#( and the re-sizing/etc. made it worse )

[nimrochan]

No disrespect, and I want to say that jewish people should absolutely be safe and feel welcome and happy everywhere in the world. But how can you talk positively about moving to Israel, paying taxes to a government, that has been confirmed to have killed 13.000 children? Do you not see an issue with moving to a state that has been determined by the ICJ to be committing a genocide right now?

Thank you for your question. I’ll do my best to answer this as an Israeli-American with a more inside perspective than most people who haven’t been in the area.

Incoming novel.

First off, I encourage you to read my pinned post.

Second, I believe Israel is a tiny country that as being held to an impossible standard. The situation there is very unique and I ask you to not compare it to others.

(I promise I’m going somewhere with this) in the past ten years, half a million Syrians and half a million Yemenis died in civil war in what I think are actual genocides. Millions more are refugees. China forcibly puts its Muslim citizens in “re-education” camps, another form of cruelty and cultural genocide. There are other genocides actually happening in Congo and Darfur and other places. There are humanitarian crises in Arab countries regarding the horrific treatments of women. And in North Korea, the situation has always been dire - it contains a concentration camp the size of Rhodes island.

This leads me to ask- why is the hate for Israel so widespread and deep? I’ve never seen protests addressing these aforementioned issues so passionately. I almost NEVER see them addressed on social media. I have never seen Russian, Chinese, Afghani people etc in places OUTSIDE of their countries being harassed to the extent that Jews and Israelites are. Jews outside of Israel have been harassed and attacked, some have even been murdered. Our synagogues and graveyards have been vandalized. Thousands, maybe tens of thousands of people openly march for our deaths rather than to condemn terrorism or condemn far more horrible governments. I can only come to the conclusion that it’s antisemitism. It’s not a coincidence that the only Jewish country in the world a) has such a microscope over it, b) is one of the most terrorized countries in the world, and c) has so much widely-accepted misinformation regarding it. Including the whole “white colonizer” narrative - most Israelis are brown.

The UN has a history of not accepting Israel as a country and disregarding the years of constant terrorism against it. It has not acknowledged 10/07. The voters of the ICJ include Bashar Al Assad who is the president of Syria. Yes that same Syria that kills its own people. Another voter is from China. Same China with countless human rights violations. Another voter whose name escapes me now made motions to deny humanitarian crises in other Arab countries. So between the UN and the ICJ voters, the parties are extremely biased and ignore far worse issues. So I am not going to take them seriously. I hope you ask yourself what else may have skewed your perspective on the war, if such big international organizations are demonstrably biased.

Genocide is done with intent. In the last 50 years, the Palestinian population has grown FASTER than the world’s Jewish population. I can tell you first hand, as someone with many family members who have served in the IDF, and who knows how strong the Israeli military is - genocide is not, has never been, and will never be the intention of Israel. If it WANTED to commit genocide, I guarantee you that absolutely far more Palestinians would have been slaughtered and I would tear up my passport in that case.

When the LEADERS of a county cross a border into ANOTHER country, unprovoked, and personally slaughter and rape thousands of civilians, that is genocide and that is declaring war. It’s a very small scale genocide, but technically it is. If you read the charter of Gaza, it actually states the goal of killing all Jews. Hamas killed the maximum number of Israelis that was in their power at the time. Including people that my own family were close to.

Growing up in Israel, among some Arabs, I can tell you that no one EVER taught me to hate Arabs. In fact they taught us Arabic in school along with English. All street signs are in English, Hebrew, and Arabic. Meanwhile across the border, their government put guns in kids’ hands and teach them that Jews are pigs. And I don’t think they’re considerate enough to put any of their public signs in Hebrew.

You can see pictures online of Hamas dressing up their kids as child soldiers.

I don’t know if you ever saw the footage of Hamas driving around Gaza with dead bodies after the 10/07 attack and many Gazan civilians celebrating and dancing with their kids and handing out candies, mutilating the bodies further. Look up Shani Louk.

While a handful of Israelis are openly racist (just like there are racists everywhere else on the planet), you will NEVER see something this horrific on Israeli streets. NEVER.

Obviously, not all Gazan civilians are this heinous and nobody should be punished for where they were born (and anti-Israelis are lost on the irony of calling all Israelis kid-murdering genocide-lovers who deserved what happened to them including rape and infantacide). But I want you to ask yourself, If this was My country, how would they respond? I don’t think Israel is responding WORSE than America or other strong countries would. Again that leads me to ask why the hate is out of proportion even for their strong response.

The Ministry of Health in Gaza reports that about 30-40K casualties by Israel. Now that organization is run by… Hamas. But okay, I’m willing to believe that number. I’m willing to believe that that number is double. And I’m extremely saddened by innocent Gazans suffering because of the carelessness and evil of their leaders. But let’s look at the number for now.

Israel reports that about 17,000 of the people killed in Gaza are Hamas militants. That leaves a civilian-combatant ratio of 1:1.2 - 1:2. That’s… average for war. For a dense urban area like Gaza? That is LOW. That does not fit the definition of genocide. It is war, and it sucks, but it’s not genocide.

As for children dying - We do not yet know exactly the number of children who are militants. A baby is counted as a child, but so are the 15-17 year old child soldiers that Hamas recruits. So now the line is blurring.

Not to mention, Hamas has been caught altering birth dates on records of dead Gazans to bring their ages down. Some 18-year-olds are falsely reported as being 17 at death to falsely increase the numbers of killed children on paper.

To go a little off topic, Al Jazeera has also been caught numerous times censoring Gazans criticizing Hamas and reporting biased news. Heck they even reported the rape and murder of my people as “a necessary step.” Look up Howidy Hamza, a Palestinian reporter who talks about Hamas. Hamas is unbelievably cruel to their own people. Yet protests in the US and around the world praise them.

Let’s go back to Israel being the most terrorized country in the world behind Somalia. Do you know what’s going on in Somalia? Of course probably not - another crisis largely ignored by the world because it’s not as exciting or interesting.

Again I grew up in Israel. In the 90’s there was a rash of suicide bombings on buses by the PLO, so I remember avoiding buses as a child out of fear. I also remember waiting in line with my family to get free gas masks because Saddam Hussein once threatened biological warfare on us. Fun times.

I went back to visit in 2015 - this time, a trend of Palestinian civilians in Israel randomly stabbing Jews or running over them or throwing rocks at them. Some Palestinian teens threw rocks into traffic and killed a 2-year old.

And in the past 20 years at least, Hamas and OTHER parties have been sending rockets into Israel. Into civilian areas. Do you think that’s normal? Do you think it’s normal to have apps to alert you to rockets and to have so many bomb shelters? Have you ever spoken to a relative overseas and heard rockets in the background while on the phone with them?

Do you know how many hundreds of thousands of us would be dead if it weren’t for the iron dome?

EDITED TO ADD: Israel responds to rocket fire to destroy the source, because the iron dome is not perfect and CONTINUED firing eventually harms Israeli civilians. Yes, Hamas makes sure to fire rockets from Gazan civilian areas. Another note I want to bring up - I don’t know how many Gazans are displaced currently, I have a hard time finding a nonbiased source, but I would guess around 750K - 1.2 million. If they are displaced RATHER then killed, that’s another contradiction to calling this war a genocide.

Do you know why Gaza has received billions of dollars in aid over the years - enough to turn it into a living paradise - only for Hamas to use it to build underground tunnels and rockets for the purpose of attacking a country that has NEVER in its history attacked first or started any wars? (Yes, believe it or not, Israel has never STARTED a war since its inception).

The other problem with Gaza is Hamas intentionally having military targets under densely populated areas. When Israel warns civilians to leave, via leaflets or alerts, many times Hamas threatens them to stay and become martyrs. On top of it, they dress as civilians and recruit children, and fire rockets from refugee camps and apartment buildings and schools and hospitals. This is neither legal nor ethical warfare.

Israel does not, has never put military targets near civilian, nor does the IDF recruit children or dress as civilians. That’s a bare minimum.

I won’t deny that members of the IDF have done shitty things, just like the American army and other armies around the world have probably done, but if I had to choose between the country with the military that wants me dead and Israel… yeah. At least rape and other torture are ILLEGAL for the IDF. Meanwhile Hamas continues to freely rape hostages as I type this. Because they make the laws there.

Yes Israel cares more about its own citizens than foreign citizens like Gaza, but again, that’s no more evil than other normal countries.

To address another stereotype about Israel being a racist and apartheid state - there are two million Arab Israelis living peacefully there. There are Arab countries who hold peace treaties with Israel.

So you tell me in your ask, Jews should be safe and welcomed around the world. The sentiment is appreciated, but this is not the case with reality, sadly. There is NO population of 2 million Jews in any other middle eastern country. Many of us left for Israel due to severe oppression. There are no more Jews in Yemen for example. My grandfather left for Israel from his home in Lebanon because some officials wanted him dead. Why? For committing the crime of smuggling Jews through Lebanon to escape the Holocaust.

My grandparents on my mother’s side escaped post-war Poland because of violent lingering antisemitism.

They would have had NOWHERE to go without Israel.

And we are NOT safe outside of Israel or even in Israel because of the intense hatred. We have been scapegoats for society’s problems for thousands of years and I don’t see it improving any time soon.

How can I talk positively about Israel? It’s the most liberal and progressive country in the Middle East. It’s the only country where it’s legal and safe to be openly gay for example, and it’s the only country there that holds annual pride.

It’s a middle eastern country where I, as a secular woman, can dress how I want, marry who I want, get abortions if I needed, own property, own money, have a prestigious job, and *checks notes* drive.

It’s also the only Jewish country in the world. It’s the place I’ve felt the safest and happiest, surrounded by my own people and family and sometimes I wish my parents and I never left, because I am personally feeling the antisemitism when I march peacefully and get nasty comments, or when I lose long time close friends left and right for being a “genocidal Zionist”, or when I see antisemitic graffiti and signs everywhere I walk.

My taxes in Israel would pay for hospitals that treat people from all around the world including Palestinian children for free. It would pay for the iron dome that keeps my family safe.

My taxes in America have been used to oppress women, and for horrific military actions, etc. and America itself is LITERALLY built on colonial genocide and the backs of slaves. Slightly related, most of North Africa was colonized by Arabs who ran a larger slave trade than the US. I’ve never learned that in school! I’ve never seen anyone talk about that! I’ve never seen Americans or Arabs in other countries get attacked for these things (to be fair, I’m very aware of the racism Arabs and Muslims did feel in the US after 9/11 and I absolutely condemn it).

This same America also lifted sanctions on Iran, allowing it to spare money to give to Hamas to buy weapons and slaughter my people to start this fucking war.

So you ask why I’m saving money to eventually move to Israel from America? I hope I’ve answered as thoroughly as I can. You can go ahead and fact check me through non- biased media. And go ahead and look up “list of terrorist attacks on Israel” while you’re at it too. I’d rather face rockets than continue to live in a country that lets antisemitism (and mass shootings for that matter) run rampant.

[jellycatstuffies]

would you be able to explain how the rereleases work for jellycats? are they ones that were previously retired, or simply out of stock, more akin to a restock? also, hope you have a nice day :)

The re-releases are actually previously retired designs. Not a restock for out of stock designs. I made a post about the re-releases a while back but they keep bringing back more and it's a bit hard to keep up.

Here's the post:

The whole concept of re-releasing retired Jellycats really started once Jellycat and Jellycat's CEO had offical instagram pages where they saw how popular some of the retired designs were (and for how much money they were being resold on platforms like Ebay etc...) and as a way of listening to Jellycat fans/collectors/enthusiasts they brought back and are bringing back designs from retirement now. Though of course, as if with everything lately, they are more expensive now than when they were orginally released, but absolutely affordable compared to the prices of re-sellers.

I got myself the re-released large size of Dexter Dragon (now named "Huge" and bigger than the original) and the quality is amazing. He's flawless. (My original Large Dexter from years ago was actually worse quality) I'm saying this because I know the prices have increased but the most recent releases are all truly flawless quality and one can finally see that Jellycat has not just increased prices but also increased quality control. There was a period of really bad quality while prices had already increased so this is great to see as a long-time lover of Jellycats!

Huge Dexter Dragon (photos are my own)

[lincolndjarin]

Best Kept Secret

chapter nineteen : reverence (RE-UPLOAD)

ao3 link ✿ series masterlist ✩ main masterlist ✧

pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader

rating : 18+ mdni

word count : 7.3k

summary : mando takes you to the library in the city!! very cute and innocent day trip!!

warnings, etc. : language, teasing, smut, oral f!recieving, face sitting, din djarin consent king, body worship, fingering, p in v sex, unprotected sex, cum eating, size kink if you squint, overstimulation, multiple orgasms.

A/N : i had to change accounts so this is a re-upload of my ongoing fic bks!!

You really want to. 

You couldn’t possibly want to more than you currently do. 

It’s actually a bit mean. That he’s left you here in this state. 

You tidy up the plates, setting them on the vanity before struggling out of your dress for a few minutes until you’re finally free of the damned thing, sulking off to the closet, wrapping yourself in the sheets, and tossing and turning restlessly. 

“When you really want to.”   

What a ridiculous time to decide to tease. You couldn’t have made your want clearer if you tried, of course it wasn’t just going to be because he had done as you asked, obviously you wanted it. Did you have to make it more blunt? If that’s what he wants you can certainly do that. 

If he wants direct you can be direct. 

Tomorrow. 

Tonight, you’ll have to settle for a pillow shoved between your thighs to try and soothe the heat that’s building there, threatening to boil over. 

✩

You’re grumpy in the morning. How could you not be? If anything you’re in a worse mood than you were last night because you’re still pent up and now your head is full of all sorts of ideas about how you can prove just how badly you want to. You're rifling through drawers when the girls get there in the morning. 

When you finally turn to look at them you’re triumphantly holding up a white satin nighty, the two girls exchange a look of confusion before helping you dress. Lysa manages to find satin panties that go with it. Perfect. 

The next step in your plan is your dress. You tell them specifically that you’re going out again today and that you’d like something a little more casual if possible. 

Elaine manages to find exactly what you’re looking for. Of course it’s the furthest thing from casual, you’re expected to keep up appearances, but it’s definitely simpler than anything else they’ve dressed you in. It’s light pink, with layers, thin pieces of chiffon make up the skirt. The sleeves are shorter than you’re used to, and it might be the most breathable gown in your closet. It doesn’t even drag across the floor, the skirt ends at the middle of your calves. 

But most importantly, it has buttons in the back, not your usual corset style. 

Once you put on a pair of flats you’re feeling rather pleased with their work, other than detangling the sleep from your hair they’ve left it alone. 

It’s like the girls can sense your excitement as they swiftly begin to take their leave. 

“I’ll have Leo bring you a coin purse before you leave, my lady.” Is the only thing Elaine says before shutting the door behind them. Once they’re gone you rush to the closet, knowing Leo you’ll only have a few minutes. Searching through the pillows in your mess of a makeshift bed you finally find the one containing the book, gingerly opening to where you’ve tucked the necklace Din had given you before holding it up. 

The knock on your door has you shoving the book back into the pillow case as you hastily clasp the necklace around your neck. The small silver flower charm dangles from the leather cord as you greet Leo, who hands you a far too large bag of credits before hurrying off. You’re left standing in the doorway staring at the Mandalorian, you give him a wide innocent grin.

“Good morning, Mando.” You hold the credits out to him. “Could you hold these for me please?” You bat your eyelashes at him, you know you’re laying it on a little thick but allegedly this is what he wanted. 

He stiffens up a bit, clearly sensing that something is off about you, he hesitates for only a moment before taking them from you.

“Good morning, princess, are you ready to go?” His voice has a certain curiosity to it that only makes you smile wider.

“Of course.” You close the door behind you and he tucks the coin purse into his over the shoulder bag. 

You walk very close to him. You can’t remember how to find the main entrance of the castle so he takes the lead. Once you’re in a hallway you’re certain is completely empty you briefly allow yourself to take his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“How are you this morning, my kar’ta?” You whisper before dropping his hand, the two of you turning down a hall with a few scattered guards that stand at attention when they see you approaching. He says nothing as you carry on, you smile as you pass them until you begin your descent down a staircase.

“I’m fine… how are you?” You can practically hear him furrowing his brow, you haven’t given him a good enough reason to directly question you yet but you can tell he’s already suspicious of your over the top actions. 

“Absolutely wonderful.” You bump your shoulder against his and the modulator buzzes as he starts to say something but you’re already at the front gate and you don’t give him time to as you hold your wrist out to the man you know will attach your tracker, he grumbles as the man insists he wear one as well, warning him not to “lose” it again or we won’t be allowed to take you out anymore. 

Before you know it you’re out the gate and making your way down the palace steps towards the landspeeder that is already waiting for the two of you. You stop in front of it before turning to face Din.

“Could you help me up please?” As you say it his helmet tilts ever so slightly to the side but he lifts you by your waist up into the backseat before pulling himself up to sit beside you. A few minutes after you start moving he puts his arm on the back of the seat as he leans down a bit to whisper to you, you know at the speed you're going that the driver can’t hear him. 

“I know what you’re up to sarad’ika.” His voice is stern but there’s no actual upset behind it so you turn to smile at him. 

He wanted you to want it.

So you’re going to show him just how badly you can want it.

“I have no idea what you mean.” You stare up into the visor through your lashes before you lurch forward slightly. 

You’re already there. 

“Why didn’t we just walk? It would have taken us less than an hour, it’s right down the street?” You frown as he jumps out, holding his arms out to help you out.

“I didn’t realize you would want to walk.” He says, setting you on the ground.

“Well I would.” You turn to the driver. “Don’t bother coming back, we’ll be walking home.” The woman driving nods before speeding off. 

The building is massive. White marble steps lead up to large columns that line the entrance, it must be at least five stories, yet it seems like very few people are going in and out. He watches you take in the size of the building. Aside from the castle, it might be the biggest building on Naboo. Eventually you start making your way up the steps, the Mandalorian following closely behind you, when you reach the top he steps in front of you to hold the door open. 

What a gentleman. 

You hope for your sake that he’ll be feeling a little less like a gentleman later. 

You want to stay focused on your poorly veiled attempts to seduce him but honestly the library is so breathtaking you lose focus of your task for a moment as you take in the shelves. It’s built like a ring, the center of the room is hollow going up, and much to your surprise, down. A railing keeps anyone who gets close from going over and you’re immediately drawn to it, the moment you put your hands on the rail to look down Din puts a protective hand on your waist. 

It goes down as far as it goes up, you count six floors below and when you look up you count six above. 

His grip tightens when you lean forward to try and see the bottom before pulling you away from the edge. 

“I thought you were scared of heights?” He whispers, even though his tone is hushed it stands out in the jarring silence of the building. 

“When I don’t expect them, this is fine.” Your eyes are wandering now through the wide expanse of shelves, your library back in the keep is probably the size of just one floor here. Oddly enough you haven’t seen a single person yet, or an employee. “Where is everyone?” His hand moves to the small of your back as he guides you towards the elevator in the back of the circular room. 

“Everyone’s working right now, only a few droids are employed here, you’ll see them rolling around at some point.” Once he gets you on the elevator he’s pressing the buttons to take you to the top. You’re waiting for the doors to close as you give him an inquisitive look.

“The top?” He looks at you as you ask it, he’s tapping his foot as he waits for the doors. 

“The basement levels are all academic nonsense, we’ll start at the top and work back to the ground floor.” You take a step to the left so your arm is against his. The doors finally shut and the two of you stand in the silence for only a moment before he turns his helmet to glare down at you. You can feel his gaze burning against your face. 

If he has something to say he doesn’t voice it. And you’re happy to just rock back and forth on your heels until there’s a ding and the doors open. You step out ahead of him, the roof of the building is glass, sunlight streaming into the shelves. You find yourself quickly engrossed by the multicolored spines that line them. They’re organized by genre, and you currently find yourself surrounded by all the fiction you could ever possibly want. 

You’re conflicted because you would love to spend the day trying to get under the Mandalorians skin, (and also just under him in general) but he’s taken you to the one place that might actually be able to distract you. 

You can have your cake and eat it too if you play your cards right. 

“Could you pick some for me? I loved the one you had me read yesterday, it was so exciting.” You grab his arm as you say it, there aren’t any droids to be seen on this floor and the entire building seems to be lacking cameras. 

He begins to scan the shelves as you hold his arm, following next to him. 

“So you aren’t up to anything, You’re just in a really good mood today?” His voice is low and secretive as he scans the shelves. 

“I’m not you, I’m not always scheming to get the upper hand.” Except that’s exactly what you’re doing. 

“You’re hilarious.” He takes something off the shelf tucking it into his bag before carrying on through the stacks.                                  

You do this for a good hour. 

You follow him through the maze of shelves, he picks out a book, puts it in his bag, you keep walking. 

Eventually you manage to find your favorite. It’s a little funny, the juxtaposition of such an imposing and regal library housing your campy romance novels, but they have such a wide collection you completely forget about the task at hand briefly as you search through them. He wanders off at one point, never completely out of sight but he lets you look in private.

This is a good opportunity to enjoy the library while also making an attempt to work him up. 

You look exclusively for books about men wearing helmets. Knights, stormtroopers, clone troopers, a pilot finds his way into the mix. But best of all there’s actually a few Mandalorian ones.

Ravaged by Two Mandalorians, Bound in Beskar, and Unmasking the Alpha (a Mandalorian Erotic Novella) 

They all look obscene and if you're being honest, a little ridiculous but you take all three under your arm and go over to him, holding them out.

“Can you put these in your bag please?” You spread them out so he can see all the titles.

“You can’t be serious.” He sounds almost mortified. 

“Those ones looked the most interesting to me.” You give him big doe eyes as you say it and he hastily shoves them in his bag before taking your arm and dragging you towards the elevator. 

“We’re done on this floor.” Is all he mumbles as he presses the buttons to take you down one. 

You had hoped maybe he’d just drag you home but sure, this is fine. 

Except the next floor isn’t really all that sexy. 

It’s a lot of technical stuff. Machinery, maintenance, all sorts of stuff you know he enjoys so you have no plans to rush him. He goes off on his own so you walk aimlessly until you find something you know he’s fond of. 

Classic ships. 

You have to flip through four books to find what you’re looking for but eventually you’re staring at the Razor Crest. 

It was a military patrol craft, more importantly it’s a gunship. Seems like an odd choice for him, as strong as he is it’s hard to imagine him as a soldier. 

He doesn’t seem like the type to follow orders.

“That’s my ship.” He’s looking over your shoulder as you close the book, putting it back in its spot. 

“I thought you didn’t have a ship? Wasn’t that the whole reason you took this job?”

“It was my ship. Had a little accident.” He sounds genuinely saddened by the loss. 

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. I never would have met you if it hadn’t happened.” 

That would be so sweet if it didn’t make you want him even more.

You settle on a smile.

“Next floor?” You say as you watch a droid roll past, seemingly vacuuming the nonexistent dirt on the carpet.

“Next floor?” You ask.

You’re back in the elevator. 

You're on the next floor.

And you’re surprised to find that half of this floor is cook books. It’s a more than thorough collection, covering every sort of thing you can imagine, from every planet you can imagine. 

He’s much less interested in this floor but you know exactly what you want. 

It’s easy to find the first thing you’re looking for. A book on Naboo deserts. You quickly hand it to him before looking further, when you find the second book you’re looking for it’s just out of your reach. 

Which is more than fine.

You stand on your tiptoes, your fingertips barely reaching the shelf it’s on and exactly as you knew he would, Din puts a hand on your waist and reaches up over you to get it, boxing you between the shelves and his body. 

You “stumble” a bit in “surprise” when he does. You keep an innocent look on your face as your hips shamelessly grind back against his. His grip on your waist tightens and he holds you still as he gets the book down, turning you around so your back is to the shelves and you’re facing him. 

“Really?” He hands you the book you had wanted and you immediately hand it back to him.

“What? You scared me, and this is for you.” 

He stares down at it. It’s a children's cookbook. He scoffs, but much to your delight, puts it in his bag. 

He clearly has more to say but as you give him yet another innocent smile he sighs and leads you back towards the elevator once more. 

He pretends he doesn’t know exactly what you’re doing.

You pretend you don’t see him adjust himself in his flight suit. 

You spend all your time on this floor trying to get him flustered. The only time you’re sure it works is when you drop a book and really take your time picking it up.

You catch him clenching and unclenching his fist afterwards.

On the next floor you manage to find your own Mando’a translation book. He hesitates when you hand it to him but eventually puts it in his bag. 

On the last floor you tell him how excited you are to go home and read. He nods and any words he has in response seem to get caught in his throat. 

When you’re finally done his bag is overflowing with books and you return to the ground floor, he sets them on some sort of scale near the entrance and a number comes up. He inserts about a quarter of the credits from the purse into the machine and then puts the books back into his bag. 

“Why did you have to pay? Aren’t we just borrowing these?” He holds the door open for you to leave as you ask, following you out onto the steps. 

“You can borrow them, you can also buy them, they’ll replace them quickly, I thought you might want to own some of these.” He leads you down the steps, the city seems to be getting busier, you must have spent your whole day inside without even realizing it. 

It’s a beautiful walk back to the castle, you’re actually a little mad you didn’t get to walk this route earlier. 

It’s also the first time you’ve seen the people of Naboo outside of the markets. 

It’s immediately clear to you why they don’t like Kodo, or you assume, most of the royal family. 

It’s clean, and it’s pretty here but you can tell the people are terribly overworked and more than miserable, you find yourself reaching into Din’s bag for the coin purse. 

Before you know it you’re walking into the crowds handing out credits to anyone who will take them. Din stays close the entire time, his arm hovering over your waist without really touching you but you aren’t worried. 

No one here is going to hurt you. 

People come and go quickly with thanks and gentle squeezes of your hands until the bag is empty, once that happens you promise to come back with more another day.

You talk to the people that will get close enough, once the money’s gone most people shoot nervous looks at Din at scurry off but a few stay to chat, mostly older people who hold your hands tightly, you had planned on rushing home initially and making an attempt at tackling the Mandalorian onto the bed but now you want nothing more than to talk to the people. 

Your people. 

You wish you had talked to them sooner, that you had stopped that day in the markets because they’re all incredibly kind. 

It’s probably because you’ve been cooped up and the only times you’ve been out you’ve always been distracted but this is the first time you truly feel like a princess. 

The first time you’ve realized that you have subjects.

Once the crowd completely thins, you’re sitting on a bench with an elderly woman who’s holding your hands in hers as she tells you about her daughters store, she sells groceries and food items from what you can tell and you do your best to listen intently. The Mandalorian has given you a bit of space now that people have left, he’s standing against a brick building on the other side of the street, watching patiently. 

“He is your protector?” The woman you’ve learned is named Vivian nods in his direction and you smile as his head adjusts slightly, of course he’s listening in. 

“Yes. He’s my keeper.” Street lights are beginning to come on as the sun sets, shops around you are closing for the day. 

“I haven’t seen a Mandalorian around here in quite some time.” As she speaks a group of children are approaching Din, none of them can be older than five, running around as their parents deal with their last customers of the day. 

“He’s the first one I ever met. I thought they’d be different.” Surprisingly, the children aren’t afraid of him. If anything they’re intrigued, unlike the adults they know nothing of Mandalorians, they have yet to feel the unearned hesitancy towards them. 

“How so?” The older woman's hands are wrinkled and soft as she holds yours. 

“I didn’t think they’d be so kind.” Din crouches down to be at their height, giving the group a small wave. One brave little girl comes right up and slaps her chubby little hands against his knee, when he doesn’t react the rest of the group deems it safe enough to follow suit, soon he’s covered in little ones, all tugging at the Beskar and giggling until he settles on just sitting on the ground, letting them play. 

“How is life in the royal family, my lady? Are you enjoying your time in the castle? The people almost didn’t believe you were real, no one’s seen you, we only heard tales of a young woman set to marry prince Harand.” She makes a face as she says his name. So it’s true, they don’t care for him. 

“It’s perfectly well.” Your eyes are still focused on Din who is carefully pulling a toddler off of his back to set him down in front of him. It’s the most patient you’ve seen him be, he doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest by the onslaught of children, several have taken to just sitting in his lap playing with the belts that go across his chest. “If anything it’s just boring. Not a lot for me to do, just a lot of reading.” The woman hums, content on just watching the children with you once she realizes they’ve caught your attention. 

He’s managed to settle the majority down, they all sit in front of him now, a few of the younger ones continue to tug at his armor and one little girl sits on his leg, her dark eyes sparkle in the street lights and her hair is done up in several little buns as she stares up at him in awe. It takes you a second to realize he’s playing a game with them, he holds out both his hands in closed fists towards the closest child, a little Rodian boy who excitedly points to his left hand which he opens to reveal a credit in his palm which he hands to the little one. 

You catch a glimpse of his other hand.

There were credits in both of them.

He goes around through all the kids until every single one has won. You don’t realize until he’s done that you had run out of money earlier, he was using his own for this little game.

Once every child gets a chance to win he goes back to being a personal playground, he picks up one excited toddler who was drooling on his pauldron, setting him down in his lap, letting him hold one of his fingers.

“You’re right.” You jump a bit, you’d nearly forgotten you were sitting next to Vivian. 

“I’m sorry?” You give her an apologetic smile, you’ve been so focused on Din you’d completely zoned out. 

“He is kind.” She gives you a warm smile and you can’t help but smile back at her, she stands and you stand with her, letting her take your arm as you help walk her to her daughters storefront and you promise to visit again soon before returning to Din who is now handing little ones who cling to him to their respective parents. The little girl with the buns in her hair is refusing to let go, her chubby fingers wrapped around his cowl until he reaches into his bag, handing her one of the cakes from the markets before peeling her off of him and handing her to her parents, standing once they’re gone. 

“You’re good with them.” When you speak he looks at you and then at the practically empty street before offering up his arm.

No one’s around, what’s the harm?

You take his arm and the two of you walk, the sun completely out of the sky now.

“I’ve had a lot of practice.” He says softly. Your eyes are trained on the stars above but he’s staring only at you. 

“With your little one?” He pulls you closer as you say it.

“With my little one, yes.” 

“I’m going to ask you something, and you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.” You tear your eyes from the stars to stare into the visor. He nods and you continue, looking back to the stars. “Who’s his mother?” He laughs slightly when you say it.

“I don’t know, I don’t know who his father is either. Is that all you wanted to ask?” 

No. Now you have more questions than ever but you’ve already promised yourself you’d wait until he told you himself. So you nod.

“That’s it.” 

“Okay.” He lets go of your arm as you approach the castle and shortens his steps so he’s behind you. 

You go through the same routine as last time, turning in your trackers before being let in, you walk in silence up to your chambers. You both know what’s going to happen when you get there. When you open the door you turn to him, giving him the sweetest smile you can muster. 

“Wanna come in so we can go through the books?” He hesitates for only a moment before nodding and stepping in. When you close the door you lock it as loudly as possible.

He carefully sets the books that you had picked for yourself onto your vanity along with four he picked out for you. 

You walk to the center of the room, humming quietly to yourself as you slip your flats off. He turns when he’s done to look at you, standing firmly in place. 

“I like that dress on you.” He says it so quietly you barely catch it, flashing him a smile.  

“Thanks, I was hoping you’d like it.” You bunch up the skirt a bit, swaying it back and forth before making your way over to him, your fingers play with his gauntlet.

“Not tonight, princess…” He mumbles as you do which immediately has you frowning.

“I couldn’t possibly want it more Din.” You give him a reassuring look but he still shakes his head. 

“What is this about? Seriously, no secrets, why won’t you touch me? I’m giving you permission.”

He’s silent for a moment and when he speaks his voice is small.

“I just got you back, I can’t ruin this again.”

“You won’t.”

“I don’t want you to think this is just sex for me.”

“I know it isn’t.” You bring your hand up to rest flat against his chestplate, over where his heart would be. “How many times have I asked you to leave me be and you have refused? I am asking you to stay and now you won’t do that either.”

“That was different.” His hand rests atop yours.

“How?”

You can tell he’s struggling to find the words but you know to just give him time, let him figure it out on his own. Just when you think he might give up and leave, he speaks. 

“When you asked me to leave you alone I stayed because it was my job. It was my duty to protect you.” His visor is trained on your face as he speaks. “Now I leave because you are much more than that. You are not my job anymore, you’re my faith.” Your breath catches in your throat as he says it. “You have made me a devout man, princess.” Your hand moves to rest on the cheek of his helmet and he takes a small step forward before his fingers come up to play with the flower charm on your necklace. 

You’re at a bit of a loss for words. 

He tends to have that effect on you. 

“I don’t just care for you, sarad’ika, I worship you.” His words are soft and hushed. 

“Then show me.”

He doesn’t move so you bring your other hand to his helmet, like you’re cradling his face.

“Do you want me?” Your words are stern as you force him to hold your gaze.

“Always.”

“And you said you wouldn’t touch me again unless I wanted you to?”

“Yes.” The hand playing with your necklace drops, and you take a step back.

“I want it Din.” You reach your hands back to the buttons on your dress and with one sharp tug you hear them all clatter to the ground and you let the fabric fall into a heap on the floor. You’re standing before him in the white satin nighty, when he doesn’t move you go to turn off the lights in the room before you walk to the closet, opening the door. “I’m not going to force you if you aren’t ready, but I promise, I want it.” You leave him standing there in the dark, the door to the closet left open as you stand, shuffling through your sheets before clicking on the lamp, turning to give the door one last glance.

In all honesty you expect to hear your bedroom door open and shut. 

Much to your surprise he’s standing in the doorway of the closet, the lamp light flickers off of the silver steel of his armor and he shuts the door behind him before he takes only a couple long strides to stand before you. 

No words are spoken as he kneels in front of you, his hands holding your hips as you stare down at him. 

“You want me to show you?” He whispers it in the dim glow that surrounds the two of you. You only nod in response. His hands move down your sides, down your bare thighs, your calves and your ankles before tracing right back up. “You’ll let me worship you?” 

“Yes.” You whisper back to him and his hand reaches over as he turns off the lamp.

In the darkness you hear him shedding his armor, he stays in front of you, on his knees as he does. 

You count the pieces of metal as they hit the floor.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven.

And finally there’s that hiss of air.

Eight.

His hands pull you down to your knees so you’re face to face with him and he guides your hands to the zippers on his flight suit, letting you pull the fabric off of him, tossing it somewhere behind him in the darkness before hastily pulling his face to yours. 

It feels less like a kiss and more like he’s trying to memorize the shape of your lips with his.

He doesn’t tear the fabric from you this time, instead he carefully lifts it over your head before tossing that aside as well, in the pitch black you’re left only in your panties as he lays you back into the pillows and sheets, slotting himself between your legs his hand is lifting one slightly and you gasp as you feel him place a kiss to the inside of your ankle. 

He doesn’t speak, which is a bit funny because previously that was all he did when you had sex but this time is different. Without a mask to hide behind he’s not the dominant man you knew. 

Now he is your acolyte. 

He doesn’t speak because he is to busy showing you his devotion as his mouth moves up your leg, leaving a trail of kisses until he reaches your thighs, he’s moved so he’s on his stomach as he throws your legs over his shoulders, sucking the meat of your thighs into his mouth, feverishly making sure not to miss a spot. 

His lips are everywhere but where you want them.

You aren’t sure how long he does this but it feels like hours, he does nothing but gently nip at your thighs, soothing each little bite with a kiss or with his tongue until your hands find his hair, tugging gently.

“Mando please…” You whine as you pull at his curls.

“Say my name cyare, please.” It isn’t a demand, it’s not his usual commanding bedroom tone, it’s a plea. “I love when you say my name.”

Who could deny him that? When he sounds so fucking desperate?

“Din, please.” That’s all it takes for his fingers to tug down your panites, tossing them aside before he gets back into the position he was in. He doesn’t tease, he doesn’t hesitate, the moment he’s able to he’s diving into you, his tongue spreads open our folds before he sinks it into your heat. 

Stars, that tongue. 

You’ve thought about that tongue for a long time. 

He’s used that tongue to tease you, to mock you, and to taunt you. But now he’s chosen to drive you mad with it. 

He traces up and down your folds, his stubble scratches at you deliciously as he’s trying to find what you like the most as you fall apart against him, as he fucks your hole with his tongue his nose bumps against you clit making you groan, your fingers gripping the blankets around you. 

He mumbles incoherently against your cunt before doing it again, letting you grind your face against him as he continues to mumble until finally you manage to sit up on your elbows through your gasps and moans.

“D-Din.” You stammer out but he doesn’t react in the slightest other than wrapping his arms around your thighs as he pulls you close to him. “Din! Fuck! Din I c-can’t hear you.” He still doesn’t so much as react to you so you finally just reach down, pulling him off of you by his hair, his breath is labored as his grip on your thighs loosens.

“Are you okay? What’s wrong?” You’re breathing just as hard as he is as he says it, his voice fills the darkness.

“I’m fine, I just, I can’t hear you.” You let go of his hair, bringing your hand down to caress his face, the bottom half of which is soaked. 

“Kriff, sorry mesh’la.” His grip on your thighs tightens once more and one of his hands moves under you to rest against your spine as he rolls himself over. It’s as impressive as it is surprising, you squeal as it happens, your entire body is shifted from laying down to sitting upright in an instant. You have to lean forward to regain your balance. He’s on his back now with you hovering above his face on your knees. “I was telling you to sit on my face, sarad. It’ll be easier.” 

You want to tell him that you’re too heavy, that you’re worried that you’ll hurt him but he pulls you down by your thighs before you can protest. From this angle his tongue pushes deeper into you and you can ride his nose, so any complaints you have die in your throat, especially when he starts moaning against your core. 

Your fingers go to his hair, gripping his curls as he forces your weight down onto him, you can feel his hips grinding against nothing behind you as he does. Your orgasm is approaching rapidly and it’s clear that he can tell because his efforts somehow further as he moans again, the vibrations have you squeezing his head with your thighs. 

Your vision goes white as he tilts his head up to suck on your clit sharply. The thread snaps and you’re cumming, the small room is filled with your moans as his tongue moves back at your hole and you can hear him obscenely lapping at your juices. You need a second to recover. As you sit up on your knees his face follows, trying desperately to lick you clean and you have to gently push him off. 

“T-too sensitive Din. Give me a second.” 

He immediately pulls away, sitting up so he can lay you down on the blankets, he goes back to kissing you wherever he can get his mouth as you catch your breath. 

He travels across your hips, up your navel, you’re certain he kisses every one of your ribs until his lips settle on your breast, his tongue swirls around your nipple before pulling it into his mouth making your back arch up and into him. 

You’ve never had someone pay attention to you like this. Sure, previously he had been the best sex of your life but this is entirely different. Without the helmet on he’s Din. Your Din. And Din seems to be considerably more shy than the Mandalorian you know. Without his helmet he definitely doesn’t talk as much, but his mouth is on you constantly. 

You wonder to yourself as his lips move to your other breast if he’s ever gotten to do this with anyone else. Maybe he’s simply eager to put his mouth on something that isn’t a ration pack. Your thoughts are shut up as his hands spread your thighs and he cups your pussy before letting two of his fingers slide through your folds. His mouth moves up again, kissing every inch of your chest before settling on your neck. 

He nuzzles his face into your neck before deeply inhaling your scent, groaning as his fingers find your still swollen bud. He doesn’t move though, waiting for your permission as they simply rest atop it, his mouth going to work on your throat.

“Yes Din, it’s okay.” You whisper as he nods, humming against your skin as he starts drawing circles against you, you’re moaning again, terribly loud, as he rubs lazy shapes into you. Your hands find purchase against his shoulders. 

Gods, he’s broad. Significantly less broad than he looks with the armor on but he’s still just generally big. You let your hands wander across his body as he rubs your clit, it seems like he’s trying to see just how loud he can make you. He’s big but as you trace his scarred back you discover he’s surprisingly lean. The armor must bulk him up because he feels surprisingly lithe. His fingers sink into you and he begins to grind his palm against your clit as they do, you immediately gasp at the stretch. 

“Maker-” His mouth covers yours, interrupting your sentence, when he pulls away he’s panting. 

“There is no Maker. There’s only you.” His mouth is back on yours as he slowly moves his fingers in and out of you and you’re already close again as you scratch at his back. Eventually when you're a mess all over again, chanting his name, as you gasp for air he swipes his tongue across your bottom lip before pushing into your mouth. He keeps his hand still at this point, letting you chase your release as you ride his fingers until you’re seeing stars again. 

He happily swallows your moans as you finish again. 

You’re about to ask for another break but he’s sitting up on his knees, one hand on your waist as he whispers your name like it’s a prayer, and you feel the tip of his cock against your folds, you can feel the heat coming off of him.

“P-please, please gedet’ye. Ni linibar gar, s-sarad let me, please.” And he sounds so fucking needy. Like never before, he never asks, he takes, he makes you beg, yet right now he’s whining as he swipes his thick cockhead through your wetness, inhaling sharply through his teeth as he does.

There isn’t a world in which you could say no to him now. 

You still feel like your body is coming down from you high, buzzing with ecstasy, but you sit up to grab him by the back of his neck, pulling him back down on top of you.

“Yes, Din, I’m all yours.” You barely finish the sentence as he pushes himself into your weeping cunt. His moan is animalistic as he leans down and bites down on your shoulder to muffle the pornagraphic sound. 

And Maker it hurts. You’ve never felt so good while hurting you’re sure of it. Every nerve in your body is alive as he starts rocking his hips into you, slowly working himself into you. After several lewd moans and whines from the both of you he’s got himself fully inside your cunt, he kisses you softly between your eyes. 

“Gods, please, move Din, please.” You manage to mutter out and he happily obliges. 

He’s certainly never fucked you like this. 

Not in the library, not on his birthday, not even during your first time. 

No, this is like he’s trying to get you off as quickly as possible, like the only thing he can focus on is your pleasure. He’s immediately lifting your hips slightly so he can thrust perfectly against that spot inside of you. 

You aren’t sure when you started crying, you’ve been overstimulated since your first orgasm so it doesn’t surprise you all that much, but he’s kissing the corners of your eyes, your tears sticking to his lips as he does. Much to your disappointment he slows his pace.

“Are you okay sarad? I can stop, or slow down.”

That’s the last thing you want right now.

“I’m- I’m fine Din, please.” You whine as you scratch at his shoulders.

You can feel him nod, both of your bodies are slick with sweat as he starts pounding into you again, significantly slower than before and you know he’s nervous about your tears. 

It’s hard to come up with a plan because even though he’s thrusting you with less power than before your head is still clouded with lust and you can’t really think of ways to convince him that you’re fine. 

You aren’t exactly sure what you’re doing but you grab his face in your hands before you whisper words you aren’t entirely sure you know how to pronounce but could never forget. 

“Ner kar’taylir darasuum.”

His entire body tenses up, it’s like all the air in the room is gone and you’re about to apologize until you feel his forehead rest against yours. 

“Say that again.” He sounds fucking wrecked.

“Ner kar’taylir darasuum.”

You still aren’t exactly sure what you’re saying but it works because his lips are on yours with a newly ignited passion and he’s slamming into you again, your legs wrapping around his waist.

“Fuck, you’re perfect. You know that? Fucking perfect.” He mumbles the words into your mouth as he pistons himself into you, his thrusts quickly growing sloppy. Your stomach feels like it’s cramping up as another climax builds, your fighting to catch your breath. 

You finish first. His hand has to cover your mouth. You scream so loudly. 

He follows shortly after, pulling out before jerking himself off, you feel him cum hit your stomach. 

He collapses next to you and briefly the only sounds in the darkness are both your gasps for air until you bring your fingers down to your stomach to scoop up his seed before sucking them clean, savoring the salty metallic taste.

His knuckles brush against your arm.

“Are you happy now sarad?” 

You wish he could see the dopey grin on your face.

“Yes.”

You know you won’t be able to keep your eyes open much longer as he pulls you against him, placing a kiss into your hair. He mumbles a few things in Mando’a that you don’t recognize but you do catch the end of his sentence before you succumb to sleep.

“Jate ca, ner kar’taylir darasuum.”

I am no longer doing taglists so follow @lincolndjarinnotifs and turn on notifications to be notified when new chapters are posted !!

[meruz]

i hope this hasn't been asked before. what size do you make your canvas? and do you crop it to fit other socials (like Instagram for example)? i hear that 300 dpi is standard. i never know if it's good to make my canvas big or not.

hi i think this ask is like at least 4 months old but i was scanning my sketchbooks from last year and i abruptly remembered i had gotten this ask because i had made a little chart in my sketchbook trying to figure out how to answer it

anyways theres pros and cons. and the size of your canvas is really going to depend on personal needs + preference. how good ur computer is, how complicated ur art style, how comfortable drawing feels, how much disk space you have to spare, what youre gonna end up using the art for in the end...300dpi is standard for PRINTING specifically, if you only plan to ever post things online then 72dpi works great and will save you space (fun fact a lot of professional animation files i deal with are 72dpi. and those eventually go on your tv screen). but personally i make everything i draw 300dpi because i am always printing stuff for cons, zines, etc and its nice to have the option even if i dont end up printing.

when I was a teen I used to draw on a rly shitty laptop and i made everything 800x800px 300dpi because big canvases would cause a lot of lag and also the resolution on this laptop was pretty small so 800px was a lot of the screen already. now i have a slightly better laptop with a bigger resolution and i sketch on giant 10000px-40000px canvases with the hard round brush and no shape dynamics or transfer whatsoever to minimize lag. when it comes to making a final illustration when i know ill be using a bunch of layer effects/blending modes/colors/mixing brushes etc etc ill generally crop the canvas down to the 6000px range. most illustrations i try to make sure are comfortably printable on tabloid size paper so thats pretty much anything hovering around or above 3000x5000px w 300dpi (so 11x17in). HOPE THIS HELPS?

EDIT: OH ALSO re: socials. i always ALWAYS size down my art to post on the internet. i think its crazy when other artists dont. because why would i ever let the internet have my hi-res file for free. also in general i think it looks better if you do the resizing yourself because if you don't then many social media sites will compress your file for you! a lot of people will post a hi-res file to twitter and then go "Wow twitter killed the quality of this img!!!" UH YEAH because they have an automatic image compressor. because they need to save space too lol and they dont want your image to take 248263895 years to load. same with instagram and to a lesser extent tumblr. when i post anything on social media i resize it down to 1200px-1600px on the longest side... its a little arbitrary but im kind of basing it on the smallest resolution of widely available screens. mostly because i think it looks stupid when u open up an image file fullsize and u have to scroll to see the whole thing... also iirc instagram only takes images up to 1080px before it resizes them? granted if you upload something smaller than that itll also resize it up which will look worse so I think bumping the numbers just over 1080px is pretty safe.

I should really be bringing the dpi down to 72 too when i post online but often im too lazy to do that. but it will technically help ur image load faster and stuff. and make it less likely for people to yoink it off the web and print it themselves.

[luckbealincoln]

Best Kept Secret

chapter nineteen : reverence

THIS SERIES HAS BEEN MOVED AND RE-UPLOADED TO ANOTHER ACCOUNT. WHICH CAN BE FOUND HERE. THIS POST STILL EXISTS AS AN ARCHIVE BUT THIS ACCOUNT IS NO LONGER ACTIVE!!

pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader

rating : 18+ mdni

word count : 7.3k

summary : mando takes you to the library in the city!! very cute and innocent day trip!!

warnings, etc. : language, teasing, smut, oral f!recieving, face sitting, din djarin consent king, body worship, fingering, p in v sex, unprotected sex, cum eating, size kink if you squint, overstimulation, multiple orgasms.

You really want to. 

You couldn’t possibly want to more than you currently do. 

It’s actually a bit mean. That he’s left you here in this state. 

You tidy up the plates, setting them on the vanity before struggling out of your dress for a few minutes until you’re finally free of the damned thing, sulking off to the closet, wrapping yourself in the sheets, and tossing and turning restlessly. 

“When you really want to.”   

What a ridiculous time to decide to tease. You couldn’t have made your want clearer if you tried, of course it wasn’t just going to be because he had done as you asked, obviously you wanted it. Did you have to make it more blunt? If that’s what he wants you can certainly do that. 

If he wants direct you can be direct. 

Tomorrow. 

Tonight, you’ll have to settle for a pillow shoved between your thighs to try and soothe the heat that’s building there, threatening to boil over. 

✩

You’re grumpy in the morning. How could you not be? If anything you’re in a worse mood than you were last night because you’re still pent up and now your head is full of all sorts of ideas about how you can prove just how badly you want to. You're rifling through drawers when the girls get there in the morning. 

When you finally turn to look at them you’re triumphantly holding up a white satin nighty, the two girls exchange a look of confusion before helping you dress. Lysa manages to find satin panties that go with it. Perfect. 

The next step in your plan is your dress. You tell them specifically that you’re going out again today and that you’d like something a little more casual if possible. 

Elaine manages to find exactly what you’re looking for. Of course it’s the furthest thing from casual, you’re expected to keep up appearances, but it’s definitely simpler than anything else they’ve dressed you in. It’s light pink, with layers, thin pieces of chiffon make up the skirt. The sleeves are shorter than you’re used to, and it might be the most breathable gown in your closet. It doesn’t even drag across the floor, the skirt ends at the middle of your calves. 

But most importantly, it has buttons in the back, not your usual corset style. 

Once you put on a pair of flats you’re feeling rather pleased with their work, other than detangling the sleep from your hair they’ve left it alone. 

It’s like the girls can sense your excitement as they swiftly begin to take their leave. 

“I’ll have Leo bring you a coin purse before you leave, my lady.” Is the only thing Elaine says before shutting the door behind them. Once they’re gone you rush to the closet, knowing Leo you’ll only have a few minutes. Searching through the pillows in your mess of a makeshift bed you finally find the one containing the book, gingerly opening to where you’ve tucked the necklace Din had given you before holding it up. 

The knock on your door has you shoving the book back into the pillow case as you hastily clasp the necklace around your neck. The small silver flower charm dangles from the leather cord as you greet Leo, who hands you a far too large bag of credits before hurrying off. You’re left standing in the doorway staring at the Mandalorian, you give him a wide innocent grin.

“Good morning, Mando.” You hold the credits out to him. “Could you hold these for me please?” You bat your eyelashes at him, you know you’re laying it on a little thick but allegedly this is what he wanted. 

He stiffens up a bit, clearly sensing that something is off about you, he hesitates for only a moment before taking them from you.

“Good morning, princess, are you ready to go?” His voice has a certain curiosity to it that only makes you smile wider.

“Of course.” You close the door behind you and he tucks the coin purse into his over the shoulder bag. 

You walk very close to him. You can’t remember how to find the main entrance of the castle so he takes the lead. Once you’re in a hallway you’re certain is completely empty you briefly allow yourself to take his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“How are you this morning, my kar’ta?” You whisper before dropping his hand, the two of you turning down a hall with a few scattered guards that stand at attention when they see you approaching. He says nothing as you carry on, you smile as you pass them until you begin your descent down a staircase.

“I’m fine… how are you?” You can practically hear him furrowing his brow, you haven’t given him a good enough reason to directly question you yet but you can tell he’s already suspicious of your over the top actions. 

“Absolutely wonderful.” You bump your shoulder against his and the modulator buzzes as he starts to say something but you’re already at the front gate and you don’t give him time to as you hold your wrist out to the man you know will attach your tracker, he grumbles as the man insists he wear one as well, warning him not to “lose” it again or we won’t be allowed to take you out anymore. 

Before you know it you’re out the gate and making your way down the palace steps towards the landspeeder that is already waiting for the two of you. You stop in front of it before turning to face Din.

“Could you help me up please?” As you say it his helmet tilts ever so slightly to the side but he lifts you by your waist up into the backseat before pulling himself up to sit beside you. A few minutes after you start moving he puts his arm on the back of the seat as he leans down a bit to whisper to you, you know at the speed you're going that the driver can’t hear him. 

“I know what you’re up to sarad’ika.” His voice is stern but there’s no actual upset behind it so you turn to smile at him. 

He wanted you to want it.

So you’re going to show him just how badly you can want it.

“I have no idea what you mean.” You stare up into the visor through your lashes before you lurch forward slightly. 

You’re already there. 

“Why didn’t we just walk? It would have taken us less than an hour, it’s right down the street?” You frown as he jumps out, holding his arms out to help you out.

“I didn’t realize you would want to walk.” He says, setting you on the ground.

“Well I would.” You turn to the driver. “Don’t bother coming back, we’ll be walking home.” The woman driving nods before speeding off. 

The building is massive. White marble steps lead up to large columns that line the entrance, it must be at least five stories, yet it seems like very few people are going in and out. He watches you take in the size of the building. Aside from the castle, it might be the biggest building on Naboo. Eventually you start making your way up the steps, the Mandalorian following closely behind you, when you reach the top he steps in front of you to hold the door open. 

What a gentleman. 

You hope for your sake that he’ll be feeling a little less like a gentleman later. 

You want to stay focused on your poorly veiled attempts to seduce him but honestly the library is so breathtaking you lose focus of your task for a moment as you take in the shelves. It’s built like a ring, the center of the room is hollow going up, and much to your surprise, down. A railing keeps anyone who gets close from going over and you’re immediately drawn to it, the moment you put your hands on the rail to look down Din puts a protective hand on your waist. 

It goes down as far as it goes up, you count six floors below and when you look up you count six above. 

His grip tightens when you lean forward to try and see the bottom before pulling you away from the edge. 

“I thought you were scared of heights?” He whispers, even though his tone is hushed it stands out in the jarring silence of the building. 

“When I don’t expect them, this is fine.” Your eyes are wandering now through the wide expanse of shelves, your library back in the keep is probably the size of just one floor here. Oddly enough you haven’t seen a single person yet, or an employee. “Where is everyone?” His hand moves to the small of your back as he guides you towards the elevator in the back of the circular room. 

“Everyone’s working right now, only a few droids are employed here, you’ll see them rolling around at some point.” Once he gets you on the elevator he’s pressing the buttons to take you to the top. You’re waiting for the doors to close as you give him an inquisitive look.

“The top?” He looks at you as you ask it, he’s tapping his foot as he waits for the doors. 

“The basement levels are all academic nonsense, we’ll start at the top and work back to the ground floor.” You take a step to the left so your arm is against his. The doors finally shut and the two of you stand in the silence for only a moment before he turns his helmet to glare down at you. You can feel his gaze burning against your face. 

If he has something to say he doesn’t voice it. And you’re happy to just rock back and forth on your heels until there’s a ding and the doors open. You step out ahead of him, the roof of the building is glass, sunlight streaming into the shelves. You find yourself quickly engrossed by the multicolored spines that line them. They’re organized by genre, and you currently find yourself surrounded by all the fiction you could ever possibly want. 

You’re conflicted because you would love to spend the day trying to get under the Mandalorians skin, (and also just under him in general) but he’s taken you to the one place that might actually be able to distract you. 

You can have your cake and eat it too if you play your cards right. 

“Could you pick some for me? I loved the one you had me read yesterday, it was so exciting.” You grab his arm as you say it, there aren’t any droids to be seen on this floor and the entire building seems to be lacking cameras. 

He begins to scan the shelves as you hold his arm, following next to him. 

“So you aren’t up to anything, You’re just in a really good mood today?” His voice is low and secretive as he scans the shelves. 

“I’m not you, I’m not always scheming to get the upper hand.” Except that’s exactly what you’re doing. 

“You’re hilarious.” He takes something off the shelf tucking it into his bag before carrying on through the stacks.                                  

You do this for a good hour. 

You follow him through the maze of shelves, he picks out a book, puts it in his bag, you keep walking. 

Eventually you manage to find your favorite. It’s a little funny, the juxtaposition of such an imposing and regal library housing your campy romance novels, but they have such a wide collection you completely forget about the task at hand briefly as you search through them. He wanders off at one point, never completely out of sight but he lets you look in private.

This is a good opportunity to enjoy the library while also making an attempt to work him up. 

You look exclusively for books about men wearing helmets. Knights, stormtroopers, clone troopers, a pilot finds his way into the mix. But best of all there’s actually a few Mandalorian ones.

Ravaged by Two Mandalorians, Bound in Beskar, and Unmasking the Alpha (a Mandalorian Erotic Novella) 

They all look obscene and if you're being honest, a little ridiculous but you take all three under your arm and go over to him, holding them out.

“Can you put these in your bag please?” You spread them out so he can see all the titles.

“You can’t be serious.” He sounds almost mortified. 

“Those ones looked the most interesting to me.” You give him big doe eyes as you say it and he hastily shoves them in his bag before taking your arm and dragging you towards the elevator. 

“We’re done on this floor.” Is all he mumbles as he presses the buttons to take you down one. 

You had hoped maybe he’d just drag you home but sure, this is fine. 

Except the next floor isn’t really all that sexy. 

It’s a lot of technical stuff. Machinery, maintenance, all sorts of stuff you know he enjoys so you have no plans to rush him. He goes off on his own so you walk aimlessly until you find something you know he’s fond of. 

Classic ships. 

You have to flip through four books to find what you’re looking for but eventually you’re staring at the Razor Crest. 

It was a military patrol craft, more importantly it’s a gunship. Seems like an odd choice for him, as strong as he is it’s hard to imagine him as a soldier. 

He doesn’t seem like the type to follow orders.

“That’s my ship.” He’s looking over your shoulder as you close the book, putting it back in its spot. 

“I thought you didn’t have a ship? Wasn’t that the whole reason you took this job?”

“It was my ship. Had a little accident.” He sounds genuinely saddened by the loss. 

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. I never would have met you if it hadn’t happened.” 

That would be so sweet if it didn’t make you want him even more.

You settle on a smile.

“Next floor?” You say as you watch a droid roll past, seemingly vacuuming the nonexistent dirt on the carpet.

“Next floor?” You ask.

You’re back in the elevator. 

You're on the next floor.

And you’re surprised to find that half of this floor is cook books. It’s a more than thorough collection, covering every sort of thing you can imagine, from every planet you can imagine. 

He’s much less interested in this floor but you know exactly what you want. 

It’s easy to find the first thing you’re looking for. A book on Naboo deserts. You quickly hand it to him before looking further, when you find the second book you’re looking for it’s just out of your reach. 

Which is more than fine.

You stand on your tiptoes, your fingertips barely reaching the shelf it’s on and exactly as you knew he would, Din puts a hand on your waist and reaches up over you to get it, boxing you between the shelves and his body. 

You “stumble” a bit in “surprise” when he does. You keep an innocent look on your face as your hips shamelessly grind back against his. His grip on your waist tightens and he holds you still as he gets the book down, turning you around so your back is to the shelves and you’re facing him. 

“Really?” He hands you the book you had wanted and you immediately hand it back to him.

“What? You scared me, and this is for you.” 

He stares down at it. It’s a children's cookbook. He scoffs, but much to your delight, puts it in his bag. 

He clearly has more to say but as you give him yet another innocent smile he sighs and leads you back towards the elevator once more. 

He pretends he doesn’t know exactly what you’re doing.

You pretend you don’t see him adjust himself in his flight suit. 

You spend all your time on this floor trying to get him flustered. The only time you’re sure it works is when you drop a book and really take your time picking it up.

You catch him clenching and unclenching his fist afterwards.

On the next floor you manage to find your own Mando’a translation book. He hesitates when you hand it to him but eventually puts it in his bag. 

On the last floor you tell him how excited you are to go home and read. He nods and any words he has in response seem to get caught in his throat. 

When you’re finally done his bag is overflowing with books and you return to the ground floor, he sets them on some sort of scale near the entrance and a number comes up. He inserts about a quarter of the credits from the purse into the machine and then puts the books back into his bag. 

“Why did you have to pay? Aren’t we just borrowing these?” He holds the door open for you to leave as you ask, following you out onto the steps. 

“You can borrow them, you can also buy them, they’ll replace them quickly, I thought you might want to own some of these.” He leads you down the steps, the city seems to be getting busier, you must have spent your whole day inside without even realizing it. 

It’s a beautiful walk back to the castle, you’re actually a little mad you didn’t get to walk this route earlier. 

It’s also the first time you’ve seen the people of Naboo outside of the markets. 

It’s immediately clear to you why they don’t like Kodo, or you assume, most of the royal family. 

It’s clean, and it’s pretty here but you can tell the people are terribly overworked and more than miserable, you find yourself reaching into Din’s bag for the coin purse. 

Before you know it you’re walking into the crowds handing out credits to anyone who will take them. Din stays close the entire time, his arm hovering over your waist without really touching you but you aren’t worried. 

No one here is going to hurt you. 

People come and go quickly with thanks and gentle squeezes of your hands until the bag is empty, once that happens you promise to come back with more another day.

You talk to the people that will get close enough, once the money’s gone most people shoot nervous looks at Din at scurry off but a few stay to chat, mostly older people who hold your hands tightly, you had planned on rushing home initially and making an attempt at tackling the Mandalorian onto the bed but now you want nothing more than to talk to the people. 

Your people. 

You wish you had talked to them sooner, that you had stopped that day in the markets because they’re all incredibly kind. 

It’s probably because you’ve been cooped up and the only times you’ve been out you’ve always been distracted but this is the first time you truly feel like a princess. 

The first time you’ve realized that you have subjects.

Once the crowd completely thins, you’re sitting on a bench with an elderly woman who’s holding your hands in hers as she tells you about her daughters store, she sells groceries and food items from what you can tell and you do your best to listen intently. The Mandalorian has given you a bit of space now that people have left, he’s standing against a brick building on the other side of the street, watching patiently. 

“He is your protector?” The woman you’ve learned is named Vivian nods in his direction and you smile as his head adjusts slightly, of course he’s listening in. 

“Yes. He’s my keeper.” Street lights are beginning to come on as the sun sets, shops around you are closing for the day. 

“I haven’t seen a Mandalorian around here in quite some time.” As she speaks a group of children are approaching Din, none of them can be older than five, running around as their parents deal with their last customers of the day. 

“He’s the first one I ever met. I thought they’d be different.” Surprisingly, the children aren’t afraid of him. If anything they’re intrigued, unlike the adults they know nothing of Mandalorians, they have yet to feel the unearned hesitancy towards them. 

“How so?” The older woman's hands are wrinkled and soft as she holds yours. 

“I didn’t think they’d be so kind.” Din crouches down to be at their height, giving the group a small wave. One brave little girl comes right up and slaps her chubby little hands against his knee, when he doesn’t react the rest of the group deems it safe enough to follow suit, soon he’s covered in little ones, all tugging at the Beskar and giggling until he settles on just sitting on the ground, letting them play. 

“How is life in the royal family, my lady? Are you enjoying your time in the castle? The people almost didn’t believe you were real, no one’s seen you, we only heard tales of a young woman set to marry prince Harand.” She makes a face as she says his name. So it’s true, they don’t care for him. 

“It’s perfectly well.” Your eyes are still focused on Din who is carefully pulling a toddler off of his back to set him down in front of him. It’s the most patient you’ve seen him be, he doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest by the onslaught of children, several have taken to just sitting in his lap playing with the belts that go across his chest. “If anything it’s just boring. Not a lot for me to do, just a lot of reading.” The woman hums, content on just watching the children with you once she realizes they’ve caught your attention. 

He’s managed to settle the majority down, they all sit in front of him now, a few of the younger ones continue to tug at his armor and one little girl sits on his leg, her dark eyes sparkle in the street lights and her hair is done up in several little buns as she stares up at him in awe. It takes you a second to realize he’s playing a game with them, he holds out both his hands in closed fists towards the closest child, a little Rodian boy who excitedly points to his left hand which he opens to reveal a credit in his palm which he hands to the little one. 

You catch a glimpse of his other hand.

There were credits in both of them.

He goes around through all the kids until every single one has won. You don’t realize until he’s done that you had run out of money earlier, he was using his own for this little game.

Once every child gets a chance to win he goes back to being a personal playground, he picks up one excited toddler who was drooling on his pauldron, setting him down in his lap, letting him hold one of his fingers.

“You’re right.” You jump a bit, you’d nearly forgotten you were sitting next to Vivian. 

“I’m sorry?” You give her an apologetic smile, you’ve been so focused on Din you’d completely zoned out. 

“He is kind.” She gives you a warm smile and you can’t help but smile back at her, she stands and you stand with her, letting her take your arm as you help walk her to her daughters storefront and you promise to visit again soon before returning to Din who is now handing little ones who cling to him to their respective parents. The little girl with the buns in her hair is refusing to let go, her chubby fingers wrapped around his cowl until he reaches into his bag, handing her one of the cakes from the markets before peeling her off of him and handing her to her parents, standing once they’re gone. 

“You’re good with them.” When you speak he looks at you and then at the practically empty street before offering up his arm.

No one’s around, what’s the harm?

You take his arm and the two of you walk, the sun completely out of the sky now.

“I’ve had a lot of practice.” He says softly. Your eyes are trained on the stars above but he’s staring only at you. 

“With your little one?” He pulls you closer as you say it.

“With my little one, yes.” 

“I’m going to ask you something, and you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.” You tear your eyes from the stars to stare into the visor. He nods and you continue, looking back to the stars. “Who’s his mother?” He laughs slightly when you say it.

“I don’t know, I don’t know who his father is either. Is that all you wanted to ask?” 

No. Now you have more questions than ever but you’ve already promised yourself you’d wait until he told you himself. So you nod.

“That’s it.” 

“Okay.” He lets go of your arm as you approach the castle and shortens his steps so he’s behind you. 

You go through the same routine as last time, turning in your trackers before being let in, you walk in silence up to your chambers. You both know what’s going to happen when you get there. When you open the door you turn to him, giving him the sweetest smile you can muster. 

“Wanna come in so we can go through the books?” He hesitates for only a moment before nodding and stepping in. When you close the door you lock it as loudly as possible.

He carefully sets the books that you had picked for yourself onto your vanity along with four he picked out for you. 

You walk to the center of the room, humming quietly to yourself as you slip your flats off. He turns when he’s done to look at you, standing firmly in place. 

“I like that dress on you.” He says it so quietly you barely catch it, flashing him a smile.  

“Thanks, I was hoping you’d like it.” You bunch up the skirt a bit, swaying it back and forth before making your way over to him, your fingers play with his gauntlet.

“Not tonight, princess…” He mumbles as you do which immediately has you frowning.

“I couldn’t possibly want it more Din.” You give him a reassuring look but he still shakes his head. 

“What is this about? Seriously, no secrets, why won’t you touch me? I’m giving you permission.”

He’s silent for a moment and when he speaks his voice is small.

“I just got you back, I can’t ruin this again.”

“You won’t.”

“I don’t want you to think this is just sex for me.”

“I know it isn’t.” You bring your hand up to rest flat against his chestplate, over where his heart would be. “How many times have I asked you to leave me be and you have refused? I am asking you to stay and now you won’t do that either.”

“That was different.” His hand rests atop yours.

“How?”

You can tell he’s struggling to find the words but you know to just give him time, let him figure it out on his own. Just when you think he might give up and leave, he speaks. 

“When you asked me to leave you alone I stayed because it was my job. It was my duty to protect you.” His visor is trained on your face as he speaks. “Now I leave because you are much more than that. You are not my job anymore, you’re my faith.” Your breath catches in your throat as he says it. “You have made me a devout man, princess.” Your hand moves to rest on the cheek of his helmet and he takes a small step forward before his fingers come up to play with the flower charm on your necklace. 

You’re at a bit of a loss for words. 

He tends to have that effect on you. 

“I don’t just care for you, sarad’ika, I worship you.” His words are soft and hushed. 

“Then show me.”

He doesn’t move so you bring your other hand to his helmet, like you’re cradling his face.

“Do you want me?” Your words are stern as you force him to hold your gaze.

“Always.”

“And you said you wouldn’t touch me again unless I wanted you to?”

“Yes.” The hand playing with your necklace drops, and you take a step back.

“I want it Din.” You reach your hands back to the buttons on your dress and with one sharp tug you hear them all clatter to the ground and you let the fabric fall into a heap on the floor. You’re standing before him in the white satin nighty, when he doesn’t move you go to turn off the lights in the room before you walk to the closet, opening the door. “I’m not going to force you if you aren’t ready, but I promise, I want it.” You leave him standing there in the dark, the door to the closet left open as you stand, shuffling through your sheets before clicking on the lamp, turning to give the door one last glance.

In all honesty you expect to hear your bedroom door open and shut. 

Much to your surprise he’s standing in the doorway of the closet, the lamp light flickers off of the silver steel of his armor and he shuts the door behind him before he takes only a couple long strides to stand before you. 

No words are spoken as he kneels in front of you, his hands holding your hips as you stare down at him. 

“You want me to show you?” He whispers it in the dim glow that surrounds the two of you. You only nod in response. His hands move down your sides, down your bare thighs, your calves and your ankles before tracing right back up. “You’ll let me worship you?” 

“Yes.” You whisper back to him and his hand reaches over as he turns off the lamp.

In the darkness you hear him shedding his armor, he stays in front of you, on his knees as he does. 

You count the pieces of metal as they hit the floor.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven.

And finally there’s that hiss of air.

Eight.

His hands pull you down to your knees so you’re face to face with him and he guides your hands to the zippers on his flight suit, letting you pull the fabric off of him, tossing it somewhere behind him in the darkness before hastily pulling his face to yours. 

It feels less like a kiss and more like he’s trying to memorize the shape of your lips with his.

He doesn’t tear the fabric from you this time, instead he carefully lifts it over your head before tossing that aside as well, in the pitch black you’re left only in your panties as he lays you back into the pillows and sheets, slotting himself between your legs his hand is lifting one slightly and you gasp as you feel him place a kiss to the inside of your ankle. 

He doesn’t speak, which is a bit funny because previously that was all he did when you had sex but this time is different. Without a mask to hide behind he’s not the dominant man you knew. 

Now he is your acolyte. 

He doesn’t speak because he is to busy showing you his devotion as his mouth moves up your leg, leaving a trail of kisses until he reaches your thighs, he’s moved so he’s on his stomach as he throws your legs over his shoulders, sucking the meat of your thighs into his mouth, feverishly making sure not to miss a spot. 

His lips are everywhere but where you want them.

You aren’t sure how long he does this but it feels like hours, he does nothing but gently nip at your thighs, soothing each little bite with a kiss or with his tongue until your hands find his hair, tugging gently.

“Mando please…” You whine as you pull at his curls.

“Say my name cyare, please.” It isn’t a demand, it’s not his usual commanding bedroom tone, it’s a plea. “I love when you say my name.”

Who could deny him that? When he sounds so fucking desperate?

“Din, please.” That’s all it takes for his fingers to tug down your panites, tossing them aside before he gets back into the position he was in. He doesn’t tease, he doesn’t hesitate, the moment he’s able to he’s diving into you, his tongue spreads open our folds before he sinks it into your heat. 

Stars, that tongue. 

You’ve thought about that tongue for a long time. 

He’s used that tongue to tease you, to mock you, and to taunt you. But now he’s chosen to drive you mad with it. 

He traces up and down your folds, his stubble scratches at you deliciously as he’s trying to find what you like the most as you fall apart against him, as he fucks your hole with his tongue his nose bumps against you clit making you groan, your fingers gripping the blankets around you. 

He mumbles incoherently against your cunt before doing it again, letting you grind your face against him as he continues to mumble until finally you manage to sit up on your elbows through your gasps and moans.

“D-Din.” You stammer out but he doesn’t react in the slightest other than wrapping his arms around your thighs as he pulls you close to him. “Din! Fuck! Din I c-can’t hear you.” He still doesn’t so much as react to you so you finally just reach down, pulling him off of you by his hair, his breath is labored as his grip on your thighs loosens.

“Are you okay? What’s wrong?” You’re breathing just as hard as he is as he says it, his voice fills the darkness.

“I’m fine, I just, I can’t hear you.” You let go of his hair, bringing your hand down to caress his face, the bottom half of which is soaked. 

“Kriff, sorry mesh’la.” His grip on your thighs tightens once more and one of his hands moves under you to rest against your spine as he rolls himself over. It’s as impressive as it is surprising, you squeal as it happens, your entire body is shifted from laying down to sitting upright in an instant. You have to lean forward to regain your balance. He’s on his back now with you hovering above his face on your knees. “I was telling you to sit on my face, sarad. It’ll be easier.” 

You want to tell him that you’re too heavy, that you’re worried that you’ll hurt him but he pulls you down by your thighs before you can protest. From this angle his tongue pushes deeper into you and you can ride his nose, so any complaints you have die in your throat, especially when he starts moaning against your core. 

Your fingers go to his hair, gripping his curls as he forces your weight down onto him, you can feel his hips grinding against nothing behind you as he does. Your orgasm is approaching rapidly and it’s clear that he can tell because his efforts somehow further as he moans again, the vibrations have you squeezing his head with your thighs. 

Your vision goes white as he tilts his head up to suck on your clit sharply. The thread snaps and you’re cumming, the small room is filled with your moans as his tongue moves back at your hole and you can hear him obscenely lapping at your juices. You need a second to recover. As you sit up on your knees his face follows, trying desperately to lick you clean and you have to gently push him off. 

“T-too sensitive Din. Give me a second.” 

He immediately pulls away, sitting up so he can lay you down on the blankets, he goes back to kissing you wherever he can get his mouth as you catch your breath. 

He travels across your hips, up your navel, you’re certain he kisses every one of your ribs until his lips settle on your breast, his tongue swirls around your nipple before pulling it into his mouth making your back arch up and into him. 

You’ve never had someone pay attention to you like this. Sure, previously he had been the best sex of your life but this is entirely different. Without the helmet on he’s Din. Your Din. And Din seems to be considerably more shy than the Mandalorian you know. Without his helmet he definitely doesn’t talk as much, but his mouth is on you constantly. 

You wonder to yourself as his lips move to your other breast if he’s ever gotten to do this with anyone else. Maybe he’s simply eager to put his mouth on something that isn’t a ration pack. Your thoughts are shut up as his hands spread your thighs and he cups your pussy before letting two of his fingers slide through your folds. His mouth moves up again, kissing every inch of your chest before settling on your neck. 

He nuzzles his face into your neck before deeply inhaling your scent, groaning as his fingers find your still swollen bud. He doesn’t move though, waiting for your permission as they simply rest atop it, his mouth going to work on your throat.

“Yes Din, it’s okay.” You whisper as he nods, humming against your skin as he starts drawing circles against you, you’re moaning again, terribly loud, as he rubs lazy shapes into you. Your hands find purchase against his shoulders. 

Gods, he’s broad. Significantly less broad than he looks with the armor on but he’s still just generally big. You let your hands wander across his body as he rubs your clit, it seems like he’s trying to see just how loud he can make you. He’s big but as you trace his scarred back you discover he’s surprisingly lean. The armor must bulk him up because he feels surprisingly lithe. His fingers sink into you and he begins to grind his palm against your clit as they do, you immediately gasp at the stretch. 

“Maker-” His mouth covers yours, interrupting your sentence, when he pulls away he’s panting. 

“There is no Maker. There’s only you.” His mouth is back on yours as he slowly moves his fingers in and out of you and you’re already close again as you scratch at his back. Eventually when you're a mess all over again, chanting his name, as you gasp for air he swipes his tongue across your bottom lip before pushing into your mouth. He keeps his hand still at this point, letting you chase your release as you ride his fingers until you’re seeing stars again. 

He happily swallows your moans as you finish again. 

You’re about to ask for another break but he’s sitting up on his knees, one hand on your waist as he whispers your name like it’s a prayer, and you feel the tip of his cock against your folds, you can feel the heat coming off of him.

“P-please, please gedet’ye. Ni linibar gar, s-sarad let me, please.” And he sounds so fucking needy. Like never before, he never asks, he takes, he makes you beg, yet right now he’s whining as he swipes his thick cockhead through your wetness, inhaling sharply through his teeth as he does.

There isn’t a world in which you could say no to him now. 

You still feel like your body is coming down from you high, buzzing with ecstasy, but you sit up to grab him by the back of his neck, pulling him back down on top of you.

“Yes, Din, I’m all yours.” You barely finish the sentence as he pushes himself into your weeping cunt. His moan is animalistic as he leans down and bites down on your shoulder to muffle the pornagraphic sound. 

And Maker it hurts. You’ve never felt so good while hurting you’re sure of it. Every nerve in your body is alive as he starts rocking his hips into you, slowly working himself into you. After several lewd moans and whines from the both of you he’s got himself fully inside your cunt, he kisses you softly between your eyes. 

“Gods, please, move Din, please.” You manage to mutter out and he happily obliges. 

He’s certainly never fucked you like this. 

Not in the library, not on his birthday, not even during your first time. 

No, this is like he’s trying to get you off as quickly as possible, like the only thing he can focus on is your pleasure. He’s immediately lifting your hips slightly so he can thrust perfectly against that spot inside of you. 

You aren’t sure when you started crying, you’ve been overstimulated since your first orgasm so it doesn’t surprise you all that much, but he’s kissing the corners of your eyes, your tears sticking to his lips as he does. Much to your disappointment he slows his pace.

“Are you okay sarad? I can stop, or slow down.”

That’s the last thing you want right now.

“I’m- I’m fine Din, please.” You whine as you scratch at his shoulders.

You can feel him nod, both of your bodies are slick with sweat as he starts pounding into you again, significantly slower than before and you know he’s nervous about your tears. 

It’s hard to come up with a plan because even though he’s thrusting you with less power than before your head is still clouded with lust and you can’t really think of ways to convince him that you’re fine. 

You aren’t exactly sure what you’re doing but you grab his face in your hands before you whisper words you aren’t entirely sure you know how to pronounce but could never forget. 

“Ner kar’taylir darasuum.”

His entire body tenses up, it’s like all the air in the room is gone and you’re about to apologize until you feel his forehead rest against yours. 

“Say that again.” He sounds fucking wrecked.

“Ner kar’taylir darasuum.”

You still aren’t exactly sure what you’re saying but it works because his lips are on yours with a newly ignited passion and he’s slamming into you again, your legs wrapping around his waist.

“Fuck, you’re perfect. You know that? Fucking perfect.” He mumbles the words into your mouth as he pistons himself into you, his thrusts quickly growing sloppy. Your stomach feels like it’s cramping up as another climax builds, your fighting to catch your breath. 

You finish first. His hand has to cover your mouth. You scream so loudly. 

He follows shortly after, pulling out before jerking himself off, you feel him cum hit your stomach. 

He collapses next to you and briefly the only sounds in the darkness are both your gasps for air until you bring your fingers down to your stomach to scoop up his seed before sucking them clean, savoring the salty metallic taste.

His knuckles brush against your arm.

“Are you happy now sarad?” 

You wish he could see the dopey grin on your face.

“Yes.”

You know you won’t be able to keep your eyes open much longer as he pulls you against him, placing a kiss into your hair. He mumbles a few things in Mando’a that you don’t recognize but you do catch the end of his sentence before you succumb to sleep.

“Jate ca, ner kar’taylir darasuum.”

tag list : dm or send an ask to be added!!

@stagerightlauren - @dins-riduur-anthe - @littleguy-bendy - @rarachelchel - @laurensnotsparkly -@gerardingurway -@reallyidontcare- @clear-your-mind-and-dream -@estoniacobaltpayne - @buckyandgeraltsupremacy-@cookielovesbook-akie - @diabaroxa - @love-the-abyss - @sasakipsposts - @eclipsedplanet - @fatima-marisa -@somanyminidragons - @dindjarinsmut - @lemonboynsp - @disregardedplant - @sarraa-26 - @babeincolor - @djarinxore - @yulivzqz

[eyeoftheaxolotl]

readability note for artfight users

BEGGING you guys to not use explicitly white text for your oc bios on artfight. or your own bio for that matter. please stop im like squinting to see the eggshell white you people are putting on here.

if you want the text to be readable on dark mode simply reset it to the default color and itll switch automatically based on if it's light mode or dark mode

same page in light and dark mode (DEFAULT TEXT COLOR)

[IMAGE IDS: Two screenshots of the same profile page, except one has black text on a white background, and the other has white text on a black background. END ID.]

What I'm seeing people do instead is this:

[IMAGE ID: Text taken from the same page as above, on a white background like in the first image, except this text is so light it's almost unreadable. END ID.]

This is almost impossible to read in light mode! I do not want to have to switch modes just because of one profile at a time!

This also presents an accessibility issue! It's hard for most readers to read, let alone people with low vision and other difficulties reading low-contrast text. (This is made worse if your text is smaller than normal, but I believe text this light on an equally light background is an issue even with larger sizes.)

"but you can just highlight the text!" 1) this does not work on mobile. 2) this is not the point. the reader should not have to go through extra steps to read the text just bc you *really* wanted that unreadable light gray

how to remedy this:

step one: select your text in the editor

step two: (THIS WILL DELETE ALL FORMATTING including bold, italics, font sizes, etc., so be sure you know where to re-apply it afterwards) click this

[IMAGE ID: A zoomed-in version of the ArtFight text editor toolbar. One icon is highlighted — a blue capital letter A next to a white minus sign in a small red circle. END ID.]

step three: re-apply any other formatting (italics, bold, underline, etc.) that was deleted in the previous step.

step four: save changes

[ghoulsbian]

001 with Mutsaura for the ask thing?

heavy breathing

you got it!! i'm happy to answer this!! i never get to talk about them except for with my friend allan (@holyhounddog, follow him! he makes amazing art.)

HERE WE GO!! mutsaura:

- when i started shipping it: i started shipping it back when the :re chapters were still coming out, specifically when mucchan and sanny started to team up. i immediately fell in love with the pairing. it very quickly replaced mutsurie as my favorite mutsuki pairing and has remained as my number one. there's something so spicy about them that just piques my interest. toxic yaoi to healthy yaoi (in the epilogue). DELICIOUS.

- my thoughts: probably in my top five tokyo ghoul ships. not exactly sure where but yeah. they have so much going for them- size difference, mutual understanding of each other, making each other worse, going from toxic to healthy, etc. they're both really hot. they also stayed close with each other after the events of the final arc too and that makes me sooo happy. they really grew together and found wellness together.

- what makes me happy about them: i think that shinsanpei could offer mutsuki some sort of safety that no one else could. sanny is a man who accepted all of mutsuki, all of his faults and flaws and errors. he wasn't someone mutsuki had to hide even a portion of himself from. sanny accepted him at his craziest and unhealthiest, though sanchan was pretty crazy and unhealthy himself, and stayed with him as he got better too. i think they could be true soulmates. maybe they had a period of time where they thought it was only their craziness that brought them together, but they realized it was so much more than that.

- what makes me sad about them: i think that during their healing processes, there was a LOT of unraveling of the poor ways in which they treated each other during their dual insanity. it was a very emotional period of time for the both of them. i think that mutsuki also had to learn to love in a new way that wasn't pure obsession. i think he offered himself in that way to sanny but sanny downright refused, and it made mutsuki lash out cuz he felt unloved, but he came to understand shinsanpei's reasoning for doing so.

(i'm skipping over the fanfic questions bc i don't really read fanfic at all anymore, whoops)

- who i'd be comfortable with them ending up with if not each other: for mutsuki, definitely urie. though, i don't really see anyone else for sanchan. i know people ship him with touma but i feel indifferent towards that.

- my happily ever after for them: they ultimately leave anything related to ghouls and travel the world together. they end up with a cat that they carry around in one of those pet backpacks as they travel too. they end up living somewhere by the ocean, by a beach. they live a calm and unassuming life, not forgetting the people they used to be but forgiving themselves for it. they send postcards to the old quinx members and the kaneki family periodically too. AAGGHH!!

- who is the big/little spoon: i think mutsuki would feel emasculated for a bit if sanny tried to be the big spoon for him. so mutsuki was the big spoon at all times for a while. but mutsuki eventually caved, tentatively allowing sanny to be the big spoon. they agreed that if mutsuki felt too uncomfortable they would stop immediately. mutsuki was very tense at first, but slowly relaxed into shinsanpei's arms. it felt very nice for him. he'd never allowed anyone to hold him like that. he can't get enough afterwards. nowadays sanchan is the usual big spoon.

- what is their favorite non-sexual activity: bathing and showering together. mutsuki was very averse to the bathtub for a long time, because of his childhood trauma. he got extremely triggered and broke down the first time they tried the bathtub together, so they kind of worked up to it more gradually after that. it's now a fun activity they like doing a lot.

hope these are good :3

[biquinntile]

TLDR: My biggest frustration being a late-diagnosed autistic is getting my brain to re-frame any of my behaviors. I’m having trouble figuring out how to help myself.

I was abused growing up, including some medical abuse, but my mom knew I had ADHD and lied to me and convinced me I didn’t. She never got a diagnosis but would ask me questions like “What are you, autistic?” I didn’t really understand what either of these terms meant back in 2012 when I was 13/14. So of course I said no, not even realizing until later that this was a rhetorical question (I am sighing so hard rn).

Fast forward to now, me age 26, being recently diagnosed as a person with ADHD and Autism. I spent my entire life up until now masking but even that feels like a weird word to use because it was never intentional. If I had needs not being met, I would find a way to get them met without talking to anyone or I would ignore them/push them away so that I “didnt have” that need anymore. In social situations, I made a lot of mistakes and found myself being very confused…so I would avoid being social altogether, or I would drill myself relentlessly before and after any social situation…and I mean any social situation. I remember people always criticizing me for “taking the long way” or not taking the most efficient route, but for me the “most efficient” route has never given me the results I wanted. It felt like I was a robot who had to constantly tinker with my own parts, with the goal being that one day I would be able to exist with other people naturally the way they do with each other. Not a robot, a person.

It’s very difficult to wrap my head around this not being a plausible goal anymore. I spent so long doing what was more difficult to mask symptoms I didn’t know I was masking. I spent my entire life operating under the belief that everybody was trying as hard as me to deal with sensory and socialization and all that jazz, it’s just that I was too weak to do it as well as they did. And it didn’t matter because I was doomed to fail.

I’m really working hard to not have such negative beliefs about being neurodivergent but it’s difficult bc in my brain I always hoped that one day I would just suddenly flip a switch and things would be easier. I would understand people and they would understand me. I wouldn’t spend weeks (if not months) obsessing over one singular topic. When I look back on moments where the autism was probably showing, I have all these memories of my parents calling me aggressive/angsty/spoiled/stupid/lazy/sensitive/etc. My stepdad would always say “You can’t be that stupid” and in my head, I would say “Well I guess I fucking am.”

All this to say, I have a lot of trouble now even recognizing when I’m doing a form of “masking” because it is so ingrained in me, and had I not done it, I would have faced worse abuse than I already had been facing. It took me until I was 24 to realize I was wearing a size too small in shoes because I believed a level of discomfort was just always a part of life, for EVERYONE not just me. I recently realized that I am not capable of crying in front of other people, even people I care about and trust, because when I used to cry people would find my reasoning trivial or tell me that I was too sensitive and they would (and I wish I was kidding) laugh or make fun of me. That is a silly thing to make fun of someone for, I know now, but I’m not sure how to change the behavior. I find day after day that there are a million things I’ve been overcompensating for or putting up with that I thought was normal or I thought I needed to do to keep up with everyone else (no wonder I feel so tired all the fucking time damn).

All this to say, I’m not even exactly sure what autistic symptoms I have or how to tackle them or even really how masking works entirely. I feel like I don’t know anything about myself. I don’t know how to help myself. Where do I even start? People keep throwing this “high-functioning” term at me, which I guess is fair, but I also feel like my bones ache at all times and I have constant rapid-fire anxious thoughts filling up my brain and I constantly feel like everyone on the earth is touching me and crowding me, even when I’m alone in my room. So I guess if I can keep pushing myself through those feelings, I’ll be fine and functioning fine but I don’t really think I can do that anymore.

Any advice or reading material would be greatly appreciated. Sorry if I didn’t explain things well. I’m trying my best out here

[the-insomniac-emporium]

SWORDTEMBER '24, DAY 18: STEEPED

Item ID: RE-2418 Item Name: Drenched Alloys Category: D-8 Origin Point: Unknown Owner: Alagorr Winchest (C), Unknown (O) Description: THIS ITEM MUST BE HANDLED WITH EXTREME CAUTION. EMPLOYEES ARE URGED TO WEAR BIOHAZARD PROTECTION GEAR, AND USE THE CLEANSING ROOM WHEN FINISHED. DO NOT REMOVE FROM THE CONTAINMENT UNIT UNLESS ABSOLUTELY NECESSARY. Due to the highly illegal status of Drecaenum and the materials used in its creation, the FPA was unable to do our standard rotation of tests, as the majority of the results would need to be redacted. In lieu of testing details, a brief explanation of Drecaenum will be given. It is a set of metals commonly referred to as Drenched Alloy, and although the base materials may vary, the end result is the same. Solid pieces of Drecaenum, as well as any weapons or projectiles made from it, are infused with a poison of unprecedented potency. This is achieved by allowing the base metal to steep in a toxic concoction for decades. Records of what these concoctions contain are highly restricted in order to discourage the production of it. Acting Supervisor’s Notes: I don’t know how the hell Mr. Winchest got his hands on this stuff, considering how heavily regulated the necessary components are, but I’m beyond glad that we caught it before it went off-world. Things are fragile enough as it is, we don’t need weapons made from Drechaenum getting around. Here’s hoping we can track down the source of it…

-----

Only three days into her stint as the Acting Supervisor, and already Cynthia is having to deal with one hell of a confiscation: A shipment of Drenched Alloys (common name Drecaenum). Blades and bullets made with that material had been used in more assassinations than anyone can count, the sheer lethality of the innate poison being impossible to overstate. No species is known to have a resistance to it. It contaminates almost everything it touches, leaves residue that can stretch and grow if not swiftly dealt with, and is effective regardless of how one comes into contact with it (i.e. ingested, inhaled, injected, etc). Even a tiny prick from a Drenched needle can prove fatal.

The creation process is… extensive, supposedly, and requires decades for the poison to reach maximum potency. Between that, the extensive precautions put in place to prevent creation of Drecaenum, and the difficulty in producing anything with the alloys, the substance is exceedingly rare. Hence why it’s such a big deal that a shipment of this size ended up on a planet like Katal. Had someone managed to get it on world, past the FPA? Or, worse, had someone set up a DSF (Drecaenum Steeping Facility) on Katal?

Technically, those questions aren’t for Cynthia to answer. As Acting Supervisor at this branch of the FPA, her job is to ensure the confiscated material is handled properly, filed successfully, and secured until the next level of authority can retrieve them. All further investigation and punishment will be out of her hands. If there are questions after things are handed off, they’ll go to the Director first, only passed down to her if need be. On one hand, it’s a relief to know that soon she’ll be rid of this Drecaenum. On the other? She’s terrified of the reality it represents, and knows she’ll never know the full truth of the matter.

Taking a deep breath, Cynthia tries to settle her nerves, knowing that she’ll be having another meeting with the Director in half an hour. They’ll start by talking about the Drecaenum shipment, but ultimately they’ll move on to the first check-in regarding Cynthia’s new position. There’s no specific reason for her to be nervous. Thus far, she’s done everything in line with the FPA’s official guidelines, and her coworkers (employees?) have given her no flak. It hasn’t been an easy transition, but they seem to have faith in her ability to settle into the role.

Still, anxiety pulses underneath her skin, lingers in her chest no matter how many soothing rituals she performs, until she glances at her messages and finds an email from Naomi. The subject reads: Because I know you won’t look at your texts right now. Attached are several photos, captioned with plans for after work? ;). The photos contain a kitchen table laid with all the ingredients for one of her favorite dishes, their living room arranged for some cozy movies, and a scene from their bedroom that more than explains why there’s a winky face in the caption.

Well, regardless of how that meeting goes, at least Cynthia knows she’s in for a great night. A long one too, by the looks of things…

[alekays-oc-lore]

birth of a villain - part 2

quick note: at bottom i'll leave some explanations.

2010, july.

prisioner jared jackal was accussed of theft and aggressive behaviour. his actions were punished with the rebirth surgery, submitting him to 12 eternal hours of surgery.

experimenting slightly with the subjects' design, they added blue for the "main" fur and macaroon yellow for the fur designs.

having around 2,46 meters of height and 222 pounds of weigth, the subject was then nicknamed chester.

scientists nickname their new teddysters with a different name to their human name to try to fool them about them "rebirthing". that's why the surgery realized on a human to turn them into a teddyster is called rebirth surgery.

chester was catagolized as a maned teddyster, exhibiting a perfectly shaped mane, being pointy and "scary", in the words of the staff.

chester, after the surgery, had forgot all basic movements. such as speaking, walking, etc. staff re-trained chester and re-teached him on how to walk and talk, not taking longer than a few months for the subject to learn how to move on its own.

the larger size of chester (and his subspecies being the maned teddyster) made scientists be interested on him, as the caretaker (first and only maned teddyster at the moment) was tinier than him. scientists didn't find any mutations on chester, as they assumed it would be just a size difference, discarding the chance of chester having giantism. further research was being done after this assumption.

2013, july.

chester had reached his three years of rebirth, meaning that he could get picked to join the staff at any time.

the make guards noticed how they were running out of cells for prisioners, realizing that they should stop imprisioning people by breaking into the laboratory.

realizing the potential of chester, the make guards requested the staff to add chester (along with malcolm, arachno and barracuda) to become an "exterior guard". staff decided to give the job to chester, as the other teddysters were, in that time, in a special trainment.

2013, september.

subject chester, during his third month of guarding, had encountered two individuals: an anthro caracal and a gart. chester, as the scientifics told him, cornered the strangers onto a dead-end zone, his threatening built making both strangers feel smaller under his silhouette.

about to give meaning to his jaws, the anthro caracal raised its paws, begging for its life.

???: we mean no wrong! let us live! we're young still!

the feline meowed,

???: i'm sorry!

it cried, its eyes tearing up. chester titled his head aside, unable to remember that emotion from his past life. his ears flattened, sticking almost completely to his cranium.

chester: who exactly are you, anyways?

he growled, crouching slightly to meet the size of the trembling feline, his tail pressing tightly against the ground as he kept distance.

???: we've thought your... laboratory, was abandoned. we're sorry, i don't know.

the other cat calmly muttered, looking down to chester. both felines had two completely different personalities: one sobbing and begging for its life, the other one calm about the moment.

chester: what's with your friend screeching like that?

he coldly questioned again, now looking at the calmer individual.

bruttux: it just gets really anxious over these situations, don't mind it. it'll calm soon... i hope. anyways, my name is bruttux.

she explained, patting reassuringly the back of the other cat.

chester: ... i'm chester. don't hang out here ever again.

he warned, not even attempting to form a proper conversation with bruttux.

bruttux: why shouldn't we? because of more of... you?

she asked, looking up at him with a heavily arrogant look on her eyes.

chester: probably. but there are worse stuff than getting mauled by one of my... species.

he huffed, walking away and leaving both felines alone.

. . .

2016, july.

reaching his sixth year of rebirth, chester had retired from his job as an "exterior guard", going back to live his life of a casual teddyster.

as he came back in the laboratory, noticing some than other change in the furniture, he realized how all species (mainly teddysters) had separated themselves in "packs". he wanted to join one as well, be one of the cool... teddysters.

he had the following packs available to join:

the sighters

declaraments

belligerence pack

staffs' pet (those subjects that have been added to the staff)

outsiders (those subjects that quite don't fit in a pack, and prefer to roam alone).

struggling slightly to decide, he went for the sighters.

going to his welcoming ceremony, he recognized only two faces there, out of the hundreds of teddysters there: arachno and malcolm, sitting on top of a fallen shelf.

arachno had presented chester to the pack, malcolm sitting aside both beasts, twitching and staring at a single point in the crowd. chester attempted to look where malcolm was looking, unable to notice anything that could call malcolm's attention.

STILL UNFINISHED MY GOD

[elizabethplaid]

Saturday's notes, part 2 - May 4, 2024

Part one here

Things got better as the day went on, after the alarm debacle in the morning. LL-K shared cookies with me from our fav local bakery, the one with the huge cookies.

When I went to pick up my take-out order, they didn't have it. Turns out, dad never hit the confirmation thing to finish making the order on their website. I almost asked to make the order right then, but I just wanted to go home. I texted my dad before leaving, then tried calling him, but his battery had died. So yeah, just go home; didn't want to wait another 20 minutes.

(Plus my Lego friend was starting her stream soon, and I wanted to chat with her as much as I could. Still ended up being like half an hour late, but she was still just getting started.)

THEN, on the drive back, I re-encountered the same lawn ornament I'd forgotten about from my drive out that morning. Remember the shadow-silhouette cut-outs that were popular in the late 90s? (Well, at least they were popular in NC, back then.) Some motherfucker had a human-sized one, like it was walking out from behind the power pole. Freaked me the fuck out, thinking someone was walking into the road.

Then I'm like, "Wait, those arms look familiar." IT WAS FUCKING SASQUATCH! And then it got me again, as I drove home! It wasn't even obscured by the pole on this side, and it got me even worse. Like, of all the shit that happened, that's the one that pisses me off the most. It's the only one that I can't let roll off my back.

Ok, so I got home, confirmed with dad that he forgot to finish the order. He was pretty apologetic about it. I put it on-par with how I fucked up the alarm that morning, so eh *shrug emoji*. He made some frozen stir fry meal for us instead. Certainly not the best, because it's a frozen thing and not made by responsible chefs, but it hit the spot. Plus dad did the work, as I ranted about Sasquatch. Very sweet of him.

Got to my friend's stream and chatted with her. Looked up some Lego stuff, shared links, etc. After finishing my food, I told her about my day. She encountered the same Sasquatch cut-out in her area, too. Big laugh with that.

She started her stream at 6pm, and she was on bag 10 of 22 by the time I bailed. (She intends to start at bag 12 for the next stream, I think.) It was after 1am, and I admitted that I'd been up since 5:30pm the previous evening. She's like, "Go to bed, girl." I texted her a pic of me in bed, with my Monty Python rabbit biting my face, to confirm I obeyed her order, haha. Still felt antsy (a "toddler tantrum" of resistance) and played on the phone for a bit. Finally put down the phone at 2am.

Woke sometime after 8am, to my daily "good morning" message. Text-chatted with phone friend, kind of explained how frustrated I was feeling. Both over- and under-stimulated, body-fatigued and brain-wired. Writing out my thoughts helped me vent the feelings, thankfully. Vocal-speech talking is tough on me, trying to find and form the words. But texting is easier, so I was able to form a lot of thoughts, and it got easier as I kept writing.

Texting with phone-friend and Lego-friend have really helped me. I don't know why they're different from other people I've talked with in the past. Maybe it's because they're both in Maine, or that they've met each other in person and I've met phone-friend in person. They're more tangible than other internet friends, even though we're still apart most of the time. =======

I'm still jittery, now that I'm more awake. Just a bouncing leg. My mind has calmed to the point where I could probably doze off if I laid down again. Briefly considered going to Ellsworth with my dad, at least to pick up fast food. Nah, I think I want to nap; it's probably wiser in the long-run.

As usual, I have library on Tuesday. Thursday is a dental appointment in the morning (fillings on back molars), followed by meeting up with my phone-friend. They've convinced me to try boba tea for the first time, so that's my plan for Friday, before heading back home.

It'll be a lot of chilling again, snacking in the room instead of going to a restaurant. After dental stuff, I want to take it easy anyway.

Just need to make sure I have my gifts for phone-friend's family wrapped, and I'm all set. I'm glad I went with an alternate plan. The embroidered drawstring bag will wait til Christmas, thankfully. =======

So yeah, I had a fucking day, my god. I'm in a better mood now, though more venting will be necessary. Still feeling like an over-stimulated toddler, somewhat. Struggling with the weight of fabrics on my skin versus feeling chilly. Had to close my window after I woke up.

Will probably go back to bed soon, though I might read webcomics or that Jane Eyre thing. (They just had the scene where the ~mystery person~ set fire to the dude's bedroom, hahaha.)

[lincolndjarin]

Best Kept Secret

chapter thirteen : lunar interlude : vercopa (RE-UPLOAD)

ao3 link ✿ series masterlist ✩ main masterlist ✧

pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader

rating : 18+ mdni

word count : 3.5k

summary : the mandalorian does some thinking

warnings, etc. : language, angst, references to sex

A/N : i had to change accounts so this is a re-upload of my ongoing fic bks!!

He did it.

He did exactly what he knew he needed to do.

So why does he feel worse than ever?

The look on your face when he had lied so blatantly to you made him want to collapse in on himself. If someone else had made you that upset he would have caved their skull in, why does he deserve any less?

He did it. That’s what matters, even if he had to lie to get you to believe it, he ended things. He doesn’t bother taking off his armor as he collapses onto his mattress. 

His eyes find the plastic flower on his nightstand. It’s a good reminder that he’s a bad person for what he’s put you through. He never should have slept with you. 

He never should have loved you. 

He deserves every form of torture that would be performed on him if they found out what the two of you had been doing. 

He deserves damnation for what he has done. 

And he gets just that when he sleeps. 

Most of his dreams follow the same theme. You, in his cabin, sometimes he finds himself entangled against your naked form, sometimes it’s just laying on his twin bed, enjoying the warmth of each other. 

Something is immediately off about the dream he’s in now.

His first thought is that this cabin is different. 

It’s bigger. There’s more dressers, the bed is twice the size of his. His confusion is palpable as he tries to find you. 

He knows he will if he looks. 

You’re always there when he closes his eyes. 

So he stands, and he walks around the house. It’s completely new to him yet so familiar and as he turns the corner and you’re there.

His breath hitches. 

You’re sitting at the kitchen table, with a genuine smile, and your hair hanging down across your face. But what catches his eye the most is the little green baby in your arms. You pinch at his cheeks as he makes those all too familiar babbles that used to fill the Crest. 

His heart is in his throat. 

He can’t move. It’s like he’s staring down the greatest threat of his life and if he moves an inch it will attack. 

Maybe he died in his sleep and this is heaven.

That doesn’t make sense, he’s done nothing to earn his place. Or it’s hell, and his torment is knowing he can’t stay here with you and Grogu, that he’ll have to wake up and live with what he’s put you through, and the kid will still be gone. 

He’s content to stand in the doorway and watch this alternate reality for as long as he sleeps. His chest heaving as he takes in the sight of everything he’s ever wanted, just a few steps away. 

The two most important people in his life, and in his reality he’s pushed you both away. 

He could have kept the kid. He hadn’t been sure about leaving, he truly believes that if he had asked Grogu to stay that they could have been happy. But he was just so scared. 

What if he got hurt while out on a hunt? What if he changed his mind and years down the road resented Din for keeping him? Or worst of all, what if plain and simple, he just got sick of Din? 

And then he did the same thing to you. 

He got scared.

He can’t already be regretting it, it’s been less than a day.

The sound of your voice calling him snaps him out of his trance. 

You say his name. 

His real name. 

Din. 

Second to the little noises the kid makes it’s the sweetest sound he’s ever heard. He’s not in control of himself as he stumbles towards you. Falling to his knees in front of your chair, scared to reach out to touch you because deep down he knows this isn’t real. 

You should be upset. Upset that he’s lied to you, told you that he doesn’t want you, used you. You should be throwing insults into his face but instead you reach down to put a hand on his cheek and he’s vaguely aware of the fact that in this particular dream he isn’t wearing his helmet. 

He’s so at ease from your touch he doesn’t care. 

You don’t speak. You just use your thumb to rub gentle circles into the planes of his face. Eventually the house is gone, the kitchen is gone, the table and chairs are gone and it’s just you. Standing above him, caressing his face with one hand, holding the kid to your chest with the other. 

He doesn’t dare move a muscle as he tries to burn the sight of the two of you into his memories. 

He wakes up with a start, sitting upright in his bed, his hands clawing at the helmet as he gasps for air. He haphazardly tosses it onto the sheets as tries to catch his breath. 

Wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his flight suit he stuffs some rations into his satchel and locks his helmet back on. 

So he can’t stay in the cabin anymore. 

He had never even brought you here but it reeks of your absence. And that dream didn’t help in the slightest. 

There are whispers of you in every corner and crevice of his home. He’s not an idiot, he knows no matter where he goes there will always be traces of you. So there’s no sense avoiding it, he makes his way to the castle and stands guard outside your room. 

He doesn’t sleep the rest of the night. He stands against the wall opposite your bedroom door. He can’t go back to sleep, he can’t handle that dream again. So he stays up until the sun rises. 

He’s a bundle of nerves waiting for you to greet him, but you never do. You stay in your room the entire day, the only change in scenery is when Leo or one of the girls brings you food, he tries to catch a glimpse of you when the door is briefly open but he never does. 

His heart hurts. 

He doesn’t move. When the hallways are empty he eats his rations just for something to do. Sometimes he’ll turn up the external audio so he can hear you pacing around your room but most of the time it’s silent. He’ll stretch his legs every few hours, pacing the hall. And then he’ll sit and repeat. 

He wants to go in. 

He wants to tear the door down, kneel before you and beg for forgiveness. But he manages to resist. 

He doesn’t sleep when the sun goes down. 

When he feels his eyes starting to flutter he’ll chew on a ration. 

Sometimes if he feels sleep creeping up on him he thinks of things to say to you in the morning. 

He wants to say sorry. More accurately he wants to grovel at your feet and tell you he’s an idiot, that he was lying, that he didn’t mean a word of it and that he’s madly in love with you. 

Of course he won’t do that.

He shouldn’t say anything.

It’s better that way. It’s better for the both of you. 

Doesn’t mean he can’t fantasize about a world where he begs for forgiveness and you grant it. 

Would you want him in that world? All of him, not just moments in secret when one of you craved the other. He wants mornings, noons, and nights. Would you give them to him? 

He could take you away from here if you did. 

It wouldn’t be easy but when your job is to find people who don’t want to be found you get pretty good at hiding. You could change your names, go get the kid, he could make his dream real. 

Would you really want that though? 

Of course you wouldn’t. Even if he hadn’t ended things so cruelly, you were a princess and he was just Din. 

You wouldn’t want that cabin in the woods, you were too good for that. You deserved castles and gowns, not living in the woods with a Mandalorian. 

So he won’t talk to you. He will simply resign himself to loving you from afar. (Or more accurately he will love you from a few steps behind you.) And he will leave you alone because he’s caused enough problems. 

Well, if you came out of your room he would. But he can’t properly leave you alone if you won’t let him.

He’s exhausted as he sits against the door, willing himself to stay awake to avoid any more dreams. He turns up his audio for most of the day, listening to you mill about the room. 

He wishes you’d give him a reason to come in, the sound of a scuffle, a yelp, for Makers sake, if you stub your toe he could use that as an excuse just to check in on you. But all he hears are the sounds of your muffled footsteps. 

And he can’t keep his eyes open forever. 

The combination of the flight suit and his armor makes him heat up when he sits still, especially as the sun sets and the light through the windows hits him. He isn’t sure when exactly he falls asleep but he’s back in that big cabin when he does. 

He makes the executive decision this time to stay in bed. 

He doesn’t want to see you, and he doesn’t want to see the kid. Because neither of you are real, and eventually you’ll be ripped away from him when he wakes up. 

Of course his strategy doesn’t work because in this dream you bring Grogu to him. He tries to shield himself from his delusions, even in his dreams he knows it’s pitiful, a trained killer hiding under the blankets from a singular person and a sleeping child. 

You still don’t speak. Gods he wishes you would speak, he wishes you would scream at him, shame him for his cowardice but instead you peel back the sheets just enough to put the kid between the two of you and lay with him, Grogu snoring through that tiny nose of his as you lay down with him, giving him that smile that makes his heart melt and his brain turn to mush. You lean forward and your forehead rests on his. 

He knows he deserves this anguish but still, it’s ruthless. 

Everything he could ever possibly want, under one blanket and it isn’t even fucking real. 

He’s startled awake when the surface he’s laying on moves. 

He doesn’t have a lot of time to come to his senses before he’s looking up and you’re there. The real you. The dream version could never compare to the real thing. That’s how he knows he isn’t sleeping anymore. You're clearer, confusingly you’re wearing simpler clothing. He can’t really think about that right now though because he’s hit with a wave of embarrassment. 

He was the one who had ended things with you yet here he was, sitting outside your door like a dog who got locked out overnight.

You just step over him.

Just like that you’re over him. 

Literally and apparently figuratively.

Huh.

He had assumed you had locked yourself in your room because you were trying to process everything, that you were trying to repair the parts of you that had been broken. 

He had assumed you felt as terrible as he did. 

But you seem fine, like nothing even happened. 

He should be elated. That you’re not only fine but seem to be completely over it.

Instead he feels sick. He’s worried he’s going to vomit in his helmet because he can’t stop wondering if maybe you never even cared about him in the first place. It’s wrong, it’s a terrible thing to wonder and he can’t help but think of what an awful person he must be to have such a thought.

He follows behind you, as is his natural instinct but he feels like he needs to sit down again. 

Did you ever care about him? He had only ended things with you because he couldn’t handle the idea of you loving him. If you loved him and he still couldn’t be with you he wouldn’t survive it.

Yet you seem perfectly fine. 

And he can’t help but think that he ruined everything on a bad judgment call. He hasn’t felt this stupid since he almost got himself stuck in carbonite when he first bought the Crest. 

He can’t focus on a thing you’re doing, yet he stays with you the entire time, he knows you grab books and he knows you return to your chambers and he knows that at some point he ended up back on the floor, leaning against your bedroom door again. 

Maybe you had never even liked him as a friend.

He had never considered that you might have been exactly what he had claimed to be. Bored and in need of entertainment. 

That isn’t possible, you had been so upset when he had ended things.

Of course you could have just been upset because he had been unnecessarily cruel.

He has no right to be bothered by this. This was his choice. His decision. 

Maybe he chose wrong. 

It’s a little late for thoughts like that.

He can’t just change his mind.

And he’s left to think about everything he possibly could have done differently as he fights sleep. 

He doesn’t even know how he’s still standing when the sun rises and he groans as he gets to his feet. 

Your ladies in waiting go in, and this time they actually stay in and he’s more awake then he’s been in days because he knows that you’re actually going to come out today. He braces himself to see that fire in you, tells himself that last night was a fluke, that you hadn’t been prepared to see him and now that you are you’ll want to argue and berate him and he can finally sort things out in his head.

But you don’t.

You barely even look at him and you’re already walking to the library like nothing happened. 

Like it’s any other day. 

He can’t think, he can’t form a coherent thought because you seem perfectly fine. He really hadn’t meant anything to you. 

He had hoped that this confirmation would free him. That if it was true he wouldn’t feel an attraction to you anymore and he could finally get off this kriffing planet. But his adoration doesn’t waver for a second. He still feels exactly the same way except now he feels smaller. There is nothing worse than a problem that can’t be solved with a blaster. 

He’s got big plans to spend his day trying not to give in to his mental and physical exhaustion while he does everything in his power to not think about how unbothered you look. But those plans are immediately halted when you freeze up right after you get into the library. He’s puzzled for a few seconds until he sees the nook and your voice echoes inside his helmet.

“Why is your favorite color green?”

The kid, the cabin, and you. 

He wants to fall apart. He wants to collapse right there on the floor and he’s so tired he briefly considers it until he realizes you’re still not moving. He gives you a second, he knows better than to try and talk to you right now, his helmet has been silenced since the last time he had spoken to you. 

He can’t be trusted to not beg for absolution. 

Your eyes are glued on the nook and he swears you tremble slightly.

So you did care. 

He can’t even take pleasure in that fact because his heart drops when he sees your expression. It’s like looking in a mirror.  

What the hell is he supposed to do in this situation? 

He’s faced enough deadly challenges throughout his bounty hunting career to know when to just go with your gut, so that’s what he does. He gently guides you away from the nook and sits you somewhere where you won’t have to look at it. 

You look as small as he feels, there’s something so intimate about your misery that he can’t look any longer, if he does he’ll give in and all of this will have been for nothing. You’re strong, even though he wasn’t sure for a moment there he knows that you still have your fire so of course you pull yourself together. And when you speak, you address him as you task him with finding Leo and he’s so happy to not only hear your voice but to hear you sound okay that he does it without a second thought. 

He desperately waits to hear you say more but you never do. He should have seen that coming. But he’s so weary at this point, he lets himself lean against the shelves and close his eyes, just for a second, the last thing he sees is you sketching something out on the papers Leo brought you. 

Of course you’re there when he closes his eyes as well. 

There’s no cabin, no kitchen, no bedroom, no kid. It’s just you this time. And he is trapped in a never ending loop of you. Every few minutes he’ll wake up, turning to make sure you’re still there, before drifting back into unconsciousness. You’re there too, waiting for him. It’s a funny sort of hell. To wake up and see you there, to fall asleep and see you there. He can’t escape for a single second.

What else is new?

The dream you isn’t real. He can’t bring himself to interact with her, because even the fantasy of you that he has conjured up doesn’t live up to the real thing. The real you is right there, everytime he slips back into consciousness he turns to see you. He’s never been a devout man but looking at you now he gets it. How people can be religious. The idea that you can adore something so much that you commit your life to it. He shouldn’t be thinking about you like that, at this point it’s unhealthy, but he’s just so tired, and you’re everywhere, and it’s hard to focus on anything but the look of pride on your face as you stare at your drawing. 

The dream you is too polished and shiny, she always seems so quiet. This is the real you, pleased with yourself, fighting back a smile because you’ve accomplished something. 

The sound of your chair pushing backwards wakes him from his strange middle ground of awake and asleep as he straightens up. He shouldn’t have let that happen, he doesn’t sleep in front of people, there’s too much risk involved but as much as your presence torments him it also soothes him. 

You seem like you’re in a rush to get back to your room and curiosity gets the best of him, so he allows himself a glance at your work as you scramble to get your things together. 

The table is covered in sketches of weapons and ships, a lot of which he recognizes from his book.

That’s what you had been drawing. 

He sees an ink depiction of the Crest and he can’t stop himself as he shoves it into his pocket, careful not to crinkle it. 

Why did he do that? 

He shouldn’t have done that.

But it’s too late because you’re out the door already which means he needs to be out the door. He trails behind you like always and there is the faintest hesitation from you where he thinks you might just invite him in, he’s imagining things, he has to be. He doesn’t think further on it as you close the door. He can barely stay upright and when he’s sure you’re out of earshot he lets himself slump back down onto the floor. 

He reaches into his pocket and holds the drawing out in front of him. 

He hadn’t told you about the Crest. This was just a freak coincidence. It’s a nice drawing though, you did it justice. 

He puts it into his bag, careful not to fold or crease it. 

He stops fighting sleep, he can’t keep this up forever so he lets his eyes close with a sigh. 

His vision fading to black as he feels a tap on his shoulder, opening his eyes he’s expecting to see you and the kid but instead of the house he’s still in the hall and instead of you it’s a rather displeased looking Togruta girl. 

He recognizes her as one of your ladies in waiting, he’s never learned her name. When she speaks she doesn’t sound even the slightest bit frightened of him like any of the other servants in the castle, she sounds furious.

“What did you do to her?”

I am no longer doing taglists so follow @lincolndjarinnotifs and turn on notifications to be notified when new chapters are posted !!

[prolicious12]

5 simple strategies for Gluten-Free weight loss success

So you ’ve heard that a gluten-free diet can really help you lose weight. You ’re curious about this, are n’t you? You ’ve seen that notorious Ms. So & So on Instagram raving about the virtuousness of ‘ Gluten-Free ’ foods and, OMG she’s lost what seems like a ton of weight. Now you ’re convinced that a gluten-free diet is perfect for you too! And you surely want to give this strategy a pass. We ’re then to tell you that not all is as rosy as it seems and before you go on this new adventure, you need to understand the pros and cons of this diet, just like any other diet. 

 But first, understand what gluten is 

 Gluten is a name for a class of proteins set up in certain grains, like wheat, rye and barley. Their primary function is to help foods maintain their shape, when cooked. suppose of gluten as a kind of cement that binds a food together. A gluten-free diet thus is void of this element and by extension the grains that contain them. So this means that foods like viands( wheat, rye and barley in particular), ignited goods and certain cereals made from the forenamed constituents are all out. 

 Now that you know what gluten is, and what a gluten-free diet entails, then are 5 simple gluten-free strategies that will help in weight loss. 

 Learn to read your markers right 

 One of the stylish ways to consume better, is to read precisely the nutrition markers. These are nutritive data about the product, which are frequently displayed at the reverse of the pack. 

 constituents are listed by volume — from loftiest to smallest. Try looking for products that list whole foods as the first three constituents and be skeptical of foods with long lists of constituents. 

 Nutrition markers frequently list calories and nutritive values grounded on serving size or a single serving in terms of grams. A note of caution 

 Serving sizes listed on packaging may be deceiving and unrealistic. Manufacturers frequently list a much lower quantum than what utmost people consume in one setting. 

 Some deceiving claims to be apprehensive of 

Light Light products are reused in order to remove or water-soak down calories. Most frequently sugar. So when reading the marker, make sure you take this into account. 

 No added sugar Some products are formerly naturally high in sugar, thus a no added sugar marker must be treated with caution 

 Low Calorie Low cal performances of a product are supposed to have 1/ 3rd as much the calories of the brand’s original product. Some ‘ low- cal ’ performances of a product still could contain the same quantum of calories as the standard interpretation of another brand’s ‘ original form ’ product. 

 Zero trans- fat For a product to qualify as ‘ zero trans- fat ’ it needs to have<0.5 g of trans- fat per serving. But if serving sizes are deceptively small, there may still be trans- fat in the product. 

 Simple negotiations, portion control and low GI foods 

 utmost dieticians will agree that gluten-free diets help people drop weight rather painlessly in the morning. Once your weight loss mesas still, gaining or losing weight is each about counting calories. Our advice is portion control and using gluten-free masses like bajra, jowar, ragi, oats etc. These grain- druthers

 are good on 2 fronts, they're each low GI foods, compared to rice( GI = 79.6) and wheat( GI = 62). This means that they don't beget your glucose situations to spike suddenly. Secondly, they take longer to digest, which implies that one serving of these foods will keep you satisfied for longer. 

 Be realistic about your pretensions consult a nutritionist/ dietician 

 While weight loss is one of the keys of overall health, one needs to be realistic about one’s pretensions. awaiting to drop tons of weight overnight or in an unrealistic period of time is setting oneself up for failure, or worse serious negative side- goods. A sound strategy before embarking on any diet( gluten-free diet included), is to visit a pukka , reputed dietician and having a foursquare, honest discussion about your weight loss objects. A dietician is there to help you plan your diet in a scientific manner, in a manner that's effective as well as healthy. 

 Exercise regularly 

 There’s an old word that states, “ weight loss is 80 diet and 20 exercise. ” While that's each well and good, diet without exercise can only do so much. A sedentary life is the# 1 cause of rotundity. So adding some form of exercise to your everyday life is the key to all round weight loss and good health in general. Whether you run, spa, brisk walk, do weights or play a sport, regular exercise, combined with diet is a surefire formula to help you maintain an active life. Abidance and strength training combined get the stylish results for weight loss. 

 Practice awareness 

 ultramodern life is full of stress and strains. It'll dumbfound you just how important stress can contribute to unwanted eating. This can lead to binge eating or bulimia nervosa i.e., the appetite to binge eat and also leads to purifying( puking). Stress eating is an unhealthy habit that can be negated through awareness. awareness can be in the form of an art like yoga or contemplation, or simple scientific processes like deep breathing, dividing oneself from a detector, or an exertion like colouring or hypnotherapy. The choices for awareness are several. So we suggest picking up an exertion and rehearsing it. You ’ll be stunned at the results. 

 In conclusion, alongside a gluten free diet, there are loads of effects that you can do in order to lose weight. At Prolicious we ’re concentrated on helping you with healthy, delicious eating throughout the day. Explore our range of factory protein amended foods, with at least 2x the protein of store- bought druthers then.

[luckbealincoln]

Best Kept Secret

chapter thirteen : lunar interlude : vercopa

THIS SERIES HAS BEEN MOVED AND RE-UPLOADED TO ANOTHER ACCOUNT. WHICH CAN BE FOUND HERE. THIS POST STILL EXISTS AS AN ARCHIVE BUT THIS ACCOUNT IS NO LONGER ACTIVE!!

pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader

rating : 18+ mdni

word count : 3.5k

summary : the mandalorian does some thinking

warnings, etc. : language, angst, references to sex

He did it.

He did exactly what he knew he needed to do.

So why does he feel worse than ever?

The look on your face when he had lied so blatantly to you made him want to collapse in on himself. If someone else had made you that upset he would have caved their skull in, why does he deserve any less?

He did it. That’s what matters, even if he had to lie to get you to believe it, he ended things. He doesn’t bother taking off his armor as he collapses onto his mattress. 

His eyes find the plastic flower on his nightstand. It’s a good reminder that he’s a bad person for what he’s put you through. He never should have slept with you. 

He never should have loved you. 

He deserves every form of torture that would be performed on him if they found out what the two of you had been doing. 

He deserves damnation for what he has done. 

And he gets just that when he sleeps. 

Most of his dreams follow the same theme. You, in his cabin, sometimes he finds himself entangled against your naked form, sometimes it’s just laying on his twin bed, enjoying the warmth of each other. 

Something is immediately off about the dream he’s in now.

His first thought is that this cabin is different. 

It’s bigger. There’s more dressers, the bed is twice the size of his. His confusion is palpable as he tries to find you. 

He knows he will if he looks. 

You’re always there when he closes his eyes. 

So he stands, and he walks around the house. It’s completely new to him yet so familiar and as he turns the corner and you’re there.

His breath hitches. 

You’re sitting at the kitchen table, with a genuine smile, and your hair hanging down across your face. But what catches his eye the most is the little green baby in your arms. You pinch at his cheeks as he makes those all too familiar babbles that used to fill the Crest. 

His heart is in his throat. 

He can’t move. It’s like he’s staring down the greatest threat of his life and if he moves an inch it will attack. 

Maybe he died in his sleep and this is heaven.

That doesn’t make sense, he’s done nothing to earn his place. Or it’s hell, and his torment is knowing he can’t stay here with you and Grogu, that he’ll have to wake up and live with what he’s put you through, and the kid will still be gone. 

He’s content to stand in the doorway and watch this alternate reality for as long as he sleeps. His chest heaving as he takes in the sight of everything he’s ever wanted, just a few steps away. 

The two most important people in his life, and in his reality he’s pushed you both away. 

He could have kept the kid. He hadn’t been sure about leaving, he truly believes that if he had asked Grogu to stay that they could have been happy. But he was just so scared. 

What if he got hurt while out on a hunt? What if he changed his mind and years down the road resented Din for keeping him? Or worst of all, what if plain and simple, he just got sick of Din? 

And then he did the same thing to you. 

He got scared.

He can’t already be regretting it, it’s been less than a day.

The sound of your voice calling him snaps him out of his trance. 

You say his name. 

His real name. 

Din. 

Second to the little noises the kid makes it’s the sweetest sound he’s ever heard. He’s not in control of himself as he stumbles towards you. Falling to his knees in front of your chair, scared to reach out to touch you because deep down he knows this isn’t real. 

You should be upset. Upset that he’s lied to you, told you that he doesn’t want you, used you. You should be throwing insults into his face but instead you reach down to put a hand on his cheek and he’s vaguely aware of the fact that in this particular dream he isn’t wearing his helmet. 

He’s so at ease from your touch he doesn’t care. 

You don’t speak. You just use your thumb to rub gentle circles into the planes of his face. Eventually the house is gone, the kitchen is gone, the table and chairs are gone and it’s just you. Standing above him, caressing his face with one hand, holding the kid to your chest with the other. 

He doesn’t dare move a muscle as he tries to burn the sight of the two of you into his memories. 

He wakes up with a start, sitting upright in his bed, his hands clawing at the helmet as he gasps for air. He haphazardly tosses it onto the sheets as tries to catch his breath. 

Wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his flight suit he stuffs some rations into his satchel and locks his helmet back on. 

So he can’t stay in the cabin anymore. 

He had never even brought you here but it reeks of your absence. And that dream didn’t help in the slightest. 

There are whispers of you in every corner and crevice of his home. He’s not an idiot, he knows no matter where he goes there will always be traces of you. So there’s no sense avoiding it, he makes his way to the castle and stands guard outside your room. 

He doesn’t sleep the rest of the night. He stands against the wall opposite your bedroom door. He can’t go back to sleep, he can’t handle that dream again. So he stays up until the sun rises. 

He’s a bundle of nerves waiting for you to greet him, but you never do. You stay in your room the entire day, the only change in scenery is when Leo or one of the girls brings you food, he tries to catch a glimpse of you when the door is briefly open but he never does. 

His heart hurts. 

He doesn’t move. When the hallways are empty he eats his rations just for something to do. Sometimes he’ll turn up the external audio so he can hear you pacing around your room but most of the time it’s silent. He’ll stretch his legs every few hours, pacing the hall. And then he’ll sit and repeat. 

He wants to go in. 

He wants to tear the door down, kneel before you and beg for forgiveness. But he manages to resist. 

He doesn’t sleep when the sun goes down. 

When he feels his eyes starting to flutter he’ll chew on a ration. 

Sometimes if he feels sleep creeping up on him he thinks of things to say to you in the morning. 

He wants to say sorry. More accurately he wants to grovel at your feet and tell you he’s an idiot, that he was lying, that he didn’t mean a word of it and that he’s madly in love with you. 

Of course he won’t do that.

He shouldn’t say anything.

It’s better that way. It’s better for the both of you. 

Doesn’t mean he can’t fantasize about a world where he begs for forgiveness and you grant it. 

Would you want him in that world? All of him, not just moments in secret when one of you craved the other. He wants mornings, noons, and nights. Would you give them to him? 

He could take you away from here if you did. 

It wouldn’t be easy but when your job is to find people who don’t want to be found you get pretty good at hiding. You could change your names, go get the kid, he could make his dream real. 

Would you really want that though? 

Of course you wouldn’t. Even if he hadn’t ended things so cruelly, you were a princess and he was just Din. 

You wouldn’t want that cabin in the woods, you were too good for that. You deserved castles and gowns, not living in the woods with a Mandalorian. 

So he won’t talk to you. He will simply resign himself to loving you from afar. (Or more accurately he will love you from a few steps behind you.) And he will leave you alone because he’s caused enough problems. 

Well, if you came out of your room he would. But he can’t properly leave you alone if you won’t let him.

He’s exhausted as he sits against the door, willing himself to stay awake to avoid any more dreams. He turns up his audio for most of the day, listening to you mill about the room. 

He wishes you’d give him a reason to come in, the sound of a scuffle, a yelp, for Makers sake, if you stub your toe he could use that as an excuse just to check in on you. But all he hears are the sounds of your muffled footsteps. 

And he can’t keep his eyes open forever. 

The combination of the flight suit and his armor makes him heat up when he sits still, especially as the sun sets and the light through the windows hits him. He isn’t sure when exactly he falls asleep but he’s back in that big cabin when he does. 

He makes the executive decision this time to stay in bed. 

He doesn’t want to see you, and he doesn’t want to see the kid. Because neither of you are real, and eventually you’ll be ripped away from him when he wakes up. 

Of course his strategy doesn’t work because in this dream you bring Grogu to him. He tries to shield himself from his delusions, even in his dreams he knows it’s pitiful, a trained killer hiding under the blankets from a singular person and a sleeping child. 

You still don’t speak. Gods he wishes you would speak, he wishes you would scream at him, shame him for his cowardice but instead you peel back the sheets just enough to put the kid between the two of you and lay with him, Grogu snoring through that tiny nose of his as you lay down with him, giving him that smile that makes his heart melt and his brain turn to mush. You lean forward and your forehead rests on his. 

He knows he deserves this anguish but still, it’s ruthless. 

Everything he could ever possibly want, under one blanket and it isn’t even fucking real. 

He’s startled awake when the surface he’s laying on moves. 

He doesn’t have a lot of time to come to his senses before he’s looking up and you’re there. The real you. The dream version could never compare to the real thing. That’s how he knows he isn’t sleeping anymore. You're clearer, confusingly you’re wearing simpler clothing. He can’t really think about that right now though because he’s hit with a wave of embarrassment. 

He was the one who had ended things with you yet here he was, sitting outside your door like a dog who got locked out overnight.

You just step over him.

Just like that you’re over him. 

Literally and apparently figuratively.

Huh.

He had assumed you had locked yourself in your room because you were trying to process everything, that you were trying to repair the parts of you that had been broken. 

He had assumed you felt as terrible as he did. 

But you seem fine, like nothing even happened. 

He should be elated. That you’re not only fine but seem to be completely over it.

Instead he feels sick. He’s worried he’s going to vomit in his helmet because he can’t stop wondering if maybe you never even cared about him in the first place. It’s wrong, it’s a terrible thing to wonder and he can’t help but think of what an awful person he must be to have such a thought.

He follows behind you, as is his natural instinct but he feels like he needs to sit down again. 

Did you ever care about him? He had only ended things with you because he couldn’t handle the idea of you loving him. If you loved him and he still couldn’t be with you he wouldn’t survive it.

Yet you seem perfectly fine. 

And he can’t help but think that he ruined everything on a bad judgment call. He hasn’t felt this stupid since he almost got himself stuck in carbonite when he first bought the Crest. 

He can’t focus on a thing you’re doing, yet he stays with you the entire time, he knows you grab books and he knows you return to your chambers and he knows that at some point he ended up back on the floor, leaning against your bedroom door again. 

Maybe you had never even liked him as a friend.

He had never considered that you might have been exactly what he had claimed to be. Bored and in need of entertainment. 

That isn’t possible, you had been so upset when he had ended things.

Of course you could have just been upset because he had been unnecessarily cruel.

He has no right to be bothered by this. This was his choice. His decision. 

Maybe he chose wrong. 

It’s a little late for thoughts like that.

He can’t just change his mind.

And he’s left to think about everything he possibly could have done differently as he fights sleep. 

He doesn’t even know how he’s still standing when the sun rises and he groans as he gets to his feet. 

Your ladies in waiting go in, and this time they actually stay in and he’s more awake then he’s been in days because he knows that you’re actually going to come out today. He braces himself to see that fire in you, tells himself that last night was a fluke, that you hadn’t been prepared to see him and now that you are you’ll want to argue and berate him and he can finally sort things out in his head.

But you don’t.

You barely even look at him and you’re already walking to the library like nothing happened. 

Like it’s any other day. 

He can’t think, he can’t form a coherent thought because you seem perfectly fine. He really hadn’t meant anything to you. 

He had hoped that this confirmation would free him. That if it was true he wouldn’t feel an attraction to you anymore and he could finally get off this kriffing planet. But his adoration doesn’t waver for a second. He still feels exactly the same way except now he feels smaller. There is nothing worse than a problem that can’t be solved with a blaster. 

He’s got big plans to spend his day trying not to give in to his mental and physical exhaustion while he does everything in his power to not think about how unbothered you look. But those plans are immediately halted when you freeze up right after you get into the library. He’s puzzled for a few seconds until he sees the nook and your voice echoes inside his helmet.

“Why is your favorite color green?”

The kid, the cabin, and you. 

He wants to fall apart. He wants to collapse right there on the floor and he’s so tired he briefly considers it until he realizes you’re still not moving. He gives you a second, he knows better than to try and talk to you right now, his helmet has been silenced since the last time he had spoken to you. 

He can’t be trusted to not beg for absolution. 

Your eyes are glued on the nook and he swears you tremble slightly.

So you did care. 

He can’t even take pleasure in that fact because his heart drops when he sees your expression. It’s like looking in a mirror.  

What the hell is he supposed to do in this situation? 

He’s faced enough deadly challenges throughout his bounty hunting career to know when to just go with your gut, so that’s what he does. He gently guides you away from the nook and sits you somewhere where you won’t have to look at it. 

You look as small as he feels, there’s something so intimate about your misery that he can’t look any longer, if he does he’ll give in and all of this will have been for nothing. You’re strong, even though he wasn’t sure for a moment there he knows that you still have your fire so of course you pull yourself together. And when you speak, you address him as you task him with finding Leo and he’s so happy to not only hear your voice but to hear you sound okay that he does it without a second thought. 

He desperately waits to hear you say more but you never do. He should have seen that coming. But he’s so weary at this point, he lets himself lean against the shelves and close his eyes, just for a second, the last thing he sees is you sketching something out on the papers Leo brought you. 

Of course you’re there when he closes his eyes as well. 

There’s no cabin, no kitchen, no bedroom, no kid. It’s just you this time. And he is trapped in a never ending loop of you. Every few minutes he’ll wake up, turning to make sure you’re still there, before drifting back into unconsciousness. You’re there too, waiting for him. It’s a funny sort of hell. To wake up and see you there, to fall asleep and see you there. He can’t escape for a single second.

What else is new?

The dream you isn’t real. He can’t bring himself to interact with her, because even the fantasy of you that he has conjured up doesn’t live up to the real thing. The real you is right there, everytime he slips back into consciousness he turns to see you. He’s never been a devout man but looking at you now he gets it. How people can be religious. The idea that you can adore something so much that you commit your life to it. He shouldn’t be thinking about you like that, at this point it’s unhealthy, but he’s just so tired, and you’re everywhere, and it’s hard to focus on anything but the look of pride on your face as you stare at your drawing. 

The dream you is too polished and shiny, she always seems so quiet. This is the real you, pleased with yourself, fighting back a smile because you’ve accomplished something. 

The sound of your chair pushing backwards wakes him from his strange middle ground of awake and asleep as he straightens up. He shouldn’t have let that happen, he doesn’t sleep in front of people, there’s too much risk involved but as much as your presence torments him it also soothes him. 

You seem like you’re in a rush to get back to your room and curiosity gets the best of him, so he allows himself a glance at your work as you scramble to get your things together. 

The table is covered in sketches of weapons and ships, a lot of which he recognizes from his book.

That’s what you had been drawing. 

He sees an ink depiction of the Crest and he can’t stop himself as he shoves it into his pocket, careful not to crinkle it. 

Why did he do that? 

He shouldn’t have done that.

But it’s too late because you’re out the door already which means he needs to be out the door. He trails behind you like always and there is the faintest hesitation from you where he thinks you might just invite him in, he’s imagining things, he has to be. He doesn’t think further on it as you close the door. He can barely stay upright and when he’s sure you’re out of earshot he lets himself slump back down onto the floor. 

He reaches into his pocket and holds the drawing out in front of him. 

He hadn’t told you about the Crest. This was just a freak coincidence. It’s a nice drawing though, you did it justice. 

He puts it into his bag, careful not to fold or crease it. 

He stops fighting sleep, he can’t keep this up forever so he lets his eyes close with a sigh. 

His vision fading to black as he feels a tap on his shoulder, opening his eyes he’s expecting to see you and the kid but instead of the house he’s still in the hall and instead of you it’s a rather displeased looking Togruta girl. 

He recognizes her as one of your ladies in waiting, he’s never learned her name. When she speaks she doesn’t sound even the slightest bit frightened of him like any of the other servants in the castle, she sounds furious.

“What did you do to her?”

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[alex51324]

Gearing up for Christmas cookie baking, so my mind is on that--I think the only thing I’d tell a beginner to make sure they have is actual butter.  Store brand is fine, and with the recipes I make regularly I’ve never noticed a difference between salted and unsalted, but if you’re using a recipe that calls for butter, you want to get real butter, that came from a cow and is legally allowed to call itself butter.  

(If you’re vegan/baking for vegans, you want recipes designed for that.  I have 3 in my regular Christmas cookie repertoire; HMU if you want them.)  

Having the proper measuring cups for wet and dry ingredients helps--that is, the different sizes for dry, and a clear glass or plastic one with the lines marked on the side for wet--but cheap ones work just as well as expensive.  (Expensive ones might be more durable, but if you aren’t sure how often you’ll be using them, you might as well start with cheap ones.  If they break, you can think then about whether you want to upgrade.)

After that, using real vanilla extract is worthwhile in recipes where vanilla is the main flavoring--sugar cookies, for instance--but you can still get good results without it.  For recipes that have another strong flavor (ginger, chocolate, etc.), you might as well use the imitation kind.  (These days, I buy a little bottle of the good stuff for the kinds where it makes a difference, and a big bottle of the cheap stuff for everything else.)  

The next thing I’d probably recommend is parchment paper for lining your baking sheets.  It gives you a little more leeway in between “a little browner than I’d like” and “burnt,” plus makes cleanup easier.  For most cookie recipes, you can re-use the same sheets of paper for several pans of cookies.  (It’s especially beneficial if your cookie sheets are not great to begin with--the cheap, thin kind, or old ones with a lot of baked-on discoloration/texture.  On the other hand, if you do have nice baking sheets, using parchment on them will help them stay nice.)

I like to use a stand mixer, because I’m doing large amounts of baking at once--I usually do about 12-15 batches of cookies the week before Christmas--and it saves a lot of time and effort, but it isn’t essential unless you have limitations in the use of your hands.   A cheap hand mixer will work just as well, and even a wooden spoon will get the job done. 

A heat resistant silicone spatula for stirring/scraping, and a metal spatula for taking cookies off the sheet are noticeably superior to plastic versions of the same tools--the plastic ones will be damaged by heat and become more difficult to use.  (Think, increased cookie-breakage as you try to shove the bubbly-melted edge of a spatula under them.)  But  cheaper ones made of those materials are fine.  

In terms of things that don’t matter at all, I’ve never used anything but all-purpose flour, store-brand or maybe Pillsbury/Gold Medal if it’s on sale.  (I don’t doubt that there are recipes that work better with more specialized flours, but everything I make is fine with all-purpose.)  For sugar, you need to pay attention to the type specified in the recipe--granulated/white, powdered/confectioners, brown--but the store brand is fine.  Baking soda and baking powder are neither optional nor interchangeable, but store-brand is fine for those, too.  Oh, and the salt in a baking recipe is there for chemistry reasons, not just flavor; if you need to make salt-free baked goods, look for recipes designed that way.  

Oh, and if things seem to come out of your oven burnt or a little overdone (or under-done), even though you followed directions, get an oven thermometer.  The analog kind with a dial, that sits on the rack and costs about $5-10, is fine. Loads of home ovens are mis-calibrated, but this type of problem doesn’t usually get worse; all you have to do is use the thermometer to work out how far off it is, and take that into account when you set the temperature.  (The oven at my dad’s place has been running about 25 degrees hot for something like 15 years, and I’ve been getting perfectly reliable results from it ever since I figured out what was going on.)  

re: hobby costs, I'm sure i've seen places that have lists with different categories of items, along the lines of "ok to be cheap" "nice to have" and "pay for this" because depending on the actual hobby, working with cheap stuff can make a beginner think that they're worse than they are -

for something like baking, a great baker can take terrible ingredients and make something amazing*, but using chocolate that isn't Hershey's will instantly make brownies better no matter what level you're at.

Using the cheapest ingredients will tell you if the actual process is something you enjoy, but - while i'm definitely a process person** - part of the enjoyment of the process for me is having a product I like, and if I make a disappointing brownie, I'm more likely to decide the whole thing isn't worth it.

i guess i just want more honesty about the parts of a hobby that matter - both ends of the expense scale have a lot of performativeness about them ("i only use pans i got at the thrift store. they cost $1 and i have no problems" vs. "if you don't have a $500 brownie pan your brownies will be garbage") and the truth is that there's a lot of space in the middle.***

disclaimer that obviously all of this depends on what any given person can afford! I just think it's important to remember that sometimes a workperson is fully justified in blaming their tools, and those tools being awful can make them feel worse.

[archivexinterpolatedxinterviewer]

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