll keep an eye on the child. Just explain to one of them what you need, and they will help you,” he said, inclining his helmet toward the line of vendors. He wanted you to feel free to browse, to mingle unencumbered.
After a few halting introductions and some hesitant questions on your part, you did just that. From several yards away, the bounty hunter listened to you describe your needs to one of the women. He watched you tug self-consciously on the collar of your well-worn boilersuit, the olive green fabric now heavily stained with blood and engine oil and Maker knew what else, and he watched as the merchant woman nodded along, kindness in her eyes. Before long, she was looping your arm through hers and leading you deeper into the line of covered stalls, pulling items from racks and tables as she went.
Din kept his distance as you shopped, tracking the top of your head as you wound through the merchandise but never following. Only when you ducked behind a heavily embroidered curtain with an armload of items to try on did he look away, instead finding his attention captured by a display of colorful scarves and handkerchiefs fluttering in the ocean breeze. Before he could consider it further, he found himself in front of the display, running his gloved fingers over assortments of linen, cotton, and silk.
Mere moments later, he left the booth, a cotton scarf decorated with a delicate floral pattern in his pocket and a few credits less in his purse.
By the time you were ready to move on to the next items on your list, your borrowed, threadbare satchel was nearly full to bursting. Your face glowed with pride as you showed him your selections – a brand-new boilersuit (this one in a fetching deep blue), a pair of brown cargo pants and a matching jacket, a stack of undershirts, and two sets of soft, black sleep clothes. Din also tried desperately not to notice the new sets of undergarments hidden at the bottom of your bag as he dutifully handed the total payment over to the vendor.
He, of course, was unsuccessful. The images of those scraps of fabric, revealed accidentally as you dug through your sack, were now burned onto the backs of his eyelids, ever-present whenever he closed his eyes.
“Hygiene next?” you asked eagerly, rocking back and forth on your feet like a small child. Grogu giggled from his perch in the bounty hunter’s arms, and the latter nodded, clearing his throat.
“Hygiene is this way,” he replied with a gesture to the east.
His voice sounded suspiciously strained even to his own ears.
Your time perusing the toiletry stalls was much briefer than your time with the textiles, but it left Din perhaps even more disquieted. Your first purchase was a pair of full-sized terry cloth towels, which in turn called to mind the image of the miniscule one you had clutched over your breasts in the doorway of the ‘fresher and caused his brain to short-circuit. You also picked up a wide-toothed, wooden comb for your hair, saying casually, “I don’t know if you have hair under that helmet, Mando, but if you do, you’re welcome to borrow it if you need to! You must get awful tangles,” which left him utterly speechless.
However, perhaps the most taxing of all was the booth boasting hand-made soaps and haircare products. The Mandalorian watched, his throat dry, as your capable, calloused fingers floated gently over the many colorful bars and bottles, occasionally picking one up and lifting it to your nose to give a delicate sniff. Without fail, you would always then extend the item to him, placing it directly below the edge of his helmet.
“What do you think of this one?” you asked. “Or how about this? Too fruity? That one’s too much for me, I think. Oh, this one smells like nightblossoms!”
And on and on.
It wasn’t really that he minded being asked for his opinion. On the contrary, he found your enthusiastic chatter pleasant, and something inside him warmed at the idea that you might actually care about his preferences when it came to your body products. However, there was a singular thought that refused to leave him alone every time you asked for his input, one he dared not voice.
On perhaps the tenth bottle of shampoo that provoked a noncommittal response, you sighed heavily.
“Come on, Mando, give me something here,” you whined, clearly exasperated. “You’re the one who has to be cooped up with me on the Crest every day, the one who has to share a ‘fresher with me. I’d think you might care about whether the shampoo I buy gives you a headache or not.”
Din cocked his head, considering. He thought of the dark, blown-pupil looks you sent his way when you thought he wasn’t paying attention, the burning flush that extended down your chest coming out of the ‘fresher, the way you leaned into his touch the few times he had dared run the back of his fingers across your cheek.
Perhaps…perhaps you might welcome him being a bit more candid with you than he had been previously.
“Well?” you pressed. Irritation crept into the edge of your voice then, and the Mandalorian found himself nodding.
“Very well,” he murmured, soft and gruff through his vocoder. “Follow me.”
Without another word, he led you to another stall, this one carrying similar products as the previous but with an aesthetic that clearly intended to be marketed toward men. The stall was draped in tactical netting with wares hanging from the ropes, and the tables were dressed with simple black cloths. The various bars and bottles were fashioned in more neutral colors, earthy and cool, and the merchant manning the till was dressed in an austere black suit. He nodded in your direction once but said nothing.
It did not matter. Din knew precisely what he was looking for.
Barely a moment later, before you could give voice to the questions that were clearly in your eyes, the bounty hunter plucked a single bar of soap and single bottle of hair wash off the table and extended them both to you.
You glanced from the proffered toiletries to Din’s face and then back again, your eyebrows raised quizzically. “These? You think I should buy these?” you asked dubiously.
He inclined his helmet in the affirmative. “Yes.”
Your eyes narrowed. “What are they?”
He simply continued to stare at you, silent, willing you to reach out and take them. Eventually, you did. Your fingers brushed his as you took the bar and the bottle into your hands, and if Din did not know better, he would have been certain that he could feel the warmth of your skin through his gloves.
Skepticism still apparent in your expression, you raised the bar of soap to your nose and sniffed lightly. Instantly, your eyes widened, and Din watched with liquid heat in his gut as your pupils expanded.
“This – ” you started, then paused and cleared your throat loudly. “This is your soap.” Your cheeks darkened, your lower lip disappearing between your teeth.
“Yes,” the Mandalorian confirmed.
“You – you think I should buy the same thing? The same as you?” You were stammering, seemingly struggling to maintain eye contact.
“It suits you,” he said. And it wasn’t a lie. As much as he enjoyed the scent on himself, it somehow was only enhanced on your skin, your hair. It was comforting, warm and inviting.
It spoke to a primeval part of his psyche, something that purred at the thought of you being marked as belonging to him. Only him.
“Well, it’s all I’ve had ‘til now. You don’t think it makes me smell like a man?” you asked with a forced chuckle, a clear attempt to inject some levity into what had suddenly become a very weighted conversation.
At that, Din could not stop himself from taking a step closer, invading your space, forcing you to tilt your head back on your neck to keep looking in his eyes. His breath came short in his chest at the proximity, and his voice crackled through his helmet modulator as he replied, “Trust me. There is nothing about you that could be mistaken for a man.”
An almost bashful expression came over you then, and you dropped your gaze. “That a good thing?” you murmured.
The bounty hunter could only manage a nod in response.
You left the booth with three new bars of soap and three bottles of hair wash in his favorite scent, the haul quickly added to your satchel with a secret smile and a heavy blush.
At that point, Grogu began to fuss in Din’s arms, whining softly and smacking his lips in the way that you both had learned meant that he was getting hungry, so the three of you ended the afternoon hopping from vendor to vendor sampling a variety of Trevi street foods. Well, perhaps more accurately, the Mandalorian watched as you and Grogu enjoyed the local fare – he packaged up his own to take back to the Razor Crest.
First, you selected an almost comically large wrap from a stall run by a male Bith – a pillow-soft flatbread wrapped around some variety of savory meat, a relish of pickled vegetables, and a bright orange sauce with a heavily spiced aroma. The sauce left broad, messy streaks across your nose and cheeks as you ate, but you paid it no mind. Instead, you simply laughed and plucked a few choice bits of meat out of the flatbread and passed them over your shoulder to Grogu, who was once again strapped to your back in his carrier. The boy babbled and munched happily, and Din took it upon himself to go back to the stall and request a handful of napkins.
Next, you followed the unctuous scent of fry oil to a tiny cart staffed by a Truishii woman. This one was peddling small paper bags filled to the brim with an assortment of deep-fried vegetables, coated in a thin golden batter and soaking the bag with grease. You groaned under your breath at the first bite, and Din immediately purchased a second bag.
Finally, after a bit of leisurely meandering and browsing, you stumbled across an open-air cantina just as the sun was beginning to set. A hired band played a lively tune from one corner of the cantina’s patio, and barmaids wove gracefully between rickety tables carrying trays laden with tankards. The Mandalorian looked on as you watched the band, a soft smile playing at the corners of your lips, your body swaying unconsciously to the beat.
Before he could think better of it, he placed a gentle hand at the base of your spine to get your attention. “Would you like to sit down? Have a drink?” he asked, bringing his helmet down close so you could hear him better over the music.
You startled slightly under his touch, but Din could not ignore the way you seemed to lean into it, or the deep breath you took at the sound of his vocoder in your ear. You nodded silently in response, and the Mandalorian took that as his cue to lead you a table, flagging down a barmaid on the way.
He ordered you a tankard and Grogu a cup of bone broth as you settled into your seat, and the wide-eyed look of overwhelm as you took in the tankard’s contents made Din laugh out loud.
“What is it?” you asked, your voice tinged with awe.
He smirked. “I’m not sure what it’s called. It’s a local brew, made with honey.”
You swallowed heavily, giving the cup one more once-over before taking it in both hands. “Well. Bottoms up!” You inclined the tankard in his direction then brought it to your lips, drinking deeply.
In mere minutes, it was empty, and you were ordering a second, eyes glossy and cheeks flushed.
It was well past sundown by the time Din helped you stand from your seat at the cantina and led you back through the winding flagstone streets to the spaceport. Grogu had long since fallen asleep in his carrier, his little head resting on the back of your shoulder as he snored gently, and you had polished off nearly three full tankards of that honeyed beverage, leaving you giggly and wobbling on your feet. You were singing softly to yourself, humming one of the songs the band had been playing and grinning from ear to ear, and the effect was so charming, it was all the Mandalorian could do to keep himself from joining in.
When you arrived back at the Razor Crest, however, you seemed to have finally burned out all of your energy. You stumbled and lurched up the gangplank the moment it touched the ground, pausing only briefly once inside the ship to drop the bag full of your purchases unceremoniously onto the deck floor. Din called out your name like a question, but rather than answering, you simply removed Grogu’s carrier from your back, still holding the sleeping child, and passed it into the Mandalorian’s waiting arms.
“I have to lay down,” you said softly, almost to yourself.
Din nodded and gently steered you in the direction of the bunk. “This way,” he replied, just as softly.
At the entrance to the bunk alcove, you toed off your boots and then, to Din’s great surprise, stripped off your boilersuit, leaving you clad in nothing but a black breast band, a worn pair of gray undershorts, and a pair of crew-length socks. Everything else was left haphazardly piled on the deck, sure to be a tripping hazard when you woke, but you clearly couldn’t be bothered. Muttering to yourself, eyes half closed, you clambered into the bunk.
“Are you going to be all right?” he asked after a moment.
“‘M fine,” you murmured, your voice thick and muffled by the pillow. “Never drank that much before. Not allowed in the barracks. Couldn’t afford it when I ran away.”
Din nodded even though he knew you couldn’t really see it. “I understand. Alcohol was discouraged during my training in the Fighting Corps. It…takes some getting used to.”
You hummed in response, snuggling deeper into the bunk’s barren mattress. Something inside him warmed, and he smiled softly at the sight.
The bounty hunter took a moment then to carefully extract the sleeping Grogu from his carrier, settling him in the little hammock he had fashioned for the boy that stretched across the bunk alcove. It was only when he was preparing to walk away and settle himself in the cockpit for the night that he heard you speak again.
“Mando?” you called softly.
“Yes?”
“Thank you. For today,” you whispered. You were nearly asleep, your words slurred and slow. “It was wonderful. You’re wonderful. Best day of my life.”
#din djarin#the mandalorian#din djarin x reader#din djarin x you#din djarin x f!reader#din djarin fanfiction#the mandalorian fanfiction#pedro pascal#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal characters fanfiction
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20 Questions for Fic Writers
Tagged by @voxofthevoid
Thank you! And congratulations to the 2 mil words 🥳
1. How many works do you have on ao3?
22
2. What’s your total ao3 word count?
228,925
3. What fandoms do you write for?
Only Jujutsu Kaisen so far. And I published an original fic anonymously. I also have some ideas for Naruto (or more like the Sannin), Houseki no Kuni and Monster fics, but I'm not getting there any time soon.
4. What are your top five fics by kudos?
People really seem to like the more or less wholesome Itadori family stuff
Call Me A Familiar Stranger (Kenjaku & Yuuji) - I really didn't expect this one to be so popular, since it was essentially just a scrapped idea for another chapter of Chance Encounter.
Chance Encounter (Kenjaku & Yuuji)
Familial Units (Kenjaku & Yuuji, Jin/Kenjaku)
Stitches Across the Eye (Jin/Kenjaku) - my long term project that I will hopefully finish next year...
First Time (Jin/Kenjaku) - My #1 smut fic. It's really surprising to see it this high because it didn't do that well in the beginning, but recently I've been getting a lot of notifications for it.
5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?
I try to, but it might take weeks 😬 It's always in the back of my head though and especially with the longer ones I feel bad for not responding quickly. Usually, I feel really stupid with the stuff I say in response, but I hope that doesn't shine through. I really appreciate every single one. I have a whole folder of screenshotted comments, bookmark descriptions and tumblr tags, asks and mentions.
6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?
Oh boy, that's a tough pick. I'd say either Midnight Tea or In the Quiet of the Cold because they both end with Jin's corpse rotting on the floor and a deeply traumatized Yuuji.
7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?
I think First Time is my most wholesome fic so far. Lots of vivid descriptions of Kenjaku's brain, but Jin is actually really happy about how touching his wife's organs can be a bonding experience. It's how he copes with Kaori's temporal death uwu. Even Kenjaku catches some feelings.
8. Do you get hate on fic?
Not really. There was that comment recently saying I should tag First Time dead dove, but that was more weird, not hateful. Some people also have some strong emotions about Kenjaku surgically removing Gojo's eye in Familial Units, but they always end in "I didn't read the tags/didn't take them seriously, my bad".
9. Do you write smut?
I try to...it's one of the writing things I struggle with the most. I have a couple of smut WIPs, but most I don't think are good enough to be published.
10. Do you write crossovers?
No. I don't read many crossovers either. Just doesn't interest me.
11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?
Not that I know of.
12. Have you ever had a fic translated?
I actually got asked just yesterday by someone if they could translate Don't Think About The Past into Spanish. It's a first for me, I feel really honoured.
13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?
No. Depending on the idea I wouldn't be opposed to it tho.
14. What’s your all-time favourite ship?
I don't think I have something like that. There aren't that many ships I'm really crazy about anyway. TenKen and JinKen are definitely my favourite to write about tho.
15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but probably won’t?
Feel The Life Unmade. I just don't feel that satisfied about the set-up and the characters I included in there. The topic and time period is really interesting though and I want to write more about the Death Painting experiment, but not here. I decided that I will write a little bit more of chapter 3 until I get to a specific cut-off point (around 1k more words than I already have in my draft of ch3), then throw it on AO3 and incorporate the rest of my ideas in other fics. The first chapter of Haunting Past is how I wanted to end Life Unmade and some other ideas will be included in the WIP I'm currently writing.
16. What are your writing strengths?
Atmosphere I would say, particularly writing unsettling and creepy scenes. I've also been told by people that they really like my characterizations. Recently, someone commented that I manage to write Kenjaku in a way that you feel their old age, but also connection to current society and culture, which made me really happy because that's a balance I try to pay close attention to.
17. What are your writing weaknesses?
Smut. And I really mean smut, not sex. I can write sex, but making it hot and appealing is where I struggle. It always feels so hollow and silly when I reread it. Gross, anxiety inducing sex scenes I can do, but making sex sexy is hard for me. Guess that's the reason I have an easier time with MahiKen smut. It's nastier. Action scenes are hard too, but I haven't really encountered many scenarios where I would really need them, so I just don't have much practice in writing them. I also tend to focus more on a character's inner world and actions scenes don't lend themselves well to that.
18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?
It's fine I guess? I don't think I ever had to incorporate that in a fic (if we're talking about an exchange of multiple sentences and not just short phrases) and I would only include it if the POV character doesn't understand the language. I'd also only use it if it's a language I am confident I can represent properly. I suffered through a lot of broken German, I know how it is to have supposed native speakers not know basic grammar (or in TV pronunciation...it's one thing to have an accent, but German in American shows/movies is often just unintelligible).
19. First fandom you wrote for?
Technically Tanz der Vampire, when I was 14 or 15, but I didn't publish any of it. Wouldn't know where I would've done that anyway. Besides that, JJK is the first fandom I decided to invest a lot of time in to write and publish fanfics for.
20. Favourite fic you’ve written?
Picking Up The Pieces. I threw in a lot of my Heian TenKen hcs and it allowed me to explore a more manipulative side of Tengen. Also, it is very fun to have Kenjaku in such a vulnerable position, that doesn't happen very often.
I don't know 20 fic writers :') (or not well enough to dare to tag them) No pressure to do this or respond of course. Also, if anyone else sees this and wants to do it, feel free to take this as your tag
@hxhhasmysoul @perelka-l @urostakako @kaitakushi @frankenjoly @kenjakusbrainstem
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