drunkonwriting



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  1. Public Bookmark *

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    "Time and space are...” Ishida pauses. “Delicate.” Another pause. “Which means that we should not be handing them over to your care,” he adds, looking really pointedly at Ichigo.

    “Ah!" Orihime smacks her fist into her palm as the realisation comes to her. "Because Ichigo-kun will break them!”

    “Yes. Exactly,” says Ishida, nodding. Chad makes a rumble of agreement.

    I’m not going to break space and time,” hisses Ichigo, red-faced and aggrieved. Then he stops and thinks about it for a second. “...why did we let Urahara mess around with them?” he asks incredulously.

    Language:
    English
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    11/?
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    04 Apr 2021

  2. Public Bookmark *

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    The first thing Din noticed was the fire in the hearth. Near the hearth was a small, handmade crib, and from the crib came an excited cry. It spread through Din's chest like a bloodstain, perhaps it had in fact pierced his heart. He knew that little voice.

    “Hey, you,” said Din softly. He dropped to his knees as the Kid scrambled out of the crib and scampered to him, crawling into his lap and burbling happily.

    “That’s the most excited I’ve seen him in months,” said Skywalker. Din hadn’t even noticed him sitting across the room at a rough-hewn wooden table, nursing a cup of something. He wore the same carefully neutral expression he'd had on Gideon's ship, but his clothes were now desert-colored and hung loose around Skywalker's wiry frame. His hair was in disarray and it made him look much younger than he'd seemed on the ship; there, he'd seemed world-weary and ancient. Now, Din felt an insane need to protect.

    Skywalker raised his cup at Din in greeting, a lopsided smile on his face. “He’s missed you," he said.

    “Feeling’s mutual,” said Din gruffly.

    ___

    The Mandalorian becomes Din Djarin.
    Din Djarin becomes.

    (Luke helps.)

    Series
    Language:
    English
    Words:
    21,960
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    1/1
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    14 Mar 2021

    Bookmarker's Notes

    “There,” said Luke, from somewhere underwater. A wave of pride washed over Din, then amusement at Din’s relief to have done something right.

    “You’re doing well,” murmured Luke. Something about his voice made Din’s ears heat up again. Praise from Luke was few and far between. Din valued it highly. He always wanted more, though he couldn’t parse why. He just wanted to hear it again and feel the warmth it sparked low in his belly.

    Luke made a strangled noise and the connection cut off abruptly. The wall was back and Din blinked in surprise.

    He shook his head. “What happened?”

    “Nothing.” Luke was flushed, his normally pale skin a patchy crimson. His freckles stood out. Din stared at them as Luke clutched his head with his false hand—almost impossible to tell from the organic one. He wore a wild-eyed expression.

    “Just—you’re a little better at that than I thought,” he said.

    very into the idea of force-sensitive din and also!!! they're cute.

  3. Public Bookmark *

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    Only a very few people in the world know that the celebrated and reclusive poet Jack Allen is just Kansas mechanic Dean Winchester, a high school dropout with a few bucks to his name. Not that it matters anymore; life has left him so wrung out he never wants to pick up another pen.

    Until, that is, a string of coincidences leads Dean to auditing a poetry course with one Dr. Castiel Novak. The professor is wildly intelligent, devastatingly handsome...and just so happens to be academia's foremost expert on the poetry of Jack Allen.

    Language:
    English
    Words:
    56,950
    Chapters:
    7/7
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    11 Mar 2021

    Bookmarker's Notes

    As soon as Cas started his closing remarks, Dean stuffed his things into his bag. He sat on the edge of his seat until Cas dismissed them—something about a response paper, Dean wasn’t really paying attention—and made sure he was first out of the room. A couple of other classes were being released in the building at the same time, but with his bulk he easily made a way for himself down the stairs and out the door. He climbed the damn hill with a vengeance, relishing the burn that still pulsed in his legs at the effort, and practically flew down the other side in the cool autumn air. He made short work of the green and the rest of campus, and soon enough Dean was slamming Baby’s door shut and peeling out of the parking lot.

    It wasn’t until he was alone on the county road, halfway between Maple Hills and home, when the tears got so bad he started choking on them. Only then did Dean realize he was crying. He swerved to the road’s edge, gritting his teeth through the rumble strip, and roughly turned off the car. Baby’s engine cut off with a wheeze. The sobs were loud, now, in his ears, and suddenly even the car was too much, the car John Winchester had bought and driven for most of his life. Dean stumbled out on the empty road and clutched his hands to his head, digging his fingers into his scalp, squeezing his eyes shut. No other sound could be heard but the light swaying of the trees; he hadn’t seen anyone else for ten miles. Another sobbed ripped its way out of his throat, despite his desperately trying to swallow it down. He turned and slammed his elbows onto the roof of the car, burying his face in his hands.

    this brought back a a lot of (good!!) memories of my time as an english major undergrad and also resurfaced some poetry i'd thought i'd long since forgotten. dean as a poet is everything i ever wanted!!! the john winchester bits made me cry. cas as the hot professor is *chef kiss*

  4. Public Bookmark *

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    “Gone to a Child of the Watch, the Darksaber has,” Grand Master Yoda announces in his creaky little voice. “Peace, there is not, and yet peace, there must be.”

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    10 Mar 2021

    Bookmarker's Notes

    Grogu, seemingly able to intuit that his father is in need of comfort, twists around in Luke’s arms and gestures to his father with an inquiring little noise. The Mand’alor responds automatically, stepping forward and reaching into the cradle of Luke’s arms to embrace his son. He’s so close, his helmet bent down solicitously, the rattling hum of his filtered breath suddenly so loud--Luke feels heat flare throughout his body, in his stomach, along the fronts of his thighs, up his back. For-- kriffing hell .

    The Mand’alor holds Grogu high enough in his arms that the child can place both palms against the lower half of his helmet. They seem to look into each other’s eyes for a long moment, and then the Mand’alor tilts his head and rests the top of his helmet against the child’s forehead. It is such a bewilderingly intimate thing to witness that Luke coughs and steps back.

  5. Public Bookmark *

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    Luke tries to imagine showing a child a pile of books and saying, these rotting pieces of dust told me you weren’t allowed to see your dad ever again. If Luke had tried something like that on his sister after Ben was born, Leia would’ve told him to fuck off and fuck the Jedi Order, too, for good measure.

    Language:
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    10 Mar 2021

    Bookmarker's Notes

    Grogu’s father tilts his helmet about ten degrees to the left, in a skeptical assessment that leaves Luke smarting. Although he doesn’t say anything, Luke can hear, very plainly, why the fuck are you doing this . “You’ll have to travel separately,” Luke tells him, slowly, staring at the faceplate of his helmet. “I don’t think anyone other than Grogu will fit with me in my X-wing.” He puts a very, very faint emphasis on Grogu’s name. Hopefully someone from a culture where everyone wears helmets all the time will be good at picking up subtle cues.

    Although the Mandalorian has the Force sensitivity of a profogg Luke finds it pretty easy to feel the general outline of his emotions. It’s immediately apparent that he understands. He straightens up, the tilt gone from his head. Without conscious intention, Luke superimposes the face that he’d observed--those sad, dark eyes, turned down in the corners, a surprisingly mobile mouth for someone so demonstrably laconic--onto the smoothly impenetrable surface of the Mandalorian’s beskar helmet.

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