#will being used to only further the ship that has the guy he’s in loved with is so goddamn heartbreaking

[willbyers-stanie]

i dunno why i expected the duffer brothers to write a good story involving queer people or poc because their biggest issue was only ever being nerds

[dcxdpdabbles]

I love every fic That has Danny still being Phantom even while in the DC universe but sometimes I just want my little guy to flex his intellect and be all around little mad scientist that only sometimes uses his powers to pick up a screwdriver

Danny is smart.

He knows he is brilliant.

He may have been outshined by his family when he was younger, but that was because his focus was on something else, and frankly, being born last into a family of geniuses made one feel like one wasn't as intelligent as them.

He constantly compared himself to them, knowing that they had already achieved what he was doing and falling further and further behind in his self-wellow.

Then Danny left Amity Park and went into the real world.....he found his intelligence got him far. Danny was exceptionally brilliant when he was working on machinery, chemistry, and, above all else, engineering.

Maybe it had something to do with watching his parents repurpose any household item into a completely new technology that affected beings from different dimensions simply because they used math.

Or maybe it was that his brain was always moving, always connecting, and constantly processing. Danny didn't realize that people couldn't just make whatever idea came into their heads a reality.

Hell, his dad heard about Mr. Freeze's ray and he made a copy in two months. Danny made Mr. Freeze's ray in two weeks. He made other ghost tech in that same amount or enough to arm his schoolmates in one afternoon.

The point is that Danny is good at what he does. Put a screwdriver in huis hand, and he be off until whatever hair brain idea he had a physical form.

Everyone in Amity Park knew this as a fact about the Fentons/ Since they moved in, there was nothing but experiments one right after the other. Sure, they wasted it on things like Ecto-studies, but his parents made their money from somewhere before the world learned about ghosts.

Danny's parents had many, and he means many, patents. Everything from a brand of microwaves to vehicle parts.

His parents created them, sold them to partial rights to companies, and then wasted whatever money they got on some new experiment for a ghost that had not yielded any fortunes.

He thought he could do the same. Just apply to anywhere that would take him after creating a portable phone changer on one's wrist. He figured it would have gotten less attention than he did hadn't he just shown up at Wayne Expo as an unknown inventor through his parents contacts.

Danny had felt relatively small with his foldable plastic table and his four cardboard boxes of his invention while everyone had booths and screens, and a few even had prominent speakers with people in suits that cost more than his house

. Danny felt like a little kid trying to sell lemonade in the five-star hotel lobby. Everyone walked right by him without a glance, or they jeered and mocked him.

That was until Bruce Wayne wandered over. Kind and charming the man, maybe he wasn't the brightest- but he stood there listening to Danny excitedly explain how moving the hand on the bracelet caused it to charge, so walking around with it was all the kinetic energy it needed.

His ward- Dick Grayson, in all his tiny ten-year-old authority, had purchased a bracelet from Danny. It had been the only sale he made that night, but it was the only one he needed. Bruce had called him to offer him a position at WE.

Like his parents, Danny enjoyed his freedom, so instead, he offered to be a freelance inventor. He would show the Wayne's first dibs but go where the wind took him. He made them if he found buyers who weren't trying to ice him out of profits.

Unlike his parents, he didn't waste the funds past his travels. Slowly but surely building up a fortune over time.

Danny still went out as Phantom, but over the years he invented random gadgets and chemicals that he would ship to Bruce for a healthy paycheck. Ussually he makes something that the rich man off-handedly comments on.

"Oh Danny, I just loved skydiving, but I'm scared Dick's parachute will get stuck."

Danny invented one with small rocket blasters Bruce could manually control into landing for his son.

"I always enjoy undersea diving. The tanks are a killer on my back. Jason was almost weighted down by them too."

Danny created a breathing mask that had the tanks in smaller easier-to-carry cylinders.

"Tim really loves his computers. Wish I could take the whole thing with me when I go out!"

Danny had a working computer on a heliographic wristwatch the next month.

It was awesome. Danny traveled a lot but always found time to call and speak with Bruce. He got to know the man well over the years, found himself chatting with him for hours, and even spent his visits to Gotham at Wayne Manor as a guest.

Bruce's kids were a riot to be around. He would often go away for a while only to return and find that they had grown in numbers. He loved them like his own and found himself a confidant among the children.

It was he that Dick called to whispers about his insecurity within Bruce's home. He would go to all the gymnastics and mathletes shows he could catch, cheering the loudest among the rich parents as Dick outshone the rest of the children.

Danny had practically flown home to rip Bruce a new one until the man admitted to his gapping son that he had applied to be his father mere months after taking him in.

It was Danny that Jason spoke to when Dick and Bruce's fights were too loud. He would take the boy on trips, and talk for hours about books to calm down, then he had sat Bruce and Dick down to rip another new one.

It was no surprise that Jason had called him when he had tried to run away to confront his birth mother. He had been there to see the bitch arrested before she could hurt Jason.

It was Danny that Tim often sought out to showcase his photos. He always made sure to call the boy right before he was meant to sleep, regardless of which part of the world Danny was on, to wish him goodnight and talk about their days.

Tim always brightened whenever Danny caught his skateboard competitions or club performances. He was the one who found out Tim's biological parents neglected him after the boy told him, and he was the one to help Bruce win custody.

Then came Damian, who was as scared as he was angry. Danny adored him and saw so many ghost-like mannerisms in him that connecting to the boy wasn't hard at all.

Bruce didn't seem to understand that his son was used to outlined expectations and grew irritable when he felt he failed them. He was the one that help Damian get used to his environment and was the one the boy was much more willing to try new things with.

Steph and Danny often got along well with their sense of humor, but mostly she followed him around, seeking approval that likely missed out from her parents. They would sit down and talk about her future and what she wanted in life, and he even let her practice her makeup on him and giggle about boys.

Sometimes, it felt like she didn't have to be the tough girl from the rough part of town. She could be a teenage girl without a care in the world. At least, that's what she claimed Danny made her feel like.

Cass didn't talk much, but she didn't have to for Danny to not see how much she enjoyed their days out, too.

He loved taking her to see the arts, to sit and listen to music together, and most of all, to see her slowly bloom into a sociable young lady so different from the closed-off girl that first arrived at Wayne Manor.

Duke was still relatively new, but Danny could spot the wild, unhinged look in his eye that would have made him a proper Fenton. The two often spent their time playing video games and working in the community together.

Duke seemed to enjoy when Danny invited him to tag along on short trips, especially when the two would go camping. As someone who grew up in the city, he had never been fishing until Danny taught him how to reel in a big one at a lake a state over. The whole Wayne family had cheered the dark skin boy on as he held the trout over his head for the photo.

Alfred treated him like one of the family sometimes meeting up with Danny on his travels for a cup of tea or a nice phone call to gossip about Bruce.

Danny loved it but adored when the Waynes would help with his inventions. Even if all they did was sit in his makeshift lab inside his RV or the west wing of Wayne Manor like Bruce did, having them made his hands fly faster and his calculations sharper.

Sometimes, he caught the strangest, softest look on Bruce's face when Danny would be wielding.

Danny was so used to this lifestyle that he would forget about his ghost powers. It's not like he really needed them.

That came to head when he returned to Gotham on a whim, wanting to surprise Bruce for his birthday by taking the other man out to dinner somewhere fancy he happened to stumble across the scene of Scarecrow holding the Waynes- his Waynes- as hostages at an award ceremony in the new mental hospital they had funded.

Danny hadn't thought.

He saw the Fear Gas vents open and pulled one of his gadgets. He threw it as hard as he could at Scarecrow, watching with satisfaction as it bounced off the manic's head- knocking him out and spinning in place as it activated.

It was a miniature vacuum- meant to gather pollution in the air to hopefully clean up their planet- sucking in all the green smoke before it could harm.

He three out of the other five at the goons that had tried to gas the spectators before, pressing his anti-gravity plates- reversing them to slam the goons into a heap and officially knocking them out.

Danny took down the Rouge in under a minute.

"Bruce! Kids! Are you alright?" He cried rushing the stage to the stunned family. He helped them out of their bonds, gentelly tracing the bruise on Bruce's face with a soft whine. "They hurt you."

"I'm alright, darling," Bruce muttered, leaning into his palm. "I'm better with you here. What was that?"

"Oh just a-"

"Look out!" Dick suddenly screams as a flash of ice comes from nowhere. Danny tucks Bruce onto his chest and rolls away from the ray's pathway. They land with his friend on his back and Danny leaning over him in a protective hunch.

Quickly, he stops his foot against the ice, pressing the heel back and watching bursts of electricity from his built-in tazer race up the ice to the beam of Dr. Freeze.

The man doesn't have time to react before spamming and hitting the ground. Danny scoffs. "Using a ray with a cryogenic laser beam so last season. Invent something new, you one act poney."

Bruce stares up at him with those soft eyes again, and Danny smiles now that he is sure the Danger is gone.

"Is there nothing that mind of yours can't do?" Bruce asks and Danny laughs helping him to his feet as police swarm the place.

"Find me a date, maybe." Danny jokes, "I haven't had one since you took in Dick.""

"Neither has Father!" Damian shouts from behind them. Danny bemussingly watches the young boy march up to gesture at the mortified-looking man.

Despite his father's obvious embarrassment, Damian does not seem bothered to shout for everyone to hear. "He may swing both ways but hasn't acquired a suitable spouse. What says you, Danny? You could assist in correcting this error."

"Sure, I'll take him out." Danny laughs, patting the boy on his shoulder, knowing he hates to have his hair touched. Damian all but melts into his hand like his father seemingly smug. "I know a great club to meet some great people in Metropolis!"

Damian's smug look fades away as Bruce's eyes fall. "I meant for you to be Father's sp-"

"Danny, would you mind explaining those tazer shoes?" Bruce cuts in, throwing a arm over the inventor's shoulder. "They were dazzling!"

"Oh, Bruce, I'm always happy to explain my creations!"

Damian pouts as the two walk away, acting like a married couple to the scattered spectators. If only his Father would just man up and tell Danny that he's practically been his second Father all these years, they need to officiate it.

Tim sighs, placing a hand like Danny did on his shoulder. "It's okay, Dami. This time, we will surely succeed in the Parent Trap plan. Maybe before Danny gets lost in the lab trying to invent a way to warp travel."

"Don't even joke, Tim," Jason says. "Danny would figure that out. He created the Zeta Beams to make it to my senior play. He'll figure out warping if we ask him to."

"Dad's the best," Steph laughs, and they all agree, determined more than ever to make Parent Trap happen.

Master Post Link

[devilishchaos]

Wildin', on a boat on an island | Rúben Dias Imagine

Rating / genre: M (18+); smut, fluff

Pairings: Reader x Rúben Dias

Summary: Y/N and Rúben go on vacation..again.

Warnings: Explicit smut, explicit talk, oral (f receiving), unprotected vaginal penetration (don't do it!!! stay safe!), hair grabbing, use of pet names "baby", "babe", "princesa"

AN: manifesting this photos energy <3 enjoy x

Word Count: 5 871 words

This is a work of fiction. The story, names, characters and incidents either are product or the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Your eyes narrowed slightly as you analyzed the shirtless brunette standing in front of you, your arms were crossed firmly across your chest. His eyebrows were raised as he awaited your answer, his back pressed against the kitchen island. 

“You are suggesting we don’t sleep together for the vacation..why?” you questioned, waiting for a decent explanation. 

“Because..my parents room is literally 30 centimeters from ours.” he explained quickly as he shrugged his shoulders with ease “AND I didn’t say that we can’t sleep in the same room! Just no funny business while in it..”

For more context, Rúben had asked you to accompany him on a little trip, on this beautiful boat on his family vacation. And has decided that now - an hour till you guys go on the boat  - is the perfect time to let you know he didn’t want to have sex with you. 

“It’s not like that has stopped you before?!?” you questioned him, with some suspicion still. 

“Babe..in the house is different. It’s a big house. Practically no one can hear us.” he answered with obviousness, it was a simple but logical answer “Listen, I’m going to go upstairs to bring your luggage down and put it in the car, while you cool off a bit, yeah?” 

You already knew it was probably one of the worst ideas he'd ever had and considering it's impulsive, spontaneous Rúben we're talking about..it was indeed terrible. 

"No." you replied simply, with no further explanation or motives as to why. 

Rúben looked actually taken aback by your answer, not being used to getting a ‘no’, not even from you. Though, he knew the only reason you'd said ‘no’ was to contradict him, and you, having no apparent reason to refuse, was an open invitation for Rúben to keep insisting. 

“Come on, it'll only be three days out.” Rúben insisted, using the nicest voice he could “Out there in the nice sea, with perfect weather, with food, drinks and a nice AC system... yeah? Plus - the boat has a double jacuzzi! Yeah?” he questioned you with a raised eyebrow, and at that, you shut your mouth. 

“I-”

“Uh huh, exactly.” 

“I can live without it!” 

“Oh, come on Y/N..” Rúben sighed heavily, closing his eyes for a few seconds, as if recharging his patience before adding “I'll give you whatever you want, whatever it is, I'll get it for you..after those three days. The only condition is - no sex on the boat."

That really got you thinking. 

“I can’t believe you. You sound really confident in yourself right now! Why do you think it is going to be me that is going to initiate something with you first? But you’re lucky that I love João, Bernardete and Ivan and would love to spend time with them. Have a great day Mr. Dias.” and with that you went inside the house to get your luggage because you are an independent young lady, who is not going to let things play out like her boyfriend wants to. 

*

In no time at all, the five of you were out. Rúben told you it would take a couple of hours to reach the perfect spot and if everything went well the fun on the boat could start in the early hours of the next day. 

It didn't seem like a bad plan, so you saw no reason to complain, it seemed fair. And if it wasn't so many days together you could easily ignore him. 

Rúben had kept his word about the ship's commodities, there were all kinds of snacks, drinks, and he had brought other kinds of substances. It was actually very comfortable and a part of you was glad you'd accepted to join them. But you still weren’t able to relax knowing your man didn’t wanna sleep with you. 

To say you were pissed at him was an understatement, but you were at that point of anger where you didn't even bother to show it, you immediately resorted to ignoring Rúben, which was very hard to do considering the fact that he was walking basically naked around you, only wearing his stupid short shorts that you wanted to rip off of him so bad. 

You had had your doubts about it at first, but now you were more than grateful that you had packed your swimsuits. Since you were giving Rúben the cold shoulder, you would have to find another way to entertain yourself; and being that you were in the sea and the weather is so nice, the most logical and comfortable thing to do would be to lie down on your towel, put on your sunglasses on and at least get a good tan out of it. 

Rúben, on the other hand, was annoyed with himself. He knew it was among the possibilities that you would get mad at him and do just what you are doing now, which is ignoring him completely. 

He hadn't seen you since last night, when you two had an argument during dinner about sleeping in separate rooms, which you insisted on. Since he didn’t wanna have sex with you - you didn’t want to tempt him..yet. 

Rúben felt his heart almost leap out of his chest as soon as he saw you come out of the booth, in your red swimsuit, the one that accentuated every curve of your body. You'd worn it around him before, and the last time you did, he fucked you in the pool. 

You seemed not to have seen him, or if you had, then you did a very good job of pretending he wasn't there. Once you knew you were within his range of view and he could see you perfectly well, you bent over to lay your towel on the floor of the boat, feeling the fabric of your bathing suit slide slightly over your butt. It wasn't much, but just enough. 

Rúben’s jaw tightened so bad he feared his teeth would crack, to keep from letting out a groan at the sight, he closed his eyes shut and gripped the edge of the table until his knuckles turned white; focusing on what Ivan was telling him, trying to get the image of you, bent over a few feet in front of him in nothing but your bathing suit, out of his mind. 

Rúben knew you were doing it on purpose, you knew how much he liked that bathing suit on you. But today? Right now? You were playing very dirty games with his head. 

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't take his eyes off you. The way your skin glowed under the sun, how well your swimsuit fit and the fact that you were doing this to provoke him, caused his shorts to feel too tight all of a sudden. 

Rúben didn't even know what to do with himself, so he decided to go take a cold bath; he wouldn't give you the satisfaction of messing with his head like that. 

He excused himself and exited the small cabin, leaving Ivan, and you lifted your head to see him walk away. Rúben looked a little uncomfortable and you noticed how he slightly tugged the front of his shorts as he walked. 

"What, do I make you nervous, Rúbes?" you teased in a loud voice, causing him to turn around and flip you off. Without saying anything else, Rúben entered another door and slammed it shut. 

And with that, a little victory smile appeared on your lips. 

*

Eventually, tanning got boring. You looked down at your own body and lifted the edge of your swimsuit slightly, the tan lines were just the way you liked them, on point. Full of satisfaction, you gathered your things and decided to go back inside, maybe to take a bath and eat something. 

You entered quietly, not wanting to attract anybody's attention. You walked down the hallway to the bathroom. Just as you grabbed the bathroom doorknob to open it - the door opened. Out of the bathroom came Rúben, with nothing but a towel tied around his hips. You stopped dead in your tracks in the hallway at the sight, which you couldn't deny was very good. The towel was wrapped around Rúben’s hips so low that his prominent V-line was visible to a rather dangerous point, one you didn't want to let your eyes get to. 

He was shirtless obviously, so you had a perfect view of his defined torso and muscular arms, some water droplets still rolled down his body, making a path from his chest, down his abdomen and getting lost under his towel. 

His hair was still wet, framing his face perfectly. His dark eyes were fixed on you, and you realized, too late already, there was a little smile on his lips, prompted by the way you were eyefucking him. 

“What, do I make you nervous, princesa?” Rúben questioned you, using the same condescending tone and smirk you had earlier, as he took a step closer to you. 

You genuinely felt your knees weaken at his voice and the way he looked, but you were too proud to let him know that, so you simply shrugged. 

“Come closer and maybe I'll tell you.” you teased with a low tone, letting your eyes travel down his body. 

Rúben’s smirk only grew and you thought that finally you two were on the same page, thinking about the same thing, and more importantly, that it would happen. He took a confident step towards you, so this way he was towering over you, his chest barely inches away from yours, his lips basically hovering over yours. 

You placed both hands on his body, letting them travel from his abs all the way to his chest, causing him to bite his lip at the feeling. Rúben leant down even more, his lips grazing with yours, breaths mixing and skin touching. 

And then.. 

You pushed him out of the way and locked yourself in the bathroom. By doing that, provoking Rúben in that way and then putting a door between the two of you - you had started a silent game, in which you were provoking each other in an obvious way, waiting to see who is going to give in first. And you were determined it is not going to be you. 

After hours of playing tease, any slight contact or brush from Rúben’s skin against yours had you biting your lip to silence a sound and any look you gave Rúben with your bedroom eyes had him on the verge of jumping your bones. 

The staring game got a little too heavy for Rúben, so he stood up from the booth and walked to the kitchen, pulling out a cold bottle of water to refresh himself. You knew you couldn't let him get away with it, at least not without trying, so you stood up and walked to the kitchen as well, if he asked, then being dinner time would be a perfect excuse. 

Rúben heard you walk into the kitchen, but paid no mind, deciding to focus solely on his water, placing a hand on the kitchen island and letting his head hang low. Funny enough, the drawer where pans are kept is right where Rúben is, by his left hand, and sure as hell you wouldn't ask anything from him. Which left you with only one choice. 

You walked to where he stood, which he noticed as he turned his head sideways to look at you, and right when he took a step back, you found the perfect opportunity to slip right between him and the kitchen island, your body grinding on him, in all the right places. 

The sound of Rúben’s breathing picking up gave you a sense of victory, as you remained in front of him and bent slightly to take out the pan you needed, only to walk away right when you felt him harden behind you and the ghost of his hand over your hip. 

He really thought he had you. Again. 

Your smile of victory didn't disappear, not even when the stove wouldn't turn on and you had to resort to chopping fruit and hoping that was enough to rid your hunger. Now is when Rúben found the perfect opportunity to tease you back, seeing as you were completely distracted while cutting fruit. He slowly walked back into the kitchen, making sure you couldn't hear him. You were completely clueless to his presence, even when he stood right behind you. 

However, as soon as Rúben took another step closer, you did become aware of his presence. Very. 

“Oh, don't mind me.” he mumbled in your ear. 

“Rúben, what are you doing?” you asked, pretending to be completely unbothered, while the reality is that you're screaming on the inside. His chest was pressed to your back, one of his hands had found its way to your hips, and his breath tingled in your ear. 

And right there was when he reached out to grab a glass, which was on the cabinet above your head. The reality is that he didn't have to stretch to reach the glass, it was just a matter of raising his arm. But where was the fun in that? 

As he stretched, his body pressed even closer against yours, you could feel him hard against you, his breath now in your ear. And in an attempt to avoid his lips, you bent over, a move that only served in Rúben’s favor, causing you to bite your lip in an attempt to silence the moan that would come from your lips. 

You both were thinking the same thing. Of just how easy it would be for him to take you right there and then. 

But you wouldn't give up just yet, no sir, you still had one ace up your sleeve. Which is why you picked up your fruit tray and slid out from the right space between the bar and Rúben’s body. 

* 

Normally, you wouldn't care if Rúben decided to just watch you eat instead of eating something himself, but right now it had you on edge. 

You and his mother were sitting on the couch in the booth, while Rúben and Ivan were sitting opposite of you, their dad fishing on the other end of the boat. Rúben was sitting on the seat in front of you, his legs spread slightly, his hands on his thighs and his eyes fixed on you. He was basically manspreading, occasionally lifting his hips from the chair to ‘get comfortable’, but you weren't stupid. 

“Are you done flexing your muscles?” you asked him boredly, raising an eyebrow at him. 

He opened his mouth to say something, but closed again as you stood up, his eyes followed your hand closely, especially when you drove your fingers to your lips and sucked the remaining fruit juice off them. The sight almost made him roll his eyes, but not in annoyance. 

“I'm going to the jacuzzi.” you announced, letting your eyes travel over him. “You continue doing that.” 

Even though it had not been an open or direct invitation, you knew Rúben had understood the innuendo. 

You hurried to the jacuzzi, taking off your clothes as the water heated up, you poured the bubble soap while letting your hair down, knowing that Rúben wouldn't be long in coming, although he wasn't hot on your heels to disguise how desperate he was, you knew he was coming for you. 

As you stared at the steaming, bubbly water, a wicked idea found its way to your mind. 

Meanwhile, Rúben paced back and forth in the hallway, running his hands through his hair repeatedly, especially when he stopped and had that urge to open the bathroom door where he knew you were. 

You're just a door away and what's holding him back is his pride. Knowing that if he opens that door, he's admitting his need for you. Proving that chasing after you is more important than his pride. 

He cursed himself for what felt the longest time before giving in and opening the bathroom door. The first thing he saw was steam. Lots of it. It made him squint his eyes while they trailed over the place in search of you. 

His eyes fell on the jacuzzi, it was filled with small bubbles, the room smelt like you, white musk scent surrounding you. And there you were, your back pressed against the side of the jacuzzi, arms spread over the edge, the bubbly water covering your body, stopping right below your collarbones, just atop of your chest. 

His mind automatically went places, but Rúben kept his thoughts at bay as he took off his shirt without a word. You did nothing but stare at him, your eyes following his every move, from the way he gripped the edge of his shirt, to the way he slid it off his body and his torso came into view. 

Rafe took a step closer, but he felt something soft under his foot, so he looked down. And what did he find?

Your swimsuit. 

At first he didn't process entirely what it meant, but then his eyes widened. 

You were naked. 

In the jacuzzi that's just a couple of steps away from him. 

And he was just..standing there like an idiot? Rúben was embarrassed of himself. 

A soft giggle escaped your lips when you noticed how flustered Rúben suddenly got, he actually struggled while taking off his shorts and if you hadn't been so amused by the view, you would have offered to help. 

Eventually he stopped fumbling with its ties and right when he pulled it down his hips, you looked away. Your tongue glided over your teeth as you felt the temptation to look, but you were stronger than that. 

“Enjoying the jacuzzi you said you could live without?” Rúben asked in a calm tone as he got in it, sitting by your right side. 

“Very much.” you assured, running your hand through the water, moving the bubbles slightly, you really had no intention other than to distract yourself from how nervous you were, still, Rúben tried to see through the bubbles. 

He couldn't handle himself anymore, he had denied himself of you for so long that he wanted you now. Told himself he was crazy. But now that he has you in front of him - he will do anything to have you. 

And an idea popped up in his mind. He knew this would be pathetic, lame even, but it would work. 

As you both did nothing but enjoy the hot tub and tried to ignore each other's bodies, Rúben discreetly slid his hand to the side control panel of the hot tub. Although he would never admit it, he spends so much time in the hot tub that he learned the controls by heart. So he knew exactly which buttons to push to disable two of the hot tub jets, the ones on your side, for that matter. 

Your state of relaxation was interrupted as soon as you stopped feeling the hot water flowing on your side of the jacuzzi, the vibrations had stopped and you no longer felt the soft massages on your skin. 

You raised your head and opened your eyes, noticing that indeed, the water stopped on your side. “What the..”

“What's wrong?” Rúben asked, his eyes closed as he did his best to hide a little smirk. 

“The water just..stopped?” you replied in confusion, not understanding why he was so calm. 

“Oh, that's bad. My side is just fine.” he replied simply, opening his eyes. 

You rolled your eyes at his disinterested tone. You couldn't believe that you had actually gone out of your way to plan all this and he couldn't even stop getting on your nerves for a second. 

Utterly done with his bullshit, you slowly moved to the little steps that led out of the hot tub, the last thing you wanted was to slip and embarrass yourself. 

However, before you could even reach them, you felt long fingers wrapping around your wrist, his skin was soft and warm due to the hot bubbly water. You turned to look at him, doing your best to keep your eyes focused on his. 

“Come closer.” his voice was calm, his fingers softly tugged your wrist; as if wanting to pull you closer but not quite to make you uncomfortable. 

You complied to his request and walked slowly to where he sat, the bubbles doing all the work and covering your body from his. You kept getting closer, Rúben slowly opened his legs, so you could stand between them. 

The feeling of the skin of his thighs against yours was your cue to stop, knowing that if you took one step closer, you'd feel him against you. 

His eyes bore on yours. The hazel color of his eyes was darkened by the lust running through his body, his pupils were dilated, his lips plump and red. He was one hell of a handsome man. 

Your faces were inches away from each other, but neither of you would yield to the temptation. 

You bit your lip slightly as soon as you felt Rúben’s large hands resting on your hips, the grip was firm, showing he wasn't hesitating. 

Testing the waters, you took a step closer and he let you, the grip on your hips becoming firmer and more secure, you could even say you felt him pulling you into his body slightly. 

Keeping eye contact, Rúben’s hand began to slide lightly, brushing your hip with his fingertips. His hand moved down to your thigh, where he caressed your thigh with his fingertips, drawing imaginary circles, which moved closer and closer to the center of your legs. 

Knowing exactly what he was doing, you felt fire in the pit of your stomach. You wanted him. And you wanted him now. But you also didn't want to give him the satisfaction. Maybe after all you were as stubborn as he claimed you were. 

You motioned to move your leg, and immediately, Rúben took a hold of your thigh, stopping you. A smirk appeared on your lips. Without saying anything, you yielded to his touch and moved even closer, putting your leg over his thigh and quickly bringing the other leg up as well, straddling him. 

The direct contact of your skin with Rúben’s, your core brushing against his dick..made him let out an agitated sigh right in your ear. 

And you would have teased him about it, but the truth is that the contact of his hard dick against your body almost made you moan. He was right under you, all it took was for you to raise slightly and for him to align himself. 

Ignoring how much you wanted to grind on him, you put your arms around his shoulders, wrapping your arms around his neck in the process, moving even closer, your chest pressed against his and your chin resting on his shoulder, wanting to enjoy the warm water a while longer before the inevitable happened. 

Rúben’s arms wrapped around your body, your breasts pressed against his chest, your pussy brushing just the right places on his dick. If this is the game you wanted to play, then Rúben would be just as good at it. 

He lifted his hips slightly and at that you couldn't help but let out a gasp, which you prayed he hadn't heard, but he did and it only fed his ego. 

As his fingertips caressed your spine, Rúben moved your hair from your shoulders to get better access and brought his lips to your neck. He started with innocent kisses, little brushes of his lips against your skin, while his fingertips caressed your skin. 

However, he was determined to break you. He brought his lips to the small spot below your ear, where he sucked, receiving an audible moan from you. One of his hands had slid down your back until it ended at your left asscheek, which he squeezed and used to push your body against his, causing you to grind on him. 

“Fuck..” you mumbled, throwing your head back out of mere instinct. 

He had so many dirty comments to make, but he decided to concentrate on you. Since you had thrown your head back, he had more access to your neck. He brought his lips to your skin again, starting to leave little bites and kisses all over, while one of his hands traveled to your breasts, his fingers taking one of your nipples and giving it a twist. 

At this you squirmed slightly on top of him, your hips moving against his, rubbing his dick in such a perfect way that it made him growl against your skin. 

“You like that, meu amor?” he murmured against your skin, voice husky “Want me to do it again?” 

“Yes.” you mumbled breathlessly. 

His fingers moved deftly between your legs, as you grasped his jaw and moved his head to the side, so that you could have access to his neck and an efficient way to quiet the sounds he would elicit from you. 

His index finger slipped between your folds, while his thumb searched for your clit until he found it, and began to give circular notions. You accidentally left a little bite on his neck, which was welcomed by Rúben , as he started to speed up his thumb and slid his middle finger inside you. 

“Rúbenn..” you murmured, your walls automatically tightening around his finger. 

“Does this feel good, princesa?” he murmured in your ear as his thumb accelerated his movements, he slid his ring finger in as well, your walls clenching at his voice "Oh it does, you're already clenching around my fingers." 

Now he had two fingers inside you, which he began to move in a come hither motion, hitting your sweet spot instantly, the one he had found in a matter of seconds. 

“Oh, fuuuck, Rúb-” 

He could feel you, how your walls clenched around his fingers so tightly it was hard for him to move them, your kisses on his neck had become sloppy and wet and your eyes were closed. Just when you felt you would reach the tip of ecstasy, Rúben pulled his fingers out of you. 

You were about to yell at him, but he spoke first, taking your jaw with one of his hands, fixing his eyes on yours. 

“I want to make you cum on my dick, yeah?” 

And you swore you could've come right there. Just by his words. 

“Yeah?” he questioned again, making you realize it had been more of a way to get your permission. 

“Yeah.” you nodded your head eagerly and that was all he needed. 

Rúben wrapped his arms around you and stood up, you instinctively wrapped your legs around his torso, biting your lip in anticipation for what was about to come. 

Rúben knew the boat like the back of his hand, so in a matter of no time, both of you were in his room. Rúben placed you down on his bed, not caring in the least that you were wetting it. 

He was soon close to you again, his lips on your skin. Your breathing started to become erratic, unable to control yourself in the face of the new sensations. His kisses traveled all over your neck, part of your shoulders and even on your jaw. 

Without a word, Rúben grabbed you with moderate force by the jaw and caught your lips with his immediately. You lost yourself in the kiss completely, the sensation of his lips against yours stoking the fire within you even more. 

Unable to stay still and wanting to discover your whole body, Rúben began to leave kisses and little bites on your neck. You tried to grab his face to bring him back to your lips, but as soon as you tried, he pulled away from you, took your wrists and put them against the bed, his face was above yours, the room was barely being illuminated by the light that was filtering through the blinds, so you couldn't see much, only the shadow of his features. 

“You want me?” he asked over your lips, his voice hoarser than usual and his breathing was rapid. 

“I want you. So bad.” 

You saw the shadow of a victorious smile on his lips and felt them against yours again, he put both hands holding your wrists above your head, and held both of your wrists with one hand, freeing his other one. 

His kisses began to descend again, with a slowness that clearly had the sole purpose of driving you crazy. You lifted your hips off the bed so you could feel some more of him, while Rúben took advantage of this and positioned himself between your legs with ease. 

He stopped kissing you momentarily, you could feel his breath on your skin and without warning, he returned his hand in between your thighs and now pushed three fingers inside you, while his thumb returned to your clit, you inevitably ended up letting out a moan, as his fingers had hit the right spot again. Having located the spot already, he began to move his fingers faster and deeper, curving them from time to time, accelerating the speed of his thumb as well. 

His lips went lower and lower, until his head was between your thighs and your hand was lost in his hair. His lips concentrated on your clit, sucking and circling it with his tongue, making you let out an erotic moan that you were ashamed of, because of how loud it had been. 

His hand kept up that incredible rhythm, but what made you almost climax was the feeling after he sucked on your clit and bit down lightly. 

“Rú- Rúben..I'm gonna-” 

That was all he needed to know to remove his hand, he would keep up with his word. As soon as he moved his hand away from your pussy, you immediately felt the emptiness, but you were too busy getting back to normal to complain. 

Rúben brought his fingers covered with your wetness to his lips and licked them clean, the sight of that, combined with the ‘mmm’ that he let out, was mouth watering. 

Rúben pulled you closer to him, so that your legs were over his thighs, he placed his hands on the sides of your head. His dick rubbed against your entrance, which brought gasps to both of your lips. 

He leaned over you and you could hear his breathing fast and heavy in your ear, it was almost like he was waiting for something.

“What's wrong?” you asked. “Are you doubt- ” 

You didn't get to finish saying the sentence, because he entered you with a quick movement of his hips, making you moan immediately, it took a few seconds to get used to the sensation of having him inside you. It always did. No matter how many times you've slept together, he is just so big. 

He stayed still for a few seconds, letting out hoarse mumbles of how good you felt, directly into your ear. Once you felt comfortable, you tightened your walls around him, which made him let out a grunt and start moving his hips against yours. 

You brought your hands to his neck and pulled his face to yours, bringing your lips together in a desperate kiss, as his hips moved incessantly, one of your hands tangled in his hair and as if on reflex, he put a hand around your neck, squeezing the sides lightly, something that made you moan into his lips. 

“How could you do this to me? All that teasing..I’m not made from steel..” he whispered in your ear. 

“Rúben, oh my God..” 

“I love you so much.” 

His words and the movement of his hips made your eyes roll “Don't stop, babe..please.” 

He pulled his face away from yours and placed his weight on the arm he had placed at the side of your head, speeding up his movements. You wrapped your legs around his waist to deepen things. 

You noticed that he started to slow down, but his movements still had depth. You knew he was doing it so he wouldn't tire quickly, but maybe you could help.  You used a considerable amount of strength to be able to turn you both around, ending up on top of him, while he looked at you with his lower lip between his teeth. 

Just to tease him further, you slipped his dick out of you and moved away, your body hovering over his thighs. He sat down on the bed, waiting for you to do something, but you only smirked at him. 

Rúben sat there while stroking himself and being done with your attitude, grabbed you by the waist and pulled you back to him, starting to fill your breasts with wet kisses and hickeys, biting your nipples from time to time, while you put your legs around him, slowly positioning yourself on top of him, again. 

You knew you wouldn’t last too long, anyway. 

“Stop teasing me, princesa.” 

“Where’s the fun in that?” 

He used the grip he had on your hips and pulled you down, entering you again, a hoarse moan came from his lips. You pushed him down by the chest so he’d lay down and began to move on top of him, in circles and up and down while his hands were on your hips and yours on his chest. 

You knew those moves were only satisfying you, as you moved as you needed to, and Rúben was quick to notice that. The grip he had on your hips began to tighten, a sign that he was getting desperate. Until he finally sat down in a rush, and began to move you at the pace he wanted, as the hand he kept on your hip guaranteed him control. 

“You're so stubborn, you know that?” he emphasized every word with a hip thrust. 

“Fuck, fu- fuck, Rú- Rúb-..” you weren't even able to say his name, or speak at all. 

You placed one hand on his shoulder and another on his neck, starting to move faster. He left sloppy kisses on your chest and you scratched his back, sometimes even left bites on his shoulder to stifle moans, especially when he murmured things in your ear, along the lines of ‘you're mine’, ‘this pussy feels so good’, ect. 

It didn't take long before you two began to lose rhythm, his movements were erratic and your speed had slowed. Until he finally came inside you, seeing the way his eyes closed tightly, as heavy breaths came from between his pink lips along with the “Fuck, Y/N, you feel like heaven..” he mumbled, was what made you climax too. 

While you both came down from your highs, there was nothing but silence, Rúben was still inside you and remained like that, after he turned you over, collapsed on top of you and you wrapped your arms around his body, both of you falling asleep without another word. 

[grippingbeskar]

cutting it close | the mandalorian

mando x fem!reader

word count: 11.4k

warnings: ADULT CONTENT MINORS DNI (oral f receiving, mxf intercourse) swearing, canon typical violence, din clubbing deserves its own warning guys.

a/n: a labour of true love. i wrote half of this so long ago, but was inspired by an incredible source to continue.we are really living up the the user name in this one bc WE ARE GRIPPING BESKAR FOR REAL. shoutout to @everybirdfellsilent​ for being the BEST person to bounce ideas off, catching all of my grammar errors (there were many) and helping me figure out how someone whispers in a helmet. you are a real one and i love you!!!!! okay enjoy goodbye. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Are you sure he’s in there?” You ask the Mandalorian, who even through his helmet looks as uncomfortable as you are. He just holds up the tracking fob and it beeps rapidly, hardly making a sound over the thumping of the bass in the club in front of you.

“Guess so.” He yells over the sound. If you can barely hear him out here, you don't even want to imagine what it's like inside. The sound vibrates through the concrete and you can hear the high pitched sound of girls singing somewhere in the back, blue and red lights flicking out underneath the door you both stand in front of.

“I’ll go. You can wait out here. Your shiny head’s gonna reflect the light too much and give me a headache.” You go to take the tracker from him but he yanks it away. Rolling your eyes, he just leans and opens the door for you, and there's no point in arguing as you walk inside, the music instantly flooding your senses.

You have been helping Mando track down a couple of syndicate members while he was out on Corellia, promising to share the credits and take you off the planet if you showed him where they might be hiding. You have no loyalties here, and if you could get a free ride while also making those assholes pay for all the people they’ve fucked over, then you’d be lying if you said you wouldn’t enjoy it.

The thump of the bass is annoying, only because you aren’t drunk. Usually you love this shit, and the packed dance floor stuffed with swaying bodies gives you a little bit of a rush as you remember all the good nights you’ve had here. Drinking till the sun comes up, meeting strangers and making them your best friends for a night, taking some lucky guy home with you only to kick him out the next morning, bored and hungover. It makes you smile to think about how your life used to be, free of responsibility, but as the Mandalorian comes up next to you, you are reminded of why you’re here.

“Where should we look?” He yells, and you pull him down by his shoulder so he can repeat it. He stiffens under your touch, but over the past couple days he’s started to get used to you putting your hands on him, you think. You think he’s probably been alone for most of his missions, so being around someone as outgoing as you; it’s probably a lot to take in

The Mandalorian has not, will not ever get used to the way you touch him. The first time you reached out for him, pulling his arm in the direction of some abandoned house, he nearly dropped to his knees at the way your fingers curled around his armor. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from your hand on him, how your skin looked against the silver beskar, how your eyes bore holes in his helmet, like you could see him through all of it. He would never admit how he went back to the ship and jacked off like he never had before, only thinking about your hand gripping him, tighter and tighter. You wave your hand in front of his face, and he has to look around to get his bearings.

“Hey! I said through here. Come.” Your hand takes his, and he lets you lead him through the crowd. Once his brain swims back into his own head, he tightens his hand on yours, coming closer behind you as you shove your way through. It gets easier as you go further, people starting to move in the presence of his giant frame.

He doesn’t notice that, he doesn’t even notice where you're leading him, all thoughts and two eyes on your hand, gripping his, and he doesn’t think he will be able to get the image out of his head.

Threading through the last of the crowd, you have to knock a few people out of the entrance to the back, a couple making out looking up and giggling as they watch you lead a giant Mandalorian into the red rooms. The soft material of the curtain sends shivers up your arm as you pass through it, and you hear Mando behind you swatting at it, and the rip of material as some of it gets caught on his armor.

“Hey darlin’. Come back for more?” You hear a familiar voice and you roll your eyes at the sound of it. Shaun was an old friend, although friend was a very loose term. You hooked up once, extremely drunk, kissing in this very room for about three seconds before his girlfriend at the time came in and smacked the shit out of him.

“More of watching you get your ass beat by a girl?” He physically winces, and being the complete push over that he is, when he sees The Mandalorian trail behind you, he swallows hard and backs up a bit. “We need to go downstairs. My friend wants to pay a visit.”

“Come on. You kn-know I can’t.” Stepping forward, you hear the click of a blaster from behind you, and The Mandalorian takes perfect aim.

“You can. You will, too. Or he will make you.” You motion your head over your shoulder, and you can see the way he’s standing without turning your head, one leg slightly bent, casually waiting to shoot.

“They’ll kill me if I do.” He whispers and looks at the floor. You kick the cheap carpet out of the way and see a tiny sliver of light, a shadow crossing over it. The fob beeps from behind you, faster than before.

“I’ll kill you if you don’t.” Mando moved closer behind you, you could only tell because his voice got louder and you could see a little glint of beskar in the corner of your eye. You just put your hand out, and the key to the tiny lock on the trap door falls into your hand, Shaun stepping back. As soon as the lock clicks he bolts.

Coward.

Not like he’ll have anything to worry about once Mando goes down. You flip up the trap door as quietly as possible, and go to take the first step when a gloved hand falls on your shoulder.

“Stay up here. Keep watch.” He goes down first, and before you lose his head down the door you whisper to him.

“Be safe, okay?”

He freezes.

He can fight twenty guys at once, unarmed, and not even think about it, but the worried look in your eyes and your hand gently running across the side of his helmet makes every muscle in his body freeze. He manages a nod and you smile, closing the door over his head, and he lets out a very long sigh, trying to contain himself. He needs to focus, and the only way he can seem to do that is if he isn’t near you, so when your face disappears from view, he slips back into the zone.

He drops and finally hits solid ground, blaster fire immediately following. He hears the door above him swing open, seeing your hair whizz past his vision as you fold yourself into the tiny gap behind the stairs, shuffling along to get a vantage point above him. While watching you one of the men throws a punch against his armor. He wouldn’t have even felt it if he wasn’t looking, and it pissed him off so much that he just picks up the guy and smashes him down into the table, breaking it in two.

Watching the Mandalorian in his element, he moves easily through the men, hardly having to look when he fires a blaster or throws a punch. You shoot a couple heading out the back, not entirely sure which one he is after, but they deserved it anyways. These guys were notorious spice runners, but it wasn’t the drugs that made them bad, it was them selling it to young kids, telling them if they sell it all they will make them rich, and then forcing them to work out the debt when they inevitably don't come through. It was a fucked up system, one that you had been trying to take down for the past couple months, but having a giant beskar bounty hunter on your team was doing things now that would have taken you years alone.

Bodies start to pile up and pretty soon you notice the Mandalorian running out of guys to kill, so you shimmy back through the ladder and drop down. By the time you reach him, he’s cracking the skull of the last guy on the wall, his body sliding down leaving green blood in a trail. The tracking fob still beeps in the quiet of the room. You reach into the Mandalorians belt and pull it out, wandering around the room trying to get a better signal.

The Mandalorian can’t move. You didn’t even think twice, just shoved your hands in his belt, so dang close to where he’s pictured ever since he saw you. You’ve ignited something in him that he thought went dormant when he took the helm, but you; your hands, your confidence - he can’t hide the reaction you cause.

You try not to make a big deal out of it, try not to smile, to acknowledge the way he froze up under you. It's not possible, you and him. Even though you have thought about it many, many times. You don't even know how it would work; would he keep his armor on? Take those gloves off, the ones that sometimes slip up his hand and you see a sliver of tanned, real skin that sends your stomach crazy, and would he put his hands on you? You drag your eyes back to the fob in your hand, and when you lift it above your head it beeps wildly.

“How did he get past us?” You shake your head, because there’s no way he did. You were behind the stairs, and no one passed through the Mandalorians' brutal assault.

“Maybe he was never down here. I don’t know what he looks like. Guy’s a ghost.” The modulator thinks out loud, and you both look up at each other in realization, and a bit of shock on your part.

“There is no way.” It makes you laugh, because it's that unbelievable. “Shaun is a pussy. No way he could pull that off. He is not the guy we’re after. No. No way.”

“Where does that door lead to?” He’s referring to the door Shaun went out of, but you just turn and start up the ladder, still in some weird state of half shock and half amazement.

“Shaun. Fucking Shaun! You know this guy burnt his own eyebrows off because he was holding a blowtorch the wrong way?” The Mandalorian says nothing, but you just can’t believe it.

Shaun - the guy who cried when you told him he probably wasn’t going to be a Jedi was helping these syndicate guys run a child spice ring. You cannot believe this shit.

You ram the door Shaun fled into, and the pumping music instantly hits your chest, a hard bass line beating through the floor. You can feel the armor looming behind you, your ears tuning into the way Mando breathes even over the volume. Both of you take in the sight in front of you, the club is somehow ten times more busy, hardly giving you room to move. You scan the wave of people, darkness covering them and hands and bodies swaying way too fast to even see a face.

“I see him.” He says, and you look up to him. His arm comes over your shoulder, armor brushing lightly over the bare skin there. His hand is easy to follow, your focus deadly on the way his chest touches your back when he breathes in. Squinting, you see the unmistakable red hair bobbing through the crowd. “Can't get a clear shot. We need to move closer.”

“Follow me.” You pull him towards the crowd, but he doesn’t move.

“We’ll go around.” You look, both to your left and right, and see no way around, bodies just as thick to the walls as they are in the middle, and Shaun is moving further into the crowd.

“It’s too slow.” You pull him again to no avail.

“I’m not going in there.” He pulls you back to him, and your hand presses against his chest. You swear you can feel his heart beating under the thick layer of armor.

The Mandalorian has never felt so out of his element. The heat signatures of all the people around him are blown out in his helmet, the loud music blaring his senses, but that isn’t what's making him nervous. It's you, your hand on his chest, eyes wide and searching. He feels your look in his bones, like you're staring right at him, the real him. He swallows, and knows you can read him like a book.

“It's gonna be fine. You’re big and scary, they’ll move.” He doesn’t do anything, just stares at your mouth as you talk. “Are you like, claustrophobic?”

“No.”

“Then what is it?”

“Not big on crowds.” You tilt your head up at him, and he knows you picked that up from him. You mirror him, the way he scans the room, the way you change your stance when you look at him, keeping one hand on your blaster whenever you're outnumbered. It makes his heart beat faster to think you notice him like that, and the blood rushes to every part of him that he needs to keep tame. Your eyes flick down quickly then back up to him.

“Hey, come on! I’ll hold your hand the whole time.” You can almost see him roll his eyes in that giant helmet.

“Not helping.” His head swivels towards Shaun who is moving fast through the crowd, his small frame allowing him to slide through easier.

“We’re gonna lose him, Mando.” You sigh. You aren’t forcing him, not pulling his arm and dragging him through the crowd, even though the guy you have been hunting for what feels like forever is escaping as you stand there.

“Fine.” The Mandalorian goes to step forward into the crowd, but hesitates. It’s something you’ve only seen him do a handful of times, and usually it means something bad - no, horrible and unexpected is about to happen, because if he hasn’t planned for something, you have no way in Hell to be ready for it- “It’s Din.”

It’s so quiet, if you weren’t so in tuned with his voice you would have missed it.

“What?” Eyes wide, you tilt your head all the way up, making an effort to stare exactly where his eyes might be.

“My name. It’s Din.” You swallow, all the words in your brain suddenly vanishing to make room for the most important one. “You’ve been around long enough. You should know it.”

Din.

Din.

Diiiiiiiin.

You go to speak, say something in reply, although you aren’t sure what words would equal the meaning of his confession. Maybe he really was claustrophobic, and you saying his name was some last ditch effort to focus elsewhere. You don’t get a chance to ask him though, it’s as if he senses you're about to speak and slips past you, entering the crowd, but not before your hand slips into his, fingers lacing in between his gloved ones.

He’s thankful for your guiding arm as all his years of training seem to vanish when you touch him for the fourth time tonight.

You weave through the bodies as best you can, trying to track Shaun’s head. The club is huge and there's people everywhere, music pounding and flashing lights only illuminating the tops of peoples bouncing heads. You can feel the gloved hand squeeze yours and you stop, the minuscule proof of reciprocation halting your movements. You can feel him step once more to come right up behind you, his helmet so close you can hear the modulator imitating his breath.

“He stopped. We’re being watched.” Your hands stay linked as you look around. The both of you were practically dead center in the crowd, and you can make out Shaun’s tiny head somewhere to your right, surrounded by significantly bigger guards. Shit. You go to move toward him, but the Mandalorian - Din - Din’s free hand grabs your hip and pulls you back, the movement catching you so surprised that you slam into him. “Guards are armed.”

“They’re gonna shoot the place up if we don't lose them.” All the guards surrounding Shaun have their hands on their blasters, and the more you look the more guards you notice.

“You know this place better. What’s our play?” He was still pressed up against you, and his hand was still on your hip. You could feel the vibration of the speaker's bass through your feet, and you tried to think of a way to lose the guards. They weren’t looking straight at you, more just in the general direction of the crowd. You were sure they knew Shaun was being chased, but with the dark lights of the club, they wouldn’t be able to make out faces. Or helmets, hopefully.

“Dance with me.”

Thank the Maker for the visor, because Din's eyes nearly popped out of his head. He was having a hard enough time concentrating on anything except the way you were so close to him, and how he was pretty sure his glove was touching a tiny part of your skin, so when you suggested moving of any kind, his first reaction was to deny, if only for his own self preservation.

“No.”

“Come on. I’m not asking you to bend me over; just, I don't know, move a little. We can get closer and lose them in the crowd. Before you know it we will be out the door with Shaun, and the guards won't even know we were there.” You were twisting slightly in his hold so you could speak in his ear, and he found himself sliding his hand further across your waist.

“Okay.” You nod up at him but don’t move for a second, waiting for him to relax. “Lead the way.”

You felt so warm. Maybe it was the nightclub, or maybe it was him. Probably him, the way you begin to sway your hips just a fraction to either side had him grinding his teeth to focus on literally anything else. You let your head come back a little to rest on his chest and your other hand was still locked with his own. He tried to think about the fifty armed guards that were going to shoot everyone in here if this plan didn’t work, but no amount of danger, no risk would pull his mind away from how your free hand came up behind his neck, and how his hand had found your opposite hip, his forearm strong and tight against your stomach.

You were more focused than you had been this entire time. Not on Shaun, or the guards, or moving towards the exit, but on grinding your hips just right so you could feel some part of Din underneath the armor. A name to the person you knew hid beneath. You pulled out your best moves, remembering every night you spent in this club before tonight. It’s like every guy was just a practice run, because none of them felt as good, as strong or as fucking big behind you as The Mandalorian. His arm was pulling you against his chest, and the way his fingers twitched every time your ass found his groin; that was all the encouragement you needed.

“You can move. I don’t mind.” You lean up to look at him before flicking your hair to the other side of your shoulder. He was stiff as a board behind you, and you presumed he didn’t do a lot of clubbing in his line of work, but if this was going to work he needed to at least pretend.

“I- I’m not sure I know how.” You smile up at him. You don’t laugh, although he thinks anyone else would, but instead your hand unwinds from his own and comes on top of the one across your stomach.

“You can do whatever you want to me.” Your eyelashes flutter up at him, and the lights flashing across your face did nothing to hide the blush spreading across your cheeks.

The music, however, covered the slight groan Din made when you said those words. His head dropped, wanting to hide his face even though you couldn’t see it.

Maker, does that work for him.

He copies you, moving in time with your hips, and every time you change direction he has to grip you tighter to make sure you don't stop. Keeping your arm over his you take a step to the right towards the target.

“This is okay?” His voice sounds deeper than usual, and it sends shivers down your spine.

“Good. It’s good.” Maker, he was going to lose his shit. All those nights he had imagined you, imagined what you might feel like against him, around him, none of that would have prepared him for the real thing. You were moving like water against him, fluid and free as you bent your knees a little, sliding down only an inch before coming back up and taking another step to the right. He sees a guard to his left, and moves before he can think, protecting you becoming a sixth sense.

He spins, switching sides with you, and as he does so his hold comes around to your back. You were now face to face, his arm still holding you just as tight against his front, and your arm was hung around his neck, pulling him down closer to your face.

“Guard moved.” He justifies, and you can’t help but smile.

“Who knew The Mandalorian had moves?” He laughs a little and you can feel him relax, the arm around your back finding a more comfortable position to rest just above your ass. “Did they teach you ballet on Mandalore, too?”

“Very funny. I told you I don’t know what I’m doing.” You roll your eyes and both of you take another step towards Shaun, dancing bodies pressing you both closer together.

“You’re doing fine.” Fine was an understatement. For someone who claims they don’t dance, he matches every one of your moves perfectly, and it even starts to feel good; better than it ever did with any of those slimy dudes you danced with before.

“Yeah?” He breathes, dropping his head next to yours to scan the crowd behind you. You lose all power for a second, only being able to focus on how he was holding you and whispering as best he could in your ear.

“Mhmm. Very fine.” He laughs against you again, and leads you another step into the crowd.

Din was putting everything he had into not losing all composure right here. The fact that he could see your heat signature through his helmet wasn’t helping. He knew what yours usually looked like, he had spent enough time staring at you to picture it, so when he dropped his eyes and could see your stomach and chest burning red ever since he pulled you against him, his hold on himself became looser and looser.

“How are we doing?” You have to constantly blink to remind yourself why you are both here. He moves his hips against you and you shiver, the feeling of him moving against you too good to hide.

“Still too far.” Your back was to the target, so he had to keep an eye on him. He didn’t want to, didn’t give a shit about the target or the money or the beeping tracking fob. All he wanted was to stay here, with you dancing on him. Your forehead drops to rest on his chest. The music starts to pick up and so does your hips, naturally swaying to the beat.

“S-slow down.” Din stutters. Actually stutters. His voice is slow and crackly when he whispers in your ear. “Can’t think.”

“Why’s that?” The energy of the club disappears, and it's just you and him, occasional blue and red flashes lighting up his helmet.

“We have to focus.” You keep dancing, not wanting this moment to end. He feels so good against you, the cool armor against your hot skin electrifying every movement.

“Worried you can’t handle it, big guy?” You smirk up at him and pull his helmet closer, linking your arms around the back of his neck.

He’s slipping. Too far gone; with your hands around his neck and your hips swaying like that, right against him, there’s no looking back now.

“I can handle it.” You swallow hard at his voice that is now full of confidence, the one he uses when he talks to a target.

“Guess we’ll find out.” His arm at the back of you tightens, and you both realize at the same time what line you are crossing. There's no doubt that either of you haven’t thought about it, it’s all he has thought about since he met you, but it was all too confusing, too much all of a sudden. He has no idea how to handle you, handle whatever it is that you made him feel, but with you in the dark atmosphere of this club and the way you were moving, he can think of nothing else.

Both moving with the music, you start to dance less and grind more, finding a better pace to feel more of him against you. Both of his hands are on you now, one drawing explorative lines up your side while the other holds you to him.

“Guards are coming through the crowd.” His tone becomes a little more serious as the danger suddenly becomes unavoidable. You sneak a quick glance, and you can see them all, pushing people out of the way clearly looking for someone in particular, the shiny head of his helmet practically a beacon. It was so dark you couldn’t make out their faces, let alone Shaun’s or even Din who stared right at you, the guards only obvious because they were the only ones not dancing.

“You need to blend in. Or hide.” You whisper, still trying to act natural and ignore the slight hardness you can feel under your movements. “They’re going to kill everyone in here if they start shooting.”

The club was packed, and syndicate members aren’t exactly known for their conflict resolution, so both of you had no doubt they would shoot their way through innocent people just to minimize risk.

The Mandalorian had two options. He either let everyone in here take the risk of getting shot in the inevitable bloodbath that was going to happen when the guards got close enough to see him, which they only would be able to do because of how reflective his armor was.

Or, he could lean into the very bad second option which had a lot less risk for everyone else, but risked everything he had built for the last 20 years.

Even in the helmet he could only see your face, the darkness blurred everyone around him except how your pretty eyes were staring up at him, letting your hair fall over your shoulders. He couldn’t help but think how soft it would feel in his fingers. He could see your mouth, and how you held your bottom lip between your teeth, eyes glancing around trying to gage how much time you have before he gets you both killed.

“We need to move. They’re going to kill them.” You say, and it’s only because you finally stopped your torturous movement that he can think clearly for a second, or maybe not so clearly considering what he was about to do.

“I have an idea.” Comes through the modulator, and you're half surprised he’s still in there considering how quiet he’s been.

“Cutting it a bit close.”

“Do you trust me?” A gloved hand comes up to your cheek and your eyes fall on him. The glint of the beskar catches the eye of a guard and you can see them coming your way to investigate, caving you in to him at all angles. You lean up on your toes, getting as close to him as possible to make sure no one can hear your answer.

“I trust you, Din.”

“Good.” The hiss of an armor seal, the sound of something hitting the floor and a flash of brown curls under blue light are the last things you remember before his lips found yours.

They were soft. Surprisingly soft. He moved slowly, as if he wasn’t quite sure what to do now that he had found you. There was something so intimate about how slowly he kissed you, nothing but his lips moving against yours, only taking what you give him. You were caught so off guard you aren’t sure you moved in the first few seconds, but as soon as the realization of what was happening washed over you, you gave him everything you had.

One of your hands found his hair, slightly damp from sweat and the other pulled at his neck as if he could get any closer to you. You deepened the kiss, sliding your tongue into his mouth to show him just how okay you are with this, and he responds immediately. All of a sudden what was once a distraction kiss becomes something much more wild, more desperate and much more fitting for the feelings you both have for each other. For a second, you break apart, and its enough for you to utter the only word, the only name you will ever think of again. “Din.” You kiss the name onto his lips before he takes over again, the two of you practically becoming one.

He thinks he’s died and gone straight to hell, hearing you whisper his name. His real name. It’s unlike anything he’s experienced before. You taste sweet, like sugar, and your mouth moves on his like it’s never done anything else. He pulls you tighter, grabs at your hip while the other holds your face to his, using it to obscure himself to everyone but you. He is very aware of how wrong this is, but your teeth bite his bottom lip ever so slightly before sliding your tongue back in his mouth and he suddenly doesn’t care. He is hidden from everyone in the club by the darkness and fog, most of them too drunk or too absorbed in their own lives to notice him, which is exactly what the guards have blended you both in with as they begin to fan out around you. Just another couple kissing in the sea of dancing bodies.

He knows the guards pass as soon as he hears the clicks of blasters in holsters behind him. The threat is eliminated, passed, so why hasn’t he put his helmet back on? Why hasn’t he ripped his mouth away from you?

Every second you kiss him back makes it harder for him to think logically, and when you moan into his hard grip on your back and arch into him he doesn’t think he will ever be able to stop.

You feel the guard brush past you, but Din is kissing you so hard, so fervently that you don’t think you could deny him anything if he asked you right now, so you make no move to pull away, to slow down.

“Fuck.” His voice is just as low out of the modulator, and you feel your legs go weak at the sound of it. You made him say that, you affected him. Just like he affects you. You can feel his skin, a slight stubble around his cheeks, his hair longer than you would have thought, and it’s curly in your hands which for some reason makes him ten times hotter. You want more than anything to pull away and stare at him, take in the image of him, knowing no one will see it but you. But you don’t, and you just let him kiss you until neither of you can breathe, and then a little longer.

When he pulls away you expect him to cover up fast, and you keep your eyes closed not wanting to betray his trust in a futile moment. However, he just rests his forehead against yours, and you can feel the slightly clammy skin of his face against yours. You are both panting for air in the small space between you, and he breaks the silence first.

“They’re gone. Shaun too.” You mentally curse, but you're having trouble being upset at all at this moment, the overwhelming feeling of him is still flooded throughout your body, leaving no room for anything or anyone else.

“That was…”

“A good distraction?” His breath is warm on your face and you are so scared to move because then you won’t be able to kiss him again.

“I was going to say ‘fucking amazing’ but yeah, that too.” He laughs for just you, and you don’t think you will ever get tired of hearing that.

“Now who can’t handle it?” You laugh as he teases you, and nearly roll your eyes until you remember you can’t open them. You put your hand over your face. “What are you doing?”

“In case I see. When you put the…” your foot nudges the beskar helmet on the ground and you feel him nod against you.

“Right.” He forgot everything, forgot the creed he committed his entire life to, and that was only a fucking kiss. He leant down and picked up the helmet, shoving it back on.

It was the first time he resented having to wear it.

Your eyes open and find the black visor staring back at you. You smile up at him and start to sway your hips, placing your hands on his side and resting your face in the crook of his neck.

“Can we pretend a little longer?” You mumble into his shirt at his neck, and he stiffens slightly. You feel a hand adjust his pants before it finds the back of your head.

“I wasn’t pretending.”

“Me either.” The lights start to slow around you, blue and red no longer coming in flashes but waves, and you look up at him.

“Come with me.” He says it half as a question, half a command and his hand intertwines with yours again.

“Where?”

“Anywhere. Everywhere.” You laugh and lean back, leading him towards the exit before you turn around and start squeezing through bodies. He follows close behind, keeping watch for any remaining guards or any ideas for where Shaun might have gotten to. Soon the cool night winds it’s way over your skin and you shiver, the Mandalorian coming right up behind you and guiding you away.

“I didn’t see where he went. Do you have anything?” You look up but he’s not focused on searching, his eyes are set in one direction.

“Track him tomorrow.”

“But what abo-“

“Do you know how many nights I’ve waited to touch you?” Your eyes widen, and you have no words. He’s stopped walking in the middle of the street, but it’s late and dark so no one else is around to witness. You shake your head. “Any idea how many nights I thought about you? Dreamt of you?” Again, you shake your head.

“What did I do? In your dreams?” You breathe, the foggy night steaming a cloud over his helmet as he leans in close.

“I’m going to show you. If you let me.” He tugs on your hand, gentle enough to let you pull away, but you grab his wrist tight and make sure the hold doesn’t break.

“Show me.” He’s too focused on getting where he wants to go that he doesn’t stop immediately. “Din. Please.” He pulls you against him and starts walking a little slower.

“You said that; in my dream.”

“What? Show me?” He shakes his head.

“Please.”

“I say that all the time. I have great manners.”

“Not the way I’m thinking, cyar’ika.” Your heart flutters at the name, and the way he says it, how it vibrates through his chest and reaches into your own. You round a corner and his ship comes into view.

“Guess you’ll have to demonstrate.” The hand on your lower back drops and rests on your ass, giving it a little squeeze that makes you jump into him.

“I plan on it.” Your breath catches in your throat and suddenly you're moving at an almost inhuman pace, jogging to try and keep up with his giant steps. You can hear the passing voices of people heading home for the night, and you wonder where you would have ended up had you not lost Shaun tonight.

Realistically, if you had told your past self you would leave without the bounty tonight, she probably would have slapped you. Right now, though, as the Razor Crest comes into view, you couldn’t imagine a more perfect ending.

Or a more anticipated one. He moves like a predator - fast, swift and with purpose, having the ramp of the Crest already opening by the time you round the corner, hand still entangled tightly with his own.

You were high on adrenaline, the events of just minutes ago still fogging your brain, but your concentration had nowhere else to be but right here, as the soft lights of Corellia disappeared behind the closing ramp. You let out a shuddering breath as Din steps toward you. You can hardly see him, going off your other senses to gauge exactly where he is.

You can smell him. You feel strange, inhaling deeply in the almost pitch black of the hull, but you think it might be your favorite smell. It reminds you of safety, a little hint of vanilla mixed with cedar wood, a result of the single, half empty bottle of all-in-one soap you once glimpsed in the corner of his refresher. You don’t hear him step behind you, but the smallest hint of air brushes over your shoulder, and the scent overwhelms you.

You turn around, exceedingly eager. Your chest practically slams into him, and it’s only when you settle your hands on his ribcage you hear how fast you were breathing.

“Relax. It’s just me.” You let out a soft laugh, trying to hide your nerves.

“That’s kind of the problem.” You say and instantly feel him move back.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.” You want to slam your head against the wall. Of course he would be sweet, and kind, exactly the kind of guy you always want but never find yourself going for. Willing some of that confidence from the club to miraculously appear, you blindly reach out, playing to pull him back to you, and yank the first part of armor you find.

You wouldn’t call it a squeak, exactly. You don’t think that it would be possible for Din to emit a sound like that, but something breathy and surprising cracks the silence in the ship as you pull him forward. Your hand had slipped right over the ridge of his breastplate, finding the one weak spot on his armor even in the dark. You could feel him swallow against the back of your knuckles.

“I want…” Two hands rest lightly on your body. One is on your hip, his thumb running small lines up and over the curve of it, and the other rests on your cheek. His skin - exposed, and against yours, is rough as his fingers begin to thread into your hair. The heel of his palm takes up most of your cheek, and a wave of warmth rushes through every part he touches.

“What do you want, cyar’ika?” Even though it’s pitch black, your eyes flutter shut at the beautiful jumble of words. You recognise the language, only because you’ve heard Din say a few words here and there during hunts, but mainly only the swear words. Now, the language sounds like a dream, and it doesn’t really matter what it means, only that he’s saying it to you, and it almost sounds like a compliment.

“I want you, Din.” You feel the hand in your hair tighten slightly, flex and thread further towards the back of your head. The hand on your hip leaves only for a second, and in the next moment a loud clang on the ground has you almost jumping into Din’s arms.

“Sorry.” He laughs, and your heart stops. His voice is perfectly clear. Handsome. Can a voice be handsome? You keep your eyes closed, afraid to break the spell of whatever magic must be enchanting you right now. “Come here.”

You don’t get a chance to fully appreciate the sound of him, without his helmet for the second time tonight, but when his lips gently press against yours, you get lost in him. You’ll have him talking soon enough. Emboldened by how tentative he moves against you, your hands slip out from underneath his breastplate and into his hair. Your eyes squeeze shut tighter at the feeling, and your fingers get tangled in the slightly damp mess of curls. It was longer than you imagined, and soft. So, so soft. Maybe that all-in-one soap needed a little more credit.

When you use the new hold you have on him to pull him closer, he groans into your mouth. The sound has you sighing in content, and you drag your fingertips over his scalp, massaging the sound out of him again. The hand on your hip slides up to your lower back, holding you against him, tight. Everything comes rushing back, the music that was flowing around you minutes ago, the energy of the club, the way Din was letting himself feel you without hesitation. You move against him, and his hands drop from your face to just under your ass, and in one go he has you up in his arms, your legs instinctively wrapping around his back.

He takes a single step and makes the distance from the center of the hull, pushing you up against the wall. The cold metal is hard against your back, but so is the unyielding hold of his armor on your front, and it immobilizes you in the best way. His hands, unrestrained by the gloves he usually wears, begin to massage just under your ass, fingers spreading out along the fabric covered skin. His teeth lightly graze on your bottom lip, and the movement has you gasping and chasing his mouth when he pulls back.

“So many people in that damn club.” He grumbles, blessing you with another light kiss before dragging the soft skin of his lips down to your jawline. His tongue darts out only slightly, tasting you. Some small part of your brain that is still able to process words reminds you of how reluctant he was when you all but forced him into the crowd.

“I didn’t mean t-to make you go in - fuck, Din.” He finds a spot just under your ear, biting and kissing while you attempt to form a sentence.

“Not what I mean.” His curls tickle the underside of your chin as he dips his head, kissing the front of your throat. Something about it feels like surrender, and you are more than happy to give in to it. “Wanted you all to myself.”

“You could of fucking had me months ago.” It comes out a little more aggressive than you planned, but it’s painfully true. All it would have taken was one word from him, and you would have given him whatever he wanted. It pissed you off to think of all the wasted time, especially when it might be coming to an end once you tracked down the final bounty. Your words make him stutter, his hair brushing your cheek before his forehead rests on your own.

“Really?” You can hear his smile through his words, and it makes your heartbeat a little faster just imagining it.

“Best bounty hunter in the galaxy, but can’t pick up a single hint, huh?” You slide your arms around his neck, one hand pulling him back to your mouth. He lets you lead, melting into your touch as your hand starts to massage the thick muscles at the base of his neck. He moans, and you can feel the effect of the small sound under your clothes, so you track it down again, repeating the motion. He was still wearing his full armor except the gloves and helmet, so you did your best to relax his neck and shoulders the best you could reach. He rewards the movement with those same sweet sounds, taking your full weight by holding you in his forearms.

“Maker, you- you feel so fucking good.” You start to roll your hips against him, and from this angle you can feel him, hard and big under that damn armor.

“Feels better without my clothes on.” You arch your neck to whisper in his ear, leaving soft kisses along his cheek before returning to his lips.

His restraint doesn’t last long, not that he really had much. He was planning to take this slow - for you as much as for himself. He knew you hadn’t gone out like you used to since you met him; bounty hunting tended to involve a whole lot of late nights and early mornings. Of course, he was glad you weren’t taking any men into your bed while he was around, but he knew it was something you were… experienced at. It had been a while for him, so when he knew the feelings he was having weren’t just physical, he was really shooting in the dark for a chance with you at the best of times.

Now it was here, he was going to make it good.

So good that you never thought about anyone, ever again. He was going to consume you, just as you had consumed him.

Everything changes suddenly. Like neither of you expect it. Din slides you out of his arms, and on your way down, his fingers hook under the flimsy material of your shirt. It sits just above your jeans, exposing a small line of skin that Din’s fingertips currently graze against. There’s nothing you can do to hide the goosebumps that prickle your skin. He seems to stop; waiting for you to shove him away. Waiting for some kind of sign that he is reading this wrong, that he must be.

You drop your hands to his own and, following your lead, he takes your shirt off and throws it somewhere in the darkness.

“Your turn.” You whisper, and your hands come up to his neck, pulling at the fabric that covers him. He still isn’t used to the way you touch him, and if this keeps up, he’s pretty sure he never will be.

It’s a meticulous process - taking off his armor. He can do it with his eyes closed, but it still takes a while. You don’t seem to mind, though. Piece by piece, he sheds the armor away, letting it clatter to the floor around you with little care. Your hands hover over the tops of his, learning, and soon you take initiative by following his actions, repeating the steps on his opposite side.

He doesn’t think he will ever want to take his armor off in any other way.

Your fingers are more delicate, where his own rip and tug at the connectors, your own untangle. Where he shrugs it off, shaking his arm to let the plate tumble to the floor, your hands are feather light as you slide the remaining beskar, and he closes his eyes, content to just feel as you complete the job. Soon enough, he’s standing in front of you in less clothes than he’s ever worn in front of another person.

Any other time, he’s fully clothed, armor only shifted in necessary places. He’s never wanted to be felt, never wanted someone’s hands on him, but after feeling you so close tonight, he doesn’t think he could go another second without it.

You blindly reach out to his face, the dark still keeping his creed intact. He lets your fingertips dance along the ridge of his nose, before you grab his face and pull, locking him into a kiss.

This one is different. Where the others have been full of sweetness, this one is needy. Hungry. Clearly, the process of removing his armor had a similar effect on you, because in the next few seconds he feels you whipping his shirt off, only disconnecting from his mouth for a moment before coming back to him, hands exploring his chest.

He felt big. Of course he was fucking huge, but having him half naked, feeling that broad chest under your palms, you almost forgot how giant he really was. It sent waves of need straight to your core, and you wasted little time tugging at the seams of his pants. If these were just as complicated as his armor was, you think you might collapse before he even-

In one pull, his pants go sliding off, and you feel how fast they drop under the weight of his armor. It makes a loud ‘clang’ as it hits the floor, and even though you can only think of what the sight in front of you must look like, you have to stifle a laugh at how easy it was to take them off.

“Easy access.” Din hums as he nuzzles his nose into the crook of your neck, bringing your attention back to him. He drags his teeth along the sensitive skin, and when you arch your back, you feel him. It’s impossible not to, the hard length pressing against your lower stomach, and it sends the butterflies already flying around in your stomach raving mad.

“Please, Din. I need you.” You hear him sigh at your words.

“You sound more perfect than I imagined.” You could feel how hot your face was, even your ears were burning. Before tonight, you could probably count the amount of words he had said on one hand. There was something about hearing him unfiltered, talking like that.

You let out a whimper at the words, and he starts to undo your jeans, finally taking the fucking hint.

“You like it when I talk like that? Tell you how sweet you sound saying my name?”

“Stars- yes. Please.” You shove your jeans down and step out of them, and Din leads you away from the pile of armor and clothes. You have lost all sense of direction, trusting him not to run you into anything. When he stops you, you feel yourself being pressed into an oddly shaped wall. A door? No - the rungs of the ladder leading up to the cockpit stripe against your bare back, and Din helps you sit up on one, taking the weight off your feet.

“Mesh’la, cyar’ika. Sit there and look pretty for me.” You were about to argue that he couldn’t see anything through the dark, but maybe his eyes were better adjusted. Maybe, from all his late nights spent hunting, he could see just a little bit better that you could in the dark. Maybe he truly couldn’t see you, and was just talking to indulge you, but the idea of him still being hidden, while he could see all of you made you start to fidget, almost whining at his lack of touch.

That was, until you heard him drop onto the floor, the wide stretch of his shoulders pushing your knees further apart, and his hands gently adjusting your calves to sit just above his collarbones.

Din could see. Years spent training to look for things no human would look for, scanning through shitty terrain and the helmet adjusting the light, his eyes had become just that much more in tune with the dark. So, while he couldn’t see every stunning curve of your hip, or the way your hair fell over your shoulders, he could see. He could see you, spread out in front of him, hands buried in his hair in anticipation, and it was too damn beautiful to deny.

“Mesh’la.” He repeats against the skin of your inner thigh, before sliding his hands up. He keeps kissing the trail his hands made, and slides his palms under either side of your panties, carefully placing them just outside of where he could see you were wanting him. “Is this okay?”

“I wanna feel you on me, Din. Please.” As much as his words sent you spinning, you knew you had that same effect on him. Din practically rips off your panties, and with a final mumble of incoherent Mando’a, he lets his tongue slide against your pussy, the first contact already having you moaning out his name.

“That’s it. Be as loud as you want. No one can hear you but me.” He never gives you rest, when he speaks he is methodical, making sure his hands keep that tortuous pace. Not so fast where you would tumble over the edge in seconds, although the way he lets his tongue work just around that sensitive bundle of nerves has you thinking he could make you finish in a moment's notice. He doesn’t, though; working you up in slow, gentle strokes that have you seeing more stars than you’ve ever seen in the galaxy.

One of his fingers slides inside of you, and you nearly jump off the ladder in pleasure.

“Oh- f-fuck Din faster.” You almost sob, the pace still so slow and grinding. He is seemingly lost in his own mind - soft vibrations sparking up your body as he hums in content against you. Occasionally, he will mumble a word or two, but they are lost in your own moans of pleasure.

Legs shaking, your hands start to pull a little harder against his scalp, and it surely hurts at least a little. Moving your hips against his face, you feel him smirk against your core, and the desperate movements of your body at least seem to encourage him. You feel like you’re in space - floating in no gravity as Din’s tongue flicks against your clit before he takes it into his mouth and he speeds up the movement of his hand all at once. It’s too much and not enough, and your thighs clamp down on either side of his head as your body is sent into overdrive.

His free arm snakes around the back of the ladder, holding you to him so you have nowhere to go,  nothing else to do except exactly what he said - sit there and look pretty. You can’t hold your head up anymore, your body starting to tense as every nerve is set alight. You know it’s coming, but as he pushes you to the edge, the intensity of the incoming pleasure was nothing like you had ever felt.

“D-Dinnn shit I think I’m- oh fu-ck!” Everything lights up as he moans against you, the sensation the last thing you can recall as your body floods with the intensity of your orgasm. Your hands scrunch up in his hair, and you could swear your bones turn to jelly as the feeling racks through your entire being. No one in the galaxy has ever - could ever make you feel like this, but Din does. Din is.

It feels like hours and seconds pass at the same time, Dins mouth slowing its assault as he starts to press sweet kisses to any other expanse of skin he can reach in this position. He coaxes you through as your body reacts to the light touches, humming against your skin and smiling every time you suck in a sharp breath as he edges closer back to your center, before heading in another direction. The game brings your body back together, and fairly soon your fidgeting on the rung of the ladder, desperate to feel more of him against you, but unable to hold anything but his soft hair.

It really was soft.

You start to massage soothing circles into the top of his head as an apology for your tight grip, and he finally relents, tongue tracing a final line over your heated core.

“Jatisyc.” You hear him growl, voice gravelly as he stands. You can feel how tall he is, looming over you even if you can’t see him. You can feel it.

He helps you stand, your legs still shaking slightly, and he guides you over to a corner of the ship before a door opens. You don’t think you’ve been in this section of the ship before, and if you’ve ever spent more than twenty four hours here, you have just slept in a pile of blankets on the floor. He continues to guide you into the room, and the back of your legs hit a metal pole before he stops.

“Lie down.” He kisses your forehead before gently nudging you, and a surprised gasp leaves your mouth at the soft comforter underneath you. A bed. Small, you realize as you slide further back, knees bending to push yourself to the wall it rested on. Clearly made for one, you try to minimize the space you take up as two thick legs box you in on either side. His warmth covers your entire body as he drops his weight down, closing the space and reconnecting his mouth to your own. On instinct, you wrap your legs around his back, pulling his hips down towards the bed, and you can finally feel him against you. Only the thin layer of his briefs separate you but it’s too much - hands creeping down his body and tugging on the waistband, the sound of Din shuddering a breath in your mouth making you act faster. Tugging and shifting on the tiny mattress, you both try your best to stay as close as possible while removing the last layer of clothes.

“Baby - wait, hold on.” He starts to laugh, and the sound is the sweetest thing you’ve ever heard. He bends down, kicking the clothes to the side somewhere, still laughing at the weird angle you’ve both somehow tangled yourselves in. It’s almost strange - the sound is so unlike the hardened bounty hunter you had tried your best to get used to over the past few months, but it suits him. Hearing him like this, you have no idea how you will be able to stand having him tucked away in that helmet again. You decide, then, that he is taking way too long, and you are not close enough.

“Din.” He turns back to you, finally repositioning so he is between your legs. As he drags his mouth up the length of your body, he lays kisses on the skin open to him, which is all of it. All of you, laid out in the darkness of what must be his room. It smells like him, and with the lack of sight you can imagine he was all around you. His hair brushes against your chest, and your breath hitches in anticipation of him getting closer. “Please.”

“Just like in my dreams.” He mumbles. He doesn’t kiss you just yet. He just hovers, watching with a hunters focus as he lines himself up with you. He could feel how wet you were - like you were just waiting for him. Waiting for him, like he had been waiting for you. Your fingers run soft lines up and down his chest, and his hands fist in the sheets. Even here, at the edge of the most intimate act he could think of, he still wasn’t used to how you touched him.

As he slowly pushed himself into you, you both mimic the sound of ultimate relief. It was achingly slow, the rock of Din’s hips measured with control only he could execute, and before he had driven into you fully, you were already moaning out his name.

“Fuck, Din.” Everytime you say his name, he groans, similar to what you’ve heard when he’s fighting. Like it’s just on that border of pleasure that it’s almost painful, and with your hands bracing on his biceps, you can feel the tense in his shoulders. It’s an entire body experience, calling him by his name, and if that’s what gets him to move fast, you would chant it like a prayer.

“Th-shit. This is okay?” He says in that same low voice you recognise from the club. Practically clinging to him, you shake your head yes in the darkness, hoping to the Maker he doesn’t stop. His forehead is pressing into your own, soft lips dragging against yours as he bottoms out, driving up into a part of yourself you aren’t sure you knew you had.

You cry out, and it’s clearly what he was looking for, because he drags his length all the way out to the tip, and then enters you again, setting a mind numbing pace. You can hear the weak legs of the bed shifting against the hard floor of the ship as he fucks you, hard and slow.

“Fuck, cyar’ika. Feel so fucking good around me.” He gets a little rougher, losing himself in you, speaking through the small gaps of silence when you suck in a breath, only to continue calling out his name in pure ecstasy. There was no boy - no shitty fuck from the club that felt like this. It’s like you were on another planet - in another realm, the sounds he made as he grinded himself into you sending you hurtling in all directions.

“Holy shit-” You gasp, feeling one of his large hands trail down to rub small, tight circles on your clit. Your back arches, pressing your skin to his, and he’s like a heater in the cold of the ship, only making you seek him out more. “Oh-my Din.”

“Yours.” It takes you a second, your eyes screwed shut and your entire body only existing for him, but he says the simple word, and everything freezes. You had said it first. ‘My Din’. Maybe it was on accident, losing the rest of the sentence in the way he was fucking you into the mattress, but you know it wasn’t. Even half lidded, on the edge of your high, you knew it wasn’t a mistake. He wasn’t either.

Yours.

Your Din.

“Mine.” You tug his mouth back to you, teeth latching on to his bottom lip while your fingernails scratch along his toned back. He chokes out a sound just desperate enough to make known that he likes it, so you do it again. You know it’s leaving marks, and he does too. He picks up speed, chasing his own high and his free hand grips onto your hip tight enough to leave the shape of his hold in its wake. You mark him. He marks you.

Yours.

Mine.

“Din please, don’t fucking stop.” Your eyes were closed so tight it screws up your whole face, and even though he hasn’t told you not to look, you can’t bring yourself to throw his trust out the window. Even if your eyes did open, you wouldn’t see him through the dark, and you are pretty sure your eyes would be crossed and glazed over with the zaps of electric pleasure shooting up into your chest.

“Never gonna- shit. Never gonna stop.” Your body shivers in response, and you can feel the coil tightening in your lower stomach. “Gonna keep you on this ship forever. Fuck you every day.”

Maybe it’s the idea of it. Maybe it’s the realization that he could. If he wanted to. It’s mainly the realization that you want him to that snaps that tight coil and sends you all the way over the edge. You feel his hand leave your hip and curl around your back, holding your weight in one strong forearm, he keeps fucking you through your high, using it to reach his own. With a loud growl of your name he follows you, and you feel him pull out at the last second, warmth spreading across your inner thigh.

You were lost in the dark, unsure of where your body started and his ended. Limbs were tangled together, and you feel him sit back on his knees, heaving deep breaths and staring at you. It almost burns, the knowledge of his gaze. Of the sight he must be looking at - of you strung out, covered in the evidence of what he just did. Of what he just did to you. It’s almost enough to make you cum again, just to please him.

You feel him lean over, quickly grabbing whatever fabric was closest and wiping you clean, before proceeding to flop his entire body weight down next to you, and half on top of you. With an exhausted ‘oof’ he almost starfishes on the tiny bed, pulling your naked body underneath one of his outstretched arms. The weight of him makes it a little hard to breathe, but you sigh in relief as you feel his head nuzzling into the crook of your neck, kissing your shoulder and hair tickling your ear.

“Mesh’la.” He mumbles into your skin, and you turn as best you could, pulling his face to press against your own.

“What does that mean?” Your voice is hoarse, hardly above a whisper, and he kisses you before he answers.

“Beautiful.”

“Mesh’la.” You whisper back, and his head dives back into you, hiding himself even though you can’t see him. “So, will you?”

“Will I what?”

“Keep me on this ship forever?” He almost stops breathing - everything goes quiet, and he tries not to react as your hand traces along the small, hot lines you carved into his back. He feels - selfish, with you. He’s not entitled to, he knows he can’t give you anything. Life with him was nothing like you were used to, this night was the first time he had ever stepped foot in a nightclub, unlike you, who did this every day. He couldn’t be selfish with you, but there was a desperate part of him that wanted to be the bad guy. Wanted to say ‘yes’. Wanted to make you his.

“I d-”

“Too late to take it back now. Or are you scared you can’t handle it?” He can hear the shit-eatng grin you are sporting as you tease him, just like before, and he wants to retort, wants to play with you, but he can’t. His brain is fried, and all he can think about is you never leaving.

“Mine.” He whispers, not meaning to say it out loud. You don’t respond right away. Instead, your nose brushes against his, and he feels your short breath kissing his cheek.

He was wrong before - this is the most intimate thing he can imagine.

“Mine.” You say back, and there's not a hint of reservation.

Your breathing starts to slow, and your head drops to his shoulder as exhaustion takes over. He shuffles, cradling your body against his and grabbing the blanket from underneath the bed frame to toss it over you. It wasn’t big enough to cover you both, but the heat of your body next to his combined with his recurring thoughts of what just happened is enough to keep him warm well into the night.

There is too much to do - his bounty hunter brain starts kicking at his conscious mind. The target is escaping, getting further and further every second he spends staring at your sleeping body. He should get up, go off and track it, make good on his promise of getting you off this planet and let you run head first into the life you were meant for.

He doesn’t move. His hand, rough against your soft skin, rubs soothing lines over your arm, and you sigh happily in your sleep. He should do those things, but he won’t. Because of you.

You said he was yours - and hell if he wouldn’t listen.

[irkimatsu]

Can you do a husk x fem reader where she’s also a cat demon (no wings, just cat) yet she’s the epitome of “golden retriever” As if her personality was golden, she’s extroverted and caring and so so bubbly (even more so than Charlie). But then one night, crying is heard from her room and husk hears it and she’s insecure of her body because of how skinny she is?? She has curves yes but that doesn’t make her feel better at all and she’s always comparing herself to others and how she could be better!! It’s just overall angst with fluff please :( 🙏

(Live laugh love you sm !!)

Okay, so, first off, a confession - I am, uh. Not skinny. I am far from skinny, and not only that, I'm in the business of taking skinny characters and chunking them up. Have you seen some of my posts about Overlord Husk?

All that to say that I'm not used to writing skinny characters, and "skinny character insecure about their body" is an absolutely foreign concept to me. I tried my best, though, and I hope I hit the notes with this that you needed!

About 1.5 words. Primarily SFW but Husk gets a little handsy toward the end. One-sided Husk/Angel from Angel's side, but Angel's graceful about it, there's no ship bashing here, I still love Angel and he's still one of Husk's best friends.

---

“Husky!”

Husk has barely made it into the hotel lobby, and you’re already clinging to him, your tail wagging furiously.

The tail wagging is strange for your species; you’d reincarnated in hell as a gray tabby cat, a creature known for being moody, standoffish, even a little prissy. But that wasn’t who you were in life, and it’s not how you are in death, either. Husk realized it immediately upon meeting you, and at first he wasn’t a fan of your wild energy, but you managed to grow on the old man’s heart soon enough. He appreciated how young you could make him feel, and how much you reminded him that the best years of his life weren’t as far gone as he thought.

“Hey, hey!” he says, laughing, a far cry from the Husk who would have snapped at you to get off of him a few months ago. “I missed you too, babe!” He gently hugs you back, giving you a couple pats on the back before stepping away. At first you would have been hurt by the lack of enthusiasm, but now you realize that he’s simply not comfortable with too much PDA. He’s perfectly affectionate behind closed doors, and that’s what really matters.

“Damn, I need to find someone who pounces me like that when I get home!” Angel says with a laugh. Shopping bags dangle from all four of his arms, and he’s wearing a pair of sunglasses you don’t think you’ve seen on him before.

“Did you guys enjoy your boys’ day out?” you ask.

“Sure did!” Husk says as he holds up his own, much smaller shopping bag. “Had as much fun as you can when you’re clothes shopping with Angel for three hours, anyway.”

“Don’t act like you didn’t like me showing off outfits for ya,” Angel teases as he sways his hips. “I know you were staring at my ass in every pair of shorts I tried on.”

“What ass?” Husk shoots back with a smile. “Don’t lie to me, you’re flat as the fuckin’ bartop.”

“Hm? I’m sorry, and whose flat ass has been on the cover of every adult magazine in hell, again?” Angel says, swaying his hips further.

“Hey, if the people want flat twinks, then good for them.” Husk returns his attention to you, and sticks his hand in the paper shopping bag. “That shop was real nice, though. I found a couple things for myself, and got you a little somethin’, too.” He digs around for a bit, before pulling out a small jewelry box and handing it to you. “Here. For my golden girl.”

You open the box and gasp at the sight of a golden choker encrusted with diamonds. “Husk! How much was this?!”

“Enough to be worth it,” is all the information he’ll give. “Mind if I put it on you?”

“Go ahead!”

He takes the box back and walks behind you. His claws graze your skin as he fastens the choker around your neck, and your skin prickles.

While he’s behind you, you’re still facing Angel. You bear no ill-will toward the porn star; you admire his confidence, and you know he’s been a good friend to Husk since long before you got here. For as much as they tease each other, Husk does genuinely seem to care about Angel and enjoy his outings with him; he wouldn’t have gone on that shopping trip if he didn’t enjoy the company at least a little, you’re sure. He hasn’t been subtle about his crush on Husk, but he’s also conceded his loss to you with grace, which only makes you appreciate him further. It’s not like Angel can’t provide any competition. Who would turn down the opportunity to date a famous porn star? You’re not even into his works, but even you admit that he’s gorgeous, with his slender build and strong legs.

You’re not built like him at all. He’s skinny in a way he works hard for, making sure every part of his body is proportioned just right for his admirers. He’s not just skinny, he’s healthy, and he glows from it.

Meanwhile, Husk is gently rubbing your bony shoulders, and you can’t help but wonder how he feels about the hard lumps beneath his palms.

“Turn around so I can see it?” he asks. You comply, and he responds with wide eyes and a whistle. “Beautiful.”

You’re not sure if you’re in the right headspace to accept the compliment. “Thanks,” you say anyway.

You spend the rest of the afternoon talking to Husk and Angel about their outing, and trying not to look at Angel too much.

—

Why are you crying about this? This is so stupid. Husk chose you, didn’t he? He met Angel first; if that was what he really wanted, they would have gotten together before you even showed up, wouldn’t they?

So why are you hiding under your blanket, sobbing and clutching your shoulders and wishing you looked like him?

A gentle rapping noise interrupts your self-pity. “Babe? You okay in there?”

“I’m fine!” you call back, despite the tears streaming down your face.

“That didn’t sound fine.” Damn him and his ability to read people. That’s what you get for dating someone who doesn’t like backing down from someone who’s clearly in denial about their own feelings. How dare he care about you like this?

(You’re glad he cares about you. You just wish he’d let you have that denial.)

“I’ll be right there,” you say, knowing he won’t leave now that he’s heard you crying. You untangle yourself from the blanket cocoon you’ve been hiding in, and you go to open the door for him.

“You look like shit,” Husk says as he closes the door behind him. Not the most romantic greeting, but he’s not wrong; your fur is stained with tears, and your makeup is running. Not a good look. “Come here.” He takes your hand, leads you to the bed, and sits you both on the edge of it. “Talk to me.”

You take a few deep breaths to make sure you won’t start sobbing mid-sentence. “Husk? Am I too skinny?”

Husk stares at you, dumbfounded. “Babe. Everyone in this hotel is built like a fucking twig.”

“Yeah, on purpose!” you say. “They don’t have bones sticking out, or sunken faces… they don’t look fucking starved.”

Husk still seems dumbfounded. “Have you looked at me recently?”

You don’t mind giving him a look. His soft fur, unintentionally tousled in such a perfect way, with tufts on his shoulders and chest that are so wonderful to tug. His yellow eyes that currently burn with sarcasm, but that can gaze at you so softly when the mood is right. His generous heart; it’s not something you can see, but you always feel it when you look at him. Whether it’s the choker you still feel around your neck or the time he always gives you no matter the hour of the day, you know he could never feel like he’s given you enough.

“You don’t think I look awful, do you?” Husk says. “You could tell me if you did. I ain’t under any delusion that I’m winning any beauty contests.”

“You look great, Husk!” you insist. “I’ve thought you were handsome ever since I got here.”

“Yeah? You don’t think I look like a withered corpse because I’m regularly too drunk to remember to eat?”

“No!” you say, horrified. “Why would I ever think that?”

“Because it’s true,” he says with a shrug. “I take shitty care of myself, I ain’t denying it. At least you’re tryin’. That’s just what your body looks like. That ain’t your problem.”

“But still…” You pull your legs up to the bed and hug them. “I wish I looked like Angel sometimes… he really likes you, you know.”

Husk snorts. “Yeah. I kinda guessed.”

“You could have been with him before I even got here. Why would you choose me over a gorgeous celebrity like him?”

“You’ve got a certain charm that he doesn’t have. I still like the guy a lot, but we’re just friends. He’s not as kind hearted as you, and he doesn’t appreciate quiet nights in like you do. He needs someone who can keep up with him… and I need someone who can slow down with me. Someone like you.”

At least he loves your personality…

“Plus…” Husk wraps an arm around your waist and squeezes your hip. “I wasn’t kiddin’ when I said he had a flat ass.”

“Husk!” you squeal, his touch tickling your skin.

“Can I be a gross old man for a second?” he says with a smirk. “Because I love curves. Hips and ass are the best. Gives me something to squeeze.” Both of his arms are around you now, and he’s holding you close. “Sure, he’s perfect by some standards, but he ain’t my type. You, on the other hand…” He kisses your forehead and gently strokes your hair. “Don’t change based on what you think I want, okay, doll? I love you just like this.

Comparin’ yourself to others won’t get you anywhere. Just trust that I’m with you because I wanna be.”

[welldonekhushi]

Okay guys, I'm back and.. I needed a short break after what happened in the MWIII campaign. Words can't express how shocked I was when I reached the end of the campaign and.. it left me in confusion, denial, depression and anger.

I'm putting a "read more" below because, if there are people who still haven't played MWIII, I'll keep ya guys safe.

Our theories before were constantly revolving that who's gonna die and what worse is going to happen.. it first pointed towards the fate of Price or Gaz. But, turns out we were jinxed. JINXED.

The campaign was.. okay but at the same time I felt it was small. Quite rushed. I did have a light of concern over their release date when MWII was currently trending. I was reading others reviews of how they felt about the game and yes, I agree with the same. But I wanna talk about Soap's fate this time..

Soap, who JUST started his journey, like, the one who only appeared in MWII and hoped we would see him more develop in the further games to be just.. killed off? When were they moments away from achieving victory?

So only because it's called MW3 ✌🏻 and you wanted to give us all a nostalgic experience you'll.. give them the original plot treatment? Both Soaps in the Modern Warfare universes.. died under the hands of Vladimir Makarov but in different circumstances.

This is where I got a bit angry at Price because, why didn't you kill Makarov instead of taking him in custody in Verdansk?! That guy is a walking grim reaper, and if Price took that action before, not just Soap but MANY more lives would have been saved. Soap was a man who was ready to take immediate action but always got backed off because of being bound to orders.

The end scene when they took out his ashes.. it broke me. Like, how unexpected this can be? Well, though I know Makarov already gave a warning that he was going to kill him off in the heli scene, but.. it's just not it? Like, honestly, I was hopeful Soap would survive.. it's disappointing for me, as someone who loves him so much, like anything.

So ScarSoap's now an angsty ship? Because let it be for both universes — OG and Reboot, Scarlet's going to be left behind? Welp, I'm more sad now, lol.

Otherwise, the expectations I had for the campaign were somehow, not met to the fullest but let's talk about the good things.

Price killing off Shepherd. YES, THAT'S WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT. I freaking knew that he was going to die and my prediction called itself right. But, now that Price killed a 4-star General, he's gonna go rogue. You mean, batshit, crazy and unhinged Price on the move?!

Julian Kostov. The man. Bro, like, when he was featured in the reveal trailer, I was just hoping that he'd play the role of Makarov well and guess what? He did! I absolutely loved how he portrayed the man and he looked intimidating and twisted like a true psychopath. Truly, he could compete with the OG!Makarov and it's proven! Hats off to the actor, really <3

Price DOESN'T die. Neither in my beliefs, Farah and Alex. A relief. A pure relief, for real. The trailers showed him passing out but glad he's good in one piece. But, did that happen for the cost of killing Soap? :')

Graves and Shepherd betray each other in the conference, LMFAO! Who knew they were going to turn their backs on each other. Graves really had nothing to do with this, he was just a man following orders.. the problem lies with Shepherd, and always has.

Now, these guys said we're gonna release the "full campaign" on November 10. You mean.. the early access didn't show much of the story? So there's hope? OR NOT? Sigh, I don't want to think about it.. I just don't. I've been delulu, haha

Anyways, these are my thoughts for Modern Warfare III! What do you feel about it, let me know in the comments!

[armoralor]

[TW: homophobia, threats of physical violence, SA, gun violence]

IMPORTANT: do not interact with the person mentioned below. please do not send hate or harass ANY of the accounts mentioned. the point of this post is to warn the community of a serious threat, not to dog pile or stir a hate mob. his accounts have been reported and local authorities have been made aware of his potential for harm. Last updated: 01/30/2024. New information begins close to the bottom, starting at the red text.

Some of you may already be familiar with the homophobic incel that was previously filling the Ahsoka & Sabine Wren tags with vile misogyny. He's gone by many names due to banning and deactivations: @sabezrastan01, @longlivetheemporer, @imperialloyalist01, @standorando, and @imperialsycophant. Here's the guy that gave us this classic:

Now, as meme worthy as that post was- it's unfortunately just the tip of the iceberg. Despite his exile from this social media site, he continues to be active on Instagram and TikTok. He also continues to get support from some of the same folks that have been painting sapphics and wolfwren shippers out as vicious bullies.

I didn't intend to find everything I did, but this man constantly comments under official Star Wars media posts calling queer women "degenerates" and "beasts," so it's been hard to miss. It honestly hurts to reread this shit again, but I want to warn anyone who 1) may interact with him without realizing he's a incel neo nazi 2) may be harmed by his continued harassment.

First thing to remember about him- he doesn't just complain about shipping, he has wished death and harm upon multiple people. On top of the two screenshots below, he also discussed wanting to put a bullet in Dave Filoni's head (the alt account was taken down before I thought to screenshot):

He wrote "these people need to be beaten" on a dozen anti-wolfwren posts before his most recent account was taken down. He has embraced the common anti-LGBTQIA+ rhetoric of queer people being pedophiles and rapists:

He repeatedly brings rape up unprompted, especially when talking to nonbinary folks and women:

Plus buys into the "woke agenda" causing queer relationships to happen in media:

You'll notice the irony of him "worrying" wolfwren shippers are going to threaten the actors, despite him previously threatening to kill Dave Filoni and beat wolfwren shippers. He seems to be projecting a lot of his own desires and wishes onto other people, which will become even more obvious further down this post.

Now, thankfully his last tumblr account was taken down for inciting violence, but as i mentioned before, it's hard to miss him on other platforms:

Out of morbid curiosity I clicked on his account, and it's unfortunately what you would expect for from an incel. His follower and following list is littered with white nationalists, militia groups, tactical gear stores, weapon vendors, alt-right religious orgs, and 4chan neo nazis.

Instagram Followers:

Instagram Following:

It's clean he's unhinged and a danger to those who don't share similar interests. He seems to make allowances for anyone who ships sabezra, but otherwise is a diehard supporter of alt-right Christian nationalist beliefs.

One of his previous account names on Instagram was @cajunminuteman, with a confederate flag as his pfp. In current alt right groups, a minuteman is a person who is ready to pick up a gun and fight on a minutes' notice, typically in a militia against the government. His previous account also followed a number of Christian Southern Nationalist accounts:

There are a number of shippers that continue to interact with this man. Most sabezra shippers I've chatted with are very sweet, some of you even share discord servers with me and have so much love for this fandom. I'm only asking those of you who choose to ignore this man's threats of violence to revaluate how far you are willing to go to support a fictional ship.

Wolfwren shippers have bore the brunt of fandom hate and harassment since Ahsoka started airing. We continue to get called degenerates, rapists, pedophiles, and threatened with physical violence. This is not the same, or in any way equivalent, to silly jokes made about fictional ships being made canon. It's exhausting to get constant harassment in real life AND online.

Are there mean wolfwren shippers? Absolutely. I'm sorry queer people sometimes cheer on cishet ships not becoming canon, I know it sucks when it's over something you like. No, enjoying cishet ships doesn't make you any less queer, and I'm sorry there was an asshole out there that said that shit. But can we PLEASE stop acting like sapphics and wolfwren enjoyers are ALWAYS bullies? That we're somehow always the ones threatening people? It plays into the alt-right rhetoric of the LGBTQIA+ community being predators and I'm so sick of it, especially when there is so much outright vile hate for queers.

If there are any wolfwrens sending hate and/or threats, I am begging for an example or name so they can be reported properly. None of us condone any of the nasty shit that's been sent, we deal with enough hate irl. This man's closest friends aren't much better, joking about wanting to hurt wolfwren shippers and how the LGBTQIA+ community is a bad thing:

The most recent return to tumblr was under account @imperialsycophant where he tried to pretend he wasn't the same incel loser:

He eventually went mask off, realizing that most people weren't foolded:

On January 24 2024, his most recent Instagram account (@imperialloyalist01) was taken down. Less than 24 hours later, a sabezra shipper DM'd me asking me to delete this post. I explained to the shipper that the point of this post was to warn the fandom as a whole of this guy's behaviour, and at multiple points I make it clear everyone should stay away + not engage any of the accounts involved.

Everything included in this thread is public information taken from public posts or public accounts. The shipper who DM'd me still demanded I remove this post, as it could "hurt their friends."

The context of who the incel associates himself with is helpful when conveying the severity & underlying motives of his actions. There are approximately two non alt-right/neo-nazi accounts in the following/follower lists I shared. Those who were following @imperialloyalist01 up until January 24th were both privately and publicly made aware they were following a person threatening harm against others, but they continued to like, comment, and follow the account. This does not mean any of them should be harassed or bothered. It simply provides additional context to the situation and will hopefully aid others in forming their own opinions on who they wish to befriend.

When I reminded the shipper who DM'd me that their friends were continuing to make jokes about hitting/hurting wolfwren shippers, AND tagging wolfwren in those edits, I did not get a response. However, what I did get was mass spam reported.

Shortly after I sent the above message and the sabezra shipper realized I would not be taking this post down, my account was hate reported and temporarily terminated. Tumblr has an automated feature that bans accounts immediately (out of safety) if they are reported by a large group of people at the same time (which is fair, say someone posts torture or something terrible). Thankfully, after I emailed the abuse support team and explained the situation, they reinstated my account:

I will not be sharing the name of the sabezra shippers who tried to take down my account. I already get harassed enough, and I don't want anyone to go through the same shit. Please remember that a small group of bad people do NOT represent an entire community. There are plenty of sweet sabezra shippers that do not support this kind of disgusting and hateful behaviour.

Key takeaways: don't send hate or threats. Let people have their fun online while they attempt to avoid the Horrors of real life. Please don't support people spewing vile hate JUST because they like the same fictional ships as you.

Other posts related to him: (x) (x) (x) (x) (x) (x) (x) (x)

[attractive-nuisance-esq]

Ed’s journey this season is going to perfectly mirror addiction and recovery, and I am so fucking here for it. Watching these first three episodes of S2 was like watching a highly dramatized AU of my own descent into rock bottom (except everyone was dressed wayyyyyy cooler than I ever was), so I have a lot of thoughts, reactions, and insights that I want to share with other fans. I’m sure many of us who have struggled with our mental health connected with Ed in these episodes, but I think addiction is the most appropriate lens through which to view him because addicts (more often than people who struggle with other mental illnesses) so wholly destroy their own lives and utterly devastate those of their loved ones. I want to share - from the perspective of someone who has steered her own ship straight into a storm and woke up alone to face some very hard choices - what is going on with Ed at the start of this season and what I think is coming.

Let me start by saying that Ed isn’t literally addicted to any one thing, despite his heavy use of drugs and alcohol, but his goal is the same as that of all addicts: escape. He does not want to sit with the pain of Stede leaving him on an immediate, surface level; on a deeper, more habitual level, he doesn’t want to sit with the pain of his own self-loathing. Of course the two are related: the former brings the latter to a head. Stede abandoning him dredges up and brightly illuminates all of his insecurities, and now Ed has to run. Get out. Escape. Don’t think about it. So he is fighting, stealing, drinking, snorting, shooting, killing - whatever it takes to not think about it.

“Demon? I’m the fuckin’ devil.” People in recovery often talk about addiction as if it were a separate, sentient monster living within them. Ed taking on the mantle of demon - a creature known specifically for possession, for removing the host’s free will - is intentional. So is his insistence that he’s not just any demon but the demon. The worst there is. (More on that when we get to The Innkeeper.)

Izzy’s confrontation of Ed in the captain’s cabin and then on deck is a form of intervention. Izzy is trying to help Ed, but of course this goes terribly for him and for Ed because interventions (I cannot stress this enough) are maybe the worst thing you could do to an addict. All addicts know things are bad, but they cannot be pushed to change one single second before they’re ready. Ed knows things are bad. He’s well-aware of how he’s spending his time, how his crew feels about him, how disappointed Izzy is. Being confronted with all of those truths by Izzy was always only going to make him do two things: 1) dig further into his unhealthy coping mechanisms, never mind that they don’t have nearly the effect that they used to; and 2) lash out at the person who forced him to think about it. Izzy lost his leg the moment he stepped into Ed’s cabin.

The impossible bird. You guys remember the song Chandelier by Sia? The one about her addiction to alcohol? The whole thing may as well come right out of Ed’s mouth at the end of that first episode, because that experience is exactly what he’s trying to convey to Frenchie. Nevermind that Frenchie has the temerity to tell him the bird can’t exist, that it has to come down sometime, that flying forever isn’t sustainable. The bird can come down on its own terms, or crash… but Frenchie’s definitely not going to say that much. Still, “that sounds like something that can’t exist” hits Ed, and leads us to the next episode.

Now we’ve got Ed forlorn, heartbroken, almost catatonic while playing with his cake toppers. We don’t actually see him crying in the opening of the episode, which is the point. He’s done crying now. The impossible bird can’t exist, and Ed has already resigned himself to this. He’s decided to die. The only sure-fire permanent way to not think about it.

When next we see Ed, he seems to be doing better, but this is a huge red flag for anyone who knows to look. He’s giving away his responsibility to Frenchie; he’s cleaning the cabin for the closure. He knows the end is coming fast, and the relief that knowledge brings him leaves him weirdly at peace. It is he eeriest part of these episodes, IMO.

Then he goes to find his first mate, the person who knows him better than anyone else in the world, the man he just fucking shot and ordered killed. Ed needs his low opinion of himself validated, and of course he thinks he’ll get it from Izzy after everything he’s done to him. He wants the one person who has stuck with him through everything to confirm that he’s now irretrievably broken and no longer worthy of his love. Ed wants someone to tell him that he’s right: he should die.

He doesn’t get that from Izzy. Interestingly, Izzy doesn’t tell him he should die. He says “Clean up your own mess.” Izzy has learned the lesson now that Ed isn’t ready to get better and that he can’t make him be ready. (This post isn’t about Izzy, but hoo boy - I have big feels about that man.)

Ed has been indulging in various forms of self-destruction in order to not feel his feelings, and steering the ship into the storm is his worst indulgence yet. This is the worst of his crimes - not beheading or arson or a red wedding. It’s when he tries to bring down everyone who has ever loved him into his misery, into believing what he believes. The audience generally (and Ed’s audience of Stede specifically) can forgive him for hurting strangers and for the non-specific mayhem whose victims we’ve never met; but it is much less certain that anyone will forgive him for hurting the only family he’s ever known.

The storm itself is the perfect metaphor for Ed’s attempt on his and, incidentally, everyone else’s lives. One of the most common metaphors used by friends and family members of addicts is that of a hurricane: that their addicted loved-ones tend to destroy everything they touch, anyone who was foolish or brave enough to stick around. And, like hurricanes, addicts aren’t malicious. Ed’s primary goal here is to get himself killed, not to kill everyone else. He wants the ship to go down so his death is certain. His firing a cannonball into the mast and asking Jim and Archie to fight to the death isn’t malice: it’s utter and complete nihilism. Nothing matters anymore. Nothing and no one. The end is near, and he’s so fucking drunk and high off these distractions that he couldn’t think about it if he tried. He’s manic with relief. (See also: “Finally.”)

And now for the finale: Purgatory. Buckle up, because this is where the addiction analogy gets real *chef’s kiss.* Purgatory is the equivalent of the morning after the worst, most rock bottom binge night of your life. You wake up with no one for company but the ghosts of your former selves. Now what?

Well, first - who is Hornigold to Ed? Why is he the guy Ed sees? It’s because Hornigold is another addict, if you will, but one who is (in this Purgatory hallucination) farther along in his recovery. He can impart some wisdom from that place, but he can also stand in as someone Ed can loathe because they’re not as different as Ed once thought, even if Hornigold can say he’s grown.

Hornigold tries to give him soup. He tells Ed, “Gotta get these nutrients into you,” and then literally shoves soup down his throat. That’s what it’s like in rock bottom. You don’t want to take care of yourself, but some lizard brain survival instinct takes over and makes you drink water, eat a piece of fruit, take yourself to the hospital. These things don’t really happen voluntarily that morning after, but you can still count on that instinct to kick in with some damage control.

Ed telling Hornigold how he “got here.” Hornigold says “Mutiny. It’s always mutiny.” Ed insists his mutiny was special, worse somehow. This whole scene is exactly what happens in your first recovery support group meeting. You go in thinking no one has ever been as fucked and fucked up as you are, which makes you feel isolated and alone. But then you get there and everyone else in the circle has done the same shit, been through the same shit. Ed’s not actually the devil; he’s just another demon, like many demons before him.

Ed worries he’s insane when he reflects on everything he’s done. Hornigold’s reply that “Feeling bad isn’t going to rebuild an abdominal wall” is a concept that people usually learn a little bit later in recovery, so I expect we’ll see more on this theme from Ed. Guilt is a useless emotion that only serves to conversely make the addict feel better but doesn’t help the harmed party: the addict feels like their suffering is cleansing, but it’s not - feeling guilt is just more self-indulgence, more self-destruction. Hornigold - a fellow addict in this moment - is trying to get this lesson to him early. It’ll return.

“You’ve got to move on or blow your brains out.” We’re getting back to Purgatory as the metaphor for the morning-after rock bottom, because this is the exact calculation that every person in recovery has done. They all had to answer that one big question. Your whole life is a mess, and you made the mess. Do you want to clean it up? Or quit? (Or make some soup? Yeah. That big question can’t be answered without basic needs having been met. So let’s eat. Let’s start there. It’s easier.)

Now we have Ed’s fantasy about opening an inn: This is also a common part of the morning-after rock bottom. You start thinking about the wrong turns you took, the mistakes you made, the way your life was supposed to go and all the reasons you’re not where you wanted to be. (And all the people you can blame for the fact that your life didn’t go as planned.) And when that honest part of yourself starts telling you that actually it’s all your fault… well, a) you don’t wanna hear it, and b) you can’t silence (kill) that monster, no matter how hard you try. You’ve got to face it. Face all those truths you’ve been running from for years. Now you have to think about it.

So now the big question, the inevitable math. Hornigold suggests looking at the pros and the cons. That’s the easiest way to break the calculation into manageable variables. This is probably my favorite moment of the episode, because when you’re sitting there, morning after the worst night of your life, everything is fucked - these are the exact variables that go into your equation. Do I really want to live? You ask yourself that, and because your life is in fucking shambles, you come up with the stupidest goddamn reasons to keep going. You wanna see the next seasons of Good Omens and Loki. You wanna eat your mom’s spaghetti again. Sometimes it’s nice when someone hugs you. It’s never the big things that save your life; it’s a bunch of the littlest things. The smallest comforts. The big things… they’re too unattainable. They’re too much to hope for, and they’re more than you could possibly deserve. What are the pros of living for Ed? Warmth, good food, orgasms. This is a stunningly accurate representation of the things that will keep you alive once you’ve hit rock bottom.

And then the cons: “I don’t think anyone is waiting for me.” This is why addiction is the better metaphor. There is no human experience more isolating than addiction. You are alone in more ways than you’ve ever been before. You have pushed away or pissed off everyone who ever cared about you. And even the ones who will maybe still be there for you - they can’t help you clean up the mess you’ve made. You have to do the work alone, even if they’re still willing to stand next to you. And this con… it’s the scariest one. Your list of little pros looks so pathetic next to the horror of being utterly fucking alone. Who is going to brave that for some stupid shit like Tom Hiddleston sexily flipping his hair back in that Loki way he does? Why should Ed carry on just because blankets are cozy and marmalade is pleasant?

This is where we get to the moment on the mountain, and what Stede represents. Hornigold tells Ed “You’re unlovable, and you’re afraid to do anything about it.” Ed could do two things about being unlovable: He could try to fix it, or he could end it all. Hornigold represents the worst part of Ed: his weaknesses and cowardice. And if Hornigold is in the driver’s seat, he’s going to end it all. He throws the rock off the cliff, and Ed gets dragged down into the water to drown. (Let’s also talk later about how often addiction is compared to drowning, and how nothing else in the show actually threatened Ed’s life - not Izzy with a gun, not all the rhino horn, not Jim’s cannonball - like drowning in his own mind.)

But then there’s Stede. Stede is how the pros win over that one big, horrifying con. Stede is hope. Stede is just a glimmer of hope. Hope is the most important thing you need in the morning-after rock bottom. As much as I enjoy the idea that it was love that saved Ed, I don’t think that’s a wholly faithful interpretation. Because Stede’s love for Ed doesn’t solve anything, doesn’t fix anything - it certainly doesn’t fix Ed. It cannot fix Ed. Hornigold just told Ed that he’s the one who has to “do something about it,” because Ed is the only one who can save himself. But even if Stede’s love for him in itself isn’t what saves Ed, Ed’s trust in Stede combined with that love gives him hope. Stede loves Ed, truly loves him, came back to him even though he knows Ed’s nature, knows his list of crimes, knows what he’s done to Stede’s friends and family. And maybe Ed can find in himself what he trusts Stede truly sees. It’s a “maybe,” not a certainty. But it’s hope. Someone loves him. Maybe he can love himself, too.

This Woman’s Work: I read this song as referring more appropriately to Ed’s relationship with himself, in no small part because Ed literally made himself the woman in the cake topper couple. All the things that should have been done, should have been said - they’re things Ed needs to do and say to himself. He’s got a little life and a lot of strength left. The journey has just begun.

I want to pop back quickly to a few other moments in The Innkeeper that resonated, starting with Stede and Izzy’s discussion about what happened to Ed: “He went mad. He was a wild dog.” Izzy describes Ed’s breakdown as if he was no longer the same person he once was; this is exactly what addiction does to a person. Ed hasn’t been himself; he’s been held hostage by his need for escape, and he’s become something else. Possessed, if you will.

Izzy: “You and me did this to him, and we can’t let the crew suffer any more for our mistakes.” I’m not writing an essay on Izzy (yet), but this is a very interesting perspective that says a lot about Izzy. Stede and Izzy both owe apologies to Ed, but they are not responsible for his actions. I predict we’re going to see this theme explored in later episodes as a part of Ed’s healing process and recovery. And also hopefully in Izzy’s growth.

Frenchie’s line that “We’ve been living second-to-second for a while now” is a callback to the impossible bird idea. Which, again, is just Chandelier x Sia. “I’m holding on for dear life, won’t look down, won’t open my eyes, keep my glass full until morning light ‘cause I’m just holding on for tonight.”

So what’s next? For me, it was learning to sit alone in a quiet room with my thoughts. It was apologizing to the ones I hurt, because even if I didn’t mean to hurt them - even if I was suffering also and worse - they still got hurt, and in the end it didn’t matter why. It was developing the habit of liking myself, and acting on whatever self-love and affection I could conjure up. And yes… it was new seasons of Good Omens and Loki, my mom’s spaghetti, and hugs.

So I think Ed has a lot of accountability, reflection, and breaking of old habits in his future… but also warmth, good food, and orgasms. And good for him. That’s the beauty of recovery: we get to come back.

[melvisik]

The fandom overall seems split in their opinion of this fella:

One one side, there has been so much commentary offering sympathy and love for this poor, currently pathetic rat man. Of course, when using the word 'pathetic,' one might also include the archaic sense - he arouses pity, even if there is a connotation of contempt.

As noted, many have gone to great lengths in illustrating how he fits this definition. Some of their examples (their own commentaries and material directly from the actors and crew) have really hit home, and present a further glimpse into the man's tortured soul. Primarily in their analyses to his relationship with Blackbeard. From recollection, Con O’Neill has made at least two comparisons that have resonate brilliantly with his stans: 1) Judas’ relationship with Jesus in Jesus Christ Superstar. 2) Losing one’s best friend to someone else.

The former is a story familiar to quite a few people - Judas Iscariot started out as a follower of the prophet Jesus, but he ultimately betrayed the man he served and loved to the authorities which eventually got them both killed. In the musical, Judas does this because he’s worried that Jesus is out of control and that his leadership would lead to the group’s destruction. Another (probably more 'biblical') version presents him as a greedy, Satan-possessed bastard who just wants cash in hand, and he later regrets it when 'the devil leaves him.' Yet another interpretation is that (to Judas and many of Jesus’ followers) the idea of a Messiah is a person who will incite revolution against their oppressors (in this case the Roman Empire); but Jesus takes an entirely different path than what was expected of someone with that title. So maybe Judas was disillusioned, or he got spooked, or he thought that his actions could incite a man he admired into choosing a different course.

The Taking of Christ (1602) by Caravaggio Whatever the reason, Judas' name remains synonymous with very concept of ‘betrayal,’ especially in regards to betraying a trusting friend/mentor/leader figure. So... yep. That fits.

Regarding the second point, Con more or less compared it to the circumstance of being incredibly lonely, then gaining a close friend only to subsequently watch them prefer to hang out with someone else. In this case, at least from Izzy's point of view, it almost turns the Judas metaphor on its head, making Blackbeard the Judas betrayer to Izzy’s… well, 'Jesus' in so many words. Guy does kinda have a bit of a god complex.

And that god complex has Izzy trying so very hard to be boss.

He’s an extremely capable person in many ways from what we’ve seen so far – an excellent swordsman, definitely knows his way around a ship, and practically the Head PR Representative to the Blackbeard brand (promoting Ed’s title and making excuses for his depressive states). But where Izzy falls short is a lack of strong leadership skills. They’re not bad so to speak, but the crew clearly hates him. He’s harsh, he makes people miserable, and if there’s any shred of kindness or compassion in him, he has to hide it. He puts up such a rough and tough front that many in the fandom interpret as a fear of inadequacy or an overblown sense of machoism (which amounts to the same thing). More than likely this is because life has taught him to behave that way. Israel Hands probably was raised in a world that forced him to either eat or be eaten. Which makes the second point even more loaded when taking into consideration just to whom Izzy is losing Blackbeard-

This guy.

Izzy a man of some learning, that much we can discern, but it’s highly doubtful that he grew up in a family of the same means as Stede Fuckin Bonnet.

Izzy has reached so high to the top as he thinks he can go - the right Hands and personal confidant of Captain Blackbeard himself, even having the privilege of addressing Blackbeard by his first name. Then comes along a ridiculous fop who not only manages to outsmart him on their first meeting but takes away his idol within only a few weeks of knowing him.

This soft-handed, smiling, upbeat ray of sunshine represents everything Izzy has been taught is weak and pitiful, and yet Izzy’s idol (and quite possibly the man he loves) is enamored with him.

In addition to all his faults, Stede Bonnet seems like a rich twat who’s gotten anything and everything he wants in life because of his privilege. He can literally afford to leave his cushy life and play dress up on a well-furnished ship. Izzy’s cruel reality is Stede’s deluded fantasy.

In short, rich-boy Stede Bonnet effortlessly gets everything that Izzy can never seem to reach, no matter how hard he tries or what strides he makes.   Not that any of this excuses Izzy's pettiness or betrayal by a long shot, but honestly who wouldn’t be driven bat-shit crazy by that? In any case, applause to the fandom's insights on this, and especially to Con O’Neill for being such a professional.   Slay, queen.

[eveandtheturtles]

Dating Advice

Ship: Leo X Reader

A/N: Leo can't catch a break it seems lol I am going to continue bully him for a lil bit more. With the help of his fam ;)

Tagging: @madammuffins @turtle-babe83 @thelaundrybitch

Anyone else want in let me know!

Recently Leo has been a bit antsy. A bit more... jumpy? But only in the presence of one person.

April noted his behaviour as you left the lair and immediately pulled him aside.

"Okay, spill." She sat him down in the kitchen and gave him her best 'big sis time' look.

"I- don't know what you mean," he said slowly, clearing his throat and looking away. "Now if you excuse me-" he started getting up.

"Sit," she ordered and he sat back down. "Come on Leo," she softened her tone. "I want to help."

He sighed heavily and tapped his finger over the table. "Fine," he sighed, finally giving in. "It's- well,... How do you ask somebody out? Asking for a friend."

April smiled and was about to answer when as if summoned Mikey popped up behind them.

"Who is asking who out?" He asked.

"No one!" Leo tried to stop the train from crashing but too late.

"I think Leo likes your new friend a little more than 'just friends'," April informed him.

"That's nothing new." Suddenly Donnie spoke up from the coffee spot. He had crawled out of his science cave to inject more caffeine in his blood stream. "You aren't that hard to read Leo," he added seeing the shocked face of his brother.

"Can we stop with the bullying?" The blue masked turtled sighed.

"Who are we bullying?" Raph asked as he emerged freshly post work out with a towel around his neck.

"Leo." All three replied.

The terrapin in question sighed again leaning his head down and rubbing a spot on his forehead. He could feel the headache coming.

"Oh, really?" Raph grinned. "What about?"

"He wants to ask Sweetness out," Mikey informed him.

"I never said I want to! It's for a friend!" Leo protested.

"Really? What is his name?" April asked with a wide grin.

Leo opened and closed his mouth. He then made an undignified noise and slid lower in his chair.

"That's what I thought," she said smugly.

"Bro, you could like make a song for her, chicks are into this kinda thing, right?" Mikey looked at April.

She made an 'eh' face. "Depends."

"Or a poem." Raph placed one hand on Leo's shoulder. "I got one for you bro."

"Don't." Leo glared at him.

"Roses are read, violets are blue." Raph ignored him and continued. "Guess what, my bed has place for two."

"Good one!" Mikey snickered. "How about - twinkle, twinkle little star, we can do it in the car."

The two hollered with laughter, even April had to bite her lips not to join them. Leo was suffering.

"Mikey, if you get anywhere near the turtle tank with that intent I will cut you off the WiFi for life and set your hover board on fire," Donnie spoke up.

"Yes, sir!" Mikey immediately sobered up. Donnie threats were no laughing matter.

"Thank you!" Leo called out, hoping the torment was over. He was wrong.

"That being said -," Donnie took a sip of his coffee and cleared his throat.

"Oh, no." Leo sunk further down.

"Row, row, row your boat, gently down the stream," purple terrapin sang. "Merrily, merrily, I can make you scream."

"Oh, my god," Leo groaned. "You are my family, but you are all terrible, you dicks."

"Eh, you love us," April patted his hand.

"Hey guys," you re-entered the lair. "I forgot my bag." You took the scene in and frowned. "Is something wrong?"

Suddenly all the eyes were on Leo and he just wanted to disappear.

"Nope," he jumped out of the chair. "Everything is peachy! Let me walk you home." He rushed to your side and threw a death glare at his snickering family.

You were very confused as Leo escorted you out.

"What was that all about?" You asked. "It looked like you guys were having an intervention," you joked.

"It was nothing, they just thought they were being funny," he huffed.

"Were they giving you shit because you haven't asked me out yet?" You smirked, giving him a side eye.

Leo felt like a scratch record. "What?" He blinked at you, stopping abruptly.

"You aren't that hard to read Leo." You took his hand. "Also I was listening to the whole thing for quite a while. The sewers do carry sounds well."

His heart was about to jump out of his chest. "And um, do you, would you mind if I did?"

"Nope, so come on, shoot your shot." You nudged him gently.

"Alright," he took a deep breath in. Here it goes. He will not mess it up. "Do you take out game?"

Fuck.

"I mean - Will you check me out? No!" He pinched the bridge oh his snout.

You tried so hard not to laugh.

"I can do this," he said probably more to himself than you. "Will you. Go with me. To the Knicks game this Saturday?"

You giggled and stood up on your tip toes giving him a kiss on the cheek. "Yes, with pleasure."

"Great!!" He smiled brightly. "I can pick you up at 6?"

"Sounds perfect. See you then." You gave his hand a squeeze and exited the sewers. A smile never leaving your face.

Once you were gone he fist pumped, excited. You said yes! That was such a relief! He felt so good he was going to clean the dojo!

Figuring out how to prevent his brothers from going to the game was future Leo problem.

[jams-sims]

I wrote a whole ass essay for Philza now Im gonna do it for Jaiden. In defense of the lack of content with Jaiden in it (real quick). Being an old goat of fandoms I can explain it (don't worry this won't take long and also it plays into her character's overarching narrative of a grieving mother.) Plain in simple women in Minecraft are notorious for getting shit on by the collective fandom. (Everyone has to take part in making sure that it stops happening.) She is mainly a YouTuber which makes a dissonance between mainly youtube viewers and Twitch watchers. So it's harder to catch her just because you have to go to another site. Also, she doesn't stream as often as everyone else. This makes for a lack of content, just because Jaiden is just a low-key person. This is the recipes for a lack of content BUT that does not excuse people who are being weird to her or think she's in the way of any ships etc etc.

BUT

Narratively speaking all of those things above make for perfect storytelling. (below the cut I go deep into Jaiden character I mean I go DEEP)

Even though Jaiden has the support of the whole island. At the end of the day- she goes back to that same house. Climbs to the very top and she fall asleep on the chair facing the sunset. This means that everyone else has moved on, especially Roier. She is forever stuck in that same place.

I can't be the only one who noticed every single stream, she logs out at the house. BY HERSELF (I think Roier built? Someone corrects me if I'm wrong.) It's so subtle that you wouldn't even notice it at first.

When asked where she was living by Etolies. She doesnt say her and roier house, she doesn't even say where bobby use to live. She specifically says " I am squating in Roier old house". She puts herself on the outskirts of what is further from the truth. Shes not squating in roier house im 100% sure Roier shares everything with her. It is her home too!

Next when it came to the marriage between cellbit and Roier. She was surprised that she was even invite. Its as if as soon as Bobby died all her friendships and relationships died with him. No matter how many people are around her she has this ice wall of isolation and deep lonely-ness.

Her grieiving is less theratical than Charlies its so sudtle that you can miss it. While Roier throw himself into drink and into a relationship. (Which has admitedly worked out in his favor. He gets a husband a new son, a world of love. Something that can lessen the sting of Bobbys death.)

Jaiden on the other hand threw herself into a a impossible task, "protect the eggs." She doesn't know anything about any group or fractions. That is her only wish and the federation saw that and picked her to use. She has nothing everyone else has seemingly moved on of course. They haven't stopped investigating but they death of Bobby mostly everyone has moved on. Besides Jaiden this is her driving force so no one will suffer like she did. (on a side note her and Charlie should team up for lore and to both work for the federations.)

ITS PREFECT! Oh are you greiving has everyone else seemingly moved on? Your friendly neighborhood bear has a book full of instructions. Don't think, I'll guide you.

Before it fell apart the federation was going to secretly use Jaiden and she was going to do everything alone. But because Jaiden can't keep a secret to save her life. This leads to everyone realizing how at risk Jaiden is at being used. They are all with her in an instant. But part of her character is now that she sides with the Fedration and no one sees it yet. While everyone else think they are the bad guy. Her story is shifting because cucurucho is there, because cucurucho is nice to her, because Jaiden is cucurucho favorite.

She is being drawn in whether she knows it or not to be om their side. Think of it this way-

Fit is team: Spy thats off the island

Cellbit and Crew are team: AntiFederation

Jaiden the one that is left alone is the perfect choice to slowly pull her onto the federation side. It's perfect! The self isolation, the want to connect but feeling like she can't. It would be so easy for someone to take advantage of that.

[thencitytales]

Non-stop Teasing - CYJ

🌷Pairing: Choi Yeonjun of TXT x fem!reader (3rd person used)

🌷 kinda enemies to lovers

🌷wc: 4.1k

🌷 Fluff? sort of angsty tho

🌷 warning: drinking, cussing, frat party, Yeonjun being kind of down bad

🌷There are a few other idols mentioned, some of them in a relationship with each other, I do not think these people are together nor do I ship them, I just felt like the story could have used these dort of relationships (ChaewonxWooyoung, KarinaxJeno)

🌷 Hey!! I am back because i felt like it. This fic is a fleeting idea i had a long time ago and was finally able to finish. In the beginning it was not meant for Yeonjun but it had mostly OC'S so if you see random names I'm sorry, I have yet to proofread it. Feel free to give me notes and feedback, as I appreciate it a lot!! 'Til next time <3

(not my GIF)

Yeonjun. Stupid, fucking Yeonjun.

Idiot, average-looking yet so stupidly attractive Yeonjun.

“If you really hate him you should stop staring at him, you know?” a blonde girl talked to her best friend, who shushed her in response.

“Shut up Chaewon, I’m not staring” Y/N retorted against her best friend. 

Except she was, and she knew it.

Another person in the library was also very aware of Y/N and what she was doing, because he could feel her eyes pierce through his head. 

And he loved it.

“Ask anybody here, they’ll say you’re staring,” Chaewon said in an amused tone, making Y/N’s eye twitch in frustration.

“Well, then it’s hate-staring, glaring if you will,” Y/N looked away from the boy and glared at her best friend, turning her head ever so slowly, as to recreate the scene in a horror movie.

“Just like I’m glaring at you right now.” Chaewon let out a laugh at her friend’s antics and shrugged it off.

“Sure thing, love. Keep telling yourself that.”Chaewon said. Y/N could only scoff before going back to look at her books.

Look was indeed the best word to describe what she was doing, the words on the page being read for the tenth time in as many minutes without understanding nor absorbing any of it. Biology sucked, and so did Y/N’s brain at that moment. So much so that after a couple of seconds she got distracted again.

“What is it with the stupid beanie anyway? Like what’s the deal with that? DO YOU THINK HE HAS A BALD SPOT?” Y/N whisper-screamed, making Chaewon almost spit out the water she was trying to drink after finally reaching the end of her chapter.

Suddenly the girls heard a louder voice coming from behind them.

“It’s actually for style-related purposes, no bald spot, though if you’re still in doubt you could always ask him. Also, Y/N, you were one hundred percent staring at Yeonjun, just FYI.” Wooyoung said whilst chuckling at the little jump the girls made upon hearing him. Y/N turned around, red in the face, a mixture of embarrassment for being caught and pure wrath, caused by Wooyoung’s presence.

“How long have you been here?” She said bitterly. The boy could sense she wanted to add something, the words dying in her throat a bit too fast. He assumed a “dickhead”, or “asshole” was missing, but he let it go, not teasing her any further. 

“The whole time, love,” he said mocking what Chaewon had said to her friend just a few minutes prior. Then turned away and returned to his spot at the same table with Yeonjun, Soobin and Changbin.

Y/N looked warily at her surroundings to make sure no one else was around to eavesdrop on them.

“How in actual hell are you able to like that guy?” Her shocked expression clearly visible on her features.

Chaewon shrugged.

“He just likes to tease you, he’s actually very nice” She answered, her cheeks turning slightly pink before continuing. 

“I mean it’s not like they’re the fuckboys group.” When Chaewon said that, Y/N was still looking at them and immediately turned around. 

“No, they’re worse, at least the fuckboys are self-aware of how awful they are” she sighed.

“Oh my God you’re so dramatic,” Chaewon said rolling her eyes before going back to typing at her computer. 

Y/N shut up and went back to try and drill a hole through Yeonjun’s head with her gaze, sadly, without any success.

As if on cue, the boy turned around, looked at her, smirked, and turned back to speak with Changbin, making her avert her gaze and awkwardly look around to find God knows what.

She couldn’t take it anymore, her heart pounding in her chest was beginning to feel like it was too much, she could literally hear it and the sensation made her shudder. She got up and headed to the bathroom searching for some quick fix to the sudden heat of her body.

As soon as she got there Y/N quickly splashed her face with some cold water to try and stop it from getting all red, failing miserably. She looked defeatedly at her reflection.

“This is a PSA for that tiny voice living at the back of my head, I am kindly asking you to shut up” She lightly hit her head with her hand in the process so that the point would go across. 

“You understand me??” The girl sighed and took a step back from the sink to exit the bathroom, but as soon as she turned around a familiar face was standing leaning on the door frame.

“Try hitting it harder next time, that should work better.” He chuckled lightly before taking a step towards her.

“This is the girls’ bathroom, Yeonjun” Y/N backed up and glared at him for what was probably the thousandth time that day.

“Sorry, I was headed to the guys’ bathroom but something here caught my attention” he smirked once again. 

Y/N was on the verge of breaking. That smirk. He had to know the effect it had on her. Or was it just a stupid habit of his? 

It didn’t really matter. Either way, she wanted to kiss him so badly right now. And subsequently, run away, completely change identities, go to Peru, and start a potato plantation or something, to hopefully never be found again. She would never EVER admit to wanting to kiss that boy.

Frustrated even more than before, she ran back to the table where Chaewon was waiting for her, shoving Yeonjun in the process, and making him audibly laugh, clearly enjoying how easily he could fluster her.

“I gotta go, or I’m going to be late for the party,” Chaewon said the moment she saw her best friend enter her view.

“Again” Y/N added to Chaewon’s statement, knowing how long the blonde usually takes to get ready. The other girl got up and quickly added:

“Remember, I’ll be at your dorm around 10 pm, we’ll see what to do from there. Remind Ryujin too when you get home, please.” Chaewon said while collecting all of her stuff and messily throwing it in her bag.

“Sure thing, I’ll finish this chapter and go home too in a half-hour or so. Don’t worry about Ryujin, knowing her, she’ll be all dressed up already. You know who you should be worried about, though.” Y/N answered, looking up from her books.

“I already texted Karina, I told her I’d be at hers around 9:30 so she’ll hopefully be ready when we actually get there.” The girl chuckled at her best friend’s trickery and waved her goodbye, mumbling a “perfect” in the meanwhile.

On her way out Chaewon was stopped in her tracks by a slightly taller figure.

“Hey there,” he sweetly addressed the girl.

“Hi Wooyoung, I’d love to stop and chat with you but I really need to go.”

“See you at the party, then” Chaewon looked at him surprised.

“You should really stop eavesdropping other people’s conversations. Besides, you don’t even know which party we were talking about, there’s like 5 every Friday night without counting the ones outside of campus” 

He gave her a playful smile and said “Don’t worry, I’ll figure it out.” The girl laughed and answered “Good luck, darling” before going her way.

After that Wooyoung quickly got back to the guys’ table where all of his friends were sitting, trying to finish some sort of group project.

“Okay, talking about important things, what do you guys know about parties tonight?” Wooyoung said, sitting down.

“You mean here in the campus? or in general? Also like, frat houses or bars?” Soobin started throwing questions at him to try and narrow down the search.

“I don't know, man, Chaewon was talking to the Menace and they said they were going to a party tonight.” Wooyoung just answered him calmly.

As soon as he heard the words “Menace” and “party” together in a sentence Yeonjun’s interest was piqued. He looked at Wooyoung, completely ignoring the semi-blank document opened in front of him.

“Well I don’t think they’d go off campus, the Menace is too lazy for that, she’d want to be as close to the dorm as possible.” Soobin started the brainstorming session.

“That still leaves like at least five or six parties” Changbin pointed out, then turned to Wooyoung and asked:

“Is it just the two of them?” to which Wooyoung quickly added Ryujin and Karina to the mix.

As soon as Karina’s name came up Changbin and Soobin looked at each other and said: “Keystone Lodge.”

“Is there something I don’t know?” Wooyoung asked given how the boys answered the place of the party seemed obvious but he had no idea.

“Karina’s boyfriend, Jeno. He’s in the frat.” Soobin pointed out.

“Okay but aren’t parties at KL like, invitation-only or something like that?” Changbin quickly raised the question.

Yeonjun, who had just started fantasizing about what could’ve happened at the party and had no intentions of having his dreams ruined just like that, said: “don’t worry guys, be prepared, I’ll text you later.” and quickly got up and gathered his things before exiting the library.

“Does he have to do it every time?” Soobin asked.

“He got it from Mark, says it gives him the surprise effect later on and the mysterious effect right away.” Changbin answered rolling his eyes, to which the other two guys only answered almost in awe with an “Ooh.” probably thinking it was the best idea a man could have.

“Okay, how did you get us in Yeonjun?” Wooyoung asked, almost alarmed at how quickly and seemingly easily their friend acquired the invitations.

“I know Haechan, and he owed me. He still does.” the older boy simply stated, raising Wooyoung's alarm instead of calming him down.

“Now let’s get this party started” Yeonjun exclaimed walking up the stairs to Keystone’s Lodge with a smirk on his face.

“You’re going to try and make her life hell, aren’t you?” Changbin said clearly amused at how his friend was planning on being even more annoying to Y/N than he usually was.

“Just wait and see Changbin, just wait and see.” the smirk on Yeonjun’s face growing with every step to the door he knocked on, where they found a guy standing alone, waiting for proof of invitations.

Inside the Frat house, the music was blasting. The air felt damp and everything smelled like cheap alcohol, adding to the mix the group of smoking boys at the far end of the room anyone could imagine that the atmosphere was not very romantic. Which is exactly what they expected.

Changbin went straight for the bar, getting everybody something to drink as the other guys scanned the room for their targets. 

Wooyoung quickly saw Chaewon sitting on the couch with her friends. They were talking to a few frat guys but they seemed nonthreatening enough to his ego. The Menace was sitting dangerously close to one of them, almost in his lap. Wooyoung could not recognize the guy though, no matter how much he squinted.

He nudged his friends and with a nod pointed the scene out, hoping they would get curious and approach them, so he could flirt with Chaewon once again. 

As soon as he realized what was going on, Soobin turned to look at Yeonjun’s reaction, gesturing to Changbin to hurry over, so he could witness it too because despite what those two liked to admit, they had this tension between them that was almost romantic. They were definitely, on some level, attracted to each other but they would never admit it. That’s why Changbin Soobin and Wooyoung were now staring at Yeonjun, hoping to catch a glimpse of whatever they had theorized.

Yeonjun’s brows furrowed. The night just started and everything had to be so simple already, not even a bit of a challenge. He sighed, took a drink from Changbin’s hands, and turned to Wooyoung. 

“Let’s go say hi to your princess, shall we?” Yeonjun told his friend, who was very happy about the poor lighting, meaning the other boys were not made aware of his rosy cheeks prompted by Yeonjun's comment.

As they approached, Chaewon saw them and a big smile tugged on her lips. She raised a hand to say hi and the boys did the same.

“Well Well Well, I’m surprised to see little Sherlock actually did find us.” She chuckled looking at Wooyoung.

“I told you I could do it. I’m very resourceful” he winked and the girl lightly laughed. 

Everybody then fell back into conversation, except Y/N and her mystery guy, who were so distracted by each other that they didn’t even say hi to the newcomers. 

Yeonjun cleared his voice. 

“I know you don’t like us Y/N but not saying hi is simply rude, even for you.” He smirked, knowing very well what it did to her.

The girl turned around, her surroundings didn’t make it easy to hear but she was sure she heard a voice talking to her. 

From her sitting position she looked at the new figures that had joined the conversation. And then she saw his face. She simply rolled her eyes.

“Who even invited you here? Seriously, please tell me so I can avoid the lunatic all night long, people just become crazier and crazier by the day”

“Actually,” Yeonjun chuckled.

The guy whom Y/N was talking to gently removed his hands from her hips, feeling a bit embarrassed. 

“I think that might have been me,” He said. 

Y/N looked at Haechan with a void expression.

“You’re his friend?” She asked, not believing it for a moment.

Haechan was slightly taken aback by the question, thinking the answer to be obvious, so he simply answered:

“Yeah?” at which Y/N glared at both the boys.

“That’s a shame, I really liked you.” And with that, she got up and went to the bar to pour herself yet another drink. The alcohol was probably what made her act so suddenly with that silly explanation but even sober her had no intention of being affiliated in any way with Yeonjun.

Seeing how Y/N was behaving, the boy thought that his mission was going to be such a delight with how simple she was making it.

Yeonjun followed her, leaving behind their friends absorbed in whatever conversation, and a very confused Haechan sitting on the couch.

As Y/N approached the bar, she bumped into a few people obstructing passages left and right and leaving her even more annoyed than she already was.

She took one of the red cups and poured herself some beer. 

Not the ideal drink but it was the first thing her hands were able to grasp. 

As she was about to take a sip, a hand snatched her drink.

“Thanks, I was very thirsty,” Yeonjun told her, earning a glare once again that day.

“How do you manage to be so annoying Yeonjun?” Y/N said while pouring another cup, this time she grabbed some gin, sensing she would need something stronger than a beer.

“I give it my best, just for you” he grinned.

Y/N couldn’t help but groan as she looked for the soda to mix her drink.

“What did I ever do to you? Have I offended you in any way? Are you holding a grudge from your past life?? Why do you like to annoy me so much??” She sighed in defeat.

“Woah,” Yeonjun said taken aback by the sudden seriousness of the question.

“Well, for starters I could ask you the same thing…” He answered calmly.

As she started to protest he shushed her.

“Buut, I am not going to lie, I do find you very cute when you’re frustrated” He chuckled.

“Are you hitting on me?” She asked, mouth agape.

“Do you want me to be hitting on you?” There it was again. The stupidest grin on the face of the earth. If there was a way to wipe it off instantly, Y/N would’ve gladly taken that chance. Thinking about it, there was a way, and to be honest she had reluctantly considered that way many times before, but always ended up avoiding it.

A kiss was not the solution, everything it could’ve done was only create more problems.

She was snapped back to reality by Yeonjun waving his hands in front of her eyes. She had been staring at the grin for god knows how long. A faint red was starting to tint her cheeks.

“You want to kiss me so badly,” Yeonjun told her, the grin never leaving his face.

She tried to play it as cool as possible, hoping the poor lighting of the room helped her conceive the blushing situation.

“Projecting much?” She smiled turning on her heels, determined to get out of the house for some fresh air.

As she walked away Yeonjun screamed over the music.

“I never said I wouldn’t like it” Y/N briefly stopped in her tracks, surprised by the sudden confession. Thinking it was just another way of getting under her skin she slowly reached the door and opened it, stepping out onto the backyard.

“You just love messing with her, don’t you?” Chaewon said as she approached Yeonjun, Wooyoung by her side, holding her waist.

“I have a tendency not to lie, actually. Everything I said is true. She’s just… compelling” he tried to find the best word to describe her.

“Compelling? You mean messing with her like that is compelling?” Chaewon said, a bit offended that Yeonjun enjoyed toying with her friend’s emotions like that.

“Tell me Chaewon, when have I ever done anything truly bad to her? All I do is tease, in her opinion, when in reality I was always simply…” Yeonjun said, meanwhile Chaewon tried to start a list of all the times he’s gotten you frustrated and quickly realized most times it was just his very annoying, twisted way of ... 

“Flirting,” Chaewon said, shocked. She looked at him straight in the eyes, her expression painted with shock.

“Oh my God, you just flirt with her” Chaewon continued. She suddenly realized that every time Yeonjun ever talked to Y/N he was flirting, and that enraged her friend for some reason. He never actually DID anything bad to her. He never insulted her, let alone take action to actively ruin her day. The only times he did something of the sort she was always with a guy, like 10 minutes ago with Haechan. Yeonjun was always just… flirting with Y/N.

“I am very confused.” Wooyoung said looking at his two friends.

“You never admitted it to us and it takes you like three seconds to tell it to her best friend? I kinda hate you and I am not sure I would like to be friends with you anymore.” Wooyoung continued while watching Yeonjun's every move and acting offended.

“It’s not like you guys ever really asked, I thought it was obvious if I have to be honest. She’s pretty, she’s smart, she can be a pain in the ass but she’s one of the nicest and kindest people I ever met. Not with me, which I can not really comprehend, but if teasing her incessantly is the only way I can get her to interact with me I don’t think I will ever stop.” Yeonjun said earnestly to his friend. A small smile appeared on his features, almost sheepishly.

A voice behind him startled him right after.

“What did he just say??” it was Changbin, who basically screamed in his ear after he heard just half of the confession.

“I think he likes the Menace!!” Soobin screamed at Changbin (and in Yeonjun’s other ear) in hopes of being understood over the loud music.

Meanwhile, Y/N was outside, freezing because she forgot to bring a jacket. 

Why did he have to always be so annoying, why did he always have something to say that would just make her heart beat at a worrying speed? Why did she have to like him so fucking much?

As her mind birthed the last few words she stopped pacing back and forth on the grass.

Of course, she liked him. It seemed as if every stupid decision she could make she would take and this was not even a conscious one. 

It would explain why her fight or flight response would kick in every time he would even just look in her direction, and her choice was fight. 

Thinking about kissing him all those times was not just a stupid silly thought. 

Y/N was hopeless.

"So?" The question was raised suddenly by a voice she recognised immediately.

He was standing right there, in front of her, handing her her jacket.

She happily took it, silently thanking him with a smile before muttering.

"So what?" her eyes looking at him defeated. She liked him and he was just playing. He was just teasing, and look where all that teasing led her. A terrible position she never wanted to be in.

"Am I getting that kiss you so badly want to give me?" Here he goes again. Non-stop teasing.

This time Y/N did not find it in her to fight, not him nor the feelings she finally realized she had.

"You should be more careful with your words Yeonjun, one might think you actually want it, crave it even" she said calmly before chuckling lightly. She was now sitting down on the bench and her gaze was everywhere but the boy's figure.

"As I said when you were storming off, I do think I'd enjoy it" he slowly sat down beside her, surprised by her tone. This felt more like an actual conversation now. It didn't seem like she had any intention of fleeing this time around. Just them two, talking like normal people. It was new and he liked it. He liked it more than words could explain.

"Stop teasing me please, I honestly don't think I can take it anymore. I won't be bothering you again if you promise me you will leave me alone without uttering any other word that you don't mean" If someone were to pass by and listen very closely, the sound of Yeonjun's heart could be heard as it was cracking and falling apart like glass under extreme heat.

She didn't want to see him anymore, but what was worse is that she didn't think his words were honest. She thought he didn't mean it, ever.

He meant it from the first smile he flashed her, from the first hello he said. The first time he saw her he was struck by lightning and did not feel like himself anymore. All he could do was think about her, all he wanted to do was to speak with her. He did not care if it meant he had to endure rolling eyes and frustrated groans, at the very least he was interacting with you.

"So?" this time she asked the question. Her eyes showed how hurt she was and he could barely look at them.

As he turned to face her, Y/N noticed tears welling up in his eyes. She didn't understand.

"You really think I don't mean it? Y/N you consume my thoughts in the best and worst way ever. I think about you all the time. All I ever want to do is speak with you and I don't care if it means you'll hate me, I won't stop doing it because I am selfish like that. I don't want to feel miserable, and the only way I have to do that is if I speak to you. You can tell me you despise me a thousand times but I won't care as long as you're in front of me, addressing me, acknowledging my presence." As Yeonjun spoke Y/N could not believe his words. 

If it was just minutes ago she would've joked about how "you're so obsessed with me, jeez" but at that moment the expression on Yeonjun's face was making her want to cry. It seemed like he meant it.

He did mean it.

"You like me?" she asked, furrowing her brows in confusion.

"I think like is a bit of an understatement at this point..." he chuckled looking into the distance, the palms of his hands rubbing against each other awkwardly.

Y/N moved closer to him. He did not register how close she got until she turned his head towards her with her hand.

They stared at each other, they are not sure for how long. It could have been mere seconds or hours on end. Then she moved closer and finally kissed him. 

She tilted her head as he deepened the kiss. 

Everything felt good. They were finally happy.

[gentlebeardsbarngrill]

PoC and queer people, and queers of color are not out here being mad at everyone for no reason. Did you guys think it was just a group of cishet white men who probably don’t even watch the show? We have begged all these years for aid, but it’s dystopian-like to see you guys come together and pay over $21 thousand for a billboard within a few hours. The “charities” aren’t listed, and even then seeing fans tell the organizers use all the money for advertisements is horrifying to say the least. Even more so adding on the creator is a Zionist and antiBlack, which again White people arent gonna give a shit about as they continue to show so in all fandoms. It’s the people affected that calls this guy out, and y’all don’t listen. Do what you want, but stop diminishing our voices as the “angry crowd” have some damn compassion

CW: Racism, Anti-Semitism, Zionism, This is a save space ship so please do not read if you don't have the spoons because there's heavy shit in here today. ------ Hi friend! First of all, I want to say thank you so much for reaching out and giving me some more information! Personally, I don't think what you're being mad about is "for no reason". For me, that's not where the issue lies, and perhaps you could provide me with some further insight. So far, the only kinds of responses to this campaign that I've encountered that are negative have been "Taika is a Zionist", and I have not encountered that "queers of color " we're having a problem. Now, that could be that I just haven't seen them and now that my reach is out a little further it's coming up-- which is great, I want to have a conversation about it. I am newer to the fandom so it's possible I just haven't been around for a lot of this in the past, I admit that. I would be more than happy to hear more about what it is that "Queers of Color" have a problem with regarding the show.

------

In regards to "Even more so adding on the creator (I'm assuming you're referring to Taika here as opposed to David Jenkins?) is a Zionist and antiBlack, which again White people arent gonna give a shit about as they continue to show so in all fandoms."

So, I can see why you feel that way. I've heard a lot from many people of color who feel as if they aren't being considered in a lot of fandoms (not specifically this one but general scifi , fantasy, etc). I am white, so I know that no matter what my background is culturally, I cannot understand the full extent of what our friends of color go through so I try to amplify the voices of those people when they bring information to the table. I do think this fandom cares, and would love to hear more if you're willing to provide it.

My First Question is, where is the narrative coming from that Taika is AntiBlack? He's of Te Whānau-ā-Apanui, an indigenous person, with jewish heritage. I did some googling (yes I realise that's not the most efficient or accurate tool, but I did try to find independant sources). The thing that sticks out most to me is regarding the 2020 following the death of George Floyd. Here is one of the articles I referenced:

Taika's tweet was "Watch the whole thing. Eloquent. Clear. Everyone is angry but there is a way to direct that anger." in response to Killer Mike's message asking “not burn your own house down” and instead “fortify your own house.” and to "Plot, plan, strategize, and organize" as he said in the video.

Now, I see a lot of reactions from people of color specifically stating "don't police my anger" and that is a 100% valid take. No one should be telling you how to channel your anger when as a society you are being murdered and you have to fight back to survive. I do think that everyone still has a lot to learn.

I am going to give you a little background on myself (not to toot my own horn, but to provide a little perspective on how much we are still learning). I am whiteyest white person there is, like I go outside and my skin practically lights on fire from my irish/eastern european ancestry, but I also have a black biological grandmother from Guayana who had ancestry back to many years before when slaves were brought over during the Atlantic Slave Trade. So growing up, even though I was white, I thought I had it all figured out on racism because my grandma was black. The narratives taught in US schools were that "racism was in the past" because schools had been white washed, and I grew up in Northern Virginia, where it was supposed to be "multicultural center of the country" since we were so close to DC. Over time, I started finding out from friends of color and indigenous friends that they were still experiencing racism towards them. I never knew, because I wouldn't have, it wasn't faced towards me. And I knew some-- but I didn't know enough even then 15 years ago. Roll around to 2010-12ish, several things occurred that made "black face" become more prominent and I had more discussions with my friends about what kind of racism they dealt with in their day to day lives. I used to color my arms when I was a kid with a brown marker because I wanted to look like my grandma. I found out at the ripe old age of 24 that was basically black face for a lot of people and that it wasn't ok.

2020 came, and George Floyd, and Brianna Taylor, Stephan Clark, Botham Jean, Freddie Gray and so many others were murdered by police and white supremacist shitwads, and suddenly, not just me but so many more white people started to get the slightest inkling of just HOW BAD it really was for black people in this country. That was the year honestly I started to question the systems of our government, and all the racial inequalities that I THOUGHT I had understood before.

Our government, our society culturally has tried its best to sweep racial inequality under the rug, and pretend like "racism is gone" when we still have systems built on racism, that benefit from racist systems of the past. (This is why it's so important that we keep fighting against people who want to white wash history books in a lot of the southern states like FL and TX) Is that an excuse? Of course not. But I believe in change whole-heartedly, and while I am still ashamed of the vast ignorance I had for so many years, and worry about the ignorance I still don't know I'm ignorant of, I do try to be better. I am trying to take that shame and continue to learn and chip away at my ignorance not only through others but on my own. I am not asking for you to pity, or to forgive me or any other white person for that kind of ignorance, what I'm doing here is trying to make a safe space to share and so you can see that people can actively change. Is it enough? Probably not, but it's a start.

-- Now, All that to say, regarding Taika... that tweet from 2020, as I said, quite a lot of people (of all colors) had their eyes opened that year to some pretty systemic racist horrors, and if that is the tweet that sparked the idea that Taika is "Anti-Black" I think, while you don't have to forgive him, it would be something to consider that quite a lot of people were well intending during that time but did not fully comprehend exactly how bad it was. I would however, if you'd be willing to chat with me in DMs about it, or send another ask, like to hear more if there was more evidence of it somewhere I didn't see.

-------- In regards to Taika being a Zionist... which I have heard from others quoting the letter he signed asking for the release of hostages in Gaza. I'm including a link to a copy of the letter just so people can read it, I realize the hollywood reporter isn't an amazing source, but it has the letter included, so thats why. Once again, when that letter came out back in October, quite a lot of people didn't actually know what was going on in Gaza.

We all heard brief things in our day to day news feed, but just like how everything is on the internet right now, information isn't "complete" it's broken up in fragments and it takes a really long time to compile them. There is misinformation galore, and it's incredibly easy to not hear the entire story. I know in October, I was dealing with health issues and I was completely just not paying attention what was going on (we all have our lives and as much as I'd like to say we can all be omniscient and fully present for all things it's truly not a reasonable expectation of any human being nor should it be, the world is a very large place, and we should help where we can but there's a limitation on human ability).

In my opinion, as someone who has tried a lot of their life to "do the right thing" and made a lot of mistakes and tried to learn from them, that letter, and Taika signing it seemed like a "Good intentions" situation again, hoping that he could help in someway. Am I making excuses for him? No, I'm expressing my perspective. I'm not here to change your opinion on him, I'm here to express why fans are still fighting for this show. Do you have other resources regarding his support of zionism?

What concerns me though as a whole, is people throwing 'Zionist' around very liberally these days. I am not an expert on the situation and I don't claim to be. However, growing up in DC when 9/11 happened, I can tell you that labels like that can get dangerous very VERY quickly. Muslim families I grew up with had their windows shattered with bricks on the night of 9/11 (and labeled terrorists) despite being pillars in the community and never having hurt a soul.

Right now, Zionist is a word that is being used to label someone in a very intense way, and it invokes dangerous responses in people. I do believe we really need to make sure we are labeling these situations properly because those kinds of labels CAN and WILL get out of hand very quickly and get people hurt.

I'm going to link to this article from the Anne Frank house to define Zionism. I am also going to list this article from the American Jewish Committee regarding racism and anti-semitism. Once again I'm not an expert on the situation going on in Gaza, and I'm happy to hear more regarding it.

-----------

In regards to your comments on the charities: There are some charities listed in a few places, they just aren't all part of the advertising campaign one:

The main one for Rainbow Youth is here: The Renew As a Crew Fundraiser (not the advertising one) https://ry-community.raisely.com/renewasacrew/ **The Advertising Campaign / Charities**

You mentioned in your ask "even then seeing fans tell the organisers use all the money for advertisements is horrifying to say the least".

I can understand why that would be horrifying to someone who is feeling raw the way that you are. It's completely valid. I would like to offer up the perspective that some people are very invested in this show for their own reasons (some people have never felt represented in major networks) and they too are allowed to feel excited and say things that might be in their own best interest. We are all allowed those opinions, and I think the more we shame people for wanting something, the less discussion we're going to be able to have. That said, I think the @renewasacrew leadership team made a good decision to stick to their original $10K for advertising, and the rest going to charity because of the confusion. It does the most good, and still allows the original intent -- to show the world how much Our Flag Means Death means to many people.

In regards to which charities they are going to -- I had seen somewhere that they were going to a charity Samba and Vico Ortiz had chosen but I asked the leadership team on twitter and this is what they responded with (which I think is fair, they're trying to take their time to make a good decision with the help of everyone involved).

-------------------

I would also like to point out however, that we do have the ability to care about more than one thing at once. One thing that makes life worth living is the little things that make us smile. I have a lot of stuff at home that makes life rough, and my escape is this gay pirate show, and this beautiful, compassionate community that supports it.

We are allowed to have things that we love as well as the things we fight for. I do a lot of my activism on facebook and in person, I don't bring it to tumblr much because this is the safe space for a lot of people to dream and have dreams. It is important for everyone's mental health to step away from the realities of life sometimes (which I know some people like those in Gaza or Ukraine can't do) or else we all burn out and can't help anymore.

I hope this helps a bit in showing you we do care about queers of color, and we do want to know more how we can help, and we are willing to listen. There's a lot of compassion in this community, and I think a lot of people would be willing to talk about it if things are done in a safe space. I do apologize that you feel like we've "diminished" your voices, that was not the intention. If you would like to use that voice to provide more examples and your views I'm happy to listen. I do think we need to allow people to enjoy things too though, because life's not worth living otherwise. Nothing is perfect, but we continue to try and improve.

I would also like to recommend that if the OFMD fandom renewal campaign is bothering folks, please feel free to block us. We don't want to make anyone feel bad, but we also want to express ourselves in a healthy manner. Much love your way Anon.

[grainjew]

Nikaposting Pt 4: Sun God Tropes

This is the fourth of a series of posts about Nika & associated religious practice in the One Piece world. As I write and post the rest of the series, I’ll add links to this header.

Pt 1: Crypto-Religion | Pt 2: Symbology & Syncretism | Pt 3: Joyboy was Shandian

Enormous credit to @oriigami for being my discussion partner through all of this and having a substantial influence on the final product. Check out our ao3 series Joyful for a narrative rather than analytical take on the Nika tradition, and definitely go read her OP blog @kaizokuou-ni-naru for meta and translation fun facts.

-

#JustLittleSunGodThings

So Luffy’s a sun god, or the embodied power of the wishes for one, or whatever. But does he do mythological solar deity things?

Yes actually.

This post is the fourth and last (as of now) in this series, and it’s entirely for fun. I’ll almost certainly miss things as I go down the list here- if you can think of other solar or dawn deity things he gets up to, please add them in the replies!

With no further ado, here is a list of sun god things Luffy has been known to get up to, & which will no doubt inform the mythology developing around him in the One Piece world. (How many people were deifying this guy even before he awakened his devil fruit? Like it was definitely not zero is all I’m saying.)

Getting eaten by snakes

What started this whole list was me turning to @oriigami in the middle of the night after we’d been rewatching Little Garden and trying to make an accurate count of how many times Luffy’s been swallowed whole and going “you know what’s sun god shit? getting eaten by snakes.”

Sun gods are often doing this. Take Apep in Egyptian myth, who tries to devour the sun god Ra every day. Or Rahu, the Hindu shadow planet and serpent, who swallows the sun to cause solar eclipses.

Luffy is also often doing this. The most notable example is of course the Nola Incident in Skypiea arc, but if we expand the definition of snake to include generally snakeish sort of guys, he also gets briefly ate by Kaidou very shortly after awakening, and just now by Mister Sandworm in ch 1110. (And by Kaidou fish-fish fruit equivalency I’d argue we can also count the Little Garden goldfish and the crocodile that ate him as a kid here but obviously that’s more tenuous and mostly just funny.)

Slightly more tenuously as well, there’s Amaterasu of Shinto lore retreating into her cave (a cave is a kind of snake), as well as the Norse wolf that chases the sun Sköll (occasionally merged with Fenrir), the Javanese god (described as an ogre) Batara Kala who eats the sun and moon to cause eclipses, and the alchemical Green Lion that devours the sun.

Storm and sky gods are also often interacting with, killing, and being eaten by snakes, which is less relevant here except that Nami is storm god coded and she also got ate in the Nola Incident. So that’s fun!

Having a chariot that circumnavigates the world

Many sun gods, especially in the Indo-European sphere of traditions, have some sort of chariot or boat that they ride from east to west each day to carry the sun across the sky. Often they have attendants (sometimes dawn and dusk gods; or sometimes these gods have their own chariots or horses as well) to help them with this.

If you want a list of sun vehicles the wikipedia page for solar deities has a whole bunch of them. Have fun.

I think Thousand Sunny speaks for herself on this front: not only is Sunny a ship designed, destined, and dreamed up to herself circumnavigate the world with Luffy as her captain, but she also has the Sun on the front as her figurehead in a manner that does kinda remind me of some depictions I’ve seen of the sun being carried across the sky in such a chariot. Also, she can fly!

Association with royalty

Kings and emperors love to use sun gods to give divine legitimacy to their rule. This is in no way universal (there’s lots of storm gods out there who also do this, just off the top of my head) but take Amaterasu (Shinto), Inti (Incan), Amun-Ra (also Aten) (Egyptian), Sol Invictus (Roman), etc.

Obviously Luffy is going to be King, and is currently an Emperor. But also, he tends to go around and toppling kings and gods and tyrants and vaguely lending legitimacy to whoever is stepping up to the throne in their place. He’s got the Mandate of Heaven (this is a joke mostly but we HAVE all read Loguetown)! And also distributes it to people he likes. Thanks Luffy.

Solar discs, radiate crowns, and beetles

A solar disc is a flat circle, sometimes with rays, that symbolically represents the sun or the sun personified. If you have read pt 2 of this series, you will recognize the Nika symbol in this description.

In the same vein, when applied to a personified depiction of the sun, the solar disc has the habit of becoming a halo or a radiate crown (such as the one worn by the Statue of Liberty - the radiate crown used to be an emperors and sun gods thing and has since become associated with personifications of liberty. So That’s Fun). Obviously Luffy is not in the habit of having either of these representationally, except of course for. The hat that encircles his head in gold.

The final note on symbology I have here is that the Egyptian god of the morning sun, Khepri, is associated with scarabs/dung beetles. A fact that I think known beetle-lover Luffy would appreciate. Get this guy some scarab symbolism stat. Check these bugs out!!!

Bonus: descending into the underworld and eclipse stories

Katabasis, that is, a descent into the underworld, is in no way a sun god exclusive, although solar myths do often involve the sun god, having traveled across the sky by day, needing to find their way through the ocean, the underworld, or some other sort of nether realm to return, overnight, to their morning home in the east. And it’s very fun to look at in the context of Luffy, eclipse myths, and the Marineford saga.

So obviously the Impel Down arc is is a very literal katabasis. It’s Hell, it’s got all the Dante’s Inferno theming, and, like in so many katabases, Luffy descends to the depths in pursuit of some goal, eventually emerging miraculously alive but unsuccessful (see, for a very quick shortlist of katabases of this type, Orpheus & Eurydice, Inanna, and Izanagi & Izanami).

So that’s delightful. But I think it’s even more fun to think about the Marineford saga in general, eventually culminating in the timeskip, as a prototype for an eclipse story.

Solar eclipses, though predictable, are something like a rarer and more frightening form of night, and so their associated myths have a general tendency to involve a more dramatic and/or violent symbolic death of the sun- see, for example, the various devourers of the sun mentioned in the first bullet point of this post.

So, we have the timeskip. The fire goes out. The sun, having descended into the underworld and pushed himself past his own limits, is defeated, disappearing completely from the world for two years. Until- In a way that was, technically, predictable, if you had the correct sphere of knowledge, he returns, miraculously renewed.

I’d incorporate that into my belief system, is all I’m saying.

-

Thank you all for reading! This is all for the series so far, but not, I hope, forever. Many more thoughts to have and webs to weave!

Have a lovely week!

[wonderinc-sonic]

I know Espilver week is half over, but the first theme of absence got me thinking about why I find this ship compelling, and one of the few I would actually be happy to see happen in canon. Specifically, it's loneliness.

Where they came from:

Aside from being an uncalled for and fantastically blunt burn from Blaze that I love, I think it's fun that this is an insight that 06 felt to give us into Silver's character. We wouldn't have known this if she didn't idly wonder it - we definitely didn't know Silver well enough to assume. Love you, Blaze.

BUT my thought is there's a lot of characters in this series for whom a core lesson they are learning is accepting others into their lives. Silver is too, to an extent. But he's also inherently needy, and we are told as much by his closest and only friend. Silver's got a particularly raw deal by literally being satellite to everyone. I'm probably not alone in finding that makes me want to solve his loneliness more.

Espio has not (in my knowledge - being not acquainted with the og comics) been through any major character development that has transformed him, as he is presented as quite a mature (comparatively) character, but in my opinion he also has a core dissonance between being a loner and part of a team. He has a fighting style that lends itself to solo heroism, and yet we always see him in a team, and his personality is what makes it work. I like to interpret this as someone who used to be alone and has been through the journey that Silver needs to find his place in a group. Except Silver can't.

Wheras now:

Pulling out two screenshots that sorta give the vibe I'm looking for, but I think in present they're both actually and actively trying to find and be with companions/ allies. Silver's latest arc shows us he's still someone looking for people to guide and ground him in the past. Espio is the most stable and grounded guy you can imagine in the Sonic cast tbh, and although he's pretty self confident, he's never been ashamed to rely on his trusted friends. If anything, he has trouble trusting outside of his team, although we see him try and put aside his misgivings about others judgements and choices.

There's a lot of characters that have or can have chemistry, but this is one of the few pairings - if not the only pairing - where I actually think being in a relationship develops and furthers both characters growth. Which is very appealing to me.

Also, there's very few characters in canon that I actually think would be happy in a relationship in the current time, at current ages. Not that I think relationships all have to make sense, but narratively speaking, I like it for both of them as well as generally just thinking they're cute. Especially because the tragedy bug bit me, and their setting means they're stuck with the most isolating LDR ever ❤️

That's all, ty for coming to my tedtalk

[tiger8461]

Racism in and Around Stranger Things

There’s a lot of racism in and around Stranger Things.

Caleb McLaughlin is passed up for so many awards, despite being an amazing actor who nails every scene he’s in. The Stranger Things fandom ships Steddie (Steve and Eddie) 1000x more than they ship Jargyle (Jonathan and Argyle), despite Jonathan and Argyle having an actual bond. It’s because while Argyle’s race is never officially disclosed, his actor is Mexican American. Lucas does one thing wrong in season four, because all he wants is to stop being a social outcast (AND EVEN SHARES THE BASKETBALL TEAM’S MOTIVES WITH THE GROUP, RISKING THEIR TRUST IN HIM), and people think he’s a terrible guy.

Billy Hargrove verbally abuses Max and threatens her and the people she cares about, but to the majority of the Stranger Things fandom, it’s ok because he has a terrible, abusive dad who uses the F-slur, and Billy decided to let the mind flayer kill him! Billy could have been, say, suicidal, and not simply saving his stepsister! The fandom ships Harringrove (Billy and Steve), makes fanart about Billy portraying him in a positive way, etc. They almost certainly wouldn’t have done that if Billy was a person of color. Additionally, Billy took one look at Lucas and said to Max, and I quote, “There are some types of people in this world you stay away from. You stay away from [Lucas], you hear me?” Billy knew NOTHING about Lucas other than his physical appearance, so the only thing he could be referencing is Lucas’s race. Furthermore, Billy’s actor, Dacre Montgomery, has publicly denied Billy being racist TWICE, saying that he just wanted to protect Max, but when has Billy ever wanted that, save for a few brief seconds in the season three finale?

Furthermore, the Stranger Things cast is predominantly white. Most of the characters of color are either literally just the ensemble in the background of public scenes or the police/government (who are the antagonists the majority of the time). One of the only other characters of color who doesn’t fall one of into the aforementioned categories is Kali (the only character of Southeast Asian descent; the POC in Stranger Things are overwhelmingly Black) who gets two or three episodes of screen time and was actually an abusive character. (I can’t get any backup on that because when I search up ‘is Kali abusive’, the only thing that shows up is unrelated pages, but multiple people on Tumblr have said that she is). On a further note, the only main/side characters who are POC are portrayed stereotypically. Erica’s the sassy Black girl, Lucas is the angry Black boy, and while I love Argyle, his whole personality is basically just Stoner.

Additionally, before season four, there was literally no indication that Lucas liked basketball. The Duffer Brothers threw a nerdy, DND-loving guy onto the Hawkins High basketball team out of nowhere, and look at that! He’s the Black character! Black people are stereotyped as basketball players, so of course he’s on the basketball team!

This concludes my Stranger Things TEDtalk.