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moonlit-escape · 17 days

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˓˚ ｡⋆ 💗˚ Dante Mystreet headcanons !!

i love this lil stinker we're blue-haired buddies <3

bisexual (woman leaning, for the most part of his life, but nowadays is finding himself more attracted to men than he was)

knows spanish, but only speaks it when he needs to (shopping, mostly)

he has curly hair idc idc

can't grow facial hair it looks ugly as hell when it's first coming in, so every time he tries he ends up immediately shaving it off

along with his peanut allergy, he also has a bunch of others, but he just ignores them all (he's like 'whatever, i have meds' and inhales half a jar of nutella before he throws up)

baby brother friend of the group for sure (even with travis around. he's just the older twin, then)

genuinely wasn't even actually into Aphmau, he just has the younger brother instinct and wanted to annoy the shit outta Garroth and Laurance, bc that's one of the ways he shows affection and bonds

in the Mystreet universe, he is the inventor of the "oh Miku, we're really in it now" meme variant

which also means, yes, he liked The Good Place

i feel like he would like Kero Kero Bonito and Shawn Wasabi

LOVES giant fuckin lizards (Godzilla is one of his favourite movie series)

i cant decide whether he was a Naruto or a Dragon Ball Z kid...

likes pineapple on pizza (the entire household hates him.)

also likes mango in his tacos

he just really likes tropical fruits honestly

bananas can go to hell, though

peace tea drinker

gets cocha bread and melon pan confused all the time and is always momentarily disappointed whenever Nana bakes bread bc he was hoping for concha

THE number one Gene defender.

Gene was always really sweet and caring toward him, apart from the typical petty sibling arguments, and practically had to raise him, too; considering they didn't have a father or any other adult around besides their mom (and, on occasion, their uncle). so, it's no surprise he didn't know how Gene was in highschool

Gene took him to his first concert: a P!ATD concert. it was absolutely incredible and, although neither of them listen to them now, Dante still has the t-shirt and cd Gene bought for him. he sometimes uses the shirt as an extra pillow case

he's 100% the typa guy to buy his partner a bajillion things for valentine's day or just any type of holiday or anniversary. it's honestly lucky for all the girls he's dated that they haven't lasted that long.

he has a very, very cute and round, adoring face. he was a super cute baby, and he still is one now

#cw: swearing #mystreet headcanons #dante mystreet #dante aphmau #aphmau mystreet #aphblr #i love him i miss him i miss all of themmmm uuuugh #ive been putting off watching emerald secret actually just bc im not ready to never see my babies again #i watched the first episode and was like Wait.#This is too much change for me right now.#anywa i'll proabyl do gene next #i dunno man

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kemendin · 7 months

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Scourge must cope with the problem of being both an early riser and the Alliance Commander’s mattress of choice. Jedi Knight x Lord Scourge Words: 2100 A/N: And in the midst of my BG3 hyperfixation, look at this - some light Cas/Scourge fluff I finally finished up, based on headcanon musings from a while back.

It was the weight that woke Scourge - an unnatural heaviness that seemed to have formed upon his chest during the night, as he slept. Not a feeling inside him somewhere, born of the emotions to which he was still becoming re-acclimated, but a literal weight - bearing down upon his lungs and causing each slow breath to come with more difficulty than normal. Before even opening his eyes he instinctively pushed up against it, only to find that this pressure was not just on his chest; it extended nearly the full length of his reclining body, down along his stomach and hips and even upon his legs.

Confused, tense now, Scourge shoved aside the lingering fog of sleep - that too was a still-unusual sensation, the grasp of slumber deeper than mere rest - and wrenched open his eyes.

He was met by a muss of silver hair. Some stray locks were spread across his scarlet skin, but most were tangled around the familiar head currently laid upon his chest. The head of the man with whom the once-Emperor’s Wrath now shared his bed, his heart - and most notably, it seemed, his body heat, which Scourge suspected was the ultimate reason why he was lying here with the Commander of the Galactic Alliance sprawled across him like an unconscious human blanket.

Understanding now, the Sith exhaled and allowed himself to relax. It wasn’t the first time Caspian had decided to use his partner’s considerable girth as a mattress, but it was the first time Scourge had woken up to it, and he had to concede to being taken off guard. He was still unaccustomed to sleeping in the same room as someone else, let alone in the same bed.

Not that he could truly complain, however; and in the pre-dawn darkness of their quarters, unwitnessed by any who might deride him for it, the usual sharpness of his gaze softened a bit as he considered the Jedi atop him.

The crown of Caspian’s head was mere centimetres away, so that Scourge could see the nearest strands of hair fluttering with each exhale of his breath. Carefully, so as not to disturb his sleeping partner, Scourge lifted a hand and slowly twined it through the drape of silver that was spilled onto his chest. He’d caught himself doing this quite often in the dozen or so days since the battle on Corellia - combing his fingers pensively through Caspian’s hair, marvelling at the feeling of it sliding against his skin, like supple ropes of Killik-silk.

He continued to toy with it as he shifted idly beneath the Jedi. Now that Scourge knew the cause of it, the weight of the man’s body on his own was not actually uncomfortable. It was pleasantly warm, and almost grounding, in a way. Anchoring him to this present, this place. Reminding him that the physical world was no longer something to be guarded against, as it veered mockingly around the void of his existence, but an experience to be embraced, and enjoyed.

A part of him wanted to lie here for an eternity, mellow and satisfied. Soaking in the sensation of Caspian’s slow breaths upon his chest, Caspian’s steady heartbeat thrumming against his ribs.

But Scourge was awake now, and another part of him was already restless. As with most mornings, he was eager to rise and seek out the brief spell of solitude he tried to capture each day - meditating on one of the high landing pads of the Alliance base, as the dawn’s brilliant colours chased away the deeper tones of night.

There was, unfortunately, one clear obstacle in the way.

Scourge disentangled his fingers from Caspian’s hair, and instead stroked his hand over the back of his partner’s head.

“Caspian,” he cajoled softly. But there was no reply.

He nudged at one dark-skinned shoulder, exposed where the collar of the Jedi’s shirt had slipped sideways in his sleep. “Caspian.” A second nudge, firmer this time - but still no response.

Scourge sighed. Loath as he was to disturb his partner, he did not intend to simply lie here, staring at the ceiling through the breaking morning.

So with some difficulty he levered himself up onto one elbow, and used his other hand to push gently at Caspian’s shoulder again, trying to ease the Jedi off his Sith mattress and onto the empty portion of the bed beside them.

Only then did Scourge discover that his partner was not as unconscious as he appeared, because abruptly there were metal-adorned fingers digging into Scourge’s skin, and Caspian’s previously relaxed body went suddenly tense as he resisted the Sith’s efforts to oust him.

Scourge let out a heavy breath through his nose, and tucked his chin down against his collarbone. From this angle it was impossible to view Caspian’s face, so he settled for a level stare at the top of his head instead, and hoped the other man would feel it.

“Caspian,” he said evenly. “I’m getting up.”

What had seconds ago been a contented silence now sounded rather suspicious to Scourge’s ears, as Caspian continued to feign sleep. Scourge pursed his lips. He let a few moments go by, and felt the Jedi relaxing against him once more - and then abruptly he gave a hard twist of his large frame, aiming to simply dump his obstinate partner onto the bed beside him.

But either his motions were still sluggish with sleep, or Caspian’s reflexes were significantly improved from what Scourge remembered, because the Jedi remained firmly in place, rigid now as he clung to his bedmate: his arms locked around the Sith’s neck, and one leg hooked beneath the other’s hip for good measure.

An exasperated sigh fell from Scourge’s lips as he flopped back against the pillows. “Let go of me, Jedi,” he ordered curtly. “I want to get up.”

At last, Caspian moved - but it was only to roll his face against Scourge’s chest, so that the reply he gave was muffled: “Nnnnh.”

“Try again,” Scourge told him, and then added pointedly, “Using words would be my suggestion.”

A small noise of discontent was the only immediate reply, but after another pause Caspian spoke more distinctly.

“Why d’you always have to get up so early….” The Jedi reluctantly dragged his head up a few centimetres. His face was bleary with sleep, and the expression that scrunched across it did nothing to improve his dishevelled appearance. “It’s not even light out yet -“

“And I would like to be outside when it is,” said Scourge.

He kept his voice level despite the flutter of affection that curled through him as he regarded his partner. There had been a time when Caspian would have been mortified to let Scourge see him this way - to appear so pathetic and vulnerable before the object of his unvoiced desires.

But it was Scourge, more than anyone, who had experienced the Jedi at both his most radiant and his most wretched; and in the context of their new relationship, Caspian seemed to have realised there was little point in hiding either aspect from the Sith. It was a mark of the trust between them, that in Scourge’s presence Caspian felt comfortable enough to release the tension that so often held him upright. And, Scourge suspected, something of a relief for the Jedi as well.

Caspian’s head listed to one side now. There was a small pout upon his lips as he blinked up at his bedmate, and Scourge had to admit - grudgingly - that it was a little bit endearing.

“Can’t you stay?” the Jedi mumbled. His fingers crept slowly across his partner’s skin, making their way to the middle of Scourge’s chest. “For a change?”

Two of the fingers in question began tracing the hard ridges that carved between the Sith’s pectorals. Scourge inhaled slightly beneath the other’s touch, then set his jaw.

“I can,” he replied, refusing to be deterred by the other man’s distractions. “I’m choosing not to. Now move.”

This time it was Caspian’s lips which pressed upon his flesh, dragging slowly along the angles of the ridges there. The Jedi made no secret of his fascination with this aspect of his partner’s physiology - he likely would have spent hours engaged in such activity, if allowed. And truthfully, Scourge rather enjoyed giving himself over to such tactile explorations (at least, when there weren’t ulterior motives involved).

And yet, despite knowing exactly what Caspian was trying to do, Scourge couldn’t keep his eyes from turning to half-closed slits, or prevent a soft groan of pleasure from humming in his throat.

“Mmmmmh,” he protested, though more weakly than he’d intended. “That isn’t fair, Jedi -”

“You’re bigger than I am,” Caspian murmured, still sleepy, but the words were warm as he kissed them into the Sith’s skin. “I’m allowed to compensate by cheating.”

A long breath wafted from Scourge’s nose and deflated his chest beneath Caspian’s weight. “And what of the moral high ground of the Jedi?” he questioned, unthinkingly lifting his chin as Caspian’s mouth trailed upward, over the shallower ridges that marked his throat.

“Doesn’t count,” Caspian returned. “I’m not part of the Order anymore, remember? I never spent much time on that hill anyway.”

He was crawling higher along Scourge’s body even as he spoke, cementing his position of power, and while it was only moments before Scourge recognised the folly of being diverted by discussion, the realisation came too late.

Caspian grinned down at him, his folded arms planted firmly across Scourge’s collarbone, and Scourge could tell from his expression that the Jedi would not be easily dislodged.

Another exasperated sigh left the Sith’s lungs. “You are impossible,” he told his partner flatly.

“Thank you.”

“You are by far the most stubborn man I have ever met.”

“I take that as a compliment.”

“And that, Jedi, is precisely the problem.”

Caspian tipped his head onto one arm, his grey eyes more awake now and fluttering coyly. “And here I thought that was one of my main attractions for you. My resilience.”

“Resilience, perhaps,” Scourge retorted. “This is obstinance.”

“Close enough,” the other man declared, still grinning cheekily, and then he chuckled.

“C’mon, Scourge,” he coaxed. He lifted his head again, unfolding his arms so that he could reach up and stroke his hand briefly over the Sith’s spurred cheek. “Stay with me. You can still watch the sunrise from here.”

The Jedi twisted a look over his shoulder as much as his position would allow and made a light tugging gesture through the air, drawing back the grey-blue curtains that hung across the generous windows of the bedroom. Tilting his head to glance past his partner, Scourge could make out the first faint traces of dawn beginning to seep upward from the unseen horizon. He pursed his lips for a moment or two, considering; and then at last pushed out another long (and only slightly irritable) sigh.

“Very well,” he decided, and in truth, his voice was far more grudging than his heart, as it beat pleasantly beneath Caspian’s weight. “I will stay. This time.”

Almost the instant these words were uttered, Caspian was making himself comfortable again, draping himself across the Sith as though he knew of no better place to repose (and Scourge suspected that this was, in fact, the other man’s literal view).

“Excellent,” Caspian declared, in tones of such immense satisfaction that Scourge couldn’t help but roll his eyes.

The Sith was not about to let him have it all his own way, however. He reached down to grasp the other’s chin firmly in his hand, and tilted Caspian’s face up towards him.

“But you aren’t going back to sleep,” Scourge went on pointedly. “I am not going to lie here and simply listen to your snores. If I am staying, then you, Caspian, are going to make it worth my while.”

A small but clear smirk pulled at Caspian’s mouth in response. “Oh?” he replied, in a display of feigned ignorance that fooled neither of them. “What would be appropriate compensation, d’you think?”

Scourge lifted his browstalks, but otherwise kept his features quite neutral. “Figure it out,” he retorted in challenge.

Caspian laughed a little, and the sound of it threatened to dispel Scourge’s deliberately stoic expression. He felt his own mouth curling at the corners as the Jedi hauled himself a little higher upon his Sith mattress, and pressed his lips to one of Scourge’s chin tendrils.

“I think I can do that,” Caspian murmured confidently.

Scourge combed his fingers back through the Jedi’s tousled hair, gazing intently at him.

“Then you had better hurry up,” he suggested lightly. “While the dawn still waits, and my attention remains undivided.”

#swtor #star wars the old republic #swtor fanfiction #swtor fanfic #swtor jedi knight #lord scourge #swtor scourge #swtor oc #swtor:caspian #kem oc #kem writes #kem fics #I MISS THEMMMM #and i just had the sudden urge to finish this #otp: we choose our own fates

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