#but i was struggling with formatting it? so i just slapped it over the piece instead. i kinda fw it!

[abijahfowler]

“… it will be my privilege to kill fowler.”

just eggnore that i forgot heiji had already lost his arm by the time he was conspiring to murder fowler because i’m a dumbass? and i thought him holding his head hamburger style would look cool

anywho!!!! heiji wishes this was real LMAO. silly boy… but he can dream!! i tried detailing his robes and they look a little wonky but…? better then being lazy and leaving them naked!

another thumb for the collection 🫶 and a locket of hair for good memories

[threebooksoneplot]

Question for G :)) how was your fanauthor workshop experience? I don't know if I should apply it sounds interesting but at the same time almost no reviews or whatsoever. Thank you!

well I ended up doing it a second time, so I'd say it was pretty damn good! I think the reason there are "no reviews" is mostly due to tumblr's format not really lending itself to that? @fanauthorworkshop isn't marketing itself as a product so much as a pedagogical (educational) extension of the existing fandom gift economy—an exchange where you both learn stuff and share/teach stuff!

this answer is mildly off-podcast-topic and it's gonna get super long and wordy, so it's under a cut lol you're welcome

my Fanauthor Workshop experience

personally, I found the FAW perfect for me. I was at the point in my fic writing where I was getting some lovely comments and glowing praise, but also wishing the world in general took fanfiction more seriously, as a craft to be practiced and discussed, something with both intrinsic and literary merit. @bettsfic's first episode as a guest on Fansplaining really resonated with me and kind of spoke to that desire (it's a must-listen for anyone on the fence about applying to the FAW!!)

but I had never studied creative writing at a university level, and barely knew what a crit letter was. I found the FAW was the perfect way to learn that sort of thing in a low-stress environment! I didn't struggle with feelings of burdensome obligation the way I had with schoolwork; rather I was excited to read everyone else's writing and see what it had to teach me. I also loved having an appropriate venue to air all my writing opinions, lol. I found I was so motivated that I managed to attend every FAW session even though it conflicted with family vacations two years in a row. I wrote crit letters from the lobby of a restaurant in a national park because it was the only place with wifi. I even Zoomed into one session from a random public library in Durango, where I managed to alarm everyone else in the irl vicinity with my enthusiastic discussion of fictional cannibalism (shoutout to the story we workshopped that day, it SLAPPED.)

personally, I approached the FAW with the very specific goal of Having Fun first and letting the writing stuff come second (ie, not putting too much pressure on myself when it came to choosing and polishing my own workshop pieces, and not worrying too much about how they were received.) I still ended up getting some AMAZING critiques and responses to my two (very different) pieces—I was deeply impressed by everyone's insights, how much they were able to pick up on, and how willing they were to meet me at my level. the other pieces we workshopped ranged all over the place in technical ability, from "giohvnsksbnf this writing is so good I'm gonna fucking eat glass" to "this person is clearly just starting out as a writer, but even if their prose has some technical mistakes, their story has Good Bones and their critiques and discussion observations have been spot on."

my big secondary goal was to Make Friends and there I succeeded beyond my wildest dreams. I now have SO many cool FAW mutuals, a few of which I have hung out with IRL and the rest of which I totally WOULD hang out with IRL if given the opportunity. they're all uniquely creative and clever people who I probably wouldn't have met otherwise, so that's kind of the biggest Win for me. it's so cool knowing I have all these people I could DM out of the blue and be like "hey, would you mind looking over this short story/beta-ing this fic chapter?" and end up with some great insights. there's also an FAW Discord where anyone can kind of bring fandom- and writing-related questions to the floor, as well as share recs and self-promote projects (or in my case, recruit podcast guests who I know have been pre-screened for both their chill lack of pearl-clutching and their basic fiction-analyzing skills, lol.)

I would recommend the Fanauthor Workshop if:

you're a self-taught writer who's done most of your learning in the fanfiction space and you're curious about how writing is actually taught in academic settings

alternatively, you're a writer from an academic background who chafes at some of the more restrictive rules in traditional workshops/you're tired of the irl Guy in Your MFA -types who refuse to or can't engage with your work on its level

you're ok with doing some "homework" (writing two crit letters per week) on the honor system

you're down to read original work in a wide variety of genres/read fic from fandoms you're not in (maybe even fandoms/pairings/characters you don't personally like)

you like what you read in @oficmag

you wish fanfiction was taken more seriously as a craft

your favorite trad-published writers all seem to be workshop alumni (eg: I swear half of my favorite writers are Clarion grads)

you have work you'd like to publish and/or submit someday but you're not sure if it's ready/not sure where to start

you follow writing advice blogs or send them asks

you wish people would leave "concrit" (constructive criticism) on your fics

you wish people would leave concrit on your fics but you're worried they might be too mean or not "get" your work

you wish people would analyze your work and give critique without letting their personal value judgments get in the way (and you're ready to do the same in turn)

you worry your work is too niche, kinky, queer, romance-focused, or "weird" for a traditional workshop (note: but it doesn't have to be any of these things. people also workshopped gen and the equivalent of coffee shop AUs!)

you'd like to hear perspectives that don't come from cishet dudes

you enjoy Class Participation and discussions (or maybe you're no longer a student and miss that kind of thing!)

you think @bettsfic seems like a good teacher (spoiler: she REALLY is)

you like the idea of a creative writing class with no grades or possibility of "failure"

you'd like to meet people you probably wouldn't meet in any other setting, and make some cool friends from other fandoms

if even a couple of these bullet points sound like you, you'd probably get a lot out of the FAW!! I hope the next session of FAW-ers have a blast. I'll be lurkin the Discord rooting for y'all

[abbyholmes]

911 06x12 once again SLAPPED in the best way possible and here‘s why:

- Buck looks like he gives the absolute best hugs and I will not be taking notes on this one I mean Look at how he hugs Maddie. They are my favorite siblings since ever.

- Bobby finally finding peace and knowing his friend and sponsor died trying to save someone had me SOBBING. Him helping two struggling people in turn was so beautiful. That man is sich a caring Dad I just… 🥹

- Athena Supporting her husband in every way possible WE LOVE TO SEE IT.

- Chimney‘s ‚As much as I love to tease your brother, he is not an actual idiot.‘ Because truth. And because I want more interaction between those two.

- JOSH COMING OVER FOR SUDOKU WAS DOWNRIGHT HILARIOUS. For the love of god can These two please become acccidential besties?

- Cameron checking in on Buck was a nice touch. Hope the fandom now sees that he‘s just a dude that asked a favor and does indeed care about his friend.

- HEN AND THE FONDUES I CAN‘T I NEARLY DIED WHEN CHIM UNPACKED THE GIFT

- Hen being Buck‘s second bog sister. Love their Besties-Era. Give me more.

- Buck going to Eddie‘s Place for refugee. Falling asleep on Eddie‘s godforsaken COUCH. Eddie Diaz being a massive dork. THE DOMESTICITY. ‚So now can I ask you how you are?‘ , their honest and serious conversation about shared trauma. Buck being so open and vulnerable and Eddie reciprocating this. Just…those two <3 I really want Buddie to become canon but even as friends, they are so special.

- Buck‘s face as he Seems to consider going to Italy (There is a ‚Eat, Pray, Buck‘ fic forming in my Head, please hold me back!)

- Buck facing the place of his trauma bravely alone

- Buck Opening up to Maddie 🥹🥲💖

- IT WAS JUST ANOTHER GREAT EMOTIONAL EPISODE, OKAY?!

I hope we get more Hen and Chimney in the Next ones. I want to know what’s going on with Danny and his Dad. And how Chim feels now that Buck is okay after blaming himselffor what happened.

And I also still hope that Eddie and Buck get to spend some fun times which might lead to more honest conversations. I want Eddie to admit how scared he was of losing Buck.

Anyway, this Show stays an amazing piece of television. I liked the break from the usual format for the last episodes but am also looking forward to the return of calls.

[diredeliverance]

Big undirected Dark Urge thought ramble.

Dark Urge (non-Bhaalist, at least) is one of those things where I think my feelings about the parts (or part) I dislike are often overwhelmingly colored by a desire for it to be a story that I suspect thematically it was never meant to be... I think that's always a kind of good check when you're really into something, "did this disappoint you because of the version you made up in your brain or did it actually fail to achieve its goals." I really don't like the "Bhaalspawn no more" end even if I can appreciate the drama of the scene. It feels cheap and frustrating to actually be magically "cured" of this part of your character that has formed the central struggle of this storyline. But that is supposed to be built on the back of this Persona 3 "you went out and immersed yourself in the world" thing that I do think tracks with how I experienced Kas, and from that perspective there actually isn't anything wrong with this "you've become independent despite being seen as diminished for it, and now that you've been rejected, you are free" thing. It flows well enough with themes of identity formation and the DUrge backstory of having an identity founded on pleasing their father.

But despite that what I may have found most enthralling about DUrge was this possibly unintentional allegory of mental illness, where you're managing intrusive thoughts, voices in your head, terrible internal putdowns, blackouts, and this total lack of certainty that you will ever know yourself the way people around you can known themselves. And when you try to tell other people, they don't believe you. They don't believe you, or their non-dismissal is bundled up in the idea that surely a better doctor will just fix you forever. There must be a cleric who can magic it all away so you aren't Like This anymore. It feels like your companions really just don't want to talk about it when it becomes uncomfortable or actually real. Their reactions become about their own discomfort rather than your need for support, and that can make you see yourself as especially dangerous and the act of confiding as an act of harm. Other NPCs dismiss you as a liar or a joker, or attempt to take advantage of you. I remember Halsin responding to the earnest confession of amnesia by implying that Kasander was intentionally withholding information from him to spite him. Over the course of acts 1 and 2 I slowly went from trying to be honest with everyone to seek support to being more calculated with what I was showing because I knew I couldn't trust the party with my experiences, and that was one of the most viscerally real experiences I've ever had in a game. Like damn discussing symptoms that negatively impact other people can be Exactly like that lmao. Or ones that just sound weird to them. And having Jaheira be the first person to listen and actually believe without making the conversation about what a problem you had become to her was just as emotional as the real experience. And I really, truly have no idea how much of this was meant to track like that and how much was just a well crafted piece of speculative supernatural fantasy.

At any rate, it does make the "and I'll never have urges again" end of DUrge feel like a slap in the face when you're in this Sauce. It was so fulfilling to be able to acknowledge and understand the source of DUrge's symptoms and to have the seeds of a reliable support network with Jaheira and Minsc, and I loved that foundation for moving in a direction of "this is a part of you that can't be wished away and you have to live with without any assurance that it will end, but you'll still be okay and you can still decide what direction your life will take and have people in it who love you." Tragic that it is a fantasy game and the actual narrative resolution when you aren't lost in the sauce actually is "it can be wished away and now you and everyone around you is safe from it forever." I think it's a kind of underwhelming finale no matter what but so much of my personal disappointment did just come from being reminded what game I was actually playing.

[jojolymes]

𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐃𝐒𝐓 𝐏𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎; fourteen

࿔*:･ﾟ xiv .

next: ࿔*:･ﾟ xv. |  table of contents

"SPEED-WA-GON!" You held back a sigh as you slapped a hand over your head, keeping your hat firmly in place just as Gyro tried to rip it off your head. "You're annoying you know that?" you grumbled as Gyro cackled and slowed Valkyrie down to meet Thunderstruck's pace. You thought that Gyro wouldn't be such an insufferable piece of shit after your little moment the night before but, of course, you were proven wrong when Gyro decided that his goal for the day would be to try and see what was under your hat.

"Oh, but you know you love me," cooed Gyro with a wink, ignoring the way you shot daggers at his dopey gold-veneered smile. "No, I don't. Go fall off your horse or something," you huffed making Gyro's face fall flat while Johnny held back some laughter from beside him. "You better not be laughing over there, Johnny." Johnny went silent and looked away— he wasn't as bad as Gyro in bothering you about your hat but he sure as hell wouldn't stop asking about what was under it regardless.

"You are so insufferable sometimes, Speedwagon," spat Gyro with narrowed eyes as you let out a forced laugh, "what are you so afraid of us seeing, huh? Are you balding?!" You cringed and gasped as you struggled to form words, "wha- no! I'm not going bald!" Johnny raised a brow and looked over at Gyro who shook his head with a straight face. "You're definitely balding." Your face burned while you stammered incoherent words that made them just shake their heads in unison.

Well, at least balding was better than being a woman in this case.

"I'm not balding- god, just...shut up." Gyro feigned shock, albeit being a bit surprised at your ability to sass him without turning into a puddle of tears, and rolled his eyes with a golden grin. "Shut up, hmm?" Surprising him and Johnny once more, you extended out a gloved hand to slap against Gyro's mouth, effectively shutting him up for a few seconds as you slowly turned to him with darkened eyes. "Yeah. Shut up." Your eyes caught the bob of his Adam's apple as you turned back around, shaking off your hand and wiping it on your saddle.

"Well, now that that's over, how about we set up camp somewhere?" began Johnny without a care in the world for Gyro, who was pouting beside him, "it's been one helluva day." You looked back and forth between the two, glaring at each for a few long moments. "Great idea, Johnny!" Gyro said brightly, ignoring your glare again while you all began to slow down. The horses huffed and went from a gallop to a trot until they came to a stop near a small rock formation surrounded by brush.

You and Gyro were the first to hop off your horses and tie them off leaving Johnny while he looked at the map a little longer. "At this rate, we'll reach the finish line in five to six days," he mumbled as he spun off of Slow Dancer. You hummed and stretched your hands up above your head, watching as Johnny pulled his wheelchair off his saddle afterward. "Let's make that four days," Gyro added, making you and Johnny groan.

"Next thing you know you'll expect us to be there tomorrow," you quipped as Johnny agreed with a nod of his head. Gyro huffed but before he could utter a single word, a crack interrupted him. Your heads all shot to the source of the noise to find a broken twig a few meters away. "What...did that?" you muttered aloud while going stiff which Johnny noticed almost immediately. "Well, it couldn't have been a stand or some enemy," Johnny clarified, rolling up beside you in his wheelchair, "we would have seen it."

"Probably just a mouse," Gyro said offhandedly, waving you both off as he went to grab his bedroll from his horse. "Calm down, idiot. Gyro's probably right. Just a mouse," you muttered to yourself while bringing your hands to your face, peeking over at Gyro who grinned at you as if he had heard your every word. "Nevermind. Fuck that guy." Your eyes looked over to find Johnny looking extremely terrified. With a raised brow, you poked his shoulder, jumping back when he screamed.

"J...ohnny?" With red cheeks, Johnny let out a few awkward coughs and stared at the ground like it was the only thing in the world. "I'm good...I'm gonna go start the fire," he mumbled before rolling off towards the brush as fast as he could. You stared at him as he did so and sighed only to stiffen when Gyro wrapped an arm around your shoulders. Your hand was immediately pressing down on your hat while you turned to find him smiling there. "What the hell do you want?"

"You heard that scream too, yeah?"

You scoffed, pushing his arm off you with a grimace. "Yeah, what about it? Everyone's afraid of something," you grumbled, walking over to Thunderstruck and grabbing your bedroll. Gyro rolled his eyes and followed after you with a no-good grin, "okay...but of all things why mice?" You tugged off the bedroll and turned back to face him with a look that made him go quiet. "A lot of people have what others call irrational fears— it doesn't mean they're not valid."

You peered over at Johnny who continued looking for some usable wood in the shrubbery and sighed before side-stepping Gyro who groaned. "Yes, yes, all fears are valid- that's not the point!" Gyro whined following after you like some lost kitten, "don't you wanna try and scare him with me~?" You froze, looking up at him from under the brim of your hat and raising a finger just to reply with a flat no. "Whaaaat? Why not?" "I just told you why not, idiot. Pay attention next time."

Gyro watched as you placed your bedroll near his with a clear space for Johnny's in between, standing there with a pout. He continued to watch as you walked over next to Johnny with your hands behind your back and what Gyro could only assume was a smile under your bandana. A scoff left his lips and he turned around, pulling out his steel ball to fidget with. If you wouldn't help him then he'd have to take the matter into-

A sudden breath near the back of Gyro's neck made him screech and in an instant, he was hiding behind you and Johnny. "Wha- Gyro? What's wrong?" asked Johnny as you rolled your eyes, snapping off a branch from a dead tree. "Quit it, Gyro. Don't be an asshole," you spat, glaring at him from under the brim of your hat. Gyro shot you a look all while grimacing and holding onto the back of Johnny's wheelchair before standing up straight.

Just as Gyro opened his mouth he felt another breath on the back of his neck as well as a faint feeling of something brushing up against his leg. Once more, he screeched, but this time he ran behind you and you were not liking the fact that his fingers were digging into your shoulders. "Get off-" you pushed Gyro away harshly and stood firmly beside Johnny, an unseen frown on your face, "and just stop. I already told you I wasn't going to help you." Johnny raised a brow, looking up at you and then Gyro.

"Help him with what?"

Gyro narrowed his eyes at you— "I'm not doing this on purpose! Something breathed on me! Twice!" You rolled your eyes and picked up some sticks at your feet, making your way to your makeshift campground until you tripped over air. Without thinking, you turned around and glared at Gyro who shockingly still had his steel balls in their holsters. "What the hell-" A sudden pain ripped at your calf and before you could think you were holding back a scream.

"What the fuck?!"

Johnny and Gyro were at your side in seconds, the latter of which was more focused on defending you all than actually checking on what had happened to your leg. "Did ya see anythin'?" asked Johnny frantically, his drawl making his words slur just slightly. You shook your head and scanned the horizon, wincing as Johnny pulled up your pant leg to reveal three deep gashes. "Jesus," he muttered while you threw your head back through labored breaths.

Every move felt like you were setting your leg ablaze and the fire of pain had already started creeping up toward your knee. Johnny met your eyes through the shadow cast by your hat and grimaced, looking to Gyro before looking back at you. "Speedwagon, can ya move-" Johnny stopped short and you felt the air leave your lungs when you noticed that the pain was gone— along with the wound. "What in God's name- Where'd it go?"

Gyro peered back over his shoulder to see you and Johnny panic over the non-existent wound with a knot in his brow. He wasn't able to get a single word out as he was dragged across the ground and thrown into the brush. "Gyro!" Johnny frantically rolled his way over to Gyro before getting knocked from his wheelchair and against an uncomfortably shaped rock. You were quick to get to your feet and get to Johnny's aid, searching the horizon for an explanation.

"This has to be a stand," called Gyro as he shuffled his way out of the shrubbery, brushing off the twigs and leaves that had stuck to his clothes. Johnny hummed and you reluctantly agreed with him all the while continuing your search. "Do you think someone followed us?" he muttered as you got to your feet and he hopped back onto his wheelchair. "I didn't see anyone at all today," you replied while slowly backing up until you hit Gyro's back.

"I didn't see anyone either," Gyro mumbled, readying his steel balls as Johnny backed up against you both, pointing his finger out into the relative darkness. The silence between you all was almost deafening while you three awaited any sudden movements from the darkness. Any noises that came from the desert nature were drowned out as you tried your best to listen for the telltale sound of footsteps or heavy breathing.

But there was nothing.

A sudden rustle from the shrubbery made you all perk up and turn to face it, finding nothing in front of you. "What the hell is doing this?" you grumbled as Iron Maiden hovered in and out of existence. You only hoped that it was nothing big because as you stood there, Iron Maiden didn't seem like she wanted to cooperate. A few seconds of silence and then there was a bright light, making all three of you wince. "There's something there!" Gyro rushed up to the bushes without a hint of hesitation and poked around-

"Che palle!" Gyro backed away frantically, grabbing his wrist with his other hand to reveal a lizard of some sort attached to his finger. "Was this thing doing all of this?!" he cried as he tried shaking it off frantically, all the while cursing in his mother tongue. Johnny sighed and shook his head in disbelief as you held back some chuckles. "I doubt it." Just as the words left your mouth, the thing went invisible and flashed into a few different colors before growing bigger.

"I don't think it likes us very much," you said with a grimace, backing away as Johnny and Gyro did the same. "Let's get outta here," Johnny cried, rolling over to Slow Dancer and the other horses who had been moving around anxiously. You scooped up your bedroll as you ran and leaped onto Thunderstruck, pulling at the reins to calm your poor horse down. "Damn lizard!" You all, once ready, rushed off, not looking back until the footsteps of the beast had died down into silence.

"That thing had a stand, didn't it?" you muttered as you all came to a stop, your heart pounding in your ears as you looked nervously behind you. "It was..." Gyro stopped to shut his eyes in thought, "what are they called in English again? Carnelian?" Johnny let his shoulders sag and spoke through a yawn, "Chameleon." Gyro nodded fervently, clearly satisfied with how he had classified the thing.

A sudden and unwelcome wave of exhaustion washed over you all and it wasn't until then that you realized your current predicament. You were in the middle of the desert with nothing to burn for a fire and it was already too dark to travel any further. The silence you all sat in was mutual as you tried your best to avoid thinking about your situation. It wasn't until your eyelids got unbearably heavy that you spoke up.

"SO...WHAT NOW?"

[biggest-stupidhead]

So I was wondering if I could request something like Levi x reader where they get into an argument right before a expedition. The reader gets hurt on that expedition and Levi feels guilty. Kinda thinking angst and a bit of fluff at the end c:

I loved writing this sm! thanks for sending it in anon!

Summary: You grapple with Levi before a stressful mission.

Word Count: 2.3K

__

"Behave yourselves and enjoy this 'cause it cost the corps two months worth of our budget!" The chef announced as plates of meat were uncovered in front of the soldiers. Your mouth watered as you watched Hange slice the thick slabs of meat on the platter.

"Worth every penny." She hummed as she slapped a piece onto her plate. Levi rolled his eyes and looked up at Erwin, who was sat across from him. You elbowed him and shot him a dazzling grin.

"Lighten up cap, it's not often that we get to enjoy this stuff."

"It'll likely be the last for most." Levi grunted and your grin fell from your lips.

"So macabre." Hange snickered as she gnawed on a piece of meat.

"It's the truth." Levi's cold eyes were locked on Erwin who nodded in agreement.

"Well I plan on savoring it." You quipped, popping a piece into your mouth and chewing it dramatically. Levi scoffed and crossed his arms, ignoring his full plate.

"-Sasha! That's my hand!" Jean cried out, you had to cover your mouth in a futile attempt at hiding your amusement. Sasha had her teeth sank into his hand as Connie desperately tried to pry her from Jean.

"Sasha! Don't make me knock you out!" Connie pleaded as he caught her in a choke hold.

"Damn kids." Levi growled, as he glared at the teens from across the room.

"They're having fun! You should try it sometime." Hange kicked Levi under the table and you chuckled around another mouthful of food.

"I'm good." Levi's lip curled in disgust as Sasha was wrestled to the ground, the two boys finally subduing her.

"They're young, let them figure it out themselves." You assured him, gently resting a hand on his elbow. His eyes softened for a fraction of a second at this. Your touch was fleeting before your hand fell onto the bench between the two of you. He sighed loudly, finally grabbing his fork and picking at his potatoes.

The atmosphere was warm and made you feel so...whole. Even if you knew that Levi was right, tonight was likely the last time you and your comrades would dine together. But even if that was the case, you would be grateful for this happy memory. The peace was short lived however. Jean and Eren broke out into a fist fight, a rather pitiful one at that.

Within a few short minutes, the two were a sweaty mess, both huffing and staggering as they held their fists up. Levi got to his feet and stalked towards them, a deep scowl etched on his face.

With only two blows, the pair was on the floor, clutching their stomachs as Levi towered over them.

"Go to bed." He ordered. Jean vomited and Levi's lip curled in disgust.

"And clean that shit up." He added curtly as the dining hall murmured, recovering from the excitement. Sasha whimpered from her post as she struggled against her binds, feet kicking loudly against the wooden floors. As the soldiers filed out of the room, you made your way to her to free her. She sighed in relief as the gag was pulled off her mouth and the ropes slashed.

"Thanks miss." She gushed as she rolled her tense wrists.

"Don't mention it." You smiled as you reached into your pocket and passed her a loaf of bread.

"Did I mention how much I love you?" She grinned as she accepted the food and dove in for a hug.

"Actually, I don't think that you have." You giggled as she began eating the bread behind your shoulder as she hugged you.

"mf, well I sure do!" She exclaimed around a full mouth.

"You'd better go catch up with the others." You suggested with a firm pat on her back. She stood and jogged out of the dining hall, half eaten loaf in hand.

"You're too soft with them." Levi scolded from the doorway. You waved him off as you joined him, walking side by side out of the large room.

"They need it." You assured him, gently brushing your shoulder against his.

"The last thing they need is to be coddled." Levi argued.

"Levi, I think that sometimes you forget that they're fifteen." You paused outside of his office, leaning against the threshold as he unlocked the door.

"I haven't forgotten." He mumbled as he pushed the door open.

"Okay." You rolled your eyes, brushing off his especially sour mood.

"Don't you have formation plans to look over?" He asked as you followed him into his office.

"I thought we could go over them together." You shrugged, dropping down onto his couch.

"I'm not looking at them now."

"Then why should I be? Do you think I can't comprehend a simply formation we've used for years?" You were half teasing, but there was only so much crap you could take from him.

"Sometimes it seems that way." He agreed, falling into his desk chair. Your eyes narrowed and the food that had felt so good in your stomach moments before seemed too heavy.

"Why are you extra shitty tonight?" You asked even though you knew the answer. He always got moody the days leading up to missions.

"I think you know why." He looked up from his papers to shoot you a pointed glare.

"You need a nap." You attempted to rein in the easy banter, but Levi was persistent.

"I need you to get the fuck out of my office." His words stung, and you barely caught the hurt expression before it crossed your face.

"I'll see you in the morning." You said as you stalked across the small room and out of the door, closing it softly behind you. Levi groaned once he was sure you wouldn't hear him, his head hit his desk hard as he tried to fight off the migraine that had been creeping up on him since dinner.

__

As promised, the next morning he saw you. Or rather, he caught glimpses of you as you readied your horse and helped the younger soldiers make last minute preparations. The day ahead was going to be long and taxing. Mostly comprised of traveling out of the safety of the walls. Erwin had allowed for just enough time for the scouts to travel, timing it just so their departure from the gates would be well after sunset.

His morning was shittier than usual, Hange had been annoying, and Erwin had been stubborn as ever, continuing to dismiss his lack of an arm and insisting on joining the corps on the mission. So when you didn't brush up against him and crack one of your shit jokes during the long ride, he knew that he had royally fucked things up.

He still hadn't spoken to you when the lifts hoisted the scouts over the wall and into titan territory, or when the lanterns were the only light that guided them through thick trees.

When the first rays of sunlight fell onto the abandoned city of shiganshina, you stood stoically beside Hange and Moblit. He had missed his window, now it was time to focus on the mission. He could only hope that both himself and you survived.

__

As the morning wore on and the battle turned from bad to worse, you knew that chances of survival became slimmer. The only thing you could do was trust in Hange, Erwin and Armin to form a plan to defeat the Reiner and the beast titan. The colossal had yet to show his face, making you more uneasy. The small victory of bringing down Reiner was short lived as a barrel flew over the wall and the sounds of distance explosions echoed through the walls.

"Bertolt is in there!" Armin screamed as you watched the barrel fly overhead.

"What do we do!?" Connie cried as you flew through the rooftops.

"If he transforms, there will be nothing we can do!" Armin yelled over the wind. Eren's titan jogged ahead as you made your way towards the center of town.

"We have to do something!" You yelled, desperate for a solution. Luckily he didn't immediately transform, instead rushing to Reiner's side and addressing him first.

"I'm going to regroup with Hange!" You said, as Bertolt zipped towards you.

"Hurry!" Jean yelled after you as you flew away, pouring on the speed.

You reached Hange's team to find them struggling with some dysfunctional thunder spears.

"(Y/n)! I'm glad you made it! Was that Bertolt inside of there?" Moblit asked as you landed heavily on the tiled rooftop.

"Yeah, it's him. We don't have long before he transforms. We've got to get back to the kids!" You informed them and they all leapt off of the rooftop, rushing back in the direction that you had come from. You only made it about half way there before a blinding mushroom cloud and a clap of thunder overpowered your senses. Hange reached out for you, snagging your wrist. Moblit pushed the two of you down and you screamed as the blast took him in a blinding light. You and Hange fell down a well, a mess of limbs and tangled gear. You couldn't tell if it was your blood or hers as the two of you laid motionless in the shallow well.

"Hange!" Your ears rang as you shook her desperately. Her face was covered in blood, you could tell that her eye was missing already. You began clawing through your pockets in search of gauze, the taste of iron made you want to gag. With shaky hands, you wrapped her head, covering her exposed eye socket. She woke moments later, hands shooting out to grab you.

"Your face." She groaned, hand falling to rest on your chin as she slowly sat up.

"What's wrong with-" You froze mid sentence when you realized that was why you tasted blood. She dug into her own pocket and produced a needle and some suture. She sewed the large gash, which ran from the apple of your cheek to the corner of your mouth.

"We need to check for survivors." Hange grunted as she bit off the remaining suture, you nodded in agreement.

__

As you stood on the rooftop staring at the two lifeless bodies, you knew immediately who had to be chosen. Hange clutched Mikasa to her chest as the girl cried, tears running off her pale cheeks.

"Levi." You whimpered, his bloodied face turned, eyes wild and tortured.

"Get back, I'm giving the serum to Erwin." He ordered. Floch hauled Eren away from Armin, who's charred skin smoked in the late afternoon sun.

"You can't." You cried, tears stinging the wound on your cheek.

"I will." Levi growled.

"Now leave!" He pulled the syringe out of the case and filled it with the opaque liquid and your chest squeezed painfully.

"But-" Jean's hand closed tightly around your bicep as he began pulling you towards the edge of the roof.

"Let's go." Jean's voice was strangled, and you realized that all of you felt this loss deeply. He needed you to be an adult here, needed some reassurance. So you leaned into him and allowed him to pull you off of the roof, wrapped securely in his arms. As you hugged him and Connie a few rooftops away, the sound of a titan crashing through buildings made you look up. Levi landed near you, head hung low and empty syringe in hand.

The thin beast shoved the screaming boy down its gullet and you gasped when you saw its face. You knew it was Armin, and you felt ashamed at the surge of relief that flowed through you.

__

The sun beat down on your shoulders as you sat beside Sasha on the wall. Levi and Hange had gone with Mikasa and Eren about an hour ago, leaving you in charge of the remaining kids.

"Here they come!" Connie called, pointing excitedly at the group as they used the last of their gas to scale the wall. Levi didn't bother joining the group, instead favoring to walk in the opposite direction. You rushed after him, legs pumping as you ran across the wall. You snagged his wrist and tugged on it gently.

"Levi." You had no words, only able to form his name in a raspy voice.

"I should have chosen Erwin." He said numbly, too weak to even try pulling free of your grasp.

"It's over. We reclaimed Maria. You made a hard choice, I can't say it was the right one but.." Your words failed you as he turned to face you. You had never seen him look so hopeless, lips glued into a frown and eyes searching for validation.

"You did what had to be done." You assured him as you took a step closer, the tips of your boots touching his.

"Did I?" His brows knitted together as your hand slipped into his.

"Yes. You did, you gave us a chance." You slowly leaned forward, wrapping your arms around him. You were surprised when he melted into you, his body pressed close, breath tickling the skin behind your ear. Your hands gripped the harness on his back in an attempt to ground the two of you. He sighed and breathed you in, his own hands coming to rest at the small of your back.

"We'll figure this out." You said into his neck, lips brushing the skin there unintentionally.

"I'm glad....that you survived." He said into your messy hair, which was falling from it's hold. His hand slid from the small of your back to rest between your shoulder blades.

"Me too." You let out a small laugh half sob, allowing a few more tears to slide down your cheeks.

"Let's address those shitty kids." He said as he pulled back, and you nodded, giving him a watery smile as the two of you fell into a matched pace once more.

[sadclearance]

right hand

pairing: katsuki bakugo x male!reader

summary: 5 things bakugo uses his right hand for + 1 thing bakugo uses his left hand for *wrote with “left hand” being in mind as a prequel, but can also be read as a standalone 

category: fluff

warning(s): none

word count: 1500

key:

s/t - skin tone

i.

when they were in high school, midoriya izuku noticed that bakugo katsuki--his childhood friend and bully--always started fights with a right hook.

which was incredibly powerful, albeit predictable.

midoriya still remembers a specific sunny morning in their third year when this expected yet efficient move was used for something that wasn't exactly a fight. a second year had made the unbelievably stupid mistake of--

"watch it, dumbass!"

and immediately after bakugo caught y/n before he could fall on his ass, bakugo's right fist met with the second year's nose, successfully breaking it and scorching off the hairs of the kid's eyebrows.

at the time, nobody really thought anything of it. bakugo was protective of the few people that he considered--but would never outright admit--to be his friends, and y/n was one of them.

ii.

but it was at the christmas social event that was held for the third years to get a chance to make connections as well as have fun before the end of their student years that it became clear that it was much much more than just friends looking out for each other.

"what're you doing all alone?" kaminari asked as he leaned against the wall next to y/n.

"everyone's either flirting with pro heroes or kissing their asses, and i'm not really in the mood to do either."

"yeah, i can see that," kaminari snickered as mineta got slapped in the face by mount lady after both a series of terrible flirting and a horrendous attempt to literally kiss her ass.

"surprised you're not doing the same."

"well..." kaminari said as he pointed up. he was wearing a hat with a hanging mistletoe.

"how not unexpected," y/n laughed.

"you know the tradition," kaminari winked pointing at his lips.

"okay, okay. for the holiday spirit--"

and as y/n leaned in to give kaminari a peck, a strong right hand grabbed his chin, and his lips met with a pair that belonged to someone else.

kaminari was too shocked to be disappointed after being pushed away by none other than bakugo.

"fuck off, dunce face," bakugo said before crashing his lips against y/n's.

that was one hell of a way to find out that two of his best friends were dating.

iii.

bakugo's jealousy only got worse after graduation.

but to be fair, that was his own fault.

he may have chilled out since their time together as first years, but he was still a headstrong ambitious hero.

they didn't go public with their relationship because bakugo figured it would be distracting to his goal.

which was a decision that he immediately regretted when he remembered just how attractive y/n was--something that other people clearly appreciated as well.

y/n got gifts, compliments, and very suggestive comments wherever he went, which did nothing but fuel bakugo's anger and displeasure.

there was a solution to this problem, and it was to let it be known to the world that y/n was his and his only.

instead of doing what normal couples do and going to an interviewer or announcing their relationship on his social media accounts, bakugo decided to--

"so... y/n," the barista looked at the name she just wrote on the cup and then back to y/n. "are you seeing anybody?"

"what's taking so fucking long?" bakugo asked as he came up behind y/n, right hand harshly meeting y/n's left ass cheek.

"ow! what the hell? there's paparazzi right outside of the window," y/n scolded, gesturing toward the crowd of people with cameras on the other side of the glass wall.

bakugo's only response was to press a kiss against y/n's lips, smirking into it as he saw a flash of light in the corner of his eye, fully aware of the fact that his hand was still on y/n's ass.

iv.

when he saw a building crumbling on top of y/n, he knew what he had to do.

he had faced a similar obstacle to this in his first year of high school, when he was up against round face--ochako. she had collected rubble that he had unknowingly provided and gathered it all up to the sky, later using it as a weapon by making it rain down on bakugo.

a building, however, had much more stone than a collection of collateral concrete that an individual collected over only a few minutes.

"y/n!" he shouted.

recreating the move from his first year, he raised his right hand and released a massive explosion--one much larger than the original maneuver.

he had succeeded for the most part. small bits of rubble rained down on them, but it was more like getting hit by hail than being buried by a boulder.

"bakugo!"

the mentioned man gritted his teeth and pressed the rough fingers of his left hand into his terribly cramped and pained right hand.

"you overdid it, you idiot!"

y/n rushed to get medical attention, and bakugo reluctantly let himself be pulled around.

he would've crudely yelled back that he didn't need help, but the worried look on y/n's face stopped him.

"i'm not gonna die, dumbass," bakugo rolled his eyes. the words were intended to come off harsher, and more like bakugo insulting a subordinate for not being able to see the obvious, but they came out closer to a soft reassurance instead.

"do that again, and i'll kill you myself," y/n glared. he looked more like an angry puppy.

"as if you could even land a hit on m--"

y/n's lips shut him up.

"even though that was the stupidest thing i've ever seen, thank you for saving me," y/n smiled, rubbing soft circles into bakugo's right hand.

"'stupidest thing you've ever seen'..." bakugo grumbled.

v.

"what the fuck are you doing?"

it's been a habit to hold hands while doing almost anything since their time together at u.a.

hell, they used to hold hands throughout basically all of high school except during hero training.

subjects like math, language, history--they didn't require both hands. they only needed to write on a piece of paper, and they only needed their dominant hands for that.

so it comes as no surprise that that habit followed them to their pro hero years, pale left hand entwined with s/t right hand as they finish their paperwork.

bakugo's confusion was prompted by y/n's sudden fascination with his right hand.

"i rarely ever give this one attention," y/n shrugged.

"it's not its own being. like a pet or a person."

the look bakugo gave y/n told him that he was the biggest dumbass in history, but y/n ignored it in favor of responding, "still a part of you i rarely get a piece of."

"i hate the way you worded that, creep..."

"you're still blushing."

"in your fucking dreams!"

+i.

going to a nice place was somewhat out of the ordinary for the two of them.

bakugo was focused on being the top hero, and being the top hero meant sacrificing a lot of time.

y/n doesn't know what changed bakugo's mind so suddenly, but he wasn't about to reject a once in a lifetime opportunity.

"the breeze is so nice," y/n breathed in the fresh air of the beach.

he had ran up to the gorgeous ocean, cold water hitting his bare legs while he tried to convince bakugo to join him.

"not up to the challenge? that's rare," y/n teased, turning his back to him and going deeper into the sea.

"oh, shut your trap! i have a damn good reason."

"yeah, i'm sure you do. you sure you aren't just cold?"

"i said shut the fuck up!"

"okay, okay," y/n complied and entertained himself with the vibrant blue waves.

"i love you," came bakugo's voice abruptly.

"that's weird, you never say it first, especially not without any form or profan--" y/n turned around to give bakugo a ridiculous look, laughing as he did, only to stop almost immediately.

"fuck y--" bakugo had to stop his habitual reflex. "marry me... dumbass?"

bakugo with a nervous tone, one knee in the sand, struggling to not get up because of the annoying shifting and imbalance, and a ring in his hands was a priceless sight to see.

"yes! yes! yes!" y/n ran back to the dry sand.

bakugo grinned and accepted the kiss but broke it off sooner than he would've liked for the fear of dropping the ring and losing it to the waves.

he slid the ring on y/n's hand with a proud smile before y/n demanded to have the other ring.

"shit, calm down," bakugo laughed, but he couldn't help but feel happy that y/n was just as ecstatic.

although he was the one to say that, bakugo's left hand struggled to stay still as y/n put the ring on bakugo's ring finger.

"i love you," y/n pressed his lips against the trembling left hand once he was done.

with the rings safely on their hands, bakugo could freely go back to enjoying the treasure that was y/n's lips.

❥๑━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━๑❥

a/n;

a sequel exactly a month after

i like this format because i'm shit at transitions

i mean just look at the shift from iii to iv...

i had an idea for the right hand theme for a while now since the battle trials when izuku mentioned the right hook thing but i was like woah i could do it with this while writing left hand

[voskhozhdeniye]

No one ever told Adam not to act effeminate. But he, like me, like most of us, learned it somehow.

“I never worried about my family being homophobic,” he says. “I used to do this thing where I would wrap a blanket around myself like a dress and dance around in the backyard. My parents thought it was cute, so they took a video and showed it to my grandparents. When they all watched the tape, I hid behind the couch because I was so ashamed. I must have been six or seven.”

By the time he got to high school, Adam had learned to manage his mannerisms so well that no one suspected him of being gay. But still, he says, “I couldn’t trust anyone because I had this thing I was holding. I had to operate in the world as a lone agent.”

He came out at 16, then graduated, then moved to San Francisco and started working in HIV prevention. But the feeling of distance from other people didn’t go away. So he treated it, he says, “with lots and lots of sex. It’s our most accessible resource in the gay community. You convince yourself that if you’re having sex with someone, you’re having an intimate moment. That ended up being a crutch.”

He worked long hours. He would come home exhausted, smoke a little weed, pour a glass of red wine, then start scanning the hookup apps for someone to invite over. Sometimes it would be two or three guys in a row. “As soon as I closed the door on the last guy, I’d think, That didn’t hit the spot, then I’d find another one.”

It went on like this for years. Last Thanksgiving, he was back home to visit his parents and felt a compulsive need to have sex because he was so stressed out. When he finally found a guy nearby who was willing to hook up, he ran to his parents’ room and started rifling through their drawers to see if they had any Viagra.

“So that was the rock-bottom moment?” I ask.

“That was the third or fourth, yeah,” he says.

Adam’s now in a 12-step program for sex addiction. It’s been six weeks since he’s had sex. Before this, the longest he had ever gone was three or four days.

“There are people who have lots of sex because it’s fun, and that’s fine. But I kept trying to wring it out like a rag to get something out of it that wasn’t in there—social support, or companionship. It was a way of not dealing with my own life. And I kept denying it was a problem because I had always told myself, ‘I’ve come out, I moved to San Francisco, I’m done, I did what I had to do as a gay person.’”

For decades, this is what psychologists thought, too: that the key stages in identity formation for gay men all led up to coming out, that once we were finally comfortable with ourselves, we could begin building a life within a community of people who’d gone through the same thing. But over the last 10 years, what researchers have discovered is that the struggle to fit in only grows more intense. A study published in 2015 found that rates of anxiety and depression were higher in men who had recently come out than in men who were still closeted.

“It’s like you emerge from the closet expecting to be this butterfly and the gay community just slaps the idealism out of you,” Adam says. When he first started coming out, he says, “I went to West Hollywood because I thought that’s where my people were. But it was really horrifying. It’s made by gay adults, and it’s not welcoming for gay kids. You go from your mom’s house to a gay club where a lot of people are on drugs and it’s like, this is my community? It’s like the fucking jungle.”

“I came out when I was 17, and I didn’t see a place for myself in the gay scene,” says Paul, a software developer. “I wanted to fall in love like I saw straight people do in movies. But I just felt like a piece of meat. It got so bad that I used to go to the grocery store that was 40 minutes away instead of the one that was 10 minutes away just because I was so afraid to walk down the gay street.”

The word I hear from Paul, from everyone, is “re-traumatized.” You grow up with this loneliness, accumulating all this baggage, and then you arrive in the Castro or Chelsea or Boystown thinking you’ll finally be accepted for who you are. And then you realize that everyone else here has baggage, too. All of a sudden it’s not your gayness that gets you rejected. It’s your weight, or your income, or your race. “The bullied kids of our youth,” Paul says, “grew up and became bullies themselves.”

“Gay men in particular are just not very nice to each other,” says John, the adventure tour guide. “In pop culture, drag queens are known for their takedowns and it’s all ha ha ha. But that meanness is almost pathological. All of us were deeply confused or lying to ourselves for a good chunk of our adolescence. But it’s not comfortable for us to show that to other people. So we show other people what the world shows us, which is nastiness.”

Every gay man I know carries around a mental portfolio of all the shitty things other gay men have said and done to him. I arrived to a date once and the guy immediately stood up, said I was shorter than I looked in my pictures and left. Alex, a fitness instructor in Seattle, was told by a guy on his swim team, “I’ll ignore your face if you fuck me without a condom.” Martin, a Brit living in Portland, has gained maybe 10 pounds since he moved there and got a Grindr message—on Christmas Day—that said: “You used to be so sexy. It’s a shame you messed it up.”

For other minority groups, living in a community with people like them is linked to lower rates of anxiety and depression. It helps to be close to people who instinctively understand you. But for us, the effect is the opposite. Several studies have found that living in gay neighborhoods predicts higher rates of risky sex and meth use and less time spent on other community activities like volunteering or playing sports. A 2009 study suggested that gay men who were more linked to the gay community were less satisfied with their own romantic relationships.

“Gay and bisexual men talk about the gay community as a significant source of stress in their lives,” Pachankis says. The fundamental reason for this, he says, is that “in-group discrimination” does more harm to your psyche than getting rejected by members of the majority. It’s easy to ignore, roll your eyes and put a middle finger up to straight people who don’t like you because, whatever, you don’t need their approval anyway. Rejection from other gay people, though, feels like losing your only way of making friends and finding love. Being pushed away from your own people hurts more because you need them more.

[jessiebanethedragon]

Commander?

Summary: Reader ('Mech') Is a member of CT-9904's unit and is sent to Ryloth instead of fighting with the insurgents. If only either of them could figure out why he made that call...

basically empire Crosshair is falling in love with the reader and is fighting with the chip's influence, the reader is falling as well. This is what happens when she see's the aftermath of the engine injuries.

Warnings: the reader gets choked, but not like in that way, reader is mean to crosshair, crosshair is mean to reader (ie neither of them know how feelings work)

Ryloth is grossly humid, you hate the way it feels with your plastoid armor on. The dark colour of it and your blacks underneath certainly don’t help either. And the fact that you’re still seething over your delegation has your teeth so clenched it hurts. Senator Taa is driving you insane as well, the fact that you’re playing the part that any trooper could be is driving you insane.

You didn’t get the nickname Mech for nothing. The modified electrostaff that hangs on your hip is evidence of that. The pop of your knuckles out of boredom has Syndulla and his clone looking at you.

“Something to say? Admiral Rampart asks with a glare. The kind that makes you stand straighter and fall in formation. When an answer doesn’t come from behind your helmet he sighs before adding. “You’re dismissed.”

Back in your sorry excuse for barracks, your armor is thrown against the wall. Starting with the stuffy helmet, the sound it makes when it hits the stone isn’t enough to satisfy your anger. So as you strip off each piece of the remaining plastoid it too, meets the interior of the Ryloth cave.

Screw him. Screw your commander. Screw the nerf herding Clone that sent you here. You hate him, you hate the way he speaks to you. Like he’s always looking for a weakness. You hate being here playing guard dog while they chase down the insurgents. And what you hate the most is the insecurity that lingers in your mind.

Why didn’t he think I was good enough?

You were the only one left behind, the only one sent to Ryloth ahead of time. Perhaps for one too many snarky comments. Perhaps because he doubted your abilities.

You’re so angry you go as far as striping out of the empire regulated blacks and into your civilian clothes. Which largely consists of your old baggy tactical pants that are so worn down the hues of your favorite colour are faded. But you still stuff the pants into your combat boots anyways. The top is less top-like and more like a piece of fabric that is long enough to turn into some kind of thing resembling clothing. It’s not exactly high Naboo fashion, but it’s a hell of a lot less warm than your kriffing armor.

You take to fixing the scope of his sniper rifle. You’re tempted to leave it broken, Maker knows how it happened in the first place. But you’re desperate for a distraction, a challenge, anything to take away the sting of being left behind. It gets fixed all too quickly, and you have to resort to tinkering with the calibrations in order to pass the time.

The door opens with a whoosh and the Commander and the rest of your team find you lounging with your feet up, scope in hand looking positively annoyed. Everyone tenses when you lazily get up, and walk over to them without saluting.

“That doesn't look like your uniform to me.” He says, the anger crackling through the helmet. And while everyone else has taken their helmets off, you can see them hesitate.

“Well considering the planet's demilitarizing, it didn’t look like it needed a commando to me.” You snap, the week of annoyance coming to fruition all at once.

“What did you just say to me?” He asks, stepping closer and bunching his fists. Your hand goes to your electrostaff, and his to his blaster. Weighing your options, you decide not to sign your death warrant today. Instead you reach into your pocket and grab the newly fixed scope. Not passing up the change to shove it into his chest.

The second your hand collides with the pastoid he moves like lightning. The scope clatters to the ground adding to the noises of surprise that your comrades make. Some of them move to help you, but think better of it. By the time your brain catches up your back has already hit the wall, a durasteel hand around your neck.

“Apologise.” He grits out. The green visor burning out your retina, and your hands scratching at his vambrace. You splutter around the hand, and he lets up a little. Just a little. The logical part of your brain is screaming at you to say the two simple words.

“I take it you failed to catch them then?” You say instead. And the hand tightens again, making you slap his forearms, he doesn't let up and somewhere your brain registers someone gasping:

“He’s going to kill Mech!” And with that, you collide with the floor. One hand bracing yourself and keeping you off the actual ground, and the other cradling the tender skin.

“You three. Out.” He snaps, and the sounds of footsteps rush out the door. Looking up at the Commander, you see the helmet watch your comrades hustle out, before he moves further into the barracks. Collecting a jug of water and a singular cup. Clutching both in one hand, he uses his other to haul you up. Still gasping you try to struggle.

“Calm down.” He says plainly. “I’m not going to hurt you”

“I think you understand why I'm not inclined to believe that.” You wheeze out, as he leads you to one of the beds and makes you sit on it. Before pouring water into the cup, and hesitantly handing it to you.

“Drink.” he barely gets the word out before you’re snatching the substance from him and gulping it down. You cover yourself in it but you don't really care. Pausing to catch your breath again, the fog begins to clear.

“No toothpick?” You mean to tease, but when you ask he walks away from you. That's when you catch it. There’s a piece of his armor that's discoloured from the rest. Not so much that it needed replacing, but enough for you to notice. “Commander?” You ask, and watch him shake his head ever so slightly. Only turning back when he hears you get up and stagger towards him.

“Sit back down. You’re injured.” He winces slightly at the sentence. Almost like there's a part of him that hates himself for hurting you. Funnily enough it's the same part that convinced him not to let you on that mission.

“I think you are too.” You admit softly. “Let me see.” You push. And he grumbles and mumbles before taking his helmet off.

His hair has been shaved off - even shorter than it was before. But that's not what catches your eye. What you stare at is the gaping injury on the back left side of his head. And the way he scrunches his nose and turns away shows you something you’ve never seen from him before.

Fragility, fear, embarrassment and maybe a multitude of other emotions fly across his face. When he opens his mouth to say something your brain kicks into gear.

“Sit down. Let me tend to it.” You demand. He tries to protest.

“That's not-” “Just let me see it.”

“I’m fine-” “You need bacta.” You’re still trying to lead him into sitting down, and he tries to argue more before finally giving in.

“I was cleared from the medbay you know.” He grumbles, and part of your soul does cartwheels when he listens to you and does actually sit down. And you almost like to think you’re the only person who he does listen to.

There aren't nearly enough bacta strips to double wrap the area like you wanted, but it’ll do until you can restock at a proper Imperial medbay.

This isn’t the first time you’ve been this close to each other, and it isn’t even the first time you’ve touched the commander's face. The first and only other time was in the depths of space. Everyone else was passed out in exhaustion after mission after mission. But you two, neither of you could sleep. And you could see the scrunch in his brow of anxiety and pent up adrenalin. And somehow, some miracle happened and after much convincing, you sat on the floor of some hallway, and he let you rub calming circles into his temple. You can still feel the way his hands held onto your forearms gently, like he was afraid you’d hurt him, or maybe he was afraid you wouldn't hurt him. Or maybe, just maybe, he had wanted to hold you.

“I should’ve been there.” You whisper while dressing the wound. It probably looks worse than it is but guilt is still eating you alive.

“You were where you needed to be.” He states. Taking his gloves off while you move from behind, to beside him as you finish with the bacta. Still analysing the wound and the rest of his face. He almost wants to smile, they didn’t call you Mech for nothing.

“Why did you send me away?” You ask. Closing your eyes when you feel a hand come up and caress your face. It's so gentle it’s almost like it's not there at all. Your heart feels like it's exploding with each beat. Why did this always happen between the two of you, why were you like magnets for each other.

And why did he always have to push you away after?

“I’m sorry,” He tells you when he grazes over your neck. “For that,” another swipe of a gentle hand. “But not for sending you here. Evidently I made the right call.” Fingers rest under your chin, tilting it up. When your eyes open, his are finding the part of you that you worked so hard to bury.

“You should be. It kriffing hurts.” You try to joke, to hide your feelings. But it comes out dry and cracked, a reminder of his anger moments ago.

“You learned your lesson then.” He snaps. And yet, the hand that goes to your hair is still gentle.

“Don’t leave me behind again commander. Or it’ll be the last time you see me.” It’s not a threat, but his eyes darken as if it is one.

“Good soldiers follow orders.” He hisses.

“Good thing we’re commandos then.” You shoot back. He closes his eyes and sighs, his hand leaving your face. It takes something with it, and you feel at a loss. One of your hands travels the regulated blanket that you’re sitting on, like it’s subconsciously searching for him.

Instead, he stands up and walks away.

“You should be resting.” You grumble at him, also standing up, if only to cross your arms in annoyance.

“I was cleared from the medbay.” He repeats himself, reaching for his helmet, ready to block you out again.

“Those droids clear out anything with a pulse. You need time to heal.” Hesitantly, you pad over to him, your hand stopping his when he goes to put the helmet on again. As if on instinct his other hand goes to your throat. But he stops himself when he sees the marks from before.

“This isn’t allowed.” He whispers, bucket hitting the floor. His hand moves onto your waist like a different person is in control of his motions. “I’m sorry.” He says again, fixated on the markings on your neck.

“It’s okay.” You tell him, moving closer. Sighing into his hold and the cool armor on hot skin. Looking up at your commander with blinking eyes. If someone was to walk in now, you’d most likely be executed, or exiled at the very least. But it doesn't stop his bare hands from moving, one on your hip where skin meets skin outside of imperial rules, regulation and armour. The other goes to your face again. Why does he like it so much? What is it about your face that is addictive? He tries to imagine a different face, a different person having this effect on him.

He can’t.

“No.” He says against your lips when they almost touch. And you tremble in rejection, a blank face covers the part of you that's crying. You’re so close to him, to something real, something other than war efforts or the Galactic Empire. You ignore him, and try to lean forward again, but the hand in your hair moves to place two fingers of your lips and push you back. And you know he feels your lips stutter and breath hitch as you contain a cry. His hands leave you completely as he steps away and puts his helmet back on.

“Shame.” You say bitterly, and you’re not proud of what happens next. Maybe you’re too smart, maybe you shouldn’t have read his file when you hacked into the database to find those chain codes. Maybe you shouldn’t have let him hurt you first.

“I liked seeing your tattoo.” You add, watching the helmet glare at you. “It’s a Crosshair, right?”

[fanfickittycat]

First Glance

TITLE: First Glance

CHAPTER NUMBER/ONE SHOT: One Shot

AUTHOR: fanfickittycat

FANDOM: Haikyuu!!

CHARACTERS/PAIRING: Ushijima Wakatoshi x Reader

GENRE: Romance/Fluff

FIC SUMMARY: Ushijima doesn't know why the girl tasked with covering the team for the school paper won't leave his mind

RATING: G

AUTHORS NOTES/WARNINGS: I’m putting this below the cut but you can also read it on AO3 here

“Is she back already?” Ushijima didn’t flinch when Tendo joined his side, only nodding stoically in response. He was observing the girl with such rapt attention, that Tendo was genuinely surprised; usually, Ushijima only had eyes for volleyball. Girls seemed to be out of the question. Even when the topic of girls was brought up in the locker room, he never paused to pass comment. In fact, he didn’t look like he was even listening to the conversation, instead methodically doing up the buttons on his shirt or neatly folding his kit.

“I hear she’s from the journalism club” he said, watching his friend’s face carefully for any changes in his features. The day had been so boring, and finally something interesting was happening. “Hmmm”. Nothing. “I guess she must want to cover the team going to the finals.” “Hmmm.” Nothing again. “Maybe she’ll want to interview us?” Ushijima cleared his throat “hmmm.” Ah, bingo. “You should talk to her” he nudged Ushijima in the side “you’re the captain after all.” Ushijima finally broke his gaze, looking down at the water bottle in his hands “I’m not good at talking.” Tendo opened his mouth to say something encouraging; to bolster his friend who always seemed to be confident in all his abilities on the court, but the squabble between Semi and Shirabu stopped him.

“Hey” Ohira said “don’t fight in front of the press, it makes us look bad.” The two setters continued to scowl at one another but stopped bickering. “It’s no way to act in front of a girl” Tendo added, slapping a hand on his teammates backs “especially a cute girl.” His eyes trailed over to look at Wakatoshi who’s impassive face was betrayed by the way his hands mindlessly fiddled with the blue bottle in his hands. “I guess she’s cute” Semi agreed “if you like that kind of girl.” “What kind of girl is that?” Ushijima asked, making his teammates look up at him in shock. “W-well you know…” Semi struggled to come up with the words to describe her “she’s clumsy, did you see the way she almost tripped coming in here?” “Yeah, but she got up again with that super determined face” Shirabu interjected “like she was so nervous she was overcompensating.” “She seems energetic” Ohira said “and tenacious.” “Those are good traits” Wakatoshi said offhandedly. “They are” Tendo agreed, egging him on “and she has pretty, long hair. I usually like short hair on girls but even I have to admit that it’s very becoming on her. Right, Miracle Boy?” Ushijima looked up at her again, observing the waves of thick, dark hair that flowed past her shoulders. She tucked a strand behind her ear as she continued to speak to Coach Washijo and note down the things he said in her notebook. “Yes” he agreed “it is.”

Ushijima continued to think about the mystery girl as he got changed. Who was she? Tendo had said she was here on behalf of the school paper, but usually whenever they were written about, it was a sandy haired boy who came by. Why had he never seen her before? He idly put his jacket on, pondering what the feeling in his chest was. A sort of warmth and tenderness. He hoped he wasn’t getting ill.

“Before you all go” Coach Washijo said, stopping the boys from leaving the gym “remember we have practise on Saturday, and I expect you all to be there bright and early at 6am. No excuses. Also, we’ll have a member of the journalism club with us this week so watch your mouths.” He looked pointedly at Semi, who’s cheeks flushed red, much to the enjoyment of Shirabu who nudged him. Ushijima wanted to ask what her name was, but they were dismissed in the next instance and it seemed pointless.

The girl stayed on Ushijima’s mind. That evening he had several hazy dreams all involving her. In one, he just remembered her looking at him and smiling so brightly that he managed to miss a relatively easy receive. In another, she was interviewing him, and he was struggling to answer coherently. He didn’t remember the last one very well, but in it she was holding his hands. He woke up with her phantom touch still on him. He turned his head to squint at his alarm clock. It was almost five am, way too early for him to consider rising. He closed his eyes again, but sleep didn’t find him. He took his phone off charge and looked for Tendo’s number to text. He had insisted that he get a phone, but he didn’t use it much.

U: Tendo, are you awake? I have a query. 4:58am

He didn’t expect to get a response and instead went to take a cold shower to focus his mind. The cold water was a welcome distraction, and he felt his body leave the dreamy warm state it was in. Today he had practise until noon, but nothing especially pressing to do afterwards. Perhaps he’d take a jog before dinner. He knew he should probably make time to review some tapes from their last practise game too. Despite him concentrating on his own schedule, his mind once again wandered to her. What would she do today?

He left the shower, padding back to his room with a towel around his shoulders. His phone buzzed.

T: What query could you possibly have at 5am??? 5:08am T: Lay it on me, Miracle Boy 5:09am

He picked up his phone, struggling to come up with a coherent sentence.

U: The girl has remained in my mind. I think I must be getting ill, should I tell coach today? 5:12am T: Sounds like love sickness to me ;) 5:12am U: I’m not familiar with that illness 5:1am T: -_- It’s a good thing you found volleyball 5:14am U: I don’t understand 5:14am T: We’ll talk about it later 5:15am U: Ok 5:15am

“She’s here” Ushijima blinked at the girl, standing before them. She looked sleepy, clutching a thermos as she greeted the volleyball team members. Her hair was tied up into a ponytail, which Ushijima didn’t like nearly as much as her hair being out. Still, there was something admittedly quite cute about seeing her like this; dreamy eyed, red cheeked, and cosy in her fluffy jumper. She shouldn’t be out here in the cold, watching the boys do laps, she should be tucked up in bed with her hair being petted gently. The thought made Ushijima flush. He resolved to himself that he was going to concentrate on practise and not on this girl, whose name he still didn’t know.

“So, lover boy” Tendo teased, as he shrugged off his track jacket alongside his friend “you like her?” The boys had entered the gym now to do some routine stretches before doing drills, and Tendo had taken the opportunity to speak up. “I don’t know her.” “But you think she’s cute?” Ushijma paused and swallowed “yes, I suppose so.” “Don’t worry, I’ve got your back.” Tendo winked at him and Ushijima frowned. Surely, he had his back? In their current formation he tended to be behind the Guess Monster. He shook his head free of the thought and went to join the others.

“Take a twenty-minute break and then we’ll do three on three!” “Yes, coach!” The lapse in practise was a welcome one, and Ushijima wiped the sweat off his brow with his towel, grateful for the moment to breathe. “This is your chance” Tendo sang, jutting his chin out at the girl who was speaking to Semi. “It’s rude to interrupt” he said, feeling a sinking feeling in his chest as she laughed at something Semi said. What was this? He felt something brew in his chest that made his teeth clench in annoyance at his teammate. He gripped the water bottle, turning away to drink. “Don’t be angry” Tendo chided “I’ve found out her name…”

*** You stood, trying to follow the game but it was difficult to really grasp what was happening. The ball was shot back and forth with such ferocity that you worried it would hit you. How embarrassing you cringed, picturing yourself getting smacked in the face with the volleyball. You took a step back for safe measure, trying to remember what Haruki had told you.

“The piece is about emotion as much as it’s about sport.” “What kind of feelings can hitting a ball possibly inspire?” You said skeptically. Haruki smiled apologetically “I’m sorry you have to take over for me” “You didn’t ask for a family death” you said, feeling sorry “I’ll do my best.” “You’re a talented writer. Just put your own spin on it, like you always do. I promise this is the last time you’ll have to write a sports piece.”

You had to admit, that despite the dread and the unmistakable sinking feeling in your gut from being out of your depth, you were also in awe of the players. The way they were able to make split second decisions that ensured the ball’s return to the other side of the court; the constant movement… It was actually impressive.

The red-haired boy – you still didn’t know them by name – had an almost eerie gift for knowing what the opposing side was going to do. You scribbled it down, annoyed when you dropped your biro.

“Look out!” Your head tilted up to see your worst fear coming true. The ball was flying towards you and you felt like you had frozen, eyes wide like a deer in headlights. You braced yourself for impact, lowering your head again but the hit never came. You heard a scuffle near you, and you opened your eyes to see the tall one with the olive hair hit the ball away. He met your stunned eyes with his formidable ones. You’d heard of this one. Ushijima the captain of the team. Haruki had assured you that despite his daunting exterior and intimidating manner, he was nobody to legitimately fear. Unless you were on the other team that is…

He looked away first, running back to the court to be alongside his teammates without a glance back. You felt winded. Whatever had just happened felt so intense that it was strange to believe that it was only a couple of seconds long. The sound of a whistle blowing, and the shouts of the demon coach did nothing to snap you out of it.

“Are you alright?” you looked up again to see the captain looking down at you. “Um, yes” you felt your hands go clammy “thank you.” He nodded at you and a silence followed. “Is it always so…” you looked for the right word “dangerous?” The corner of his lip twitched upwards “sometimes.” “Why do you play it then?” He hesitated, looking wistful “I’m good at it and I like it.” It was a terribly blunt answer, but it made you smile. “You’re funny” you said which made him cock his head to the side. “I’ve never been described as humorous before.” “It’s a special kind of humour” you said, rewarded with a faint blush colouring his cheeks. “How is your article progressing?” He asked, clearing his throat. “I think I found my angle on it” you looked up at him “but I need to do more research. I don’t really know too much about volleyball.” “You can ask me. I know about volleyball.” You felt flustered “are you doing anything after practise? Maybe you could help me clarify all the technical stuff?” He nodded “I’m free.” “Cool.” “Yes… cool” he nodded at you, excusing himself to run back. You felt your heart race as you watched him go back to the court. For the first time since you’d been assigned the piece, you felt excited about volleyball.

[girl4music]

The Human Condition - It suggests that humans are able to have a complex range of emotions for an individual. Therefore it is possible to love someone yet be repulsed by their behaviour and action. This is a unique trait of humans and the human condition. Humans can have more than one emotion towards another. And love is not lost in the meanwhile. Rather, it is amplified but it is expressed as tough love instead.

I would say that is very important to experience in art/entertainment. Particularly that of a VISUAL format such as TV shows, movies and video games so that you can see a representation of the human condition and the effects it can have on characters and on the relationships and experiences of love those characters have throughout their arc in that visual art/entertainment

I LOVE the character Willow Rosenberg from 'Buffy: The Vampire Slayer'. A HUGE part of the reason why I love her so much is that I can disagree with her, call her out and express what I think is wrong with this character or what her biggest faults and flaws are. This character has a gentle nature that gets abused over the early seasons of the show and you absolutely fall in love with her throughout those seasons as you watch her grow and develop... And that makes you want to defend and protect her. She's your cinnamon roll (I think that's the right phrase to use here)... So that means that she's a very positive character for you.

But then you're forced to see her in a negative light as she becomes abusive when she starts accumulating power and desiring to control everything and everyone and have her will be done... And you have to sort of split yourself down the middle with your love for her.

You're Oz or you're Tara or you're Buffy or you're Xander in that you have to choose whether to enable her behaviour or reprimand her for it. You have to wrestle with your ego and not put aside your love for her exactly, but use it to fuel your effort to make her accountable for her behaviour and her actions. This is what Tara does. Tara is a character that is also known to be very gentle natured and that also gets abused too... And by Willow herself.

Tara: "Willow, you're using too much magic. What do you want me to do, just sit back and keep my mouth shut?"

Willow: "That'd be a good start."

Tara: "If I didn't love you so damn much I would."

As such, my need to call Willow out and express all that I think is wrong with this character is not because I hate her. Far from it. I fucking love her to absolute pieces just like Tara or Oz or Buffy or Xander does. But I am like Tara. I love her enough to want to give her tough love because that would be far more beneficial to her than if I did nothing and said nothing.

This is what I mean about finding characters in art/entertainment that SHAKE you. Ones that make you wrestle with your own ego. Ones that make you want to insert yourself in the show and give them a good slap or a talking to. Ones that make you split yourself down the middle.

Why do I want to find these characters?

Because they're the REALIST ones.

Humans are an incredibly flawed species. But they're still loved anyway. Even when they're loved with tough love. So my need to find characters in art/entertainment that represent this level of HUMAN... It's because I LOVE THEM and I want to LEARN FROM THEM. It's not because I want to critisize them or shame them or judge them or hate them. It's easy to misunderstand that that's the intention... But no, I just really fucking love real flawed human beings. And I want to covet them in a way where I also want to let them go too. It's very contradictory. Can even come off hypocritical. But character representation and development is not necessarily about a character being "good" or "better" or "improved". It's about making the AUDIENCE examine, assess and reevaluate their own thoughts, feelings and beliefs about themselves and about humanity. About THE WORLD and about the human condition taking place in it. That's why characters like Willow Rosenberg really fucking matter and why they need to be written more into art/entertainment.

You don't want a character that you love because they never have faults or flaws, they never make mistakes or they never do any wrong. I promise you.

My question to you is, do you have the tolerance for this kind of art/entertainment? Can you love it even though it frustrates you, annoys you or even angers you? Can you love a character like Willow Rosenberg even when she absolutely SHAKES you and makes you wrestle with your own ego?

If you can and you do - we need to communicate. I want to talk to you. Because you will know the kind of characters and shows that I'm looking for and the level of character charactization, representation, development and evolution that I'm looking for. Willow Rosenberg is a character that becomes both a hero and a villain at different times throughout her entire character arc. Xena is a character that starts off a villain and becomes a hero/anti-hero throughout her entire character arc. Gabrielle is a character that is incredibly good natured and innocent and kind and sweet and compassionate and STILL struggles with the human condition in a way where I still see her in a negative light sometimes and where I still feel the need to insert myself into the show to call her out at times. I still fucking love her anyway.

I am a flawed character myself. I fully acknowledge it. And because I can't always see myself as clearly as I can characters on a TV show since I am always the observer of the world and not the observed... It's very very important to me to find characters like Willow and Xena that represent me. That I relate to and that I resonate with. OR characters like Tara and Gabrielle that can love me and teach me a lot. That I can look to as a guiding light in my life. I NEED the kind of characters with so much complex depth and layers to them that they seem like REAL BREATHING CONSCIOUS PEOPLE and not just some fictional shapes and sizes some illustrator came up with or just some actors reading lines for to portray them. That's not enough for me. It never will be. So please - if you understand what I mean by the characters and shows I'm looking for...

Contact me. Communicate with me. I am specifically looking for characters and TV shows that depict and deal with THE HUMAN CONDITION.

[magicalforcesau]

Fragments of the Garden - Origins - Part 3

A companion collection to Dancing With Ghosts in Your Garden

(ao3 link)

Satine started to sit next to Obi-Wan every time she saw him at breakfast. Usually they would break out into an argument five minutes in, but even still he started showing up for breakfast more, and Satine always came back the next day.

It was Cody that had suggested they go find him at lunch hour and Satine had agreed easily, because she definitely noticed despite his appearances at breakfast, lunch and dinner were still another story entirely.

That was how she found herself, carrying two plates of food and following Cody with his plate down the hall to that empty classroom.

“Is this seat taken?” Cody asked shoving a couple of the desks together, surprising Obi-Wan completely.

“I- No?” He answered automatically.

“Good,” Satine responded, “It was a long walk here and I’m hungry,” She set down her plate in front of her and Obi-Wan’s plate in front of him. Cody was already digging into his food and he struck up a conversation with Satine quickly about their Charms homework. Obi-Wan was a little too dumbstruck to join the conversation, but did listen to them talk as he ate the food they’d brought him.

The end of the lunch period drew near and Cody collected Satine’s plate.

“Do you not like desserts or something?” Satine asked, noting the slice of apple pie sitting untouched on Obi-Wan’s plate. Being asked a direct question he responded with a surprised blush.

“It’s not that I don’t like them,” He admitted, “My mother says I can’t have any.”

“What? Why not?” Cody asked, surprised. Satine however remembered the women’s icy gaze and stayed quiet.

“She says men don’t like sweets,” He averted his gaze which was very unlike him.

“Well she’s not here right now,” Cody announced, “And what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her!”

“Cody’s right,” Satine found herself saying, “Plus he likes dessert so clearly her logic is false,” Obi-Wan opened his mouth, probably to argue when they heard the clamber of students heading their way. They grabbed their bags and Cody grabbed their plates and they headed out.

Satine decided that tomorrow she’d bring him 2 desserts.

***                                            

That night was their first Astronomy lesson. They were supposed to start much, much earlier, but the headmaster had, had a little trouble replacing their professor after the last one had been in some sort of accident. Satine couldn’t get anyone to specify past that, but she suddenly missed not having class when she was rolling out of bed at eleven to head towards the astronomy tower. The first years all went together, and she found herself walking next to Obi-Wan.

“Are you okay Satine?” He had the misfortune to ask, she glared at him, looking absolutely perfect as always.

“Make a note,” She told him, “to never wake me up, unless it’s an emergency,” Obi-Wan wasn’t sure when that would ever be useful information to have, but he stored it away anyways, with a nod.

They all sat on the floor of the tower as the oldest wizard Satine had ever seen, made his way slowly to the front of the class. He was holding a piece of parchment in shaky hands and squinted through his glasses to read it.

“Hello class,” He spoke in a raspy voice and Satine had to wonder if this poor man would even make it through the year, “I’m going to take attendance, please raise your hand when I call your name,” and with that class started.

Satine let her focus wander until he got to the J’s and tuned in right when Kenobi would be called.

“Kenobi,” The professor squinted at the paper, clearly struggling with Obi-Wan’s stupidly wordy first name, “B-Ben?” He decided on. Obi-Wan, who’s ears had gone red, raised his hand.

“It’s Obi-Wan, sir, Obi-Wan Kenobi,” He corrected, Satine could hear the embarrassment seep into his voice and she slapped a hand over her mouth to keep from snickering.

“Oh, sorry my dear boy,” He moved on quite quickly to, “Kryze, Satine.”

“I’m here,” She raised her hand, laughter coating her voice, and Obi-Wan gave her a sideways glare, but perhaps it had been worth waking up so late anyways.

***                                            

“Good Afternoon, Ben,” Satine greeted him, plunking down his lunch in front of him (two desserts as she’d decided) and sliding a desk over for herself, while Cody did the same.

“Ben?” Cody questioned, and Obi-Wan just rested his head on his arms with a groan.

“Don’t you dare tell,” His voice was muffled, so Satine elected to ignore him.

“The new astronomy teacher messed up his name during attendance,” Satine said gleefully.

“She won’t let it go,” He raised his head back up with a red-faced glare.

“Obi-Wan and Ben don’t even look alike,” Cody noted with a confused smile.

“I’m well aware,” Obi-Wan told him.

“Anyways, Ben,” Satine attempted a straight face, “I went to the trouble of picking you out two desserts today and it would be rather rude of you to not eat them.”

***                                            

Satine was struggling with a rather long and tedious history essay. She supposed Ben was too, because he’d hidden himself behind a textbook and she hadn’t seen him come up for air in hours.

“I’m never going to get this done,” She sat back against the plush blue couch with a sigh, breaking the silence she’d been dying to break for at least 30 minutes now.

“What part are you stuck on?” He asked without even putting the book down.

“I have all the information, I think,” She mused, “But I’m struggling with how to format it,” At that Ben did lower the book.

“Do you want me to look it over for you?” He asked and she shook her head.

“I was thinking of taking it to my mentor actually,” Satine admitted. Ben seemed to freeze at the mention of a mentor, but didn’t make any move to go back to his reading.

“That would be a good idea,” He agreed slowly, “They’ve probably written the same paper,” She could tell Ben was now attempting to hide behind his book to finish the conversation, they’d been friends for around a month and he just kept getting easier and easier to read. She grabbed the spine of his book and pushed it down.

“I’ve never asked you,” Satine thought out loud, “Who’s your mentor?” Ben froze again and she could see he was trying very hard not to avert his eyes, “I’ve never seen you with anyone else in the common room? Are they from a different house?”

“No they’re a Ravenclaw,” Ben started slowly, “They’re just much older than you’d expect,” Satine furrowed her brow at him and he continued knowing the answer would be pulled from him one way or another, “You know our fifth years aren’t a very big class,” He tried before trying again, “You know Qui-Gon right?”

“Professor Qui-Gon is your mentor?” Satine asked incredulously, Obi-Wan then did avert his eyes.

“Well like I said, year five isn’t a very big class, and people probably saw ‘Kenobi’ and decided to choose someone else,” He trailed off, “It’s not so bad I like Professor Jinn,” Satine shoved the book out of his hands and wrapped her arms around him suddenly. It was only for a moment before she pulled back.

“I’m sorry, Ben,” She told him.

“I- Well, yes,” Ben seemed a little dazed, but Satine thought not much of it, and instead went about gathering her papers together.

“I’ve got to run if I want to catch the fifth years when they get out of class,” She told him standing up, “I’ll be back later though, if you want me to look over yours,” He nodded, gathering his book off the floor.

“Alright, thank you Satine.”

***                                            

The snow was falling outside the window as the train pulled out of the station, Ben was staring out the window, brooding, and had been for some time. Satine had originally elected to ignore it in favor of chatting happily with Cody about their Christmas plans, but as time wore on, she couldn’t take it any longer.

“What are you planning on doing for the holidays Ben?” Once the words were out of her mouth, she saw Cody wince and had a sudden need to backtrack and delete the last second of her life.

“Oh, the holidays?” Ben contemplated, stretching his hands over his head and readjusting to actually look at his friends, “My parents will be throwing their annual Christmas Party. I suppose I will be hosting,” Satine remembered then, Cody’s mention of the Kenobi’s parties and she suddenly realized that going home for Ben, may not be the joyful celebration it was for her and Cody.

“You should write to us!” Satine demanded, “I don’t know what I’ll do all break if I don’t have someone to argue with,” She exclaimed dramatically. Cody rolled his eyes, but looked at Ben and nodded.

“I could use a distraction from my little brothers, I’d gladly welcome a reason to hole up in my room,” He grinned.

“My owl could use the exercise,” Ben joked, but then added, “If I can find a way, I’ll send you an owl.”

The trolley came by then and Ben bought each of them a sweet for the ride home. Satine contemplated, as she watched his eyes light up upon discovering his chocolate frog card, that she really didn’t know a lot about him. She vowed that come next semester she would start to learn even more, but until then she was just happy to be on a warm train sharing sweets and laughter with her two closest friends.

[grim-faux]

2 _ 29 _ The Funeral

First

TW For mild mention of blood and tooth loss 

Not sleeping was the norm. How bothersome a need it was, sometimes he doubted it was really all that necessary. More of a hazard than anything, to be so out of touch with the world for… for… for however long it took. He didn’t know. All he knew was, when your legs couldn’t carry you, you found a place to nest down. In a pack everyone nested together, someone kept watch and made sure the dream haunts didn’t get too horrible.

 Some kids, like Mono, did the half sleep. It was hard to get right, since all the work and bits of scavenged food contributed to utter exhaustion. Most children would only risk a full sleep if they thought they would likely die anyway. Some kids were just nuts. The lack of full sleep and mix of dream haunts made children go off the deep end.

 One time Mono saw a kid go off the deep end. It was back when he was so tiny, he could get overlooked by some monsters. He barely knew what he was let alone who he was. The world was a wild and ruthless place, and it all swirled around his barely coherent head where everything was hostile and depraved. Or hungry.

 It was the first pack he knew. Older kid and Smaller kid. He was in the middle in height and experience. They perched in a lump on a windowsill of some hut, he thought it was a hut. It was forever ago. Older kid made the decisions, and he was big, and he was trying to decide how to get out of the window with all of them together. Mono was only a little bigger than Smaller kid, so he took it upon himself to keep the boy (or girl? He really didn’t know) from falling. The thing putting a hitch in the plan was an adult far below, sitting on a makeshift bench, warming its hands on a fire sprouting from a tall canister.

 Junk lay everywhere, metal siding and lumber, tall canister filled with more stuff. Furniture, old ovens and crushed refrigerators, more metal and jagged things between those. No shortage of hiding spaces, but no direction either. Some of the piled high debris looked on the verge of collapse, if the adult was intent enough. A pyramid of mix and matched domestic refuse collapsed, trapping them in this space. They wanted out.

 The weirdest noise came from below, but due to the height and the jumbled terrain it was impossible to fix the actual place. At the time, Mono had never heard such a racket.

 Then this sticky figure tore out from a wedge among piles of cement and darted across the ruined floor, to the adult.

 Made a beeline across ruble, climbed a steep incline. To reach the adult.

 The memory jarred Mono a bit. He rubbed at his eyes, scrubbing out the gummy sensation from another yawn. Despite the rain, he felt very dry and muggy. While the Thin Man paused to study the large speek pictures on a standing board, he went to the curbside and sipped at the water in the gutter. It looked mostly clean, the unyielding rain ran fast and cold.

 His hat tipped off and he had to snatch it before the rapids swept it away. When he sprang back up, the Thin Man was already striding away with a swell of gray vapor trailing his hat. It was always a struggle to keep pace with the Thin Man, especially when he flashed ahead. Sometimes Mono could skip across open chasms or skip through barriers of ruble, but that wore him down.

 In a flicker, the Thin Man reappeared within the other side of a broken-out window. Some suitcases and a crate gave Mono the boost, allowing him to conserve his energy. He tried not to overuse the teleporting, even if the Thin Man insisted he needed practice. It was most reliable when he wasn’t so tuckered out, but his head had cleared up since the last stop and rest spot.

 The building was one of the food places. She called it restaurant. It was a kitchen, or a place attached to a kitchen. Foods? Stop and eat?

 He hurried over to the Thin Man and grabbed his ankle. The tall figure dropped his scrutiny of the many tables and toppled chairs, to check with him.

 “Hey,” Mono whispered. He bounced on his tiptoes and pointed to the big counter. The kitchen and foods. Check for foods. “The eats.” Over there.

 The Thin Man averted his gaze and kept walking. The actual door of the diner place was beside another larger window, where a long counter stretched with a line of chairs anchored to the floor.

 Too dangerous, Mono supposed. The tall thin man preferred the quiet rooms with lots of shadows and furniture, places for Mono to hide and feel safe. He didn’t like the incidents.

 While the Thin Man flickered and faded out, Mono was left to… find a…. He looked around a bit. Beneath a table, he located a bucket. He carried it over to the anchored chairs, plopped it down and climbed on top. Once he found a broken portion of the window he could crawl out of, he checked the sidewalk. As always, the Thin Man moved fast in his methodical pace, he was halfway down the city block and blurred with the heavy mist of rainfall.

 A few times, the Thin Man did speek like they were going someplace specific. The man in the hat was always away, going somewhere and finding food. Usually a toy. He didn’t grasp what a place would be, where he would want to stay. Mono wouldn’t stay anywhere. Not forever, anyway. Even the Thin Man admitted it wasn’t a good idea, to keep one place.

 By the time he caught up with the Thin Man, he was well out of breath and gasping on the heavy air. At least it looked like the sidewalk was clear for a distance. He stole a deep breath and yawned. His face hurt from all this yawning.

 Most likely, the man in the hat wanted the right place to nest. It was funny to think of an adult nesting, but the musing conjured up twisted thoughts of the Hunter and his nightmare world of rot and strange fake pack. Fake. Fake. F̶͔͋ā̶̧͌̄̍̚k̷̖̹̜̺̈́̎̃̾ẻ̶͚̬͔̰͐.

 Crack!

 Mono spat blood. His hands slapped over his mouth and he choked, more blood and a little something piece. Drawing his hands back, he stared at the vibrant color in his palm and the broken bit. Raindrops cleared some of the color, and he could see more of his skin. Along with the piece. His tooth!

 It hurt and he was bleeding pretty good. What did he do? What happened? He snapped his teeth together, and the tooth cracked! He’d been so careful, chewing the best that he could.

 The Thin Man! He was getting away, crossing the road.

 Mono chased, despite not getting his second wind. The Thin Man won’t wait. He needed to stop though, he had to check the damage while everything was calm. He had to fix this somehow. The tooth was broke clean away, he tried to look at the thing while he ran. This was stupid. And he had a dumb gap where his tooth should be, blood all over his gums. How did teeth work? Glue? Sticky tape?

 At current, nothing could be done with the tooth. He jammed it in his pocket and focused on keeping pace with the tall thin man.

 On the other side of the road opened a narrow alley, which appeared to suit the Thin Man’s direction. The debris wasn’t out of control, the usual boxes and dumpsters from the business which had access to the passage. Mono still didn’t like alleys and tried to keep close to the tall figure; whatever radiance spared by the canopy was all but shunned from, among the imposing buildings huddled in.

 The few barriers that came about, one being a fence and the other a wide gap, Mono managed on his own. When it came to the sizable gap, which he had no confidence in teleporting across as the Thin Man did, he had to explore his surroundings. And fast. There was the ladder of a fire escape, and from there a long vertical pole anchored to the side of the building. A portion of the building was indeed hollowed and ruined, by the formation of the chasm. However, a long cable dangled a few feet down, from some window, prompting Mono to take a leap of faith.

 All went well enough, if not panic inducing. Mono made it back to the buckled floor of the alley and rushed after the man in the hat. If he asked, maybe the Thin Man would chase him again? Or was busy with other children? The man in the hat just didn’t like to chase Mono.

 When he reached the alley end, he looked out before taking the full run after the tall thin man. He wondered where they would be going, or when they would reach; he needed sit and quiet. The row of skyscrapers on this side of the block appeared lamenting their stature and drooped dangerously backwards. A Viewer crashed to the road and lay, shards of glass glittering in its scalp and face.

 Mono tilted his head far back and examined the heights, and the rain shimmering. He turned a little and winced when he spied the Thin Man glaring at him, a thick plume of vapor obscuring his eyes. Tucking his head low, Mono began to move closer.

 “W̷̹̌h̶̜̑ã̴̤t̶͇͐ ̶̟̑H̵̘͝a̵̗̾p̶̗͘p̸̥͋ḛ̸̏n̴̺̽ḙ̶͋d̴̹̀?̵͛ͅ”

 Mono stalled and tightened his shoulders. He wasn’t careful. Hurt himself again. He used the bandage on his arm to wipe the blood from his chin. “Aam safe,” he rasped. “S’okay.”

 “M̶̤̀ô̸̳n̸̩̓o̴̟̊.̸̭̉.̷̱̄.̶̝͛.̸͖̌” The voice crackled. “A̴̘̔ȑ̴̜è̶̡ ̷̛͔Y̶̙͆o̸̙͠u̶̩͛ ̶̡̏L̸̩î̴͚c̶̢̏k̸̩̈i̸͚̓n̷͜͝ḡ̵̬ ̸̛̭T̸̜͗ẖ̴̂a̵̰͒t̷̪̀ ̵̖́Ẃ̶̼ô̸̝u̴̠̒ṋ̵̌d̸̺̚ ̴̈́͜Ȁ̵̗g̵̋ͅȁ̵̦i̶͇̍ņ̸̕?̵̢̅”

 He shook his head. That was the truth. “Not.” He held up his arm, showing the soaked bandage. “S’not. Th’s good.”

 That wasn’t good enough for the Thin Man. The tall, narrow shadow stretched as he closed in on Mono. In response, Mono skittered backwards by a few steps, but resisted a full-on retreat. The bandaged arm he held to its fullest extent, as if to answer all the perplexities in the Thin Man’s hat. Alas, there were no good enough answers for the Thin Man.

 The Thin Man knelt on one knee and held out his hands. “Let me see.”

 Mono shook his head and withdrew further. “Not. Aam right.”

 “W̴̝̋h̴̰͠e̷͉r̶̨͝ê̶͔ ̷͆ͅD̶̲̿i̸͉̚d̷͓͠ ̴͖̔T̷̨͝h̵͍͐a̸̗͆t̶͙̽ ̴̲̽B̴͔͠l̴̞̀ō̶ͅö̸̠́d̴͚̔ ̷͇͘C̶̯͘o̵͍͝m̷̪͆e̶̞͒ ̸̰̿F̸̻͝r̶̩̚ŏ̴̫m̵̱͒?̷̹̏ I need to know.” He reached out further. “Last warning.”

 With no alternatives and full of angry thoughts, Mono hissed.

 And was unceremoniously snatched off the sidewalk. His hat toppled off his head, and he dearly missed it. This time he didn’t fuss or thrash, Mono hung inert as the fingers pulled at his arms and prodded his chest, turning him this or that way, nudging at his ribs and spine. There wasn’t much he could do, but avert his face and let the Thin Man satisfy his curiosity.

 It reminded him of the fake children.

 “W̸͓͘h̵͎̎e̵̳̕ṛ̵̿ě̸̥ ̶̺̕A̵͈̚r̴̤̓e̴̟͊ ̶͍̅Y̶͉̅o̶̯͆û̸͉ ̶͍̓H̸͈͐u̷̦r̶̭͝t̶̹?̶̤”

 The one on the other side of the gate. She used the key to carve open a frog. He hated the fake children.

 “C̷̫͛ǫ̴̆ǫ̵́p̸̰̍è̷̥r̸̭̊â̴̮ṱ̴̽e̶̲͑ ̶̙̓W̶͇̽i̷̛͙ť̷͎h̵̦͊ ̶̗̆M̸̳͊e̷̫̊ ̶̺̐Ȍ̶ͅr̴͚̃ ̵̼͆İ̶̥'̶̪̽l̵̼̎l̷̯̚ ̷̈ͅG̵̦̚i̷̗̓v̵̼̾ȅ̶̝ ̴͇̎Y̵̜͠o̷̮̊u̸͑ͅ ̷̡̃S̴̉͜o̷̫̕m̴̻e̴̼̒ẗ̵̠́h̷͕̉i̵͔͐n̶̳͋g̴̫͝ ̷͕̇T̴̞̐o̸͔̓ ̷̭͐W̷̧̍h̵̩̔ḭ̷̀m̵̟̈́p̷̗̋ę̷̎r̸̼̃ ̵̘̑A̵͙̋b̸͓̀o̵͓u̴̙̿t̵̝̉.̸̠̃”

 They were creepy and did frightening things to each other. She looked so happy, ripping out the inside parts. Like the Hunter. Take stuff out, put other stuff in. The Thin Man was prying his coat off. He didn’t care.

 “D̴͍̊i̷͍͠d̶̯̿ ̵̕ͅY̴̠̑ȍ̶̥ŭ̵͉ ̵̊͜F̴͝ͅa̸͕̾l̸̜̍ļ̶͆?̸͉̈́ Did you hit your side? Where does it hurt? What is the matter?”

 If the man in the hat wasn’t careful, he was going to break him. Or rip his arm off. But after struggling with his listless arms, Mono was liberated of one fantastic coat. He wanted it back, but the Thin Man wanted it more. Keeping his breathing even was becoming difficult, he was soggy and very tried, and very hungry too. He wanted to be in a snug space in the wall, or fitted into a cupboard with some clothing. Sleeping.

 “Ĭ̸̖ ̶̡͋D̷̛̩ỏ̷̹ ̸̡̊N̵̺͠o̸͙͆ṭ̷͝ ̴̟̚R̶̛͚e̶͈͘c̵̖a̴̤̅l̶̗͝l̶̙͗ ̵̖̓G̴͎̐e̶̞̋t̸̪͑t̷̺͛ǐ̵ͅn̶̢̎g̴̮̍ ̴̗̅T̴̜̔h̷̨̑i̵̺͌s̴͇̅ ̷̭̉B̶͈̋ľ̵̰ò̷̧o̶͍̽d̶͉͠i̶͕͂e̷̺͆ď̵̪ ̷̧͝Û̷̙p̵͙̏ ̸̯̾W̶̳͑h̵̭͑e̶͍͝n̵͖ ̷̧̀I̸̬̐ ̶͈̌W̵̼̊ä̷̪́s̷̮̎ ̸̗͒Ÿ̶͍ơ̶̲u̸̝̕,̴͍̃” or whatever.

 Mono crushed the groan in his throat as the man in the hat squeezed roughly at his guts, as if trying to supply an injury in the absence of one. The treatment knocked the air out of his lungs and probably bruised him, but he wasn’t sure what to say. At all. The Thin Man always went nuts when he got cut. This wasn’t new. It likely wouldn’t stop either.

 “J̷̪͆U̸̗͘Ş̴̈́T̵̝͋ ̷̺̈́S̶̳̏P̴͉̈́E̶͈̍E̵̫̅K̴͇̑!̶̬͗ ̵͓̀ WHAT IS THE MATTER?” The Thin Man held him with his glinting eyes, the bill of his cap barred the droplets from hitting Mono.

 “E’tooth,” he mumbled. Where was his coat? He looked aside. Those eyes became infinitely more intense and deadly.

 “Ỳ̸̟ò̸̧u̷̡͗r̵͇̓.̸̽ͅ.̵͍̚.̶̢̈́ ̵̮̌Ṯ̶̈ȏ̶͖o̷͇̚t̶͓͊h̸̞̾?̶̰͊” drawled the man in the hat.

 Mono nodded. The Thin Man held his body cradled in his palms, and he didn’t suspect this would end well. Should the Thin Man decide to dump him and go away, Mono could try and find him later. That was possible. Maybe. He would chase.

 He did whine when the Thin Man pinched him around the face, the pressure popped his jaw open. The smoke and static saturated the air, he could pretty much taste it. He envisioned a dusty, dry hollow beneath a dresser, where he could hide and not be looked at. Dark and hidden, lost completely and detached from the cold, soaked, miserable world. For a while he could forget who he was, where he wanted to go.

 “I̶̢̓s̷̛̟ ̵̥͐T̸͓̅h̶͚̆a̶͓͆t̶̗͌ ̶̧̓A̴̓ͅl̴̬̔l̴̝͆ ̵͍̈́T̸̟͘h̴̭͗a̸̠͌t̵͕̀ ̷̫͌I̶̼͗s̸̳̋ ̸̦̂W̵͎͌ṛ̶͝o̵̖̊n̷̪̏g̴̘̓?̶͈̔ A missing tooth?”

 Even if he wasn’t restrained, Mono had no response. It was a little more than, “Is that all?” as if nothing was wrong. He didn’t want to lose one or any teeth. Some kids lost all their teeth, and eating was much more tedious. Eating on its own was a peril, and then to have no teeth for biting or fighting.

 “Where did it go? Did you swallow it?”

 When he was finally released, Mono sat up from the fingers and shook his head. As well, he held his face. Hurt.

 “C’n fix?” he whispered. “Way to’ix?” With some hope, he pried the tooth from his pocket and held the piece between his fingers. He inched down as the Thin Man leaned closer, studying (for him) the microscopic thing.

 His next statement shattered Mono. “There is nothing to fix. Your teeth are going to come out.”

 That was not what he wanted. Really? All! How would he fight children? Or be angry at the Thin Man? He already hated the sensation of one missing tooth. But a whole mouth?

 Mono coughed on blood. “No. But fix? Can?” The tall thin man set him down on the sidewalk, and Mono struggled to stand straight on his numb feet and offer his tooth. “S’way? Mah tooth? Broke.” He stared at the coat offered to him, by the Thin Man’s hands. He snatched the coat away and hugged it to his chest.

 All his teeth? Come out. He has to stop that from happening.

 “Your tooth is not broken,” the static rustled. “It was supposed to come out. As will they all.”

 Mono didn’t want to listen. He curled down with his coat, clutching the lost tooth until his fingernails bore into his palm. “Not. T’bad.” The static whirred through his bones, like the rain pelting the sidewalk surrounding him. The cold shadow draped over him. He couldn’t imagine eating with no teeth.

 “Mono,” the static rumbled. “Come now. It isn’t the end of the world.” A strange tense pause followed, the electricity bristled. “Your teeth will come back.”

 That last noise caught Mono’s attention. Did he hear right? It was always hard with the Thin Man. “Teeth?” He turned his face up, searching for insight or guidance. Was the Thin Man lie? How did tooth come back? “Mean? Teeth.” The Thin Man tilted his head, regarding him. The look was strange. Was disappointed.

 “Not all at once.” The Thin Man pushed off his knee and slowly stood to his full height. Mono glared up at him, suspicious yet. “Not long, a new tooth will sprout where the old one held occupancy.”

 Mono didn’t understand. “Ock-pency?”

 The Thin Man took his smoke thing and tapped it. “You’ll get a new tooth. That gap will not be there forever.”

 A new tooth. He’ll have a new tooth. “Not trick? Aam’tooth back?” He stumbled back when the Thin Man nudged him off with his shoe. “How know?” He chased after the Thin Man when he began walking.

 “You are child,” he supplied, tone cracking. “All children lose their teeth at some point. Then, you will get your new teeth. Ḅ̷̕e̸̺͊t̶̮́ţ̶̀è̶͙r̶̮͂ ̵̢̔T̸̖̈ȅ̴͔ě̵̥ṭ̴͝h̵̙̄.̶̦”

 Why did he sound angry? Was better teeth not good? He still didn’t understand anything, but he wasn’t so sad. Maybe it would be okay.

 “Do you still have that tooth?”

 Did want? Mono rushed after the Thin Man, holding up his tooth. He didn’t think the man in the hat would actually be able to hold it. For the tall-tall thin man, it was about the same size as a grain of sand; Mono had a hard time holding tiny bits of crumbs, he didn’t know if the Thin Man could do that.

 The Thin Man looked his way, the corner of his lip twitching. “No. You keep that safe.” The tall figure continued his leisurely saunter. “We will do something about that.”

 That didn’t sound great and Mono was dubious about the “do something”. Regardless, he hurried after the lazy pace of the tall thin man, bouncing over a crumbled cardboard box and wadded shirts packed onto the cracked pavement. As he goes, he managed to untangle his wadded coat and slip it securely over his arms, the fabric was waterlogged despite its resistant cover. He stuck the tooth in his pocket and crawled over a slanted piece of furniture; other debris and chunks of material from a buildings interior littered the sidewalk.

 Eventually, the bleeding of his gum stopped. It still tasted off, and Mono stopped to get another quick sip of water from a storm gutter, before racing after the man in the hat. He was always very cautious of the dark openings between buildings, or hollowed spaces beneath the stairs reaching up for crumbling doorways. As typical as the rain fell, keeping close to the Thin Man made him feel safe-eR in the presence of strange clicking manifestations lurking, observing with vacant empty skulls, gnashing cracked teeth jammed into swollen jaws.

 The adult… monster, didn’t pay attention to those strange bent creatures. Not often but occasionally, he thought he saw something lumbering and yellow, huddled deep in an alley. A large frame of yellow curled over wild and stringy hair, arms twisted into impossible directions, fingers scarred and nails splintered. There was nothing ever there, he knows, he’s certain. He blinked and wrenched around, but always, the disjointed nightmare has vanished. And he would scurry after the Thin Man, checking around the weaving strides in case a long arm breached its boarders, to reach out and swipe for him.

 She was gone. She would never come back for him.

 The infinite road receded at some point, to sandbags and packed gravel. Leaning and cracked skyscraper would never be in short supply, and remained as a constant frame of the world. The Pale City. The territory Mono had come to exist in, with no clear exit, no defined escape, no roads led out from the decrepit ruins. The buildings extended to the end of the world, there was nothing beyond the horizon but more lofty skyrises full of televisions and creatures hiding in the gouged shell of a forgotten world.

 A tree and another, and another, stand dwarfed by the backdrop. Somehow, the Thin Man’s imposing stature is humbled by the knotted branches reaching for natural radiance, but denied. Other items, such as a crushed television or half-submerged desk, stand out across the spongy landscape. A partially buried portion of window is also there, and the remains of more buildings and all the things forgotten from the inside worlds.

 And the chair.

 The tall thin man held up short to regard the slanted furniture piece on the knoll. After a puff of smoke, the figure continued walking. Mono stood longer, observing. This was so familiar, like something he saw in a dream. Somehow the chair conveyed such… betrayal and hurt, but also comfort. Of so much time but nothing happening. He was waiting. It was waiting for him.

 With a shake of his head, he broke the trance and charged across the gravel. He couldn’t see the tall thin man or really smell him, if not for the footprints fitted deep in the soft soil he might've lost his way completely among the scraggily brush. Mono jumped over some of the imprints and others he weaved around; water collected in the troughs quickly, creating a sequence of vibrating pools.

 “Beach,” Mono murmured, to himself. He didn’t see the big water, he couldn’t hear it over the drone of static and thrumming rain splattering the rolling mounds. A few times, his feet sink deep into the soil, but he is swift to liberate himself – crawl from the mud – and picked his way more carefully across the terrain.

 At the end of the impressions long trail, he discovered the Thin Man poised beneath a tall tree scuffing the soil with his shoe. “Bury your tooth.”

 Curious but more dubious, Mono peeked around a pillar of a leg. He sniffled and inched forward. “For whu?” A puddle already began collecting in the bottom of the hole.

 “It’s a farewell,” the static rustled. “You can say goodbye to the tooth. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

 Goodbye. Mono didn’t like goodbyes. He didn’t have many, everyone he once knew was taken. Snatched away. Keeping someone or anything, was temporary. There was no such thing as goodbye, only loss and regret.

 “Has keep?” he uttered, with a tug to the Thin Man’s ankle. “Sad f’leave. Not.” The Thin Man shuffled away from him.

 “You don’t need to keep it. You need to say goodbye.” The man in the hat peered down at him, and tilted his head. “It’s no use to you.”

 NoNoNoNo. No goodbyes! It was his, he had to keep it! She left him when he was no good. The tooth was still good, it was his fault. He broke it. He did the wrong. And he lost another hat too!

 Mono huddled down, searching the scraggily shrubs and waterlogged clothing, yet there was no place to crawl into for hide and wait. “Not. Aam tooth.” He wrapped his arms up over the back of his neck and rubbed at his hair. He didn’t want the goodbye. He wanted his tooth back.

 And what if the Thin Man was just strange too, like him? What if his tooth never grew back? There could be a way to fix this, and put it back. Maybe he needed to set it back in place and it would be okay. He had to do something.

 The static whirred. “Child. You can’t keep it. You have to let it go.”

 Mono shook his head. “Be lone’ee. T’leave,” he choked. “Still good. If’ex

 It was very-very quiet for a long while, only the prattle of rain on the sound gravel and the trickle of rushing gulley’s across the ripple landscape. Hours might’ve passed, or it was only minutes, Mono couldn’t tell. He huddled under the downpour, trying to squeeze all the drenching from the layers of his clothing. His undershirt hadn’t gotten soaked too badly, but it was still damp from layers of mist.

 When he couldn’t stand the grueling drag of the clock, Mono turned his head up and looked to the tall thin man in the hat. The impassive figure watched through a swell of smoke, only a fraction of the chiseled face defined – unimpressed. Dissatisfied by Mono’s powers of reasoning.

 With a wet hiccup, Mono dug around in his pocket until he had the tooth secured. He moved up a bit, on his knee and hand, until he was at the edge of the hole. It was a good depth, but that came as no surprise as the Thin Man dug it. He was cautious about getting too near the edge, in case the Thin Man decided to bury Mono as well.

 He extended his hand and let the tooth fall into the murky puddle at the pit. When the tooth was relieved of his grasp, the Thin Man began nudging soil in over the liberated bit of white. However, Mono was not completely settled on the idea, and remained crouched beside the opening, observing intently as the layers added on. Until the surface of the ground was even with his hands.

 “Still t’ere,” Mono mumbled.

 “Sure it is,” the static hummed. “Maybe it will make this tree grow big and strong.”

 Mono didn’t look up, but opted to keep his laser focus on the disturbed soil. “Tree’s ded.” A terse silence followed. He began prying at clumps of saturated gravel.

 “Don’t do that, child. Let it be.” The Thin Man bent over and gripped Mono by his shoulder.

 “No,” he wheezed. “Lon’eh. Be sad. Aam not want’d.” He couldn’t shrug from the finger pinching him, hauling him away. “Want. D’nt not wrong. Was good.” When he was released, he went right back to the scuffed earth and resumed pawing at the surface. Even if it was futile, and he couldn’t hope to displace that much cold dirt.

 Mono winced at the snap from above and retreated back off the grave, muddy arms tucked under his stomach. The Thin Man brought down a branch and jammed it into the ground.

 “Your tooth will no longer be lonely. It has a tol friend,” grumbled the Thin Man. He resumed his impressive stature and crossed his arms, observing with a thick plume of smoke. While Mono uncurled himself and scooted closer to the crooked tree limb, standing mighty beneath the heavy rainfall. The branch was narrow and straight, its top splayed like a spiderweb.

 For an unknown span, Mono stood and regarded the branch. “Keep,” he murmured. “S’safe now.”

 With a scratchy sigh, the Thin Man swung away and walked. “Yes. Absolutely.” After a few steps, he paused and looked back. It took much longer than reasonable to discern what it was he wanted to convey. “Did you want to tell… your tooth something, before leaving?”

 As before, Mono was huddled down and focused on the patch of churned soil. He shrugged his shoulders and stood up. The Thin Man took this cue, and resumed his leisure movement. Every yard or meter, Mono still had to slow his dash in order to look back. Keep view of the tall tree, the branch beneath it, and the patch or worn gravel. Soon the mist obscured the ragged space of ground, and it was only the branch and the tree visible in the thickening vapor. The next time Mono glimpsed back, it is only the tall dead tree among its gathering of other dead trees. Then at last they reach a section of ruptured road, and the looming structures of melancholy buildings.

 Mono grabbed the Thin Man’s ankle, tugging and pulling, until he lost his footing and skidded to his face on the muddy asphalt. Recovering in haste, he lunged for the tall thin man’s ankle trying to get his attention with vigorous yanking. Finally, the tall figure stopped and glared down on him. Mono wished he had a hat.

 “Th’r still,” he hissed. “Wait. But… hide.” Mono pointed the way they came, though he is certain the man in the hat wouldn’t grasp his meaning. “We… can re’ember.” With a flicker, the Thin Man reappeared a distance away, on his slow stride. Huffing, Mono followed.

 “I would say so,” the Thin Man crackled. “You will never forget, will you?”

 Mono shook his head, while he jammed a finger in his mouth and felt for that weird space inhabiting his mouth. Tooth gone. He wasn’t going to get used to it. He wanted to ask more, but he was taxed as it was from the distressing event and everything he had to think about. Losing a tooth hurt, would the hurt always be there? As well, the obstacles and keeping up with the Thin Man.

 He tried not to yawn anymore.

 The road the Thin Man followed, fell apart on one side. It wasn’t a complete gaping chasm, but the depth was severe and to the furthest Mono could make out, ledges and shattered staircases decorated the inner maw. At the opposite side, a portion of the road and its line marks dipped deep into the rocky side. A slanted electrical/telephone pole hung by its base, its cord connecting across the wound to another of the same city decoration. The Thin Man flashed, bypassing the line sloped across the road.

 Sometimes seeing the wide rifts like that one gave Mono a think about so much, such as what he was doing, where he was going. Planning never ceased, he had to always be on alert, keep watch, and find food for him and the Thin Man (One day the Thin Man might change his mind), and keep the shelter safe. Learn new tricks too, that was most important. Only so many hide spots could keep one safe.

 Adults did speek to each other too! Mono didn’t really understand that, not until the Thin Man studied the marks left on poster paper, a swarm of it pinned to a cinderblock wall beside a window. The large pages held so much mark speek, and some picture speek. Mono didn’t understand the pictures, they were too faded. However, the tall thin man seemed able to figure through the mark speek.

 The Thin Man looked down at Mono, and Mono felt that familiar swath of warmth in his chest. He didn’t have pack, but he had… together. A someone. He smiled at the man in the hat. Searching for a safe place was always his favorite. Not being left, but doing stuff. To the explore was important, always! New foods. New hide spaces. New places and things to look at.

 New dangers. Not his favorite. But danger was always following. Flee was endless, even if the monsters hadn’t found them yet.

 With a little grimace, the man in the hat went on his way. Ever and always casual with his stride, never in a hurry to reach wherever he was going. And Mono chased.

 This is what he did now. He chased the Thin Man. Later, maybe he could find some paper and crayons. If the Thin Man was interested in the speek, they could try share again. It would be nice if he could go with the man in the hat, to the danger places he sought. The whole city was no good, and he should make certain the Thin Man stayed safe. The tall thin man may not be good at tricks, but he was good at getting away. Flee would always be most important.

 Mono managed a skip in his step. So much to do, so much to plan. When he got close enough to the tall thin man, he tugged on his ankle. Just to let him know he was there and close.

 The rain became more intense as the two figures ventured along a broken section of road, a gnarled banking path with an upheaval in its eventual future course. Until averting their path, the travelers followed the street faithfully. The sizzling curtain of droplets scrubbed out the child’s shape first, but not soon thereafter the tall, impossibly narrow stature of the man in the hat dissolved away, as if scoured out by the lashing static of television screen; his trademark hat blurred among the weaving streaks, before that too vanished entirely.

 High above the city blanket of warped and shattered superstructures, one lone monolith stands uncontested at the crux of the angry, churning clouds. The hot ember of the Signal Tower shimmered brightest, cutting through haze and fog; it glowered upon the knotted and twisted roads, the skewered thoroughfares. To it, the entirety of the Pale City is naught, but an ant farm filled with burrows and aimless, wandering drones. The Tower shakes the canister which holds the soil; buildings topple, denizens of the Signal are tussled or crushed, absorbed completely and assimilated to the one true Eye. The world, its world, renews. The workers rebuild the bare essentials to hold the Viewers in rapt attention, the Signal persists. The Flesh is eternal.

 Beneath its thrumming heartbeat, it demanded adoration. Passion. Obsession.

 Lives.

 The Signal Tower is never deliberate in its methods, but it achieves all goals established. Regardless the stakes, notwithstanding the cost, no matter how messy that gets.

 All it needs do is exist and wait. It is and shall always be.

Next

[jjuzoir]

To Date Itaru Chigasaki

Request: “insert here”

A/N: I had to split the request in 2 posts!! due to formatting 🙇‍♀️ so sorry!!

- You two met at a gaming shop!

- You were looking for a gift for your best friend’s younger sister, as much as you liked games yourself- buying one for a 12 year old was another story.

- You were freaking out- you had been in the store for almost an hour searching and nothing would come up.

- You were afraid of not getting a gift at all- that is until you felt a tap from a man in a suit.

- “You look like you’re ten seconds away from crying,” Itaru looked at you, “Need some help?”

- He didn’t know why he’d helped you, you were kind of cute and, unlike with other things, he was a bit more open to helping others when it came to video games.

- “Please,” you turned around, “I need a game for a 12 year old but I just don’t know! I-I don’t want her to think I think she’s a child but she can’t play anything too… you know, grown up or else her parents will kick my ass.” You whine, maybe if things had gone better you’d be embarrassed but embarrassment is simply something you cannot feel right now, you’re against the clock and you’re tired.

- “Hmm, a 12 year old girl… thought about Puppy Crossing?”

- And that’s how you spent the next 30 minutes, discussing a game for the kid with a 20-something year old blue collar.

- By the end you had bought the gift plus a recommendation Itaru had given you based on your short, but surprisingly sweet, interaction.

- The second time you met was, again, at the store but this time it was for you instead of a kid. Thankfully.

- He was wearing another suit, you guessed he really was an office worker; what was he doing here though? What business would guy with such a high paying job, you assumed by his suit and clothes, have in such a small game store in the middle of a gaming street.

- You shrugged it off before returning to browsing, you really shouldn’t judge.

- After a few minutes he noticed you and approached you asking about the game he’d recommended for the girl last time. After gladly informing him about the success the gift had- both of you quickly began talking about the game he’d recommended you.

- After that you two began meeting up in the shop- not on purpose or anything, it just kind of happened.

- In most situations he might’ve been annoyed but for some reason he couldn’t really bring himself to be mad. He enjoyed being able to shamelessly talk about games, online and competitive, pay to win or free to play, with a cute person who didn’t judge him.

- It became a weekly occurrence and you really enjoyed it. Eventually he asked you out on a date, it’d be in an internet cafe near the store, and you said yes.

- You were looking forward to being able to know him better, not in a store or just as friends but maybe… as a possible s/o? You slap your cheeks at the thought, silly [Name], that wouldn’t happen... right?

- That is until he called in sick stating he had grown ill with the flu and you were worried, he sounded like he was in hell based on the phone call. He was coughing, his voice sounded muffled, he kept sneezing too, you were surprised he could even dial with how bad he sounded.

- When you tried to call him his number went straight to voicemail so you did what anyone would do;

- You called in to his home number (which he had given you when he gave you his business card, yes he gave you his business card instead of giving you his phone number like a normal person).

- “Hello, Izumi Tachibana speaking.” Your heart kind of stops when you hear a woman’s voice and you wonder if maybe you’d been a side piece, but thinking back to Itaru and how he acted with you - you doubted it.

- “Izumi? Ah, eh… is a Itaru Chigasaki there?”

- “Itaru? Yes, I can give him a message, who’s calling?”

- “Ah, tell him it’s [Name] from the store, I was just worried about him…”

- “[Name], huh? Wait, you mean you’re [Name] [Last Name]?”

- “Ehh… yes?”

- Turns out Itaru had told his roommate maybe wife maybe kid(?) about you?

- You didn’t know he had roommates, he looked well off so why couldn’t he afford a house? Maybe she was a girlfriend and they were in a open relationship? So many questions…

- You thought you wouldn’t really mind but it turns out your cheeks were now bright red when Izumi explained how Itaru had been talking about you often and promptly invited you to check up on Itaru, who was in fact ill. She also gave you a rundown of the situation, turns out he was part of some acting company and she was the director, so with a lighter heart you decided to take her up on going over to check on him.

- Big mistake.

- You were going to stop by after work, you decided, you’d also go and buy him some soup for his stomach just in case. You arrived at the house and welcomed inside by a smiling Tachibana and a strange bird before you were given a rundown of some rules.

- “Knock first, always knock first. If you hear anything between a grunt or a yes you’re in the clear, if you hear anything like a groan or a curse wait before knocking again. If you happen to hear something falling over or a scream I’ll text you when it’s safe for you to come over again. You seem like a nice person, so please don’t forget any of the rules! Now- go!”

- She quickly pushed you in front of the door and knocked for you before bolting behind the stairs, you received a quick thumbs up before she hid again.

- You were now alone in a dorm room looking for a grown man who had called in sick to a date with you, this wasn’t exactly how you thought your friday evening was going to go. You knock the door and put your ear next to the wood… no grunt, had Izumi explained what a no-grunt meant?

- You look at her general direction where she looks confused but encourages you to go in, so you shrug it off before turning the handle around - you end up falling over when the door is opened by the man of the hour himself.

- “Oi, Izumi- now that this match is over you can come in with the-! Ah… [Name], this is… embarrassing,” Itaru had turned around ready to scold Izumi when instead he came to see you.

- He looked like shit- he really did, not only because he was sick but because his room was a mess. You knew he liked gaming but this… this was too extreme, was this what they called a gap moe?

- “What the hell…?”

- He invites you in quickly- shoving chips and cans left and right before sitting you down on a couch.

- “What are you doing here- ACHOO!”

- You explained how worried you were about him- how he didn’t answer your calls and so you came to visit with soup (you felt the need to highlight the soup).

- He thanked you for the thought before looking around the room awkwardly remarking it’d be best you left- the flu was contagious after all.

- It was an awkward reaction, even for him- something Izumi doesn’t fail to note once you leave, unlike when anyone else would come in; Itaru couldn’t find it in himself to scold you or threaten you with an immediate and painful death.

- You leave the room quickly and wave goodbye- but not before he slips you a note with a bunch of numbers scribbled on.

- When you arrive home that night you finally realise what it said; it was his friend code.

- And that’s how your first date was on a island in ACNH he made for the date. And that’s how he asked you out too.

- Fucking nerd.

- You were crafting some furniture for your island (which he had happily helped you plan out) when he asks you out via chat.

- Your response? You used the shocked and glad reactions, the only valid reaction.

- Dating him includes video game dates; any server based game multiplayer is used to seeing you two doing some cringe couple shit.

- You will have to bathe him, he can go days without taking a bath so get ready to shove him in a tub.

- He’s not very good at being a boyfriend sometimes, he struggles in the emotional aspect. He’ll base himself a lot in dating sims, like it’s kind of cute but it can be scary if he uses the wrong dating sim.

- Will kabedon you for 2 reasons and 2 reasons only; one, he genuinely wants to know if it works like ??? does it really make people swoon is it really that cool ?? and two, it’s been a life long dream of his let him have this.

- Itaru can be both mature and kind of childish, you’ll have to stomach a lot of tantrums when you get in the way of gaming. But he’s also not a kid, he can be surprisingly mature when he wants to.

- He takes the relationship very seriously, most of the time; he genuinely likes you and he tries to leave gaming but he struggles.

- So, you decide to combine two things; you + games. You’ll go visit him often and play games together on his couch.

- He’s so fucking happy when you do that, it’s cute. He doesn’t mind you using his clothes but do not touch his yellow-tiger bomber jacket he only uses when gaming. Do not.

- Itaru will let you play with his hair while he plays games, he lets you use butterfly clips and shit too.

- Just don’t expect him to go out like that he’ll fucking riot.

- “Banri will freak out-“ “Omi bring the camera Itaru has fucking butterfly-clips on, Taichi film this shit- he’s wearing clips! And they’re buttefly ones, funniest shit I’ve seen!”

- Banri 100% teases the fuck out of him when it comes to you but Itaru will come back with some cheesy shit to make him uncomfortable.

- “It’s not my fault we two fell in love-“

- “I swear to fucking god if you go on another rant I’ll destroy you and your whole blood line with my pinky.”

- The dorm is kind of surprised how much more social Itaru can be with you- they’re so used to seeing him shut himself in with games, but now that you two are together he comes out more often to spend time with you.

- He can be kind of cold and emotionally distant but after awhile you learn that that’s just how Itaru works. He’s kind of aloof and awkward and he can come off as rude sometimes? He just be like that you know.

- That both the shut-in gamer and businessman are the same guy and that you… l*ve him for it.

- Play games with him please- just do it.

[tailorvizsla]

A Proper Mandalorian Courtship - Chapter 2

Title: Hurt, Healing, Help Pairing: Paz x OFC, OFC x OMC Word Count: ~2350 Rating: MA Warnings: Cursing, canon-typical violence, crack humor that’s also serious Chapters::Ch 1 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 | Ch 5

📚 My Master List 📚 

Notes: This chapter contains potentially triggering material. Warnings for: mentions of past child abuse, past violence, and a lot of cursing. No graphic details, just a passing mention of certain situations that have occurred. The flashback occurs ~ten years before the story is currently happening.

Also, your nickname is Shu'shika. It means tiny disaster. I've been trying to format the HTML for this update on AO3 for two hours now, I don't think I can handle any more of the text popups right now. Also posted on AO3, where you can hover over the stuff in Mandoa or unfamiliar terms to see translations and notes. 

(See the end of the chapter for more notes and translations. Also let me know if you want to be tagged or something. @mandalorerose I am so sorry, pls don’t goor me from the server.)

[flashback]

The bright sunlight fills the clearing, bringing a touch of warmth to the smoky, frosty morning air. High up in the trees, the birds flit from branch to branch, watching the proceedings with unabashed curiosity. Occasionally, tiny creatures fight amongst themselves, scolding each other with a flurry of chirps.

Grinning, Paz sidesteps Neten’s blow easily, clamping down on his bracer tightly. Using the other man’s momentum, Paz latches onto Neten’s extended arm and pulls hard, causing him to lose his balance. Once he stumbles forward, Paz gives him a good shove, sending him careening forward into the soft grassy earth. A low ‘ooh’ goes up from the crowd as Neten trips and slams into the ground with a heavy thud. Paz nods, holding back, giving Neten enough time to recollect himself.

“Nice form, good strength,” Paz says, to encourage the younger man. “Let’s go through it one more time. Then we’ll break for water.”

“Sounds good, alor'ad,” Neten says.

“Swing at me,” Paz orders. “And I’ll show you the best way to…”

He trails off when he receives notification that his door alarm has been disabled. His brow furrows as he considers it for a few moments. Neten falters.

“Uh, you still with us, alor'ad?” Neten asks.

“Yeah, sorry,” Paz said. “Swing at me.”

Paz recently upgraded the locking mechanism to keep the kids out of his candy stash. He does not mind sharing, but when six kilos of candy disappear in one week, he has to put his foot down. That, or the other parents would strangle him. Paz shakes away the feeling of unease and catches Neten’s fist in his. Grasping firmly, he halts Neten’s attack, freezing him in place.

“You’re trying to build up momentum from too far away. See how this leaves you open while you're swinging? Get in a bit closer,” Paz says, showing Neten how his previous attack left him vulnerable with a solid blow to the gut. “Stick a bit closer and – “

The door chime goes off again. Then it disables itself a second time. Zeli said she would be busy helping in the kitchen today. Paz frowns.

“Uh, right. When I push you forward, roll into the fall,” Paz says. “It’ll give you some space to work. Now, try it again.”

Neten swings a third time. Paz pushes him harder this time. Instead of falling, Neten curls his body forward and rolls into the fall. He comes up on his feet, but quickly loses his balance. He falls over.

“Shit,” Neten sighs.

“Just takes practice,” Paz says. “Get up, you’ll get it right.”

After walking him through the proper counter a few times, Neten finally manages to roll directly onto his feet and absorb the momentum with his knees. Then Paz turns to the crowd.

“Partner up,” he says. “Neten, you partner up with Fen.”

As he assigns partners, he chooses to place the most advanced fighters with the novices to ensure they teach the others. Paz finds he still cannot shake that weird feeling in his gut. Something nags at him until he decides to go investigate.

“Revala,” he says. “Keep an eye on these idiots for a minute?”

“Sure thing alor'ad,” she says, coming forward. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah…I just need to check on something,” he says. “No more than a few minutes. If they give you any backtalk, you have my full permission to make them run until they drop.”

“Yes, sir,” Revala exclaims gleefully as she turns back to their drilling vod, “Alright, losers, I’m in charge, and I’m going to make you suffer.”

“Gaa’tayl, alor'ad!” someone yelps.

Rousing laughter fills the clearing at the plea for help.

“K’atini!” Paz snaps over his shoulder. Wimps.

He turns toward the entrance to the hideout. Their current home is situated deep in a granite canyon. It was at one point some sort of pirate bolt hole, but over the decades, other Mandalorians had come and gone, making the space larger and adding some basic furniture. It is cramped, but it is well-hidden and easy to defend. Not only that, the family quarters have separate showers, a perk he does not hesitate to abuse. He makes his way down the main hallway, avoiding the fistfight between Din and Terys.

“If you two are going to slap each other like whiny little aruetiise, do it outside,” Paz snaps.

“He ate my uj’ayali,” Din snaps in response. “I was saving that, you dickhead – “

“I didn’t eat your fucking uj’ayali,” Terys grunts as he elbows Din in the side.

Paz shakes his head and continues toward the living quarters. Winding through the hallways, he finds himself surrounded by a throng of scuffling children. He breaks it up with a firm growl and sends the guilty parties to time-out. At long last, he comes to his door. As his hand hovers over the pad, he feels that sense of dread worsen, like a block of lead has suddenly materialized in his belly.

Paz almost hesitates, but he pushes forward. Something isn’t right here. He types in the code and watches as the door silently unlatches and swings open. He steps into the living area, his feet heavy and uncooperative. That feeling in his gut warns him to stay silent.

When he sees Zeli’s boots on the floor, he frowns.

He sees the second pair, hidden just out of sight, at the same time he hears Zeli’s cry. Paz inhales sharply and turns toward the bedroom, thinking that someone is actively forcing themselves on his beloved.

“Yes, Liam!” she cries out, stopping him in his tracks.

Paz can only stare, his stomach roiling violently at the sight of the two figures entwined under the light sheets. For several seconds, he stands there, frozen. Taking in the sights and sounds of their lascivious coupling. The wet slap of sweaty flesh meeting and Zeli’s throaty, animalistic keening. The way her short pink nails dig into Liam’s shoulders. The way he fervently fucks into Zeli, repeating what Paz had done with her just hours before.

“Oh, gods, Liam! Harder, h-harder!” she sobs, her sinewy body arching under his.

“Ni copaani hailir gar,” he pants. “Gedet’ye, cyare."

From here, he can see her digging her heels into his backside. The raised red welts she has left along his spine and shoulders. The livid bite marks along her shoulders.

As the harsh, unpleasant shock starts to set in, he feels his lips and face go numb, a deafening roar filling his ears. His chest tightens as he tries to tear himself away from the lurid scene, only for his gaze to land on the couch.

They had placed their helmets on the seat - her cherry-red helmet next to his deep grey helmet, the forehead ridges pressed together in a sweet kiss. As if to mock him. Paz turns his stinging eyes to the low table. The pieces of their armor are arranged neatly on the table. It is clear to him that the lovers had taken turns stripping each other, piece by piece.

This is not an act of drunken, frenzied passion.

This is a deliberate act of practiced intimacy.

In the years Paz and Zeli have been a couple, building their future together, she has not once asked him to use blindfolds. She has never once asked to break down that one last barrier keeping them from tasting each other’s lips for the first time. Yet here she is, fucking one of their closest friends in his bed. All while stringing him along with the promise that they will be one, that they will remove their helmets for each other for the first time on their wedding night.

How many times has Zeli allowed him to debauch her in their bed? In the same bed where Paz professed his love for her for the first time? The same haven where they spent countless hours in each other’s sweat-slick arms, fantasizing about the warriors they would eventually gift the tribe? How many times has he run his fingers along her breasts and inadvertently dragged his fingers through the dried remnants of another man’s sweat and saliva?

Revolting nausea fills him, that numb feeling creeping through his entire body, leaving him feeling so empty and cold. As his hands begin to shake, he clenches them into fists at his sides, his breath coming in shuddering pants as he struggles to not fucking sob. Bile rises in his esophagus, leaving his throat feeling bloody and raw.

Why?

Why?

The question keeps chasing itself through his thoughts as the agonizing knot in his chest threatens to tear him apart. He hears a giggle from the bed as Zeli flips Liam onto his back, the sheets shifting to reveal the delectable curve of her lower half, plump and succulent as she starts to bounce on his cock.

“Come in me, cyare,” she purrs to him.

“A-are you sure? You’re not - not - contraceptive – “

“Paz won’t know,” Zeli laughs. “He’s desperate for kids.”

Those words are the catalyst for his rage, like a lit match dropped into a barrel of volatile jet fuel.

Incandescent rage unfurls explosively in his chest, evaporating the cold sorrow that had once filled him in an instant. He feels his blood pressure and heart rate spike, leaving his vision thin and black and pulsating at the edges. Paz takes one menacing step toward the doorway, his entire body trembling as he struggles to contain the inner maelstrom of hatred.

It would be so, so easy for him to make them suffer, to make them feel the bone-deep agony they have inflicted on him. All he has to do is step into the bedroom. Look at their faces. Break the blood-oath of secrecy they had sworn to uphold a second time. By seeing their faces, he is a witness to their identities, and they will not be given the option to marry.

With just a few more steps, he can destroy them; he can take away everything and everyone they have ever loved. He can make Zeli’s worst nightmare a reality – she will lose her father, her sisters, and her friends. She will have only her lover by her side. Liam will be declared dar’buir by proxy. They will both be exiled in their dishonor and shame.

Suddenly, he sees Zephyr’s gap-toothed, mischief-filled grin and he comes to a grinding halt.

Zephyr was broken when Liam had found him huddled in the burnt-out husk of his ancestral home. Raiders had tortured his family and forced him to watch as they were killed, one by one. After they had taken their amusement, they had beaten Zephyr, leaving the young boy to die alone in the wastes. It was only by pure fortune that Liam had seen the smoke and gone to investigate, thinking it was his prey.

Instead, he had found a mute six-year-old boy wrapped in a ragged, blood-stained blanket, his tiny, emaciated frame covered in a multitude of bruises and lacerations. It took three years of love from the Tribe for the boy to speak again. After those first words, Zephyr had risen from the ashes of his shell, soaring like the celestial starbird.

Zephyr had finally found his voice and his manda, bringing life and light back into his eyes.

His gut wrenches and a new type of agony lances through his heart. It pierces him, wounding him so deeply he physically cannot breathe. He bites down hard on the sides of his tongue to stifle the sob threatening to escape his throat. His teeth break skin and the taste of copper fills his mouth. Paz cannot do it. He cannot be the reason Zephyr has to relive the loss of his family.

He will not be the reason the light leaves Zephyr’s eyes again. No amount of agony inflicted upon him - a grown man - could ever justify harming an innocent child for the sake of revenge.

Paz forces himself to exhale. Blinking, the tears finally fall, burning their way down his cheeks before finally soaking into his beard. Stiffly, he makes his way back to the couch and picks up their helmets, taking Zeli’s in his left and Liam’s in his right.

Acrid bitterness fills the shattered remains of his heart as he looks down at Zeli’s helmet. The paint on the forehead ridge has worn away from the many passionate kisses they have shared. Cynically, he wonders how much of that paint was worn away by Liam. How many embraces have they shared behind his back? How many times have they bared their fucking souls to one another in his bed?

Paz turns back to the door and exits, leaving the couple to their tryst. As the door clicks shut behind him, he suddenly feels intense exhaustion, his armor suddenly becoming stifling and heavy. Each breath feels like tar in his lungs as he leans heavily against the wall opposite the door.

“Hey, Paz,” Din says, coming toward him. “Bad news. Your idiots outside managed to set something on fire – “

Seemingly sensing something wrong, Din comes to a halt an arm span away. He leans forward slightly, coming to his side, in a show of brotherly concern.

“Ori’vod,” Din says softly. “Are you okay?” Paz draws in a great, gasping breath, his gaze still fixed on the door.

“Not in the least bit, vod,” he admits hoarsely, his voice breaking.

Din looks down at the helmets in his hands and comes to the only logical conclusion. He hisses through his teeth.

“I will drag them to the Foundry like the worthless fucking hut’uun they are,” Din hisses, his fingers flexing as he takes a step toward the door.

“No,” Paz says immediately, shaking his head.

“Why the fuck not?” Din demands sharply, his voice rising to an angry roar. “They betrayed the Oath, Paz!”

“Din, keep your voice down,” Paz says, ushering him away from the door and toward the Foundry. “I know what they did.”

“He called you his brother,” Din snaps angrily. “She called you her intended. They are liars, they broke their Oaths - !”

“Zephyr,” Paz says, his voice cracking again. “I don’t want to risk…”

The rage leaves his brother in an instant. He deflates like a wilted desert orchid. Din sighs gustily, looking between him and the door.

“What can I do to help, vod?” Din asks quietly.

“Just keep people away from me for a while,” Paz utters. “Armorer…she will know what to do.”

Gods, he prays she knows what to do.

“Absolutely,” Din says, clapping him on the shoulder. “I’ll always be here, ori’vod.”

Paz swallows thickly and nods, not trusting himself to speak. When he has regained control over his legs, he starts the long walk to the Forge. Each step feels like he is scaling some sheer cliff, the air thin and frosty in his lungs. Din runs interference, keeping the people trying to get his attention at bay. Pausing, he closes his eyes and considers what he is about to do.

Aliit maan bal solus kyr’yc.

He knows what the right thing to do is. Paz just does not know if he can do it.

For the first time in his life, he finds himself questioning his faith.

-

-

-

[current]

Armorer is in the middle of brewing a pot of her favorite tea when she hears footsteps in the Foundry. She looks up and sees Paz poking his head around the main doorway. That simple gesture brings back many memories of their earlier years together. Armorer has left the door to her private quarters open, the curtain drawn back, inviting those in need of guidance into her home.

She reaches for a second cup just as he reaches to knock on the door frame. Even though they’ve been family for nearly three decades, he still insists on knocking.

“Paz, join me,” she says.

He steps inside, ducking his head in a polite, respectful greeting.

She turns back to the chipped tea pot. Their new Tribe introduced them to the concept of tea, and now, she indulges every afternoon. Paz joins her and pulls a metal straw out from his gauntlet.

“What brings you here, Paz?” she asks, as the scent of the hot, spiced tea permeates the air. 

He stares down at the cup, tension filling his massive frame.

“I wanted to ask your advice on something,” he says in a serious tone.

She remains silent, her brow furrowing.

“I’ve taken an interest in a woman,” he says. “And I want to ask her to be my partner. I want to know more about proper courtship traditions.”

It is only through years of experience and training that she does not jerk in surprise. She takes a moment to gather her thoughts. She is somehow surprised and not surprised at the same time. He has gotten to that age where a hunter starts staying at home for longer periods of time to teach their skills to the next generation. Although he is also bound to be lonely, she cannot recall him mentioning a partner.

She knows her friend, and she knows he will not entertain the idea of a serious relationship without the promise of marriage. After what the aruetiise had done to him, he had thrown himself into the hunt, turning his back to the possibility of marriage. Or anything long-term, really. The wounds were so deep she did not think he would ever fully heal.

He – like the rest of their kind – has been shaped from birth by hardship and struggle. He has had to fight for the victory of every single sunrise. Despite the crushing setbacks in his personal life, Paz has held his head high, always teetering on the edge of fully reaching mandokar - the ideal virtues of a Mandalorian warrior. It is that lost lust for life that has held him back all these years.

Now, he is ready to move forward, to hunger for each moment and experience in his life. Throughout the years, Armorer has seen glimpses of the warrior he could become. He is on that path now. Her heart fills to the point of overflowing for him.

She nods once.

“You know of our Tribe’s tradition of exchanging blades before the vows are spoken,” Armorer says.

Paz nods.

“What about here?”

“Alor Dezha has remarked that the Elders prefer to publicly acknowledge that the vows have been exchanged before the wedding night physically occurs. They typically do this as part of the wedding feast. Ultimately, it is your decision. You may choose one, both, or neither. As you know, we make do with with what we have. We do not have rigid rules in place.”

“That’s less complicated than I thought it would be,” he responds. “Nevertheless, I want to do this the right way for her. I think I’d like to do both.”

She is truly pleased with the news. If he is interested in entering the riduurok there is a chance he is also interested in rearing offspring. He will make an excellent spouse, parent, and teacher.

The youngest child here is eight years old. In just a few years, he will be fitted for his armor, and he will no longer be a child. Armorer and many others have expressed the desire to hear more little feet in the hallways. Hopefully, Paz will continue doing what he does best – inspiring and encouraging others through his leadership and his unwavering dedication to the Resol’nare.

Perhaps the other Hunters will begin reconsidering their unwed statuses so they may finally begin to increase their numbers once more.

Paz fidgets with his cup for a moment, breaking her from her reverie.

Now, she must satisfy her curiosity.

“Who has caught your attention?” the Armorer asks, keeping her tone casual and light, even as her thoughts whirl with plans for the feast and bonfire celebration.

Her thoughts then leap to naming ceremonies, but she restrains herself. They will need time to settle in as a married couple before producing or finding children.

“I want Shu’shika."

Armorer blinks in response.

“Shu’shika has caught your attention,” she confirms, carefully keeping her voice neutral, to give herself time to think of an appropriate response.

“Yes. How do we go about this courtship business, then?"

How unorthodox. Yet, as she considers it, she can see why he wants you. Paz has always appreciated the company of those who put the Tribe before themselves, and you are no exception. If a hunter or child has need, you will forego sleep to ensure they are properly cared for. Nothing will keep you from caring for those around you. Your dedication and loyalty to the Tribe will never be contested. With extra training, Armorer can see you shaping up into a halfway decent warrior in time.

“What exactly do you wish to know, Paz?” she asks curiously.

“How?”

Armorer blinks, though he cannot see it. She had not been ambiguous.

“What do you mean how?”

“How do I convince her to agree to courtship?” he clarifies, giving her what she interprets as an expectant look.

A furrow forms between her brows as she stares at her companion. Based on the rampant, unbridled scuttlebutt, there is no shortage of available and willing partners for a hunter of his stature and skill. She herself had once harbored an attraction to him, though that had been roughly two decades ago when she was just a feral, hormone-riddled teenager with far more free time than common sense.

“Most people start by asking their interest out on a date,” Armorer says slowly.

“A date,” he repeats.

Armorer almost sighs. Perhaps she had overestimated Paz’s general intelligence level.

“A date is an activity wherein two individuals assess their mutual compatibility and – “

“Armorer, I know what a date is. What does that even have to do with courtship?”

"Courtship is dating, Paz, but with the intent to marry, and no carnal relations."

"Oh. That makes sense. And how do I get her to agree to this?"

“How do you normally secure your partners?” she asks bluntly.

Paz recoils ever so slightly.

“I have only had a handful of one-time arrangements…since…”

Well. That is unexpected.

“Paz, you must simply ask,” she responds. “You are one of our best hunters. There are many who are interested in having you as a partner. I am certain she will be flattered by your request.”

“…but how? I haven’t asked anyone out on a date in eighteen years,” Paz says. “I honestly don’t know what people do on dates nowadays.”

“Just ask her to accompany you on an outing,” she responds.

“So, like…shooting? Do people even still go shooting on the first date?”

“Just pick something you know she enjoys,” Armorer says, faintly annoyed.

“Alright, I can do that,” he says. “One more question, Armorer.”

“What is it?” she asks.

Despite her affection for the older man, she is unable to keep the annoyance out of her body language. Maybe the age-old Mandalorian saying still holds true today: three braincells for the entire Tribe and the Alor holds two of them for safekeeping. However, Alor Dezha is a Hunter down to the marrow in his bones...perhaps it would be best to leave the braincells in the possession of a Tradesperson, where they won't risk being eaten.

“You’re a woman, aren't you? So, tell me: what do you ladies like on dates?”

She is so offended and incredulous that she splutters indignantly at him. As she struggles to come up with a proper retort, she becomes aware of his shoulders shaking.

She tightens her jaw. He always has been able to get under her plating to chafe at her like no one else. If anyone else had grown the balls to ask her something like that, she would not have hesitated to put her hammer through their skull.

“Paz, get the hell out of my room.”

He erupts into boisterous guffaws as he thumps his fist onto the table.

“Would you want chocolates? Flowers? The severed heads of your enemies?” he gets out through his giggles.

“I will goor your ass into the Forge,” she says in amusement, reaching for her hammer in warning.

Holding his hands up in mock surrender, he gets up to leave, and hightails it away before she can make good on her threat.

Armorer smiles under her bucket.

She hasn’t heard him laugh like that in a long time.

He will be just fine.

-

-

-

Paz paces nervously around the table for the fifth time, pausing to try and flatten the curling plastic tile underfoot. When that fails, he continues on his path around the table. Paz stops when the door opens. Din strides in, closes the squeaky door behind him, and takes a seat. The chair groans under his weight as he leans back.

“So, what’s got your bucket straps chafing?” he asks.

Paz immediately regrets asking for help. Especially from Din. But, being his brother through both vow and combat, Paz trusts no one else as much as he trusts Din.

“I need some advice,” Paz says carefully.

“What sort of advice?” Din asks, his helmet tilting a bit to the right.

“I want you to swear you won’t tell anyone,” he says firmly.

No one needs to know about his lack of experience.

“I won’t tell anyone,” Din says.

“Swear it,” Paz stresses flatly.

“Alright, alright,” Din says.

“On my honor, I swear I won’t tell anyone about anything we’re about to discuss.”

Paz takes a deep breath as he struggles to come up with the words needed to explain his unique situation. How the fuck is he supposed to even ask about this?

Has Din ever even been on a date before?

Gods above, he is too old for this shit.

“Does this have anything to do with those problems men your age typically get?” Din asks suddenly, breaking the silence. “You know, below the codpiece?”

He gestures down toward his crotch, as if his words were not mortifying enough.

“What?” Paz asks incredulously.

Din holds both hands up as if trying to defend himself.

“Look, Paz, every rifle malfunctions eventually,” Din says in what he might think is a comforting tone. “Especially when a man starts to get into his forties and fifties – “

“No, stop. My di - that part of me is just fine,” Paz snaps in annoyance. “I’m not that old, you little shit.”

“Oh. Okay,” Din says. “So, what is it? You’ve been acting really strangely for the past few weeks.”

Their buir did not raise either of them to be a hut’uun. He can do this, get those words out. He is a grown-ass man and he can be direct. Fuck delicacy. That kind of bantha-shit doesn’t work for Mandalorians, anyway.

“There’s a woman I’ve taken an interest in,” Paz says. “I’d like to give her a proper courtship. I was wondering if you had any input on where I could take her on a date.”

Din doesn’t react. For a moment, Paz wonders if Din even heard him. As the seconds tick by, the buzzing of the fluorescent lights overhead seems to grow louder. Then he hears a choked wheeze from his modulator, one that sounds like someone is strangling a de’kath bird with piano wire. Din’s shoulders shake violently as he starts to howl with laughter.

“You’re – you’re coming to me for advice on dating?” he gasps out, “Me? Din Dumbass Djarin?”

Paz falters at the mention of Cara’s affectionate nickname for Din. He shrugs once in response. Then he sinks down onto the table and crosses his arms.

“Yeah. Half a braincell is better than none, right?”

Din goes silent for several seconds.

“Holy fuck, you’re serious,” Din whispers. “Paz, I can barely keep my shit together. What makes you think I, of all people, would know anything about dating?”

“I haven’t been on a proper date in eighteen years,” Paz says dryly to Din. “I don’t know how this shit works anymore.”

A pregnant silence follows.

“Din, I’m over Zeli. I’ve been over her bantha-shit for a few years now,” Paz says. “I am ready to try something long-term again.”

“Fuck,” Din breathes. “We’ve all been wondering…if you’d…you know.”

“Stop wallowing in my self-pity and move on with my life?” Paz asks sardonically. “The past few years…I have been working on improving myself. Figuring out how to best honor the Resol’nare...All the stuff we were supposed to figure out years ago.”

“Paz, I’m happy to hear that,” Din says. “I’m glad you’re going to be you again.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Paz says, waving off Din’s comment. Shit, this is getting too emotional for him. “Whatever.”

Din snorts.

“Anyway. As for dating…I mean, there are better people to ask. I really could not help you with the dating thing.”

“Surely you’ve had a partner,” Paz says. “I’ve heard rumors about you and Cara.”

“Cara wants the simple things in life: good beer and to regularly beat someone's ass,” Din says. “I just so happen to be good at both finding good beer and getting my ass beat. When I asked her out, she almost pissed herself laughing at me.”

“Well, she said yes, which is more success than I’ve had,” Paz says. “I don’t know shit about this. The only people who care about courtship are the Elders.”

“And you now, apparently,” Din argues back.

He does have a point.

“Well…she means a lot to me. She isn’t a temporary arrangement,” Paz says carefully. “I’d like to do this the right way for her. So she knows I’m serious. And that I'm not just after...sex.”

Din inhales deeply, tapping his fingers on the table as he stares at the wall.

“Well, buir once told us that women like providers. So, go find a really big marsh deer, kill it, dress it, and bring everything back to her,” Din says, shrugging his shoulders. “Women like meat and leather, right?”

His tone is as uncertain as the way Paz feels about presenting you with a dead animal. They stay silent for several seconds.

“I’m fairly certain buir was joking when he told us that,” Paz says slowly.

“Huh,” Din says. “You know, now that it’s been said out loud…it does sound kind of ridiculous. Shit.”

They stay quiet for several moments, considering how truly fucked they both are when it comes to relationships. They’ve both had the occasional pleasure arrangement. And pleasure arrangements only require interest and about ten minutes. After his dumpster fire of a relationship with Zeli went down in a fiery, messy explosion, Paz never really considered settling down for marriage.

Why is this so damn difficult?

Din sighs, breaking him from his reverie, and tilts his helmet in his direction. It’s a sort of acknowledgement, an understanding that they are both committed to figuring this courtship business out together. Paz supposes that Din’s going to have to learn a few things, too, if he's somehow going to convince Cara to stick around with him for more than a few months. At the very least, Paz is grateful that Din picked someone smarter than himself. At least their children will have one intelligent parent.

“So. Who is it that has you acting all emotional, all ready to get domesticated?” Din asks, waving his hand around a bit.

“Shu’shika,” Paz says. “She’s…she’s the one I’m interested in.”

Din’s head snaps up so hard and fast that Paz hears his vertebrae crack from here.

“What?” Din asks. “Shu’shika?”

“What the fuck is with that tone, Din?” Paz snaps irritably. “If you’re going to insult her – “

“What? No, no,” Din says. “I’m not insulting her, no way. She doesn’t seem like your type, Paz. She’s…uh…not the most athletically gifted. Or the best at...hand-to-hand combat.”

That is the most diplomatic tone he has ever heard from Din and it pisses him the hell off. Paz does not like the idea of someone insulting you.

“She’s perfect the way she is,” Paz says flatly.

Din holds his hands up in surrender.

“I’m not judging your taste in women,” Din says mildly. “I was just…uh…surprised. I thought you’d go for someone like Nayel, or maybe even Revala.”

“They aren’t Shu’shika,” Paz says, shrugging.

Nayel and Revala are both warriors and hunters, the two of them direct competitors for their age and skill group. Nayel has even made a few passes at him, but her hand against his doesn’t send that little bolt of tingling pleasure radiating up along his spine. She always wants to fight with him. While he appreciates having good sparring partners, he sometimes wants something quieter.

“Well, we are both shit at this,” Din says. “So, we treat this like any other battle to be fought and won. What intel do you have for me?”

Paz starts to list the data, growing more comfortable as he settles into the comforting routine of what he does know how to do. Win a fight. Then again, he isn’t sure if he should be looking at courtship like it’s a battle to be won.

-

-

-

Notes:

Alor'ad - Captain Vod - comrade, mate, brother - different contexts based on the people involved Gaa'tayl - help Aruetiise - outsiders, traitors. When used to refer to an outsider, it's not an insult. It's just a state of being. When used to refer to a Mandalorian, it's an insult. Uj'ayali - Mandalorian cake made from ground nuts, fruit, spices. Delicious. "Ni copaani hailir gar. Gedet'ye, cyare." - "I want to fill you. Please, my love." Cyare - beloved Dar'buir - "Divorce" from a parent, like disowning them. Rare, usually only done if the parent is a shithead. Starbird - Star Wars creature that is basically a phoenix. It's supposedly reborn in the heart of a star, etc. Manda - Soul, that which makes someone Mandalorian hut'uun - coward, an egregious insult Aliit maan bal solus kyr’yc. - Family first and the individual second - randomly made this saying up. Mandokar - the virtues of the ideal Mandalorian - aggressiveness, tenacity, loyalty, and a lust for life. Riduurok - love bond between two spouses, marriage Resol'nare - The six tenets by which all Mandalorians abide. Short version: "Education and armor, self-defense, our tribe, our language and our leader all help us survive." Alor - leader Goor - Goore --> Grenade --> You toss a grenade --> Therefore goor is the Mando equivalent of yeet. Humor from Tumblr. De'kath bird - An animal I made up a long time ago for another story. The bird sounds like a raven, a tuba, and a paper shredder all got together and made an ugly, horrifying baby. Marsh deer - An animal I made up a long time ago for another story. A marsh deer is about twice as tall as a giraffe and has huge antlers that can cause serious damage if they ram someone. They are generally herbivorous, but when they are in the middle of rutting season, they become opportunistic carnivores. They also dislike humans and will attack unprovoked. Also, they make for good eating and hunting. OYA! Shu'shika - Nickname I made up using shu'shuk (disaster) and -ika (diminutive), means Tiny Disaster. Because Reader is a tiny disaster.

[minnnieminmin]

30 days of autism acceptance but i only choose the prompts i want to:

April 3rd: How do you feel about dating/romantic relationships? Have you dated in the past/are you currently in a relationship/do you eventually want one? Do you feel that your experience of autism/stereotypes around autism and relationships impacts this? 

-have never dated and don’t have any desire to. 

April 4th: Are there any topics regarding autism that you feel don’t get discussed enough?

-oof, a lot. the fact that allistics/NT’s still talk over us/treat us like children, advocate for the wrong autism charities because they couldn’t be assed to google an actual good one. the fact everyone thinks we’re either useless members of society or that we all have some super special talented that ‘’makes up’’ for our autism. i have lots more but i’ll keep it short.

April 7th: How are you with sarcasm and/or metaphors/figures of speech? Do you interpret things very literally?

-i’m actually very good at sarcasm. mostly because of NT’s who think i’m dumb so i retort with very sarcastic answers just to shove it in their faces. no i don’t take everything literally either

April 10th: How important is representation to you? Is the representation that is out there generally good or bad? What is your favorite piece of representation? What you like to see more of in autism representation? What would you like to see less of?

-it’s important but it’s not at the very top of my list tbh.

April 11th: What are your thoughts/feelings about masking (a term for when autistic people hide their autistic traits)? Do you mask? 

-i mask a lot. mostly because i’m scared of being seen as ‘’overly autistic’’ because of, ya you know, ableism.

April 12th: Is there anything you find hard to do because of being autistic? Is there anything that you find easy?

-hard: talking to strangers, change. easy: talking/having deep conversations, reading facial expressions/body language, using sarcasm

April 14th: What do you like about being autistic?

-having special interests/hyperfixations (NT’s will never understand lmao), being a lot more genuine, honest and nicer than the average NT.

April 15th: Do you work? If so, what is that like for you? Are you open about being autistic at work? Alternatively, how open are you about being autistic? Do you tell a lot of people? Or just a select few? How do people normally react when you tell them? If you don’t tell people, then why? 

-i don’t work and i’m embarrassed by it. 

April 16th: What did it feel like when you interacted with other autistic people for the first time? What does the autistic community mean to you? How important is it? 

-it’s great to have a place where you’re understood and you can vent about our struggles. the community really helped me accept myself in a lot of ways. shout out to y’all 

April 17th: How do you feel about terms like “special needs”?

-not a fan but if other ND’s like it then that’s fine 

April 18th: Talk about identity. Is being autistic an important part of your identity? What does being autistic mean to you? Which do you prefer: identity first or person first language and why? 

-i used to use person with autism but then i recently changed over to autistic person. i think of it in two ways. that A) it’s only a small piece of the whole pie that is me/my personality. and B) even saying that it still does color everything that i do. every choice i made is because i’m autistic. i literally can’t help that

 April 19th: Do you enjoy music, or do you find it overstimulating? If you do like music, what kind of music do you prefer?

-people who listen to music all the time honestly confuse me. i only actively listen to music when i really want to/crave it. sometimes i’ll fixation on the same song/same band for a week or more. i do get overwhelmed if i listen to music for too long though

April 20th: What are some things that allistic people do that you find confusing?

-everything lol.  

April 21st: Do you stim? If so, what are your favourite ways of stimming? What does stimming feel like for you? 

-hand flaps, cracking knuckles (i know it’s bad yeah yeah), vocal stims (just high pitched noises) bite the inside of my mouth, probably other minor ones that i’m forgetting

April 22nd: What are some things allistic people can do to better support/accommodate autistic people?

-just not be ableist pricks and talk over us all the time. abolish autismspeaks and other sites similar to it. not solely focus on autistic children but teenagers and especially adults too. stop having both very low or very high expectations of us, stop treating autistic adults like children, stop making us think that we’re a burden, stop using us to make yourselves look better.

April 25th: Do you experience executive dysfunction? If so, how often? What is it like for you? What do you wish neurotypicals understood about it?

-yes!!! i use the spoon theory thing. it’s very annoying to have tbh, especially when you want to do things that you actually enjoy but can’t do. NT’s need to understand that’s not being lazy it’s being mentally and physically unable to do certain things. 

April 27th: What is your favourite form of media? For example, do you enjoy books? What format do you prefer for books (physical, e-book, audiobook)? Did you love reading as a kid but find it challenging as you got older? How about movies, tv, or video games? Do you have a favourite series? 

-youtube, tv shows and movies are my favorite medium. 

April 28th: If you could give advice to someone who just found out that they are autistic, what advice would you give? 

-i’d give them a friendly slap on the back and say ‘’good luck pal’’ lol. honestly though even i don’t know what to do i’m still trying to figure it out

April 30th: What would you like your overall message for autism acceptance month to be? 

-just that we’re cool people and NT’s need to shut the fuck up and sit down and listen tbh