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#my 100 days of writing

thefrogdalorian · 2 months

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A little love letter to Din Djarin writers... 🤍

I love that some of you write him as soft and gentle while others focus on the darker, harsher parts of his personality. I love that he can be both a quiet, kind man caring for his child or an intimidating, terrifying bounty hunter who is a lean, mean killing machine... depending on what the fic warrants.

I love how you write him with other characters from The Mandalorian or even with those who would never cross paths with him in canon, from Star Wars or elsewhere. I love how you write him interacting with yourselves and us, and some of you even create your own original characters to exist a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away alongside him.

I love that some of you ship him with that one other special person, while others recognise how desirable he is and ship alllllll the ships. Not forgetting those of you which are here for none of those ships and/or even headcanon him as ace. I love that any of those options allow you to explore your own identities and sexualities through him.

I love that you can write the most tooth-rotting fluff or filthiest smut, and all of those things in between. Whether it's for general audiences or explicit and strictly 18+ ... all of your fics have an audience and someone out there who appreciates your writing.

I love how differently you can interpret him, but there are also so many common themes and tropes running through your writing. I love that there is room for all of your Dins here.

I love that he means so much to you and that all of us here hold him in our hearts a little bit. I love that we can all watch the same episodes and come to entirely different conclusions about him. I love how much we love him.

Getting to be a part of this wonderful community and interact with so many people who love the space tin can man as much as I do has truly been one of the best things that happened to me recently. I'm so glad I made this little blog... It reminded me just how good fandom can be. I am blown away by the number of talented people here!

So, I just wanted to take a moment to express some gratitude towards all of you! Thank you for writing your Dins and please don't ever stop. Finally.... last, but not least:

I love Din Djarin!!!

#din djarin #the mandalorian #din djarin fanfic #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #i got a uhhhh not nice anon a couple of days ago lol and i'm not posting it here (truly speaking to the wall) but i didn't want to dwell on #that and instead spread some love around!!! because anyone who is brave enough to put their writing out there is amazing to me #and especially a character as well known and beloved as din... that's far more impressive than sending anon bs lol #anyway i truly mean it i don't read as much as i'd like to because my brain can't take it when i'm focused on my own stuff sometimes but #you all ROCK and i don't want anyone to ever feel like they don't or their din is 'wrong' or OOC bc truly only favreau writes him #100% in character bc he made him lmao. all fanfic is by definition ooc BUT THATS another rant for another time

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oediex · 3 days

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Loving animals is a privilege. To see the richness and beauty of their lives. It's in every cat sitting on a windowsill. It's every dog that people are walking. It's also the flies that lose their way in my apartment. It's the spiders that used to scare me. It's the hope-you're-safe I sent towards the rat I saw crossing the road. It's happy cows and pigs and chickens. It's all the animals that I know I'll never see, but that do exist in all their splendidness. All these individuals, all these lives, all these minds.

Loving animals is also hard. It's seeing their dead bodies plastered on billboards. On people's plates. In the butcher's window just around the corner. It's 90% of the grocery store I refuse to buy. It's knowing there is a street in my town where in one building they're saving animals deemed worth saving, and in the one next door their throats get slit. It's animal abuse that only counts when it's an animal we think is cute. It's fish not even getting the respect of being counted as individuals. Loving animals means living in a world full of murder. A reality so inescapable the only safe space is my own house. And the people I love are all complicit.

#vystopia #veganism #vegan #being vegan in a non-vegan world #in my town the local animal shelter is next door to the slaughterhouse #the street is called slaughterhouse lane #I'm being 100% real here #this is not a joke #writing #my writing #a story every day #22 april #2024

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fallingtowers · 7 months

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singing from the far side of the hill is an interactive horror short story i wrote. like all good stories, it's about a house where something is very wrong. if you love a good haunting, check it out. playtime 20-30 minutes. it's available for free on my itch.io, but feel free to slide me a couple bucks if you enjoyed it.

#my writing #twine #interactive fiction #horror fiction #would've liked to add sound to this but that would have taken 100 years and i wanted to get it done #it was my birthday the other day maybe shoot me a couple dollery doos? :3c

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begojo · 1 year

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thinking about Ranpo's fingers and how he would slide them into you with no effort, his slender fingers going deep inside you as he kisses your shoulder, wanting to hear up close all your panting and moans.

he knows your body better than anyone so it's easy for him to make use of his fingers, holding your hands above your head with his free hand, using his other hand to make sure he hears you moan your name. his thumb pressing lightly your clit, as his fingers go even deeper inside you, getting wet and adornish with your juices. he would look at you calmly, his eyes fixed on your expression of pleasure, your eyes shut, your mouth slightly parted as it evokes his name as if it was a prayer, an entity, a god.

ranpo would kiss you when he senses your body it's high; keeping his fingers inside you, going faster, sloppier, Ranpo would feel your body close to your orgasm, his lips reaching yours as fast as he could, wanting to keep with him the sweet moan you let out as you clench around his fingers. you would moan his name as a gratitude, the sweet word flying directly to his mouth, getting lost in the deep kiss he gave you.

#one day i will write smtg big and substantial about ranpo's fingers #but today is not that day #and don't get me wrong #i do believe ranpo is 100% a sub #but there is smtg about his fingers........#man i blame that panel istg it ruined my brain chemistry #his fingers...... god so hot and for whay #;dark void;#bsd smut #ranpo smut #bungou stray dogs smut #bungo stray dogs smut

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afterbluehours · 4 months

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warnings: dom!reader, sub!Beomgyu, overstimulation

Sub Beomgyu who's been programmed not to cum until you do, so when you decree that he has to cum first, he pleads with you to let him make you finish first. I can’t! I can’t! Please! You don’t relent, and he fucks into you desperately, trying so hard to either get you there or reach an orgasm himself, whichever happens first. The poor boy overstimulates and exhausts himself, only cumming after you orgasm and tighten around him.

#I'm already writing about subby gyu when i have 100 other things to work on #then this happens #i need to stop having thoughts #I don’t even know where this came from- I swear there’s a gremlin living in my brain these days #not usually one for dom reader since I’m a sub myself so 🤷🏼‍♀️#txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #txt smut #beomgyu smut

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m1d-45 · 1 year

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upon a hair-thin wire

summary: the hunt for the imposter has led to inazuma, and the shogunate falls back on their best detective: doushin shikanoin.

word count: ~1.9k

-> warnings: minor spoilers for inazuma archon quest, sorry to anybody that has kokomi / doesn’t have heizou, kokomi is probably ooc whoops

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yum1x || @esthelily

< masterlist >

to most, being called into kujou sara’s office by the woman herself is a death sentence.

to heizou? it’s just another tuesday.

her face is harsh as she tells him to take this case seriously, that the shogun herself has asked him to look into it. the plain folder is unassuming, if a little more full than the usual cold cases he’s handed, but the intensity in sara’s eyes is enough to kill any sarcastic remarks.

he takes the folder with a nod and retreats to his office, brushing off some of the dust from his desk. he rarely uses it, typically just taking his work home and solving it over dinner, but this…

his intuition tells him that something major is hidden between the bland beige of the folder, that some large secret awaits him behind the chains of liars.

he flicks on the light—and sends a puff of anemo to clean off the bulb—and sits down, shivering slightly as he sets down the new case. he pulls out his notepad, and a pen—two things he hadn’t used in ages, preferring to keep information solely in his mind. still, he keeps one hand there, opening the case with the other.

green eyes flash with horror.

its rare for heizou to be tired.

he’s usually good at pacing himself, even on the tough cases that make him want to stay up all night chasing something that’s just out of reach. even then, it’s rare something is both that complex and that appealing; what is a cold case to a genius detective, other than just another tuesday?

still, his hands are cramped—this is why he doesn’t take notes, he thinks—and he has a headache, probably because the light keeps flickering from disuse. his desk is covered with papers instead of dust, the remarkable amount of evidence the tenryou has gathered spread out. he’s long since abandoned the chair, instead preferring to pace around the desk, swapping out the papers in his hands as he tries to chase any lead he can.

anything to lead him to you.

it’s impressive, almost, how the kujou commission could list the exact time they spotted you on the docks, and yet never catch you. every paper is a lead, a small, hairline thread that could lead somewhere, but never do. a few link together—the fact that villagers in konda reported somebody of similar height and build running through the area, and wakamurisaka saying the same—but it was a whole lot of nothing.

it’s suspected you utilize magic. no further evidence.

it’s told you’re an alchemist. nobody says why.

he’s told you’ve somehow replicated a divine aura, something that should be impossible. nobody gives any reasoning for it.

it’s as funny as it is irate.

the light above him flickers twice, rapidly, then dies with a slow hiss. he sighs, throwing his papers onto his desk, and turns off the light switch. pulling open the curtains to his office does little, but it’ll have to do.

heizou turns back to his desk, reaching for his discarded papers, but pauses. in his anger, he’d knocked one page off another, ones he didn’t even know were stacked. he carefully pulls the new page out of the mess, moving near the window to see better.

and just like that, the listless threads coalesce into a rope.

heizou pulls.

watatsumi island is lovely year-round.

it was easy enough to get there, sara easily allowing him to travel after he mentioned it was for the case.

(it wasn’t easy, she had glared at him and threatened to throw him in front of the shogun herself if he was lying, but that was a pretty tame threat coming from her targeting him.)

showing up in front of the shrine out of nowhere would likely raise some alarms, so he opted for the waypoint by the village instead, gliding down towards the path. he walked quickly, opting not to stop and talk to (interrogate) the farmer he passed, keeping a quick pace.

the two guards usually at the entrance were missing, likely because of the higher profile target they were assigned to, but it was still eerie to walk in without any fuss.

the village was fairly empty, likely because it was approaching dusk, and he was able to move through most of it with little more than a few odd looks. it was strange; he’d walked through the village as a formality, but now he was wondering if he should have saved himself the time and gone straight for the shrine.

it’s only just before the bridge leading over that he’s stopped by a guard, and even then it’s only one. strange, as he could have sworn they patrolled in pairs.

the guard—heizou scraped his memory for his name, but came up short—planted himself in his way, tapping his spear against the path. “halt. what is your purpose here?”

“i’m looking for somebody,” he said simply. the guard didn’t seem to react, only staring and waiting for more information.

heizou sighed, pulling the official scroll from his side. he flashed the seal on it, “orders from the shogun herself. i need to speak with the priestess.”

the guard didn’t budge, though his hand tightened on his spear. nerves, maybe? but what did he have to be afraid for…

“then i suggest you wait here. i’ll pass on your message to-“

“hiroyuki? what’s going on here?”

he turned, startled, at the call of his name, and heizou looked over the approaching general. he didn’t seem to be prepared for battle, lacking his usual armor, but he could never be too sure. nonetheless, he returned the nod pointed his way.

“general gorou! what brings you out here so late? shouldn’t you…?”

gorou nodded. so they were hiding something. “i heard somebody from the tenryou commission was here and figured i should stop by. detective, what are you doing here?”

heizou crossed his arms, noting the lack of response. and they expected violence? “i’ve been assigned a case straight from the shogun herself, regarding the current… situation.” gorou’s ear flicked. “to be blunt, i’ve found that the likelihood of the fake taking refuge here to be rather high. i’m not accusing anybody of anything for now, it’s just a statistic, but i would like to ask a few questions.”

another nod. “i see. while i can assure you that nobody at watatsumi island is going against the creator’s orders-“ that’s a rather specific wording “-i understand your duty. hiroyuki, let kokomi know we’re coming.”

the guard gaped. “i- general, are you-?”

“go.”

a silent message passed between them, ending with hiroyuki’s nod and hurried retreat, the bridge swaying lightly as he rushed across it.

heizou watched, ensuring he was going to the shrine. “tensions high?”

“nobody likes seeing an officer around here. with me.”

his words were unnaturally curt, cut short like he didn’t want to talk. he got it, he was a detective for the shogunate that had stirred up some trouble before, but all was well that ended well, right?

(would it?)

he followed gorou across the bridge, noting the almost leisurely pace he took. clearly, they had something to hide, but was it what he was looking for? he didn’t seem surprised when he brought up the hunt…

and then there was the topic of his responses… ‘nobody at watatsumi island is going against the creator’s orders’ answered a total of zero of his questions, and deflected all of them. it didn’t specify anything about the shogun’s orders, nor did it address his accusations of harboring a fugitive. he’d be impressed if it didn’t sound rehearsed.

…’rehearsed’-

the guard by the waypoint nodded at gorou as they approached, shockingly not asking for identification. yes, he likely knew who heizou was, but at least for formality’s sake…

the air grew thicker as they walked over the bridge to the shrine, something heavy weighing on his shoulders. he thought it might be the humidity from the fountains, but all of watatsumi tended to be more humid anyway, and surely he wouldn’t notice now?

gorou knocked a pattern onto the door and heizou coughed as subtly as he could into his hand. the air was thick, taught with a tension he’s never felt and only barely remembers. it was something akin to an office of an authority yet without any of the bite, like he was facing something he feared but was overall harmless, his heart picking up as the air continued to thin-

the door swung inward, the smile on kokomo’s face not quite reaching her eyes. “welcome to the shrine. come in.”

the air inside was warm, nearly hot where he passed by kokomi. something about the room was wrong- right? he couldn’t tell, he could barely think over his heart in his ears, overwhelming familiarity dampening his senses even though he’s never truly been inside the shrine-

a hand landed on his shoulder and he jumped, turning to meet the priestess’ worried eyes. “detective?”

something was off about her. her hand, despite the cool silk, was warm on his skin. something about the concern on her face was familiar, reminiscent of someone he didn’t know but did remember. he flipped through his memory once, twice, three times, but couldn’t pin down why. the closest he got was when he was wished, when the light of his god burned bright in his soul and pulled him into it, leaving him stranded in a sea of stars and- oh-

’alchemy’ made sense now. it certainly felt like magic.

“i think…” his mouth was dry and the warmth in the air was localizing, pointing him past kokomi and towards a door. “i think i’m mistaken, priestess.”

kokomi’s hand fell from his shoulder, the trace remnants of divinity slipping away with it. how interesting, he thought numbly, that simply being near a god could imprint their aura into your skin.

“are you certain? you seemed quite convinced earlier.”

“no, i… i’m certain.” heizou’s hands flexed at his sides, his eyes flicking to the door without his meaning to. his mind raced, but nothing seemed to stick for very long, everything flaking away before he could grasp onto anything solid. “there’s no criminals here, least of all anything… fraudulent.”

kokomi’s eyes flashed. she shifted slightly on her feet, adjusting so more of the door was behind her, and clasped her hands in front of her. “i’m glad to hear it, detective. i send the tenryou my regards, and wish you best of luck finding what you’re looking for.”

he nodded again, sharp wit long since dulled.

“the best of luck to you as well, priestess.”