This Is How We Start

Din will never be able to rest

June 16th prompt: old married couple ( @dinlukeweek )

HQ characters as benders headcanons that made it into my fic.

Ok, so for this fic idea I decided to outline which characters (and side characters) would be certain kinds of benders. So here is my listing of what kind of bender each character is going to be in my particular story. I’ve seen a lot  of different people’s takes on this, but this is what works best for me in the story. 

Airbenders:

Hinata

Bokuto

Yachi

All of Kamomedai (if I decide to add them in later) 

Waterbenders:

Suga

Kiyoko

Tsukishima

Akaashi

Rest of Fukurodani (When they pop up)

Earthbenders:

Iwaizumi

Daichi

Asahi

Tendo

Kyotani

Yaku 

Watari

Ukai

All of Dateko (wall of Ba Sing Se)

All of Nohebi (Dai Li)

Firebenders:

Kageyama

Atsumu

Osamu

Oikawa

Kenma

Kuroo

Ushijima

Kunimi

Kindaichi

Goshiki

Lev

Aran

Rest of Nekoma (white lotus stand in)

Rest of Shiratorizawa (elite firebenders)

Non-benders:

Nishinoya

Tanaka

Sakusa

Yamaguchi

Makki

Mattsun

Takeda

Kita

Rest of Inarizaki (soldiers under Kita)

Krsn 2nd years (Non-bending warriors)

except Ennoshita, he’s with Daichi’s gang

This list is subject to change for both story reasons and sometimes I just feel like changing things. In any case, here it is. I’ll probably be posting some art soon, so that’ll be fun. 

dinluke galaxy’s edge canon

Star Wars Demigod AU Aesthetics

My take on who star wars characters godly parents would be!

Luke and Leia are both kids of Aphrodite.

For Luke, I feel like he would have powerful charm speak and much like Leia, be the strongest person in combat in a room despite being underestimated by everyone based on appearance. I also love the idea of the twins having everyone fall in love with them all the time (I think they would make a bit out of it). Some casual Din/Luke is also in this aesthetic (more on Din later).

Leia aesthetic for being a daughter of Aphrodite.

I think that Leia would have been claimed sooner than Luke was (coming to camp when she was younger) and thus she knows how to control her charm speak more than Luke does. She would also be more of a realist with love as she has had her fair share of insincere suitors.

Leia would also be the best shooter at camp half blood. Some Leia/Han is also in this aesthetic!

Han would be the son of Hermes.

He is always traveling, good at thievery/cunning actions, and is a good navigator. I think that he would be sent on his first quest with Luke and Leia (before Luke is claimed) and would be micro managing their travels.

He constantly tries to beat Leia at shooting but they both know that he isn't as good as she is (Leia/Han is also incorporated in this aesthetic).

Din would be the son of Hephaestus.

This one took me a while but honestly it fits.

I think that beyond the armor (which he would 100% wear at camp half blood), he is also super efficient at doing repairs (but not as much as his fellow Hephaestus kid Peli), and uses fire. He would have gone on a lot of quests and is experienced in it (his bounty hunting).

I also just love the idea of a Hephaestus and Aphrodite kid being togethers (thus Din/Luke is in this aesthetic too).

Finally, Lando.

He would be a son of Dionysus. He has the right vibes:

Strong, fun, goes with the flow, and a bit sneaky. He would totally be an enjoyer of good theater and wine.

I like to think that he and Han have been camp besties for a while. He definitely would be the type of person to go on one quest (which was the most important one) and just have so much credit from then on thus making him the person everyone wants on a quest.

Anyways, thank you for coming to my ted talk, please lmk what you think or any characters I should do!

Din/Luke Pacific Rim AU pt.5

Even tho this is a continuation of an AU it was also my gift for the @stardads DinLuke Secret Santa! I was so hype to get Pacific rim AU for a prompt!! Hope yall had a good holiday season and enjoy this update!

Little excerpt from the wip under the cut.

Din stepped out of the helicopter to sheets of rain pouring down on him. He raised a hand to try and block the water from his eyes to little success. He watched as Ahsoka jogged down the landing pad towards two figures and thought it was best to follow suit. 

Before he could get a good look at anyone an umbrella was shoved into his hand, which solved the rain problem at least. That found him face to face with two figures, one he recognized and one he didn’t. 

“This is Marshal Skywalker, though I’m sure you already know that,” Ahsoka said. Din took the Marshal’s proffered hand and shook it quickly. 

“Hello sir, it’s been a while,” Din stumbled out. Skywalker was just as intimidating as he remembered. Tall, burn scars on his neck, and intense eyes that spoke of years of experience in the k-war. 

“Glad you could join us. You’re a hard man to find Djarin.” 

“That was the point,” Din blurted out before he could think better. The only thing that seemed to save him was Ahsoka’s small chuckle at the comment.

“Mr. Djarin, this is Luke, he’s in charge of the Mark Three restoration program.” The other figure stepped forward from his place behind the Marshal. Din recognized him from the news coverage Grogu made him watch, but he was much different in person. On TV he was easy, almost cocky smiles and casual postures. Here, he was stern, with a military stiffness to his shoulders. He stared up at Din with bright blue eyes, not unlike the color of Kaiju Blue. 

Din found himself intrigued by the pilot, the difference between him on the TV and now. It wasn't just his demeanor either, sure he looked charming in interviews, but even with his hard stare, and his blonde hair matted down by the humidity, he was striking. He looked almost too soft to be a pilot, the only thing betraying his profession was the small scar on his upper lip. He was also young, couldn't be much older than 21 if Din had to guess. He certainly hadn't been a pilot back when Din had been, which also betrayed his age beyond his looks. 

“He personally handpicked the list of your potential co-pilots,” Marshal Skywalker continued. 

“Wait, I thought you were a pilot. Why are you doing restoration?” Din asked. The glare that earned him from Luke was chilling. He opened his mouth to respond but was cut off by the Marshal. 

“With Red Five destroyed and his co-pilot out of commission, Ranger Skywalker has been reassigned.” At that, Luke’s glare shifted towards the Marshal but it was carefully ignored. 

“How about we go inside before we discuss anything further,” Ahsoka suggested. No one could really argue with that, so they all headed through the thick metal doors into the Shatterdome. 

As they entered, Luke grabbed Din’s umbrella and placed it in a bucket near the door. With a lurch the large elevator they had stepped into began its descent. 

“Ranger Skywalker?” Din said, gaining Luke’s attention. “You’re related to the Marshal?” 

“He’s my father,” Luke answered. His voice was tight, a slight furrow to his brow left over from whatever had slighted him before. Din wasn’t too surprised, most pilots were proud. If Luke had been grounded due to his Jaeger being out of commission he probably took that as a slight against his abilities. 

“I heard Red Five was out of commission last month,” Grogu had been inconsolable after hearing about the destruction of his favorite Jaeger. “I didn’t know it was piloted by the Marshal’s son.”

“We try to keep it out of the media,” Luke explained. “Not really a secret, but there’s no reason to advertise it either. Makes both our jobs easier.” Din caught the pained expression on the Marshal’s face from the corner of his eye. But as soon as it was there it was gone and the Marshal spoke up again. 

“First we’ll give you a tour of the facility and then Ranger Skywalker will show you to your Jaeger. First thing in the morning we’ll find you your co-pilot.” 

“Marshal, you’re aware that I’m not drift compatible with most pilots, right?” Din inquired. It had been something nagging at the back of his head since he’d agreed to this mess. He wanted to keep Grogu safe, no matter how much he dreaded getting back into a Jaeger, but if he couldn’t even find a co-pilot this would all be for nothing. 

“You’re the only Mark Three pilot left, it’s our best bet to have you in Razor Crest for this mission,” the Marshal explained. 

“Wait, you restored the Crest?” Din looked from the Marshal to Ahsoka. 

“Whoops, did I forget to mention that?” Ahsoka said with a poorly masked smile. 

Din was a bit unsure how to feel. He’d spent his best years in the Crest back in the day, but it had also been the site of his greatest failure. Before he could fall down that train of thought something else caught him up.

“Hold on, what mission? No one has told me exactly what’s happening here.” Before he could get a response the elevator doors opened and everyone was shuffling out. As they approached two heavy metal doors a worker moved to a lever to open them. With loud creaks the doors shifted to the side revealing the center of the Shatterdome.

the photos luke vs. the photos din

takes of din: takes of luke:

luke is actually very photogenic and expressive but din snaps as many pictures as he can whenever he can. which can, ultimately, lead to some...unflattering...pictures. he has thousands of photos of luke in his phone and camera sd cards and luke doesn't unearth them until he asks din if he can look through his camera roll/files to find a photo from a night out and luke just sees face. everywhere.

luke is both flustered and so endeared but he still makes din delete the ugly ones bc "my eyes are half closed! and my pores! they're huge! and i look so goofy in this one! sweetheart, please have mercy 🥺"

and din? well, he obliges, of course, bc luke said so. tho, he thinks it's alright bc by deleting a couple thousand or so photos, he now has fresh storage to take more. and luke, this time, is ready to turn to din and flash him a silly lil grin or make a funny face or just smile, unrestrained and fond, and din is there to capture every one.

OK I've hyped myself up enough to post this. I wrote a dinluke inspired song! This idea has been rattling around in my head for a while but got hit by a wave of motivation a couple days ago. Hope y'all enjoy!

Thanks to the wonderful people on the dinluke server for giving me enough confidence to post this here. Their kind words really eased my anxiety.

Also- the lyrics are in the description of the video if anyone wants to see them and the Mando'a I used.

(Note, I'm not a professional musician, so forgive my mediocre performance and production)

I want this mainlined straight into my body.

fantasy seijoh 4 illustrations i made a while back i wanted to post them together eheh

The Masks of Nobility- Chapter 1

Jikta had no desire to marry. She had, until now, been successful in avoiding such an arrangement. She was fortunate that both her family and potential suitors quickly recognized the simple fact—she was ill-suited for it.

To put it plainly, when the topic of romance arose, she had little to no understanding of it. She could recognize it in others—the way her dear cousin George looked at Bartosh (the latter would have told her if it was mutual, given their close bond), the way her father gazed at her mother, or even the subtle flirtations among the household staff. But she herself had never felt even the faintest flutter. She loved her family, of course, but familial love was not the same as romantic love. Or so George told her.

She preferred her art—studying the form of the living world, sketching it with a precision that sometimes unnerved people. Her paintings had become so lifelike that George often jested she must be a witch. Her lack of romantic inclinations, coupled with her pursuit of biological and anatomical studies (which her family wisely kept discreet), were reasons enough to deter suitors. But the greatest deterrent was her own ‘odd’ nature. Many found her logical assertions strange, though she struggled to understand why; to her, they seemed perfectly sensible. Yet this perceived defect was so offensive that it outweighed even the vast dowry her father and uncle could provide.

George often reassured her that she needn’t worry—he would always protect her. He had promised this since childhood when it first became apparent that she did not fit into the world as neatly as other noblewomen. He came to her for counsel on political and managerial matters, where her mind was a boon. And in turn, he explained her social missteps and how to navigate them. His presence at gatherings, ever the lively and charming one, made her participation tolerable.

Not that she attended such events often. And if she did, she did everything in her power to avoid engagement, retreating into her comfortable routine.

War made men desperate. And desperate men made desperate deals. Her uncle was not desperate, but Lord Hanush was. And so, the marriage was arranged.

Jikta had to admit—Lord Capon had been just as averse to the betrothal as she. Several months had passed since they were informed, and she was quite impressed (and grateful) for the litany of excuses that delayed the inevitable. George had been outraged, demanding that their uncle break the engagement. A foolish endeavor—one she would have advised against—for it only spurred Lord Hanush to secure the match more aggressively.

---

Jikta stared longingly at her sketches—portraits of home, of her friends, the household staff, her mother. Her father, uncle, and George rode alongside the retinue ensuring their safe passage to Rattay.

“Cousin, look—it’s Rattay,” George said.

Jikta peered over the top of her book. The city loomed in the distance, still some ways off, but the outskirts caught her interest. The flora suggested a strong presence of boars. She wondered if she could explore the forests to better understand them.In her musings, she had ignored George. “Sakra, Jikta! Look ahead!”

She blinked back to attention. George rarely grew frustrated with her, even when he had every right. But his tone now required notice.

An entourage of horses approached them."Sir Hanush!" her uncle called out. "What a generous welcome."Ever the diplomat, he gestured to the cart. "Allow me to introduce my dear niece."Her father extended a hand to help her down, whispering, "As we practiced, dear."She would miss his gentle, kind support.

Jikta stepped out of the cart, not as the woman she truly was, but as the noble lady she was expected to be. She placed the mask upon herself—an approachable smile, the tranquility of a blushing bride. Her gaze swept over the men before her, assessing, calculating.

She hoped for a kind husband—one who would leave her be, who would not take his rights often, if at all. Perhaps he would even allow her to pursue her studies.Perhaps that was too much to wish for.

Two young men stood out in the entourage. The shorter, broad-shouldered one with dark hair had striking eyes—not simply for their blue shade, but for the depth within them. They were the eyes of someone who had endured trials and perhaps still was. A rare quality for a noble of Capon’s standing.

The taller man, dressed in fine attire, was another matter. His gaze was one of disinterest—bordering on disdain. Accusatory, as if she had committed some unspoken crime.Unfortunately, this must be her husband.

She bowed politely to Hanush, who let out a thunderous laugh.“She will do you well! Now, introduce yourself!”

There was something commanding about the way Hanush spoke to his ward. His booming voice unsettled her.

Hans Capon’s expression was unreadable as he took her hand, pressing a formal kiss upon it. A forced courtesy. A mask, just like hers.

“I am most fortunate for such a fair wife,” he said, though his tone was devoid of warmth. “I am Hans Capon.”

She withdrew her hand quickly, resisting the urge to wipe it against her skirts. She hated being touched.

Jikta bowed, responding as custom dictated. “I thank you, my lord. I am most pleased to see you have recovered from the plague, sweating sickness, and—if I recall correctly—turning into a horse?”

Her father squeezed her arm. George let out a poorly concealed snort. The silence that followed made it quite clear—she had made a mistake.

Hans raised his eyebrows, momentarily stunned, before regaining his composure. “Yes, it was most distressing to be kept from this… wondrous day,” he said smoothly.She smiled at the falsehood. Two liars, wearing the masks of nobility.

“I do hope you no longer have a taste for hay,” she quipped. Her father and Hanush both cleared their throats. Hanush spoke "Welcome to Rattay. I have arranged for Henry of Skalitz, ward of Sir Radzig," he gestured to the shorter man, "and Hans to escort Lady Jikta and her cousin to their rooms. You good sirs," he said to her uncle and father, "will join myself and Radzig to celebrate this wonderful day."

----

Later, in the Gardens

The gardens were beautiful, brimming with a vast array of herbs. Jikta, momentarily forgetting her circumstances, exclaimed with excitement."May I look amongst your herb garden, my lord?"Hans seemed taken aback by her sudden enthusiasm but nodded.

George chimed in, ever her advocate, "Perhaps we can take a turn? Jikta loves the outdoors and has a great interest in plants."Encouraged, she turned to Hans. "I noticed several meadows nearby contain a particular dispersal of flowers—indicating a large boar population. Do you get many boars, my lord?"

Hans tilted his head, silent in thought.Henry, the man introduced as Radzig’s ward, spoke up instead. "My lord loves to hunt, Lady Jikta." She turned to Henry eagerly. "Ah! Then you must know about the flora preferred by the animals you track! What subspecies have you hunted?"

Hans’s mask returned. "I know little of flowers, my lady. Only the language of flora as is due proper."She deflated slightly, sensing he already found her an irritation. George stepped in. "What Jikta means is—back home, she devised a system using flowers to locate game. It increased our hunts tenfold."

Hans’s mask cracked. "Really?"Jikta brightened and eagerly began explaining. With George smoothing over her bluntness and Henry supporting a sulking Hans, her betrothed soon dropped his cold facade. He even regaled them with an amusing story of his and Henry’s misadventure with a boar.

Jikta thought, perhaps this could work.

------

She had slipped out of her chambers for a quiet walk, seeking fresh air and solitude. But as she turned a corner, she stopped mid-stride.

Two figures stood close—foreheads touching, whispering in hushed tones. Lovers, she thought at first, though the atmosphere between them was not entirely tender. There was tension. Most likely members of the household staff. Still, she ducked into the shadows. If she were found wandering alone, it would be improper.

She began to sneak past them.

Then she froze.The voice—clear, familiar, unmistakable—belonged to her betrothed.

"Christ, Henry, she's mad! Absolutely mad!" Hans's laughter rang out, careless and sharp. "It explains why she's unwed. She’s a rich looker—when I first saw her, I couldn't understand it."

The other man—Henry—sighed. "Mad and genius are often the same thing, milord."

Hans huffed.

Henry chuckled, tilting his head back, exposing the curve of his throat. "Maybe, just maybe, your heir gets her smarts and avoids trouble. Unlike you." He smirked. "I could retire."Hans leaned in. Pressed his face into Henry’s neck. Then, slowly, deliberately, he placed a kiss there. Jikta’s breath caught in her throat.

Hans’s lips moved upward, tracing Henry’s jaw until he captured his lips in a desperate, passionate embrace. "I'll never let you go," Hans murmured between kisses, his voice raw. "You'll never retire. I'll make trouble if you do." Henry laughed, quiet and warm. "Of course you will, my lord."

Their foreheads touched, their breaths mingling. Jikta should have turned away, but she could not. Hans sighed, as if a great weight pressed upon him. "Don't speak of heirs."

The shift in his voice was almost imperceptible, but Jikta caught it. The way it wavered, unsteady.

"The thought of bedding her feels… tainted. Wrong. I—"Henry’s expression softened. A look of quiet, immeasurable tenderness.

"Hans."

There was nothing else in that single word, yet it carried everything—understanding, sorrow, devotion.Henry whispered, a teasing lightness in his tone, though his eyes held something deeper. "You've been with many—a great many, as I recall. The infamous Hans Capon, conqueror of hearts. Fear not."

Hans did not laugh. He did not smirk.Instead, he tucked his head into the crook of Henry’s neck, as if seeking shelter.

"Not since you," he confessed. His voice was barely audible. "Never since you. You are… my everything."

Henry exhaled slowly, his hand moving to Hans’s hair, fingers threading through the strands in a soothing motion.

"Aye," he whispered. "And you to me."

The weight of their grief settled over them both.

Jikta did not understand the world of love. She never had. But she understood what she saw before her.

This was not desire alone. This was devotion. This was belonging.

The priest would call it sin. But the only sin Jikta saw was forcing the destruction of something so profound in the name of nobility.She began to step back, her foot knocking into a basket.

It clattered against the stone.

She held her breath.

Silence.

Neither of them stirred.

She slipped away, unseen.

---

The Next Morning

Jikta paced her chambers.

Neither she nor her husband-to-be wanted this marriage. That much was clear but the battle against it was lost—for now.

Marriage was a document, a binding contract, a political arrangement. That much could not be undone.

There was another matter. The one that loomed over her like an axe.

Heirs.

Jikta had never given much thought to the act of producing them before. But now—now she knew. It was not merely that she, herself, did not wish to bear a child. It was that forcing Hans into such intimacy would be a cruelty beyond measure. It felt wrong. Morally, deeply, fundamentally wrong.

But avoiding it forever? That was another matter entirely.

She exhaled sharply.

No. For now, she could stall. There were ways to delay—many ways. She could not stop the marriage, but she could control this.

She pulled out her study of plants and set to work.

She could not approach Hans about it. That would mean revealing what she had seen. And if she had miscalculated—if his shame turned to fury—her family could suffer for it.

That was not a risk she was willing to take.

So she planned.

One thing was certain—she had no intention of bedding her husband on their wedding night.

She would see to that.

----

This is my first fanfic! I was inspired by how amazing the Hansry community is and decided to give writing a try. The first chapter is from Jikta’s perspective, chapter two will be Hans’s, and chapter three will be Henry’s. I’m also thinking about adding one from Radzig’s POV. Let me know what you think! Posting here until I get an AO3 account.

you guys made luigi mangione trend for days and I need to see the same energy for brianna boston. she is a 43 year old mother of three who ended a phone call with blue cross blue shield (after being denied a claim) “delay deny depose, you people are next” and is now being held under a 100,000$ bond and could face FIFTEEN years of prison if charged. she has no weapons, her record is clean, and yet she is being held behind bars. they are afraid of the public and are trying to subdue. do not let them!!!! be outraged that our freedom of speech is being threatened!!!!! deny defend depose! free brianna boston!