#((for the people that know even less than me the last tag features a figure of speech and is not literal! unless it accidentally is))

[piningpercussionist]

Thank you for spreading my giddler propaganda 🫡

Forgot to answer this day of (whoops,) but I'll always support yalls left-field nonsense. Always*.

Anyway, figured this was the funniest time to respond, based on what I've gleaned from the discord and a brief stroll across some blogs...

[ms-demeanor]

since twitter has become actively hostile to its users, so they came to tumblr, and reddit has become actively hostile to its users, so they came to tumblr, what do we do now that tumblr is becoming (more) actively hostile to its users? i’ve been here for over a decade so i know tumblr users are the type to cling on despite everything and revel in undoing every change, but i’m so tired of the way this website breaks the way it fundamentally works in order to appeal to new users. the twitterfication of the site seems so much worse than when people jumped ship after the porn ban, and even then, only small communities (and twitter) cropped up as solutions. you might not be the person to ask for a definitive answer, but i figured a tech blog might be interested in considering - what do we do when there’s nowhere left to go?

Okay so, I mean this very seriously: how has tumblr meaningfully become like twitter?

I don't personally find the sidebar view obnoxious and it seems to me like just another layout change that's pretty typical to tumblr. New users are getting signed up with a bit more emphasis on algorithmic feeds, but that is still very easy to change (MUCH easier than on any other social platform) and the algorithm has been there for everyone for quite a while, we just typically don't notice it because a lot of long-term tumblr users don't go into the "for you" feed.

I don't think that tumblr *has* fundamentally broken the way that it works to appeal to new users. My dash now is still very much like my dash in 2019, and still very much like my dash in 2018 (though much less pornographic). Reblogs are still reblogs, likes are still likes. Replies, for all that they seem like they've been around forever, are new and good and I think they work well. I'm irritated that the notes menu doesn't have a "view all" option but I think that's a worthwhile tradeoff for an easy way to see tags.

I *do not* understand why tumblr has broken linking back to previous reblogs but I don't think that's out of an effort to act like twitter; it is a bizarre choice that I dislike and don't understand but I also don't think that it has fundamentally changed the way the site works and i mean you've been around long enough that I'm sure you've had the same experience I have of going into the notes of a post and randomly clicking until you found a version that you wanted to reblog without a bunch of bullshit at the bottom. Tumblr has always kind of sucked, this change DOES suck but it doesn't suck in a way that is particularly novel or insurmountable. (For instance, I think this change sucks MUCH LESS than when they made posts with links invisible to the search, that is something that is genuinely bad that has been long lasting but doesn't get brought up much in lists of the ways that tumblr has gone wrong)

Tumblr *is* changing, but I think it is changing more incrementally and less terribly than other parts of the internet. I also hate the floating clown, the login walls, the dash-only view for blogs (you can't archive it and I HATE that), and - to an extent - the new lightbox on mobile. And I dislike that less than I thought I would but I don't think it's a fundamental change that necessarily impacts my interactions with the site - it *adds* a feature that I don't care for but it doesn't *break* anything that I require to have a good time on tumblr - in that way I think of it very much like Live. People hate Live so much and I find that perplexing because it is so easy to simply ignore it.

But that's not really your question; that's just some stuff I want people to think about because as much as tumblr has changed in the last two years it is nowhere near as fucked up as the recent things that twitter and reddit have pulled.

So, as to your question: where do we go?

Well. Not to be an extremely old person on the internet, but damned if I don't miss email lists. And forums. God I miss forums. Neither of those things has all the bonuses of platforms like twitter or reddit or tumblr or facebook, but they were great ways to hang out with people you liked on the internet.

The internet is changing. I can feel it, you can feel it, I'm pretty sure we're all like cattle in a field lifting our noses and hearing some distant rumbling and becoming slowly aware that it's almost time to run. There's a coming stampede and it isn't here yet but you know it's on its way. You're not imagining that, that's how things feel right now and there are a shitload of things contributing to it.

Things like SESTA/FOSTA and KOSA (which has not passed yet but is a big red flag waving on the horizon) have been eroding away the way that users on various platforms can function. Some platforms have consolidated in ways that harm users; some new platforms have popped up and shaken up the map of the internet; some platforms are being torn apart brick by brick by owners who don't care about the users. It kind of seems like people are actually looking up and realizing that advertising is A) bad and B) doesn't actually work and I think we're running straight toward another advertising-based crash like we saw in 2017. It feels like all the desperate things that tumblr is doing is just rearranging deck chairs on the titanic as the internet as a whole starts to sink into the ocean.

Honestly, I don't think it's that bad. I think it *feels* bad, but I think we're looking at a slow whimpering death of the platforms, not a bang. I think tumblr is going to hang on at least for a few years and I think it's going to end up like livejournal and myspace, which both still exist as websites that are recognizable as updated versions of the sites they were in 2004-2010. The thing that I think would really, honestly hurt tumblr in a fundamental way is if it moved to a more algorithmic and data-sales based model of advertising, and I think that's still pretty distant. I think Automattic is aware that killing the chronological feed would be the one unforgivable sin that would cause a mass exodus and a final crash, and I think when we see that, when we can't just scroll through the feed and see what our friends did that day in order of when they did it, that's when the party is over here.

But that's still not answering your question.

So, where do we go? What do we do? Well, for now, I'd say it's a good time to get contact info for your friends across various platforms. Get email addresses, get phone numbers.

Now is also the time for you to set up a personal website. NeoCities is currently the best place to do this, though it takes a lot more effort than just starting a blog on tumblr. I think that various oldschool blogging sites like Wordpress and Blogger/Blogspot/whatever the hell the google one is are a better place to have your emergency backup than a more platform-y platform if you aren't up to doing something with NeoCities.

If you've got the ability to do so and a group of people who are interested in the same core subject, set up a forum. There's a decent amount of off-the-shelf forum software out there and a text-and-small-images forum isn't prohibitively expensive, but it's never going to be huge and you're never going to have the kind of spread and virality and random connections that you would on a platform with millions or billions of users.

If you can't set up a forum, setting up or joining a discord server for your friends is a decent enough option at the moment, and may be a very good option for people who are looking to keep their interactions more private.

But yeah i think right now is a great time for people to start setting up their own personal websites, to start visiting actual webpages again, to start bookmarking their friends' websites, and to start collecting contact info that isn't tied to platforms.

[towriteloveontheirarms]

Let me put my lips to something (Alicent Hightower x Reader)

synopsis: Neglected by your husband, you find a confidant in Alicent, who is being treated the same way by her own husband. The depth of that trust and friendship however stay hidden to the two of you until one faithfull evening.

warnings: period typical homophobia, more porn than plot, kissing, oral sex, afab reader

word count: 3k

taglist: @hopelesswritergall, @urmomsgirlfriend1

(If you want to be tagged for a specific character/fandom/series or in general let me know in my asks, comments or DMs)

It is late when you knock at the queen´s chambers. You are aware it is, but you don´t know where else to go as well. Trying to keep a neutral expression on your face for the servants that walk by you, your foot taps on the stone floor, until the heavy doors finally open. You can tell Alicent is surprised to see you at this time of day.

“The hour is late. Are you feeling well?” She asks with worry coating her voice.

It takes a while for you to find your own voice as you see her standing in front of you however. She looks so beautiful. Her curly, auburn hair flows over her shoulders perfectly and the dressing gown covering her night dress adulates her figure in the most flattering ways.

“May I come in?” You ask quietly so that only the woman can hear.

“Naturally.” Alicent steps aside to let you in.

Together the two of you sit down at the table in her rooms and suddenly you are more nervous than before your knuckles grazed her door.

“I must say, you look positively radiant this evening.” You compliment her in the hope to distract her attention from the way your fingers pick at each other and you eyebrows pull together. To no avail.

“You are amongst friends. Speak your mind freely. What is wearing so heavy on your soul?” Alicent lays her hand on yours to keep you from hurting yourself. Much like you often did to her. The touch sends a spark of electricity through your arm to your heart, making it stop for just a beat. You weren't sure how it had happened but after you married her eldest son, the queen and you had become a source of comfort for each other. Both neglected by your husbands and left to fend for yourselves against a seemingly uncaring world. Or court at least. And some time in the three years you now lived in the Red Keep, you had found yourself falling for the one person you could never have. Not only a woman, but the queen of the seven kingdoms none the less.

"My Queen. My friend. You know I do not like to speak ill of people, even more so when it is your own son I am speaking about. Yet every day more I feel I am not strong enough for this marital bond. I find myself wishing Aegon would simply divorce me. The silent sisters or even the wall would seem like a simpler lot."

“I feel for you and I do not blame you for such thought, my dear. Yet I must also protest. You possess much more strength than you think. I can see it in your eyes. Your husband may not know how lucky he is in having someone so lovely and intelligent besides him…” She pauses in the middle of her sentence and never finishes it. Searching anything in the room but your eyes.

“I cannot thank you enough for listening to my foolish worries. They must seem so small compared to what you have to endure.” Your hands take a hold of her delicate ones and you allow your thumb to caress the back of them to get her attention again.

Unbeknownst to you that simple action drives her heart to pound against her chest in a much quicker rhythm than before.

“If they burden you they are not foolish at all. Better to voice them in the safety of this chamber than to break from them. I have to admit, I do feel like I am trapped in a gilded cage from time to time. Though your presence has made my suffering more bearable.” An inexplicable blush lays itself over the queen´s pale features at the last sentence.

“I will always be here for you, dear friend. For as long as I breathe.” You squeeze the woman’s hands gently to emphasize the intent in your words. Words that speak of a love far deeper than the one for a mere friend.

One of your hands leaves her touch to rest against her rosy cheek. Your thumb caressing over the warm skin. The air between the two of you seems to crack with tension. Her breath falters under your fingertips and suddenly nothing between you seems like it should be between friends. The underlying feeling of her being your husbands mother is gone entirely. It encouraged you to utter the words you swore you would never tell a single living soul.

“May I confess something else? Something darker than what I laid upon you already?” You feel Alicent nod under your hand. It is your only answer as you avert your gaze in shame at the desire you are about to share.

“I had a dream last night. Stemming from desires I tried to hide and pray away for some time now, but all the praying in the world was for naught.” Your voice is barely above a rough whisper.

“What happened in that dream?” Follows Alicent´s question. Equally as quiet at the seriousness of the moment.

“I dreamt about you…” The words come out only slowly. “And me. We were lying in bed. You were writhing underneath me in pleasurer at my touch. It was a most sinful, yet beautiful dream.”

Alicent is left speechless, with an even higher beating heart and an animated fantasy. Despite that, her words speak of the opposite sentiment.

“This… this is highly inappropriate. We are both married and even if we weren´t this could never be by the laws of the seven. It would be better for you to retire to your chambers now” The words have so little conviction that you are unsure who she is trying to convince.

Your thumb wipes over her heated cheek once more and before you know it there are mere inches separating her lips from yours. Your eyes meet hers one last time and with a shuttering breath you taste her lips on yours. It´s only for a moment, but that tentative touch heightens your senses massively. When your eyes open again Alicent´s brown ones are already looking back at you. Uncertain, searching in yours for what to do next, for an answer to all this.

“You need to leave. Now. Before this can lead to anything… more…” The brunette stands up, walking out of reach to wrap her arms around herself. The feelings of shame and want clashed inside of her. Swirling in her stomach in a whirlwind of emotional conflict.

“Please, do not send me away so soon.” You plead in a soft tone. Walking after her to lay your hands on her shoulders. “I am begging you, dear friend.”

Alicent doesn´t push them away. Instead she turns around to take your hands once more.

“What are you doing to me?” She breathes.

“I merely wish to love you. To worship you, just like you deserve. Even if it is for one night only. Let me prove the true nature of my feelings to you. I care naught for how sinful these desires are. You are too beautiful not to sin.” You lead your friend to her bed and sit her down beside you. “Will you let me?”

Your hands travel the length over Alicent´s arms with feather light touches as you wait for an answer. Taking in the satin of her dressing gown underneath your finger tips and the silky, smooth texture of her hair as you put it behind her ear.

Her soft lips part to make way for a fluttering breath to escape and then she leans in to lock her lips with yours again. It takes not even a second for you to respond to it. At first they brush over Alicent's lips in a slow, sensual manner. You try not to overwhelm her with everything. That however quickly wanes, when her tongue presses against your lip to silently ask for entrance. Of course you let her in letting her tongue explore your mouth and dance with yours as you do. One of your hands wanders down to open the dressing gown and slips it off Alicent´s shoulders. Wandering up the front of her body, grazing her breasts that were now only clothed in a thin nightdress anymore. The way her heart beats against it clearly tangible. Assuring you that your friend is just as excited as you are. Next your hands gently push the older woman backwards by the shoulder, to lay on the bed as you straddle her hips. Letting your hands wander over her breasts over the fabric of her nightdress once more, a small moan falls sounds off into the room. Her body has long since forgotten what is happening right now is a sin. She feels herself being pulled into the heat of the moment, letting her body go loose to the touches of her friend´s hands. You part from her only for a second, trying to gather yourself. It is so unbelievable that you are lucky enough to be allowed to touch her in this way. Then you place a peck to the corner of her now kiss swollen lips, trailing more passionate, open-mouthed kisses along the length of the side of her neck. Looking down, Alicent's fingers clutch at the blankets, her hips instinctively rising towards yours as your bodies brush against each other. Another moan escapes Alicent's lips, as the tingling sensation your touch leaves behind and that excites her more and more.

“Do you know how long I have desired this...?” Alicent whispers in a voice full of passion, her voice catching in her throat.

“Tell me how long.” You murmur against the hollow at the base of Alicent's throat. Mouthing at it and then kissing further down to her collar bones. Alternating between soft kisses and gentle nibbles.

When the queen´s hips raise off the mattress again, you shift your weight to put a leg between both of her thighs, to assist her in her search for more friction to satisfy the need for more stimulation.

Alicent turns her head to be able to look into your eyes, even though they are blurred because of lust and love and the way her body rubs against yours. Her heart still pounding heavy in her chest.

“Since I first saw you. When you came to the keep after the match was made. Your dress was such a beautiful green and you hair… Oh, your hair.” Alicent's voice trails off as she closes her eyes, unable to keep looking for the moment.

“Keep looking at me. I want to see your eyes.” You whisper into Alicent's ear with a soft dominant tone. Waiting until you have your lover´s eyes on you again to push up the nightdress to reveal her pale skin and the rosy nipples that sit atop her beautiful breasts.

“ I cannot.” Alicent says while trying to hide her face, but she can't manage too.

You grab her chin between your thumb and forefinger to turn her face back to you and  her body is overcome with lust, and her mind is consumed by the image of your hair in her hands. Your eyes looking deeply into hers, with a look as if she had created the world and your lips on her supple skin.

“Look at me.” You whisper with more emphasis. “You are so beautiful.”

“Yes, oh yes.” Alicent whispers in a faint voice, her breath catching in her throat.

She feels her mind go hollow and her heart beating so fast it feels like it is about to explode. She moans again and again as she is overwhelmed with so much more than she has ever been able to desire in her lifetime.

“You are a goddess…” You murmur breathlessly against her breasts. Your tongue swirling around the erect buds until they are painfully hard. Blowing on them to elicit another sound of pleasure, before you close your lips around the peaks of her chest to nibble and suck on them.

Meanwhile your hands find Alicent's hips. Leading them with a firm grip in a slow rhythm to drag against her thigh.

Alicent's breath comes out in hot, shallow breaths. Her entire being is consumed with your touch, her body shaking.

“It's like heaven. It's divine, that touch of yours.” Alicent's breath quickens, yet her mind remains empty of all thought. All she understands is the need to feel more.

The older woman´s hands let go of your hair and the bedsheets to take hold of your shoulders. Her nails digging into the flesh as you guide her away from your thigh and instead replace it with your fingers. Reverend touches of your fingertips, pull all kinds of sounds from her. Delicious whines and whimpers and needy pleas for more.

“Please, oh gods, please. More… More...” Alicent is on the edge of losing control. Her mouth opens, but no words can form under the small, deliberate circles you rub into the sensitive bundle of nerves that sits at the top of her fluttering cunt.

You can tell Alicent is close to her release. So you capture your lover's lips in another passionate kiss, swallowing her every loud moan as to not get caught by any guards, your fingers lead her over the edge of pleasure.

“Yes! Yes!” That's all her mind can grasp as her entire body shakes with her release.

Once all the pent up energy is out of Alicent´s system and the shaking dies down to a trembling again, You take your fingers, that had caught some of her juices, away from her wet heat and lick them clean.

“You truly are a delicacy. To be savored, not used and cast aside at the whims of men that cannot even begin to process the goddess that you are.” You groan at her sweet taste.

Diving down between her legs, wrapping your arms around them to keep her hips still, you begin to kiss all around her center. Nibbling and sucking a few, easily concealed marks into her flesh. Teasing her long before she finally puts her lips to the queens wet heat. Letting her tongue swipe out to lick a wide stripe through it.

Alicent feels like a bolt of electricity has hit her. Her entire body is consumed with excitement. She does not want you to ever stop touching her. Every touch is a pure delight that Alicent's body and mind crave. It has her panting and heaving for air, writhing underneath you in no time. Not able to stop the feelings she feels building up in her body, she tries to push her lover´s head away, but her weakened arms cannot stop the force of your touch.

Assured by her actions, you suck on the queen's pearl even harder. The feelings of another oncoming release begin to wash over her again, she is taken back to that moment when her body was pushed over the edge. Her nails raking over your back to leave red markings along it. Until they reach the back of your head.

You willingly let Alicent pull your head closer between her legs and think, that if you were to die then and there, tasting your lover's nectar on your tongue, it would be the happiest death. Nevertheless you live and Alicent reaches her second peak. Alicent gasps for air as her entire body is consumed with pleasure. She is convinced that her heart will give out any second now from how hard it beats. She is in the seven heavens. Would be screaming out her feelings, if it wouldn´t be for your hand covering her mouth. You are eager to please the queen, but you are not eager to face the king´s wrath for doing so. Your tongue guides her through her climax. Making sure not to waste a drop of the sweet nectar from between her legs. While under your hand a muffled whine of your name signals her overstimulation. Then you kiss your way up again. Over Alicent's stomach and chest up to her lips.

"You taste so sweet. Truly divine.” You murmur as you give her a taste of herself.

Shifting your weight once more, you lay next to Alicent. The pinky finger of one of your hands entangled with one of hers as your other hand runs lightly over Alicent's bare arm.

“How do you feel?” Alicent feels her heart flutter, as the simple touch and question. She looks towards her lover, her eyes fixed with adoration. Her cheeks become flushed once more as she takes in her love, not only for you but for the way you makes her feel. Safe, loved, content.

“I do not know how you manage to make me feel this way.” Alicent says as she caresses your cheek.

“I am merely a fool in love, lucky enough to share the bed of the most beautiful woman in all of Westeros.” You say as you savor every moment of the sweet touch. Butterflies raging in both of your stomachs.

Alicent cannot take her eyes away from you. The love she bears for her lover, the way all her thoughts and emotions are consumed by the desire for your touch and love makes her smile.

“Come here.” Her voice remains calm, though it trembles slightly due to her lasting breathlessness. “Kiss me again.”

“Anything the queen commands.” You tease her with a wide smirk. Letting her pull you closer, before laying her lips on Alicent's in a slow, most tender kiss. You wrap your arms around the queen. Tracing the length of her spine with the most reverend touches.

Even the softest movement of your fingers send a wave of pleasure down her spine. She cannot hold back any longer. Alicent's body is overcome with a feeling she can barely describe.

“Love me.” Her voice trembles with excitement, though she cannot say much more. All she wants is you.

“You will never go unloved for another day as long as I live. I promise. In the smallest gazes and touches or in the biggest gestures we can allow. I will always love you.” You promise her and the look in your eyes tells Alicent that you mean every single word of it.

[elderberries-and-honey]

Good morning 🌄 In case you missed the news, I wanted to remind everyone that The Baudelaires are starting fresh. But I'd like to make note of a few things.

I have moved the old Baudelaire content to this blog for organizing purposes (still need to pick a theme and tag everything though). Their posts will still be here but I wanted to free up their tags but still make it available to read chronologically if desired. So I figured this would be the easiest way to do that.

The Baudelaires will still feature poses and whatnot. Like I'm not going to only be doing gameplay and this is still a story after all. But, unlike in the past, I'm going to try and use the game to determine the personalities, interests, hobbies, etc. and roll with some of the randomness it throws at me, and use the challenge rules to determine their fates where it calls for it.

We will be doing away with realistic aging. I went back and forth on this a ton and have decided that for the sake of gameplay, and my busy schedule, this is the easiest way for me to play and keep track of things. I also feel it won't get me sucked in too deep / heavy into exclusively posing and keep me interested in actually playing my pixels. I also really want to be able to enjoy each decade for longer and lean into tropes from the decades and feel this is the best way for me to do that.

Sadly, I'm also going to do away with telling an Irish history perspective. It was really hard to make that decision and it's still a hyper fixation of mine, but it feels like a larger project than I can handle right now. In the future, I think it could be really cool to explore that with a realistic timeline but, for now, we will put that to rest and save it for another day.

I really hope people aren't too disappointed with this choice and still feel connected to my story regardless, even if it's a bit less realistic. I'm feeling a little insecure about this decision solely for the fact most decades challenges use a realistic aging / time progression system and really like to lean into the realism aspect of it all. However, I know at the end of the day, this is supposed to be for me and this is what is best for where I'm at in life right now.

I also would like to add that I admire whatever way people choose to play their game and my decision is not a reflection of me not liking or enjoying the content that exists in this space. I adore the stories, and the dedication people have for telling a story that means something to them, regardless if they consider themselves more storytelling, gameplay or a mixture of both.

And to end on a happier note, I've been on my last vacation for the year so I have a lot in the queue and will be doing daily posts Monday - Friday, otherwise I'm going to get too far ahead of where you guys are in the story. If the queue starts to run out, I'll switch to Monday, Wednesdays, and Friday again. Baudelaires return starting on Monday morning @ 10:00 am cst! :3 Be there or be square 🫵🏻

[xiaosonlybeloved]

Hi! Saw your requests were open and I wanted to ask for Heizou and the Hanahaki prompt, please? 🙏🏼 you try your best to hide it from him but being the genius detective he is, he figures it out. I’d love to see how you write it!

Melancholy -Heizou

featuring:- Shikanoin Heizou, fem!reader, brief mentions of Kujou Sara tags:- Hanahaki AU, angst, hurt/no comfort, brief mentions of blood a/n:- im so so sorry anon for writing this so late! But here you go, and i hope you like it :) thank u for requesting! (i think it would kill me to actually write fluff for once)(also if i made a taglist, would you guys sign up?) wc:- 2.5k

masterlist

∼⟪◍⟫∼

‘He knew.’ You realised with a sinking heart as his firm eyes searched yours for answers, a hint of disbelief and concern in them. He’d figured it out.

∼⟪◍⟫∼

Everything started out small. It always does.

For you, it started the very day you two met, little by little. You’d needed someone to help you find and retrieve some books from your treasured collection that had gone missing, and good old Detective Heizou was the one assigned to help you.

He didn’t take long to draw you in. The charisma and confidence in his voice, the intelligence and wit sparkling in his eyes with a hint of mischief, the amusement dancing subtly across his face. Everything about him pulled you deeper in. Not to mention, you were incredibly impressed at how efficient he was at his job, despite his carefree, playful attitude- within 24 hours, each and every one of the missing books had been neatly stacked in a pile along with an apology letter from the thief, and Heizou had returned them to you, with that charmingly cocky grin of his. You’d thanked him profusely then, and he’d waved it off as just helping out a bit. He even refused to take payment, insisting that if you really wanted, you could repay him with a nice lunch or dinner.

Since then, your ‘friendship’ with Heizou only grew.with time.The next time you met, it was an accidental encounter in the streets of Inazuma, and then you’d repaid him with that promised lunch. After that, you two just seemed to bump into each other more often, or perhaps you both just noticed each other both. More than a year passed, and you two were fast friends.

Just friends.

You didn’t know when those pesky feelings started to develop, but they did, taking root in your heart like a bug. And your poor heart cracked a bit more everytime Heizou called you his best friend with a grin, or when he casually flirted with random people, your emotions covered with an airy smile that betrayed none of what you felt, unfortunately for you. If only he knew…

∼⟪◍⟫∼

“[Y/NNNN]!” Heizou called over to you with a grin as you stood talking to the owner of one of the flower shops in Inazuma, running over as if to give you some great news. Your heart jumped a bit to see him again, even if it had only been less than a day since you last saw him. “What is it now, ‘Zou?” you chuckled. “Which uncrackable case have you cracked now?” He stopped right in front of you, breathless. “Guess what? Kujou Sara confessed to me! Can you believe it? The high and mighty, proud general Sara?” He was laughing. 

You raised an eyebrow, trying to mask your surprise and disappointment. She got there first, huh? “Well? What did you say?” “I said yes, of course. Now boom, we’re dating.” Heizou replied easily.

You took in a deep breath, feeling like a hundred knives had been stabbed into you. But you needed to hide it, because Heizou was still looking at you expectantly, awaiting your response.

You’d always be his best friend. Not his lover.

This cold truth seemed to sink into your heart, as you controlled your facial expressions, making an excited smile that probably seemed very fake to the sharp eyes of someone like Heizou. You quickly followed it up. “Dang, I never thought I’d live to see the day when you actually dated someone! Man alive, am I surprised.” Heizou laughed again, his eyes crinkling, driving the wedge deeper into your heart. “Never thought I would too.” Then looking at his phone, he apparently remembered something as he quickly said, “Oh darn, I totally forgot I had to meet up with a client right now. See ya around, [Y/N]!”

You smiled sadly as he ran away, your heartbreak now visible on your face. You return your attention to the store owner who looks at you curiously. “Sorry, Ma’am, but I won’t be needing the flowers anymore. Could you please cancel my order?” The lady looked at you in sympathy as she nodded, probably having figured out who you were planning to confess to.

Back at home, you suddenly doubled over in a coughing fit, your lungs hurting.

∼⟪◍⟫∼

You’d stayed holed up at home for the next few days. Believe it or not, it actually wasn’t because of your broken heart. You’d fallen ill, and it greatly annoyed you. You kept coughing your throat out, and it wasn’t stopping. You did go about your normal routine for the first few days after Heizou told you, but then it got bad and you started staying home. Your friends often visited you, keeping you company. With their presence, you did seem to get a bit better.

So why was it that Heizou coming over out of concern for you always made you cough more?

One evening, he’d come over like always, with some medicines this time for bad coughs. Looking at his worried face at your deteriorating health, you wondered just how cruel it was for him to be always looking out for you, never knowing what you felt for him or what being with him did to you. 

Unfortunately, it was in front of him that your illness grew worse- you started coughing out blood, him panicked and trying to help you. 

Once you were temporarily better, he was insistent on staying the night with you to make sure that you didn’t get worse, but you made him leave reluctantly to get some rest. Immediately, you seemed to breathe a bit easier, even though your throat felt like there were vines practically growing in it. With that came an inkling suspicion of why you weren’t getting better. But it couldn’t be that, right? 

Then, a week later, you coughed out your first petal, confirming your worst fears.

∼⟪◍⟫∼

Purple hyacinths were known to mean sorrow, longing, etc. 'How fitting.' You thought bitterly as you ruminated upon your less-than-ideal situation. You’d known for a while now that you held strong feelings for Heizou, but you never thought it would actually develop into Hanahaki. Damn it… What do you do now? You had to at least confess to Heizou for a chance at surviving, no matter how slim. But that would be very hard to do, considering he’s literally dating. That thought brought a bitter taste in your mouth. The other option would be to get the surgery, but it would mean removing Heizou from your life for good, but you weren’t quite keen on doing that. If not… You’d die.

No. You would most certainly not allow yourself to die for a failed love. Sure, you really loved him, but there was no point in throwing away your life for someone. 

As you were thinking about this, there came a series of soft but strong knocks at your door. With a sigh, you dragged yourself down the stairs to see the visitor, noting that the knocks didn’t sound like Heizou’s or anyone else. 

When you see the person at your doorstep, your eyes light up after a long while. “Kokomi!” You exclaim as you run to hug your old friend. You’d been forced to part with her after you shifted from Watatsumi Island to Narukami Island, but you’d regularly kept in touch. Kokomi frowned as you led her into your home. “You’re ill, aren’t you?” “Yes indeed, Doctor Kokomi.” You tried to joke. Kokomi narrowed her eyes at you. “You smell of blood. What sickness do you have? I can heal you.”

You hesitate for a moment, unsure of whether to tell her or not. Not because you don’t trust her- she’s probably your most trusted confidante apart from Heizou, but because you’re a bit afraid of her reaction. With a sigh, you say, “Hanahaki.”

You could see it in the way her eyes fell. “Who is it? Heizou?” She asked, immediately understanding. You sighed in affirmation. “Can you heal me?” This time, it was Kokomi who was hesitant as she responded, “... I do know how to conduct the surgery, but there’s no other way out unless you confess and he accepts.” You grimaced. “Can you please keep this a secret from Heizou for now? I’m still thinking on what to do.” She nodded, looking resigned, but said, ”Alright, but you need to decide fast. To me, it looks like your illness is already quite severe. There is a certain stage beyond which the surgery cannot be conducted and the only option is to confess or die.” You nodded. “Thank you so much, Kokomi.” A while later, after you two had caught up with other topics, she left to go to the hotel she was staying at, giving you her address and telling her to come see you immediately if anything happened, along with some medicines for delaying the growth of the hanahaki.

∼⟪◍⟫∼ 

While you were chatting with Kokomi, Heizou was flipping through books on diseases and illnesses. Needless to say, he was worried sick on seeing that it had been weeks and your condition had only grown worse. 

On a different note, he had just broken up with Kujou Sara that morning. Things just weren’t working out, and he wasn’t interested anyways- he just wanted to try things out. So now, he had more time to find something to cure you. 

He groaned as he went through the list of symptoms. He had a feeling that he knew what was wrong with her, but he was too afraid to admit it. ‘Heavy persistent coughs that slowly deteriorate to frequent bloody coughs, along with a feeling of being unable to breathe. In the last stage, which is almost certainly fatal during the later phase, the victim coughs out flower petals symbolic of their situation, along with blood. When the flower petals change into full blooms, the surgery cannot be conducted anymore, and the disease becomes fatal.’

His heart sank- his worst fear had been confirmed. You had hanahaki. He hadn’t yet seen you cough out flower petals though- so there was still time. He’d talk to you about it today, unsure of whether you knew about Hanahaki or not. 

He also wondered who it was who was dumb enough to not accept or return your feelings. He would, in a jiffy.

∼⟪◍⟫∼

You sigh a little, enjoying the cool breeze hitting your face after so long. You were going over to pay Kokomi a visit, taking this as an excuse to get out of your house, which had started to feel cramped and stuffy. But of course, your moment of pleasure just had to be interrupted by another bout of flowery coughs as you hurried into some street corner to ensure that no one sees it. As you hurriedly stuff the purple flower petals with red, bloody edges into a bag you were carrying, a voice calls out to you that made dread settle in your heart.

Heizou stands there, staring directly at you and the bloody purple petals in your hands. 

‘He knew.’ You realised with a sinking heart as his firm eyes searched yours for answers, a hint of disbelief and concern in them. He’d figured it out.

“You didn’t tell me it had gotten this bad.” Heizou said quietly, stepping closer to you. “I didn’t want you to know.” You murmured a response, looking down at your feet to avoid his stare, his eyes still looking at you in disbelief. “Why? Why, [Y/N], why? Who is this person?” 

You gulp under his stare as you debate whether to tell him or not. Yes, you knew he was dating Sara but still… You were on your way to Kokomi’s anyways. The opportunity had presented itself, you should take it. 

“It’s you, Heizou. You’re the one I love.” you whisper as you look up to meet his gaze.

You wish you hadn’t. Then you wouldn’t have seen the way the disbelief in his eyes changed into shock, surprise, and denial.

It was clear as day to you- Heizou didn’t return your feelings, you were dumb for thinking you had a chance.

You ran past him straight to Kokomi’s, wanting to escape. On the way, you could feel another round of flowers coming up your throat, but you held them down till you reached your destination.

Meanwhile Heizou stood still, shocked at what had transpired, a hand outstretched in the direction you had ran.

It was him.

As his brain finally processed things, he was still in disbelief and shock. He had been smart enough to figure out that you had hanahaki, but much too dumb to realise who it was directed towards. It was then that he forced his body to run, to search for you.

Late into the night, he still had no idea where you went, as he stood in the desolate streets of Inazuma, hands clenched.

∼⟪◍⟫∼

More than a year had passed since then, and he had no clue of your whereabouts, or if you were even alive or dead. Everytime he thought of you, regret and guilt filled him as he cursed himself out.. If only he’d told her his feelings instead of hiding them like an idiot. If only he’d run after her immediately. If only he’d figured out your feelings faster. If only, if only…

He was in Watatsumi Island for a new case, although his efficiency at work had decreased over the last year. He thought he might as well take some time off for himself, give himself some time to recuperate quietly. 

But it seemed fate had other plans for him, as his eyes fell upon a figure in the woods of Watatsumi Island, one more than familiar to him.

His heart jumped into his throat as the figure straightened, then turned to look at him. “...[Y/N]?” He ran towards you to engulf you in a hug, but stopped short on seeing the expression on your face. There was curiosity, but not an inkling of recognition.

Ah. So that’s why he didn’t see you anymore. You’d taken the surgery and moved out.

“Oh, do I know you? May I help you? I see you are new here.” You said with a kind, polite smile, the one that you usually reserved for strangers.

His heart and fists clenched as he realised that you had no idea who he was anymore. As he realised that once again, he was too late.

[requests are open for now (please check requests page) ] tags and comments are very much appreciated!

[overmore]

Thoughts on social media/websites I've recently used because why not

All personal thoughts, nothing too serious. Mostly made this cause I've been trying to use other places more than what I'm used to.

Bluesky

New kid on the block. Supposed to be the better version of Twitter, and that is technically true. Works pretty much the same way Twitter does but without ads and blue checkmarks. Has a proper blocking feature + a possibility to make block lists that works wonders if you want specific people away from you.

The thing I've had an issue with is getting my Discover feed to actually behave how I want it to. It is almost impossible for me to get things I care about on it, no matter how many times I click "not interested in this" on almost every post. There are also some missing features like no private accounts and group chats, but that should come by at some point, this is a new site in the end. Hopefully, those features will come soon.

Spacehey

A social media like myspace. Never had the chance to use it cause of my age, but I did try spacehey now. Had an acc for almost a year, but still don't know how I feel about it. Maybe because I'm not used to socials like these, I just don't know how to use it even after a while. It does have a nice feature for blogs and posts, also the bulletin is a neat feature that lets you post smth that will disappear after 1/5/10 days, depending on how long you set it.

Issues I have is the layout-making options are disabled atm. There was an issue in the past that made them have to disable it, so for months you haven't been able to make a new layout. The issue in question seems to have gone away, so there's no reason to not allow people to make them. So you either have to code a layout by yourself or use the ones there are and while there are a lot of them, maybe you'd like something new or even post your own but are now unable to.

The other problem is that the place is still very anti filled. Not a lot of anti-harassment people still sadly. The social media is still very small, so that's probably why and I have no idea if it will grow in any way, but for now, maybe not the best to just go there and add random people. I have met a few anti-harassment people, but that's still not enough for me to justify using the place actively. There are some nice people there who don't seem to involve themselves in discourse, but due to me being to cautious, I'm probably gonna avoid the place again for a while.

Dreamwidth

Site similar to LiveJournal. Same with last place, I've never used something like this before, but in this case, I'm actually getting nice use of it. It takes a bit to get used to it, but once you figure out how to search and find communities, it becomes nice. There are many communities related to events, some fandom-exclusive and some multifandom, many are low-pressure challenges too. It's also a neat blogging platform if you want it to be. You can organize stuff really well, but it can take a bit before you understand how to use it.

My main problem for a while was actually figuring everything out. Took a while before I understood how to make tags work the way I want and show in groups rather than randomly or by how many posts each had. Still a bit annoyed that I can't easily look at communities but have to go to my profile to find the one I want (this might just be a me thing, there's probably an easy way I just haven't found out yet). But beyond this, I go there every day and look at things. I've had fun there.

Neocities

Website for hosting your website for free. Like Geocities (there's a theme of people just reviving stuff from web1 here) You learn to code, or you use a layout and you go there to make your own website. The end. Lol. I like it a lot. It's fun to just have your own website and post your things there. It's nice if you still wanna be online but not have social media or just be less on it. It's fun to find random sites and see what people do there. A lot of them are personal, so you'll find thing about people's lives, what they create ect.

The main thing is that obviously, you gotta have some knowledge of coding. I know very little, but googling Dows the job when I'm lost on something or if I want to find a code. If you want to make your own code it will take a long while since it's not as easy as it seems (I struggle with making a decent looking layout. I can't make the same boxes be where I want them to be).

bearblog dev

This is a very new one for me, like 2 days new one. A simple blogging platform with some nice layouts. It's a very basic site, but it's useful if you want a strictly blogging platform. Do keep in mind that a lot of things, like posting images and more blogs, require to support the dev since there are no ads on the site. If you just wanna say words, it's nice to have it. I found this through neocities since some people there have used it for blogs rather than making a page on their site. It's neat.

---

All of these are without ads and free, though most of these have the possibility to support the sites on a monthly basis which gives you perks and keeps the site without ads.

If I ever try some more stuff, I will post again about it. It's very nice to find more places besides what people are used to.

[fastcardotmp3]

Re: the tags of that post you just reblogged from me - AU where Steve and Eddie swap roles for just the final fight (Eddie’s with the girls, Steve’s with Dustin) but with an added subplot where we meet Steve’s parents early in the season & maybe they’re trying to get him to grow up/move out/think about his future, or something else, but they’d have to feature somehow so we still get that ending scene except it’s Robin telling his parents he didn’t make it (im picturing a very tragic recontextualising around the phrase “you need to do something with your life” leading to Steve drawing the bats away from Dustin)

That’s just my quick thoughts though, I’d love to know how you’d do it!

oh I LOVE this you've got my brain spinning I have so many thoughts and it's all your fault!!!

(I am so sorry for how long this got)

I think there are for sure many versions of this plotline that could work BUT here goes nothing

I definitely agree that we'd need to introduce Steve's parents early on (in my ideal world we'd have met them sooner than s4 for this plotline but alas I'm not in charge I'm simply posthumously script doctoring) and I think one version of the conversation there could come from a place of wanting what's best for him, but centering itself around ambition and choice in a way that sticks with Steve.

"You had so much ambition when you were still in school, Steve-- all of your sports, how sociable you were-- what happened to that? Where did you lose that along the way?"

And Steve flounders a little bit, because he's gotten to the point after season 3 where he can see himself better from the outside, is just that touch more self aware and good at reading not just other people's feelings but his own.

So it takes him a beat to put it into words, but he's able to, is the thing--

"Maybe I don't need to go down the-- the usual path to end up where I want to end up."

"Is this where you want to end up?" his mother asks, "working at a video store for the rest of your life?"

"It's not about that," Steve shrugs, pouring two travel mugs of coffee all the while, one for him and one for Robin.

Because he knows it's not about that, he spent all of last summer learning it's not about that and the months since discovering that there's a certain amount of peace in knowing that things aren't perfect but that matters less when you have your people around.

"What's it about then? Steve, I just-- I don't want you to get stuck here, when I know you could do so much more with your life if you just chose to."

"I'm not doing nothing with my life, Mom!" he laughs, exasperated but certain for once in his goddamn life. "I'm-- I'm actually doing really well right now, I've got good friends and I've got the kind of job where I'm kept busy while I figure out what's next for me and I'm just... happy, I guess? Like, can't my ambition just be to keep doing stuff that makes me happy? Can't I choose that?"

And he has to go to work, has to walk out and promise her that they'll talk about it more later, talk about it with his dad too, but Steve knows what he cares about and this isn't going to shake his resolve.

What he cares about is this group of people who have changed his life even more than the monsters did, who brought enough good into it to at the very least match the bad, and in some cases (like the girl already monologuing as she climbs into the front seat of his car and accepts her coffee with a mocking kiss to his cheek) somehow usurp the bad.

Steve doesn't have to be what this town expects of him, what most likely to end up rich superlative voters expect of him, what his parents expect of him, because his life isn't about being any particular something, it's in the doing.

It's in the swinging of a baseball bat, the swinging of his fists to keep the people he loves safe.

It's in the morning drives to get Robin to school on time and the late night ones to make sure Dustin meets curfew.

It's in the friendship he's managed to find with Nancy in the past year, the knowledge that this version of them is the best one by far.

It's in the days driving the kids to the trailer park to visit Max even if she ultimately ends up refusing to come out with them, because at least they're doing it, at least they're trying with her.

It's in this, too, when they drive out to Reefer Rick's place and some of the claims of happiness start slipping through Steve's fingers again with the proof that it isn't over, the fight.

But they've beat it before and they can beat it again. It's in the doing, and Steve has gotten knocked down many a time but the thing he always does is he always gets up on the other side.

He knows this. He trusts in this. He's built a fucking worldview around this because that's where his ambition went, Mom.

That's what happened to "Steve Harrington, actually a cool dude."

Steve's humble enough to thank Eddie for saving his ass, but he's done this enough times to still be able to reassure the guy who calls him badass that, "It always looks hopeless right before we win. Don't freak out too bad if it looks like the end of the world, huh?"

Eddie looks at him like he has two heads, says he's jealous of Steve's optimism.

Even Robin tells him that she thinks they might not win this time but all Steve knows is that they always have before. All Steve knows is that his instincts usually work out, let him protect the rest of them long enough to make the big and vital moves necessary to beat this thing.

All Steve knows is that he just, he's changed a lot but-- He's just the same kid who was cocky enough to run back into the Byers' house to fight a monster, stubborn enough to let the Russian's beat the hell out of him before he'd let them do the same to Robin and he--

"I don't know, I still have hope. Maybe this is the first time we actually win. Forever."

There's this sense of finality to it, hanging in the air, and she doesn't look convinced there in the same way she doesn't look convinced when he and Dustin are saying goodbye to the other three at Eddie's trailer, but Steve kisses her once on the forehead and says, "what are you waiting around for? Go kick some ass, your schmuck will be here when you're done."

His instincts have always protected them in the past.

It's his instincts that have him formulating a plan the second he realizes the bats are going to get inside the trailer, going to make a break for the gate and attack whole swaths of people unprepared for such a thing.

Dustin will be mad about being abandoned on the other side, but Steve's pissed him off before and he's always gotten over it.

It's in the doing, his ambition.

It's in the doing, the key to a well-spent life.

It's in the doing, the being of Steve Harrington, overconfident nature and all.

He always gets back up, every knock to the head and blow to the ego, Steve always gets back up, so he holds his ground and fights. Leads the bats away and keeps them there.

His mother wasn't wrong that he's changed, but she wasn't right when she claimed the thing he'd lost was his ambition. He'd found it, this force of nature in his chest that makes him willing to face down hell if it means the people he loves are safe.

He always gets back up, a tail around his throat.

He always gets back up, teeth in his flesh.

Steve Harrington is a pro at getting knocked down.

"I'll get up in a second, just-- just a second--"

"Steve there's-- there's so much blood-- Steve, you need to-- you have to get up now--"

"It's okay, it's okay, we won, just-- just another minute. Wanna see that-- Rob and the others made it back. Then we--can go--"

Dustin is crying. Dustin is holding him.

And Steve is bleeding out, he thinks somewhere indistinct and hazy at the back of his mind. He'll get up and fix that in a minute.

"You die, I die! Hey, hey motherfucker! Don't close your eyes-- you die, I die, you hear me?!"

It's in the doing, really, that Steve does as he's told just long enough to see the other three come stumbling out of the tree line towards them.

It's in the doing, in the choice of it, that he dies knowing they won.

(His mother wails when Robin approaches her at the shelter two days later with sunken eyes and unwashed hair. His father sinks into the closest chair and takes the offered keys to a maroon BMW with trembling hands.)

(It's in the doing that this time, in order to really win, they have to cling a little bit to his hope.)

[thribby]

Endless Ocean Luminous

I wrote this as a review on backloggd.com, and I figured I may as well post it here too.

It would take a lot of work to convince me that this game was not a hit piece to prove that smaller and older franchises are not viable.

I wrote some shit down below that I'm sure has been said elsewhere and better, but I already wrote it so I'm not deleting it. I'm gonna talk about something else that I'm speculating on.

Did they want this game to be good? Let's think about this. The Endless Ocean franchise hasn't had a game since 2009, then all of a sudden (13 years later) we hear there's gonna be a new game in a few months. That's exciting and surprising for fans of the series, like me. Can't wait (although, background alarm bells were already ringing for me [I never trusted the "roguelite map," Thanatos' model looks so bad, and I think the look of the characters is so much lamer than what we had in the last games, and all of that was shown in the first trailer]).

So next the game comes out, and it's got less features and mechanics than the previous games. How come? Were we running low on development time? I hope not, it'd already been over a decade since the last game, you may as well take your time with this one. Was it a problem with the budget? I REALLY hope not, as if that's true you are charging $50 for a game you didn't quite finish (also, Endless Ocean Blue World cost $30 back when it released in the US in 2010).

Alright, so I've given them the benefit of the doubt that the game did not run out of time or money to make sure Endless Ocean 3 had all of the bells and whistles from the first two games. Which leads me to the conclusion that they had simply never planned on making Endless Ocean Luminous as complex of a game as Endless Ocean 1 or 2. They had always planned on making less and selling it at a higher price.

Ok, why would they do that? Corporate greed following the general trend of seeking higher profits for less effort? Yeah, sure. But I also think that they wanted this game to do badly. Or at the very least, they don't particularly mind if it does.

So there's a simple way to group the people who play Endless Ocean Luminous into 2 categories: people who have played previous Endless Ocean games and people who are new to Endless Ocean games. I'm gonna go out on a limb and assume that people who have played previous Endless Ocean games are gonna be disappointed with this one more often than not. The Endless Ocean games are cult classics and here comes this new entry that doesn't even do as much. The aforementioned "cult" of these "cult classics" will not like that. Which means that the group of people who were most likely to buy this game is now a lot smaller.

As for the new players, you just need to win them over with the fun and engaging gameplay loop! But, oh wait. There are three things to do in this game. And you must do them hundreds of times. But, who knows, maybe enough of the new players will like the game anyway.

Ok, so really, how can I believe any of this? I think this game was sort of a test. If it was popular, cool, that means "less effort with higher price tags" can work and the executives can take that idea and run with it. If it fails, the execs get to go "ahh, we should've known! these old video game franchises are so risky, it's probably best that we just stick a couple of proven franchises and non-franchise IP's." And instead of a big variety of games being produced, we see less and less of these smaller franchises, and more individual games that get shuttered after one game, because "we tried doing sequels and reboots of games once before and everybody said it sucked!" Like how Netflix cancels shows ASAP.

I really just struggle to imagine that this game was made in good faith as an Endless Ocean game when it clearly does not compare well to the other Endless Ocean games.

Here's that shit I wrote back before I decided to just write my little conspiracy theory instead:

The first Endless Ocean in 14 years and it's so much less than either of its prequels (except for the price!). No more hub world in between dives. No more walking on small islands or beaches, or even poking your head above the water, because all of that would require designing and programming an entirely different kind of gameplay, and that's a whole lot of work so why bother? No more specifically and intentionally put together maps, now it's just generated! <-that's where I got fed up with talking about the lack of content and made my pivot

tumblr exclusive thoughts:

Yeah sure, it's just a chill lofi game to relax and swim to now, and it is good that we're not treating sharks as inherently dangerous. but like, how good of a defense is that when 1: the only thing keeping the evil killer shark thanatos from attacking you is the magic sea's water which makes him a pacifist and 2: we're already in a suspension of disbelief with how marine life works in general on account of all of these freshwater and arctic aquatic lifeforms congregating in the fucking tropics of the pacific ocean (not to mention the extinct animals)

It is nice to see some of the models got better but then they also made thanatos look so bad like so so bad oh my god why is he so lumpy why are his eyes bulging out like that????

what were we thinking?? why did we do this to him?

[hellcatinnc]

The Bartenders Pet Kitten

Warning This includes: SFW/Some Mature Themes (Read Tags Before Continuing)

Tags: sfw, mature themes, consensual sex, headcannon, pet/master, pet, master, kitten, alcohol, bar, cuddles, fluff, making love, romantic, romantic dinner, age gap, age difference, x female! reader

Word Count: 3,106

Feature: Shuya Usui x Fem! Reader

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

You had just moved to town and decided to look around one night for a nice bar to relax in. There was one right down the road from you new apartment called Evergreen so you figured you had nothing to do, it was a Friday night so was worth checking out. You stepped inside this well lit bar and was instantly welcomed by the bartender that you would later find out was also the owner and manager too. It was pretty busy and people bustling all over the place however you found spot at the end of the bar. You heard people calling the bartender by name Usui and you felt like you should call him your way but were too shy to call out his name when you didn't even know him. You sat there waiting your turn as he gave drink after drink to the others at the bar. When he finally got a chance to get over to you first thing he did was introduce himself and apologize for the delay. You replied with your name and then brushed off it was ok even though in the back of your mind you just wanted to relax and obviously with such a busy place would have been better to stay home.

He gets you a drink you ask for then starts getting more orders so he runs off again. You sit there sipping your drink watching as he bustles around like its natural to him. There was something suave about him more mature, more tame, more sexy than most men. You hang out as you watch as the hours pass by the place becomes quieter less people, less noise. He finally makes it back over to you to refill your drink and apologize, you meet him with a smile. He has time to talk more so you two spend the last few hours of the night getting to know one another. He doesn't talk about his past much but he is interested in your move there and what made you so on. He was such a gentleman he made it easy to talk to him without worry, it was nice. When closing time came you said your goodnights and promised to return. That you did every night for a few weeks you came to see him, drink, and chat til closing time. You had grown rather fond of him but you questioned how he saw you when he never made you feel like he was romantically involved because he would talk about your age difference, talk about how he was like your dad, and even compared you to his dead sister.

You had already fell so hard for this man but you knew that it would always stay unrequited love however you were willing to stand by his side any way he would let you even if he didn't love you like that. One night a few weeks later, you were going to leave and you walked outside and there was this sweet kitten that looked lost in the alley way. You called out to him as he was just coming out of the bar. He saw the little kitten and went back inside to grab it some milk while you sat with it. Soon as he emerged he was carrying a small dish with warm milk in it that he sat down on the ground for the little one. He knelt down on the ground and you joined him as you both watched the little one drink like he hadn't in days. After the little kitten jumped up into Usui's lap and laid down, he started to pet her as soft as she looked she nuzzled down in his lap as he smiled down at her. As you watched this you couldn't understand in the pit of your stomach you felt nauseated and a bit angry. You realized it was jealousy you were feeling, he was loving this cat but he wouldn't show you a ounce of that same attention.

He caught your eyes looking with wanting in them so he addressed it. "Do you want me to pet you like my little kitten too?" He chuckled as he said it but a light bulb went off in your head. You decided to be bold, as he continued to rub the little kitty you blurted out, "Yes, I want to be your kitten too if you will pet me more." You couldn't believe you just said this to him, you were not into kinky things you were rather vanilla but here you were wanting to be his pet kitten since he couldn't love you the way you wanted at least having his love as your master was enough to keep you going. You left him surprised he gasped when he heard your words but then he went really quiet. He constantly held your age over your head you could tell that but age wouldn't matter as his loyal pet instead. He looked up at you curious before opening his mouth "You would want that?" You nod yes and he sits pondering what to do from there.

The little kittens meows are all that are heard between you both before he finally gets up and runs off. Now it was just the two of you and neither of you have said anything since that question arose. He finally went to get up and go back inside almost like he hadn't planned to answer it. You said his name before he walked back inside. "Usui, please. If you won't love me at least let me be by your side as your companion, your kitten." He turned back around and acknowledged your thoughts and request. "Give me time to think on it, Y/N, come back in a couple days for your answer." He said with a low tone to his voice. You gave him a few nights to think it over as you did so yourself. You couldn't believe you were ok with being his pet but at the same time you saw the affection he gave that little kitten if he even gave you half of that love and affection at least you know you were loved even if it wasn't the same way you loved him.

You visited him during the busy time of the night but you sat at the end of the bar where you always did, you even went the extra mile and wore kitty ears head band to pull your hair back. As the place calmed down and started to empty his eyes met yours. He had seen you earlier when he got your drink but had no time to talk or to even notice your headband but now he had and met you with a smirk as he walked over to you. "You already in role to be my kitten without me even giving you a answer yet?" He spoke with a slight mischievous sound as he teased you. Before you could respond he took and locked up the place and came back to sit next to you to talk. He knew this was a subject that needed to be handled with care but you spent awhile telling him all the reasons it could work. You didn't have a job so you weren't sure how long you could keep your place, so you would be homeless in not time. You could stay with him, take care of his place, help at the bar if he needs it. You would only ask to be fed, have a roof over your head, and snuggles and petting as any animal would want that affection was non negotiable you made him aware.

He smiled listening to all the reasons it would work and he finally agreed because he saw you weren't letting it go and he figured you would grow bored of it fast anyways. You set the plans in motion and you showed up at his address with your bags that weekend. You knocked on his door and he had a small 1 bedroom apartment but would be nice and cozy with the both of you. The plan was to be his obedient kitten, cuddles, cleaning, or anything else his heart desires. He walked you to his bedroom pulled out a drawer and showed you he had made a drawer just for your things. You thought you would live out of the suitcase but here he was already taking care of you even when he didn't realize it was such a sweet gesture. He gave you a key to the apartment however you didn't plan to leave unless with him unless he asked you to go get something. He gave you a walkthrough of where everything was then he went and sat down on the couch. This was new to him as it was you and you could tell because he was rather nervous. You wanted to prove you were serious you asked him to get you a collar and name tag or anything else you would buy a kitten, he eventually nodded and agreed.

You walked over to him sitting on the couch he was so nervous you could see him slightly trembling. You sat down on the couch leaning into him your head on his chest nuzzling against him. You even let out a soft meow which made him chuckle, you were glad you made him smile and hoped in time he would be less nervous. He started to pet your head softly as if you were actually a cat and it didn't take you long to fall asleep in his arms, you felt safe and content. When you woke up you were surprised he was still laying there with you asleep however you now had a throw over you to keep you warm. You looked over at his sleeping face knowing that normally that isn't something done for a pet, you hoped within time he might fall in love with you however you refused to believe it really would happen but was a nice thought just the same. You pushed the hair back off his face as he softly began to stir he opened his eyes and smiled at you.

He got up as you got off him so he could go fix you to something to eat, you had a lovely meal talking, laughing and enjoying every second and enjoying the food too. It was now time for bath time of course she couldn't just do bath time like most animals so you agreed you would take one only when he was at work and he would have the evenings. It made sense, as you heard him turn on the shower you had naughty thoughts of how he was in the shower at that moment naked with water dripping off every inch of his body. After a bit of day dreaming he emerged from the bathroom with just a towel wrapped around his waist, his hair wet as well as his body as he stepped into his room. He didn't even realize you saw this since he was trying to be fast but it definitely caught your attention indeed. As the night progresses its bed time so you started getting comfy on the couch until you heard his bedroom open and he called your name. "Hey Y/N are you joining me tonight?" You heart stopped what was he saying and why would he suggest it?

You didn't understand you looked down the hallway where he held out his hand wearing nothing but pajama pants red with tassels. You didn't know how to respond so you walked in his room where he had climbed back in bed. You cocked one head to the side and he said the most beautiful thing after that. "You are my kitten after all and I am your owner that chooses to have my pet in bed with me." He gave a mischievous smile as he patted the bed beside him. You didn't turn it down you climbed in bed beside him super nervous. You laid flat on your back not sure whether to turn towards him or away then he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into him spooning you. You flushed red practically trembling until you realized he was showing you he loved you in some way or at least loved having you there. It didn't take long to fall asleep in his arms, in his bed with him.

You weren't sure how long you slept but as you came to the bed was empty but you could smell the apartment filled up with such a great scent of something good being cooked. You yawned and stretched then got up and fumbled through your drawer to see what to wear for the day. Once you were dressed you walked into the kitchen where he was humming flipping pancakes in the pan. You almost didn't want to say anything because he looked like he was actually pretty happy so you watched until he turned around seeing you, your eyes met his. He smiled "Good morning, kitten." Your eyes lit up as he called you this it was the perfect nickname since you were his pet kitty now. You weren't sure if you should call him master or just call him by his name so she decided out of respect. "Good morning, master. How did you sleep?" He looked surprise of the use of the word master. He walked over putting his hand on your shoulder and soft spoken he let you know you never had to use the words master because cats are free spirits so he may be your master but what cat ever would agree without putting up a fight. He was very smart so you agreed, took the plate he gave you and sat down to eat breakfast.

After a wonderful breakfast he had to go to open the bar and work so would be a whole day of what your life was going to look like since he does work at the bar every night except Sunday. You got you a shower and started cleaning up after breakfast. After you did some household chores to keep everything in its place, then started on the laundry. This became your normal routine every day. Most your nights ending with you curling up in his bed snuggling his pillow missing him until he would get home near 3am in the morning. You would wake again in his arms though because when he got home he would pull you close. After a month of this he told you his next day off he wanted to chat and watch a movie together. You were so excited every Sunday you two would go to the park or do movie days or even go places like the beach and stuff. You now had a pretty little lilac purple collar he had got you early on, the name tag had his name and hers together and then kitten underneath. It was always a reminder that he was the best.

In the time you had been his pet though you had fell even more in love with him you just weren't sure how he felt for you. He never pushed any lines you had told him that you were there to be everything he desired yet he never did anything but cuddled you at night. Your intimacy was there but nothing more than cuddles in bed had happened, sometimes you wished for more but then he treated you good no matter what. The day off came and you woke up in his arms like you always did as he was hovering over you looking down at you smiling. He had never kissed you he really did treat you as his pet so he leaned in and kissed your forehead like he always did. He took you to dinner that night you were surprised he had bought you a pretty dress and took your collar off. You were excited but not sure why he was doing it all unless something happened at his work and he wanted to celebrate. You got to the restaurant and the waiter took you to the back corner where it was romantic overlooking a window where the moon and starts shined through. You weren't sure why the setting because romance had never been anything part of your agreement or anything you two ever did.

He looked over at you across the table he looked nervous then you started thinking he was getting rid of you its why he took the collar back, so you weren't expecting what was coming next. He spoke up his voice a little shaky. "I...that is to say....I l-love you! No I mean.... I'm in l-love with you." You thought you had died and went to heaven the moment you heard these words. Your mind was in a daze as he reached across the table holding your hands as he confessed. "I never knew I could spend every day with someone as special as you without kissing you or sex and still fall madly in love with them but it happened. Somewhere along the way I realized I wanted to kiss you, I wanted to hold you, and I wanted to make love to you." Tears filled your eyes as you heard his words, you had loved him for so long so to know he finally reciprocates means you weren't destined for a life of unrequited love.

He continues telling you that he no longer wants you to be his kitten but his girlfriend. This was the best day of your life, your heart was beating out of your chest and you thought you would die when he leaned over the table cupping the side of your face and softly kissing your lips. You two had the most romantic evening, after eating you two went to a movie theater together and he let you pick what you wanted to watch as he held you through out the movie. Then when you got home you thought the night was over but he grabbed your hand taking you to the bedroom and spending the evening kissing you from top to bottom. He made love to you so many times you started to get hoarse from all the vocals you used in the night of bliss. That began your day and night being with the man you loved and you weren't just some lost kitten to this bartender you were the love of his life as he was yours.

[novel-emma]

WIP INTRODUCTION // Ivy + Adriel

Basic Info

Title: TBA, calling it "Ivy wip" for now POV: third person, alternating, possibly nonlinear.

Genre: cozy fantasy / low stakes, romance, a dash of spice (okay, more like "two shots of vodka") Setting: vaguely medieval + forest

Features: magic, supernatural senses, bi/pan solidarity, other queer folx and characters with disability, schemes, hijinks, gig workers, Geralt of Rivia level grumpiness, a plus size male main character who's also the love interest, two idiots in love Disclaimer: this wip = research? never heard of her. We're here for a good time not an historically accurate one.

Summary: Adriel is looking for an assistant- a partner in crime - a helpful sidekick. He needs someone who can handle dangerous jobs and doesn't irritate him. What he gets is Ivy.

Ivy is here for the adventure and doesn't much care for schedules or efficiency. She's the youngest daughter after all and has only been treated as a price tag. Ivy is desperate to escape her destiny and Adriel is the perfect 'getaway car' (or person with a convenient horse rather).

She'll have to learn fast while on the road with Adriel, but she's got plenty of secret skills and know-how to keep him guessing.

Characters: 

Ivy: fun-loving, crafty, has a propensity towards stealing from the rich, likes figuring out what makes people tick

Adriel: grumpy, highly skilled, non-human, has extraordinary senses, full of emotional goo

more tba

Tag List: Comment, reblog, dm, signal w/ smoke, etc if you'd like to be added to the tag list <3

Blurb: 

I lean my head onto the wood panel behind me. Adriel and I relax in a booth inside a tavern. It’s cleaner than most, but the beer is dreadful.

I bring the mug to my lips and take another sip, grimacing.

“If you hate it that much, stop drinking it,” Adriel says, irritation threading his voice.

I take a bigger gulp to make a point. “I’m not drinking it for the taste.”

Adriel lets his silence reply.

I scoff and move my attention to the people around us. Loud and boisterous, they shout to win the title of the most important. Spending so much time with Adriel has made even basic tavern noises feel like a raucous event. He sinks into the background, focusing on his dinner, and doing his best impression of a potted plant.

“Don’t disappear on me now,” I say, bumping his shoulder, “I hear there’s a bard touring this town. You owe me a dance.”

Adriel scowls. “I don’t dance.”

I wave a hand at him. “They all say that. Just have fun with me. Take a second out of your brooding routine and indulge in something new. Something good.”

He says nothing but doesn’t dismiss the idea, so I take it as a yes. Downing the rest of my beer, I slam it on the wooden table.

“Get ready for a wild night,” I say loud enough for the next table over to hear, and they cheer in return, meeting my party mood.

Adriel’s jaw tightens and he finishes the last bite of his dinner, shoving his plate to the side. He grabs my wrist and wrangles me close to him, so he can talk low in my ear.

“Do not make a scene,” he says, his hot breath coasting over the sensitive skin on my head. “Remember, we still have to complete our contract. We can’t afford to be kicked out this town, much less the tavern.”

“Dance with me and I’ll behave,” I return, still expecting him to weasel his way out of the promise.

“Fine,” he says, “If the bard shows. We’ll dance.”

[fatedtime]

@cawsket

SORRRRRRRY for the @, I just have a lot of things to say and enjoy talking about this sort of thing! Also people have left tags kind of akin to this and I figured, why not share my thoughts?

First I'll clarify that this post is very specifically about last season of anime, and was even more specifically made because I had other dunmesh posts of mine get tags with people saying, "I don't usually like watching the most popular anime of the season, but maybe i'll give it a shot" and I wanted to beg people not to get tricked by tumblr, it's not the most popular anime, that honor went to Frieren, please give it a shot because I did the calculation and my favorite character is likely not going to get his best scenes in the current confirmed run, so anything I could do to convince more people to watch it/read it/et, I was going to do. I never once said Dungeon Meshi was unpopular, only that it wasn't the most popular thing that season by a long shot.

That being said.

You're likely getting that impression vis a vis youtubers and such because this season sucks is much more typically popular isekai (please don't come after me konosuba fans I'm happy you got a S3). There's less competition, and Dungeon Meshi is competing better right now. Also, the people who like Dungeon Meshi REALLY LIKE IT, because it is exceedingly unique, so the likers are much more likely to talk about it, proportionally speaking.

Now, Anime Lists like MAL and Aniilist are usually populated by anime fans, it's true, but it's... not like there's some huge demographic divergence between Anime Likers and more casual watchers? Animation is niche. To use Netflix as an example, look at how comfortable it is treating its animated library exceptionally poorly. The Average Person, so much as that even exists, is... like... watching Live Action. Generally speaking, the interests overlap -- while there is going to be stuff that is popular among Hardcore Anime Likers that is not more widely popular among casual fans, stuff that's more popular among casual fans is also likely to be popular among Hardcore Anime Likers, because people who are into anime That Much tend to be watching like. 20+ shows a season. They're gonna watch the stuff that breaks containment too.

Frieren is actually an amazing example of this. I can't quite overstate to you how popular Frieren is. It was a smash hit with casual anime fans, or people who don't really watch anime generally, because of its relatable exploration of grief and it's setting which is easy for your average fantasy liker to get into. It trended on twitter very regularly. Its banger of an OP, by Yaosobi, has over 90M views on Youtube. It's It's also the highest rated show on My Anime List right now. It has overtaken the king, Full Metal Alchemist: Brotherhood, which is pretty nuts.

Of course, using one source frequented by one demographic of people is bad practice, so I'll prove my point another way -- by comparing other sites. r/Frieren has 3x the users than the Dungeon Meshi sub. The official Frieren twitter has over 5x the number of followers than the Dungeon Meshi twitter. And pixiv… is awash with Frieren's ass, not Marcille. These are ways casual fans would interact with these shows, and fan-content produced is a pretty reliable way of checking the pulse of the market when it comes to anime. Also, being on Netflix does not an automatic success make, alas. This is why I'm biting my handkerchief and begging everyone I know to watch Pluto.

(mentioning this was just an excuse to plug pluto. PLEASE. IF YOU'RE READING THIS. WATCH PLUTO!!!!!!!!! its good.)

Anyway; tl;dr no, Dungeon Meshi wasn't the most popular thing last season, the most popular thing last season was a show that also hit the casual market but features a more conventional storyline + more conventionally attractive characters, which I think is worth noting and talking about. It's not unknown by any means, but quite a few people were under the impression it was ranked #1, which is why I made the post. I could go over the other shows too and make comparisons, but tbh this is already getting long and, y'know. It was a post made about last season's anime. I don't want to bore anyone, and just saying 'well, the anime landscape changes' might have been enough to explain the disconnect.

As an aside... and because tone is hard to convey via text, I mean this as nicely and gently as I can, and you're not the only one who said it, which is why I'm commenting, but...

.....I'm confused by the number of people who bring up 'It's done by Trigger so it must be super popular'? Trigger is pretty infamous for, 'amazing animation and interesting premises absolutely ruined by terrible endings'. I actually asked my group of kind of casual anime enjoyers, 'Hey, have you heard of Kiznaiver' and they were generally like, 'what is that' with one 'WHY DID YOU REMIND ME OF KIZNAIVER.' My GF practically begs people to watch BNA. Obviously, small group sample sizes do not a study make, but... they haven't made many season's smash-hits? Most people know of Trigger, but not a lot of Trigger shows are highly regarded in the long term, because of some issue or another with their plot.

I'd see the argument with like... Mappa or Madhouse or something, but honestly, 'made by Studio Trigger' serves as a word of caution, more than praise, for many of their shows imo. That's not to say I wasn't excited about a Studio Trigger adaptation, just that... I wouldn't really call Trigger an industry darling or anything. I mean there's a pretty famous YA novel out now whose main inspiration was 'DARLING IN THE FRANXX HAD A BAD ENDING I'M GONNA WRITE MY OWN VERSION GOD DAMMIT" lol.

I know that it’s easy to forget being on tumblr, which is the Eating Monsters and Elfyuri website, but outside of the gay circles, it is important to know that Dungeon Meshi… isn’t actually that popular.

Yes, it’s doing pretty well! And the per-ep rating is going up, plus stuff like MAL reviews are a dark pit from which no light escapes. But even just seeing the ambient discussion, it’s pretty clear that… Dungeon Meshi is by far from the most popular thing this season. Frieren, Villainess 99, Apothecary Diaries… all of them are beating it out handily in the polls.

So like. Do buy the manga if you can. Watch it, if you’re on the fence. I like all of the shows I mentioned and think they’re good, but you cannot argue that they are more… conventional in many ways with how they depict bodies and relationships, which leads to their greater appeal.

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 206

In which I relentlessly mock Sophia for being nosy, while also addressing some of the questions @baelpenrose, @quantumizedinsanity, and @writing-with-olive brought up when the last chapter featuring Noah was being written. And some other questions that came up in my own mind while I tried to go to sleep several nights in a row, because hyperfocusing on the plot is what I do to combat insomnia.

Reader shoutout this week is for @nicestpamkale.

Extra shoutout for everyone who has been suffering through my drawing skills while I tackle Inktober 2022.  To the three very nice people who alerted me that someone is stealing my posts.... GOSH I wish. Unfortunately, I’m posting the art both here and on my main blog, @areasontobreathe.

Help request: I got xkit for Firefox, but can’t find the plug in to build my tag clusters so I don’t have to type out all the tags. If you know where I can get it, please PM me!

After leaving Arthur’s office, I felt compelled to meddle.  Asshole could have just told me, I sulked while fervently hoping that Simon figured out that Nixe was somewhat interested in him.  Adding to my pout was the fact that Arthur had been spot on - Teeth was already adopted, and the only thing I could do was ask Charly or Nixe if either knew exactly why their goblin had been hanging upside down so much. After that, it was in their capable hands.

To burn off some energy, I decided to walk the ship.  I had several hours of spare time, and this could be counted as cardio. After all, the Ark was huge, Tyche and Charly were both at work, and it was my off shift.  A couple hours of meandering were very much overdue.

I made it a whopping four decks before realizing there was a massive presence rather close to me. “Geezus, Noah.” Jumping, a hand landed on my sternum as I tried to calm down. “Warn a girl next time.”

“I was not aware your proximity alert was disabled.”

Waving vaguely at my head, I explained. “I’m walking through the ship during a busy time of day.  My options are mute it and assume that bystanders will see anything crazy, or let it keep going off for hours on end.”

Four blunt appendages flew up in an approximation of a human surrender. “Administrator Costa has demonstrated the auditory equivalent of the alert. I believe I understand why you would temporarily disable it.”

My hand swept flat in a pretty standard there ya go. “Can I help you?”

“I would like to hear your thoughts regarding the recent proposal.”

Oh.

“Well then, walk with me.” The smile plastered on my face was less forced than I had expected it to be. “I actually did have some questions, so your timing is perfect.”

“The previous discussion was quite brief, as I understand it in human terms, so inquiries are welcome if they will assist in decision making.”

“Awesome,” I exhaled. “I thought about it a lot, and really my biggest concern is… we’re talking about a life form that has lived solely on a starship for hundreds if not thousands of years.  Teeth only lived on one for about twelve, and they’re having a hard enough time adapting.  But on the other side, the comparisons I have available range from subsisting on plant collagen all the way to actually eating radioactivity and even high risk pollutants.  I can’t tell if the environment suggested will be too extreme or not extreme enough.”

“Tens of thousands of years would likely be most accurate, which further validates your concern.” A vomu gestured elegantly around us. “However, testing has shown they are able to survive and adapt quite quickly to the environment on the Ark, so estimates indicate that they will be fine on Von.”

“Even with the temperature extremes?” I pointed out. “Regardless of how flexibly the Ark is designed - and I mean, this ship is pretty awesome - humans have an incredibly broad range of tolerable temperatures.  It won’t be comfortable for us, but we can take it.  It’s the whole reason this planet was selected for our relocation - literally no one else could survive the damned thing, so it was free for colonization.”

That bought me about two decks of silence before one spidery hand started rubbing their eyespots. “I will admit, extensive testing has been done in the BioLabs to ensure the temperature range could be tolerated.”

I stopped abruptly. “How extensive?”

“Extensive enough to know that the aquaponics lab is tolerable and yet entirely unpleasant.”

“Steamy hot cow farts will do that…” I bopped my head for a moment in consideration. “That’s good, but there’s another issue: the hive mind sentience threshold.  As new bodies develop, will it be fast enough to replace the ones that are being worn out by any unexpected changes in environment?  Or will they at some point, however brief, lose sentience?  You pointed that out, yourself, when we realized that Else was allowing themself to die to keep from killing us.”

“There may or may not be several fully mature bodies already on the Ark from the environmental and temperature extremes testing.”

I groaned before continuing my walk. “Is there a percentage I should be asking about?”

“Working with our most recent information on the planet, enough. Given the age of the data?” They paused. Noah never paused, and my stomach sank. “Hopefully enough? Is that the term?”

Anxiety sped my steps up even further. “Shouldn’t you already know this? There has to be data somewhere. Or ancestral knowledge, or… I dunno, something. There’s no way y - this being could have existed for so long, and have no definite idea of what the exact threshold is.”

“In broad strokes, the information exists.  But in fine detail, less so.  It is apparently profoundly rare for one to go below the sentience threshold before reaching one which can absorb them to avoid the loss of knowledge. And in the cases where the loss has occurred - “

I waved off the rest of the sentence. “Yeah, I get it… can’t exactly report how many there were when you lost sentience if you’re not sentient anymore.”  I let the conversation lull for a bit, until we get to a less crowded area. “But why come to me? You and I weren’t even on speaking terms.”

“We spoke.”

“We were on speaking terms at the same level that I am on speaking terms with a food console.” The comparison was blunt, but accurate.  “You still have somewhat cordial relationship with several people. Hell, on the Council alone, you are on semi-social terms with Xiomara, Huynh, and Charly.”

“All of whom, as well as most others you could suggest, currently need to focus all of their spare energy on the tasks surrounding settlement on a new world.”

Figured.

“In addition to this,” Noah continued, “Due to the exact incident to which you are alluding, you feel a strong need to make amends, in addition to being the last person I would be expected to ask such a favor of.”

“Wooooooooowwwwwwww,” I drew out, half laughing. “You know how to make a girl feel special.”

Randomly picking an Else-chick off the wall, they stroked it gently before setting it on a limb. “Odvub is also interested in you, and I find that intriguing.”

“Odvub is fascinated by humans,” I corrected.

“Indeed. But you were the first human to inquire about even the potential of such a being, much less being able to identify a signal you were never expected, intended, or even conceivably believed capable of identifying. All by a pattern.  Odvub is fascinated by clever beings, I have found.”

Both of my hands raised over my head, and I twirled without stopping my forward progression. “Look around you, dude. The Ark has what might be the highest concentration of clever humans to ever exist. Sure, we’re assholes, bastards, and broken in mind, body, and soul, but we are very clever.”  My hands dropped, and I choked out in a whisper. “When you can’t escape, you don’t survive the end of your world without being clever.”

Thankfully, they let that statement pass without response. We walked for nearly half an hour before I spoke again.  “So, you told me because, of all the clever-ass people on the Ark, I’m the one who wasn’t busy.”

“It is an overly simplistic answer, but essentially correct.”

“Damn, Noah. I thought we were friends.”

“We were what humans would call ‘friends’. I would like to believe we still are.  However, I also consider other people on the Ark my ‘friend’, but I do not trust them to keep a secret. As I said previously, others, such as Charly, cannot be distracted.”

My pout was back. “I want to be really, really mad, but it’s really hard to be angry at being second-place to Charly.”

“She is incredibly likeable, unfortunately.  It’s terrifying.”

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[iam93percentstardust]

so i want to talk for a minute about why it’s so important that you reblog fics on tumblr (yes, i know there’s a problem with art too but this is specifically about fics today)

first of all, let me kick this off by saying, if you’re reading this, this is for you specifically. yes, you with less than a hundred followers, you with less than ten followers, you with zero followers. there seems to be this misconception that it doesn’t matter if you don’t reblog something because no one will see it and i’m telling you right here, right now, that you’re wrong. it definitely 100% matters and i’m going to tell you why

last month, i reached a follower milestone and was very excited - for about a day and a half and then my excitement plummeted because what i realized was that i had just hit this milestone and yet the number of notes on my fics had never been lower. at first i was baffled. how could i have more followers than ever but be getting less notes than i used to? at the time, i was posting one to two ficlets every day so i thought maybe the quality was decreasing because of how much i was putting out and i just hadn’t noticed so i decided to take a break from posting ficlets and focused on my longer works and the events i was participating in

i went back to posting today after asking for prompts from followers yesterday and go figure, the number of notes is still lower than it was compared to posts from the beginning of the year, even factoring in the time that’s passed since then. so then i thought to check the notes themselves and what i ended up finding was that while the number of likes hadn’t changed, the reblogs had (interestingly, this drop in notes coincided with a post making the rounds telling writers to be happy with the silent readers who leave neither likes nor reblogs on works but that’s a story for another post)

this is when i went to a couple friends to complain that i didn’t know what i was doing wrong and made an off-hand comment about wondering if people were seeing all these posts begging for people to reblog and just not thinking it applied to them, which is when may - thank you, may - told me that yeah, that’s exactly what a lot of blogs think so let me tell you why it does actually matter that you reblog, even if you don’t think it does

firstly, as it relates just to the author, when you reblog, you’re telling the author that not only did you like their story, but you want to share it with everyone else too. i don’t know an author out there who doesn’t go through the reblogs and read the tags and i can pretty much guarantee that we all get that warm, fuzzy feeling when someone leaves a particularly nice tag

there are two common arguments that i hear for this point: what if i like something cringey and why does it matter if i reblog something when i don’t have any followers to share it with?

as for the first argument, no media is unproblematic and no media is something that everyone will consider non-cringey. there’s always going to be someone out there who thinks your chosen fandom is cringey and it’s best to realize that now and get over it. you can’t please everyone. besides, it’s your blog. why wouldn’t you want to post things you like on your blog?

as for the second argument, if it’s not enough for you that even just the act of wanting to share fics means something to the authors, then let me bring you to my second point: fandom is built on active, not passive, participation

we’ve all heard stories about the star trek fans who actively passed paper copies of fic around to share it with people. fandom was built on sharing those fics. friendships were built on sharing those fics. and if those fans had taken the fics they wrote and hidden them away, shared them with only a couple friends and told them not to distribute their works, modern fandom as it is today wouldn’t exist. we’d still be hiding our fics, hoping that we don’t get the all-terrifying dmca notice

along the same lines, tumblr is built on active participation. every couple of months, it seems like tumblr comes out with a new way to make it harder for content creators to share their stuff: the 2018 nsfk ban, shadow-banning, problems with the read more, and recently not being able to put links in your work if you want it to show up in the tags. all of this means that it’s up to us to keep fandom on tumblr going because tumblr isn’t going to do it for us

tumblr’s algorithm, unlike just about every other social media site, is designed around reblogs. this, in many ways, makes sense. tumblr is a blogging platform so of course its algorithm is designed around what gets shared. this means that posts that show up in the tags are the ones that get reblogged. the posts that show up in the On Your Dashboard, What You Missed, and Recommended features are all the ones that get reblogged. the posts that show up on the login screen, for those of you who regularly see it, are the ones that get, you guessed it, reblogged

so what that means is that, even though you might have only a couple or even no followers, your reblog counts toward that algorithm and that post gets bumped a little bit higher in the tag

which is why it’s such a big problem when people stop reblogging. i can’t tell you how many times i’ve seen a tag saying something along the lines of “wow this is so good, why doesn’t it have more notes?” well, typically it’s because anywhere between 2/3 and 3/4 of the notes on that post are likes, which means that tumblr’s algorithm counted my fic as worthless and didn’t bother promoting it

which leaves me where i currently am: reblogging my own ficlets over and over in the hopes that someone will like it enough to reblog it, tagging it with something as pleading as “if you like please consider reblogging” because if i use anything stronger, i get a whole bunch of people telling me that i can’t tell people what to post

no, you’re right, i can’t tell you what to post. the most i can do is beg and explain yet again why every reblog counts

[multifairyus]

okay @cqcophobiq inspired me to be brave and stop camping out in the tags. I’m a real stream of consciousness kinda gal so hopefully this makes sense and not *too* rambly! Ahem:

🔥🔥🔥AUTISTIC HOBIE RIGHTS 🔥🔥🔥

This makes SO much sense @gutsygremlin! The fact that being cisn't is is very common for neurodivergent people also makes me nod vigously to this post. Hobie Brown is built different. Blackness, queerness, and neurodivergent paint such a specific picture for the type of person you end up being and how you interact with the world.

I got formally peer reviewed and therapist referred for autism like, last week?Also never masked—what you see is what you get. And since I didn’t KNOW something was “wrong” with me, I didn’t realize how bold of a statement I was making by simply being myself. Subconsciously for 25 years I’ve more or less communicated to people “…oh, am i not picking up on cues and making social faux pas? You want me to get back in the kitchen and cook up another personality/demeanor for you? This ain’t build a bitch hoe. What you see is what you get.” And it wasn’t intentional, but makes me a very polarizing person! I really relate to the concept “autistic rizz” (charisma). Tons of it—harder to realize i had symptoms cuz i love people! However, with autistic rizz comes autistic “puls”, (repulsion).

So, brining it back to Hobie being autistic and it’s like…yes he’s already cool but so much cooler cuz even without a diagnosis or peer reviewing, he knew he was polarizing, thought different. I feel like being a tall, darkskinned person with very afrocentric features set him up to be “intimidating” and gawked at WITHOUT the punk aesthetics. This wonderful Tik Tok by Chris Whoa talked about how he felt cosplaying Hobie. He felt empowered because Hobie “doubles down” on taking up space being black and alternative, and that people who would treat him differently/get scared off by his aesthetic aren’t people he needs around him anyway. If him being himself is repulsive, in his own words…”Good.” And to baby autist me that’s SUCH an inspiration like wow 🥺 that said, while we’re talking about masking…people have pointed out that Hobie a lot more animated/upbeat/physically affectionate in his suit whereas with his mask off, he’s more reserved and serious. Huh. Imagine that…

Onto the gender bit: I saw non-binary Hobie a mile away. The fuck does that man looking like adhering to not just gender roles but the concept all around? I think he'd be annoyed at how the term “non-binary” is being treated like a third gender rather than a category, and thus just another label. But in general? Yeah fuck that binary shit.

That said personall, regardless of if he’d define himself as such…I get gender-fluid/genderflux vibes from him. Obviously, you don't need fashion as a way to express gender. But I think Hobie could and would.

He has SO much gender?? Genderful even! Why I love AUs/headcannons/timelines where he has the time/housing stability to have an interest in fashion and makeup and playing with expectations. he's so pretty and handsome like if a man and a woman had a baby 🥰

I wish people stop overemphasizing the one “punk” trait from Hobie…because forcing all of his fashion and music etc to be ONLY punk is not punk and I for one adore the inconsistency he swears by. If we can’t pin down a gender for him how can you pin down a genre you can’t, exactly.

Hobie is such a silly goofy guy tho. Like he’s absolutely the type of queer to, when asked for pronouns or how he identifies, say something like this:

“”Gender?” Y’need me to put a little sticker on m’ forehead of what I am so you can work out what it “means” when y’get an eyeful of all this, yeah? Cute! All you *actually* need to know if that you're into me you are not straight. Yup. Don’t make the rules—don’t believe in them actually. But that rule is the most help you’ll get from me to figure that out. Not my problem l'm universally appealing innit?”

i want some more heavily analytical headcanons of Hobie brown (from black queer ppl)

what are ur thoughts. give them to me

[leascorner]

j.b.b. | Marley

Summary: Eventually, Bucky gave his deepest secrets away and you let him know yours. Her name was Marley.

Pairing:  Bucky Barnes x single mom!reader

Warnings: Mention of past and present relationships, parenting, mention of food

Word Count: 3.7k

a/n: This is my first story posted on here. I’ve been writting for +12 years now but for the last couple of years, I couldn't finish a single story. Turns out Bucky Barnes was all I needed to get over my massive writer’s block. Feedback is greatly appreciated. (Also, english is not my native language so if you spot any grammar mistake, please let me know!)

Masterlist

It all began with his friend, Sam.

On a night they were out for drinks, he had made it his mission to find someone for Bucky. Someone or anyone for the matter. He talked to everyone in the bar that night, while Bucky drank his beer, sitting at the counter. When it was clear enough that nobody there that night would keep grumpy Bucky company, Sam turned his attention on the dating app his friend had downloaded on his phone some weeks ago. He probably went through a dozen of profiles, sometimes showing the phone screen to Bucky, to what he would just respond by rolling his eyes and drinking some more beer.

That was until Sam showed him your profile. Bucky stared a second longer to the picture displayed on his phone screen than for the others. He couldn't tell what that was: the smile on your lips, the wrinkles at the side of your eyes or simply your eyes; but he couldn't get his eyes off it. Sam immediately started typing a message for you to what Bucky obviously protested. He did not need company because he was just fine on his own.

Despite his super-soldier abilities, he wasn't quick enough to take the phone from his friend's hands. The smile that appeared on Sam’s face annoyed Bucky even more. "What are you afraid of, though guy?" Sam had asked and Bucky eventually backed off, letting him do whatever he was planning on doing. There was no point in stopping Sam. He knew you wouldn't be interested anyway... To be honest, who would be? Bucky got his phone back along with a smirk from his friend. There was no answer after that, and Sam eventually found another topic to annoy the heck out of Bucky.

When he woke up the next morning, your reply notification was patiently waiting for him. For a second, he thought of deleting it, without having a look first. What did he have to lose? Gathering his courage, he opened it. Your words were as genuine as your smile and it made him grin like an idiot, though he made a mental note to later murder Sam for his poor choice of pick-up line. It took him the whole morning to be able to type an answer and another afternoon to press the ‘send’ button. It was the first text of many. Eventually, a lot of texts turned into calls; that turned into meeting up in your favorite French bakery; that turned into movies and restaurant dates.

    This was nearly one year and a half ago.

Your relationship with Bucky was cautious and steady. He liked how you would give him his space, but still being right there for him. He liked that you let him stare at you in total awe or that you always had small kind thoughts for him like when you made his eggs the way he preferred in the morning and that everything was so simple - obvious even - by your side. Eventually, Bucky gave his deepest secrets away and you let him know yours.

Her name was Marley.

If Bucky was being honest, finding out you had a two and a half years-old daughter was quite the shock. Not that he couldn't have seen that coming; you would always make plans, your handbag was always full of snacks and hand wipes and for some reason, you would never be available between five and eight p.m. That was also what he liked about you. The stability.

The idea of being involved in a relationship with somebody that already had a child did scare him off. If he decided to continue the relationship, it would not only be a matter of breaking your heart in the process – and well, maybe his too - but breaking a child's heart too. And that more than anything, he was refusing to assume the responsibility, but he owed you that much. You knew his deepest secrets and still, you didn't run away from him. Worse, you trusted him to be around your child.

You both had a lot of discussions about him meeting Marley - Bucky even seek advice to Sam. And as for the rest of your relationship, you took it slow. It started with Bucky showing up to your Sunday walk in Central Park, feeding up the ducks and sharing snacks. You also spent some time at the carnival where he would watch you two on the carousel – sometimes joining the ride too - and he would help Marley win at pick a duck or buy her popcorn. Eventually, he would spend more time with the two of you. It started with spending at least one evening per week at your place, making dinner while watching you playing with Marley in the living room. One evening turned into two, three, five evenings per week. He still could step out if he needed. You still could spend time with your daughter where he wasn't there. You still spent time just the two of you, when Marley was asleep at night or he would take you on date nights. The routine you three put in place was nice, but Bucky wasn't planning on taking Marley’s dad place. God, he would never see himself as a dad and Marley already had one - though in Bucky's opinion, he would not be awarded father-of-the-year.

    Today, Bucky was picking Marley up from daycare.

He had done it a million times already, but this time was a little bit different. He was doing it on his own. The babysitter stood you up and you were stuck in an endless one-day meeting. You had called in utter panic, asking him to pick Marley up from daycare and taking care of her until you would be home. He had assured you he would do it and it would be fine. Now that he was standing in front of the building, he was doubting himself. He didn't know if he could do it on his own.

Another shaky sigh and Bucky entered the building. The childcare workers greeted him when he showed up at Marley's room. She was sat at one of these tiny tables making some kind of collage crafts. He planned on waiting for her to finish, just staring like he always did, before announcing himself, but Marley spotted him the second his figure appeared at the door.

"Bucky!" Marley cried out, leaving everything behind and running towards him.

"Hey Mar-Mar," he smiled. She always seemed happy to see him and Bucky wondered if she would eventually grow tired of him being always around.

After they hugged each other, Marley was called to put away her crafts and Bucky encouraged her to go do it. In the meantime, he collected her stuff - her panda backpack, shoes, and coat - so he could get her ready to leave. And he did just that when she got back to him.

"We are taking the train home. I'mna carrying you, is that okay?"

She wrapped her little arms around his neck in response and he lifted her up from the floor. After sharing goodbye to the childcare workers, they were heading home.

    On their way to the station, Marley explained in every detail what she had done at daycare that day; Bucky was listening carefully, sometimes asking questions - Carol, she is the one with the curly hair, right? Was Mark mean to you again? - but mostly he was just nodding along. They made it to the station just in time to take the 5:17 p.m. train. It was rush hour and Bucky mindfully chose to hop on one of the cars at the end of the train - the ones he knew would be the less busy at this time of the day. He had only seven stops, so he didn't sit and stood against one of the train windows. By that time, Marley had finished reporting on her day, and she was just watching around, smiling at anyone she would make eye contact with.

After the second stop, her eyes caught the sight of the dog tag around Bucky's neck. She fiddled it through his T-shirt, probably wondering what that was, before taken it out to have a closer look. In her tiny hands, the metal tag seemed to be huge. She looked up at Bucky, with bright eyes and he swore, he would do anything for these eyes.

"What is that?"

"Uh- " Bucky wasn't sure how to explain it in a way a three-years old would understand. "-Every soldier has one. It uh- has my name on it and some other information."

"Is it if you get lost?" she asked, her little eyebrows raised high on her forehead. She did understand a lot of the world around her for her age. "Mommy put a card with her name and her phone number in my bag."

"Yeah, it's something like that."

Marley smiled at him and returned her attention on the letters’ reliefs on the metal. By the fourth stop, she was resting her head on his shoulder while he was still firmly (but not too much) holding her with his left arm. She kept holding his dog tag in her tiny fist and was patiently waiting.

"She is very sweet," the old lady sat on the seat in front of them said to him before leaving the train.

He nodded shyly and looked back at the little girl in his arms. Marley looked so much like you. Her face had still some baby features, she just turned three after all, but she had the same nose and her eyes had the same color as yours. They were the same piercing eyes that when they’d look at him, he felt like they could read his soul. And she did not just look like you. She had also some of your habits and personality traits. She would always be smiling to people she didn’t know. She was always saying ‘thank you’ or ‘sorry’. She was obsessed with any kind of animal; the Sundays walks would last forever if she could pet all the dogs she encountered.

The rest of the ride was quiet, and Bucky got off the train on the seventh stop as planned. At the station, people turned on them as they passed. Maybe this was an odd sight: a man in combat boots, dark jeans, and a black leather jacket, carrying a small child in his arms. Especially knowing the kid in question was wearing white leggings, a red fluffy coat, and a stuffed panda backpack. Bucky didn't mind and continued his way to your place.

    Marley stayed quiet for the five minutes’ walk to your place, but once Bucky had turned on your street, she wriggled to be freed of his hold. Once her feet touched the ground, she directly ran towards a car parked not far away. She squatted down and started clicking her tongue. A ginger cat immediately came out from underneath the car.

"Careful," Bucky called out. He knew it was not recommended interacting with stray cat as they could be sick with all sorts of disease. And to be fair, it got him a little worried the cat was getting this close to Marley. He could already see her getting bitten by the cat, getting rabies, and losing her arm, or worse: dying.

"That's Gus, he lives at number 7," she said pointing at the building they stopped in front. It had the number written on it.

Gus started rubbing itself against Marley's shins and she gently petted his back. The cat then went to rub on Bucky's combat boots, also greeting him even though they never encountered before. And it continued his way to the building's porch, where it lazily lay down.

"Mommy said we could have a cat when we get a house."

"I've got a cat," Bucky stated and Marley cried out in excitement. She asked him about a hundred questions. What was its name? What was it looking like? Was it friendly? Was it sleeping in his bed with him at night? Bucky never failed to answer one of her questions and they talked about that until they made it in front of your apartment door.

    Marley was already on her way to her room when Bucky turned around after locking the door. She had removed her shoes and coat on her own and left them behind without putting them away like you would always request it.

"Uh-uh, we go wash your hands first, okay?"

After that was done, she ran to her room for good this time. Bucky went back to the living room and focused on what he could do to help you. He knew you would get home exhausted from your day at work and he did not want to have you do all the chores you usually did. It was the least he could do.

Somehow, your place was always tidier than his, and he lived on his own. In the kitchen, he found breakfast dishes in the sink and the dishwasher full of the dishes that had been cleaned the night before. That was where he would get started. He put away the dishes easily; he had been around your kitchen a lot those last months and he knew exactly where everything was. He even knew where you were hiding away the chocolate and candies; somewhere Marley didn't have access to.

"Hey Bucky, can I have snacks?"

A look at the watch sitting on his right wrist, she had still a good hour and a half before dinner and he replied positively. He wiped his hands on the dish towel resting on his shoulder and took one of these bamboo sectioned plates he just washed. He was reaching out to the first cupboards in front of him when it suddenly appeared to him, he had no idea what he could give her.

"What does your mom usually give you?" He asked Marley, turning back to her.

Marley shrugged. "Carrots and hummus." And Bucky swore this kid was eating healthier that he ever had.

He started by the fridge, looking for anything he could give to Marley. Thankfully, she wasn't a picky eater so it would be easy for him. Tonight's dinner was in it, along with some vegetables and fruits. He chose grapes because it was the only food, he could see himself eating at that time of the day.

"Grapes and uh-" he looked at the cupboards right next to the fridge "- crackers?"

Marley nodded. Bucky prepared it all on her plate, making sure there was just enough for her to be full but not too much so she would still eat dinner, and handed it to her. She carried it carefully to the living room, Bucky following behind. She had laid out all her crayons on the coffee table next to her Paw Patrol coloring book. He knew about this cartoon because it was the only one Marley ever wanted to watch, she was literally obsessed with it, and she did make him watch some episodes with her. He knew that, when she was playing alone in her room, she would usually pretend she was saving the world with them.

Bucky sat on the carpet, next to Marley, stealing one grape from her plate. She threw him a death glance but offered him some more if he would help with the coloring. He happily complied.

    Before dinner was normally bath time. Thankfully, you had said over the phone you would deal with that in the morning. For some reason, Marley did not like baths. A little bit of water in her eyes or ears was too much for her to handle and he wasn't sure he could deal with her being so upset on his own.

He still got her changed in her pajamas - she obviously chose the one with the dalmatian puppy from Paw Patrol you had agreed on buying a few weeks ago; washed her face with a cotton pad and some cleansing lotion, brushed her hair and tried the best he could to tie them in a low ponytail. You would normally braid them for the night, but this was not something Bucky mastered at all - he made a mental note to watch some tutorials on YouTube to learn though.

"Will you and mommy get married?" Marley asked out of nowhere while Bucky was carrying her back to the kitchen to have dinner.

"I don't know," he said, confused. "Why do you ask?"

"I prefer you over my real daddy," Marley admitted. And it broke his heart. Bucky knew how her dad forgot about her third birthday and missed most of his custody days lately. He didn't really understand how somebody could have a child and knowingly decide not take care of them anymore.

The child in his arm was so precious. It amazed him every day how much she could comprehend of the world around her. She was smart, creative, kind. She knew what she wanted, would be very stubborn about it and would do anything to get it – you always said you didn’t understand where she got her fierce mind and Bucky laughed every time because he knew exactly from whom she had gotten it: you. You did such a good job raising her on your own. He also knew you would always choose her over him, and he had to admit, it made him fall in love even more with you.

"Even if I'd marry your mom, I still wouldn't be your daddy officially."

"To me, you would," Marley concluded as if it was as simple as that.

Living with you two permanently. Marrying you. Bucky never thought of it. He liked how this relationship was working: the kindness, the trust, the love. He loved the movie dates with you, the Sundays walks, and the evening just the three of you. He loved how simple it all was and how it made him just happy. Happiest he had been in a long time. And he wondered if he wanted more. The way his heart was fluttering in his chest made him realized, he did. He didn't know if he was ready though.

    Back to the kitchen, he put her down on her seat before getting the casserole of potato gratin out of the oven. He put a small portion in her plate, next to some chopped carrots and apple sauce he already prepared. He put it down in front of her and sat next to her.

"Will you eat with mommy?"

"Yeah, is that alright?"

She nodded, rubbing her eyes. They had stayed coloring her books a little too long and it was nearly her bedtime. Smiling softly, he encouraged her to eat. She did while asking some more questions on his cat in between each mouthful. How old is it? Why did you name it Alpine? Has mummy already met it? Do you think she'll like me? Turned out this little one never run out of question.

After dinner, Bucky gave her a small portion of chocolate from the special cupboard and they agreed it would be their little secret. Then, he carried her to the bathroom to brush her tiny teeth. It was started to be late for her and she was clearly fighting against sleep, the lack of it upsetting her.

"I want to see mommy," she cried, lips trembling and eyes full of tears.

"I know Mar-Mar, she'll get there soon," Bucky tried to comfort her. You hadn't text yet, meaning you weren't on your way still. He knew Marley would be asleep before you got home. "We can read a book in your bed while we wait for her, yeah?"

Marley nodded and let Bucky carry her to her bed. She had her head rested on his right shoulder the whole time. She crawled under the covers the moment her body was dropped off on the bed. She let Bucky choose the bedtime story and he chose the one he knew she liked so much.

He laid beside her gently and she immediately reached out closer to him. He wrapped his right arm around her, and her hands somehow found his dog tag again. A small kiss on her forehead and Bucky started reading the book in his left hand. Marley was listening carefully, helping him by turning the page.

At the end of the story, she was fast asleep against him, his dog tag still in her tiny fist. Bucky did not dare moving, afraid he would wake her up if he did. He observed the small child against him and listened to her soft breathes. She looked so peaceful and it made him thought of the way she had welcomed him into her life. Just like you, she had taken him as a whole; with his trauma, his insecurities, his quietness, and his staring habits. And now, she had him wrapped around his little finger. He knew deep in his guts he wouldn't let anything happen to you or your daughter. He realized that now. That made him think some more: maybe he was ready after all. And this time, he would not let happiness slip away from him.

  Bucky stayed like that until twenty minutes later, when you showed up on your daughter’s room doorstep. You looked exhausted yet still radiant. A smile had formed on your lips at the sight in front of you. It made you melt right on the spot.

"Hey," Bucky greeted you softly.

You came closer, walking on your tiptoes, careful of not waking up your daughter. You laid besides them, kissing your daughter little fist, and tucked yet another strand of hair behind her ear. You looked back at Bucky, who was intensely staring at you. His left arm was already wrapped around your shoulders, bringing you close. You kissed his jaw, making him smile gently. "Thank you for taking care of her. Did it go okay?"

"More than okay." He kissed your forehead while you snuggled closer to him. His heart could burst of the feeling of having you two near him forever.

He wouldn't want to be anywhere else.

[jangofctts]

Thing for Trouble (boba fett x fem!reader x din djarin) (part one) (part two) (part three) (part four)

Rated: explicit 18+

word count: 7.6k

warnings: threesome, smut, thigh riding, oral female receiving, handjobs, unprotected sex (dont be a deadbeat, wrap that shCMEAT), light choking, throne fucking, vaginal fingering, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, creampies, pet names, sub? din? more likely than you think (also lmk if I missed any tags!)    

a/n: yall im sorry this is such garbage but kjkwejh here we be. I hOPE YOU ENJOY THE CIRCUS. thank you to everyone who’s encouraged this so COME GET YALLS MANDO MEAT  

There isn’t much when he it comes to Tatooine and fun things to do. There’s pod acing, drinking, Sabaac tourneys, more podracing, gambling and scavenging. Unless there’s a festival or some wild event, you’re stuck with boredom and whatever you can scrounge up for fun in the palace. 

Now, don’t get it wrong—if you had it your way, you’d spend every waking hour trialing behind Boba, but you don’t want to smother. Fennec too—while you enjoy her company, you know that half of the reason she sticks around is Boba’s order for your protection. Kinda ruins the fun when you know she probably only tolerates you because she’s being paid to. Eh whatever—doesn’t stop you from tagging along on as she runs errands in town—besides, today you actually have a reason to be here instead of loitering like a lost puppy. 

Fennec tells you to be safe and com her the second trouble rears its ugly head and disappears into the weapons shop—muttering about her prized rifle being jammed or something. You don’t know, all you hear is that you have the entire afternoon to yourself to hunt down your oh so elusive prize. Star cherries.    

The markets are always vibrant. Jam packed with people from each and every corner of the galaxy, hundreds of booths and stalls selling their wares that varies from foods to jewelry to even bounty services. Tempting as is it is to peruse the sparkly rows of dainty necklaces and rings or inspect the vast array of beige ponchos and manilla undershirts—you have a purpose. A once a year chance you refuse to let go to waste.   

The shabby booth is tucked near the end of the street, the mountain of the little red fruits looking comical compared to the withered old lady who sits beside them. She flashes you a gap-toothed smile, the crowfeet wrinkles surrounding her eyes scrunch with the movement. “Ah! I was wondering when you’d show, dear.” 

“Hello, Mrs. Feraan,” you greet, bending at the was it to kiss her wrinkly cheek. The old vender was one of the first kind souls you met here when you arrived on Tatooine. In return for a couple compliments or an offer to be the lab rat to test her new recipes for pie or tarts, she hooks you up with the best of the cherries—handpicked with love. “How’s business today?”

She waves her hand in dismissal, her silver rings glinting in the sun. “Same as always, child.”

Eventually you work your way through the pleasantries and a couple, long winded tangents. The sort that only old people can flawlessly spin and keep you engaged. Trials and tribulations to earn your prize—you don’t mind sacrificing a couple hours.

Finally you’re allowed to walk away—cherries in hand and exceedingly eager for your sweet snack. Unfortunately, suffering through Mrs. Feraan’s old childhood laments is not the only bump in the road you have to face.       

Granted, it is your fault—not looking where your feet are taking you—

Your temple crashes into something agonizingly hard. You swear you hear a quiet bonk when your skull collides with the mystery material and fucking hell—you probably have a concussion from the force of it. 

Unbothered by your probable brain injury, you’re far more concerned with the cherries spilling onto the ground and so, as you flail and dramatically topple over—the brunt of your fall is cushioned by your shoulder. Something pops and yeah, ok, maybe you just tore a ligament but—kriffing worth it for the cherries you miraculously saved from their dusty graves.     

Your temper flares as you spot the dirty brown boots pointed in your direction. Maneuvering yourself up so you don’t also get trampled by the crowd, you bare your teeth and put on your best impression of a terrifying force of nature despite the fact you’ve been knocked flat on your ass. “What the fuck—“

The words shrivel up and die upon your tongue as your eyes slide up the stranger’s legs, broad shoulders sporting the shiny armor that twinkles in the midday suns. They then settle on an all too familiar helmet. Well, sorta—you’re familiar with a certain red and green one, not the equivalent of a wearable disco ball.

You squint as the stranger’s head dips to look at you crumpled at his feet. You dust yourself off and point an accusing finger. “Fuck is your problem standing in the middle of the road?”

The stranger quirks their head. “You ran into me—maybe you should watch where you’re stepping.”

The raspy voice is a striking sound. Mellow and silky even as it passes through the vocoder and dresses it in static charm. Some of your anger melts away—maybe this is the friend Boba was talking about—it’d make sense. They’re wearing the same type of armor…  

You shake your head and shove down your pride. You don’t think Boba would appreciate you chewing his ear off. “Sorry—you’re right.”

As you readjust your clothes and precious cherries you introduce yourself with a tiny smile. Yet just as you're about to ask him his name he interjects with a step forward. You flinch away but all he does is sweep back a strand of hair from your forehead, revealing a little nick in the skin. You hiss as his fingertips scrape against it--great, an actual head wound. “Are you alright?”

Maker—here you are, after yelling at him and he finds it in him to be compassionate. You wave away his concerns. “Y-yeah--peachy.” 

He apologizes with a dip of his head and words soaked in regret and fuck--now you feel bad. You wrack through your brain and search for last ditch attempts to fix this little mishap and settle with a half baked idea. It’s dumb--but hey, if it works, it works.  

“Seriously, it’s fine. But I mean, if you’re so worried, how about you walk me home and we call it even?” You propose, sticking out your hand to seal the deal. If your assumptions are right, he’d just be tailing you the whole way home anyway. “I’m headed towards the palace, so if it’s not too much out of your way then—“

He hesitates and interrupts by taking your hand. “Alright. Deal.” 

You smile. “Lovely.” 

On the return trip, Din is quiet—tells you his name and responds to your conversation fillers with interested hums—but other than that he remains on the silent end. Intriguing with a rounded softness unlike the armor he wears--a man of mystery much like  a certain someone who awaits you back home. Well--Din is less grumpy--by a long shot...but still. It’s easy to spot some of their shared similarities.  

                                        -=-=-=-

Upon arriving at the castle you part ways with Din before he reaches the throne room--you’re not too excited about showing off your new battle scar yet and while it was an accident, making an entrance with Din will make it far too easy to link the injury with him. Besides, you don’t wanna risk scaring off your new friend if Boba decides to showcase that tightly sealed lid of anger and brutality. 

Instead you take the long way around the palace. Soon, muffled voices carry through the long corridors, growing louder as you work your way back from the kitchens. You round the corner, catching glimpses of Boba and your new friend through the pillars that prop up the low ceiling. You don’t meant to spy, but you do so anyway, hesitant on interrupting.     

That is...until Boba cocks his head to the side and settles his eyes onto the pillar you hide behind. “It seems we have a little shadow with us today.” 

You suck in a breath as your heart skips in a thrumming pace. Boba addresses you by name and crooks his fingers in a lazy motion for you to step out into the light—revealing yourself to the small party of two. “Come here, little one.”

The low light catches off of Din’s helmet with a glittering sparkle when he swivels his head. The tiny, warped figure of yourself reflects in mirror-like pieces of smelted beskar as his shoulders pull tight with recognition. You bite the inside of your cheek to keep the smile that threatens to crack across your face at bay. Boba is no fool—he excels in the subtleties of shifting eyes and clenched fists to hide anxiety or closely guarded information—sickeningly familiar with your own quirks and tells, but—  

There’s no reason to reveal Din’s little secret—not yet. Boba called him a friend but you truly have no clue what the depths of that word entailed. Friend could mean anything from a casual acquaintance, to an old childhood bond, and or anything in between. You sigh and brush past him, mentally congratulating yourself for keeping a cool mask of indifference etched into your features. If Din wants to open that can of worms then so be it—you weren’t the one offering to walk random people home. 

You step onto the dais and slide your free hand into Boba’s outstretched palm. The worn leather tickles up your forearm and locks over your elbow, silently demanding you to sit on his lap. There’s plenty of room to both sit on the throne but no—Boba prefers you tucked against the cool metal of his cuirass. You grunt as the bowl of star cherries you cradle dangerously dips when Boba adjusts your weight over his thighs.  

His fingers pull back a strand of your hair, tucking it behind your ear and then spider along your jawline. The ends of his mouth quirk as Boba pinches your chin between his forefinger and thumb, capturing your undivided attention. “I don’t like it when you lurk in the shadows, little one. You’re allowed to listen.

You huff. “I know—but lurking is fun.”

Boba releases your chin with a scoff. “Foolish, girl.” You dip your chin with a sheepish grin as heat rushes to your cheeks. You briefly forget about the tiny nick adorning your right temple, the only thing you were trying to keep hidden—but Boba is all too quick to notice. “What is this?”

He pushes your hair out of the way of the cut, inspects it, then curls his fingers around your jaw to demand an answer. You refuse to let your eyes wander over to Din—what a dead giveaway that would be—and instead muster up enough courage to hold the weight of his stare. 

“I tripped at the markets,” you say—not a complete lie. “It’s just a little scratch—no biggie.”

Boba squints in suspicion and grumbles a soft hm. You feel his chest rise and fall with a deep sigh—he won’t argue about it right now. Not a battle worth his while when you’re keen on keeping the full truth behind a wall of teeth and anxieties. Boba’s hand falls away, gestures to Din who still stands stiffer than a stature, then lays it over the golden armrest. “I’m sure you’ve noticed our guest—“

Din tips his head in acknowledgement. 

“The rightful ruler of Mandalore,” Boba continues. “Din Djarin.” 

Din Djarin…despite already knowing his name (or half of it, at least) you like the way it rolls off the tongue—like how it’s seemingly made to be repeated and carved into the walls of some ancient script. Your knowledge on all things Mandalorian is…limited to say the least but you know enough about the rumors. 

“Isn’t Mandalore supposed to be haunted?” You don’t mean for your words to be a pointy jab to the ribs but regardless, it strikes a tender chord within the Mandalorian. You wince as Din shifts his weight and clenches his palm—a long story. “Sorry—I—I’m sure your home is lovely, all I know about it are dumb ghost stories about evil wizards and laser swords.” 

The blood under your cheeks burn red hot. Great. Not only are you a complete bantha brain, you’ve also managed to sound like an impudent child. Boba soothes a thumb over your thigh as you curl into yourself—bastard. He thinks this is funny.        

“It’s not my home,” Din responds, albeit tentatively. “Never been.”

Your brows furrow. Alrighty then.  

Boba snorts and shakes his head. He mutters something in Mando’a and lazily waves his hand, dismissing the line of conversation entirely. It was turning into a dumpster fire anyway—   

With a slow exhale, you remove yourself from the discussion and instead tuck your head under Boba’s chin. The beskar is cold against your cheek but it feels nice against the sweltering midday heat.  

Their conversation fades in and out as you rest your head over Boba’s cuirass, listlessly picking through the bowl of fruit for the ripest ones. You sigh—the next cherry you bring up to your lips is intercepted as Boba’s hand clamps around your wrist and redirects it into his own mouth. You don’t find it in you to be grumpy about the stolen treat when Boba’s tongue slides over your sticky fingers. Still holding your wrist captive, he sucks the tip of your thumb into the warm heat of his mouth and curls his tongue around the digit. Your index finger is given the same treatment before your hand is returned. The beginnings of arousal spark to life below your belly, and fuck—that shouldn’t have been so…so…hot. 

Din’s smoky baritone fades into background noise as the entirety of your attention zero’s in on Boba’s mouth. You purse your lips and suck in a shaky breath, then return your hand to the bowl to fish out another fruit. You don’t need any guidance this time around as you bring the cherry to his mouth—the crimson juice spilling down your palm and part of your arm as his teeth pierce the fragile skin. You breath hitches as Boba dips his head, catching the bead of liquid running down your arm with the tip of his tongue, then swiping s a slow trail up, and over the lines of your palm. He plants a careful kiss there, then breaks away. 

Before you have the chance to reach for another one, Boba plucks a cherry from the bowl and rests it against the seam of your lisp, inviting you to partake in this little game he’s created. A wicked smirk curls over his mouth as you accept—the tart flavor of the fruit spilling over your tastebuds as you chew and swallow. A little wine escapes you as his leather-clad thumb rolls over your bottom lip, bushes past the barrier of your teeth and seats the digit into your mouth—all the way down to the third knuckle. 

You hardly notice the moment Din’s voice tapers off into silence—much too enraptured with the taste of leather and the smooth feel of it over your tongue. You gag slightly when Boba’s thumb reaches the back of your throat, then retreats just as slow. The string of saliva that still connects the digit to your wet mouth, drips over your chin and part of your lip, eliciting a jagged, echoey breath that crackles through Din’s vocoder. 

Boba grins—something that better belongs on a sneering jackal just about to pounce on unsuspecting prey with needle sharp talons, rather than his face. His eyes drift up to address his guest. “Do you see something you like, Mand’alor?”

Din’s head jerks, averting his gaze to anywhere but the throne. He murmurs a weak apology and shifts his weight to his other leg—acting as if he were to look at you a second time, it’d burn him to a crisp or force him to confront Boba Fett’s wrath. Obviously, neither thing would happen, but Din still remains unsure with his foothold in this situation.   

“I see how you look at her,” Boba drawls—not an accusation, just a statement brought to light. Boba’s hand drops to your thigh, the warm weight of it resting just past your knee as Din swallows his nerves and returns his gaze. “It’s alright—a pretty little thing like her is bound to turn heads.” 

A blush hotter than wildfire licks up your cheeks as Din nods in agreement. “She’s beautiful…you’re a lucky man.”

Boba’s grip on your thigh hoards you closer to his chest. He is and he’s fully aware of that fact, but there’s no need to admit such a thing when it’s so blatantly obvious. A lull in the conversation creates a palpable tension—nervous energy and a choice to let this is fade into nonexistence or…or breathe life into that flickering ember of unsaid desires.     

Your heart leaps into your throat when Boba shatters the silence and addresses you. “You’re awfully quiet, princess…what do you think?”

He’s placing whatever this is into your hand and leaving you to call the shots. You’ve always been a troublemaker and there’s no will or way as to why you’d stop now. You look between your lover and Din as a smile curls over your face. “I think…if he’s so interested—why not give him a show? After all, he did bring me home—he deserves some reimbursement for the trouble.”

Boba’s shoulders jolt with a chuckle. “How chivalrous.” You shiver as he strokes the back of his finger down your cheek. “Fine, as you wish, little one—go play.” 

Giddy excitement bubbles through your chest as Boba offers Din to take a seat on the edge of the dais. Din still has an option to escape, to slip through the cracks and pretend this never happened—but stars, you hope he stays. Din takes a step forward, then another—and another until he’s standing before the throne. He studies the raised edge and gingerly takes a seat. 

You abandon your bowl of cherries onto the forearm of the throne and slip off Boba’s lap. You drift over to Din, his gloved fingers clenching and unclenching as they rest over his thigh plating. He’s purposefully avoiding your eye as you kneel beside him—still locked onto that niggling fear that this could be some sort of trick or test in resolve.      

Smiling sweetly, you skate your hand over his knuckles—guiding his large palm to your waist and then under and up your loose shirt and bra. Din mutters a curse as you place his palm over your breast. “I’m glad you stayed.”

Pleased with his reaction, you peel off your shirt and bra, breath hitching as Din pinches your nipple between his forefinger and thumb. “Same—I think…”

With a bit more bravery backing his movements, Din pulls away briefly, shucks off his gloves and encompasses both your breasts. They’re warm and calloused, riddled with silvery scars that stand out against his brown skin, a storybook of past battles—won and lost—all equally important to the fibers of his being that stitch him together into a whole. His hand whispers down the length of your ribcage, no doubt feeling the thrum of your heart beating wildly against the cartilage and bone. It tickles over the swell of your hips then—        

“You said you wanted to give him a show,” Boba drawls behind you, a sharp twinge of hostility lacing his words. “So enjoy the show, Mand’alor, ’nd keep your hands to yourself."

Din recoils at the verbal reprimand and drops his hands speedier than a flash of lightning. You frown and throw a glare over your shoulder. Bastard. Boba quirks a brow and runs his thumb over his lip, the edged sparkle in his dark eyes taunting you into challenging him. You huff and turn a cold shoulder. 

“Sorry, Din,” you purr, scrounging up any and all back up plans to keep you both entertained. “Seems my king isn’t as generous I thought.”

Din withers a bit at the catty remark, keeping his lips sealed tight as Boba growls your name in warning. You don’t pay him any mind. 

You puff up your cheeks and release the air in a steady stream, as your eyes scrape over Din’s armored thigh. Ok—you can work with that. It wouldn’t be breaking any rules…not technically. You step away, paw at your waistband and let the breezy fabric pool over around your ankles, your underwear quickly joining the pile. 

Now bare, you return to Din’s side, his careful inhale distorted into choppy static as you straddle his thigh. He lifts both hands, intending to grab at your waist, but pauses midair. No touching. You lips tilt with a smirk as he clenches his fists and pins his hands to the cool stone instead, an attempt to curb that urge to reach for you. His shoulders knit together when you mold your hand in the gap between his shoulder pauldron and cuirass to give yourself some sort of balance—obviously not used to a soft touch.  

You lower yourself and hiss through clenched teeth. It’s fucking freezing. Goosebumps rush up each limb as the wet warmth of your cunt meets the frigid beskar—the chill much colder than you initially expected. It’s one thing to touch the beskar with an open palm and another thing entirely to feel against such an intimate part of yourself. Din’s visor drops to look between your legs as you give your hips an experimental roll. 

It’s different. You’re used to hardened muscle and fabric, or your own fingers while pleasuring yourself. Your breath hitches as Din’s thigh twitches, the smelted seam of the cuisse bumping against your throbbing clit. 

“Sorry,” Din mumbles, “Didn’t mean—“

“It’s ok,” you smile, rocking your hips to ease into the sensation. “Just surprised me.”

The pace you set is slow, careful not to overwork your nerves as your arousal blooms and metastasizes like simmering coals low in your groin. With each lecherous pull of your cunt against his thigh, the beskar begins to warm to the temperature of your skin—the wetness between your thighs abating the friction and making the surface slippery. A low gasp escapes you once you find the right ridge and angle that just grinds perfectly against your aching clit. Your fingers dig into the cowl of Din’s cloak. 

“Shit—feels good.” Like your voice and little moans jumpstart Din’s ability to move, his large hand drifts to the front of his trousers—an already sizable bulge tenting the dark brown fabric. You squeak as Din's leg jolts for a second time, a burst of dizzying ecstasy wracking up your spine with the choppy movement. 

You suck in another raspy breath as your attention drops to his hand that cups his cock and palms himself through his trousers. You chew your bottom lip and clench your fist gripping his cowl, still gyrating your hips over the beska as Din hooks his thumb into his waistband and pulls them down, slow as molasses. 

Fucking hell—he’s bigger than you initially imagined. Flushed a rosy brown, and half hard already, twitching as Din wraps his fingers around the thick length. Din lifts his head, gauging your interest or disapproval—but kriff—who the fuck would ever be unhappy with that sorta heat he’s packing? You bite your bottom lip, scouring your brain for ideas to convince Boba into letting you taste Din—but your plotting is abruptly cut short. 

Boba sits up and off the throne, his presence looming over your shoulder as he lowers to one knee. You shiver and arch your neck, exposing more of your vulnerable throat as Boba runs the fingertip of his pointer finger down the side of your cheek. “Are you enjoying yourself, princess?”  

You nod, eyes fluttering shut as Boba opens his palm and cradles your jaw. You groan and roll your head back onto your shoulders as Boba snakes one hand around your hip and jolts you forward and down—disrupting the slow rock with a catastrophic interference. Unrefined bolts of plasma shoot up your spine as desire licks up thighs—you need more. 

Boba dips his head and nuzzles into the crook of your neck. You grunt when his teeth sink into your flesh, worrying a bruise into your skin. Boba laves his tongue over the throbbing area, then licks a wet trail up to the shell of your ear, all the while you continue to grind on Din’s thigh. Boba nibbles your earlobe and whispers your name—the sound sweeter than any symphony could ever hope to make. Like smoke over deep water or the surging crackle of energy just before a thunderstorm high up in the mountains. 

“You’re allowed to touch…” he says with a rough chuckle. “Go on.”

Your noise of agreement is quickly muffled as Boba interrupts you with a feverish kiss—all open mouthed and breathless as his tongue curls around yours. Your chest heaves for precious air as Boba retreats just as abruptly as it began. With a satisfied smirk ghosting over his lips, he taps you below the chin and returns to his throne to continue observing.         

Dropping your eyes between Din’s legs, his cock, hardened to its full glory and held casually in his  calloused hand, is truly a sight. Your pulse thrums in your ears as Din rolls his wrist and pumps his length, the velvety skin shifting over what looks like fucking beskar underneath. It strains towards his navel as you watch with wide eyes, mesmerized with the way he touches himself. 

Rolling your bottom lip between your teeth, you touch your hand to his wrist.  Din shudders like your skin is made of sizzling embers that’s broken off the tail end of shooting star—like you’re something too luminous and dangerous to be handled by someone like him. You lift your gaze, smiling into that darkened void of the visor and gracing him with a toothy smile. “Will you let me touch you, Din?”

He nods and utters a breathy yes. 

Fuck yeah.    

Din sucks in a stuttered breath when your hand circles around his thick length. His hips jolt into your palm as you slide your fist to the base then all the way back up. Precum beads over the tip, dribbling down and coating your knuckles with sticky wetness. It eases some of that friction as you fall into an easy rhythm, matching your rocking hips with each pump of his cock. 

Din’s stuttered moans fill the small space between you, dragging you closer to your release that’s suddenly so close. He whines as you abandon his length to chase after your high, your arousal leaking from your center and dripping down the sides of the beskar. Din takes his cock into his hands, fisting himself to your little show of breathy wines and rough jerking of your hips over his thigh. 

Din says your name attached with a broken moan and it’s over—    

Everything seizes up tighter than a jaw clamp as your tumble off that jagged peak of searing, white hot pleasure. It’s raw, sparking off like a blade to metal, burning you from the inside out as you cum. Your cunt clenches around nothing, your thighs shaking as you curl inward as if he punched you in the fucking gut. It feels like he did. Maker—the cool beskar against your throbbing clit is like you’ve been thrown to the mercies of an electrical surge. 

It doesn’t help either that Din is still pumping his length, hips stuttering as he brings himself to his own euphoric high. The air in your lungs seizes when a fragile groan, light and airy passes through the vocoder. Din rocks his hips into his fist, once—twice and then he’s throbbing and cumming into his hand. Hot ropes of his release splatter up his chest plate and parts of your thighs, his helmet nearly knocking into you as he hunches foreword from the intensity of it.     

Too exhausted to keep yourself upright, you smash your cheek against his cuirass, involuntarily twitching as the last little waves of pleasure prickle through the rest of your nerves. You whine as you watch Din move his hand to collect some of your wetness coating his thigh. He brings two fingers stained with your slick to the lip of his helmet, pushes it up with his thumb just far enough to sink the two digits into his mouth. He groans out a quiet fuck, and repeats the action, swiping his fingers through the mess you’ve made and feeding it to himself. Your cunt clenches as you catch a sliver of his pink tongue that twists between his thick fingers.   

He groans and rolls his head back onto his shoulders. “Please—can I taste you? Fuck—I-I need my mouth on you.” 

Stars—the mere idea of it stokes the dwindling flames into a blaze of want. You look up at Boba and puff out your bottom lip. Pouting and begging hardly ever gets you what you want under normal circumstances—Boba Fett is more stubborn than a rancor—but you hope just this once he’ll be lenient.   

Boba holds out his gloved hand—summoning you to his lap without a lick of protest on your end. Din however makes a sound akin to a whimper when you leave him. Boba gathers you in his arms for the second time, the leather a strange sensation as it spiders down your ribcage and around your hips. You can feel his hardness poking into your backside once you settle against him—his chest plate a cold shock to your naked flesh. You shiver and bury your nose into the crook of his neck, poking your tongue out to taste him. Boba’s cock twitches under you as your teeth sink into him with a cheeky nip.   

“Is that what you want, little one?” Boba rumbles in question. His right hand glides lower, grabbing a handful of your thigh and squeezing. You groan and keen out a whine of affirmation. 

Boba cocks his head towards Din. “Well? You’ve got your wish—don’t keep her waiting.” 

Din shakily stands—hesitating with removing his helmet for enough time that you notice the silence that follows. The vocoder crackles as Din sighs. “Do you trust her?”

“With my life.” Boba states it without a second thought. Your heart twists, golden light spilling from  your lungs and staining your insides with devotion and fuzzy affection. You press a soft kiss over Boba’s jaw.   

“Is she…” Din speaks a word in Mando’a you have no hope to decipher—either no direct translation or he’s purposefully left you in the dark. 

Based on the way Boba almost imperceptibly tenses, you guess the latter. Boba responds with a grunt and an unsure dip of the chin. The answer is complicated—that much you can gather…you push it to the back of you brain for now. 

Din nods, inhales, and steels his nerves. Plastering his hands around the shiny helmet, he tugs it off with a slow reveal of dark, patchy facial, plush lips and wavy brown hair that falls around his olive skin. And oh, his eyes—soft chestnut brown eyes that hold such ache within them—lost things, broken bones, wearing his wounds like decoration upon his chest. Forged in the flames of war, risen from the ashes with murder and mercy rolled into one.      

You wish him a kinder future. One that doesn’t end with pain and a blaze of an unchecked wildfire—the same way how all heroes end up as martyrs.  

Though—right now—you can be the beginning of softer things for Din. You smile and invite him closer, a vortex of anxiety peppered with arousal as his eyes flit over your naked body. He sets his helmet to the side with care and drifts to the foot of the throne—fuck, he’s broad. Why hadn’t you noticed that before?   

Your mental berating is severed when cool air meets the wet heat of your cunt as Boba hooks your thighs over his knees, spreading you wide as far as your hips allow. Din’s unfiltered moan at the sigh of you, sends a volt of electricity through every vein. Din lowers himself to one knee, and then the other, shuffling between yours and Boba’s legs. 

“Can I touch?” He asks, soft brows raising in question. 

Boba lazily raises two fingers in a motion of permission. Your chest tightens at the sight of Din’s boyish grin—warm palms settling over the sharp bend of your knees. His thumbs trace soothing circles over the skin and right as Din decides to swoop down, Boba catches him by the hair atop his head and yanks. Din grunts—the long, arched line of his neck a tempting sight as he swallows. “No marks.” Din’s jaw clenches, but nonetheless, he agrees to Boba’s command. 

Boba hums in satisfaction and untangles his fingers from the mess of Din’s soft curls. Din’s brows pinch together for half a tick but smooth out in the next breath. No use being irritated—especially right now.   

As directed, Din leaves not a scratch. Instead he scrapes the blunt edges of his teeth along the insides of your thighs, threatening to catch soft flesh between them—but he knows better than to act on the urge. He laves his warm tongue over each freckle or blemish he finds, leaving no patch of skin undiscovered as licks a steady trail to his prize. Din mouths a warm kiss over the crease of your thigh, and smooths his calloused hands over your hips, settling for a moment to trace little circles with his thumbs onto the soft protrusion of bone there. Seemingly satisfied, he then shifts them closer to your aching cunt. His hot breath fans over your cunt as he uses his thumbs to glide through your folds, almost curious with his exploration. He makes a little hum of appreciation low in his throat when the pads of his thumbs part your soaking folds.    

You whimper and bury your face into the crook of Boba’s neck, his warm palms a much needed comfort as they tickle down your ribcage, then sweep back up to cup your tits. You cry and arch— Din’s tongue is scalding—like liquid velvet as he dips the tip of his tongue from the base of your cunt all the way up to your clit. Din sucks on the little bundle of nerves, rolling his tongue until you’re crying out, molten pleasure zipping through your abdomen. He grunts as your fingers tangle into his hair—kriff. 

Fuck, you need more.   

Arching into his mouth, all thoughts are transfigured and molded into a vicious loop—beginning with those adoring brown eyes, the color of freshly tilled earth and the warmth of sunlight over dappled aspen leaves in the balmy summer afternoons. It ends with soft lips—rose petal pink with devotion crystallizing in his mouth like sugar—madness and uncertainty and lovesick desire is all that he is and you’re not sure if you’ll come out of this unscathed.    

He sinks two deliciously thick fingers into your clenching hole and curls them, only to retract them a moment later to shovel more of your wetness onto his tongue—as if simply using his mouth wasn’t enough for him. Like he needs to savor every drop of your arousal like the golden ambrosia the gods feast upon in their palaces of cloud and endless twilight. 

That frenzied desperation lingers on the edges of his movements like he’s afraid you’ll fade away like a hand through fog—but you’re going nowhere. You’d stay here, suspended in time forever if the choice were up to you. 

You whine and arch off Boba’s chest plate as Din strokes and curls his fingertips, plucking little gasps and moans from you easier than breathing. He zeros in on that little spot that makes your leg go all jittery and forces out high pitched mewls that echo through the throne room. You’re careening towards another high, the sensitivity of your last orgasm amping up the influx of pleasure. 

“Stars—Din. Close—I’m so close,” you gasp, pulling his hair tight enough that you know it must sting—at least a little bit. He makes no sign that it does, just groans and buries his tongue into your dripping hole, licking alongside his fingers that shovel more of your wetness into his mouth. 

Your release zips through your body like a flash flood—quick and fatal that leaves you gasping for air and struggling not to let your head dip below the waves. Your high seeps into each limb until they feel heavier than lead. Fuck—it’s so hard to work through the muddled thought and remember where exactly you are. You groan and toss your head back as Din keeps going.    

“Another one—let me—“ He moans, opening his mouth as wide as it’ll go so he can devour more of you. You can feel the mixture of saliva and your own arousal dripping down your cunt and over your thighs, some of it pooling on the throne or onto the floor. Your thighs shake as Din pushes you towards another high.        

You squeak as Boba’s palm sweeps up your sternum, locking his fingers around your throat in a loose hold. The tip of his nose nuzzles into your cheek—silently demanding a well earned kiss as his hips rock into your ass, grinding his cock for the barest scrap of friction. You moan into his mouth as Din doubles his efforts, raw and bordering that serrated edge of overstimulation and ecstasy.  

Goosebumps rush over your arm as Boba places his lips right beside the shell of your ear. You feel the sticky heat of his breath fan over your throat and shoulder, and the way his lips skim your ear when they move to form the syllables of his words. “Such a filthy princess…”

You clench around Din’s fingers and moan a half garbled, “Boba—“ 

His weathered palm encompasses the entirety of your breast, rolling your pebbled nipple between his forefinger and thumb. “If only you could see yourself…dripping all over my throne and another man’s tongue.” Boba clicks his tongue and shakes his head. “Depraved creature—cum for your rightful king.” 

Wildfire chars your insides as it begins in your core and sweeps through your body. Tears prick the corner of your eyes as you buck and squirm in their arms—no mercy as the prickly waves of your orgasm make you hypersensitive to each touch. Even the hold on your hip, while innocent in nature, is blistering as if you suffered from a fever. You shudder as a salty tear rolls down your cheek. Boba catches it with his tongue as your ears pick up Din’s raspy praise—thanking you while spattering reverent kisses up your thighs. 

Struggling to keep your eyes open, you do spot the apparent wetness soaking through the front of Din’s trousers. Fuck—he—he came again while eating you out. You whimper and rest the back of your head over Boba’s shoulder.  

Your belly flinches under his scratchy facial hair as Din travels up, seizing and worshiping every inch he’s freely given before intercepted. He catches your nipple between your teeth, tugs a bit then moves to the other, lavishing equal attention with adoring lips and sweet whispers. When he reaches your collarbone, you’re boxed in against his chest plate and Boba’s. A blush blooms under your cheeks hotter than stare fire as Din gingerly sucks your earlobe into his mouth and breathes out a muted moan of your name—committing the very essence of you to his memory for the rest of his days. 

Your heart squeezes tight like a clenched fist when he mumbles another thank you. Plucking up a smidge of courage, he risks planting a kiss right on the corner of your mouth. You blink—despite the sweetness of the gesture you wince as Boba snarls a curt phrase in Mando’a. Din peels himself away with a minuscule frown and slinks away.          

Yet before you have the chance to remedy the situation of wounded pride and territorial jealousy—Boba tightens his hold on your hips and flips you both, so that now your back is smashed against the seat of the throne, a bit crumpled and sorta folded in half. Your hips hang off the edge as Boba holds the majority of your weight, grinding his clothed cock between the apex of your thighs. 

“Don’t forget, princess—” Boba barks, slithering a hand up the column of your throat. You breath hitches as he lightly presses his palm down. “—what belongs to me.”

Reaching between you, he slides his gloved fingers through your slick folds and sinks two of them inside of your clenching center. You jolt as his thumb scrubs over your clit, still sensitive and edging towards too much. 

“You want me to fuck you here?” He asks, shifting his hold to grip your jaw instead—the rounds of his fingertips digging firmly into the flesh and bone. “Say it.”      

You gasp and scrabble weakly at Boba’s shoulders as he grinds the heel of his palm into your clit. “Please, Boba! Please fuck me—I need it.” 

Boba folds over you, his breath fanning hot and hungry against your cheek. He devours your mouth with a discordant edge, like he’s trying to prove to the entire galaxy you are unmistakably his despite the fact you’re already wound so tightly around his fingers. Boba wrenches himself free and tears at his robe and trousers to free his thick length, leaking and flushed a rosy brown at the tip. He doesn’t keep either of you waiting as he removes his fingers and replaces them with something bigger.       

You both groan as he lines himself up with your entrance and sinks into you, a delicious stretch that leaves you shivering beneath him. “Fuck—so wet for me.”

The first roll of his hips makes an obscene noise that showers shame down your throat, but it’s quickly kicked to the back of your brain as he slams back into your cunt—obliterating all thoughts save for him. Boba’s lip curls over his teeth as he claws at your thighs and yanks them over his shoulder, crushing you even further between the throne and the weight of his body. Each stroke is a liquid fire, tearing you apart at the seems while at the same time stitching you back together and leaving your body begging for more. Like this, it’s as if he’s reaching the deepest part of you, pounding into your cunt and hitting every nerve with deadly precision. Your legs prickle with the stretch as you squirm beneath him, stuck with the brunt of rough thrusts and violent stamina with nowhere to go.   

“Bein’ such a good girl for me." He hums into the juncture of where your neck meets your shoulders. He sucks a mark there and tangles a hand in the hair at the nape of you neck, forcing you into a steeper arch. “Maker, you look so fuckin’ pretty stretched around my cock.”

Your walls clench tight around him as you dig your nails into the fabric of his cowl. You voice cracks with airy moans—attempting to work through the haze of lust and respond. All that tumbles from your lips is a pathetic whine of his name—so close to that precipice again.    

The friction of each thrust scraping against your clit, the way he fills you and the possessive hand curled over your throat. You wiggle an arm between your bodies and rub the little bundle of nerves in a frenzied half-circle. You wheeze as Boba increases the pressure over your throat. 

“Tell me who you belong to,” he demands as devastating ripples begin to spark through your core, a live wire an inch away from a puddle of water. “Tell me—“

“You! It’s you—“ You sob, desperate for another release only he can give. “I’m yours—“

Boba snickers and gives your throat another squeeze. “Cum on my cock.” 

There we go. 

You seize and cry out, violent shivers forcing your back to arch high off the throne and into his chest plate. It tears through your being, quick and deadly through your core, spreading to every nerve and shredding through it with molten pleasure. Boba’s voice is a gravelly scrape that vibrates next to your ear, sprinting towards his own deserved euphoria. Your climax still boiling through your blood, is dragged out as Boba continues thrusting—an endless echo that leaves you incredibly oversensitive sore. For the next few moments, his thrusts are too sharp, the grip he has on you too abrasive—but then he’s cumming too. A couple more rough jabs and then he’s seating himself deep inside your cunt, his warm release coating your insides with thick ropes. 

You’re panting breaths fill the air between you, settling like fresh snow over a silent wood. By the time Boba pulls out, leaving behind a sticky trail of his cum and your arousal over the throne, you’re toeing the line of hazy unconsciousness. 

“Such a good girl,” Boba praises, threading fingers through hair and tracing the lines of your face. The the soft drone of his voice mixed with Din’s gentle baritone, murmuring something you don’t catch, casts a dreamy haze over your reality. You’re not afraid that this could back fire and blow up in your face—to move inches from two serrated blades, each seeking for a taste of blood and flesh, is always a risk. But yet, the calloused hands and the sweetness of brown eyes reach through chaos and silence to offer you salvation. You take it with a smile. 

You should invite Din over more often…you think, as you slip into content sleep. 

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sorry if I missed you AH!!!!