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charliemwrites · 9 months

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Still thinking about Nikto, and that anon ask I answered just a bit ago.

Content: Dissociation/Depersonalization, Unhealthy (not harmful) Coping Mechanisms, Codependence, Trauma/PTSD symptoms, Sexual Themes

After the hallway incident you’re a bit shaken. A life of a heavy burden, but your shoulders are used to the weight; you’re a medic. But what Nikto offered you in the hallway — no, not offered, but gave, devoted. It makes it hard to breathe.

You’re not sure if what he’s seeking (or perhaps found?) is solace or penance. You don’t think you have much say in the matter really. If God asked His disciples to stop worshipping, would they?

The comparison feels too bold, even in the privacy of your own mind. Smacks of narcissism and ego. You don’t feel powerful. You feel scared. Of what it means to hold this broken, burdened man in the palm of your hand, trying to keep all the pieces together without cutting yourself on them.

Don’t be so careless with your life, you told him.

He’s taken those words as religious creed. He doesn’t storm around corners, guns blazing anymore. Doesn’t drop from heart-stopping heights to stamp-sized targets. Hes not the first one out nor the last one in anymore — though he never lets you get out first or hop in transport last either.

Suppose that shouldn’t be a surprise.

He cares for his wounds now, too. Cleans and changes them regularly, doesn’t over exert them before they’ve healed. You’re so dizzy on pride in him that you kiss the front of his mask one day, telling him “thank you”.

He grunts in something that sounds almost like shock and shakes his head at you. You figure he doesn’t feel he deserves praise for doing as you’ve told him. You do it anyway.

Things start to settle into this new normal.

Until you can’t find him anywhere. He’s become your new shadow, another limb, and suddenly he’s gone like so much smoke. You’re both fresh off a rough, but successful mission. You’ve just finished a stint in the infirmary and your debrief. Usually hed take that time to clean off and change in privacy, back before you could miss him.

Where is he?

You find him bleeding in his room, trying to care for his own wounds. Mask off, shirt gone, a new knife wound added to his macabre collection. You scramble to his side and collapse at his feet, snatching the needle from his shaky, slippery hand.

“Don’t you ever—” you choke on the words, unusual tears welling. You’re a medic; you’re not allowed to cry during treatment. But all you see if Nikto and blood and—

“I am okay,” he says in that low, crackly voice. Gravel in a blender. “It is not bad.”

You swallow and don’t answer, can’t because you’ll start weeping into his wound. Just stitch him up, hands steady even as you sniffle and the rest of you trembles.

When it’s done, you start wiping away the excess, prepping a bandage. He’s so silent you can even hear him breathing, but you feel his eyes like a physical touch. Finally make yourself look up at him meet his piercing eyes.

“You come back to me from now on,” you say. Quiet, firm, fervent. “I don’t care what it is, you return to my side always.”

The silence stretches and stretches, and he just stares with that unfathomable gaze.

“Understand?” you insist.

“Yes.”

Those two commandments become that basis of his new existence. Nikto once thought he survived it all because he still had work to do. He was wrong; it was because he still hadn’t found his purpose at all.

He’s found you now though, and you are a demanding god. But not a cruel one

Your first commandment is atonement. This vessel requires so much work. Food and water and rest. Maintenance for every abrasion, upkeep to stay strong enough to stand at your side, to protect you. It is endless, bitter work. He doesn’t care for the labor itself, but it must be done.

It is made bearable with you.

Your second commandment is salvation. Your quiet chatter during meals, the lingering taste of your mouth on his water canteen. Your kind hands mending tears and holes, keeping whatever he is now whole and hale. Your company in the gym, on sparring mats, at his side at the gun range. The smell of your sweat past the mask, your laughter goading him into another round.

You let him sleep in your bed. Let him wake you with nightmares or memories. Keep him warm because this thing he inhabits doesn’t always remember it’s not dying anymore. You are so very alive, the realest thing in any room. Your touch is the only thing he can feel sometimes.

It takes him a long time to realize that his body (because it is a body you tell him, a living one that needs care) reacts to you.

That some mornings the press of you against him is especially sweet. That there’s more than relief and pride when you pin him down. That, at most points of the day, his body wants your touch for more than just grounding.

He’s hard most times that he’s with you, simply for the fact that you are there. And he is with you almost always.

(That it is not actually always grinds at him, niggles in the back of his mind. A sticking point. He wants it to be always, you with him at all times. Like when he used to wear a cross pendant.)

You notice, of course you do, sensitive to your most loyal devotee. He can’t tell if you’re offended, but you haven’t sent him away. Sometimes you flush and he thinks he’s certainly upset you, but for all he’s survived it would kill him to break your second commandment. And so he stays, even if he waits to be told to leave.

“Nikto?”

You never need to call his name, he is always listening. He likes the sound of it anyway. These syllables and sounds that have a meaning, that you use for him.

“Do you… want to do something about that?” you nod to his crotch. There’s a blatant bulge pressing at his tac pants. At some other time, he would probably would have found it uncomfortable.

“Do what?” he asks.

You shrug. “Get off? I could leave—“

“No.”

You blink but don’t seem surprised. “Do you want to just ignore it then?”

He shrugs a bit. There’s a flicker of amusement in your eyes. You like when he makes gestures. He tries to remember common ones, and when to do them, and tries them out for you. Though you never seem to mind his stillness either.

“It does not bother me.”

You hum, look like you’re going to go back to your tv show.

“Does it bother you?”

Your eyes dart up, mouth parting in surprise. You didn’t expect him to continue the topic. Neither did he.

“It doesn’t bother me,” you reply, tilting your head. “But if you want to do something about it, we can.”

We.

“We?”

“If… if you want me to do something… I would.”

He couldn’t ask that of you. Not ever. He’s not allowed to want anything of you when you’ve given him everything.

“No,” he says quietly finally. “Just ignore it.”

“Okay.” You smile at him, touch his hand. It is bare, mangled tattoos on display. He wishes he could feel it more. “Come snuggle in?”

Snuggle in.

Such a quaint turn of a phrase for a creature in your room, wearing a man’s face. He climbs in, shoes gone, mask gone. You wedge yourself against his side and he stares absently at the screen as you continue your show.

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Masterlist

#thoughts™️#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #nikto x reader #cod nikto

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cerastes · 11 months

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FNAF but you are a Rhodes Island canteen staff on a night shift trying to prevent Ceobe from raiding the kitchen .

It's a late night at the Rhodes Island canteen, the Elite Operators have an early deployment, and supplies are looking adequate... That is, as long as no incident occurs. Unfortunately for whoever is on shift, Rhodes Island is well known for its late night incidents, incarnated in nefarious individuals whose gluttony eclipses even the most furious of Catastrophes... And the Elite OPs are not going to be happy campers if they can't get their calories for their arduous missions...

--Five Nights At Rhodes!--

Your objective is to protect the delicious ingredients in the pantry from morally bankrupt evildoers that would greedily consume all they can get their hungry little pizza fingers on! Play as one of four culinary heroes to keep those fiends away from the Elite's caloric intake, or face the crushing guilt of seeing Rosmontis go hungry with a rumbling tummy!

The Centurions of Flavor:

Gummy

"The sign clearly says 'Ceobe not allowed', why are you still coming in!"

Known for world-class fried eggs and a healing enthusiasm, this Ursine Defender isn't just a soothing smile to have around, and can use her very own Reinforced Door to fully restore and strengthen one of the doors to the pantry! No means no!

Matterhorn

"Ethan, seriously, you can just ask for a sandwich... You're messing our inventory of available ingredients if you take them on the down low!"

Bodyguard, enforcer, butler, and renowned chef, Matterhorn works with the finest Kjerag ingredients, and knows a thing or two about keeping unwanted company out with his Sublime Sandwich, which can temporarily distract would-be interlopers with its peerless taste and aroma!

Kal'tsit

"If you want something done right, sometimes you have to do it yourself... Especially when the would-be crisis jeopardizes the stock of instant noodles in such dire and relentless a fashion."

The boss always has your back in Rhodes Island, and this emergency deployment is no exception! Any logistic is an important logistic! With her Spinal Assistant, Kal'tsit can order Mon3tr to hold one door while she holds the other one! There's no getting a fast one in on this Feline!

Just A Canteen Staffer

"I literally just work here."

With no special abilities to speak of, well... It's going to be a long, long night.

Crooked Adversaries:

Ravenous Hellhound

The nefarious nibler, infamous for her indignant disregard for signaling, reviled for her Indomitable March: What she lacks in tricks, she makes up for in pure perseverance, relentlessly trying to force her way in no matter how many times she's repelled. The countless signals that say "Ceobe Not Allowed" are said to be a ward against the Hellhound. A useless ward, that is.

Renegade Interloper

He moves like the shadow of a ghost, a feared culinary assassin that will make your ingredients and food vanish into the misty night, leaving behind no trace. This Persistence Predator will oftentimes camp outside a door almost completely invisible, waiting for your guard to grow lax. If one pays close attention, however, one might discern small ripples in space where there should be none, or hear a faint music from the Interloper's treasured earbuds...

Prowling Miscreant

The hunter's creed is that a mighty beast is only as strong as its weakest point, and her eye is already trained on the canteen... And the habits of its handlers. You'll be Drawing Dead the moment you think you have a leg up on the Miscreant, as she'll first observe your habits, and then continuously attempt entry from the routes you neglect the most, usually by syncing up with the advance of other Adversaries.

The Ghost of Babel

Feared for their truly wild consumption habits and seemingly unmatched ability to find their way into the pantry, this hooded enigma's wiry, fragile frame betrays their supernatural wiles. This unique Adversary doesn't move in the same way as the others, instead wandering the Area seemingly randomly, concocting their Magnum Opus by collecting all sorts of information and intel that we can't even begin to comprehend. If this is completed, then the Ravenous Hellhound will turn into a creature only known as "Golden Ceobe" and become completely unstoppable. Due to their timid nature, however, they can only work towards the Opus by being in a calm state of mind, achieved by not being observed for a period of time.

The full game COMING SOON to all stores in Columbia, Victoria, Great Yan, not Gaul, and Leithanien! Don't miss out on all these Centurions and Adversaries! Preorder now and get a code to an early download of the DLC Centurions [Fiammetta Who Aggressively Doesn't Want To Be Here] and [Just A Canteen Staffer the Holungday], as well as early access to the challenging DLC Adversaries [Scary Guy] and [D.I.D.I.]!

#arknights

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honey-minded-hivemind · 2 months

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If Claws of the Smilodon was an Omegaverse or A/B/O AU, I imagine Creed Reader has never felt like a pup, so therefore, they have no pup instincts and have neglected and possibly almost non-existent scent glands. The teens can hardly pick up their scent and can't tell what their gender is or who their pack is, while the adults smell hardly anything about them, no friends, no parents, nothing.

After the Incident, the X-Teens are trying to take care of Reader, asking questions like "when is your Urge period coming up?" and "do you need anything to help for your heat?" and "will you need someone to stay with you?", only to be met by a confused, suspicious, and upset Reader:

"What the f*ck do you mean my Urge period?! What the h*ll is THAT?!" "My HEAT?! I BEG your PARDON? Are you insane?!" "Ehy would I want ANY OF YOU to stay with me?! YOU are the reason I'm stuck here!"

Eventually, after doing a few small tests on Creed Reader, the platonic yandere X-Men discover that they have... no pup instincts. None. Nothing.

And it suddenly makes them all feel a horror at how they've been treating Reader, who, according to their newest discovery and what they know about them, is essentially a pup who has no idea what is healthy for them or their instincts, because they have next to none. They don't purr or nuzzle anyone even when under drugs or sedation, they recoil from soft words or any signs of guilt, they sleep by themself, they have no ones scent on them to claim them as family or friend, and they're living on their own in some shoddy cabin in the middle of the woods-

Suffice to say, the adults freak out over this.

Okay, okay. Reader is a pup who's been severely neglected by them, by their own dad, by both groups, and who has no clue that them not having any instincts or a scent is unhealthy. This is Very Much Not Good. At All.

So now they have to try and approach the topic of pup behavior with them, which Reader finds "weird", "creepy", and "in poor taste".

Yeah. This is NOT going to be easy.

#honeycomb thoughts #platonic yandere marvel #yandere platonic marvel #platonic yandere xmen #yandere x-men #platonic yandere marvel x reader #platonic yandere xmen evolution #platonic yandere xmen evolution au #creed!reader #🪶creed!reader #🪶claws of the smilodon🩸 au

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steveyockey · 1 year

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I paid $5 to access séamus malekafzali’s latest substack on palestine, here’s the full text,

It is easy to be lulled into a state of complacency, even with military occupation.

Israel’s occupation of Palestine has gone on longer than many of us on Earth have been alive, now going on 75 years. The levels of that deplacement, blockading, and violence have ebbed and flowed over years and decades, but that hand around the neck has always remained, even if how much it constricts has a tendency to loosen and tighten. Over 200 Palestinians have been killed by Israel this year in its occupation. News bulletins of them dying, oftentimes teenagers, come up through the headlines of Palestinian newspapers and channels as often as the weather. These deaths at the hands of Israeli security personnel are not isolated incidents, with soldiers materializing on roadsides and at checkpoints as unfortunate coincidence. They are constant spikes in the waveform of an incessant low-grade hum of humiliation, imprisonment, and destruction that has made daily life a forced agreement to constantly exist on the precipice of death.

This framing is not meant to be a tired retread of the conflict between Israel and Palestine or the nature of the Israeli occupation. This is meant to be a bulwark against the inevitable framing of this latest battle unfolding around Gaza, as it will appear in the Western media in the days to come.

There is a tendency, a deep-set one, to report Israel and Palestine as two countries that are on roughly the same playing field internationally, as you might report on a war that might involve Israel battling against a place like Jordan or Egypt. This kind of coverage obscures how deeply interlocked Israel’s military operations are with the fabric of the Palestinian society.

In the West Bank, settlements and checkpoints have made Palestinian land into a kind of comical archipelago, where in addition to being separated from Gaza by a huge land border, they are also separated from traveling to communities only a stone’s throw away from them without going through significant anguish. In Gaza, while no Israeli soldiers walk the streets, all their land borders are essentially sealed, their ports almost completely blockaded. Israel’s continued occupation has been so pinpoint and precise that its planes have gone as far as bombing bookstores, and its restrictions did not let up even when the COVID-19 pandemic reduced one health organization to carrying only as many tests of the deadly disease as could fit in a car.

This is not a matter of moral justification; one does not need to constantly busy themselves with having to make a full ideological conversion before understanding this. This is a matter of cause and effect.

What is the logical expectation, regardless of politics, ideology, culture, and creed, when a population of people is thrust into conditions that can only be described as an open-air prison, where every individual is a criminal in the eyes of the military occupying power regardless if they pick up a rifle or not, because there is supposedly always the threat that they will one day?

These are the basic conditions that have preceded the initiation of Operation al-Aqsa Storm this morning. As dawn broke on the morning of October 7, only one day after the 50th anniversary of the Yom Kippur War, Hamas’ military wing, the al-Qassam Brigades, launched a military operation of unprecedented scope in its history. Hamas fighters would not only attempt to enter Israeli territory proper with ground troops, already in of itself an intensely bold action (though not without precedent in the past decade). This operation would be a combined incursion into Israel by both land, sea, and even air. Ground forces would cut the border fence into settlements surrounding Gaza, speedboats would make landings in southern Israel, and fighters from a newly-inaugurated paraglider division would fly over the border fortifications and then further inland.

Threats of an invasion of Israeli territory proper have been a staple of speeches from Hamas and Hezbollah and groups like it for years. There was a long-standing perception by outside observers that it was fanciful. An intentionally lofty piece of propaganda that fires up supporters while the real military wheeling and dealing is done under far more subtle and controlled terms, as with most militant organizations. After all, no Israeli-administered town, the ones occupied in Palestine during the initial 1948 war, had ever been taken in any war against the Jewish state since its creation, even by a combined force of multiple Arab national militaries.

That notion now can no longer exist.

At sunrise, Hamas fired a gigantic barrage of rockets into Israeli territory, a staggering 5,000 in the first wave alone. As Israeli military and police forces were distracted by fires and rocket destruction in residential areas of the country, Palestinian forces in Gaza proceeded to make their primary move.

After the sun rose, Hamas cut through the border fence surrounding Israel and sent both fighters on foot and on motorcycles into Israel. Images released by the group seem to tell a story in frozen figures. Israeli soldiers, strewn dead, caught by surprise, one having even rushed out so quickly that he put on his military gear but no other clothes except his underwear. An even grimmer story could be found in one of the IDF military dormitories, where an entire room full of soldiers had been massacred, only having perhaps seconds earlier gotten the alarm that Hamas had breached the perimeter, many of them seemingly mid-way through getting out of bed.

From there, Hamas made unprecedented move after unprecedented move. Hamas fighters moved as far north into Zikim, built on the former Palestinian village of Hiribya, and moved as far east as Ofakim, built on the former hamlet of Khirbat Futais. The Erez Crossing, for years the only legal border crossing that Israel operated with the Gaza Strip, came under full Palestinian control. Sderot, a city where Israelis had once gathered on couches dragged to high peaks to watch the bombardment of Palestinians, now found themselves facing down Palestinian fighters in their own streets.

An additional shock would come in Israel’s initial response. Amidst cataclysmic scenes like hundreds of ravers in the desert near Gaza fleeing on foot, neither the Israeli president nor the prime minister spoke in those early hours in the morning.

The Israeli high command, despite the continuous insistence of Palestinian factions that they would one day attempt to take the fight into Israel itself, had become complacent. They, like many observers of Israel-Palestine, believed the occupation they had constructed could go on forever, unburdened by the need to adapt. Israeli soldiers after all were now more used to sniping reporters and unarmed protesters than engaging in military conflict. Entropy was what was propelling the military occupation complex of the Jewish state, not a wholly active effort.

Despite an ungodly amount of Western military equipment, highly advanced anti-aircraft systems programmed to shoot down thousands of rockets, an international reputation for tenacity and strategic knowhow, and multiple victories against Arab nations again and again and again, all of it ended up being useless against a Hamas fighter flying in on a box fan and a parachute.

This failure is two-fold, and both are closely related. One is the expectation that things could go on as before without addressing the root of the issue (that being a military occupation of an entire state), and the other in expectation that those being occupied had no capacity to learn from experience how Israel’s military strategy operates, people who could then going on to capitalize on that knowledge.

There is a fundamental flaw in the perception of Western powers toward the Middle East in general and Arabs in particular that because the groups fighting with Israel or the United States are irregular, bereft of highly professional uniforms and dedicated gigantic military headquarters, that they do not have the same ability to strategize and to confront the forces that are occupying their countries. Flashes of how faulty this thinking is rear their head again and again, from Iraq to Afghanistan and everywhere in-between and around, but still the idea, unspoken as it may be, remains that they are fundamentally unequipped compared to the might they are fighting against. But Hamas has military strategists of its own, ones that understand the asymmetric situation they are dealing with, and ones that understand what the actual capabilities of Israel are, versus what their perception is.

The perception of Israel’s invulnerability versus what has actually been displayed today could not have been more different. Instead of being forced to immediately pull back, in essence making today a raid, Hamas has instead actually contested several Israeli settlements, which are still being fought over at time of this writing many hours after the initial incursion from Gaza began. A single Israeli soldier captured and held in Gaza used to capture the Israeli imagination for years; now there are believed to be not only tens of soldiers captured by Hamas, but tens of Israeli civilians as well, all now being held within the Strip. Hamas has also brought Israeli military vehicles back into the Strip, the novelty of working IDF equipment now under Palestinian control a source of celebration within the territory. Over 100 Israelis are believed to have been killed in the first day of Hamas’ attack, and nearly 1000 injured, a shocking early casualty count in an ongoing conflict where casualties on the Palestinians’ side are usually far more lopsided.

Israel’s response so far to Hamas’ operation has been to escalate rhetorically, with Netanyahu now calling this a war, and escalating its usual military strategy with Gaza, with carpet bombing now on an intense, concentrated scale. At the time of this writing, almost 200 Palestinians have been killed in Gaza in only a few hours, with that number expected to rise significantly in the days to come. Already, news has come in of Israeli planes having leveled Gaza’s second-largest building, the Palestine Tower, which housed a plethora of media offices, in scenes reminiscent of Israel’s bombing of another tower block of media offices in 2021 that infamously took out the local bureau of the Associated Press.

As fighting continues into the night in ways never seen before since 1948, the question remains: after all these decades, why now?

The ostensible justifications of what the clincher was that sparked this operation are innumerable, but two appear to be most clearly illuminated: the recent increased activity of far-right Zionists at the al-Aqsa Mosque in occupied East Jerusalem (hence the name of the operation itself), but just as well the indications that the Saudi Arabia and Israel may be close to a normalization deal, which would be the largest such development in the Abraham Accords yet. Hezbollah mentioned this operation as being a “message” and a “decisive response” to Arab nations pursuing the idea of normalization with Israel. Still, it is important to recognize that pinning the undertaking of a completely gigantic operation of this scale as just a simple message to Saudi Arabia would be reductive. As the Los Angeles Times’ international correspondent Nabih Bulos says of the matter:

“To pretend that Hamas did this to be a spoiler of KSA-Israel normalization is just downright epic in its navel-gazing nonsense.”

What is important to always return to is that eternally governing line above everything: the low hum of constant occupation, and who has been causing its spikes. Israel’s government, its most far-right in its history, has been on the warpath almost immediately from its inauguration, with figures like Itamar Ben-Gvir and Bezalel Smotrich, now thrust to the forefront, doing everything large and small to provoke a Palestinian response. The hope is that the inevitable Palestinian response can mobilize the Israeli society, that it can be swiftly defeated by the Israeli military, and that the Israeli state can use such an opportunity to impose its sovereignty over what little of Palestine governed by Palestinians remains, and perhaps even what lies beyond it.

But that formula relies on the Palestinian side only accepting being provoked, themselves having no strategy of their own outside of firing rockets and yelling on television. Military occupation breeds a feeling of annihilation, but that annihilation is enclosed with it inevitable feelings of rabid and desperate hope, inspiring within irregular groups desires to try things never tried before. These are not always guaranteed to be successful: one may look at Aleppo when rebel groups managed to come together and break the siege on the city in the final stages of the battle, only for it to fall in the months to come anyway. Nevertheless, there is a real perception within Israel, communicated out to the world by its media and by its intelligentsia, that it is a nation on the verge of internal collapse, brought to the precipice by far-right forces it has let fester for decades without envisioning its eventual conclusion.

What does looking at how Israel is faring now communicate to Palestinian factions in Gaza? What do young people in Gaza, who make up 47% of the Strip’s population, imagine might lie ahead for them as they see these events unfold? What does a Hamas fighter imagine might be possible when, as the writer Josef Burton says, he exits a 25 by 7-mile space he’s never left in his entire life?

#reading #palestine #from the river to the sea 💗#I’ve debated caving and giving séamus my money many times before and today was like well. okay 👍🏻

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maysileeewrites · 9 months

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gold cage, hostage to my feelings || teaser

pt. II of my best friend!Coryo x reader mini-series; read part I here

summary: things between you and your best friend become even more intoxicatingly confusing when an upcoming ball is announced ...

After class, the upcoming ball for the Academy’s founding celebration are all anyone is talking about.

Really, you think, as you navigate your way through the halls of the Academy, trying to evade Arachne Crane and her ever-persistent questions, with the way people are talking, one could think that the ball is tomorrow, instead of in three weeks time.

As you pass Festus Creed and his group of friends, you can hear them complaining, trying to come up with a way to get out of attending the ball altogether.

„Well, there’s no way you’re getting out of this one, Felix, your uncle’s the President, after all“, Festus Creed is saying loudly and out of the corner of your eyes, you see Arachne scoffing and rolling her eyes.

„Idiots, the whole lot of them! Well, I certainly don’t want any of them to be my date for the evening, do you?“

Clemensia giggles, shaking her head. „No. Though we don’t really have much more options to choose from other than them. I mean, Dean Highbottom said that we could bring family members or friends that are not attending the Academy, but I don’t want to ask my cousin to be my date!“

Arachne laughs, the sound high and shrill, and you close your eyes, wishing you were anywhere else but here. Where is Coriolanus? The last you’ve seen of your best friend was after class, when he quickly hugged you to his side, saying that he would meet you in the dining hall for lunch, but he had something important to ask Professor Sickle first.

„You can always ask my cousin, if you want“, Arachne now says, laughing, when she sees the irritated look on Clemensia’s face.

„Your cousin Francis? No, thank you, I think I’ll pass. Maybe I’ll ask Coriolanus though …“

You don’t say anything, quickly looking away and trying to hide your irritated frown. Why does she want to ask Coriolanus? It’s not like Coriolanus and Clemensia are that close … well, at least not as close as you and Coriolanus are.

Surely he wouldn’t say yes, though, would he? But what if he does agree to be Clemensia’s date to the ball?

No, he wouldn’t. Or would he? No, that’s absurd, he’s probably going to ask you. But then, why hasn’t he done so already? Why didn’t he say anything right after class? He probably just wanted to wait for a quiet moment, where it’s just you two, no excited chatter and buzzing excitement surrounding you.

But what if-

„Oh yes, Coriolanus would indeed be a fine option, maybe I’ll ask him myself …“, Arachne is now saying, drawing you out of your thoughts.

Clemensia laughs, the sound slightly irritated. „Well, I had the idea first …“

Arachne nods, a sickeningly sweet smile on her face. „That may be true, but you haven’t done anything about it yet, have you? Besides, it’s probably pointless anyway, Coriolanus has probably asked Y/N here already“, she says, now turning to look at you with pointedly raised eyebrows.

You reach up with a hand to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, trying not to let your irritation at her words show.

Before you can say anything, though, Clemensia is turning towards you as well. „Right, I forgot. Has Coriolanus asked you to be his date to the ball? I mean, if he hasn’t, I could always still ask him …“

You bite down hard on your lip, feeling your throat closing up. You don’t want to admit - especially not to Arachne Crane and Clemensia Dovecote of all people - that your best friend has in fact not yet asked you to be his date to the ball and that you yourself are unsure whether he actually will. Before that … incident that one morning a few weeks ago, you wouldn’t have hesitated to say yes, yes, of course Coriolanus will ask you to be his date to the ball.

Now, though, things have changed.

You feel - differently towards your best friend. You’ve already felt differently about him before that incident, realizing that you might have felt more towards him than just friendship. That incident only further confirmed that what you feel for Coryo isn’t just friendship.

You don’t want to just be his best friend anymore.

You want him - and not just like a best friend.

You want your best friend, want to be with him.

Want to feel more of that feeling you’ve felt that morning, when he was pressed against you, his hand between your legs, his lips on your neck.

You want all that, and so much more. Even knowing that you’ll never have it, because Coryo will only ever see you as just his best friend - even though you feel like he’s started behaving differently around you as well.

You can’t quite explain it, but something in the way he talks with you, something in the way he looks at you has changed. Before that incident, you’d already caught him staring at you here and there, his gaze on you lingering. Now though, it feels like his eyes are on you all the time; giving you a teasing taste of the feeling from that morning-

„Y/N?“ Arachne’s irritated voice draws you out of your thoughts and you feel your cheeks growing hot. If only Arachne and Clemensia were knowing what you were just thinking about, then they probably wouldn’t look at you so smugly.

„Has Coriolanus asked you to be his date to the ball?“

You clear your throat. „I-“

„There you are!“ An arm snakes around your waist, drawing you back against a muscled chest - Coriolanus. You smile, letting yourself fall back against him, feeling his grip on you tightening.

„Arachne, Clemmie“, Coriolanus now says, acknowledging the two girls. Both of them look uncomfortably surprised to have your conversation interrupted by him, sharing a look between them.

„Coriolanus …“, Arachne says, finding her composure first. „We - uh, were just talking about the ball, wondering whether you already have a date?“

Even though you can’t see Coriolanus’s expression, his grip on your waist tightening even more, with his other hand settling on your hips as well, caging you in his embrace, tells you exactly how irritated he feels by Arachne’s question.

„As a matter of fact, I have“, Coriolanus says, and for a moment, you feel sick with nervousness. Is he really going to ask Clemensia - or, even worse, Arachne?

„Y/N will of course be my date to the ball.“

You feel your heart starting to beat faster at his words, even though you feel slightly annoyed as well. Because even though you’re elated at the prospect of attending the ball with him, you really wish that he’d actually asked you to be his date.

„Oh, uhm, that’s - lovely, isn’t it, Clemensia?“, Arachne says, not even trying to hide the obvious disappointment in her voice.

„Yes - lovely, indeed …“

„Wonderful“, Coriolanus says and even though you can’t see his expression, you just know that he’s smirking at them. „Now, if you’ll excuse us, I have something I need to talk to Y/N about …“

And before you know it, he’s turning you around in his arms, guiding you away from Arachne and Clemensia - guiding you away from the hall full of of chattering students, until you’ve reached a quiet, secluded nook.

Coriolanus’s hands are still on your waist and as you look up into his bright, piercing blue eyes, you realize just how close you actually are. You can feel his warm breath ghosting over your skin and he’d only need to lower his head towards you-

„So?“, he says, smirking down at you, „will you be my date to the ball?“

When he sees your surprised expression, he laughs, leaning in even closer to you, and you feel your heart starting rapidly in your chest. He’s so close - so close that your lips are almost touching-

„I know you, Y/N“, he says, still smirking. „And I know that you want me to actually ask you - so, will you be my date to the ball?“

I'm so sorry for the long wait, but with all the Christmas and New Year's excitement, I just didn't really get around to writing. I've finally started working on Part II of don't want you like a best friend, though, and I hope that this extra-long teaser makes up for the long wait!!

series taglist:

@asapkyndall @slitsphilia @ravenclawprincess33 @mckennah123 @serving-targaryen-realness @mentallyyy-unstable @mizuki80 @snows-wife @prettyinsatiable @ashcosmo @generally-awqward @snowflxke @nallasstuff @ajs-222 @spiritofbuddha @notyourwildestdream @earthangel-111 @bhdem @toogardenheart @iheartinkonpaper @daisiesformylove @ebsmind @dominqueeekk @cherrybomb8484 @dangelnleif @minmin1328 @xhyaryx @nycweb-slinger @acatwriteshere @lookclosernow @allcheesemelts @bxtchopolis @hopefulcupcakerebel @squidscottjeans @evan-peters-wife @just-a-littlebit-of-everything @ghsface @spear-bearing-bi-witch @loxbbg @floralcyanide @ilikefictionalmen @smxipixie @devils-blackrose @lcvecstiel @leigh-kay @r02eg0ld @gottoomanycelebritycrushes @nomorespahgetti @wpdarlingpan @sabrinasbd @alwaysvettel1 @flu0re @alpha-mommy69 @iwantosleepwithyou @hikarikram @scarletttargaryen @angelicblondie @ultrav10l3nce @kuroosbby001 @coriosgf @wearemadeofstardust0 @w4llfl0wers

comment if you want to be added to the taglist! (please check your settings whether anyone can tag you in posts, otherwise I won’t be able to tag you!)

#coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus smut #coriolanus x you #coriolanus imagine #coriolanus x y/n #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow x y/n #coryo snow #coryo x reader #coryo snow x reader #tom blyth #tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #x reader #the hunger games #don’t want you like a best friend 🦋

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lets-try-some-writing · 8 months

Note

Do the Jasper Trio ever catch any of the other Autobots in their holoforms? I assume they’d be able to quickly tell it’s them after finding out about Mr. Pax being Optimus. They’d be able to connect some of the weird behavior Mr. Pax had to the other Autobot holoforms (aka not breathing, not eating, not blinking)

They have, and every single time it's like a cryptid sighting.

Previous part here.

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙

The children were distantly aware of the fact that all the bots had holoforms and used them every now and then, but it wasn't exactly at the forefront of their minds all the time. They had better things to do than stare at strangers when around town on the off chance it would be one of the bots. But of course, much like with Optimus, they located the bots in their holoforms after a while.

Ratchet was the first bot they noticed and it was only by pure accident. June had gotten sick with a nasty cold and since Jack had to go to school, the nurse had asked Ratchet to go pick up some medicine for her. Ratchet, ever the dutiful doctor, took the money June gave him and sauntered over to the local pharmacy in his usual disguise. But not breathing or blinking tends to be a dead giveaway when combined with bright orange and white hair. The kids were walking by chatting away when suddenly Rafael stopped and stared. A hushed conversation later, Ratchet found himself swarmed.

"Ratchet is that you!?"

"Children, you should be back at base by now."

"You actually use your holoform??!"

"Why else would I have it if not to use it?"

Ratchet drove the kids to base after his little outing. Since that day he has known no peace now that the kids are well aware he can leave base, he just doesn't like to. He has been asked to take them to the playground or other locations more times than he cares to count. Unfortunately for Miko and Jack though, Rafael is far more adept at noticing holoforms than them. Despite their pleading, he refuses to tell them anything about the incidents where he met other bots in their holoforms one on one.

Arcee doesn't usually go out except on the odd night she travels around the cities of America doing vigilante business. But every now and then she will go with Bee to his gaming events just to observe. This in turn has led Rafael to run into and notice the duo dozens of times, usually just as they are about to leave. Once they know they have been spotted, Bee and Arcee have made it a game to vanish before Rafael can get to them. He finds it infuriating, they find it funny to watch him try to get to them as they parkour out the nearest window for the dramatics of it and because of how it amuses the children. They always drive him home afterwards in order to make it up to him.

Bulkhead was spotted by Jack one evening when he was on his way back from work on one of the few days Arcee couldn't come get him. Bulkhead was having a drink, or at least pretending to drink, with a few of his human construction worker friends. He was laughing and stood out starkly amongst the group. Jack hadn't been paying too much attention, but the big build, the strong jaw, and the ever so slightly glowing eyes had him pausing. He'd seen enough of Optimus's holoform to know the tell tale signs. And so having a ridiculous amount of confidence in his assumption, Jack waved to Bulkhead after tapping on the window. Bulkhead in turn waved back and it is now tradition for them to greet each other on the odd chance they pass by one another in the wild.

Wheeljack isn't around often, but his fanclub is very active. Miko sniffed out their Wrecker habits and creed immediately and has hounded them relentlessly in order to keep a lookout for Wheeljack's holoform. They think she is just a very enthusiastic Wheeljack fan. She is, but her main reason for being there is to get a picture of Wheeljack's holoform for her scrapbook. She has half the team in there already, but Wheeljack is a difficult one to track. Thus far she has only managed to get blurred images of him in large part due to the Wrecker knowing her game. She has continued to attempt to do increasingly bizarre things to hopefully get a sneaky photo.

The children firmly believed Ultra Magnus didn't have a holoform. They were proven wrong when he walked directly into school to pick them up after they got caught in a few too many incidents. At first they didn't recognize him, but the lack of breathing, blinking, or any natural twitching gave him away quickly. As they sat waiting to be released, they began to smile more than ever as soon as the glow of his eyes was noted. The poor mech was pestered the entire way to base as he drove the children back. Since then, whenever he comes to school to help Optimus with anything, he is greeted by a fond nickname.

"Magnus is in the house!"

"That's Ultra Magnus to you Miko."

"Who the heck names their kid Ultra?"

Smokescreen took a lot longer to be spotted, but when it happened, it was by far the most startling. Due to his tendency to mess with his holoform's appearance and to indulge in parkour, he usually isn't around or at least visible. But once while the kids were walking home, Smokescreen decided to tail them on the rooftops of the nearby buildings. His big mistake? He jumped directly into a wall while not paying enough attention and fell at least twenty feet to the ground. The kids of course saw and hurried over to assist or at least call 911. But instead they watched Smokescreen stand up, shoot them a set of finger guns, and take off up the building like spider man.

It wasn't hard to figure out it was him. He was mocked ruthlessly for crashing as soon as the kids got back to base.

#transformers #maccadam #transformers prime #team prime #ratchet #bumblebee #arcee #bulkhead #wheeljack #ultra magnus #smokescreen #holoforms #humanformers #kind of #yaaay I got some writing done #good job me

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a-very-tired-jew · 4 months

Text

The server closes, but the antisemitism it gave is forever

By the time this gets posted from my queue the Dropout Discord server will have officially closed/froze (May 26th, 2024). However, the looming freeze hasn't dissuaded any of the users in a particular channel from posting their wild conspiracies and outright falsities. Take this one that happened on May 24th.

Fig. 1. User states that Jews should be safe around the world and Zionism was invented by anti-semites (their word) to get the Jews out of Europe. Let's break down this picture. It's the same thing we have heard from goys time and time again about this entire issue. Jews should be safe around the world and we should make the world safer for them so they don't need Israel. Here's the problem...we've tried that multiple times. In fact, there was a whole ideology opposite of Zionism called Bundism that pushed for that very thing. Guess what happened? Bundists were exiled, tortured, imprisoned, cleansed, and killed. That's not to say don't make the world a safer place for us. We'd like it to be. But historically speaking, this sort of action hasn't been consistent. Now, the second part of their post: "Zionism was originally invented by anti-semites who wanted Jews out of Europe". Imagine being so confidently wrong in something. Not only does a quick fact check tell you you're wrong, but demonstrably so. The "Father of Zionism" is Theodor Herzl who helped formalize an ideology that was already present in Judaism. His actions were inspired by the Dreyfus Affair. If you don't know what this is, a Jewish officer of the French army was falsely accused of being a spy and imprisoned. The actual culprit was identified and the French army suppressed the evidence and acquitted him, he was not Jewish. Throughout this time there was rampant antisemitism in French society, which had previously been viewed as a liberal bastion of acceptance. If this place that intellectuals viewed as tolerant of differing views, creeds, religions, and so on could become virulently antisemitic, then were Jews actually accepted? That is the underlying thought that led to the formalization and creation of political Zionism as we know it (albeit in a very brief and generalized summary). Hell, this person probably doesn't even know what Labor Zionism is and it would probably break their brain. The most progressive societies in the world can say they're safe for Jews to exist in, but they will turn at the drop of a hat.

So when someone like this says that Zionism was made by anti-semites (and they're using the hyphenated incorrect term which is indicative of other issues) I can't help but think that they know next to nothing about the conflict outside of what they've consumed these past months. The likelihood is that this particular person has only engaged with antisemitic content because that misinformation they're spreading is something that only exists in those circles. It's antisemitic conspiracy wrapped in anti-Zionism. It's reminiscent of things the Soviets would say about Israel while actively killing the Jews in their country. They then followed it with this.

Fig. 2. Same user generalizes a whataboutism regarding safety for everyone, then specifically asks why no one prioritizes the Palestinians in these conversations. In this photo they ask why do we assume that the world is going to hate Jews forever? Because it has. Antisemitism is one of the oldest forms of hatred towards another group. Jewish history is marred with repeated incidents of cleansing, torture, imprisonment, exile, and killing. In no century has there ever been a time when Jews just existed peacefully with our own autonomy. And yet someone like this, who has shown their whole ass with their ignorance of what Zionism is and its origin, asks "why aren't we talking about the Palestinians in these conversations?" Because there is not a specific word that describes hatred of Palestinians like there is for Jews. Nor do they have thousands of years of history regarding that hatred. It's a false equivalency and a pitiful whataboutism to try and make conversations about antisemitism into something they're not. However, considering this user writes "anti-semite/semitism", I would not be surprised if they are of the "Palestinians are Semites" mindset (which myself and others have gone over in other posts, and even the server itself addressed months prior). We can talk about Palestinians and the dangers they face. We can talk about the rights and country they should have. We can talk about how other countries in the region keep them in camps and don't let them become full citizens. We can talk about all the issues surrounding them as a people. But not when we're talking about antisemitism, because it's not about them. The fact that this user is trying to make it that way and was not confronted in any capacity about their outright misinformation and manipulation says everything about the Dropout Discord Palestine channel that you need to know.

#jumblr #leftist antisemitism #israel #palestine #dropout tv #misinformation #outright lies #whataboutism

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jamiesfootball · 11 months

Text

The Dick String Incident

“Right, new plan for training today! For the awareness bit, we’re gonna tie you fucking knobheads together. Get dressed, tie up, and be out on the pitch in five.” Roy dropped the spools of red string on the bench in the center of the room. He walked out of the room before they could say a word. Jeff was halfway through tying the string around his waist when Colin asked, “Did he say ‘you’ or ‘your’?”

The team froze. As one, the team turned to Jamie, who had stopped lacing up his boots to take the roll from Jeff. Freshly awoken from his between-training nap, he did not look like like a paragon of answers; he looked like someone who was trying to transition from ‘tie boots’ to ‘tie self’ and coming up short. When he realized he was being stared at, he blinked blearily under the attention. “What? Don’t look at me,” he complained. “I’ve been up since four. I wasn’t paying any attention.” Sam rubbed his hands together nervously. “I didn’t want to be the one to say it, but I heard ‘your.’” “He said ‘get dressed’ first. That implies an order of events he’d like to happen,” Jan argued. “Why would he tell us to get dressed and then tie our penises together?” Moe looked at him shrewdly. “So you admit you heard ‘your’ too.” “You’re all being mental. Why would coach have us do that?” Isaac turned to Jamie. “Back me up, man.” His brow furrowed like he was doing some complicated maths in his head. Finally, he shrugged. “I mean, he tied me to a bike this morning and had me pull him around, so maybe?” Colin snapped his fingers. “Like Rocky?” “Eh?” “Rocky Balboa?” Dani perked up excitedly. “Oh, that is the guy who goes--?” He mimed throwing his arms up and shouting. “That’s the one, boyo.” “Hah! I wish to be like Rocky!” Dani announced, eagerly grabbing the offered string from Jamie. Van Damme nodded beside him in agreement. “Hold on, now, Rocky didn’t go around tying dicks together, bruv.” “That we know of,” Moe retorted.

"Yeah, I haven't seen any of the new ones," said Colin. “Creed was dope,” said Declan. “Michael B. Jordan pulled a plane in that one.” Jan scoffed. “You mean his stuntman pulled it.”

“I don’t like Rocky,” Richard added, though no one had asked. “Guys, we do not have time to argue,” Sam implored. He worried the spool between his hands, turning it about like a puzzle. “We have to be on the pitch soon.” “Sam’s right. We got to make a decision,” Isaac said authoritatively. “What do we think? And it has to be unanimous, it can’t just be a few of us out there with strings tied to our willies.” Everyone looked around the room, waiting for someone to speak first. Jan spoke first by dropping his shorts. “I do not wish to be tied to a bike if we are wrong. It is better to be safe than sorry. Hand me the string.”

---

Beard lowered his sunglasses. “Uh, Coach? You seeing what I’m seeing?” Ted watched in confused awe as the team marched out to the pitch like a clustered, confused, delicate group of tadpoles with red string hanging out of their shorts. “Roy, what the hell did you tell them?” “What?” Roy turned around. He stilled. His body tensed all at once, and every trace of an expression left his face except for his eyes. His eyes blazed with mirth. “The plan,” he answered. He walked away to give himself a moment by the water cooler. The HR write-up better be worth it. Ted turned to Beard. “Am I having a seizure? Was that in the plan?” The world’s carefullest procession was almost upon them. Beard pushed his sunglasses back up. “Best not to ask, Coach.”

---

The HR write-up was worth it.

#I asked my brain ‘why wouldn’t they ask why their dicks were tied together’ and it answered ‘why would Zava write a book about Trent Crimm?’#idek how to tag this #afc richmond #ted lasso #ted lasso fic #not as many dick jokes as there could've been - i didn't want it to grow too long #ba dum tss

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apricityxoxo · 10 months

Text

Uncertainty

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Din Djarin x fem!reader

about 1.4k words

Summary: He must hate you. That has to be why he has such a large aura of hesitance when he's around you. You know for a fact that he does not want to leave his child with you. That has to be why you always get this feeling of uncertainty whenever he's around.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Helloooooo! This is my first ever drabble so kinda nervous but I'm very excited.

Info/Warnings: A bit of fluff and angst. Takes place between seasons one and two but Mando still has loner season one vibes. Canon divergence. It may not be obvious in this drabble but I will always write with POC in mind, especially black women. There is a part with attempted sexual assault but not from Mando and it's very short and has no details. I think that's all but lmk if I missed anything.

Enjoy

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You can feel his hesitance, it’s basically oozing off of him. It’s like a dark, scary aura of uncertainty that’s exuding off of him. He does not want to leave his child with you. He’s a large man, tall with large shoulders, a wide back, huge arms and legs, whole body covered in beskar. He’s large in size and mass, you try to stop yourself from wondering what he looks like under the armor, try and stop yourself from thoughts that might disrespect his creed. He towers over everyone, including yourself. You feel like he’s always looking down on everyone, physically and mentally.

Usually, he exudes confidence, power, and strength and he has every right to. He’s very well known on Nevarro, even before “the incident” with the “Empire”. He’s always had a reputation, you heard that he usually wouldn’t start fights, but he would always end them. Gaining a reputation for being merciless and brutal.

You’ve heard the rumors but realized how true they were when you saw him fight a man, you’re actually the reason for the fight. Walking a student home because their parents were too high on spice to remember to pick her up. She showed you a “shortcut” that she takes with her low-life father, and because you were so concerned with getting her home before the sun went down you didn’t ask any questions. Oh, how foolish you were, she’s such a kind and sweet girl, and you still don’t think she realizes why her father takes her down that “shortcut”.

There were many different types of people, spice-heads, dealers, and people dressed in questionable attire, but mainly many men trying to sell something special to you and some went as far as to ask for something special from you.

You were almost out of the shortcut and onto the main road when someone grabbed your arm and pulled you by your waist to turn you toward him before slamming your back into the wall. You don’t think you’ve ever been that scared, not for yourself but for the young Rodian girl that you’ve come to know during your time teaching her. You’re quick to push the girl behind yourself so she can’t see the man. It's dark and you can’t make out his face and you don’t have time to get a closer look when he puts his face in your neck and his hands are rising up your midsection, uttering threats under his breath.

Tears start to form in your eyes and you feel like you can’t breathe, “Stop…please” you say breathily and you think it’s the last thing you will be able to say.

“Fight! Fight! Fight!” you scream to yourself but your body does nothing. You begin to close your eyes, giving up against the large vile, and disgusting man, but before you do you see a flash of rusting silver out of your peripheral.

Before anything happens, to your relief, the man is quickly removed. Your eyes bulge open and in a matter of seconds, you see the man basically fighting for his life against the Mandalorian. The Mandalorian and the other man were fighting for no more than a couple seconds, punches being thrown left and right. Then the man is on the ground with the Mandalorian on top of him. The man stopped moving a while ago but the Mandalorian didn’t stop.

Only did he stop when he heard the cries of the young Rodian girl and your sweet soft voice trying your best to comfort her and yourself. You can physically see him come back to reality, he stands and when he does you immediately push the girl behind you, trying your best to put on a brave face.

You see that he looks you up and down to check for injuries, you hope. “Are you okay?” he asks out of breath and modulated, looking at both of you. You nod and wipe the tears off of your face before quietly saying a quiet “yes.” He takes a step forward looking down on you and it makes you so nervous that you begin to look down.

“Look at me,” he says in a deep and stern voice, obediently you look up at him staring at the “T” shape of the visor.

“Never… ever, take the back streets again, do you understand?” he says. “Yes” you reply immediately and he takes a step back. You take the girl's hand and quickly make your way out of the alley, but before you leave you make eye contact with the Mandalorian, your opinion of him starting to change.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You think back to that memory often, especially now as he is staring you down as you show him around the small school. Show him where the Kid will be spending time during the day, showing him the activities that the Child can do and what he can learn. You show him where he can eat lunch and play with the other children. You that he’s only here because somehow Karga convinced him to consider leaving the Child here with you. Karga told him it would be better than to take the Child with him on a hunt to a dangerous planet, for an even more dangerous bounty.

You think Karga might’ve praised you too highly when you asked what he told the Mandalorian. He said that you were kind, good with children, and “extremely responsible, maybe the most responsible person on the planet.” You were absolutely dumbfounded, so dumbfounded that you put Karga in his place before ultimately agreeing to watch the Child if the Mandalorian agrees.

You try to show him how responsible you are with the kids, show him that you’re fully capable of taking care of one more. Now when it’s time to show him your home that’s on the second floor of the school, you get a bit more nervous. Your home was older and you show him every single room, feeling a bit embarrassed when he looks at all the collectibles and photos you have lying around, memories that you’ve collected.

You show the room where the child can sleep and before the Mandalorian has the chance to ask about some form of supervision at night, you show him the old baby monitor you had lying around. Any question that he might’ve had regarding the safety of his child you answered, he had no rebuttal or excuse.

Karga looked at him with a smug look “I told you! Who else to watch your child but this young woman? You have no excuse now Mando” Karga says with a chuckle at the end. Mando looked at Karga, then at the Child in the floating pram (who was only interested in the trinkets you had lying around), and then finally he looked at you.

Even though you can’t see his face, you know he’s looking at you with a face full of uncertainty. He doesn’t trust you and with all the crazy things that happened to him and his child, you can completely understand why.

“C’mon Mando, the hunt will be more dangerous if you bring the kid along. Make the hunt and your life easier.” Karga says with enthusiasm.

“I don’t want to intrude, if this works out after the hunt, I can pay you…generously,” says the Mandalorian.

“It’s the least I can do for you, after what you did for Nevarro.” You say quickly. “I don’t mind watching him either, I love taking care of children, especially one this cute” You walk over to your shelf of trinkets and pick up the one that you noticed caught the kid’s eye. You show the kid the blue, fuzzy, toy and begin to play with him while his father is thinking it over.

“I’ll let you know tomorrow morning, and t-thank you for your …hospitality,” he says the last part with a bit of uncertainty, you assume it’s because it’s been a while since someone invited him into their home.

You follow behind Karga and the Mandalorian down the stairs and out the front door. You’re walking down the old steep stoop to the main street when the Mandalorian turns around to hold your hand and help you down an especially steep step. He helps you to the street but he doesn’t let go. Instead, he looks you in the eyes and gives a quiet “thank you” before letting go, flexing the hand that held yours. He was off into the busy main street with Karga and the baby in the pram following behind. You watch him leave, staring at him with feelings of uncertainty and a tight feeling blooming in your chest.

(yall peep the pride and prejudiced reference lol)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

roma ✦

#roma’s works ❀#fanfic #fanfiction #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x fem!reader #star wars #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #grogu #x fem!reader #x female reader #x black reader #x black fem reader #black fem!reader #star wars fanfiction #star wars x reader #x fem reader

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lokiinmediasideblog · 3 months

Text

3 DAYS LEFT

Tournament of Lokis 2024

So far this has raised $130 (Some generous donors donated more despite not knowing more Lokis to submit).

Friendly reminder that I'm currently taking submissions for the Tournament of Lokis until Jun 30, 2024 July 15,2024.

To submit a Loki into the Tournament:

-Any Loki is allowed. e.g. Goro Akechi from Persona 5 is allowed.

-Due to recent events, I won't allow Lokis from Neil Gaiman's works anymore. Consider it a precaution.

-Send me proof through DMs or asks of a donation of $5 or more to Gaza's Water Municipality:

Or any of these:

-Every $5 is a Loki submission. If you wish to submit 2 Lokis you'll have to donate $10.

Tournament of Lokis 2024: Nominations so Far (will update w/each submission):

PLEASE REBLOG SO MORE PEOPLE CAN SEE IT AND SUBMIT SOMETHING

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phoeebsbuffay · 10 months

Text

Imagine Obi-Wan Kenobi’s complex journey…to the dark side.

Warnings: drama, angst, violence, inappropriate/adult language—explicit smut and fluff as usual.

Warnings 2: *long* post.

Recommendations: “Lavender Haze” by Taylor Swift; “Yellow Flicker Beat” by Lorde.

No minors.

***

Preface

“When there is too much light”, you tell him, “one might lose the sight for it.”

“But when there is too much dark”, so the red haired male muses, “the fate seems to be all the same”.

You tilt your head.

“The whole point is that every excess leads to suffering. Those who claim to possess the true core of goodness are blinded by their vanity, although those who are plunged by darkness is similarly lost.”

“Then what should I do?”, you detect a hint of misery in his voice.

“I am not the wisest of beings, Obi”, you smile candidly. “You’re not on your own. You should not pick up the broken petals and try to glue them to what they used to form. No. The damage is done, but it can be mended and transformed in something better.”

There is so much to be said, but, to your disappointment, words die in his thoughts. His eyes divert away and the magic is gone.

“Obi?”, now he detects despair in your voice.

The Jedi looks back at you. His blue eyes little by little lose the spark that once colored such tempest irises.

An eclipse rises.

“I must depart”, it’s all he mutters. “Unfortunately I cannot stay, Senator Y/N.”

You don’t have to say goodbye. Obi-Wan is gone with the wind.

***

• Part I: The Creed.

“You look too sad, Master”, Anakin tells him concerned. “This sadness of yours has remained there in your eyes longer than I’d thought it would take. I must say I am concerned.”

“This is exhaustion to you, Anakin”, Obi-Wan remarks. “I’ve been working per usual, that is all.”

“You have been burying yourself in work since that incident with the Duchess has…”

“It was not an incident!”, Obi-Wan snaps at Anakin, who stares at his Master in bewilderment. He sighs before softening: “I just…appreciate your concern over me, Anakin. It’s going to be fine. But there are moments when I wonder where this will end. Frankly, it frustrates me that two years later Maul isn’t entirely wiped out of the galaxy.”

“He’s not like any other we faced, Master. That creature is a Sith Lord, therefore we ought to be very careful when dealing with the man”, Anakin smiles quietly, eyes filled with comprehension. “But be mindful that grief should not overcome you, after all…”

“Fear leads to anger that leads to hate that leads to suffering”, so Obi-Wan completes. “I shall not forget that. It pleases me to see you learned that well, Anakin. I forget at times how good you can actually be.”

Anakin rolls his eyes, about to say something in return when the thread is interrupted by Master Windu, who requests Obi-Wan’s presence for a mission to planet Y/C.

“It’s farther than we had formerly judged”, the said Master tells Obi-Wan. “But we understand this is an important mission in order to prevent this region to fall to the Separatists. Apparently Count Dooku has sent a spy to convert Lady Y/N to his side. You must not fail, Obi-Wan.”

“I’m sure everything will be conducted most appropriately”, assures the other male.

By then the two part in friendly terms. But Anakin, the witness of the moment, is suddenly plagued with a strange feeling. However, he has not time to uncover it or even share with his Master, for Obi-Wan doesn’t want to waste anymore of his time in Coruscant, a planet he’s grown to dislike.

***

When he meets you after a long time spent journeying to your planet, Obi-Wan is dressing somber shades of red, opting for a dark cape that falls over his shoulders. But the growing shadow within is momentarily eclipsed by your glowing beauty.

Your long and wavy y/c hair is tied in a single braid; your face is painted in delicate colors that seem to bring your beauty in a most natural way; your light red gown reinforces your curves and after two years, Obi-Wan finds himself desiring a woman again.

His eyes linger at the swell of your breasts and for one moment, his mind takes him to a dark spot, where he allows to imagine taking each breast with his tongue—hungry for affection, wishing to be provided with what he hopes to find a sweet lullaby coming out of your lips, singing out his name—; but the moment you clear your throat, he sweeps away such pictured scene, burying it deep—mostly because he doesn’t want to have a boner right now.

“Master Kenobi”, you greet him with a sweet voice, eyeing him with a mix of curiosity and awe. He knows by the careful glance you give him that you find him handsome. Apparently, the attraction is mutual. “Thank you for getting to us. Welcome to our planet. I pray the journey has not been too hard on you.”

As you lead him to a seat next to the window, from where he can see the landscape outside, Obi-Wan smiles at you when answering:

“It has not, thank you for asking, my lady. I do hope, though, that your ladyship may forgive me for the delay in our mission. I had other matters to attend.”

“There is nothing to be forgiven for, Master Kenobi”, you smile again and Obi-Wan hates how the light that comes from you makes him feel like a teenager in his hormone days. “Before we begin to discuss our points, allow me to serve you some tea. Do tell your favourite.”

This is how it begins.

Lord forbid, but as each day goes by, you find yourself desiring to hear more of the serious and meticulous Master Jedi. His redhair and his blue eyes are difficult not to draw your eyes, but his muscles—perfectly well hidden under such robes—leave so much to your imagination.

Often seen by others as cold, unreachable woman, always avoiding relationships of any nature, it seems this man has managed to make you go to your knees—though you’d gladly turn this metaphor into literal.

You’ve heard the other day a lady in waiting describing to another exactly how she went to her knees to please her husband—a way the said lady in question found out from a maid of her trust—and how deliciously it was to feel his manhood pumping into her mouth. As you enter into the salon, your eyes scam after him, with that scene in the back of your mind.

What would be like to please him? To make this sacred Jedi feel profane, mundane things? It’s when your own conscience admonishes for such thinking. You are a governor, a member of the Senate who vowed never to marry or get yourself involved romantically—specially after one particular man, Senator H/N, broke your heart.

“Ah, Master Kenobi! There you are!”, you greet him with glee. “I must admit I am worried about how the Senate will respond to our request. I do wish to remain neutral in this war.”

Obi-Wan comes to perceive that he’s been growing intolerant to his impatience with this unending war. Or perhaps he’s mistaking it with frustration? The man cannot tell and he has no intention in letting obvious his discontent.

“I wouldn’t worry about it, Senator Y/LN”, and so suddenly your desire for peace reminds him of…

“Are you well, Master Kenobi?” You ask him gently, concerned about the shadows that so suddenly take grip of his reasoning. “Come, let us go outside. A stroll around the gardens might suit you.”

“No, I appreciate your concern, but…”

You surprise him by being an effective adversary.

“I don’t take no as answer, good man. I know distress when I see one.”

“And here I thought I was hiding well”, Obi-Wan muses sarcastically.

“Oh, didn’t you?”

How you snap back at him earns the Jedi some smile. And you are pleased your effort is finally coming to something.

“Is it weird to live by peace in a world plunged by extremisms?” You think out loud as you two share a stroll in a quiet, content pace around many green walls.

Obi-Wan, who’s been studying you more often than he’d sensibly admit, side eyes you and discreetly responds:

“I don’t think so. When disease begins to make sense, reason starts to find illogical healthy musings. We’ve been too sick to realize that peace could’ve been reached by a simple dialogue with some compromising”.

“Why do we expect better attitudes from others when we ourselves lack them?”, you sigh. “I suppose it’s because our enemies reflect our darkest fears.”

Obi-Wan’s eyebrows furrow at the thought. Seeing a good point you make, he finds himself uncomfortable for the first time in a long time.

We make demands of others. We fight for others. We expect better of others when we are not better than them.

Has the good cause been corrupted? Suddenly, Obi-Wan’s conviction starts to be shaken by his own beliefs.

“I’m sorry. I was meant to bring you some solace, not providing you this uneasiness”, you apologize by reading the Jedi’s awkward steps.

When finding your y/c eyes, Obi-Wan’s first instinct is to flee. You too get this sensation and perhaps you let it show more than you’d know. But he resists it.

You are not Satine. I cannot expect you to be like her. But you bring me to a different light… and I fear where this path will lead me.

“Don’t apologize”, though his arms remain folded, his features are now softened. “I’ve been under stress for two years in a roll. You deserve better, my lady, and I haven’t been a most proper guess, have I?”

You chuckle softly and the sound that comes with it makes any burden his heart’s been carrying loose…

“I understand more than you know, Master Kenobi. I fear to say I tend to overthink about what surrounds me”, you smile at him, your eyes not ready to let go of the gaze that captured them. “It’s a hopeless world we live in and yet I think it’s my duty to bring some joy to it.”

“And how’d you do that?”, he inquires, too intrigued by your web not to play with it.

“By living to a personal creed”, you give the Jedi a mysterious smile. “Live righteously through every beating of your heart. Do so by providing others some cheerfulness.”

That being said, you actually succeed to distract the very grave Jedi close to a fountain and with one small push, get him into it.

Soon, the silence is broken by a sound of cheerful laughters and for the very first time Obi-Wan joins them, not burdened, but free of it.

***

Part II: Duty Is The Death of Love.

Obi-Wan is requested to go back to Coruscant once the situation in your planet is partially resolved. But there is reluctance on his part going and you fear for his departure too.

By then, an unspoken attachment had developed between you two—but neither felt the urge to make it obvious, in other words: to make the first step.

“You are too quiet, dear Y/N”, Obi-Wan remarks, his eyes never letting go of your sight for a moment.

This evening you are having dinner. A private one, very personal and intimate in many shades—but the Jedi realizes you’ve been far from his grasp. It so appears to him that your brightness has been stolen away.

“Am I?”, you raise your eyes to meet those sparkling blue ones that have been searching for yours. You blush lightly as a result. “I’ve always been quiet, Obi.”

“This is hardly the truth”, he smiles. “You’ve been always the one to speak, my dear. Please, tell me what’s been troubling you.”

Your pride advises you not to tell him how you feel. Obi-Wan sees through you the struggle, but these are trying days. What’s there to lose if you speak your mind?

“I will miss you”, it’s all you can say.

He reaches for your hand, gently lacing fingers. Never before duty felt so strained, so… suffocating.

“I’m not really leaving. You know that.”

You don’t realize a puddle of tears is forming in your eyes before you say:

“You’ve always shone brighter than anyone I’ve known. I shall not eclipse that.”

Obi-Wan quickly leaves his seat to console you. On his knees before you, he takes each hand and presses there a kiss.

“Dear love”, he rushes to say. “You are a poetry to my soul. I’ve been numbed for a long time and thought myself dead inside until you brought me back to life. How can you say I shine bright when you are the sun who feeds me light to do so? No. I’m nothing if not a moon in need of your light.”

When did the desperation rise so eminently? You don’t know, neither does he. But all so suddenly, your lips are collided against his and Obi-Wan is rising you from your seat to pull yourself into him.

Your hands are now playing with his hair all the whilst his own are gripping tight your waist. His kisses are urgent and fervent, warming you in every possible way.

His lips are now going to your neck and you throw your head back, feeling exposed under his gaze. Indeed, had you had the ability to read mind, you’d find nothing but indecent thoughts there.

Hungry for your affection, his lust draws unspeakable ideas to you. His lips enjoy your soft skin and his eager hands are already unlacing your gown. On your turn, the tingles that his beard make on you are enough to make you sigh.

You promptly rest your hands over his shoulders in an attempt to find balance. As you do, you pursuit his lips once more as your hands begin to work in his fabric.

“Obi..”, you heavily sigh as you now kiss his jawline and move to his neck, gently biting his skin.

“Yes, dear Y/Nickname?”, he groans lightly as you have control over him.

You don’t know what you are doing, but you do. Moved by a strange house instinct, your hands toss his fabric away, going down to his manhood, all the whilst you pepper his neck and shoulders with a loving kiss.

“You are mine”, you whisper against his skin, as your delicate fingers find what they are looking for. “Aren’t you?”

You raise your eyes and Obi-Wan finds mischief in them, much to his arousal, specially when you start holding his manhood very gently.

“I am, yes”, he sighs heavily. “Maker knows I belong with you entirely, dear one.”

His words are like charm, evoking your sudden confidence. Suddenly, you flip positions, starting to get the best of him. Your eyes are glued on his heavy breathing and when he thinks he’s about to come undone…

You take him all.

Using your red lips.

But he is not a man to be easily subdued—he is the one who subdues, and here you are submitted at his will.

Obi-Wan knows you well and he enjoys driving you crazy by doing all he wants to do with you slowly.

“Beg, dear one”, he smirks at you, his fingers gently stroking your feminine core, not yet slipping them inside you. “This is what you want to do…”

You hiss under your breath, eyes already painted with desperation. But your pride is simply useless before the strength, the physique, the beauty and perfection that stand right before you.

“Please”, you whimper, much to his delight.

And he does so. His lips looking for yours, he takes no more of your time before pleasing you the way you deserve.

“I love you”, you sing your feelings out, followed by another whimper.

“I love you too”, he kisses you hungrily, enjoying the effect he has on you.

There is nothing but the alluring dark to light the way, and no sense of goodbye is perceived when one body collides with the other. Never before Obi-Wan felt so alive. A sensation that he does not want to let go of.

Towards the end of the night, when you two are bathed by salt, you turn at him and say:

“You should stay.”

Obi-Wan sighs. It feels as if he’s living that night again… when it was whispered that the duty was the death of love. When looking back at your y/c eyes, the good there is in them, a voice in the back of his mind says again: must you repeat old mistakes?

Must you?

However, for now the Jedi does not wish to dwell in such thinking. Internal riots are briefly quieted. He turns at you and peppers your face with kisses before cuddling you in his arms.

“Let us enjoy the today, my dove. It’s all I ask for.”

A response that does not content you, but would have to suffice now.

When you wake up the next day, he is gone. The warmth in his side of bed is replaced by a cold, a void of goodness you feel so abruptly deprived of.

It hurts, it aches too much the sound of heartbreaking. You should know that what was going to happen.

But the images of both of you speaking of the past as if the future would be one with the other roll in the back of your mind. Is there anything you could do?

No.

But that day you weep as sacred moments are remembered too well by your soul, broken like a secret you kept, an oath that now sounds meaningless.

And here your pain becomes a growing angst that paints your heart blue, all alone trying to find how to deal with all the intensity that crushed you like a tide that took you far from the shore, letting you drown by a heavy wave.

A knock on the door, however, disrupts you from your thought. You barely notice the tears rolling down in your cheeks until you taste the salt these come to your mouth. And now you must regain your composure.

Oh you must.

“Duty awaits”, you think out loud before granting the permission for the door to open and soon coming inside your bedchambers.

A moment so sacred is now profaned. As it should be.

***

Part III: Midnight.

“Have you heard the tale of Darth Plagueis, the Wise?”, the chancellor asks him.

Obi-Wan is wearing his usual suits this evening for an encounter with the man behind the Senate, the one whom the Jedis asked him to spy for. Palpatine is the said man’s name and although his behavior is rather…unique for a man of his position, it comes at being too odd to spy him.

“I believe I am rather familiar with it, yes”, replies the red headed Jedi, stroking his beard, as he casts his cold blue eyes towards the other one. “Why’d you ask, Chancellor?”

Giving Obi-Wan a smirk, Palpatine carefully shrugs.

“This is a tale often misconstructed by the Jedis.” He pauses carefully, waiting for some reaction coming from Obi-Wan. Once it did not, he continues. “Duty not always must be the death of love, Obi-Wan. Once upon a time, love was the main weapon of the Jedis. Now it appears to have been poisoned by the ambitions of such an Order.”

Silence hangs in between the two men, heavy like grey clouds announcing an upcoming storm.

“What you suggest is treason”, whispers Obi-Wan, avoiding the male’s gaze. “The Jedis have been the keepers of peace in Galaxy for centuries.”

“The endings often bear good intentions”, remarks Palpatine. “How about the means, though? The means justify the endings, and you cannot look away the pride and arrogance that have flickered the Order.”

No answer. Slowly, like a snake spotting a prey, Palpatine surrounds Obi-Wan.

“My dear, your duty has been rewarded with nothing but disdain. Your name has once been shouted by your fellow Jedis, but now it’s been whispered like a poison. Is this what you’ve become, Obi-Wan? A name, a number…a mere saber?”

“I don’t need recognition”, Obi-Wan retorts, but even he can feel the emptiness of his belief.

What has changed?

“Oh, but we do. We do. What are we without the applauses of those we love? Not beasts to be served to other’s purposes”, Palpatine smiles. “You have doubled your powers, Obi-Wan. But your path of blood… when will it end? They say fear leads to anger and anger leads to suffering. But has duty emptied your sentiments? Blind devotion also leads to suffering, Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

A sweet melody is sang. To see it’s effect, however, Palpatine slowly removes himself from the scene. The prey is at long last trapped by the snake’s trap.

Obi-Wan knows it. He feels it. The tentacles of darkness tempt him, seducing him like the sweet embrace of a lover.

Indeed, the list of dissatisfaction is too long to ignore. The anguish within never ceases to torment him. The temptation is too great to bear.

Nonetheless, it’s close to midnight when the Jedi leaves everything aside to look for you. Perhaps you have every answer for him; perhaps you might be the savior he needs.

You are located at your lavender garden, even though it’s past midnight. Chaos surrounds you, war destroys everything you know. You grew strangely comforted by it. You learned to play coy, to be the player you planet needed. Neutrality was merely a disguise. But politics was never a clean game in the first place.

Two nights ago, you’d met him. You thought you’d lost him again, but the silent steps caught you out of your guard.

“I knew I’d find you here, Y/Nickname”, his husky voice brings out a smile of your lips. “A lavender field is most proper to your ladyship.”

You raise your eyes, not surprised for seeing Obi-Wan Kenobi dressing a dark robe, a somber shade of red in his suit, standing powerful before you.

“I do not wish to forget the lavender haze creeping upon me.” You tilt your head, pleased to find a secret smirk twisting in the corner of his lips. “What are you here for, my dear? End this the way it should be.”

“It pains me to hear this is your conclusion”, he muses somberly.

You promptly stand and move to where he stands. Very gently, you remove his hood and run your hands over his short red locks, before cupping his face and tiptoeing to rest your forehead against his.

“I wouldn’t take you as a man who understands everything literally”, you make a small jest, pleased to make him chuckle.

“Darkness is so much more alluring than I’d ever consider it to be”, he whispers. “I’ve tripled my powers since I left you. I shall not lose you, my dear Y/N. The Jedis and the Sith…both took everything I’ve loved.”

He sobs and seems to fall on his knees, but you hold him, able to prevent him to lose his strength. But because he’s heavier than you’d able to carry him, you manage to lead him back to your lavender garden.

“This doesn’t have to be the way”, you tell him. “There is more in the world than Jedis and Siths, Obi.”

As he glances to you, you spot a swift change in the color of his irises, spot an unending suffering in the dark waters of his soul.

“I hate them”, he whispers, and the sound is like that of a whip. “I hate them all.”

“Let us run away then”, you speak gently, caressing his hair. “Those who step in our way shall be destroyed. Simply as that.”

Obi-Wan chews your solution for a moment. It’s reasonable and makes sense. When admiring your beauty and the gentleness that comes from your good heart, he takes your suggestion.

But then… a question rises.

What if there is no more Jedi nor Sith?

#not even sure if this is good but I’m the kind of person who finishes what starts so apologizes in advance for any disappointment.#star wars #star wars imagine #imagine star wars #obi-wan Kenobi #Obi-Wan #Obi-Wan smut #obiwan x reader #obiwan x female reader #Obi-Wan Kenobi x female reader #Obi-Wan Kenobi smut #Obi-Wan x y/n #Taylor swift

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iamsherlocked-1998 · 10 months

Text

A Harmless Indulgence.

You have something very important to tell Din.

Warning: Just something sweet, reader is blind, petting, a touch-starved Din has his own warning.

Words: 845

════ ⋆★⋆ ════════ ⋆★⋆ ════

You stood next to the window of your small cabin holding a good cup of cocoa, the signs of an unusually cold winter were beginning to be noticeable in Nevarro. Time in the past few months had passed so quickly and couldn't say it bothered you.

A few years ago you ended up here after a turbulent existence on your home planet. You were never very handy with your hands, but after an unpleasant incident in which lost your parents and the virtue of the sight, you tried hard and investigated some things, without the support of your beloved family had to learn to defend yourself in addition to a endless theoretical questions. When the underworld was expelled and the school established, Karga thought of you, had already helped him on some occasions and he knew that for now you were someone wandering, the magistrate offered you to teach special children and you were delighted to keep active and settle down.

You were on the volcanic planet when the pirates attacked, contributed everything you could and there you met your Mandalorian, who didn't even realize that you were blind at first, leaving him comically confused. After several not very long conversations in the midst of the conflict, you were fascinated by the man and wanted to know more. One day he disappeared and feared you would never see him again when heard that he intended to retake Mandalore with his people.

That's why you almost jumped for joy when the little green guy showed up one day at the school where you worked. They had returned and apparently intended to stay. You saw each other again by chance when he was picking up Grogu at the end of the day and you haven't been apart since then. The man was kind and calm yet reserved, when he opened up to you discovered that he had many incredible stories to tell.

Today you didn't need your old apartment, you shared a house with them when they weren't on a mission for the New Republic or training the child. It turned out that with your vision missing there was no danger to his creed and Grogu considered part of the clan, which is why in the privacy of your surroundings he wore his helmet less and less frequently.

Despite being as close to him as you ever imagined, there was something that was always on your mind, guilt clouded feelings, couldn't help but wonder what would happen if you came clean.

You heard Din walking in the kitchen, preparing what assumed was an appetizer for his son, you decided that if didn't do it now nothing would never happen.

-Din, can I ask you something?

You noticed how the bounty hunter turned towards you, giving his full attention.

-Sure, is something wrong? (You heard a hint of concern in his voice).

-No, no! (You reassured him) I was just wondering if the creed mentions anything about...touch, would it be wrong if I touched...your face?

The sense of sight was not needed to notice how the man tensed. Your relationship was physical, but in moments of intimacy he never undressed completely and his helmet was always on, on the occasions when that barrier was eliminated and he was more happy and relaxed you had managed to feel the warmth of his hands or the firmness of his shoulders, brushing them as passed, but never his face against the tips of fingers. The silence became uncomfortable and your nerves ate at you.

-I...I shouldn't have said it, it's wrong, nothing happens, let's just ignore it.

-I want to do it.

Then the words stuck in your throat, he was being sincere, he wanted to do this for you. You would never cease to be amazed by the depth and richness of his unmodulated voice.

-Really? (Your voice came out like a thin thread) You don't have to...it's just...

You noticed that Din approached you, caressing the skin of the arm until he gently reached for your hand. Your Mandalorian was shaking.

He guided your fingers until noticed his unshaven cheeks, he leaned into the touch releasing a subtle sigh.

You explored his face, feeling his eyelids closed and ending up caressing his tangled curls, everything seemed surreal, like a dream. He had a small scar on his hooked nose that you swore were going to memorize. Then you lowered yourself until met his lips, his forehead pressed against yours.

-Can I kiss you? (You noticed how he blushed, were surprised by his request, didn't realize that this could awaken something in him, you smiled at the realization).

-Please.

Djarin eliminated the distance between you, it was just a touch of lips but he brought light to your world of darkness like nothing before, as you separated you heard a wave of wind pick up, the temperature was lower.

-Looks like we'll need more blankets.

You could hear the smile in his voice, since then knew that winter would be your new favorite season.

💕 Hope you have a nice december @immarocketman

#blind reader #din djarin x gn!reader #din djarin & grogu #pedro pascal #the mandalorian #fluff #pedro pascal characters #december

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teecupangel · 6 months

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Assassin's Creed characters as demon slayers or maybe upper rank demons? 👀 what would be there breathing techniques? Blood Demon art??

There was a Demon Slayer x AC crossover idea here before but I can’t find it anymore. That one was more or less Assassins doing their own thing as an ally of the Demon Slayer and the Hidden Blade being made from scarlet crimson iron sand and scarlet ore (technically the brother of the nichirin sword)

So, for this one, let’s talk about what breathing style each main Assassin would have if they did learn Breathing Styles. Of course, Desmond gets the complicated backstory because it’s me XD

I will also only use the official breathing styles because, if I don’t impose this restriction, I’d be making new breathing styles here and there. (like, yeah, Edward uses Water Breathing but, if I truly wish to be accurate to his personality, he’d have created his own version and named it ‘Storm Breathing’ or something similar)

Altaïr: Thunder Hashira

Thunder Breathing which is the same breathing style that Al Mualim and Umar Ibn-La'Ahad had and he was trained by Al Mualim personally. Al Mualim passed the Thunder Hashira title to Umar who died while fighting an Upper Rank Demon. Altaïr later becomes the Thunder Hashira due to an opening later on. Kadar is his tsuguko while Malik is the Stone Hashira (the fact that his brother decided to be someone else's tsuguko is a very overly 'used' gossip in the Corps).

Ezio: Water Hashira

Water Breathing as the rest of the Auditore family. Claudia actually morphs her breathing style to Flower then to Insect and became the Insect Hashira. He used to be Federico’s tsuguko until a certain incident occurred that made him take the Hashira mantle from his brother.

Ratonhnhaké:ton: Wind Hashira

Wind Breathing that he learned from a retired Demon Slayer named Achilles Davenport. He’s looking for a certain demon that may or may not have killed many of his villagers, including his mother. All he knows was the fire of his village was snuffed out by the Blood Demon art of an Upper Rank Demon.

Desmond: technically Hinoto but his abilities can reach a Hashira level… it’s complicated.

Sun Breathing but he always denies it. As far as he was concerned, he uses a mix of Thunder, Water and Wind Breathing and just... wings it most of the time. He’s barred from being promoted by the current mentor, William Miles, until he accepts his mother’s ‘legacy’.

Edward: (If he’s dead due to canon, he used to be in the running of Water Hashira, if he’s still alive, he’s Ezio’s tsukugo)

He mostly used Water Breathing but a bit… ‘fiercer’. He’s on par with a Hashira but cannot take the title because an Auditore was the current Water Hashira. He learned Water Breathing from a dear friend of his that he lost to the demons before the Auditore took him in.

Arno: Hinoe

I sooooo want him to have Love Breathing but I cannot, in good conscience give it to him so Flame Breathing it is, lol. Formed a three-man team with Evie and Jacob since they all took the Final Selection at the same time and joined forces. Their team has the worst/best luck ever, getting in between Upper Rank demons versus Hashira and/or, strangely enough, Desmond Miles, at times.

Evie: Hinoe

She developed her father’s Wind Breathing to Mist Breathing. She’s aiming to be a Hashira like her late father, the Wind Hashira before Ratonhnhaké:ton. She’s very by the book and tends to argue with her twin brother with Arno playing referee and unpaid councilor.

Jacob: Hinoe

Beast Breathing. Okay, hear me out. He doesn’t have the same ‘quirk’ as Inosuke but he modified his father’s teachings from Wind Breathing to Beast Breathing, more to show how different he was from his father and twin sister. He doesn’t really care about being a Hashira and just wants to save people. He has a strained relationship with his sister, especially after their father’s death.

Bayek: Flame Hashira

Known only as Amun in records, he tried to learn his wife’s Sun Breathing but could not fully master it, instead creating the Flame Breathing as a way to honor his wife’s skills as well as show how he made the breathing style his own. (whether he is the first Flame Hashira and has long passed, a retired Hashira, or a current Hashira would change who Aya is. If he is already dead, Aya is actually the first Sun Breathing swordsmaster who taught the first generation. If he’s still alive, Aya is one of two people who know and use Sun Breathing, the other being Desmond’s mom who died when he was young.)

Basim: Tsuchinoto

Uses Serpent Breathing style after learning the basics from Roshan. Technically, one of the newbies but he’s had been in a lot of close calls with demons. He’s being hunted by a demon he calls ‘djinn’ who is actually his childhood friend turned demon Nehal. He has a pet snake called Midgardsormen and travels with a wolf-dog named Fenrir. His Kasugai Crow is named Hel.

Bonus:

Kassandra and Eivor are more on the side of Tamayo and Yushiro with Ikaros/Synin being their Chachamaru. They have their own agenda concerning the demons and may be demons themselves... maybe.

(of course, their Muzan Kibutsuji would be Juno XD)

Upper Rank (known only by their title)

Upper Rank 1: The Old Man of the Mountains

Upper Rank 2: The Young Eagle of the Stormy Seas

Upper Rank 3: The Traitor of the Tempestuous Hunt

Upper Rank 4: The False Prophet of Debauchery and Sin

Upper Rank 5: The Heiress of Fallen Nobility

Upper Rank 6: The Reaper of the White Night

(Alternate idea: Desmond is the ‘Nezuko’ to Altaïr, Ezio and Ratonhnhaké:ton’s Tanjiro/Giyu)

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