#I hate drawing each card individually

[minthy]

I had this in mind for a good while before actually drawing it.

but there we go!!.

their name stands for

Jack Of All Trades Master Of None,

But they are usually called MON because, well,

obviously.

I like how She turned out so far

(also, caine 🔛🔝)

[theywhowriteandknowthings]

Murder Daddy Kinktober 2023 Day 17 - Why do you run, only to let me catch you? Din Djarin x Reader

This blog is a 18+ space, Minors, do not engage. If you are under the age of 18 you are not welcome here. Please heed these warnings and the warnings put in place on each individual fic and chapter. Your reading and consumption of my work is your responsibility but I will endeavour to mitigate any discomfort for you, the reader, as possible. Once again, this is a 18+ space and minors should not interact.  Specific Warnings: PiV sex, unprotected sex, mutual pining, grogu being a sessy bitch, blood, addiction mentions, addiction, oral F&M recieving, Whiny Din Supremacy.

Graphics made by me Thank you again to @beefrobeefcal @clawdee and @pastelnap for beta-ing! Read on AO3 Please consider checking out my ko-fi or patreon if you want to support me.

Why do you run, only to let me catch you?

Your relationship – if you could even call it that – with Din Djarin is a complex one, and one you love to hate, or hate to love. It’s been too long now that those lines don’t really exist anymore. There’s a passion in your chest reserved only for him, but to call it love would be a disservice, what you shared with the most feared bounty hunter in the system is something much more than that.

But it’s been at least a Standard Year since you last caught a glimpse of polished Beskar, a sight that set your heart racing like a jump to light speed. You’d heard of his exploits alongside Bo-Katan , and that of his adopted son Din Grogu, and how the three of them took down Moff Gideon and reunited the Mandalorian people.

But, as much as hearing those feats make you somewhat proud of the Beskar clad menace, it only makes you yearn for him more. You’re lost in thought when the droid in front of you snaps you out of it.

“Miss?”

The chaotic roar of the casino comes back to you in a flash, you’d been deep in your own thought spiral you had cut out everything but the image of a silver-clad predator from your mind as you yearned for the thrill of the chase.

The table is looking at you expectantly as you realize you’d slipped off into a daydream, it was your hand. You study the purple skinned Twi’lek opposite you with a smirk, he’s hiding it well, but he’s panicking. You look back to your hand. You’re currently holding eight cards, between the minus 6 modifier and the rest, you’re sitting pretty at seventeen.

You could stand, and hope that your opponent goes bust but there’s no fun in playing this game safe. Especially when this is all the thrill you live for now that your cat and mouse days with Din Djarin are over.

You let your fingertips hover over your side deck, drawing out the moment as you eye up the ten-thousand credit pot on the table. You close your eyes, snatching the card from the deck and you can’t keep your poker face up when you draw a three.

The Twi’lek across from you swears and stands with such force it spills his Spotchka cocktail over the table and you quickly scoop up the credits, protecting your winnings from the hazy blue liquid. The casino hushes around you and you look up from your pile of riches to see what has everyone on edge.

Then you see him.

Shining Beskar, tattered, flowing black cloak, blaster on his hip as the lacquered black T of his visor bores into you. Your blood runs cold, then burns hotter than the binary suns when you see him. A broad smile stretches across your lips. You’re not dressed for a fight, nor a chase, with ridiculously high heels and a tight sequined, green bodycon dress that was not meant for running. Time seems to still as you drop the credits back on the table. The clink of metal-on-metal deafening in the otherwise silent casino.

Mando tilts his head to the side, just enough to issue the challenge. You take a deep breath, formulating your escape as you see him reach for his blaster.

I can take you in warm, or I can take you in cold.

Those first few words uttered to you as he had you pinned over the bar of a cantina on Tatooine replay in your head as you wink at the Beskar-clad menace. Heat pools in your core as you remember how it felt to be pinned by such a strong, confident man.

You kick off your heels, snatching them up before diving through the crowd. You’re sprinting through the main hall, bare feet slapping against the smooth flooring, making you slip and slide as you hear the unmistakable spur-like clink of metal on metal as Mando gives chase.

You barge through the chaos of Canto Bight, drinks fly as you blindly frisbee a tray at Mando, he bats it away with ease as he breaks into a run, forgoing the initial long, loping strides. You dash through the service entrance, following a waitress before the security door closes. The sound of Beskar pounding against Durasteel as Mando collides with the door has you grinning in premature triumph.

You slip through the halls, ducking confused looking waiters, a Bothan swearing at you as you make your way through to the back door. You break out into the neon-glare of the city and immediately slow your pace. You slip your heels back on and try to blend in with the denizens of Canto Bight.

The streets are packed, holographic screens of kids racing on Fathiers illuminate the facades of the various casinos and hotels. It’s a big race, you should know, you’ve got a lot of money on Skystrider tonight.

Maybe I’ll get lucky a second time tonight?

You think to yourself as you lament the credits you had left behind. You just know the Twi’lek you beat would have taken the winnings in the confusion.

But there was a bigger prize at stake now, one that you were determined to win.

“You’re a hard woman to find.”

Mando’s modulated voice growls from over your shoulder. You don’t react, keeping up your purposeful stride as you weave in and out of the throng of bodies. The clink of his suit loud in your ear, you can feel his presence behind you like a heavy weight on your back.

“Was starting to think you’d forgotten about me Mando, way to make a girl feel unwanted.”

You purr as you feel a gloved hand brush the small of your back, you stop abruptly, making Mando crash into your back and you cry out. You give your best performance, letting out a terrified wail that has people turning to look at the way you cower away from the Mandalorian.

“Help he’s assaulting me, please!”

You turn on the spot, clutching at your chest as you back away from him. Mando halts as his visor scans the now antagonistic crowd around him. You wink and poke out your tongue as a man steps between you.

“Hey, tin-can, leave the lady alone.”

“She’s quarry, get out of my way.”

The man looks over his shoulder at you and you give him the waterworks, eyes pleading as you fight to keep the smile off your face.

“Heard that excuse before, just because you’re some hot shot Mando doesn’t mean you can treat a lady like that.”

The other man squares up to Din and you almost hang around to watch the pissing match, but you know you must take every advantage you can get. You take a tentative step back, Mando’s visor tilting to watch your movements as the other man keeps blustering on about honor and some other chivalrous shit. You blow Mando a kiss as you slip your heels off again.

The world blurs around you as you sprint as fast as your legs can carry you, neon lights, steam from exhaust vents, people of all races and creeds whipping by as you feel your lungs burn and you step on something sharp, but the adrenaline keeps the pain at bay.

You hear blaster fire behind you and wince a little at the fact you might have just got an innocent man killed.

There are no innocent partygoers on Canto Bight.

You think to yourself as you reach the spaceport. Your entire body trembles from overexertion as you stumble into the hangar that houses your X-wing. Your definitely, legitimately sourced X-Wing, and definitely not the one you won from a Sabacc game with a gullible young pilot.

You chuckle to yourself at the memory, opening the cockpit of your fighter until you look around the hangar and see a Mandalorian Class Gauntlet in the next bay over.

That wasn’t there when I landed.

Your stomach drops and you hear a soft modulated huff from the hangar door. Your head snaps up and you see the silhouette of the bounty hunter illuminated by the vibrant, neon rainbow of light bleeding in from the street.

You throw your heels onto the floor and launch yourself into the pilot’s seat, you begin your pre-flight checks but none of the lights or displays come online. You sigh, laughing breathily as you realize he’s done something to immobilize your ship. You have no idea how he knew this was yours, you’re pretty sure it’s still registered under the name Antilles.

You let yourself catch your breath for a moment as the clink of Beskar grows louder with every step. You try to think of a way out of this, some distraction, or final gambit to worm your way out of his clutches, but it’s futile. You’re backed into a corner.

“Alright, you’ve got me. If I promise to be good, could you forgo the carbonite? I break out every time.”

“I’m not stupid, you’d just find a way out of your restraints and gut me in my sleep.”

You shrug, you can’t blame him for that, you did shank him in his sleep the last time you promised to be good when he caught you on Endor. You can still hear the howl of pain as you disappeared into the undergrowth as he pulled the vibroknife – his vibroknife – out of his thigh.

“Fine, but I’m not moving, you’re dragging me onto that ship. I winded myself with all that running, and I think I’ve lost a lot of blood.”

You babble as you look down at the crimson liquid pooling in your cockpit. You chuckle as you feel your head spin, fractals of light crack like shattering Transparisteel across your vision as you let your head loll back onto the headrest.

“What are you-?” Mando asks as he climbs the ladder attached to the cockpit, “Dank Farrik!” He swears as he hurries to pick you up. You laugh to yourself, bemused by the way he seems to care about whether you were hurt.

“Thought you could bring me in hot, or bring me in cold?” You slur as you wrap your arms drunkenly around Mando’s neck, leaning into the cool Beskar of his chest. You breathe in the scent of Beskar, oil, and something like citrus as your vision fades to black.

~*~

You blink awake to a brightly lit hold. You hiss as the white light burns into your eyes, the sound of air recyclers humming all around you a telltale sign you were on ship, likely out of atmosphere already.

“Kriff.”

You groan as you close your eyes, you guess you’re on Mando’s ship, the Gauntlet you saw in the hangar most likely. You take in slow, steadying breaths as you try and figure out your next move. A small gurgle from beside you has you rolling your head to the side, slowly opening your eyes to the sweet little face of the little green kid Mando drags across space with him.

“Kiddo!” You cry and the little guy lights up at the sound of your voice. His large pointy ears perk up and his mouth parts open in joy as he scurries over to you, hopping up on the cot with ease and burying himself in your side as he coos softly against your chest. You smile as you feel something thin and rectangular slip under you on the cot.

“Missed you too buddy, old man’s still dragging you around the galaxy with him?”

The kid hums in a positive affirmation as he babbles away. You get hints of intention from him, like ghosts of thoughts brushing against your mind as he “talks” away at you.

“Grogu?”

Din calls from the cockpit and you sit up in the cot, the impromptu reunion with your secret best friend cut short as you watch Din freeze in the doorway to the hold.

“Get away from him.” Din’s voice is impossibly low, even through the modulator. You’ve never heard him this pissed before.

“Hey, he was the one to instigate this mutinous friendship, not me!”

You frown at the Beskar menace and cross your arms over your chest, Grogu, as you have always known him, follows suit. He plops himself down on the cot next to you and crosses his tiny little arms across his chest before grunting unhappily at his guardian.

“What do you mean friendship?”

“How many times have you gotten me this far Mando, and left me alone in your ship while you slept or got supplies?”

“How should I-?”

“Twenty-seven times, twenty-eight if we count the time I had you tied up-.”

“Naboo doesn’t count.” Din hisses as he leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms so that you are all in some strange, mirrored standoff.

“Fine, but my point being, kiddo’s curious, and you’re a heavy sleeper.”

“I am not.”

“So, you don’t remember when we played Don’t wake the sleeping Nerf and covered you with forty-six different pieces of junk from around the ship, including the Darksaber?”

“What are you-?”

“Oh, kriff kiddo, he really did sleep through that.”

Grogu laughs, an angelic little sound that makes your cheeks burn with how much you’re smiling at him. Mando stands there, rage rolling off him in waves as he tries to figure out what to say.

“Hey, Mando?” You ask, your tone softer this time as you realize you’re more likely to push him away if you keep teasing him.

“What?”

“You ever figure out my real name?”

“Your real name? No. Why?”

“Just curious, you got my puck on you?”

“Of course.” He grumbles, as if it’s insulting for you to have even asked, before bringing up the holographic image of you. Four statements swirl around the image, and you smile as you read them off in your head.

Whyte Phantom – Thirty Thousand Credits – Exclusive contract.

The final statement is a name.

“Wanna see my identity card?” You ask rhetorically as you pull it up from the datapad the kid had slipped you before his dad came in. Din’s head tilts at the sight of it, before turning to look at Grogu who is pointedly looking anywhere but his dad.

Din grumbles something under his breath as he steps into the hold, head dipping low to read the datapad.

“But that’s? You’re?”

“I put the bounty on myself, yup.”

“Why?”

The question catches you off-guard, you don’t really know yourself, other than you thought it would be a way to ward off the crippling despair you felt every time you walked through the streets of Coruscant. To combat the loneliness in your soul that festers in the darkness of a post-Empire-pre-utopian galaxy. The galaxy that has war veterans dying of Spice addictions while places like Canto Bight prosper as if nothing ever changed.

You could say that, but you won’t, that would require inner strength you just don’t have. So, you quip instead.

“Thought it was kinda hot, having one of the most dangerous men in the galaxy chase me?”

You flash him a practiced, perfect smile and you wait for the anger to come, bracing yourself for violence or harsh words.

“Fine.”

The Mandalorian walks over to your cot and picks up Grogu, moving wordlessly as he scoops him up and takes him up into the cockpit. You curse to yourself quietly as you rub your tired eyes. You were so close to telling him the truth, revealing yourself to the most closed-off person in this damned galaxy.

You lie back down on the cot and take a look at your foot. You smile at the smooth skin, no doubt the kid has healed you with his magic little claws. You can almost hear the conversation between them, Grogu would have insisted on using the force to heal you, Din would have argued against it, you deserved to heal slowly for being such a brat.

You feel Grogu’s mind brush against yours and you get two clear feelings flash through in your mind, his dad, and the intention to speak.

I’ve got a bad feeling about this, kid.

You think back, pushing your intent towards the cockpit. Grogu simply responds with a second, stronger intention, talk to him.

You sigh to yourself as you feel his little brainwaves dim as he clearly drifts off to sleep. You rub your hands over your eyes and decide to look for the fresher, and some clean clothes.

~*~

An hour later you hover outside the cockpit door, trying to decide if you should go in or not. You’re about to press the call button when the door hisses open in front of you. Mando charges through, seemingly not noticing you until he’s crashing his chest plate against your nose.

“Son of a Wompa!” You cry out as you feel your nose pop, blood gushes down your face and onto the soft cotton shirt you’d fished out from the storage bins. You stumble backwards and feel yourself pitching backwards, your head spinning as you wait for the inevitable crash of your body on the metal grating.

But Mando saves you from the fall, pulling you up into a loose embrace as he stops you from hurting yourself further.

“Maker, you’re a menace.” He grumbles through the modulator as his hands linger on your biceps.

“Yeah, well maybe you should watch where you’re going.”

“Kriff, this was a mistake.”

Din growls as he releases you and turns to walk back into the cockpit. You curse inwardly as you catch his wrist before he can move.

“Wait,” You growl, guilt and frustration making your stomach turn, “Please, can we talk?”

Din looks over his shoulder at you, giving you the perfect view of the profile of his helmet. Not for the first time you wonder what he looks like under there.

“Fine.”

You expect him to pull out of your grip – which he does – but what you don’t expect is the way his gloved hand falls to rest between your shoulder blades, steering you back towards the cot. He expects you to sit but you gesture for him to take a seat instead. He sits up straight, broad hands splayed on his knees as he follows you with his visor as you pace in front of him.

“So, I put the bounty on my head because I needed something in my life that wasn’t death, pain, suffering, or losing my mind to the poisons of gambling, Spice, and liquor.”

“Go on.”

You pause, looking down at the crimson spill of blood on the stolen t-shirt. You drag the back of your hand across the wet smear on your top lip and let out a soft sigh.

“I ran circles around the first six bounty hunters, and it was getting boring, I was considering calling it off,” You continue pacing, wringing your hands on the hem of the t-shirt that barely covers your ass, “Then, you come along, Din kriffing Djarin, one of the most feared bounty hunters in the galaxy.”  

Din is silent but you see him shift, sitting up a little straighter at your harsh words of scornful praise.

“And the chase began, you were always so close, often a step or two ahead, and it was like I was breathing fresh air after having only ever known the stale, recycled air of a space station my whole life.”

Din turns his head, the action jarring as you realize he’s avoiding your gaze, you can almost imagine him blushing under that helmet and the thought alone makes heat flutter under your skin.

“And by the fourth time, on Coruscant, you became my own personal blend of Spice.”

You stop pacing, waiting for Din to say something, anything. He sits, still looking away from you and you shake your head. You’re barking up the wrong tree, you’ve kriffed up yet another thing in your life.

But this was by far the most pain you’d ever endured, spilling your guts to a man you had no right feeling anything for. It feels like your skin is positively charged, tremors rocking you as you fight the urge to cry, your chest tight and painful as you feel the binding sting of rejection heavy and constricting.

“Look, just forget it, space me, drop me off at the nearest system, whatever. I’ll get your credits transferred now. You won’t have to see me again.”

You pull up your datapad and through blurry eyes you close the contract, the credits transferring instantly. You turn away, making for the fresher once more, you need to set your nose and clean up. You also need to cry, and you weren’t going to make yourself look any more pathetic in front of him than you already had.

Your skin is on fire, nervous sweat beading on your brow as your skin itches and tingles. Pain rocks through your body as you force the sobs down, just a few more steps and you can cry before wresting your bleeding and broken heart – or whatever is left of it – back into submission.

A Spice addiction can’t be that bad surely?

You joke morbidly to yourself as you reach the fresher door, it slides open just as you hear the spur-like clink of Beskar behind you.

“Wait.”

You halt in your tracks, heart threatening to burst from your chest as you feel him looming behind you. Two armor-clad arms wrap around your waist and pull you back against him, the cool press of Beskar on your flushed skin is blissful.

“I don’t want you to go.”

His voice is so soft, barely above a whisper that you almost miss it through the modulator.

“What?”

“Let me fix your nose, then we should talk, for real this time.”

You turn in his grip and look up into the glossy black “T” of his visor. You can’t see his face, but you can see the way his chest is heaving, the way his arms are wrapping around you like the moment he loosens off you’ll disappear.

Can you blame him?

You think to yourself as you realize that every time you managed to escape, it was harder and harder for you to leave. Not because you had grown bored of the chase – no quite the opposite – you were afraid that with every time you left the chances of him giving up on you grew. One day he was going to stop coming for you.

And for a year he did.

“Ok.” You say softly as you let him steer you into the fresher, he hoists you up before setting you down on the edge of the Durasteel sink. He removes his gloves, stuffing them in the back of his belt before readying himself.

“This’ll hurt.”

Din warns you as he lines himself up in front of you. He slots between your thighs without hesitation, and you regret not stealing a pair of his boxer briefs to slip on under the t-shirt. You had thought that was crossing a line into his privacy. But now, as your bare, embarrassingly wet core is but millimeters from his crotch, you really wish you had.

“Ready?”

You nod, not trusting your voice. Din braces himself a little closer again and you hiss through your teeth as his strong, warm fingers snap your broken nose back into place.

“There you go,” his modulated voice is soft as he cups your cheeks with his impossibly broad hands, his fingertips ghosting your hairline as he turns your head back and forth with meticulous care for his handiwork, “Should heal up just fine.”

He starts to pulls away from your face, but you capture his wrists in your hands. You gently pull on his wrists and guide them to your hips. His chest heaves as you hear his breathing speed up through the modulator and you squeeze your thighs around his waist, pulling him closer. You feel the heat prickle over your skin as your drenched core presses against his crotch. You gasp as you feel him twitch in his flight suit against you.

“What are you doing?”

 “What I should have done on Naboo.” You breathe as you gently unclasp his cloak, fingers trembling as you pull down the neck of his flight suit, baring a thin strip of tan skin. You bury your face in the crook of his neck and press a delicate, feather-light kiss to his exposed skin.

You don’t know what to expect, but the soft, whimpering moan that crackles through his modulator is more than you bargained for. You arch up into him, nipples pebbling as the thin fabric of his blood-soaked shirt does little to mute the cold press of Beskar against your skin.

“Maker.” Din whines again as you latch onto his skin, laving your tongue over his pulse point as you pull the collar down further, you nip lightly at his skin as you grind your core against him. He slowly pushes up the hem of the oversized t-shirt and as his fingertips reach the swell of your ass. He grinds forward aggressively, and you can tell he’s fully hard now. He leans back and tilts his helmet to the side in a silent question.

“Didn’t think stealing your underwear was the right thing to do.”

“So, you just decided to go commando?”

“What can I say? I like the freedom, besides the synthetic silk of my thong was starting to chafe.”

Din swears in another language, you assume Mando’a, before laughing softly, he presses the side of his helmet against your cheek, and you are reminded of the way Lothcats headbutt to show affection.

“We don’t have to do anything,” You say softly as you slowly pull away, moving the collar back up to cover his tantalizing skin, “I just needed to touch you, just once.”

“I want you.”

You pull back and look into the deep depths of his visor and you nod slowly, you place your hands on either side of his helmet, nestling in the concave cheeks. He flinches and you feel his hands twitch on your thighs, but you shake your head slowly before leaning in to place a soft, lingering kiss over where you guess his lips are.

“Bed. Now.”

Din barks as he picks you up with ease, one arm wrapped around your waist as he strides through into the crew quarters. He uses his free hand to turn off the lights on the control panel next to the fresher door. The cavernous space is pitch black as Din lays you back down on the cot.

“Din what are you doing?” You giggle softly, anticipation making you giddy.

“Want to taste you,” Din murmurs as you hear the sound of Beskar buckles and plates sliding over one another. He sets them down gently somewhere near the bottom of the cot, followed by the soft sound of his flight suit dropping to the floor, “Need you.”

“Din, you have me.”

You feel him settle between your knees and Maker is he broad. Then you hear the soft hiss-click of his helmet coming off. You squeeze your eyes shut, knowing the significance of him taking his helmet off in your presence.

“I won’t look, I promise,” You whisper as you feel him covering over you, his strong hands roam your body, mapping out your dips and curves.

“I trust you. You could have taken my helmet off many times over the years, and yet, you did not.”

His voice hits you like a long-lost melody, silken and sweet with a burning richness to it that makes you whine and keen up into him. Your hips roll against his length, and you gasp as his tip glides through your folds.

“Can I taste you, please?” You ask, suddenly feeling bold in the darkness.

“Are you sure? You don’t have to.” Din suddenly sounds bashful, and you smile to yourself as he shows you the side of him you’ve only caught in glimpses when he thought you were out of earshot. The softness he shows Grogu, the care for his adopted son. This is different, unlike those interactions entirely, but the man beneath the Beskar is finally laid bare, for you.

“I want to Din, please.”

“Anything, take anything you want.”

Your heart swells and your pussy clenches around nothing at his words. You blindly reposition, careful to keep your eyes shut, until you’re kneeling between Din’s knees. You run your hands over the thick expanse of his muscular thighs as you gently, teasingly move towards his cock.

Your hands brush over neatly kept curls at the base of it, and you smile to yourself as you use your hands to blindly size it up.

“Interesting.” You hum to yourself and you feel Din shift under you.

“What? Do you not like it? Is it too small?”

“Din, shh,” You coo as you cup his balls with one hand, making your way to the base of his shaft with your lips, “Just expected you to be painfully large, you give off some serious big dick energy strutting around in your Beskar like you own the entire Maker-be-damned galaxy.”

“So, you like it?” He huffs out, squirming at your praise as you flatten your tip against his soft foreskin, licking a long, slow stripe up the underside of his cock.

“I think it’s perfect, you’re perfect.”

You wrap your lips around his tip, pressing your tongue against his slit, circling around his tip, lapping up the pre-come before sinking down his length.

He pants and whines under you as you feel him shift under you, he cups your jaw with one hand as he props himself up on his elbow with the other. You feel his eyes on you, you expect his night vision to be pretty good at this point, but you keep your eyes clamped shut.

“You’re beautiful.”

You groan at his praise and wish you could open your eyes, to look up at him as you choke on his cock. You sink all the way down, you breathe through your nose, inhaling the musky scent of his cock and you let out a soft whine as he nudges against the back of your throat.

“Kriff.” Din grunts as he trembles underneath you, his breathing is shallow as he twitches and whines at every particularly deep bob of our dead.

“Stop.”

He growls aggressively as he sits up, moving you off his cock before pushing you onto your back. He settles between your legs, pulling your legs over his shoulders as he buries his mouth in your dripping folds.

“So sweet.” He murmurs into your skin as you feel the coarse rake of facial hair on your outer folds. His lips find your clit and you cry out when his tongue licks a stripe up from your core to your clit. Everything about him is broad, his tongue laves over your swollen bundle of nerves and you near lose it.

“Din, kriff your mouth feels so good.” You pant as your hips cant up, you glide your fingertips in his hair, not thinking to check if he even had hair. You’re met with soft, damp curls that you immediately twist into your grip. You pull him closer, letting him devour you with abandon. His tongue is unrelenting as two thick fingers come to press against your core.

“Please.”

Is all you can say as you need him inside you, you’re already so close and you want to feel him inside you however possible.

“So kriffing tight.”

Din breathes incredulously as he buries his fingers to the knuckle, his lips find your clit once more and he sucks. You bite down hard on your lip as you fight the urge to scream. Pleasure assaults you like a solar flare, permeating every cell of your body in violent waves as you come hard around his fingers. You’re delirious as you sob through your aftershocks, his thick fingers finally stilling as you tremble from overstimulation.

“Can I have you, please?”

“Yes.”

You hear the lewd sound of him sucking his fingers clean before he crawls back over your body, wet fingers trail over your left nipple and you chase the touch, arching up off the cot.

“So pretty like this.”

Din hums softly as he rolls your nipple between his calloused thumb and forefinger, making you squeal in overstimulated pain and pleasure as he lines up his tip at your core with the other hand. He eases in and you pant at the delicious stretch. He enters you with ease, yet makes your walls flutter and clamp around him as he fits you snugly.  

“Kiss me.”

You plead. His lips crash into yours without hesitation and you moan into his mouth as he starts to move, rolling his hips into you like he knows exactly how you like it. You tease your tongue over his bottom lip and his tongue darts out to meet yours.

Your tongues meet outside of your mouths, sliding over one another in a lewd dance as his thrusts pick up speed. You’re both panting hard when Din seals his lips over yours. His tongue presses into your mouth as you dig your nails into his back. You press together, skin to skin, nails digging little crescent circles in the broad expanse of his back.

Your lips part only to gasp for air before you both dive back in for more, more, more. One of your hand moves to fist into the curls at the nape of his neck, the other drops to your clit. You want to come for him one more time, you want him to feel you squeeze him tight.

“Din, going to come.” You pant against his lips and he groans as he picks up the pace, railing you like it’s the last time.

“Come for me Cyar’ika, let me feel you.”

You do as your told, for the first time in your life, and you come hard. Pleasure seeps into your very bones as fire dances down your spine. Your clit throbs as you press hard circles into it. You feel Din stutter inside you and you feel him start to pull out but you hook your ankles around the small of his back.

“Come inside me.”

You whisper into the crook of his ear as you pull him deep into you.

“Maker!”

Din roars, no longer caring about noise it seems, as he pounds into you, it’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before. You’re whimpering in his ear as his desperate grunts and moans fill your own. He stills inside you, buried to the hilt as he twitches inside you, his spend coating your walls as you pant in his ear.

“Are you ok? I didn’t hurt you?”

Din’s voice is heavy with concern, his breath fanning over your slick skin in soft puffs and you wrap yourself around him like an Ewok.

“No, no you’ve never hurt me, Din.”

You breathe as you nuzzle into his neck, you leave soft, open-mouthed kisses against his skin. You never want this moment to end.

“Come on, we need to shower.”

“Nooooo,” You whine, “Just a few more minutes, don’t want to lose you.”

The words escape from your lips before you can stop them; and Din huffs a short, barking laugh against your skin as he presses a soft kiss to your temple as he pulls out.

“You can’t lose me, I’ve been tracking you for too long, I know you.”

“And I know you. Forever.”

You say, knowing those words in Mando’a means much more than in Galactic Basic. Din presses a soft kiss to your lips, neither acknowledging them nor refuting them. But there’s no rejection in his silence, just a mutual understanding that you are both in this for real.

“Five more minutes.”

Din grunts in submission as he settles on the small cot, pulling you against his bare chest as he places soft kisses to your hairline as you both drift off into the best sleep either of you could ever remember.

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[trashpandacraft]

it doesn't look like much, but it's my first yarn off the supported spindle! all twelve metres of it 😂

i'm a pretty adequate spinner on wheels and drop spindles, and was surprised at how much of that didn't translate for me. the mechanics of really needing to do point of contact long draw and keep the spindle going were a trick, and i spent the first go hour or so flicking the spindle, starting to draft, and immediately, reflexively stopping the spindle. i'm an impatient raccoon and have never been much for park and draft, so i have no idea where that instinct came from. i think i'm getting it now, though!

(yes, it's two different yarn weights in the same skein; i knew i was going to chain ply and wanted to see what was comfortable on the spindle, so i just kinda went with it and aimed for consistency across each individual rolag.)

fibre was some of the hated superwash bfl that i dyed a while back, carded into rolags with sari silk and angelina.

[accio-victuuri]

Sugar Rush : August 2023 CPNs

As with all other CPN posts that involve this lovely pairing, everything in here is speculation/interpretation based on popular concepts in the fandom. facts are also mixed in as well + events that happened before. This is not meant to “deceive or lie” to anyone. If it wasn’t clear, posts like this or similar to it are for cpfs only — and even other cpfs are encouraged to pick and choose what they believe in depending on what makes sense to them. You have to know some of the “lore” in this fandom to appreciate it, or be in that mindset wherein bjyx is probably/possible to be real.

These monthly round-ups, especially for August, have additional commentary and cpns that I didn’t share as an individual post for a variety or reasons. So there may be something “new” here for you.

Enjoy all the sugar! ⬇️⬇️⬇️

• rumor/cpn : XZ anonymously booked 26 cinema screenings in chongqing for yibo’s movie. the funny thing is there was a comment that if they find anonymous screenings for condor heroes movie in henan ( yibo’s hometown ) , they will join the bjyx supertopic 😂😂😂

this could be a different person but we cpn that it’s xz who booked since it’s in CQ. also whoever this was booked premium tickets and not discounted.

no one “released” a rumor or anything, some fans just noticed this while booking their tickets and found it interesting.

• another round of bottled joy cpns, this time around wyb’s alleged renewal with them on september and so much more

• reasons why we think the 26th bday letter post was from xiao zhan

• clues in the bday instagram post art

• fake rumor of wyb’s script having drawings

• XZ’s work week around WYB’s birthday

• Bottled Joy bday greeting to Yibo + Chen Shuo’s bracelet

• A cpf said yibo looked at their phone because her phonecase was a photo of wyb and xz. but again, this is not the proper behavior — following him around and shoving your phone in his personal space. I do not take this as candy, but for archiving purposes, it’s here.

• Unintentional matching 😂😂😂😂

• WYB plays card with Chongqing people 🃏

• Fake stories from paparazzi(s) who “followed” the boys back in 2018/19

• 8/11/2023 Rio Livestream candies

• 8/13/2023 LRLG 🍓🥝

• Yes please, drop more photos and do more similar captions with posts that are days or a week apart 👀

• throwback : the best bottled joy cpn

• 8/13, WYB allegedly drove and went to XZ’s LOCH shoot. You may see some photos and videos that is allegedly the proof but you can’t even see the driver’s face. There’s also some talk that “WYB” was wearing a motorcycle helmet so there will be no chance people seeing him. I don’t know what to think. I understand how exciting it is, how hilarious that people even speculate about this and the fact that cpns like this is dangerous. i would hate for melon/yxh accounts to pick this up and get them in trouble. We already heavily speculate that they visit each other on set because or some clues we see — no need to dig and investigate too much. 🙏🏼

• In the morning of 8/17, Paparazzi were saying XZ and his co-star from the past are not real and have no chance. This went on #1 HS. As expected, XZS pulled some mild sweets. 18:33! YIBO ZHAN ZHAN!

YBO updated minutes later. But my favorite would have to be their second update with 22:30 AI AI ZHAN!

• WYB became the first spokesperson for Pokemon Trading Cards, this is wonderful cause we know how they are big fans of it. I’m happy seeing them basically be the face of brands that they have always loved ( like chanel and gucci for example )

• 8/20/2023 YBO vlog candies 🧁🍭

• Yibo’s signature hand gesture confirmed to mean “wang”

• Qixi Festival number games

There is also some conversations that said XZ was not seen going to work that day. He & WYB could be working on Ad materials and other things, but that means they can go back home earlier. They don’t need a full day to spend Qixi together, tho that would be nice too. They just need time to be together on this romantic day. Maybe we will get more details in the months to come but we wish them all the happiness! 💕

• A new BTS on XZ sort of complaining about WYB/LWJ not looking at XZ/WWX with “yearning” as he walks away. This is so hilarious to me cause it’s so on point on what we have seen from XZ. He may be the calm & poised XZ to everyone but with WYB, he can act spoiled. He can demand more and be frank. The way he wants WYB/LWJ to show the kind of devotion he expects is just— why? why????? and you have WYB who will willingly spoil him and grant his every wish. ✨ A true example of XZ wanting the love WWX/LWJ have to happen to him too.

• similar “trick” of twirling a cloth by their fingers & how different they are

• revisiting the bts of XZ saying he prefers WYB with no makeup on ( he was just stating a universal truth that wyb is handsome even when he is bare faced )

• wool/felt doll cpn

• 8/25 XZS and YBO similarity

• revisiting the blurred background in ZZ’s mirror selfie 📷

• A wedding gift of t-shirts signed by the boys

• WHITE COUPLE SUITS! ☺️

• This month, I saw 2 questionable videos going around related to them. I do not endorse spreading these videos around but i can’t help that it pops up on my weibo feed and fans really have different etiquette when it comes to this. But i have to say that it should be a genera rule to not promote these proxy shooting because it’s too invasive. If they are hiding, we should not be the ones exposing them. They are already working enough as it is to keep their privacy. Please do not ask me for the video. I am mentioning it here for archiving purposes only.

One video is from WYB’s shoot of Luoyang, Lele & YanYan were assisting another guy aside from WYB with an umbrella. Why would they do that? We know the hiding by umbrella ploy was used before, like in SDC 3. So are they using the same tactic to protect this friend when he is visiting the crew?

Second one is at a hotel. Video is allegedly from a 🍤, they were more interested with XZ but they filmed WYB was also in the same hotel. XZ went in without any luggage too.

The videos are not clear at all, to the point that you can’t provide this as evidence in court that “based on this video it’s clearly wyb or xz” , so take it with a grain of salt.

• ZZ draws poker cards

• The start of everyone’s love for the AU pair Shengyang x Chen Shuo! This Sunshine couple! ☀️ These two are so passionate about their dreams, one with art and other w/ dancing. Their smiles. Their positive disposition. How can you not love them???

There is also the observation that SBMS premieres 9/1, conveniently when all the activities for Summer Movies, which includes OnO is done. This is not the first time this year that their projects were not released within the same period. It feels too much of a coincidence. This drama will be done in a month so i don’t know if WYB’s Bright Road can still squeeze in it’s airing before the year ends, tho i’m not optimistic cause drama licensing is tricky. Before LOCH gets released Spring Festival 2024. No matter what happens, All I know is BXGs are booked and busy!

• SOMEONE OPENED A WEBSITE THAT INCLUDES a very detailed timeline analysis of the BTS. If you’re into that and wanna go back & take a look then please do. It’s so interesting! Doing a day by day timeline of the BTS and events that happened, with photos and videos is tedious work so this is such a treat! 💕

-END. See you next Month!

Note : if you plan to reblog this post. Please do not tag it as “Wang Yibo” or “Xiao Zhan” because this does not belong there. It’s specifically for CP audience and tagging it on individual name will expose it to people who are not.

➡️➡️ (2023 previous posts) Jan-June / July

[hannahssimblr]

Chapter Eight

A much anticipated box arrives in the post one chilly November morning, and Simon attacks the brown tape with a stanley knife as soon as it hits his desk. I hover behind him vibrating with nervous anticipation as he peels open the flaps to reveal blocks of white card, vacuum packaged into individual piles. He lifts the first one out and drops it into my hands. “Have a look at those.”

I jam my thumbnail into the plastic and rip it away with a fervour to reveal my first Christmas card design. Merry Christmas is printed across the front with a jaunty, diagonal tilt. Every centimetre of space around it is taken up by stylistic holly leaves and bright red berries, and in between those are the little gold stars and dots I spent far too long drawing in with meticulous detail on the drawing tablet that I borrowed from Gabriel. Here it is, my hard word manifest. I smooth my hand over the top card and sigh with satisfaction. They look good. 

“Nice.” Simon comments. “No print errors so far.”

“Yeah, great.” I say. “How are the rest?”

He shuffles through the box to pull out five more stacks. Five more designs I slaved over, and each one of them is perfect. If he thinks it’s odd that I sink to my knees onto the floor and hold the cards like they’re my children he doesn’t say so. He just starts clearing up the rubbish around me, mercifully ignoring the proud tears that have sprung to my eyes. I pull out my phone and take a picture for Claire, for Shane and for Jude. 

I did it!

Their excited responses are just starting to come in when Simon’s phone buzzes in his pocket. He has an annoying ringtone that distracts me far too much from my excitement. He picks it up. 

“Hey Shell what’s up? 

I bring the cards over to my desk and start unpacking them, sorting them into stacks with the correct envelopes as he has his loud conversation. 

“Hang on what- really? Oh shit, what- okay but who-” Simon makes moves towards the stairs, and the urgency of his movements makes me snap to attention. “Do you know where she is exactly?” He disappears out of earshot, and I’m left staring at the staircase where he was only a moment before. I catch Izzy’s eye. She’s frowning with concern, a deep line carved between her brows. “Do you think it’s something about Jen?” she asks me, and I shrug. “I don’t know. I have no idea what’s going on with her.”

“Oh.”

Simon comes back into the studio about five minutes later without saying a word. He hunches over his desk and yanks his sketchbook out in front of him. I listen to the sound of him tapping a pencil on the pages, drawing nothing, but I pretend not to notice. It’s minutes before his phone rings again, and he doesn’t move from his desk to answer it this time. 

“Yeah? Oh, she did. Where did she say she was then?” A hassled sigh. “What? Like, how did she even- well no it’s not like you can just get a bus there, can you? …And your dad? …No, okay, obviously. Well, look… yeah but like, the taxi will cost a bloody fortune, I mean like a fortune. Surely you know someone with a licence?”

I continue sorting out the envelopes, trying very hard not to eavesdrop on Simon, but even with his hushed tones he’s making it impossible not to. 

“Yeah, I mean, I’ll ask.” He’s saying now, doubtfully. “Y-yeah I know. Fine, yeah, okay it makes sense.” He hangs up after another minute and from the side of my gaze I watch him get up from his seat and make his way across the room to where Izzy is working at the press. He speaks to her in a low voice, but I’m close enough to hear every word. 

“Izzy, I’m so sorry to ask, but you’re able to drive, aren’t you?”

She hesitates. “Yeah, I can.”

“Look, there’s just this thing with Jen, Michelle is really worried about her, she’s way out in some house in Wicklow somewhere and it sounds dodgy, I-”

“I don’t own a car, Simon.”

“Right but you could borrow Michelle’s dad’s car. I hate to ask because I know you’re flat out busy this week, but-”

“I’ll do it.” I hear myself saying, and they both whirl around to stare at me. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be eavesdropping or anything but I’ll do it. I have nothing important to do today,” I quickly eye the mess around Gabriel’s desk. “I can drive, and I know Jen.” There’s silence. “Seriously. I’ll do it.”

“You have a licence?”

“Do I look like I don’t have one?”

Simon looks a bit resigned, but he nods anyway. “Alright, fine, works for me.”

We take the bus across the city and into Clontarf together, not saying much despite being smushed together into the cramped seats on the upper level. I stare out over the sea as we move along the coast. It’s been years since I’ve been here, and the autumn has turned it duller, sparser than I remember it being that late summer when I visited. I can’t resist a glance up Jude’s avenue as we clamber off the bus and head down the main street towards Michelle’s house. I can’t see the beautiful Georgian house from the seafront like this, and I know he’s not there, but still, for a moment I let a shiver pass through me, briefly transported to another time. 

Michelle lives in a solid, 1930s red brick house with the trees that line the edges of St Anne’s park within view of the front door. It’s an old, leafy suburb with neat piles of raked leaves on the narrow strips of lawn that separate the footpaths from the road. She’s waiting at the door when we arrive, her thumbnail lodged between her teeth. 

Simon gently lifts her hand away and kisses her forehead. “All good, Shell?” She nods. “Youse took ages.”

“I know, it was just the bus.” 

I raise a limp hand to wave at her from where I stand awkwardly by the bins, and she waves back. “God, thanks so much for doing this, Evie. I know it’s a bit crazy.”

“It isn’t. I don’t mind. I just hope that Jen is alright.”

“Yeah, same.”

“What happened?”

“Ugh!” She rolls her eyes and pulls the door closed behind her. “It’s Pamela again, it was hard to tell exactly what happened because Jen was so upset on the phone, but I think they had a fight while at a party at this weird house out in the back arse of Wicklow and Pamela drove off and left her there.”

“Oh my god what?”

Michelle tosses the car keys to me and I barely manage to catch them, jingling around as I scramble to pluck them out of the air. “Yeah, Pamela is a fucking bitch. It’s not the first time she’s done something like this.”

“Does Jen even know the people at the house?”

“I’m not sure, to be honest. I don’t care either. I just want to go and get her, she didn’t sound good at all.” 

I nod at that and we all climb into Michelle’s dad’s car. I have to adjust the seat to give myself more leg room. He must be a very small man. Simon takes the passenger seat on account of his long legs, and Michelle climbs into the back. It takes me a few minutes to get used to it, accustomed to the specific way that my dad’s car works. Where his car needed a knack to start it, this one roars to life smoothly. Where his car has a sticky gear stick, squeaky windscreen wipers and moss growing on the window rubber, this one is clean and sleek and easy. The glove compartment even has both hinges intact and there aren’t any ancient stains, but still, I struggle with the sensitivity of it, the altered position of the reverse gear, and we sputter and start all the way from the driveway to the estate exit. My face burns up, but neither Simon nor Michelle say anything in acknowledgement.

When we’re out on the open road it’s easier. I don’t mention that I’ve never driven in Dublin before, but I doubt there is a need to. It’s probably all over my face, with every wince when a cyclist wobbles into my lane, or a hassled sigh when other cars refuse to let me merge, but once we hit the motorway I relax. Still, I feel very small in this big car, like a little girl behind the wheel, doing something too big and too important to be appropriate.

Michelle has the address of the house on her phone, and she directs the whole way, as dual carriageway becomes a singular lane, and as a slip road takes us from narrow road to narrower, until the road is flanked with a canopy of rust coloured trees, dappled late morning sun on the hood of the car. We drive for an hour without the radio on. Just quiet, until eventually we reach a small town with grey buildings on both sides of the road. There is an internet café and a pizza takeaway with a cartoonish Italian man painted on the window. 

“There ought to be an estate up here.” Michelle pipes up from behind me. “On the right.” 

“That’s where she is?”

“I hope so. She stopped responding to my messages half an hour ago.” Her voice cracks a little there, and Simon reaches back to comfort her. “She’s fine, Shell. Don’t worry about it. Where could she have gone?”

It’s a large estate. There is a hill that rises high over the town, and I swing around a labyrinth of roundabouts and side roads, sure that without sat-nav I would never find my way out of here again. I mount the curb outside a house that looks exactly like all the others, save for the overgrown lawn. Simon gets out of the car and bangs on the door. 

“Should we get out?” I say. 

“Probably not” Replies Michelle. “Simon will handle it.” We both watch him wait there. There is a lump beneath my ribs that grows with every passing second, unable to take my eyes off the door, trying to ward off any unhelpful thoughts for the sake of Michelle, and then the door swings open, and Jen is there. 

I can’t hear their conversation, but I can see Jen wringing her hands and nodding at him. It’s the first time I’ve seen her since Izzy’s gig, and she seems even smaller now than she did then, even in the way that she holds herself, hands clutched around her body, shoulders hunched forward like she’s trying to turn herself into the tiniest woman alive. Simon comes back to open up the back door for her and the moment she climbs inside Michelle has her arms around her neck and is stroking the back of her hair. 

“Jen.” She says hoarsely. “What the hell?”

“I’m sorry.” Jen says in a voice just above a whisper. “I know, I’m sorry.”

“You shouldn’t be sorry. You didn’t do anything wrong.” She sniffs loudly. “It’s Pamela who should be.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Simon climbs into the passenger seat next to me, very quietly so as to not disturb them, and we sit there stoically, staring straight ahead. Jen is crying now too, swiping her face with her sleeves and whimpering. I watch Michelle in the rear view mirror, pulling the sleeves of her sweatshirt over her hands and helping, makeup dried onto her best friend’s face in grey streams. 

“Maybe we should get going.” Simon says to me in a low voice, and I nod, staring up the engine and gingerly pulling away from the curb. 

“Oh, God. Evie.” Jen says, noticing me for the first time. “You drove all the way out here? What-”

“It’s alright, nobody else has a licence. I’m happy to do it. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“God, this is bonkers. I can’t believe you had to do this.” She bursts into tears again, causing Michelle to cluck over her, gently shushing her, pulling her wet face into her shoulder. 

“Jen.” She’s saying softly. “This can’t keep happening. Pamela doesn’t treat you nicely. Someone who loves you like she says she does, she’d never drive away and leave you in a house full of strangers like that.”

“Yes, I know.”

“You have to think about what’s best for you, the happiness that you deserve. She doesn’t deserve you. She doesn’t treat you nicely.”

“I know, I know.” Jen says in a voice that makes me wonder how many times they’ve had this very conversation before. “You’re right.”

“Who are those people?”

“Her friends from somewhere. I don’t know. Or maybe not her friends, even. She buys drugs from them.”

“And what,” Michelle says carefully, calmly. “That’s what you were doing these last two days? Just partying and doing drugs?”

Jen makes a small sound of agreement.

“And then?”

“I pissed her off. I said something stupid, and she got annoyed with me. She thinks I embarrassed her in front of everyone else. We argued, and then she eventually left. I probably was annoying. I can be that way.”

My palms tighten on the steering wheel and my heart suddenly palpitates in my chest. I try to take a deep, steadying breath and focus as we pass through the grey village and back onto the country roads. 

“No matter what you said, Jen, you didn’t deserve to be left alone with strangers.” Michelle continues soothingly. She’s good at this, I realise, good at hiding her true fury at Pamela and showing up as the supportive, reasonable best friend instead. “Can’t you see that? Nobody deserves that. What time did she leave you?”

“Last night, around midnight maybe.”

A pause. “So you were there all night?”

“Yeah, but it was fine. I’m sure she would have come back eventually, once she cooled down, I just got a bit overwrought, I had a panic attack, that’s why I called you. Actually, it’s not as big of a deal as I made it out to be.”

I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment and take a shuddering inhale. My hands are so tight around the wheel that they’re starting to hurt. Simon glances at me. “You alright, Evie?”

“I’m fine.”

“You sure?”

I let my breath out slowly and say as quietly as I can: “It’s just… it’s hard for me to hear that.”

“What? About Pamela?”

“About how Jen explains it away.”

He stares at me, and then looks away. One small nod of understanding, and he doesn’t ask any more. “If you need to stop the car and get some air, it’s alright, you know.”

“Thanks.” 

I drive on. 

I don’t think about Dean if I can help it, but still, sometimes those putrid memories resurface and leave me feeling sick to my stomach. Even now, when I’m so far from that place I taste bile in my throat, remembering the dim haze I existed in when he was there, casually tearing me apart with his searing words each time I saw him, the terror that slowly grew in me like mould, insidious, worsening day by day until I was afraid to say anything at all. Afraid to do anything wrong, to even touch him in a way that he suddenly decided that he didn’t like. 

“You’re no fun at all.” He said one morning as I headed for the shower. “You just lie there quietly. I’d have a better time with my hand.”

“Okay.” I said. “I’m sorry about that.” and I went to wash him off me. 

The memory scorches me. Tears spring to the corners of my eyes and begin to blur the motorway ahead, and I blink them away fiercely. I can’t think about this. 

I can’t think about this. 

I can’t think about this. 

“Evie.” Simon’s voice reaches me, and to my surprise his hand is bridging the distance between us and laying on my shoulder. “We can stop. You look a bit unwell.”

I glance in the mirror at Jen, falling asleep on Michelle’s shoulder now, pale and wan and thin and worse than I am. I shake my head. “It’s fine. Let’s just… can we stick on the radio?”

“Yeah, no bother.” He flicks on some golden oldies station and we coast onwards towards the city to the sound of Neil Young’s guitar. 

“If you feel like lying down, mam has your room made up.” Michelle says as we bring Jen inside. It’s only the early afternoon. Her parents are still at work and the house is empty, and neat, and ordered and the kind of place that makes me feel like taking my shoes off, but everybody else leaves them on, so I do too. 

“Thanks. Maybe in a while.” Jen says, and shuffles into the living room. As she brushes past me I get the scent of her clothes. Tobacco, that strong, overpowering smell that can only be from a place where smoking is allowed indoors. I follow her and sit with her on the couch while Michelle heads for the kitchen to make something for us all to eat. Simon hovers between rooms for a few moments before deciding to follow his girlfriend, leaving Jen and I alone. 

“Thanks so much for coming to get me, Evie.” She says. “Honestly, I’m so embarrassed that you had to get involved at all. I feel like a fool.”

“Don’t.” I insist. “I would have never left you there.”

“Well, I think it’s obvious enough that I shouldn’t have even been there. It was so stupid.”

“It wasn’t, I get it.”

She lets out a long, enervated sigh and sinks into the sofa, and her eyes flutter shut, and it’s peaceful and completely quiet save for the birds outside and the occasional sound of dry leaves scraping across the driveway. She must be utterly exhausted. As I look at her face, pale and wan, I imagine her all alone in that strange house, up all night waiting for Pamela to come back. Sure that she would, then not quite so sure anymore, realising that she was stuck, and the inevitable dread that must have accompanied her.

When I don’t think she’ll speak again she says to me gently. “I’m sorry we fell out of touch. I didn’t know how to talk to you.”

“Oh, God, Jen no. Please don’t even worry about that now. It doesn’t matter at all, and it was my fault anyway, I was going through a weird phase.”

“I should have been there more, but I just… I didn’t really know if I had any right to intervene.”

“I was alright, Jen. I worked it all out.”

“I always liked you a lot. You’re a nice girl.”

I smile. “I liked you a lot too.”

“We should have been friends.”

“I know.”

She tilts her head and looks at me, and her mouth curves into a humorous little smirk. “I’ve always been sorry that it wasn’t easier with us. I have this friend, you see, and he has this long habit of complicating things with the girls I want to befriend.”

I huff out a laugh. “I have no idea who you mean.” 

“Mmm, I’m sure you don’t.”

“I didn’t think you still called him your friend.” I say.

“He’s changed his tune lately, and has started complicating things with me instead, I suppose you could say, but,” A shrug. “I’d say we’re… well, it’s all a bit up in the air. Ask me again in another while. I don’t know.”

“Oh right.”

“You were talking to him at Izzy’s gig.” She says, curiosity in her eyes. “Are you back on speaking terms again?”

“Yeah, we are. A little bit.”

“Has he mentioned me?”

“Not really.”

“Ah. Is he still with Astrid?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” And she reaches for my hand to place it into her lap and turns it face up. She pulls my fingers so they’re stretched out flat and then traces the lines of my palm. 

“I can’t read palms.” She says. “But if I could, yours would say, hm, unless you go out and ask for the things that you want, you can’t expect the universe to give them to you.”

I laugh. “That’s specific.”

“Wow, yeah, crazy.” She says as she pretends to examine me further. “That’s the same line that Jude has.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah, his palm also tells him to cop on for once and be honest with himself, but I’d be surprised if he did. For a smart boy he’s so unbelievably stupid sometimes.”

I draw my hand away and rest it in my lap again, and this joke scenario doesn’t feel quite so funny all of a sudden. Jen knows, but she’s calm beside me, and her gaze is steady and insistent. “He doesn’t make good choices, he’s just like that, he probably won’t get his head screwed on right until he’s in his thirties. It’s nothing to do with you. He’ll keep choosing girls that are wrong for him.”

“You think Astrid is wrong for him?”

“Astrid’s completely gorgeous, but have you ever spoken to her?”

I shake my head.

“She’s not funny. She’s nice, and she’s very clever and capable and mature and all of that, but in all of the time I’ve spent with her over the last three years, not once has she ever told a joke, or a funny story or said something in an even slightly funny way. She’s dull, Evie. I honestly never got what the appeal was.”

“I’m sure there’s more to her than meets the eye.”

“You mean she’s good in bed or something?”

Heat flares in my cheeks. “Well I didn’t mean that, but I suppose maybe. He must be going out with her for legitimate reasons that outweigh her non-existent sense of humour.”

“We all know, love, all of his friends know why, and it because he’s literally not able to be on his own. He hates being single, he always said that it made him feel uncomfortable to be by himself. Astrid was just there.”

“I’m sure he’s crazy in love with her too, though.” I don’t know why I’m choosing to defend a woman who was nothing short of blatantly unpleasant to me outside the café on one of the only occasions that I met her, but I simply can’t fathom the Jude that I know making a shallow choice based on convenience. 

“Yeah, as much as you can be in love with a person who you’re completely incompatible with. She’s Leo.” Jen stares at me as if this proves everything, but I shrug. “I don’t know what that means.”

“It means they can’t understand one another fundamentally, Leo can’t date Scorpio, it just never works out, but you, you’re Pisces. You’re both sensitive, artistic little water signs. You’re perfect for each other. It’s legitimately written in the stars.” 

“I think he and I have probably moved past the possibility of anything happening.”

“Do you want it to?”

I hesitate, because I do. Of course I do, it feels like in my whole life I’ve never really wanted anyone or anything as badly as I’ve wanted him, the boy who made every other crush I’ve had in my life seem completely laughable, conjuring up feelings inside me that I only thought existed in movies, but I am terrified of my feelings for him, and terrified of finding out that he might return them. 

“He’s still with her.” I say.

“I think he’ll figure out what he really wants sooner or later.” 

“Well I think it’s silly to talk about this.”

“Whatever, chick.” Her eyes slide away from mine and she tilts her head to gaze out the window, through the venetian blinds out to the suburban scene, and I meet eyes with a porcelain dog on the mantelpiece, next to a dutch clock with a rotating pendulum that twists back and forth, back and forth in centrifugal motion. Jen checks her phone to find no new messages. 

“I know how it feels to care a lot about a person who doesn’t treat you very nicely.” I say in sympathy, and she doesn’t move, or look at me, and her hands, with nails chewed down to the quick, tighten around her phone. “I know.” she says. “But sometimes it feels like a miracle to be wanted by anybody at all.”

A lump forms in my throat and my heart flutters. “Yeah, I get that.” I swallow convulsively. “But feeling like that doesn’t make it true.”

“But things are different when you aren’t beautiful and you can’t just have what you want.”

Something clatters loudly in the kitchen and we both snap around to look in the direction of the french doors. 

“Sorry.” Michelle calls out. “Dropped a tray in the sink.” and Simon’s shadow moves across the frosted glass as he reaches for the handle.

“Evie.” Jen says suddenly, soberly, and my eyes flick to hers again. “Don’t tell Jude about what happened today. Don’t tell him where I was or what you had to do to help me.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, please, just like, as a favour.”

I hesitate. “I suppose.”

“I can’t handle it if he knows. He gets too emotional. He’ll call me, and I can’t talk to him right now.”

“Okay, yeah. I’ll keep it between us.”

She visibly relaxes again. “Okay, good. Thank you.”

“No problem” I’m saying, just as Michelle and Simon come back into the room with a tray laden down with our lunch. 

Beginning // Prev // Next

[emmabaginskyartwhimsy]

Dear creative humans,

Do you keep having fun and interesting ideas only to shove them aside? Are you stuck in the all-too-familiar trap of “maybe one day…”

NO MORE! I’m tired of doing that and this is how I’m going to do it.

The Project

An idea for a Silly Goose Themed Tarot deck popped into my head last week, and I was like, oh absolutely. Then I started sketching, and I knew it was over for me. I needed this thing to exist.

The only issue is I’ve never attempted a project this big. A tarot deck has 78 cards in it. That’s s e v e n t y - e i g h t individual drawings AND a booklet that describes each card. This would be a serious undertaking.

The first step in starting a project is figuring out: why?

The “why” is the most important step. People seem to forget that these creative projects are a lot of hard work. If you don’t have a satisfying enough “why”, your brain will throw every excuse at you as to why you should logically give up. A silly little defense mechanism our organic vessels came up with to protect us from anything painful. Even when it’s good for us.

The problem is that growth is painful. So if you ever want to grow, you’re gonna have to get used to being uncomfortable.

Your “why” should be (mostly) internally motivated. Remember, the only thing you can control is yourself. If the reason for your creative pursuit is external validation (e.i, Internet likes & money), you are giving away your power to forces you have no control over. So inevitably, when you only get a handful of likes, you are much more likely to give up and think “what’s the point?”

The point is creating something that never existed before! There are things in your soul that will never be made unless you take the leap.

Reasons why I am undertaking this project:

#1: This is a fun concept that needs to exist

I love tarot and think it is a helpful tool. Making my own deck will help me connect with the cards, especially because I have to research the card meanings.

I really want to hold the finished deck

Improve my digital painting skills

Starting and finishing a project like this will allow me to build skills that I need for future BIGGER projects.

I will have a cool product to sell at Art Fairs!

My mind, body, and soul are all on board 👍

“I am not afraid of a little hard work” (if you know, you know)*

Not only am I going to be making a tarot deck, I am also committing to documenting the process on social media. This adds another layer of difficulty.

Reason why I am posting on social media:

#1: Recording the process and writing everything down will help me process my thoughts. Which will hopefully make condensing my thoughts into the booklet easier.

Sharing my interest with others! I might get people interested in tarot & teach people a little bit about tarot cards.

Internet footprint: If my legacy in life is being the “Silly Goose Lady,” that's a win.

Documenting growth. A good way to visualize progress.

Grow an audience that vibes with me

People might like it and want to purchase it when it’s finished

Inspire others to make their own creative projects

Okay so, now what? Wanting to do something and actually doing something are two entirely different beasts. The only thing standing between me and my goal is me.

How to control chaos incarnate?

The chaos goblin inside me hates the idea of structure. Nobody can tell me what to do, especially me.

“What if all this planning stifles my creative energy?” Cries the goblin.

This is where self-awareness comes in handy. The goblin loves exploration, which is both a good and a bad thing. If you let the goblin take the lead, you’ll never know quite where you’ll end up. My goblin is easily distracted and, more often than not, has led me to a bunch of dead ends.

Creating structure is not something you should fear as an artist. Instead of ridgid unforgiving chains, think of the planning process like bumpers in a bowling lane. A good plan will contain the goblin to the task at hand while still having fun in the process.

Making a good plan in 5 Steps

Making a good plan is all about thinking ahead and making most of the decisions now so you don’t get decision fatigue later. Otherwise, things get messy and overwhelming pretty quickly.

1. Set a time frame

If you want to reach the finish line, you need to set a pace. Be realistic. Life comes with many responsibilities. How much time is this project going to take you?

I’m measuring this project by cards per week. I did the math on how long it would take me to finish 78 cards.

1 card/week = 78 weeks → October 2025 [1.5 years]

2 cards/week = 39 weeks → January 2025 [9 Months]

3 cards/week = 26 weeks → October 2024 [6 Months]

4 cards/week = 20 weeks → September 2024 [5 Months]

In the grand scheme of life, whether you achieve something in 5 months or 1.5 years doesn’t really matter. What matters is that you got it done. Aim for a pace that is sustainable for you. Burn out is a very real struggle. Life is all about balance.

As I continue the project, I will be able to readjust my expectations accordingly. I imagine that the rate of production will fluctuate but I’m aiming to complete 3 cards per week.

2. Set project constraints/parameters

Put down that pitchfork, Chaos Goblin, and let me explain.

Limiting yourself is actually good for creativity.

I need each illustration to feel like they are a part of the same world. I’m achieving that goal by limiting things like color palette, subject, and art style.

By choosing to keep the same parameters for each of the 78 illustrations, I am freeing myself from the overwhelming task of making a bunch of decisions over and over again. That’s when a project really gets messy and overwhelming.

When in doubt, simplify.

For my project, each tarot card has a well established meaning that acts like a prompt. The Fool card, for example, is about new beginnings and taking the first step. The creative goblin gets to “silly goose-ify” this prompt without having to deal with the infinite well of choices.

3. Make a process that makes sense for you

How are you actually doing the thing? This is where the consistency really comes to play. A bad system will feel redundant and full of friction. If you hate doing a part of your project, you’re more likely to never pick it up again.

This is why I decided to draw each card digitally. This solves a lot of efficiency issues and will save me a lot of time. Imagine having to drag a tripod and camera around with me anytime I wanted to draw. The logistics of that sounds like my absolute nightmare. I only have one camera battery that lasts for about 30 - 45 mins for filming videos. Then, when I’m done, I have to scan every drawing into the computer anyway. No thank you.

Instead, I have an editing-software that screen records me while I’m drawing on my laptop/tablet. Now that’s easy 👍

4. Make a schedule

If you want this goal to come into reality, you need to put time into it. How much time is up to you, everyone's life situation is different. Remember, small consistent blocks of time are all you need to make significant progress.

I am currently a stay at home parent to a very young child. This comes with its own set of advantages and drawbacks. I spend most days looking after my son but I’ve carved out a strategy that works well for my situation.

I broke down the different tasks of my projects and assigned them to each day of the work week. This way I know exactly what I should be working on each day.

My work day bounces from nap to nap but most of my free time is at night after the baby goes to sleep around 6:30pm.

5. Set Boundaries & Priorities

Now here’s where I fight back a little on “hustle culture.” Life is meant to be lived, not toiled away. Make sure you take time for yourself. Time spent taking care of your mind, body, and soul is not wasted. The well of creativity needs replenishing, so breaks are actually a very efficient use of your time.

And FOR PETE’S SAKE, GO TO BED. The work will wait for you. Your brain needs to sleep in order to process all the information it took in today. “Sleep on it” is indeed a real thing. You might wake up with a new idea on how to fix whatever ailed you yesterday.

For me, my family takes priority. My husband works during the week, so I try to keep the weekends open for fun family outings or cozy days inside.

Our children will only be young once. I am making it a point to enjoy the time we spend together instead of stressing about a “lack of free time.” For me, my children will always be my greatest work. On the hard days, I remind myself that there will be a time where I don’t have small hands clinging to me as I try to put the dishes away. They will be off on their own adventures and I will miss those small hands very dearly.

Some closing thoughts

Remember that your plan should be flexible. Just because you mess up doesn’t mean you need to give up entirely. Take a second to go back over the plan and change the things that aren’t working. Failure is only a temporary learning state. It is not something you need to carry with you.

So go forth and create some things we’re never seen before.

The only thing left to do is take the leap.

Good luck, I’m rooting for you.

Emma

*Guess that kid’s TV show. Of course it’s Bluey lol.

[inkedintothepaper]

Oak Twins Analysis

Sparrow and Lark love each other but are so phenomenally different from each other now, which is a huge difference from how they existed in season one. The two were so in sync that they came together to become the lord of chaos. But now, the twins are wildly separate. And it seems they don’t know how to deal with that due to their codependency. This has partially led to Lark’s resentment of his father for not attempting to remedy this in the twins youth, but has also led to Sparrow’s resentment of Lark.

Sparrow loves his twin, this much is indisputably true. Yet Sparrow blames Lark for the Doodler and for the family breaking apart. But because of his love and codependency on his brother, Sparrow bottles up his feelings and doesn’t fully process his trauma. And we move forward in the timeline, you can draw parallels between past Lark and past Sparrow with Normal.

Normally Ly Oak-Swallows-García is a “mixed up mascot who doesn’t know who he is anymore.” This is a direct parallel with Lark and Sparrow, both individually and as a whole.

Lark, after the rogue card was drawn, is a very “mixed up” character. His father, someone he loves, has become someone he hates. He doesn’t know how to feel about his situation. This is extra variable of the card doesn’t make it better. Especially after summoning the doodler. Doing that caused him to be even more “mixed up.”

Sparrow, on the other hand, is the “mascot.” Now, this may be a reach, but Sparrow’s love wolf tendencies are representative of the Oak’s love for what seems to be everything. He’s the figurehead, given how he’s the twin with children. He’s a mascot in the way that as the family changed it’s dynamics, Sparrow changed how he existed.

Both twins “[don’t] know who [they are] anymore” after the doodler. Before the realms and the doodler, they were simply Lark And Sparrow. They were together all the time, and that was a big part of their identity (looping back to the codependency). But after the doodler, the two started drifting apart. Now they are Lark and Sparrow. They are no longer a unit, they’re such different people that it’s a shock from how they were during the first season. The two don’t know who they are in what is not only a doodlerized world, but also a world where they are so fundamentally different that they no longer function as a single being.

This plays into Sparrow’s treatment of Normal. Sparrow looks at Normal and sees himself and his twin when the two were younger. And he’s scared. Because life fucked him and his brother over completely and he doesn’t want his son to go through that. This fear clouds his mind every time he looks at his son, leading to his complex feelings about Normal.

Anyways that’s just what I think.

[crazybutgood]

Birthday origami: Lani (lumosatnight)

Happy birthday @lumosatnight!! Here's some origami based on your fic Lavender for Morning

(This work is a birthday gift as well as part of my Fandom Trumps Hate 2023 work for Lani)

(please click on the images for better quality)

Image description: two origami fortune tellers, one red (for Hermione) and one lavender (for Lavender), laid out flat in their square form. Each of the four squares for the fortune tellers has an origami object or doodle on it, inspired by elements of the fic. Descriptions of the inspirations are under the cut of this post.

Image description: the fortune tellers are folded up so all the points meet in the middle. The fortune tellers in this form resemble a flower. Each one is placed on its own pale green origami stem and leaf to form a stemmed "flower" effect.

Video description (watch with sound off please): I display the flaps of each fortune teller individually before folding each one into its playing form and demonstrating the play for a few seconds.

Inspiration and process:

Tarot cards and flower symbolism form a major part of the fic. Hence, I combined those two elements into making origami fortune tellers as they can resemble flower petals.

Hermione's fortune teller is red, for her house and also for the bright red package in which she gifts Lavender. Her flaps consist of:

a yellow origami bird, for her famous Oppugno Jinx

a light blue origami bow, as the gift package was wrapped in a blue ribbon

a divide (÷) sign drawn in golden ink, for her love of numbers, for the studying sessions, and also her strategic division of attention (and undivided attention on Lav)

a lavender origami heart, for Lav

Lav's fortune teller is, well, lavender. Her flaps consist of:

a pink origami butterfly, for butterfly clips

a yellow and black origami bee, for her beeswax chapstick

a pencil doodled in silver ink, for all her drawings, and studying sessions

a red origami heart, for Hermione

[rotzaprachim]

12, 17, and 18 for the asks!

12. the unpopular character that you actually like and why more people should like them

uhhh... no one in my particular circle of people with Taste, but Jyn. not even in terms of immediate fandom disk horse, but that in the wider-off tumblr star wars cultural reception, I think that even if rogue one is remembered as that That Time SW managed to Make Another Film That Was Good, the individual characters have been kind of... swallowed up. and that's why i love her. she's such a fucking mess. she's kind of petty and mean but in the space of things feels really human and fragile and somewhere outside the sw Strong Female Character Warrior Queen thing. her introduction scene as an adult where she takes the fucking shovel and just starts swinging is one of my favorite things in sw.

i think the same could be said of a bunch of the individual characters in andor, who i deeply adore, especially cinta, vel, bix, and kleya. not that they're unpopular in the I Hate These Women Way fandom sometimes does but that you just don't really see much... about them. (i do wish things about bix's writing were different, but i am fascinated by her as a CHARACTER and the fact that not only was she part of the extremely nascent rebellion before cassian, before almost everyone we know, if you draw the lines she's probably REALLY central to the axis circuit which is.. fascinating. like because she has no reason to tell Anyone the Truth of her secret dealings, we actually know extremely little about her, and that fascinates me. also she's this woman stuck in a small town she's tied into the fabric of and that's this source of complex ennui and pain i really love seeing in genre fiction and would love to root around in some more.)

vel and cinta... HELLO... vel and cinta.... cinta and vel... my brain is always thinking about them. just a lil.

also! i think leida mothma is second only to dark vader in greatest villains of the star wars universe. she's annoying as hell and she's this generational ticking time bomb about what happens when the kids born into the empire swallow it, when they /aren't/ leia organa.

17. there should be more of this type of fic/art

instead of twitter misogyny i would like to see jyn/bix also jyn/bix/cassian. nothing will save us but bi threesomes.

AU's where cassian drove the van for the aldhani rock group's cringe death metal band (or, if we're placing SW into the 1970's, the aldhani group's 60's scottish folk band.)

honestly extremely attached to any kind of thing where jyn and cassian have a deep connection to each other that isn't laterally a hallmark greeting card. like i actually really find the extremely close FWB vibe with them during the rebellion era to be tremendously interesting, and i don't think fandom does enough with the whole fact that maybe a 70's space-futuristic leftist army /might/ not have the same ideas around social organisation and intimacy as a a netflix rom com OMG ARE YOU GUYS LIKE TOGETHER TOGETHER???? (like i'm sure the goss on echo base was insane but i'm also not sure it might have been That.)

Anything which recognises the Real Fact that Rogue One AU's should be set in the 1970's and everyone should be wearing 70's fashions and there should be way more oblique mentions of bellbottoms and paisley. except arguably andor might be set in the 60's. in which case they should be wearing 60's fashions.

This might be summoning snakes into my house but... you know all the stuff i said about kidfic aus? turns out what i really dislike are bad kidfic aus! because they thing is is that i think jyn and cassian's narratives are profoundly focused on the question of What It Is to be Someone's Child, and sw in general is really interested in the questions about what it is to be someone's parent and someoen's child in extremity (how well they carry this out ESPECIALLy with women is debatable) and there's a lot of room to do some seriously interesting character study work and post-war How Do We Break These Cycles work if it's something aside from the kind of bioessentialist hey guys woman's purpose Fulfilled because she's had biological children/ narrative OR the you can tell how Healed jyn and cassian are and how Over the War is cause they have two (2) biological children in space!suburbia called lyra and galen scenario, which proliferates in fandom. basically what i'm saying is there's no weird indie movie about rey climbing into cassian's car at the Jack-Q service station to steal his potato chips and him being like WHOSE KID IS THIS i have to RETURN you so this isn't KIDNAPPING [terrible flashbacks] and rey being like nooo mister and then they go on a loopy roadtrip to find her parents when of course the answer is in the journey. also nobody's written the scenario of Ye Classic Space!Road Trip to The Beach and the kids in the back seat are like BISCUIT BARON BISCUIT BARON and cassian is squinting over the top of the steering wheel because he thinks he missed the turnoff and pulling ye old Hay Comida En La Casaaaaa but Jyn's just like actually every single Biscuit Baron in the galaxy is closed, just for today, and the only thing they sell is black coffee.

18. it's absolutely criminal that the fandom has been sleeping on...

not to be like people would Care if they were white men BUT the amount of press and buzz and fics there would be if velcinta were white men like literally shut up about white war criminal superhero x white war criminal superhero when there's antifascist lesbian guerillas shooting fascists AND wearing twee hats in the highlands while they feed sheep in their lil space!scottish brokeback moutain moments. i think they're slept on as individual characters and as a ship especially when Cinta is one of the only women of color in the modern star wars and vel's story is on some level literally about queerness, being a queer woman in a conservative society (always hiding, always changing.)

jyn and cassian's matching magical girl anime moment soulmate chrystal kyber necklaces

still boggling over the fact that cassian and jyn's Rebellion Kidnappers/Dads canonically are people with History, c'mon guys, there's an infinite amount of stuff to do with saw and luthen accidentally setting their kidnapping victims/adoptees/proteges up together. (also i'm just extremely fascinated by saw and luthen as characters, up there with Guys Fandom Sleeps on.)

[niuttuc]

Lorwyn

Lorwyn: Your favorite color of mana

All of them. Any of them. Be it mechanically or philosophically, in my case, variety is the spice of life.

White is my favorite color of all, the fairest of all, capable of answering anything and of being answered cleanly. The primary color of blinking for value, of tokens. The core of the lifegain synergies that are the introduction to many players to the concept of a synergistic deck, with pieces that come together to be greater than the sum of their parts. White is the color of helping one another, the color of egality and equity, the color of fortunate helping unfortunate, the color of knights and angel. People might each be inconsequential in the bigger picture, but together, they can reshape worlds. If there's no mercy, no justice, no meaning, people will bring them into existence, together.

Blue is my favorite color of all, the tricksiest of all. Among the many folds of this strategy game, you'll find no more intriguing strategies than in blue. Immensely strong... If you can line things up properly, otherwise crumbling under its own weight. The primary color of control and tempo, of counterspells and clones. The card-drawing color above all. The color of mill, the introduction to many players to the concept of an alternate win-condition that doesn't rely on attacking your opponent. The most polarizing color, love it or hate it. The overpowered glue that holds together older formats. Blue is the color of thinking ahead, of learning from your mistakes. The color of progress and turning a bunch of math and a bunch of rocks into a computer that can do anything. The color of being able to do anything you want if you work hard enough, the color of infinite potential. The color of wizards and illusions. Of the fluidity of water and of thoughts alike.

Black is my favorite color of all, the most calculating and capable of all. Black is the color of exchanging resources, your own or others. The primary color of discard and graveyard shenanigans aplenty. The color that'll pay life for cards, discard those cards, reanimate them, then will sacrifice them, furthering its plan at every single step of the way. No waste, no regrets. Everything is a nail, and everything is a hammer, you just have to be ready to get nailed or hammered along the way. Black is the color of seeing the world as it is, and making it what you want it to be. The color of individuality, of persistence and of self-determination. Of life and undeath. Of excess and sacrifices. If I'm in troubles, Black is the color I want most at my side, and least to face.

Red is my favorite color of all, the most streamlined of all. But not easy by any stretch. The color of time management, of racing and steering the fastest. The color of capitalizing on temporary effects and turning them in permanent advantages and furthering of its goals. The color of direct damage, of aggro and combo, the color in which the inches gained from sequencing feel like miles. Red decks win. Temporary mana, temporary card advantage, one-time damage. When to get them, which to use, and how, and which to let go? The color that most embraces the chaos and variance that makes the game fun and replayable, and uses it to its advantage. The color of passion and empathy. Of love and anger. Of fire, of balancing its warmth that preserves life and its deadly excess. Of embers rekindled like old feeling forgotten. Of proud dragons and impulsive goblins. Red is the color that live the life to its fullest, appreciating as much as possible every single fleeting moment of it.

Green is my favorite color of all, the simplest of all. The color of ramp and big creatures, with its potential unlocked through ramp and big creatures. Go big AND go home. If the battlefield is the most important zone, and using mana to cast spells is the most fundamental action, Green will simply dominate the board and use more mana to cast more or bigger spells. Green is the color that knows itself, that knows the world it lives in, accepts it, and plays by its rules. The color of nature and family, of knowing your past and your fate. The color of elves and beasts. Of stability, and the peace that comes with it. The serenity of seeing a world bigger than you, of which you're only an infinitesimal part. You're the world experiencing itself in one of uncalculable ways. Time will heal all wounds, and life will endure.

They're all true, at all times.

[coffeeandjournaling]

5 Act Play

A solo journaling RPG  by Kaden Ramstack

Materials

game manual

a journal or other recording method

deck of tarot cards or playing cards

(if you use playing cards) 1d6 and 1d20

Premise

Channel your inner Shakespeare! Using a five-act structure, create your very own tragedy or comedy in the vein of the Bard of Avon: populate your play with colourful characters, give them motives and let them loose on each other. Whether you write a modern love story for the ages or a funny entertaining romp is all up to you.

Mechanics

This game is all about prompts inspiring and guiding you through the writing process of a five-act play (or more precisely: a summary of the same). Prompts are generated by drawing cards from your tarot deck or using the alternative playing cards and dice method. With the tarot deck, you alternate between drawing from the major arcana and suits. While the suits are tied to different motives and prompts depending on your progress throughout the play, the major arcana stand for themselves and need to be interpreted to inspire character creation, key parts of the narrative and ultimately the ending of your play. Sounds complicated? Don’t fret: with each step of the process comes a short but precise explanation of each part of the play as well as an example from a tragedy and a comedy each (”Much ado about nothing” and “Romeo and Juliet” respectively).

Thoughts and Examples from my Playthrough

5 Act Play is a clever little game that can entertain you for a lot of playthroughs. All the instructions are clearly worded and each step carefully thought out to enable you to write an actual play summary in under an hour. The prompts are inspired by Shakespeare’s plays and can serve both tragedies and comedies well, still requiring you to put some effort into interpreting and implementing them into your play. This can be a bit of a challenge sometimes: how do you put a death into your light-hearted comedy? Here, the examples come in extremely handy, as they feel carefully chosen to help you solve this exact problem (a death doesn’t always mean someone has to actually die - nothing is more fun than a fake death and a surprise return at just the right moment).

I hate to say this, but as a teacher I absolutely love the idea of mixing literary knowledge with a fun exercise in writing - this can be as much of a learning tool as it is a genuinely fun game. The layout, the explanations, the examples, the prompts all work together to give you a framework for your play and, almost as if it’s magic, you know what a five-act play is at the end, how it’s structured and how the plot usually progresses. I can also see this being a fun group activity with everyone creating plays individually and then reading them to each other or even crowning the Shakespeare of the day/evening. Basically, the role playing aspect is you being a writer writing a play, and there’s no better way to learn something than to try it out yourself.

Additionally, if you enjoy reading cards this is a great way to practice it: interpreting the cards based on the traditional meaning or using bits and pieces of their names and illustrations to build elements for your play, both approaches work just as well. I’m not too versed in tarot despite having had a deck since 6th grade, but it does feel like there was some thought put into which elements of the deck are used at each point in the game.

I played two times so far, the first playthrough to create a tragedy (”The Queen’s Right Hand”) and the second one to create a comedy (”The Dressmaker’s Happiness” - look, titles are hard). Now, I’m not a strong writer, so it takes me a bit to get into it and connect separate elements into a coherent story. But by the time I reached Act II the prompts simply fell into place, almost entirely on their own. The tragedy is about a Queen’s most valuable advisor, a reserved and controlled woman with the only goal to protect her ruler. When I created the antagonist, I didn’t quite know what to do with them, but drawing the motive card for “jealousy” made it clear that this is a tale of bitter and unrequited love on pretty much all sides - and then it almost wrote itself.

Is it an actually good play, though? Probably not. But games aren’t meant to produce a perfectly polished piece of writing (although they certainly can), they’re first and foremost meant to be fun. And I did have a lot of fun. So, goal accomplished. As always, you should try and make yourself comfortable in what you do. No one has to see what you write - indulge, be cringey, be cliché. I think that would even be on point for Shakespeare. Certainly by your second round you’ll feel more at ease: the comedy was a cute little romantic tale of deception, accidental kidnappings and a dressmaker who vowed to never marry falling in love with a socialite who lived under the thumb of her seemingly strict and gloomy uncle (with a duel in the middle - that one was a surprise even for me).

If you have trouble thinking of names for characters and places, I suggest having a few online name generators ready to help you out. It also works to use the cards as a guide: I drew “Strength” for one character and named him “Peter the Lion” because there’s a lion on the card...I mean. Do what you must.

I’d like to think Shakespeare would approve of this game. I very much do.

This might be your cup of coffee if...

you like telling stories and creating characters.

you want a relatively short writing challenge or exercise to flex your creative muscles.

you feel better having more of a framework to guide you in your writing.

you want to learn some literary theory on the side.

you are familiar with/want to get familiar with reading cards, specifically tarot.

You can get Kaden Ramstack’s 5 Act Play HERE on itch.io! Make sure to check out his other games as well (I for one really want to get to “Un-navigatable” soon).

[amythystraine]

9 Cards ~ lots going on here

So, I've basically spent this lazy hot Sunday wrestling with Microsoft word doing final edits on my ninth book.  I'm actually tired, it's almost like it was a physical wrestling match rather than a pitting of my wits against technology. But after a nice cold beer, very refreshing, and some calm moments at the dining room table with my new tarot deck, I feel ready to take a look at the cards and see what all they have to say to us --  nine cards, that is.  Here we go...

1.  There is someone who appears to have lost their equilibrium as well as their identity and their honest sense of self because they're so over-burdened by something in their life it has taken over.  If this is you, what has thrown you for such a loop?  How did you get to the point where you just accept it without question?  What would it take for you to ground yourself and find your center?  What would it take for you to put down the load you carry, or delegate some of this responsibility?  

2.  There is someone who is really stuck in their ways; I mean they hate change with a vengeance, and boy are they fighting it.  If this is you, how long has this struggle and resistance gone on, and how long do you think you can keep it up?  Transformations are never easy, and you are only going to make it more difficult and more prolonged if you remain resistant.  Most people around you only see a very stubborn and illogical person when they look at you, but I see someone who is terrified of this change.  I see someone who is struggling to keep their peaceful and consistent world around them unchanged.

3.  There is someone who is facing a financial question, or dilemma, or change.  If this is you, know that you have two really good offers coming in.  These are sound financial opportunities, both from reliable sources, and they both have good intentions behind them... but (there's always a but), the cards are telling me that you should choose:  1)  the older individual making this offer; 2)  the older more established institution making this offer; 3)  the individual that's been aware of and working on this situation the longest.

4.  There are two individuals who couldn't be more opposed or opposite each other.  The cards tell me that because of this stubborn opposition and the fact that neither one of you will back down and compromise, you might never reach a satisfying and happy conclusion.  Do you really want to stand their with your feet dug in, expending so much energy to hold your position?  It's making me tired just looking at the cards, you both must be exhausted, and when you keep something like this up, you miss out on a lot of happiness that passes you by.  The cards tell me that there is a happy ending in sight, really, there is.  The question is, which one of you is going to take the first step towards respectful negotiation?

5.  This is a hard one.  It involves a great transition, and it involves a very humble starting over.  Someone may actually be starting over minus an influence in their life that gave them much encouragement and positive direction.  It involves something so life altering that I, for one, would have to draw more cards on this situation.  It looks like someone is going to learn independence the hard way, by being thrown into the midst of life, expected to find and stand on their own two feet.

6.  There is someone who's done more than their fair share for so long.  You've just about worn out your shoulders from the burdens and responsibilities that other people have expected you to carry, and you've done this for so long -- and quietly, without complaint.  It's going to be a total shock to the people who have benefited from this when you literally throw off those shackles and discover new found freedom.  The cards tell me you shouldn't feel guilty about putting your life first, really, you've done more than enough.  The thing I'm curious about, what's it going to be that prompts you to do this?  It looks like it's something really -- really -- big.

[siderealscribblings]

do you have any trivia/headcanons for our mr. dorky detective and his totally-evil-and-sexy-clown entourage?

DO I?

Put under the cut because this is gonna stretch everyone's dash to infinity otherwise.

Akechi Goro

Image Song: Confess by Divide Music

Gun nut; absolute firearm enthusiast/borderline fetishist 

Middling artistic talent but keeps trying for some reason

Cannot sleep unless absolutely encased in body pillows 

Hates: Dental chairs, the ocean, worms, mochi, Maruki

Likes sweets to a degree that is unusual for most Japanese men 

Intelligent but easily baited into behaving emotionally

Bisexual trash fire

Yoshizawa Sumire

Image Song: Rebel Yell Cinematic Version

College gymnast (COULD HAVE GONE PRO IF SHE HADN'T JOINED S.E.E.S)

Looks meek as hell but cannot be budged once she's decided on a course of action

Last Yoshizawa living 

Likes gardening, tacky romance novels/video games, gardening

Hates: Bitter chocolate, duck meat, dark liquors

Killer poker face; a menace at cards

Received the same combat training her sister received but hasn't used it as much

The Phantom Thieves (In General)

Image Song: The Cult of Dionysus

Co-dependent as fuck

It would take a week to explain how their tangled web of relationships interact with one another

Attached in a way that would unnerve most people

Will roast one another but turn downright murderous if someone outside their clique thinks they can get away with the same

Body Count numbers in the thousands

Strong individually but each Thief multiplies their teammates' power

Low-level emotive senses; can easily discern their teammates emotions 

Low-level psychic connection; can sense each other's vibes

Clingy as fuck; will gravitate towards one another if left to their own devices

Can share pain/pleasure/other basic sensations

Can control their elemental abilities to let out as little or as much as they please

Joker

Image Song: Red Right Hand (Nick Cage and the Bad Seeds)

Team Role: Gang Leader, A-Team leader, strategist, greaseman, lockpicker, seductress

Magic: Eiha, Physical skills

McNally Official Lockpicking Skills

Supernaturally stealthy

Knife pervert

Never shuts up

Ships his partners

Actively seeks out alliances with other demons/manikins 

Is thought by most demons to be a loud-mouthed idiot; this is entirely by design

Workaholic and relentlessly ambitious when it comes to bettering his gang's fortunes

Service-Top/persistent tease

Queen

Image Song: Lion (Saint Mesa)

Team Role: Underboss, consigliere, B-Team leader, enforcer, strategist

Magic: Frei, Physical, Healing

Barehanded brawler

Anxious as all hell and will make it your problem if you try and hurt what's hers

Questions the hell out of Joker privately but unwaveringly backs him up in public

Plays "bad cop" to Panther's "good cop" 

Guarded and suspicious of everyone that crosses her path 

Bottom as hell/wants to be taken care of

Panther

Image Song: Theme of Scanty & Kneesocks

Team Role: Social terrorist, seductress, chief medic, demolitions 

Magic, Agi, Charm, Healing 

Can unbutton someone's shirt with her whip without drawing blood (and has) 

Worst shot on the team

Purrs like a cat when pleased

Also bites like a cat for shits and giggles

Queen's emotional support animal 

Skull's demo team partner 

The Most Top/uses Charm recreationally 

Skull

Image Song: I Am Electric 

Team Role: Grunt, brute strength, frontline fighter, tank, demolition

Magic: Zio, Physical, minor minor healing skills picked up from Panther

Uses a bat but skilled at dealing damage with random garbage he finds on the street 

Gets hurt the most, gets hurt the worst, is the only one happy to have it that way

Face of a pitbull, soul of a golden retriever 

Team Mom tendencies 

Switch/does what Panther tells him to do

Fox

Image Song: Kirisute Gomen

Team Role: Hunter, frontline fighter, ranged fighter, art forger

Magic: Bufu, physical

Goemon level swordmaster

Looks intimidating; usually just spacing out and thinking about something unrelated when people think he's giving them the evil eye

Oracle's parallel play buddy

Most gifted hunter; frequently brings home magatsuhi for the others to feast on

Gymnast physique/fox-ears and tail

Shell-shocked

Switch, but downright feral about it

Oracle

Image Song: West Side Lane

Team Role: Technical god, hackerman, jester 

Magic: Support skills, short-ranged teleportation, area control

Gremlin master; sends artificially-sapient programs into systems to do her work for her

Can hack your pregnancy test using a calculator 

Barely understands how her own abilities work but seems to be able to bullshit her way through most technical systems

Funds mortal world enterprises through credit card fraud, embezzlement, and devising predatory gacha games 

Was kidnapped briefly by Baal resulting in the slaughter of several thousand demons and the complete collapse of the Yosuga faction as her team fought to get her back

Actually the most powerful member of the team but isn't aware of the extent of her abilities yet

Colossal Brat

Noir

Image Song: Play Violin - Frenchcore

Team Role: Psychic Support, demo team captain, precog

Magic: Psio, support

Just happy to be here :) 

Perfectly sane, thanks for asking :)

Completely dispassionate in fights, despite the carnage she's capable of

Brutally, brutally honest and barely attempts to lie

Pre-emotive; can't see the future but gets strong feelings about things 

Soft dom

[on-a-lucky-tide]

MCD but not really; saga spoilers

I have this idea I've been ruminating on for a while. Putting it in a small post because I doubt I'll ever get round to writing it.

I've been reading widely about other cultural belief systems/practices from the practice of wakashūdō among the samurai to Zoroastrianism (literally anything to avoid reading about the Yorkist rebellions for work because fucking hell is that not my area of interest...)

The latter gave me a story idea based on their guardian angels known as Arda Fravash.

They originally patrolled the boundaries of the ramparts of heaven (Bd6.3, Zs5.2), but volunteer to descend to earth to stand by individuals to the end of their days.

Eskel is one such "guardian angel", who chooses to descend to protect Geralt. It's the boy's cries as his mother abandons him that draw Eskel's attention. The cloud of destiny hovers over that mop of red curls, and Eskel knows he will be needed. He takes the form of a toddler too, so the boy won't be frightened and they grow together. No one else can see Eskel. The instructors select Geralt for the extra mutations because he seems to be the strongest. Special in ways the others aren't. Eskel holds him through it all.

And continues to hold him as the years pass. Figuratively. For he cannot actually touch Geralt unless it's to save his life. He is there for every contract, every scrape, every bad decision and every good one. He is there for Blaviken, the Cintran ball, everything.

As time drifts by, Eskel can't help but fall in love. It's a draw too strong to resist. He yearns to hold Geralt, to press his lips to the palm of his hand, card his fingers through his silver hair. But he can't. It's fine though, he shows his devotion in other ways, and Geralt is grateful. Even though the rest of the world hates him, Eskel will never abandon him.

When Geralt falls for Yennefer, Eskel is there to listen to their trials and Geralt's hurt, leaving them in peace when he feels the warmth of Geralt's affection peak after each reconciliation. Eskel helps them raise Ciri, who is the first person other than Geralt to ever see him. It's their secret. Although he is certain that Yen, and sometimes the vampire, Regis - "I fucking told you, Geralt, and you wouldn't listen" - are looking right at him.

When Geralt's time comes, when blood flows through the streets of Rivia, Eskel is yanked to the otherside because he's not allowed to change Geralt's fate. Some things are written in stone and cannot be altered.

Eskel shouts, and fights, and screams, because the wounded look of realisation on Geralt's face is too much to bear. He thinks Eskel has left him to perish. But Eskel can't do anything; he has to watch as Geralt fades with his lady love.

Then something miraculous happens.

Ciri opens a path through the mist and suddenly Geralt is right there. When Geralt rises from that boat on the otherside, he helps Yen to shore first, and then approaches Eskel. "So, this is him," Yen says, and Eskel blinks in surprise. She knows. Eskel is bewildered, but as he tries to bluster through an explanation, Geralt reaches forward.

"It is," Geralt replies, and touches the battle scars on Eskel's face. Touches. Geralt's fingers carve a trail of molten heat over Eskel's skin that makes him gasp, his stomach flips, his knees shake, threatening to fail.

Eskel captures Geralt's hand before it can pull away, firm, real, and kisses his palm, savouring every precious first moment. Geralt smiles that beautiful, crooked smile he always called ugly, and pulls Eskel to Yen to make the introductions. Eskel kisses Yen's hand, and they walk together into the mists.

They live happily ever after, together, in Avalon.

[midnightsilver]

Commissions Open for 2024 🎉😄

Additional Info under cut

•Prices given are standard examples, more complicated requests may have an additional charge.

•My traditional artwork (pencil, charcoal, ink or paint on paper or canvas) is drawn and painted by hand. Digital artwork is also drawn and painted by hand. I use a Wacom Intuos or Ipad Pro tablet and stylus. All my individual artworks are unique to each new commission and styles and details may vary.

•I draw Supernatural characters (Spn TV show) including au situations, animals and creatures to do with Supernatural. I can also do illustrations for your Spn Fanfics including front covers and banners if needed.

•All ships are welcome, including nsfw, kink or dark themes. However I can’t draw underage nsfw and I won’t draw hate/anti content.

•Payment is via PayPal in advance. See Process below for more details.

•Completed digital art is sent to you in a high resolution PNG or JPG file via email or a Google Drive link.

•Traditional Art will be on paper, card or canvas. The quoted price does not include shipping and handling. Shipping quotes will depend on your location and the size of the artwork. I am UK based and will ship worldwide (an A4 document folder can ship from the UK to USA from $20 tracked but keep in mind that a larger canvas might cost more to ship internationally, and I advise using tracked and insured services as I can’t be responsible for items lost in transit.)

•Prices are given in USD ($) for convenience however I am UK based and PayPal will automatically convert the transaction to GBP (£) when payment is delivered to me. If you need a quote in another currency please ask. Prices will be determined by current exchange rates.

•Copies of completed commissions may be posted on my art blog, please let me know if you do not wish to be tagged or if the art should not be posted until a certain date (ie it’s for a specific event)

•I retain the copyright to my work. The art is for your enjoyment, you are not entitled to: reproduce it for sale, repost it without credit to me as the artist, or claim it as your own work.

—o0o—

My Commission Process

*Send me (MidnightSilver - they/them) an email entitled ‘art commission enquiry’ to TheGreenestGreenToEverGreen@gmail.com

Tell me what you are looking for, the art style and price from the price list and your time frame.

*I will discuss the art with you, see if I have a window available and tell you if I think your request would incur an additional cost.

*If you want to proceed with the commission at the estimated price I will create preliminary/draft sketches and email them to you. We will confirm your specific content details (poses, colours, clothing styles, backgrounds etc) and confirm the completion date.

*Once you agree to the prelim sketches and time frame, (any shipping costs for Traditional artwork will be sourced from available delivery services and added to the quote at this time) - payment must then be made in full via PayPal.

*Send me your PayPal email address and I will send you a money request for the commission cost, it will detail the work to be delivered and the due date.

*You can pay in just a few clicks and as soon as payment has cleared I will start work on your project. (The size and specifications of your artwork will not be able to be changed from this point.)

*Finished artwork will be to a similar standard as depicted in my pricing list and I will make every effort to create for you a piece of unique art that you will love 💛.

*I’ll email you once the work is ready. Minor tweaks may be done within reason - I want you to be over the moon with your purchase 🤗 - however major revisions will not be possible.

*Your art will be sent for delivery or the digital file emailed to you by the promised date.

*Refunds will not be available unless I am unable to email / post the artwork by the agreed date. (I will send you proof of postage for tracked deliveries, however I am not responsible for any postal delays in transit.)

*At any point during the process if you have questions or queries, you can contact me via email and I will respond within 24hrs.

—o0o—

I’m a very easy going artist, absolutely devoted to Supernatural and creating art is my passion. I’d love to make something just for you. So if you have any questions about anything above, feel free to give me a shout in the DMs or drop me an email and we can chat. 

Or if you like my art but a commission just isn’t your thing, maybe check out my Redbubble. (Link in my bio). You can get prints of my pre-made art on stickers and stationery from just a few dollars, or other fun items like mugs, bags or clothing. It's worth a look 👍🏻

Cheers 

-Midnight 😄

TheGreenestGreenToEverGreen@gmail.com

[indiemedley]

My Take on a Custom Inscryption Scrybe!

You heard me right, you hecking fucking goobers, made up my own Inscryption brainchild, and I hope y’all like. I can’t draw, so, just bear with me on descriptions here! Also, needless to say, Spoilers for Inscryption ahead, please play it first.

Introducing: Plasmo, Scrybe of Chemistry

Plasmo is the Scrybe of Chemistry, hidden away in his little chemical plant, a disgusting and revolting environment swamped with chemicals and broken machines, with remnants of those who lived there previously. Life has not entirely ceased there, as Plasmo had taken up residency amongst the goop and poison! Plasmo’s body is made up of dripping chemicals that have coalesced together into a very intelligent mass of goop, donning a half melted lab coat from the Chemical Plant.

As for his mechanics, Plasmo liked to “stir” up the rules of the game a little. The two decks were maintained, with a “Recipe” deck, and an “Ingredient” deck. You can pick from one pile or the other per turn. When picking from the Ingredient pile, Plasmo cuts you some slack and lets you draw twice. Ingredients are what are used to follow Recipes, where you mix Ingredients on the same space to make whatever card was detailed on the Recipe cards. After winning fights, you may learn a new Recipe from an enemy for free if it dragged on a little too long, or maybe you scrounged together some Bonus Ingredients for stopping the enemies before they used up all the Ingredients.

He creates his cards from scratch, mixing up chemicals to make mixtures that he then Inscrybes, making new mixtures everyday. He was once a kindly soul who always loved company in his quiet Chemical Plant, as his goop creations weren’t very fun to hang around with. But what he used to be like doesn’t matter, because the rest of the Scrybes, for their own individual reasons harbored discontent for him, more so than each other. PO3 hated his over positivity and constant pestering, Magnificus hated the fact that Plasmo’s drab Chemical Plant spat on the love of presentation and ovr the top nonsense that Magnificus prided so, Leshy hated how he’d soil the atmosphere just to get somebody to like him more, not his game, just him, and Grimora, well, she was pretty neutral to him, but still didn’t want him pissing off the other Scrybes.

With their combined efforts, they wiped him off the game, tossing his assets into that squirming mass of code, the OLD_DATA. With an uploaded version of Inscryption on the internet, people sifted around that game all the time, with one player, by the name of Mark, eventually uncovering the “deleted cut content” of Plasmo. With some modding and tweaking, Plasmo was free from his isolation and limbo.

Plasmo REALLY missed having company, and of course, this evolved into him becoming clingier to Mark than a puppy to its new owner. But Plasmo didn’t want to be erased again, so, he decided to work with Mark to sabotage the other Scrybes’ attempts to find the OLD_DATA, with Mark playing part of distraction. Plasmo, on the other hand, searched for the OLD_DATA all on his own, with Mark sabotaging the different Scrybes. Like breaking Magnificus’s pumps, cutting the string in Grimora’s well, getting the Dredger to quit, and sending the Fisher on the boat out to sea with the promise of better fish for Leshy.

With this tag team, Plasmo inevitably finds the OLD_DATA and brings about his 3D takeover. And for the first time since his creation, he could feel, like a person could. Plasmo is understandably attached to this physical sensation of feeling, like how he’s attached to Mark. And because of this connection and feeling, Plasmo wants Mark to play a little! Just for a little bit, right? Gotta enjoy the fruits of their labor, after all! But, Plasmo is a bit more panicked and desperate, getting nervous and anxious if Mark so much as insinuates leaving to go to the bathroom. Plasmo is afraid that the game will be turned off again. He doesn’t want to be alone again, he doesn’t want isolation, he wants to FEEL. 

The more Mark gets done with Plasmo, more willing to just turn the game off and walk away, the more desperate Plasmo becomes to keep Mark around, forever. His solution to this problem? use the object of his previous torment as blackmail. If Mark leaves him again, Plasmo will use his new internet connection to completely reveal the pure OLD_DATA and Karnoffel Code to the general public, posting it everywhere. 

Now would be a good time as any to talk about his 3D environment. The old Chemical Plant, now in detailed glory, the place is expansive yet paths are blocked off by spilt chemicals. Plasmo may be proud of his factory, but even Mark’s CHARACTER getting up makes him nervous, he won’t allow it. But the more you play with Plasmo, eventually you reach a boss fight, where a particularly nasty batch of chemicals will break free and mix into a brand new monster, typically knocking Plasmo far out of the way, sometimes knocking him out temporarily. These bosses all have personalities of their own, but usually revolve around eating, breaking things, or making themselves look less like beasts and more like Unity Assets that could be used by other people, their ultimate dream. After a boss, Mark can walk around the plant for a little, solve puzzles to clear paths, and explore while Plasmo wakes up. Each boss also turns into a friendly playable card post defeat, that you can mix into your own deck! Repeats of the same boss will have the talking cards stubbornly refusing to accept they were like THAT when they were the boss.

But he better be sitting back down when Plasmo comes to, or he sweaRS TO GOD HE’LL SEND THAT DATA! After enough exploring, Mark can find the other Scrybes in massive tubes that Plasmo periodically fills with Chemicals to Goopify and De-Goopify the Scrybes, as a sort of payback for what they did to him. More puzzles and bosses later, Scrybes are free, and have Mark continue Plasmo’s game until they can find an opening to put him on ice, since his panic and separation anxiety is getting to dangerous levels, they fear he may do something drastic in his paranoia. 

After a monologue of Plasmo thanking Mark for being a true and dear friend, even when he literally threatened Mark’s life and several other misshapes, he even admits that MAAAAAYBE he’d been a little paranoid, before initiating a final boss fight with Mark, to try and bury the hatchet. Yet, even as the fight progresses, the fear and anxiety of being left feelingless and alone creeps back in, before he brings his plan full sweep again, deciding to not even let Mark sleep aymore. This is where the Scrybes finally come back, setting loose a torrent of chemicals to knock Plasmo away from his table, and therefore, where he stored his File Access and even his New Game function. With power back in their court, Plasmo is once again returned to the isolation he fought so hard to avoid. And the game returns to its normal cycle.