#but i was eventually found so it's not like im impossible to find i guess

[depresseddepot]

I'm trying to find ways to slowly ease my way into taking walks (debilitating social anxiety) so I was going to download pokemon go again but my phone is too old :(

[mywillt0live]

im not a good writer but I have a lot of brainrots about sagau and imposter sagau

so here’s a little uh.. dramatic brain rot idea of mine

N O W L O A D I N G . . .

I’ve always found it unrealistic how quick-to-assume the acolytes are

ex. the first person they see that looks like you is the definitely the “creator” (stupid to assume)

or

anybody who looks like them is definitely an imposter (like what?? it should be blessing-)

so instead, when the imposter first arrived, the acolytes were in doubt but still hopeful

using celestia’s power, the imposter proved themselves in other ways than gold blood and gained a following

although a very good imitation, something was just the slightest bit off. those small mistakes started to build up, and the acolytes couldn’t help but feel something was wrong.. yet they’re loyalty remained

you, the creator, pull up to the crib and nobody really believes you. kinda just thinking man they look a lot like the creator.. that’s crazy 😧

you go around and see the imposter all acting like you, spreading their influence to gain total power

so instead of going around like a door to door salesman and convince the acolytes that you’re the real creator, you decide to get to the root of problem: the imposter

however taking the throne by force would be stupid, I mean it’s not impossible to kill the imposter, but combined with the acolytes and millions of followers- yeah no thanks.

you could easily do it by showing your blood, but you wanna see who is truly loyal to you

and let’s be honest

where’s the fun in that?

you’re definitely not a sadist

so you infiltrate the palace spy style and at the big throne doors you blast them open all cool n stuff

the acolytes immediately detain you and you kneel before the imposter

“My liege, excuse my impudence, but you seem rather uncomfortable..”

the imposter flinches as you smirk at them

“D-Dispose of them at once! I wish to see their face no longer..”

“Hah.. you really like to humor me. Don’t you? Celestia.”

you’re met with astonished glares thinking how arrogant you are, well not until..

in a display of divine power, you break free of the acolytes grasp with ease

you grin wildly as everyone looks at you in a stupor with one collective thought:

“What if..”

you smirk.

this’ll be fun.

some of the archons yell for you to wait but you take a dramatic bow and disappear in a blink.

the whole room is enveloped in soft murmurs and speculative chaos as the imposter bites their lip in anger- no, rage.

the situation is thrown into turmoil and for weeks the acolytes watch as the imposter starts to become more paranoid, aggressive, and more off.

their paranoia leads to a new order, and the witch-hunt begins. anyone caught worshiping you or helping you are executed on the spot.

dried blood lines the cobblestone streets of mondstat. in liyue, rather than good food and hearty laughter wafting through the air, all that remains is the vague stench of dead bodies. inazuma’s streets are quiet and cold, as soldiers loom over the area.

the situation with the acolytes aren’t much better. some slipped away early to find you, others of utmost loyalty to the imposter are furious because of your little “act”

but even they can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong

most acolytes become doubtful and eventually turn neutral, unknowing what side is the true creator.

the battle has begun as you and the imposter fight for their trust, love, and power.

lets see who gets their head chopped off first.

(i guess this could be a prologue to imposter sagau?)

[wachtelspinat]

Hi ! I've read your latest post and every second i was like "this is so me" and so I wanted to tell you that I relate to what you said. Alot. And maybe my perspective can help you (or not) but i'll share. So I am (was) in the same situation. I was very active on tumblr and elsewhere and I had friends and mutuals that made me try new things and share and it was great. But then getting my degree became intense, covid happened, I got a job, etc. I left tumblr and stopped drawing entirely. And I was miserable. I thought since i failed at becoming a pro artist and working in another field I'd never be able to draw again. BUT turned it was depression (eh) and eventually it got better. Not "great" because the world sucks and i feel like Atlas carrying my own stress everyday but I managed to cling to new little hyperfixations that got me back into playing/drawing and eventually meeting a small group of new friends and mutuals. I guess it's a cycle and you can break it (i'll never pretend that it's easy).

I don't know if im making any sense but I wanted to tell you that you're not alone and that i hope that maybe like me you'll find a new/old thing that makes you happy and go brrrr again, even if it's still drawing the same characters for years because no matter the subject your art is always super inspiring and cool ! Finding a balance irl is hard nowadays and work can be consuming but now i know that we can always make room for us to breathe and have fun

ok i'll stop here but just so you know when i was back on tumblr last year after my long break i was so glad to see that you were still active haha

hey ! thanks for writing (i also think you wrote directly under my post but i was too slow to answer there, so sorry for that T_T) and sharing ! i'm sorry to hear that you had a similar experience (i especially get the not choosing art as your career and getting a forced distance there because there is so. much. other shit that needs to be taken care of). i try to keep in mind that things are always changing and just because it's not ideal now doesn't mean it has to be like this forever. it's just hard to see that and say to oneself over the course of months sometimes. i KNOW there will be a time when i look back at now and think "man this was shit but it's over, i should have known that" because i'm not in that position right now, and like with depression, it's impossible to see the bright side again. i may not be happy-happy but i'm at least functioning enough to try and change the status quo. and i think keeping at it and trying to find a solution that works is the best i can do rn. thank you so much, and i'm so glad you found your way back <3

[felteverywhere]

here’s a plot wishlist of things i’m thinking about lately but would prefer to plot than write opens for. i’d also prefer to plot on discord but it’s not entirely necessary since obviously i’ll be writing on this account. some of them are kind of variations of the same thing but i think it makes it clear what kind of stuff i really love lmao. if you like this i’ll im you, but even if you like a lot of them it would be amazing if you could whittle it down to 2-3 tops. reblogging and messaging people when i’m online in the morning!

hot & heavy by lucy dacus inspired — the angst of your first love, homoerotic teenage best friend angst coming back to haunt you, bitterness and nostalgia mingling in the worst way, you hate her and you still love her after all this time. optional: period piece (70s, 80s, 90s, early 00s), a dead friend dragging them back to town, one of them is still closeted. 

fear street inspired — small towns where dark, horrible things have happened and keep happening but not everyone can afford to clear out, young people taking on a legacy of evil in the name of love, the truth of the past being unearthed, the loss along the way. optional: period piece (90s), we can run with something similar to fear street in terms of why the killers exist or come up with our own thing. 

college sleuths — a body found in a classroom or maybe an old unsolved mystery, a small campus cradled by woods and hidden from the world, a desperate need to uncover what everyone else wants to cover up, a righteousness or maybe an obligation to the dead, an eventual game of cat and mouse as they creep closer to the truth. optional: literally everything i listed can be tweaked, i just love the idea of a pair of people (even reluctantly) solving a murder. 

scooby doo inspired, college cryptid/supernatural hunters  — they’re the only ones who believe and maybe that’s okay, could be a mumu/could utilise npc characters if we’d like a group. optional: more of a buffy style scooby gang who are solving problems/include creatures in it. 

dark academia, the secret history inspired  — 

zombie apocalypse romance... with a twist on top of that — what’s more romantic than finding your soulmate at the end of the world? well, i guess if she’s also an unhinged person who will murder humans too, if they cross her. finding out she killed her last s/o somehow doesn’t phase you. basically: muse a has met someone after so long alone but muse b is a little crazy and they get into shenanigans. 

thoroughbreds inspired — unsettling girls forming a strange bond in rekindling a childhood friendship, uncomfortable step fathers, murder as a tool to solve problems rather than a ghastly act, taking blame as a romantic gesture. gifset for fun inspo. 

a return to the hurt/comfort fanfic tag. i’d like to explore deeper things while also dealing with the relationship between two characters. optionally but not limited to: grief, abuse (tentatively and with discussion about parameters), child custody issues, divorce, etc. 

this post but like no really, let’s write it. 

people who believe they are impossible to love pushing away the one who is demanding that they let them in!!!! not strong enough by boygenius vibes also 

an affair happening in a position of power, in a place it absolutely shouldn’t, where everything could turn to crap if they gave in but... they really can’t help themselves. people who are slaves to their own feelings no matter how toxic they are with one another. bad people being so passionately and deeply in love that it destroys everything. oh also this. 

still would kick things over for a normal people plot. i’ll never be over it!! never!! gifset for visual. shame and regret almost overpowering love but not quite, hurting each other, miscommunication, all the things. “i'm not a religious person but i do sometimes think god made you for me.” it should be illegal for someone to say that but jeez i am obsessed with it. 

someone truly deranged and evil and bloodthirsty and the only one who can stop them, but also the only one who can understand them. the only one who knows them. the only one who loves them? ah?

figure skating partners for carling i beg on my knees. fc optional i honestly might change her regardless. 

more song inspo without long winded thoughts: reckless driving by lizzy mcalpine, taken by muna, holding back/crowded places/waiting game by banks, forever winter/tis the damn season/cowboy like me by taylor swift but also really any taylor swift song. 

[corvicarum]

so i like mixing up pc, and lor lore for darkin & shurima. it melds so well, and makes the story more cohesive than it felt before. and im not sure but i think that riot may have confirmed a lot of this to be canon anyway? eh, here we go:

𝐁𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐈𝐍

a REALLY long time ago, the kingdom of shurima was at it's prime. they had this really cool sun disc, that could concentrate celestial power- and pour it into a single individual. creating what we know as the ascended. these were very powerful humans who shared features with animals. i.e nasus( jackal ), and renekton( crocodile ), and many more. this was the golden army, and-- as any nation might do when they have an all powerful army-- shurima sought to expand. and they did so under the rule of an ascendant emperor named azir.

so there was also this rlly cool nation called icathia, led by the mage king axamuk. he was as you can assume, not eager to give up. unfortunately, icathia didn't stand much of a chance against shurima. and so as a last resort; they used their magic to rip open a portal to the void. a place devoid( haha ) of all reason, all time, all space. what they didn't know, was that the voidborn would destroy EVERYTHING they touched. and so not only did shurima suffer losses, but so did icathia. and only when the land was desolate and barren-- did shurima retreat.

unfortunately, there are consequences for interacting at all with anything from the void. the ascendants who's minds were touched by the creatures would begin to go mad. threatening to turn on one another. and in a grim twist of fate, azir would be killed by one of his kin. leaving the maddening ascended on their own without any leader to guide them. enter: zolani

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐈𝐍

zolani was an ascendant, who began to delve into blood magic. and found a way to use this blood magic to fix everything. this is kind of where it goes into headcanons and stuff ig people found through LoR? im just theorizing based on what i've read from various content / people's thoughts.

zolani gave other ascendants blood magic? promising that the magic would give them a great deal of power. the blood magic of course did change their forms and appearances to what we recognize now as general darkin biology. and did in fact, make them stronger. but what they didn't know, was that due to zolani's vast knowledge, and her being the source of this magic-- she could? control them?? and what was seen as a gift, turned out to be a curse.

in truth, she wanted to use the magic she gave them, to control them. which would have stopped them from trying to kill one another,

in a way i guess? this makes her an anti hero? definitely relatively good intentions done in a really fucked up way. which backfire, because they find out her aim, and mark her a traitor. so now you have a bunch of insane ascended god warriors, each one infused with VERY powerful blood magic. BIG OOF.

and BAM! thus begins the darkin war.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐀𝐑

the darkin war nearly destroyed the world, and actually ruined parts of pretty much every continent in runterra. eventually, the aspect of twilight, came from the heavens to do something about it. creating a special weapon( the chalicar )that could harness moonlight and use it against the darkin. we know this aspect at current, as zoe. but at this time her name was myisha.

the way it worked i think is p vague. but in short: using the chalicar, they could seal the souls of these darkin into their own weapons. not killing them, as they were nigh impossible to kill-- but trapping them. of course one aspect could not do this on her own. so thats where everyone kind of comes in! with this gift, mortal races could finally fight back against the darkin.

the method wasn't perfect though. as sealing them worked fine, up until a mortal creature touches the blade. see, when a celestial creates these weapons they are very powerful. but when a mortal makes them, they're not quite as efficient. so while the darkin were in fact gone for the moment. the darkin curse was born, and now anyone who wields these weapons-- will become new physical vessels for these darkin to return to the world in.

and to make matters worse, the weapons are unbreakable.

it's interesting too, because it implies also that none of the darkin we see in game at current- are what they originally looked like. aatrox, rhaast, naafiri, to name a few, did look a bit different back int he day. and their current forms are a mesh of their new host body and their own original form.

𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐃𝐀𝐘

again. the few darkin we know about have hosts. some of the hosts have melded perfectly with their darkin. some were overtaken entirely, and in the case of kayn, he fights his parasite. and actually manages to keep his influence under as much control as he can manage. all things considered.

zolani's influence is also still kind of seen? i haven't looked a whole lot into vladimir, but i do recall hearing he has ties to the darkin as well.

[pinkisopod]

24 25 🙂

arya youre so fucking real for sending LOL

What is an alternative life path your OC might have gone down? How different would their life be if they'd made those decisions?

now i get to answer for all four of them <3 theres more but the four i posted about lol

sav - would be a farmer in india if his village hadnt been decimated. he would have developed an interest in plants regardless but it would be more tame. dunno if hed be trans still but probably? would not have transitioned tho. probably wouldnt have learned to read but its not absolutely impossible

ode - unlike my other three, she lacks a significant life defining incident. she was born into this street circus and stayed in it and eventually moved upwards enough to accrue power in the mob world. its the 'ideal' trajectory i guess. i think she really lucked out finding sav tho. she probably would have otherwise gotten so attached to someone who would have taken advantage of her and abused her :c

ananke - dont really know for sure what would have happened had he not been trafficked since it literally happened as a goddamn embryo. he doesnt know this but he comes from a black family in the equivalent of liverpool so he would have grown up in a tight knit community. he would have a hard time due to being a little autistic but i think he would have found a somewhat honest life (whatever that means in this world). worked in some kind of store im feeling pawn shop for some reason

rosie - so if she had not been kidnapped and chimera’d, she’d been one miserable princess (not sure if that’s still gonna be her title) forced to marry one of the royals of england. she understands the importance of this and would not have complained publicly but she would be soooo sad :/ she’s my little baby butch lesbian.

What is your favorite thing about your OC?

so a lot of these characters are traits i adore cherrypicked from preexisting characters that have disppointed me LOLLLLLL this amuses me so ill answer in terms of this

sav - tgs jekyll's extreme compartmentalization of his emotions even pre-potion. sav can come off as really cold cause of this but hes more just wary of vulnerability and socially awkward. i love this fucking trait so much man

odetta - UMMMM shes my clasic bpd-coded gal . asuka - eva (monster) - pariston - mariko you know the drill. all time favorite trope probably Lol

ananke - so i make a lot of mean characters but thats cause i just find it so fun to figure out why they are so mean. ananke isnt really mean but he can be nastier than youd expect... and i like that. he's resentful of his circumstances but redirects that anger away from the source of his problems. hes honestly such a nice guy tho generally speaking sorry ananke :( also hes inspired a little by izutsumi, al from fmab, but MOSTLY sans + papyrus from the handplate comic .

rosie - straight up marie antoinette and oscar from rose of versailles combined but in a way that doesnt piss me off so much. shes a little like rapunzel + h+c pariston as well <3 sheltered child with an enormous burden that she only later realizes isnt a good cause at all and certainly not worth destroying her life over. also i just love wings and flying and shes got WINGS and flies

[pesterloglog]

Jake English, Autoresponder

Act 6, page 4184-4185

golgothasTerror [GT] began pestering timaeusTestified [TT] at 5:57

GT: Bro.

GT: Ahem.

GT: Are you there?

GT: I hate to be a pest about this and i know ive made a hearty trouble of myself a good deal lately...

TT: State your business, Jake.

GT: I should preface this request with an overture of appreciation.

GT: For how much your cool and brotherly friendship means to me.

GT: It has just been...

GT: Absolutely *bully* having a standup gent like you in my corner.

GT: Just a grade a dude whos a cut above the others in class and camaraderie.

GT: Phew... *gropes for fresh kerchief.*

GT: I hope this shit isnt coming across as platitudinous. I really mean it!

TT: Take it easy, bromide.

TT: Just about the only way I could salvage endearment from this perilous slope of horseshit would be to discover, really fucking soon mind you, it was a preamble to some floundering invitation for me to rush to your vicinity as nakedly as possible.

TT: But since we've already shot that wad's eventuality on so many dry runs of flustered ambivalence that were as hilarious as they were one sided,

TT: That leaves only one hope for this message to avoid spiraling toward qualification as a critical fucking defect in the hull of the Mach 10 rocket that is my precious spare time.

TT: And that hope lies in the extent to which you were practicing artful insincerity.

TT: Now's your opportunity to pretend that's what you were gunning for. I suggest you seize it.

GT: I...

GT: Oh. Yes! But of course.

GT: The ironies!

GT: Good grief how i was bandying them just now. You know me dude.

GT: *Blows smoke off red hot irony pistol.*

GT: *NONSUGGESTIVELY!!!!!*

GT: Um.

GT: Yeah.

TT: Ok, nice.

TT: Now that your obsequious preface has been established as indisputably entertaining for all the right reasons, and intentionally so,

TT: Let's bear down on these dire as shit needs you've got.

TT: I'm guessing you're probably jonesing for uranium about now. No?

GT: Pshaw! As if i would be so reckless with the stuff.

GT: I would have to be mighty irresponsible to run out already.

GT: No no im all set in the uranium department and really when you take a look at the big picture youll find i am *sitting pretty* when it comes to just about any radioactive isotope you could mention.

GT: However...

GT: My backup reserves that i keep strictly for emergencies are running a little lean!

GT: You know what my grandma taught me about preparedness. *Tugs at colorful lapels.*

TT: You are out of uranium.

TT: It's basically mathematically impossible that's not why you're contacting me.

GT: Christ what an insufferable awesome friend you are.

GT: Ok can you please just sendificate me some more already?? Im in kind of a hurry!

TT: You do know my offer still stands.

GT: What?

TT: You know. I've offered to construct the rabbit for you many times before. I would craft a much deadlier model.

GT: Oh i know you would its just...

GT: Damn it man ive told you this is just something i have to do myself.

GT: Its a promise i made to jade and im going to live up to it even if im not the best or even second best robosmith i know!

TT: Yeah, I know this is your policy. You've done a good job and you should be proud.

TT: But it's my responsibility as your friend to offer one last time.

TT: Just as it's my responsibility not to just fork over a bunch of uranium just because you ask me in a moment of weakness.

GT: Frig!!!!!

GT: Why not???

TT: It's too easy.

TT: And you yourself are the one staking pride in this.

TT: If you were half-assing this project and made some slovenly plea for it, I'd just say, fuck it, here's a lot of green rocks dude, go nuts.

GT: Ok then! Im halfassing it!

GT: Look. See? Only a bisected bottom is present! Where is the other half you ask?

GT: Why... it is nowhere to be found. I didnt use it!

TT: Nope. Not buying it.

TT: I know that every ounce of your premium behind can be accounted for in that rabbit, and there's no goddamned denying it.

TT: And you know perfectly well where some more uranium can be located.

GT: Jesus christmas you are such a fucking douche.

TT: It seems you think I am a fucking douche.

TT: That's your opinion, I guess. That's cool.

GT: I knew you were going to suggest this. I dont know why i bothered asking!

GT: Strider why must you always be such an obstinate stick in the mud???

TT: It seems that you consider me to be, no less than one hundred percent of the time, an obstinate stick in the mud.

TT: I unironically respect your position on this matter. Hey, let's continue to exchange ideas.

GT: Wait...

GT: "It seems"??

TT: What?

GT: Oh for fucks sake.

TT: Is something the matter, Jake?

GT: This is your auto responder.

TT: Look at that statement you just made.

TT: It's time for me to respond with some words, ideally chosen and arranged in a way that will wreck your shit, in a subtle and psychologically devastating way.

GT: Har har har!

GT: Just soooo "*irooooonic*!!!" Quotes quotes quotes.

GT: Im laughing my caboose STRAIGHT OFF THE TRACKS! A lot of families just died in the tragic derailment.

TT: Ok, the caboose remark was actually pretty funny, Jake.

TT: If I truly were what you say I am, I wouldn't be able to feel the human emotions of joy and laughter. No?

GT: Laughter isnt an emotion dickprince!

TT: I think you should back your claims up with proof before you go heaving around such accusations.

GT: Man its so flipping obvious.

GT: You start getting kind of extra technical and vague and automoton like.

GT: And kind of aloof and brusque.

GT: I mean...

GT: Even aloofier and brusquier than usual!

GT: Also you use the phrase "it seems" a lot. Its so silly it really blows the AI immersion man.

TT: Bullshit.

TT: I'm being like, the perfect dude right now. A fully fucking legitimate human being.

GT: Ok then check this out mr legit human dude.

GT: Excuse me sir not to be a bother but could you please tell me all about this strider fellows auto responder?

TT: It seems you have asked about DS's chat client auto-responder. This is an application designed to simulate DS's otherwise inimitably rad typing style, tone, cadence, personality, and substance of retort while he is away from the computer. The algorithms are guaranteed to be 96% indistinguishable from DS's native neurological responses, based on some statistical analysis I basically just pulled out of my ass right now.

GT: You see!

TT: What if I was just fucking with you there?

TT: Would it really be so unthinkable for a human to type that?

GT: Because you always say shit like that after i catch wise to your games.

GT: You as in the auto responder!!!

TT: Unimpressed.

TT: Logical fallacies are as pervasive throughout your argument as your antiquated verbal tics.

GT: Oh yeah?

GT: Hey. Tell me about the auto responder. Make it snappy shitknickers!

TT: It seems you have asked about DS's chat client auto-responder. This is an application designed to simulate DS's otherwise inimitably rad typing style, tone, cadence, personality, and substance of retort while he is away from the computer. The algorithms are guaranteed to be 93% indistinguishable from DS's native neurological responses, based on some statistical analysis I basically just pulled out of my ass right now.

GT: Gee dude you sure typed that exact same thing pretty fast.

GT: Are you still fucking with me??

TT: It could be a coincidence that I typed the same answer.

GT: You always type that answer!!!!!

TT: It could be a coincidence that I always type the same answer.

GT: Uuuuuuugh.

GT: I cant stand this. Every time we do this and i just wind up whistling sweet dixie out of my bum hole!

GT: This is pointless im not having this conversation unless its with my REAL LIFE FRIEND. THE ONE WITH HUMAN FEELINGS WHO ISNT A PRETEND PERSON INSIDE SUNGLASSES.

TT: Ok, but I'm pretty sure he's going to share my position on the matter.

golgothasTerror [GT] ceased pestering timaeusTestified [TT]

[diah-the-demon]

I have given in, Tumblrs comment character limit is driving me insane but you are right, unfortunately the vibe of sending asks is so different TT-TT

but whatever shall we do

anyways, yeah my mom also cosplays! Back when I first watched Star Wars at 8 or so I really wanted to cosplay Leia and she had the idea of cosplaying Padme,, kinda sad that we somehow never got to do that so far, maybe I should bring it back up, now that we can freely live out our interests again without anyone mocking them or making stupid comments!

but yeah I hope she understands it then slkdjslk and ngl it wouldn't even surprise me if I get the courage to ask her that she'd buy one for herself too skldjslk just lately we finished the Clone Wars after all

True!! The helmet does look really sick, it'll definitely look super cool in your room!!

From what I've heard, once you get the hang of it it seems to be rather easy? just a bit time consuimg I think with all the layers of making it look realistic and such- and noo D: but it should be rather easy to find another tutorial I think! Whenever I had to look up smth for cosplays I always found a lot of videos!

And yeah pinning it to a bodysuit does sound like the best idea to work with it!

honestly cant blame you it was getting annoying ngl, hate that the vibes are really different :/

that would be so cool if you two were able to do that!! i hope you get the chance to do that eventually it sounds so fun! (and true you dont have to worry about that anymore! no limitations dslkjjs) (i done a star wars cosplay/costume for halloween around that age, i went as darth vader for halloween in primary school lmao, it was so fun!!)

she should do, i doubt that even she would fail to see how good this deal is, its way too worth it to pass up!!! esp after seeing the end of the clone wars i think since star wars is still fresh in her mind!

im not quite sure where il put it in my room, BUT i will find somewhere eventually dslkjsdjk, maybe on my bookshelf lmao might be able to fit it in there (atleast one of them, the rest can fit ontop of the bookshelf maybe djlksdj)

it should hopefully be easy to do? if not i can always ask my mum to help since shes said that if i ever get into cosplay (very much into it now djldskjdskj) she would love to help since shes got experience making costumes for my sisters dance classes when she was young lol

yeah finding the one i saved will be impossible so il look again for tutorials in general for it. might be able to find one specific for bo-katan/sabine! (just realised id need different coloured armour for them both but i guess i can just use one set and colour it differently depending on the cosplay)

yeah i think its the best way to do it? i mean in the shows/movies you see the people wearing armour all having like a black bodysuit on thru the joint sections, should be the best option of doing it tbh

[sum-ting-wong-bang-ding-ow]

I’m sorry for how I acted tonight. I’m really just trying to figure out how to life my life knowing that everything I knew is wrong. For so long I was okay with just dying and not doing anything. And right now I’m just so angry. I have to find a reason to do stuff. I’m bored out of my mind and I’m still learning to be okay with everything. And to be completely honest I begged you for so much to let me back in and that I’d deal with the consequences of it, but really, now that Im trying to keep going, I don’t think I can ever be okay with what happened. I am bitter. And I still love you, and I don’t want to feel these things let alone take them out on you after everything we’ve worked on. I have these moments where interacting with you just takes me away from reality but eventually I come back and realize what my situation really is. Im 20 years old. I lost what I thought my career would be. I don’t have my license. I have no money saved. I’ve been married and divorced and took it like hell. And somehow Im supposed to smile and keep pushing and act like it’s all okay. Im not okay. Im honestly not sure I will be. I’ve been bored. No hobbies. No money. No goals. No patience. I don’t know what to do. I feel like I’m complaining any there actually isn’t anything to do except get over it. Nicotine doesn’t help. Food doesn’t help. I feel like a child again in all the worst ways. Im stuck, with no control, and have no choice but to let time pass me by. It’s either that or die. And as much as I can stare down the barrel of my own loaded gun and not feel anything, I don’t want to die. I think I’m through the worst of what happened but it’s still a struggle. It’s still a struggle picking up the pieces of everything I destroyed and somehow being okay with it and moving on. I need to be okay with this. I can’t keep reminiscing and hurting myself over this. It feels impossible. I need to get my shit together. Maybe one day I’ll have what I want. Or maybe I’ll find something else to want. Im not sure. I really don’t know. The days just need to keep passing. Im not sure what to do about you. I love you more than anything in this world. But it hurts. And if I let you go, it’ll hurt all over again just as bad as before. I want to learn to be okay with how things are now. Im not right now. But I understand it takes time. Somehow I really have to honestly be okay with you. Im not sure how. I love you more than anything. But I hate that I lost you. I need to figure this out. I still haven’t found the answers. I’m sorry for taking this out on you. I had to write this somewhere. I’m guessing you get notifications from this account. So goodnight. I love you. It hurts but I still do and always will.

[hideandseaking]

something that i never really anticipated happening in my time as an artist happened recently

to understand the entire story - you need the backstory. basically, im of a very unpopular opinion about my art where if someone steals my art and uses it somewhere else then i don’t really care. i don’t advocate for this position for anyone else. stealing is bad and you shouldn’t repost another person’s art without permission and especially without credit. but it’s different when it’s my own stance on my own art. i don’t sell my artwork and i dont anticipate ever making money off of it. because of this, i don’t really have strong feelings when they’re put somewhere else

last year, i learned that a youtube video with millions of views has my artwork on it. you can view it here if you wanna see it: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8dKeSgB1QGs honestly? i thought it was hilarious and i’ve let it be. it has millions of views and that just makes me happy in general that millions of people have seen my artwork - even if they don’t know that it’s me or mine. again, there’s no strong feelings here. the original art is on deviantart and i even linked the video through the description there to sort of talk about how it happened

well, the other day, someone comments on my deviantart piece for this art. they apparently have been looking for me for some time because they saw the art through the video, and they wanted to thank me because my artwork inspired them

i do comics and art so i’ve received this before from other people, but mostly people who are older teenagers and adults who like my comic series. but upon looking at this person’s profile, i realized that they’re this young kid, probably 12 or 13, who saw my art and wanted to reach out and tell me about how it inspired them. it’s to the point that they want to make animations and they even got my discord to ask me for tips on how to make smoother lines and just do better with their art. that’s literally the only conversation we’ve had about this but i told them that i would give them a watch and support their endeavors and watch their videos. and i did and they’re full of heart and effort and i couldn’t help but follow them on every platform so they knew that i supported their artwork

honestly, i never thought this would happen where my artwork was on a video so popular that i was sought out and thanked for drawing a piece of artwork. it’s a silly drawing that i made because i thought it was funny and it resonated with someone so much that they’ve been nothing but inspired since

my point in this post is that you might never be the artist who has a million followers on twitter and has met the creator who you make fanart for. but like... someone out there is seeing your artwork and is being inspired. it might never be known to you. but you are impacting someone with your artwork and inspiring them so. just keep drawing dude

[delicrieux]

☆ﾐ 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢 “𝚘𝚑”

PART 10: BIG DICK IS BACK IN TOWN

y/n is back in brooklyn for the holidays. thinking that a stream will make her feel less homesick for cali, she starts working on her famously titled hentai.free.srv. what was supposed to be a relaxing stream turns into a special delivery about two hours in.

─── corpse husband x reader ─── soc. media + written fiction! ─── word count: 2.2k ─── ❥ req: Here's one... You know those apps for delivery like Domino's or whatnot... What if reader is streaming Among Us with Corpse, and reader mentions they're hungry and Corpse offers to order them food, and readers like no no it's fine... Then there's delivery at the door (Corpse ordered beforehand) 

author’s note: fucky format is also back in town baby!!! also if you find any mistakes - no u didnt <3 thank u everyone for enjoying this story sm i literally cant believe how feral yall going strawberry cow was a nuclear explosion im still recovering tbh. got an ask a while ago and decided to incorporate it into myso. happy holidays everyone! myso will continue on monday!

ultimate masterlist.  ҉  myso masterlist   ҉   previous.  ҉   next.

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Indeed, being soft on any social media platform was the biggest disgrace and needed to be eliminated post haste. Moreover, it was a slippery slope - once you start flooding your timeline with cute imagery and heart emojis, what will stop you from posting inspirational Facebook quotes? Disgusting. If Rae were here, she would chide you (not you thinking about her as if she’s dead or something). For once in your life, you feel like you deserve it. 

Alas, you hope this little chaos you’ve caused is enough to throw everyone off. The stans, especially. You know the hashtags, you’ve seen ARMY scourging for info online with the same fervor and ruthlessness 1 Direction fans hacked airport security cameras just to spy on the boys. If you had any dirty secrets online, they are out to the public now - thankfully, besides the Harry Styles stan account (with edits and all), you have nothing. Though, now that you think about it, exposed nudes would have been better than your Punk!Harry edit receiving almost a million views. God, your life’s a fucking mess.

Your fans aren’t the only ones out for info - you, too, are trying to decipher Rae’s message. Code: Barbecue Sauce. The two of you had come up with it roughly two years ago, around the same time when you promised that if you didn’t find significant others by the time you’re 40, you’ll just marry each other. It was one of the many rules found in your friendship codex. Barbecue Sauce signifies information - an exchange of information. And depending on how it ends or begins (”So I’m sitting there” alludes to Rae, “On my titties” alludes to you), secret data on that person is given away, usually free of charge. 

But why? And to whom did Rae give away what? You had pestered her mercilessly and even sent some voice messages where you were crying. You were only crying because of a video of a grandpa smiling you saw on TikTok, but you are a snake, and so you put those tears to good use. If streaming doesn’t work out, you’ll just become an actress. Hollywood would love you. Your PR firm sure as fuck wouldn’t, though.

Rae was having none of it. She said you’ll figure it out eventually. Told you to channel your superior puzzle skills. You were quick to remind her that you can barely count to ten without having an aneurysm. Oddly serious, she admitted that she worries for you sometimes. Why only sometimes?! you demanded. She merely sighed. uttering under her breath something that sounded closely to “Boke.”

You leave her for barely a week and she’s already neck deep in the gay volleyball anime, hoodie and cardboard cutout and everything. Your life is falling apart.

But Brooklyn is nice. It had snowed when you stepped off of the plane. Thousands of snowflakes sprinkling into your hair, dotting your cheeks and nose. You missed this sight back in Cali. You missed your parents, too. 

Home cooked meals, old sweaters, your old room and about 40GB worth of old high school pictures on your computer. You went through them all one night. Some were stomach churning, cringe inducing nightmares. You were especially fond of those. Texted some of your friends that were still in Brooklyn, met up, decided to bake. Bad idea, Rae was the resident chef back in Cali. Besides laughing till your stomach hurt, and almost burning down your kitchen, nothing all that significant happened. Somewhere down the line, at about 3 am, half-way through a cheesy rom-com you had the overwhelming urge to text Corpse.

That’s where the problems really started. God, you missed California, missed being in the same timezone with a guy you hadn’t even met yet, how embarrassing is that?! You missed skating around and taking pictures of the beach in the setting sun, sending it to him, silently wishing he was with you to admire the view. 

You really want to call him. And to hang out with him. But for some reason, the thought of that springs up immediate anxiety and you shy away from asking. Him sending you cute good morning texts doesn’t help, either. Maybe it’s better he doesn’t know that you’re a blushing, stuttering mess each time you read “baby”. 

Late evening. Your stream is already set up, people are slowly trickling in and you greet them with a grin and a soft “Hello! Hi hi!”. You did your best to make your room a perfectly chaotic backdrop - led lights, an embarrassing amount of anime merch and plushies. You always try to balance out your weeb side by dressing hot as fuck for your streams - today’s inspiration just so happens to be egirls. Mostly because you watched one too many egirl make-up tutorials on TikTok, and also because you’ve been listening to Corpse’s song all day.

Yeah, no, who are you kidding, you dressed up this way because you were hoping Corpse was watching your stream. You didn’t forget your cat headphones, either. You know he likes them. You want to make him suffer. Perhaps then, finally, he will ask you out, so you wouldn’t have to.

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“I feel like,” You start when you put away your phone, staring idly at the chat, “I feel like I need a new name for you guys. Calling you guys after two years of streaming is just... weird, no? I also don’t respect men so I don’t want to call you guys. Like, so many creator’s have, like, a name for their fans. Uhm, Cody Ko has the chodesters, Kurtis Conner has, uh, folks? Kurtis Town? Citizens! Markiplier has mommy issues--” You can’t help snorting, “So, I’ve been, like, thinking - I know, shocking! - so I was thinking I’m gonna name you cockroaches. Because you’re grimy little shits impossible to kill. And also then I can use the legendary Minaj meme ROACHES!”

Your stream enthusiastically echoes ROACHES, making the chat swim. Yes, if anyone would enjoy such a name, it would be your audience. You’re as equally proud as you are disturbed.

“Well, anyway.” Leaning back into your chair, you throw your arms out with a bright grin, “Big dick is back in town, baby! If you noticed the backdrops different, it’s cuz I’m in Brooklyn now. Don’t ask me when I will return to Always Sunny, I don’t plan that far ahead.”

While Minecraft boots up, you decide to answer a few questions.

r u dating sykkuno?

You want to smack your head into the keyboard, but as it is, you can’t exactly afford a new one, so you refrain, “No, Sykkuno and I are not dating, we are just good friends. Uhm, I’m not sure how much I’ll have to repeat this, but, we really aren’t, so if the roaches could chill - Oh my God, that sounds so stupid, I love it - uh, yeah, if the roaches could chill that’d be great.”

the roaches lmao sounds like we’re a sports team

“Oh shit, yeah it does, uh-- maybe I can make like, jerseys or something. That’d be cool, I think.”

how disappointed are your parents with the way your life turned out?

“My parents are actually not disappointed at all!” You say with a cute little smile, “Uhm, they’re both really proud, actually. They’re glad I found something I love doing and made a job outta it. Dad finds my Youtube videos endearing. Yes, they watch pretty much all of my videos, unless I explicitly tell them not to. And yeah, with all the fucks and thirsting for anime characters. Uhm, it was very embarrassing at first, but I mean, after a while, shame just...doesn’t exist anymore, I guess? Funny thing about my parents, actually, when they watch my videos-” You eye catches a comment, “Oh! No, they only watch my Youtube videos. They don’t know how to use Twitter, thank God. Uhm, anyway-- when they hear a name they don’t know, like, I dunno, Dabi, or something, they google--” You’re grinning by now, eyes crinkling, giggling softly, “--who that is, and buy me like, merch and stuff. It’s really cute. 

can i be adopted by ur parents plz

will you and corpse ever collab?!

You were about to answer, though the man of the hour himself decides to do it for you.

Corpse_Husband: yes.

Okay, not to say your heart skipped a beat, but it totally did. With a pleased smile, you nod, like one of those bobble head toys sold at the dollar store. The motion is oddly reminiscent of Sykkuno’s own nod. Perhaps you had picked it up from him. The chat seems to notice.

pack it up, sykkuno

More questions pile about this mysterious collab you and Corpse are planning. Yeah, you’d like to hear more about it, too, since he single highhandedly decided one was happening right now. Corpse remains silent. Fine, keep your secrets. 

“Okay, guys, oh, I mean, roaches, Oh my God--” You’re covering your mouth, giggling, “-calling all roaches, calling all roaches, calm down. Everyone grab a snack and a blanket I’m turning up the music volume so we can all chill. Entering chill zone. Entering chill zone. Roaches, prepare.”

we are prepared

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An hour or so passes and you grow hungry. It shows with the amount of cakes you had baked in your server. Currently, you find yourself throwing eggs at the wall of one of the renovated houses, your face scrunched in concentration and slight frustration. 24 of the 50 eggs have been wasted. “What’s a girl gotta do to get some chicks around here?” you had uttered under your breath, until, finally, a screech - the egg finally spawns a mob. Your mouth falls open, “Aww, look!” You approach it, so small, walking in zigzags beside you, “It’s a baby chicken! Die, bitch.” The baby chicken is no more as you swing your bedazzled (you have mods) diamond sword. You’re cackling by the time the dust settles.

y/n is a child murderer

“Roaches,” You address your fan-base, spurring another fit of laughter - you can’t get over the name, “I think I’m like, forgetting that eating in Minecraft won’t actually make less hungry in real life.”

take a break and go eat queen <3

“Fuck no, we starve and die like men. Now I actually really need another chicken.”

Another twenty minutes trickle by and you’re trying to lure back a panda from the jungle when there’s a knock on your bedroom’s door. Whipping your head to the side, you slide down your headphones. At the same time, your mom pokes her head through the ajar door, “MOM!” You scream, “Get OUT of my room I’m playing Minecraft!” But your yell has no actual bite to it, as you don’t manage to hide your smile. Your mom laughs, doing some sort of sign language and motioning for you to follow her with her head. That or it’s some sort of performative dance. 

“I’m live right now,” You tell her, pointing at your screen. She knows this already, though, “do you want to say hi?” 

The roaches spam the chat with friendly hellos. You mom, quite impatient now, waves you over. 

“Sorry, roaches, mom needs something. Be back in a bit!”

Stopping the stream, you rush out of your seat and pleased she slinks into the hallway. “What’s this about?”

“Your pizza came.”

“My what now?” You echo, confused.

“Domino’s. You ordered pizza?”

“What? No? I was busy with the stream, I never--”

Thankfully, you had managed to grab your phone from your room before you exited. You almost choke on spit once you read the messages.

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You decide that it’ll be impossible to stream after experiencing what you had just experienced. You tweet out a quick apology to the roaches (God, that fucking name) and say that you had a breakdown but you’re okay. That is as a close to the truth as you managed to muster. It’s a sad sight, chewing and crying; your mom winced when she saw your state - disheveled hair and rundown eyeliner and everything. “D’aww,” She had muttered, caressing the top of your head, “don’t cry my little raccoon.”

If anyone was ever to ask you where did your chaotic nature come from, you’d answer with my mom. To make yourself feel better, you took a selfie - duck face and peace sign and the horrible 2000′s angle. Sent it to Rae. 

looking hot, her message read. 

thanks, was all you replied with.

You couldn’t just leave things as they were. Once you calmed down, you wanted to text Corpse, but how would you follow up the ungodly caps lock and screeching? Impossible. An idea sprung to mind, one that was brave. Taking the first step.

Instead of sending a text, you sent a voice memo.

“Thank you for the pizza, it was delicious.”

You voice still sounded a bit raspy. His reply was instant. Your heart skipped a beat. He sent a voice memo back.

“Glad you liked it, baby.”

He was going to be the death of you.

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tags (in italics is those i couldn’t tag! make sure all’s ok w your settings!) : @littlebabysandboxburritos - @fairywriter-oracle - @tsukishimawh0re - @ofstarsanddreams - @bbecc-a - @annshit - @leahh19 - @letsloveimagines - @bellomi-clarke - @wineandionysus - @guiltydols - @onephootinfrontoftheother - @liamakorn - @thirstyfangirl - @lilysdaydreams - @pan-ini - @mxqicshxp - @tanchosanke - @yoshinorecommends - @flightsandfantasy - @liljennyx3 - @slashersdream - @unknown-and-invisible - @sinister-sleep - @fivedicksinatrenchcoat - @mercury–moon - @peterparkerspjsuit - @unstableye - @simonsbluee - @shinyshimaagain - @ppopty - @siriuslystupid - @crapimahuman - @ofthedewthesunlight - @mythicalamphitrite - @artsyally - @corpsesimpp - @corpsewhitetee - @corpse-husbandsimp - @hyp-oh-critical - @roses-and-grasses - @rhyrhy462 - @sparklylandflaplawyer - @charbkgo - @airwaveee - @creativedogs - @kaitlyn2907 - @loxbbg - @afuckingunicornn - @fleurmoon - @yeolliedokai - @truly-dionysus - @multi-fandom-central707

more tags are in the comments bcs tumblr only allows me to tag 50 people max 💙

[hermitblurbs]

Please,,, more of the archeology au im begging you

Archeology AU: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 (here)

“You collapsed in the rain, Scar!”

“Yeah, well you collapsed in those ruins that one time!”

“I slipped. You were standing on level ground and then you were lying on it!”

“It was raining!”

“So?!”

Something strange was happening at the ruins. A few diggers mentioned hearing whispers and seeing ghosts, and the more superstitious of the bunch were left muttering around halls.

The rain wasn’t helping. Between the weather, the fear and the caution, piecing together the tale of the Red Desert was going to take forever. All they’ve found in the short time they were able to dig were dried up, nearly petrified saplings, and half a dozen crates of sulfuric black powder.

Grian needs to be on the top of his game. This place is old, but if they had explosives, and they did, Grian’s already lectured on the angle of the blast and how it could’ve been planted, then…

Scar’s worried for his partner. They already tested the powder—still highly potent and rearing to explode—so if there’s anything that’s been wired and weathered by time, and if Grian isn’t careful, he’s the first one to go.

The only issue is that Grian isn’t listening to him.

He knows his partner is capable. They’ve been on enough digs together that it’s impossible not to know his prowess. But he also knows what he looks like when he’s hiding eye bags, when he’s overbalancing whenever he stands from a chair. He sees Grian jump at the smallest thing and bite at his nails in his paranoia.

Grian’s not listening to him, and Scar falls over once before he’s being put on rest for the day even though his job’s the easy one.

He wonders if Grian’s just trying to get him to stop caring for him.

That’s ridiculous, though. Scar would do the same thing himself in Grian’s shoes.

He has to tell his hands to unclench from their white-knuckled grip on the cot he’s sat on.

He shares a tent with Grian, so he’ll talk to him then. His partner’s got to come back from whatever he’s doing eventually.

Scar’s just… frustrated, he guesses. Confused.

“Trouble in paradise?” Comes a voice, amused and accented, and Scar just about jumps out of his skin and trips over his boots in his hurry to turn around.

The voice laughs, a soft chuckle that feels too large for the space they’re in.

“Grian was right, you’re so fun to scare.”

Standing in front of him is a person. Or, an outline of a person. An approximation, a space left empty where a person should be, traced in red—green, it’s green in the dim light of the room. Flowers pepper their hair, circled by a few fantastical floating cylinders.

“Who are you?” Scar breathes, watching the lines bob up and down. He gets a frown in response.

“…It’s me. Scott. Are you alright? Did your red life go to your head?”

His hand grabs at his chest on instinct, expecting the pull and press of a charm on a necklace and finding nothing.

He laughs, the sound a little choked coming out.

“I’m alright,” he says, not wanting to break the ghost out of their happy reality. They mentioned Grian, so he should be safe to mention. “G’s put me on rest for the day.”

“Is that why you’re pouting?”

“I-I don’t—I-I don’t pout!”

“You’re doing it right now,” Scott points out, an amused edge to his voice.

“Well—!”

The entrance to the tent opens, and the light breaks into the space. It takes Scott with it, shattering the visage of what might have been a man, or maybe never was.

“Who’re you talking to?” Asks one of the diggers. He tries not to be upset at the unexpected loss of companionship.

“Myself,” Scar says with a smile. “Got into an argument with nothing.”

There’s something strange at these ruins, and Scar’s going to figure it out.

[ifmywishescametrue]

omg now im jealous about all of the breaking up and making up stories!!! they're all so wonderful but is it okay to ask for a steve/tony one? i know you've made one inspired by ts (amazing) and this time, maybe they meet/bump in a coffee shop? idk angst potential but also hopeful/happy ending aahhh. your stories are amazing esp ivy!!! thank you! <3

thank you so much!! it ended up being more cute than angsty, but I hope you like it!

Steve's pencil drifts idly across the page of his sketchbook with no end vision in mind. He's killing time until Nat shows up, which could be anywhere between the next five minutes and the next two hours with her vague text that simply said running late. When he looks up to reach for his near empty coffee cup, he freezes with his hand in the middle of the air.

At first he thinks it might not even actually be him. Tony's hair was never quite this well styled before, always a tangled mop on his head that sometimes fell into his eyes. Steve used to spend hours sometimes running his fingers through those wild curls while Tony slept on his chest. It's been tamed since then, cut shorter and held into place by some type of product. The facial hair is new, too. He remembers a time when it would always come in patchy and uneven, and Tony would pout as he shaved away the latest attempt at looking older than he was. The eighteen year old boy in oversized hoodies and stained jeans he met years ago has been replaced by a man in a well-pressed, expensive looking suit with a leather briefcase, like he just stepped out of a boardroom a minute ago. From what Steve has read about his life since they broke up, he probably did.

Steve stares without fully meaning to and for much longer than he would have if it was intentional. He watches him order his drink and smiles when the barista’s eyes widen at what he knows is an overly complicated order, wondering if Tony ever did finish his quest to find that perfect combination of syrup flavors, sugar, and cream that only he would ever like.

He catches the double take when Tony notices him there, right as he’s taking his first sip of the iced drink, and the cough when he chokes on it is anything but subtle. Steve looks away with red cheeks and tries to pretend he wasn’t staring, but it’s a futile effort. He can’t say he minds, though. Not when it means Tony walks over to him and unceremoniously drops himself into the chair across from him.

His mouth forms a familiar smirk, and he says, “You seem to have a staring problem, Rogers.”

Suddenly, Steve is nineteen again, falling hopelessly in love with the boy in his introductory chemistry class. It felt sort of like fate at first when they were paired together for the final project, and Steve remembers thinking that his chances were shot to hell when Tony sat down next to him and said those exact words. He never was any good at being discreet.

Back then, for that first time, all he could manage was a stuttered apology in response. But eventually it became their thing. Something just for them that no one else could ever understand. When Steve would watch him from across the room at parties, because he knew how much Tony loved having his eyes on him, and Tony would saunter over with that same smirk and those same words, there was only ever one reply.

“Guess I just really like what I see,” Steve says, and Tony’s face splits into a grin that matches Steve’s own. He’s still beautiful, even if it’s different now. Less softness to his appearance and more defined edges and sharp lines, but heart stoppingly beautiful nonetheless. He doesn’t quite say as much, but he does comment, “You do look good, by the way. Different, but good.”

Tony’s smile softens into another familiar one. It’s his smile for compliments, when he’s thinking self-deprecating thoughts that he won’t voice. Instead he’ll turn the attention back around, shifting the spotlight.

“So do you. The good part, but not really the different part.”

Steve runs a hand through his hair, contemplating if not looking different contributes to the good or not. He should look different somehow, shouldn’t he? After two and a half years not seeing each other in person and what feels like a lifetime’s worth of heartbreak in between then and now, he should look as changed as he feels. As changed as Tony looks now, like he’s someone new entirely. He’s pretty sure the t-shirt he’s wearing now is one he owned back then.

“Thanks,” Steve says anyway, for lack of anything better.

Just before it has the chance to fall into awkward silence, Tony says, “I didn’t know you were in New York these days. I would’ve called or something if I’d known.”

Steve raises an eyebrow. “Would you have?”

“I don’t know, maybe. I would’ve thought about it, at least. You know, stalked you online, found your number, dialed and hung up a few times.”

Steve laughs, fiddling with the straw wrapper from earlier to give himself something to look at other than Tony. “I moved back last year. Thought about calling, but I figured you were busy. Didn’t want to waste your time.”

It’s only a partial truth. He did think about calling when he came to Brooklyn after his year-long internship in London ended, but he didn’t want to know what Tony would say if he did. If he would have some sort of transparent excuse to avoid seeing him or if it would be an outright rejection.

“I would’ve made time for you,” Tony says, so painfully sincere that Steve has to look up again to meet his eyes.

He wonders if Tony is thinking of that last fight, if it’s a purposeful or coincidental reference to some of what Steve said. It was by far the worst fight they’d ever had, all over the phone with an ocean between them and so many things that Steve still wishes he could take back. Accusations flew on both sides until the entire thing was blown so completely out of proportion, yet impossible to reel back in. He should have just hung up the phone before it went that far. Before he could tell Tony that he always felt unimportant compared to everything else in his life, which was sometimes true but entirely unfair. Before Tony could say that Steve talked about Peggy in the same way he used to talk about him, and he didn’t have to finish the thought for Steve to understand the implication.

“Are we talking about it?” Steve asks.

Tony shrugs, feigning casual, but just the corner of his lip is between his teeth in that way that means he’s nervous and trying to hide it. “I guess that depends on what this is.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, we said back then that maybe it was just bad timing. You were in London, and I was in Boston until graduation, and it was always going to be a bit of a mess, but there was always that someday chance, right? So maybe this is someday, and we talk about it, and try to get it right this time,” Tony says. “Or maybe that was just something we said and didn’t mean, and I ask you about your life, and you ask about mine, and we talk and laugh and pretend that we’re friends again for the next half hour or so before we go our separate ways.”

It’s an easy choice, really. If there’s one thing that Steve’s sure of, it’s that it’s always been him and always will be.

“I don’t want to go separate ways,” Steve says. “The first time was hard enough, and I never really moved on. I got better, but I don’t think I’ve been more than just fine in a long time.”

Tony nods slowly, “I kept thinking you would call, you know. Back then. I thought you would call and tell me that it was a mistake and it would be okay again, but you never did. Although, I guess I could’ve called, too.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“For the same reason as you, probably. I couldn’t risk it if you didn’t want me again. Couldn’t risk getting back together just to break up again, either. We weren’t exactly the poster children for making long distance work.”

“We were terrible at it, weren’t we?”

Tony’s smile is tinged with the pain of the past. “It’s kind of funny because I remember thinking that it might be a good thing for us when you told me about London. Can’t get sick of somebody if they’re not always around.”

“You thought I would get sick of you? You never told me that.”

“Why would I?” Tony laughs. “Just put all my insecurities on display like that? Come on, Steve, that doesn’t sound like me, does it?”

Steve laughs with him briefly, “No, but I could’ve told you back then that it wasn’t possible. Told you that I wanted you around all the time and I missed you every second you were gone. I might’ve even stayed if you had told me. I was thinking about it, you know? I almost turned the internship down. Probably would’ve if you’d asked even once for me not to go.”

“It was your career. I never would’ve asked you to give that up for me.”

“There would have been something else. Another job somewhere closer to you.”

“I still wouldn’t have asked,” Tony says. “And I would have told you to go if you’d said you were staying.”

Steve knows that, which is why they never talked about it much before he left. Tony pretended to be happy for him, and Steve pretended to be happy for himself, when really it already felt like the beginning of the end. A year apart is longer than it seems, and it didn’t take more than a few months to realize it.

“I never…” Steve starts, trailing off when he doesn’t quite know how to finish the sentence. “There was never anyone else. Not while we were together, and never with Peggy.”

“I know. I knew back then, too, that you were never that kind of person. Jealousy’s just a real bitch sometimes.”

“There’s really not been anyone since, either,” Steve adds, and Tony’s mouth quirks into a half smile. “I mean, a couple of people here and there, but nothing like what we were.”

“There’s not a whole lot out there like what we were, is there?”

Steve smiles, leaning back in his chair, “No, there’s really not. But I do remember reading a rumor that you got engaged.”

Tony groans, and it’s so much like he used to sound when he was nine pages deep into a ten page essay at three in the morning that Steve has to laugh.

“Don’t you dare laugh. That rumor haunts me, Steven,” Tony says, belied by a grin that he seemingly can’t control. “Do you know how I found out about my supposed engagement? When my mother called and asked why I hadn’t told her I was planning on proposing.”

“So I’m still the only person you’ve ever proposed to,” Steve teases, just for the way he knows Tony will get indignant about it.

“How many times do I have to tell you that one didn’t count?”

“You were on one knee, you asked a question, and you had a ring. All the boxes are checked, sweetheart.”

“It was a blue raspberry ring pop, and you ate it,” Tony argues. “Not to mention that I actually asked you to marry me someday in the distant future. That’s not a proposal.”

Steve laughs again, thinking about that day in the middle of their living room, just a few weeks before Steve got the call that would take him to London and change everything. It was almost like a joke, and for anyone else it would have been. Not for them, though, because Steve remembers the look in Tony’s eyes when he dropped down in front of him, spur of the moment and impulsive like almost everything was back then. He remembers how it still felt like a promise, even if it wasn’t the real thing.

“But I said yes, which I think technically means we’re still engaged.”

“Absolutely not,” Tony scoffs. “It’s going to be a production when we get engaged. Elaborate and planned and romantic as hell.”

“When, huh?” Steve grins.

Tony’s cheeks pinken a touch, but he doesn’t take it back. He reaches for Steve’s hand on the table. “Yeah, when. Is that alright with you?”

Steve threads their fingers together, holding on tight. “That’s alright with me.”

[spinster-sisters]

Asshole. CS

TW: Dom! san, Sub! reader, Pillow humping, stepping, generally very derogatory and lowkey rude, possessiveness. Im gonna put this here cuz i dont know where else to but this is not an example of a healthy relationship, no it is toxic or abusive, it is implied that they are just two very different people who shouldnt be together.

Your relationship with San wasn't a good one. From the moment you two got together you have been arguing about every little thing, and while the good moments were absolutely perfect the bad was far worse. Many of your friends were surprised you were still together. But despite all the fighting and miscommunications, San was still the only man you could look at, and that was infuriating.

Honestly, the two of you had tried to break up multiple times, but each period wouldn't last more than a week, because nobody else knew you like the other. So inevitably you would find your way back to each other.

Tonight was one of the bad nights. Your mutual friend Yunho was throwing a huge party at his apartment. The trouble had started before you even arrived. The plan was to get ready at San's place at ride over together, but at the last moment, you had decided to get ready at your own home, simply because San always rushed you. You figured that this way he could leave whenever he was ready and so could you. However, San did not see it that way.

You had just stood up from your vanity, having just finished applying your makeup, but a text alert brought you back down to sit.

"Your impossible" was all it said. This made you scoff. It was from your boyfriend. San had always told you that you were too indecisive and flaky, that he never knew what you wanted and it made it impossible to please you. It was probably true, but he was not without faults himself so you still found it annoying.

You chose to leave him on read before making your way over to the party. You were still simmering with annoyance over his attitude while you drove. Eventually, you landed at Yunho's building. You don't know exactly how your friend was able to afford the place as it was pretty big for only him and his roommate, but it certainly allowed for fun gatherings.

You were buzzed up and not too long after you were at Yuhno's door. Only seconds after knocking, you could hear the music and talk from outside, the door swung open to reveal the tall man.

"Hey!" Yunho cried, pulling you in by your arm. Yunho rarely drank more than one or two beers at his party so he could keep everyone in line, so it wasn't a surprise when you found him still completely sober.

"I almost thought you weren't going to make it!" The tall man spoke swinging and arm over your shoulder for a side hug. You smiled into it.

"Yeah sorry, I was running a bit behind," was all you said.

"When San showed up without you I thought you had canceled," your friend spoke while pulling away from the hug.

"Yeah, well plans change" you replied. You had thought you hid the contempt well enough but Yunho knew you too well. He gave you a questioning look but you changed the subject.

"Where is he anyway? You asked. Yunho only pointed into the living room. Your mood only darkened. There were tons of people but you could still see your boyfriend clear as day sitting on the couch with at least three girls hanging off of him. This was one of your problems with San. No, he had never cheated on you, if they tried to kiss him he would push them away, if they made a suggestive comment he would brush them off, but of they flirted with him? He ate that shit up. He said that it shouldn't matter because at the end of the day your the one who gets to fuck him, but the fact he would just sit there and let them feed his ego was pissy as all hell.

You frowned deeply, not even trying to hide this one, and turned the opposite direction into the kitchen for a drink. You could feel the judgment coming of Yunho in waves, but he said nothing. When you reached the kitchen you found the first bottle of whatever and poured yourself a tall glass of whatever. You weren't about to let your boyfriend ruin your night, even after he ruined your mood. So you opted to ignore him all night.

It had been a while. After you finished your drink and allowed it to take effect you moved back into the pandemonium that was the living room. Here was the source of the music and the majority of the talking. You danced lazily to the music, not paying any attention to anyone just allowing yourself to unwind. The pounding base felt nice in your head and along with the buzz of the alcohol you were more than content.

Soon an arm slipped around your shoulders again. This time it was Mingi. Yunho's roommate. You weren't as close to him as Yunho but you could easily call him a friend.

"What's up?" You called over the music, stepping out of the dancing bodies to talk.

"Just coming to say hi, where's san?" He asked taking a little look around.

"Don't know don't care" you replied leaning against the wall. Mingi laughed a little.

"You two at it again?" He questioned with a quirk of the brow. You returned the laugh.

"Call it whatever you want, I don't want to talk to him tonight," Mingi sighed with a smile.

"You two are impossible," Mingi walked away after finishing his comment but his choice of words soured your mood again. You dared to look around for San. Once you found him it made it worse.

It seems like two of the girls had lost hope because the last one remaining was laying it on thick. She was sitting so close their legs were pressed together and her hand was dragging up and down his arm.

You scoffed and turned away before a thought hit you. If he was able to entertain other people then why can't you? With that idea in mind, you set out to find a cute boy to mess with.

It wasn't hard, within minutes of putting yourself out there a guy who clearly wasn't close enough with anyone here to know your situation had approached you in the hallway on your way to fill up your drink.

You both stood in the hallway against the wall for a bit, he was hopelessly eager so flirting with him was a breeze. Slowly you made your way into the living room once again and made yourself comfy with the new boy. No, you weren't as obvious as the girl hanging off your boyfriend, you were too good for that, but it was clearly enough to have him hanging on your every word. At some point, you glanced up and made eye contact with Yunho who only threw you a curious look but you only winked at went back to your nameless boy.

You spoke for a bit longer, playing into him as much as possible as he showered you with compliments. You were happily basking in the praise when a sudden presence made itself know in front of you. You turned, and low and behold, it was San.

His perfect features were screwed into a glare fixated on both you and the boy. You almost let your giggle show when you look behind his perfectly shaped body to see the girl he had been entertaining looking lost and confused exactly where he left her on the couch.

Your satisfied smirk must have shown on your face however because soon your boyfriend's cold fingers wrapped around your chin hold your chin up to face him. He crouched down so you two were eye level.

"You think this is funny?" He asked in a dangerous tone. He only used this voice when he meant business but tonight you were standing your ground.

"Very funny," you replied, managing to hold your smirk even with his hand clamped on your cheeks.

"What the fuck man? Let her go," the boy finial voiced only after recovering from the shock of the scene before him. He reached out to pull Sans hand away before you stopped him.

"You can leave now," you said, not looking away from San. (not like you could) but still very clearly talking to the boy. You could hear the confusion in the silence. Before he spoke again.

"Wait what?" He asked stupidly.

"You can go, I'm done with you for now," you spoke.

"Wait this is crazy what are you-"

This time San in all his severe and intimidating glory turned to the boy and cut him off.

"Hey dick head, I think my girlfriend told you to leave us alone." He spoke with an edge. Having finally got the message the boy got up and left. And San's piercing gaze returned to you again, his hand finally dropping to let his forearm resting on his knee.

"So I'm your girlfriend now?" You asked with contempt. Crossing your arms, and swinging one leg over the other.

"Oh shut up" San replied scoffing.

"I'm just wondering if you told those girls that, that you have a girlfriend. Or maybe it's that you did but they just didn't care because clearly, you enjoyed all the attention they were giving you" the words rattled out of you in quick succession.

"Clearly you're broken up about it. Throwing yourself at any guy who will give you the time of day," he spits back, "if I remember correctly you were the one who didn't want to come together as a couple," he reminded in a scathing tone.

"Only because you are a controlling asshole," you spat back equally as resentful.

"And you're a paranoid drama queen I guess we all have our problems." He shot back. Eyes narrowing even more.

"Well maybe if you have such a problem with it I should go find that guy and fuck him. If I am so annoying then how about I go be someone else's problem!" you almost screamed at him beath heaving slightly when you finished. San stared at you unreadable for a moment.

He stood abruptly, taking you roughly by the arm and pulling you to your feet. He wordlessly dragged you through the crowd.

"San what the fuck let go!" You tried to pull free but failed. Moments later san had dragged you into Yunho's room and slammed it shut before locking it. Your boyfriend turned to you with eyes darker than you had ever seen.

"Never fucking say that again." He spoke dangerously calm. He took two quick steps twords you before slamming his lips onto yours. You reacted quickly, returning the kiss with as much anger as you could. Yeah, you wanted him to fuck you, but you weren't about to let him forget how pissed off you were.

In moments your dress had been pulled over your head and you were pushed onto the bed and Sans body trapped you there. He reconnected your lips. Your kiss was anything but sweet, your teeth were clacking and your lips were swollen. San pulled back once or twice to bite at your bottom lip and pull before it snapped back into place. His hand wound its way into the roots of your hair and yanked.

With your head now pulled away and a dull ache radiated out from your head you groaned and rolled your hips into his feeling him harden through your underwear.

"Your such a needy slut." he spoke with venom while nipping and sucking at your neck, determined to leave as many visible marks as possible.

"Like you aren't?" You scoffed running your nails down his forearms, leaving your own mark on him.

"Shut the fuck up. Do I need to remind you whos in charge here?" He punctuated this with a particularly hard bite on your shoulder. You winced.

"No, I can tell there's no need. I just need to remind you whos slut you are don't I?" He asked in a patronizing tone. "Because your all mine baby, and I am not going to let you forget it."

In a moment he flipped your bodies over and pushed you off him to stand on your own feet in front of where he sat on the bed. You stumbled a little in the process and had to brace yourself on his shoulders. He looked at you unimpressed.

Your arms crossed and your brow furrowed.

"Strip" he commanded easily. You were only in your bra and panties but clearly this was too much for his fully clothed self. You glared.

"You first," you said indignantly. After a beat and a long stare San's hand shot out and clenched your ass hard. You couldn't help the yelp that escaped you.

"Unless you want me to spank you so hard your ass turns purple you should start undressing." He let go of you.

You knew he would keep to that promise so you slowly began to unhook your bra.

"Don't keep me waiting" he spoke in a warning.

You pulled the garment off your shoulders and slid your panties down.

"Finally you learned how to behave" he spoke with indignation. You humpfted unhappily.

"Does my slut, want me to touch her?"

"I think that much is clear," you mumbled.

"Speak up," he demanded.

"Yes!" You groaned. He glared at you for a moment.

"I don't think you deserve it," he replied. Instead, he reached behind himself and grabbed one of Yunho's pillows, and tossed it at your feet.

"You want to get off? Use that." Your stomach filled with dread.

"There is no way I'm doing that," you said, trying to convince yourself as much as him.

"Then I guess your not cumming tonight" he spoke flatly, staring you down. You stared at him in disbelief.

"Go on," he insisted. You felt your resolve slip as the ache in your core grew. Slowly but surely you knelt down and straddled the pillow. In the moments you sat down you were already dreading this. It was far too soft and smooth to gain any kind of fiction without some serious work. You already felt humiliated without having done anything yet.

"Look at me," San directed from the bed. Your pink face turned to look at him. He looked damn good as always, practically glowing in the bedroom haze. You couldn't help but clench the plush between your thighs. One more expectant look from San made you move.

After the first drag of your pussy against the pillow you almost cried at the lack of sensation. It was unfair how little feeling you got from it. But in San's eyes, you could see that that was exactly what he was looking for, the desperation.

You began moving your hips again. You were rutting your pussy against the pillow as fast as you could chasing the tiny bit of relief that came each time. You were already panting from all the work, grunting each time your clit dragged against the too soft fabric.

Slowly the pleasure was starting to build and you could feel the wetness pouring out of you dampening the cushion bellow you. Now that it was wet the material was a bit rougher so you got a little more of the friction you desired. Your eyes meet your boyfriend's dark gaze.

"Not so big now are you? Humping a pillow just because I told you to. Acting like my good little slut. Whose slut are you?" The filth spewed out of Sans mouth leaving you breathless, you were hesitant to admit defeat so you stayed silent. After a beat, Sans boot lifted from where it was planted on the carpet and dug into your thigh dangerously close to your sopping pussy. You whined as he stilled your movements. He pushed you down by your thigh keeping you immobilized on the pillow.

"I said, who's slut are you?" He asked in the sickest sweetest voice, leaning down slightly forcing the eye contact you wanted to break. When his boot dug even harder into you, stinging in the process you finally felt your resolve crumble.

"I'm your slut," you said barely above a whisper.

"Didn't quite catch that babe," he encouraged.

"I'm your slut," the words came out much more forceful this time to the point you almost shouted it. As soon as they were out of your mouth you burned in shame, looking away from the growing smirk on his face.

"All mine," the words slipped out almost absentmindedly. He reached out at cupped your burning cheeks and titled your head up.

"Come here baby,"

You obeyed him eagerly. Your hips ached a bit from the exertion but you stood perfectly still and waiting in front of him. San eyed your body up and down, reaching out to feel up every inch of you. He took special care to play with your thighs, messaging them in his strong hands for a moment. You keened happily in his touch, letting him play with you however he wanted. It helped some to ease the burn but that wasn't his goal. His hand slipped between your legs and slid between your folds.

You realized a shaky moan in response, almost jumping away as you were still so sensitive. But you stayed put.

"My little slut is being so good, letting me toy with her pussy like this." He cooed at you, fueling your blushing face. His finger ran up and down your most sensitive area sometimes stopping to pinch your clit or cup your heat entirely, but never slip inside. That he was avoiding. You felt so empty knowing he was right there, so close to filling you up but still not doing it.

You whined wantonly.

"What's wrong sweetheart," he smirks at you.

"San, please fill me up?" You begged.

"My baby wants to get fucked like a slut?" He asks, one finger prodding your hole but still not entering. You cried out in desperation.

"Yes! Yes please!"

"OK baby," he finally replied in a soothing tone, but the retracting hand made you quiver, you were so needy but you had yet to be given any kind of release and it was killing you.

"Hands and knees, baby"

You scrabbled onto the bed to do as you were told, presenting your ass to him as well as you could with a slight arch to your back. You could hear his low chuckle behind you. You felt him stand up momentarily and heard the familiar sound of a belt buckle to show he was finally undressing. You wanted to look at him so bad but you didn't want to take even the slightest risk right now.

Finally, he climbed onto the bed behind you, cupping your ass tenderly in both hands with a small squeeze.

"So pretty, and it's all mine" you heard him speak. You mumbled in agreement with a nod. You breathed heavily in anticipation, waiting to finally feel something.

In one unexpected movement, San sheathed his cock into you. Your cries were so loud you were sure they could be heard over the pending music in the next room, but you didn't care. It felt so nice to be full.

San was never one for preamble so it only took a moment for him to start to pound his cock into you at an inhuman pace. The sound of the music was now being completely drowned out by the cries from you, the grunts from San, the slapping skin, and the obscene wet sound coming from your pussy.

San knew his way around your body so well, it only took a moment for him to find that special spot inside you that had you spiraling, your front half collapsed onto the bed, muffling the sounds coming out of you. It only lasted a second though before a rough grip took hold on the back of your head. San yanked you up by your hair keeping your mouth free to spew filth.

The pain in your scalp returned as your boyfriend leaned down to whisper in your ear through his own panting breath, still nailing into your hole.

"Don't you dare, keep your head up and let them hear just how much of a slut you are for me." He spoke deadly serious. Your reply was a loud cry of his name that echoed around the room.

His focus returned to fucking you to tears, which is about where you were as you felt the first pricks of wetness in the corners of your eyes.

San was speaking again,

"Whos are you baby? Tell me who is it that's fucking you this good?" He practically shouted the words at you, his cock was sliding deliciously in and out so quickly that before you could even register his pull out he was slamming back in dragging your walls as he went pulling even more wetness out with each thrust. Your eyes were rolling back but you answered somewhat absently.

"Yours San, all yours" after the words left your mouth the first time you couldn't seem to stop, constantly spewing the word "yours" over and over again. San began repeating his reply as well with a little more force,

"All mine."

San removed his hand from your hair but you kept your head up however difficult it was when he was fucking you like that. Instead, both of your boyfriend's hands took hold of your waist, and with this newfound grip, he was pulling you back to meet his thrusts. Each push now had even more force behind it and you could feel your release fast approaching.

"San-" you tried to speak but lost the words in your mouth.

"I know baby, my little cockslut is going to cum all over me isn't she?" You cried out your affirmation when your words failed you.

"Go ahead sweetheart, cum while a fill your pussy up even more."

You finally came and came hard. It was by the will of God you kept yourself upright as your orgasm washed over you, especially with San still keeping pace although it began faltering as his orgasm crashed around him. You felt the sticky cum shoot into you in ropes coating your inner walls, making your orgasm even more fulfilling.

After a moment San stops moving. You could feel him begin to soften inside you but you were still clenching hopelessly against him. Your arms finally gave way and you came crashing down. San kneeled above you catching his breath before falling onto the bed beside you. He dared to pull you close to observe your face.

A sudden smirk arose on his perfect features.

"I won,"

"You asswipe."

[jangofctts]

Sink Your Teeth In (Part 2 of Are You In Or Out?)

Rated: Explicit (Paz is in the next chapter DONT WORRY)

Word count: 7.5k

Warnings: mentions of violence, blood, the cold?, reader is in PERIL YET AGAIN, vaginal fingering, oral female receiving, unprotected vaginal sex (wrap them schlongs yall), brief hand jobs, swearing, angst, very VERY light choking, din is a sub sorta?? bottom energy 

Summary: Well. At least you aren't dead. After a solo hunt gone wrong, you’re dumped in a cave on Csilla. Hopefully someone finds you before you freeze to death.  

a/n: hey…so uh. HOW ABOUT THAT EPISODE HUH?!? aheM anyway--yall I just wanna thank everyone first off for all the love and support!!! I see all of your comments and tags and AH IM SO LUCKY TO HAVE ALL OF YOU GUYS. ALSO SPECIAL SHOUTOUT TO @djxrxn​ THIS WOULDNT HAVE BEEN DONE WITHOUT YOU BB GORL

Well—

Here you are. 

Taken by surprise by another bounty, further proving how irrevocably incompetent you are at this line of work. You blame the binders. An older, clunkier model—easy to pick if you’re clever enough and yes. Maybe you should’ve asked to borrow a carbonite chamber, but hey—where’s the fun in that? 

Not much, as it so happens. 

Your feet had been kicked up on the dashboard, dozing and unaware of the freed bounty creeping up behind the pilot’s seat. Something delightfully blunt smashed against your temple, jolting you into a brief conscious state where the only thing you could think before passing out again, was a resounding— 

Oh, fuck me sideways with a fucking lightsaber—

The rest is hazy. A blur of colors and the fuzzy shapes of your bounty’s face sneering in amusement when she bound your wrists and ankles and left you in the cargo hold. Vaguely you recall your ship being commandeered, swung into an unidentified atmosphere and landing on said unknown planet Or planets. Planet hopping to cover up a trail. 

The bitter cold, sharper than a needle through skin is what shook off the last dregs of unconsciousness. The bounty’s hand was hooked into the collar of your clothes, dragging your limp body through drifts of snow and ice. You would’ve fought back—should’ve even though each extremity felt like a numb block of lead. Not very useful in a fight…

Soon, the snow turned to mud and the mud to stone as a mouth of a cave slid over the impossibly blue sky. Dumped in a cave, and left to die—perfect way to bite the dust. Your bounty turned captor lands a sharp kick to your ribs, mouthing some curse in a language you don’t understand, and left without a second thought. 

Seems about right. You have a knack for lying helpless and half dead in places you ought not to be in. 

Two days and counting, you’ve been holed up in this blasted cave with no food, no supplies and no comlink. It’s going be a fucking chore to find you—nearly impossible. You’re lucky in that aspect you guess—you know enough bounty hunters to sniff out a a needle in a whole stack of needles, so all it is is a race of time against the elements and how long it takes for one of them to notice.            

Aeris is no help. He left a day before you had—hired as personal protection for some syndicate leader halfway across the galaxy. Ives is in a similar boat, off-world and unavailable to drag your ass out of the hole you’ve dug. Which leaves…

You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose between your forefinger and thumb. Anytime you even think of those two a migraine cumulates behind your eyes. It’s…it’s not like anything bad happened in the aftermath—there’s been no fallout or arguments with barbed words as weapons. It’s been quiet. Like stepping onto a sheet of cracked transparisteel in a library full of tight-lipped academics. 

The questions lurk under the surface of every conversation and longing look cast your way. You’ll need to clarify and sort things out eventually, but fuck—it’s such a mess of frazzled heartstrings and fine strands of impossible thoughts that lead into an endless void of doubt. You’re shoving that emotional time bomb to the very back of your mind—everything is still so raw…  

So you ran. 

Picked up any and all jobs that the Guild provided just to escape the looming decision of confronting a certain pair of Mandalorians. That and with them having their own tasks to complete, it was rare to see them, let alone together in the past few weeks. A simple run in here and there in the halls of the Covert, but you were too busy to stop and chat—forced a chaotic schedule upon yourself as an excuse to avoid staying in once place at a time.    

Coward.

The word knots in your stomach like gnarled tree roots escaping their prison of dark soil on untrodden land.  

Maker—how did everything become so tangled? 

You draw your knees up to your chest and release a long, drawn out exhale that echoes through the cave. You sniff and force the swell of tears that prick at your eyes away. You’re pretty sure they’ll freeze and you’re not hoping to find out. 

The only good thing about being dropped on this Maker-forsaken, wasteland devoid of anything but snow, is the free ice for the nasty gash on your forehead. A nice little parting gift. 

It’s shallow…you think—it stopped bleeding the night before and is now just a scabbed over, tender wound that throbs whenever you move your head too fast. Concussion maybe—a mild one.  

Maker willing when someone finds your sorry ass they’ll have bacta. Or a blanket. Either would be peachy.     

Sitting up with a wince, you shuffle to the mouth of the cave for the thousandth time and scour the skyline for a familiar ship. Or, any ship really. The only thing you do see is a lonesome wisp of cloud against the grayish blue sky much to your chagrin. You scowl and stalk back into your little hovel and slump back onto the ground. 

The hours drag on, the watery light of the dying sun barely doing anything to warm you. Sulking is hardly what you should be doing—not great for the burdened mind and all that, but ah, it’s so fun to wallow in misery. You curl your knees up to your chest and you must slip into a doze because when you’re snapped back into the present, footsteps punch through the frozen tundra outside your cave.  

Adrenaline crackles down your spine—the bounty changed her mind. Ultimately decided she’d be safer in the long run with you dead. Fine.

If this is where your grave is going to be, might as well get in one or two punches. What’s another black eye anyway?

A shadow flickers at the mouth of the cave, curling around the wall as she draws closer. A brown boot kicks through the snow and— 

“Changed your mind? I—“

Your words die on your tongue as relief floods your veins. Din Djarin stands before you, a sight for sore eyes in these trying times. 

Frost glitters on the burgundy chest plate, glinting in the dim sunlight that touches the mouth of the cave. A delicate feathering of the dainty crystals that no high end lace maker could ever hope to mimic curls up the front of Din’s visor and eats away at the edges of his cloak. His heavy step forward reverberates off the walls, some of that ease replaced by the prickle of dread. His silence is unnerving. 

“Din,” you say again, just so he’ll say something. “I can—“

You move to stand, but he interrupts with a halting;

“Sit.”       

Your mouth snaps shut and you drop back on the floor. This…is not good. His footsteps are heavy as he approaches you and every muscle in your frame tightens like a fist wrapping around your ribcage and squeezing. The precise edges of his helmet are not a forgiving sight and even when he kneels onto one knee you have to resist the natural urge to flinch. Like this, despite hunching over, Din is broad. All hard muscle and sinew amplified by the bulky layer of beskar.   

Your tongue runs over the insides of your teeth as you track his hand that he thrusts foreword. You hiss and jerk away at the sudden needly pain when his gloved thumb finds the edges of your head wound. A low sound of disapproval filters out through the helmet in a low metallic buzz. 

“You won’t need stitches,” he says. Din reaches into one of his various supply pouches and pulls out a tiny vile of bacta. He casually pulls off his right glove, unscrews the vile and smears the bacta over his thumb. This time you don’t make a sound, even though your nerves scream at the razor like sensation of his thumb working the bacta into the damaged flesh. He doesn’t ask how the injury happened and you don’t care to tell him. There’s a time and place for stories about battle scars and near misses—it’s much too fresh to be spoken of right now. 

The brief torture finally ends after once last glance over for other presenting injuries. He finds none, replaces his glove and stands with a muted grunt. You know what’s next. You’d rather avoid it—you aren’t keen on the berating lectures—as deserved as they are.      

“I found your ship on Sato 3,” Din begins with a growl. “Imagine my surprise when I found your bounty selling it for parts.”  

Ah, there it is. You wince and study your fingernails. “Pile of junk anyway…”

“I thought you’d be smarter about these things,” he snarls, his sharp tone deadly enough to slice through bone. “Was the hole blown into your lung not enough for you?”

You swallow and bite your tongue.  

The bristling Mandalorian, continues and jabs an orange tipped finger at you. “You are reckless.”

Your chest constricts as you look away, shame blooming in the pit of your stomach.This is a new facet of Din you’ve never encountered. You aren’t naïve—even the most docile of people can harbor a temper, you know that. And you know Din is by no means passive—he’s an elite warrior equipped with a small arsenal at his disposal. You don’t expect him to coddle you or treat you different than any other companion; but…but it’s hard not to take his ire to heart. Not when it’s the kind of anger that boils deep in your chest and erupts with molten streams that leaves scathing wounds and blistered feelings.  

You chew your lip hard enough to taste blood and avoid his piercing gaze. You think if you do you might catch fire and burn to a crisp. “I’m sorry.”   

The meek apology settles in the air like a heavy fog. Din’s anger still brews, looming and dark but he reigns in his temper and switches out the searing cadence of his words with chilly informality. You’re not sure which is worse.   

“No more bounties.” 

“What?” Your brows knit together. The fuck does he mean.  

“No more hunts alone—“  

You interrupt with a scoff. “You’re grounding me?”

He strides across the small space and plants himself on the opposing wall. “Until you’re competent enough, you have no business being out in the field. You might as well be bait at this point.” 

“Competent.” You echo through clenched teeth.  

His helmet dips, leveling a steady glare of indifference. “The Crest is a half cycle’s walk from here. In the morning I’m taking you back to Nevarro.”   

“I’m not a child. You can’t just,” you throw your hands up in dismay, “ban me from bounty hunting.”    

Din’s armor clinks together as he moves to sit. He rests one elbow on his propped up knee, extends his other and rolls his helmet to meet your eyes. “Your actions reflect the Covert now. We can’t risk discovery because of one stupid mistake or a careless loose end.”    

That hadn’t even crossed your mind. Stars, you want to smack yourself. Your ship, as shitty as it was, hosted a good chunk of sensitive information, all encrypted and translated into binary. A mediocre slicer could hack through it in hours. Not exactly foolproof but hey, at least you had something. Good thing your bounty wasn’t in the market of selling stolen ships to the Empire. 

“Din?”

The Mandalorian makes no noise of affirmation that he heard you. You sigh and take his silence as a go ahead and clear your throat. “How long was I gone for?”

Here, in the cave it’s been nearly three days, but the rest of it you’re not exactly sure. Hunting the bounty down took up at least a week or two and even longer to capture her and there’s no accounting for the time lost after your ship was commandeered. Your teeth roll over your bottom lip as you wait for him to respond. 

“Almost two months.” He replies evenly. “Your transmissions were cut three weeks ago and I didn’t think anything of it. Comms are always patchy in Wild Space."

Leather creaks as his fist balls at his side. “You didn’t answer for days. Paz and I tracked the ship to Sato 3, but you weren’t there. Do you know how difficult it was to pick through all the planets recorded on your log?”

You blink and return to picking at your fingernails. 

“You weren’t easy to find, I—“ He severs the rest of his sentence with a crackling sigh and tilts his head back. “You’re lucky.”    

The hesitance lacing his words makes you bite your tongue, the snarky retort crumbling to ash in your mouth. Din doesn’t bother to filter his words—he’s blunt. Efficient and to the point when he does decide to speak. That…well that was different.   

He was worried—

You rub at your cheek—numb with the cold and curl into yourself. Din was worried. Easily the most feared bounty hunter in the parsec, worried that he couldn’t find you.   

A different cold—one that settles deep into the marrow of your bones and hugs your soul with a sheet of frost, makes a home in your heart. The severity of what could’ve happened replaces that sheen of hilarity and fuck. You were closer to freezing to death than Din finding you here—alone in some stupid kriffing cave.  

Somehow the idea of that is worse than the brief brush of eternal slumber you had on Nar Shaddaa. Up to that point you expected to die young—no harm and no foul in it either. You had no attachments, no debt to pay—a drifter in an endless galaxy.    

Now you’re here, buckling under the weight of mismanaged friendships and your uncanny skill at weaseling into any and all trouble. 

Neither you or Din jump to fill the silence. The ashes of disaster settle in nicely with the frozen echo of an endless winter.      

It’d been a couple hours shy from sunset when Din arrived, the sun providing weak light that hardly touched the mouth of the cave. Now as the shadows grow longer and with the temperature dropping, the two of you are swallowed up by the unyielding darkness of night. 

Din shuffles and fishes out the solar light from his supply bag. It clicks on and warm, orange light illuminates the cave. It bounces off his beskar, fracturing the light like a million tiny suns in the tempered metal and in the impossibly dark visor. He looks up, and tosses the light over. 

You catch it easily and despite the warmness of the light it emits, it offers no heat for your chilled fingers. You set it to the side and tuck your hands into your armpits. 

By no means is the cave warm—the natural thermal vents kept the ground dry and free of the ice and snow that rages outside, but it doesn’t protect you from the occasion chilly draft that cuts through each layer you wear. Then again, you weren’t planning on taking an unexpected vacation on Csilla. No time to plan really.  

You sigh and pull your knees up to your chest and cast a glance at your ever radiant ray of sunshine across from you.  

He looks nice and cozy—leaned back against the cave wall, one leg crossed over the other while his hands sit intertwined just below his navel. The beskar must provide insulation—maybe a fancy heater in that bucket of his, or maybe he’s just too stubborn to show anything other than indifference.   

Another bout of shivers tear through your frame and you’re certain Din can hear the enamel of your teeth clack together. You shove your hands deeper into your armpits and tuck your chin into your chest to preserve heat and pray that sleep isn’t far off—can’t be cold if you’re unconscious.    

Metal scrapes over stone as Din readjusts himself and you can feel him looking at you. It’s not a terrible weight to bear; intense and analytic, sure and in the past it would’ve unnerved you. Now, instead of it feeling like he were peeling back each fibre of your soul each time he stares, it’s familiar. A pattern of sorts—

It happens each time Din wrestles with an uncertain question. He deals in absolutes, and it’s no surprise he rarely knows what to say to you. 

“You’re shivering,” he states. You roll your eyes. “Are you cold?”

“Boiling, actually,” you snip. “Why else would I forget a jacket?”

A sharp hiss of air crackles through the vocoder. “Don’t get mouthy with me. It was a simple question.”

“Well—there’s not much to do about it,” you sneer, watching your breath condensate in the air. “I’m freezing, exhausted, and hungry.”       

You know you’re being snide—but your nerves feel like they’ve been severed at the root with a dull vibroblade. You have neither the time nor energy to spare for simple questions. Din should understand that—seeing as he’s a man familiar with short temperament.

The space between you is ripe with crackling tension, and maybe—if you weren’t so fucking cold—you’d play the mediator. Thread stitches into the gash you both sliced into your friendship, as small it may be. You’ve lost friends over less—this could end up no different.

You sigh and turn your head. This is a problem for tomorrow. 

Irritated and upset, you squeeze your eyes shut and chase after sleep. You slip in a doze faster than expected, any and all discomfort fading away a you toe the line between a deeper sleep and waking dreams. You think you imagined Din saying your name—Maker you can’t even escape him in your own fucking head—  

It doesn’t end—like a nagging buzz that swells until it’s right near your ear. Spite spurs you to ignore It and exhaustion convinces you to drift further away. That is, until a hand, gentle and warm curls around your shoulder. You once again hear your name rumble low through Din’s helmet, but it’s much too difficult to open your eyes. Why can’t he leave you be? You barely feel the cold now…

“Stay awake.” Din sounds distant, in some other plane of existence despite the steady hold he has on your arm. “Maker—you’re colder than kriffing ice.” 

“Go away,” you grumble through numb lips. Such a pest.  

He’s talking—but the words don’t make sense. Muddled—split between that hazy line of dreaming and consciousness where you can’t decipher what’s real. His hands however—you can feel those plain as day. A bare palm cups your cheek—shreds through the layer of frost you’re positive has crystalized over your skin and rouses you to a more coherent level of presentness.       

“Don’t quit on me yet—“

“Nah,” you mumble. “I’m hard to…to kill. L-like a scrap rat…”  

Din grunts in response. “Rat is a compliment. You’re more of a spider-roach.”

The ends of your mouth quirk. It’s the best you can do—a full smile just might push you to the brink of death.        

“C’mon—I won’t let either of us freeze,” Din sighs. His fingers find the magnetized latches on his cuirass and it slips off with practiced ease, the armored thigh plating following a moment later. He neatly sets it to the side and grabs his cloak to fasten it around you. With another sigh, Din shuffles in behind you and wraps an arm around your middle, nestling his legs and body snuggly around yours.   

Maker—you don’t have time to bother about the intimacy of this because all you’re drawn to is the furnace like heat. Fuck, he’s so warm. You have only a second to enjoy it before your body begins to thaw—bringing forth waves of achey pain.   

His chest molds to your back, both arms curling over your own arms that are scrunched up tight around your chest. You shake in his hold, vicious waves of cold clashing against his body heat—it hurts—like sticking your bare foot into hot coals.     

You squirm, little gasps of discomfort slipping out that echo around the cave. Din shifts, tucking you further under his body until he’s nearly crushing you. It’s a bit tricky to breathe like this but hey—you’re not complaining. Not when your nose is buried in his soft undershirt that smells purely of Din.   

Your fingers and toes still throb as they thaw, but it’s working. Cuddling Din Djarin to stave off hypothermia—sounds kriffing ridiculous. 

“You’re still shivering,” he says. “I might…”

Your breath catches in your throat as he trails off. “Might what?”

Another shiver wracks through your body as his frosty helmet catches on bare skin when he dips his head in embarrassment. You don’t quite catch what he says and he doesn’t bother to clarify. “Forget it.”  

You turn your head as much as you can, straining your eyes to meet the strip of visor. “Tell me.”

He mumbles under his breath again and cuddles closer, slotting his hips against your ass. “Might know…know another way to keep us warm…”

Oh. 

A spark breathes to life in the pit of your tummy. You wiggle onto your back, your nose brushing the vizor. “Does it involve me taking off my pants?” 

Din huffs, his hands, previously latched onto your hips, starting to crawl up your waist. “It could…”    

You smirk and rock your hips back, eliciting a low growl that rumbles through his chest. With your whine of approval, Din’s hand slips between your legs and gives the meat of your inner thigh a squeeze. You let your knees fall open as far as they can in this position and it’s all Din needs to cup your cunt through the thin material of your trousers. 

Crackling pleasure flood your veins as the heel of his palm grinds into your clit, and while the pressure is nice, it does nothing to satisfy. Only feeds the growing flames of desire with brittle kindling. 

You pull at his undershirt and whimper, thrilled once his deft fingers, calloused and thick unlace your pants and yank far enough down to fit his hand. His fingers trace your outer lips, a ghost of a touch as arousal swells in your stomach. He parts your folds once your wetness begins to dribble out and coats his fingertips with your arousal. 

Stars—you need him. You arch into him and whine. “Touch me. Din, please—“ 

You jerk as Din’s thumb swirls a slow circle over your clit, a rush of endorphins surging out like unrefined fire whiskey. Din’s head tilts to watch you writhe over his fingers and the sudden chill of his helmet touching the inside of your flushed neck steals away your next inhale. Goosebumps race down your entire being, adding to the influx of your excitement that pools in your lower belly.       

Your hands tangle into his undershirt, pulling him closer until you can’t find where he begins and you end. His heart pounds in his chest, thrumming to the dance of your own heart that yearns to break free from your ribcage. Your breath catches when two of his thick fingers tease at your entrance. Your walls flutter around him as the slip in easily.   

His fingers roll forward and stroke against something devastating inside of you, and he when his palm rolls back, it bumps against your clit with that divine firmness you need. Your cunt tightens around the two digits as they curl.  

“Fuck. Can you hear yourself?” He pants, groping your breast to elicit a high pitched wail. “You always make—make such pretty noises.” 

Butterflies erupt in your stomach at his words and fuck. You’re already dipping head first into release. A moment later you’re arching into his chest as every muscle stiffens in a crescendo of bliss, your stuttered breathing harsh even to your own ears.  

Your quick pants fog up his visor as Din rests the crown of his helmet on your forehead, the metal a cool relief to your flushed skin. He slips his fingers out of your dripping cunt, your chest still heaving with exertion as the last strands of your high fizzle and ebb away. Din shifts and and snakes his fingers, still shiny and wet with your arousal, beneath the lip of his helmet and sucks them clean with an appreciative groan.  

“Fuck—“ You breathe, pushing your face into his hand as he cups your cheek. Din’s thumb brushes over your cheekbone and swings his leg over your hips to hoist himself over you. 

“Do you remember...” He starts, his voice buzzing through the vocoder. His fingers tickle down your cheek and trace the parted outline of your lips. “When you let me taste you?”

You nod, and it’s all you’re able to do. You’re not even sure you can formulate words, let alone voice them right now. 

Din’s thumb pulls at your plush bottom lip, and you can’t help but slide your tongue along the digit. He grunts and slips his thumb into the wet heat of your mouth. “I think about you every night…how you came on my tongue—”

Your stomach flips as a rush of arousal sweeps through your tummy. You groan and you’re half sure you’re gonna dissipate into the floor from how hot your cheeks burn. “Din—"  

He continues without missing a beat. 

“You were so fucking wet for me—dripped all over my hand,” he murmurs, nuzzling his helmet, still chilly and frosted over, into the crook of you neck.  “I want to do it again—can I?”

You’re nodding before he even finishes his sentence. He wasn’t the only one longing for his head between your thighs on those long nights apart. Remembering those plush lips and addictive touches could only get you so far and well—he’s here now. You said it once and you’ll say it again—there’s no chance in hell you’d be passing up this opportunity. 

Din lifts his head and as you watch the light glitter in the reflection of the beskar, a sudden stray thought ricochets into the forefront of your mind. “Din, the light—your helmet.”

He pauses, his body tensing as he mulls over his options. “It’s—I—it’s ok…It’ll be ok.”

Din inhales a stuttered breath and casts a brief glance over his shoulder. It’s a dim light, kicked into the corner and laying on its side. From this angle, his face would be partially obscured in shadow…but still. There are easier ways to go about this. Ways that don’t risk jeopardizing the very foundation of who he is—what he stands for and what he so devoutly follows.    

To say you know anything about his religion is laughable. Everything you know can fit on the back of a thumbtack and even still, you’re sure that half of that is still based upon rumor and speculation. But this—what Din is hinting at, you know is not something to be taken lightly. 

He’s stripping his soul bare for you—allowing you to glimpse at that bleeding heart of his he guards so securely within layers of flesh and bone and impenetrable beskar. Din is gifting you his trust and there’s no where else to put it except for the space beneath your breast bone.   

Yet, even still—this could mean nothing at all. You have no way to know the exact magnitude of what this means to him. If he’s alright with this, who are you to question?

He mumbles one last thing about the light and sits up. Goosebumps rush up your bare skin at the loss of the heavy warmth of his body. You whine and curl up closer to his legs, greedy for any spare iota of heat like you’ve been denied it your entire life.   

Maker you hate this fucking planet—   

Your attention snaps back to Din when he makes a noise of uncertainty. His hands are cupped around his helmet—hesitant, nervous and you suspect if Din’s hands weren’t plastered so tight around the metal, he’d be shaking. You chew on your lip and prop yourself up. 

Cautiously, so as not to startle, you reach up and curl your fingers around his wrist. You can feel his pulse thrumming through his veins—alive, flesh and bone like you. Not some heap of sentient metal built for the horrors of war. You don’t know why you do it—just seems right to pull the fragile and vulnerable skin of his inner wrist to you mouth. You plant a gentle kiss there and smile when he cups your cheek.           

“You don’t owe me anything, Din,” you say, staring into the darkened depths of his visor. “Least of all this.”    

Some of that tension held in Din’s shoulders melts. He utters something in that clipped language of his people, and the only thing you can make out is your name. He lurches foreword and fuck—you’re terrified for a split second he’s gonna cave your skull in but instead he lightly bumps the crown of his helmet over your forehead.      

“I want to. For you—only you.”

Din doesn’t leave any time to unpack all of that. He sits up again, wraps his hands around the beskar— 

The metallic thunk of the helmet reverberates through the cave like a crack of thunder.    

You were right. 

You can barely see his face—if you really look, you can see the murky outline of his nose, dark hair and a sliver of his tan skin that the light touches. Attractive—but you knew that already. You touch his cheek and smile, your thumb catching over wiry facial hair and soft skin. Din makes a sound low in his throat and pushes his cheek into your hand. 

“I still want to taste you,” Din says, his voice richer when stripped of that tinny vocoder. You like listening to him speak without it, you think, and it’s a damn shame you never get to hear it. “Please.”     

Before he can escape and fulfill that fantasy, you yank him into a blinding kiss. He kisses the same—all wild edges and with desperation lining each motion—but there’s a new found tenderness here. Like he’s savoring each gasp and every brush of skin you grace him with like it’s your last night left in the galaxy.   

He breaks away from your mouth and peppers kisses and nips down your jaw, then lower as you arch and expose the bare skin of your throat. There’ll be a plethora of bruises tomorrow, and with no hope to cover them either but fuck it—Din can leave as many hickeys and teeth marks as he wants. 

If not for the cold still latching onto your very soul, you’d ditch the shirt; give Din better access instead of him needing to shove a hand up under and grope at your breasts. He gives the fabric an annoyed tug, but it’s fruitless. There’s no use when there’s better things to be sought. 

He shoves your shirt as far up as it goes, shivering as he mouths down your stomach, licks around your bellybutton and sucks a bruise onto your hipbone. Your pants are already pulled halfway down—one sharp yank and they’re around your ankles and off in the next breath. 

Cupping your knees with both hands he gingerly spreads your legs and drapes them over his muscular shoulders. Din rubs his patchy haired cheek along your thigh and hooks his hands under your ass, his ivory white teeth catching the light as he smiles.  

“Fucking perfect—“ He groans, planting his lips over your inner thigh. His tongue swipes a wet line up, stopping just before your aching cunt to dig his teeth into the sensitive flesh. You jump at the burst of pain and shoot a hand down, tangling your fingers into the soft curls atop his head.  

Din grunts and jumps to your other thigh, leaving no inch of skin neglected and without evidence of his teeth and lips. By the time his thumbs touch the outer lips of your cunt, the aching need for him is burning you from the outside in. He has to still your twitching hips with a calloused palm, and only after you settle does he surge forward. 

His tongue meets your swollen clit, ripping a tangled cry from you vocal cords. He’s just as eager as the first time he tasted you, if not more—every action backed by needy abandon. He sucks at the bundle of nerves then sweeps his tongue lower. Din’s thumbs part your lower lips as he runs his tongue though your soaked folds, the tip of his nose bumping against your clit that send delicious sparks throughout your whole body. Little noises and breathy gasps fill the cave, encouraging Din to push his tongue deep into your aching entrance. 

Your hand fists into his hair as your hips stutter and rock into the searing heat of his mouth. The noises you make are obscene, and Din is no better. Each pass of his tongue over your pussy is matched with his own deep moans that vibrated against your clit. Fucking hell he’s devouring you alive.          

Your orgasm sneaks up on you, robs you blind and crashes over you in deep waves that drag you out to sea and never to be found again as you spill onto his greedy tongue. Your fingers are threaded tight in his hair as you squeak and press harder into his mouth, riding out your pleasure until it shifts and becomes raw and sore.  

Din doesn’t pause for even a second—all too happy to stay put between your thighs for eternity. Your legs are trembling when you force his head away, a nice, tingly warmth settling into your limbs 

A dark thrill rushes down your spine when he looks up, wild hair and mouth covered in your slick. If not for the low lighting you imagine his eyes would be glazed over and Maker you want him again. Din swoops down and presses his mouth to yours, the taste of yourself heavy on his tongue that slips past the seem of your lips. 

You whine after he breaks away and sits up—an opportunity for your eyes to roam down his body. He’s still got his trousers on, a considerable bulge tenting the front. With a smirk you reach up and grab a handful, delighting in Din’s startled grunt. “Easy.”

You flash him a wry smile and give his clothed cock a playful squeeze. “Take them off.” 

Din huffs and pulls at the drawstrings. “Needy.”

He says it with no bite and no coquettish retort on your end springs to mind—especially when his thumbs hook into the waistband and pull. A slow reveal of sun-kissed skin and a sparse happy trail that your eyes eagerly drink up. 

Din’s cock bobs as his trousers fall around his knees, tip shiny and wet and curling towards his navel. You bite the inside of your cheek and reach out, a rush of arousal pulsing through your core at Din’s low moan. He’s heavy in your hand, deliciously thick and throbbing—and all of it for you. 

Din gasps out your name as you lightly squeeze and stroke down, your pace dreadfully slow and teasing. Who knows when you’ll get another chance like this—a Mandalorian willingly on their knees for you.           

Your other hand slips up his chest as you stroke him, intent on grabbing a handful of his thick hair that curls softly against the column of his neck. Your fingernail lightly scrapes across his nipple and he sways, pitching forward before he catches himself and straightens. Din’s eyes are squeezed tight, chest heaving with shallow pants as a smirk tugs at your lips. 

“It’s ok, Din,” you whisper. “I won’t break.” 

Your fingers twist into the hair at the base of his skull and guide him back. He slumps forward with a sweet moan, laying his weight onto your body that you’re all too happy too bare. His nose is nestled into the slope of your neck as his hands lock around the dip of your lower back while the other cradles the back of your head, drawing you into a loose semblance of a hug. 

Something snaps and crumbles deep in your soul that bleeds the heartstring blues, humming with broken chords in the presence of Din’s soft fragility. Your hand moves from between his legs to instead wrap around the wide expanse of his back, squeezing him tight to your chest. You hold each other like there isn’t tomorrow to look forward to and you wonder if this is how it feels to fall apart. Two spinning halves of a supernova torn apart and destined to collide and shatter into a million fragments of dazzling light.  

Yes, you’re scared he might blind you or burn you with his brilliance, but you can’t look away.      

Your fingers crawl up his muscled thigh and settle on his hip. “Lie down for me?”

There’s no hint of hesitation or complaint as he maneuvers himself onto his back, patiently allowing you to clamber over his legs and straddle his hips. His cock rests on your inner thigh, pulsing and leaving a dribble of wetness every time it twitches.    

“Good boy.” It’s subtle but it ripples out like a heavy stone thrown into a still lake. Din shudders and says your name in a cracked whisper. He rolls his hips, both of you groaning at the sensation of his cock running along your dripping center.     

Another time for that game maybe. 

Your desperation is running hot and wild to have him inside you and you know he’s in a similar boat. You grab the thick shaft of his cock and grind the tip of him through your lips, breath hitching when it extracts such a perfect moan from the man below you. 

“Ride me,” he pleads, clamping his large hands over your hips. “Fuck—I need you.” 

How can you deny such a request?

You line the wide head up with your aching center and slowly work him in. Shivers wrack through you, and Maker—he’s splitting you apart, molding your insides to the shape of him. Beads of sweat dot your hairline by the time you’re seated fully on his member, the both of you pushed even closer towards madness.  

Din squeezes your ass and props his knees up, rolling his hips up into you. You whimper and tip forward, propping your palms over his chest as he sets the pace. You may be on top but there’s no changing the bold colors of power and lust that cloud his mind, fueling the brutal movements of fucking up into you. Your thighs burn already and Maker—why the fuck are you already tired? You’re not doing any of the work.  

Quicker than lightning, Din curls forward and manhandles you onto your back. You squeak as he grips your thigh and yanks it around his narrow hips, thrusting in deeper. His right hand crawls up the front of your shirt and wraps his fingers around your throat in a loose hold. His thumb hovers over the dip at the base of your neck but he makes no move to press down—just allows the weight of his palm to do the work. And fuck—it works. 

Choked garbles of his name pass through your lips as you buck and squirm in his hold, feeling your arousal begin to drip down the back of your thighs. You’re skirting the edge of sizzling release that alights your nerves with liquid wildfire. Your nails harpoon into the meat of his shoulders as your eyes squeeze shut. Din won’t allow it.      

“Look at me,” Din snarls, yanking your head back by your hair. “I want to—to watch you cum for me.” 

A blush scalds your cheeks but you listen. Your eyes flutter open for him, sliding to the dark shadows of his eyes that sweep you into their own gravity well with no hope to escape. You don’t mind. 

“You’re so g-good for me—always so perfect.”

White hot light bursts behind your eyelids, and that’s all it takes. Your body seizes, your cunt squeezing impossibly tight around his cock as you cum. This one is different—steals your breath away and leaves you a broken husk of a person lost in most delectable forms of agony and pleasure. The cry of his name pierces the air only spurring the Mandalorian into a jarring pace to seek his own peak of ecstasy.  

Din’s nose nuzzles into your neck, his pants hot and sharp against your flushed skin. “You f-feel so—fuck. Say—say my name.”

You leap to his request and with a playful nip to his earlobe, you whisper it to him with the sweetness of starcherrries and the promise of better things. 

He tips over the edge, his hips faltering into no discernible pace as he cums. Din buries his teeth into the skin below your jaw, a mess of whines and begging gasps of nonsense as he fills your cunt to the brim. 

Your harsh breathing mingles as you both lazily slip down from your high. He rests his head over your sternum, listening to your beating heart that drums in a wild staccato as your fingers carefully comb through his hair. If not for the ache in your hips you’d keep him here forever. Din pulls out and you both groan at the loss. 

He doesn’t completely move away and you’re glad for it. He brushes his knuckles down the expanse of your cheek and dots a tender kiss to your hairline. Your name rumbles low in his throat as he shifts lower and gives your ear lobe a playful nip. His stubble scrapes along your neck, and you can’t help but giggle and squirm—but the weight of his body keeps you pinned. Your name slips from his lips a second time, breathy and drawn out in a sweet sigh, like he’s savoring the sound of each syllable and roll of the tongue. 

Din lifts his head, only slightly—near enough that his nose bumps into yours and his lips scrape along yours that are still parted and wet. “I—can I tell you something?” 

You cup his cheek and steal a kiss. It’s supposed to be quick—but instead he leans into it, guiding your mouth into a slow dance of sticky sweet movements that are caught in a slow draw, like crystalized honey abandoned in a glass jar. You’re enraptured by his touch—his skin mottled with scars yet somehow still unfairly soft. He smells of snow—like metal and soap and something gentler, that’s uniquely Din.            

Fuck—you can feel your mind slipping away, wrapped up so snugly in his presence you almost forget to answer. “Yeah—anything.”

Crackling static suddenly rips through the cave, startling you both. A distorted voice chatters on the comlink that lies forgotten beside your pants. It blinks and the transmission ends just as abruptly. With a sigh Din brushes it off and tilts his head to tempt you into another kiss but—

Whoever’s trying to patch through is persistent. 

His lip curls in a scowl and snatches the comm. “Jorhaa’ir.”

You only catch your name being mentioned twice as rapid Mando’a is exchanged. Aeris maybe judging by the tone, but no that’s not right.   

“Wait—is that Paz?”

The muscles in Din’s shoulders tense, confirming your suspicion.

“Is everything ok?” Din doesn’t resist you when you pry the comlink out of his fingers and patch in. “Paz?”

Your heart skips a beat. 

“There you are,” the comlink crackles and you smile. “You’re a pain in my ass, you know that?” 

Stars—you didn’t think you’d miss hearing Paz’s voice. Your chest aches. 

The conversation is short, he asks you how you are and when you’re coming home and in the time it takes to answer, Din is peeling himself from your body. While you're distracted, he pulls on his pants and sits at the edges of your vision.

You both pretend when you say goodnight to Paz, return the comlink and crawl into his arms that nothing has festered with savage detachment. You don't remember to ask him what he was going to say and he lets you forget. The golden heart that bleeds molten ichor slips from your sight and becomes shut behind walls of beskar and bushes of thick thorns and overgrown ivy.         

He still holds you, but it’s the coldest you’ve ever been. 

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[jaekaicx]

so ive had this idea for an amphibia fangame for a lil while now-

(LONG post)

its based around the idea that sometime after anne got sent back to earth, she decides to sneak out one night to visit sasha and marcys bedrooms and poke through their stuff. this causes a bunch of memories to come back to anne through flashbacks while she tries to process everything thats happened and her feelings abt their friendship.

i was thinking itd be mostly a visual novel type thing. maybe with a few small choices, but the story would be mostly linear. thered be around 3 main story beats: a prologue bit w/ anne sneaking out of her house, marcys bedroom, and sashas bedroom. also one of the main mechanics would be looking at one of their bedrooms and clicking on random objects of importance and triggering a flashback sequence.

it came from the idea that anne will probably try to just shove all her emotions down and try to ignore her feelings abt true colors and everything that went down then. especially with what we saw in the sneak peek, anne will probably try to hide her emotions and bottle them up, which is obviously not healthy. so eventually shes gonna have to work through her emptional baggage and try to process everything.

i havent thought through EVERYTHING just yet, just some more major plot points and maybe one or two ideas for flashbacks. nothing too solid yet. but heres a bit more detailed runthrough of the plot

summary - prologue

so it would start off with anne at home. she and her mom are talking outside annes room. her moms concerned abt how annes been handling everything that happened in amphibia but anne keeps brushing everything off. her mom tries to get her to open up, but she keeps dismissing her and eventually shuts herself in her room. after taking a bit to cool off and think anne decides that shes gonna take the night to just ride off her emotions and stop repressing them for once. she also makes an impulsive decision to sneak out and check out marcy and sashas rooms.

anne goes to gather her stuff in her room, and just as shes about to climb out the window, sprig walks in to check on her. hes still rly concerned abt his big sis but he knows he cant stop her. he tries to go with anne, but she tells him she needs to do this on her own. so, sprig lets her go and tries to cover for her while shes gone.

so at this point i’ll probably give the player the choice of whose house to visit first. it doesnt rly impact the story or whatever, but i guess it might have a small emotional impact depending on whose house u choose to go to first??

(quick note: after this bit, there arent too many specific details for the plot and stuff like that. its largely just an overall idea of how the plot is gonna go. and even then, there isnt much to it. i didnt think that far ahead yet, which is why there isnt as much refinement yet. so far i just have general ideas for how annes gonna get to the bedrooms, with a couple of vague flashback ideas. just keep that in mind; this whole thing is still being thought over and planned as im typing this out)

summary - sasha

with sasha, annes still rly conflicted abt how she feels abt her. of course shes still rly hurt by being backstabbed by her twice and swordfighting her as many times. but as much as she hates sasha she cant bring herself to fully give up on sash. she hates her guts but deep down shes still willing to give sash another chance.

there may or may not be a small sequence where anne has to sneak into sashas house, but eventually she works her way into sashas room. im not entirely sure abt the details of sashas house n her family yet. im probably gonna wait for info from s3 until i solidify anything, but for now i do know that sashas family has a big house n theyre probably rich.

so anne goes into sashas room and its been left pretty much untouched ever since annes birthday, save for the few times someone came in to dust things off. again, dont rly have all the details for sashas room, but it kind of has a vibe of controlled chaos, with organized clutter and a bit of a touch of a rebellious teen girl. one detail i do want to have is a calendar opened up to the month the trio disappeared, with annes birthday circled and highlighted so much that its impossible to miss.

the calendar itself might include a flashback. im thinking of also having a varsity jacket and some old stuffed animal be different “artifacts” that trigger their own memories. there’ll be a bunch more, but those are the only ideas i have so far fjsbndnd

summary - marcy

ok so i want to be rly mean about marcys segment: this is going off the theory that marcys parents moved away while the trio was in amphibia.

anne doesnt know this yet tho, so shes in for quite a surprise when she turns onto marcys street to find a realtor sign on the front lawn. the clues are all there: an empty driveway, sign on the lawn, an overall empty vibe coming from the house. but it doesnt completely register at first. its not til anne actually comes up close does she notice the sign.

anne tries to deny it, and decides to prove to herself that “no marcys parents wouldnt do this. theyre not that cruel. im just gonna check marcys room myself.” the front doors locked, so she just goes over to marcys window and climbs in.

but its completely empty.

ok not totally empty, but a lot of marcys furniture and stuff is gone, except for a few stray toys and other “junk.” the home guys (idk what theyre called????) are still kind of in the process of cleaning everything out, so theres still some stuff left here and there around the house. but its still way too empty. and its yet another gut punch for anne.

anne searches the rest of the house a bit more, hoping that shes just hallucinating. but no, marcys parents are really gone. she tried to deny it before, but now she has more of an idea of how shitty the wu parents are. so anne decides to just mope around in marcys old room, checking out the stuff their parents left behind.

maybe she finds an old blanket marcy liked when he was rly young. or an old rubiks cube from marcys vast collection. a cnc figurine, some cards, a pride flag, and old diary? a couple of other old toys, an old report card or two, or maybe even some stray clothes. whatever anne finds, its all thats left of marcy, at least in LA.

it really doesnt leave anne in that much of a better emotional position. she already felt conflicted enough about what happened in true colors and what she found out abt marcy. but seeing even a small glimpse of what marcy was dealing with, it just makes her more confused. marcy was such a sweet kid! theres no way they couldve done anything wrong. yet here anne was, betrayed by both of her childhood friends.

only now is anne really taking the time to process the fact that marcy essentially kidnapped her and sasha with the calamity box. he didnt mean to do it, and theres no way they couldve known the box would actually work, but it doesnt completely excuse marcy. his actions still hurt anne and sash, and while they meant the best of intentions, it didnt rly come through that way.

and now marcy was dead. stabbed in the back by the newt king.

and now annes curled up in an empty bedroom, wrapped up in one of marcys old blankets, trying to wrap her head around her feelings about marcy while reminiscing in the past.

summary - extras/epilogue??

i kind of like the idea that anne ends up drifting off in which ever bedroom ended up being the second one she visited. she slowly comes back to consciousness, with her surroundings feeling somewhat familiar, only to wake up in horror bc “OH SHIT I FORGOT TO GO BACK HOME” im not completely sold on the idea tho bc it feels a bit abrupt and like too much of a tone shift?? idk it doesnt feel exactly right

but anyways, im also playing around with the idea of a small epilogue scene with the calamity trio hanging out in annes room, a good amount of time after amphibia ended. dont know what theyre doing in there, but theyre just chilling and feeling a bit nostalgic i guess.

but uh yeah thats pretty much what ive got for the overall idea. it doesnt feel too out of reach, but somethjng like this would definitely be ambitious. i could mayyyybe handle writing out the vn and drawing the character sprites, but i have no idea how to code a vn or draw detailed backgrounds, both of which would be pretty important to this fangame fjsndj. so i might consider having help with this.

THIS ISNT ANY SORT OF PROMISE OR WHATEVER. id rly love to follow through and make this fangame a thing, but im not making any guarantees. i have no idea if i’ll actually follow through, but i would definitely love to.

who knows. maybe in like a couple years this might actually become a thing. but for now i have no idea