#and it just. gets on my nerves so bad now

[simpjaes]

Pomellato Jay giving me brothers bff thoughts😮‍💨

1:27 a.m.

You all just came home from a party. Jay saw you shivering bc your skimpy little dress was perfect to tease him, but didn’t help with the weather outside. So him, being the sweet gentlemen he is, gave you his black blazer. It covered you completely, and it made you look as if you had nothing beneath it; which was driving Jay insane…

Your phone started to ping next to you:

1:27 a.m - Jay:

- Could you please go change your clothes

1:27 a.m - You:

- why? I feel cozy with your blazer on..

1:29 a.m - Jay:

- That’s not it

- I can’t control myself in front of your brother

1:31 a.m - Jay:

- please baby

- Or go wait for me upstairs

HELPPPPPPPP

i hope you don't mind me changing the text string. wc: 833 ~

1:27 a.m - Jay: you're home now, can i please have my blazer back?

1:27 a.m - You: but whyyyyyy, its so comfy

1:29 a.m - Jay: just....please You glance at him, noting how stiff he appears compared to his usual, relaxed and casual self. Your brother, sitting on the other side of him flipping through some streaming app with a bored sigh. Now, you look down at yourself, back to Jay, back down at yourself, then you curl up on the couch. Smirking a little bit because you're well aware that the blazer rides up, dragging your skirt with it.

1:34 a.m - Jay: fucking stop doing that

1:35 a.m - You: getting excited? 1:35 a.m - Jay: what do you think? You watch him closer, seeing the way he looks at you before glancing towards Jake nervously. "Jake?" You suddenly say, breaking the silence in the room [bc jake still hasn't landed on a fucking show.] "Hm?" He pays no mind, still focused on the tv. "Where is your watch? Weren't you wearing it earlier?" He wasn't. You know he wasn't, but sometimes gaslighting is okay. "Was I?" He says, now sitting up. "Fuck, where did it go?" "I think you left it at Heeseung's place. Might wanna go get it before someone steals it." Jake doesn't even question it, hopping up with a muttered curse under his breath and heading out the door without even looking back at you or his best friend. Silence fills the room, except now...it's loud. "You want me to give you your blazer back?" You ask, narrowing your eyes at him with a cheeky smirk. "You know what you're doing." He groans, finally relaxing his body and sinking into the couch. His legs spread out wide when he throws his head back in that same groan, and you can't help but stare at the way his adam's apple bobs through a swallow. "It's been a couple of weeks, you know-" You start, slipping the blazer off of you and making sure the straps of your tank top slide down with it. "Was starting to think you really didn't want me anymore." Jay grimaces. He feels guilty for so many things. One, you're his best friend's sister. Two, he knows if Jake found out, the friendship would sour. Three, he still wants you so fucking bad he could genuinely cum right fucking now if you so much as say his name. After seeing you like that in his clothes, arguably better when you're entirely naked? His kind gesture backfired so goddamn fast. He remembered instantly the last time you were on top of him, missing the feeling of you so badly. The way his blazer fits you now, the way you swim in the fabric, the way you refuse to take it off. He knows you still want him too. And, well, Jake's not here. "You clever little-" He pauses, seeing your bare shoulders as his blazer slides down. Your thighs still bare and exposed from under it. "Fuck." You stand now, fully removing his blazer and revealing the same slutty outfit you wore tonight. Was it to get on his nerves? Yes. Was it to get on his cock? Yes. Jake wasn't too fond of you dressed like this, but who fucking cares about what he thinks anyway? "Just one more time?" You ask now, more innocently. All while rubbing your thighs together and using one hand to slide up your shirt. "We can make it fast." Jay rolls his eyes, the twitch in his pants growing thicker and thicker, to the point he cant help but grab at himself now. Another groan, and his eyes narrow at you. "You want it fast?" He asks now, the same sultry tone you had grown to miss so much. "And hard." You add, throwing yourself back on the couch and making sure your legs are spread. Wide. It's not long before you feel his familiar hands pressing your wrists into the cushions, hovering over you and blatantly pressing himself between your thighs. "You miss it that much?" He asks in a raspy whisper, smirking only slightly at the face you make in response. Only because he's fucked his fist to that same face so many goddamn times. "Mhm." You hum, wiggling a bit under him. "Don't you?" He breaks at that point, releasing one of your wrists and shoving it down his pants, all so he can bury himself into you without fuss. No foreplay, no teasing, no grinding. Just pure penetration. There's a moan from him that fills your ears, one that sounds more desperate than he would normally sound. Just a few weeks ago it was you sounding like that. Whiny, needy. "Fuck, yeah I do." He breathes this time, holding his breath as he does as he promised. Fast. hard. So fast, and so hard, that neither of you hear the door unlocking and Jake prancing in before freezing on the spot. "You motherfucker." ~

[drdemonprince]

ok fine cis men aren't the bad gender it's all men and we're all exactly like that anon who admitted to having abused women even if we don't know it. are you fucking happy now? is this the solidarity you want us to feel with cis men, that we're all just as mich rapists and murderers of women as they are? you have some fucking nerve to be throwing vague jabs while calling an admitted abuser "brave"

Normally I don't platform asks like these, but I'm moved by the genuineness of your emotional reaction here. I think you're hurting, and you've been hurt, and that the belief that abuse and violence are located within one gendered group (to which you don't belong) has felt like a way of organizing your world that has helped you make sense of things, and given you guidelines for how to act and whom to trust that have helped keep you safe. I think a lot of assault survivors feel that way when they're not cis men and their attackers were cis men.

As someone who has experienced a ton of sexual predation at the hands of cis women, cis men, and even other trans people, I don't feel the same way. There is no "bad gender" I can chalk up my abuse to. I find there are no easy means of categorizing entire people as abuser or as victim either -- I have known so, so many people who have occupied both roles depending upon the power they wielded and the social context of the moment. Hell, one cis lesbian that I knew who was infamous in her community for raping trans men would always tell her victims that her acts were those of "trauma recovery," of her "reclaiming" her power after men had stolen it away.

Even she, I don't think, is irredeemable or ontologically evil.

I'm an abolitionist. That's a core value through which a lot of my political action and beliefs flow. If you're not on board with the project of abolitionism, you'll find much to object to here, and most of your objections are things I will refuse to entertain, because I do not believe human beings are disposable no matter what they do, and I don't believe that anyone should have the authority to deem another human being as disposable.

An abolitionist politics is incompatible with the idea that some people or some groups are inherently bad. It's incompatible with the belief that abuse and violence comes from evil. It's a worldview that holds that people do harm because of social structures and networks of power that must be destroyed -- systems like the patriarchy, cissexism, anti-Blackness, ableism, capitalism, and more. And I think one of the ways that we conquer such oppressive systems is by raising the consciousness of all the people trapped under it -- so that we can topple it together. I want trans men and cis men alike to realize they have some skin in the game.

You don't have to associate with the men you don't want to associate with. If, because of repeated abuses at the hands of men, you can't ever trust them, well, those are your feelings, that's your life, that is your business. But when your personal feelings of safety are used as a justification for developing and promoting a worldview with transphobic, transmisogynistic implications, I'm gonna talk shit about that on my stupid little blog. And I'm gonna continue conducting my life in the way I feel I should.

And for me, that means forging common ground between trans men and cis men, and pushing both groups to take women's concerns seriously (especially trans women's concerns) and to stop centering themselves in feminist dialogue. There's a place for both trans men and cis men in the gender revolution, but we gotta do a lot of work on ourselves to stop getting in the way. It's work I'm emotionally equipped to do and find rewarding, and it's fine if you don't. There are lots of other people who need support that you can focus your energies on -- other survivors of abuse and assault that you perhaps find it easier to relate to. That's important work too, and I wish you well in doing it. Just make sure you're not excluding trans women in that work or I'll continue to be annoying about it on my stupid little blog.

[cyarikaplease]

You done?

dom!din Djarin x brat!reader

Din shuts you up in the best way possible.

“You done?” Din asks, sitting and watching you pace back and forth in the storage area of the Crest. There’s a hint of amusement in his voice. He’s enjoying watching you bitch at him. You don’t even know what you’re bitching about anymore, probably something about what Din did or didn’t do. Something about tripping over his blaster he left on the floor and laughing when you stubbed your toe…

“Not even close.”

“Mhm,” he says, stifling a chuckle. He’s sitting with his thighs spread wide open in a full man-spread, leaning back against the wall of the Crest. He would be so attractive if he wasn’t so irritating right now. 

“What’s so funny?” you ask, stopping dead in your tracks and folding your arms. 

“Nothing,” he says. He’s definitely smirking under that helmet.

“No, tell me,” you press.

“Just waiting for you to shut up,” he chuckles. 

“Make me,” you reply. It’s your turn to wear a sly grin now. 

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” he says, rising from the crate he was sitting on and sauntering over to you. 

He pushes you up against the wall, grabbing your hands and pinning them above your head. He brings his helmet beside your ear, talking to you in a low, gravelly tone. 

“What happens when you act like a brat?”

“…I get punished.”

“That’s right, cyar’ika.”

You gulp and he chuckles, moving one of his hands on your inner thigh and feeling you shudder at his touch. 

“Strip and wait for me in the bunk,” he commands.

He releases your hands and you do as you’re told, removing your clothes and sitting on the cot's edge. You hear him rifling through one of the shelves. You know exactly what he’s looking for; the blindfold. 

Din doesn’t normally use the blindfold. He understands all too well having some sort of barrier on your head, depriving you of your senses. He only busts out the blindfold when you’re being a bad girl. 

He returns with the silky black fabric in his hands, leaning against the doorframe in the bunk. 

“Time for your punishment,” he says, walking towards you and crouching down in front of the cot to meet your eye level. 

You let out a groan as he begins to wrap the blindfold around your head, prompting him to stop and ask, “Are you complaining?”

“No!” you say quickly. 

“That’s what I thought.”

The blindfold is secured around your head. You can’t see a thing, relying on your other senses. Goosebumps prick your skin in anticipation of his touch. You hear his gloves hitting the floor and his hands pressing you down lightly onto the cot. His warm skin against you sets your nerves aflame, already shuddering in desire and need for him. 

“Patience, cyar’ika,” he reminds you. 

You hear the hiss of his modulator and kriff, he’s taking his helmet off. This is so unfair. 

Another groan escapes your lips and all of a sudden his face is hovering over yours. 

“What did I say?”

You don’t respond, only uttering a bratty wine. 

“I think you need to be punished even more now,” he tuts, pulling back and sitting on the edge of the cot by your thighs. 

“What?? No, I’ll be good. I swear!”

“Too late,” he teases. 

He spreads your thighs apart, his face inches away from your cunt. His breath sends a shiver up your spine as he watches how wet you’re getting already. 

“So wet. So ready for me,” he says, swiping two fingers up and down your entrance. 

You whine again, aching for more of his touch, more stimulation. 

“You don’t get to cum without my permission. Got it?”

“Fine,” you pout. 

“Do better,” he commands. 

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, sir,” you whine.��

“Good girl,” he praises. 

His words make you melt. He moistens his fingers with his mouth, sliding one inside you slowly. He takes his time curling his singular digit against your walls, feeling how wet you are for him; how bad you want him already. He pushes up against your g-spot, eliciting a moan from you. 

“You want more, don’t you, pretty girl?”

“Please, sir,” you whine. 

“Beg.”

“Please, sir, I can’t take it anymore. I’ll be a good girl, I swear!”

“Fine,” he sighs, faux annoyance in his voice, “Since you asked nicely.”

He inserts another finger, working your cunt closer and closer to the edge of orgasm. He’s talented with his fingers and it makes sense, being that he could never really eat a girl out, until you. 

Just when you think you can’t hold on any longer you ask, “Can I cum please?”

“Not yet.”

“I can’t hold on much longer,” you whine. 

“I said not yet,” he reminds you. 

But it’s a good thing he made you wait, because he brings his tongue to your clit, making swirls around it as he fingers you. 

“Sir, please. I can’t-”

He cuts you off with a hum of approval against your clit. Your hands reach down between your legs and grasp his hair, tugging on his curls while you cum against his face. Your cunt flutters around his fingers as the pleasure built up in your core spreads outwards, infecting your limbs with waves of euphoria. 

He pulls away once you’re done, wasting no time to be inside you already. He pulls his cock out of his flight suit and gives it a few strokes, before settling in between your thighs and entering you in one clean motion, without any warning. 

“Din… Ah!” you gasp in surprise. 

“You can take it,” he commands in a husky voice, drawing his hips back and slamming into you. 

You nod and that’s when he grabs your chin, keeping your face steady and fixed on him. You’d give anything in the galaxy to rip this blindfold off already. 

“Open,” he says with a squeeze on your chin. 

You open your mouth and he leans down, his mouth hovering over yours. He spits in your mouth, closing it shut with his hand. 

“Good girl,” he praises, kissing you passionately while picking up the pace and slamming into you unforgivingly. 

You moan against his lips and he pulls back to ask, “Pretty girl gonna cum already?”

“C-Can I?” you ask with a shaky breath. 

“Are you gonna keep acting like a brat?”

“No, sir.”

“Cum on my cock,” he commands again, finishing his command with a slam of his hips. 

You cum around his cock, walls fluttering and pulsating around him. Your orgasm pulls his own from him, painting your insides with his cum. He lets out a mangled, unmodulated groan as he finishes, a rare sound for you but nevertheless a treat every time. 

He pulls out of you and lays down next to you on the cot. You hear his modulator hiss as his helmet is replaced on his head followed by his hands undoing your blindfold. 

“I really am sorry about your toe,” he says with a chuckle. 

“It’s okay,” you laugh, looking over at him, “But I am gonna act like a brat again.”

“That was always a given.”

[canonicallyobserving911]

Lately, I've been trying to determine what’s missing or wrong with 9-1-1 and I think I've figured it out. Aside from the obvious pacing, editing and too many guest stars issues, IMO, one of the biggest items that's been missing is the "Found Family" aspect. This wasn’t an issue prior to season 5 and even though three guests were there, one for the entire season and two others for 5B, it ended with Henren's vow renewal. Season 2 ended with Eddie’s induction ceremony and the Bathena wedding, season 3 ended with May's graduation and season 4 had the 118 on the roof of the firehouse celebrating Albert passing his firefighter certification.

Since Hen's almost leaving the 118 to go to medical school gathering in 6x5, there's been nothing except for them being at the hospital for Buck in 6x11 and Bobby in 7x10 (I'm not including the 118 being on the roof in 6x18 because they weren't celebrating). And even when Bobby was there, everyone else wasn't (Besides Hen, Chimney, Buck and Eddie. Reminder, Athena left to go chase Amir and the drug cartel). Denny was in the hospital in 8x5 but there weren’t any sightings of Toni, his grandmother, who's also Hen's mother. All the previous guest stars have been ousted in favor of Brad 😬. I wish he would leave because he’s not needed and he’s getting on my nerves. There are far too many guests on this show now and not enough time for the relationships I've grown to enjoy watching.

Where's Hen and Chimney’s ride or die friendship?

Where's Buck's and Eddie’s emotionally intimate relationship?

Where's Buck and Chris spending time like they used to without there being some whack ass doppelgänger storyline? Oh, that's right, Chris was sent to live with his grandparents even though Eddie said he didn't want that. 🙄

Where's Maddie's and Josh's friendship?

Where's Ravi, Linda and other guest stars? Oh, that's right... they were replaced with someone who can't act (he’s finally gone), Gerrard's racist and bigoted ass and Brad. 🙄

Since season 7, it seems like there's been a lot of busyness going on but nothing's happening and that's bad on so many levels. Everyone seems to be in silos and it's causing a lot of the pacing and continuity issues.

Did anyone else notice how the 118 didn't arrive for any of Athena's calls in 8x7? Reminder, 99% of the time in the past it was them who showed up. Also, IIRC, she didn't share a scene with Bobby in that episode but they sent Bobby to dinner with Brad so he could scold him like he was 15 years old. 🙄

I really hope this stuff gets fixed before 8B because all of these issues are hindering the show and arcs are hanging in the balance while guest stars get more screen time than the main characters. I've seen this before (season 5 with Taylor and Lucy) and it didn't end well.

Just saying.

[marlinspirkhall]

If my body had Tumblr:

3 notes

🎭 vagus-nerve 🐾

Imagine paying for verification

7 notes

⏫ gratuitypituitary

Normalise headaches

🧠 mr-brain ✅☑️ follow

Wtf? un-normalise headaches! un-normalise them now!

✨ Adrenaaaaaaaathegland follow

Okay! Upping your dosage so you get a migraine immediately!

🧠 mr-brain ✅☑️ follow

NONONONONONO-

23 notes

🎭 vagus-nerve 🐾

something bad is happening

1.7k notes

🫁 Didyaheardiaphragm

Daily reminder that I'm Staff, and no-one is hyperventilating without my permission.

〰️ Alveoli follow

Um okay, but someone just sprayed an aerosol nearby, so we're going on strike.

🎭 vagus-nerve 🐾

EXACTLY! We need to STOP breathing regular and START getting ORGANISED. And you should feel BAD ABOUT IT!!!!

200 notes

🩻 16thvertebra

WHO'S TOUCHING ME???

1 note

🧠 mr-brain ✅☑️ follow

Btw I didn't pay for verification. I was gifted these important internet check marks by my followers.

🎲 las-vagaaaaaas-nerve

What followers lol...

13 notes

🩻 15thand2ndvertebra

Screamiiiiing, no one knows it was me who started the headache 🤭

🦴 rib

Tbh the diaphragm has been pushing us hard recently, I would have caused a headache too

🦴 left-femur-official

Ummm @rib, your profile picture is cultural appropriation

💀 right-femur

honestly I think he's allowed to use it if it's funny

☠️ house-of-brainsier

Yeah. This guy gets it.

🦴 left-femur-official

OH WHAT THE FUCK??

137 notes

🟥 endometrium

where the fuck am i

0 notes

🌏 itsfrontalglooooobebiiiiiich follow

make up your mind... is it a tension headache or PMS?

🕵🏻 left-eye-socket

Yeah literally why am I always dragged into this bullshit. @mr-brain go fuck yourself

🧠 mr-brain ✅☑️ follow

You're literally supposed to love and support me through difficult times but okay

😱 central-nervousness

Bitch doesn't even have pain receptors and he's playing the victim...

47 notes

🟥 endometrium

Is this... My fault? No. It's the ovaries that are wrong.

[seastarblue]

Training

Trying my hand at whump bless ft Kaiden and Sir Santhuff

and now the TWs: exhaustion whump, sleep deprivation, paranoia, poison (delivered via arrow), chasing? whump idk man she’s getting chased, ankle injury, suicidal ideation/thoughts, whumper trying to make whumpee “perfect”, training whump, fantasy whump, mentions of setting a bone back into place, beating, hair pulling, using whumpee as a punching bag, uh yea 👍

———

The knight collapsed onto the damp earth, tremors causing her whole form to quiver. Her runeswords—a pair of them, specially designed for her—slipped from her grasp. She tasted metal; from what, she did not know. Her quick, frantic breaths mixed with the crisp night air. A creek babbled nearby, mingling with her buzzing thoughts. It was nearly pitch black, and the dark spots now cluttering the edge of her vision didn’t help in any way.

‘That can’t be good,’ she thought, her mind feeling sluggish and slow.

That was even worse. She needed to stay alert, no matter the exhaustion deadening her senses, no matter the chill that seeped into her bones from the wet night, no matter how much she wanted to lay down and sleep right there in the mud.

He was going to find her, sprawled out on the floor, panting, pathetic, and she wouldn’t—couldn’t—let him see her like this. Not after he had gotten so close to catching her just now: she remembered the sting in her leg from the arrow he’d shot at her.

‘Get up,’ she told herself. ‘Get up and prove yourself. Prove him wrong. Make him proud.’

Staggering to her feet, she gripped a nearby  fallen tree to heave herself up. She wavered in place, dizzy, then steadily moved forward, inch by inch, step by step, making her way to the creek. Water would assist the wound, her sluggishness, and provide her a good way of making it back to the starting point—the goal of this gruesome training session. She needed to make it back before Santhuff ensnared her in one of his many,  many traps. He’d almost gotten her twice on the first day, and the number kept increasing as fatigue and hunger set in. She couldn’t hunt for food; he was hunting her. She couldn’t rest for longer than a few hours before his arrows whizzed past her head and into the bark behind her. She even tried to sleep nestled in a tree, but the lack of suitable escape routes made her already frayed nerves go haywire.

He might actually kill her at this point.

‘Though,’ she realized with chagrin, ‘that would just prove him right, wouldn’t it?’

She couldn’t have that. Santhuff had already been reluctant on letting her join the Azari in the first place. She would never had guessed it, given his previous enthusiasm on the night of the Ball, unless she hadn’t been eavesdropping on him while recording an entry for his diary.

So, pride and ego giving her strength, she started cleaning the possible poison out of her leg wound, and replenished her thirst with the river water. She looked up into the sky above, the twinkling stars winking at her, as if to say, ‘You can do it, just a little further, see, past the little berry bush, then you’re free.’

The knight got up again, feeling a little better at least, and started moving towards the goal point, moving quietly to avoid snapping twigs and the like.

Maybe she’d actually make it. Maybe she could prove Santhuff wrong. Maybe the self-deprecating part of her would see that she could do it, she could be just as good as the other Azari, then it would quiet itself forever. All she needed to do was make it to the goal.

She told herself that again and again, until the small yellow flag, magicked to glow gently for visibility, came into view, just a few dozen paces ahead. There wasn’t a need for the glow now—the sun had started rising, bathing the forest in gentle pinks and purples.

Lowering her guard—a bad idea, in theory, but she didn’t care—the knight stumbled towards the flag. The thought of a warm bed, a nice meal, and most of all, the boost of confidence, almost made her sob with relief.

She’d won! Against the First Justice! No one had ever bested him before—much less a new recruit—and here she was, outlasting him at his own game. Not outwitting—she was too frazzled for that—but she decided outlasting should be good enough tonight.

Just as the thought passed, an arrow flew by, nicking her face. A trickle of gold blood followed, and then the knight-turned-target was sprinting in another direction, away from the flag, her saving grace.

She’d been noticed. Damn it. She should have waited till she was certain Santhuff had moved on, till the wound on her leg had healed completely. Now she ran, branches whipping at her face, snagging her muddy clothes, and puddles splashing as her boots landed on them. Regret trailed near behind her, but the First Justice was nearer yet.

Despite her greatest efforts, the target’s injured leg caught onto a root, and she fell on hard earth. Her ankle twinged, and she was fairly certain it had twisted, if not worse. She’d have to fix that somehow before her curse healed it wrong.

“…you’ve lost.” the First Justice said, striding over to his target. He returned his bow to his back, the quiver still half full of arrows, some of which she knew were tipped with narcotics. “You know what that means, Kaiden.” He sounded dissatisfied, and that drained Kaiden of any pride she had.

She turned to get a better look at him. That was all she could do, after all, the fatigue—or perhaps the poison—had gotten to her. Once she was prone, she couldn’t find the strength to right herself and run again.

His eyes, normally blue, were stark yellow against the dark night, and Kaiden knew: he wasn’t simply displeased. He was furious. Dread filled her as he continued speaking.

“I am greatly disappointed. You have spent three days in pursuit of the flag, and what do you have to show for it? Nothing. Nothing but a muddy face and shame.”

He was now right next to her, looking down as if she was nothing.

‘I might as well be,’ she thought. Kaiden stared at his shoe, not wanting to make eye contact or even look upwards. She stayed like that for a while, panic slowly setting in.

Then, a rough hand pulled her hair, forcing her to look Santhuff in the eye. “Well?” he spat, teeth bared in a snarl. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

Kaiden simply stared. She could have died if his aim was just a little off earlier, and Lloyd Santhuff never missed. He could have killed her just like that, left her body out to rot with the wolves and vermin, truly killed her by cutting her head off—but he didn’t. She needed to keep it that way. If she said anything, it could—would—get worse.

The forest was silent for a few moments, the only sounds being the crickets, the swooshing of the branches, and Kaiden’s wildly beating heart.

Then he let her hair go and she crumpled to the ground in relief.

Santhuff turned to leave, and Kaiden made to follow—as best she could—but he stopped her with a swift kick to the ankle. The twisted one. She bit her tongue, drawing more gold blood, and braced herself for more blows.

One on her back, another at her gut, two more on her other leg, and a final one to the gut. Kaiden tried her best to stay silent, but she let out sob after sob.

A kick. Then another sob. Then another kick, and another, and another.

Then, finally, he stopped the assault, and stepped away.

“Come to the clearing a league north,” he said, voice devoid of any of the rage from mere moments ago. “In 3 hours. Don’t be late.”

And then he was gone, leaving the knight with the twinkling stars above. They didn’t seem so helpful now. In fact, they seemed to call to her now, mockingly:

‘Come join us, foolish girl, you will never succeed. The only certainty you have is death, so for once, do the useful thing and join us!’

~~~

It took Kaiden a couple of hours to make it to the rendezvous point. She was worried that she was late, but if Santhuff’s silence was anything to go by, she wasn’t. ‘Thank the stars,’ she sighed with relief.

Back to Vespar they went, a teacher and his student, a hunter and his quarry, the First Justice and the rookie Azari he’d sworn to mold to perfection. No matter what.

———

and then they lived happily ever after n Lloyd got yeeted off a cliff <3

finally trying my hand at whump lemme know what yall thinkkkkk plzzzz

I had fun!!!! this was fun :3

nyeh heh heh heh @bamber344 @aalinaaaaaa @abiteofhoney @cc-writes-stuff

[pineappleciders]

i fear there is little way to describe my recent experience in the bathroom. or potentially, there are far too many ways to the point i cannot collect my thoughts. it started out as a simple pee. i went to the restroom quite happily, having been playing a game and believing it would be a quick, simple trip. but i was proven wrong, as i usually am. it turned out to be a poop as well. though it wasn't a bad one, it was rather small and easy to pass, and wasn't too bad of a wipe either. however, i was foolish and became distracted watching a video on my phone while wiping. this tragically led to me placing far too many pieces of toilet paper in the toilet bowl without flushing. i soon realized my mistake and, like a fool once more, decided to hope for the best and flush. however, it did not go down. it's fine, i thought. i'll wait and try again. so i did, and it did not go down. hm, this is unfortunate, i think. so i grab the plunger, blissfully unaware to the hellhole i had began falling into, believing this was just your average clog of the toilet. but it wasn't. i soon remembered a fool in my household, which i later learned was my mother, had made the conscious decision to swap the plungers in the bathrooms. this is a problem because, the one that was in my current restroom is a good plumber. the other one is not. and so, i found myself fruitlessly shmacking the hard, useless plunger into the bowl time and time again. but it was no good. i was so determined, so full of hope that it would work as i had made it work before. but this clog was different. i began to grow more desperate as my arm was quickly becoming exhausted from the strain, and i switched to 2 arms, yet there was still no luck. at this point, i had begun sweating, the reality dawning on me that this would not go the way i had hoped. i remembered a trick i learned, about putting soap and hot water into the back of the toilet seat, which helps break the clog up. so i looked around for a cup, an item usually kept in the bathroom, to scoop water from the sink to the toilet. but there was no cup. i put a few squirts of soap in the bowl and waited, but with each flush the water grew higher and higher, reflecting my nerves. but a spark of something like hope flickers in me as i spot the sink drain stick made for unclogging sinks. it's a bit gross, but i'm running out of options, so i go for it. i feel as though it's working quite well, as i can see toilet paper being ripped, but with flush and flush again, it only worsens. i have been in the restroom for far too long now, mostly waiting for water to slowly go down, and at this point i'm sure the energy drink i left on my desk has gone lukewarm. i start to full on panic now, honestly on the verge of tears. i am tired from lack of sleep, very hungry, my back is in extreme pain, and i feel disgusting as a few bits of toilet water have splashed on me. i consider asking for help from my dad, however the thought of walking downstairs with shit stuck in between my asscheeks is extremely unappealing, so i carry on. i turn on the tub and start scooping hot water into the back of the toilet. it burns my hands, and i am now getting water everywhere, but i cannot stop as i begin feeling like a wild animal. i try and try and try but all of my efforts are wasted. and i fear i knew all along what i had to do, i was simply pushing it away out of pure fear. but i suck it up and wrap a towel around my waist and leave the bathroom, still not having wiped fully, and lumber to the other bathroom to grab the good plunger. and lo and behold, with only a few pumps the water is quickly sucked down. and i would have felt immense joy, if it weren't for my extreme annoyance with myself that i did not do it sooner. i am extremely traumatized and i don't think i'll be able to look at my toilet the same way for at least a few months. my dear friends and followers, i urge you to invest in a good plunger. one for every bathroom you have. a new, soft, flaccid plunger. it will betray you less than any man.

[mychlapci]

My liege I wanted to submit this during celibacy week but I ended up being so busy aughhhhhh oh well that just means we can make it horny now if it so happens to happen

Been thinking about... domestication... What if, when Minimus returned to Luna-1, being stripped of his rank and armour wasn't enough. What if he cried and protested and begged when Tyrest took the armour, and Tyrest decided Minimus was so unworthy that he doesn't even deserve to exist as he currently is.

When Rodimus and Rung and the rest of the gang end up imprisoned on Luna-1, they meet a strange little turbofox curled up in the corner. Its smaller than what they would expect. It's also very green. Whilst Rodimus is busy yelling about being stuck here, Rung gently approaches the creature, a little curious about why a mechanimal would be imprisoned here, but more because the thing looks so scared. The little kibble-fluff it has shakes and rattles whilst its big ears are pressed back in fear. And yet, when Rung approaches, it doesn't growl or bare its teeth. It just stares, optics wide, afraid.

It takes some coaxing with a few rust sticks and gentle pets, but the turbofox is gradually lured out of its corner. It doesn't seem to want to be held, struggling when Rung tries to pick it up. But Roddy, curious, and desperately trying to find something else distracting other than thinking about being trapped, is immediately like LET ME HOLD and grabs the poor little thing. It yips at first and struggles- but Rodimus' warm frame seems to calm it. The poor little thing must be cold. It curls up whilst held against Roddy's chestplate and doesn't seem to plan to move.

The rest of Luna-1 happens and etc etc etc and they all eventually return to the ship... it's too bad they never found out what happened to Magnus, but the poor bot would be deactivated by now anyway according to Ratchet's predictions.

They've brought the tiny turbofox with them. It's not like they could just leave the thing behind... Rodimus, secretly pretty shaken up by the whole killswitch thing and once again failing his duties to protect his crew, unable to even keep track of one DYING second in command, keeps the little guy with him. The turbofox isn't the friendliest creature, but it seems content enough to be carried around by Rodimus for his warmth. And Rodimus feels a little better with some company and a little creature to hold.

Rodimus brings that thing everywhere. He starts calling it Roddy Jr. and everyone hates the name lmao. He brings it to all his appointments with Rung, holding it close and petting it to ease his nerves.

As the turbofox gets more comfortable on the ship, they start to find that it's still not particularly friendly. It doesn't like to be petted or cooed at or held by most other bots, but it will also never snarl or growl. It will glare and swat at servos that get too close, or even just duck under them, but never bare its sharp denta. Rodimus seems to be the only one with a free pass to hold the thing everywhere. Even so, sometimes it complains and struggles, but eventually lets Roddy carry it.

It's only much later when Ratchet, finally less busy with all the mechs' repairs, insists that Rodimus brings his pet in for a routine checkup too. They've never had a chance to properly check the thing since they found it and who knows what diseases it could be carrying. (Roddy is like hey >:[ at this btw)

But when Ratchet finally gets a good look at the thing... he has some uncomfortable suspicions. Being the only one to have ever seen Minimus' true form, this turbofox looks strangely familiar. And once he finds that it has a tcog, things really seem suspicious. But, as far as he knows, it's never behaved like Magnus or responded to anything that would make them think it was him. Ratchet tries calling it Ultra Magnus, but the turbofox just looks at him quietly. It's strangely polite and docile for a turbofox, just sitting there and letting Ratchet work on it. Something isn't right with this thing, but he doesn't know what.

Ratchet starts asking Rodimus some leading questions about this... but Rodimus just gets really defensive about anything asked about his new little pet. No! How could his little guy be another mech. So what if it has a tcog maybe some mechanimals have cogs. Whatever.

If Ratchet's suspicions are right, he's going to need Chromedome to have a look too. But it doesn't look like Rodimus is going to even entertain that as a suggestion

Rodimus is so desperate to keep this thing with him, to have some company, some kind of comfort, something on this ship that doesn't hate him, that he's not willing to entertain a single suspicious thought about his pet. He's not losing his only companion.

oh yes yes yes that's so fucking good. Rodimus' emotional support turbofox... he refuses to let anyone near it, and honestly, people are a little worried about the blow that taking his new pet could deal to Rodimus' mental health.... no one can help Minimus it seems...

[d0llsuicide]

It was late afternoon in Rome, the kind of day where the sun is too bright and everything feels a little too loud. The city moves on, buzzing and unapologetic, but I can’t shake the weight pressing down on my chest.

I’m sitting on the edge of a fountain, picking at the hem of my sweater, trying not to cry in public like some pathetic cliché. My phone buzzes in my bag, but I already know it’s my mom. Another lecture, another list of ways I’m screwing up. University deadlines, bills, the argument we had last night about me “not having a plan.” I’m trying, but it’s like trying to breathe underwater.

I glance up and catch sight of Niccolò.

Of course. The golden boy, sauntering down the cobblestone street like he doesn’t have a care in the world. He’s wearing that effortless smirk, hair tousled just so, like he didn’t spend ten minutes in the mirror perfecting it. He spots me and raises an eyebrow, probably surprised to see me looking like this—a total It was late afternoon in Rome, the kind of day where the sun is too bright and everything feels a little too loud. The city moves on, buzzing and unapologetic, but I can’t shake the weight pressing down on my chest.

“Ehi,” he calls out, strolling over. His voice has that lazy confidence I can never quite figure out. “You lose something?” He gestures to my hunched-over position like I’m a stray dog.

I roll my eyes. “What do you want, Niccolò?”

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he leans against the fountain, arms crossed like he’s posing for a magazine. “Relax. Just saying hi. You look…” His eyes trail over me, and for once, they’re not teasing. “…not great.”

I let out a bitter laugh. “Thanks. Super helpful.”

He tilts his head, studying me with a flicker of curiosity. Normally, Niccolò is all charm and games, the guy who knows exactly how to push your buttons and does it just for fun. But today, there’s something different.

“What happened?” he asks, softer now.

I hesitate. The last thing I want is for him to know how bad things are. Niccolò doesn’t do real. He does surface-level, parties, expensive clothes, and flirting with anyone who’ll let him.

“Nothing,” I mutter, avoiding his gaze. “Just a bad day.”

He doesn’t buy it. “You’re a terrible liar, you know that?”

I glare at him. “Why do you care, anyway?”

For a moment, he looks like he might shrug it off, but then he surprises me. “Maybe I don’t like seeing you like this,” he says quietly.

My breath catches. That’s not the Niccolò I know.

“Look,” he continues, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it with practiced ease. He takes a slow drag before speaking again. “You think you’re the only one who feels like they’re drowning? Newsflash, princess. We’re all faking it.”

I scoff. “Yeah, sure. Must be real hard being you. Perfect Niccolò with his perfect life.”

His jaw tightens, and for a second, I think I’ve hit a nerve. Then he exhales, the smoke curling in the air between us.

“You don’t know anything about me,” he says, almost defensively.

“Then tell me,” I challenge. “If your life’s so hard, let’s hear it.”

He hesitates, looking down at the cigarette like it holds all the answers. “Doesn’t matter,” he says finally. “Point is, you’re not as alone as you think.”

I want to argue, to tell him he doesn’t get it, but something in his expression stops me. For once, he’s not performing. He’s just… real.

Before I can respond, he straightens up and holds out a hand. “Come on.”

“What?”

“Let’s go,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Go where?”

He shrugs, that smirk returning. “Anywhere but here.”

I hesitate. This is Niccolò we’re talking about. The guy who never takes anything seriously, who’s probably just looking for an excuse to skip whatever family obligation he’s avoiding today. But there’s a spark in his eyes, and for some reason, I trust him.

Against my better judgment, I take his hand.

We end up at some little café tucked away in a quiet corner of the city. It’s nothing fancy, but the espresso is strong, and the sunlight filtering through the windows feels warm on my skin. For the first time all day, I feel like I can breathe.

Niccolò doesn’t ask me to spill my life story, and I don’t ask him for his. We just talk—about stupid things, like the ridiculous tourists we passed on the way here or the overpriced sneakers he’s been eyeing. It’s easy, effortless in a way I didn’t expect.

By the time we leave, the weight on my chest feels a little lighter.

“Thanks,” I say as we walk back toward the fountain.

He glances at me, surprised. “For what?”

“For… I don’t know. Not being a complete jerk today.”

He grins. “Don’t get used to it.”

But there’s a softness in his smile, a hint of something more. And for the first time, I think maybe Niccolò Govender is more than just the careless, cocky boy everyone thinks he is.

Maybe we both are.

[pentechnics]

A Little Leap

Chapter 9 of Latch

Summary: The long-awaited night is here, and both you and Din struggle with casting your cautions aside. Will it hinder your time together?

Pairing: Firefighter!Din Djarin x f!Reader

Series Masterlist

Notes: Very long awaited, but hopefully worth it. And not even a power outage could stop me from getting it out today! Poured a lot of love into this one and I'm so excited to see what you all think of it! Sending you all so much love and well-wishes!!

Previous | Next

~~~~

A few days later, Din was stepping back into Lando’s shop and greeting him with a handshake. Lando led him to the back where a rack of black garment bags hung, plucking out two and handing them to him. “Here we are, all set for you.”

“Two?” Din pointed to the second bag. “I only bought one.”

“Luke had me make up another for you. He noticed you liked the brown one, too.”

Lando winked and pressed them into Din’s hands. Din glanced between him and the suits, unsure of what to say. How did Luke do that without him noticing?

“... Thank you. I appreciate it.”

Lando nodded and waved as Din made his way out of the boutique.

Din hung the garments in the back seat of the car and clambered inside with a huff. During the drive back he rehearsed what he’d say to Luke upon his return – why’d you do that? How’d you do that? What the hell, you didn’t have to do that. 

Din sighed. That kid was too giving for his own good.

He tried to keep an air of authority as he stepped through the front door and dramatically held out his two garment bags. He threw a stern glare at a gleeful Luke, who was sitting on the couch, not affected by Din in the slightest.

“... I don’t pay you enough to be doing things like this.”

Luke just laughed. Din gulped down his annoyance, standing up straighter in an attempt to keep up his angry demeanor.

“Relax, it’s a gift! It’ll come in handy.”

“Luke,” Din warned.

“Mr. Djarin, I promise, that is the last sort of intervention I plan to do.” He lifted his palm into the air. “You have my word.”

Din gave him a solid nod and made his way to the bedroom.

“It better be.”

~~~~~

“Your nerves are understandable. Is there any specific thing you’re worried about?”

You shifted in your seat before returning Dr. Jinn’s gaze. Each little thing seemed to pile together: some rational, some very much not. And more came with each passing day. What if he stood you up? What if you said something stupid? What if you spill your drink all over him?

“I just… I’m not sure what to expect. I’m not a big date person, I haven’t been on very many good ones in the past.”

“Ah, so because you really like him, you’re extra worried about it not going well?”

A bullseye, as usual. But damn, did he have to say it so bluntly each time? You nodded.

“I don’t want to screw this up.”

“Let me ask you this,” he tapped his pen against his knee as he spoke. “Do you think you were the reason those other dates were bad?”

You thought about it. One person made offensive jokes. Another turned out to be cheating on someone with you. One stared at the waiter’s ass the whole time. You winced at the memories.

“I guess most of them were out of my control.”

He gave a slight grin.

“Then I think it’s safe to say you won’t screw anything up.”

“… But what if he does?”

He paused, taking in your expression before asking, “What do you think is the worst thing that could happen during this date?”

A bead of anxiety led to sadness, shame, and anger. It wouldn’t be the total end of the world, but it would hurt as if it was.

“... Him not showing up. Or changing his mind.”

“Okay. Solid concern. Now tell me this: when you think about him, what are the biggest traits that stand out to you?”

Flashes of his face and of conversations the two of you shared ran through your mind. Those kind eyes and warm smile took over your senses, sending a pleasant tingle down your spine.

“... He’s kind,” you began, “and smart.”

Grogu entered your mind’s eye.

“...And he seems really loyal to the people in his life.”

“Seems like a great guy.”

You smiled and nodded.

“So, you’ll just have to take a little leap. Trust that he’ll come through.”

You stared at your lap. He was right. But just how were you meant to do that?

“Is that something I can learn to do in two days?” you asked with a dry laugh.

Dr. Jinn shrugged.

“Personally, I don’t think it’s something anyone is ever done learning. But we all have to start somewhere.”

~~~~

Din straightened his collar in the mirror, letting out a huff that made the tip of his hair bounce up.

He took in the sight of the grey suit in the mirror, hoping to summon that same magical feeling he got wearing it for the first time in Lando’s boutique. He turned around to face Grogu’s crib.

“What do you think, kid?”

Grogu smiled up at him from his standing perch, patting the edge of the crib with his hand. Din chuckled and went over to lift him out and carry him into the living room.

“Luke will be here any minute. You better be good to him, okay?”

Grogu laid his head down onto Din’s shoulder in response, wrapping his arms around him as much as they’d allow.

Din stopped in his tracks. Little waves of warmth and love flowed through him; he held Grogu close and basked in it. 

Something seemed odd – typically, Grogu would cling like this and whimper when he wanted support. Then Din would’ve doubled down and stay home for him.

But this seemed different. Grogu was silent, save for a few gentle, happy coos. It was as though Grogu was trying to tell him something else. To ease his worries. It had Din swallowing a sudden lump in his throat.

This was hard. Leaving him was always hard. But as Din ran his hands through Grogu’s little curls, the prickly, heavy anxiety began to slowly loosen its grip.

He gave Grogu a kiss on the cheek just as Luke knocked on the door.

Deep breath. It’s now or never.

“All right, buddy, wish me luck.”

Grogu giggled and tapped his hand against Din’s chin, making him chuckle.

During the drive, Din couldn’t help the way his muscles seized. Every alarm bell in his system was ringing – not the way they usually did when he was away from Grogu, but something insistent and foreign. Good signs or bad, he couldn’t tell.

The evening sent a chill through his half-open window. The sky poked through the high-rises, its colorful clarity a direct contrast to the electric storm brewing inside him.

His mind was jumping from place to place – anxious, guilty, excited – they all melded together and created a dizzying new emotion he wasn’t sure how to name. Din was no stranger to running into a situation he wasn’t familiar with, but something about this seemed so much more fragile. It had more variables than he was used to. Larger margin for error, and less room for it. He resisted the urge to hit his head against the steering wheel to get his brain to shut up.

When he parked in front of your building and stepped out onto the curb, he forced himself to take a breath. One feeling at a time, one worry at a time.

Grogu’s okay. Focus on her.

It’ll be good. She’ll be happy to see you.

You look fine. Stop thinking about your stomach.

The voice speaking to him was collected and confident next to his racing heart. He chanted the words over and over again in his head, breathing in time with them until he could muster up the nerve to pull out his phone. He glanced at the clock – per Luke’s instructions, he had arrived ten minutes early.

Won’t she feel rushed, though? He’d asked. What if she needs more time?

Trust me, Luke had said. You’re the one who’s going to need it.

Damn that boy. Why was he always right? Din allowed himself a few more minutes of nervous pacing and obsessive jacket-pulling before opening up his messages.

~~~~

You sat in front of your mirror, making your final preparations before Din was due to arrive. Dress was on, accessories were added, and now it was time to wait. Your phone sat on the bathroom counter, taunting you. He’d be texting you any second now.

You were putting essentials into your little wristlet purse. Your hands were shaking, each little item struggling to get into the opening.

A thousand pep talks and reminders to breathe from Harley couldn’t even scratch the surface of your brain without interference. It was like you were shut off from your fear sector, unable to soothe it even if you wanted to. You stared at their messages of encouragement blankly before shutting your eyes and heaving a deep sigh.

Even though he really didn’t seem like the type, you couldn’t shake your fears of Din running away. Deciding he didn’t want to do this, that he didn’t want to see you. It took everything you had to not cancel first and beat him to the punch. And yet every time you snuffed the temptation, part of you wondered if you’d regret it later.

‘You’ll just have to trust him a little.’

As if on cue, Dr. Jinn’s voice rang through your mind like a bell. A soothing chime that cut through all of the abrasive, self-destructive noise. It reminded you of what you were meant to be trying. The clog inside you was pushing to be cleared – you just needed to help it along.

You rose from your spot and wandered into the living room, phone now cradled in your hand. The evening was settling in and basking its iridescent glow upon the city, the buildings surrounding your apartment cloaked in its blues, purples, and pinks. You thought about Din, about the memories you’ve already made together. His smile, his laugh… 

… His baby.

You clutched your phone in your fist as another wave of anxiety pulsed through you. What would you do if you messed this up? The mental image of Grogu’s smiling face had your heart singing – what if you never got to see him again?

But then again, when did this date become the make-it-or-break-it of this whole thing?

It’s not as though this would be the first time you and Din sat together and talked. You’d done that several times at Cal’s. You had no reason to believe this wouldn’t be just like that, right? Calming, fun, and easy. You let out a slow breath, shoulders drooping down with it.

Yeah, that’s all this is, you told yourself. Just another fun meet-up across the counter. 

Your phone buzzed.

With a jolt, tension returned to your muscles as you looked at the screen. He was here.

It was time.

Shit.

You texted back with frantic fingers, running to grab the last of your things and put on your shoes before heading out the door – but not before taking one last glance out the window.

The calm of dusk, an everlasting being of promise and beauty. The dull quiet in your apartment, a guaranteed comfort when you returned, regardless of what happened.

Certainties you could hold onto in a world of unknowns.

You pushed yourself out the door.

~~~~

You focused on each breath as the elevator made its painfully slow descent. You patted your dress, your head, your purse, anything that could possibly fall out of place between now and the lobby.

Part of you began to wonder where he’d be taking you. Him taking the reins on those details was a welcomed surprise; you couldn’t help feeling pampered by the prospect of not having to make that decision.

A smile tugged on your cheeks as the elevator signaled your arrival to the lobby. You sucked in one more breath and squeezed your bag. Here goes nothing.

You walked out and made it a whole five steps before almost tripping over your feet.

He was a vision: standing outside beside his car, leaning against the passenger side. Hands in his pockets. Gaze turned to the side. His suit was perfectly tailored to him, outlining his broad shoulders and full hips. Those arms that could rip his uniform into shreds were less of a threat to the suit jacket, though still made their presence known. The stubble on his face was short but visible, and it gave his jawline even more of a sharp edge. He turned and gave a small grin at the sight of you.

You swallowed the lump that formed in your throat and regained your footing.

“Hi,” you greeted as you stepped out the door. “I hope I didn’t make you wait too long.”

“Not at all,” he said, hands slowly making their way out of his pockets. “You look… “

He trailed off for a moment, glancing down at your dress before meeting your eyes again.

“... Amazing.”

You swallowed again, the heat in your face making it harder to breathe.

“So do you.”

You couldn’t help stealing another glance at that marvelous suit, subconsciously biting your lips together in hopes of keeping your cool.

“Thank you.”

You returned his gaze upon hearing his voice, letting yourself get lost in them. Any semblance of nerves that had just been assaulting you were long gone, like you’d been in a crowded room, and he was the one to walk in and make every voice fall silent.

Who could blame them? He left you speechless, too.

After a moment he cleared his throat and opened the car door for you.

“Shall we, then?”

You smiled at the gesture and climbed in, your heart already aflutter. Who knew people still opened car doors for each other?

You watched him walk around and get into the driver’s seat, phone in hand.

“I’m a little embarrassed at having to use the GPS to get there,” he said with a chuckle.

“Don’t be!” You laughed. “Everyone needs the help sometimes.”

He glanced up at you before resuming his search, a small dust of color brimming on his ears.

Once the GPS began to speak, he pulled onto the road.

“I don’t recognize the name of the restaurant,” you commented, rubbing your thumb along the back of your opposite hand. “Have you ever been?”

“No, actually. I don’t go out very much.”

“Me, either,” you nodded.

“New for us both. That’ll be nice.”

He pulled up to a stoplight and turned away from the road to look at you.

“Yeah, that will be nice.” You said with a smile.

An unspoken feeling passed through you: uncharted, exciting, deep. By the way Din looked at you, you’d swear he was feeling the same thing. His eyes seemed to be speaking for him again – a language you were so desperate to learn. Yet at the same time, it felt as though the message was crystal clear.

The light turned green, but the spell didn’t break. Somehow, without even having to look at you, those eyes were still relaying their words. The comfortable silence between you was so loud with them that it was almost too much to bear.

Din ended up driving you to a separate sector of downtown from where Cal’s and the Mark were located. A spring of joy lit up inside you; this was an area you never got to explore.

When Din pulled into a parking spot, he rushed to undo his seat belt.

“Hang on.”

You halted your hands from reaching for the door handle and instead watched him jog over to open it again for you. A wide smile sprouted on your face. What a precious gentleman.

You glanced at the hand he held out for you before placing yours in it. Just as it had the last time, back in Cal’s, electricity shot through you. There was a slight jolt in his grip before he pulled you to your feet, giving your hand the slightest squeeze before letting it go.

You instantly missed his warmth.

He pointed the way after locking the car and the two of you walked side by side. You held tight to your bag, still unsure of what physical boundaries should be kept. You glanced at his hand, dangling along his side. It swayed with his movements.

How nice would it be if it just stayed wrapped around yours?

Upon approaching the restaurant, he opened that door for you as well, making you giggle.

“Will you be opening all my doors tonight?”

“... Is that okay?”

The concern that clouded his eyes made you wish you hadn’t said a word. You smiled and held out a hand towards him.

“Of course, yes! I’m just not used to it is all.”

You paused and looked at your feet, nerves threatening to keep the next words from escaping your mouth.

“It makes me feel really special.”

He let out a breath. You watched the tension dissipate from his shoulders and a calmness come over his expression. 

“I’m glad.”

He turned from you and greeted the approaching waiter.

You took the moment look around. The restaurant was quaint and elegant, warm yellow lighting reflecting off the maroon walls. Wide open dining areas and a dancing area down a farther hallway. Shimmering chandeliers dangled from above and reflected constellations off themselves.

It was gorgeous.

When the waiter grabbed two menus, you began to prepare yourself. Your heart was pounding deep and loud – a boisterous show of its limits.

And the evening had only just begun.

~~~~

Light chatter surrounded you both as you sat at the intimate little table for two, waiting for your orders. The candle sitting between you made Din glow; specks of yellow danced across his face, making his eyes shimmer. He was looking out the window, his side profile made ever sharper by the contrasting shadows.

“It looks so other-worldly outside,” he said, “... does that sound weird?”

His voice snapped you out of your trance.

“No, not at all,” you shook your head.

You took a glance out the window, taking in the pale city lights as they twinkled against the dark backdrop of the encroaching night. As cars drove past, the headlights would briefly splatter the surrounding surfaces. It was like several little light shows just for the two of you.

“I see what you mean. It’s kind of magical.”

He turned to you and grinned. His eyes betrayed a hint of embarrassment.

The waiter came by and set your food before you both. Din cleared his throat and glanced about the room until they walked away.

The smell immediately graced your nose, making you breathe in a deep dose of it. Your stomach grumbled its approval just before you both began eating. You were grateful for the food – it gave you something to do when you couldn’t think of what to say.

Clinking silverware and padded footsteps of passing waiters filled the air. You glanced up at Din between bites – he would either be pecking at his food or glancing out the window, seemingly wringing his hands together.

Good to know he was also nervous, though it left you unsure of how to break the tension. You took another bite and thought back to the pep-talk you gave yourself.

Just another chat across the counter.

You took a sip of your water and set down your cutlery.

“How’s Grogu doing?”

His eyes darted to you, expression a little lost.

“Oh- he’s… good.”

“No more fevers, I hope.”

That got him to smile a bit.

“No, he’s okay. He’s actually been really active lately.”

“Yeah?” Tell me more.”

He did. And as he spoke, his demeanor shifted. The weight left his shoulders, the buzzing air calming. You could swear you were actually at Cal’s, and he was sitting at the counter. You couldn’t help smiling – at both his and Grogu’s cuteness.

Conversation flowed much more easily after that, the evening drifting along with it. He made you laugh, you made him blush, and everything in the world made sense.

Before either of you knew it, the waiter had left the check on the table and at least a solid two hours had passed. Din didn’t even entertain the notion when you lifted your little purse to help pay, giving you a good laugh and another flutter of the heart.

The two of you walked out into the night soon after, you nursing leftovers in your hand. The walk to the car was slow and peaceful, the breeze a relief on your beaming cheeks. When you reached the car, you stopped Din with a hand on his forearm before he could open the door.

“Hey-” you looked up at him. “Do you want to…”

You gulped. You didn’t want the night to end just yet. But what would happen if he said no? Just imagining the awkwardness made you want to run away. He glanced down at your hand before meeting your eyes again.

“... walk around a bit?” he finished for you.

You nodded with a smile, hoping the utter mental pain you were enduring wasn’t visible in your expression. He straightened up and took your to-go box out of your hands.

“That sounds nice. Let’s drop this off, then.”

The relief was so sweet yet drastic. You sighed with a small laugh and gave his forearm a little squeeze.

~~~~

The walk reminded you of that spontaneous arcade day the two of you shared, yet this was somehow even sweeter.

The night was rich with energy. Light spilled onto the sidewalks from the little shops that lined the streets, a slight breeze whisking around you, and a healthy flow of words still running between you. Din’s voice grew just a bit more animated than it had been at the start of the night, and you reveled in the soothing sound of it.

One shop caught your eye: a little ice cream parlor, painted in creamy pastels and boasting a host of flavors, with indoor decor that was reminiscent of a vintage diner. You couldn’t stop yourself from taking in the sugary vanilla scent. You turned to Din with a grin.

“Do you want some dessert?”

He stared at you with wide eyes and hesitated. A beat passed before he gulped and tore his gaze from you to look at the list of flavors outside the door.

“Sure—yeah, let’s do it.”

You insisted on paying once flavors had been selected, mirroring what he had done in the restaurant.

It took him all but five minutes to finish his. You weren’t even at your cone yet.

You looked between your hand holding your ice cream and his empty one crumpling a napkin across the little circular table. Gesturing between them, you gave him a puzzled look.

“How?”

He just shrugged with a chuckle. You shook your head and continued to dive into your cone.

“Oh, hey- you’ve got something right there…”

He gestured to the side of his lip. Fighting off the embarrassment, you tried to wipe it off with your hand.

“Did I get it?”

He shook his head. You tried again. Whatever it was continued to elude you, leading Din to reach for a new napkin.

“May I?”

You laughed at your own helplessness and scooched your chair closer to him. 

He met you halfway and wiped at the edge of your mouth. Even through the layers between you, his fingers burned into your skin. You couldn’t help staring at the concentrated expression he held, your muscles freezing up under his touch. He drew closer and continued on his mission to clear off the ice cream, though the napkin just felt dry against your skin. His thumb darted out to caress your cheek, and you gasped at the touch.

He had to stop teasing you like that. You wouldn’t be able to help yourself otherwise.

His gaze slowly made its way up from your lips until it met yours, his eyes giving you that familiar sensation of being effortlessly dissected.

How do his eyes do that, you wondered.

“… How do you do that?”

You may not have meant to voice your thoughts, but no regret followed.

“Do what?”

“it’s just that- I don’t know, every time you look at me, it’s like you’re staring into my soul.”

He let out a soft laugh.

“It’s not a bad thing,” you quickly added, “I’ve just never experienced it before.”

He leaned back the slightest bit, his hand falling from your face.

“You do something similar, you know. It’s like there’s…”

He leaned in again and squinted a bit, peering even deeper. You jumped a bit in your seat, the sudden proximity sending a jolt through your veins.

“… I can’t quite explain it, but they’re pretty incredible.”

His voice was soft and quiet, as if speaking too loudly would break the moment.

You melted into his gaze, losing yourself chasing the shining stars that made up its inner galaxy. A deep warmth ran through you, and you couldn’t help smiling. He returned the expression, his eyes crinkling.

You could look at that face all night.

The rest of your ice cream sat abandoned in your hand, the slight sensation of it dripping onto your hand the only indication that anything else still existed.

“Oh-”

Din bounced back into action to clean you up, leaving you to careen back to Earth’s surface. The chatter of other customers, the faint music in the background, it all came rushing back too fast.

“Better get a jump on this if you don’t want to end up doused in ice cream soup,” he said with that beautiful grin.

It was hopeless. Hardly anything had happened, and yet… You were trapped in his orbit.

~~~~

Your throat was so sore by the time Din was driving you home, hours having passed by without you. You were certain you’d never talked to someone for so long before.

The fatigue was showing on his face as well, in the form of tired eyes and deeper sighs.

“I’m sorry to have kept you out so late,” you said.

“Oh, please, don’t be.” He stole a glance before returning his attention to the road. “I had a great time with you.”

Like a blanket straight from the dryer, you were wrapped in that sweet feeling again.

“Likewise.”

He smiled with his teeth for the briefest of moments.

Moments later he was pulling the car into park in front of your building and popping out to open your door one more time for the night.

You looked up to see him staring at the ground with his hand outstretched, that adorable red tint decorating his ears. You smiled and let him pull you out of the car, but this time he didn’t step away.

Your heartbeat quickened without your permission, sending a flurry of butterflies through your gut. You were craning your neck the slightest bit, eager to take in his features from this close up, despite the growing clamminess in your hands.

His gaze was slower to meet yours; he took his time examining you, starting from your shoes and working his way up. When he did catch your eyes, something in his stance deflated. And his smile once again took all the remaining breath from your lungs.

“I meant it,” he all but whispered, “I… had a really great time tonight.”

“Me too,” your voice came out quieter than intended, matching his. “Maybe we could do it again sometime?”

“I’d like that.”

He gave your hand a squeeze.

“I’d like that a lot.”

Your smile was hurting your cheeks, but the pain was barely registering. The crisp night air whisked around you both, as if sweeping away everything else until all you could focus on was Din.

He took up your entire field of vision, your every sensation, each breath you tried to take.

You couldn’t stand it anymore.

You placed your free hand on his shoulder, giving yourself enough leverage to pull him towards you and plant a kiss on his cheek.

Your entire body was heating up, your lips tingling. His skin was so soft, the slight scratch of his stubble a pleasant sensation.

His eyes betrayed surprise, blinking a few times before regaining their focus. He gulped and looked back down to the ground between you both, the red tint stretching to his cheeks.  

God, he was so cute.

A big gust of wind broke the moment, making you shiver. His face immediately shifted to concern.

“Oh, are you cold?”

You let out a small laugh.

“Just a bit. I guess that’s my cue.”

You gave his hand one last squeeze before letting go and retrieving your leftovers from the car.

He closed the car door when you stepped away, stuffing his hands in his pocket.

“Good night, Din. Thank you for everything.”

He smiled at you, giving a small nod in your direction.

“Good night.”

One last look at him before you forced your feet to start moving. Every instinct in you tried to pull you back to him, but you had to press on.

The heated building began to thaw you out, but it was nothing compared to him. You didn’t stop until you got to the elevator, the curb thankfully out of view to keep you from running right back outside.

Every moment, every feeling, it all came crashing down on you all at once. Right there inside the moving metal box. You had to lean against the wall to catch yourself.

What a night.

~~~~

Your apartment was dark. The city lights still penetrated through your windows, illuminating select areas and helping your brain adjust, but you were still left fumbling for the light switch.

Your movements were almost robotic as you toed off your shoes, put away your food, closed the curtains, and made your way to the bedroom. You plopped your purse down and stared at yourself in the mirror.

Okay, I’m wearing the dress, so none of that was a dream.

You changed into your nightwear and took a seat on the couch, blankly turning on the TV and letting the white noise fill the space.

Your mind was so overwhelmed with how much the two of you had spoken, yet it still didn’t feel like enough. By the end of it all, you still wished it didn’t have to end.

You brushed your fingers over your cheek, where the invisible indent of his hand still remained. Warm, strong, and soft – that’s how his hands felt. Just the memory of them had your skin tingling again.

Magic. It was the only word that could describe the night. Something about it all was just pure magic.

You sighed. You’d never been more eager to see someone again. To feel that enchanting bliss again. It seemed so foolish, yet you couldn’t help yourself. You lifted up your phone – it’d definitely be too much to message him now, no matter how much you wanted to. Some self-control had to be practiced.

You elected instead to put on Golden Girls, your muscles relaxing as the familiar score began to play. You reached over to your side table and pick up your most recent read: Major Pettigrew’s Last Stand. Funnily enough, the story involved a new love for the titular character.

But for the first time in a while, the pages went on without you. You made it through the first few pages before the train derailed. The words were there, your eyes moved over them, but you weren’t encoding a single one. Your mind’s eye projected those eyes, that suit, the gorgeous smile, all over the page.

You shook your head. Maybe if this chapter involved Jasmina rather than the discomforting country club group, it would apply more to your mind’s incessant stick to the topic of romance.

“Sorry, Major,” you whispered as you closed the book. “Even you can’t compete right now.”

The girls were chatting over cheesecake when you picked up your phone again, scrolling aimlessly until you decided the only way to calm yourself down enough to go to bed was to expel everything.

The phone only rang twice before Harley picked up, skipping every pleasantry and going right into the, “Tell me everything.”

~~~~

Luke turned to the next page in his book, readjusting in the chair as he did so.

The apartment had been quiet, blanketed in the yellow glow of Din’s floor lamp since Grogu fell asleep. The perfect backdrop to get engrossed in a book and forget where he was.

The one thing to break his trance was the gentle rustling of the front door. Luke looked up and checked his phone – the 11:55pm timestamp had him slightly recoiling in disbelief.

When Din walked through the door, Luke closed his book and gave him a smile.

“Welcome back,” he said, “How’d it go?”

Din shrugged off his suit jacket and draped it on the sofa. He plopped down, leaned on his knees, and ran his hands through his hair with a sigh. When he sat back up, Luke noted the flush in his cheeks, the shine in his eyes, and couldn’t help grinning.

“That good, huh?”

Din shook his head.

“I don’t even know what happened. She’s… just incredible.”

Luke had never seen Din like this. Sure, he was quiet, but this was fully tongue-tied. A blissful tone was evident in his worn-out voice.

As quick as it came, though, it vanished. Din’s expression narrowed.

“Wait, how long has he been asleep?”

Ah. Dad mode was back.

“A few hours,” Luke said with a shrug. “It is almost midnight.”

Din straightened up.

“What? I was gone that long?”

“It’s okay, Mr. Djarin, he’s completely fine.”

“I’ve never missed bedtime on a day off. Are you sure he was okay?”

“Yes,” Luke said, moving to sit next to Din on the sofa. “I promise, he’s great. Besides, he goes to bed at eight. Even if you were home earlier, there’s no way you’d have been back that early.”

Din leaned back until he collided with the backrest, slightly shaking his head.

Luke internally sighed. Just when he thought the guilt would stay away…

He turned in his seat to face Din and got his attention with a hand to his shoulder.

“Mr. Djarin, listen to me. I want you to think about how you felt being out tonight. How you felt being on that date.”

Din eyed Luke before turning his gaze to his lap.

“You don’t have to say anything – just think.”

Din closed his eyes, his chest slowly inflating and deflating with deep breaths.

In the time he’d known Din, Luke had never seen him do anything for himself. Everything he ever did, he did for Grogu. It was hard to see him like this, almost punishing himself for the smallest deviation.

The best way out of this for now, Luke reasoned, was to reframe it in a way that included Grogu.

“Now, don’t you think Grogu would enjoy hearing about those feelings? Won’t it be nice to tell him all about this tomorrow?”

Din’s gaze rose back up to him.

“You’ll see for yourself, he’s going to love that you went out and did so much. He is going to love seeing you happy.”

Din gave a small nod, though there was still a hint of doubt in his expression. He sat up and let out a puff of air.

“Can I ask you something, Luke?”

Luke straightened up with a nod.

“Why are you helping me so much?”

“What do you mean?” Luke asked.

“I mean, I don’t understand why you’ve gone out of your way to do so much for me. Especially with all this date stuff.”

What an innocent soul he was. Luke smiled and shrugged.

“Because I want to.”

“But… why?”

Din looked genuinely puzzled. On the one hand, it was endearing, but on the other, Luke couldn’t help wondering why it was so hard for him to accept that people would just want to help him.

“Believe it or not, Mr. Djarin,” he started, “spending this much time together has made us friends. Friends help each other. If I needed something, we both know you’d be there for me. It’s the same both ways.”

Din’s expression relaxed a bit. A small grin pulled at his lips.

“Well, friend, I’m sorry to have kept you here all night.”

The swell of warmth that came from hearing Din call him a friend was unexpected, but not unwelcome. Luke gave him a pat on the shoulder.

“No worries, pal. I’m really glad you had such a good night.”

Din gave him a wider smile.

“You were right about getting there early,” he chuckled, “I did need the extra time.”

Luke laughed.

He sat back and listened as Din relayed parts of the night, pride growing within him with every moment, every story, every little hint of bashfulness and glee on Din’s face.

A happy Din was quite the sight to behold.

****

Additional notes: Major Pettigrew's Last Stand by Helen Simonson is one of my favorite books ever. Full stop. It's a beautiful, skillfully told story about an old man finding new meanings in life. The characters are so flushed out and amazing and they just tug at your heart. I am very picky about writing style and I just gotta say, Helen's is one of the most talented writers I've read. Only something like this date could've derailed my mind from her gorgeous words!!

latch taglist: @the-scandalorian @tobealostwanderer @captain-jebi @prismaticpizza @sunipostsstuff @jaa1682-27 @onebrownoneblue @kesskirata @fangirlalexia @tortles @girlofchaos @spideysimpossiblegirl @just-a-sewer-goblin @kotemorons @hotchlover

perm taglist: @booksarekindaneat @bluemacaron @c-a-v-a-l-r-y @whataenginerd @christina-loves @librariantothejedi @literallydontlook @salome-c @dessinemoiunehistoire @dear-fifi @mswarriorbabe80 @littlemisspascal @keldabe-kriff @kurlyfrasier @booksaremyyoga @elegantduckturtle @artsymaddie

[writtenjewels]

Voice Part 4

Part One, Part Two, Part Three

Salim's first date since Maysa left him did not go very well. Leon still didn't laugh at any of his jokes, and the two ended up having nothing to talk about for the duration. When Salim tried calling the next guy, all he got was the voice mail. He left a message and waited two days before realizing the man wasn't going to call back. The incident was so embarrassing that by the time Salim plucked up the nerve to call the third guy, he found the man was already dating someone. He wasn't even sure it was worth calling the fourth guy.

That was when he got a text: 'Is this Salim? This is Ethan from the mixer.'

'Yes,' Salim typed back. 'I remember you.'

'I was wondering if you were busy this Friday,' Ethan sent back. 'My brother-in-law is having this art gallery show. Be nice to have some company.'

'I would love to go,' Salim responded. Even if this ended up going badly, he would at least get to enjoy some art. The two continued texting back and forth until they agreed on a time and place to meet. Salim was feeling optimistic when they closed the conversation.

On Friday, Salim met Ethan at a restaurant so they could eat before the show. Ethan wore a dark brown blazer and dress slacks, the ensemble simple but striking. His hair was a light brown, almost red in certain lighting, and he wore it almost to his chin. Salim noted earrings framing the man's entire left ear.

“You weren't wearing those at the mixer,” Salim noted.

“I don't wear them all the time.”

“Too bad,” Salim hummed. Ethan caught his eye and smiled. Salim returned the look. The night was going well.

He mostly stuck by Ethan's side during the show. Many of the art pieces were good, some he didn't fully understand but appreciated the skill of the artist, and some were so beyond him that he was lost on how it was considered art. Ethan was equally uninformed, but he made up plenty of art facts that at least kept things entertaining throughout the night. The two walked back to Salim's car together.

“Thanks for coming,” Ethan said. “I had a lot more fun with you here.”

“I had fun, too,” Salim agreed. He took a breath and asked: “Would you like to do something again?”

“Absolutely.” Ethan's face broke out in a grin. “I'd like that a lot. How about Tuesday?”

“Yes, okay, Tuesday,” Salim nodded.

Ethan leaned forward. Salim realized what was about to happen moments before it did. His hand was halfway to stopping Ethan when the kiss came. It was light and sweet, lasting only a few seconds before it broke. Ethan didn't seem to notice that Salim hadn't kissed back. They exchanged good-nights and Salim drove home.

He brewed a cup of tea to wind down when he got home. He was still trying to figure out how he felt about the kiss. It wasn't unpleasant, but he wasn't very excited about it, either. He reminded himself that this was just a first date, that he and Ethan were getting to know each other. But a part of him couldn't help thinking of the other three names already on the rejection pile.

Salim readied himself for bed, still feeling glum. His eyes drifted to the player. He hadn't listened to the tape since he started trying to date. He was convinced the voice was unhappy about him dating and didn't want to upset it any farther. He sighed; he could really use a friendly voice right now. Salim pressed play.

“Holy shit, there you are!” the voice burst out, startling him. “Are you okay? Were you hurt?”

“No, I...” Guilt gnawed at him. The voice sounded so worried, almost panicked. “I'm all right. I've just been busy.”

“Jesus Christ, don't scare me like that. I thought something happened to you!”

“I suppose you could say something did happen.” Salim sat on the edge of his bed, gripping it to brace himself. “I went on a date, and he kissed me.” There was silence for so long Salim got off his bed and checked to make sure the player was still running. “Hello?” Salim prompted.

“Yeah.” The voice was back to a more flat tone. “I hear ya.”

“I was wondering if that's normal, to kiss on a first date.” Salim thought he would feel embarrassed talking about his lack of experience, but he didn't. Maybe because it was just a voice, or maybe because it was this voice in particular.

“It happens, I guess. There ain't no hard and fast rule for it. If you both feel a spark, you should go for it.”

Did Ethan feel a spark? Salim hadn't sensed that. No wonder he didn't enjoy the kiss as much. “I see,” he said out loud. “Thank you. I promise I won't worry you like that again.”

“Good to hear.” There was a short silence. “So, you need a massage tonight?”

“No, thank you, my friend. I just wanted to talk to you.”

“Oh. Huh.” The voice sounded surprised. “I'm here,” the voice told him. “You can talk to me whenever.”

“Thank you.” Salim got under the covers. “Good night,” he added.

“Night, Salim.”

In his dream he was back at the mixer. Faces floated in and out of focus. There was one guy at a table trying to catch his eye. When Salim drew closer, he saw the man was wearing a gray baseball cap. His face was pale, making the freckles on his cheeks easy to spot. He had pleasant, angular features. The more Salim stared at him, the more he felt he already knew this person. It was the logic of dreamland.

“Hello,” Salim greeted. He read the man's name-tag out loud: “Jason.” The man responded by tipping the brim of his hat. It was a charming gesture, reminding Salim of Westerns. “Oh, are you a cowboy?” Salim teased him.

Jason's dark brown eyes sparked in amusement. He made a few hand gestures that dreamland helped interpret: [I forgot my ten-gallon hat at home.]

“At least you went for the next best thing. Cowboys and baseball. You can't be more American if you tried.”

[You want to bet?] Jason pointed to his arm where there was a tattoo of an eagle. Salim laughed at that and Jason's smile grew bigger.

Their eyes met for a moment. Salim's heart skipped. He liked this man a lot already.

And when he woke up, Salim was sad to see the man go.

[fairytalearista]

I saw a post that resonated with me the other day, and I'm now wondering if my experience is more universal than I realized. So, would you mind answering the following:

And, by "experience anxiety" I mean disordered anxiety, where your nervous system will go into disproportionate panic modes on a semi-regular basis. Bonus points if you have been diagnosed by a professional, but it's not necessary.

I also pulled out "trained in handling crises" as a separate options, because I'm more interested in natural tendencies here. You are welcome to ignore those options if you want to think of crises you are NOT trained to handle.

Please reblog to increase sample size, please

[holedyke]

im so fucking fed up with this dog im petsitting and im only one day down out of a week 💀💀💀💀💀💀

[agueforts]

me vs eternal grudges abt d20 captions

[taibhsearachd]

Parts of the foot that’s injured are now weirdly numb/tingly? I’m sure this is fine. Just probably some minor nerve damage in my foot, no biggie. I stopped wearing my ankle brace today in hopes that would help, but I’m not sure it has.

I genuinely don’t know whether I should put it back on to stabilize the foot/ankle again (it does seem to help to a degree) or keep it off because maybe the brace is the reason for the numb tingly shit (because of the way the brace secures it does put pressure on that part of my foot but like… not in a way that seems like it’d damage anything? But idk). I feel so unstable walking around without it though. Also it hurts.

[carcarrot]

well that was a shortlived good feeling about my job