#flames amiright

[lilacskyly]

On the road but might as well introduce my other ocs :>

First of all: here's my oc Pulsé

(Still not drawn in my style cuz college and road stuff :,>)

Info about him under cut!

Pulsé is part of Serval's group. He's the oldest of the three members and has sworn to protect them.

After splitting up with them to find emblems, he goes to Brodia and finds Emblem Berkut. (I have a reason for picking Berkut over Alm for representation of Echoes, trust me :>)

Quickish info about Emblem Berkut: His main ability is like Emblem Byleths. It gives allies another turn while also adding the flame effect in a diamond shape around said ally. (If you know why it's flames, I'm so sorry I just had to). He's also known as the Emblem of Pride.

Going back to Pulsé, he acts very cold towards others he doesn't trust or doesn't know. He constantly has part of his dragon form showing to scare people off who could potentially cause harm. He's not quick to trust anyone and will actively assume the worst about people.

Pulsé is the last member of Serval's group to join forces with Divine Dragon Veyle.

Next member of Serval's group will be introduced next :]

[schroedingerscryptid]

absolutely insane that schools insist you do math in pen, and that any working in pencil (save for graphs) will be ignored. like girl (gn) do you think i have enough self-confidence for that shit

[sunandflame]

So, I have it in my head that Kyojuro’s nipples are really sensitive (and if he doesn’t have much experience then I don’t think he would know that), but I think someone could get him real hot and bothered just by playing with them (and fuck it is so hot when big strong guys like their titties played with, amiright??)

🥹🙏🏼 could please have a drabble of someone figuring that out? Maybe both him and whoever’s getting their paws under his shirt figuring it out together? Sitting in his lap and teasing him for however long —light, tiny little pinches that make him squirm and whimper, warm, swirling circles with your fingertips that make his jaw drop open, fluttering nudges and flicks that make his hips buck under you. Anything you do to them gets a reaction, could do it for hours, but five minutes of it and he’s a wiggly, panting mess, but he doesn’t want you to stop so you try putting one in your mouth and—- 😈🥵

Dear anon baby, you are so fucking right. This is indeed very hot. When I saw this I KNEW this was way too good to dismiss this delicious idea. I am just so sorry for answering this so late. I hope you are still around and I hope you enjoy it!

Weak Spot

Warnings: suggestive, nipple play, nipple teasing, dry humping, smut

Word Count: 701

Pairing: Kyojuro x Reader

crossposted on AO3

You were sitting on your favorite place in this whole world and that was your boyfriend's lap. You liked how his muscular and big thighs felt under your thighs. In the beginning of your relationship you were so self conscious, not sure if your weight crushed him, but Kyojuro assured you that you weighed nothing for him. After you made sure that he was not lying to make you feel better for your weight, you started to sit more often on his lap as this was a way to be as close as possible. 

It was winter and you started to feel cold, searching for some heat that you knew that your boyfriend would provide. Your mind was absent when your hand wandered under his shirt, laying your hand on his chest and stroking his skin. 

A little gasp was to be heard and you lifted your head to see into your boyfriend's eyes who was starting to blush. 

“Kyojuro honey, are you okay?”  Curious you furrowed your eyebrows

“Hm, yes yes. It’s nothing!”

“If you say so…” 

You thought nothing of it and placed your head on his shoulder again and continued your stroking. Your fingers accidentally brushed his nipples and then you heard it again. That little sweet gasp of his. Can it be…? Now your hands slid over his chest not involuntarily but carefully, brushing against his nipple until you heard him holding back a whimper. Oh he is sensitive there… A mischievous idea came into your mind and your fingers were now circling around his nipple to tease him lightly. 

“My flame…” His voice was strained, as he was trying to gain his last self control, his face completely red. “Please…”

“Please what…?” Your fingers didn’t stop drawing circles around his nipple until you decided to give them a very slight flick. That caused him to buck his hip under you. He realized what he had just done and his face turned into a scarlet tone, embarrassed over his own reaction.

You undid his shirt and revealed those sweet manly titties that you were keen to explore now. You continued to stroke them with your fingers. And his jaw actually fell open when you were fluttering nudges and started to flick his nipples. The bulge of his, under your lap, was pushing against your ass and thigh. His skin was too hot and you decided that he needed a cool off by your mouth.

You drawed out your tongue, licking first his chest before you finally got to your desired target. You heard him whimper as he wiggled under you but did nothing to push you away. He enjoyed this far too much even if you overstimulated him.

Kyojuro was truly a mess. It was the first time he experienced those things and he was not sure how further he could go. His skin was tingling and feeling hot. His pants were incredibly tight and he worried that his zipper wouldn’t hold his dick anymore if you continued to play with his chest like this. Things didn't get any better when you started to dry hump him, causing more friction. That’s it. It was impossible to hold back his moan. He grabbed tightly on your waist as he tried to stop your hips from moving. 

His strength was remarkable and something that had always turned you on, but this did not stop you from continuing your play with his nipples. So you went further, licked and bit his chest, eliciting all those sweet moans and whimpers from him, while his hands bruised your waist. You did not mind at that point. You would wear those love marks with pride. 

You did a quick cat lick. It felt so deliciously warm after all that preparation you had done. So beautiful red and puckered. You sunk your teeth into his nipple and that was the moment where he came undone, trembling as he gasped for air. You felt how his cock was twitching under you and a wet spot forming on his pants. A satisfied smile was on your lips as you gave him a kiss on his lips.

“I guess we found out your weak spot, my love.”

[maxrowave]

The long-awaited drarry cannibalism writing

This is only a snippet and is part of a much bigger thing, albeit the quality of the writing is a bit dubious because when writing, I'd never intended on them being read, I will provide some context for this + other notes at the end. I would also like to mention that this writing does contain the contributions of a writer who has requested to remain anonymous.

Draco has been subtly manipulating Harry to resent among his closest friends, because of orders from Voldemort; Draco puts Harry into a situation where he needs to either kill Seamus or Draco. Harry chooses to kill Seamus however faces lots of regret. It is also snowing and they are outside, disposing of the body.

Harry Potter is a fool. A stupid, ginormous fool. Whenever Draco traced his forearm, Harry leaned into Draco’s touch, craving it like a child craves approval. He still could not bring himself to meet Draco’s eyes, feeling undeserving after the heinous act he had done. Harry killed Seamus with his hands. He could have pulled out his wand, making his suffering minimal, but a part of Harry wanted Seamus to hurt for abandoning him. Harry wanted- Harry became all too aware of the fact Draco was towering over him and slender fingers found their way into his hair, forcing him to look down and not bow his head in shame. Harry had never bowed his head to Draco before out of pride, but now he didn’t cower solely because of the acceptance offered to him.

“You saved me from David. I saved you from Seamus. Now we’re even.” Harry says plainly "Seems righteous."

Harry began averting his gaze to stare at Seamus. Unlike David, Seamus was not beautiful in death. It was the stark opposite. This was the ugliest thing Harry had seen in his entire life. He looked down at his hands, briefly imagining what it would have been like if the roles were reversed. Harry’s hands would be around Draco’s neck instead with Seamus cheering him as he stood behind him, urging Harry to punish Draco for years of torment. Harry would squeeze as hard as he could until that angelically pale face burned red with vessels bursting, but then Draco would only look at him with those inhuman silver eyes and Harry would pull away ashamed. Harry would have spared Draco, feeling guilty for wanting to hurt him.

Draco stepped a little closer to Harry, not intentionally, but perhaps some subconscious animalistic instinct for warmth; a moth to a flame. He was to report in his next letter, Harry had struggled with killing one of his closest friends, yet he'd done so anyway. He'd indulged himself in a sin and his hands were stained, Draco's curiosity burned with where Harry's limits were. How far could he push this lion? Poke and prod it in its cage and teeter on the tightrope of danger as he observed him. Draco wanted nothing more than to break apart his skull and look into that brain of his.

Alas, he kept the thought to himself, the awareness of Harry's crumbling state as he'd killed Seamus for him like a lamb to a sacrifice. There was this slow and steady building of Harry's commitment to whatever arrangement they were calling this, with Seamus's death and Harry finally sealing his soul to Draco.

This was the moment Draco had fully decided on taking Harry under his wing.

___ OTHER INFO AND BITS Throughout the whole actual writing, in Harry's mind, he often refers to Draco as angelic because of his features -- blond hair, and pale skin, Draco meets a lot of conventional beauty standards. However, in a lot of Draco's subconscious, there are a few metaphors about the devil in contrast, with the devil being a fallen angel and all that. All around some religious references because what's sexier amiright? Furthermore, Harry mentions Draco saving him from someone named David -- that is the first person Harry kills, and it is by accident. The name David was chosen because in the Bible he symbolises goodness, obedience and morals, therefore by killing him, Harry has killed his own morality.

[morrch]

okay, I want to draw a ofmd based tarot deck 😳

for now, i’m only thinking about major arcana with the main plot line. the fool’s journey where stede is the fool (respectfully)

but it would be so fun to draw all 72 cards!! with all the subplots and characters

i’ve done some rough sketches for the start, i’ll continue after season two is out. idk yet if I should wait even for season three with this project (if it’ll happen lol) maybe i’ll just redraw some cards later… who knows! I think I need to draw my ideas while they’re fresh anyway lol

so about what’s going on with the cards now

THE FOOL start of stede’s journey where he’s still hopeful and a bit naive. sign of the new beginnings

THE EMPRESS represents femininity, motherhood and creation. I think mary with her art is perfect for this card

THE EMPEROR father figure, authority and structure

THE LOVERS scene from the picnic where luscious first noticed the spark. I also like how the original card has a snake as a sign of temptation and in this scene, they also eat a snake (I wasn't planning on it when started to draw I think it’s destiny)

THE HERMIT so here is the s2 izzy where I assume he’ll get so of redemption arc and will face himself on top of everything else. also, he is almost always surrounded but the candles and has a clear attraction to the flames, I wonder how it’ll affect the symbolism. anyway this card is still a speculation, this is only my gut feeling

DEATH originally this card is not necessarily dark, it is mostly about the ending of a cycle. but in this case, I thought that this particular scene defined ed’s relationship with death and the act of killing. also, it’s kinda about ending a cycle of abuse (not sure about this one)

THE DEVIL I think it’s mostly about how ed sees himself and I wanted to draw the figurines lol (idk i’m too heartbroken about my emo baby girl I can't explain my feelings aaaaaa)

THE TOWER this is where it all started for me haha. this is the card that represents the destruction of beliefs and foundations and I think the lighthouse painting is PERFECT for it. how it all shattered and stuff (screaming)

THE MOON love this one is about anxiety and betrayal and not important about seeing the danger in the wrong things. and I like that on the original card there is a wolf and a domesticated dog and they are such a good parallel to ed and steed 😖 and izzy is the crayfish sorry not sorry (more like cryfish amIright??)

[fellstcr]

⚔️ // a good question. one that byleth struggled to find the answer to all the same. if life was a great sea , then hers was one that had been long besieged by storm and thunder. large tides of loss and shattered trust had crashed over the bow of the ship a thousand times , drawing cold saltwater rushing into the hull. if time had a direction for her now , she didn't know which way its winds blew. her masts were bent and broken. her sails punctured through.

there was a rhea who was not hers , and yet did not loathe her either. her students were gone. DIMITRI was gone. and alone again in a new sea ( save for darling donald ) , she supposed the reprieve from storm after storm , and wave after wave was a blessing.

perhaps , somehow , sothis had taken mercy on her.

only . . . byleth wasn't so certain she deserved that grace.

"i'm... not sure. i haven't really had the time to think too deeply about it," she settled on the words finally , a deft PIROUETTE around the subject of ASH and SALT. "i think i'd like to teach again one day ... but ... for now it might be more REALISTIC to settle with — they call it LAW ENFORCEMENT in places like these." lithe fingers fiddled with the hem of her back-panel skirt , twisting grey fabric around her finger before tilting her head to one side.

"wielding a blade in hand .... it .... seems to be what i'm BEST SUITED TO."

It was a very different life than most knew—and having a physical place to call home was the oddity to him, rather than that concept being the bugs he surrounded himself with. Grimm had seen countless cultures and views, yet this was the unfamiliar shock he'd been thrown into: a room to call his own that would remain stationary in its place like a tree's great roots, and no family of dark, laughing bugs to speak of, whose spirits lit the night more than a torch ever could.

"A new troupe..." he repeats in musing. "Full of beings from all different worlds. Colorful that would be, would it not? I suppose... I am not quite used to making my way all on my lonesome. So long has it been since it was only me."

Despite it, Grimm wasn't certain if that was the course of action he wanted to take... if he had a choice in the matter, that was. He still was dangerously unaware of the condition his body was in, not to mention where he would even obtain the sheer amount of Nightmare Essence needed for his Ritual... What if this vessel began to die, and he wasn't prepared...? An uncomfortable gulp makes its way down the creature's throat.

"...What of you, Lady Byleth? What path will you seek here?"

[ratinthebins]

Continuing to rewatch DR ep 13 - 15 :3

Ep 13 Wyldly Inappropriate 

Wyldfyre already with a banger quote lmao

Wyldfyre: These walls of punishment aren’t as fun as I hoped

Damn. The animation is really good 

Frohicky ‼️‼️‼️

Oh god

Awww Pixane

Why does Kreel have a plunger? 💀

Wyldfyre no-

Kai: Kids amiright?

Literally a dad

I hate the lava tides

Kai: You’re describing traps. They set traps to catch you

It’s happy Zane day woooo

Slug: *robot noises*

Zane: That is actually quite offensive.

Kai: If not everyone is having fun it’s not pranking, it’s bullying.

Zane is having an identity crisis

Oh my gosh Zane theme music I’m not okay

Ep 14 The Last Djinn

 Not Broom Pixal 🪦

Djinjago music oh boy

Sora and Nya aww

Nya would be such a good mom

Why is Frohicky using a toothbrush 💀

Nya: Not you Sora, other Sora. Dragon Sora. Sora one.

Andddddd they’re cursed

The howlers have such a cool design

Oh my gosh it’s time

Arakore

Nya protec

Xanth the dragon

“Your wish is yours to keep.”

Chills 

Awww he called nya master of hope

Awww they put together his puzzle

OMG

the puzzle

It’s a dog with dynamite 

That’s a reference to s11

Killow drew it :00

(Ignore me just finally piecing this together lol)

I’d just like to mention that this implies it’s being mass produced now. The art. Is Killow a famous painter now?!?! 

Ep 15 They Call It Doom

Kai is so unimpressed by Dorama

Wyldfyre: Flaming boulders? Awesome!

Arin just info dumping about pie crust

Arin is smug and Lloyd is a tired dad

Lloyd being protective of Arin

Awww little slug man

I love him

I love all of them

Ha! L Rapton

Doom mucus 💀

Wyldfyre W

Wyldfyre L

Kai: This kid is the worst

Yeah right- you know you’ve already adopted her

OHHHHH MY GOSHHHH

they’re in the land of lost things

Rapton looks so silly

Lloyd is concerned

Kai: Do you ever think before you act?

Wyldfyre: Why would I do that?!

Heatwave lets goooo

Awww Arin is worried

Lloyd touched Arin’s shoulder before he left 🥹

It’s salt lol

They broke his mind

Rapton dude…

Common Rapton L

Ooo the Administration

Heatwave NOOOOOOOO

Cole: No one touches these children

I love him sm

I wish I could add more photos ;-;

[sil-te-plait-tue-moi]

Let's settle down for the night.

Quick summary: You’ve been each other’s for a long time. You trust him with your life, your body, you time, and he trusts you with his. Sometimes, though, you find yourself craving a quieter kind of intimacy. Without the helmet.

Word count: 6.3K

Warnings: A lot of fluff 😩😩; may be inaccurate ‘cause, I gotta say, I’m a Star Wars fan but I did not proper hyperfixate on it like with some of the other stuff I’ve written about (buffs, please help me out here); kind of angsty??? like, reader’s an orphan etc; allusions to smut (under the shirt stuff amiright amiright); explicit mentions of smut.

A/N: What a fittie, guys. Bound to happen. This one goes out to @manicdream for giving me a lil’ prompt where you and Din are in looove aaaand—I guess you’ll have to keep reading for the fluuuff and feels! I really had fun with this one! Love this stoic, brooding, dramatic lad, and I enjoyed exploring love languages, their communication, etc, etc. i have no idea when this would take place, so just try to follow along, I guess??? I hope you enjoy this short, little story! I think this is gonna be just one part by the way. For all you Pedro Pascal sluts out there 😌😌😌, I do think I’m gonna write a smut thing for Joel Miller TLOU. NO PROMISES, THOUGH. Just finished the latest episode and what the fuck 😀😀😀 it just gets more and more traumatising huh. Anyway, please enjoy this happy fic!

ੈ✩‧₊˚

We’ve been walking for a while, now. Muscles aching, legs straining. The low, sloping sands of the Tatooine desert are pink in the setting suns, stretching on for years and years. 

The light flames up brilliant red and orange and bright white in his beskar, and I have to squint my eyes when I look over at him. From this angle, he looks like he’s all armour. When the suns finally go down, he’ll be a silhouette. That time of day always suits him best. You know how people you meet just seem like things sometimes. Din’s like rich soil, the kind that you can sink your fingers deep into with one single push. Or like a rock – with how little he talks, I used to think he was a rock. He’s also dusk. Dusk happens to be my favourite time of day. 

My feet are dragging again. If I were with anyone else, I’d never let my guard down—but it’s just us, and we’re in the middle of nowhere, and we’ve got a whole bunch of credits in my pack that’s almost enough to finally buy us our own ship. Won’t have to put up with sceptical glances on commercial flights anymore, or getting bashed about by produce on cargo ships we’ve had to sneak onto. Maker, I miss the comfort of the Razor Crest. But, y’know, it’s—it’s what it is. Lucky for us, transportation is the worst of our problems – it’s been a relatively quiet trip over the planet; no trouble—yet. Quietly trading with sketchy contractors in isolated taverns. We never ask questions about the high-paying ones, whether we’re implicitly tipping the scales of some political bantha shit, but I’m always curious.

A dry gust of wind cools my stifling skin, a break from the still weather.

“You alright back there?”

Din has his head angled slightly back towards me. His grainy, modulated voice curves my mouth up into a smile, and I stare fondly over at him as he slows his pace a little to fall into step with me. I urge him not to slack with the jerk of my head.

“Yeah, ‘f’course,” I assure him, tongue buzzing with foul saliva. Can’t drink just yet, though, ‘cause I already chugged about half of my waterskin way back at sun-up. He’s offered me the rest of his, but I refused to take it. Though, right now, grimacing at the bile in my mouth, I am thinking hard about changing my mind. “We’re safe,” I say confidently. We’ve been careful.

“I know.” Yeah, I know he knows. “I was just wonderin’ cause, y’know, you’ve been a little quiet.”

Playfully, I nudge into him (damn that beskar) and laugh as he shoves me back. “What, so you’re saying you want my ‘mindless chit-chatting’ back now, huh?”

I’m talking out of my ass, of course. We’ve had a thing going for a while, now – it’s been just us for a while. I know he doesn’t mean any harm when he teases me like that. It takes a lot for him to hurt my feelings, and he never does. Maybe at first, when neither of us would admit that we were happier being together than apart. I don’t know why I didn’t just tag along with him sooner. If I had known that those gruff, little grunts he’d make during conversation when we’d cross paths during jobs meant that he was enjoying himself?—well, I wouldn’t have wasted so much time in asking him to be my partner. In all senses.

But still, he feels the need to explain: “Ah, you know I was just—”

“Yeah, yeah.”

I suppose that, after so long needing to be strong and tough and brave and coarse to get on with life and work, he likes being soft. This is soft for him: letting me walk ahead just slightly, his shoulder behind mine, so that he’s always got my six; teasing me about things he’s told me are his favourite qualities of mine; secretly watching me from behind the security of his visor. I don’t tell him I love it, and I don’t tell him I notice, but he knows, I think.

He turns away to complete a quick scan of the horizon on his blind side, and I do the same for mine, before we turn back to each other. He’s tired – I can tell by the way he’s leaning in towards me, like he wants to be held. The privacy of this big, wide desert must be a comfort to him. I know it is to me.

“How’s your day been?” he asks me lowly.

I laugh. “You mean the day we’re currently spending together?”

He nods. “Tell me about it.”

Stars, I’m glad it’s getting dark, because my cheeks start to glow with warmth. Not necessarily just his voice or even the words. Consistently, he always asks about my day. Yesterday, it was in a dingy tavern, after avoiding a bar fight (some prick tried to trick me out of a drink the contractor bought me fair ‘n’ square). The day before, it was in the dead of night, looking up at the stars, with the bounty, unconscious, lying between us.

“I liked it.” He scoffs. “I did. There’s been no trouble, and, y’know, I grew up on a desert planet like this.”

“Bantha farmers, right?”

“Uh-huh.”

He grunts.

I laugh again. “You bastard! You’re so judgemental. Honestly worse than those Coruscanti pricks we worked for ages back. Remember how they looked at us when we traded? Tried to underpay us? Bet they’ve never risked even chipping a nail.” Bounty hunting is a little more difficult these days without the assurance of carbonite freezing, without the security of the Guild – we’ve had to complete ten times as many jobs for five times lesser rates just to get where we are now. Reminds me of when I first started out: bounties fighting back, trying to make a run for it. But what else are we supposed to do?—take up a job where?

The suns slip below the horizon, and everything is washed a low, gentle violet—and Din is that silhouette, now, and everything seems peaceful, like it all fits together just right. Even though, of course, it might not fit together just right when I try to haggle the price of that gunship down a few credits or so and the vendor absolutely obliterates me with the most personal, cutting insults in the entire galaxy. Din’s no help in the communication sector there – the stoic type – but, if anything, he’ll be able to stand behind me with that armour and steel glare and weapons of his to try and intimidate that damn stubborn seller all the way to fuckin’ Bargain Town. Because, damn, we’re relying on it. Peli, bless her soul, doesn’t have anything large or powerful enough to support the three of us on our run from the Empire.

Speaking of the three of us, the kid’s absence, I hate to say it, is kind of nice. Of course, I worry about him, but I trust that he’s being well-looked-after at the garage. Safer than he would be with us. But I haven’t had Din to myself in what seems like years. Last time he touched me was—was—a long time ago. Too much stress. Not enough time to savour it. And he’s all about savouring those kind of things, those moments, dragging them out as long as possible.

I can feel his stare on the side of my face. My sweaty, greasy, clogged face – stars, I can’t wait until we reach a water supply.

“Are you looking at me right now?” I ask, amused.

He does another strategically-timed scan of the area, turning away from me even though I can’t see his face. I wonder if he blushes under that helmet, if it’s really obvious. “You’re looking at me.”

I roll my eyes and smile softly, lowering the scarf around my nose and mouth and tucking the fabric beneath my chin. “How was your day?”

“Good.”

“Good why?”

“‘Cause I’ve got your mindless chit-chattin’ to keep me company.”

Forcing a laugh, I glare at him again. “Ha-ha, you’re so funny, Din. Real knee-slapper right there.”

It goes quiet again – he becomes like that, sometimes, after I use his name. The first time I spoke it was in the dark hull of the Razor Crest, in hyperspace. He sat and stared straight ahead at the streaking silver, motionless, wordless. Here, the desert air is still and calm. His shoulder is still brushing up against mine.

“Are you tired?”

Yes. My legs feel like they’re about to fuckin’ fall off. Here, walking along the plain, is good, but earlier, climbing over dunes and rocks and boulders, was hell. But we need to be getting back to the kid as soon as possible. As much as I trust Peli, I need to see him and make sure he’s okay. So, I shake my head and say, “It’s only a little ways up till the next settlement.”

“It’s a lot further.”

My heart drops. “Oh.” Wishful thinking’s just got me forging fake memories at this point. My knees threaten to buckle beneath me.

“D’you think we should stop?”

“No, we can—”

“I’m tired—” he abruptly comes to a halt, apparently deciding that this little patch of sand will be a nice bed, “—let’s stop for the night.” He beckons me to him, coming in close and retrieving the lamp from inside the sling-bag, setting it down.

Well, if he insists.

You know, it’s moments like these where I just let myself be fond of him. I let myself stare freely at him, admire the shape of his body, the sleek, smart make of his helmet, let myself wonder if his face is any bit as handsome as he sounds. Everything about him is rough. The way he fights, the way he bargains, the way he pilots. His hands. I think about the texture of his hands as I sit down. I remove my gloves and stuff them away, gliding my skin across my skin to just try and simulate that touch.

“You’re not cold?”

I untwine the bag from my shoulders, setting it down and retrieving our remaining food for this day. “I’m not cold. I have, like, five layers on.”

He eyes me doubtfully. “Okay.” And he sits down on the opposite side of the lamp, facing me, one leg propped up as a rest for his arm. The pulse rifle lays by his side, ready.

I offer him a hardening clump of bread and a few stout, odd-looking, white-and-purple vegetables (generously given to us by a farmer we passed a while back)—but Din shakes his head and urges me to eat as much as I can. I bite back a remark about that helmet of his – he must be starving.

“We’ll get something better to eat when we get to the city.”

I snort. “It’s hardly a city.”

“You know what I mean.”

Stupid Din always making stupid decisions and rationalising them because he thinks it’s for me. He knows I can take care of myself, that I’m good at it, but that doesn’t stop him from dropping everything to try. It’s nice for someone to have my back, for that someone to be as wonderful as him, but, holy kriff, he’s so stupid sometimes.

I tell him flat-out, “We don’t have enough credits,” because we don’t. We have barely enough to cover a scrappy, little ship. We definitely don’t have enough to purchase any food. We’ve relied on favours and luck for long enough, and we can go for longer until we’re off-planet. Peli’s got—edible food—probably. I don’t trust it won’t make me shit my brains out as soon as we’re in hyperspace, though.

He shrugs like it’s no big deal, though. “We’ll get a worse ship.”

“Din.” Stupid. I toss him a chunk of bread, swivelling around to give him privacy.

He protests, “I’m not hungry,” and reaches over and taps it against my shoulder – I shrug him away.

“I’m already stuffed, so what’re you gonna do about it?”

He sighs in exasperation. “Thought you might say that.”

“‘Cause I’m just so predictable?”

“You’re stubborn.”

Snapping my head over my shoulder, I scoff and give him an incredulous look. “I’m stubborn?”

He tilts his head to the side as if to goad me further. “Yes.” The warm light of the lamp glows along the strong planes and clean lines of his armour. His hand leisurely dangling from his knee, he rubs his gloved fingers together, and I’m suddenly jealous of a clothing item. I know he must notice the slight catch in my breath.

I turn back around to face him, the sand moulding easily beneath my smooth movements. “And there’s not a brooding Mandalorian sitting across from me now, refusing to eat.”

The first few years of working with Din, I never once saw him eat or drink a thing. It was like he was a droid (don’t tell him I said that): always working, working hard, but fuelled by seemingly—nothing? Obviously, I figured he had to eat some time. When I became his partner, sharing the Razor Crest, he’d retreat to his bunk to eat. And when I asked him his favourite food, he said he didn’t really hate or love anything – as long as he could consume it and it wouldn’t kill him, he’d tolerate it. Over the years, though, I’ve learned he tries to steer clear from any kind of berries. Doesn’t trust ‘em. And he’s not a fan of fish, but the kid is, and I am, so we have it more often, now.

Din jerks his head and allows me to toss him one of those weird vegetables. Having already finished my chunk of bread (on the brink of mould—so yummy!), I take a large, eager bite right out of the vegetable. My mouth is flooded with its bitter juice, and I squint my face up a little at the greenish tang.

“How’s that taste?” he asks.

“Like dirt.” I chew the mouthful slowly, careful not to judge too quickly, and eventually hum in contentment. “But—” I retract, “—sorta sweet underneath. You ever tasted a beet?”

“No.”

“Well, it’s sorta like that.”

He watches me for a few heartbeats, calm in the steady, amber light. I smile at him.

“Turn around,” he tells me brusquely.

I wink at him and do as I’m told, shuffling around again and turning to back the blue and purple horizon, the lamp and his gaze warm on my back.

I’m silent as he unseals his helmet with a quiet click and hiss. I try to imagine him again. Every single time, I feel guilty over it, because I know how dedicated he is to his religion—but, oh, I can’t help myself. I run my tongue over my teeth, enjoying the remains of that bite, before taking another, crunching down into the flesh. As I do, I hear Din do the same. My heart stops a little in my chest, and I let out a slow breath.

“It’s nice.”

Stars. Stars, that voice. His voice, unfiltered by the modulator. Slightly hoarse from lack of water, scraping a little in his throat, but smooth in its low, rich tone. Like dirt you can sink your fingers right down into.

I set my hand flat on the sand my by side before pushing them vertically down, down, down, past the cooling surface and to where the glowing spirit of the day lingers.

Calm yourself down. It’s just a voice.

“You should have the rest of it,” he continues, and there’s the tap of the vegetable against my shoulder again.

Oh, stars. He hasn’t got his helmet on. He hasn’t got his helmet on. If I turned, he could be right there. Just him. I think about clamping my eyes shut to avoid the temptation of looking at him, but I can’t really co-ordinate myself at the moment. He taps again, encouraging me to take it back. My fingers hook up inside the sand, and it slips around me to my satisfaction.

“If you like it,” I say dryly, “you should eat it.”

The vegetable disappears from my peripheral. Another crunch, and another, and another. We sit in silence as he finishes it. The horizon is finally flat and unwavering in the cool of the night.

He gives my shoulder a squeeze when he’s done, hiking up the scarf around my head so it doesn’t slip too far over my hair. When I turn around, the helmet’s back on.

I wonder if he saw the colours of the sunset earlier. I had my head turned up for hours, watching every single shift in pink and orange and blue with wonderstruck eyes—but Din was striding on ahead, uninterested. I’m no engineer, alright? I don’t exactly know what he’s seeing in that helmet of his, or why. Infrared sensors for tracking, like in a rifle I once had that – that was one of the best damn weapons I ever owned, guaranteed to locate and hit your target, and I loved it to bits—until it got fuckin’ stolen by a bunch of fuckin’ Jawas. Point is, isn’t it just black and white in there? Sort of a purple-y black and white, and you can see changes in tone and depth and all, but black and white nonetheless. Red for footprints, though. Is that what he saw when I told him to look at the sky at sundown? Black and white? What is he seeing as he’s looking at me now? Me, I’m admiring the regal gleam of his beskar again. But he won’t be able to interpret the warmth of the lamp’s light on my face the same way as I did for him. I’m not the prettiest in the galaxy by a long shot, I know, but isn’t he missing out? On the beauty of the natural world? I think I’m prettiest at sundown – something in my undertone, I dunno – but he’s only seen me in that greyscale. Imagine if he just thinks I’m—okay-looking.

Overthinking it again. Din doesn’t waste time with things he doesn’t think add to his life. He doesn’t think I’m just okay-looking.

“You’ve got a good voice,” I tell him, grinning widely.

“You’ve heard my voice before.” The raw clarity of his words are lost once again behind the modulator. I shift my position, wriggling away from my disappointment.

“I know.”

A chill passes brightly through the air, and I tug my cloak tighter around myself, bringing my knees in close. Din doesn’t move a muscle, though, and he sits there and observes me a little longer.

We’ve been each other’s for a long, long time. We’ve been through a lot of shit together. And I’m not exactly thinking critically, and I’m not sure where I’m going with it, but I find myself asking, “When Mandalorians get married, they can take their helmets off around their partner, right?”

The mortification immediately sets in.

Holy kriff.

Din looks at me carefully. Then, he nods the slightest of nods.

Holy kriff.

“I’m not—” I stutter out, eyes darting away, over there, over here, anywhere but his constant, steady, shameless attention, “—‘m not asking you to marry me, Din. I was—I was just wondering ‘cause, y’know, I think you mentioned it to me once, ages back, and—and I was just thinkin’ that maybe—” you pause, glancing up at him; he doesn’t move a muscle, and there’s nothing that gives away any kind of anything he might be feeling, “—maybe I’d like to see—what—you—look—like.”

Wow. Wow, I’m almost amazed at how slick I am with these things. God, Imperial spies could learn a thing or two from the master.

I clear my throat, deciding to embrace the grave I’ve dug for myself. “But I’m not asking you to marry me, so you can stop looking at me like that, now, alright?.”

He says nothing, does nothing.

I situate myself with untying my waterskin from beneath my cloak, hiding my face in my shoulder and cursing, “Damn voice. Gets me too damn stupid-excited,” under my breath, like it’s a secret, like he can’t hear every fuckin’ word I’m saying on a planet seemingly stripped from all other noise.

Seething at myself, I crunch back into my vegetable, then tearing off a piece of bread to stuff in alongside it, taking a careless swig from my waterskin to wash it all down. Honestly, at this point, I’d rather die from dehydration than address the awful, awful statement I just made. Stars. Probably scared him right off. We’re as close to married as the real thing anyway. Din’s more of an actions-over-words kind of guy – I don’t need to call him my husband. It’s not like—well, marriage is companionship, and we have that already. Marriage is trust, and we have that already. I don’t need to call him my husband. He’s just—my guy. My person. Would be nice to have it on paper, I guess. Proof that he’s my person, that he wants to be my person. Bless him, but for every single thing he does for me, every action, I still crave him saying those words. Not shit to do with marriage, exactly. Just: “You’re my person. I’m yours.” Words aren’t his forte.

“I’d marry you.”

I swallow the hard lump of bread with difficulty, scrunching my face up into a grimace. “Hmm?” I ask, drifting back to the present.

“I’d marry you,” he repeats, and my eyes go wide. Oh. “Right here. If you want me.”

Huh. Huh. I dunno what the appropriate reaction is here, so I just continue staring unblinkingly at him. My stomach is erupting in flutters, and I just stare at Din.

Then, I look around us, at the barren desert. And look, yeah, I grew up on a planet very similar to Tatooine, and, yeah, sure, I have fond memories of my childhood. And then they get not-so fond. I scrunch my nose up in disapproval. “Not here.”

“Where?”

I shrug, brows knitted together in deep consideration. “I dunno.” And I really don’t, because—because I didn’t think we were the marrying type. Just the together type. Growing old and pissy together, living together, fighting together, figuring it out together—type. Mandalorians value community and strength and The Way over everything else – not necessarily love. Didn’t take him for the marrying type.

I screw my mouth together and exhale deeply. “Just somewhere prettier, I guess,” I decide on. “Not this quiet, but still pretty quiet. Y’know, somewhere with trees. Proper, green trees. But not the kind where there’s stuff in there waiting to kill you.” I want there to be as many colours as possible, in the sky, in the flowers, so he can see me and see all that beauty all together at once.

He tilts his head. “Like, with mountains?” he asks.

I smile. “Yeah, I wouldn’t mind mountains.”

He glances down at the sand, tracing some kind of pattern into it with his forefinger. “We could go to Takodana?”

Stars. My smile widens. Stars, is this a proposal? Did I just propose to him? Did he just propose right back? That’s actually quite funny, that is. In the middle of nowhere, running out of water, running low on food. Romantic.

“Have you ever kissed anyone, Din?” I ask, more confident.

He grunts and shakes his head. “Not really.”

“‘Not really’,” I mock him, deepening my voice and attempting to widen the shoulders. I laugh at my own impression, leaning back on my hands and huffing a strand of hair out of my face. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shifts, clearing his throat and adjusting to a more comfortable position. “I mean, I’ve kissed you—between your legs,” he tells me, nervous, like I’ve managed to forget how well he treats me, how eager he is to kneel down in the pitch-black and take care of me like that.

Heat blooms in my stomach. “Great work down there, by the way,” I tell him through a sly grin.

“Thank you, mesh’la.” Is he blushing? Does he blush? I find myself wondering over that again.

I smile and stare at him.

“Could I kiss you?” The suggestion just slips out without a second thought. I just think that, after some food and water and rest, I don’t really have to filter anything out anymore. I don’t have any complaints – just some recommendations for fun we could be having.

Din doesn’t reply.

Ah, shit. Shit, what the fuck is wrong with me? Mandalorian, remember? Stupid, stupid. If there’s anything anyone knows about Din, it’s that he’s a Mandalorian first. He’s a Mandalorian before he’s mine – he’d never say it out loud, but we both know it’s true. I’d never ask him to choose because that’s cruel. Am I being cruel?

Either way, I can’t seem to stop, and I don’t seem to care: “I’d keep my eyes shut,” I blurt out, trying to keep my breathing from becoming heavy with lust, and failing a little more than a little bit. Stars, I’m turning myself on at this point; he just has to sit there and look pretty. “You know I’d keep ‘em shut. I wouldn’t look. I just—wanna—” you sigh, “—I just wanna kiss you. It’s nice, I swear. Nice feeling. I’d keep my eyes closed. Or—or you could tie something around ‘em?”

He doesn’t reply.

“Stars,” I curse. “I’m sorry.” I wipe my eyes from dust and dirt and blink hard. “I think I’m just tired.”

“You’re tired?”

“Yeah.”

“Is ‘tired’ why you’re pressing onto yourself down there?��

He flicks his fingers over to where I’ve got my hand stuffed between my legs, rocking softly against the heel of my palm. I swallow hard. Fuck, I didn’t even notice I was doing that. I convinced myself I was—ha!—I was just warming up my hands.

I shift my eyes sheepishly back up to meet Din’s, guilty as charged.

He sighs deep from within the chest. “You keep ‘em closed and we tie something around ‘em.”

Silent, I nod in agreement. My thighs squeeze together.

He jerks his head to beckon me over, and I go shuffling on over to him on my knees, probably looking like a right idiot, but, then again, I don’t really give a fuck because I’m about to kiss Din Djarin. I’m about to kiss my Mandalorian. I’m about to kiss my companion of almost a decade, more if you count all those shady bounties we used to end up competing for. My Mandalorian, my Din Djarin, mine, mine, mine. I’m not possessive, I don’t think, but, gods, I—I—I can’t believe it sometimes. That I get to know him like this. That I get to know such an incredible person. That he won’t say more than two words at a time to anyone, not even those we’re close with, like Peli—but, with me, he’ll talk for hours. He jokes that he’s just humouring me, but I know he loves it. He tells me so.

Din makes a motion with his hand to turn around, so I do, and I let him tie an old, folded food cloth around my head – unsanitary, sure, but, again, I don’t care, and my head’s reeling, and my heart’s racing so hard, thrumming in my ears, and he’s so close, and his fingers are tangling through my hair as he lowers my scarf, and they’re brushing against the nape of my neck now, and—

“Can you take your gloves off, Din?” I ask, and, unfortunately, the neediness seeps right through my voice. “Please?” Stars, I’m pathetic.

Behind me, there’s the shuffle and quiet groan of leather as he tugs them off, and then a quiet pat! as he tosses them to the side.

And then his hands are back. Rough, calloused fingertips ghosting over my ears, my hair, as he knots the cloth, then knots it again for good measure. Darkness is closed over my eyes, tinged the rich green of the fabric. My breath seems nearer this way, short, shallow, hot. I gnaw on the inside of my cheek, still, as he cups the back of my neck, his touch cool.

I reach over my shoulder, taking a deep inhale as I run my fingers over the dips and hills of his knuckles. I fold my hands over his and squeeze, bringing them forward and kissing his fingertips gently. I feel the texture and thickness of his fingers, trace the lines of his palm. Din comes in close behind me, the solidity of his chestplate (cuirass? I dunno, once, he got all pissy ‘cause I didn’t call by it’s actual name) pressing up against my shoulder blades.

I smooth my thumbs along the deepest crease in his palm. “Y’know, once, before I met you, I met someone who told me he could foretell my whole life, and my child’s life, and their child’s life, just from the lines on my hands.”

“Oh, yeah?” His voice is right in my ear, low and intimate. Maker. “What do mine say?”

“All good things,” you reply shakily.

“Anything about Takodana?”

He twists his hand over, enveloping my right and rubbing circles into the back of it.

Then, he’s letting me go, leaning away—and there’s that hiss and click of him removing his helmet. I blink against the green cloth, my eyelashes dragging up slowly. If I hold my breath, I can hear him breathing.

“Turn around,” he tells me, and I do.

It’s too dark for silhouettes anymore. If we were in daylight again, maybe I could’ve seen the vaguest outline of him. But we’re not in daylight. I blink again against the cloth, hard.

His hands reach out and grasp my hips, and they’re warm and large and I never get used to it. The breath is still knocked out of my chest. He angles and adjusts me to face him, and I place my hands on his shoulders, fumbling around his armour before settling them instead on his neck.

His neck. Bare skin. I smooth my hand up the column of his pretty, perfect neck, feeling every inch of him. I already know the texture of his hair. When he’s between my legs and kissing me there, I like to thread my fingers through it. It’s thick and wavy and slightly too long. But otherwise, I keep my hands to myself. Even though I’m not technically seeing him in the dark when he takes his helmet off to taste me, I don’t reach out and touch his face—because it’s his. It’s his, and he’s taken an oath to keep it that way. He’s never initiated a kiss, so I’ve never asked. I’ve been content. I’ve been patient.

But I guess my patience has reached a limit. Slowly, tentatively, I drift my touch up, up, and feel along his jawline, coarse with longer scruff. His breath hitches, and I smile and continue. I smooth my fingers right along his cheekbone – Din gently circles his hand around my wrist, pressing his nose into my palm, then kissing it, soft, careful, dragging the tip of his nose along the line of the vein that trails over my arm.

Stars.

I blink hard again behind the green cloth, clenching my jaw down till my teeth grit together.

I feel along the jagged bridge of his nose, take note of how it’s slightly crooked to the right, like he’s broken it before (wouldn’t surprise me). I learn the shape of his brow, the broadness of his forehead. I feel the feather-light brush of his eyelashes against my wrist. I’m silent—and I’m grinning like an idiot, because what else can I do? It’s like I’m seeing his face. I’m not, but it’s sure as hell the closest thing. The weight of his head in my hands, the cautious squeeze of his hands on my arms. I whisper some kind of babbling, incoherent request, and he relaxes his eyes – I can feel the muscles in his face release tension – for me to trace my middle finger over the shape of his eye. I’m not crying, but, fuck, it’s getting a little moist up in this blindfold.

His eyes droop down slightly at the ends. I like eyes like that – kind eyes. My mother used to say these types of eyes only belonged to the kindest of people. Stars. Don’t cry.

“You look insane, mesh’la,” he whispers, close to me, lifting his hands to tenderly hold my face, like I might break.

“Ah, bantha shit, baby,” I retort. “You’re loving this.”

And I can feel him smile. I can feel it crinkle up the sides of his eyes, and I can feel the squint of them, and the way his cheeks lift. He smiles a little lop-sidedly, actually, the left corner of his mouth just a touch higher than the right. I try to memorise every single bit of information I discover, as urgent and as desperate as if my life depended upon it.

Quivering with want, I press my lips to the inner corner of his eye, firm and sure and needy, my hands grasping around his face. Din grabs fistfuls of my cloak, bringing me nearer to him.

He smells like dust and tastes like sweat and salt, but, Maker, this is good. Satisfies some deep, hellacious ache that would have otherwise consumed me.

I kiss the ridge of his cheekbone with the same fervour, and then I kiss the corner of his mouth, the left side, the side that quirks up when he smiles.

Only, he’s not really smiling right now. He’s breathing heavily, almost panting, and stroking my hair away from my face and neck before mumbling out, “So pretty.” I press my nose against his, breathless with anticipation, heady at the warmth of his body. “S’good. You look so good—like this. Y’look good all the time—”

But I’m kissing him already, frantic, fingers pressing into the back of his neck, into his shoulders, bringing him as near to me as humanly possible. I sob dryly as he reciprocates, nudging his nose flat against my cheek. He opens his mouth to suck in a breath, and I lick into him, taste him deeply, practically having climbed into his lap during my whirlwind pursuit. His cold hands slip under my cloak, arms wrapping around me in a second.

The kiss is dry and rough, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. It seems befitting of him somehow.

And when he makes a pathetic sound, a whimper or something, at the back of his throat, I almost melt right into the ground.

Closer, closer, closer – that’s all I can really comprehend at the moment. Even with our bodies slotted together, even though I can feel each shaky breath he takes as his stomach flexes over my own, I feel hungry for more. It’s Din. My Din, kissing me, his hands on me, his eyes on me. My Din, grunting into me as I shift in his lap and squeeze my legs around him. Mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine—

He grabs my face gently by the chin, urging me away from him for a few moments. I sit there, blind, his open mouth still hovering over mine. Oh, stars, I think of the softness of his tongue, and I kiss the corner of his mouth, wanting, asking.

Din angles my face to the side, coming in slow, warm, and languidly slides his tongue into my hot mouth, breath fanning out across my glowing face. Maker. I can’t control myself – a helpless noise passes through me as I take it good and kiss him back, eager, wide open.

I guide his hand down the the base of my throat, just to feel his touch somewhere else. He squeezes there lightly.

His other hand manages to snake under my shirt, pressing flat across the small of my back, sliding up my spine and sending shivers all the way right through me.

It’s—good. Really good. Can’t-open-my-eyes-for-a-good-few-heartbeats type of good.

“Maker,” he curses hoarsely under his breath as I pull away, still leaning forward for me, chasing my touch.

“Good?” I ask him.

He presses a kiss to my cheek, smiling. “We can do this—more often—‘f you want.”

“If I want, huh?”

He kisses me deeply again, his thumb slotted beneath the cloth over my eyes. He pulls it taut to the side over so slightly, and I can make out that beautiful, warm glow over the sand and his armour again. I shut my eyes as he tilts my head up, though, as kisses down to the hollow of my throat and back up again.

I slide my fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, holding him close. “You’re beautiful, aren’t you?” I just know it. Everything about him is just beautiful. It’s just lovely, and I love it.

“Marry me and you can find out for sure,” he mumbles into my neck.

I can hardly hear him, of course – blood is pounding so hard in my ears that all I can understand from his words are that they rumble deep right through his chest, warm under the cool beskar.

I lift his head and press my nose into his cheek. “I can tell,” I continue, words brushing his lips. Again, I smooth my fingers over his face. “You’re so pretty, Din.”

“Marry me,” he urges, whispering against the fabric over my eye, warm.

I grin. “Later.”

He curses, something in Mando’a. “We’re going to Takodana as soon as we get that damn ship, you hear me?”

[corvidaeconundrum]

*rubs hands together like a particularly mischievous house fly* (@mustangs-flames )

So jack stauber amiright? - Blurry

[littlemisssatanist]

Yeah… (Kamisato Ayato/Reader

I woke up a few days ago with a craving and wrote this in one sitting. It’s not finished. It has not been proof read because my beta-reader would have a conniption if she saw this (lesbians amiright).

Uhm.

Reader is gender neutral.

Not really smut.

Ayato is touch starved.

You reading this:

You sighed as you leaned back in your chair as the last of the flame spluttered out, leaving you in total darkness. Tossing the quill you were holding aside, you pushed back your chair.

Rain was pouring heavily outside. It was drizzling earlier, clouds grey and tired, but that was just regular Inazuman weather. Lightning thundered once, then twice. You grimace. The Shogun must be extra angry today.

It wouldn’t be such a problem normally. Normally, everyone living at the Kamisato Estate would be inside the manor by this time of night. The rest of the servants had already gone to bed.

So why were you still up?

You scowled, standing up to grab a matchbox from the tiny shelf attached to your dresser-desk. It was a mix of the two, really. You walk back to your chair, fumbling with the match and huffing to yourself when light filled the room again.

You scanned over the report you had been writing. Technically, this responsibility fell to the Head of House. Technically, the Head of House took care of all paperwork.

The scratching of the quill against parchment relaxed you slightly. It was a familiar sound, one that joined you at least once or twice a day. You didn’t mind doing part of the paperwork. It was part of your job description, as the right hand of Kamisato Ayato.

Paperwork was his responsibility, yes, but helping him was your responsibility.

You glanced outside the window again, sighing once more when the rain showed no sign of stopping.

And still Kamisato Ayato was nowhere to be found.

He had left the Estate in the morning, to go someplace he hadn’t told you, which was unusual in its own right. You knew everything about where he went and what he did. (A wonder that knowledge didn’t drive you insane sometimes. Kamisato Ayato had a tendency to be a bit unbearable sometimes).

But you had no clue where he was right now. Which was the reason for the tight and uneasy feeling in your chest. You play with the skin around your fingernails, getting irritated.

This was absolutely ridiculous.

A thud outside your room brought you out of your thoughts. You startle, looking towards the door. It’s handle turned with a creak, and you reached for the blade hiding beneath your skirt.

The door opened. Kamisato Ayato fell through. Speak of the fucking Devil. You must have done something terrible in your past laugh, because Celestia was laughing in your fucking face.

“My lord!” You gasped, watching as your employer stumbled across the room towards you. He was holding a hand to his abdomen, something red dripping down onto the floor. “What- what happened!”

“Close- close the door. Please.” Kamisato Ayato breathed out, collapsing. You lunged forward, attempting to cradle him in your arms, but Archons, he was heavy.

“Just. Just close to the door.”

You nodded, frightened, dashing to close it. Then you rushed back to him, unsure of what to do next.

“Take off my clothes.” Kamisato Ayato instructs you next, wincing as he tries to sit up.

You stare at him. He notices, raising a thin eyebrow.

“Could I just- what the fuck happened?”

Kamisato Ayato let’s out a breath, shifting slightly. “I went out.”

“You went out.” You said in a flat tone. “Without telling me? Or anybody, for that matter?”

“I’m sorry.” His voice was soft, and his blue eyes looked at you with something like guilt in them. Your breath might have been taken away, but who can really say for sure. “I’ll let you know next time.”

You inhale sharply, glancing at his abdomen. “Never mind that now. Why are you bleeding?”

“Hm.” His voice definitely sounded a little less lifelike then. “Fight went wrong. Didn’t see it coming.”

“Ok. Ok.” You fling your hands around frantically, panic finally seeping in. “What do I do?”

“Take off my clothes.” Kamisato Ayato repeated. “Just the top parts. You can leave the pants on.”

“Yes. Uhm.”

You quickly set to work with untying the knots on his uniform. Why were there so many fucking layers? You cursed under your breath as you finally shrugged off the shoulders of the final kimono, revealing his smooth, pale, unblemished skin. You tried very hard not to think about the proximity, or what scandal might be started if someone were to walk in on you two that moment.

You held back a gasp at the sight of the bloody mess that was Kamisato Ayato’s stomach. It has been sliced open, blood still oozing from the wound.

“Rip apart some of the fabric.” He says in between short breaths, chest falling up and down. You watched the movement very carefully. “Wrap it around.”

You nodded, doing as he said so, glad that the ghastly wound was no longer visible.

“I think it might scar.” You mutter.

He lets out a laugh, immediately wincing.

“Let’s get you into the bed.” You say, wrapping your arms around his torso, feeling him tense.

“Are you alright?” You ask, worried, but Kamisato Ayato shakes his head and stands up on shaky legs. You shoot up after him, guiding him to your bed. He relaxes into it with an exhale.

“Do you need me to do anything else?”

He shakes his head again. His eyes were lidded now, as is he could barely keep them open.

“Are you hungry, my lord? I have some left over bread from dinner.”

He levels you with a stare, opening his mouth. You want to frown at him for expending too much energy but what he says next makes all thoughts fly out of you brain.

“Call me Ayato.”

You blink rapidly. The world might have ended. You wouldn’t know. Your heart was pounding too fast for you to hear anything, and your head was filled with that one sentence for you to think about anything.

“Hello?”

Your eyes slowly focused back on the scene in front of you. Ayato tilted his head to the side, focusing intently on you.

“Anybody in there?”

“Oh.” Your mouth seemed to be working again. “Oh.”

Or maybe not.

Ayato’s lips quirked up. He looked almost amused. Part of you wanted to feel annoyed at that. The bigger part of you was still trying to figure out what to do next.

“You’re red.” Ayato observed.

Your eyes snapped towards his crystal ones, and suddenly your mind cleared.

“Ayato.”

He no longer seemed amused. His face turned very serious. “Say that again.”

“Ayato.”

He shifted, hands coming to grip your biceps, pulling you to tower above you. The air around you shifted.

“Again.” He breathed.

“Ayato.”

“Again.”

“Ayato.”

“Again.”

And so it went. You must have said it at least a hundred times, whispering when your voice got hoarse. Every time you said his name, Ayato would shudder beneath you. Just the slightest of trembles. You could feel his skin underneath your fingers, hot where you touched him.

You slide your hands up to his hair, brushing out any knots. Your fingernails scratched against his nape, and Ayato let out a delicious sound.

He was breathing harder now, as you touched him everywhere. His bare shoulders, his strong back, his warm cheeks, his arms that were still tightly gripping yours.

Yeah that’s it.

Maybe if this gets 100 likes I’ll actually write the smut but writing straight people smut scares me so… don’t expect anything.

[dxrksong]

Do you think that halfa jason & halfa kitty should be unable to use ectoblasts because of the specific way in which they became halfas? It'd be an interesting development & would allow for them to put more emphasis into their melee.

Also, what do you think of Kitty being able to coat her bat in ecto energy/ghostly green flames/ecto-electricity ect.

Also, how do you think being a halfa would change her ability to blow a kiss & make men disappear? Like, THAT'S a pretty unique power, amiright?

Ooo good points! No I don't think their ability to use ectoblasts would be effected so much as having to relearn to use those all over again. But that in itself WOULD take a while!

She would TOTALLY cover her bat in ectoplasm tho! Like I wouldn't be surprised if Danny managed to get her a bat specifically for that purpose!

Kitty's ability, much like Johnny's shadow WOULD be altered in some way however! Where as Johnny's shadow is now an extention of himself and less as some weird pet that causes mischief.

I can see Kitty's kiss to LEVEL UP in a sense where it could do MORE than just make men dissapear. Maybe they could make men fall in love, paralyze them, hypnotize them, or even straight up poison/kill them!

Since halfas are generally more powerful than the average ghost maybe Jason and Kitty could get new powers as well.

Whatcha guys think? 👀

[crookedherringcolorclod]

Hmm, since Pride Month is almost over, I guess I should at least give you guys a few teasers for my one-shots I’ll work on this July. So here it is!

Asa (Rejection for Affection, For Years and Years)

It was an unspoken rule that the eldest has the most responsibility in every family, the Sakamakis are no exception. In the Demon World, middle women are expected to marry as early as possible, to a man of a higher status, to woo him with their charms for a better livelihood or love if they have the privilege to have both.

Asa Sakamaki, the eldest niece of Karlheinz, on the other hand, has had several suitors who would try and sweep her off her feet with flowery prose of her beauty and the elegance she carries in every step.

Yet each suitor would always conveniently forget to comment on her intellect and wit.

And Asa has rejected each and every one of them without a second thought, apathetic to the rumors whispered behind her back as years have passed.

Until one vampire gathered up the courage to confess his love, regardless of his not so noble background.

Akemi (A Little Bit of Both Won’t Hurt Nobody, Right?)

There is one beauty in the Demon World that seems to be everything, and can get everything with just a wave of her hand.

She is everything vampires and humans want, everything they desire, everything they loathe and envy merged into one temptress goes by no other name than Akemi Sakamaki.

Winning you over with an easy smile, a gentle touch, fluttering of her lashes, and so many ways she can map out the quickest way to worm inside your head or set off the spring in a man’s pants after pressing the right buttons.

So imagine everyone’s surprise when they witness the said beauty would dress like a man and steal maidens away for drinks and laughter whilst men would grab her by the waist and whisper whatever they wanted for nights such as this.

Neither her sisters and cousins were surprised by the news or her shenanigans. Not since that one trip in America that Karlheinz himself arranged long ago.

Family trips, amiright?

Amaya (Catholic Guilt in the Club, Chug, Chug, Chug it Down)

When Amaya Sakamaki thinks of guilt, she thinks of Hell and the flames that should have consumed her is she were to die.

She thinks she’s definitely going to hell, no doubt about it.

Akemi thinks she’s being way too dramatic for crushing on a stranger she just met.

Falling for a stranger is not the same as their other countless crime they have committed to stay afloat.

But Amaya didn’t know they weren’t a boy, at least they said they weren’t a boy in their own eyes.

Amaya wonders if the ground will swallow her whole by now.

She didn’t know what to feel about this at all.

No one would judge her, times have changed.

She thought these teachings were put past behind her.

Maybe she’s just confused, maybe she’ll forget about them altogether.

Unfortunately for Amaya, Akemi thinks otherwise and pulled her baby sister’s (only by a few hours) big girl pants up to meet her very pretty stranger over the drinks she had promised them.

Well, it was technically Akemi who promised them. But hey, baby steps.

[candycatstuffs]

How much did the Bad Batch S2 finale tug at your heartstrings? (I am in the acceptance stage of that one "death" occurred even though i was an absolute wreck when watching it, but I wanted to see how only people felt about it)

BRO it absolutely slamdunked me. I mustve just completely forgotten i was watching a star wars show cuz i genuinely believed they were gonna go rescue Crosshair and maybe get a happy ending </3 I wasnt sure theyd even hav a premise for season 3 and now if season doesnt come up this year i will burst into flames and die

Id been prepping myself for Crosshair or Echo dying in the finale, but Tech took me completely offguard. Now tho im 100% in denial land and think hes alive. No body no proof amiright fellas

[theguildawards]

Congratulations @phoenix-before-the-flame​!! Your artwork “Flame’s Desire amiright?” has been nominated by one of your fans for The Guild Awards, First Term of 2023!

The Guild Awards was created by five Fairy Tail enthusiasts who want to spread the love of fandom creators all across the net, and we are very excited to give you this message!

Your work has been nominated into the following category:

Best Overall

In addition, your artwork “It’s been a long time since I’ve been me” has also been nominated into the following category: 

Best Dark

Voting will take place after the nomination period closes, and the link to do so will be found on theguildawards tumblr page.

If you would like to pull your work from consideration for an award, please let us know via tumblr or reach out to one of the moderators.

Once again, congratulations for your beautiful contribution to this wonderful fandom, and thank you for all that you do!

Nominations are open until the end of the day March 31st PST! Submit your fanfiction/artwork nominations through our page!

For more info, see our Fired Up! post

[captchalure]

The Lovers, resembling Adam and Eve, stand uninhibited in a pastoral scene, naked and gazing upward and outward. Behind Eve is the legendary apple tree where a green snake coils up the trunk, and behind Adam is an orange-leaved tree where each leaf flares off its stem like a candle flame.

At the top of the card is a gigantic yellow sun and a red-winged angel who looks down upon Adam and Eve with tenderness. There is one peaked mountain between them; it looks barren and steep, suggesting the difficult journey ahead.

It is perhaps surprising that the male and female of this card do not look longingly into each other’s eyes; rather, Eve looks up toward the angel and Adam looks out at the unknown landscape. Together, yet through their different inclinations, they populate the creative world we live in.

When we think of love we often think of passion and lust: these forces are restrained or balanced in this card. There is fire but it is whittled down to a candle flame. There is sin in the snake, and the snake may even be able to lick Eve’s neck from its position, but the apples continue to grow.

Most remarkable in this scene is the way Adam and Eve’s separate journeys are part of something bigger than each of them individually. Their separate efforts serve everyone and are guided by a benevolent, upward force.

Their open postures suggest that love motivates them but also that they are ignorant of what is to come and also the consequences of their actions. Eve looks up and Adam looks ahead; together they can confront whatever challenges may arise, though individually their worldview is partial.

Also in this card is a grand spaciousness, an opportunity to shape and cultivate a not-yet cultivated world.

#MENTALWELLNESS

The high desert is not exactly the most hospitable biome.

I was wondeing about that the other day. What it represents. I just think about Tesla.

Yo cuz Tesla's invention was snatched in CO. The state stole his IP and basterdized it.

Can we not do that again?

That's what I think of.

Just gotta throw it out there thank god for Nancy amiright? She prepared me for everything.

Coincidence? 🤔

"What one man calls God, another calls the laws of physics."

Nikola Tesla

Energy / vibration / resonance / quantum superposition = "God" = higher dimensional consciousness

All beings have some form of consciousness, but what do plants experience? Or slime mold, bacteria, or beehives? They suggest consciousness existing in a framework thats quite difficult for us to conceptualize.

These "realms" outside of our perception, I believe, are what connect us to higher dimensional wisdom. It's why nature is so grounding and fosters connection with spirit.

I find different drugs have specific spirits associated with them that have their own "personalities" in a way with how the the plant communicates with the brain and the energy it holds.

It's just communication happening in a different dimension of our experience. I have found cocaine to be one that can carry a lot of negative energy, possibly because of its origin and whatever the fuck it went through to make it up to canada. That's why I have concerns. Not everyone has the awarness to even notice when these energy transfers affect them.

Its a preference to numb/distract from emotion rather than go though the discomfort of feeling things that are unpleasant ~ but if we dont let ourselves really feel the shitty stuff then we never learn what is the matter and lose that depth of perception and awareness over our consciousness.

That lack of experience makes all the difference. It's where i'm finding i have "no line in". What I'm trying to express is simply not being perceived. They can't see what im trying to show them because they never took the prerequisite course in feeling.

I think that's how we ended up here.

I believe stars have consciousness, they are massive balls of energy that serve as our life source. Earth too.

Similar to how theres a billion cells in your body all serving unique functions, they somehow find a way to communicate with one another to organise into a super complex interconnected system of the human body.

When I think about cancer, allergies, or other mysterious autoimmune diseases I think they mirror exactly the social/spiriual conundrum we face as a global "body" as earth.

We are dysfunctional, attacking our own healthy tissue because we are disconnected from one another and the "force" that keeps us all operating in sync with a harmonious rythm, a higher dimensional operation that guides the life on earth from a wholistic perspective.

That's what I talk to. Whatever you want to call that.

[bl00d-f3t15h]

sitting on the stoop. a goose approaches. it hisses. i hiss back. it attacks, ripping at my throat and tearing my skin as i try to defend myself. from my wounds bursts forth a blinding, heavenly light. as it touches the foul creatures feathers it bursts into flame. a small pile of ash and glitter is all that remains. mondays amiright?