#I can’t believe I came back to tumblr after years and it’s so much more normal than Twitter

[nightgoodomens]

Continuing with my “Tumblr supremacy over Twitter” they all gasp about things we’ve noticed 100 years ago already. Tsk.

#I dislike that hell hole of a page so much #I can’t believe I came back to tumblr after years and it’s so much more normal than Twitter

[mrwavellswaps]

Step-Bro Switch Up! (Re-Upload)

Instead of a new story this week I’ve decided to re-upload an old favourite instead. As some of you may or may not know, the original version was completely wiped from the surface of the internet by Tumblr to the point where there wasn’t even a trace of its existence. I wasn’t even notified of this when it happened which feels like it’s own separate issue considering it was my biggest ever story but I digress. I thought that now might be the appropriate time to re-unleash this story upon the world and allow those who loved the original to enjoy it once again and for those who never got a chance to read the original to discover it for the first time. That said I’m hoping to come out with some new and fresh content very soon but in the meantime I hope you all enjoy this return of an old classic!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I found myself waking up at 6:30am in the morning which was rather unusual for me but not so much for my body. I soon realised why though as a low rumble came from my stomach. With a sigh I slid out of bed, trying not to wake the other sleeping jock beside me in the process. I didn’t even bother putting on underwear, instead walking to the kitchen buck naked.

I waltzed up to the fridge, opening it up before pulling out a carton of juice. After taking a few huge gulps I lick my lips and let out a deep belch. Next thing I’m rummaging through to see what I can make for breakfast. Had to make sure I kept this big body fed after all. Can’t let all my step-brother’s hard work go to waste. Confused? Well let me start at the beginning…

———

A few years back not long after I turned 20 my mom met a guy named Devin who she soon started dating. Pretty big guy with a bearish ex-jock physique. He was 45 at the time so a similar age to my mom and they seemed to get along great. I certainly didn’t mind having some extra dilf eye candy around the house every now and then. I soon learned however that Devin was also a single Dad with a 22 year old son which certainly peaked my interest.

When I first met him I almost couldn’t believe my eyes. He introduced himself as Sam but I was almost too hypnotised by his looks to notice. He was the perfect image of a star college jock with enormous well rounded muscles that bulged under his clothes while standing at an imposing 6’3, practically dwarfing my lean 5’8 frame. And of course he was devilishly handsome too because the hot body wasn’t already enough, even having a great full beard that I was jealous of. I even remember how I had to hide my pulsing boner after he pulled me in for a quick bro hug, his manly scent getting caught in my nostrils.

After that Sam became a frequent part of my jerk off fantasies. Could you blame me? Not only was he the epitome of masculinity but my god did he have an incredible ass. Whenever Sam had his back turned I couldn’t help but have my eyes glued to those massive globes, no doubt stretching whatever pants he was wearing. Honestly I felt truly blessed to be able to spend time around such a man.

Anyway fast forward about two years and my mom had already gotten married to Devin. It was an amazing ceremony but for half of it all I could think about was how me and Sam were now Step-Brothers. We were truly intertwined now. I didn’t think the idea of that would turn me on as much as it did. That fucking hunk, my brother.

Shortly after the wedding however, the roommate Sam had been sharing an apartment with decided to move out and live with his new partner. At first Sam had been considering downsizing to a smaller apartment but when he brought this up I knew this was my chance. I pounced on the opportunity and told him I’d been thinking of moving out for awhile and that it’d be cool to spend some more time with my new brother if he was down for that. To my excitement he actually accepted and the next thing I know I’m moving my stuff out of my moms house and into Sam’s apartment. I was surprised at how clean it all was for the most part. Then again Sam wasn’t your typical dumb jock either, he always seemed very mature and put together.

The two of us got on pretty well living together. We tried to respect each other’s space and chatted a lot as good friends. Luckily I did well to hide my excitement whenever I saw him walking around shirtless, showing off his huge hairy chest, or god forbid only a pair of tight boxer briefs. The day I first saw that was the day I nearly creamed myself on the spot. Oh and while I respected his space when he was around, whenever I was home alone I couldn’t help but give into the devil on my shoulder before rummaging through his room. I tried not to take anything but every time without fail I’d sift through his dirty laundry, pulling out whatever sweaty clothes I could find and relishing in the smell.

For about 6 months that’s how my life was. Living under the same roof as my hot step-bro while trying not to let him see my dirty secret. That is until I found a certain little spell online. Pretty much I’d been searching up some fetishy body swapping stuff online and ended up stumbling across some weird body swapping ritual. Of course I didn’t believe it but the masses of comments on the page claiming it to have worked peaked my interest.

Next thing I know I’m up in the middle of the night waiting until I was certain that Sam was asleep before sneaking into his room. It didn’t take long for me to find the pair of yellow underwear he’d had on that day, giving it a quick sniff before stuffing it in my pocket and retreating back to my room. Once there I was able to start the ritual. I placed the underwear in the middle of a circle I’d drawn on the floor surrounded by candles before chanting some magical phrases that were supposed to enchant them. I can’t tell you how stupid I felt at that moment but I continued on anyway, finishing everything I needed to say before grabbing the underwear again. At that point all I had to do was wear it.

I yanked on Sam’s ‘enchanted’ yellow briefs with the hope that my wish would come true but as I’d expected, nothing happened. With a sigh I cleaned up the mess I’d made with this ritual stuff, feeling like an idiot as I did before heading to bed. I decided to keep Sam’s oversized briefs on though because just wearing them was making me hard even if I was still myself. I remember I’d begun to jack off in them, imagining how hot it’d be to see him wearing them after I’d stained them with my cum. That is until a wave of tiredness swelled across my body and before I knew it I was fast asleep.

It seems I must’ve underestimated that ritual because overnight something truly magical took place. When I awoke I already knew something was off when I noticed my feet hanging off the edge of my bed. I sat up in confusion only to feel much heavier than normal while looking down the bed to see a pair of much larger feet. Next thing I yank off my bed sheets only to find a massive, hairy, muscular body that certainly wasn’t my own.

Right away I was running my hands along the ridges of my abs before grasping the heft of my giant new pecs, loving all the fur as I was previously rather hairless. Jumping out of bed I was quick to discover that my lower body was just as hairy and impressive with huge quads, and impressive calves. And then it started to hit me. I didn’t realise it at first as I’d never seen it from this angle but these giant legs, these bulging arms, these bulbous pecs… they all seemed exactly like Sam’s! I was even still wearing his briefs which now clung tightly to my form as I didn’t fail to notice the familiar bulge in the front. Only… it was my bulge!

At that moment I knew what must’ve happened but my rational mind pleaded that it was impossible. Still I burst out of my room and made a beeline for the bathroom and what I saw in the mirror made me want to cheer, shout and most of all cream my new underwear. I saw none other than the sexy bearded face of my step-brother staring back in disbelief.

As you can imagine I spent the next 20 or so minutes inspecting every inch of my new muscle bound body. I did all sorts of poses to show off my physique in every way, pulled different kinds of weird faces in the mirror, relished in rubbing my hands through the full beard I was never able to grow before. Having the body I’d been lusting over for these past years at my disposal felt like some kind of lucid wet dream. But it was real! From my brother’s handsome face, to his giant muscle ass, to even his fat cock! All mine!

Soon enough I’d yanked off the underwear and started pumping my dick in ecstasy, loving how my hand only just fit the whole way around. Waves of pleasure cascading across my new body as I used my free hand to grope at my hairy pecs, the deep groans I let out only making me hornier. Before I could shoot my new seed however, I heard a scream come from what I can only guess was Sam’s room. Up until now I hadn’t even thought about the real him but judging by that scream I had only one guess as to what’d happened.

Instead of slipping the boxer briefs back on I decided to grab a towel instead and wrap it around my waist. I didn’t want him to think something was up to see me already wearing his clothes after all. With that I turned to the mirror one last time, scanning my face and upper body again with wonder. I still couldn’t get over it.

Upon entering Sam’s room I was somewhat surprised to see an exact copy of myself stood freaking out at his body. I should’ve been expecting it but it was still extremely weird nonetheless. Then, as he saw me stood in the doorway, he went silent. Naturally he was in shock for a good moment or two but as soon as it passed he began shouting a bunch obscenities at me. Demanding who the fuck I was and how I looked like him. He even tried to punch me which I’ll be honest wasn’t all that scary considering I was now twice his size.

Right then I knew I had a few ways I could go about this. I could admit that I caused this to happen, I could tell him that I had no clue how any of it happened, or even pretend to be completely oblivious and act as if I was really Sam. The horny devil on my shoulder told me to rub it in his face that I now had his irresistible jock body and that he was stuck with my unathletic one but I couldn’t. Sure we weren’t super close or anything but he was always friendly towards me and was never a dickhead so I decided to take it easy on him.

I pretended to be just as confused as he was, saying who I really was but not having any idea how this happened. I think I was pretty convincing. We ended up sitting in his room and discussing it for what felt like hours, going over everything that happened last night as Sam tried to comprehend the situation. Of course he only went on and on about finding a way to fix this and I had to pretend as if I cared, trying not to get distracted by my own body. In fact there were multiple points where I had to keep hiding the tent starting to grow under my towel because of how hot it was to look down and see a shelf of muscle sitting on my chest.

Eventually I was able to convince him that we weren’t going to figure this out any time soon so we had to start thinking about how we were going to live each overs lives. As you can imagine he wasn’t all that fond of this idea, protesting it at first but eventually came to see reason. I suggested we should start discussing all the important details we’d need to know but before that I wanted to get some actual clothes on. I had to try not to grin while telling him to get out of my room while I changed. Though I couldn’t help dropping the towel just before he left and showing off the meaty cock and impressive ass he used to have. I caught him glancing back with a look of envy, the very same look I used to give.

Of course getting dressed in Sam’s clothes was an erotic experience in itself. All of these large shirts, pants, briefs and socks that would’ve swamped my former body now fitting me perfectly. I must’ve spent at least 15 minutes or so just trying on different clothes while jerking my cock a little in between until I heard a knock at the door and my former voice asking what the hell was taking so long. With a sigh I tucked my new toy away and waltzed out in what I was currently wearing. A pair of well fitting black shorts and a large pair of black and white socks. I didn’t bother grabbing a shirt since I just couldn’t help but show off this bod. Could you blame me?

When he asked what I’d been doing I simply said I was trying on clothes. He knew there was more to it than that but decided he didn’t really wanna know. Instead we opted to both take a seat in the living room and start discussing things. I told him everything he needed to know about my retail job, which wasn’t a whole lot to be honest, as well as my friend group and what my daily routine was like. Afterwards Sam begrudgingly did the same for me, telling me all about his part time job as a fitness instructor at the local gym and that if we were stuck like this then I’m gonna need to learn how all gym equipment works and fast. He also gave me some inside info on his own friend group as well as walking me through what his football practice is like with the team. Part of me was worried hearing all this as I was beginning to wonder if I could really pull off being Sam but at the same time I was excited beyond belief to get into these social situations and convince people of the new me.

Thankfully it was Sunday so neither of us had a whole lot going on that day which gave us plenty of time to think and adjust without stressing. I spent most of it half naked and I loved catching glimpses of Sam glancing at his former body as I showed it off, even getting a little cocky by flexing every now and then which he didn’t appreciate all that much. Honestly I was surprised at how hungry I was as well and just how much I was able to eat. I mean I guess it made sense since a body this big needs a lot of fuel. Sam helped me a little with my meals though, making sure there was a bunch of protein and healthy calories to make sure I was feeding his body correctly. Later that day he also got me to head out for some cardio which I wasn’t too thrilled about at first but I actually kinda enjoyed it once I got running. I especially enjoyed my new sweaty scent that produced during it, not being able to help sniffing my pits when I got back. Of course Sam told me to go get a shower but before I did I couldn’t help swiftly grabbing him and shoving his face into my musky pits, laughing as he squirmed for a moment before letting him go. I apologised after through my laughter though I couldn’t help but smirk subtly as despite his face looking disgusted, the slight bulge in his pants told another story.

The next day however was when the real challenge started. After breakfast Sam gave me a list of what exercises to do at the gym. I’ll be honest I didn’t know half of them and had to look them up on the way. That walk to the gym however was the first time I noticed the difference in my interactions. Before people wouldn’t pay much mind to me but now as I passed people on the street I’d get some smiling and glancing at me, some giving me an envious once over, others even saying hi to me in a bit of a flirty way. Mostly from girls which even though I was gay I still enjoyed the flattery. Once I was at the gym though, I was in the zone. It’s weird but it was like muscle memory took over. I performed each and every exercise perfectly while loving the pump I was getting. Once again I was having to hide my boner at many points since I couldn’t help but get off to how fucking strong I was now. It did and still does feel absolutely incredible!

Later that day I headed to Sam’s usual football practice with a bunch of his jock friends. Initially I was worried I wouldn’t fit in but I somehow found myself easily slotting into the jockbro mindset and was soon laughing and joking with the boys. It was the same when we started playing, right away it was like my body just moved on its own, knowing exactly what to do and how to play. It was then that I realised I must’ve somehow absorbed a lot of Sam’s skill, know-how and personality when I took his form and I was gradually unlocking it all by putting myself in these situations. Although I don’t think I was playing as well as Sam usually does, not because of a lack of skill but because I was constantly distracted watching all those jock butt’s and bulges squeezed into those football uniforms. Surely at least one of them had to be gay right?

After getting home I found Sam sat on his laptop looking up all sorts of body swapping theory stuff. Of course most of it was fake but he was clearly desperate to get his body back. Sure there might be an off chance he could find the site I used but that a one way transfer according to the spell. Knowing this I told him to not get his hopes up and to just try and make use of the hands we’ve been dealt. As you can imagine he didn’t take that very well at the time.

From then onwards though, I’d say things were pretty easy. I easily convinced my new dad and former mom, now step-mom that I was their good ol hairy jock of a son. I was able to pull off being a fitness instructor with relative ease after going around the gym and using each piece of the equipment to trigger the memories of how to use it properly. I’d convinced all of Sam’s friends inside and outside of the football team that I was him. I’ll say that it took me awhile to fully get used to hearing my new name but whenever I did it was like music to my ears.

I’ve gotta say though, living with the former Sam was more fun than I thought it’d be. I figured it would’ve been weird initially after the switch and that we’d have to go our separate ways but even after just over a week of being Sam I was having so much fun messing with him. For example I almost never wore a shirt around the house, always showing of my huge hairy pecs and whenever I’d catching him staring I’d give a little pec bounce until he looked away in annoyance. I’d frequently pull him in for ‘brohugs’ where I’d either squish him against my chest or trap him under one of my pits until I saw him getting a semi. He’d alway deny having one though which is why I decided to set up a fun little experiment.

Turns out that Ian, one of the other jocks on the football team, was in-fact gay. Wasn’t hard to decipher after noticing his frequent glances at my ass in locker room, not that I can blame him, and how much he blushed when I gave his jock butt a slap after practice. Next thing you know we’re making out under the locker room showers while groping up each overs bodies. It was insane since before I would’ve considered Ian to be light years out of my league but now I had him on his knees with his lips wrapped around my shaft to which I then soon returned the favour. It was here that I got my experiment idea.

Yesterday after practice, I pulled Ian aside and asked him to come back to my place. He was quick to agree and before you know it we were stumbling into mine and Sam’s shared apartment. My former body jumped up off the couch and asked what Ian was doing here. ‘To have some fun’ I believe my response was being making out with Ian in front of him and dragging the other jock back towards Sam’s-well my bedroom. As Ian and I stumbled onto the bed, kissing along each overs bodies as we slowly undressed, I made sure to leave the door open just a crack.

One thing lead to another and before long Ian had his face buried into a pillow as I buried my cock in his ass and I made no attempt to be subtle about, groaning and grunting and my balls smacked against that supple butt. Throughout our amazing fuck session I made sure to keep glancing back at the door and finally I caught exactly what I was waiting for. I saw none other than Sam peeking through the crack in the door and lightly tugging at my former dick. That was all the confirmation I needed that my little bro was just as much of a homo as I was no matter how much he wanted to deny it.

———

And that more or less brings us up to the present, waking up early in the morning with Ian fast asleep beside me and being called into the kitchen by my growling stomach. As I searched through the fridge to see what else I could find to satisfy my hunger, I heard a cough coming from behind. Whipping my head around I saw none other than Sam with a judgmental look on his face.

“Don’t gimme that look, you’ve seen all this before.” I say, shaking my hairy ass a little before flexing. Sam rolled his eyes. “No no no don’t act like you don’t love seeing me show off your body, I saw you peeking in on me and Ian last night.”

Sam’s face went bright red. “W-w-what? N-no I didn’t!”

Immediately I shushed him, not wanting to wake Ian before stepping closer. “Oh come on don’t lie, I know you jacked off to it. So what was your favourite bit? The part when you got to see me using your body to pound into another buff dude and fill his ass with your cum? Or the part where you watched Ian totally dominate me afterwards and go to town on your former hairy bubble ass?” By this point Sam was completely speechless knowing that he’d been caught.

With that I lifted up an arm, exposing one of my pits to him but this time I didn’t shove him in it. “Go on, you know you want to. You can try and hide it all you want but you love seeing me show off your body, you love watching me adopt all your little habits, you love watching me slip perfectly into you jocky lifestyle. Just embrace it lil’ bro” He stares at me then at my pit. I could see it in his eyes. Pure lust. And then just as I’d hoped, he gave in to it. I couldn’t help but grin ear to ear as he voluntarily presses his nose into my pit, huffing my musk like a drug. I was even more surprised when he pulled away and immediately dropped to his knees, drooling at the sight of his former cock.

“C…can I suck it?” He asked while grasping it gently in his hand.

“Only if you agree to only address me as Sam from now on, even when we’re alone.” I state looking down at his hungry eyes. He nods in compliance and with that I put a hand on the back of his head and press him down onto my dick, letting him slobber all over it. “But don’t get too used to this. I’m planning on making Ian my boyfriend in the future and I wanna be faithful ya know. So enjoy it while it lasts.”

With that everything has finally fallen into place. The old Sam has finally accepted our new roles, I’ve assumed my new identity perfectly and I might even have a hot new boyfriend soon. My life couldn’t be anymore perfect right now…

#male body theft #male body swap #stepbro #step brothers #brothers #identity theft #male transformation #age progression #straight to gay #musclegrowth #muscle theft #male muscle growth #hairy #jock #magic #permanent

[thefreakandthehair]

@eddiemonth prompt, oct 31st: Scary movie night | Vampires Will Never Hurt You - My Chemical Romance | Protective a/n: this one is a continuation from day 18's prompt! but it can absolutely be read separately! read on ao3 + masterpost | tumblr masterlist

It’s not like Eddie hasn’t had more than his fill of regrettable Open Mouth, Insert Foot moments in his life. He’s had plenty, a whole buffet of them in fact, but this might be the most humiliating one yet. 

As if being home on the best night of the year nursing wounds from actual monsters isn’t painful enough, he’s just learned that his tolerance for weed has decreased substantially from his baseline back in March. 

Enough so that as he and Steve, a new and surprising friend he desperately wants to be more, sit on his couch and watch A Nightmare On Elm Street, Eddie finds himself telling Steve truths he hasn’t told anyone yet.

Truths he hasn’t wanted to say aloud because that makes them truths, the same way that Freddy Krueger makes nightmares and dreams become real. 

Much like the fabled veil between worlds, the veil between Eddie’s brain and mouth is at its thinnest. 

“— and it just fucking sucks, dude. I’ve loved these movies my whole life! And now I can’t even enjoy them, I just look at these slasher scenes and see like, my actual life? I’ve been the slasher victim now and it’s not fun, and I want it to be because I love horror movies and now that’s just one more thing the Upside Down’s taking from me—” 

“We can change the movie if you want. Seriously, I don’t mind, man,” Steve tries to interrupt, running a soothing hand up and down Eddie’s arm, his eyes concerned as he strokes from wrist to elbow with far more gentility than Eddie’s used to. Or, maybe, feels he deserves. 

Steve’s words fall on deaf ears because Eddie’s on a rampage now, trying his best to breathe but Glen’s bed erupts on the screen, a geyser of blood sprouting from sheets to ceiling and Eddie just can't take it anymore. 

“Like that! God, I’ve lost that much blood! You, you had to carry me out of some bizzaro Freddy Krueger world covered in that much blood, and that’s not fair, right? We should be out at some party, you shotgunning a beer and me slinging wares and instead, we’re,” Eddie gestures vaguely towards the trailer living room. “Here.” 

He takes a breath and winces at the way deep inhales still pull at his side. 

That’s when Eddie realizes Steve’s holding his hand.

Their fingers are intertwined, just like their destinies were maybe always meant to be. He has more things to say, more thoughts, but they die on his tongue as he looks down at the small gesture tethering him to the couch. 

“Listen to me. What happened wasn’t fair, sure, but you did the best you could to keep Dustin safe and I don’t regret carrying you outta there for a fucking second.” Steve squeezes his hand. “Let’s just pick a different movie— maybe one with less like, blood and alternate dimensions— and if it makes you feel any better, I’ll shotgun a beer to make the Harrington Halloween experience authentic.” 

He turns and stares at Steve, into those huge eyes he’s only recently determined are hazel more than brown as he smiles back at Eddie, warily and crooked. 

And in that moment, he believes him. He does.

“Deal.” 

Steve pops in Ferris Bueller and does, indeed, shotgun a beer much to Eddie’s glee. 

The night wears on and Eddie ends up with his head in Steve’s lap, soaking in the feeling of Steve’s hand in his hair, his nails on his scalp. The sensation lulls him further into oblivion. 

“What if I came out like, a vampire or something? Would you still wanna be friends?” Eddie asks, the latest in a string of questions Steve’s handled with finesse and the occasional snark. He’s still Steve, after all. 

“Look, after everything I’ve seen, vampires are the least of my worries. Sure, bring it on.” 

“Even if I tried to drink your blood?” 

He’s teasing, but Steve looks at him with something heavy he can’t name. 

“Yeah, even then.” 

Silence beats on for a moment afterwards, the air shifting around them. 

“Y’know,” Eddie whispers for no reason. There’s nothing but Steve and silence beside him, but he doesn't want to disturb the atmosphere. “I’m actually kinda glad we ended up here instead of some shitty party. Wish I coulda made it with both nipples in tact, don’t get me wrong, but… yeah. I’m glad.” 

Bright teeth and glossy eyes gaze down at him, better than any Halloween decor or party lights could ever hope to be. Steve brushes the hair back from Eddie’s forehead and lets his other hand, large and warm, rest just above Eddie’s beating heart. 

“Me, too.”

tagging a few people who expressed interest in the follow up: @griefabyss69 @vecnuthy @starryeyedjanai @nostalgicbones @vampeddie

#steddie #steddie fanfiction #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie month #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #eddie month prompts #myblurbs #please consider reblogging if you enjoyed! <3333 #we did it #friends! 31 ficlets and blurbs for eddie month!

[justjams2003]

Fast Pace- 12

Before we start, I'd just like to wish you all a very happy New Year! Know that there is plenty more to come from me in the coming year. And also thank you all for 420 followers (haha nice), I'm still in shock that people keep coming back and wants more. Believe it or not, this is the most active community and website I have ever written for and I'm so glad to have found Tumblr. Anyways enjoy xoxo

Summary: You're a hard-working Chef in Paris and after a freak accident run-in with Carlos Sainz, your life makes a 180. Let's just say with a certain agreement, you get your bills paid and in return stand in as Carlos' girlfriend for the press. But will you be able to handle the pressure and ensure the lines don't blur?

Pairing: Sugar Daddy!Carlos Sainz x Sugar Baby!Reader

Warnings: I've aged up Carlos, he is 33 in this fic. Smoking, smut, sexual themes, age difference, manipulation, control, slight obsession, the word 'daddy', nudity, a garbage family, family trauma, disowning, tell me if I missed any

Taglist: @httpjeonlicious, @f1lov3r, @messersandmesses, @hollie911, @oriconde08 @thehufflepuffavenger1 @fanboyluvr @thatgirlmj @whyamireadingthis @oriconde08 @depressedriches @roseseraj @skepvids @sain55wifey @distinguishedvoidlady @amatswimming @sachaa-ff @lightdragonrayne @lazybot @formula1mount @fangirl-dot-com @saintslewis @carlossainzwho @lordpercevalcharles @topguncultleader @kitixie @serp3ns0rtiae @hangmandruigandmav @therealone4r @keii134 @dark-night-sky-99 @jax-the-oregonian @hachrinnen

Word count: 3,1k

Masterlist

Part 11~Part 13 (coming soon)

“Echanté de voi rencontre, Monsur.” Carlos is trying his best, but at the moment he is butchering your home-tongue. You can’t but be nervous, he however seems as calm as a cucumber about meeting your parents. He’s got the sunglasses on that you gave him. You can see from where your sitting, your initials carved into the side. “No, no, mon cher. Good try, but it’s Enchanté de vous rencontrer, Monsieur.”  

He sighs, rubbing his face in his hands. He looks so much more relaxed already. He’s got short khaki’s on and a casual button up shirt. You’ve hired a more practical car for the week, one with a big trunk. You got your family lots of presents and might have overpacked a bit. Still not used to having such a big amount of money. But even still, you have the sunroof open, enjoying the county side air.  

“I’m sorry, mi querida,” he shakes his head and rakes his fingers through his hair. You can’t help yourself, tucking the stray hairs that fray in the wind behind his ears. “I should’ve gotten a haircut before we came.” He sighs, but you can see that he enjoys your touch. “No, it is the perfect length, don’t change a thing about it.” He gives a side-eye but you can only laugh. “No, it’s in the way.” 

You pout, “No, your hair is just long enough to...grab...” you mutter, taking a handful of hair and pulling on it ever so slightly. Surprisingly, a growl escapes his throat. The noise causes a warmth to spread through your body.

The sunlight hits his skin just beautifully, he looks like hot caramel. Something you want to drizzle into your mouth. You’re sure you could cook a steak on his sizzling skin.  

“This is your home then?” He asks, while caring the bags. He refuses to let you carry a single one. You nod and then knock on the door. “It is a small house for 7 people, no?” He’s not wrong. “Oui, us three girls had to share a room and the boys shared a room.” He grimaces at your words, “Then one day we will have a big house.” You blush at his words and wrap your arms around his, all while subtly taking a photo.  

The door opens, you only now realise how short your mom has gotten. Or maybe it really has been so long. “Ah, ma fille, tu viens enfin rendre visite à ta vieille mère. Cela fait si longtemps et enfin tu ramènes un homme à la maison!” She instantly starts rambling and then opens up her arms and gives Carlos a big hug. “N'es-tu pas si beau? Quel est votre nom et pourquoi êtes-vous avec ma fille?”  

Carlos looks like a fish out of water. His face is entirly blank and he just seems to be nodding along. “Enchanté de vous rencontrer, Mademoiselle,” he stutters through the French, his Spanish accent still blatantly obvious. Your mother just frowns at his bad French. “He doesn’t speak French.” Her wide smile turns sour, “Pourquoi faire venir un homme inutile qui ne parle pas français?”  

You sigh and then nudge him, “the presents,” you whisper. “Il s'appelle Carlos et il a apporté des cadeaux.” Now she really does smile as he holds up the presents. “Oui, come in, come in.” Like always, he allows you to walk in first.

“What did she say?” He asks to you in a whisper. You sigh and shake your head. “Nothing that you need to worry yourself about.” You give him a kiss on the cheek, trying to soothe his usually worry.  

“Apportez-lui quelque chose à boire, je suis sûr qu'il est fatigué après son très long voyage.” You sigh, of course she asks that of you. As if you and him didn’t have the same trip. You turn to Carlos after he sat down along with your mother to open her present, that you picked out. 

 “Carlos, what would you like to drink?” He frowns and then stands up. He takes your arm and then leads you to the couch. “You must be tired, mi querido, it was a four-hour trip, I’m sure you are tired.” He leads you to sit down next to him, he pulls you into his side. Everything in you wants to cuddle into his side, but you can feel your mother’s judgemental eyes on you.  

Instead, you shake your head, “My mother insists that I get you something to drink. You did drive after all.” You can see the tick in his jaw, clearly not happy with this. He smiles, forced clearly, “Please tell your mother I don’t need anything to drink.” You sigh and do just so and she replies with some comment insisting you do just that. Yes, you are exhausted but even still you stand and pour him a drink.  

“Je vais lui montrer la chambre.” You grab him by the arm and pull him up towards your old bedroom. Quite ungracefully you fall on your childhood bed. He smirks, but his smile is quick to fall. “Mi dulce niña, does she always make you feel like this?” Carlos asks you give and exhausted laugh. “You don’t even know what she said,” you peak at him, and he pulls you into his lap.  

He kisses your forehead, “Tell me," You sigh and rest you head on his shoulder. “When she met you, she went, ‘you’re so handsome why are you dating my daughter?’ And then she went, ‘you’re so stupid bringing a man that doesn’t even speak French.’ Then after that it was, ‘poor thing he’s so tired bring him something to drink.’ As if I wasn’t on the exact same trip as you!”  

His jaw locks and his arms wrap tighter around you, “Does she always speak to you like that,” you sigh and sink deeper into his arms. “Why do you think I brought you with. Call you my armour,” you laugh, actually hiding behind his arms. He laughs, but it’s the same type of awkward type, “Where is your dad, is he any better?”  

You hum and then walk down the stairs again after taking your breather and then ask your Maman where your father is. “He is outside with your brother, working hard as always,” she says, still in French.

“Really, which one?” You ask, opening the back door, only to see your oldest brother chopping wood while your father carves the same wood right next to him. “Bér!” You call out and once he sees you, he smiles.  

You walk into the back fields, Carlos trailing behind you and when you do finally meet your brother, he gives you a warm hug. “Finally, back in your own country,” he comments, and you can’t help but furrow your brows. “What do you mean?” You ask, you haven’t told anyone about anything. “You think I haven’t noticed? I am not like Mama and Papa who do not own a phone and use the library’s computer to email you.”  

You frown and watch his eyes. They’re train on Carlos who seems to be struggling with the mud and his very expensive shoes. “Traveling the world with mister Armani,” he teases you like always, and you can’t help but step on his shoes. “Enchanté, Monsieur.” Carlos holds out his hand and it makes you and your brother laugh out loud. “Don’t worry, race-man... I am not her father.” You jab your brother in the stomach.  

“But he’s even worse.” He groans and then begins complaining in French but you’re quick to stop him. “Connard, you know Carlos doesn’t speak French, clearly, you’ve been stalking him. So don’t be an ass,” Bérenger sighs at your words and then translates for Carlos.

“I was just saying that I you see in your fancy Ferrari and your expensive shoes, no one in the family can understand someone like you being with a dull girl like her.” He shrugs and you both laugh, it’s the way you talk as siblings.  

Even so, Carlos’ expression turns sour. “He much more than that Bérenger, now, play nice.” Before you turn to leave to say hello to your father, you ask your brother one last thing. This time in French, because you’d rather not have Carlos know just yet. “How is Papa today?” You brother hesitates, knowing exactly what you’re talking about. “He’s there, like before, no confusion yet today.”  

You nod and make your way over. “Bonjour Papa, I’ve come to visit.” Your father looks up to you, his eyes clear. Not that his personality has changed much, he replies in a gruff tone. “Who’s the boy?” His eyes are like daggers on Carlos.

“He’s my boyfriend,” your dad rolls his eyes. “Yeah, sure. And for how long is he going to put up with you?” You laugh, like always keeping the peace. “I’m not some terrible burden. At least, not in his eyes.”  

Like always he just replies with a scoff.  

Before long, you’re washing dishes after dinner. “Mi paloma, please tell your mother the dinner was delicious.” You can feel his big strong arms wrap around your waist. You’re sure he's feeling a bit alone. It’s only been you and your brother here who can even speak English.

You smile, “Thank you, Carlos, but she didn’t make it.” It’s the truth, the whole evening Bérenger and Carlos chopped wood, all while you have to take care of your mother’s ever whim, like always.  

It doesn’t bother you; it’s always been like this. But you can tell it’s getting to Carlos. “No wonder I liked it so much, it’s your cooking. But, mi dulce niña, you barely ate, aren’t you hungry?” He caresses yours even as you continue washing. “Thank you, Carlos, it’s nice hearing some positive words after that dinner.” He sighs, burrowing his face on the crook of your neck.  

“You’re avoiding my question.” He places small kisses here and there. “It’s not in the diet plan,” it’s an excuse, your mother had been commenting on your weight all evening. Yes, it’s true you’d gained weight, but you’d been working out and most of it is muscle. But her words are sharp, and the thoughts are springing up. If it makes her happy, better so. He does his usual noise when he’s unhappy when something.  

“Tomorrow I’ll cook dinner,” you gasp, turning to him, his words have caused delight in you. “I’d like to see that,” his brows furrow but a smug look is on his face. “What? You don’t think I can?” In your mind, yes, he has a difficult life, but that’s just stress. He has personal chefs and personal trainers and likely his father had too. Not way did he ever learn to cook. “No, not at all.” 

You cross your arms, and he just laughs. “Fine then, I'll show you. You can even post it on your Instagram.” This sparks joy, you love seeing people’s reactions to you and him.

So far, they’ve been nothing but positive. In these short three weeks you’ve gotten 50k new followers. If they’re there for you or Carlos, doesn’t matter to you. You’ll give them what they want either way.  

“You mean it?” Your hands reach up and take hold of his shirt. “Only if you eat,” and with that you bite your lip and nod. “Okay, you’ve got yourself a deal.” He sighs, takes a drying rag and begins helping you by putting away the dishes. “Oh Carlos! Ne perdez pas votre temps avec la vaisselle, Y/N la fera. Laisse-moi te montrer ses photos de bébé.”  

You sigh, leaning your head against his chest. “Oh no,” his brows furrow pulling you away to see what the matter is. “She wants to show you my baby pictures.” A deep laugh escapes his chest. “Mi querida, I’d love to help you finish this, but I can’t miss that.” You laugh but do allow him to see little you.  

“What colour are you choosing?” You ask your mother, watching as she scans through the different nail polishes. Like expect she chooses a toned-down pink, she rarely does her nails but when she does, it’s always that same colour. “Why don’t you choose something different? Look I’m going with this black with gold shimmer. We’re somewhere nice, don’t you want to use the opportunity?”  

Your mother just looks at you over her glasses. “And why is that?” It’s already Thursday, the week had been going by slower than you expected it would and only made you realise why you visit so little.

The only good thing so far has been your father’s awareness, he’s had a few moments of unclarity these past few months. Even so, just like growing up, he doesn’t exactly stand up for you against your mother’s badgering.  

Like always, it's just the usual gruff short replies and relative quietness. Carlos, however, has been nothing but kind. The dinner he cooked was amazing, the fans swooned in your comments. At night he’d hold you tight and whisper sweet nothings. All about how beautiful you are and how you’re perfect as is. It helps, yes, but nothing compares to motherly love. You do everything you can, but still don’t feel like enough.  

“Ah, Mama, don’t be like that.” After that, she continues about the gossip of the town and the lives of your siblings. That is of course until you’re sitting at the dinner table again. Enjoying the food Carlos has crafted to fit both of your diets, showing him your nails. He loves them and makes sure to kiss your knuckles.  

That is, until your mother interrupts your bliss. “Y/N, what did you say Carlos does?” You bite the inside of your cheek. “He is a Formula one driver.” You mutter, trying to hide yourself behind her sharp glare. “And are you still a chef?” You swallow your food; you’ve been avoiding this question for as long as possible. You shake your head, “No, Mama,” her bitter stare grows stronger.  

“So, what is it that you do?” She raises her voice, now your father seems interested. “I am working on my modelling career.” Both your parents groan and gasp in raised tones. “This again,” your brother mutters, he too has been harsh with you. “Why do you keep going on and on about this modelling. Ever since you were small. My daughter, you know I love you, but you aren’t like those pretty girls.”  

Her words are like knifes; knifes reopening wounds you’d been working so hard to heal. Carlos takes your hand under the table. This whole time he’d been encouraging you to stand up for yourself. Convincing you that what they’re saying aren’t normal and that you shouldn’t tolerate it. You’ve tried persuading him or more yourself that she’s your mother and she does it out of love.  

But she’s been ungrateful all week. As if she hasn’t been begging you to come home and talk to her. She comments on everything, your weight, your hair even your laugh. Saying you squeal like a pig, you tried to laugh less after that one. She hates her nails and all the presents you brought home. More than all, you’ve been dreading this happening. Hoping that it never would.  

“No, Mama, I do not know that you love me,” she gasps and begins screaming even more. “How could you not know? I raised you. I fed you, clothed you, gave you the deposit to get your degree. Which you don’t even use now!” The anger over comes you and you rise from your chair. “Carlos will gladly pay back all that money if I was such a burden on you!”  

The whole table goes eerily quiet. Soon it is interrupted by a scoff from your brother. “So what? He’s like your Sugar Daddy, right?” You take a moment to calm down, trying to decide if you’re going to say the truth. But they're your family. You should never lie to your family, right? “Yes,” you take his hand back into yours. You can see that he’s picked up his name and knows he’s being discussed.  

“What is that, Bérenger?” Your mother asks, switching between you and your brother. “She fucks him for money. A glorified prostitute!” His words are harsh and spit flies as he screams. You know for a fact that if Carlos understood French, he’d be raging.

“Unbelievable!” Your mother gasps out and another raging fire starts in you. “What? Is it so unbelievable that someone could actually love me so much that they’d pay to see me?”  

Years and years or anger and trauma, built up due to constant belittlement finally breaks through. “Why does it shock you all so much that he thinks I’m beautiful. That he thinks I’m more worth than all the riches in the world. You hate it that someone actually respects me, because you can’t knock me down anymore.”

Again, the table goes quiet before your brother speaks again. This time in English, clearly wanting Carlos to understand what he’s saying.  

“He doesn’t respect you. He doesn’t care for you. And he most certainly doesn’t love you. He just wants to fuck you. And once he’s bored of you, he’ll take what he’s given and leave you with nothing.” Before you can curse out your brother, a sharp crack is heard. Your brother is on the floor, nursing a bloody nose. “Don’t you ever, ever talk to her like that ever again.”  

You can hear your mother rambling on about her poor son and can only scoff at her reaction. “I’m not some city boy who doesn’t know how to throw a punch. You won’t believe how strong 6G’s of force make you.” Through all the commotion, there is a muttering that can be heard. Listening carefully, it is your father. “Get out, get out,” he repeats over and over.  

You bow your head down low, right by his ear but just shake off his words. This irritates him and he too raises his voice. “Get out, you’re no daughter of mine.” You laugh at his words, “Don’t be silly, Papa, you must be having one of your episodes.” You go to rub his back, in your mind to soothe him but he grabs your wrist before he can.  

“Hear me when I say this girl, because I am clear of mind when I do. While you are still whoring yourself out to this man, you are no daughter of mine.” The realisation hits you like a truck. So much so, that you stagger back, Carlos catching you as your head becomes dizzy. “Mi pequeña, what is the matter?” All you can do is shake your head.  

“Come, Carlos, it seems that we are not welcome here.”   

Just so p.s. me not translating the French and Spanish is for a reason. I'm not just being spiteful, it is part of the storytelling. If you want to get a good grade in fanfic reading (which is totally possible and a very normal thing to want) feel welcome to translate it 😉

Tag list is open, just ask!

#Fast Pace #carlos sainz #carlos sainz jr #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz smut #sugar daddy!carlos sainz x sugar baby!reader #sugar daddy!carlos sainz #sugar daddy!carlos sainz x reader #formula one #formula 1 #f1 #f 1 x reader

[ventismacchiato]

I hope you’re doing well, could you write for Scaramouche where the reader kisses his insecurities away-

Have a good day!!

KISSING HIS INSECURITIES AWAY

a/n: hope this is sufficient 😭 can’t wait for his voice lines to be released so we have a better understanding of his character

notes: reader works for fatui

masterlist

you and scara had been together for just barely a year now, and yet, scara still didn’t quite believe it. you noticed it when he didn’t react well to your touches in the beginning, inching his cheek away or jerking his hand from yours. but as the months passed and seasons changed he slowly let you in. even if that only meant getting to hold his callused hand for an extra few seconds.

you knew of his past and knew when you should stop prying, but sometimes you wished he would let you in. you had to roll your words in your mouth to see how they feel before letting them go, just to be certain scara understood how much you cared for him and wouldn’t judge. it was a slow process, but you were willing to wait.

you were both out on a mission and had separated from your crew to let them do the dirty work, perks of being in a relationship with a harbinger was that he went easy on you. if they needed help they’d call so for the most part you and scara wandered around the premise as you both competed against each other to kill any enemies in your way.

when nightfall came you both slumped against a tree, your breath visible in the air from the cold wind. scara was beside you drawing circles in the dirt, gazing elsewhere.

his other hand was free so you reached over and laced your fingers with his. you felt his body go stiff before he let you lock your fingers with his and rub your thumb against his palm.

“why do you try?” he asks, his voice mellow.

“what do you mean?” you hum, observing the chipped nail polish you had begged him to let you do the other week.

“try with me,” he adds, “it’s pointless.”

you turned to look at him, but his eyes were still downward. the light from the moon lets you see the pale glow of his skin and the bags under his eyes.

“you’re not pointless,” you slowly say, not knowing where he was going with this.

he looks down at your interlocked hands.

“i’m holding my breath every day, waiting for when you inevitably leave.”

“i’m not going to,” you easily assure.

“that’s what everyone else said,” scara dryly laughs, voice empty, “I have no clue how to do this shit. You know I’m a literal puppet. I’m not meant to love.”

“everyone deserves a chance to be loved,” you start, pulling his palm to your lips and letting them graze his knuckles, “i’m gonna stay and show you.”

he finally turns his gaze towards you, eyeing your hand in his.

“i don’t believe you,” he says, leaning his head on bark of the tree.

“I’ll keep trying until you do,” you hum, taking your free hand and maneuvering yourself so you’re straddling his lap. one hand holding his and the other grazing his cheek.

he raises a brow at you, his other hand instinctively holding your waist.

you lean down and place a chaste kiss on each of his cheeks and watch in glee as they bloom pink. his grip on your waist hardens and you take that as an encouragement to continue. you move your lips to his jaw and leave a trail of kisses down to his chin. and finally, you give him a kiss.

at first, he doesn’t respond. but after a few seconds, he pushes you up closer to him and kisses back with more fervor. his fingers interlace with yours and you only pull back for a breath.

“believe me now?” you whisper, curling a strand of his hair behind his ear.

“i’m not sure,” he starts, “you’ll need to do it a few more time,” he adds, a sly smile upturning his lips.

you give him a half-hearted shove but ultimately fulfill his request.

a/n: hope you approved anon 💓 if anyone has requests i’ve opened them^^ ty for reading and here’s to hoping tumblr doesn’t fuck up the layout of this 🍻

#genshin fluff #genshin imagines #genshin impact #genshin impact au #genshin au #scaramouche #scaramouche headcanons #scaramouche drabble #scaramouche fic #scaramouche x gender neutral reader #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche x you #scaramouche x oc #kunikuzushi x reader #kunikuzushi x you #kai requests

[justagalwhowrites]

Beskar Doll - Ch. 10: Leverage

A plan is taking shape but first, you and The Mandalorian need leverage. A continuation of Beskar Doll Ch. 1-9 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: The Mandalorian/Din Djarin x Female Reader

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, light smut (FINALLY! Dry humping, just a lot of it). No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ only

Length: 7K

The trek to the city wasn’t nearly as long on a speeder bike as it would have been on foot. For one, getting down the mountain was a whole hell of a lot quicker when you could travel straight down and not take it at an easy incline. Din was at the helm and you were wrapped around his waist. You diligently kept your eyes closed, worried that watching the trees that you could hear whizzing past your head would make you sick. Your pack was strapped securely to your back, planning to set up camp just outside the city overnight with Keci joining you both tomorrow. 

She’d told you some of what went on in the city, things she suspected weren’t totally legal or were, at least, questionable. You had an idea of where to start after you left your speeder outside the city in a place that seemed safe.  

You’d never navigated a city of this size with the Mandalorian by your side. You were used to blending in, taking advantage of being small and unobtrusive, just raising a hood here or putting on a wrap there to help blend in and not jump out as a familiar sight after tailing someone for hours. A Mandalorian didn’t blend in. 

Instead, it was like the waters of people flowing down the streets parted for you, giving the armored man a wide berth. When you’d glance back to him, you saw him doing the same thing he’d done on Nevarro - never looking in one direction for too long, always on guard for something to jump out and attack at any time. 

After a while of not being able to move through the place the way you liked, you pulled Din aside. 

“I think we need to split up for a bit,” you said. You could almost feel him frown at you. It was funny, you’d never seen his face but you were sure he was doing it behind the metal. “You’re a little too… bold. I can’t sneak into anywhere with you here.” 

“No one’s taking a shot at you with me here, either,” he replied. “And you can’t collect or do anything with intel if you’re dead.” 

“I’m very good at not getting killed when gathering information,” you assured him. You weren’t sure why he seemed to care quite so much. Yes, you were friends now. And there was the added intimacy that came with having traveled together in such close quarters. But this was just part of the job he’d accepted - his code should make it so he’d want to do whatever it took to get it done. “Believe it or not, I did this for years - more than a decade - before I even met you, with way bigger assholes than some Spice runners and gangsters. I’ll be fine.” 

He looked around, over your head, for a moment before looking back down to you. 

“I don’t like it.” 

You sighed. 

“I’ll meet you here in three hours,” you said, eyebrows raised as you waited for him to agree. 

He looked down at you for a long moment before he sighed. 

“Fine,” he pulled a com link off his belt and pressed it to your hand. “Anything happens - and I mean anything - I come get you.” 

You gave him a smile, a nod and slipped into the crowd, feeling his eyes on you until he was out of sight. 

It was much easier when you didn’t have more than six feet of armor behind you. It only took half an hour of navigating the seedier parts of the city when you easily identified a place that seemed to have a stream of people flowing into a nondescript door. You slipped inside, poking around. It didn’t take long for you to find that it was an underground casino, with sabacc tables and slot machines that looked so old they probably pre-dated the Empire. In the middle, through doors that were heavily guarded, was a fighting ring. You winced as you watched two men brawl. It was painful enough to see them beating each other but it was worse when you realized both men were wearing shock collars. One stopped hitting the other - who lay limp on the mat below him - looking off to an unseen force for permission to step away. You saw the metal at his neck spark and his body seize before he went back to beating the man on the ground. 

It was terrible but it’s exactly what you needed. You tried to unobtrusively take a picture.

You worked your way deeper into the establishment, trailing people as they went about their business, listening closely when they said names or mentioned something that sounded like someone had control. You stayed close when you heard the word Spice, doing everything you could to stay unseen, just blend into the background. At one point, you paused at one of the slot machines and pretended to play to listen in on a conversation, one that gave you a specific name. You noted it and stayed close to the person who seemed to know most, following a few paces behind them. You’d thought you’d been doing well until you turned a corner and ran smack into his chest. 

“Well, well, well,” the man looked down at you, his head cocked and a smile spreading on his sharp face. “I have a little stalker.” 

“I’m sorry,” you stammered in Chandrilan. “I don’t understand what you’re saying. I’m lost, can you help me find my way out?” 

He grabbed your face, his fingers digging into your skin, the force enough that it threatened to break your jaw. 

“Surely you don’t think I’m that stupid, girl,” he snarled, putting his face close to yours. “I know you were listening. You’ve been slinking through here for hours.” 

“I’m sorry,” you switched to Basic, straining to talk around his grip on your face. “I’m just… I’m looking for my dad, OK? He left weeks ago, the money is gone, please, my baby brother is starving and he has a habit of losing everything at the tables. I thought… maybe he’d lost so much that you had him.” 

He searched your eyes as though that would tell him the truth. He released your jaw. 

“What’s his name?” He asked, pulling a data pad from his side. You blinked. 

“Perro Obeu,” you said, making it up on the spot. He entered the name and looked at a list. 

“He’s not here,” he said, putting the data pad down. “And if you know what’s good for you, you won’t be here either.” 

“I won’t,” you said quickly. “Thank you.” 

You felt his eyes on you as you left and you tried to move fast enough that you got out before there was trouble but not so fast that you drew further attention to yourself. You paced yourself until you were a few hundred steps from the entrance and you broke into a run, immediately cutting down a road you hadn’t gone done before and grabbing the com link from your pocket. 

“Change of plan,” you said into it quickly. “Meet me at the market we passed, east side.” 

You flicked it off and shoved it into your pocket before you spotted a spout you could scale on a building. You climbed it quickly, scrambling onto the roof. You stayed put and watched as, a moment later, men from the casino came prowling down the alley. You looked around, spotting the clearest path across the roof line. 

“Maker dammit,” you muttered to yourself, steeling yourself before running and jumping onto the next closest building. You stumbled, having to tuck and roll before getting back to your feet and doing it again. You were too short to be really good at this, the distance too great to be really doable for someone with legs your length. The speed you had to move with was reckless, your feet catching and sending you sprawling so much that your hands were scratched and bloodied. Eventually, the market was in view and you went to the edge of the building you were on, looking for something you could climb down. There wasn’t anything you could see, but there was an awning over the entrance to the shop you were on top of that was less than 20 feet down. 

“Fuck,” you muttered, climbing over the side of the building, taking a deep breath, and letting yourself drop. You landed with a clatter on the metal, the people on the street looking up at you with shocked expressions, but you didn’t see the men from the casino. The awning, at least, was only 10 feet off the ground, and you jumped off the side of it into the only open ground you could find, pressing through the crowd and waiting until the people who’d seen your acrobatics were out of sight to pull your hood up. 

Din found you a minute later, taking your elbow and pulling you onto a quiet side street. 

“What in the Maker was that?” He demanded. 

“I picked up a tail,” you replied with a sigh, lowering your hood. “But I think I ditched them…” 

Something about his demeanor changed, his whole body suddenly rigid. You frowned as his hand slowly, gently, went to your chin. He turned your face so he could see your skin in different lights, the hand not touching you slowly clenching into a fist. 

“Who did this?” He asked. You frowned deeper. 

“Did what?” 

“Hurt you,” it sounded as though he was straining to speak through gritted teeth. “There are bruises on your face. Who did it.” 

“Oh,” you winced. “Yeah, I drew some unwanted attention just before I picked up the tail. It’s nothing, and definitely worth it because I got good intel. I have enough leverage, I think…” 

“I should have gone with you,” he cut you off. You drew back, surprised. “No one would have done this if I was there.” 

“I’ve had way worse than some bruising,” you said, trying to reassure him. You held up your bloodied hands. “I did worse to myself, see? Trust me. It’s worth the price. Except I’ll need some makeup to cover this with to pull off tomorrow’s plan… We’ll have to find a stand at the market and quick, I should get out of here in case the tail picks me up again.” 

Din stood there, his body caging you in. 

“I promise,” you said. “It’s fine.” 

You ducked below his arm and put your hood back up, stopping at the first stand you found that sold makeup. You quickly made your purchase, the Mandalorian following you like a shadow, before you made your way back to your speeder and set up camp. You gathered your thoughts and your information, preparing for the next day. Your entire plan hinged on it. 

***

Din was sure, now, that you’d be the end of him. It was as though you’d taken part of him for yourself, like you were walking around with a vital piece and he couldn’t do a damn thing to keep it safe anymore. 

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so angry as when he’d seen your bruised skin. He’d known he should have gone with you. It felt like you should be within his line of sight all the time. It was the only way to know you were safe and he needed you to be safe - more, it seemed, than he needed anything else. Certainly more than he needed sleep.

Which is how he found himself standing guard as you slept, curled up on the ground under every blanket in the pack and still shivering because you couldn’t afford to risk a fire. He’d said he’d wake you for second watch but he wasn’t going to. He needed less sleep than you did and he didn’t think he could rest right now if he tried. Just like on Hosnian Prime, someone had hurt you when he’d been so close but too far to stop it. What good was all he could do if he couldn’t keep you safe? 

But you’d seemed unbothered. You slept soundly, no sign of the nightmares he knew could plague you. He’d seen your scars. He knew that you’d survived far worse than anything that had happened to you today. But you shouldn’t need to. 

You were upset with him when you woke up with the sunrise but he just shrugged. 

“You’re the one who has to convince the local government to provide support,” he replied. “I just have to stand there.” 

“You have to get us back to the settlement,” you glared at him. “Maker knows I can’t drive through trees like that.” 

He laughed. 

“I’ll get us there,” he replied. 

He watched you get ready, using the side of the speeder bike as a mirror to doctor your face and style your hair before changing into the dress you’d packed. He’d seen you in it once before, on the Razor Crest, when you’d climbed out of your hiding place in between crates just to prove your point. The dress had almost enraged him then but he could appreciate it now. It was quietly elegant, demanding respect while highlighting your figure. It was a dress you’d leverage as a diplomat. 

Keci met you about half a click outside the gates, giving you a once over. 

“You clean up well,” she said. 

“Have to look the part,” you shrugged before settling into the business at hand. “Let me do all the talking unless I indicate otherwise. Keci, I’ll ask you to seal the agreement on behalf of the settlement. Mando, I probably won’t ask anything of you at all. There are going to be tense moments, I’m basically going to be blackmailing a politician. It has to be done right. I need all the control of the situation I can get so please don’t intervene.” 

Keci looked concerned. 

“I’ve done this many times,” you said to her gently. “Trust me. I’m going to get us what we want. You just have to let me work.” 

You turned and led the way to the city. 

“Can she do it?” Keci lowered her voice to him, frowning. Din looked ahead to you, carrying yourself like the queen he knew you’d stood in for. 

“She can,” he said. “I’ve seen it.” 

The three of you made your way to the center of the city, finding the government building with ease. No one questioned you as you just walked past the guards, head held high, almost daring anyone to stop you. Eventually, you came to the governor’s office, stopping at a desk outside his door. 

“Can I help you?” The man sitting at the desk got to his feet. A few guards trailed in after the group. You had drawn some attention, after all. Just no one who was brave enough to try to stop you. 

“I’m here to speak with Governor Chadik on behalf of the Bisneth Settlement,” you said. 

“Do you have an appointment?” He asked, looking down at his desk. 

“Urgent diplomatic matters shouldn’t require an appointment,” you replied. The man frowned. 

“I’m not sure that he’s available…” he hedged. Din glanced down at you. 

“If Governor Chadik would like to keep his position within the New Republic, he should become available.” 

The man’s eyes shot up, looking at you, trying to call your bluff. You didn’t waver. 

“Right this way,” he said, gesturing you toward the door behind him. 

Keci looked to Din and he gave a stiff nod as the two of them followed behind you into the grand office. A middle-aged Balosar man sat behind his desk as his assistant came and whispered in his ear, nodding and stiffening in his seat. You gave a strong, knowing smile. 

“Please,” he said as his assistant stepped back. “Come in, take a seat. Can I get you anything?” 

“No, thank you,” you said, stepping forward, your hands clasped in front of you. The man came out from behind his desk to meet you in the middle of the room, leaning down to kiss both of your cheeks. Din stiffened. 

“Always a pleasure to hear from the settlements,” he said, gesturing to the seats at the front of his desk. You took the middle one as he went around the back. “I’m Governor Chadik, with whom do I have the pleasure?” 

“Mesh’la,” you replied. Din felt his stomach clench at the sound of Mando’a on your lips, your pronunciation perfect. “I’m here with my guard, the Mandalorian, and Keci, the mayor of the Bisneth Settlement. I am here on behalf of the people of the settlement, people that are suffering on your watch.” 

“Now, I’m sure that’s an exaggeration,” he began, but you cut him off. 

“Governor,” you gave him an almost condescending smile. “Do you really think a New Republic emissary intervenes when there aren’t serious concerns? Do you believe the New Republic wastes time and resources on mundane, minor issues?” 

“No,” he said quickly, laughing lightly. “No, of course not…” 

“Good,” your smile became slightly more genuine. “I’d hate for you to not have a clear understanding of my role here. And your role, as well.” 

“Of course,” he said quickly. “And I can assure you, we do everything we can to ensure the welfare of the people here…” 

You held out your hand and Din handed you the data pad he had at his side. 

“I am concerned, Governor,” you frowned, looking down at the data pad. “That you don’t. You certainly don’t seem to do everything in your power and you don’t seem to understand your role, either…” 

“It’s a big world, Mesh’la,” he said, grinding his teeth. “I’m not saying there wasn’t something that was missed but…” 

“Well then your administration has missed an awful lot,” you said. “From Bisneth Settlement alone, a dozen citizens have been taken and enslaved by Spice runners from the Zottex Spice Operation, an organization that’s recognized as a criminal syndicate galaxy wide. The operation has cut off all trade routes to the settlement, exposing citizens there to a risk of starvation. Are you intending to participate in the flesh trade, Governor?” 

“No!” He sputtered before regaining his composure. “No, of course not…” 

“Excellent,” you said, scrolling further on the data pad. “Can you explain why you’ve allowed this to happen on your watch?” 

“The settlement is remote,” he ground is teeth. “They are largely cut off from the rest of our society, by their choice I might add. It leaves them vulnerable, there is only so much I can do with the resources available to me…” 

“Of course,” you nodded kindly, cocking your head questioningly at him. “So explain the happenings right here, in your capital city.” 

“Excuse me?” He said, getting to his feet. Din went to stand, but you threw an arm out, stopping him. The man’s eyes darted to the Mandalorian, metal restrained by flesh. 

“He will step in if I allow it,” you said, meeting the man’s eyes. “He’s a Mandalorian. There is no hiding from him. If I say you should be taken into custody, you will be. Please, have a seat Governor.” 

He ground his teeth again before dropping forcefully into his chair and leaning across the desk. He closed his eyes for a moment relaxing his jaw, before he spoke again. 

“There is nothing happening in my city,” he replied. 

“So you’re unaware of the illegal casino only a few blocks away from here?” You asked, bringing up an image of the fighting ring on your data pad. “The one that includes slave ring fighting, run by the Zottex Cartel? Because what it looks like to me is that you’re getting kick-backs from a Spice operation, allowing them to capture citizens, starve citizens and profit from getting your citizens addicted to an illegal substance. Is that not what’s going on?” 

He looked almost murderous. Din’s hand moved to his blaster. 

“Now, Governor Chadrik,” you smiled gently. “I know you’re a busy man. It would be impossible for you to know everything that was happening on your planet at any given time.” 

“Of course it is,” he seethed. 

“But,” you sighed. “I think, given the New Republic’s current stance on the Spice trade and the increased crack down on slavery in the Outer Rim, you’d have a hard time making it out of this with your job intact… Unless you do something to make it better.” 

“What are you asking for?” He asked. His hands were in fists on his desk. You smiled broadly. 

“Nothing that’s outside your capacity to give,” you replied, sliding the data pad to him. “I have drawn up this agreement between Bisneth Settlement and the Zottex Cartel. We just ask that we have the full backing of the Bakuran government in the enforcement of this agreement.” 

“You really think you can get the cartel to come to an agreement with a backwater settlement,” he hissed. 

“Yes,” you said smoothly. “With the right incentives. We just ask for enforcement aid, a reasonable request that you should be fulfilling anyway. Also, you end the slave fighting. We can turn a blind eye to the casino.” 

“How do you expect me to get Zottex to shut down the fighting?” He demanded. You shrugged. 

“That’s up to you, isn’t it?” You said. “But if you don’t want word of it to get back to the core government, you’ll make it happen. I can’t return to Coruscant and not report it if it’s still happening. Honestly, Governor, I’m doing you a favor with this offer.” 

He looked at the data pad. 

“I don’t have the man-power to support this level of enforcement,” he said. 

“Yes you do,” you replied. “The New Republic has added 8 million credits to this world’s security budget in the last 2 years. You can afford additional forces. Unless you’d like me to examine where those funds have gone while I’m on world?” 

“It doesn’t matter anyway,” he grabbed the data pad off the desk and scrawled his signature. “You’ll never get Zottex to agree.” 

“Good thing that’s not your problem then, isn’t it?” You smiled. He almost threw the data pad at you but you took it gently from his hands and handed it to Keci. 

“Mayor,” you said. “Please sign on behalf of your settlement.” 

She was looking at you, somewhat awed, but took the data pad and obeyed. You showed the governor before pressing a few keys. 

“I just transferred a copy of this agreement to you for your records,” you said. “And, of course, we will be filing this as an official agreement with the hall of records on Coruscant. We will let you know when the agreement goes into effect. In the meantime, you have 4 days to end the slave fighting. Do you have any questions?” 

He just glared at you. 

“Excellent,” you smiled, handing the data pad back to Din before facing the Governor again. “It was nice to meet you, Governor Chadrik. I look forward to you fulfilling your pact with your people. Best of luck to you.” 

He didn’t say anything as you led the way from the room, Din watching him until he knew he wasn’t going to shoot you. 

“Maker be damned,” Keci hissed as you left the building. 

“Wait until we’re the speeders,” you said quickly, your head still high as you made your way through town. 

You found the bikes in the trees and Keci threw herself around your neck, laughing, almost giddy. 

“I didn’t really think you could do it!” She clutched onto you. You just smiled and patted her back. “I can’t believe it, we’re going to get the help we need!” 

“We’re only half way there,” you said, stepping back gently. “We still have to back Zottex into a corner.” 

“I know,” she said, still smiling hugely. “But I think we can. I know we can. You’re not really an emissary from the New Republic, are you? What if he tries to get out of it?” 

“And what,” you shrugged. “Sends a message to Coruscant saying ‘hey, just checking, but someone called me on my shit, can you confirm she’s with you?’ He’s going to keep this as quiet as possible. And you don’t have to be an emissary to file something with the hall of records. We can log it, it will be binding. We just have to get Zottex to sign.” 

“We can,” she said quickly. “We will.” 

You rode on the back of Din’s speeder, your head between his shoulders at his back, your arms around his waist, legs around his hips. He let himself enjoy the feeling of it - the feeling of someone who could bring the Governor of a planet to his knees wrapped around him. 

Keci spread the word the second she was back, with what seemed like the entirety of the settlement pouring from their homes to greet you on the street as you walked back to where you were staying. Someone started playing music and you’d only made it up the path to where you were staying when someone pressed dishes of food into your hands. 

“I feel bad for taking resources,” you said, sitting with your back against the wall as Din started a fire. The sun was going down, but the celebration in the streets of the settlement was just getting started but the two of you were far enough away that it was quiet, distant. 

“Think you earned it. Besides, trade will start again soon,” Din said, sitting across from you. “How’s your face?” 

“Fine,” you waved him off. “Barely even feel it.” You took a bite of food and closed your eyes, moaning happily. “Fuck, almost forgot what not-rations taste like. Maker, that’s good.” 

Din laughed and your eyes went wide. “I’m sorry, I’m being so rude,” you said, moving out from the wall and turning to face the corner. He paused. “There, I won’t look. You should eat, it’s so good.” 

He watched you for a moment. He wanted to ask you to turn back around, having more fun watching you enjoy yourself, but thought better of it. Instead, he removed his helmet and took a bite. 

“You were right,” he said. “This is…” 

“So good, right?” You said when he couldn’t find the words. He smiled. 

“So good.” 

After dinner, you strategized until it looked like you were going to collapse and Din convinced you to lie down, the faint strains of music still filtering in through the window. Again, he waited until he was sure you were asleep before he silently removed his helmet, holding you close enough that he could feel your skin until he couldn’t keep his eyes open, putting the helmet back on before falling asleep beside you. 

*** 

The giddiness of pulling off your plan clung to you all the way back to the settlement and all evening long, the happiest it seemed you’d been in ages. It was like your whole body was burning with it, a pleasant tingling spreading through your limbs and your chest, consuming you. You’d been about ready to fall asleep sitting up with Din convinced you to lie down, something you were happier to agree to when he took his place next to you. 

The feeling only seemed to grow as you slept, though, and the ache inside you deepened as you dreamed of the most stable presence in your life, all metal and soothing baritone. What it would be like to touch him, feel him, the need twisting and gnawing in your sleep. 

“Mesh’la,” his voice, slightly strangled, reached you, and you woke with a gasp. You were in his arms but closer than you’d ever been. One leg was hitched over his hip, your core pressed against him, suddenly acutely aware of his hard length against you through his flight suit. His arms were around you, loosely, like he was afraid to touch you, but your chest was pressed tight against him. 

“I’m…” you started, panting for breath but not fully understanding why. Your eyes searched where you knew his to be below the helmet, about to apologize when you realized that he was breathless, too. 

He lifted a gloved hand, tentatively, brushing your hair back from your face. You took a deep, shaky breath, the ache between your legs growing at the feeling of him pressed against you. 

“What do you want, Mesh’la?” He asked, his voice trembling. “Tell me what you want, what you need.” 

You groaned quietly, pressing yourself closer to him, somehow inching you closer to relief while spreading the ache through your body. 

“You,” you whispered. “I want… I need… you.” 

He took the hand from your face and took yours. 

“Help me take this off,” he said, still panting for breath. You obeyed, hand trembling as you pulled the glove from him. His fingers traced your hand, his skin feeling too soft for someone who lived the life he did, before running up your arm back to your face. His fingers drifted into your hair and he moaned softly, twisting in it at the base of your skull before pulling your head to his helmet and rocking his hips against you. 

A strangled groan spilled from your lips as you moved against him, working yourself over him while the hand that was below your body clutched at your lower back, pressing you so tightly to him you were afraid you’d burst. 

But you needed it, needed the closeness, needed to feel as much of him as you possibly could, the ache threatening to consume you otherwise. His ungloved hand eventually left your face, trailing to your chest and running over your breasts beneath your shirt, softly cupping you as he pressed his length against you harder. 

His pace increased, his hand running down your body - leaving your breasts with a strangled moan - to your hip, his fingers digging into the flesh of your thigh as he pulled you closer. You knew, if you were both naked, he’d be buried inside you like this. But instead it felt like he was trying to climb inside your skin and you were desperate to let him, wanted to feel him that close to you like you’d never wanted anything else. 

“Cyare,” he moaned as you clung to him, doing everything in your power to bring him closer. The hand on your leg moved again, this time slipping up your shirt to your back, his fingertips digging into you in a way that would probably hurt if you weren’t so desperate for release, for him. You moaned, biting your lip, nearing choking on the aching pleasure. “Tell me what you need… fuck, so soft…” 

“Just you,” you managed, hardly able to string two words together. All you could think of was the rising pleasure, the tightness building in your core, how you weren’t sure it would be possible to ever be close enough to this man to be truly satisfied. “Please, Din…” 

He thrust up against you, almost rabid with need, hitting you just right so that the band that had been tightening inside you snapped and you came with a strangled cry. He grabbed you with both hands and pulled your hips against him with all his strength, gasping as he came undone, his orgasm so powerful you could feel him throbbing through your clothes. 

“Fuck, Cyare,” he moaned, all the tension leaving his body as he went limp beside you, his grip on you easing, both of you panting for breath. You stayed like that, your body against his, raw from the intensity of your release, for a few minutes. His ungloved hand shakily came to your face, cupping your cheek gently. You pressed your face into his palm, luxuriating in the fact that you were touching him, his skin. “Are you OK?”

“Yeah,” you said. Your voice was shaky. “Are you?” 

“Yes. I’ve wanted…” he paused, his breathing straining to return to normal. He ran his fingers through your hair. “I’ve wanted to touch you for so long.” 

Your hand covered his ungloved one, lacing your fingers through his and tugging his palm to your lips as press a kiss into it. His breathing stuttered again. 

“Good,” you said softly. “Because I wouldn’t want to be in that alone.” 

He held you close, your leg still over his hip, your face still against his helmet, until you both fell asleep again, completely wrapped up in each other. 

You half expected to have dreamed it, for him to not be there when you woke, but he was. Your leg was still over him, his ungloved hand was tangled in your hair and curled around the back of your neck, his thumb gently tracing your throat, your forehead against the bottom of his helmet. The ache in you from the night before lingered beneath the surface, hazy morning light coloring the room around you a soft orange. You gently ran your fingers along his side, where his skin was only covered by his flight suit and there was no armor between you. 

“Doll,” he said softly, his voice low. It made you jump, snatching your hand back into yourself for a moment before you slowly, cautiously reached back to his side. He wouldn’t be holding you like this if he didn’t want you to touch him, right? 

“Yes?” You breathed, resisting the urge to move your hips against him. 

“What do you want?” His voice was almost a growl, heat and desperation in it. 

“I thought I’d made that clear last night,” you said, softly, slowly rocking your hips against him. He groaned. 

“Good.” 

His hand disentangled from your hair and almost flew to your leg, pulling it higher on his body so he could press himself closer to you. You buried your mouth in his shoulder to muffle your strangled cry as he almost viciously clung to you, the heat that had been present in your body curling between your legs. You abandoned any pretense you had, arms wrapping around him and pulling him tightly against you, your body crushing against his muscle and armor. 

You couldn’t remember ever needing something - anything - the way you needed this. Like there was a fist in your chest, squeezing your heart so it threatened to burst until you found relief. The arm that was below you suddenly wrapped tightly around your waist and Din rolled onto his back, taking you with him so you were on top of him. His hands moved quickly to your hips, reminding you of how he moved when fighting - exacting, purposeful. He pulled you down against him and you almost collapsed on him from the shock of that rolled through you, the angle exposing unknowingly neglected nerves and flesh that relished in the contact. 

His hands guided your movements, fingers clinging to you, working your body over his in long, full, aching strokes. You shuddered against him, your head falling weakly to his, the cool metal feeling almost as intimate as the bare skin of his hand as his fingers brushed against your exposed flesh over the top of your pants. He thrust himself up against you, fast and hard and reckless, and you groaned, pressing your lips into his covered shoulder just to put them somewhere on him. 

Din’s hands left your body for a moment, just long enough to pull off the other glove and cast it aside, before slipping them below your shirt and over your skin. With a moan, he pulled you down onto him, his hips meeting yours, the feeling of his bare hands on you heady and intense. 

You tried to steady yourself and have just a moment of lucidity, putting your hands on his shoulders and pushing him into the ground, leveraging yourself up and looking down at him. Your long hair was a curtain around you both and your eyes found his below his mask, feeling him there as you worked yourself against him harder, faster, your breaths coming in keening pants. His hands slid slowly up your body, the feeling of his skin on you leaving a trail of fire up your flesh. He moaned breathlessly when he reached your breasts, his soft touch standing in stark contrast to his sharp thrusts beneath you. You gasped his name as the tightness inside you neared its peak, bringing you higher and higher. 

“Fuck, Mesh’la,” he moaned. “You feel… Do it, take what you need…” 

You pressed yourself so hard against him it seemed like a miracle you didn’t break from it, working his hard length over your core until you came undone, your body going limp and hips stilling. His hands moved on you again, his hips still pushing up against your overwrought center, one going to the small of your back, the other wrapping around your middle, holding you so tight against him that you weren’t quite sure where you ended and he began, your whole body a raw nerve. He held onto you like you were all that mattered, the only thing keeping him alive, the only thing he’d ever needed. You felt his release overtake him, a strangled groan slipping from him as he gasped for breath and clutched you to him. You lay there, body limp on him, wondering how the fuck he could do this to you. 

It’s not like you were especially experienced - you’d only ever been with one person, war and a subsequent life in hiding not exactly giving you much time for things like romance. But you weren’t a total novice, either. Sex with Dagres had been good. Not that you knew a damn thing about it but you loved him and it felt right. But it never felt like this and you hadn’t even touched him, not really. You were both still fully clothed. 

“Cyare,” he said. His hand trembled as he found your face, the other slipped up your back, fingers gentle on your spine. Your lips brushed his thumb and he pulled your head to the base of his mask, sighting against you. You kissed the middle of his chest, against his armor. 

“What does that mean?” You asked softly. His hand stilled in the middle of your back, his palm large and warm. He was silent. After a moment, you decided to cut him a break, fighting to ignore the pang of rejection. “We should go, we have a lot of work to do.” 

***

All Din wanted was to hold onto you for a while longer. The absence of you stung as you went to get changed. He stared at the ceiling for a moment, listening as you just existed in the next room. It had been so long since he’d last touched someone but it felt like he couldn’t get close enough to you, no matter what he did. You were so soft, possibly the softest thing he’d ever held. He could almost imagine what it would be to sink into you, to feel you completely. It had been months since he’d last been with a woman and it had only ever been something quick to satisfy a need. Everything stayed on, he’d never touched someone the way he’d touched you. 

When he’d woken to you pressed against him, warm and desperate in your sleep, it took him a moment to realize that it wasn’t a dream. He should have woken you up the moment he knew what you were doing. But you felt too good and it consumed him. He could only wake you up when he couldn’t take it anymore, when he was so desperate to move against you that he had no other choice. 

He hadn’t meant to call you cyare. The word seemed to have slipped from him of its own accord, the only word he knew in any language that fit you. 

He wasn’t sure what to do now. He signed, getting to his feet and silently leaving the house before you emerged from the bedroom and walking down the path to the settlement. 

When you came down not long after, you didn’t say a word to him, barely glancing at him before finding Keci. 

The next thing he knew, you were climbing the tallest tree near the center of town. Din growled and stalked over to it, standing beside Keci as she looked up at you. 

“What’s she doing?” He asked, arms crossed over his chest as he watched you keep climbing, the thin branches looking like they’d barely hold your weight. But you kept climbing. 

“Looking for a good siege point,” she glanced over at him. “She’s damn good.” 

“I know,” he muttered, still watching you. Your foot slipped and Din jumped - ready to do what he wasn’t quite sure - but you caught yourself. You were too high up. But you held onto the tree, surveilling the area before climbing back down, dropping beside Keci and landing deftly on your feet from more than 10 feet up. 

“I think I have it,” you said, nodding to her. “If we set up the meeting hall to withstand a siege, we can put the most vulnerable in there. We can work with the landscape around the outskirts and we’ll only need a few well-placed explosives. We can force them through a funnel point, have the defensible siege location. Once we pin them down, we can capture one or two major players and force the agreement.”

She nodded. 

“We have about two dozen strong fighters,” Keci said. “A handful more who are decent marksmen if we set them back…” 

“If we can make sure their numbers don’t overwhelm us,” you said. “I think that will be enough. But we need to force them into the funnel.” 

“On it,” Keci said, making for the central part of the settlement. You watched her go for a moment before glancing at him. 

“Yes?” You asked, voice cool. 

“Can you try harder to not get yourself killed?” He grumbled. 

“Sorry, Mando,” you said. “Wasn’t aware you cared.” 

He couldn’t think of anything to say. Instead, he just watched you leave. 

#fanfic #mandalorian fanfic #enemies to friends to lovers #din djarin #smut fic #slow burn #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x f!reader #the mandalorian x female reader

[modelbus]

Here we go, my first tumblr anything-tober. This year I’ll be doing flufftober!

These will be shorter “oneshots”. Also I apologize if this isn’t exactly fluff lmao…

Pairing: Cc!Tommy x Gn!Reader

Flufftober 1 - The Clock Is Wrong (Time Loop)

“Tom, right?”

Day 27 of this stupid time loop. The first day, you didn’t even realize. By the end of the week you moved into despair, bargaining, and anger. By day 20 you hit acceptance. For the past 7 days, you’ve been living out the day as you normally would. Same thing every time, save for it you change bits yourself.

Tom was the boy you bumped into every repeated day at the zoo. The first day you hadn’t thought much of it except for a mental “oh, he’s cute”. But now, when everything is so monotonous, he’s become an oddly bright spot.

It took you four days to get his name: Tom Simons. The name, oddly, seemed to fit him.

He blinks at you, gaze swiveling from his dropped drink—Coke, you learned on the sixth day—to you. His spilled Coke was entirely your fault; you had bumped into him. On purpose this time, unlike that first day.

“How-?” He starts, eyebrows furrowing.

“You have the vibes.” You joke, laughing. “I’m so sorry about your drink, I should’ve been looking where I was going.”

“Oh, no, it’s fine.” He smiles at you, bright. Most of his smiles were—day 9.

“Are you sure? I can buy you another one, I feel like shit.” You don’t.

He shakes his head. “No, I can buy my own. Don’t worry about it mate.”

“At least let me accompany you to get another.”

This was your in for today. You’ve been trying different ones, just attempting to spend more time with him. He wasn’t alone here, he came with friends (day 2), so you always ended up parting ways. And you always ended up wishing you didn’t.

“Fine.” He relents. “But only because I should make you pay for running into me.”

“Oh yeah, I’ll put my full effort into walking with you to get another drink.” You laugh, sarcasm lacing your words.

“Coke.” He says. “And you should.” After a moment of heading back up to the fridge with the drinks in the gift shop, he speaks again. “So. You guess people’s names from their vibes a lot?”

“It’s actually my superpower. Don’t tell anyone though.” You nudge your shoulder against his, grinning when he nudges you back.

“Name someone else then.” He challenges.

Truthfully, you panic for a second. Sure, you know the names of his friends (Wil and Phil—day 8), but they’re outside. And then your eyes land on someone in a red vest declaring them as a zoo employee.

“Janet.” You say, pointing at the worker.

Tom grins at you, like he’s predicting your downfall, then marches up to the worker with his new Coke in hand. “Hey, what’s your name?” He asks the worker, already turning to you.

“Uh, Janet. Is there anything I can help you with?”

His jaw drops open, and he quickly shakes his head. “Uh- no, thanks!”

You let out a loud laugh, and he grabs your wrist to drag you to get in the checkout line for his Coke.

“How did you do that?!” He hisses, glancing around.

“She had a name tag, Tom.” You laugh, covering your mouth to muffle the sound so people don’t stare.

“…Oh.” His cheeks flush, making you laugh even more. “Stop! Shut up!”

He quickly pays for his Coke, shaking his head at you. But you know better, and you know his humor. Besides; he’s smiling.

“I can’t believe you actually believed me.” You sigh, still smiling like an idiot.

“How was I meant to know she had a name tag?”

“With your eyes!”

At the exit door to the zoo gift shop, he pauses, fidgeting with the bottle of Coke. Your heart leaps into your throat. This is it. Most likely your parting for the day. Sure, you’ll see him tomorrow, but that’s after another cycle. Another looped day.

“Are you here alone, or…?” He starts, trailing off so you can fill in.

“Alone. I know, it sounds sad, but I like the zoo. And you?”

“Friends. Two of ‘em, actually.” This is normally where he starts to sound apologetic and makes an awkward goodbye. You brace yourself for it, in fact. “Do you- do you want to join us?”

For all the times you’ve waited for this invite, you aren’t sure what to do now that you have it. “Oh.” Is the only thing that comes out of your mouth.

“Not that you have to or anything, but if you want to. I mean, you seem pretty cool and not like a serial killer or anything. Unless you like pineapple on pizza. Then I’m going to have to leave you.”

You shake your head. “I don’t like pineapple on pizza, don’t worry.”

“Cool.” He grins at you. “So…?”

“Yeah, I’d love to join you. And your friends.”

As you step out of the shop with him, rolling your eyes playfully at a dumb joke, you can’t deny the warmth that fills you. Even if it was only for today, a day you’ll repeat, you get to spend it with a boy with blond hair and a smile like the sun.

#dsmp #mcyt #mcyt imagine #tommyinnit x reader #tommyinnit x you #tommyinnit #tommyinnit imagine #tommy innit #tommy mcyt #dsmp tommy #tomm

[choicesficwriterscreations]

October 2023 WOTM: peonierose

Each month CFWC highlights one of our talented fanfic writers, and this month’s writer of the month is @peonierose. We hope you will enjoy learning more about them and their work below! The writer is selected at random. More info can be found on the navigation page.

Quick Links:

Tumblr Blog: peonierose Blog Masterlist

How do you want to be known on Tumblr? Peonie or PR is fine 🥰

1- When did you start playing Choices? What was the first book you played? 

Way back when Choices first launched. My first book was The Freshman Series - book 1. It was so fun to play the books and get super excited for new chapters. I was waiting until midnight for new chapters. It was the first time I’ve played an app where I could make decisions and use diamonds for VIP scenes 😍

2- When and why did you join Choices fandom?

I joined the Choices fandom back in 2021. I really missed Open Heart after book 3 ended (and left me wanting more) So I wanted to see if there were any more stories I could binge, and that’s how I stumbled upon Tumblr 🥰

3- How did you pick your blog name? 

It may sound weird but it just came to me. Peonies are my favorite flowers. As soon as I thought peonie I quickly added rose and I was like that sounds so cool and it’s unique which I love 😍 And that’s how peonierose was born. 

4- Pull up the first post in your archive, and tell us about it!  

Gosh. This feels like forever ago. When I first came on tumblr I didn’t post or reblog much 😅 (too shy to interact with anyone 🙈)

5- How long have you been writing fanfiction?

It has been 2 years in August this year since I’ve actively started writing fanfic 🥰 (I still can’t believe I actually made the leap and decided to post any of my stories). 

6- What is your favorite Choices book, and what is your favorite Choices book to write about?

You’re really going to make me choose? There are so many good ones 😱

I love to write for two of my favorite books which are Nightbound and Open Heart. Those are the ones I feel most connected to 🥰 Though I’d love to venture out and make edits or social media posts for other choices books too. 

7- Share the first fanfic you wrote with us. Do you still like it, or would you change it if you were writing it today?

I wrote Robin‘s Tell-All from TNA, and it was the first fic I’ve ever shared. I really wanted to write a story from Robin‘s POV and how all that happened in TNA affected him and all the mistakes he made. 

I wanted to showcase his inner struggle. 

I remember how nervous I was to post something that I’d written. I thought to myself, will people even like my story? And if they do like it, then what? It was a great rush to see the reblogs, and the love for my first-ever posted fic. 

If I could change one thing, it would probably be the moodboard 😅

8- What is your favorite fic that you’ve written?

That is a tough question, because to me every fic I‘ve written has a special place in my heart. So every story reflects the feelings I’ve felt while writing my story. 

Buuuuut if I had to choose: It would be a tie between By a Landslide (Bryce and Luna), the 3rd chapter of my Nightbound series - Unexpected and Go with the Flow (Luna & Bryce) 

9- Do you have a fic that you didn’t expect to be well received, but it was? What about one you expected to be but found could use a little more love?

I actually didn’t think I’m a sucker for you, A Pinch of Pink and Blue…This one‘s for you,  Cinnamon Sugar and Wildflower, to be as well received as they did. 

However, I think Bittersweet Symphony and Losing Game (1 / 4) could use some more love. 

Both stories are amazing and I think you’ll love both my pairings. Luna & Bryce and of course Maxine and Adam. 

10- If you could write only angst, fluff, or smut for the rest of your writing life, which would it be and why? 

I am by no means a smut writer 😅 Maybe I’ll get there 😅 But I’d go with a mix between angst and fluff. I think a nice balance between these two would be good. 

11- Do you ever recognize yourself in any of your MCs or in your writing?

Yeah. Tons of times. Take Luna for example. She has anxiety like me, and her appearance, such as her blue-green eyes and dark blonde hair, are like mine. But character wise we’re complete opposites. I wish I’d be more artistic like her 🩷

And Bryce is an Aries like me, and so many things he says or does make me go back, and I’m like, yeah, I would say something like that. Other than that, I’ve learned to give my characters real flaws and make them human, if that makes sense. But it does happen that they end up with character traits that are mine, and then I lean back and realize I’ve given my characters some of my weird and quirky character traits 🤣

12- What element of writing do you struggle with most?

Damn. Umm…I struggle with a lot of things. Finding the right words sometimes because English isn’t my first, not even my second language. I speak six languages, so it's sometimes hard to find the words to describe things. 

Showing, not telling that’s another thing I struggle with. 

That and if I have to keep a deadline to post something 🤣 Because it takes me forever to post anything I’m not 100% behind and happy with. 

13- Do you have any neglected work you really want to finish?

How much time you’ve got? I have over 30 wips, that want some desperate attention, and I always keep adding new wips, whenever something inspires me to write 😅 

I’ve found some new inspo for Somewhere Only We Know 🥰 Apart from that I’d love to take another look at my two AU‘s Amber & my Nightbound series. So we’ll see what wips I can manage to finish 😅 

14- If someone you know in real life (who isn’t involved in fandoms) asked to read your work, would you let them? If yes, what would you recommend they read first? 

Sure. I’d love to get an outside opinion of my work and my characters that are so beloved and close to my heart 🩷

I actually tell people that I write fanfic and original work. And I’ve sent some samples their way and they liked it. Which makes me feel more confident in my writing (not saying it’s perfect, there’s always room for improvement, but it’s getting better). 

As for which story to start? I’d say start with Only Love for Bryce and Luna. That was my first story of them and I consider it their start. 

Then continue with Always & Forever and Go with the Flow. 

Those were my first posted stories about Luna & Bryce and I think you’ll like them. It would give you a good understanding of my storytelling and my characters. 

15 - Are there any writers (published authors and/or fanfic writers) who influenced your writing? 

There are a couple of authors I admire - Chloe Neil, Elise Kova, Nalini Singh, Rachel Caine (R.I.), Rebecca Yarros, and many more. They have influenced and shaped my writing, my fantasy world-building, and, of course building my characters. These authors know how to tell great stories, which makes me admire them so much. 

As for fanfic writers who’ve inspired me? I’d love to give a special shoutout to one of my closest friends who’s been my beta reader for almost anything @annieruok She’s an amazing person and writer. Thanks so much for all the times listening to my ramblings about scenes and characters 🩷 

16- Which one of your stories would you most like to see as a movie/series? 

My Nightbound series hands down. That is a story that really deserves to be on the big screen or as a Netflix show. I’m not picky. 

I’d love to see Grey, Gretel and Hänsel kick some ass. It’s a unique enough story to garner some attention 🥰 I’ve worked really hard to write it and it took me a year to come up with chapters, character names and so forth. 

Also Somewhere Only We Know would be cool to see on the big screen. I’d probably weep from joy if any of my stories were ever developed as a movie or series 🥰🥹

17- Do you write original fiction? 

Yes, I actually do. I have several original works in my Google docs. And just recently, I had an idea for another original story (I don’t feel comfortable sharing it yet) 🥰 But let’s just say it’s fun to come up with the characters and world-building and everything in between. 

18 -  What other hobbies do you have?

Reading books, trying out new recipes in the kitchen. This also reminds me I need to exercise more 🤣 

Taking walks & going shopping. 

Hanging out with friends and binge watching shows and movies on Disney+ and Netflix. Just trying to  enjoy every single moment that every day has to offer 🩷 

19 - What’s your favorite emoji? 

It’s a toss between these three 🥰😍🩷 (What can I say I love pink 🩷 not just because of the new Barbie movie and the pinkmania 🩷) 

20: BONUS - tell us anything you’d like (if you want to).

First, I wanted to say thank you to everyone. For being picked as writer of the month is a huge honor 🥰 Thank you to everyone who has ever taken the time to read my stories, reblog them, and leave some unbelievably nice words. 

I’m very grateful that you guys took the time to shower me with love. Sometimes, I wonder what I did to deserve some of your nice words and love. I also wanted to give a special shoutout to some of the people who are very dear to me. 🩷 

Thank you guys for supporting me. Being there for me - through great and not so great times - I‘ll never be able repay your kindness 🩷 You guys make me strive to be a better version of myself and I couldn’t be more happy to call you my friends 🩷

@annieru0k @cariantha @txem @doriopenheart @mysticalgalaxy @aallotarenunelma @inlocusmads @heavenssexiestangel @socalwriterbee @secretaryunpaid @ofmischiefandmedicine @starrystarrytrouble @the-pale-goddess @takemyopenheart @quixoticdreamer16 @princess-geek @eleanorbloom

#choices fic writers creations #cfwc writer of the month #playchoices #choices the stories you play #writer of the month #peonierose #october 2023 #choices fanfic #playchoices fanfic

[mottlemoth]

So I’ve been hiding a lot. I’m really sorry. Being back on Tumblr makes me feel like it’s fine to share some of this - I’m sorry if it’s weird to hear - I’m just having a tough time and I need to be honest.

Various things are happening to me in real life at the moment. It’s been one thing after another, and there’s more to come. Usually I turn to fandom for a support structure and an escape from stress, but I’m realising that sense of comfort has been missing from my life for a few weeks now.

I came to OFMD from a small rarepair with a very close and very supportive community. I absolutely wasn’t prepared for the kind of things I’ve experienced in the last few months on Twitter. The OFMD community there has a lot of problems right now, one of the most worrying being a lethal lack of awareness that fan writers are fans. We’re writing for fun, sharing our work for free. But we’re being ripped apart by people who’ve had years of practice at criticising showrunners for creative decisions they don’t approve of. The abuse is largely motivated by jealousy - any author who picks up too much kudos or appears on too many rec lists becomes the next target, and it’s usually cloaked under a false banner of social justice. It’s happening over and over again. It’s transparent and it’s exhausting, and the things being used to justify the abuse are so tenuous that I often can’t believe what my actual eyes are reading. I’ve been accused of misogyny for writing Edward ‘Shoot-The-People-Who-Teased-Me’ Teach as reacting emotionally, therefore “female-coding” him, therefore sexism. I don’t know how to cope in this kind of environment.

I’ve been through endless rounds of coaxing myself to try to relax - to forget about the paranoia and the toxicity, and shut up and get on with writing because I have a duty to finish this fic and everyone’s waiting for the next chapter and if I don’t hurry up and post it then I’ll get Tumblr messages saying “when can we expect the next chapter” and - suddenly I realise, wait. I’m not actually obliged to do any of this.

This is my hobby.

I am 100% allowed to stop doing this at any point I want to.

“But you have a duty to the people who’ve--”

Look, I get that this isn’t something anyone wants to hear, but... no. I don’t. I’m an exhausted thirty-something sitting in her pyjamas after work, having a cry because my hobby somehow turned into a full-time job on top of my already miserable full-time job. AO3 writers don’t have a duty to do what they’re doing. Fanworks are literally a gift of time and energy from a complete stranger. I’d love to be able to ignore the people being abusive towards writers, but I can’t. And, again - this is my hobby. I’m not obliged to ignore the abuse and just get on with the task. If I’m upset, I’m allowed to stop. (Let’s say I joined a knitting club. Let’s say some of the members were routinely vicious and awful to anyone who got “too good” at knitting, and none of the other members ever hit them with any consequences for their behaviour. I don’t have a duty to stick around at Toxic Knitting Club, even if I never finished that pair of socks I started. If the club cares about its own survival, then it needs to make the environment feel safe and welcoming. It can’t just expect people to ignore the nastiness.)

OP, I blanked your name and pfp from this message because I don’t want you to get grief. But I’ve searched for your username in my email inbox, and found that this is the first time you’ve ever spoken to me. You’ve never reached out to chat or be kind or make friends, but you’ve reached out to prod me when you think that I’m being tardy with delivery of your content. Chapters 1 to 43 appeared at least once a week, sometimes twice or even three times a week. Did it cross your mind that maybe there’s a reason why chapter 44 hasn’t dropped yet? Did you think, something must be wrong, maybe I should ask if they’re okay? No, you just came to bang on the vending machine. I’m sorry if this is an uncomfortable lesson to learn, but the writers in your fandom aren’t staff. We’re guests. Tonight, when I get home from work, I have the option to run a long bath, have a cry and play The Sims until I fall asleep, or the option to sit down at my desk and write something for you, even though I might get harassed and bullied for it. You haven’t tipped the scales in the direction you meant to.

I don’t know how to even begin concluding this post.

I’ve been struggling ever since I was dogpiled back in September. I feel very lonely and very tired. Twitter is an awful bloody website and it’s structured around division and argument. I’ve been feeling better since I came back to Tumblr. My breaks at work are now spent scrolling through pretty GIFs or cool meta or funny things about Izzy, rather than drama, and it’s helping. So... I don’t know, OP. Don’t start being like this here. I’m fighting so hard to find reasons to stay in OFMD. Life is rough at the minute, and I want to spend my free time feeling happy and safe with people who see me as a friend, not a vending machine. I’m doing everything a professional writer does, but for no pay, with no protection or support from a publisher, and I’m fitting it around a full-time job. That’s... well, that’s the situation. That’s the situation all your fan writers are in, however well they seem to be handling it. It’d be great if you could reflect on that.

TLDR; this is my hobby, and I work on my hobby when it feels fun.

#personal

[subdee]

Phantom Troupe thoughts

SPOILERS FOR MANGA CHAPTERS 395 and 396!!!!!

...Ahem.  I haven’t checked the main tag or been on tumblr much in the last few weeks so forgive me if this is old news but... catching up on Hunter x Hunter and can’t believe that in the year of our lord 2022, we finally have canon confirmation that the Sheila conspiracy theorists were right all along!!! 

Sheila confirmed member of the OG phantom troupe!!  Also the book she gave little Kurapika and Pairo in the “Kurapika’s Memories” chapter, that inspired them to want to leave the tribe and attempt the Hunter exam, was probably “Dino Hunter” because it looks the same and Sheila only reads one book apparently.  

This whole thing - Sheila being probably a member of the OG phantom troupe and basically pretending to stay sick so she could keep talking to Kurapika and Pairo - naturally leads to the dark interpretation that after K&P spent months caring for her she turned around and lead the Phantom Troupe back to the exact location of Kurapika’s tribe... Something fans have speculated for over a decade now...

***

On another note, how funny is it that the “Phantom Troupe” started as literally a troupe - as in a troop of actors?  

Or in this case, it’s even more nerdy - they are a troop of fandubbers LOLOLOL. 

...No wonder they were willing to let Hisoka in he probably reminded them of their roots with his theatrical sensibilities LOLOLOLOL so they ignored the creepy vibes...

I am sensing some kind of tragic backstory for Sarasa, btw, even more than the other members of the Phantom Troupe we meet in these panels, because we meet her by name, and she seems like the emotional heart of the troop... Chrollo has the Vision (TM) - more on that later - that gets all of them together, but she’s the emotional glue that helps them all to get along!  Also the only OG member (besides Sheila) who isn’t around anymore at the start of the manga!

From right to left, top to bottom: Sarasa, Uvo, Chrollo, Machi, Nobu/Shalnark, Franklin, Sheila, Pakunoda, Phinks, Feitan.

If Togashi wanted to simplify the backstory (although caveat: since when does Togashi want to simplify anything?), Sarasa could be the thing Kurapika’s tribe “took from” the Troupe (re: the Meteor City motto). 

BUT, and getting back to “nothing is ever that simple in Hunter x Hunter”... these chapters specifically mention that “a female traveler” found and reported the bodies... and that could be Sheila as well

***

...Something occurs to me here.  The Meteor City motto is well known, Kurapika wasn’t present when the Kurta clan was massacred, couldn’t anyone have left the note to frame them?

...Can you imagine if after ll this time, it wasn’t the Phantom Troupe who massacred the Kurta clan at all????  

The only “evidence” reported in the news is the note, after all... we learn Kurapika’s motives really early (like chapter 2) but after all this time, I can’t remember if Kurapika ever explains how he knows it was them!!!!!!!

Here’s when he explains his motives to Leorio... there’s nothing here about how he came to decide it was the Phantom Troupe who massacred the Kurta....   Uvo doesn’t remember (at first) anything about the massacre and Chrollo neither confirms nor denies it... when Kurapika asks if he was the boss at the time of the massacre he just laughs it off and says there’s nothing to say about it.   Everything he says is vague, like he knows that Melody has the ability to detect lies so he carefully only says true things, but without giving anything away (and unlike Uvo, you get the impression that Chrollo would definitely remember the details of his past heists. 

Melody catches the contradiction here (chapter 117):

And here’s what Chrollo has to say about the massacre (chapter 115):

It’s a bit of a stretch, but the way he says this... I mean Chrollo is slippery in general, he doesn’t answer Gon’s question (about how they can kill people with no relation to them) either, so this could just be Chrollo being Chrollo.   But I wonder if he’s being vague on purpose bc the Spiders, for some reason, agreed to take the fall for this one despite not being involved.

...The thing that seems to contradict this is that Uvo does say he remembers the massacre... not at first, but later, after Kurapika has him chained up: 

It’s in chapter 82.. .chapter 83 is when Uvo remembers and it seems pretty clear-cut BUT Uvo is a hot-head who says the thing he enjoys most is killing avengers, and it’s not clear yet that Kurapika really has the upper hand so he could just be riling him up. 

... What he says seems too specific to be just a taunt, but here’s the panels just in case you guys want to decide yourselves:

IDK IDK.. it seems pretty clear cut but the wording here has always been slippery.

Meanwhile, also on the side of “maybe they didn’t do it” is Nobu, who’s pretty vehement in the most recent chapters that the Phantom Troupe don’t indiscriminately murder for no reason and aren’t trying to burn the world to the ground (anymore), unlike Morena’s minions and also unlike the public perception of them.

There’s even a story in the manga about people from Meteor City being falsely accused of a crime (chapter 102):

The message on the corpse’s foot is the only proof that people from Meteor City carried out the assassinations.... remember pretty early in the manga when Kurapika almost kills that prisoner in Trick Tower with the fake spider tattoo because he goes into a rage?   Falsely accusing people from Meteor City, other criminals impersonating members of the Phantom Troupe, and  (some) people knowing about the Meteor City calling cards are all facts in the Hunter x Hunter world.

Not saying the Phantom Troupe aren’t a bunch of thieves and murderers - of course they are and we seem them committing a mass murder on panel even LOL -  but how funny would it be if we, the readers, have accepted for twenty years that the Spiders massacred the Kurta clan because Kurapika said so, but he (and we) have been wrong this whole time????  

No one even thinks to question this because we know they are more than capable of doing it...

Well anyway, it’s a pretty far-out theory and I’m not sure I even want it to be true, because I think the Spiders can be sympathetic/interesting and have massacred the whole Kurta clan, it’s not like they have to be completely innocent to be compelling characters.   

...Incidentally this chapter (102) is the same one that shows the videotape that apparently formed the basis for the Phantom Troupe getting together... to make fandubs of a sentai show** LOLOLOL thanks for finally explaining the significance of this panel more than 20 years later AND making it the most nerdy thing possible, Togashi. 

**Not just any sentai show, but one where the heroes clean up garbage... I mean you can see why it would appeal to the kids in Meteor City... but as a 90s kid it just reminds me of Captain Planet :P  

Not much other thoughts, except that the baby phantom troupe are adorable.... Uvo and Nobu being older than the rest of them and playground bullies, Chrollo’s best friends being Sheila and Sarasa (girls), and Machi refusing to play the princess are all kind of perfect actually. 

^Chrollo and the girls.

I also really enjoy how... well you know, all this time we knew the Phantom Troupe had their own motives for being thieves and murderers and for having that bond with each other, but now we actually get to see why & how the bond was formed in the first place... the Phantom Troupe are the main characters of their own story and Gon and Killua butt into that story (Gon especially) to support Kurapika without understanding anything about their motives actually, in typical myopic-child fashion. 

...I do have other thoughts about the most recent chapter re: toilet-chan, but I’ll put those in another post. 

#hunter x hunter #hxh #hxh spoilers #hxh manga spoilers #hxh chapter 395 #hxh chapter 396 #please please please let this post ok i spent so long on it!

[youremyangel]

TBHK Lore is a very interesting topic that raises a lot of questions in our minds. Among those asked questions are: How did Hanako, or should we say Yugi Amane, changed his fate? And that, my fellow Tumblr users, is the question we will try to answer or better put, theorize about in this post. 

So, without further ado, How exactly did Yugi Amane changed his future?  

In the red house, remember that time when Minamoto Kou told little Tsukasa that Yugi Amane died when he was 13 years old, after he murdered him?

Well, that is pretty much how Amane’s future changed, began, the second time. Let me explain. 

As stated by Tsuchigomori, Amane's future was supposed to be becoming a science teacher at the school, correct? But what if that wasn't the case to begin with? That, the real fate for Yugi Amane is that as a result of his weak body, he dies at the age of three, a few weeks or a month (if he was lucky) after this happened.

But, since Tsukasa made a wish to the so-called God under their house, Amane's fate changed and he had the chance to grow up and be a science teacher. As for the price of his wish, Tsukasa stayed inside the house without anyone knowing. Thus, changing his brother’s future. The first time.

Everything you’ve read, should've made sense from that point on, but… since Tsukasa still is inside the red house, Amane still had a future, wouldn't that mean all the stuff that's happened in the entire manga shouldn't have never happened nor even existed? Then Kou and Nene wouldn't have met little Tsukasa in the first place, but they did. So how did Kou and Nene meet little Tsukasa despite the fact that an Amane that has a future still exists? The timeline is clearly messed up. 

However, if we ignore that for now… It would mean Amane’s future changed Three times. 

First was Yugi Amane’s true fate, which is for him to die at the age of three due to his poor health. Next is the future where he was going to grow up and become a science teacher as a result of Tsukasa’s wish. Lastly, is the future where he killed his brother and (likely) himself when he was 13 and then became Hanako-san, because little Tsukasa came back after being ‘missing’ for more than half a year after their 4th birthday.

In other words, it wasn't Amane who changed his own future, it was his brother Yugi Tsukasa. 

I believe this is what Aidairo was trying to show in the red house arc, how Amane’s fate was changed or to be more precise, how Tsukasa changed his brother's future, two times.

Getting back to the hole in my theory,  I'm still at a loss and can’t come up with any explanation. But I do have a speculation. Remember my “Was it destined” post? (If you haven’t please don’t check it out there were a lot of holes,  it was more like a speculation than a theory, to be honest) I think Fate played the strings here yet again.

For the reason that Tsukasa tried to change Amane's true fate. Fate returned to ensure he still died at a young age, despite having lived a few years longer than he was supposed to. In the end, Amane and Tsukasa both suffered the consequences for trying to change his fate so instead of succumbing to illness without committing any sins, Amane died by stabbing his brother and then himself with a knife, for reasons we still not know yet. What’s clear though is both of them paid the price…

Still it’s just a speculation, who knows why and how the two timelines both exist at the same time. But one thing’s for sure I think I can confidently say that my theory is true. Even with that one hole in it that isn’t solidly patched up yet.

#jibaku shounen hanako kun #jibaku shonen hanako kun #jibaku shoujo hanako kun #jshk #toilet bound hanako kun #tbhk #tbhk theory #hanako kun #yugi amane #yugi tsukasa #yugi twins

[quotidian-oblivion]

Fic Stats Game

Got tagged by @uncertainwallflower for this game and THANKS SO MUCH!!

Rules: Give us links to your fics with the most hits, second most kudos, third most bookmarks, fourth most comments, fifth most words, and fic with the least amount of words.

Most hits

My School’s Local Mafia Boss

I think the title really explains it all? But anyway:

Jason knew that attending a rich ass school was going to be the toughest and most mind-grating thing ever. His beliefs were confirmed when he got cornered by bullies on his first day. The only thing he was surprised about was that it took them so long to find the school's new street rat. Just as he's about to be punched, a fucking 10 year old (he's actually 12) steps in and... starts threatening the bullies? And they actually listen?? What the fuck???

And that isn't the only surprise that's waiting for him.

Yep, knew it would be this one. I'm so proud of it

Second most kudos

Sometimes You Have To Find Your Own Genes

Timothy Jackson Drake just wants peace. So far, it’s going well with his time as Robin and hanging out with Batman and Nightwing while the occasional messy, violent visits from his parents. But when a certain someone comes back from the dead and reveals the secret he was honing and hiding for most of his life... well, it basically all goes to shit.

The multichap fics have the most stats cuz... they're multichaps. They appear in the filters more often

Third most bookmarks

Phone Alarms

"Just imagine Jason recording Batman angrily yelling "Nightwing!" then setting it as the sound of Dick's phone alarm so in the next morning when it goes off he flips the fuck out"

Saw the prompt on Pinterest. Wrote this in one setting.

I'm actually really proud of this one, might reread it

Fourth most comments

Can You Deduce Where I Am Now?

As soon as he woke up after coming back from Titans Tower, the second Dick and Bruce stepped into the room, Tim had eagerly told them that Jason was alive and that he was Red Hood! They didn’t believe him, blaming it on lack of sleep and the haze being shot brought, but Tim was sure he saw Jason. Older, bigger, with a white streak in his fringe, but still Jason.

OR

Tim goes out to find Jason to bring his big brother back home. Jason... Jason has other matters to ponder on before deciding to come back.

I love this fic!! I went through like three or four different plots before writing it right before posting it (i write everything before posting). And then Cyg came in and beta-ed it so that was fun!

Fifth most words

Let Them Be Siblings

After the Waynes burst through his door and whisk him away from his parents and their harsh belting, their plane blows up, leaving Tim an orphan. Living in the manor is getting a little suffocating because no one seems to understand that he still loves his parents. They expect him to just “get over” his grief and—

Tim can’t stay anymore. So he runs away. And meets two very interesting people.

Least words

Regarding The Workings Of A Zoo

Damian collecting a series of increasingly non-domesticated animals and naming them after his siblings.

A drabble for 105 subscribers on ao3 and 100 followers on Tumblr!

This is 886 words i cant write small stuff, i keep blabbering

No pressure at all tags: @sardonic-sprite @tristicorde @wakkoroni @foursixtwonineoh-pieces-of-lego

#quotidian convos #quotidian writes #fic stats game #tag game #fic tag game #fanfiction tag game #fanfic tag game #writer tag game #tim drake #dick grayson #jason todd #bruce wayne #dc #batfam #batman #damian wayne #batfamily #fic rec #dc fic rec #batfamily fic rec

[lotanxiety]

The Girl Who Cried Wolf pt.1

Paring: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Your family is attacked by a werewolf, leaving no survivors but you. When Sam and Dean come to save the day, what happens to you. You’re alone in the world now. What’s going to happen to you? (soft Dean, no smut…yet)

Warnings: loss of family, violence

A/N: first ever story on tumblr and first one ever of the spn world! i apologize if its bad, but i hope you like it! pt 2 coming soon

things to look forward to: fluff & smut, more soft dean

—————————————————————————

You were the girl with the broken home, but things got even more broken when a werewolf ravaged your home killing your entire family, but you. Dean and Sam found you underneath your parent’s bed after killing the werewolf.

“SAMMY” Dean yelled as he peered at you underneath your parent’s bed. He held out his hand to you but you stayed wide eyed and frozen, completely in shock. “I’m not going to hurt you, I promise.” Dean said in a gentle tone right as Sam walked into the room. You finally accepted Dean’s hand and crawled out from underneath the bed. “Come on, let’s get you out of here.” Dean said looking at Sam and leading you hand in hand out of the room. As you made your way through the hall into the front room, you saw the aftermath of what had happened. Blood and claw marks littered the walls, but it wasn’t until you saw your family with their hearts ripped out on the floor of your childhood home, that the depth of the situation hit you. You released your hand from Dean’s as you covered your mouth in horror. “Oh my god” you say, the first words coming out of your mouth. Dean immediately wrapped his arm around your body pulling you into him so you wouldn’t have to see and led you outside towards the Impala. You started sobbing.

Once outside, you pushed away from the strange man, who seems to have saved you, but you needed answers. “What the hell happened?” You say with tears streaming down your face. “M..my family is dead.” Dean opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. His heart hurt for you, and hit close to home for him. Sam spoke up, “It was a werewolf. He attacked your family. But we killed him. I know that can’t bring your family back, but I hope it brings you peace to know the monster that did this is gone.” Sam looked at you with such compassion and understanding while your head was racing a million miles a minute. “Wait, you’re telling me a werewolf did that?!”

“What’s your name?” Dean asked.

“Y/N…Y/N L/N” the words came out so quietly that you weren’t sure if they had heard you.

“Well Y/N, I’m Dean and this is my brother, Sam. We are hunters. We kill monsters like that thing in there. Werewolves, vampires, you name it, it’s pretty much all real.” Dean said.

“Oh” you say.

“Oh?” Sam asked inquisitively, not expecting your reaction.

“I’m not really sure what to say here. My entire family is dead, I.. I have no one. And now you’re telling me monsters are real.” once you say that out loud you just start laughing. The brothers stare at you wide eyed and concerned.

Dean reaches out to touch your arm, “Y/N, I think you’re in shock. Let us take you back to our motel and we can try to help you make sense of everything.”

“Sorry… sorry” you say as you calm down from laughing. “I just..i just can’t believe this is my life. Do you know why I was even here tonight?” The boys shake their head at the rhetorical question. “I was trying to mend things with my family. When I left home to go to college, my mother was mad at me for leaving her. She made it my responsibility to look after my little siblings while she would run off to god knows where with my shitty stepdad for days…weeks at a time. I hated it here so I left and didn’t look back for years. I came back to apologize and try to get close with them again. And now they are dead.” you chuckle a little at the horrible reality that is your life but then go silent and stare off into space letting everything sink in. Dean and Sam share a look and a nod. Sam puts his hand on your shoulder with a look of pity as he leads you into the car. “Come on, you can take a shower back at motel and get some rest. Tonight has been…a lot.”

The drive was completely silent. The brothers understood your pain all too well. They knew they wanted to help you. They have saved a lot of people before, but something specifically about you really made an impact on them. Once the three of you arrived at the motel, they led you into their motel room.

“Here, you can wear this if you’d like” Dean says handing you an oversized t-shirt. That’s when you finally looked down at yourself. Your pants had been ripped, and you were covered with dirt and blood.

“Thank you” you said meekly, heading to the bathroom. Once the door shut behind you, you turned on the shower to as hot as it could go. You stared at yourself in the mirror for a second, deeply investigating your appearance. There was a cut on your cheek. The werewolf had knocked down the door to your house, attacking everything in its sights. It clawed your cheek, but you were able to run away into the bedroom before it got to you. You noticed the blood stains on your shirt, some was yours and some was not. You shuttered and stepped out of your clothes as quickly as possible. Stepping into the scorching water was a relief. But then every emotion you had been holding onto flooded the forefront of your brain and you just lost it. You slid down to the bottom of the tub and sobbed. Meanwhile in the room, Sam and Dean were talking.

“What are we going to do about her? I mean her family is dead, and she doesn’t have anywhere to go. We could bring her back to the bunker with us” Sam suggested. “And bring her into this life? Absolutely not, Sam. We will get her settled here, but then we leave. We can’t subject her to our lifestyle. She’s been through enough.” Dean said firmly. “I just…, we know what she’s feeling. She will never be the same again. I’m responsible for this. Had we followed the first lead, we could’ve prevented all of this from happening. I was the one who pushed to follow the other lead. Her family is dead because of me.” Sam said defeated as he put his head in his hands. Both of the brothers felt awful as they heard you sob from the shower. “Sammy, you know this isn’t your fault. We can’t bring her family back, but we can make this as right as possible by taking care of her and helping her to get settled, which is exactly what we will do.” Dean stated.

Finally, you make your way out of the shower and put on Dean’s shirt. Luckily, it fit like a dress so you didn’t have to worry about pants. In any other situation, you would feel uncomfortable dressing like this in front of basically strange men, but it was obvious they have been through shit too. You felt like you could trust them. Opening the bathroom door into the room, you found Sam sitting on the edge of a bed, and Dean in the chair. Silently Dean motioned a beer in your direction which you gladly accepted and went to sit on the edge of the other bed.

You broke the silence. “I haven’t said thank you. So um thank you for saving me.”

“You don’t need to thank us Y/N, it’s what we do.” Dean said. “I’m sure you have a lot of questions…”

“I don’t even know where to start,” you trailed off. “Um, the werewolf that attacked my family.. do you know why he went after us?”

“We have our theories” Dean says and you and him exchange a look. He continues, “We think your stepdad owed him money. Hank, the werewolf, was pissed off then wolfed out on him and your family.” You chuckled again, a common coping mechanism. “Yup, that would be the reason my stepdad got everyone killed. Except me of course. Unbelievable.”

“Listen, Y/N why don’t you get some rest and tomorrow we will figure out the next steps.” Sam suggested.

“Oh my god, my family.. their.. their bodies are still just in the house..what are.. how do i..” you stared spiraling again as hot tears ran down your cheeks. Dean leapt off his chair to kneel in front of you resting his hands on your knees. “We are going take care of that Y/N, don’t worry about that.” Dean says while his thumbs make gentle circles on your thighs. “What are you going to do with them?” You ask quietly. “We have to burn their bodies” Dean says as you make real eye contact with him for the first time. You immediately started crying even harder and he pulls you into a hug. Dean holds you while you grieve your family, gently combing through the ends of your hair with his fingers. Dean and Sam exchange a look, and Sam gets up, grabs the keys, and heads out to do the dreaded job. He knew from Deans look that he needed to stay and comfort you.

Once Sam had left the room, you do your best to compose yourself and raise up from Dean’s shoulder. You turn to face the man that has been nothing but kind to you since the moment you met. You wipe at his shoulder, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-“ you start as you sniffle. “Don’t worry about it. This is a lot. I know that pain you’re experiencing and I know it doesn’t seem like it now, but you will be alright eventually.” Dean says moving to sit next to you on the edge of the bed. “You know I could tell the moment I saw you that you’ve been through some shit, too. Did your family get killed also?” You ask, quickly realizing that’s not something you should ask someone and face palm. Dean chuckles a little, “Um yeah, it’s a long story but they were both killed by a demon.” “Oh wow, I’m so sorry Dean” you say as you grab him hand. “Seriously, uh thank you for saving me tonight.” you release his hand “and for all of this” you say motioning to his shirt you’re wearing and the room. “Of course. Get some rest” Dean says patting your leg and standing up. “Oh wait Dean, there’s only two beds. Where are you and Sam going to sleep?” you ask. “I’ll sleep on the couch, and Sam will sleep in the other bed. I went to ask for another room for you, but they are at capacity. I’m sorry, I hope that’s alright” Dean says. “Yes, but no. Let me take the couch. I am not putting you guys out anymore than I already have” you say moving to sit on the couch. “Absolutely not Y/N, you’ve just been through something traumatic. You’ll have to physically move me off this couch if you want to sleep here.” Dean says beating you to the couch and throwing himself across the length of it. You laugh at this man and his ridiculous kindness, say thank you and make your way to one of the beds. Pulling yourself underneath the covers, you switch off the lamp and turn to your side. All of your tiredness caught up you and you crashed within seconds.

#dean winchester #spn #fanfic #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester #dean winchester fanfiction #werewolf

[wigglebox]

Queer? In my John Winchester?

It’s more likely than you think! 

Sorry — but not really. 

So, it’s 2022, there’s a Supernatural show on, and I am sitting at my desk wondering how to actually start talking about a queer reading for a character that many don’t like the idea of being queer.

No I’m not talking about Dean Winchester — I’m talking about John. 

I remember waaaay back when in Ye Olden Times of June 2021 when the show’s script commitment was leaked, myself and a few others on Tumblr tossed around the idea of “Omg what if they make John queer, he’s in a relationship with another guy, and then heaven forces them apart because he has to be with Mary.”

And that wasn’t out of a desire to just have a slash ship. Those happen regardless, all the time, with little to no warning and little to no reason sometimes. Shipping happens. Shipping doesn’t have to be canon, doesn’t really have to make sense, and is a personal thing between you and your AO3 account. 

From my perspective, I had been wondering if they’d do it simply because the meta symbolism comparison — whatever — would be so great for Destiel and that ship’s journey. 

And, I still stand by that, and if anything, even more so now that I’ve had more time to think about it and see the characters on my screen. 

While watching 1x04 of The Winchesters, Masters of War, even mid-episode, Twitter and Tumblr and likely your Discord servers were all ablaze with “What was that look that John just gave Carlos in that uniform? Millie? What?” and especially after this tweet:

Just gonna do one of these while I’m at it: 

Anyway —

But for me, that wasn’t the only moment my brain starting firing when it came to the possibility of John and Carlos. 

First of all, since we know where John and Mary are eventually going to end up, this show can’t hurt me. I’m already expecting to be hurt. It’s not queerbaiting, it’s not anything like that. Also, especially now, very much not queerbaiting. Coding is not baiting. But regardless, I had gone into this show fully expecting to just start shipping everyone for everyone just because why not?

But after 1x04 I legitimately will be paying more attention to John/Carlos. 

For me, the most interesting thing about Destiel was that it kinda was born organically. Cas wasn’t meant to be a character that stuck around but the chemistry was too good to get rid of him, and the story just made sense with him there tbh. It was over the years and years that these two were on screen together in which it went from “Yay, a slash ship that’s not with his brother!” to “Oh my God are they going to make this canon? It makes the most sense!” 

The thing with Destiel is that since it was organic, it was born outside of the narrative. Cas was the first one to “make it up as we go,” he exists outside the narrative. 

The whole thing when it comes to Chuck Won theory for me is that Cas is a threat to Chuck because he exists outside of the narrative and kept trying to get Dean to go along with him — subconciously of course lol. [Side note, this is why I don’t believe Cas is in heaven, because if indeed Chuck won, Cas wouldn’t be there. Cas is ‘real’, he’s ‘truth’]. 

Destiel is a pairing, a love story, outside of the actual story while directly influencing the narrative that Chuck is trying to dole out to us. 

It was a brat, the suits/Chuck couldn’t control it, and once it started rolling down the hill, no one could stop it. 

Destiel was the character pairing that broke the narrative. 

Now, when it comes to The Winchesters, we have a bit of a thing going on here don’t we? We have four characers: Two young women, two young men. This is actually prime fodder for a shipping free for all. 

Carlos already expressed his once crush on Mary, Latika [to me at least] is kind of crushing on John, and John and Mary, we know, wind up together regardless. 

However — John and Mary are the narrative. That’s The Plan TM. That’s heaven’s outcome, that’s Chuck’s outcome, that’s the thing that needs to happen for the story to play out how they want it to. John and Mary don’t have a choice in this. 

But, they both still need a relationship outside of the narrative for contrast. 

The thing with Supernatural is that we never had Sam or Dean have ‘narrative compliant’ relationships. There was no need to have them hook up with someone to make children who are destined to bring about the apocalypse or whatever. That was all on them. That was supposed to end with Sam and Dean. 

But The Winchesters has a narrative couple, even if they don’t know it yet. For me, John and Mary still seem like just friends, they all do really, and while sometimes they’ll have talks in the van or heartfelt speeches to each other already with piano music softly playing overhead — it still doesn’t feel like romance. If anything, in 1x03 with John’s words about Mary and having to save her, it felt more like we’re inching more towards brother co-dependency than not. 

Since we have a narrative couple, and we already know what that is, we need a non-narrative couple. We need John and Mary to seek relationships with others, and probably get a little farther with it than just one date. We need something outside of the narrative that’s threatening to also take John and Mary along as well. John and Mary need their Cas, because they certainnly aren’t Dean and Cas to each other. 

“But Jen, why not just have John with Latika?” 

Because I said so! No, just kidding, because Carlos makes more sense to me in this case. 

It’s been clear to a lot of us watching that Carlos really captures the attitude and spirit of early seasons Dean. A little over confident, likely compensating for something. Withholding emotional stuff, maybe a little cavelier in his love life, and hell we even got a “why does paper even beat a rock” reference in 1x04. 

But in 1x04, it feels like Carlos was also set up with Cas parallels. 

Carlos was in the Navy, he was in the service, just like John. Dean and Cas were also ordered basically to “fight” by their fathers, and were essentially soldiers of their own corners of the narrative. 

But, Carlos isn’t a soldier. He’s a medic. He’s a healer. First thing I thought of was “Oh, Cas healed people and Dean all the time.” That’s one of the things I associate with Cas a lot is just healing, both physical wounds and emotional ones. 

I find it interestingly fasincating that Carlos was put in contrast to John like this. Dean and Cas to me were on the same level whereas Carlos felt like almost the polar opposite to John. He didn’t illegally sign up for the war while underaged, he wasn’t really looking for a fight, and he did none of the fighting but instead helped those who were wounded in the fighting. Whereas John entered the war underaged, was a Marine, and likely saw so many atrocities unfold before him including the death of his friend Murphy. 

The Destiel parallels didn’t end there for me. 

It seems like we’re test driving John with the different characters. He’s with Mary, alone. Then he’s with Latika, alone. And now he’s with Carlos for most of the episode, alone. So it feels like it’s almost like I’m watching The Bachelor lol. You have the winner who was engineered by producers to be the pick at the end of the competition [Mary], the one who actually was in it to find love with the Bachelor [Latika] and the one that the Bachelor actually fell in love with [Carlos]. 

[I’ve never seen this show lmao I’m actually modeling this off of Flavor Of Love but shh don’t tell anyone]

Obviously, my saying John is in love with Carlos is literally just me saying that. Literally no proof of that right now. I’m just saying if we’re going to throw some tropes in there, that’s where I’d slot him in. 

So getting back to Destiel parallels — I found the jungle space that John and Carlos wound up in so interesting. It really reminded me of Purgaytory. Yes I’m spelling it that way. 

When Carlos stepped on the mine and said John’s name like that, like Murphy did but also just like that, idk. Struck something in me. But I also found it interesting that he was in there at all. All the other people that this god killed were on their own. But now it’s both Carlos and John, and the god is using Carlos to try and like, convince John to do what it wants John to do. 

Obviously, we know that despite his claims otherwise, John did wind up doing what the god wanted him to do and did in fact kinda give into his inner demons, which we saw play out the entire episode as John struggled hard. 

For me, John needs someone who’s going to tempt him away from the narrative, away from going down this bad path of running instead of confronting his inner demons, and away from the narrative pairing that will eventually be with Mary. He needs someone who will help steer him away from all of this, because the narrative has to have something to rip away from him. And progress would be that thing that the narrative strips away. 

And to me, yes I wouldn’t mind it being Latika either but I’m aligning her more with Mary at the moment. So for me, it’d be Carlos. Another ‘brother in arms’ [see what I did there], someone who does understand the trauma of seeing what he saw, and experienced more or less what he experienced. Someone who is that beacon of hope and light [even though I’m sure Carlos has his own issues obviously] that would make John want to confront his issues intead of run from them. 

So, when I see fun Destiel parallels to John and Carlos I like them, but I’m also thinking about the meta narrative implications of this. A queer ship, for outside of the narrative, that will wind up getting the axe in order to serve the narrative. Because isn’t that what happened with Destiel, and Dean’s right to reciprocate being taken away from him [literally. the final monsters ripped people’s tongues out and he never said Cas’ name after that phone call in 15x19]. 

To mark a full tragedy and degradation of John Winchester, it’d be great to me anyway if they do the same with him. 

Now —

I know post-episode there were some loud dissenters and those who aren’t happy about this concept that John could be queer, especially if it’s more upfront about it than Dean ever truly got a chance to do. 

And for that, I understand, however I’m choosing to view this as a good thing because if they can slap on as many callbacks to Destiel as they can with these two, but knowing that with these two it’s going to fail while with Destiel more or less succeeded*, I’m choosing to call a win a win. I also don’t believe symbolism, meta, and story for The Winchesters should be sacrificed because of decisions made for a separate show that began in 2005 and tried its hardest to deliver undeniably queer Dean in its 15 year long run. 

*Dean never go to say I Love You back, however I’m a continuation believer, and I also think the metaphorical silence was pretty loud.

A lot of folks choose to see adult John as homophobic, a headcanon/fanon trait that I can 100% understand where folks come from. However it’s not canon that he is, and it’s never been implied in the show either. Therefore, I feel like that point of debate is one I don’t really take all that seriously, because it’s someone’s personal reading of a character, and not tangible canon. 

A queer John Winchester would I think give us the chance to add more fuel to the Destiel fire, while also giving us the chance to grieve a love story that could have been, and grieve a person that John could have been instead of the one that he became. Queer people aren’t always good, kind, reasonable, and understanding. Sometimes they can, indeed, grow into being terrible people. 

The Winchesters is ultimately a tragedy. No one is going to win at the end of the day. It’s like watching a run away train and being unable to stop the characters from making the choices that we know will lead them not to safety but to mortal danger. 

But if they can give us peeks into what could have been, that’ll make it so much more tragic in a way that really resonates with us. 

#long post #spnwin #spnwin meta #john winchester #jarlos #1x04 #0104 #I'M SORRY GOD THIS IS SO FUCKING LONG #I HOPE I MADE SENSE #I WROTE THIS ON MY BREAK #i'm not going to let jarlos go #now that i have it in my hands you're never going to pry it from me

[forabeatofadrum]

Do you have zimbits fic recs? I’ve never really gotten into Check Please fic, but I just got Madison in the mail and now I wanna read more zimbits but don’t know where to start!

YOU GOT MADISON?????? ASAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGHHHHHHH!!! My order hasn't been shipped yet so no spoilers, but you ask and you shall receive. It got long, so I am putting it under a cut in no particular order. ALSO the new Tumblr post maker is absolutely fucking terrible and it took so long to format this because of it. The whole idea of creating "blocks" in posts is stupid and it doesn't function well ANYWAY FIC TIME.

Set Your Old Heart Free by IBoatedHere

Jack doesn’t find Bitty after graduation. They don’t kiss. Jack doesn't go to Madison for the 4th. They still fall in love.

It's a simple premise, but so well executed. I uhhh always cry at the end and I love to read Jack's thoughts.

when it’s over (you’re the start) by @whoacanada

Jack goes to sleep in Providence next to his boyfriend and wakes up in Montréal to discover he's been in a coma since 2009. Refusing to believe Samwell, Bitty, and the Falconers were all a dream, Jack tracks down the real Shitty, Lardo, Ransom, and Holster to find they’ve shared the same group hallucination for years. Now, they’re on a mission to find Bitty, the love of Jack’s non-existent life, and the only member of SMH they can’t seem to get in contact with.

What it says on the tin. It is a "what if" story and it is great.

i'll see you with your laughter lines by the_one_that_fell

Eric Bittle was fourteen when his soulmate died.

They'd never even gotten to meet.

This is a great story, but heed the warnings. It's an interesting spin on the soulmate trope, because yeah, you can argue that Jack died when he overdosed, even if it was just for a small moment.

like a handprint on my heart by the_one_that_fell

"Dude, we've got an over-competitive golf dad, a badass art freak, a pre-med lax bro on the verge of a breakdown, a chronically naked rugby player, a beat-boxing giant, and an itty-bitty, baking figure skater - there's no way we came together accidentally. This was fate."

"Or it's the normal progression of human beings making friends. Chill out, bro."

(Or, the one where no one plays hockey, but it still manages to bring them all together.)

I have so much to say about this story. SO MUCH. It once gave me a breakdown when I was feeling super lonely, cause the fic is about friendship. Zimbits is just a part of it, though. Everyone gets a moment to shine and it's so good.

don't you look charming (here in the eye of a hurricane) by @whoacanada

In 2009, Jack Zimmermann doesn't just walk away from his future, he packs a bag and runs.

ANGST ANGST ANGST!! This fic captivated me so much. I don't know what else to say!!!

My Words on Your Skin by There_Once_Was_A_Girl

Jack and Bitty have a unique soul connection, they can write back and forth to each other by writing on their own skin. They know each other long before they've ever met. But when Jack overdoses Bitty thinks he's lost the love of his life forever.

Just like the other soulmate AU fic above, this takes the soulmate idea and runs with it. What do you do when you believe the other is dead?

you’ve got my number by ambrosius

It’s not as if Jack was totally inept when it came to technology. He could handle his Tweeter (Tweety? Twits? Twitter? Did it really matter?) just fine and if he’s honest, he much preferred texting to calling most days. So when he gets added to a group chat full of strangers, well, he’s pretty sure he can handle whatever comes next.

This one is so good. I am a bitch for epistolary stuff and I am glad it exists.

Graduation Dayby IBoatedHere

It takes Jack 50 days to finally see what's been right in front of him for the past two years.

Groundhog Day AU, but make it Zimbits. Jack doesn't kiss Bitty when he graduates, and that's fine, right? Well, looks like the universe disagrees. Also this fic has a real good platonic Jackshit moment.

Will Wonders Never Cease by @porcupine-girl

Eric has landed his dream job: social media manager for the Providence Falconers! Not only does he get paid to tweet, for an NHL team at that, but it’s a job where he’ll be able to make good use of his magic - when nobody’s looking, of course. Everyone on the Falconers is a joy to work with… with the notable exception of Jack Zimmermann. Eric understands that Jack doesn’t like social media, but he could certainly be a little more polite about it.

Luckily, Eric has support from his Samwell buddies, as well as his best friend - a man whose face he’s never seen, and whose name he doesn’t know. They met on an online forum where witches can gather anonymously, since it isn’t safe for them to advertise their existence in a world where magic isn’t trusted. They’ve been friends for years now, but Eric is only just starting to realize that he might have deeper feelings for someone he can never meet face-to-face.

THIS FIC!!! Jenna, I don't know if you read my fic Ebb & Flow, but I mentioned this fic in the author's note, because it was a huge inspiration. It's a secret identity magical She Loves Me AU. It sounds bonkers, but it is so goooood.

if you're going through hell (keep going) by @whoacanada

Eighteen years ago, Samwell suffered the tragic loss of one of their most promising young athletes. Ever since rumors have circulated that the school is haunted by the ghost of Eric Bittle. At least, that’s the only way anyone can seem to explain why the locker rooms smell like freshly baked apple pie on game days instead of the usual, omnipresent hockey funk.

Now in the twilight of his career, Jack Zimmermann is facing his own mortality and the last item on his bucket list?

Return to Samwell and disprove the rumor that his long-dead boyfriend is haunting Faber Memorial Rink.

MAIN CHARACTER DEATH!!! WARNING!!! And not like the previous soulmate AUs where the one thinks the other is dead. Bitty dies and Jack moved on, but he has to face the past, because people claim Bitty's ghost is real. Jack decides to find out himself.

Inertia by @foryouandbits

At the age of seven, Eric Bittle is tackled so hard in peewee football, it feels as though he's been knocked into another dimension. At the encouragement of his father, he avoids contact sports until he receives a scholarship to play hockey at Samwell University. The result is the same: every check on the ice hurts so much that Eric hallucinates another world. Eric spends the rest of his freshman year attempting to prove himself to his captain and his coaches. He questions his worth, his talent, and his sanity, and in his search for answers, he uncovers long-hidden secrets that change everything he has ever known.

I loved this one. It is an interesting take on dimension travel and Coach in this story is so great as well. I highly recommend it.

Ice Crew Please! by @petals42

Jack Zimmermann was drafted first by the Providence Falconers when he was eighteen years old. He is good at hockey. Very good. His team won the Cup his second year and now, in his third year, they are looking good. Jack should be on top of the world. And some days, he manages to convince himself he is.

He’s not, of course.

Enter the Ice Crew.

AKA: The Ice Crew AU

This sorta!fic is a fic about friendship thawing Jack Zimmermann's heart. Jack realises he's kind of a dick towards the ice crew of the Falcs and so he gets to know them, including Bitty. It's a good fucking friendship fic.

All shall know the wonder by me, lol

When Bitty decides to skate on Sunday mornings, he didn’t expect to meet a nice, handsome man who cannot hear. The Sunday mornings lead to a deep friendship that slowly leads to more.

Yes, I am finishing this list with a shameless self-promotion. I have 28 fics on AO3, 27 of them being Zimbits (one Holsom) and this is my favourite. Yeehaw.

That's it for now. There's a lot more in my Check, Please! fic tag. Also, hi to the people I have @'ed. If y'all know the tumblr URLs of some writers mentioned on this post, lemme know so I can add them.

#ask #thelegendofjenna #i uhhh went nuts #fic rec

[star-going-supernova]

What if Vanessa is helping Gregory, after possessing Roxy, instead of being helped by Freddy. If you’re interested, this is the prompt:

Vanessa wakes feeling disoriented and light. She recalls Glitchtrap possessing her, but that’s it. Walking around to get a good idea of where she is, the sound of metal against glass stops her, eyes adjusting to the dark, she ceases movement after seeing what’s wrong.

We’re kicking off this new round of tumblr generated prompts with number 33! What a fun AU concept! 

Possession

Possessing a sentient, intelligent animatronic wasn’t so bad. Of course, Vanessa wouldn’t have thought that in the beginning—hell no. But it’d been… a while now, nearly a year, and she liked to think she’d grown a lot as a disembodied ghostly person. 

It helped that Roxy made for good company. She couldn’t imagine being trapped in Monty’s head with him. Yikes. 

She wasn’t positive on exactly how she came to be in this situation—a topic she spent a fair bit of free time mulling over. Other than some vague memories of a raspy, labored voice and a sense of slow-onset dissociation that took a month to wrench her from her own body, there was nothing. 

Her life before was perfectly clear: her childhood, school, her family. And everything since she first “woke up” in Roxy’s head was fine too.

It was just that last month that evaded her. Those weeks were faded, distant. Like they had happened to somebody else. 

“Good show,” she said to Roxy once the band finished up for the night and were heading back to their rooms. 

Roxy flipped her hair over her shoulder. “Of course it was!” But once they were alone and the programming that forced her to remain in character while in public spaces deactivated, Roxy stretched her arms and said, much softer and more genuine, “Thanks, Ness. Good to know you’re not bored of it yet.” 

She laughed. “You could never bore me, Roxy. And it’s always fun to see the audience from your eyes.” 

“Flatterer.” Roxy sprawled back on the couch with a purr better suited to a cat, arms laying along the top. “Tell me more.” 

Feeling indulgent in her good mood, Vanessa obliged. “I always like when you do that one move, where you sorta swing your keytar and your whole body follows. It’s very smooth.” 

“Aww, Vanessa, I—” Her whole body locked up for a second, like she’d received a tremendous shock. Tension immediately fell over both of them. 

Roxy sat up with a cross between a growl and a sigh. “It’s gonna be a rough night,” she muttered. “Sorry.” 

“You don’t ever have to apologize to me. Not about that,” Vanessa replied fiercely. “It’s not your choice, Roxy. It’s not your fault.” 

“Yeah, well. It’s hard to really believe that when I can feel it coming but can’t do a single thing about it.” 

Vanessa sagged in her digital, intangible confines. “I’ll keep trying,” she promised, ignoring how weak she sounded. 

“I’d rather you just retreat altogether and spare yourself,” Roxy snapped. She immediately sighed and shook her head. “No, sorry. I—I appreciate that you haven’t given up.” Her eyes began to flicker. 

“And I never will,” Vanessa swore in a rush. 

Roxy didn’t respond, but Vanessa hoped she’d heard her. When Roxy’s body stood up and marched toward the room’s exit, it was not under the power of Roxy herself or Vanessa. 

Another night with the virus. Another night where a child would meet a gruesome end at whatever animatronic got to them first. Another night for Vanessa to futilely try to take control of Roxy—to end the cycle of guilt her closest friend suffered from. 

Another night to fail. 

• • •

Vanessa had been in Roxy’s head for over a year when she finally managed the impossible. The virus slithered in, and Vanessa body-slammed it out the door. 

Roxy didn’t come back online, though. She stood there, blank. 

Tentatively, Vanessa tried to move. That was the hard part, actually, remembering how it felt to control a body. She stumbled along for a few minutes before getting the hang of it. Mostly. 

By then, the others had all already taken off to hunt down their newest prey. Except for Freddy, who’d still be locked in his room after his malfunction earlier. 

Which was why it was a huge surprise to Vanessa an hour later, when she ran into Freddy himself outside the bowling alley. He froze when he spotted her, eyes wide and unblinking. And that—that wasn’t normal behavior for an animatronic with the virus running rampant through them. That was just typical Freddy behavior when he got caught doing something he shouldn’t be. 

“Freddy?” she said incredulous. It would be obvious to him that it was her. When Vanessa borrowed Roxy’s voice box, it always sounded a little bit off. 

Sure enough, Freddy tilted his head, going from spooked to curious. “Vanessa?” His ears wiggled. “Oh! You have succeeded, then, in interrupting the virus’s signal! Is Roxy…?” 

“Out cold,” she said, actually apologetic. “But yeah, I’m in the driver’s seat tonight.” 

Mm, shame Roxy hadn’t heard that little pun. She’d have liked it. 

“I am myself as well,” Freddy said, as though it wasn’t perfectly obvious. “Ah—perhaps you could provide some assistance?” 

“With what? We’ve kinda got a kid to find and stop from getting ripped apart.” 

“About that…” Freddy’s stomach hatch hissed open, and a little boy glared out at her from the shadows of Freddy’s innards. Creepy. 

“That can’t be safe,” Vanessa blurted out. She was well familiar with the rules and regulations the animatronics had been programed with. 

“It is not technically allowed,” Freddy agreed, or perhaps admitted. She hadn’t taken him for a rule breaker. “But as I am disconnected from the server, many aspects of my programming are offline.” 

“And I’ll take my chances,” the kid growled, “if it’s this or getting ripped apart.” 

All right, so he had some bite to him. That gave him a better chance at surviving than most of his predecessors, who had been prone to freezing in fear and sobbing and definitely not taking the risk to climb into an animatronic’s chest cavity. Vanessa could see herself getting attached. Roxy too, and Freddy most certainly already was. 

“This is Gregory,” Freddy said. He reached down, allowing Gregory to take hold of his finger in a move that read as an offer of comfort. He was clearly well past fondness. “Superstar, this is Vanessa, who is a human—spirit, I suppose—possessing Roxy’s body. She can be trusted.” 

“That’s not gonna happen to me, right?” Gregory asked, wiggling Freddy’s hand. 

“No,” Vanessa nearly snarled. The mere thought of a child being subjected to this odd limbo made fury rise up in her, so much so that a warning flashed that Roxy’s body was in danger of overheating. “We’re not going to let that happen, all right? And if anyone tries, they’ll have to go through me.” 

Gregory nodded slowly, looking like he had a tiny bit more respect for her. 

This, this was what Vanessa had been hoping for from the very first time she tried to overpower the virus. The chance to get a kid out of the ’plex, alive. The chance to save even just one person from a terrible fate. The chance to give Roxy at least a little peace of mind with the promise that tonight, even if only on this one night, she had no blood on her hands. 

And for that to happen, they had work to do.

#i answered a thing #anonymous #fnaf fic #fnaf security breach #star's stories #life and times of star