#( he's an old soul that i've yet to really figure out )

[bitterchocoo]

Hello,I am have been reading your work for quite sometime :), I really am loving them so far 😭💗 .I saw that your requests were open, so may I be able to ask for Dazai or Fyodor with male reader who are like Sunday from HSR, and could be in a enemies to lovers type relationship :D, the plot can be upto you :>

A Seraphim or..

Osamu Dazai | M. Reader as Sunday [Honkai Star Rail]

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"Who are you..? An Angel.."

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The Charmony Festival.

A once-in-an-era event held in the Country of Festivities, Penacony.

Members of the five great families, which together make up "The Family" on Penacony. As well as staff members of the Reverie, are united in welcoming the world to their home.

The Oak Family.

The Alfalfa Family.

The Bloodhound Family.

The Iris Family.

The Nightingale Family.

All important figures in Penacony.

But one stood out the most...

The man with a halo and wings. [Name].

The leader of the Oak Family. The organizer of the Charmony Festival and a representative of The Family of Penacony. The most important figure amongst them and the one holding the most power.

Who wouldn't be interested in a man like him?

With a charming smile and a soft voice, paired with his unique appearance... he's like an Angel.. no..

A Seraphim.

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The first time he laid eyes on him was at the Golden Hour. The moment he saw the man himself he thought he saw the heavens itself.

A Seraphim.

He thought.

But upon further observation... Dazai soon found a different answer..

His vibe seems a little.. sinister..

His smile barely even reaches his eyes.

His voice is soft and yet his tone is firm.

Either way, [Name] had caught his interest.

.

.

.

.

.

"Your radiant glow illuminates me! Your voice is as soft as an angel! I can't believe that I've met such an angelic being! Please make me the happiest man and kill me with these holy hands of yours."

What.

What did he just said.

What in Harmony's name did he just say?

[Name] can't help but chuckle as he pulls his hand away from Dazai's hold. What was that? A proposal?

"Aha.. you're quite funny, Mr. Dazai.. but I believe you've drank too many SoulGlad." He replied, trying to keep it casual and professional.

This man, this suicidal prick..

He's all talk and flattery. It never fails to get under his skin with how buddy-buddy he is. They're only acquainted and yet this bandaged man acts as if they're old friends. Does he even know who he's speaking to? He's [Name]! Leader of the Oak Family! The very mention of his name could silence a whole room and this man dared do such things to him!

"Now now~ I only drank a few~" Dazai reassured with a smile on his face. "Don't you want to go back home to heaven with me~?"

"I believe you'll be sending me down to the fiery pit instead of going up."

"Ouch! How cruel! Then how about we go to your manor?"

"Don't make me turn you down twice."

This.. man child.. what does his agency even see in him..

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"Oh, Triple-Faced Soul, please sear his tongue and palm with a hot iron, so he will not be able to fabricate lies and make false vows."

"...What have you done?"

"Under the light of the Harmony, all wickedness is revealed. I implore THEM to shed THEIR light, and I'll ask you questions on THEIR behalf. Next... you have 113 seconds to prove your innocence and gain my trust."

"And if I refuse to answer?"

"You can try — and we'll see if the Harmony rejects you."

It had finally led to this.

Both of them had taken off their masks. Revealing the true wickedness underneath. The suicidal maniac and the so-called leader of the Family.

Oh how he hated that man.

Acting like a child who believes he could get away with everything. It's time where [Name] to put his foot down and stand his ground. This entitlement will not go unnoticed by him and with THEIR radiant light.. he will find the truth..

And judge him as the Harmony see fit.

"Question: Do you have an ability?"

"Yes."

"What a simple answer. You, too, understand that idle chatter leads only to poverty."

"Did you neutralize your ability when you entered Penacony?"

"No. My ability nullifies others."

He already figured that out.. which is why he's holding this "trial" with THEM. For the power of the Aeon is far more powerful than any ability in the world. "Does the page of the Book you handed over to The Family belong to the agency?"

Honestly, he never would have thought the Armed Detective Agency would use such an item to bargain their way into Penacony. Something as powerful as the Book. A page of the Book.

It's a given why he allowed them to enter the dreamscape when they bargained such an item.

"Yes."

"Is the Page of the Book in this room right now?"

"Yes."

"Is your memory free from any kind of tampering or deletion, encompassing but not restricted to the techniques of the Garden of Recollection?"

"Yes."

"Are you a former executive from Port Mafia?"

[Name] continues to ruthlessly question him without missing a beat. Dazai furrowed his eyebrows at the question. Something that doesn't make sense. How could [Name] know such things? "Yes. You even know about that?"

"Does your agency and the Port Mafia have any ability to read, tamper with, or manipulate one's own or another's mind?"

"No. Does it matter?"

"Do you love your family more than yourself?"

Okay where is he getting at here... the questions are getting more and more personal. "Yes."

"...Do you hate and wish to destroy this world with your own hands?" [Name]'s expression turned serious as he narrowed his eyes, his perpetual smile seemed to widen slightly. "...I don't know."

"Interesting. Now, the final question..." [Name] breath out, putting his hands behind his back. "Can you swear that at this very moment, the page of the Book is safe and sound in this box?"

Dazai seems to hesitate a little, thinking of a way to get around this. He always has a plan after all. "...Of course."

[Name] hums as his smile turns a little more sincere. "Looks like we can get an answer."

"Open it, Mr. Dazai... It's your last chance to defend your honor."

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

"Aren't you happy, Mr. Dazai? You'll finally get your wish in seventeen system hours, the end that you desire so much. Off you go, Mr. Dazai. You are free. I will wait here for your good news."

"Maybe one day.. no.."

"In another universe..."

"I can learn how to love you too.."

[florenceafternoon]

━。゜✿ jily fic recommendations ✿ ゜。━

I've also seen a lot of people asking for 6/7th year jily so I tried to include some. These fics explore how much they've grown in that period between the end of school and the rising tensions of war.

Of course, I've also included fics with marauders shenanigans. As always, these fics are set in the wizarding world but aren’t necessarily canon complaints.

For reference, anything in italics is taken from the summaries.

Death and Other Inconveniences by @asteriaem

When James Potter disappeared for ten days in the middle of the spring term of their fifth year, the whole school noticed. He buried his parents in a quiet ceremony and returned to school amid outrageous rumours.

When Lily Evans disappeared for three days before the Christmas holidays in sixth year, two people noticed. She found the house packed, a nasty note from her sister, and spent the rest of the holidays sleeping rough. Both are left grieving and angry at Hogwarts over the summer, with no where else to go and war raging around them. Really, how else could it have gone?

God where do I even start? This fic is incredibly well written; everything from how well-rounded and dynamic all the characters are to the dialogue and descriptions. For everyone tired of character deformation and would like to read a long-form that explores the turbulence of adolescence coupled with grief and the uncertainties of war this fic is for you. When I say I miss old jily, I mean this exact era of characterisation.

Notes by @scriibble-fics

On an ordinary Tuesday in October of 1975, James Potter passes Lily Evans a note. She has no way of knowing it, of course, but it’s the first note of thousands that will pass between them in the years to come.

Head of House by SwissCheesePlant

The consequences of Sirius and James pretending to be boyfriends weren't supposed to come to a head during a convoluted and unnecessarily kinetic drinking game... but such is life.

As If By Magic by @annabtg

Lily Evans, Head Girl, is starting her seventh year at Hogwarts. Alongside her, Head Boy James Potter, who has always had a crush on her yet has given up all hope of winning her over. But between working together, sharing fun times with friends and getting through the darker moments that come with living in an era of war, things between them are bound to change...

Questions and Answers by lizardcookie (on ao3)

The simple question of whether or not they're dating doesn't exactly have a simple answer (seventh Year jily).

Come Together by @thequibblah

It’s difficult to say when James and Lily took the first steps to love. Perhaps they had always been walking this road, unaware of the person they were walking towards until the mist cleared. They would fall in love eventually — but we would be remiss in ignoring the hiccups along the way.

Okay so confession, I haven’t read this but it's been on my TBR for ages and everyone's been recommending me to read it. Judging by other works by the same author that I have read, I can attest that Lily and James have always been well-written so I trust that this fic is no exception.

These next few fics are all by @gigglesandfreckles-hp because Abi's characterisations are perfect and there’s just something about her writing that transports me to the scene. This woman can make me laugh and cry and worry all in under three thousand words.

roots of memory

Lily frowns slightly, mulling it over. “I’m not really sure either,” she admits. “Honestly, don’t take this personally, but I don’t remember much about you in the first couple of years. I think I was too focused on trying to figure out school and magic and everything else.”

James clutches his chest in mock offence. “I’ll act like that didn’t just irreparably damage my soul.”

crafting chemistry

“Is there something that needs to be discussed between the three of us?” Minerva prompts, her eyes narrowing sharply.

Lily’s face betrays her first. A bright flush creeps slowly along her cheeks, blooming from her neck upward, as though her skin can’t hide the emotion simmering underneath. She keeps her eyes stubbornly trained on the far corner of the office, anywhere but James. Minerva notices James’s hand, the one that had been habitually running through his hair, freeze mid-motion, his fingers tightening slightly.

but we dream in the light (a continuation of one of my favourite fics)

“Lily Evans, we have got to stop meeting like this,” he grins.

She shakes her head, laughing. “Jesus Christ.”

James spins around dramatically. “Where?”

the dance of mischief and duty

Lily Evans is an infuriating mosaic of traits—beautiful and she knows it, captain of the House Quidditch team, and the loudest voice in nearly any room. She has this way of floating through the school, her laughter ringing out as she moves between corridors and classes, one arm usually slung around Sirius Black’s shoulder and the other gesticulating wildly as she spins tales of misadventure.

But she also sort of has a point, and that’s possibly the most infuriating part about her.

prompt: flip the script

my church offers no absolutes

She stares at him, her eyes the only ones open as the priest prays, but she can’t look away.

James Potter is here.

under the influence of loss

“Like what? You fancy me! Kiss me.”

Each time she says it, it’s like a new bruise blooms around his heart, her words pressing on all of them at once.

“I can’t!” he shouts, the frustration cracking through.

“Because I’ve been drinking?” she demands, a bitter laugh escaping her. “Your chivalry is duly noted, Potter, but I’m giving you a pass here. Just—”

“It’s not about that,” he interrupts.

You know what they say, you can tell who an author's favourite character is by how much they make them suffer

From the Edge by @maraudersftw

A three-hour-long detention. A barrage of unspilled words. A kiss that has remained unacknowledged. Until now.

That Summer by the_casual_author (on ao3)

In which James and Lily spend the summer in a house by the sea. (and fall in love in the process)

pleasant, poised, polite, professional by @ohmygodshesinsane

Lily Evans' journalism career is stagnating, and when Mumblemumps sweeps through the office, she couldn't be less pleased to be asked to cover the sports beat. James Potter, the captain of the Wimborne Wasps who is campaigning to win Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile, only seems to confirm her worst fears about athletes. Until.

If you enjoyed James' characterisation in James Potter Won't Go Quietly then you'll enjoy this

Fantasise also by @ /ohmygodshesinsane

When Lily ends up taking Veritaserum as part of one of Sirius' games, James finds that he really doesn't need to know any of the nitty-gritty details. Fate has other plans.

And James Potter also by @ /ohmygodshesinsane

The most unfortunate part about being one of the best students in the year, if you ask Lily Evans, is being forced to work alongside James Potter. The most fortunate part about being one of the best students in the year, if you ask James Potter, is getting opportunities to annoy Lily Evans. The fact of the matter is, that despite their both being talented, intelligent students with bright futures and burning competitive streaks, Lily and James will never get along. No matter how much others think they ought to.

Braid also by @ /ohmygodshesinsane

Sick and tired of revision, Lily gladly takes a distraction in the name of giving James Potter a helping hand.

Revenge Tastes Sweeter by @charmsandtealeaves

This by far had to be one of the more stupid things that Lily Evans had ever agreed to, and she’d gone along with a lot of her friends' bullshit ideas. She’d wanted to maintain her dignity in breaking up with her shit of an ex-boyfriend. However, fake dating James Potter hadn’t been in her grand plan of dignity. She’d merely been venting her frustrations to her dorm mates in the common room, she hadn’t expected advice and well… plotting. Though she should have expected better, these lot were always plotting something. Was it too late to just go with Dorcas’ “Stab him!” suggestion?

Simmer Until Ready by @kay-elle-cee

James Potter is not a healer. His is a potioneer—the Order of the Phoenix's lead potioneer, in fact. So when their top field fighter—Lily Evans—comes to him for treatment after a particularly rough mission, he helps the best way he knows how: a vial of freshly-brewed Skele-Gro and a dose of laughter.

Kels always writes the best order!jily

climb higher by penniesinthepool (on ao3)

It's been three (long) years since Lily and James have seen each other. Now, he's living out his dream playing Quidditch with Puddlemere United and she hers as an Auror.

They're happy. But fate (and annoying friends) works in funny ways, sometimes, and through a series of chance meetings, they begin to wonder if maybe, just maybe, they could be happier. My take on what would maybe happen in a universe where James wasn't Head Boy, taken to the extreme.

after O.W.L.s by @juniperpyre

a short snippet of James Potter's and Lily Evans' thoughts after their Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L., and before the altercation with Severus Snape changes everything.

It was so close to going a better way

Haley's characterisations are always on point

”Just” Partners by @petalsthefish

James asks Lily what they are after a series of long and hidden snogs in dark corridors.

tied to you by @jjameslily

Lily’s foot sank into the damp earth as she stepped closer to the water’s edge. The lake mirrored the starry sky above, but something else caught her eye – a shape in the reflection.

James my sweet summer child, thank you for looking after her

Love for the Summer by @missgryffin

It's the summer after sixth year, Lily Evans is realizing she fancies James Potter, and James has Sirius Black's motorbike to thank for getting Lily out of the friend zone.

of hearts and keys by the_crownless_queen (on ao3)

In a world where magic means everyone can see your soul, Lily Evans wonders what it would feel like for someone she loves to open her heart.

Seven Years and Seventy More by surlybobbies (on ao3)

When James walked into the 7th year Gryffindor boys’ dormitory a few moonstruck minutes later, he found Sirius lying in bed with his hands folded across his stomach. “Been with Evans, then?” he asked, without lifting his head. There was a distinct note of disapproval in his voice.

James froze in the act of unwinding the scarf from his neck. “Er, yeah.”

“She doing well?” Remus asked from his bed, the closest one to the door. He had a book open on his lap but had lifted his gaze when James came in. His stare was steady and pleasant, but there was a sharpness behind it that put James on the defensive.

(James has some news.)

This Town Is Fake But You're The Real Thing by @tedwardremus

Teen radio star Lily Evans works for a show on the wizarding wireless network called, The Marauders. The teen soap drama stars James Potter as an arrogant school jock and centers on the secret adventures of his friends in the forbidden forest as illegal animagus and a werewolf. The show's antagonist, played by Severus Snape, left after a scandal, and now Lily has a romantic storyline with James in the final season of the show. Basically, her life is a disaster.

Prophecy by Alohaemora (on ao3)

Faint rays of sunlight began to filter into the nursery from the pink-red sky outside, the morning song of robins and thrushes lilting as all of Sirius's worst fears manifested before him, devastating in their might.

"Fuck," he whispered. A horrible, painful lump swelled in his throat, clawing, stinging. "Fucking hell."

The corners of Lily's lips trembled. "James didn't know how to tell you."

Not quite a jily fic but I wanted to share

not as smart as you think you are (or how to fall in love in 7 months) by Squidge_06 (on ao3)

Lily Evans has spent the past 6 years excelling at school and hating James Potter. Both these facts converge suddenly at the beginning of her 7th year when she’s confronted with a less than perfect grade and a Transfiguration tutor who is the very last person she wants to see.

That same person might just turn out to be a whole lot more complicated and just a little more wonderful than she could ever have imagined.

Meeting the Potters by FloreatCastellum (on ao3)

It's always a risk, introducing your parents to your girlfriend. Most people don't have to worry about whether or not their mother is going to be in handcuffs, though.

Mistle-Wow by LiveLaughLoveToRead (on ao3)

Lily and James Potters’ love was fiery, filled with passion, tragedy, and love. It was not a fast ignition of a flame that proceeded to burn bright. No, it was a flame that was lit on the Hogwarts Express before anyone had joined the compartment. It burned brighter as their years progressed, and it was lit ablaze in their seventh year. It burned until the day they died.

Or an incident that would have had Madam Pince seething (if they were caught)

Simple Math by yallofthemwitches (on ao3)

Remus notices something is off about James and Lily at the Prefect's meeting.

[passivenovember]

thinking real hard about Billy and Steve finding each other years after they've settled into themselves.

Billy's gone to therapy and he lives in a little house on the shoreline. Steve makes it to California. Doesn't have the six nuggets, yet. He's working insane hours at a job that isn't very lucrative, but he never had to sell his soul to his old man--

So. Point is. They're happy. Content, almost.

And then they find each other.

--

Steve's burning a pot of water when the phone rings.

It's like a knife through the air. A thorn in his side, pain and annoyance ramping up to an 11 as he yanks the receiver from the wall. "Yeah, now's not a great time," He says, because the goddamn smoke alarm's gonna start wailing any second now, and Steve's neighbor is real trigger-happy when it comes to alerting the fire department. "Look, I'll call you--"

"--Why answer the phone?"

Steve would know Billy's voice anywhere, the rough and tumble drag of someone who used to live fast and hard but doesn't, anymore. "I," Steve says, "I don't--"

"--It's like. Why answer the phone if it's not a good time to talk?"

"I don't like being impolite."

Billy hums, smoke and lightning on the end of the line. "So, you weren't waiting for me to call?"

"No," Steve says. But he was. Has been since high school and all the weird, boring, disheartening years that followed until Billy appeared at the dive bar on Saturday. Like a vision. An angel.

"Damn. And here I was, taking a full 72 hours to figure out what I should say," Billy tells him.

Steve can hear a smile.

Aches to taste it, but-- "That's kinda lame, Hargrove."

"So what?"

"So. You're kinda lame, I guess."

Billy laughs at him, then, high and bright. It shoots confetti into Steve's kitchen, the curling tendrils nearly catching on fire as Steve comes back to himself. He pulls the pan of water and dumps it into the sink, killing the flame on the stove.

"Yeah, I'm a disaster. Maxine tells me all the time," Billy says, "It's just. How weird, y'know?"

"What? You?"

"No, you," Billy tells him, chuckling again. "Fell outta the sky, or something. Into a shitty dive bar."

"So did you--"

"--Fell outta my dreams."

"So did you," Steve says, and his stomach twists. Tumbles. Washing-machine guts still soiled with the bloody red spots of a decade-long crush.

"Huh. You're kinda forward, Harrington."

Steve shrugs, face burning. "Long as I'm not as lame as you are."

"Dude, I didn't say you weren't lame."

"Sure, you didn't."

Billy's next laugh Steve feels in his gut, heat pooling behind the thatch of curly down at his pelvis. "Still such a bitch, pretty boy."

"I'm just being honest. We aren't getting any younger, I'm not really interested in playing it cool, anymore."

Something rustles as Billy shifts his weight, "You were cool, once?"

"Ha-ha."

"I don't wanna play it cool, either," Billy tells him, as serious as a heart attack, "Look, can I be honest? You mind?"

Steve nods and then remembers Billy can't see him. "Go ahead."

"I can't stop thinking about you."

Steve peers through the kitchen window, trying to imagine Billy somewhere on the edge of town with sunlight in his hair. Smoking in bed, naked gold until the duvet pulls him under hips first.

"Harrington, I need to see you again."

"Need is kind of dramatic."

"Maybe I'm feeling dramatic."

"Thought this was honesty hour, Hargrove?"

"It is. Honestly? I wanna kiss you," Billy tells him. "At midnight. In the pouring rain because I was too chicken-shit to do it after our first date."

Steve focuses on not swallowing his tongue. Damn near fails. "Was that a date?"

"No, it was bigger. It was the stars aligning, the start of--"

"--God, you are feeling dramatic."

"When can I see you?"

"I dunno," Steve says, fiddling with the lip of the sink, "When are we expecting rain?"

"Not sure."

Steve can hear his smile. Aches to sink into the softness. "I need a window to commit."

"Tonight. I'll make it rain."

Steve snorts, light as air. "You're crazy."

"I've had ten years to plan for this, Steve."

"Alright, lemme--" Steve pads over to the refrigerator, peering at his Kittens and Firefighters calendar. May is covered in birthdays, vacations, late nights at work, and roll-over plans from April, all hacked into the cardstock in striking red.

Steve groans and flips to June. "--Can you still make it rain in a month?"

"A month," Billy demands, "Fuck. You're hot shit but I didn't think--"

"--I have a full-time job. And friends who want to hang out when I'm not at work, but since I use all my energy at work I cancel on them, and things get moved around and--"

"--You can't make an exception for the guy who wants to eat you out?"

The pages of the calendar flutter, May settling heavy in the room. Steve swallows and his throat clicks. "Uh. My friends--"

"--Aren't gonna eat you out."

"They would. If I asked them to, at least one of them would."

"I'm not really loving that idea, pretty boy," Billy says, teasing. "What about over a lunch break?"

"You want to eat my ass over a lunch break?" Steve snorts, "I'm not a hooker."

"What's wrong with--"

"--I'm not," Steve says, "And even if I was, I'm not cheap. You couldn't afford the hour, and we'd need more than that, anyway."

"What about a sleep over?"

"A sleepover?" Steve says, turning from the refrigerator. "Like, where I come over to your house and stay until the morning?"

"Or I come over to yours, yeah."

"But--"

"Actually, let's do yours. Maxine's place is getting fumigated, so she and Lucas are staying in the guest house."

"You have a guest house?" Steve doesn't remember mention of that during their first date, but. He was distracted.

Billy laughs, "Bet I could afford your hour, pretty boy."

"I thought," Steve says, twirling the phone cord around his hand, "In high school, I remember you telling Becky Gordes that you don't do sleepovers."

"I'm gay."

"Okay, but what about Eddie Munson? The whole school thought you were fucking him, did he ever sleep--"

"--No, my dad would've killed both of us," Billy tells him, and. Something in his voice makes Steve's blood run cold. Makes him believe it.

So he shifts gears, "But. Don't you have work tomorrow?"

"Who said anything about a sleepover tonight," Billy says. Steve imagines the look on his face. Shit-eating grin bright and sharp and beautiful as always. "Unless you want me to come over tonight?"

"I never said that."

"I can work wherever I want. I don't have to go in at all, if I don't want to."

Steve pads over to his junk drawer, digging around for a red pen. "What does Saturday look like for you?" He bites the cap off, holding it like a straw in the curl of his tongue.

Billy laughs, "I thought you said you weren't free until next month?"

Steve chews on the cap for a moment, pen shaking over the cardstock surface of his calendar. He imagines Billy like he was that night. Different but exactly the same. Charming and soft in a way that only comes from the toil of regeneration. Years and years shedding skin.

He'd been funny and smart. Quick wittted.

Sweet. Like cotton fuckin' candy.

Steve remembers not wanting the date to end, not believing that the universe would give him Billy with no strings attached and laying awake that night, hoping Billy would call, and that they'd get their chance, and now--

"Shit. What the fuck am I doing?" Steve asks, but it comes out garbled and messy and wrong. Comes out sounding like, she whale the food ham ding dong.

Billy laughs at him, again, anyway. "What?"

Steve spits the pen cap onto the counter. "You really want to eat me out tonight?"

"Damn--"

"--Because. I was too fucking stupid to realize what was happening between us in high school. Or. What was happening to me when I saw you in high school, and this is important to me," Steve says in a rush. Fuck being subtle, right? "We're not getting any younger. And I haven't slept with anyone for a long time, much less someone who I've wanted for as long as I can remember, so if you're going to come over here and fuck me--"

"Or talk," Billy says gently. "We could talk more. Get to know each other."

Steve listens to the static on the other end of the line.

"I want to get to know you again, Steve," Billy says.

And Steve cracks. Like a bowl in the microwave, curdling under pressure and heat. "Alright, just. Do you have a pen and paper?"

"For what?"

"My address," Steve says, leaning against the sink, "I want to get to know you, too."

"Tonight," Billy asks, digging around for something.

"Tonight," Steve says. "What the hell."

"Great."

"You've got something to write with?"

"Yeah," Billy says, sounding like he's barely holding it together. "Yeah, just. Whenever you're ready."

--

That night, after, just as Steve falls asleep in Billy's arms--

It rains.

[0strawberrysorbet0]

𝐴 ℎ𝑖𝑑𝑑𝑒𝑛 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟

𝐻𝑎𝑧𝑏𝑖𝑛 ℎ𝑜𝑡𝑒𝑙 𝑥 𝑀𝑎𝑙𝑒!𝐴𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑙!𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟

This is a series so if you'd like to be tagged simply just comment!

I AM SO SORRY WITH HOW LONG THIS TOOK I'VE BEEN SO BUSY ಥ_ಥ

The big boss himself is gonna arrive very soon (˵ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°˵)

Please do not use/steal my work on this site or any other! Reblogs and likes are appreciated greatly!!

Part three ← Part four → Part five

Summary: As Charlie and Vaggie are in Heaven they attend the meeting and Charlie finds out more about the boy, along with a sweet girl called Emily.

Warnings- shit, grammar and spelling mistakes, Adam mentioned, idk what else, everyone is slightly oc

There she was again, in heaven. But this time accompanied by her girlfriend for support.

Her girlfriend seemed so uncomfortable, I mean don't get her wrong she was super nervous as well Vaggie was sweating, fidgeting and awkward. Not like the hard tough girl she usually was.

It was beautiful, bright and shiny, just like her father's old bedtime stories. The whole place practically sparkled, and she was greeted by two of the most beautiful beings she had ever seen, Sera and Emily. Emily was much more bubbly than Sera so she quickly caught the blonde's attention.

To say Emily was beautiful was an understatement, her hair was soft and blended from a crisp white into a greyish blue, she had soft freckles scattered across her face which glowed a bright white, her eyes were as blue as the ocean and her wings... Were all angels this beautiful? This angelic?

They had walked around almost everywhere, Charlie just couldn't help herself from talking, I mean she was talking to an angel. A real angel. Not a fallen one like her father.

As they talked she couldn't help but notice Emily staring at an angel, he looked beautiful... blonde hair and lilac eyes. That's when it hit her... He was the angel she met after her first meeting with Adam.

"(M/N)!! Look!! It's 𝙩𝙝𝙚 princess of hell" Emily shouted and waved, (M/N) smiled at Emily and walked over "Pleasure to meet you, again.. My name is (M/N), son of Archangel Micheal, which makes us cousins" he said, placing his hand out.

Emily tilted her head "again? What does that mean? You've seen a demon before 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘮𝘦!? "Doesn't matter Emi I'll tell you later"

Charlie paused before growing a massive grin. "You're my cousin? I have a cousin. Oh my god!! That's so cool!"

(M/N) didn't match her energy, instead just giving a soft smile. "Well, you should take her to the council I suppose... Good luck"

He was already taking a step before Emily tugged the boy's sleeve "C'mon you can do better than that! This is your cousin! Be nicer"

The blonde grumbled before holding out his hand, it started to glow a yellowish colour before it cleared, leaving only a small pendant in his hand, it was a golden shade and had a duck carved into it.

Charlie let out a gasp "Woah... " she admired the small pendant "Take it. For good luck. They're supposed to symbolize protection, good luck and fortune after all".

Emily softly laughed at his comment "(M/N) really likes ducks"

The boy's face turned a hot cherry colour, blending with the patches on his cheeks "Hey only a little"

"Did you make this?" Charlie asked, waving the necklace in her girlfriend's face to show it off. "Ah. No, my father gave me it, but I want you to have it"

Charlie smiled before grabbing him in a tight hug, squeezing the boy's soul out.

He did remind Charlie of her father, his hair was styled in a way she had seen her father wear before, the patches of pink on his cheeks, yet he was taller, Maybe this is similar to what her father looked like before he was banished.

And other than the looks he also liked ducks? Her father had been obsessed with them since he made them on earth, making so many figures and rubber versions.

"Well, we should go! Come on princess! Bye (N/N)!

(Nickname in case you don't know!)

Emily walked Charlie to the meeting, (M/N) decided to sit and watch this shit show.

As it started the energy was tense, to say the least.

The angels sitting in the courtroom stared at her menacingly. She felt like a sheep in a Wolf's enclosure during feeding time. Emily was sat next to Sera who had a stoic expression, Emily was the complete opposite, with a toothy smile that was filled with nervousness and a thumbs up.

This would be great. Right?

"Objection!! Lame and unoriginal!" Adam had shouted the minute Charlie opened her mouth.

The meeting was really quite boring to (M/N), what did take his interest was when she mentioned some of the demons rehabilitating, a porn star? (M/N) couldn't really understand how he was improving, all the clips were of him taking drugs and drinking.

Well, it did improve slightly. The spider demon did a few food things but that was it.

Everything was normal until they started singing, and Adam blurted out something that he shouldn't have.

At that point (M/N) had joined Emily where she was flying.

"Wait! What are you saying?! let me get this straight, you go down there and kill those poor souls?"

(I'm skipping this song because I'm not writing it all out)

In the end, the court decided that demons couldn't be redeemed, he could see the heartbreak in Emily's eyes as Adam celebrated. (M/N) draped his arm over the smaller girl.

"I-I can't believe it.. " she said, now sitting in her room with him, he nodded in response as he poured tea into a china cup for her.

"I can't believe Sera allows it! It's awful! We must put a stop to it!" She said, hitting the armrests on her chair with her fists, making a soft thump.

He stopped pouring the hot liquid and stared at her, bewildered. "What? Emi what on earth would we do" he chuckled

"I'm serious! Your father is Michael! He'll help us!"

"Emily I can't just bother my father like that, you know he's busy" he said softly, handing her the cup and she sipped it.

"Cmon.. Please... Just try? For me? Pleaseeeeeee!" She begged, hands together in a praying position "And you still haven't told me what you meant by seeing Charlie again!"

He sighed softly "fine, I shall talk to him but I cannot guarantee anything. But what I meant was my father sent my down the the Angel base in hell to collect paperwork and she was leaving a meeting with Adam. That's all"

"Oh.. But thank you!" She placed her tea down fastly and hugged him tight.

He grunted before chuckling "okay okay!"

He was dying inside, how would he get his father to listen to him about this? How could he even bring it up. But he had to, Emily was his only friend, he needed to pay her back for everything she had done for him.

Tag list - @demstarno @kenny-619 @bunbunboysworld @lovedesperatevampire @stealing-kneecaps @paastaboi @1yyyan @enjisthings @type-ink @kiiannnn @cicithemess @lisoong @that-levi-kenma-kinnie

[mono-dot-jpeg]

too aware - express crew

summary; a self aware kid walks into the express and.. they shock the crew more than a stellaron.

genre/extra tags; headcanons, fluff, slight comedy, the child is aware, the child traumatizes the crew more than anything else /j, they have seen it all, reader is implied to be a vidyadhara

[platonic] [6-7 years old! reader] [gender neutral! reader]

a/n; i have,,, no idea if i'll be writing this correctly at all. honestly it's really reminding me of being really self aware, which i kind of relate to KSDJKSJD, so there will be some of that mostly. i've never really written a character like this. but i hope you enjoy.

also possible spoilers for those who havent reached the xianzhou quests yet. sorry.

what can i even say to start...

let's just say you're a kind of new to the express, you were part of the luofu or at least training to be part of the cloud knights

despite being such an old self-reincarnating species, sometimes you just wanted to start from the beginning, have an empty and open mind to enjoy your curiosities.

you would argue that you were the most cheerful vidyadhara out of the comrades you knew for centuries

but some people knew better

you were sweet, don't get it twisted but when the express crew met you for the first time

let me rephrase, when dan heng and welt met you for the first time .. .

"you... know a lot, don't you?"

you whispered to dan heng

you probably just scared the shit out of him so unintentionally.

you totally know who dan heng really is

you're just as old as he is, maybe a bit younger but you're not stupid

and then you look to welt, and you end up introducing yourself with a cute smile on your face as if you didn't look through dan heng's soul 10 secs ago

dan heng felt whiplash as he watches you talk to welt

welt is concerned for you. he knows that look in your eyes, when you know so much, when you're so aware of yourself and everything but you're so happy

"you must be a smart kid.." welt says softly. "do you know a lot as well?"

"i do."

it's a really interesting relationship that kind of develops as father figure and kid.

you connect to himeko and welt very easily with your experiences

you know a lot and you've experienced a lot, you eventually confess to being of the limited species of the xianzhou, vidyadhara

and you're happily proud of it. you're comfortable as to who you are.

with the trio on the other hand, you're really curious about march and trailblazer the most due to their origins

and they gladly indulged you.

"please tell me more about you!" you would tell them and inquire about them quite a bit

dan heng and you had confusing relations, you knew him from the past and he knew you

and you seemed the same despite your physical age

and dan heng.. you wish you knew more about him

so you end up being curious about him

and as expected, you two are the closest to each other

you're sweet to everyone despite the hardships you faced and you always look at the world with realism and yet you find a way to appreciate the good and bad

while everyone is concerned about how self aware and aware of the world you are as young as you are, you carved a place in their hearts and you never fail to surprise them with your outlooks on everything around you.

[remderance]

so...few days ago I've created a hermitcraft mermaid au. and here ya go, some of my thoughts about it and also my drawings.

first of all, cub, grian, zedaph, tango, joehills, xisuma and impulse are humans, when scar, doc, pearl, skizz, cleo are mermaids(I didn't think of other hermits yet)

here's also a bit of lore happening, so let's talk little bit about every hermit.

•xisuma

- he is an owner of this whole circus oceanarium and ocean research center.

- he is a strange guy, once he even stole a bone from rendog to chew on! but nonetheless, he is a hard working man and he does all the managing work better than anyone else possibly could

•scar

- cub and grian were the first to find alive mermaid, which happened to be scar. scar, as the most kind and innocent soul, of course, most of the time spent saving sea creatures from fishing nets, plastic junk and etc, though got a lot of injuries himself. he had been in an accident just before he was caught, so he didn't have a chance to escape due to movement issues, because his tail and fins were badly injured

- scar is an orca! but he won't eat you, don't worry. he might try, though

- most of the time there is only one scientist watching him, and it is cub. even though at first cub was too serious about his job, depicting scar more like an object other than a living creature with thoughts and feelings, it was gone in a little while when two of them had a chance to actually know each other more. you could say, scar softened cub's heart

- he is a silly boy, trying to escape his aquarium probably every day at first, thinking of place as a prison. none of his attempts were successful, to be honest, but he never stopped trying

- also, once he even got in a physical fight with grian, being mad that he was in the team who catched him. who won? for some reason it was grian, who is smaller twice in size and not so good underwater

- grian got in trouble many times because of his experiments and especially testing human food on scar. once he had serious food poisoning because of it, and cub never let grian be alone near scar's aquarium again

- scar once asked for human meat and got a "cubfan live reaction". canniballism is pretty common between mermaids, so he was expecting the same from humans

•doc

- doc is a giant moray eel.

- you could say he is the most intelligent and smart fish you've seen! not just by mermaid standards, but by human too. before the oceanarium he was living in an old warship, where he found a room with books that were not touched by water. that's where from he knows chemistry, physics, engineering and other, that's also where he learned english better, as he is originally from german waters(scientists where really impressed that mermaid could have an accent).

- but this ship happened to be in a military zone, where people one time were testing a bomb and underwater explosion happened. doc nearly made it out alive, though got almost incompatible with life injuries. he couldn't be healed by wrapping wounds with seaweed, so he decided to go to humans to the research center by himself, making a deal: he agreed to be studied for science purposes but got a proper treatment for his injuries in return.

- by that point, he was second one to be "caught"

- he is really smart and he will not be missing an opportunity to squeeze out everything from people working there. he got the best aquarium with the best accessories, rocks, corals and filters. it took almost over a year to figure all of this out and a lot of pressure on workers, but doc is not feeling guilty

- he really likes to eat tomatoes

- he also really likes to get out of his tank and go on an adventure to other mermaids. scar is living nearest to him, so you could often see these two hang out

- he created the word "scitties" and scar likes to use it (especially in situations when he is suggested to wear clothes. he says his scitties are too precious to hide them)

- after some time doc became the first mermaid scientist. his high intelligence just couldn't be ignored

- doc helped to create prosthetic fins and tail for scar

- eventually there was created a special gadget just for doc, so he could easily speak with other scientists even being under the water

- scientist connected to him is grian. they are in good terms and grian totally acknowledges his cleverness. gridoc nation rise up

•ren

- oh sweet, sweet rendog! you just couldn't guess what he is. he is... a dog, simple as that. but a smart one!

- although, he doesn't like meat. he is a vegetarian dog!

- his duty mostly is to deliver food to mermaids. he doesn't like to deliver food to scar as it's mostly chocolate chip cookies and lots of raw meat, and he totally adores to visit doc because of his love for tomatoes

- doc likes to escape, and ren likes doc, so he always goes after him with a mop in his teeth to hide water paddles he is creating

- ren is well-trained and all of the staff knows him, so he has access to almost every room in both oceanarium and research center

- he likes to sleep near doc's aquarium. sometimes doc goes out of water at night, waits for his hand to dry and gently pets him

- oh. and ren also has a very specific addiction. this little fur boy always steals people's sunglasses. why does he do that? why does a dog even need sunglasses? nobody knows. but that is such a common thing, that nobody even cares anymore. yep, there's a dog running around in sunglasses, what is wrong with that?

•here's the fun part. beloved zits!!!

- impulse is the only one true ocean scientist in their group

- zedaph lived most of his life on a farm and knows pretty much everything about farm animals. he is a crazy zoologist and has basically zero idea how to deal with fish

"that's a weird looking chicken", - he says, looking at any mermaid

- tango is an engineer and a drummer in his own band. he slays and also he has a lot of tattoos

- although tango's band isn't zit band, they were playing together in college! they all had their rock phase, zedaph even has scars from piercings made in that time

- the star of our show... skizzleman!! skizz for short, he is a manta ray, and he is going mental. he screams, he bites, he fights, he likes to bother others and especially impulse

- skizz made impulse fall in his tank for countless amount of times

- skizz and impulse often fight, verbally and physically, but also for some reason their bond is very strong. they like each other, just in a different way, but their way to this was very hard

- and yep, he is the reason why all of the zit are here. he's just too strong and uncontrollable for one human to handle, so impulse had to get his friends

- skizz is very clumsy and can't exist out of water due to being a manta ray, so trying to escape he makes just one step and then is found right outside the aquarium angry and waiting for someone to come and put him back

•pearl and gem

- pearl is a blue-ringed octopus!

- she spent a lot of time near the shore at the port and most of the time was listening to people, trying to guess meaning of unknown words and adoring strange human stories. it happened in australia, that is the place where she got an accent. it is an exceptional case too, but unlike doc, this accent is not natural, but a learned one

- pearl's only and favourite piece of clothing is a hoodie with oceanarium logo

- as a natural enemy, doc fears to go near pearl. when he is asking her if she's safe, she never gets him a clear answer

- gem is doing mermaid shows! yes, she is not a real one, she just has her costume and adorable coral horns

- oceanarium got gem a tank to exercise and to rehearse her shows. it appeared that pearl was basically living alongside. they liked each other at first sight, but for months weren't able to communicate well, it was only through body language

- pearl sees gem as a goddess for her elegant, exquisite and beautiful movements. no real mermaid moves like that, so that's just something so exotic and unreal in pearl's eyes, it makes her stare without blinking every time

- once impulse was in charge of caring for pearl and he saw what happened between two. he got a permission for gem to visit pearl's aquarium, and that was the first time they got to really know each other. it was the happiest day!!!

- gem is the only one who can calm down skizz and make him feel fear. nobody understands how, but sometimes impulse asks her when skizz is getting unbearable

- impulse, gem and pearl are often seen hanging out together. they created a trio called "soup group". the name was created because of pearl's unexplainable love for soups of any kind

• cleo and joe

- cleo is a sea snake

- she has fish hooks and spear parts in her on places where in canon she usually would get stitches

- she is basically a nature miracle, because she is a zombie, literally dead creature, but for some reason she keeps on going

- half of her organs are not working properly or are not working at all

- because of doc and cleo scientists guess that mermaids are far stronger and tougher than people, as they tend tο survive even in the most dangerous and unreal situations

- also doc and cleo are extremely big

- not to mention these two are really fond of each other. their tanks are located far away, but doc sometimes gets to cleo and they have the best time in the whole world

- joe is an ocean geek who once won an excursion behind the scenes of oceanarium and research center. that's where he met cleo, and for some reason she caught his eye

- he was very persistent and got a permission to sometimes meet cleo under supervision. it was said, that it is good for experience in interspecies communication, so scientists didn't mind

- though, he didn't do anything inappropriate. he was basically just finding a friend in a strange zombie mermaid! he showed her his favourite shows, comic books, was teaching cleo how to read, they were drawing and scrapbooking with her. just a couple of ocean besties!

- although joe cooks and brings mostly exotic or strange foods, cleo likes it a lot

- cleo likes to scare people and mermaids, but when she tried to scare joe she saw only pure excitement in his eyes

•honorable mention, mumbo, who is a plumber and engineer. everyone keeps calling him mario. he even got a big m on his head!

also: it is canon that all of the mermaids are kind of buffed

[draculasfavoritewife]

Hunted

Summary: Tatooine is a planet filled with old ghosts, and when one of yours rears its ugly head again, your Mandalorian takes matters into his own capable hands.

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!Reader

Warnings: Canon-typical violence and minor OC death at the end. Allusions to hunter/prey roleplay and bondage, my voice kink makes a couple of cameo appearances. I the writer was particularly thirsty for Din Djarin the day I wrote this and thus take full responsibility for the results.

This is really one of the most blatantly self-indulgent things I've written, born of many long daydreaming sessions and my love for any episode where my man rubs elbows with the delightful and despicable denizens of the OG desert planet. I truly can't explain it, Tatooine Din™️ just hits me different, so please enjoy this very long fic about it.

*Translations of less common words/phrases in Mando'a at the end

You step into the crowded main street of the city, taking a moment to let all of your senses adjust to the stark difference. The last week or so has been spent on the ship in a cold vacuum, the gleaming blur of hyperspace and the steady thrum of engines a constant gentle halo in the background. It was nice, if a little quiet for your personal taste. Your partner certainly doesn’t talk much, and you tend to spend much of your time alone with him less conversationally inclined as a result.

He’s rubbed off on you that way. 

Now the twin suns of Tatooine scorch down on you from above, making eyes that have become accustomed to soft darkness sting. A throng of street vendors, lowlifes, and ne’er-do-wells streams through the ragtag market on all sides, moving bodies chattering nonstop in floods of Basic, Huttese, Aqualish, Droid, and snatches of more exotic tongues. 

A moment, and you feel yourself suddenly at ease again, as your brain resets back to your old lifestyle in the Core Worlds. It feels like putting on a well-loved shaak-leather coat that remembers all your contours just right. 

“You look happy,” the Mandalorian observes from beside you. 

You always wonder about him, how he's actually faring under that helmet, so shiny in this harsh light that you come away with spots in your vision after glancing at him too long. Din walks with the easy confidence of a man that’s walked these alleys many times before, but you know him more personally than most. He’s a quiet man under that shell, one who vastly prefers his solitude and finds the company of most beings in the galaxy a soul-stealing chore after two minutes. 

And unlike you, he never relaxes. 

“I am.” You side-eye him, briefly admiring his prowling stride as he diligently scans the moving figures surrounding the pair of you. “Sometimes I really like big crowds.” 

“You’re crazy,” he remarks. “This many people add too many variables.” 

“Your comment stands.” You draw closer to him in order to reach into the satchel slung across his body and ruffle the Kid’s long ears. “But to me, it’s almost easier. I can usually read people’s intentions pretty well. Bodies speak louder in crowds.” 

“I suppose.” He hasn’t stopped his surveillance yet. You can guess at how his eyes are darting here and there beneath the visor. He probably has at least two escape routes planned out already, if not more. 

You want nothing more than to tell him to relax and enjoy himself — you’re not even here on hunter business, simply to refuel and stock up on supplies before your next run — but you know that’s a useless endeavor. 

“I found that strangely hot, by the way,” you say instead, since it HAS been taking up space in your mind for some time. 

“What?” 

“Finding out you speak Tusken. That’s VERY attractive.” 

It was. When he had to negotiate with the scouts on your way into town, you couldn’t deny the fluttering in your stomach at hearing his low, smoky voice bark out the harsh sounds as he supplemented his meaning with crisp sign language. 

And besides the sound of it, you certainly find it very hot for a man of his stature to be so willing and ready to communicate and settle fraught situations peacefully. 

“I — what — I don’t — ?” 

It still makes you grin, how easily flustered he is when you catch him off-guard with flirting. 

“Don’t you think so, Grogu?” You poke the Kid’s tiny nose. “Isn’t it attractive when your buir talks like that?” 

The little one squeals enthusiastically in response, probably more to your teasing than the actual question. 

“Stop that, don’t encourage her.” Din casts a disapproving look first at the Kid and then at you; it strikes you as funny how well you can translate such a simple tilt of the helmet. “And don’t you ask him that, he’s just a kid.” 

“I think you’re blushing under that bucket,” you smirk, sidling away. 

“I’m not.” 

You subside with the teasing for the time being, and the Mandalorian releases a sigh of relief as you start wandering, letting handmade jewelry and stoneware snatch your attention away from him. He’s getting better at keeping up with your rapid changes of interest, but somehow your more romantic moods still manage to get the better of him when you’re out in public. 

He blames the environment. When it’s just the two of you alone, he can see what’s coming in the slant of your lips or the way you suddenly decide to plant yourself right in front of whatever he’s working on. And he’s almost as likely to initiate now, so long as the Kid’s not in the same room. But out here, as his field of vision constantly shifts in the sea of bodies, and his right hand drifts between Grogu in his satchel and the pistol at his hip, he just doesn’t possess the bandwidth to also process what the kriff could possibly turn you on so much about his language skills. 

He tucks that particular piece of information away in a metaphorical corner, to dissect and possibly use at a later time. 

You return to him after your little side trip, flirtation seemingly forgotten for now. “I saw a ring at that one booth —” you gesture over your shoulder “— that I’m almost positive is dolovite. So pretty. I’m not even sure the vendor knows what he’s got. It’s tempting.” 

“I bet.” He notes the tone of your voice, the way you glance back one more time as the pair of you move on. 

“But we are here for the essentials, first and foremost. Maybe if it’s still there by the end of the day.” 

He nods thoughtfully, and listens as you ramble through the list of what the three of you need, both in terms of provisions and to keep the ship flying. 

The sooner you’re all able to leave this crowd and noise behind, the better. 

He doesn’t care for the feeling that his little clan’s safety isn’t completely under his control. 

Hours later, stewardship of the satchel carrying the Kid has passed over to you. Din carries the day’s purchases, slung from either end of the pole balanced across his wide shoulders. He watches affectionately from behind his immobile visage of beskar at the sight of you spiritedly haggling with a Twi’lek vendor over the price of fruit. The arm not being used to illustrate your point cradles Grogu, half-asleep, close to your torso, and it touches something deep inside him, to see you care for his foundling so naturally. 

The image almost — almost — lulls him into something resembling a dangerous sense of peace.

Almost, but not quite. 

Which is why, when the blaster bolt narrowly misses your shoulder and instead blows a crate of produce into a violently sticky explosion, he’s only a half-second slower than he normally would be as he pivots sharply and yanks out his own weapon. His shot drops the sniper leaning out of a second-story window across the street, a Rodian crumpling to the ground in a tangle of ragged cloak. 

His armor-clad body is positioned in front of you in another second, keeping you and the Kid sandwiched between the booth and his beskar as he rapidly searches for any more guns to rear their ugly muzzles. 

The market has dissolved into chaos around you, but no more fire is heard. 

You slip your DL-44 out of your back holster with one hand and push the satchel carrying Grogu further out of the way with the other. The road had cleared in seconds, the trembling fruit vendor ducking down behind his wares. The atmosphere is suddenly quiet, too many people holding their breaths all at once. 

“See anything?” you whisper to Din. 

“Negative,” he mutters back. “He was acting alone, or else the others have retreated. Looking for heat signatures is useless, they’re everywhere here.” 

A grim suspicion starts to rise in your chest, but you keep your voice removed as you step from behind him and give him a sharp nod. “Cover me? I need to take a look at our shooter.” 

He stalks behind you as you cross, your trigger finger settling into its well-worn spot in readiness. Grogu is silent; only the tips of his giant ears poke up from the top of the bag. 

For a kid, he’s been in enough firefights to know the drill by now. 

Arriving beside the smoking form of the Rodian, you flip him over and push aside the cloak, your hand drawing back when you see exactly what you were afraid you would find. 

The sigil of a sand ape emblazoned on his jacket in red. 

“Talk to me,” Din urges, voice tight. “Do you know why he was targeting you?” 

You straighten up and bite your lip for a second, struggling over the best way to break the news to him. You’d thought it was long enough ago that old scores would be forgotten, but on Tatooine, grudges rarely die, instead simmering deep beneath the filth like a krayt dragon awaiting its next meal. 

And now you’ve unwittingly brought your riduur and his ad’ika into danger. 

“I lived in Mos Eisley for a bit at one point.” You sigh. “And I left under…difficult circumstances. I’m a bit of a loose end as far as a local gang is concerned, Din. They paid well for some mercenary jobs — it was a nice temporary setup. Last hit I was hired for turned out to have a Guild bounty on him though, and they paid more to have him delivered alive. I saw a business opportunity and didn’t look back. But I made some powerful people here pretty angry.” 

“Dank farrik.” He curses under his breath. You can nearly hear his exasperated thoughts — can’t I have ONE uneventful outing? Just ONE? — but he shakes it off swiftly and is soon all business again, his next query clipped and brusque. “Does he have a tracking fob?” 

You shake your head. “They don’t want Guild here anymore, if you recall. No, it’ll be a more intimate affair, I’d bet my blades on that. This is about revenge and closure; if there’s a reward payout it’s from the boss man himself, and probably only advertised by word of mouth.” 

The Mandalorian refocuses his thoughts from where they ever so briefly derailed at your casual misuse of the term “intimate affair” and grunts his acknowledgment. “I gather the boss man wants you alive, then?” 

You laugh, a dry, ironic sound. “Oh, he will. I have a feeling he wants to watch me suffer a bit before he kills me. Or who knows?” With a shrug, you shove the body into an alleyway and return to where you both left your purchases, only the dance of your tense fingers across the grip of your blaster giving away your readiness to protect yourself. “Maybe he’ll make me his own personal slave instead. I knew all that club dancing I did would come in handy someday.” 

Din makes a hissing sound of annoyance at your flippant tongue as he follows. There’s something about the way you can talk so carelessly about such degrading fates that truly distresses him. He knows you don’t need his protection on the same level the Kid does, but the thought of either of those options actually befalling you under his watch makes his hands clench into fists, leather gloves protesting as they stretch across his knuckles. But he knows too, that dark humor is often your way of dealing with stress, so he endeavors to let it slide and not see red. 

“Do you know where he is?” he demands suddenly. 

“The boss man? I used to. And there are people I could ask.” You take the satchel with the Kid off and hand it back to him, opting to take the parcels instead. He can fight with a baby strapped to him better than you can, and knowing you’re the primary target this time, you’d rather keep him safer. “Why?” 

“Later.” His voice has gone tense again, he must have seen something you don’t. “Right now we have to get out of here. You’re too exposed.” 

Your gaze falls on a nearby speeder bike with no obvious owner nearby. “They’ve gotten lax without me around,” you smirk, straddling the bike and revving its powerful engine. “Leaving their valuables all helpless and unattended. It’s a real shame.” 

The Mandalorian is staring at you, the drop of his shoulders suggesting surprise at your brazenness. 

“Get on,” you encourage him, laying the carrying pole across the seat behind you. “You’re getting twitchy, so there must be trouble. What’s got your cape in a twist?” 

He takes a seat behind you and settles his pulse rifle across his knees. “There’s a couple more in similar jackets closing in,” he reveals in an undertone. “And I just haven’t seen you…steal a vehicle before, is all.” 

A shot pings over his helmet before you can properly react to that. 

“Drive!” he orders, pivoting to return fire. 

You oblige, gunning the motor and tearing off down the main thoroughfare. “There’s still a few things you haven’t seen me do, Cyare,” you toss back as he dusts one of the gang members on your way past. “You and the Kid made me go soft.” 

He huffs doubtfully and nods to a narrow opening between buildings up ahead. “Can you get us out of sight?” 

“If you hang on tight enough.” You execute a tight turn at the last moment and shoot down the alley, glad the bike is compact enough to follow the cramped tunnel between the crumbling dwellings. “It’s gonna be rough ’til we’re in the open, though.” 

Din doesn’t answer in words, but his free arm wraps around your waist and you can feel the Kid’s small body tucked between the two of you. 

And it’s almost an oddly pleasant feeling, outrunning any would-be pursuers with the two of them held so close. 

By the end of the hour, supplies have been loaded into the ship and Grogu has been left in the doting care of Peli, who as always is more than happy to entertain the little guy as long as you and Din keep trouble far away from her repair station. You and the Mandalorian are now camped out on a rooftop overlooking the marketplace, a tattered fabric canopy mercifully providing some scant relief from the sunlight if not the oppressive heat. As always, your riduur appears totally indifferent to such a thing as physical discomfort, leaning out from under the awning to scope the street below through the sight of his rifle. 

Does his armor have an internal cooling system? Or are Mandalorians really just that tough? 

“You know, we could just leave,” you finally suggest. “It’s not like this particular group ever goes off-world.” 

“We could.” 

You can tell there’s a reason why he won’t. 

“But I return to Tatooine semi-frequently. And I don’t want you to constantly be looking over your shoulder every time.” 

You sit back with a sigh, idly tuning up your blaster. His ways are still foreign to you sometimes. Before your partnership, you made a life depending on adaptability and quick thinking. Having only yourself to worry about, and knowing there was no one else out there worrying about you, made it easier to simply uproot and go elsewhere whenever the heat was on you. 

Din is nearly the opposite. If there’s a way he can make things more secure for those in his care, if there’s a good enough reason, he won’t ever back down from a struggle.

He already has his mind made up. 

It’s just a bit jarring to realize that you’re the good enough reason this time. 

“What are you thinking, then?” you prompt. 

He doesn’t break his focus on the area below as he answers. “I’m thinking I just killed a couple gang members and got some interesting information out of them. I’m ex-Guild and looking for work, and being a ruthless mercenary, I might just be willing to turn on a crew member if the price is right.” 

You can’t help your sudden intake of breath at his ingenious plan. “And once we get there?” 

He finally turns to face you, his next words cold and hard as tempered beskar. “Then we kill him.” 

And there’s something a little bit more menacing in there than simple pragmatism. He has taken on the role of cabur for you and the Kid; this isn’t just about keeping trouble off your backs in future. 

Someone has threatened you, and he will not rest until that threat has been put down.

That is his duty, and he will not shirk it. 

“I love you,” you murmur, barely above the hot breeze that rakes through your hair. 

He rises to his feet, shoulders his rifle. “And I you. Which is why we’re going to have to make this look convincing. You get a two-minute head start. Whenever you’re ready.” 

You swipe a dull sand-colored cloak from a stall as you pass, immediately diving into the heart of the throng, which seems to have recovered from the earlier incident. Mos Eisley is nothing if not desensitized to crime and violence, and for a moment, you almost lose yourself in awe at the apathy of the average citizen as you let the flow of movement carry you along. Nobody cares what happens around here, so long as it doesn’t happen to them. 

It’s…odd, to remember how it felt to think that way. 

Shaking yourself back into the moment, you weave between beings of all shapes and sizes, focusing on making yourself forgettable and not appearing in too much of a hurry. You know Din will find you no matter where you end up — he’s just too good at his job not to. So for the moment you let yourself enjoy this little game, a moment spent as the quarry of a very desirable predator. 

It would be a lie to say you haven’t fantasized about this before. 

A ripple passes through the crowd to your left and behind you, people shifting to make room, like river currents split by a large stone. Only one person you know could possibly cause such a stir.

Only idiots choose to stand in the way of a hunting Mandalorian. 

Which means he’s here. 

Your heart accelerates and you try to think of a way to stall him just a little longer. Reluctantly pulling a few credits from your belt pouch, you regretfully let them scatter in the dust, knowing the only thing that reliably beats fear is greed. The people nearest to you devolve into pushing and shoving in their eagerness to get their hands on them, a writhing wall springing up between you and your pursuer. 

With a grin, you slip backwards, drifting in the opposite direction of where you had been headed before, catching the barest glimpse of sun glaring off metal as you pass. 

That's a little longer. 

He’ll expect you to be thinking the way he thinks, not the way you do, so you stamp down the inclination to think that way and instead travel into a seedier part of town, seeking out more raucous company. Wandering through cantinas and gambling dens, you pick up a refreshing blue milk along the way and almost start to let the tension ebb from your muscles. But when you see him emerge from the street and gaze through the window of the same building you were just about to exit, your adrenaline shoots up again. A dash through a maze of alleys and one stolen ride on the back of a droid rickshaw later, and even you aren’t so sure what part of the city you’ve made it to. 

The twin suns are finally beginning to sink lower in the sky as you thoughtfully chew on a piece of bantha jerky and walk through a crowded residential section, no doubt where the lower classes live. It’s much quieter here, the low-income strata not having the credits to spend on frivolities at the market. 

It’s almost…too quiet. 

You hear him before you see him, an almost deceptively musical clink of the explosive charges on his belt against his vambrace as his arm brushes past. There’s nowhere to run anymore, so you pull back your hood with an admittedly dramatic flourish and discard your savory treat, hands sliding to the twin vibroblades sheathed at your thighs. 

“So, its finally come to this, Mando.” You pull your knives and take up a fighting stance. “No use in trying to sweet-talk you out of this, is there?” 

He doesn’t answer, just pulls his own blade and gestures with his chin as if saying “Try me”. 

So you do. 

The pair of you has sparred many times before, and this altercation is brief but outwardly brutal. Finesse is nice, but necessity calls for any potential advantage to be pressed and pressed hard. For the agility your much lighter choice of clothing grants you, you can’t dent him when fully armored, so finally you resort to simple but effective tactics and throw dust in his face. 

Even a visor with a heat sensor takes a second to recalibrate from that. 

You do, however, have a scripted ending for this outing, and as you sprint off, his grappling cable snakes around your hips and down your legs, dropping you in the sand. He strides up to you, tosses a pair of binders down next to you. 

“Cuff yourself,” he orders, breath coming in heavy pants after your scuffle. “I’m taking you in.” 

And since it’s him who just captured you, who would have captured you eventually no matter what because he’s just THAT good, you don’t mind. 

No, you reflect as he hefts you over his shoulder and walks away from the few scattered spectators your fight drew out, you really don’t mind this arrangement at all. 

Maybe you’ll have to tell him that, later. 

Your former employer’s headquarters are still where you remember them, and you almost smirk at the sense of uncomfortable familiarity when Din lowers you to the floor and unties your legs. Still cuffed — and a bit tired after spending the afternoon trying to outwit the best hunter in the parsec — it’s not difficult to look angry and beaten down, kneeling there in the dust. 

The boss man rises from his seat at the table, a hulking Devaronian with a chipped horn and a hungry grimace. He swaggers over, nods at the Mandalorian standing behind you. 

“I suppose I can turn a blind eye at the loss of a few good men for this. You have absolutely no idea how this one little troublesome scavenger has been occupying my thoughts.” 

Din remains silent, simply holding out a hand, a wordless demand for payment. 

Your old boss grins, nods to a couple of lackeys to bring over the credits, hauls you to your feet by the back of your shirt. 

The Mandalorian’s hand brushes past your leg as you move, and one of your knives is quietly returned to its sheath. 

“Since you turned tail and ran so quickly after disobeying me, I assume you have some idea of what I do to clever little turncoats, don’t you?” sneers the Devaronian, leaning altogether too close for your liking. 

Your cuffed hands lower in seeming fear as you shrink beneath his intimidating glare. 

“This is going to be fun,” he threatens, a hand drawing up your neck and along your jaw. “You need to learn some respect, and I’m going to —” 

The vibroblade sunk deep into his chest cuts his words off rather suddenly. 

There’s a lot you can still do, even in binders. 

The outraged lackeys are swiftly dropped by precise shots from Din, and the two of you are left gazing at each other in a now oddly quiet room. 

“I don’t know if I’d call that ‘fun’," you remark to your limp ex-boss, crouching to retrieve your knife. “A little anticlimactic, actually. Bit of a shame I had to do that. But also satisfying to see your plan turn out so well, don’t you think, Mando?” 

Din doesn’t answer right away, tucking away the bounty that he earned by catching you. “We should be on our way,” is what he finally grunts. “There’ll be more gang members swarming this place any minute now.” 

“I agree.” Rising to stand in front of him, you hold out your arms expectantly, casting a flirty smile up at his dark visor. “And, much as I enjoyed being your prisoner for a day, you can let me go now.” 

There’s a long pause. 

He stares down at your bound wrists, up at your face, down at your wrists again. He appears to be pondering something very intently, and your breath turns a little choppy for some reason. 

“I don’t think I will,” he says simply, after a little more consideration. 

“You won’t?” 

“Not yet.” His large hands tenderly find your hips, and he throws you over his shoulder again, walking out the exact same way you came in. “You’ve caused me quite a day here, you know. Keeping track of you like this might be the only way to make sure we don’t run into any more trouble.” 

“What would happen if I screamed ‘Help, I’m being kidnapped!’ as you carry me down the street?” 

He snorts. “No one’s going to help you here, Cyar’ika. Who’s going to challenge a Mandalorian over his prisoner?” 

You smirk. “No one in their right mind.” 

“Besides, you just said you enjoyed this.” There it is, a sly edge to his filtered voice, the indicator that he has more going on in his mind than simply staying out of more trouble. 

“Oh no, caught by an attractive bounty hunter! I’ll probably never see the light of day again.” You groan dramatically and drape yourself a bit more comfortably as he loosens up into an easier stride. “I’m completely at his mercy — who KNOWS what devious things he’ll do to me behind closed doors?” 

“This bounty hunter is hot and tired, and in need of a shower, if that gives you any consolation.” 

“Ah.” You poke him in the back. “Are you saying you’re all sweaty under this shiny shell, Cyare?” 

A hand slides up the back of your thigh, a subtle reminder that you ARE currently at his mercy, as you just said. 

Undeterred, you try again, knowing he must be getting more riled up than he lets on. “Have I ever told you how much I like it, when you take all these awful layers off for me and you’re all sweaty underneath…?” 

“I would rein in my suggestive tongue a little, if I were you.” He’s still looking straight ahead, but the edge beneath his words is a bit more strained now. “If you behave for me until we get back to the ship, maybe I’ll even take those binders off.” 

“And if I don’t?” 

He sighs. “My belt compartment back there. Take a look.” 

You manage to get it open, and can’t quite stifle a delighted sound as you pull out the dolovite ring from much earlier. “You sneaky son of a — ! How — ?” 

“I gave you a two-minute head start,” he shrugs, by way of explanation. 

“I adore you,” you inform him as you slip the ring onto your finger, admiring its burnished color. “I’ll be a good little prisoner for you, Mando, I promise. And who knows…,” you nudge him again. “Maybe I’ll let you keep these binders on me after all, since you’ve been so good to me today.” 

He can’t find anything to say to that, but by the fact that you can see the flush creeping up the back of his neck in that tantalizing gap between cowl and helmet, you know he’s definitely sweating now, if he weren’t before. 

“Is my big bad bounty hunter at a loss for words?” you tease softly. 

He clears his throat. “Just saving my voice, Mesh’la. If you’re REALLY well-behaved, I might — possibly — be persuaded to talk Tusken to you later. Possibly.” 

The idea takes a moment to fully crystallize in your brain; Din, and a shower, and binders, and if you just stop teasing him so naughtily in public he might actually bring that unreasonably provocative language into the bedroom? 

You finally let yourself relax into his hold, and after a bit you hear his breathy sigh of relief that you aren’t going to keep tormenting him anymore for the moment. 

After all, he has put forth an offer you can’t refuse. 

Ad'ika = Little One/Small child

Cabur = Protector

[gabessquishytum]

I've spent almost all day at work thinking about my Haunted Mansion AU. I might actually end up writing this. So, some more of my ideas:

Just like in the film, Hob dies during a Masquerade Ball. He and Roderick meet to discuss 'business' and end up going to Morpheus' study, where they're supposed to wait for him. Hob doesn't trust Roderick but believes that he is safe because surely Roderick won't do anything stupid in the middle of a huge party. While waiting, Hob grabs wine for them, but Roderick poisons Hob's drink. Morpheus arrives, realizes what Roderick has just done, and loses it. Roderick assumed he'd be okay (ironically for the same reason Hob thought everything would be fine), but he doesn’t realize Morpheus is a very old and powerful vampire. Morpheus kills Roderick and then cries over Hob's body, eventually ending the Masquerade Ball by carrying his body through the party.

Like Mr. Gracey in the movie, he plans to kill himself to join his beloved in the afterlife but his eldest brother, Destiny, who can see the future, comes to him. Destiny tells Morpheus that Hob will be reborn in time (as Hob has always been one to reject death, which is part of the reason he and Morpheus worked so well together) and if Morpheus kills himself, he'll not actually be joining Hob in the afterlife. He won't tell Morpheus how long, but he tells Morpheus to wait. So Morpheus does.

I had the thought that instead of Ramsley, Lucienne is the butler, but she's also the librarian of the Manor because she spent so much time there that Morpheus just kind of gave it to her. She's also an Elf.

Jessamy and Matthew take the places of the Maid and Not-Butler (The "Inconceivable!" Guy) and they are siblings who are Fae. They both have the ability to shapeshift into Ravens.

I haven't decided if Corinthian is in this yet. Probably not because I can't figure out where to put him.

I also had the thought that Robert, the real estate agent that is Hob reincarnated, would spend a week at the Manor, and every night he would dream a little more about his life as Hob. How he and Morpheus met, fell in love, and it all culminates in Hob's murder.

Morpheus spends the entire time trying to Be Normal™ about this man who is absolutely his beloved returned to him, just as his elder brother promised. He's so busy trying to Be Normal™ (which, for the record, he's horrendous at lol) that he misses the very obvious hints Rob has been dropping about his memories slowly coming back. At least until Rob has his final dream, where he actually TALKS to Hob, the part of his soul that IS Hob. They have a conversation and realize they aren't all that different, and Rob admits he wouldn't mind if they... became one for lack of a better term. So they sort of merged into one being. He's still Rob, but he's also Hob now.

Hob/Rob talk to Morpheus, explain the situation, and they live happily ever after once Morpheus turns him.

- 🐺

I really really hope that you decide to write this, I love this outline so much. I love the inclusion of Matthew and Jessamy, I love how much the setting of the haunted mansion suits Dream’s vibes so incredibly well.

I love how well Hob can fit into this au as well, because it's almost like you can have 1389 Hob and 2023 Hob talking to eachother (only in this au its Hob and Rob ofc). I just think that could be really poignant and lovely. Like I said I really hope you write this up as a full fic, but even if you don't these ideas are really wonderful already <3

[aliceattheart]

So I was thinking Alastor has Human!S/O who he claimed and brought down to Hell still alive. And even though no one really messes with them because they belong to the Radio Demon, Alastor is tired of the stares so he shrinks his s/o so that he's the only one who can see them.

Yandere Alastor x S/O

No one has the right to look at you but me

Heyyy, Alice here

I haven't ever thought of any storyline like this! I'll try my hardest. Also not really biblically accurate to the series story. Out of character Alastor.

Also story has dark themes if you click the read more you consent to the content you are reading 🙏🏾

Thxs for reading:D

Alastor was quite particular when it came to answering summonings. Unfortunately for you he answered. Your luscious big doe eyes captured him when he meet you. Eager to make a deal with you.

All you asked for was help with financial issues. Not having the money to keep yourself a float. Your head bobbing in and out for a fresh breath of air. An easy target he thought.

"S/o in trade for this deal, I want part of your wonderous lifespan. A simple request honestly." He chuckled lightly. And by the sounds coming from around him, sounded like an old rerun laugh. "No money problems and you have quite a lot of life left in your sinful body. What do you say, hmm?" The energy behind his words sounded so sickly sweet, but there was something more sinister behind those eye.

Having nothing else to live for. Without really looking at your contract, you signed your first and last name at the bottom of the contract. Alastor grabbed your hand and pressed his sharp finger into your thumb. Blood started to leak over the document.

That was the greatest mistake of your life.

You don't remember how long you've been here. Has it been months or years? You couldn't tell, all there was in the sky was a red gleaming light.

After your little deal, Alastor dragged you straight down to hell. Not by choice of course, solemnly remembering your first day in hell. Alastor made a big scene to ensure everyone knew you were his favorite marionette. "So leave them be, or you'll find out what it's like to die a second time."

Quite frankly to everyone else you seemed like a little hostage he keeps around for his entertainment. Making you run hard errands in the sweltering heat. Also adorning you many maid/servant outfits.

"Why don't you look ravenous." Some lousy scum bag said to you. He must be new down here. Feeling bad you only gave him a warning to run away from you. "Sir, I don't mean to sound rude or anything but I kid you not don't talk to me." "Why not sug, you can't be stuck up after death too."

"Pleading with a stranger S/O? I thought I've taught you better than that. And you're late." You froze instantly hearing your master's voice. "I apologize, I was on my way-." He cut you off to steal a glance at the sinner that dared to talk to you. Giving him a mischievous grin.

"I'll give you a whole minute to run, after that I'll let my hunting dogs come after you." He said with a sing song voice. Snapping his fingers a furious black dog appeared out of a demon circle. It has three sharp fanged heads. A tall broad figure with long snouts.The perfect hunting dog, Alastor managed to make. His favorite beast in his collection of horrors.

Turning to look at you. "S/O my dear, please head home. We have a serious conversation to be held." He whisked you off without a second thought. Scared not to follow his orders. You slowly turned away from the scene Alastor was putting on.

Starting up his radio broadcasting. A dark ominous energy surrounding the area.

"Ladies, gentlemen and variations thereupon, care to witness a spectacular event. A poor unfortunate soul meeting his second maker." His minute was far gone, yet he was still insight. The dogs speared not a second when Alastor said, "Fetch."

The carnage was immense. His yells, screams for help went unheard by the people spectating. Some laughing maniacally glad that it was him and not them. After the dogs were finished all that remains is his chewed up bones.

"Thank you for you time, I bid you adieu." Everyone started to clap and praise him. Remembering what happened to the last guy that didn't.

It wasn't long before he would return. Following your usual schedule you set the large dining table with varieties of heavy meat dishes and perfect sides to combat each other. While cooking you were going heavy on the seasonings. Not knowing what he wanted tonight, having not told you when he sent you off.

Your stomach growled. You put your plate up earlier. Alastor had special rules you had to follow. One being not to eat at the table with him and to stay by his side until he was finished. Quite frankly it was unfair. Even sometimes taking his precious time to finish eating.

2 rules you unfortunately managed to break was being late and talking to others he did not promit you to. Boy you were going to be in a world of pain. Your master has a cruel streak regardless of the events that have taken place.

Looking out of the window at the Red Maple trees he made you take care of with your life. Spacing out and thinking of the time he burned his name into your soul. You couldn't properly function for weeks. Not able to move or eat properly. That was your personal hell. He told you it was a part of the contract but you honestly don't know.

The chime of the door opening was your que to get scared. Speed walking to the door to gracefully take his coat off his shoulders. Slightly trembling with every movement, not making eye contact. You could smell the blood redating off of him. Gently putting his coat on the dark burgundy coat hanger. Fidgety with the thought of your punisher being centimeter away from you.

"S/o, won't you look at me?" He said so sweetly and placing a hand on your cheek to lift your face up to meet his. It was only an act of kindness, you know that. You just couldn't help yourself, by rubbing your face into his palm. "You know I wouldn't want to hurt you but you leave me no choice. I can't have rule breakers living with me, can I?" The slightest sound of radio static entering your full soundings. "I don't like how disobedient you have been in the resent weeks. I think I should put you down a few sizes for your transgressions. What do you think?"

Making everything he says a rhetorical question. Leaving very little room to speak. It only took him a few seconds of him chanting something you couldn't understand. With a snap of his fingers you were closer to the ground than you ever where before. You could compare yourself to a doll. Picking you up, Alastor took you to his private study. He always had a big doll house in there. It was for you.

"You will sit in here and isolate yourself until you understand that no one has the right to even look at you but me. It is your fault for not following the rules." Opening the top of the doll house in dropping you inside. "Goodnight my Angel." As he closed the top of the roof, leaving you in udderly complete darkness.

Heyyyy, Alice here

I wanted to make this a bit longer than usual. Thanks for reading xD

[chuckeroo777]

Dungeon Meshi Volume 14 Part 3

Eat or be eaten. There is no hierarchy. Eating is, quite simply, the exclusive privilege of the living.

Come on, it's time to eat! What shall we have today?

I think the real takeaway from Dungeon Meshi is that cannibalism is a firm "maybe".

Slurp!

I remember seeing a post a while ago about Dungeon Meshi being fatphobic, and while I kinda see where they're coming from, I don't really agree. It's not exactly controversial to advocate for healthy eating and moderate exercise. While the body types could be a bit more diverse, especially in the main cast, Kui clearly has respect for people of various body types. Have you seen some of the daydream hour stuff?

They know him so well. Chilchuck in particular I think understands best. After all, his succubus becomes what he most desires, but it isn't what he wants.

I love this grumpy old gnome who spits nothing but facts.

This whole sequence is very nice.

So, I know this isn't literal, but do you think Falin would have been able to fully expel the dragon's soul? But even if she could, she chose kindness instead. And that's really nice.

I wonder what the demon thinks about all this. Has it actually learned any sort of lesson from all this? Either way, it at least seems to be taking its defeat as graciously as one would hope.

A precious image. It's all been leading up to this.

So, all the changes I've noticed. First, she has feathers covering most of her body. Some haven't grown in yet, but the coverage seems to match her chimera form, leaving her hands, feet, head, and tummy bare. She has large canines. She might have enhanced strength, though she was known for bashing heads in before her transformation too, so it's hard to tell. She also has normal eyesight, as opposed to her previous nearsightedness.

God, she is just like me.

WHO ARE YOU PEOPLE?!?!

Everyone loves pizza.

I still say familiars are the best solution. He can both make his own monsters, and observe real monsters through the eyes of his creations.

Oh, quit your bellyaching. A quick detox spell will have you right as rain.

An adorable image, and a fitting ending for an amazing manga.

Of course, it isn't quite over yet.

Glad to see she's doing well. Cat's would totally do this if they could talk.

This is so cute. Just like when you were in school!

Was it ever established what the heck living armor eats? Most shelled mollusks rely mostly on filter feeding, but that doesn't work so well in a terrestrial environment. Then again, we know monsters can supplement their diet with mana, and the mana in this dungeon awakens Kensuke later, so maybe they're super efficient to the point that they only need mana. And iron.

I love these dumbasses.

An important image.

Have I mentioned I love the dynamic these guys have?

One final precious image to end things off. What are the odds his wife is just off-screen?

Thanks to everyone who joined me for this tasty journey. I still have some other stuff cooking, so stay tuned! The Laios Got Eaten AU might be a bit. I'm struggling to figure out how they defeat Thistle or the Demon without Laios. I also have another AU I might write involving an OC. We'll see.

Have a great day, and may all your Meshi be Dungeon.

[unseededtoast]

Turtle Doves | Joel Miller

Part Eight

Chapter Directory

Series Summary: In which two broken souls connect so deeply, that if one should perish, the other would surely die of a broken heart. (slow burn, timeline changes. After TLOU1, before TLOU2, assumed knowledge of infected, uses elements from both show and game)

Series Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, death, and sexual content.

Also cross-posted on Wattpad and AO3. Link to my masterlist for everything else I’ve posted!

Though he is a man of few words, his actions speak for his character.

Heading west, I keep walking through the night, though it's less than ideal. I take my time, wanting to stay quiet and undetected by both infected and people. The silence of the night allows my mind to mull over what I found today and how everything is supposed to fit together.

My mind can't seem to figure anything out that makes sense. The map is the only thing that makes the most sense to me. The notes, the game tallies, they all seem so odd but there has to be some connection. There has to be some reason these people were tasked with killing a specific age range of children in QZ's across the country. There has to be some reason they're connected to the Fireflies. I'm seeing bits and pieces of the picture, but not the full painting.

But what if this is all a bit bigger than I can take on? Am I walking myself right towards a death sentence? Maybe. Could I be making the wrong decision to go to Nebraska? Possibly.

The other alternatives are either to retreat back to the QZ and be stuck wondering for the rest of my life, or try to track down which QZ the others went to, and I could miss them and have wasted time. But if I guess which QZ they're going to next, I could possibly save more lives. I've never been good at gambling, and yet I find myself playing at the highest stakes.

Each step seems to take ten times the effort as normal as I consider my options, trying to see which is the most logical, which would give me the best odds of finding these people. As soon as I think I've made a decision, I second guess myself. It feels like there's no right decision to be made.

I stop walking in the middle of a street and stare straight up at the dark sky, the stars shining brightly down. If only they could give me the answer. The sound of a clicker in a nearby skyscraper gets me moving again, towards the interstate. It seems I've made up my mind, and only time will tell if this was the right decision.

Readjusting my backpack and yawning, I take in my surroundings so that I'm not ambushed by infected. Sometimes it seems like they come out of nowhere. My thoughts seem to run in circles until it starts to drive me mad. I have to think of something else or I'm going to go insane. And after searching for something, the green sign above the road distracts my mind and reminds me of the stranger I met only yesterday.

I wonder how Joel is doing, how his journey is going so far. He seemed seasoned to life outside a QZ, his time away from Boston likely forced him to adapt. Whatever job it was that he took to get out of Boston must have caused him to not want to return. But no matter the reason, I hope that he has a safe journey, I'm sure whoever is waiting for him is worried sick.

My path leads me to a roadblock where an old FEDRA checkpoint used to be, just before the entrance ramp of the highway. Cars are parked bumper to bumper and there's sandbags stacked on top of each other supporting a thick line of barbed wire. Knowing I can't climb overtop of it, I take a right and decide to go around. Sure, this is going to delay my trip slightly, but it's better than trying to go overtop of barbed wire. I don't really feel like nursing open wounds on my way to Nebraska.

As I go to turn left to get back on track I immediately stop moving. Standing in the street are three runners, all hunched over with quiet sobs. A clicker cries out somewhere close, its screeches ricochet off the buildings and echoes into the open air. My heart hammers in my chest and I take careful steps backwards so that I can keep my eyes on them. Thankfully, they don't see me and I'm able to get back to the front of the barricade.

I take a left instead, and hope for a better outcome. Bracing myself, I turn the corner and am in disbelief with what I see. There are four runners standing in the road. My eyes trail down the street and I see that they're all trapped here. The FEDRA barricade extends down the streets so that the infected in the Boston area can't use this ramp to get onto the highway. On one of the barricade sections I see the telltale sign of a door, there's a giant FEDRA sign hanging above it. That door would be a direct path to the road if it weren't for the infected. It seems that there's no unobstructed way for me to get to the highway. I'm up against seven runners and a clicker, at least. Even during the day I don't know if I could take this on.

Ducking back behind the building I try to formulate some sort of plan. How can I get through this barricade without the infected noticing me? I know the door is to the left, but there's no way I can get past all of those infected and open it. Even if I do sneak to the door, I know it's going to make sound when I open it, and that's like ringing the dinner bell for them.

Sound would be like ringing a dinner bell. An idea comes to my mind and I spot an abundance of bricks laying beside one of the cars. If I can get those bricks to all fall at the same time across the street, it should draw them away long enough for me to get to the door. It's still risky, but I think it's my best shot. But how do I get them to fall at the same time?

I don't see a way that I can pull that plan off without considerable time, and I don't have time to be stopped up here, not with all the infected. I stare at the pile of bricks and another idea crosses my mind. What if I use them to get over the barricade? I could lay the bricks in a way that I could get over the barbed wire. It might not be the most sophisticated plan, but it's going to have to work.

Quietly, I walk over to the pile and begin picking them up slowly. The barricade is at least six feet high, so I'm going to have to bring bricks up to the top of the sandbags and lay them there before I can construct something over the wire. I slide my backpack off my shoulders so that it's easier to get the bricks to the top of the barricade. Clutching three bricks under one arm, I climb the sandbags and drop them on top. Thankfully, the sand masks the sound of the bricks landing.

I take another trip up with three more bricks without incident, and feel more confident in my plan. On my last trip up with bricks, I drop them on the sandbags, but one of them hits the corner and falls down to the road with a loud crash. The infected hear it and I can tell they're rushing to investigate. I drop down to the road to pick up my backpack and see them coming towards me on both sides. Shit.

With the speed of lighting, I put my backpack on and start climbing the sandbags. I hear them getting closer as I reach the top, their carnal breaths loud in the night. I'm about two inches away from pulling myself to the top when I feel one of them grab my foot and it yanks me down.

My fingers slip on the sandbags and I fall a few inches before I'm able to grab ahold of something. Wildly, I kick my feet in an attempt to get them off of me, but there are too many. In a last ditch effort, I grab my gun from my thigh holster and shoot the ones who drag me down. The shots ring out in the night and I know it's only going to attract more.

The few runners I've shot collapse to the ground, which gives the clicker more space to reach for me. Clickers are infinitely more terrifying than runners, and they're about ten times stronger too. Runners take one bullet to kill, clickers can take at least two or three. I aim my gun towards the clicker and pull the trigger, but it just clicks. It's empty. Quickly, I shove the gun back in the holster and use both hands to grab onto the sandbags.

Adrenaline pumps in my veins and I fight harder to pull myself away from the feral infected. My pant leg rips at the bottom from their clawing and I feel my fingers beginning to slip. Clenching my eyes shut, I grit my teeth and pull with all my might to get away.

Just as I'm about to accept my fate, a shot rings out and one of the infected crumples to the ground. Four more shots hit the clicker, and it falls as well, body twitching on top of the others. Without thinking I pull myself on top of the barricade and whip my head from side to side to see who shot them. I grab my curved knife from my belt and hold it in front of me.

My chest heaves with each breath I take as the adrenaline begins wearing off and the panic sets in. Whoever shot them could be coming for me next. What if it's the T group?

From the shadows I see a figure approaching, slinging a gun behind them as they quickly jog towards me. Once they get close enough, I recognize who it is immediately. It's Joel.

He runs to the barricade and holds out a hand. I put my knife away and offer him my help up the sandbags. We both start using the bricks to construct a makeshift bridge across the barbed wire, the screeches of a dozen approaching infected rushing our movements. Joel takes bricks from my shaking hands and practically stands me up on his own and pushes me across the bridge, my other pant leg ripping from the barbs.

My feet hit the ground with a hard thud, quickly followed by Joel. His hands push on the back of my backpack and one word is clear over the coming stampede.

"Run." We take off sprinting down the highway's entrance ramp. He's slightly faster than me but I keep up well. Joel points to an abandoned car that crashed into a guard rail and I nod, showing him I understand the plan.

We yank open the doors and climb in. If the infected make it over the barricade, they shouldn't see us here and eventually will disperse. The two of us are out of breath and we sit in silence, trying to regain our bearings.

After a few minutes of steadying my breath, I take my backpack off and sit it in my lap. I rest my head on it and lean forward, closing my eyes in an attempt to calm myself down.

"Thank you." I say, slightly breathless. Raising my head from my backpack, I look over to Joel, who's glancing in the mirrors to see what's behind us. His eyes flicker to mine and he gives me a stern nod, opting to stay quiet.

If it weren't for him I'd be some infected's dinner. That fact sinks in and I feel an immense amount of gratitude. He didn't have to save me. He could've left me for dead. Most people wouldn't stick their neck out for someone they barely know, but he did. Though he is a man of few words, his actions speak for his character.

My gaze turns to the mirrors as well, the two of us anxiously wait to see if the infected are going to make it over. The runners would have no issue scaling the wall given the proper motivation to do so, but they're less likely to if they can't immediately see something that grabs their attention.

After hours of us hunkering down silently in the car, Joel opens his door and gets out. He slings his bag and rifle on his back, looking behind him one more time. I get out and gear up as well. And just like the first time I met him, the silence is almost overwhelming. The morning sunlight begins rising, and I realize we spent almost the entire night in the car.

I chew on the inside of my cheek as I debate whether or not I should say anything. Seeing as how he just saved my life, I decide it's the least I can do. I clear my throat and scratch the back of my neck, looking down at the ground to avoid awkward eye contact.

"I just want to thank you again for saving me back there. You really didn't have to put yourself at risk, but I appreciate it." I find the courage to look up, only to see him staring at me already with a fierce intensity.

"I thought you were headed towards that camp?" He asks, totally disregarding my appreciation.

"I was. I mean, I did. One guy was left but he was infected. I found clues though, about where they might be going." I tell him, shifting my weight from one foot to the other. He nods,

"So where're you headed?" He asks again, and it throws me off. This is the most talkative he's ever been.

"Omaha, Nebraska." I say, recalling the city where the large 'T' was located. Joel's eyebrows raise.

"That's quite a ways from here." He points out and I sigh, knowing I'm severely underprepared for the long road ahead.

"Yeah, I know. But I have to do this. I won't be able to live with myself if I don't." I confess to him. I'm well aware my choices defy logic, but, the alternative of letting the guilt eat me alive is worse.

Joel rests his hand on the top of the car and looks down the highway. He shifts his weight around like he's deep in thought for a few minutes. He's probably trying to think of a way to ditch me. Feeling like I'm intruding on his venture home, I speak up again.

"Listen, I appreciate what you did for me back there, all of it. But I know you're trying to get home so I'll get out of your hair, for real this time." I say and extend a hand out to him again, probably for the last time. Like before, he stares at my hand.

"I'm headed west and go right by Omaha." He says, squinting in the sunlight. I drop my hand once I realize he isn't going to take it, meaning we aren't splitting quite yet. My eyebrows draw tightly together in confusion as I try to understand what he's trying to get at. I think I understand, but I need to hear him clarify.

"Meaning what? We tag along 'til Omaha?" I hear the insecurity in my own voice and I hate it. Joel takes his hand back from the top of the car and nods.

"Safer that way, for the both of us." He confirms my thoughts and starts walking down the highway. I follow him, accepting his offer.

We walk side by side down the road, the only sounds being the birds in the sky and our gear rattling around. My mind is buzzing with questions I want to ask him, but I respect that he's a quiet, reserved man.

Every few minutes I check behind us, feeling paranoid that we're being followed. There's never anything there, but I'd rather check and see nothing than not check and be surprised. Joel is less paranoid I think, he walks with a silent confidence that tells me he's no stranger to the outside world. He understands it far better than I do.

The two of us walk for miles without saying a word until we come to an exit ramp. I recognize it as a suburb outside of Boston, but I've never been there before. Joel veers off the highway to the exit and I follow without question.

Off the ramp, there's a small town to the left and a bunch of housing complexes to the right. Seems like the perfect place for infected to be lurking about. But for some reason, I put my blind faith in the man leading me and trail him into the town.

He looks over his shoulder at me and points at a small brick building. I nod and approach it with him, preparing my knife for use. He stands on the opposite side of the entrance doors with his knife in hand, looking to me for confirmation that I'm ready. Silently, I nod and watch as he swings the door open. I wait for the sound of infected, but am pleasantly surprised with silence.

Joel seems to know where he's going though, he heads straight for the back room. I take my time to look around at the front room, seeing if there's anything of use. Most likely there isn't, but every once in a while I get lucky. The sound of whatever Joel is moving is enough to catch my attention, and I stand in the doorway. He's moving a large piece of plywood that's on the floor. There's a hole in the ground, and he drops down into it.

Curiosity gets the best of me and I go over to peek in the hole, seeing a small stash of supplies. Joel rummages around and picks up ammunition, a few cans, and another knife. He turns around and sees me staring above him, and he hands me items he can't carry himself; some cans of food and ammunition, before he pulls himself back out of the hole.

"You stashed that?" I ask quietly. He huffs as he puts away the extra supplies.

"A while ago." He answers and the two of us quickly shove the items in our bags. My bag feels like it gained fifteen extra pounds, but I can't complain. The extra weight means we have better survival odds.

Wordlessly, Joel moves out of the store and heads towards the suburban side of town, only a few miles walk away. The cookie-cutter houses remind me of the neighborhood I used to live in. A small, idyllic place at one point in time, turned to nothing but a ghost town now. Joel approaches the porch of one and opens the door. Luckily, it's empty and I follow him inside.

He blocks the main entrances to the home without a word, and I move to help him. I shove a strong chair underneath the handle of the back door and try to turn the handle to test its durability. After that, I make my rounds on the curtains and close them all. It seems like we're making this our base for the night. Once we've taken all the safety measures that we possibly can, Joel finds his way to the living room and unloads his stuff on the old, worn-down couch.

I place my backpack on the floor next to the couch and lean against the doorframe that connects the living room and kitchen, watching as Joel straightens his back out on the floor. His arms reach above his head to elongate his spine, and I hear the bones pop and crack. Wincing slightly, I turn my attention elsewhere in the house.

My eyes catch the fading family portrait on the wall and I go to look at it. The black frame houses an old photo. There's a man, woman, two kids, and a dog. They're all smiling, even the dog looks happy. My heart tugs at the sight of the happy family, and I can only assume what happened to them, just like so many other families. Sighing, I look at the other photos on the wall, seeing the slow growth of the children through still images. They look like they were probably high school age. My fingers find their way to the necklace that adorns my neck and I squeeze it tight.

A sound from behind me snaps me out of my thoughts and I turn back to see Joel staring at me. I offer him a polite smile and go to take a seat across from him on the floor, resting my back against the old couch. I fiddle with the torn edges of my pants, and can no longer restrain myself from asking questions. There are too many things I want answers to.

"How did you find me at that barricade?" My voice is soft. Joel clears his throat and shrugs.

"I took the long way 'round so I wouldn't interfere with whatever you were doin'. I was plannin' on taking this highway back home anyways. Guess it was just a coincidence." He plainly answers and I nod, accepting his answer.

"What a lucky coincidence." I smile, trying to break through the tension that always seems to hang over us. It's going to be a long trip west if he keeps things this short. He just shrugs in response,

"So what did you find 'bout those people?" He asks. I'm surprised he even cares, but I reach for my bag to show him what I've found. I spread the documents out in front of me and let him look. I explain to him what I know and what my theories are.

"Whoever they are, they need to be eradicated. Those kids, they were-" The tightness in my throat constricts my ability to talk and I take a shaky breath, remembering what it felt like to cradle the dying girl's head. Joel just nods, not needing further elaboration. He holds up the scraps of paper I found in the fire and reads the simple words.

"I'm not sure what those have to do with anything, and I'm not sure there's any sort of connection." I speak up, truthfully not knowing if they're of any value.

He puts the scraps down and picks up another piece of paper, the one with the Firefly insignia on it. As he reads the paper it's like the blood is drained from his face. My eyebrows knit together,

"What is it?" I ask and his startled eyes look deep into mine with fear that he tries to mask. An uneasy feeling settles in me. He looks back down to the paper and re-reads the note before he says anything.

"These bastards aren't going to live much longer." Is all he says before handing everything back over to me. The look on his face is unsettling, so I don't push anything further.

There has to be something he knows about this.

Part Nine

[neil-neil-orange-peel]

A word on Rik Mayall today...

I recently rewatched the 1984 Wogan interview where Rik does a set as Rick and then an interview as himself. I've always loved the contrast between the oblivious vulnerability we're shown in Rick and the nervous, unguarded energy we glimpse in Rik. I must have watched the video so many times, but it'd been a while since my last viewing, I must admit.

There is something beautiful and raw about Rik and his comedy, especially when looking back at his earlier performances - where he hadn't quite figured out who he wanted to be to the world yet. The way he flits between character and self fascinates me; you can see the change in his face, his posture, his confidence.

Here we behold a man who was much more comfortable behind a persona. These personas let him release a pure, unadulterated, yet still of course hilarious madness that no one else has ever replicated since. That was his gift.

And so, with all this in mind, I took a moment to watch Rik in his element: his eyes wide and glinting, his face grinning and bright, his body abuzz with the performance, his words spiralling wild and loud. That funny man. That pan-global phenomenon.

I found myself laughing, and then I found myself crying; and these two reactions cannot be separated. It was an inarticulable outpouring - because Rik is dead, because time has marched on, because I am no longer 17 years old and freshly in love with him, because things can never be quite as they were ever again. Yet, in spite of all that, this glowing, glorious imprint of Rik remains here, immortalised through the camera.

There he was: Rik Mayall, aged 26, still making me laugh 40 years down the line.

I'd like to say something to Rik, but I can't, so this will have to suffice:

Rest easy, Rik, you darling, funny man. Thank you for the wonder you filled me with when I first found you. It is still within me; it still flickers. Thank you for your fire. Thank you for your madness. Thank you for all the big and small things I want to list but can't capture coherently.

You've been gone ten years now, and that is unspeakably unfair. I am furious on your behalf, believe you me, as I have it on good authority a great many other people are too. I never even met you, and you changed my life. I know that sounds silly, but it is no exaggeration. If such things as souls exist, you made mine full. You made mine laugh.

Thank you, Rik. You utter bastard. I won't ever forget what you've done for me. I really bloody mean that.

I'm thinking of you today.

[writing-frenzy]

Mob Protag Ichigo and the Puppet Master (UraIchi Isekai Idea :3 )

So yeah, for anyone who's read my first idea with the Kurosaki Fam Isekai, they'll know all the stuff that has inspired this and that I've already mentioned an idea with a Mob Character!Ichigo and a Puppet Master Benihime (AKA Urahara Kisuke)

Let us set the scene :3

How will Ichigo go to a fantasy world, especially with how he is? Well, as Ichigo was growing up, one of his sisters was really, really sick; they weren't sure if she was going to make it tbh. Ichigo did all he could, but being a little guy, there wasn't much he could do. One day, he came upon a weird being who said they could grant wishes; Ichigo immediately asks if they can make his little sister healthy. The being said yes after a moment, but it will cost him a peaceful afterlife. Ichigo takes the deal, the being is admittedly touched by this child's goodness and unselfish desire, because for such a sweet child, they know of death and the loss it brings already. So the being actually doesn't twist the wish like so many others he does, letting the children live out their natural lifespans in peace.

All is well, until a 17 year old Ichigo saves his other sister and her friend from dying to a truck. Our World's Divine Being is like; damn, you still had way, way more life span and time than you should have to had died now... but since you have a contract, I can't just let you survive :/ eh, I'll use it to at least give you perks to survive your reincarnation in that hell hole. (not to mention how they too are actually touched, they're a sucker for loving families)

Ichigo: wut

Godly Being: *throws a book series and some powers at him* Wish you luck out there!

After feeling just a bit violated and like someone was digging around in his head and blood, Ichigo wakes up in an abandoned house in some modern looking steampunk like city. Looking around he doesn't have much but some basics for survival, weird as heck items, and a book series. Not much to do, he reads the series, which answers a whole lot of questions even as makes Ichigo scowl like a thundercloud.

See, this is a very, very dark fantasy like series, it's gonna have all the canon Bleach fighting and gore but with magical surprises and such, with a very, very bittersweet ending. It's kinda like a modern setting meets with a very eco-friendly way because the world will crush those it sees trying to abuse it (mother nature don't play around here) so it's kinda steam/water/wind/solarpunk. Don't know who I want as the OG Story's protag to be, maybe Rukia or one of the Karakura Kids, but it follows them in a world were contracts/pacts/deals with spiritual beings is over everything; it can be with weapons, it can be with bloodlines or any such. Not all pacts and such are unequal, some in fact are real and true bonds, the pact bound loyal to their contractors to obsession... others, it is is very much a thing of slavery and torture, which can go both ways depending on what was exactly contracted.

Ichigo goes about trying to figure out his own contract/pact thing, which while so long ago, is just something he has never been able to forget, seemingly inscribed onto his very soul in a way. He knows he was picked because his soul was the most compatible for the spirits the being wanted for him, and he already knows its going to change his body as well, but it still confuses him.

(maybe something like;

A mix of holy power and darkness that would find most be consumed,

Flames properly controlled that can reach the moon,

Cut it from the sky and devour it if so desired,

But yet all one wants is to protect their own wary lost and life tired,

For One such as you a power so great is to be entrusted,

It will find you, change you, leave your life chain broken and rusted,

In Time it will be shown if you can make this power your own,

But already, your fate has sown.)

(LOL, this is Ichigo, he's gonna break his fate and make friends with his Hallow and Ossan, because I love the idea of the three together again in this au :3 later tho)

But yeah, so Ichigo is figuring things out, especially with controlling his body once more because his strength went a bit wonky, but I also like the idea of a different weapon Ichigo if that makes sense? Like, he will still be an op power house, but the thought of him using spells and martial arts makes me grin evilly? Like, with his Hollow more bonded later, he can make claws come out to rip soft bellies apart and such. And Ossan just insists he learn a bow for those times he needs long range and such, even if he gets a bit despairing when Ichigo occasionally gets too frustrated and just throws the damn arrow (all three in Ichigo's head are quiet whenever the move proves highly effective, which is always.) Oh, but now I can't help but think of Childe from Genshin Impact's fighting style :D maybe instead of blades though, Ichigo switches to a hand to hand with bracers of some sort covering his arms that are hard as fuck, easy to move around in because of magic.

But ah, getting sidetracked again, this all comes later down; for now, Ichigo is still figuring shit out, avoiding protagonists and co because yeah, people not protected by plot armor tend to die really, really messily around them and he still can't do jack right now (doesn't mean he doesn't do what he can, even if its just simple things like helping the elderly, making sure kids get home safe, or even knocking out some regular thugs harassing some ladies.

Ichigo, despite all his scowls and looks, still draws people in with his kindness and protective nature in this dark, lonely otherworld.)

Its as he's helping someone shopping, this sweet little lady who goes on and on about her sweet grandbaby, that Ichigo goes to the Urahara Shoten for the first time; not much gets his attention, besides the fact that the protagonist has only been here once or twice in the early chapters for some odds or ends, this place being some mixture of candy/pawn/tea shop.

But then something in the shop resonates with him; with his very soul. Looking around, Ichigo tells the sweet grandma he'll be right back, and call him when she's done, to which she gives a cheerful reply before Ichigo goes off, looking high and low before he finds a strange book and block with it, like a set. Picking it up, it just feels so damn right... till he looks at the price tag and cringes. While he has odd jobs here and there to help him out, it's just enough money for him to live with since he doesn't have to worry about rent with his questionable abandoned house, covering his food expenses and the public bath fee.

"Find something you like dear customer?" is said from behind him, which makes Ichigo jump like a few feet into the air, clutching his book and block set to his chest, before turning to the one who startled him.

And so thus the first meeting with Urahara Kisuke, Geta-boshi as Ichigo likes to call him. After a bit of back and forth between the two, Ichigo admits he can't afford the book and block set, too which Urahara merely hums, eyes oddly shadowed from his hat as he considers that. one thing leads to another and somehow Ichigo not only gets the set but even a steady job at the shop, even if his paycheck will be cut because of said set. And sure, Geta-boshi is sus as fuck, but Ichigo doesn't sense any ill will from the man, not too mention the man even helps him with understanding the book, a soul book as its called, which strengthens souls and their contracts, enabling them to get a growing weapon called an Asauchi that transforms with the soul. Its not bad.

On Kisuke's part, he is actually pretty intrigued by Kurosaki, this youth who carries the potential of a predator but the heart of a protector, actually reacting to the soul book and Asauchi Kisuke had made more for curiosity and boredom then to actually make a functional weapon. Not to mention just how much fun it is too mess with Ichigo, the boy shows he has a clever mind and a strength that just seems to constantly grow more and more. Kisuke is actually considering just how he can possibly use this youth for his goals, wondering if he can be the chest piece he needs to finally topple the king in this game between Puppet Master Benihime and Greater Lord Aizen.

Ichigo does know about Puppet Master Benihime from the story, they were a neutral character only focused on making sure the world would not collapse, no matter the amount that would be needed to be sacrificed in the end. But in the story, it only ever showed Benihime herself, never even mentioning that she was actually contracted, and 100% loyal to said contractor, so Ichigo has no clue about just how scary his mentor is at first, besides when the man actually did finally spar with him and Ichigo couldn't even get a hit on him. In this world, these two have a bit more time, a bit more room to act, and with it they bond, much to Kisuke great surprise even as he still plans to use him.

So things happen, things are reveled, discoveries are had, and Kisuke goes to Ichigo, confirming that he knows.

And then he kneels before this youth; he kneels and apologizes, thinking and knowing in his soul he's done something unforgiveable, thinking he won't be forgiven and fine with that as long as Ichigo still lives well... only for Ichigo to actually forgive, just like that, just because he could tell Kisuke meant it, scowling still but most of all accepting.

Its a good thing Kisuke was already kneeling because that alone would have made him bow just from the sheer acceptance and warmth Ichigo just seems to shine with. Ichigo has no idea just what he's done, who's utter loyalty and trust he has secured, and Kisuke will kill, die, and live for this boy, he just has to say the word. Even with all the people Ichigo has gathered, from villains to protagonist, people who are loyal and true if to no one else but him, Kisuke feels blessed he can be included, can be trusted even over the others to always remain at Ichigo's back and protect it no matter what.

In return, Ichigo looks up to Kisuke as both a mentor, ally, friend, and after an interesting dream, a damn annoying crush he can not get rid of, going strong for years (no longer a crush then but let him deny it for a bit). Parts of him wants to devour this man whole, never share him with the world, but Ichigo is such a being of freedom he could never dream to rip such a thing from someone else. (Kisuke being Kisuke wouldn't mind if its Ichigo tho >:3 All Ichigo has to do is ask, and this man would give him the world, Benihime right behind him.)

I feel like this story would be a slow burn but not if that makes sense? like, there is a tension from the very beginning of the story to Demi-romantic/sexual Ichigo's awakening of shit, so that's what that feels like (Fight me on this, I will defend it to the grave Very Demi!Ichigo)

But yeah, so far that's it for my Bleach Ideas :D hope you enjoyed them and stuff.

[jotun-philosopher]

If you liked that, you might like this: Good Omens and World Of The Five Gods

Heyo! Time for another ramble~!

Good Omens has given me a bit of a taste for theologically interesting fantasy, which led me to the World of the Five Gods series by Lois McMaster Bujold -- let me tell you about it! (Not everything, but hopefully enough to whet your appetite and spark your curiosity ^_^)

Putting everything under a cut, because while this isn't really a meta and I'm going to try to avoid spoilers as far as possible, I am going to be infodumping so it's gonna get loooooooooong XD #AutismForTheWin

So! World of the Five Gods is set in a sort of fantasy-counterpart-culture version of Medieval Europe (more or less late Reconquista era), but with the map rotated 180 degrees. Consistent across countries and cultures is the Quintarian religion, which involves worship of a pantheon of five gods:

The Father of Winter, who deals with mature manhood, fatherhood, justice, fairness, leadership, natural deaths, male virility and suchlike. His colours are grey and black.

The Mother of Summer, who covers mature womanhood, motherhood, love and its results, female sexuality, birth, renewal and healing/medicine, among others. Her colour is green.

The Daughter of Spring, whose purview is youth, beauty, virginity, education and planting. Her colour is blue, which is frequently trimmed with white.

The Son of Autumn, who covers war, hunting, courage, harvest and emotion. His colours are red and orange.

The Bastard, the broadly benevolent but frequently inscrutable trickster figure of the pantheon. His purview is orphans, demons, disasters and chaos, illegitimate children, queer folks, executioners, divine justice where mortal justice fails, lives unnaturally cut short, "all things out of season". His colour is white. He likes it when his followers 'pray' to him by cursing him out, both because they're actually *thinking* about their situations and because he finds it hilarious. (His sense of humour is a bit odd...) At the uttermost end of mortal justice, when all else has failed, one can pray to the Bastard for a 'death miracle', which if successful will kill both you and the intended target via one of the Bastard's demons taking your soul and theirs.

The Quadrene religion views the Bastard as a demon rather than a god, and reviles as heretical those matters which fall within his purview.

The gods have total power over the world of spirit, but their ability to affect the world of matter is highly limited at best; they thus have to rely on mortal agents. The tool is not the work, though -- tools get broken, after all -- so being a tool of the gods tends to really fucking suck.

WotFG has (at time of writing) three novels and twelve novellas.

The novels are:

The Curse of Chalion -- The Daughter's book. An escapee from a slave galley seeks a position in the household of his old patroness, is assigned as secretary-tutor to the Royesse (= princess) of Chalion (roughly equivalent to Castile in Reconquista-era Spain) and does his darndest to protect her from the deadly court machinations of the PROFOUNDLY evil chancellor and his brother while also seeking a way to break the curse of the title. (Seriously, get you someone who's as fiercely loyal and devoted to you as Cazaril is to 'his ladies'!)

Paladin of Souls -- The Bastard's book, and direct sequel to Curse, taking place a few years later. Ista, Dowager Royina of Chalion, is fed up of being locked in her rural castle by well-meaning caretakers who mistake her god-touched status for insanity. She goes on what is ostensibly a pilgrimage for her mother's soul, and finds that the gods are not done with her yet... (not quite the little-old-lady fantasy hero I've seen tumblr posts about -- Ista's in her forties -- but she is *very* badass and outspoken; one can imagine her being played by Catherine Tate)

The Hallowed Hunt -- The Son's book, set about 250 years before Curse, in the Weald (roughly analogous to Germanic areas). Ingrey kin Wolfcliff is dispatched to a remote castle to collect a young woman called Ijada, as well as the corpse of the highborn would-be rapist whose head she bashed in with a giant war hammer. Devious machinations and long-laid schemes abound surrounding the Hallow Kingship of the Weald, into which Ingrey and Ijada are swiftly drawn.

The thirteeen (so far) novellas focus on Learned Penric kin Jurald, scholar and sorcerer-divine of the Bastard's order, and his demon Desdemona. They take place roughly 150 years after Hunt (so, about a century before the start of Curse) and start out set in the Cantons (equivalent to Switzerland), but Penric (and the stories) travel around a fair bit. There is some interesting gender-wibbliness involved as well, because all of Desdemona's hosts prior to Penric were female, still live on in some way within her such that Penric can channel and converse with them, and Penric has to cross-dress more than once (particularly and memorably channelling the courtesan Mira).

In terms of approximate internal chronology, the Penric novellas are:

Penric's Demon, Penric and the Shaman, Penric's Fox (collected in the omnibus titled 'Penric's Progress')

Penric's Mission, Mira's Last Dance, The Prisoner of Limnos (collected in the omnibus titled 'Penric's Travels')

Masquerade In Lodi [chronologically earlier than the stories in Penric's Travels], The Orphans of Raspay, The Physicians of Vilnoc (collected in the omnibus titled 'Penric's Labors')

The Assassins of Thasalon, Knot of Shadows, Demon Daughter (at time of writing, to the best of my knowledge, only available in e-book format)

edit 17/08/24: Penric and the Bandit (published 1st July 2024, ebook format only)

The novels and novellas can technically be read in any order (though, being a sequel to Curse, Paladin of Souls contains spoilers for that book). Personally, I find the worldbuilding easiest to digest when reading the novels in publication order (Curse, Paladin, Hunt), then the Penric stories. It's up to you, though!

The setting of WotFG as a whole (as I mentioned at the start) is informed to varying degrees by the history of Spain's 'Reconquista' era; the influence is especially strong in The Curse of Chalion, to the point that I'd strongly advise against making a drinking game out of it -- there are parallels to persons and events you wouldn't think could *have* parallels! Good fodder for a history-side-of-tumblr meta post, though, eh? ;-) (pls tag me if you do make one, I'd love to read it!)

Having come to WotFG from Good Omens, I have a particular soft spot for the Penric stories -- there are a few parallels with GO (a small enough number that it's probably safe to make a drinking game out of it -- though I'd still recommend tumblr meta-posts as the safer and healthier alternative!), all of which are more than likely genuine coincidences, but enough to add an ineffably lovely layer of enjoyment :D Have fun finding 'em ^^ (Srsly, the AU fanfics almost write themselves...)

Happy reading!

(tagging @ao3cassandraic and @vidavalor -- I get the feeling you'll like WotFG if you haven't run across the series already)

[teecupangel]

Once upon a moonlit night, in the forgotten attic of an ancient manor, a spectral figure with wispy tendrils of mist for limbs, sat at an old oak desk. Beside her, a ferret, her faithful companion, scurried about, his tiny paws brushing against the dusty floorboards.

The ghost longed to share her tales with the world, but her ethereal form made it impossible to hold a pen or parchment. Yet, she possessed a voice that could weave enchanting stories. With a rustle of excitement, the ferret scampered over to a worn journal, ready to serve as her conduit once more.

As she whispered her latest creation, the ferret diligently transcribed every word, his delicate claws scratching across the yellowed pages. Together, they brought to life tales of adventure, love, and mystery, each word a testament to their unwavering bond.

One evening, as the stars twinkled outside the attic window, they both decided to send one of their stories to a faraway land once more, where they hoped it would find its way into the hearts of readers. With a flicker of her translucent form, she dictated the letter while he scribbled furiously, his whiskers twitching with concentration.

With the letter complete, they entrusted it to the care of the night, watching as it vanished into the darkness, carried by an unseen breeze. And though they knew not if their words would ever be read, the ghost and the ferret found solace in the knowledge that they had shared a piece of their souls with the world.

As dawn painted the sky with hues of pink and gold, a letter arrived at the post office.

Inside it says: "I've been researching about mythological creatures and came upon the Manananggal. It's creepy and cool so Desmond or anyone else you prefer becoming this would either be badass or angsty."

For those unfamiliar with the Manananggal (and I will definitely misspell it in this post at least once), it’s a mythical creature of the night in Philippine folklore.

During the day, they’re normal looking people but, at night, their upper torso sprout bat wings and separates from the lower toros (some describe it with intestines dangling, some don’t). During this separated form, sunlight burns them so they have to fuse back before sunrise.

It made its debut as the first Filipino folklore related demon in Shin Megami Tensei V too.

…

Okay soooooo…

When I was a kid, I watched this horror movie that has a Manananggal in it. Scared the crap out of me when I was a kid.

There was this scene where the Manananngal was on the roof and the roof was made of some kind of leaves so the Manananggal could slip her really long tongue inside while the people sleep to eat the unborn baby of this pregnant woman.

(Because unborn babies are like one of their favorite food or something)

That gave me nightmares for months (and made me stare into the ceiling unable to sleep at times XD)

And now that I’m no longer a child, all I can think of is…

The Manananggal’s greatest weakness is that finding their lower half and sprinkling it with salt would make it impossible for the two halves to combine and, apparently, Manananngal burn in sunlight IF they’re not ‘fused’ (so yeah, they’re sorta counted as a kind of vampire)

In other words, the best way to defeat a Manananggal is to find their lower half and drench it with salt XD

I absolutely got sidetracked so let’s focus back on Desmond.

For this one, the first time he transformed into a Manananggal, he freaked out because, holy shit, he separated from his lower body.

What the fuck. What the fuck.

And that’s the start of his problem.

First of all: he has no idea what a Manananggal is (unless we throw him a bone and either (1) make him read horror folklore of other countries as a hobby or (2) make his mother Filipino or Filipino descent who knows about Manananggal and used it to scare him as a kid so he’d sleep early) so he’s flying by the seat of his pants (hehe)

And now we have four difficulties:

Easy Mode: Desmond became a Manananggal in modern day (after the Solar Flare? His mother is actually a Manananggal and passed it on him? Shrug). This means he can just check the net to figure out what he can and cannot do.

Normal Mode: Desmond becomes a Manananggal after being transported to Ratonhnhaké:ton’s time. Why is this normal mode? Because Manila was under British occupation for like… a couple of months in 1760s so there is British presence in the Philippines (somewhat) during the long Spanish Colonial rule. By this point, we can make an argument that the Spanish Brotherhood and the British Brotherhood would have some-ish information about the Philippines so it’s possible that they could be able to find information (or have a Filipino Assassin that’s in Spain or something) that can help Desmond.

Hard Mode: Desmond becomes a Manananggal after being transported to Ezio’s time. Leonardo could help try and understand how this all work. But the most important thing is that they would have the Apple depending on when you put Desmond. If the Apple can give them information about Desmond’s current situation, this lowers the difficulty. (aka: hardest during the start of AC2, after the prologue of Brotherhood and, well, all of Revelations until they enter the library)

Hard-er Mode: Altaïr’s time would be a harder time for Desmond because the best time to kick him into that timeline is AC1 so the Apple is with Al Mualim. He’d have to spend months trying to figure shit out while Altaïr tries to help and is also distracted with his missions. Of course, if this is after AC1, then the Apple is there to help out and Altaïr wouldn’t mind using it. (aka: only hard in the beginning then smooth sailing from there)

(As for food, blood is a staple food supply for Manananggal as far as I know so he can drink that instead of you know…)

========= For the alchemist side of this =========

There were many strange and wonderful things he had seen over the course of delivering items from and for the alchemist.

But this…

“I’ll have to check if we can actually deliver this.” He said with a frown, staring at the pair of bat wings that the alchemist had given him.

Well…

Dropped on his poor battered wagon anyway.

“Why? It’s not alive.”

“Oh, that’s not the problem.” He said as he scratched his cheek, “We have a weight and length limit.”

The alchemist’s brows furrowed at that.

“Oh.”

They both stared at the bat wings, each wing as big as the alchemist themselves.

How tall were they anyway?

5’4 maybe? 5’3?

He wasn’t sure.

This might be too big for them to deliver.

Shame.

It looked so real.

“It’s not… like… what do cityfolks call it? Taxidermatology or something?”

“No, it’s purely made with alchemy.” The alchemist answered before walking inside.

He opened his mouth to call them back but they returned soon enough with a wicker basket that had some kind of lid. They pulled the lid open and placed it on the ground before grabbing the bat wings.

He took a step towards the alchemist when they wobbled under the weight of the bat wings and his eyes widened as his jaw dropped when the alchemist began to put the bat wing inside the basket.

Slowly, the large batwing disappeared into the basket. It didn’t change shape or showed any sign of ever receiving such an impossible load.

Once the rest of the bat wing was inside, the alchemist closed the lid and handed the basket to him.

“Here.”

“Uuuuhhh… Alchemy?” He asked as he took the basket from them, earning a nod.

“Yup.”

[this-is-fox-speaking]

ok so. here's my thoughts on how things went for memory recollection.

Sissel remembered the moment they got into their past body. Something about Temsik fragment fuckery, I dunno. That's my only excuse. Merging memories or being hit with memories probably isn't as soul punching when you're literally a little kitty cat. They've been very sworn to their duty to love their families so so much!

Yomiel remembers a little bit after the timelines reset. Like, these memories probably get him for a while as some sort of familiar feeling similar to deja vu, but it actually just hit when he started painting in jail. He couldn't pinpoint exactly what was going on or why he painted that figures he knew he hadn't seen before, and- "Oh fuck, wait. That's right. I KNOW THEM." Kinda like a Jowd situation but.. reversed?

It takes a few months or maybe a couple years for Jowd to remember. He gets freaked out when he realizes he knew exactly what his daughter was going to look like, and- then he's immediately hit with it. Yeah, him and Yomiel probably had a few good talks over some of those prison days. He doesn't tell Alma or anything. Even though he feels bad about it, he knows it wouldn't really be the best thing to tell your wife that.. all of that happened. Unless you wanna look like a crazy person. Again.

Cabanela has his own few deja vu moments when he meets the other for the first time after the park incident, like the Pigeon Man or Lynne. I'd like to think he actually remembers a little before Jowd does, since he was literally also possessed by good ol Manipulator over here, and was so obsessed with figuring him out. He doesn't bring it up at first, until Jowd brings it up, then he just casually admits he's been- almost literally- dancing around the topic until the right time. Idk if this is very in character, lemme know. I've only watched through this game a total of once because it's.. really long. And I just recently finished it.

Lynne remembers over time, but it's specifically whenever she sees Yomiel's face. He's familiar, yet she can't place why, and it's not just from the park.. and when she finally gets hit with the memories once shes older, she kinda goes through some stages before going back to regular old, hyperactive lynne, towards Yomiel. He has the face but not the same personality of who she's used to, but.. she knows he's changed. And we know Lynne is.. quite the character! Not negative, just. I dunno how to explain her! Yomiel is her bestie against his will. This is not a choice.

Kamila doesn't remember any of it. It only comes to her in short visions- aka, "nightmares". I imagine as she gets older, it's possible she might remember these memories more clearly/solidly, or she'll ask Jowd and them, and they sigh and begrudgingly admit what really happened. Kinda up to interpretation, truly! It's fun to think about, either direction.

I think it'd be bittersweet if Missile sometimes had small dreams of being a lamp in the city's trash. Or simply being an odd ghostly figure. Or just being his own, lively doggy self, digging about the trash, yet being ignored by all the humans that come by. Sissel doesn't have the heart to tell him the truth. It's bittersweet because even though it means Missile has to remember this sad life of his old self, it still means Ray lives on, even if it's just a little bit. Probably a similar situation as Kamila, where he'll remember once he's much, much older. Past his dog years.

I feel like Pigeon Man would remember but just. Not give a fuck. He rambles about it to Lovey Dove sometimes, when he's bored, but that's about it. He doesn't care. He's got more important studies to worry about.

The Minister... I'm not really sure. I don't wanna have him remember or else he'll be all sad and mopey again. I'm gonna let him be happy with his family.

As for all the other characters- park protector, Minister's wife, his daughter, etc- they all have faint feelings of it. A small bit of deja vu every year or two, but it's nothing huge at all. They never really dwell on it.