#i’ll just tag the people in the top two tiers

[le-agent-egg]

dumbest fucking tierlist i’ve ever made

this is only for main 3 games + warriors of hope

[sirdindjarin]

The Savior - Din Djarin x f!Reader

The Mandalorian, side-quest extraordinaire, accidentally frees a slave, kills a Senator's son, ends a criminal conspiracy, and falls in love. Just a month in the life of the galaxy's favorite chaotic space cowboy and his son.

The Savior / The Concession / The Choice (END)

A/N: i fucking love this man. here's the spotify playlist i made while hallucinating being wrecked by him. I accidentally based this fic on Euphoria by Angels & Airwaves.

AO3 Link🤠

TAGS: Fluff, m!falls first, plot with porn, helmet stays on for now, P in V, outdoor activities, protective!Din, soft-ish!Din.

WARNINGS: reader is/was a slave; references to abuse; no curses or slang outside of Star Wars canon (that's a warning if you hate that hahaha)

**************************************************************

"I thought vagrants were barred at the door. How did a Mandalorian get in here?”

The Mandalorian in question does not react to the insult. At the table before him, the taunting Trandoshan guffaws, but his laughter dies when he gets no reaction from the bounty hunter.

"What do you want?" He snaps, his green jaws clicking shut.

Instead of replying, certain the answer is obvious, the beskar-covered man leisurely surveys the colorful, boisterous room, his hands folded in front of him. Having already scouted the upscale casino, he does this for sarcastic effect. He’s also certain that fact is lost on his Trandoshan quarry. 

Upon returning his direct attention to the lizard, a small movement in the booth catches his heat sensor. A young woman, likely his quarry’s slave by her frayed appearance, sits with her head bowed behind her master. 

“Hey, tin man, you in there?” Your master’s voice sounds more like rocks scraping together than fluid language.

The Mandalorian chucks a bounty puck onto the table, the name and alien visage of Rathos Craaf glowing in a blue cone of projected light.

“Go quietly or don’t - it makes no difference to me.” 

“Ahh,” Rathos Craaf hums in his throat and leans back in his seat, making your demure form more visible to the bounty hunter. “What’s the price?”

The Mandalorian again does not dignify a response. 

“Can’t be greater than what I’m willing to pay,” Rathos insinuates. 

The tense silence eats through your body as the ruthless men stare at each other - the probability of oncoming violence ratcheting up.

“Go prepare my ship,” your master barks suddenly at you, raising his hand.

Flinching, you scoot around the U-shaped booth to obey. 

You weren’t always a slave. As a child on Kenari, you had been born into a world of vivid green, rippling blue, and rich, brown soil. Trained in both hunting and fighting from birth, you had been too young to save your village from the brutal relocation program of the Empire. 

Dispersed onto harsher worlds, you’d been sold from one slaver to another until finally coming into the collection of one Rathos Craaf. He has been your master for several years by this point, and while not the worst, he was close. 

“What will you do about the girl?” A modulated voice asks.

Pausing on the edge of the hard bench, you look between the two antagonists. Me?

“Who cares about the mudscuffing girl? Tell you what, I’ll sell her to you.” The crafty Trandoshan gets an even better idea: “Or - take her in exchange for the bounty. She’s considered top-tier sentient property.” 

“Not what I was asking,” a gloved hand thumbs his blaster. “Once you’re in carbonite, wh-”

The Trandoshan lunges up from his seat with a booming yell, launching at the cloaked, beskar-free neck of the Mandalorian. Rathos’ claws reach around the smaller man’s throat, but the Mandalorian is lighter of foot, ducking out of the hold. 

Off-balance, Rathos tumbles but rolls back on his feet, his scaly tail acting as a counterweight. Gasps and mutters spill from the crowd as people scramble out of harm’s way.

You remain seated in the booth, frozen and unsure. But then, as the silver bounty hunter aims his blaster, Rathos whips his tail into the Mandalorian’s legs, knocking him with a clang onto his back. 

The blaster goes skittering through the crowd, and you’re shocked to find your legs racing after it. 

The thunder of a powerful flame roars in the cavernous room as you weave through aliens and humans alike, searching. The blackness of the blaster appears on the gray floor and you dive for it. 

Cold steel excites your skin. It’s heavier than you thought it would be, and though you’ve never fired one, your ancient muscle memory remembers the feeling of a bow in your hands; the trajectory, strength, and steadiness necessary. 

Sprinting back through the crowd, you find Rathos pinning the Mandalorian’s chest. The solid armor prevents any of Rathos’ blows from truly hurting the bounty hunter, but the weight of the lizard is too awkward and great for him to shove away from this angle. 

The fire-throwing vambrace comes up again and, as it billows into the Trandoshan’s face, you fire a blast at the substantial tail that had once been used against you. 

Rathos bellows in pain, tumbling to the side, and the Mandalorian takes full advantage. He jumps to his feet, then connects his fist to his quarry's skull, rendering the creature unconscious. Binders clasp around the arms of your master and the successful bounty hunter staggers backward a single step to catch his breath. 

You freeze at what you’ve just done, the blaster still pointed at Rathos. People murmur, and the words, “Killed by his slave” can be heard, though he is only unconscious. Your chest heaves, far more out of breath than the Mandalorian walking toward you.

“Thank you,” he says drily, taking his blaster out of your hands. 

Unsure what else you should do, you follow your master as he is dragged without dignity along the smooth fogstone floor. 

Exiting the casino, snaking down an alley, and traipsing to the outskirts of the city limits, the silhouette of a ship against the orange horizon becomes visible. 

Neither you nor the Mandalorian have spoken a single word since he took the blaster from your hands, but as he presses a button on his vambrace to lower the loading ramp, he turns to you now.

“Grab his tail." 

An order. That you could do. You immediately grab Rathos’ tail and lift. The Mandalorian half-drags and half-lifts the Trandoshan by his cuffed hands and the lizard is loaded into the ship’s hold. 

Standing at the far end of the Mandalorian’s rather busted ship, you’re surprised to see a small, green being. Dressed in what must be a sack, its long ears perk up and its eyes glimmer at the sight of the bounty hunter. A happy coo reverberates in the quiet, metal space. 

The child looks at you and makes another, similar noise. It waddles toward you, but before you can react, the Mandalorian scoops the child into his arms and sequesters it behind a thin blast door. 

“You are free to go.” 

It’s an odd statement. He must be familiar with the underworld. He knows how slaving works.

You’re not sure when you last spoke; you weren’t allowed to speak. But the bounty hunter seems to expect a reply. 

“I am not. The law says I am to be returned to the slavers’ coalition for repurchase.” Your voice is scratchy from disuse and the helmeted man tilts his head in curiosity. 

“You won't run?”

It seems too monumental a task. Hopes and fears trip over each other in their efforts to be heard. Freedom. Finding a place to call home. Your family was long dead. But… maybe there was hope of a family somewhere.

Where would I even go? No way I could stay ahead of the slavers. They’d send hunters like this Mandalorian after me. I’d be worse off than I am now.

“I do not know if I can,” you whisper honestly. 

The Mandalorian looks at you - at least, you think he does - for so long that you begin to squirm under his gaze.

Without warning, the wind is knocked from you. Rathos’ tail slams into the back of your knees, crumpling you to the floor. His claws wrap around your neck, and you yell, plunging two fingers into his lidless eye.

“Traitorous shutta!” Spittle from your master flies onto your cheeks.

As he recoils from your jab, you squirm underneath him, trying to flee, when the weight on your chest vanishes in a rush of air. Coughing and wiping your face, you lie there momentarily until your throbbing pulse abates inside your head. You sit up and widen your eyes to hasten their focus.

The Mandalorian has the Trandoshan by the throat with both hands. Rathos sputters and gags, but you watch as gloved fingers dig harder into the scaly throat. The anonymous man shoves his quarry into the carbon freezing chamber and smashes the button with more force than necessary. 

It's over. 

When you woke in the dark that morning, never would you have expected to watch your master be frozen in carbonite aboard a bounty hunter's ship.

That bounty hunter turns to you now. 

“I have something I need to do. I’ll give you passage if you provide assistance.” 

________________________________

Crossing your arms, tucking your legs under your body, and leaning against the hull in your seat, you try to make yourself as small as possible. You wouldn’t have even climbed up here if the Mandalorian hadn’t indicated that you should.

He wanted to keep an eye on you. He did not trust you around the kid - despite (or perhaps because of) its interest in you. 

Moments after leaving the planet’s atmosphere, a new emotion bubbles in your chest: elation. The stars flow by in a technicolor kaleidoscope; hues and shapes you have never seen race past your eyes. It’s beyond anything you could have imagined. 

“Has it always looked like this?” You wonder to yourself.

You jump when a deep, electronic voice answers, “Yes.” 

“Oh,” you murmur, realizing he had been watching you. “I’ve never seen hyperspace. I was kept in the hold,” you state without self-pity.

The Mandalorian lets that terrible fact hang in the air before eventually saying,“I recommend you get some sleep. It will be several hours before we reach Mid Rim.” 

He turns away from you and folds his arms. The muffled clang of his helmet tipping back against the headrest tells you that he will be taking his own advice.

Interestingly, you feel safe enough to get some rest. Being constantly attuned to the temperamental wills and whims of others, you've become a great judge of character. 

This Mandalorian, though quiet, is clearly capable of kindness to those who deserve it. A rarity for someone in his profession. 

___________________________________

The blue cone glows in his hand, projecting the face of one ugly slug. The name at the bottom, written in a language you had been forced to learn, reads: Salaa the Hutt.

Fearful eyes flick up to the veiled Mandalorian, “A Hutt?”

The helmet nods, “You will be my way in.” You make a whimpering noise, but the bounty hunter continues. “You’re a slave on the run. I will be returning you for a small reward.”

Crushing disappointment deflates your body. Believing yourself to have been wavering between freedom and the life you had known, you realize, now that the decision was being made for you, that you’d chosen freedom. Further adding to your pain is your misjudgement of the Mandalorian. 

I’d have never made it to freedom - far too naive. Thought a karking bounty hunter was doing something out of the kindness of his heart. Unbelievable.

Still, to your credit, you take several steps back, almost as though you might try to outrun the nimble, strong bounty hunter with a kriffing jetpack, of all things. You’re proud of yourself for even thinking about doing it.

The Mandalorian doesn’t react. He pockets the puck and opens his weapons cache on the hull wall. He lifts a small item from the assortment and shuts the doors. You can’t see what it is, and he doesn’t return to you. 

He opens the blast door to the child’s tiny room. The baby snores in his bungalow, and the ever-fascinating Mandalorian rubs the green, fuzzy head before closing the door. He turns and strides toward you.

You take one more step backward, just because you can. Because you should.

He still says nothing. Closer, and closer, the armored man advances on you until you can see your nervous eyes in his breastplate.

“Give me your wrists.” 

Is his voice naturally that persuasive or is it the vocoder?

Overriding your fledgling autonomy, you obey him with a preprogrammed respectful nod. He clasps binders around your wrists.

The Mandalorian steps away to retrieve another weapon, then he lifts his chin toward the boarding ramp. 

Shouldn't you at least try to gain freedom? Beg him to let you go? 

“Please, I can try to pay you,” this is a lie and he knows it. “Or I could work off the debt of transport. Something!”

It’s the loudest your voice has been in living memory, and it both surprises and emboldens you. But the Mandalorian does not seem swayed. 

“Walk,” he orders.

You minutely shake your head twice. It means nothing to him, but everything to you. 

An electronic sigh, then he takes a single step toward you. Fear switches you back into the subservient girl of the last twenty years. You flinch, your manacled hands blocking your face. 

The Mandalorian falters, slightly abashed. “I am not going to hurt you. But you need to start walking.” 

Slowly, you lower your hands. His gloved fingers curl around your bicep, and he leads you out into the sunny air.

It’s a hot day on Niamos. The beachside resort that serves as the capital city is teeming with families of all species bathing in the muggy air. The sandstone path that Mando - that’s what everyone calls them, right? - parades you down is packed with beachgoers. Embarrassed by your plight, you try to hide the binders, but it’s impossible with the angle he holds your arm. 

Finding another gust of will, you reason, “Surely you could find a way inside without turning me in? You’re good at your job. You could've killed my m-”

“Salaa angered powerful people. There is a bounty on him and it’s higher if he’s dead.

“What does that mean?”

“He's careful. Employs expensive security. Easiest way in is through the front door,” Mando finishes. 

Mando’s leathery hold on your arm is soft. Unyielding, of course, but he doesn’t hurt you. It saddens you to realize how different that is from your usual treatment. He had still binded you and planned on turning you in, but hey! At least he wasn’t going to leave a bruise.

Directing you down a narrow alley, the Mandalorian stops in front of a tan-colored, generic shield door. He raps twice on it, standing casually still. If he feels you shaking, he says nothing about it.

A Yaka man is standing behind the door when it opens with a whoosh. His metal implants reflect the sun and you squint. Behind him are another two Yaka and a particularly menacing-looking Zabrak, all armed with pulse rifles. 

“We ain't buyin'," he slurs.

“I'm here to claim the slave reward.” 

The Yaka stares at the impenetrable, T-shaped slit in the silver helmet, scrutinizing, before stepping aside. Mando guides you ahead of him, then you hear the spur-like sound of his step over the threshold. The close quarters are sweltering, and sweat beads on your temple.

“This way,” the Yaka servant veers to the right and up a steeply inclined hallway. The other members of the security team follow behind you.

The Mandalorian’s thumb slides over your skin. You would give it more thought if a wide, dingy room wasn’t quickly coming into view. 

On the second floor, a muted, sparsely furnished area overlooks the residence across the street, and the beach beyond. However, you can’t see the view because the balcony is being taken up by a massive, blob-like shape, and a tall, spiky silhouette.

“Ahh,” the huge shape speaks, and for the first time in your life, you’re thankful you speak Huttese. “What is this?” 

Bowing, the Yaka guard explains, “This Mandalorian has returned a loose slave.” 

He grabs for your arm, but you lurch when Mando pulls you out of reach, warning, “Careful. She killed her master before fleeing." 

The bodyguard recoils as though you personally threatened him. He steps away, waiting for actual instruction from his boss. The green Rodian next to Salaa tuts in his sour voice.

Deciding it was best not to speak, you raise your chin with dignity as Mando drops his hand from your arm.

“Why do you return her here?” Salaa the Hutt inquires. “Surely you know that I have been removed from my associations. Including the slavers.”

“I am here for information,” Mando drops the ruse completely, his voice calm.

“Information,” the Hutt laughs horribly. “I have much of that, pateesa. What do you wish to know?”

“You should ask what I have to trade first.”

“Hmm. You do not wish to trade the girl, I hope. Must be better than that,” the slimy giant slug laughs derisively.

You don’t even bristle. Worse things had been said to you daily. 

The green, mohawked Rodian chuckles. Though you do not understand his language, the human bounty hunter does: “She is too sad-looking to be any fun. Pity.” The reptilian-looking male then makes a vile comment about what he can see through your ratty, loose clothing.

The Mandalorian's eyes narrow, and his right hand drifts toward his hip of its own accord.

“Make your offer, Mandalorian.”

“If you provide the information I need, I won’t claim the ten-thousand-credit bounty on your head.”

That horrible, bulging laugh bursts from the ex-crime boss once more, hurting your ears in its pitch and volume. 

“Far too aggressive, Mandalorian. I decline.”

Salaa’s stubby arm motions at the armed security who raise their rifles at the two of you. 

While you freeze in terror, the Mandalorian stills in focus. Faster than a hyperdrive, he clenches his fist. Miniature rockets whistle through the tense air, eliminating all three bodyguards; the angry Zabrak, the mouthy Rodian, and the blubbery Salaa remain.

The Mandalorian draws his blaster, pushing you behind him, and fires from his hip as the Zabrak guard begins to raise his modified arm. What type of weapon it held, you’ll never know because he falls to the ground, dead, before he can use it.

The Rodian darts away from Salaa, circling the room. To you, it seems as though he is intending to flee, not fight, but the Mandalorian fires a laserblast at his bug-eyed head, dropping him.

Mando calmly swivels his blaster to Salaa. 

Resigned, the Hutt slimily states, “Ask what you wish to know, pateesa.”

“I have been told that you have seen another Mandalorian. Where?”

“Ahh, that is all? I have seen one here.”

“On Niamos?” So surprised, Mando forgets to keep the tone from his voice.

“A beskar-covered man does not go unnoticed on a planet filled with water-bathers,” Salaa laughs again. You visibly wince.

“Where?” 

“Where else? Water’s Edge.” 

Mando twists his head toward the opposite window as if he could see his fellow Mandalorian from here. He holsters his weapon and turns to leave. 

“Those Yaka were expensive guards, pateesa,” the Hutt grumbles ominously.

“You paid too much.”

He returns his hold on your arm, pushing you forward. Marching awkwardly down the sloping halfway, you try to make sense of his actions.

Your face screws up in confusion, “You didn’t turn me in or claim the Hutt’s bounty. You're earning no credits.”

That’s the defining feature of a bounty hunter.

The silence lengthens as you reach the ground floor, and hurriedly exit the sandstone building. As you soak in the blistering sunshine, the hand on your arm turns you to face him. The Mandalorian’s quick fingers remove your binders. 

“That’s it?” You rub your wrists even though he had left them on the loosest setting.

“Passage for assistance,” he reminds you. 

He then nods once and takes his leave. For an interminable length of time, you watch as he calmly walks away, breaking only when he turns down an alley and is lost from sight.

 What the hell do I do now?

__________________________________

The new day is growing late. Din Djarin basks in the heat of the single sun. For being one of those odd planets without plural light sources, the strength of the lone sun is incredible. Din much preferred the scorching, arid planets to the ice-covered ones, and Niamos is perfect. The breeze gently carries through his light flight suit, while the sun warms whatever dark material is visible around the beskar. 

While Din feels more comfortable in this climate, heat signatures can be a little bit more difficult to read. He had managed to track a faint heat signature around Water’s Edge. The day before, immediately after speaking with Salaa, Din had come to check the place out, but his quarry had left some hours previously and he had lost the trail.

Din enters the establishment for the second time in as many days. Inside is a large, open floor with dining tables set out across the expanse. High society clinks glasses as they wait for the next act to grace the small stage. Din surveys the room, switching between heat sensors and normal vision, before concluding that the Mandalorian he searches for is beyond the far wall. 

Heads turn and stare as Din, strutting as if he belongs, makes his way to the unobtrusive doorway next to the stage. A Mandalorian stands out here. This was a place for people who employed bounty hunters, not those whom they hunt. Din slides the door open, and he is greeted by a dark hallway.

Light spills from a room to his right. Din flips on his heat sensor again, and presses his lips together in satisfaction when the heat signature picks up.

Rounding into the room with confidence, Din observes everything at once.

A large mirror, complete with lights, sits above a desk. A rack of clothing stands lonely in the far corner. And on a stool in front of the mirror sits a Mandalorian, their flaky, blue-painted armor having seen better days.

“My name is Din Djarin,” he announces. “I have been tasked with finding other Mandalorians in order t-” 

“Oh, my stars!” The Mandalorian squeals. The helmet is removed by purple hands, and a humanoid species stares in awe. “I’ve always wanted to meet a Mandalorian. I- I do this character because I just love your culture so much.” 

Blinking behind his helm, Din confirms what he's already becoming sure of, “That armor you wear - it is not real beskar.”

“What? This stuff?” The actor scoffs. “This is expensive paint and cheap wetboard.” He stands up, advancing unwisely on the real Mandalorian. “Can I ask you some questions? I’ve got a real opportunity here to elevate my perfor-” 

Din backs out of the room in a single, fluid motion, punching the button for the door. 

He sighs.

***

A blaster shot turns the corner of the building Din had just walked past into dust and debris. He spins, drawing his own blaster, expecting to see the Empire itself. Instead, a young human bounty hunter stands there, nervously fumbling with her jammed blaster. The Mandalorian rushes her, pinning her by the collarbone against the alley wall. 

"Bounty?”

Terrified, she nods and whispers, “Yes.” 

"Who contracted it?" 

She wheezes from under Din’s forearm, “Don't know. It's open Rim-wide for now. Just told to kill you and the girl.”

Under his helm, Din’s brow pinches. “The girl?”

The wide-eyed woman shrugs, again in the dark. If this inexperienced bounty hunter managed to track him down already, it's likely another has found you. Din releases the woman roughly and rockets up into the sky.

_______________________________

The sights and sounds of the beach are incredible. The late-daylight is deliciously warm as it touches your skin through the holes in your clothing. You sit on the top step of the tiered beach area, staring out at the water as you try to come up with a plan of action. Having slept on a lounge chair last night, you’re nearly grateful for the decades of poor lodging training your body. 

The sky is hazy, but the flash of sunlight glinting off of something tiny flying far above has you twisting your head and squinting. Unable to make out the object, you return your attention to the ocean and ignore it. 

From behind you, a voice calls your name and you automatically turn.

As you stare down the barrel of the blaster pointed at you, you remember no one should know your name here.

"Let's go," the bounty hunter tells you.

It's a woman with red skin and long, blue, braided hair. Etches in her cheeks make her bone structure look even sharper. 

You frown. What you’d told the Mandalorian had already been proven correct. You weren't able to run. 

Resignedly standing to your feet, you take a step, but go stumbling forward as the woman kicks your back.

Your second foreign emotion of the last twenty-four hours sparks in your chest, glowing as hot as the sun above. 

"Hey! I was going," you glare.

"Move faster, scum," she orders. 

You continue walking, your eyes scanning for something, anything, to get you out of this.

Ahead on the right is a large crowd of vendors and their customers. If you can duck through them, maybe you can lose the blue-haired madwoman behind you. 

A cold, circular shape presses between your shoulder blades as you march, and your bravery starts to fail. If you make a single wrong move, you'll be shot before you even get to the crowd. 

Just do it - better to die now than live as a slave.

The crowd swells as a school trip pours out from a nearby museum. Your confidence rises at the sight of the increasingly busy, confusing horde.

Closer. So kriffing close.

The female bounty hunter cries out suddenly as a blaster shot scalds her arm. She defensively spins, kicking out powerfully behind her.

A large species you're unfamiliar with, tall and teal, is thrown sideways with the force of the kick. The competing bounty hunter recovers into a crouch and shoots at your captor, hitting her in the chest.

With a violent exhale, she falls. Too busy sprinting into the crowd, you do not hear her final, pathetic breath. 

Weaving, keeping ducked and hidden, you whisper a constant stream of 'excuse me.' You don't want to push anyone, knowing a reaction from an offended beach-goer could give away your position. 

The unblinking bounty hunter, your newest enemy, stands tall above much of the crowd, and it doesn't take him long to spot your trail. 

Thundering forward, happily shoving people you had so politely passed, he roars. Fear ices your stomach.

The sound of a sputtering jetpack drowns out the noise of the people. Never breaking stride, you search for the source of another bounty hunter. 

I know I’m a runaway slave who assaulted her master before turning him into a carbonsicle but, banthashit, is the price on my head really that high?

The massive hunter gains on you, and just as you clear the other side of the crowd, you gasp, pained, when he snatches your hair. You whirl, packing all of your strength into your right fist. Your blow lands on the creature’s lower jaw, which seems to be two pink tubes, and it wails grotesquely. 

The grip on your hair loosens and you rip away, but the much larger creature lunges for you again. It pulls you upward by your shirt this time, and you scream. Kicking out, your foot knocks a breath from the ugly bounty hunter, but it does not release you.

Staring at you with shallow black eyes, it speaks in a language you don’t understand, but the intonation is clearly a question. 

Gasping, you boldly say, “Let go of me and I’ll tell you.” 

The creature seems to understand Basic because his three-fingered hand leaves your shirt. 

Before you get a chance to make up a lie, the hulking bounty hunter vanishes in a flash of silver. Your head snaps in the direction of travel, and a trail of exhaust follows. 

A hundred yards away, the jetpack flares out and the two fall to the ground in a tumble of fighting. A strangled laugh exits your mouth. 

From bigger fish to bigger fish. Eventually the biggest fish would win and come after you.

The sound of the ugly creature roaring ends abruptly with a choked grunt. You push your legs hard as you run. The doorway to a cantina catches your eye as an intoxicated human stumbles out, and you rush past him. 

Inside the dark, clamorous, smoky business, you slide into the booth furthest from the door, hoping that neither hunter saw you duck in. Panting heavily, you tell the droid waitress you’d like a bit of spotchka. You’ve never had it, but you’ve seen how relaxed and brave it makes people and that sounds wonderful right about now.

The circular cantina door slides open and the silhouette of a tall, broad Mandalorian is outlined by the glaring sun. You can’t tell what color or condition his armor is in, but your stomach clenches all the same. It had been an entire revolution of the planet since your Mandalorian had left, so it can't be him.

Wonder if he found his friend, you think about his ten-thousand-credit question for the Hutt. Must’ve been quite a reunion if it was worth that much. 

Shrinking back against the wall of your booth, you shift completely out of sight and pray to whatever Ancient is listening that the stories about their helmets’ capabilities are exaggerations. 

The droid waitress sets your pretty blue drink on the table without comment, for which you’re grateful. You don’t think your voice works.

Clinking metal is audible despite the volume of the rowdy bar. The sound gradually grows louder as he approaches your booth.

“What are you doing?” The Mandalorian has his hands on his hips, and though you cannot see his face, you’re certain he looks like a disapproving parent.

“I- what?” You squeak, completely confused by his question. And why he's here.

He moves to sit down across from you, and your nerves flare.

“Why are you still here?” He asks the same question you want to ask him.

“Where was I supposed to go? I have no credits.”

“There is work available on this planet.” 

You pause, unhappy to give away just how out of your depth you are, “You mean paid employment? I’m not familiar with the process."

The Mandalorian doesn’t speak, he simply stares at you until you break your stare first. 

Looking down at the grimy table, you trace a piece of graffiti with your finger and whisper, “Thank you.” 

Mando shifts his head in askance.

“For saving me from the slave hunter.”

“He wasn’t a slave hunter.” Mando’s helmet tips down to where the bright blue liquid sits on the table. “You going to drink that?” 

You shake your head, too self-conscious now. 

“Good.”

He slides out from the booth and motions for you to walk ahead of him. 

________________________________

Standing in the bay of the Mandalorian’s ship once more, you engage in a staring contest with the little green baby as it sits on the floor. Its ears move like he’s listening to Mando speak on his holocall above in the cockpit, but its eyes remain on you.

You’ve always liked children. While they could be blunt, they were kind to you and other slaves because they hadn’t yet learned any differently. 

“How old are you?” You ask softly.

In your experience, children prefer to be spoken to as one would an adult, so you refrain from the baby-voice that springs to the surface when you look at the adorable infant. 

He tilts his ears toward you. 

“You’re pretty cute." The baby coos, then babbles once.

“You really are cute. And you seem highly intelligent. Have you been with the Mandalorian long? He seems to pick up strays easily,” you smile warmly. 

The child awkwardly gets to its feet, toddling toward you. Remembering how quickly Mando had taken the child away when it last interacted with you, you slowly move backward toward the ladder. You don’t know if it's dangerous. Maybe the cuteness is a front.

A gurgling noise, as if it’s trying to tell you something, breaks from its little mouth. He raises his hand, pointing, and you whirl.

The Mandalorian is but a few feet away, watching. 

How the kark did he get down the ladder so quietly?

“I’m sorry,” you don’t know what you’re apologizing for. 

Mando strides around you and crouches to pick up the baby, “We're leaving this planet. I won't have enough fuel to get across the galaxy, but there is a job a few systems over."

He cradles the child so gently that it makes your heart ache. 

Who is this guy?

The child in his arms makes grabby hands at his helmet, so he tenderly sets it back down. Mando heads back toward the cockpit, indicating you should follow. 

Up the ladder, sitting once again in the same seat, you keep your eyes on the Mandalorian as he begins the lengthy takeoff procedures. 

“The bounty hunter you encountered was not after the slave reward.”

“But she knew my name?” 

“I am referring to the Aqualish you punched.” 

“Oh.”

The Mandalorian does not immediately continue, focusing on his tasks for several minutes. 

“There is a reward out for you,” he flips another switch. “And a bounty.” 

“Both? Why both?” 

“The bounty is secondary. Dependant on you giving them m-”

A panicked, childish cry echoes from below, and you’re only a moment behind the Mandalorian as he leaps down the hatch to the hold.

You gasp in horror as you see the long-eared, big-eyed baby squished in the crook of another kriffing bounty hunter’s arm. The loading ramp closes slowly behind him. He must’ve jumped in at the last moment.

Mando raises his hands, indicating his desire to negotiate. 

“Do not hurt him,” he says. Instead of coming out as a plea, his vocoded words come out as a warning that makes your hair stand on end. 

“Din Djarin, you are wanted for the murder of Senator Nesota’s son. I know your reputation, and therefore do not wish to fight. I’ll release your… this," he nods at the green baby, "when you’re in carbonite. There,” the human bounty hunter nods his head at Din’s own carbon freezer. 

He killed a Senator’s kid?

The child frowns, his ears drooping, and he focuses hard on the bounty hunter. His little hand curls, and the man’s ruddy face turns purple. His eyes grow red and glassy.

Din reacts quickly, drawing his blaster and firing at the hunter’s face. The man falls with a clattering thunk, and the child rolls away, unmoving. 

“No," you cry. "Is he alright?” You start toward the kid, fear in your voice. 

“He’s fine,” the Mandalorian replies, holding his palm up for you to stay back. He reverently lifts the unconscious kid. “He’s just asleep.” 

The Mandalorian - Din Djarin - murdered an important person’s child. And his own kid just choked someone without using its hands? I didn’t inhale spice, did I?

“You killed a kid?” 

Din believes you’re still thinking of the baby in his arms. “I said he’s sleeping.”

“A Senator’s son?”

“Oh. Yes, the Rodian with Salaa.” Din hadn’t known he was the son of a powerful person, but it wouldn’t have mattered. 

Relief floods you once again as your evaluation of the Mandalorian’s character remains intact. After seeing the way he cared for the little green one, how could you have believed he would harm any child? 

“Okay." You return to the wildest topic, "What just happened with your kid?”

Din sighs. This was getting more dangerous than negotiating with a Tusken. He places the kid in his hammock and shuts the door. 

Turning on you, he threatens, “Never speak of him outside this ship.”

“I- I wouldn’t,” you promise, surprised by the fierceness in his voice. 

Din is satisfied. He’d watched you speak to his ward earlier, and the kid seems to like you immensely. But he doesn't solely rely on the kid's opinion. 

The experienced, Mandalorian bounty hunter's own character assessment is top-notch, and he finds that he feels strongly about you. He doesn't categorize or identify the specifics, however.  

The Mandalorian does not ask for your help in removing the dead bounty hunter from his ship, so you look on in silence as he does it alone. He lowers the landing ramp, drags the body to the edge, and watches it roll down unceremoniously. He turns and stalks past you.

“So, where's that job?” 

“The Outer Rim.”

You sigh. “Of course it is.”

__________________________________

The planet blinds you when the Razor Crest launches out of hyperdrive. Brilliantly green, the single sun reflects the vibrant landscape right into your eyes. 

Shielding your face, you venture a question. The Mandalorian had not finished explaining.

"Why is there a bounty on me?" 

Even through the modulator, you can hear his dry tone: "You aided a bounty hunter in entering the Hutt's hideout through false pretenses which ended in the blasting of a Senator's son."

"Right," you frown, slumping in your seat. 

"Don't worry. The bounty on my head is far larger than yours."

You scoff under your breath. So reassuring.

A deep breath, then you postulate, "Is that what the bounty hunter was asking me? About you?" 

Din doesn't respond. He didn't hear the Aqualish's question. He was too busy aiming at its body with his own, but his best guess is yes. 

"That's the reason you saved me," you mutter, oddly dejected.

A loose end. That's what you are.

Din often - almost constantly, actually - appreciated his helmet for the freedom it gave him to show any emotion at any time. No need to worry about a convincing poker face when no one could see it.

"You could have told them where my ship was."

"Except I thought you'd flown away the day before," you argue, saddened that he thought you would’ve talked. 

Of course, he didn't know you, and he had a child to protect, but it still stings. 

"Why not just kill me?" You wonder seriously.

You're a liability. Two separate prices on your head? The Mandalorian's easiest solution is obvious. A slave of no importance, no one would put a bounty on his head for your death.

Din Djarin's armor clanks as he spins the chair a quarter-turn toward you and he cocks his head. 

"I don't want to die," you read his body language correctly. "But I don't understand you." 

The Mandalorian silently returns to his piloting duties as he nears the lush planet. He does his best to shut his thoughts away, but he stumbles over you again and again. 

Din had rescued you because he didn’t want to see you harmed for his actions with the Hutt. The idea of protecting himself from prying questions had been an afterthought. 

He had flown above the city, looking for your trail. Since you hadn’t moved much, there wasn’t much of a trail to find. Then he spotted the crowd roiling and parting for the violent Aqualish.

When he watched it yank your hair, he felt angry. An emotion he experienced less frequently than many of his friends would believe. Frustration, irritation, sure. But true fury was rare for him.

Not wanting you dead was basic decency, but the anger had been interesting.

On some level, Din knows his emotional responses to you deserve greater scrutiny. But he doesn't have the time nor the energy.

When the Razor Crest lands in a grassy clearing between forest walls, Din rises from his chair and commands, “Stay here. Watch the child.” 

“O-okay,” you agree hesitantly. “What do I do when he wakes up?”

The Mandalorian stares, uncomprehending. 

“You… you don’t do anything for his… condition?”

“I told you he’s fine.” Din thinks for a moment, and remembers there is actually something you should know: “When he wakes up, he might be hungry. Do not let him eat the metal ball on the thruster.”

With that, he climbs down the ladder, and out of sight.

_________________________________

As the fist flies at you, you subconsciously register that your assailant must be right-handed, because this left hook is much sloppier than the other. Or maybe it's because his left arm is still human.

Ducking, you escape the jab and slam your palm-sized stick into the quarry's metal shins. He doesn’t react except to kick your thigh. You cry out, knowing it will bruise if you survive this.

The blaster you had taken from the Mandalorian’s cache lies just out of reach. The silver gleam is stark against the rich soil of the forest floor.

Enraged, the cyborg quarry leaps at your hunched form, knocking you flat. Surprised by his speed, you forget to keep hold of the heavy branch you use as a weapon. 

The growling man rips the stick from your hands and slams it against your throat like a vise, choking you, “Die, wretch.”

You turn your head to the side, providing yourself with a precious moment of air before the quarry shifts to cut that escape route off, too. 

Swinging your leg up, you kick him in the back of the head, pushing him forward. You take the opportunity to headbutt him - thankful that his head is still completely human - and he falls sideways. Right next to your blaster. 

You snatch up your wooden weapon, but it's too late.

He laughs mechanically as he grabs the blaster, swinging it at you. “Too late, sweetheart.”

Panting, you don't raise your hands. If he's going to kill you, he'll do it when you charge him. 

You take a step and the sound of a laserblast ricochets through the trees. 

The creature cries out, dropping the weapon, his arm useless at his side. Wires spark from the elbow joint that had been blown away.

"Found you," the Mandalorian says flatly, his blaster pointed at the machine.

The metal man lunges but Din fires again - hitting the quarry in what should be its gut. It doubles over, groaning, then topples, fighting for labored breath. 

He must still have lungs underneath, you shudder.

Still trying to catch your own breath, you gasp, "How-" 

"Heard the fight. You were supposed to stay on the ship," his voice turns scolding.

Clenching your jaw, you finally find a steady breath. You had stayed on the ship. This piece of space junk had broken inside through the cockpit window.

As you sat in the hold, dutifully watching the kid, the sound of glass shattering alerted you that it was not Din who was back so soon. You had snatched up the baby, touching him for the first time with no concern about his potential dangers, locked him in the little room, and ripped a small blaster from the Razor Crest’s weapons cache. 

You crouched at the far end of the hold, against the closed boarding ramp, waiting, uncomfortably far from the child. 

A cyborg, more spidery-droid than man, with a human head and fleshy left arm had come skittering down, bypassing the ladder completely. Unwilling to chance a blaster shot going through the baby’s door, you hit the button on the landing ramp and scrambled out.

The forest. It was your home. Your element. If there was any chance you could kill it, to prove to yourself that you could survive this life - it was then and there.

Of course, you hadn't expected the quarry to get your blaster.

"I tried," you breathe as Din binds the still-groaning quarry. 

The helmet turns to face you, understanding. "He entered the ship?”

You nod, and Din stands bolt-upright, his head whipping in the direction of the Razor Crest.

“It’s fine,” you assure him pointedly, walking with your hand outstretched toward the worried Mandalorian. You remember your promise not to speak of the child, “Your ship is fine. Knew you'd hate it if he trashed the thing, so I ran out here.”

The Mandalorian visibly relaxes his broad shoulders, and your heart tugs once again. 

"Thank you," Din says with hidden feeling. 

His sincerity wedges a lump in your throat. 

He really loves that little guy.

Din turns and snatches the connector between the binders, pulling the quarry. Its metal feet dig trenches as it tries to stall, but the Mandalorian is far too strong.

Somehow, it's the first time you've truly noticed. Din is extremely strong. Is it the suit? 

Can't be. It's just metal and fabric. 

The realization might as well be a thunderbolt to your brain. Your assailant must weigh as much as a land speeder, and here your bounty hunter was carting him along like a sack of starfruit.

An unfamiliar feeling, something like hot, sharp sparks shoot through your stomach. Your eyes follow the Mandalorian as he makes his way back to the Razor Crest. 

Is this attraction? You’ve never experienced it. Far too busy surviving, wanting someone in that way is a foreign concept to you. You roll your eyes at yourself. Din Djarin, a kriffing Mandalorian bounty hunter is not going to look twice at a slave, and it's best to kill those feelings before they take root.

***

Across the large clearing, at the ship, the bounty hunter waits patiently while the boarding ramp lowers.

“She yours?” The quarry asks curiously, his voice wheezing. "You orbited me like a karking moon, but as soon as I go after her, you come runnin’.” It laughs. 

The cyborg doesn't expect a verbal answer; he wants a reaction.

Din turns his head slowly with a cold warning, “I would advise you to stop speaking.”

“I damaged her pretty good for you. Might wanna che-” his taunting words end in a pained grunt when Din slams his fist into the man’s cruel mouth. 

Surprised by the sudden violence, you inhale sharply. Din hadn’t knocked the thing unconscious, so what was the point of that? 

The Mandalorian hauls the creature up the ramp and shoves him into the carbon freezer. 

“Should’ve killed me,” the cyborg threatens with a laugh as he freezes into a solid mass.

Din turns to face you and asks in a low voice, “Are you injured?”

The rush of adrenaline you had been riding on slowly fades, and you remember the only blow you’d received had been the one to the side of your thigh. Your hand falls to it, feeling the area through your tattered pants. 

A small amount of blood comes away on your fingers. 

“Oh,” you murmur. 

You pull up the ripped, baggy material, exposing your entire leg. The skin had split with the force of the blow, but there’s no serious damage and it would heal on its own. 

The cyborg must’ve been trying to unnerve us. Or distract the Mandalorian? Maybe he thought Din would check right away, you almost laugh aloud at the ridiculous idea.

Din, for his part, really wishes you would let your pant leg fall. It’s insane, it makes no sense to him. Millions of people walked around in far, far less clothing than you, and Din never reacted like this. 

But here you stand before him, slowly checking out the inch-long cut on your mid-thigh, and the Mandalorian can’t tear his eyes away. 

When you look up at the helmet of Din Djarin, he fixes his face as though you could actually see the way his lips had parted. You fleetingly, timidly, smile at him and, miraculously, let go of the flowy pant leg. 

Released from the spell, Din exhales and makes his way to the child’s room. 

“You can use the refresher to clean that, if you’d like.” He does not look at you as he speaks. 

“Is the baby okay?” 

Din need not answer as the child himself murmurs in happiness at the sight of the two of you. To Din’s abject shock, the kid lifts his hands toward you. 

You laugh once, flattered. “Can I?” 

Din simply turns sideways so that you can fit between him and the hull wall. You reach for the child and it snuggles into your arms, touching your chin. 

A brilliant smile lights your face. 

“Are we friends now?” You whisper to him. 

The baby babbles a response you’ll take as an affirmative. 

“I’ve not asked. What’s his name?” You turn your still-smiling face up to Din. 

Again thanking the Mythosaur for his helmet, he stares, stuck on your glowing expression as you cradle his ward. His brown eyes swim with an emotion he’s never felt. 

“I don't know.” 

Taken aback, you realize that there is a far deeper story here.

Did he steal this baby?

You move on quickly, “What do you call him?”

Din shrugs. “Kid.”

The child makes a cooing sound, then reaches for the Mandalorian. You hand the baby to his stoic guardian, and your smile changes to a satisfied one. 

“He looks like he belongs there,” you laugh. Then your eyebrows pull together as you regret the too-comfortable comment.

He’s a bounty hunter, a killer, and he may or may not have stolen this fuzzy, long-eared infant. 

And you’re just a runaway slave. 

You back up a step, feeling awkward now. “You said I could use the ‘fresher?” 

Din simply nods his head in the direction of the tiny facility.

When you've shut the door, Din's body relaxes. 

                               ***

But not for long. He didn't account for the sound of your clothes hitting the floor and the sound of the sonics. You are steps away, unclothed, and some wild instinct inside him awakens. Ashamed, he sets the child back in the hammock and climbs up to the cockpit to relieve himself. 

_________________________________

The planet is purple. Dark and cloudy, the yellow, green, and blue street lights cast strange shadows. Neon signs of every shade flash from every corner. You've been to thousands of cities like this one. An underworld. 

The Mandalorian landed the Razor Crest on the outskirts despite there being a busy spaceport made for that purpose. He transported the carbonite body of the cyborg to the edge of the city where he was met by some anonymous creature in a cloak. He asked no questions. 

Din had entrusted you with the care of the child. He directed you and the kid to go on ahead to one of the less-reputable inns. The worse-looking, the better. People were more likely to mind their business. 

You've found the perfect one. Din wanted seedy, he was getting the seediest. After all, most of your tasks as a slave had been spent in this environment since your masters hated to be seen in them. 

But seedy didn't always mean crumbling and derelict.

Din, having tracked the child's chain code, returns later that night. His eyebrows rise at the size of the room.

"I said find an inconspicuous place to hide. You got the emperor's suite," he places his hands on his hips. 

There are technically three rooms: the main living space, complete with couch, table, and a space to prepare food; and two small bedrooms both on the same side of the building.

"It was their only available room. Trust me, this place is as disreputable as they come. And he didn't upcharge," you rise from the couch. "If that was what you were worried about. I… made a deal with the clerk." 

Din advances on you, "A deal?" His voice is tight.

"I didn’t involve you. I promise." 

The Mandalorian clenches his teeth. Anything involving you, involves him. 

"The kid?" 

You tilt your chin across the apartment and laugh, "He wanted the room with all the toys.” 

Din disappears into the room, and you chuckle at how long the child had been fascinated by the weird sculptures inside. 

A low, rasping voice travels from the open door, "Hey, kid. Missed you, too."

Your smile deepens and your heart swells with emotion toward the two of them. Though they are not your family, it's comforting to watch them be one.

The modulated voice sounds again with a short laugh, "She can't hear you. Do you want her?" 

You shake your head fondly, the kid had been babbling and reaching for you every time you set him down. 

After a significant pause, Din softly admits, "I agree. I like her, too."

Flushing with shame for eavesdropping, you move to the far side of the apartment, to another large window. 

Several minutes later, quiet footsteps get louder as Din leaves the child's room and closes the door.

"He tried to lift one of the sculptures," Din scoffs. 

You laugh, picturing the child peacefully sleeping after tiring himself with the effort. It wasn't the first time today. Growing serious, you turn to face the Mandalorian.

"He helped me today. Someone grabbed at me and he… did what he does." 

Din takes two huge strides toward you. "Did anyone see? What happened?" 

"No one saw. It was in a closed alley. I-" you pause in momentary reluctance, then remember who you're talking to. "I took care of it." 

You glance at the blaster on the table that Din had given you earlier that morning.

For the first time in a long time, Din's sigh is one of relief instead of irritation. 

"Thank you," he says. "Again."

You wave him off, "It was between a scumsucker and the kid. Wasn't exactly hard," you try to make light of it. 

Din shakes his head slightly. "I've seen you use a blaster. I'm glad the kid was there," he deadpans.

You exhale in feigned irritation, pleased by his playfulness.

He comes to stand next to you at the open window, and the peaceful silence is companionable. 

As the breeze flutters, you shiver noticeably and his torn, rough cape curls into your ankle. The Mandalorian turns his head to you and reads how low your heat signature is.

Din stalks back to the entryway where he had set down a cloth bag. He snatches it up and brings it over to you. 

"I hope they are acceptable."

Hands outstretched, you freeze as you realize you're being given a gift. You blink and look up, desperately trying to read a face you know you can't. 

"Um, I've never -" you whisper, needing to tell him why you look like you've been struck. "Never had someone give me something."

Inside his beskar armor, Din grimaces. Had he overstepped? It might get even worse when you see how personal the items are. 

He releases his hold on the bag and you open it, pulling out a pair of clothes. They're dark blue, and, while somewhat flowy like your current clothes, these do not have holes, stains, nor bad memories associated. 

And they are a gift from Din Djarin. 

How do you thank him for these? They certainly weren't cheap. The clothing is sturdy but light, beautiful but practical. 

Embarrassingly, tears collect in your eyes.

"Oh, wow," you look up at him, panicking. "I can't take these." It was too much.

Din has an excuse in his arsenal.

"Take it as payment for your help with the kid."

You look back down at the material in your hands, rubbing the soft fabric. 

"Thank you, Din. Really. I- I don't know how to thank you. You have been so kind to me." 

His cheek pulls upward when you say his name for the first time. How sweet it sounds in your mouth. 

"You needed them. These," he waves at the shredded scraps on your frame, "are no longer clothes."

You smile timidly, unused to being treated so well. "I'm going to go take them off and burn them." 

The Mandalorian taps his vambrace. "I have the means when you're ready."

"Thank you again," you murmur, escaping to the refresher.

Din steps to the center of the room and places a hologram disk on the low table.

While you're busy, he's going to figure out how to get out of this.

***

After an actual shower, real water loosening the knots in your muscles, you exhale in pleasure at the feeling of the clean, well-made clothing on your skin. You feel like a person.

It's similar to seeing hyperspace for the first time. It scares you with how good it feels, knowing you’ve missed out on so much. 

You slide open the refresher door to see Din seated on the couch, facing away from you. He sits reclined, his legs spread wide. The Mandalorian hears the door open, but he does not turn. 

Stomach growling, you head to the cold storage near the front door. The box of food you'd bought from a vendor sits on the countertop. You unpack it carefully, still in disbelief you can eat whatever you want.

"Are you hungry?" You call to the Mandalorian as you continue to pull items from the box. 

"You are no longer a slave. You do not have to serve me." The deep, rough voice sounds from right behind you, and you jump in surprise. 

"Dank farrik, you move quietly." 

Din reaches around you for one of the fruits you had purchased with his credits. His nearness has your body tensing, but he backs away almost immediately.

"How do you eat with that on?" You wonder, clearly meaning his helmet.

"I don't," he answers, walking into the other bedroom. 

                          ***

A week passes in that calm hotel apartment. The child provided more than enough entertainment for you, attempting to lift different objects of his desire at random. 

For Din, so used to the child's antics, you are the object of his attention. You brush it off when he stands near you at the window, when he ensures that you have something to eat, and when he silently takes the couch over the comfortable bed. 

But you're unable to ignore his touch.

Just after you wake, the dual suns begin to peek around the tall city buildings. Trying not to wake Din on the couch, you tiptoe to the window in the main room, still enthralled with the city view. You’ve seen cities thousands of times throughout your enslavement, often imagining running away to explore. Now that you have the opportunity, you find that you don’t want to go.

Seated on the bare floor, your arms wrapped around your knees as you watch the suns rise, you're wandering down halls of your own thoughts when a voice drifts into your consciousness.

"I will get your bounty lifted." 

Turning your head, Din leans forward on the couch, his forearms on his knees. 

"If that's what you are concerned about."

You shake your head, "I'm not concerned. I think I'm happy." 

You had just come to that conclusion a moment earlier. It's an emotion you don't remember feeling. It's like your lungs are expanding after twenty years of suffocation. 

You look back at the city and smile contentedly, "This is the best my life has been." 

The admission is extremely personal, but you can’t keep it to yourself. It’s liberating. You weren't ready to fight for your freedom when the Mandalorian came for your master, but you are now. 

Din’s footsteps advance on you until he’s standing off to your right. He says nothing. 

After an interminable length of time, wondering what he’s doing, you twist and look up at him. His helmet turns toward the window just as you face him. 

His hands are folded behind him, but a sliver of something flesh-toned is visible. 

Is that his wrist? 

Your stomach drops. His bare skin. It looks warm-toned and soft. You close your eyes and turn away, back toward the window. 

“I am glad,” Din says. 

“About what?” Since it has been several minutes since either of you have spoken, you’re unsure if he’s responding or making a statement. 

He simply looks back down at you as if that answers your question. 

“We’ll be leaving today,” Din continues to study you, appreciating the way the orange dawn lights your face. “You’ve almost drained me of credits with this palace of a hotel.” 

You deny the accusation with a laugh, “I did not. I told you I made a deal.” 

“And you have not told me what that deal was,” he says, a hint of a threat in his tone. 

Din is on edge about your ‘deal.’ The night before, he had gone down to the reception desk to intimidate the clerk about it, but the employee you’d dealt with hadn’t been there.

“I promised you already - it has nothing to do with you or him,” you motion toward the child’s room. “It is not worth your attention.”

Din scowls. “You are also under my charge, and if you’ve placed yourself in danger, I need to be aware of it.” 

Your face snaps up, uselessly trying to make eye contact with him. His charge? Why does your face feel hot at those words?

Finally taking pity on him, you answer, “He was a gambler. I bet him I could win more rounds of sabacc. And I did.” 

The Mandalorian is stock-still. That was all? Din had gotten incredibly worked up over what you could possibly owe this mysterious desk clerk, and all you’d done was a bit of hustling? 

“Why would you not tell me that right away?”

“I didn’t want to seem like I was bragging,” you frown. Din had tasked you with something and you had wanted to complete it with as little fanfare as possible.

“What other skills have you been hiding?” Din’s tone is half-mocking, half-serious. He knows next to nothing about you despite the monopoly you’ve had on his thoughts.

You side-eye him, unsure of his intention. “I can do basic ship repairs. I can speak four languages. I know how to fight.” 

“I am not convinced of that last one.” 

“The cyborg caught me on a bad day,” you protest.

"It was fortunate you were not seriously injured. I wouldn't have the credits for this," he nods his head up at the high ceiling.

For the second time, your head turns to scrutinize him, but he’s as impenetrable as ever. 

"Why not?" 

Din's silver face snaps down to you. "The quarry would not have made it into the carbon freezer."

And as you open your mouth - to say what, you have no idea - a quiet knock raps on the front door. 

Spooked, you whirl so that you face the door, still seated. 

“It’s alright,” Din’s deep, rough voice soothes. 

When he holds out his hand to help you stand, you take it without second thought.

But it wasn’t just a hint of his wrist that you saw - his gloves are completely off. His rough palm slides into your grasp, and his thick fingers close around your hand. 

Eyes widening, you audibly gasp.

Din raises you to your feet with no effort, and you wind up far too close to him. Your breath fogs on his chestplate, and your pulse thrums in your ears.

Too-quickly, his thumb rubs your skin, and then he releases your hand. Do you imagine the sigh he makes as he steps away?

Your eyes are glued to his broad form as he retrieves his gloves from the couch, then heads to answer the door. 

“Should I -?” You whisper.

“Stay,” he says simply. 

It’s unbelievable how one word could affect you. You swallow hard and clasp your hands together in front of you. 

***

“As you are well aware, Mandalorian, my esteemed patron was unhappy to hear about her son’s death. However, you are of concern to us for a different reason. If we are able to reward you for your silence regarding where her son was at the time of his unfortunate, accidental death, this business might be put behind us.”

The slimeball flashes her biggest smile at the bounty hunter. 

“What am I being paid to be silent about? The Hutt was banished by the Republic due to his slavery connections. Is the Senator afraid of her choice in friends being known?” 

The emissary smiles nastily. “Let us say that the Hutt is also on my list of individuals to speak with.”

“I require explicit terms regarding this agreement. I am a Mandalorian, I can assure you of my discretion.”

“Very well. You will not divulge the conversation regarding slavery you overheard between the Senator’s son and Salaa the Hutt, and we shall reward you with twenty-thousand credits to be paid over the course of three months.” 

To your horror, Din rises from the couch and nods his head, saying, “I accept your terms.”

“And what about her?” The emissary wrinkles her nose as she indicates you.

“She is a slave,” the Mandalorian says with harsh finality. 

You physically shrink next to him. He had insisted you remain while they spoke, but now you’re regretting agreeing to it.

The distaste with which he had uttered the word ‘slave’ makes you feel unclean, unwanted. Tears threaten to spill over, and you keep your head down in a familiar, submissive posture in case they do.

The bounty hunter escorts the Twi’lek emissary to the door while you sit, head bowed, on the couch. 

“Senator Nesota will be most appreciative. If you are ever in Coruscant, she would be delighted to have you visit her apartments. They are most grand.” She disapprovingly glances around the hotel room. “I assume you had your slave pick this one.” The emissary briefly places her hand on the Mandalorian’s forearm, “Remember, we are friends now, Din Djarin.”

The helmet saves his entire operation, for Din cannot stop the disgusted scowl that mars his face. This piece of scum uses his name to both threaten and flirt; the difference in his feelings between her saying it and you saying it are blindingly stark.

“I do not have friends. My name is not for your use,” he says evenly as he punches the button for the front door.

The emissary walks away without another word. 

When Din closes the door, he turns back to you with a sense of relief for more than one reason. 

But something is wrong.

“Do you not feel well?”

You shake your head, “I misunderstood something. That’s all.” Your head remains bowed.

“You will not look at me.” 

“I am… embarrassed,” you mutter honestly.

An emotion Din has never experienced or understood, he is at a loss. Instead, he sits across from you and tosses you the recorder.

The small, comm-looking device lands on your lap, and you pick it up, curiously rolling it in your hands. You press the button.

“Very well. You will not divulge the conversation regarding slav-” 

You stop the device and look up at Din with renewed hope, “You were lying.”

Din leans forward in his seat, “I was not lying. I gave her my word as a Mandalorian. But you didn’t.” 

“That’s a stretch and you know it,” you laugh. 

Din shrugs. The moral reasoning works for him.

“I am to send this recording to the Republic, correct? Get the senator removed from office?” 

“She will no longer have the funds to pay our bounties. They will be considered void.”

Your smile falters. He had done what he promised. 

Din tilts his head, “You’re unhappy about that?”

“It’s not your problem, of course. But I have to deal with the slaver’s reward. And… and I am not sure what I should do, where I should go.”

Really, you’re saddened because there is no longer any reason for you to stay. You wish there was.

The Mandalorian is silent, weighing his choice of words carefully. 

"There is room on the Razor Crest. The kid is fond of you. I can pay you for your services to him. And, occasionally, the ship needs repairs - you can assist me with those.”

“Is this that ‘legal employment’ you told me I needed?” You grin. “I would like that very much.”

“You will need to learn how to fight, though,” he shakes his head, his tone teasing. “The kid can’t save you every time.”

____________________________________

You sit on the hold floor, the child in your arms. Having left the inn rather early, the child is still asleep.

Jostling as Din lands the Razor Crest on a new planet, you slowly stand and place the little lump in his hammock and shut the door. 

The Mandalorian drops down into the hold, passing you and hitting the button for the boarding ramp. Deciding to trust him, you don't ask where you're being taken. 

The answer isn't far. Din stops right at the treeline and hands you the same silver blaster from the previous week's fight with the cyborg. 

"You need to learn to use it." 

"I've done well with a blaster before," you protest. "I shot Rathos." 

"But you didn't shoot the cyborg," you can hear the frown in his deep voice. "Pick a tree."

Nervous to be evaluated by a master of the craft, you hesitate briefly before aiming at a massive trunk a few speeders lengths away.

The plate of his armor brushes against your back as the Mandalorian gingerly sets his heavy hands on your shoulders, straightening them. With his boot, he taps the inside of your foot, indicating you should widen your stance. 

You blink rapidly. Your face flushes with warmth. Why is your heart thundering? Can he hear it? 

He can. 

His own heart rate increases when his helmet's display shows your heat signature rising. Din pushes it further: his leather-covered hands slide down to your waist where he turns you a fraction - completely unnecessarily.

Close enough that, were he unveiled, you could feel his breath, he murmurs, "Fire."

Utterly distracted, you squeeze the trigger as a matter of following his command. The blaster shot continues on through the treetops, singeing leaves. 

Din straightens, his hands leaving your body, and he huffs. 

"You distracted me," you explain. "I can hit it."

You realign the weapon and inhale deeply, releasing on the exhale just as you would with an arrow. 

The tree sizzles as you hit it dead-center. 

Spinning to face him triumphantly, the smile freezes on your lips. 

One of the suns on this planet has begun to drop behind him, and his large frame casts you in shadow. He still hasn't moved away from you. The way his mask is angled toward you makes you believe he's lost in thought. 

"What is it?" You whisper in the tense silence. 

Din feels dizzy. You're a natural with a weapon you'd fired all of three times. Your words cudgel his mind. He had distracted you enough to miss a huge karking tree.

"Do it again." 

You nod and return to the target. Throwing your mind back to your childhood, you once again hit the tree dead-on. 

Weighing the blaster in your hand, you turn back to him and say, "I still prefer wooden weapons. Or at least something resembling a spear." 

"Why is that?" His voice is rough, and his hands find a home on his hips. 

"That's how I grew up," you answer. 

"Okay. Grab one." 

Your mouth drops open in confusion, but he finally leaves your personal space and picks up a slender, twigless branch.

"You can't be serious," you sputter a laugh, certain he had just found a sense of humor. "I'm not fighting you." 

"Why not?"

"Um. Because I can't."

"You can." He holds the stick out toward you.

You stare at him, watchful, as you curl your fingers around it. Din removes a small, cylindrical object from his utility belt. He pumps it once and it unfolds into a thin cane-like weapon. 

"It's been twenty years," you frown. "You're going to win." 

But, when that makeshift spear is in your hand, it all rushes back. The key to winning is in gaining ground. Whatever you do, push your opponent back. So, you launch at him first. 

Only partially surprised by the speed of the typically-timid girl now coming for his throat, Din manages to duck out of the way just in time. But you whirl to the opposite side he expects, and swing your weapon into his helmet. It clangs, and you stand upright.

"I'm sorry!" You react, fearful both from years of mistreatment and not wanting to hurt Din.

He ignores you, swishing his weapon toward your middle, and you jump backward. Hating that you conceded even that little ground, you quickly drop to a crouch and sweep at his knees like Rathos did to you. 

Din rockets upward a few feet, then drops back down on your other side. He swings at you and you parry. 

Dancing for several steps, you eventually land a blow to his ribs where the beskar does not cover. Din's modulated groan makes you feel a rush of two separate emotions. 

You don't want to hurt him, but that sound ignites a heat between your legs.

Din retaliates, kicking his tipless spear into your chest and shoving you backward. He knows your move, now. You don't like giving up ground, so you'll throw yourself at him, arms raised to strike.

When you do exactly as he predicts, he drops his weapon completely, grabbing you around the waist and spinning. He throws you to the ground, coming down on top of you.

You laugh, exhilarated, "Almost."

Something is jabbing your hip, and when you shift to identify it, Din grunts again. Your eyes shoot to his hidden face. 

Under the helmet, Din's brown eyes are blown, pained at how aroused he is. He can't handle much more of this. Your wide eyes and galloping heart match his, but underneath him you look so vulnerable that he feels downright predatory. His stiff length twitches.

Din’s voice is raw, barely contained, "Tell me to stop and I will." His gloved thumbs push your bottoms down.

Speechless, your core pulsing, you nod. 

Din unfastens the material around his middle, pulls his desperate cock from the flight suit, and hastily positions himself against you. Your slick coats him as he drags himself through your folds. He groans through the modulator. 

“Oh,” you gasp when he eases the tip past your entrance.

Unable to wait a moment longer, Din sheaths himself inside you with a determined grunt, his patch of dark curls mingling with yours.  

Your hands try to fist in his flight suit, eyes wide at the incredible feeling of him filling you. His right hand cradles your jaw as he starts to rock his hips, cursing as he does so. 

For the first time in his life, Din resents his helmet; both for the separation from your soft skin, and the heightened senses it gives him. How is he supposed to last when he can see your heart racing, hear your quiet cries as though they’re inside his own head?

In an insufficient compromise, he rips off his gloves. His tan skin is calloused and scarred.

“Yes,” you plead.

Din intertwines his fingers on both hands with yours, hypnotized for a precious second by the intimacy. Reverently, you press a kiss to his knuckles. He makes a wild sound deep in his chest, then plunges your hands above your head. 

Pushing your chest to his, you signal that he can do anything he wants to you. He collects both your wrists in one hand.

Din rhythmically arcs into you, the sound of his body - soaked from your arousal - striking yours nearly driving you insane. When you’d imagined it before, you wondered if looking into the blank face of his helmet might be off-putting, but you find that it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter because it’s him. If anything, it’s erotic to trust him so blindly. 

Din is resolved to know your body better than you do. With his free hand, his fingers nimbly massage your clit until you jerk. 

“There?” He confirms.

You nod, unable to speak. His heavy, straining cock dragging through you, and his rough fingers replace the output from all other senses.

When he finds the perfect combination, he doesn’t let up until your eyes screw shut and you shake, incoherent underneath him in ecstasy. 

“You can say it,” he hoarsely encourages through the modulator. 

It was already on your lips, “Din.”

The hand that acted as a manacle releases you as he places his palm on the ground, giving himself as much leverage to bury himself as deep as possible. The toes of Din’s boots dig up clumps of grass as he thrusts into you, the sound of skin slapping skin lost in the breeze. Your legs curl around his waist, pulling him deeper.

He feels the spark at the base of his spine and knows he doesn’t have much strength left. Your fingers twist into the fabric of his flight suit again, clinging to him for all you’re worth.

Din makes the mistake of looking into your lust-filled eyes as you speak.

“Let go,” you whisper tenderly, feeling his tense body begin to fracture.

Din has no choice but to obey you, pumping himself into you with a long, harsh sigh. He works his release inside you, gradually slowing until his arms shake.

He finally drops to the ground beside you, breathing rapidly.

Suddenly shy, you want nothing more than to reach over and take one of his hands, but you lack the confidence. You also don’t know what to say. 

Din doesn’t believe there’s anything to say. He had never been so tempted in all his life, and he had not passed the test. A shred less self-control and his helmet might’ve followed the gloves. 

In fact, the temptation is still so strong that he begins to plan for its eventuality. 

____________________________________

[orionlancasterr]

15 lines of dialogue

I was tagged by @adelaidedrubman and @8bitpizzacoupons I am also suuuper late so i'm not gonna tag anyone myself lmao

Rules: Share 15 or fewer lines of dialogue from an OC, ideally lines that capture their character/personality/vibe. Bonus points for just using the dialogue without other details about the scene, but you’re free to include those as well.

Noose

“Gob were you ghoulified by a direct nuclear blast or by gradual exposure? I was talking to Moira and she said that those were the two ways to become a ghoul but I found a government study in the national archives about how they were trying to make ghouls before the war because they thought that they would survive the bombs better but since ghouls are sterile it wasn’t much of a good option so they only made a few of them and- Gob are you a pre-war ghoul? I mean it’s unlikely but I’m taking notes because I heard that there was a doctor in necropolis who studies ghouls and- oh sorry.”

“Oh my god Rust is gonna love you guys, she’s a total nerd, I think she’s read the user manuals for the T-45’s like a million times.”

“Vault 87 is actually kind of interesting because from what I read it wasn’t even originally supposed to be a research site but I couldn’t find any records on what the original experiment was supposed to be despite the fact that it was changed last minute…and of course it’s awful that its right behind your town of course and the super mutants have been killing your people for years, right. Sorry.”

“I’ll come find you in Bigtown in few years, promise.”

“Jesus, RJ is running a whole town by himself and you wont let me leave Megaton without what, an armed body guard? I’ve been shot, stabbed and blown up just this month alone and I’m still standing. I can handle myself.” (They are 13)

“Feel like a big man, killing a kid for a poker chip?”

“Just my fucking luck.”

“You’re a smart guy Arcade what do you think happened- OW Shit!”

“We’re gonna walk right on in together and see just how much your legionnaires care about you.”

“The NCR, the Legion, House they’re all the same and you’re too stubborn to even see it! All these people want is control, they don’t care about any one person, hell at least the legion is transparent about it. I mean do you think if you kill enough kids and old women that Kimball will come all the way from Shady Sands to personally suck your dick, Boone? What did you think would happen? I’m fucking talking to you, asshole!”

“Kill yourself.” 12 “I read about this place once, in the DC Library. It was supposed to be a top tier resort for a bunch of rich people. I don’t think it ever opened before the bombs fell.”

“I wanted to be an archivist when I was a kid. I loved collecting information like you love collecting spare parts…I wonder if we’d have met when we were little, if we’d grown up together if we’d have worked out.”

“Who did you say you were waiting on? MacCready? Like, RJ? From Little Lamplight?”

“I’m tired.”

[rainisawriter]

Dragophire Empire – S.W.O.R.D (ITYc1)

༻ITYC Ficography༺ ༻ITYC Tag༺

Genre: Comedy, friendship, slice of life -> fantasy au

Word Count: 4,581

Pairing: None

World: High&Low

A/N: So, I wasn’t sure how to write this and I’m not sure if I’m happy with it, but I hope it makes someone laugh or smile, at least haha I may expand on this later, who knows. Written for the @itropeyou challenge.

I Trope You! Challenge #: 1 – Genre Shift

━━━━━━༻🕯༺━━━━━━

Murayama entered the gym of Oya Kou, beelining for the stage that sat at the back of the room. He hopped up before falling onto the sofa beside me, excitement dancing in his dark eyes. “Guess what?”

“You finally decided to be an adult, get a job and leave Oya Kou?” I quirked a brow at him and he pouted. 

“Not even close.”

“Yeah, something like that would never happen,” I snickered. “You’ll be at this school even as an old man.”

“So will you!”

“Yeah probably.”

A moment of silence passed by as we stared at each other blankly.

Finally, I scowled. “Are you gonna tell me or nah?”

“You broke first, I win!”

“I’m leaving.” I started to get up off the couch but he grabbed the back of my shirt, yanking me back down. Before I could insult him, he finally answered.

“I found a really cool video game store during my walk today.”

“A game store?” My brow furrowed. “Those still exist? Don’t most people just buy their stuff online these days?”

“Mostly, yeah, but you’re missing out on some great titles that way,” he clicked his tongue, waving his finger at me. “Listen up, kid.”

“I’m older than you.”

He ignored the comment. “There are a lot of gems out there that can’t be bought online because they no longer exist.”

“If they no longer existed, they wouldn’t be at the store, either.” I pointed out, making him scowl.

“Yah, I’m trying to teach you a lesson.”

“Your lessons are shit. That’s why everyone at Oya is dumb as hell.”

“Oi!” Nakazono glanced up from where he was sitting below the stage, a scowl on his lips. “We’re not all dumb, ya know.”

“You’re right,” I agreed, taking in the satisfied look on his face before adding, “Todoroki is pretty damn smart.”

His expression fell to a displeased scowl again and I snickered, proud of myself.

“You’re such an ass.”

“If you’re not an ass, are you even an Oya student?”

His lips parted to retort but then he paused, thought about it for a minute and nodded. “Yeah, that’s fair.”

It was Murayama’s turn to scowl now, smacking my shoulder. “Will you focus for two minutes, please? This is important.”

“How is it important?” I leaned back against the couch, arms folded over my chest.

“Because we can find a new game to play that no one else is playing.” He paused, turning his head away and mumbling under his breath. “I was hoping it could be our special thing.“

My heart warmed at the words. He and I have been best friends for years, connecting after he and Cobra first fought. He was my brother at this point, but we didn’t spend as much time together as we could. He was always busy dealing with Oya drama and keeping the younger ones out of trouble.

Meanwhile, I’ve been working a lot lately so I could keep my apartment and still offer money to the Oya kiddos so they could get things they wanted. Admittedly, we haven’t been spending much time together lately, so it makes sense he would come up with something like this.

I knew I wasn’t meant to hear the last bit so I sighed dramatically, pretending to be annoyed. “Fine, I’ll go with you.”

He grinned, eyes lighting up.

“But you’re paying.”

He clicked his tongue, folding his arm over his chest. “Fine.”

━━━━━━༻🕯༺━━━━━━

It was mid-autumn, the temperature dropping with each day that passed by. There weren’t many trees within the city, but the few that had been planted were already bare, their colorful leaves pooled at the bottom of their trunks. The world felt more alive, more magical during the fall season and I absolutely adored it.

I couldn’t wait for Halloween, especially since Daruma’s Halloween festival was always top tier.

I pulled my jacket tighter around my body as I headed in the direction of the store. Murayama was already waiting outside, nearly bouncing on the balls of his feet as he peered through the glass.

“It’s about time,” he scowled at me, not waiting for a response before he darted into the store.

“And I thought I was impatient,” I scoffed, following after him.

No one was inside the store so it was eerily quiet. It reminded me of those old movie rental stores but, instead of movies, it was all video games for varying consoles, many of which I had never even heard of before. Murayama had been right when he said these things were gems that couldn’t be bought online.

A lot of my free time was spent browsing game lists, looking for interesting titles to save up for. Though I was picky and didn’t have a large library, I could name a lot of games simply by the description or by screenshots, but these games? I had never heard of any of them.

I hummed as I scanned the shelves, looking for anything that caught my eye though nothing did. Some of these names were insane, too.

Rocket Sizzlin’.

Killa Y.Q.Q.

Woman the Beaver.

Teenage Direction.

The Marvelous Enigmas.

Okay, that last one wasn’t bad. Feeling curious, I picked it up and turned it over. It was a pixel game about these sentient blobs of slime trying to pass for normal human beings. My nose wrinkled and I returned it to the shelf.

I wasn’t a big fan of older games and I don’t like pixel games. I prefer games with amazing graphics that make you feel as if you can jump through the screen and enter it. I like worlds that are so rich, you get lost in them, feel as if you’re part of them. Games that make you forget about the boring, mundane life you actually lead.

“If that’s what you’re looking for, child, I have the perfect game for you.”

I blinked in confusion at the old man standing a few feet away. He was short, the upper half of his body hunched over a cane as if it were the only thing keeping him on his feet. His head was mostly bald, with just a few strands of thin white hair placed at random spots. His mustache and beard was long but the hair was thin.

Where the hell had he come from? Why hadn’t I heard him? And how the hell did he know what I was thinking?

“Did I… say all that out loud?” I wondered, though I was sure I hadn’t. 

“Part of it, yes,” he chuckled, peering at me through small, dark eyes. “You were mumbling to yourself. A bad habit, I might add.”

“Oh,” I frowned, rubbing the back of my neck.

“Come, child. Allow me to show you the game you desire.” He waved his hand at me before slowly turning and hobbling away.

I highly doubted he would give me a game I enjoyed but I didn’t want to be rude so I followed him. He was so slow, though, taking five minutes just to make it to the other side of the small store.

Murayama poked his head around one of the shelves and snickered, clearly enjoying my annoyance. I flicked him off and he faked an offended look before disappearing again.

The man took a title off the shelf with a shaky hand, holding it out to me. I couldn’t help but notice how boney his fingers were, as if there was barely any skin left to cover them. “I believe you will enjoy this.”

I took it from him carefully, reading the title. “The Five Grim Kings.” Okay, not a bad title at all. I hummed, flipping it over to read the description. “‘The Dragophire Kingdom was once a prosperous nation united under one banner, but peace can not last forever.'”

He nodded, closing his eyes.

“‘The nation started to fight itself, splitting into five different factions, all of whom were vying for power and control. While they threaten to destroy themselves from within, a new power has risen from the darkness with the intent to destroy all of them.’ Huh, that sounds strangely familiar.”

The man nodded again, a frown on his lips. “They fail to realize that they are stronger together. It is your job to unite the five factions and destroy Kaxarene.”

I hummed with interest. It didn’t look like it was that old, either, the graphics looking pretty decent on the case. It was hard to believe that it was a PlayStation 4 game. Why wasn’t this listed on the website? I bet loads of people would enjoy this.

The game was ripped from my hand by Murayama who wrinkled his nose when he looked at the cover. “I didn’t know you were into medieval RPGs.”

I shrugged a shoulder, snatching it back from him. “They’re fun to play sometimes.”

“I found something better,” he grinned, holding up two copies of a game called Cosplay Rubber Duckies.

“You have got to be kidding me…” I deadpanned, making him scowl.

“Don’t look at me like that! It’s a really complex battle royale MMO where you fight against others to take control of the mind stone and rule the world.”

“The mind stone? Isn’t that a Marvel thing?”

“They don’t own the term, idiot.”

“You’re the only idiot here, idiot.”

The old man chuckled, a twinkle in his eye. “Will you be purchasing the game, then?”

I considered it for a moment before nodding. “Sure, it sounds interesting. I’m not paying for it anyway so I have nothing to lose.”

Murayama scowled, remembering that he had agreed to pay. “It better not be expensive.”

“Doesn’t matter. Oya Kou’s leader can’t go back on his word.” I snickered, shoving the game against his chest before approaching the counter.

He clicked his tongue in disapproval as he followed after me. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“Lucky? I think you mean unlucky. You’re a pain in the ass.”

“And you’re rude as hell. It balances out.”

“Yeah, that’s fair.”

The old man finally appeared behind the counter, slowly ringing up the purchase. When placed my game in a separate bag, slowly sliding it toward me. “Do be careful, child.”

My brow furrowed in confusion at the warning, a strange feeling of doom settling in my gut. Before I could question it, though, Murayama threw his arm around my neck and started to drag me from the store, complaining about how hungry he was.

━━━━━━༻🕯༺━━━━━━

“Mother fucker,” I muttered under my breath, scowling at the TV screen. I was never good at battle royale games and I rarely made it into the top ten. “I died, you’re on your own.”

Murayama clicked his tongue, the sound barely picked up by his microphone. “At least you survived longer than last time. A whole minute and a half! You should be proud.”

I scoffed at his teasing tone. “I hope that duck with the Mohawk murders you and consumes your corpse.”

“Wow, that’s a bit drama – shit!”

I burst out laughing when said duck slaughtered him without much effort.

“You jinxed me!” He complained. “I lost because of you.”

“Tsk, tsk, Shiki. You shouldn’t blame others for your own shortcomings. You gotta own up to that shit.”

“One v one me.”

“Hell no. I’m dumb but not that dumb.”

“Liar.”

“I don’t even know how to respond to that so I’m just gonna switch games.”

“Don’t you dare.”

I hummed, grabbing The Five Grim Kings from its case. “Too late. I’m removing the disc.”

“I’ll kick your ass,” he threatened, but it lacked any real malice.

“Please, you could never beat me.”

Which was, technically, the truth. Both of you were on the same level and when you fought seriously, it ended in a tie every single time. He couldn’t beat me and I could never beat him. It’s super frustrating, but it is what it is.

“Oh no, I’m taking the disc out of the console.”

“Oi, get your ass back here and be my distraction.”

I pretended to think about it for a moment. “Nah. We’ve been playing for five hours, bro, I need a break.”

“Five hours?” He replied in surprise. “No way, it’s been like five minutes.”

“We started at noon. It’s almost 5:30.”

“Your clock is just wrong.” There was the sound of movement over the headset, followed by a moment of silence. “Oh…”

I snorted. “Dumbass.”

He clicked his tongue. “You’re so mean to me. It’s hurtful.”

“Uh huh, sure. You want me to stream this or nah?”

“Absolutely.”

“Alright, gimme a minute.”

I was just about to insert the disc when my phone started to buzz from beside me. I muted my mic, removing one side of the headset so I could answer Yamato’s call. “What’s up, boss?”

“There’s been an emergency,” he grunted, sounding tired. “I need you to come in.“

“Seriously?” I groaned, leaning back against the coffee table. “Today’s my day off and it’s late. Can’t it wait until tomorrow?”

“No. The client is paying big money for this and we both could use the extra funds. Get your ass down here.” He ended the call.

“For fuck’s sake,” I muttered, turning the mic back on. “Oi, I gotta go. Got called into work.”

“Eh~? Just ignore it.”

“Can’t. Yamato would actually fire me this time.”

“Man, imagine having your wealth in someone else’s hands. Couldn’t be me.”

“Because you’re useless,” I snickered. “Later.”

“Don’t kill anyone.”

I left the party, setting my headset on the TV stand. I considered putting the disc back in its case but it was already out so I figured I would save future me the trouble. I popped it into the console before standing up and grabbing my shit, heading out into the cool afternoon.

━━━━━━༻🕯༺━━━━━━

I let out a huff as I fell onto the bar stool, scowling at Odake-san. “The usual, please.”

A smile tugged at her lips as she started to prepare my drink. “Long day, hun?”

“The longest,” I sighed out, hanging my head. “This job is kicking my ass.”

She hummed as she set down a glass of chocolate milk before leaning her arms on the bar. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

I grabbed the glass, taking a large gulp before slamming it back on the counter. “My boss is running me ragged, Odake-san! As soon as I get back from one errand, he’s sending me off on another! He also complains that I take too long despite going there and straight back. He’s a tyrant.”

“Who’s a tyrant?”

I stiffened, straightening my back and looking fearfully at Odake before whispering, “He’s right behind me, isn’t he?”

She giggled with a nod, standing up to start preparing his drink.

I slowly turned on my stool, offering him a grin. “Hey, Yamato. How’s it going? How much did you hear, my guy?”

The tall man rolled his eyes before settling down beside me. “All of it.”

“Ouch.”

“I should fire you.”

“But you’re not gonna because you love me, right?” I grinned, nudging his shoulder.

He sent me a look but didn’t reply, choosing instead to thank Odake for the alcohol. 

I resisted the urge to click my tongue, downing the last of my drink. “Can I get another?”

“Coming right up!”

Yamato shook his head. “I can’t believe you come to a bar to order chocolate milk. You’re an actual child.”

“If I was a child, I wouldn’t be allowed inside the bar.”

“You know what I meant.” He sent me a look. “If Naomi finds out, she’s gonna be upset.”

“Don’t you dare tell her,” I hissed, smacking his shoulder. “It’s nothing personal, I just… the bar has a different vibe and sometimes I just need time away from Sannoh.”

“If Cobra hears that, he’s gonna be -“

“Really?” I deadpanned, making him snicker behind the glass.

“Don’t tease her too much,” chuckled Odake as she set another glass on the counter. “I like her company.”

“I like yours, too,” I nodded, taking the cool glass in my hand. “Thank you, Odake-san.”

She gave me a motherly smile, patting my arm. “Any time.”

After finishing my second glass, I said my goodbyes to the two and headed out into the night, ready to return home and get some sleep. I yawned loudly, rolling my neck. It had been a long day and Yamato expected me at the garage first thing in the morning to meet with a customer, so I couldn’t stay up too late or I’d end up oversleeping. 

Something caught my eye and I paused, taking a step back to get a better look. Whatever it was, it was catching the light of the street lamp, glinting softly. I approached it, glancing around for anyone who may have dropped it but the street was completely empty.

I kneeled down, fingers wrapping around the ice-cold metal so I could inspect it closer. It was a ring made of stainless steel, a black dragon inlaid across the length of it. In the dragon’s claws was a large orb made of sapphire. The blue seemed vibrant against the muted tones of the metal.

“Beautiful,” I breathed out, thumb rubbing gently over the orb. I glanced around again to ensure that no one was around before I slipped it onto my middle finger. The orb started to glow,  the metal growing warm against my skin. “What the -“

A circular wave of blue energy shot out from the ring, the world around me rippling like the surface of water after being disturbed. I prepared myself for what was to come next, but nothing happened. The world returned to normal, the night silent.

“I need sleep,” I muttered, rubbing my eyes.

When I returned to my apartment, I went straight to the bed, flopping onto it and cuddling the soft blanket Cobra had given me for my birthday. As tired as I was, I figured I could fall asleep pretty easily, but I found myself lying there for over an hour, unable to sleep.

I scowled in annoyance as I pushed myself up, grabbing a soda from the fridge. Caffeine definitely wasn’t something to drink when you wanted to sleep but something told me sleep wasn’t gonna come for me any time soon. Might as well enjoy it.

I plopped down in front of the TV, grabbing the controller. Pressing the home button woke up the TV, showing the title screen of The Five Grim Kings. Murayama would probably bitch about not waiting for him but I was too tired to care. I’d just buy him some ramen and he’d forget about it.

As soon as I pressed the start button, the ring started to glow again. Rather than the warmth I felt before, it felt as if it were on fire and I hissed, trying to tug it off but it was too hot to touch. “The hell?”

The lights started to flicker, the TV screen glitching out. One second, the intro cinematic was clear and, the next, it was so blurry I couldn’t even see what was happening. I shot up with a frown, looking for something I could use to pull the ring off. I settled for the blanket, wrapping it around my finger and tugging hard but it wouldn’t budge. It was as if my finger had swollen, trapping the ring in place.

When I removed the blanket, a beam of light shot from the ring’s orb and into the TV. “What the fu -“

The light exploded, blinding me as it threw me backward. I don’t know what I hit, but it knocked the wind from my lungs, my vision blurring. As I slid down to the ground, my vision dotted with black, my consciousness slipping from my grasp.

━━━━━━༻🕯༺━━━━━━

A groan passed my lips as pain shot through my skull. What the hell happened? Why does my body feel so sore?

“Hey, you. You’re finally awake.”

My body tensed as I shot up, wide eyes looking around frantically. “Oh my god, I’m in Skyrim?!”

“What is that?”

I looked at the large man sitting across from me, dirt covering his skin and his wrists bound with rope in front of him. I blinked dumbly a few times, slowly looking around. I was in the back of a horse-drawn cart, sure, but the guy sitting up front was no Imperial soldier.

Instead of armor, he was wearing a black robe and rather than being surrounded by trees, we were surrounded by an endless sea of yellow grass.

“I am so confused.”

“Did you hit your head or somethin’?” questioned the man, leaning forward.

“I think so.” I reached up to my head only to realize my wrists were bound, too. “What the fuck is this shit? Why am I tied up?”

“You got caught in Kaxa territory.”

“Kaxa?”

“Kaxarene.”

I stared at him, waiting for him to continue but he just stared back. “Thank you for clarifying, that definitely clears things up.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I was being sarcastic!”

His brow furrowed. “Sar… castic? What’s that?”

“S… Sarcasm doesn’t exist here? Oh god, I’m gonna die!” I cried dramatically, standing up and trying to yank my hands free. “Let me off this damn thing!”

“Sit down, now!” Snapped the driver, eyes narrowed at me. 

“I refuse! I have rights, ya know!”

“Please sit down, friend! You’re gonna get yourself killed.”

“I refuse! Try and kill me, I dare y -” I cried out when the cart came to an abrupt stop, making me lose my balance. The man tried to grab me but he wasn’t fast enough and I fell over the side, landing on the dirt path with an oof.

The driver jumped down, pulling a sword from within his robe. “I’ll save the hangman the trouble with you.”

I scrambled back as best as I could, scowling at him. “Stay away from me! You have no idea what I’m capable of! I’m warning you, man!”

But he didn’t stop advancing, lifting the sword above his head. 

The sound of hoofs pounding the ground made him pause, his eyes lifting to something behind me. I refused to check because I wanted to be able to dodge if he swung the sword at me. The man cursed, turning and rushing back to the cart, slapping the reins as he yelled at the horse to move.

It neighed loudly, taking off like a rocket. 

Horses raced past me after them, kicking up a cloud of dust that had me coughing. 

“Hey, are you okay?” A horse came to a stop in front of me, the man jumping off its back to kneel in front of me. The lower half of his face was covered by a red bandana yet he felt familiar to me. He pulled a knife from his belt, flipping it in his hand before reaching for me.

I scrambled backward until I hit something solid. Looking up, I realized it was the legs of a massive man also wearing a black bandana over his face. He, too, seemed oddly familiar.

“Ah, I’m not going to hurt you, I swear!” replied the first guy, holding his hands up. “I’m just gonna cut the rope.”

The second man reached down, grabbing my shoulder with one hand and easily hoisting me to my feet. “We don’t know who she is. She could be with Kaxa.”

“But she’s tied up. Why would they tie up one of their own?”

“To keep their identity hidden.”

My eyes snapped to the side as a third man appeared, blonde hair covering his forehead and dark eyes. I knew that voice well. “Cobra?”

His eyes widened in surprise before narrowing suspiciously. “Who are you? How do you know my name?”

“The hell are you talking about?” I scowled. “It’s me. Is this some kind of prank or something because it’s super elaborate and I hate it.”

“Be quiet,” hissed the second man, gripping my shoulder tightly.

“That fuckin’ hurts, bro, damn.” I tried to pull away but his grip was like iron. Wait a minute… I looked at him, squinting at his half covered face. It took a moment for it to click in my brain. “Yamato?”

“Don’t act like you know me,” he hissed, ripping the bandana down to his neck.

“Wait, then that means…” My eyes fell on the first guy, still holding the knife. “Chiharu?”

Chiharu tugged down the bandana, looking confused. “How do you know me?”

“Chiharu only just joined us,” Yamato muttered, sending the blonde a look. “No one should know him unless…”

“They’re from Oya Lions,” finished Cobra, closing the distance between us.

“Oya Lions?” My brow furrowed. Did that idiot go and change the name of the school without telling me? I shook my head, lifting my hands. “Look, I’m not sure what’s going on but I am not your enemy, Cobra. I would never betray you!”

“Cobra look.” Yamato grabbed my wrist, showing off the ring.

“That’s…” Cobra’s eyes widened and he tugged down the bandana. “Where did you get that?”

“I found it on the street. Thought it was cool but now I can’t get the damn thing off.”

“She’s… she’s the chosen one!” whispered Chiharu, looking at me with wonder.

“Chosen one?” I laughed, shaking my head. “Nah, fam. If I’m your chosen one, you’re all fucked. There’s no way anyone would be dumb enough to make me someone that important.”

“Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong.”

My head snapped to the side, growing wide. It was the only man from the game store, but he looked different. He was taller, for one, his back straight. Luscious white locks flowered from his head, falling to his shoulders. Standing on either side of him were Kohaku and Tsukumo.

“You,” I breathed out, my brain slowly piecing it together. I scowled, rushing toward him. “You did this, didn’t you?!”

Kohaku stepped forward, brandishing a sharp looking sword that made me stop dead in my tracks. “Not another step.”

“Does everyone in this damn world have a sword?” I complained, glaring at the old man. “Oi, what the hell is going on? What did you do to me?”

“I merely opened the portal to get you here,” explained the man as he stepped closer, patting Kohaku on the shoulder. He instantly relaxed, though his gaze did not leave me. “The ring chose you.”

“Well, I don’t choose it. Get this damn thing off me and send me home!”

“You can’t go!” cried Chiharu, rushing up to my side and giving me a pleading look. “Please, chosen one. If you don’t help us, the Kaxarene will destroy everything!”

Yamato scoffed, folding his arms over his chest. “We’re doing fine without her. We don’t need the help.”

“Oh, but you do, my boy,” stated the old man with a frown. “You’ve no idea the darkness that’s coming.”

“What do you mean, Niramo?” Cobra took a step toward him, his brow furrowed in concern. “What aren’t you telling us?”

“I’m afraid I cannot say.” Niramo lowered his head in apology before his gaze landed on me. “However, I can tell you that this one is the one who will help bring light back to Dragophire. It will never be whole again, but it can be healed by the one who possesses the power of the King’s Ring.”

Everyone looked at me expectantly and I swallowed nervously. “You guys are so fucked…”

━━━━━━༻🕯༺━━━━━━

-> High&Low/Rampage Taglist: @kiraaaeon, @simpforchuchu, @star2fishmeg, @thatpoindexterpixy -> General Taglist: @asterhaze, @mrskenpachizaraki

I think I got everyone that wanted on the taglist, let me know if I missed anyone!

[partially-controlled-chaos]

Thank you @beardedladyqueen for the tag!

Do you make your bed: Nah, not usually. I get up at 4am for work most days and I don’t have the will power to fight with that early in the morning. I will make it when I’m off work though.

Favorite number: 13. It’s the number that gets all the hate for being unlucky and just generally “bad”. So I love it. Spookier the better 👻

What’s your job: Retail “manager” but I don’t have the pay or actual title. I have all the responsibilities of one though. Sooooo much fun.

If you could go back to school, would you: Absolutely. I graduated college a few years ago and wanted to go to law school, but shit hit the fan my senior year so I had to put it on the back burner. So if I could go back and not worry money? Oh hell yeah.

But if you mean like a point in time in school, then first year of college. It was a good year where I could discover who I was before everything got stressful.

Can you parallel park: ✨Nope✨ I failed that part of the driving test and I’ve never learned how to do it correctly.

A job you had that would surprise people: I don’t think so? Pretty standard job selections in my life.

Do you think aliens are real: Yes and if you’d like to talk about it with me we absolutely should 👽 I also just believe in the paranaormal/abnormal as a whole.

Can you drive a manual car: ✨Nope✨

Guilty pleasure: Okay so like mild trauma dump so feel free to skip over. I had to grow up very, very quickly. I lived in an abusive, addiction filled household so I was left to fend for myself probably 90% of the time. If I wanted food, had to figure it out myself. Clean clothes? Do it myself. Keep my dogs fed and happy? Figure it out. Had to make sure I was up on time for school and woke my parent up so I could get there on time. One parent was not in my life and the other was under the influence almost all the time. So because of that, I missed out on a lot of things that most kids and teens get to do because I was focused on survival.

So now that I’m an adult, I do those things I missed out on and it feels so nice. It seems mundane or really just simple, but if I want to go to the theater and see a movie I will. If I want to stop by and get a treat after work, I will. If I want to go browsing the mall and window shop, I’ll happily do it. I collect funko pops and build legos and play video games all without shame. So to some people it can look almost childish so I’m careful with who I tell in my personal life, so I guess it’s a guilty pleasure, although it’s enjoyed unashamed.

Tattoos: No because I am horribly indecisive and I’d be unsure of where I wanted to put one, but I’d love some.

Favorite color: Sage and forest green, but I also like a good sky blue. Very calming and makes the brain happy.

Favorite type of music: 2000-2010’s goth/alternative and heavy metal with a splash of classical to spice it up.

Do you like puzzles: YES YES I DO. Give me a 5,000 piece puzzle on a rainy day off work and I’ll have that bad boy done in two days. Love puzzles. I also love puzzle games or like mind puzzles. Played the hell out of the old PC Nancy Drew games (Ghost Dogs of Moon Lake is top tier) so I love those types of situational puzzles also.

Any Phobias: I’m not sure if it’s a phobia but I don’t like heights. Started to get over it because I’m constantly on a ladder at work, but I’m still don’t fond of it. I hate crowded places with strangers but I think that’s more of an anxiety thing than an actual fear.

Favorite childhood sport: Oh I didn’t play them. I was on academic team, not a sports team and not even remotely athletic. I still don’t really like sports, but I have a soft spot for baseball because it was my grandpas favorite and he’d teach me about it and it generally made tough days better.

Do you talk to yourself: All the time and I’m usually complaining about something I’ve procrastinated doing. Consequences of my own actions.

Favorite movie(s): The 1999 cinematic masterpiece The Mummy starring Brendan Fraser and Rachel Weisz. Comfort movie. Will watch it 10 times in a row and then want to discuss it, but we don’t talk about the third one.

Really enjoy most Marvel movies, some of the new ones are a tad questionable, but for the most part I enjoy them.

Coffee or tea: Coffeeeeee. Hot fruity teas or milk teas are also good, but coffee is my go-to.

First thing you wanted to be growing up: Paleontologist. Even now if I could have a dream job without worrying about how much it pays I’d go for it. Paleontology and anthropology in general are so interesting.

[miscfandomwrites]

Academically Kickass: Chapter One

Pairing: Avengers x Mafia! Student! Fem! Reader

Warnings: Language

Words: 1.7k

Location: Mavel > Wanda Maximoff > Series

Tagging: @tyler-t0t

“Ms. (Y/N).” Clarke said as she saw me exit the building. 

I nodded to her, pausing and stepping beside her, letting the rest of the school flow out the doors.

That’s when I noticed Jack, who exited the door and made his way over to us.

He was following me. Godammit-I should have seen that. Fuck, here comes the lecture.

“Ms. (Y/N), did you notice I wa-”

I cut him off before the lecture started. “No, Jack. You’re supposed to let me know anyway, if I’m being followed. That is a rule.” I told him as I turned, heading down the walkway. 

Clarke kept pace with me, tugging on the leash for Roscoe. Meanwhile, Jack had to jog and dodge students to get to us. 

 I chuckled as I kept walking, taking the long way around the school to the teacher’s parking lot. 

Finally Jack caught up with us, and gave me a sour look and nothing more (thankfully).

Perks of being a Mafia Lord's Daughter: You get to park anywhere. And since my Father is a main donor of the school, I not only get top-tier classes and good academic results, but I am well known.

Oh please. I work my ass off for my grades-I made sure to explain that to the Board and to my teachers. Just because my Father has influence does NOT mean I get treated any differently. 

We headed to the parking lot, and I immediately knew which car they took to get here. 

The dodge challenger-black, as the majority of our cars were. It was beautiful, I’ll give you that. 

Money makes beauty. But money cannot be beauty-you actually need to work for that. 

We headed to the car, Clarke unleashing Roscoe who walked towards the car, sniffing around and under it. 

Clarke unlocked it, and opened the driver’s side door for me, and I got in. Roscoe got in the back with me, sitting on the passenger side. 

Clarke would be driving, and it seems Jack would be the passenger.

I opened my book again after putting my seatbelt on, and lost myself in it as we headed home. 

Thankfully the car was silent, which not only gave anxiety but took it away. 

How bad is it? With three of them now, it’s bound to be bad, yet it’s not bad enough where I needed to be taken out of class, much less have a bodyguard with me at all times. 

The drive back to the house took almost twenty minutes, and I spent most of it either reading or glancing at my phone now and again, awaiting a message from either my father or my brother, explaining things to me. Nothing. 

Finally, I peered up from my book and glanced around the car. Clarke was focused on the road, Jack was on his phone, messaging whoever, and Roscoe was facing forward, his tongue hanging out of his mouth. I raised my eyebrows before flipping my phone over and tucking my head back into my book.

~~

The gates opened automatically as we pulled into the driveway leading up to them, and we pulled around to the front of the house….

“What the hell is going on?” I asked out loud as I saw the new guards posted. Four out by the front doors, two holding rifles, and a quick glance at the roof had me seeing two men with long-range rifles posted up. “Jesus Christ…” I murmured as I got out of the car. Shouldering my bag and tucking my phone in my back pocket, I headed up the snow-encrusted steps. Only a light dusting, enough for the snowmelt to already start eating away at it. 

Jack opened the doors and we walked through. There were more guards, at the balconies and at the foot of the stairs. I saw more posted at the doors. Thankfully, my father and brother were already there. Along with a few other people I recognized, mostly as my father’s associates and ‘helping hands’.

I only took note of my surroundings, waiting for him to speak. 

“(Y/N), I’m glad you’re home.” Father spoke. I tilted my head in interest. I am usually called a pet name, such as darling, or babygirl, etc… for him to call me by my first name is when I knew it was serious. 

He didn’t bother to turn around before he raised his hand, dismissing his cadre. They filtered out to a side room and I turned my attention back to my father. 

“Why don’t you get changed and...dressed up so you can meet our associates?” 

I only nodded before taking off up the stairs, heading to my room. Jack took Roscoe and they stayed behind, while Clarke followed me into my room. 

I dumped my bag next to my desk and tossed my book on it, before starting to take off my outer layers of clothing. 

“Something nice, I suppose then?” I asked her as I hung my jacket on the back of my chair. 

“I suggest something feminine, perhaps a dress?” She said as I took my shoes into my closet. 

I hummed and started looking through the racks of clothes, before settling on a decent black dress. Paired with some gold or diamonds, some heels, and my knives, it’ll do nicely. 

I made sure to shave and wash my hair, but I tried to keep getting ready relatively quickly. 

No less than twenty minutes later, my hair styled down and my knives strapped on, I pulled on my heels and finished with my jewelry before heading downstairs. 

Clarke led me through the house and towards the back of it, where some of the main meeting rooms were. Through two sets of doors and two sets of guards, we arrived at the room where my father only met with his highest, and most important clientele. It wasn’t used often, so when I needed a quiet place to work I was often found here. 

The walls held various guns from various times, some dating back to the civil war and some as recent as last year’s newest chinese additions. All were in perfect working order, and well taken care of. And I’ve shot them all. I guess that’s one of the perks of being in my odd little family-being taught from a young age how to defend myself and those I love. 

But at the same point, I never got to really experience a decent childhood. I don’t remember a time my father and I spent any time together outside of my ‘training’ or dinners. 

Father stood at the head of the table, my brother to his left and Jacob, his second in command, to his right. There were the associates, along with three men and two women I didn’t recognize. There was an empty seat at the other head of the table, right in front of me. 

“(Y/N), I’m glad you could join us.” He said, motioning to the chair in front of me. We all sat down and I turned my attention to the strangers. 

The men, one dark skinned and with an eyepatch. Looked clean cut, with mostly leather and black accessories. The man to his right, a blonde white boy who was very well muscled and wearing a suit. Then the other man whom I recognized as Tony Stark, someone that I’ve seen only in mention and in passing. And the two women: Natasha Romanoff, an inspiration and one of the most notorious assassins. I’ve seen her only twice, both in dealings with my father. 

Why would she deal with him? She’s an assassin with her own goals, which were none of my business unless they directly affected me or my family. And the other one, someone I’ve seen only on television and heard about in conversations. Wanda Maximoff. 

“So, do you have an idea why you are here, Miss (L/N)?” The one with the eyepatch-Fury, if I can recall correctly-asked me. 

I leaned back into the chair, nodding my thanks to Clarke as she set a cup of coffee in front of me. I took it in my hands and quietly thanked her before I studied the man and took a sip of the warm drink. 

“If I did, why would you be asking me that?” I replied, raising my eyebrow. 

“You are being asked to join the Avengers Initiative.” 

I looked towards my father. Who sighed and sipped his bourbon. 

“Before we get into any details, does this explain the heightened security and three guard team assigned to me today, father?” I asked him. He nodded. 

“Our rivals decided to ban together. And as it seems, have joined forces with Hydra, their” He gestured to the group “Enemies as well. They know that our bloodline has...abilities. And all three of us, myself, your brother, and you are being searched for.” 

“Then why does the invitation not extend to my brother as well?” I asked. 

“Because I’ve already been tested, (F/N), and I don’t show any abilities. Neither does father.” He replied.

“And me?” 

“You have been tested and shown the aptitude. But you haven’t shown any outward signs yet, as far as abilities beyond advanced healing and a high IQ.” Father replied. I nodded and took another sip of my coffee before turning back to Fury.

“And why do you want me to join?” I questioned him. 

“Because you need training for your abilities as they come into play. And you would be a good ally to have.” Steve told me. 

I sighed and set my coffee down, looking towards my father. 

“And what about here? Do you need my assistance or are you willing to let me go and do this?” I asked him.

He ran a hand through his hair and tilted his head back. 

“Princesa, this is your decision. I can influence it but that wouldn’t be fair. This is your choice. I suggest you go. You’ll be surrounded by people like you, and you will be able to do good.” He finally said. I nodded.

“And the family?” 

“We can take care of ourselves. I will keep in contact, however.” He replied. 

I turned back towards Fury. 

The world needs me.

“When do I leave?”

[thatdesklamp]

WAIT OMG-

been reading intrinsic warmth for a WHILE and your writing is top tier!! i always wondered to myself every time i’d read a chapter why the writing just STICKS, yk? i’m a MAJOR book girlie, i read 24/7.

AND THEN IMAGINE MY SURPRISE WHEN I READ ONE OF YOUR TAGS THAT YOU PUT UP ON ONE OF YOUR POSTS WHERE YOU WERE ANSWERING A QUESTION FROM ANOTHER LOVELY READER AND I SEE THAT YOU TOOK AN ENGLISH A LEVEL?

first of all (not 100% sure on this) but i’m pretty sure only british ppl take gcses, a levels, etc. YOU’RE BRITISH?

i feel like i’ve met my other half rn over something so tiny but yeah. IT LITERALLY EXPLAINS WHY YOUR WRITING IS SO GOOD:

i could point out the NUMBER of times i’ve seen juxtaposition, symbolism, foreshadowing in your fic to someone if they’d asked me to point it out for them. at first i thought you might’ve done it unknowingly, and then i decided that nope, bc foreshadowing is such a BIG writing technique that it simply couldn’t have been by accident.

it’s one thing to know about a writing technique and another to actually be able to SUCCESSFULLY incorporate it into your writing. if it isn’t clear enough, i’m saying that you did it AMAZINGLY. you’ve got a natural talent and i’m envioussss (in a supporting way ofc 😭).

you should really look into making your own book, and i think you EXCEL at the supernatural aspect of plot in stories. your writing is so unique and different yet so warm, it reminds me of autumn (my favourite season).

idk how to end such a long message, ultimately i don’t have a reason for typing this up and shit. ik you have tons of people probably saying the same thing and it might just get repetitive for you, but i wouldn’t feel comfortable not being part of said bunch-of-ppl-probably-saying-the-same-thing.

oh! and take your SWEET TIME updating. it’s your story, your fic, your writing. the ONLY thing we readers can give you as a payback and thanks is time, patience, and understanding <3333

RAHHH BRITTANIA 💪💪💪💪

Agh. Yes—I’m British (English to be precise, sweet sweet caroline etc), hence the use of ‘u’s in words like ‘colour’ and ‘humour’, and also why everyone’s parents are their ‘father’ or ‘mother’ and not mum/dad. ‘Mom’ feels too American but ‘mum’ feels too rah engerland, yk? I’ve mentioned previously that I’m looking forward to writing fics where the characters are actually from England and where I’m actually allowed to write them the way I talk, mostly. Good lord am I excited.

And yes lol I took English for an A-Level. Bloody smashed it too, if I get to brag, mwahaha. Didn’t take it any further (I’ve also previously said that I’m a # woman in stem uni student, which is true), but I still write a killer essay imo. Give me 10 minutes to do a refresher on ‘Othello’ (it’s been a while okay) and I can talk for donkeys about his tragic fall and how much of a wanker he is. Which he is! I’m a Desdemona defender for life.

You say ‘natural talent’. PLS. No!! God no. Not at all. I wish—that would’ve made it a lot easier, but whatever I can do rn is down to bloody years of toiling away on my shitty little laptop, I promise. I’ve got another anon ask that asked about some writing tips so I’ll do the bulk of them there but my number 1 will always and forever be to practise. Whatever skill I have now has been earned over the many years. You don’t even want to see some of the stuff that will never grace my ao3 page (atla had me in a chokehold through covid and I have never been the same).

But you are genuinely so complimentary: this is so so lovely of you. Thank you?? It’s really weird being someone who writes and also someone who enjoys analysing literature; you’re right, half of the ‘techniques’ are intentional (the number of times I’ve flicked through some chapters’ drafts and thought, ‘fucks sake none of this makes sense, I need to add some decent foreshadowing or none of this will make sense in two chapters’), but also so much of my writing is just thinking, ‘hmm, this doesn’t really feel right. No no, I don’t like the vibe of this. I want this to feel more GRAAHHH and less lalalala. Lemme change this up a bit’. Whether that leads to the whole, short sentences->speeds up the pace of the reader when reading the section->increased tension, mimics actual fight encounter, etc etc (all the stuff you blag on about in eng lit), then maybe that counts as intentional? And maybe not.

Making my own book? That’s lovely of you to say but I also really don’t have any ideas for anything non-fanfic’y! Lol. I love a good bit of canon compliance, that’s my issue. That being said—hey, another eng a level reference—I’ve made multiple references here to being the world’s #1 ‘Atonement’ hater. Unfortunately, it also lives damn rent free in my head and I’ve got the bare bones of a WW2-era, perhaps epistolary, longform fic buzzing around. (Fandom: Marauders. I’m a disgrace but here we go). I’ve written nothing for it and maybe I never will, but that’s one of the only things I can see as being more standalone from original canon. Anyway: it’s the fanfic life for me. Ali Hazelwood’s life is but a distant dream.

But anyway! Thank you again for your lovely words. The next IW chapter will take a very long time, I have to be frank, so thank you for the reassurance that that’s not absolutely disgraceful lmao T_T Thanks again!! <3

[esseastri]

OK NO WAIT, REAL TALK AFTER MY TAGS ON THE MEME POST (x)

listen, I was on the Locked Tomb train before it was even a thing, like, my store got a BOUND MANUSCRIPT, that’s what they out BEFORE advance reader copies, it was like. pages stapled together with glue with giant margins like. listen. We were OG Locked Tomb fans, I don’t say this to brag, I say this for context:

Gideon the Ninth is straight up one of my favorite books in the history of books. I was recommending it to people before there was a release date. but I 100% always recommended it with the caveat, “please be aware, this book is batshit wild. properly, deeply wild.” It’s not for everyone and I was BLUNTLY HONEST about that even as I shoved it at everyone I could. even people who I didn’t think would like it, I was STILL like “LISTEN, BEAR WITH ME, GIVE IT A TRY, IT MIGHT SURPRISE YOU” and 90% of them came back like “Whut. Did I read?” and I was like “I KNOW RIGHT”

and then we spent two years doing theories for Harrow the Ninth and then we got the ARC and I swear to god I have only twice before in my life been as disappointed as I was when I got through Act 2 of Harrow. and when I started recommending it to people, I gave out WARNINGS. I was like, “pls understand, this book is DENSE and it is a SLOG but it will be worth it if you can make it through and if you can’t NO HARD FEELINGS.”

Like.

My friends.

I know this is dangerous to say on this website, but honestly, from the very deepest part of my soul: the beginning of Harrow the Ninth is not good. like. it is? but it’s not, because it’s 300 pages of WHAT THE FUCK with absolutely no plot hooks, a crapton of infodumping, and an impenetrable hunk of worldbuilding and magic theory that do not make sense until you get to the end of the book. 

It took me until Chapter 36 to be like, “...aight I’ll finish it.”

and then I did finish and I was like “somehow this is better than gideon but I cannot explain that?? and I don’t actually know what happened but I’m ok with that??” and then I IMMEDIATELY started reading it out loud to Lisa and I was on page like, six, and I was like, “OH. I GET IT.” and I spent the entire time I was reading to Lisa teasing her with theories and letting her theorize and it was great. but honestly, I DID NOT ENJOY THE PROCESS OF READING HARROW THE FIRST TIME I READ IT. I genuinely didn’t like this book until I REREAD it.

And I honestly think that’s a deep weakness of Harrow, because a book should be able to stand on its own without a reread. Authors shouldn’t take 480 pages to string their readers along--I LIKE figuring stuff out on my own, but at some point, I just want a damn fucking clue. Not even the whole answer, just a clue. And Taz is VERY STINGY with those in Harrow. And it is DEEPLY FRUSTRATING from a craft standpoint. This is absolutely one of those books that SHOULD NOT WORK but does.

So I just want to say to everyone who feels like they still don’t GET Harrow--I SEE YOU I AM WITH YOU I UNDERSTAND YOU. If you’ve got the energy to reread it, DO THAT, because it 10000% makes more sense when you can parse what part is what, what’s going on with Sideways World, and why Harrow is Like That. You’re not alone, I promise you, if your entire process of reading Harrow was just

with a side of

THAT IS OK. that’s like. the point. I know people who just dropped the series because of how damn DENSE Harrow is, and that’s TOTALLY FAIR. It is absolutely not what is expected after Gideon. AT ALL. and if you’re looking for more story/tone/content LIKE Gideon, you’re actually far better off reading THE UNSPOKEN NAME than Harrow the Ninth [insert shameless plug for other top tier queer SFF novel] and it took me until I finished Harrow to figure out what Taz was doing. Like--I am 10000% DOWN for series in which none of the books are the same, they are wild and I LOVE IT, but god the expectations were WILD and Harrow was a 180 that I did not see coming. and I do genuinely think that the biggest weakness of Harrow is that Taz did not actually give us enough info to figure anything out before Act 5.

Don’t get me wrong, it works for some people!!! But for some of us, holy shit, it just feels broken.

ALL THIS TO SAY: NONA IS NOT LIKE THIS. If you read Harrow (or if you gave up on Harrow (which-FAIR)), I will say that Nona is worth it. Nona is worth the absolute SLOG that is Harrow because Nona rewards you for paying attention. (Harrow does not. Harrow just tells you what you missed and it’s annoying.) But because NONA the CHARACTER is actively trying to figure out what the fuck is happening in NONA the BOOK, you get way more info and it’s actually possible and satisfying to figure out what is going on. Because HARROW the CHARACTER spends all of HARROW the BOOK trying to AVOID THE PLOT WITH ALL HER MIGHT, it’s just kinda frustrating. But if you can stick with her, I promise Nona the Book is worth it.

ok, coming down off my high horse full of opinions but just. idk. tumblr has a LOT of opinions about Harrow and I have not seen a lot of support for people who uh. Don’t like that one. as much as Gideon or even at all. but it is absolutely different enough that it makes perfect sense for people to find Harrow frustrating! So if you’re one of those ppl, just know you’re not alone, one of the OG Locked Tomb fans is with you (it’s me, hi), and just come party with Nona where everything is better.

[malxshrine-a]

I SEE YOU, I CHERISH YOU ♡

INSTRUCTIONS: positivity challenge !! list 6 blogs that have interacted with you in some way, shape, and / or form and show your appreciation !! let’s recognize each other’s efforts !! repost, do not reblog !! in no particular order tbh.

@deathleads — let me just preface this by saying by not following Cosmos and any character she chooses to bring to life that you are missing out tremendously. the passions shown for their oc and their easy nature is just so easy to get to know and like. This is without a doubt the truth. They are so down for everything and come ready to gush at all hours about storylines or what have you. Their oc is superb, very thought out, and you can tell they’ve been with this muse for so long just because of how easy they make it look. I recommend this one here. makes me feel like my writing is garbage. HAAAAAA.

@monstriiss — this is another good oc. draith makes sukuna down bad and we really do sometimes be up at all hours talking about acid blood making sukuna go full crackhead at like 2 in the morning. The muse is a big milf, terrifying and likely to treat you like gator food for any reason at all. and we love this. we love this scary mama. i eat this shit up like candy. another person you really, REALLY need to get to know. It’s so worth it. i try so hard to impress this one. don’t at me.

@thevcssel / @frcstie — This person is, actually, so nice. Jamie is the sweetest of people like so adorable and squish the cheeks. Yuuji is Sukuna’s little meow meow and his son, even when he’s a bit of a meanie. and their multi is gonna be just as good ngl. I love them. They write so well and any character that gets picked up is well-written. Good job, I’m so proud of you, my little meow meow. I can’t wait to interact even further in the future.

@destructivour — no matter what Ainz is such a cool person, so down to earth, so positive, and encouraging. We may not speak every day, but I am always following your feed. always. I consume everything you give. The understanding and voice Ainz has for Grimm is unreal. Ainz is a real one tbh, but I absolutely think everyone knows this. He’s a real positive voice in rp and there is a reason people love this person. If you haven’t just glanced at this blog or any of his others, you need to.

@hortussecretum — Apple is insane. I am convinced and I love it. They have such crazy muses, chaos is their brand, and I am never bored. They really do like to spread and give their attention when you need it, i swear. there are days I feel like not enough, stressed, and it’s like staring at a blank reply for thousands of hours before frustration takes over and Apple comments something that makes you caveman scratch your skull and YOU WHOT? I will never in my life forget the mommy kink tag exists on my blog, because they decided pure, unadulterated chaos was the answer. Unapologetically genuine, really nice, and liable to send you crack shit as soon as you awaken. it is worth it to add them.

@civara / @shometsu — can I just say ... you’ll never find a better duo. like I just ... PB&J been real silent since these two dropped, i swear to the gods. these two are the dynamic and writing you want and aspire to, but then, you realize your attention span is on it’s lowest settings. I just really, truly recommend getting into their stuff and getting into them, too. they’re so talented in terms of editing, drawing, and writing. The way they understand their characters is top tier. LIKE I’LL SCREAM IT AND I’LL KICK SHIT OVER, FOLLOW THEM BOTH. witness greatness.

honorable mention: @slayersaided​ — can I just say this little guy has been with me for so long? anywhere I've gone? I just ? I literally JUST started kny and finished only just this morning. I had no idea who or what character they were, but I really was about their writing and interaction. always with a rather dry sounding quip on dash and I consume their posts en mass. Now, I can actually understand what’s being said and mentioned and I’m about it. I’ve been lurking and I swear it’s time to come at you. 

[kaz3313]

So my (according to Tik Tok) scream hot takes. Unfortunately besides Tik Tok idk where the scream community is 😭 Under the read more and tagging @staghunters cause like over a month ago you said yes to hear them.

Spoilers for 6 but I’ll also tell you where those spoilers are. Spoilers for all the other movies to (unwarned)

I personally think the first one is the best Scream movie but i don’t give af if others are liked more

Scream 2 and 5 are over hated and calling Scream 3 “basically scary movie” is ridiculous

Mrs Loomis does have an understable motive and people not being able to understand she could’ve both loved her son and left him after she found out her husband was cheating don’t understand nuance.

Maureen Prescott is not the “real villain” and saying none of the movies wouldn’t have happened if she just “didn’t cheat” completely ignores how she was abused by Hollywood/Roman would still very much exist and would find a way to kill her/get his revenge. She is the ghost of the narrative and also has a lot of nuance to her.

Melissa Barrera was also over hated for her acting in Scream 5 and I think she did phenomenal. It really reminded me of how Sidney felt in the first movie when she was being attacked/gone after (Minus, of course, that Sam has hallucinations of her father)

(Kinda spoilers for Scream 6- justa. Nickname is used) The Core Four (Mindy, Chad, Sam, and Tara) are reflections of the OG 4 characters (Randy, Dewey, Sideny, Gale) but are not meant to be one on one just parallels. That’s why there can be similar arcs and characteristics while remaining there own characters.

None of the Ghostfaces are my “favs” and while I do like them as characters in general the victims or survivors are my favorites.

No actor should get hate for the character they play. None.

Gale and Sidney are both bad bitches and they do not need to be put against each other.

Fan creations are fine (and awesome) but genuinely Sam as Ghostface would ruin her arc of the last two movies. Even if Tara died

I believe in Lesbian Sidney Prescott rights (Mark and her are in a lavender marriage/or QPR with kids) 💕 But I also think she’s cute with Randy. (Something about theater nerd x film nerd along with ‘she could never love me’ and ‘if he literally asked but he never does’). Tatum/Sidney and Sidney/Gale are both top tier ships.

(Scream 6 spoilers) People saying Gale’s BF was unnecessary as well as “she didn’t actually love him because she didn’t react that sad to his death” are ignoring that she was in an extremely stressful situation AND ignores that her “moving on without actually moving on” is extremely on point with her character. (I have hcs about these two’s relationship but that’s another post)

Old fans don’t be mean to new fans. New fans don’t be mean to old fans. I’m a new fan who likes the OGs. New fans who like the new movies are valid. Old fans who like the new movies are valid. Please stop being mean to each other. Do recognize that the OG movie(s) *are* the ones that started it. Calling any of them outdated is ridiculous.

(Spoilers for 6) I think Dewey’s death is sadder then Anika’s. I do think that with the short amount of time we knew her, tho, she’s probably one of the saddest deaths for a character that just was in one movie/had little screen time.

Stu is not alive BUT hearing (some serious and others ridiculous) theories are very fun. Also playing with the concept is <33

Gale Haters 😶😶 Like yes she was “a bitch” in the first movie but she’s one of the best developed characters (besides Sidney and Dewey-) , she continuously is iconic (both in fights, dialogue, etc). This is not to say- cause I feel I have to say this- you must like her but especially for those who love Dewey but hate her for “using him” ignoring her development of feelings and how much she bonds with him just because in the VERY beginning she wanted to butter him up for more info is a weird grudge to continuously hold.

Dwight “Dewey” Riley can both be a very silly funny character but I feel the fact he most DEFINITELY suffers heavily from PTSD and depression and it’s put to the wayside by fans is disappointing(excluding my beloved on ao3 who give me the best Dewey/Gale fics that have such an amazing grasp on both of them— that’s besides the point). The fact in five that he left Gale in the city, was forced to retire from the only career he’s ever known, And lives on the outskirts of Westburro (the only home and town he loves) speaks volumes on how he was isolating himself. He’s disabled physically and has mental illness All while he was being a hero into the very end (though internally believed himself to be a coward) just shows what a TRAGIC character he is. Even in the second movie when Sidney calls him their (as in Randy and her) “surrogate Big Brother” hurts me beyond belief because with the death of his Sister he really started to go even further into the “protector” and “big brother” role. It’s really a shame that most scenes speaking on Tatum post her death were cut/deleted scenes.

Neve Campbell deserves her credit and it’s a damn damn shame they were not going to pay her what she’s worth. As sad as I am I don’t think Sidney as a character will be seen in the next movie.

(Scream 6 spoilers), Scream 5 And 6 have done a great job with parallels to 1 and 2 (the “love interest” betrayal to the revenge plot) and I think their continue to be a parallel from 3 to 7. My guess is that it will be oriented around family perhaps we’ll have Martha involved, maybe Mark (Sidney’s Husband), finally a revel of Tara and Sam’s Mom. With ofc a twist at the end (like Roman)

Saying “No new characters for the next scream movie” is like saying “don’t make another movie!” Since legit EVERY movie showcased new characters And if not for new characters it’d be boring/redundant.

I def have more thoughts but these are my thoughts for now 💕

[theoryofarson]

Getting to know your BL mutuals - 2022 Edition

Simple, answer the questions. @ some people. Include the tag 'g2ky BL mutuals 2022' on your post so we can find everyone's answers!

thanks for the tag @lelephantsnail !!! I LOVE HAVING OPINIONS!!!!! I DO IT FOR FREE ALL YEAR LONG!!!! 

What has been the BL that took you by surprise this year?

Plus & Minus for sure. It was my first Taiwanese BL, and I found it to have a naturalistic vibe that drew me in. I’ve rarely liked two leads as much as Fu Ligong and Zheng Zeshou, and I really appreciated the explicit exploration of homophobia. The premise and central tension are also just top tier - they’re divorce lawyers!! Falling in love!!! With each other!!! 

I was also surprised by Blueming. The romance was good, but the way it dealt with parent-child relationships??? Ate my ass.

I don’t think I saw enough GLs to make a separate post, so I’ll also bring up She Makes My Heart Flutter. I had seen Out of Breath from the same studio (Soo not Sue), which was fantastic, but pretty heavy because it shows how difficult internalized homophobia can be. She Makes My Heart Flutter was just as sentimental, sensitive, and truthful, but more lighthearted - fairly hopeful and comforting all throughout. We absolutely need both kinds of stories.  

What has been the BL that you felt a bit disappointed with this year?

Vice Versa. I saw how much people were enjoying it and so I tried watching it - multiple times - but never got past the first episode. 

Also: Star in My Mind. I was keeping up weekly for a while but the acting just didn’t do it for me. I do value having watched it, because it helped me realize I want to watch QLs that genuinely FEEL queer, not just “straight love story foisted onto two male / two female leads”. 

ALSO: Ocean Likes Me. It wasn’t badly done, there just was not nearly enough time to explore the characters and story. I hope Holland gets richer roles in the future! He has such a good energy. 

What has been your favourite BL this year?

Literally outrageous that I would be expected to choose just one. Here’s four. 

Not Me 

Kinnporsche

Old Fashion Cupcake

Plus & Minus

Special mention (GL): She Makes My Heart Flutter

What are your favourite BL couples (not just of 2022)?

PatPran (Bad Buddy, 2021)

InkPa (Bad Buddy, 2021) - yes they are a BL couple, they are a couple, they’re in a BL, don’t fight me 

SeanWhite (Not Me, 2021)

VeeMark (Love Mechanics, 2022)

VegasPete (Kinnporsche, 2022)

If you had to suggest a BL for someone what would it be?

For beginners: Kinnporsche, Bad Buddy, Theory of Love

For non-beginners: Try Plus & Minus, Love Mechanics, and 3 Will Be Free

What's your non-BL favorite for this year?

I may not have watched a single non-QL released this year...Seinfeld’s going good, though. 

Tagging some mootiesssss @melto @sapphorarelyreads @thisautistic if you like :) 

[naitosutan]

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR SWEET RESPONSE!! 🍭🍭

(I didn't know how to respond to your tags on your reblog so I thought I would just send you an ask-)

I'm glad you thought I had some good concepts, I'm terrible at explaining things so it's nice to know that some people understood what I was getting at. And your tsum tsum steek drawing lives rent free in my head, it is so fricking cute. I love tsum tsums!! And I was glad I could influence your love of Steek, kvasgi's art of Steek was one of the first pieces of art for that ship that I saw which was part of the reason why I got into the ship too! And your sister's art is super cute as well, I love it all so much, especially her AU!

Since I'm here, I'd like to ask you, who are your favorite characters and what are your favorite ships?

Thanks again for the sweet response, have a great day!! ❤️❤️

@/steeklover AHH I’M SO SORRY I FOOLISHLY SAVED YOUR ASK AS A DRAFT ON MOBILE AND TUMBLR ATE IT 😭 Luckily, I had part of my response written already and I’ll try to reply as best I can to what I remember of your ask!

Did you know I’m a fool and inept at anything technology ._. I found the ask; somehow I saved the ask in my drafts completely separate from my response ahskkgj

Pls forgive me for the repost, I wanted to keep the original ask attached 🙇🏻‍♀️

(ALSO HELLO I DID NOT FORGET OR IGNORE THIS I WAS TRYING TO FIGURE OUT HOW TO ANSWER CONCISELY AND GOT BUSY AHAKDLGK)

ACTUALLY *YOU* ARE THE SWEETEST AGALLFJA

I think you explained yourself pretty well! Legit, I always love reading your thoughts on Steek and seeing the ideas you have for them, whether it be your mood boards or playlists, I enjoy your ideas! You are THE Steek shipper to me so I really value your perspective on them and keep some of your posts in mind whenever I try to portray them!

Tsums are definitely a long standing obsession of mine lol Evie says thanks for the praise as well! Her AU means a lot for the three of us ✨

(Long post so favs and ships under the cut haha)

To answer your questions, I’d say Tweek is my favorite from the show, but Stan had definitely settled into also being a major fav of mine! When I was first watching it, I went into season six a bit bitter about Tweek taking Kenny’s spot but… he’s just a little dude :3 Simpsons Already Did It is one of my top favorite episodes lol Stan was a surprising favorite but I guess following him and his friends around the most, I really liked the way he was characterized and the struggles he deals with? I also love Kenny content 🥺🧡 Anything and everything for Kenny lol

Anyways, here are some of my top favorite ships!! As you can probably tell, my sisters and I have a lot of overlap in the ships we like, and tend to influence each other a lot lol I’m a multi-shipper who generally likes a ton of ships and also really enjoy crackships and rare pairs cuz of the untapped potential of interactions that could happen! I also enjoy polys but for simplicity I’ll put just pairings here! I had tried organizing them in a tier list but… it ended up as a ranking list anyways so…

Stenny - I actually surprised Kim a lot when I first brought up that I liked her old flame lol My first and my fav ship, there’s something about them that makes me extremely happy and I can’t quite explain it. It probably has to do with their personalities and interactions, but I can’t really articulate it into words haha I also love all the fan created content of them! They’re lovely and adorable 💖

K2 - The OTP of my sisters means a lot of amazing fics recommended to me that makes it hard to not love lol I’m not picky about how the dynamic is portrayed, I’m always down for these two together! They baby 🥹

Steek - <333 SO much love for these two! Like I had said you were definitely a big reason for it. Plus why NOT ship your favorite characters together? They both have a tendency towards destructive patterns that I think the other could relate to, especially with seeking validation on their feelings? I think potential interactions between these two are severely under explored so I’m always searching for more Steek content!

Revin - OKAY. This one was definitely a ship I shipped from the show before looking at the fan content lol Constantly seeing them together in the background just reminded me of playground crushes, and their moments were small but cute. AND THEN WHEN THEY BROKE UP I WAS DEVASTATED. CONFIRMATION THEY WERE DATING AT THE COST OF THEIR BREAK UP AND NEVER SEEING THEM TOGETHER AGAIN 😭 We’ve also headcanoned their personalities quite a bit and so I like to think of them both being a bit airheaded? Kevin constantly thinking about his sci-fi and Red seemingly not pay attention to things around her? Kevin calling their fruits sandwiches and Red just going along with it was also funny even if it’s just an animation error lol ALSO KEVIN BEING SO SAD AT THE BAY OF MEMORIAL PIGS DANCE AS RED DANCED WITH TOLKIEN I CAN’T 😭 I love little background details the most when it comes to characters, I think.

Crenny - Again, Kim was a big influence in me liking Kenny ships, also Crenny has some of the most beautiful and heartfelt works I’ve ever seen and read? I think things would be pretty easy with these two and they’ve had some good moments together!

Cryle - I know people say they don’t interact much but when has that ever stopped me lol They’re both stubborn in different ways, Craig more passive and Kyle more confrontational, I think? Like, I really liked the scene in Fishsticks where they’re both advising Jimmy. They were basically indirectly arguing against each other and I think that’s such an interesting and fun dynamic lololol There’s enough there for me to enjoy them together!

-

Creek - Just LOOK at them lol. I do admit I like them a lot in the show but don’t seek them out in fanworks but they’re great <3

Stendy - I HAVE A LOT TO TALK ABOUT THEM TOO. Like Stendy is complicated but they’re also elementary school kids, of course they’re not gonna know how to relationship properly. But they’re still so messy?? And it’s just on their personalities mannn. I think Stan very much takes his friends for granted sometimes and especially his girlfriend. And Wendy isn’t a part of his friend group enough to really be comfortable discussing their faults? Like obviously he’s done some things and she has as well but things are always resolved offscreen or brushed aside so we never really see how they get over it. Basically they’re cute when he’s pining or when they’re domestically together and supportive but when they’re just not paying attention to each other they’re difficult lol

Stolkien - Another ship from the show, I think their interactions are always so fun, especially in the later seasons 🥺💕

Staig - I love rivals lol I think fandom plays up their hatred for each other a lot but Scauses really convinced me that they do notice each other lol That and Craig likes stirring the pot a lot XD

.

.

.

It feels like I’m missing so many characters and ships but I had to limit myself! Ten is enough haha (shout out to all the ships I do ship but didn’t make it to this list 😔) I tried to keep this short lol

I hope your days have been great as well!! Thank you so much for the ask!! 💖

[funatabi]

✧ ┊ ❛ 𝗚𝗨𝗜𝗗𝗘𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗘𝗦

ABOUT THE WRITER.

Heya! I’m Jen, 25+. She/They. Timezone GMT+1 (Sweden).  I try to be friendly and open to most! Holla at me whenever! I’m not always going to be super active, real life and just not feeling like it happens. Please do not hound me for replies, ic or ooc, they’ll come, eventually, maybe… Someday.  I can sometimes go off the social radar for long periods of time, please don’t guilt me into replying if I do not chat as often as I used to sometimes.

FOLLOWING & UNFOLLOWING.

THIS BLOG IS PRIVATE; meaning I only interact with my mutual followers ( those who follow me and i follow back ) thread and ask wise.

I DON’T FOLLOW EVERYBODY. If you follow me and I don’t follow back, then most likely I’ve either forgotten to check out your blog, or I’ve not felt that we as roleplayers will match. If the latter: please don’t take it personally.

I RESERVE EXCLUSIVITY FOR MY CLOSE FRIENDS, I will not engage in this agreement with people I have no steady out of character contact with.

❛ EXCLUSIVES CAN BE FOUND ( here ).

I WILL UNFOLLOW if no sign of desire to interact ic and ooc with me has been shown from your part despite me giving attempts to reach out. I will be softblocking if this becomes the case. I will also unfollow if I see too much political posts or constant negativity.

INTERACTIONS.

I INTERACT WITH ANY FANDOM ( that I either have knowledge about, or find interesting despite lack of knowledge ). I’m OC and crossover friendly, most are welcome to hang out here. AUs are top tier content, I love those. Interactions with multiple versions of the same character will be set in separate universes. 

I DO NOT INTERACT WITH DUPLICATES, unless it is a close friend of mine writing the same character. This is for my own comfort, please do not be upset if I do not interact with your version of my muse. However, I wish you all the good vibes and fun writings! Your portrayal is valid and great! Keep it up, comrade!

RP ETIQUETTE.

NO GODMODDING; you control your character and I control mine. Minor things are fine, if its minor actions that fit my muse and will move the plot along. If you don’t know my muse well, ask me if he would do the thing.

TRIGGERS.

I have no specific triggers, really. I usually don’t tag most content except for the common nsft tag or explicit gore/imagery. Ask me to tag something if you see it and it’s highly disturbing for your mental well-being.

FORMATTING.

I WRITE MOSTLY WITH SMALL TEXT, and use icons, gif-icons. I have no trouble writing without icons, though! You do not need to match my style of writing! I’ll do my best to match your writing length, but I tend to mostly write between one-liners to a few paragraphs. Of course, you do not need to match the length,  I just ask I do not receive a one-line/uninspired reply to a reply of mine if I’ve written two paragraphs, etc.

WRITING SPEED.

I am either faster than lightning on speed at replying, or slower than a crippled snail stuck in glue. A kind nudge on my shoulder regarding my reply/or if i’ve seen yours is fine! But please don’t hound me about it. That will make me reply even slower, if at all. 

REGARDING SHIPPING.

I AM OPEN TO SHIPS ON HERE, but  I don’t ship my muses with everyone. My muses does not actively seek romance. However should ship ever set sail, then those ships are separate and mine is NEVER cheating unless I’ve stated otherwise. 

DRAMA AND CALLOUTS.

I DON’T WANT IT ON MY BLOG and will probably unfollow if I see too much of drama on my dash. I don’t engage in callout drama for petty reasons such as a falling out or you just don’t like someone. Witch hunts are gross, keep it away. If there is too much negativity stemming from your blog that seem to never end, I will unfortunately, have to softblock ( or hardblock depending on the circumstances ).

CREDITS.

• RP icons / PSD made by me • dash-icon by me • theme background by me.

[sagnaevi]

✦ — 𝙍𝙐𝙇𝙀𝙎.

𝘼𝘽𝙊𝙐𝙏 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙈𝙐𝙉.

Heya! I’m Jen, 25+. She/He & They. Timezone GMT+1 (Sweden).  I try to be friendly and open to most! Don't feel hesitant about writing to me! I’m not always going to be super active, real life and just not feeling like it happens. Please do not hound me for replies, ic or ooc, they’ll come, eventually, maybe… Someday. 

I can sometimes go off the social radar for long periods of time, please don’t guilt me into replying if I do not chat as often as I used to.

𝙋𝙇𝙀𝘼𝙎𝙀 𝙉𝙊𝙏𝙀 — I've got diagnosed autism and general anxiety disorder , if there are any misunderstandings , I apologise beforehand and ask for transparent communication!

𝙁𝙊𝙇𝙇𝙊𝙒𝙄𝙉𝙂 & 𝙐𝙉𝙁𝙊𝙇𝙇𝙊𝙒𝙄𝙉𝙂.

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𝙄𝙉𝙏𝙀𝙍𝘼𝘾𝙏𝙄𝙊𝙉𝙎.

I INTERACT WITH ANY FANDOM —  that I either have knowledge about, or find interesting despite lack of knowledge. I’m OC and crossover friendly, most are welcome to hang out here. AUs are top tier content, I love those. Interactions with multiple versions of the same character will be set in separate universes. 

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𝙍𝙋 𝙀𝙏𝙄𝙌𝙐𝙀𝙏𝙏𝙀.

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𝙏𝙍𝙄𝙂𝙂𝙀𝙍𝙎.

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𝙁𝙊𝙍𝙈𝘼𝙏𝙏𝙄𝙉𝙂.

I WRITE MOSTLY WITH SMALL TEXT — and use icons, gif-icons. I have no trouble writing without icons, though! You do not need to match my style of writing! I’ll do my best to match your writing length, but I tend to mostly write between one-liners to a few paragraphs. Of course, you do not need to match the length,  I just ask I do not receive a one-line/uninspired reply to a reply of mine if I’ve written two paragraphs, etc.

𝙒𝙍𝙄𝙏𝙄𝙉𝙂 𝙎𝙋𝙀𝙀𝘿.

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𝙍𝙀𝙂𝘼𝙍𝘿𝙄𝙉𝙂 𝙎𝙃𝙄𝙋𝙋𝙄𝙉𝙂.

I AM OPEN TO SHIPS ON HERE — but  I don’t ship my muses with everyone. My muse does not actively seek romance. However should ship ever set sail, then those ships are separate and mine is NEVER cheating unless I’ve stated otherwise. 

𝘿𝙍𝘼𝙈𝘼 𝘼𝙉𝘿 𝘾𝘼𝙇𝙇𝙊𝙐𝙏𝙎.

I DON’T WANT IT ON MY BLOG and will probably unfollow if I see too much of drama on my dash. I don’t engage in callout drama for petty reasons such as a falling out or you just don’t like someone. Witch hunts are gross, keep it away. If there is too much negativity stemming from your blog that seem to never end, I will unfortunately, have to softblock or hardblock depending on the circumstances.

𝘾𝙍𝙀𝘿𝙄𝙏𝙎.

• RP icons / PSD made by me, • Dash-icon by me, • Theme background by me.

[starglow-xx]

owning a bakery and being discovered by the ada and the port mafia (part 4)

platonic! mori ougai x f!reader

type of writing: head canons !!

this is part of my head canon series, flour & fluff !!

tag list is open !! go to this google form and fill it out to sign up!

series synopsis: owning a bakery at 20 is tough; even more so when you have to handle members of two opposing organizations! this is your journey to meeting those fools and creating an unlikely bond with each of them. but only at the cost of your peace and sanity.

fandom: bungou stray dogs

content: fluff & platonic stuff

previous: the doctor is in the house (quite literally)

author’s note: it’s port mafia time! ages are still one year younger than canon

also!! my 100 followers event still has 7 5 4 3  2  1 spot open for requests!! go check out this post for more info!! i’d like to get the whole prompt list done early so i have time to write them! (event is now closed as of feb. 10, 2021)

another doctor? oh wait, another doctor and his daughter

as you expected, ranpo and fukuzawa have not let you go easy after what had happened a couple days prior (3 days ago to be exact)

one of them, or more often than not, the two of them would go visit the bakery at least twice a day

once in the morning right before opening, and the second time right before closing

if they could, they would visit around lunch time, but that was usually yosano

tbh you were thankful that yosano hasn’t been as overbearing as the other two but you knew she probably wanted to give you a break because holy shit are they extremely over protective

currently, it was the fourth day of being watched by the two eldest ada members, but there were no said ada members with you at the moment

and boy were you overjoyed

turns out, the ada has an important escort job for a government official or smth, and on top of that, fukuzawa has a bunch of meetings to attend

even ranpo has his hands full with a couple of difficult murder cases across the country

you’re lowkey, no highkey, worried bc you learned literally 3 days ago that ranpo doesn’t know how to ride the train 😀😀

you were worried abt them, there’s no question, but on the inside you were a bit relieved to which ranpo called you out on it immediately 

that led to the two of you going at each other’s throats for nearly half an hour

let’s just say fukuzawa scolded the two fo you for a while

going back to the present, it was around one pm and you had just finished sending a text message to both fukuzawa and ranpo (cause they insisted) when a little blonde girl with blue eyes wearing a red dress matching with a red bow in her hair and red shoes walked in

she immediately went to the glass case to look at the desserts displayed

as she looked around, you watched her at the corner of your eyes and a with a smile as you wiped down one of the tables

after wiping down the table, you quickly went to go wash your hands and you walked over and stood next to her

you bent slightly and smiled bigger as she stared at one of the treats in the glass

“is that the one you want?”

she nodded without looking away from the glass

you giggled before going to the back and placing the one she wanted on the plate and held it out to her

the blonde was honestly so confused bc one, no adult supervision, and two, there was no tell tale way to know that she had money

to you, she was an open book so when she looked at you, her face immediately read “but i have no money, or a parent...??”

you simply patted her head and pushed along to one of the nearby tables and pulled a chair for her

you did not regret anything when you saw the look on her face when you told her that it was on the house

“name’s elise!” “i’m (y/n)!”

:D

you sat with her for a while continuing to give her sweets she reminded you of ranpo in all honestly and talking abt random things

she mostly complained abt a “rintarou” though

speaking of which, when a man in a doctor’s coat came through the door near screaming “elise-chan! elise-chan!” you figured that was probably the rintarou she was complaining abt

you smiled as you watched the two interact

“elise-chan why would just disappear like that?!”

“i wanted to see rintarou cry”

“so mean!”

...their behavior was questionable but endearing ig

“rintarou” suddenly turned to you, thanking you for “taking care of his daughter bc she’s always getting into trouble”

*cue angry noises and face from elise*

he introduced himself as a “local neighborhood doctor”

you smelled bullshit but didn’t say anything bc he has been kind to you so far

he asked you how he could repay you and you were thinking that you can actually win something bc you’re not refusing an ada member oh you poor oblivious child but you were appalled when elise answered for you

it went like this

“is there anything i can repay you with for taking care of my dear elise-chan? perhaps paying for all the sweets she has eaten?”

“oh no! don’t worry abt that, it’s nothing! it was a pleasure getting to know—”

“let’s buy out all of her food!”

h u h

you knew she enjoyed your pastries and stuff but like w h a t

you inwardly sigh in relief when the doctor agreed with you that “that’s a bit much elise-chan” and you were thanking every deity out there when suddenly

she threw a temper tantrum

you watched in confusion and slight horror at the 180 of the sweet little girl you were talking to like 10 minutes ago

her guardian panicked slightly and tried to get her to calm down but ahaha no that didn’t happen

“WAHH rintarou!! but i want it!! (y/n)’s food is the best i’ve ever had!!”

“b-but elise-chan, we can’t just buy—”

“i’ll wear all the dresses i’ve ever rejected and more if we buy it out right now and keep buying sweets here forever”

“...deal”

your eyes twitch at the “innocent” smiles the two gave you after their “talk”

fast forward literally 5 minutes and you’ve already flipped the close sign on your door with note (saying you’re sold out) and you’re all over the place running around behind the counter trying to fit everything into boxes as the two are sitting on a nearby table lightly chatting

about 20-25, nearly 30 minutes later you finishing packing everything in the glass case

it was a lot

we’re literally talking about tiered cakes and dozens of batches of cookies, cupcakes, literally everything and anything

when the two notice you’re done they get up meet you by the register

“a-ano, you really don’t have to buy all of this...the total is going to be quite large...”

“no worries!”

honestly at this point, you kind of missed the chaotic calls from ranpo that happened like every half hour

you thought you were done being surprised for the day but next thing you know men in suits come into Sakura’s and begin to load the boxes into a black car

dealing with the detectives was already starting to be a handful and now you have to deal whoever the hell these two people where

quite frankly, you were having trouble wrapping your head around all of this

like-

who buys out a whole bakery?!

and who has the money to buy out a whole bakery?!

what kind of job could you possibly have?!

was this guy really just a doctor?!

right before the two leave you call out to them

“a-ah wait! i don’t think i ever caught your name!”

the two blink at you before eyeing each other

“mori ougai” 😄😄

you started smelling bad shits again 

>:/

it was a weird feeling

you felt something off but at the same time, you weren’t really afraid 

and with that the two left

you were already tired from this whole thing but you now get the rest of the day off

so i guess something worked out in your favor

until the next fricking day

again, ranpo and fukuzawa canceled out on you

you weren’t sure if you were relieved or not

and as soon as you thought you were going to have a normal business day, guess who walked through the doors

yeah that’s right

“the local neighborhood doctor” and his daughter

you froze before eyeing them with suspicion

if mori was amused, he didn’t show it, only giving you a smile

elise immediately left his side and practically leaped onto you making you cut yourself with the knife you were holding

well shit now you’re bleeding

it was only 7:15 in the morning; you had literally just opened

you were cursing every deity out there

you quickly grab a nearby and press it against your wound and scrambled around looking for the first aid kit you had nearby

“oh? (y/n)-kun are you bleeding?”

“(y/n) i’m sorry!”

“a-ah, no worries elise-chan”

you really need to stop spacing out bc next thing you know, the sign on your door is flipped to close again (along with the same note from yesterday explaining you’re sold out taped on the door) and you’re sitting at a table with elise in your lap and mori wrapping your hand in a bandage

“tsk tsk (y/n)-kun you need to be more careful...but it is elise-chan’s fault”

“die rintarou!”

“but no worries! it’s not that deep so you don’t need stitches”

“thank you, mori-san, but can i ask why you and elise-chan are here again? not that i mind...”

whether or not you were lying is up to you

“oh we’re here to buy out your stock again!”

“wait what-”

the fuck???

did they not just buy everything yesterday???

frozen, you stare at the man in front if you with said man giving you another “innocent” smile

this little shit

wait till you meet dazai

but i guess that’s why the sign on the door is flipped to close bc you don’t even remember flipping it yourself or taping the note from yesterday to the door

you spent the next half hour trying to convince the two over some tea (your signature one of course) that “no you don’t need to or should buy everything i have, you’re going to deprive the rest of my customers”

cough cough ranpo

like the day before, you were losing this argument

can you just never win?

as you were losing the argument (obviously) you realized that you don’t even know why they want to buy everything again

“mori-san, why do the two of you even want to buy everything in the first place?”

“ah it was elise-chan’s request of course! but i do admit, after trying some of your sweets myself, i grew quite attached! so did the rest of my subordinates after my precious elise-chan made them try it, not like they could refuse her or me; i am their boss after all (y/n)-kun.”

*cue confusion*

“subordinates? wait are those the guys from yesterday?? aren’t you a doctor...?”

“ah ex-doctor actually, i’m the leader of the port mafia”

...

“ah (y/n)-kun that’s quite the coughing fit you have going on, do you need water?”

if it wasn’t obvious, you choked on your tea and had quite the coughing fit; you were wheezing and everything making elise leave you lap and settling for dangling over mori’s shoulders

“...you’re kidding”

“im afraid im not”

this man confuses the hell out of you??

like-

w h y would he just say that, to you of all people

but it explains the bad shits you were smelling/feeling yesterday

“are you afraid?”

“being completely honest with you, mori-san, not really”

“and why is that?”

you simply shrug not really knowing the answer

you aren’t lying, you just aren’t

maybe bc yesterday, he seemed more like a doting parent than the boss of the most criminal organization of yokohama

yes, you’ve heard the rumors, obviously, but just saying, if the port mafia wanted to hurt you, you’d probably be dead in a ditch by now

and they haven’t really been a bother to you, they were more like background characters in your life

well

until yesterday of course

mori simply raises an eyebrow and a smile seemingly okay with your very vague answer

“why did you tell me that mori-san?”

the man only smiles a bit wider at you and this time, you’re the one raising an eyebrow

“just a feeling” 

yeah you were starting to smell bad shits again

“and besides! elise-chan seems quite fond of you (y/n)-kun! i wasn’t planning on doing anything to you in the first place, but even if i wanted to, i don’t think i could! i wouldn’t want to upset my dearest cute elise-chan”

“die rintarou!”

“that’s mean elise-chan!”

your eyes began to twitch in slight annoyance

cause istg the duality of this man—

this strange strange man

oh dearest you haven’t even met dazai yet

after that has been said and done, somehow you found yourself in front of stores being dragged by elise

how did you end up there you ask? i don’t know either so there’s nothing we can do abt that

eventually, you found yourself holding a bunch of shopping bags full of dresses and clothes of the sort

some of it your size and the others elise’s

...

“mori-san?”

“yes (y/n)-kun?”

“why do i have bags of clothing that are fit for me rather than elise?”

“oh that’s because elise refused to go without you and if you didn’t get anything!”

yeah

that makes perfect sense, of course

you could see why elise kept on complaining abt this guy

the two of you actually bonded over making fun of him

you have n o fear

actually, maybe just a little

the three of you were out for basically the entire day and you were exhausted

cause holy shit there was a lot of money wasted, shopping bags obtained, and walking involved

it was around 5 pm when the three of you were making it back to Sakura’s

along the way you found yourself having a pleasant conversation with mori

even if he was a questionable person to be having a pleasant conversation with, you enjoyed it nonetheless

you hoped that it makes it harder to get rid of you if he ever changed his mind but we don’t talk abt that

anywho

when the three of you arrived, you immediately dumped all the bags you were holding and went straight to work packaging everything for “the local neighborhood doctor”

before they left, mori agreed to not buy out all of your stock except for some occasions but instead settled ordering massive batches of a little bit of everything every few days

how that’s not the same as buying everything you won’t ever know

you were standing outside Sakura’s watching the two get into the car that had arrived when suddenly, mori turned to you

“ah (y/n)-kun, i know that you wouldn’t tell anyone about this, it wouldn’t be like you to, but just a reminder, it would probably be in your best interest not to let anything slip to anyone okay? we wouldn’t want any enemies using you against the port mafia. so take care of yourself hm? see you next time”

and bippity boppity boo just like that, they were gone

how that man managed to get your personality down in just like 10 hours you don’t want to know

and that’s basically the story of how you started making more food/bake goods to sell

true to his word, every few days, or sometimes consecutive days, mori called you and made a large order

and i mean large

on those days, someone from the port mafia would pick it up and then you get paid

thankfully, by increasing the amount of food you made, you always had enough to put out on display and to sell even after the large order

before doing that, on those days you didn’t have a large stock, someone by the name of edogawa ranpo would weep at your feet

he will deny this; after all, great detectives don’t do weeping

or so he says

and speaking of the detective, you never did tell him what had transpired the two days he and fukuzawa were absent on checking on you

but tbh, i even think ranpo could’ve deduct this one

you didn’t tell him bc you were afraid, no of course not that’s ridiculous mori, in elise’s words, was a loser

you didn’t tell him bc you knew he and fukuzawa would flip the fuck out

and that would be a major inconvenience to you

you didn’t see the point in telling them anyway

so whatever, it’s like it’ll be important

and if ranpo and fukuzawa noticed the abundant of bags near the door leading up to the staircase when they visited you at the end of the day they didn’t say anything

jk

of course one of them said smth

“ne (n/n)-chan since when did you like to buy a bunch of things; waste of money if you could just be using that money to make more food so you wouldn’t sell out right away and have food to feed me”

your eyes twitched

he could’ve worded that a little better but whatever

it is ranpo-san after all

“i just got carried away since i closed up early; you know it isn’t often i get to go shopping”

and if he smelled your bullshit he didn’t say anything

for real this time

that slightly concerns you ngl

anyways

let’s just say quite a few heads were turned when they saw their boss leading a bunch of lower level subordinates carrying many light pink boxes of different sizes to his office for the second time

oh and just another thing

*whispers* he was lying when elise made his other subordinates eat your food; they kept it all to themselves”

was that a ruse to help lead the revelation of his real occupation who knows

“(y/n)-kun is a very interesting person don’t you think so elise-chan?”

“quiet. i’m eating cake.”

“that’s so mean elise-chan!”

<<previous // next >>

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[gogtopia]

#sadge this reminds me of how Sap literally shit talked his teammates today #Oli and Sylvee mainly #as they were with him #m a n #mcc brings out too much heavy competition #i wish stuff like the coins werent introduced as it starts to make it too competitive #* by today i mean last stream #i just;;; sap w h y

@roomy-ghosted left these tags on my other post and it inspired me to make my own post discussing this aka sapnap and the rest of the mcc16 green guardians but i wanted to make it a separate post since the topic is a bit adjacent

i was very disappointed to hear sapnap talking so poorly of his team yesterday. like hearing him trash talk sylvee is whatever because i know they’re good friends and that she’d probably call him out if she was genuinely upset but to drag the others into that negativity was sad to hear

obviously sapnap got nerfed after last mcc. like no shit. statistically i believe they’re the second worst team in the event. sapnap has an average individual placement of 6.2. oli’s is 30.8, sylvee’s is 31.5, and RT’s is 27.2 (+ RT hasn’t really competed in MCC since it got super competitive other than jingle jam which was obviously non-canon and chill). when you compare this team to teams like orange that has both Punz and TapL, two of the best players in the event, it’s clear that it’s not perfectly balanced.

but to drag your teammates down is definitely a disrespectful move in a tournament that most people just play in for fun. i think he’s also doing a huge disservice to oli who has been improving greatly this season and placed so low last mcc because his team was just having a rough day. i actually see sapnap trashing him as a bit ironic because he was talking up quackity before last mcc and i see oli as very similar to him: players who have placed poorly previously but are putting the work in to improve and have the potential to do really well

i don’t think sapnap sees this team for what it is: a huge opportunity for him to prove himself as a leader and a team player. he’s undoubtedly more skilled at minecraft than the rest of him and he should use this to help guide his team to growth. if they can pull together as a team they can surprise people. i personally don’t think that this team is going to make dodgebolt and i’ll confess that i placed them as 9 in my personal ranking. but in a tournament like this anyone has the opportunity to do well depending on game order and, depending on if they can work together as a team, i could see them coming top 5.

this is also an opportunity for sapnap to take a step back and appreciate the tournament for just being a fun time to interact with other creators. i really hope that oli’s positivity rubs off on him on saturday because i think that it could be a lot of fun for all of them if it does.

in my eyes, sapnap will never be on the same tier as illumina, fruit, techno, and dream if he can’t work with whichever people are on his team. like look at the mcc14 lime llamas. the team got 10th individual and fruitberries was still able to place in the top 10. a true S tier can work with anyone, not just their friends and not just people who are near the best in the event.