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jangofctts · 4 years ago

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Sink Your Teeth In (Part 2 of Are You In Or Out?)

Rated: Explicit (Paz is in the next chapter DONT WORRY)

Word count: 7.5k

Warnings: mentions of violence, blood, the cold?, reader is in PERIL YET AGAIN, vaginal fingering, oral female receiving, unprotected vaginal sex (wrap them schlongs yall), brief hand jobs, swearing, angst, very VERY light choking, din is a sub sorta?? bottom energy

Summary: Well. At least you aren't dead. After a solo hunt gone wrong, you’re dumped in a cave on Csilla. Hopefully someone finds you before you freeze to death.

a/n: hey…so uh. HOW ABOUT THAT EPISODE HUH?!? aheM anyway--yall I just wanna thank everyone first off for all the love and support!!! I see all of your comments and tags and AH IM SO LUCKY TO HAVE ALL OF YOU GUYS. ALSO SPECIAL SHOUTOUT TO @djxrxn THIS WOULDNT HAVE BEEN DONE WITHOUT YOU BB GORL

Well—

Here you are.

Taken by surprise by another bounty, further proving how irrevocably incompetent you are at this line of work. You blame the binders. An older, clunkier model—easy to pick if you’re clever enough and yes. Maybe you should’ve asked to borrow a carbonite chamber, but hey—where’s the fun in that?

Not much, as it so happens.

Your feet had been kicked up on the dashboard, dozing and unaware of the freed bounty creeping up behind the pilot’s seat. Something delightfully blunt smashed against your temple, jolting you into a brief conscious state where the only thing you could think before passing out again, was a resounding—

Oh, fuck me sideways with a fucking lightsaber—

The rest is hazy. A blur of colors and the fuzzy shapes of your bounty’s face sneering in amusement when she bound your wrists and ankles and left you in the cargo hold. Vaguely you recall your ship being commandeered, swung into an unidentified atmosphere and landing on said unknown planet Or planets. Planet hopping to cover up a trail.

The bitter cold, sharper than a needle through skin is what shook off the last dregs of unconsciousness. The bounty’s hand was hooked into the collar of your clothes, dragging your limp body through drifts of snow and ice. You would’ve fought back—should’ve even though each extremity felt like a numb block of lead. Not very useful in a fight…

Soon, the snow turned to mud and the mud to stone as a mouth of a cave slid over the impossibly blue sky. Dumped in a cave, and left to die—perfect way to bite the dust. Your bounty turned captor lands a sharp kick to your ribs, mouthing some curse in a language you don’t understand, and left without a second thought.

Seems about right. You have a knack for lying helpless and half dead in places you ought not to be in.

Two days and counting, you’ve been holed up in this blasted cave with no food, no supplies and no comlink. It’s going be a fucking chore to find you—nearly impossible. You’re lucky in that aspect you guess—you know enough bounty hunters to sniff out a a needle in a whole stack of needles, so all it is is a race of time against the elements and how long it takes for one of them to notice.

Aeris is no help. He left a day before you had—hired as personal protection for some syndicate leader halfway across the galaxy. Ives is in a similar boat, off-world and unavailable to drag your ass out of the hole you’ve dug. Which leaves…

You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose between your forefinger and thumb. Anytime you even think of those two a migraine cumulates behind your eyes. It’s…it’s not like anything bad happened in the aftermath—there’s been no fallout or arguments with barbed words as weapons. It’s been quiet. Like stepping onto a sheet of cracked transparisteel in a library full of tight-lipped academics.

The questions lurk under the surface of every conversation and longing look cast your way. You’ll need to clarify and sort things out eventually, but fuck—it’s such a mess of frazzled heartstrings and fine strands of impossible thoughts that lead into an endless void of doubt. You’re shoving that emotional time bomb to the very back of your mind—everything is still so raw…

So you ran.

Picked up any and all jobs that the Guild provided just to escape the looming decision of confronting a certain pair of Mandalorians. That and with them having their own tasks to complete, it was rare to see them, let alone together in the past few weeks. A simple run in here and there in the halls of the Covert, but you were too busy to stop and chat—forced a chaotic schedule upon yourself as an excuse to avoid staying in once place at a time.

Coward.

The word knots in your stomach like gnarled tree roots escaping their prison of dark soil on untrodden land.

Maker—how did everything become so tangled?

You draw your knees up to your chest and release a long, drawn out exhale that echoes through the cave. You sniff and force the swell of tears that prick at your eyes away. You’re pretty sure they’ll freeze and you’re not hoping to find out.

The only good thing about being dropped on this Maker-forsaken, wasteland devoid of anything but snow, is the free ice for the nasty gash on your forehead. A nice little parting gift.

It’s shallow…you think—it stopped bleeding the night before and is now just a scabbed over, tender wound that throbs whenever you move your head too fast. Concussion maybe—a mild one.

Maker willing when someone finds your sorry ass they’ll have bacta. Or a blanket. Either would be peachy.

Sitting up with a wince, you shuffle to the mouth of the cave for the thousandth time and scour the skyline for a familiar ship. Or, any ship really. The only thing you do see is a lonesome wisp of cloud against the grayish blue sky much to your chagrin. You scowl and stalk back into your little hovel and slump back onto the ground.

The hours drag on, the watery light of the dying sun barely doing anything to warm you. Sulking is hardly what you should be doing—not great for the burdened mind and all that, but ah, it’s so fun to wallow in misery. You curl your knees up to your chest and you must slip into a doze because when you’re snapped back into the present, footsteps punch through the frozen tundra outside your cave.

Adrenaline crackles down your spine—the bounty changed her mind. Ultimately decided she’d be safer in the long run with you dead. Fine.

If this is where your grave is going to be, might as well get in one or two punches. What’s another black eye anyway?

A shadow flickers at the mouth of the cave, curling around the wall as she draws closer. A brown boot kicks through the snow and—

“Changed your mind? I—“

Your words die on your tongue as relief floods your veins. Din Djarin stands before you, a sight for sore eyes in these trying times.

Frost glitters on the burgundy chest plate, glinting in the dim sunlight that touches the mouth of the cave. A delicate feathering of the dainty crystals that no high end lace maker could ever hope to mimic curls up the front of Din’s visor and eats away at the edges of his cloak. His heavy step forward reverberates off the walls, some of that ease replaced by the prickle of dread. His silence is unnerving.

“Din,” you say again, just so he’ll say something. “I can—“

You move to stand, but he interrupts with a halting;

“Sit.”

Your mouth snaps shut and you drop back on the floor. This…is not good. His footsteps are heavy as he approaches you and every muscle in your frame tightens like a fist wrapping around your ribcage and squeezing. The precise edges of his helmet are not a forgiving sight and even when he kneels onto one knee you have to resist the natural urge to flinch. Like this, despite hunching over, Din is broad. All hard muscle and sinew amplified by the bulky layer of beskar.

Your tongue runs over the insides of your teeth as you track his hand that he thrusts foreword. You hiss and jerk away at the sudden needly pain when his gloved thumb finds the edges of your head wound. A low sound of disapproval filters out through the helmet in a low metallic buzz.

“You won’t need stitches,” he says. Din reaches into one of his various supply pouches and pulls out a tiny vile of bacta. He casually pulls off his right glove, unscrews the vile and smears the bacta over his thumb. This time you don’t make a sound, even though your nerves scream at the razor like sensation of his thumb working the bacta into the damaged flesh. He doesn’t ask how the injury happened and you don’t care to tell him. There’s a time and place for stories about battle scars and near misses—it’s much too fresh to be spoken of right now.

The brief torture finally ends after once last glance over for other presenting injuries. He finds none, replaces his glove and stands with a muted grunt. You know what’s next. You’d rather avoid it—you aren’t keen on the berating lectures—as deserved as they are.

“I found your ship on Sato 3,” Din begins with a growl. “Imagine my surprise when I found your bounty selling it for parts.”

Ah, there it is. You wince and study your fingernails. “Pile of junk anyway…”

“I thought you’d be smarter about these things,” he snarls, his sharp tone deadly enough to slice through bone. “Was the hole blown into your lung not enough for you?”

You swallow and bite your tongue.

The bristling Mandalorian, continues and jabs an orange tipped finger at you. “You are reckless.”

Your chest constricts as you look away, shame blooming in the pit of your stomach.This is a new facet of Din you’ve never encountered. You aren’t naïve—even the most docile of people can harbor a temper, you know that. And you know Din is by no means passive—he’s an elite warrior equipped with a small arsenal at his disposal. You don’t expect him to coddle you or treat you different than any other companion; but…but it’s hard not to take his ire to heart. Not when it’s the kind of anger that boils deep in your chest and erupts with molten streams that leaves scathing wounds and blistered feelings.

You chew your lip hard enough to taste blood and avoid his piercing gaze. You think if you do you might catch fire and burn to a crisp. “I’m sorry.”

The meek apology settles in the air like a heavy fog. Din’s anger still brews, looming and dark but he reigns in his temper and switches out the searing cadence of his words with chilly informality. You’re not sure which is worse.

“No more bounties.”

“What?” Your brows knit together. The fuck does he mean.

“No more hunts alone—“

You interrupt with a scoff. “You’re grounding me?”

He strides across the small space and plants himself on the opposing wall. “Until you’re competent enough, you have no business being out in the field. You might as well be bait at this point.”

“Competent.” You echo through clenched teeth.

His helmet dips, leveling a steady glare of indifference. “The Crest is a half cycle’s walk from here. In the morning I’m taking you back to Nevarro.”

“I’m not a child. You can’t just,” you throw your hands up in dismay, “ban me from bounty hunting.”

Din’s armor clinks together as he moves to sit. He rests one elbow on his propped up knee, extends his other and rolls his helmet to meet your eyes. “Your actions reflect the Covert now. We can’t risk discovery because of one stupid mistake or a careless loose end.”

That hadn’t even crossed your mind. Stars, you want to smack yourself. Your ship, as shitty as it was, hosted a good chunk of sensitive information, all encrypted and translated into binary. A mediocre slicer could hack through it in hours. Not exactly foolproof but hey, at least you had something. Good thing your bounty wasn’t in the market of selling stolen ships to the Empire.

“Din?”

The Mandalorian makes no noise of affirmation that he heard you. You sigh and take his silence as a go ahead and clear your throat. “How long was I gone for?”

Here, in the cave it’s been nearly three days, but the rest of it you’re not exactly sure. Hunting the bounty down took up at least a week or two and even longer to capture her and there’s no accounting for the time lost after your ship was commandeered. Your teeth roll over your bottom lip as you wait for him to respond.

“Almost two months.” He replies evenly. “Your transmissions were cut three weeks ago and I didn’t think anything of it. Comms are always patchy in Wild Space."

Leather creaks as his fist balls at his side. “You didn’t answer for days. Paz and I tracked the ship to Sato 3, but you weren’t there. Do you know how difficult it was to pick through all the planets recorded on your log?”

You blink and return to picking at your fingernails.

“You weren’t easy to find, I—“ He severs the rest of his sentence with a crackling sigh and tilts his head back. “You’re lucky.”

The hesitance lacing his words makes you bite your tongue, the snarky retort crumbling to ash in your mouth. Din doesn’t bother to filter his words—he’s blunt. Efficient and to the point when he does decide to speak. That…well that was different.

He was worried—

You rub at your cheek—numb with the cold and curl into yourself. Din was worried. Easily the most feared bounty hunter in the parsec, worried that he couldn’t find you.

A different cold—one that settles deep into the marrow of your bones and hugs your soul with a sheet of frost, makes a home in your heart. The severity of what could’ve happened replaces that sheen of hilarity and fuck. You were closer to freezing to death than Din finding you here—alone in some stupid kriffing cave.

Somehow the idea of that is worse than the brief brush of eternal slumber you had on Nar Shaddaa. Up to that point you expected to die young—no harm and no foul in it either. You had no attachments, no debt to pay—a drifter in an endless galaxy.

Now you’re here, buckling under the weight of mismanaged friendships and your uncanny skill at weaseling into any and all trouble.

Neither you or Din jump to fill the silence. The ashes of disaster settle in nicely with the frozen echo of an endless winter.

It’d been a couple hours shy from sunset when Din arrived, the sun providing weak light that hardly touched the mouth of the cave. Now as the shadows grow longer and with the temperature dropping, the two of you are swallowed up by the unyielding darkness of night.

Din shuffles and fishes out the solar light from his supply bag. It clicks on and warm, orange light illuminates the cave. It bounces off his beskar, fracturing the light like a million tiny suns in the tempered metal and in the impossibly dark visor. He looks up, and tosses the light over.

You catch it easily and despite the warmness of the light it emits, it offers no heat for your chilled fingers. You set it to the side and tuck your hands into your armpits.

By no means is the cave warm—the natural thermal vents kept the ground dry and free of the ice and snow that rages outside, but it doesn’t protect you from the occasion chilly draft that cuts through each layer you wear. Then again, you weren’t planning on taking an unexpected vacation on Csilla. No time to plan really.

You sigh and pull your knees up to your chest and cast a glance at your ever radiant ray of sunshine across from you.

He looks nice and cozy—leaned back against the cave wall, one leg crossed over the other while his hands sit intertwined just below his navel. The beskar must provide insulation—maybe a fancy heater in that bucket of his, or maybe he’s just too stubborn to show anything other than indifference.

Another bout of shivers tear through your frame and you’re certain Din can hear the enamel of your teeth clack together. You shove your hands deeper into your armpits and tuck your chin into your chest to preserve heat and pray that sleep isn’t far off—can’t be cold if you’re unconscious.

Metal scrapes over stone as Din readjusts himself and you can feel him looking at you. It’s not a terrible weight to bear; intense and analytic, sure and in the past it would’ve unnerved you. Now, instead of it feeling like he were peeling back each fibre of your soul each time he stares, it’s familiar. A pattern of sorts—

It happens each time Din wrestles with an uncertain question. He deals in absolutes, and it’s no surprise he rarely knows what to say to you.

“You’re shivering,” he states. You roll your eyes. “Are you cold?”

“Boiling, actually,” you snip. “Why else would I forget a jacket?”

A sharp hiss of air crackles through the vocoder. “Don’t get mouthy with me. It was a simple question.”

“Well—there’s not much to do about it,” you sneer, watching your breath condensate in the air. “I’m freezing, exhausted, and hungry.”

You know you’re being snide—but your nerves feel like they’ve been severed at the root with a dull vibroblade. You have neither the time nor energy to spare for simple questions. Din should understand that—seeing as he’s a man familiar with short temperament.

The space between you is ripe with crackling tension, and maybe—if you weren’t so fucking cold—you’d play the mediator. Thread stitches into the gash you both sliced into your friendship, as small it may be. You’ve lost friends over less—this could end up no different.

You sigh and turn your head. This is a problem for tomorrow.

Irritated and upset, you squeeze your eyes shut and chase after sleep. You slip in a doze faster than expected, any and all discomfort fading away a you toe the line between a deeper sleep and waking dreams. You think you imagined Din saying your name—Maker you can’t even escape him in your own fucking head—

It doesn’t end—like a nagging buzz that swells until it’s right near your ear. Spite spurs you to ignore It and exhaustion convinces you to drift further away. That is, until a hand, gentle and warm curls around your shoulder. You once again hear your name rumble low through Din’s helmet, but it’s much too difficult to open your eyes. Why can’t he leave you be? You barely feel the cold now…

“Stay awake.” Din sounds distant, in some other plane of existence despite the steady hold he has on your arm. “Maker—you’re colder than kriffing ice.”

“Go away,” you grumble through numb lips. Such a pest.

He’s talking—but the words don’t make sense. Muddled—split between that hazy line of dreaming and consciousness where you can’t decipher what’s real. His hands however—you can feel those plain as day. A bare palm cups your cheek—shreds through the layer of frost you’re positive has crystalized over your skin and rouses you to a more coherent level of presentness.

“Don’t quit on me yet—“

“Nah,” you mumble. “I’m hard to…to kill. L-like a scrap rat…”

Din grunts in response. “Rat is a compliment. You’re more of a spider-roach.”

The ends of your mouth quirk. It’s the best you can do—a full smile just might push you to the brink of death.

“C’mon—I won’t let either of us freeze,” Din sighs. His fingers find the magnetized latches on his cuirass and it slips off with practiced ease, the armored thigh plating following a moment later. He neatly sets it to the side and grabs his cloak to fasten it around you. With another sigh, Din shuffles in behind you and wraps an arm around your middle, nestling his legs and body snuggly around yours.

Maker—you don’t have time to bother about the intimacy of this because all you’re drawn to is the furnace like heat. Fuck, he’s so warm. You have only a second to enjoy it before your body begins to thaw—bringing forth waves of achey pain.

His chest molds to your back, both arms curling over your own arms that are scrunched up tight around your chest. You shake in his hold, vicious waves of cold clashing against his body heat—it hurts—like sticking your bare foot into hot coals.

You squirm, little gasps of discomfort slipping out that echo around the cave. Din shifts, tucking you further under his body until he’s nearly crushing you. It’s a bit tricky to breathe like this but hey—you’re not complaining. Not when your nose is buried in his soft undershirt that smells purely of Din.

Your fingers and toes still throb as they thaw, but it’s working. Cuddling Din Djarin to stave off hypothermia—sounds kriffing ridiculous.

“You’re still shivering,” he says. “I might…”

Your breath catches in your throat as he trails off. “Might what?”

Another shiver wracks through your body as his frosty helmet catches on bare skin when he dips his head in embarrassment. You don’t quite catch what he says and he doesn’t bother to clarify. “Forget it.”

You turn your head as much as you can, straining your eyes to meet the strip of visor. “Tell me.”

He mumbles under his breath again and cuddles closer, slotting his hips against your ass. “Might know…know another way to keep us warm…”

Oh.

A spark breathes to life in the pit of your tummy. You wiggle onto your back, your nose brushing the vizor. “Does it involve me taking off my pants?”

Din huffs, his hands, previously latched onto your hips, starting to crawl up your waist. “It could…”

You smirk and rock your hips back, eliciting a low growl that rumbles through his chest. With your whine of approval, Din’s hand slips between your legs and gives the meat of your inner thigh a squeeze. You let your knees fall open as far as they can in this position and it’s all Din needs to cup your cunt through the thin material of your trousers.

Crackling pleasure flood your veins as the heel of his palm grinds into your clit, and while the pressure is nice, it does nothing to satisfy. Only feeds the growing flames of desire with brittle kindling.

You pull at his undershirt and whimper, thrilled once his deft fingers, calloused and thick unlace your pants and yank far enough down to fit his hand. His fingers trace your outer lips, a ghost of a touch as arousal swells in your stomach. He parts your folds once your wetness begins to dribble out and coats his fingertips with your arousal.

Stars—you need him. You arch into him and whine. “Touch me. Din, please—“

You jerk as Din’s thumb swirls a slow circle over your clit, a rush of endorphins surging out like unrefined fire whiskey. Din’s head tilts to watch you writhe over his fingers and the sudden chill of his helmet touching the inside of your flushed neck steals away your next inhale. Goosebumps race down your entire being, adding to the influx of your excitement that pools in your lower belly.

Your hands tangle into his undershirt, pulling him closer until you can’t find where he begins and you end. His heart pounds in his chest, thrumming to the dance of your own heart that yearns to break free from your ribcage. Your breath catches when two of his thick fingers tease at your entrance. Your walls flutter around him as the slip in easily.

His fingers roll forward and stroke against something devastating inside of you, and he when his palm rolls back, it bumps against your clit with that divine firmness you need. Your cunt tightens around the two digits as they curl.

“Fuck. Can you hear yourself?” He pants, groping your breast to elicit a high pitched wail. “You always make—make such pretty noises.”

Butterflies erupt in your stomach at his words and fuck. You’re already dipping head first into release. A moment later you’re arching into his chest as every muscle stiffens in a crescendo of bliss, your stuttered breathing harsh even to your own ears.

Your quick pants fog up his visor as Din rests the crown of his helmet on your forehead, the metal a cool relief to your flushed skin. He slips his fingers out of your dripping cunt, your chest still heaving with exertion as the last strands of your high fizzle and ebb away. Din shifts and and snakes his fingers, still shiny and wet with your arousal, beneath the lip of his helmet and sucks them clean with an appreciative groan.

“Fuck—“ You breathe, pushing your face into his hand as he cups your cheek. Din’s thumb brushes over your cheekbone and swings his leg over your hips to hoist himself over you.

“Do you remember...” He starts, his voice buzzing through the vocoder. His fingers tickle down your cheek and trace the parted outline of your lips. “When you let me taste you?”

You nod, and it’s all you’re able to do. You’re not even sure you can formulate words, let alone voice them right now.

Din’s thumb pulls at your plush bottom lip, and you can’t help but slide your tongue along the digit. He grunts and slips his thumb into the wet heat of your mouth. “I think about you every night…how you came on my tongue—”

Your stomach flips as a rush of arousal sweeps through your tummy. You groan and you’re half sure you’re gonna dissipate into the floor from how hot your cheeks burn. “Din—"

He continues without missing a beat.

“You were so fucking wet for me—dripped all over my hand,” he murmurs, nuzzling his helmet, still chilly and frosted over, into the crook of you neck. “I want to do it again—can I?”

You’re nodding before he even finishes his sentence. He wasn’t the only one longing for his head between your thighs on those long nights apart. Remembering those plush lips and addictive touches could only get you so far and well—he’s here now. You said it once and you’ll say it again—there’s no chance in hell you’d be passing up this opportunity.

Din lifts his head and as you watch the light glitter in the reflection of the beskar, a sudden stray thought ricochets into the forefront of your mind. “Din, the light—your helmet.”

He pauses, his body tensing as he mulls over his options. “It’s—I—it’s ok…It’ll be ok.”

Din inhales a stuttered breath and casts a brief glance over his shoulder. It’s a dim light, kicked into the corner and laying on its side. From this angle, his face would be partially obscured in shadow…but still. There are easier ways to go about this. Ways that don’t risk jeopardizing the very foundation of who he is—what he stands for and what he so devoutly follows.

To say you know anything about his religion is laughable. Everything you know can fit on the back of a thumbtack and even still, you’re sure that half of that is still based upon rumor and speculation. But this—what Din is hinting at, you know is not something to be taken lightly.

He’s stripping his soul bare for you—allowing you to glimpse at that bleeding heart of his he guards so securely within layers of flesh and bone and impenetrable beskar. Din is gifting you his trust and there’s no where else to put it except for the space beneath your breast bone.

Yet, even still—this could mean nothing at all. You have no way to know the exact magnitude of what this means to him. If he’s alright with this, who are you to question?

He mumbles one last thing about the light and sits up. Goosebumps rush up your bare skin at the loss of the heavy warmth of his body. You whine and curl up closer to his legs, greedy for any spare iota of heat like you’ve been denied it your entire life.

Maker you hate this fucking planet—

Your attention snaps back to Din when he makes a noise of uncertainty. His hands are cupped around his helmet—hesitant, nervous and you suspect if Din’s hands weren’t plastered so tight around the metal, he’d be shaking. You chew on your lip and prop yourself up.

Cautiously, so as not to startle, you reach up and curl your fingers around his wrist. You can feel his pulse thrumming through his veins—alive, flesh and bone like you. Not some heap of sentient metal built for the horrors of war. You don’t know why you do it—just seems right to pull the fragile and vulnerable skin of his inner wrist to you mouth. You plant a gentle kiss there and smile when he cups your cheek.

“You don’t owe me anything, Din,” you say, staring into the darkened depths of his visor. “Least of all this.”

Some of that tension held in Din’s shoulders melts. He utters something in that clipped language of his people, and the only thing you can make out is your name. He lurches foreword and fuck—you’re terrified for a split second he’s gonna cave your skull in but instead he lightly bumps the crown of his helmet over your forehead.

“I want to. For you—only you.”

Din doesn’t leave any time to unpack all of that. He sits up again, wraps his hands around the beskar—

The metallic thunk of the helmet reverberates through the cave like a crack of thunder.

You were right.

You can barely see his face—if you really look, you can see the murky outline of his nose, dark hair and a sliver of his tan skin that the light touches. Attractive—but you knew that already. You touch his cheek and smile, your thumb catching over wiry facial hair and soft skin. Din makes a sound low in his throat and pushes his cheek into your hand.

“I still want to taste you,” Din says, his voice richer when stripped of that tinny vocoder. You like listening to him speak without it, you think, and it’s a damn shame you never get to hear it. “Please.”

Before he can escape and fulfill that fantasy, you yank him into a blinding kiss. He kisses the same—all wild edges and with desperation lining each motion—but there’s a new found tenderness here. Like he’s savoring each gasp and every brush of skin you grace him with like it’s your last night left in the galaxy.

He breaks away from your mouth and peppers kisses and nips down your jaw, then lower as you arch and expose the bare skin of your throat. There’ll be a plethora of bruises tomorrow, and with no hope to cover them either but fuck it—Din can leave as many hickeys and teeth marks as he wants.

If not for the cold still latching onto your very soul, you’d ditch the shirt; give Din better access instead of him needing to shove a hand up under and grope at your breasts. He gives the fabric an annoyed tug, but it’s fruitless. There’s no use when there’s better things to be sought.

He shoves your shirt as far up as it goes, shivering as he mouths down your stomach, licks around your bellybutton and sucks a bruise onto your hipbone. Your pants are already pulled halfway down—one sharp yank and they’re around your ankles and off in the next breath.

Cupping your knees with both hands he gingerly spreads your legs and drapes them over his muscular shoulders. Din rubs his patchy haired cheek along your thigh and hooks his hands under your ass, his ivory white teeth catching the light as he smiles.

“Fucking perfect—“ He groans, planting his lips over your inner thigh. His tongue swipes a wet line up, stopping just before your aching cunt to dig his teeth into the sensitive flesh. You jump at the burst of pain and shoot a hand down, tangling your fingers into the soft curls atop his head.

Din grunts and jumps to your other thigh, leaving no inch of skin neglected and without evidence of his teeth and lips. By the time his thumbs touch the outer lips of your cunt, the aching need for him is burning you from the outside in. He has to still your twitching hips with a calloused palm, and only after you settle does he surge forward.

His tongue meets your swollen clit, ripping a tangled cry from you vocal cords. He’s just as eager as the first time he tasted you, if not more—every action backed by needy abandon. He sucks at the bundle of nerves then sweeps his tongue lower. Din’s thumbs part your lower lips as he runs his tongue though your soaked folds, the tip of his nose bumping against your clit that send delicious sparks throughout your whole body. Little noises and breathy gasps fill the cave, encouraging Din to push his tongue deep into your aching entrance.

Your hand fists into his hair as your hips stutter and rock into the searing heat of his mouth. The noises you make are obscene, and Din is no better. Each pass of his tongue over your pussy is matched with his own deep moans that vibrated against your clit. Fucking hell he’s devouring you alive.

Your orgasm sneaks up on you, robs you blind and crashes over you in deep waves that drag you out to sea and never to be found again as you spill onto his greedy tongue. Your fingers are threaded tight in his hair as you squeak and press harder into his mouth, riding out your pleasure until it shifts and becomes raw and sore.

Din doesn’t pause for even a second—all too happy to stay put between your thighs for eternity. Your legs are trembling when you force his head away, a nice, tingly warmth settling into your limbs

A dark thrill rushes down your spine when he looks up, wild hair and mouth covered in your slick. If not for the low lighting you imagine his eyes would be glazed over and Maker you want him again. Din swoops down and presses his mouth to yours, the taste of yourself heavy on his tongue that slips past the seem of your lips.

You whine after he breaks away and sits up—an opportunity for your eyes to roam down his body. He’s still got his trousers on, a considerable bulge tenting the front. With a smirk you reach up and grab a handful, delighting in Din’s startled grunt. “Easy.”

You flash him a wry smile and give his clothed cock a playful squeeze. “Take them off.”

Din huffs and pulls at the drawstrings. “Needy.”

He says it with no bite and no coquettish retort on your end springs to mind—especially when his thumbs hook into the waistband and pull. A slow reveal of sun-kissed skin and a sparse happy trail that your eyes eagerly drink up.

Din’s cock bobs as his trousers fall around his knees, tip shiny and wet and curling towards his navel. You bite the inside of your cheek and reach out, a rush of arousal pulsing through your core at Din’s low moan. He’s heavy in your hand, deliciously thick and throbbing—and all of it for you.

Din gasps out your name as you lightly squeeze and stroke down, your pace dreadfully slow and teasing. Who knows when you’ll get another chance like this—a Mandalorian willingly on their knees for you.

Your other hand slips up his chest as you stroke him, intent on grabbing a handful of his thick hair that curls softly against the column of his neck. Your fingernail lightly scrapes across his nipple and he sways, pitching forward before he catches himself and straightens. Din’s eyes are squeezed tight, chest heaving with shallow pants as a smirk tugs at your lips.

“It’s ok, Din,” you whisper. “I won’t break.”

Your fingers twist into the hair at the base of his skull and guide him back. He slumps forward with a sweet moan, laying his weight onto your body that you’re all too happy too bare. His nose is nestled into the slope of your neck as his hands lock around the dip of your lower back while the other cradles the back of your head, drawing you into a loose semblance of a hug.

Something snaps and crumbles deep in your soul that bleeds the heartstring blues, humming with broken chords in the presence of Din’s soft fragility. Your hand moves from between his legs to instead wrap around the wide expanse of his back, squeezing him tight to your chest. You hold each other like there isn’t tomorrow to look forward to and you wonder if this is how it feels to fall apart. Two spinning halves of a supernova torn apart and destined to collide and shatter into a million fragments of dazzling light.

Yes, you’re scared he might blind you or burn you with his brilliance, but you can’t look away.

Your fingers crawl up his muscled thigh and settle on his hip. “Lie down for me?”

There’s no hint of hesitation or complaint as he maneuvers himself onto his back, patiently allowing you to clamber over his legs and straddle his hips. His cock rests on your inner thigh, pulsing and leaving a dribble of wetness every time it twitches.

“Good boy.” It’s subtle but it ripples out like a heavy stone thrown into a still lake. Din shudders and says your name in a cracked whisper. He rolls his hips, both of you groaning at the sensation of his cock running along your dripping center.

Another time for that game maybe.

Your desperation is running hot and wild to have him inside you and you know he’s in a similar boat. You grab the thick shaft of his cock and grind the tip of him through your lips, breath hitching when it extracts such a perfect moan from the man below you.

“Ride me,” he pleads, clamping his large hands over your hips. “Fuck—I need you.”

How can you deny such a request?

You line the wide head up with your aching center and slowly work him in. Shivers wrack through you, and Maker—he’s splitting you apart, molding your insides to the shape of him. Beads of sweat dot your hairline by the time you’re seated fully on his member, the both of you pushed even closer towards madness.

Din squeezes your ass and props his knees up, rolling his hips up into you. You whimper and tip forward, propping your palms over his chest as he sets the pace. You may be on top but there’s no changing the bold colors of power and lust that cloud his mind, fueling the brutal movements of fucking up into you. Your thighs burn already and Maker—why the fuck are you already tired? You’re not doing any of the work.

Quicker than lightning, Din curls forward and manhandles you onto your back. You squeak as he grips your thigh and yanks it around his narrow hips, thrusting in deeper. His right hand crawls up the front of your shirt and wraps his fingers around your throat in a loose hold. His thumb hovers over the dip at the base of your neck but he makes no move to press down—just allows the weight of his palm to do the work. And fuck—it works.

Choked garbles of his name pass through your lips as you buck and squirm in his hold, feeling your arousal begin to drip down the back of your thighs. You’re skirting the edge of sizzling release that alights your nerves with liquid wildfire. Your nails harpoon into the meat of his shoulders as your eyes squeeze shut. Din won’t allow it.

“Look at me,” Din snarls, yanking your head back by your hair. “I want to—to watch you cum for me.”

A blush scalds your cheeks but you listen. Your eyes flutter open for him, sliding to the dark shadows of his eyes that sweep you into their own gravity well with no hope to escape. You don’t mind.

“You’re so g-good for me—always so perfect.”

White hot light bursts behind your eyelids, and that’s all it takes. Your body seizes, your cunt squeezing impossibly tight around his cock as you cum. This one is different—steals your breath away and leaves you a broken husk of a person lost in most delectable forms of agony and pleasure. The cry of his name pierces the air only spurring the Mandalorian into a jarring pace to seek his own peak of ecstasy.

Din’s nose nuzzles into your neck, his pants hot and sharp against your flushed skin. “You f-feel so—fuck. Say—say my name.”

You leap to his request and with a playful nip to his earlobe, you whisper it to him with the sweetness of starcherrries and the promise of better things.

He tips over the edge, his hips faltering into no discernible pace as he cums. Din buries his teeth into the skin below your jaw, a mess of whines and begging gasps of nonsense as he fills your cunt to the brim.

Your harsh breathing mingles as you both lazily slip down from your high. He rests his head over your sternum, listening to your beating heart that drums in a wild staccato as your fingers carefully comb through his hair. If not for the ache in your hips you’d keep him here forever. Din pulls out and you both groan at the loss.

He doesn’t completely move away and you’re glad for it. He brushes his knuckles down the expanse of your cheek and dots a tender kiss to your hairline. Your name rumbles low in his throat as he shifts lower and gives your ear lobe a playful nip. His stubble scrapes along your neck, and you can’t help but giggle and squirm—but the weight of his body keeps you pinned. Your name slips from his lips a second time, breathy and drawn out in a sweet sigh, like he’s savoring the sound of each syllable and roll of the tongue.

Din lifts his head, only slightly—near enough that his nose bumps into yours and his lips scrape along yours that are still parted and wet. “I—can I tell you something?”

You cup his cheek and steal a kiss. It’s supposed to be quick—but instead he leans into it, guiding your mouth into a slow dance of sticky sweet movements that are caught in a slow draw, like crystalized honey abandoned in a glass jar. You’re enraptured by his touch—his skin mottled with scars yet somehow still unfairly soft. He smells of snow—like metal and soap and something gentler, that’s uniquely Din.

Fuck—you can feel your mind slipping away, wrapped up so snugly in his presence you almost forget to answer. “Yeah—anything.”

Crackling static suddenly rips through the cave, startling you both. A distorted voice chatters on the comlink that lies forgotten beside your pants. It blinks and the transmission ends just as abruptly. With a sigh Din brushes it off and tilts his head to tempt you into another kiss but—

Whoever’s trying to patch through is persistent.

His lip curls in a scowl and snatches the comm. “Jorhaa’ir.”

You only catch your name being mentioned twice as rapid Mando’a is exchanged. Aeris maybe judging by the tone, but no that’s not right.

“Wait—is that Paz?”

The muscles in Din’s shoulders tense, confirming your suspicion.

“Is everything ok?” Din doesn’t resist you when you pry the comlink out of his fingers and patch in. “Paz?”

Your heart skips a beat.

“There you are,” the comlink crackles and you smile. “You’re a pain in my ass, you know that?”

Stars—you didn’t think you’d miss hearing Paz’s voice. Your chest aches.

The conversation is short, he asks you how you are and when you’re coming home and in the time it takes to answer, Din is peeling himself from your body. While you're distracted, he pulls on his pants and sits at the edges of your vision.

You both pretend when you say goodnight to Paz, return the comlink and crawl into his arms that nothing has festered with savage detachment. You don't remember to ask him what he was going to say and he lets you forget. The golden heart that bleeds molten ichor slips from your sight and becomes shut behind walls of beskar and bushes of thick thorns and overgrown ivy.

He still holds you, but it’s the coldest you’ve ever been.

Tag List: @teaofpeach @corrupt-fvcker @nelba @datmando @ben-is-a-hoe @dreams-like-clockwork @aeryns-library @auty-ren @huliabitch @anxiety-riddled-mando @phoenixhalliwell @cptnbvcks @thesoftdumbass @krissology @starlite41 @legally-a-bastard @basslinedweller @cloud-of-roses @elenamiria @goldafterglow @maybege @equalstrashflavoredtrash @wandxrlust @hdlynnslibrary @calamity-queen @sgtbookybarnes @pinkninja190 @lackofhonor @darthstyles @spacegayofficial @absurdthirst @blue-writes-a03 @max--phillips

#din is a certified bottom #ANYWAY welcome to pound town #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader x paz vizla #paz vizla x reader #paz vizla x you #paz vizsla x reader #paz vizsla #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #star wars #sw #fanfiction #sw fanfiction #my writing #are you in or out?

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prescription-ten · 4 years ago

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Touch Starved - Hwang Hyunjin

[ I don’t own the GIF]

Title: Touch Starved

Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin x Fem reader

Word Count: 2.3K

Genre: fluff, soulmate AU

Warnings: no warnings, this was written last minute though, sorry if i missed anything in editing. mentions of hearing and sight impaired people. otherwise enjoy.

Tag: @vitaminhyunjin i hope you like this

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Last night I dreamt I was with him again. I am still not sure what he looks like, but I can feel the warmth of the sun, and the morning dew that has settled on the grass soak into my clothes. But most importantly, I can feel his head on my lap, his hand over my knee and I can feel his hair between my fingers.

I can make out the shape of his body in my head, along with the sound of his breath as if his mouth rests against my collarbone, or perhaps the side of my jaw. Either way, the feeling of his spirit kindles with mine and it blooms and even though I cannot see colour yet, I know that together we would create a beautiful symphony of sound and colour.

So, when I wake, and I feel my hands under my pillow and the sheets wrapped around my legs, I can’t help but feel as if my side is now cold, as if he truly was here with me. I stretch my limbs, arching my spine and spreading my toes and fingers until I hear a resounding crack before slowly sitting up.

The rest of the morning would go by uneventfully, my coffee was per usual, shower – short and sweet. By the time I was ready, it was almost eleven am so I began heading to a café around the block which had become one of my favourite spots since moving to a new city, a new country in fact. I had moved from my home country all the way to Seoul, South Korea for an incredible job opportunity. For years, I studied sign language and teaching and wanted to go into work with deaf children, teens, and adults, and I had done just that.

I loved my job, I loved the kids I worked with and I loved seeing the shine in their eyes as they learn new signs, as some of them get their first sets of hearing aids, or as some graduate from my classes. It brings along an amazing feeling, knowing that I have made an impact and helped in some way.

For some of the older ones, I had become friends with and still speak to them to this day. Many of them had told me about their job opportunities, families, and soulmates.

As a society, we have monetised a life well-lived by the discovery of our soulmates. Each of us have one, some find them early in life, and some much later, but we always find them. Today, I turn twenty-two. Every one of my friends and family had found their soulmates by twenty, so it’s a little easy to say that I have waited longer than most people I’ve ever known. The latest discovery I had heard of was from one of my students, who had told me their sibling had not found their soulmate until they turned thirty-one. All of us would stay colour-blind until we found our soulmate and when our soulmate died, we would be left in a world colour-blind excluding our soulmates favourite colour. Quite morbid in all honesty.

I dearly hope I do not have for him as long as their sibling had to wait.

The coffee shop was more quiet than usual and some bleak light shone through the windows, illuminating almost all of the booths and half of the tables scattered throughout the room. I approached the counter and purchased an americano and a ham and cheese croissant. I almost stayed inside the café but after glancing around at the empty space, I decided to walk to the park, finding a bench mostly untouched by sunlight. I stayed there for numerous hours before heading home.

Hours went by before my head hit the pillow again and I hoped dearly I would b able to visit him again.

But I did not get to meet him for another week, each time my head hit the pillow, I dreamt of nothing and woke up more restless than the previous night. After a week, coffee had become the one thing helping me throughout the day as I struggled to stay focused or awake no matter how much I slept. After the seventh day, I began to feel the fatigue even more-so than usual, and religiously headed to the café around the corner from my apartment. Luckily there wasn’t a line up and the staff recognised me and put through my usual and feeling dizzy, I sat down in a booth, I didn’t want to risk heading to the park and risk fainting where I might not be found for a long period of time.

My brain was feeling a little frazzled, my eyesight felt off and I could not understand why, but as I sat there trying to process everything happening and focus, I noticed that my eyesight was clearing up, some colours coming through so briefly I barely noticed. I began to stare at the menu, watching the muted greys and blacks turn into colours I hadn’t been able to see before. He was so close to me. I looked up; my eyes wide as the colours grew bolder. He must be so close, just out of reach. I sat on the edge of my seat, feeling some sweat appear near my lower back, I hope I don’t smell bad. I must look terrible; I wasn’t prepared to meet him yet when I looked like a casual disaster.

I became very aware of the bags under my eyes, of the hoodie that I wore which was neither a name brand nor that flattering in all honesty. But the colours didn’t feign at all yet. Surely if the universe decided that this was the time, a silly hoodie wouldn’t ruin it.

I heard the chime of the little bell at the front of the café and my head swung around to face it. The instant my eyes locked with his face, I felt my vision go blurry before clearing again and suddenly I could see him in full colour. In came a young man with dark hair that looked like it sat below his chin, it was nicely tied back with some framing his face. He was wearing jeans and a hoodie as well and I decided that it was my favourite colour on him, even if I didn’t know what colour it was. In hand he carried a cane which was tethered to his wrist and it was then with shock that I realised he must have been blind or sight impaired.

“Hi Hyunjin!” The male staff member called from the counter, “Would you like an americano again?”

Hyunjin smiled, cautiously heading for the counter, “Yes please, Max. How have things been this week?”

“They’ve been alright, it’s been a bit slow recently but all of our regulars are still coming in which keeps us busy still.”

“That’s good to hear, do you mind walking me to that booth I like?” He was so polite.

“Yeah, I can do that for you, I’ve also charged the drink through your loyalty card, this one is free.”

“Thank you, Max,”

“It’s seriously no problem, you know you’re one of our favourites so we will always treat you well.”

I watched as Max walked Hyunjin to the booth two down from my own, and Max seemed to notice my gaze locked to Hyunjin and he stopped by my booth on the way past, “Is everything alright, miss?”

“That… That young man, does he come in very often?”

“Yes, miss… Why do you ask?” Max seemed very confused.

“I’ve just never seen him in here before… but seeing him today brought colour into my life… Do you think he would mind if I approached him?” I couldn’t help but stammer a little, trying to explain my strange behaviour.

Max’s eyes seemed to pop out of his skull, “Wait, miss really? Well! Of course! He wouldn’t mind at all! You should definitely go and introduce yourself.”

I nodded, my vision going back to Hyunjin who currently had his eyes closed and face towards the sunlight. I stood from the booth as Max hurried back to his station and I felt the nerves kick in two-fold as I took a deep breath.

I made my way to his table, I gulped and finally spoke, “Uh… Hello? My name is Y/N, would you mind if I sat with you?”

He turned to face me, his gaze went straight through me and it gave me chills, “Oh hello! I’m Hyunjin and of course, go ahead.”

He did seem a little confused by my strange offer so I spoke up, “I’m sorry to come out of nowhere I just… Well I was sitting a couple of booths down and I saw you walk in and…” I felt so tongue tied.

Hyunjin smiled sweetly, “It’s alright, take your time, love.”

My heart fluttered, “Well, I saw you walk in and I’ve been feeling fatigued all week and today I was going through something I’ve never gone through before, and when you walked in and I saw you, I saw colour for the first time in my life.”

Hyunjin sat there quietly for a few moments before he spoke up. “You’re being truthful?”

I was a little shocked by the question, “I--… Yes. I am.”

He smiled again, “Well, I’m almost completely blind, but I can see light when it’s bright enough. I’ve dreamt of my soulmate for many years, trying to remember the sensation and the feel of them… May I touch you?”

I stayed quiet, looking at his beautiful smile, “Yes.”

He slid his hands across the table, and I met him halfway. His fingertips were incredibly warm in my palms, I heard his quick intake of breath and prayed it was a good sign. His hands moved very slowly in my own as he felt each crevice, he touched my fingernails and followed all of their ridges before moving over my knuckles; from there his hands wrapped around my wrist, his hands were big enough that his fingers easily touched each other. He moved up my forearms, he was now leaning over the booth table, trying to get further.

“Would this be easier if I came closer?” I asked, hesitant.

He paused, “… If you’re comfortable, that would be helpful.”

He started to pull away, but I held onto one of his hands and gently held it as I stood and moved around the table, I watched some red flush cover his cheeks and he slid over so there was more room next to him.

Once I had sat down, I picked up his other hand and after a moment he moved his hands back to my forearms and continued the journey up. His hands moved over my shoulders and collarbones until his fingertips brushed the base of my throat. His fingers delicately moved up and he touched the lobes of my ears, followed my jawline before once again heading upwards where he lingered over my lips, the tip of my nose and I closed my eyes as he brushed his thumb pads over my eyelids and eyebrows.

He pulled away, and seemed to think for a moment before speaking again, “May I… This is going to seem strange, but can I hug you?”

I was unsure but I agreed, “Of course,” I leaned in, touching him softly so I didn’t shock him. I slid my arms underneath his and wrapped them around his waist, locking my fingers together gently before leaning in even closer. I laid my head on his shoulder, with my face pointing away from his neck. Hyunjin still seemed a little surprised but he was quick to hug me back, pressing the side of his face onto the top of my head with his arms wrapping around my shoulders.

I felt tears begin to surface as I hugged him. He was so warm and everything about him seemed to feel so right, I felt his chest stutter a little before he pulled me in closer, “I’ve been waiting a long time for you, Y/N.”

I chuckled and squeezed him tighter before pulling away, he was hesitant to let me go but he had the biggest smile on his face and I felt like the luckiest person in the world to have been fated to him.

Months passed and soon Hyunjin was fully moved into my apartment. Our families were extremely happy for us and I found that Hyunjin had a very large group of extremely supportive friends that were almost as lovely as he was. I ended up fitting in quite well with the boys, one of which was actually a sibling to one of my current students who – by the way – had been enthralled when I had told them all I had finally met my soulmate, and they were even more intrigued upon finding out that he was in fact blind.

But, sitting here on the couch with Hyunjin’s head in my lap and with his hand resting on my knee, I couldn’t stop myself from entangling my fingers in his soft hair and began to smile at myself. Sitting here, I know there wasn’t anything in the world I would want to change, except maybe, I would have stayed and sat inside that café just a little earlier on in life. I would have sat in daily if I had known that little cafe would bring me Hyunjin, my love. Hyunjin, you leave me wanting more from life than anyone ever has, you leave me touch starved, and I wouldn’t want it any other way.

“Hyunjin… I love you.”

He twisted around so he faced me, “I love you more, though.”

#hwang #hyunjin #hwang hyunjin #stray kids #skz #soulmate au #hyunjin soulmate au #skz au #fem reader #fanfiction #skz fanfic #stray kids fanfic

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twen-nee7 · 4 years ago

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this is a dumb rant abt stress & being an artist online

i do not know how people handle having like, a real fanbase? i have a nsfw and a sfw art account on twitter and a grand total of-- ready? --72 followers between them.

i asked how trigger warnings worked bc i'm making a comic on my nsfw that has to deal with some pretty heavy themes (thus why it is... on my nsfw (and it does have sex in it)) and i wanted to make sure i tagged things appropriately.

i got half an answer from someone, followed by the logical and understandable question of why i was asking. i answered that the comic will have implied rape scenes (i wouldn't draw them) and emotional abuse, and, bc it's twitter, i didn't go any more in-depth than that (character limit and all). followed was a silent block, which is fine, although they didn't even answer my question about cw/tw work on twitter.

like yes, this bugged me because i have been having A Week. normally i'd be cool with it and move on because i'd rather have someone silently block me than start shit. like, this is a good thing

however, they've been like... is the term subtweet?? they've been posting stuff very clearly about me on their account. i just looked from my sfw account because i knew this person likes to instigate shit (they regularly post very cancel-y stuff; i was actually planning on blocking them before posting any more actual art on the account), and like... dude i just. i clearly didn't come across correctly because they're tweeting about how "problematic artists don't belong on twitter" and shit and i'm like

my comic is about... the process of recognizing an abusive relationship and getting out of it? there is no fetishizing of the abuse, like it'll very clearly be framed as Fucked Up and Not Okay, which you'd think would have been implied by the whole "i'm not drawing any rape" thing but apparently not.

like, i get it, a nsfw account saying they're gonna draw something with abuse in it would usually mean that they're gonna glorify it or make it sexy or whatever, but... ugh. i'm like 99% sure there's a post on my nsfw twitter that the comic is going to be about dealing with consent and abuse in alternative relationships.

i don't expect someone to go back and read that, but i do expect someone to not be vaguely posting about me because of it. (they literally tweeted something like the very minute they blocked me, and there's one thing between that and this thread about ~problematic artists~ lol)

tbh it's kind of killed any motivation i had for the comic, too, for it to be taken completely the wrong way because i fucked up explaining what it's about in 150 characters or however long tweets are. in fact, it's been so stressful i don't even want to have art accounts anymore lmaoooo

of course, i know this is a byproduct of my stress due to school. again, i normally don't get weird about people blocking me and look at their page or whatever, but i've been staying up to 5am every day doing schoolwork and it's very "the pen fell off the table and i started sobbing" phenomenon. i'm not upset about the block. i'm upset because i'm stressed the fuck out.

also, i am and have been so fucking terrified of cancel culture and wording something poorly / saying the wrong thing to the wrong person; it seems like people are so quick to jump on people instead of talking about it first to see if there was a misunderstanding. like, i say stupid shit all the time? (and no, it's not racist/sexist/body shaming/other problematic things, but god knows anything can be taken out of context.)

man how do people deal with this XD

my very close friend told me that i am very much the meme of the stereotypical conspiracy theorist with all the papers on the wall connected with string, and yes it do be like that sometimes when i'm Going Through It, which i am. lol.

(and yes for now, i've got twitter completely muted and might uninstall it for a couple of days so i stop fucking looking at it out of habit/anxious compulsion.)

#sorry for the rant #anecdote #being an artist #jesus christ how do you deal with this shit tho

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brujebutchdraws · 7 years ago

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this post features talk of abuse, ableism, pathologization, forced medication and dehumanization. please do skip it if this might put your mental health at risk. the r slur will be spelled as such “r.t.rd��.

spoilers for the Undertale game have to be looked out for too.

links will be in bold.

[one image of the video game Undertale’s character Frisk, a gif more exactly. Frisk wears an all-red outfit, and is winking and waking a hand peace V sign at us. the background is completley red. the eye they wink with is scarlet red, like DeTermination, their soul trait. their ballet flats are also of this colour, to symbolize their DeTermination to carry on with their ideals.

upside of them is written the tag Go Red Instead. downside them is written the tag actually autistic. both are in big white letters. on their left is written “support autistic people”, and above them “by being a good allistic (it means non-autistic) ally.” followed on their right by examples of good allistic ally guidelines, such as:

“by boycotting autism speaks, their symbol (a black puzzle piece is drawn crossed out”), their sponsors”

“by never speaking over us, but talking with us, behind us, in chorus.”

“by educating teachers to recognize autistic kids to adapt to them and teaching kids about it and how nobody’s a r.t.rd”

“by spreading our messages”

“by consumning our work”

“by listening to autistic people’s voices and words”

“by treating us like anyone else: asking for our boundaries and respecting them”

“by holding accountable and proscribing ableist behaviours”

“by letting us self-diagnose”

“by including us in your media as people”

“by not supporting series starring allistics as us instead of us”

the two first phrases are framed within white-lined hearts.

then there is also a list of seemingly trustworthy activist pro autistic people groups to donate to instead of autism speaks (linked in bold):

Autism Women’s Network

The Autistic Self Advocay Network

Worldwide Autism Association ( Switzerland/International)

Canadian Autistic United

Asperansa

AllianceAutisme

Autism Ireland

Autism Rights Group Highland

Asperger Pride Italia

white-lined hearts are drawn in front of each advice.]

for sure, other groups exist, but i did not have the spoons nor lingual knowledge to check for more. feel free to bring up to my attention any other group you place your trust, or that i promoted a group with connections to autism speaks or aba.

the character is not autistic canonically and i do not perceive them as such, while others are absolutely allowed to. i illustrate with them how to be a helper to autistic people, as they are an embodiment of determination, choosing one’s actions to either condemn or save the ones in need they come across.

#(Go)ReadInstead is a movement of the autistic community against autism speaks’ “light it blue” movement. autism speaks promotes the idea that autistic people are sick, compare us to cancer patients, and “light it up blue” to “raise awareness about the Bad Autism we must seek and destroy out of our children”. it is a logic of abuse apologism and ableist conceptions of a neurodivergency that is no illness and neither lethal nor dangerous to anyone, caused by old myths and outdated fears of demons and faeries/changelins.

allistic allyship is important to us. allyship being the act of supporting people, and not taking over the conversation and leading the operations. which means, supporting autistic-made movements rather than allistic movements for autistic people, who are often misguided as an allistic person can not understand exactly what being autistic implies. and not being the leader of said movement must not keep someone from giving aid to marginalized groups.

"people shouldn't need to have to relate to us in order to consider helping us.” as a good friend of mine said.

now, it is important to acknowledge we are disabled. which means we are not in a society that takes us into account, be it in education systems, at work, in social settings or in our own home. because the world demands regular constant production, spending attention and energy on said instances, and not others, and subjects us to constant, overwhelming stimuli, from the enormous worldwide connections of internet and tv, but also of everyday life elements, like cars and traffic, city’s light pollutions, the sheer noise on busy streets or restaurants, especially in big cities.

now, you might say “that’s just how it is !” safe you know it’s not. back in the middle ages, people died of a bad flu, and that was just how it was. then we taught people to wash themselves with soap and the flu death stats plummeted. same can be said with dying of exposure to cold. we invented heating systems of various forms. the same can be done, with much less costs, to accomodate society to autistic people.

for example, normalizing muteness and people using sign language, even if only the simplest signs, for autistic people that go nonverbal occasionally. by normalizing info dumping, and interests considered “cringy”, like, i don’t know, Undertale for example. by normalizing letting people enjoy their own stuff so long it does not promote abuse. by putting being a happy kid above being a “cool kid”. by going easier on kids in general at school, and not insulting their intelligence for not being as good as maths as they are at english.

by normalizing our existence. by destroying the taboo of the “autist”. by simply seeing us as persons first and autistic second. while still keeping in mind our personal limits, like you would anyone else. by not treating us as monoliths. by not being scared your child might “turn out” autistic. by not using it as in insult. by the way, vaccines don’t “cause autism”. the man who led to the murders of so many children lied our of his behind and lost his medical license when outed.

and no you cannot cure it. stop that. we’re not sick.

yes, we are not sick and yet still disabled. because disability is first caused by society not caring about neurodivergent and body-disabled people, then caused by various things, involving bad health sometimes.

and yes we are disabled and still to be given the consideration any human being deserves. with help and agency.

call us autistic people, rather than “people with autism”, you would not enjoy being called someone “with allism”. because the two are of equivalent quality. it’s simply that yours is prioritized and considered as the default. i personally think it should not. we both have our skills and shortcomings. person first language, you know ? helps reaffirming our status as persons.

do not just support the autistic people that make you look good, fit your allistic narratives of geniuses and worth attention. value us all, respect us all and support us all.

allistic allyship is vital to us. your voices can reach the ones in power and other allistic people better than ours, sadly. please use that privilege with good will.

i invite you to course through my #actuallyautistic tag on my main, elitigre, for more insight on many things autistic.

my askbox on said blog is also open for you to ask some things on being autistic. do keep in mind i’d be answering on my free time, not as a job.

companion pieces about autistic people: papyrus, chara, sans.

companion pieces about allistic allyship: toriel, grillby, flowey.

the character Frisk, from the video game Undertale (2015), belongs to Toby Fox.

this post is not invitation for debate on the autistic spectrum being an illness, harmful, or how Actually Autism Speaks Is Good And ABA Saves Lives.

all attempts to do so will be blocked. Go Read Instead.

#GoRedInstead #redinstead #actuallyautistic #undertale #ut: frisk #tw r slur #/long post #/gif #FuckAutismSpeaks #FuckLightItBlue #fanart #digital art

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zeroviraluniverse-blog · 7 years ago

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Walmart Will Now Deliver Groceries to Your Door

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Walmart Will Now Deliver Groceries to Your Door

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If you feel that self-checkout lanes still involve an unacceptable risk of mingling with other humans, Walmart is prepared to make you an even better offer. Beginning this year, the retailer will be offering grocery delivery service from more than 800 of their stores, reaching an estimated 40 percent of the country.

The move comes after Amazon’s recent announcement that they would be shuttling food from the recently acquired Whole Foods chain to Amazon Prime customers in under two hours for no charge. Walmart’s plan doesn’t involve a subscription fee; instead, users will be charged $9.95 for delivery, with a minimum $30 order. Prices on delivery items will be the same as in the store.

Consumers in participating regions will be able to select items from the Walmart website or app. The company will then enlist a “personal shopper” trained in selecting cuts of meat and fresh produce to gather the items and then route them to homes via Uber or another ride service, typically within a window of 3 to 4 hours.

The store-to-door service is currently in a handful of trial locations, but Walmart is expected to expand delivery zones quickly, with plans to eventually reach every U.S. household.

[h/t BusinessInsider]

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Smart Home Devices Are Easy to Hack. Here’s How to Protect Yourself

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Alexa randomly laughing at us might be the least of our smart technology concerns. The latest bad news about smart home devices is that they’re easy to hack, according to a team of researchers who did just that to prove these gadgets have serious security issues.

Off-the-shelf home security cameras, baby monitors, doorbells, and thermostats were among the devices hacked by cyber researchers at Ben-Gurion University (BGU) of the Negev in Beer-Sheva, Israel as part of ongoing research into detecting vulnerabilities in smart home technology. Once they broke in, researchers were able to play loud music through a baby monitor, turn on a camera remotely, and more.

“It is truly frightening how easily a criminal, voyeur, or pedophile can take over these devices,” Yossi Oren, a senior lecturer in BGU’s Department of Software and Information Systems Engineering, said in a press statement. According to Omer Shwartz, a Ph.D. student and member of Oren’s lab, “It only took 30 minutes to find passwords for most of the devices, and some of them were found only through a Google search of the brand.”

In a recently published paper, BGU researchers identified ways that both manufacturers and users leave their tech open to hackers. Many products come with common, easy-to-guess default passwords, which consumers then don’t change, making it easy for hackers to break in. Cybercriminals can also gain access to entire wifi networks just by retrieving the password stored on one device. “It seems getting [smart] products to market at an attractive price is often more important than securing them properly,” Oren said.

According to BGU researchers, you can protect yourself from being hacked by only buying from reputable manufacturers and vendors. And although it’s tempting to get your device used to save money, secondhand tech might have malware installed. Keep your software updated regularly, and, as always, use strong passwords. The team at BGU recommends choosing a password with a minimum of 16 letters and not using the same password for more than one device.

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10 Things You Can Do With Pennies

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What’s the use of a penny in today’s economy? The U.S. government has been talking about doing away with the copper-plated coin for years, but so far, no progress has been made. Two big arguments against keeping the coin in production are time and cost. In 2016, the U.S. Mint spent 1.5 cents to produce each one, making the cost of every penny 50 percent higher than its actual value.

They also waste a lot of time. Citizens to Retire the U.S. Penny claims that handling pennies adds an average of two seconds to a cash transaction. According to a 2012 study by the Federal Reserve, there are 107 billion cash transactions per year in the United States.

To help you combat the penny problem, here are some strategies for spending them, plus ways to put them to creative use.

1. DEPOSIT THEM AT THE BANK.

If you don’t want your pennies, your bank will take them. Count them out, roll them in coin wrappers (ask your bank if they can give you some for free), and deposit them into your account. There are a few banks that will count coins for free and exchange them for bills so you can walk away with cold, hard cash. You can find participating institutions listed on Lifehacker and MyBankTracker.

2. TAKE THEM TO A COINSTAR MACHINE.

Coinstar machines are magical: You dump your jar of change into their depths and get cash in return. The major downside is that there’s an 11.9 percent service fee. However, if you choose the eGift Card option, there’s no fee. Options include Amazon, Starbucks, Sephora, iTunes, and Best Buy. Or, turn your coins into a tax-deductible donation to one of several charities. You can use Coinstar’s website to find a machine near you.

3. MAKE A COLD COMPRESS.

If you don’t have an ice pack in the freezer, try making one with the contents of your piggy bank. Throw some coppers into an old sock, tie it, and freeze it. (A plastic bag works, too.)

4. CREATE DIY DRAPERY WEIGHTS.

If your curtains flare out and won’t stay straight, use pennies as drapery weights. Open the stitching at the bottom of your drapes and slide a few pennies in, then sew it back up.

5. SEPARATE THEM INTO DENOMINATIONS BEFOREHAND TO MAKE SHOPPING EASY.

Organize your pennies into groups of five or 10 and put them into small Ziploc bags to keep in your purse or backpack. Then you can combine them to pay for something that calls for, say, 15 cents in change. Or, if your total comes to an amount that’s not a multiple of five or 10, breaking open a baggie is easier than scrounging around in your coin purse.

6. DECORATE YOUR FLOORS …

If you have lots of pennies, use them for floor tiling. If you’re feeling especially ambitious, try a pattern. The internet is full of stunning examples of penny flooring.

7. … OR MAKE A PENNY TABLE.

Add a copper top to a plain table with this DIY guide.

8. USE TAKE A PENNY, LEAVE A PENNY JARS.

Take a penny, leave a penny trays are everywhere—but many people don’t understand how they work. They’re commonly seen at convenience stores or other small shops. Here’s the rundown: Customers can take pennies from the bowl if they don’t have change and don’t want to break a bill. If you get pennies as part of your change for a transaction, you can get rid of them there, so they never even touch your wallet in the first place.

9. MAKE JEWELRY.

There are plenty of DIY penny jewelry ideas out there, including a bracelet, a lucky penny necklace, and a bejeweled ring. You can also make some hand-stamped bling like this pendant.

10. FUNNEL YOUR PENNIES INTO HOME DECOR.

There are endless ways to turn pennies into statement pieces for your pad. Paint them white to make this crafty vase, make them into coasters, decorate a mirror or a picture frame. Make some creative wall art, like this penny mosaic portrait of Abraham Lincoln, these block letters, or this ombré wall hanging. Or, find pennies from milestone years in your life and make a commemorative piece like this one.