#left this short so that it'd make sense on its own

[antimnemonic]

story that plays on the theme of external appearance belying true nature (a beautiful bad person vs a kind monster) but they're in blackrom with each other. cosmological archetypes defined by each other's existence, in constant conflict but unable to destroy their opposite because then who would they be?

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

i feel like if ace's UM does end up just allowing him to copy other's UM, it would solve a potential problem which is malleus putting everyone into a state of sleep. like they told us that it would only be lifted if malleus either lifts it up on his own or if he dies and idt twst would kill off a major and VERY popular character. but if they give ace that ability as his UM it would solve that in a way?

but if they do give that to ace as his UM i hope that ace would struggle to copy people's abilities, or at least kinda go through the emotions the original spell caster felt when theyre using their UM or when they first awoken it. maybe like a price to pay to use other's abilities but thats just me HAHAHHA

Yeeeah, that's what I was thinking too. I can't imagine Ace's UM being anything but a UM borrowing/mimicry spell right now (due to his own propensity to easily learn new skills and do vocal impressions)... It would also just be really useful for the end of book 7, since the briar barrier can only be taken down with Malleus's death or with Malleus willingly removing his magic. Given Malleus's stubbornness and being in such an emotional state, I really doubt he'd be able to come to his senses even all these hundreds of parts later. I really doubt whether all of our powers combined can take him down either, given his track record of being so stupidly OP. And it for sure wouldn't be a good move on the Twst devs' part to kill off such a money maker and significant part of their marketing for their series. (I do want to point out, however, that Malleus's insane popularity is exclusive to the international/English-speaking part of the fandom; he is not a top contender in JP and I would say has more of a middling status.) Having someone else reproduce his UM could very easily resolve this issue, but I guess that's also highly dependent on if Ace can get a grip on his UM that fast, or if he can even feasibly iron out the kinks of controlling what is probably a very complex spell. Epel, who got his UM most recently in book 6, still seems to have only a 70-80% success rate with his, so it's possible that Ace doesn't fully master his UM even if he gets it as soon as his own dream. I definitely don't think Ace would be able to use his (theoretical) copying UM to its full extent ASAP, as then we could just cut the dreams short right then and there. I feel like it'd become more relevant during the actual OB Malleus showdown or something. In general, there'd have to be come kind of drawback or limitations to his UM even if he got used to casting it at some point (just for power balancing reasons). Maybe there's a cooldown period, or he can only use the UM as much as his imagination will allow, or maybe it requires that he be able to empathize with the feelings of the original mage.

... Oh, you know what??? That might actually tie book 7 up quite nicely! If Ace's UM allows him to copy the UMs of other mages but only with the stipulation that he must empathize or relate to how they were acting when the original mage used their UM... Wouldn't that mean that Ace has to understand Malleus's loneliness and the fear of being left behind by his loved ones??? ACE CAN ACTUALLY PERFECTLY RELATE TO THAT because he was in denial mode that Yuu would be going home earlier in book 7. On top of that, he's probably also harboring shame for making fun of Deuce so much, only to be the one who doesn't have his UM yet. Ace can totally relate to what Malleus is going through 👀 He'd be forced to confront his denial of his own emotional vulnerability because he sees Malleus displaying the very same behaviors.

Maybe Ace gets his UM early on but has no idea how to use it properly until it comes in clutch in the final battle because he realizes (at last) how Malleus is feeling. Then it’s Ace who becomes the trump card that lets us triumph…! And that brings us full-circle��the final boss being beaten by the first student that we met, our first friend… Ace Trappola 🫶

[varilien]

(character uses they/it) i keep wanting to start posting my ocs over here again and then Just Not Doing It so uhhhh !!! some stuff from february, had a dream about knives that made me think of a plant oc with a constant power output so extreme that it generates a deadly radiation field around them. because of that they've been living alone this whole time, avoiding contact with other living things, and over the years they've learned how to suppress that output for short spans of time or "safely" pour out the excess in order to be safe to be around, though they ultimately prefer their solitude due to a history of bad experiences with humans. they're very blunt, spiteful, and curious

@whatever-you-can-give-me suggested lr would make good friends for them since they are 🤝 about being extremely hard to hurt lol

also! wrote like 2k about they and razlo's first meeting below the cut if anyone's interested in some good ol violence + gore :3

that was a fr content warning btw read at ur own discretion:

Chance encounters with violent strangers out in the open desert are nothing new to LR, even when Livio purposefully had tried to find the quietest possible route to travel.  It’s not even necessarily surprising to run into someone a little to the left of human, someone a bit bigger or stronger or more durable than they really have any right to be.  The Eye aren’t the only ones designing freaks on this planet, that much is obvious, evidenced sufficiently by the odder fights LR have ever gotten in.  

And this one is shaping up to be one of their oddest fights yet.

Livio hadn’t seen the fucker coming, occupied as he was with the slow realization of why this stretch of road doesn’t see much use anymore: a creeping heat across his nerve endings unrelated to the overcast, evening suns, the taste of metal in his mouth, and a deep-rooted nausea twisting up his guts.  Radiation sickness.  He’s dealt with it before, and as unpleasant as it is, it’s hardly enough to slow him down too bad.  

It’s damn distracting, though.  A good enough excuse for not noticing them hiding up along the rockface above his head.  Not a good enough excuse to keep Razlo from tagging in, especially after something’s pierced straight through the back of his neck, nearly taking his head clean off.  

Razlo rolls for cover with a strangled sound, blood gushing from his forced-out throat and foaming at his lips.  Even with his senses jarred and his vision blurred, it'd take more than a near-decapitation for his instincts to be overridden.  He's slinging out a Punisher before he even knows what he's up against.  

There's a blur of motion to his right as soon as his sights are raised.  They're probably surprised Razlo's still standing, but so was everyone else who's gotten a lucky shot at him.

He can track their motion by sound alone.  They're sloppy.  Feet hitting the cracked earth in hard thumps, every one a warning that Razlo can aim a spray of bullets at.  And by now Razlo's healed enough to notice and wonder why the hell his head is still so fucked up.

At least now he can mostly see them when he turns, hanging back a ways, out of Razlo's reach.  Shorter than him by a head and a half, covered toe to tip in layers of sun-bleached rags, save for their face.  That's hidden behind a tall, curved mask, shaped in a way that looks an awful lot like a tomas' crest, with the false eye markings to match.  Even the glass for the lenses is opaque.  The only part of them that’s exposed is their left hand, extended delicately aside to keep Razlo’s blood dripping off it from getting on their clothes.

Razlo physically tries to shake out the buzzing in his skull that only gets worse by the second, only to notice the foul smell of burning meat and risk an instinctive glance down at his arm, where his flesh has started to bubble and steam seemingly on its own.  He looks between his arm and his opponent, the way their body tenses and head begins to tip, shaking hard, simultaneous with his skin boiling that much more fiercely.  

Something clicks in his brain.  There’s no way.

And no time to find out.  This time when they dart in he’s expecting it; he takes a swing at their head, and they dodge right into his follow-through, slamming his Punisher into their skull with a crunch and a wet sound from their throat.  They drop, like he’d expect them to, like anyone would.  And like no one does, they just roll out of the way and onto their back, braced to spring back up again.  Razlo puts his boot through their ribcage before they get the chance to.  That should be the end of it, too, but the fucker just keeps kicking, trying to get away, the only sound they make being the gurgle of their lungs filling with blood, and they keep kicking.

At this point Razlo doesn’t even have a plan anymore.  Needless to say, he doesn’t go up against an awful lot of guys who match him in the department of being a pain in the ass to take down.  Razlo's just starting to come up with a new idea when those long arms swing up, claws digging into and making ribbons of his right leg.

Razlo curses and tries to pull away, which only makes them hold on even tighter.  He's staring that four-eyed glare down when that burning feeling across his whole body raises in pitch again, and it's the sight of his flesh starting to disintegrate around their fingers that finally makes him back off.

Razlo rather gracelessly falls on his ass in trying to take a step back, not expecting his right leg to simply break off halfway down his thigh.  He scrambles back a ways, ready to keep going, missing limb or no, but— they aren't following him.  They're collapsed in the sand, limbs akimbo as they fight to draw a full breath.  Razlo watches with morbid curiosity as his severed leg dissolves into nothing more than an off-colored patch of sand beside them.

All that angry tension has gone out of their body, leaving them limp and motionless except for the stutter of their chest, and Razlo can hear the damp gasps muffled behind their mask.  By all rights, it should look like more of a struggle.  They should be dead, really, but from where Razlo is sitting, it looks a lot more like they’re just taking a rest.  He feels more sure of that when they roll their shoulders back a bit, arms braced in the dirt as they delicately arch their spine.  There’s some sharp popping sounds, and a little exhale from them; setting their ribs, Razlo figures.  He’s had to do the same thing before.  Once they can move their arms more effectively, they start to gather themself up into a seated position, bones and joints still crackling like popcorn here and there as they go, til they’re all the way up, with their hands resting in their lap, looking far too fucking comfortable for the fight they’d just had.

"You're not dead."

Their voice startles Razlo despite being as soft as it is, and his gaze flicks up to that mask, just slightly tilted to the side, orange lenses glinting in the harsh sunlight.  They don't move at all that Razlo can see.  Even their breathing has evened out enough to have become imperceptible under their heavy shroud; if they're in any pain still, Razlo sure can't tell.

"Nope," is all he says, or can manage to say.

He scrubs at his eyes with the back of his hand, blinking hard a couple times to scrunch up his face in the hopes his nerves might start feeling right again soon.

Another wave of nausea hits him, but his stomach was empty before the fight even started, so he leans forward to put his head between his knees and dry heave for a while.

The whole time, he's aware of his little opponent continuing to sit in silence, watching and eerily unmoving, even when Razlo manages to sit up again and wipe his mouth with his wrist.

"The fuck's yer deal, anyways?"  Razlo asks.

"'Deal'...?"  They echo.

"Couldn't exactly kill you, either."

He wasn't expecting them to spill their life story or something, but he was thinking he'd get something more of a response than their head tilting back the opposite way.  There's not a lot to work with here in trying to get a read on them, but Razlo feels it's safe to hazard they're probably just pretty damn confused, the same as him.

"You kinda smell like a Plant.  M'not an expert, but I've met two others."

Now that gets something out of them.  A tiny wiggle of their head that makes the pieces in their mask rattle.

"I wouldn't know.  I've only met me."

“Huh.”  

Whether it’s a confirmation or rebuttal hardly matters at this point.  He’s feeling sure enough that his assumption was correct, now, anyways.

"You, uh…"  Razlo has to pause for breath.  Unlike the thing across from him, he's having a hell of a time getting his back.  "You're the one making this radiation field?"

"Yes."

"Any way you could turn it down?"

They say nothing, though Razlo feels suddenly that he's being studied very intently.  And shortly after, slowly, slowly the fire in his cells begins to go out, and he can spit the worst of the sourness off his tongue.  Eventually he can't feel any radiation left at all, though his body's had a rough enough time from the dose he got, he'll be getting the sickness out of his system for a while yet.

Regardless, Razlo’s fingers twitch against the triggers when he hears that mask rattle again, and his eyes are on it in an instant.

"You didn't answer my first question," Razlo reminds, cautiously.

More silence, for a while.

"You wanted to hurt me."

There's no malice in the statement, at least that Razlo can tell.  Just the simple facts.  Still, he narrows his eyes.

"You started it.  Figured it was mutual."

"That's true."

Razlo grins.

"So, what now?  Regrow my leg, and get back to not killing each other?"

"If you'd like to."

That gets a laugh out of him.

"Nah, I think I’ll pass, if it’s all the same to you.”

“It is.”

That much is obvious.  They stay put, seeming transfixed on watching Razlo’s leg grow back, only a little more slowly than any of his other injuries, now that he doesn’t have the radiation to slow him down.  It leaves him feeling itchy and achy all over, and he’s got a bad hunch that right ankle doesn’t have the best chances of coming back right.  Once there’s enough of it to fuss about, he gets his foot in his hands and starts experimentally rolling it on its hinge, checking that the range of motion is right.

And still, those orange lenses glint at him curiously.  They don’t flinch or look away when Razlo considers them in return; he guesses they don’t know it’s not polite to stare.

“What's yer name?"  Razlo asks.

"My name?"

"Don't tell me you ain't got one."

The silence that follows is pretty self-explanatory.

“I’m Razlo.”

He can just make out the sound of them mumbling his name under their breath, like they’re not sure how it’s going to come out.  Almost warmly, almost shyly, they manage to say: “hello, Razlo.”

[yujeong]

what do u think is the relevance of the black cat on tonkla? what goes on inside his head when he sees the cat?

Anon, I could talk about that damn cat all day, but my head is a mess and I can't fully put my thoughts in order. This post was the best I could do, but since you asked, I'll try to explain how I view the whole thing as coherently as I can. In very few words, the cat represents many things in relation to Tonkla: loss, powerlessness, mourning, bad luck, love, revenge and so on. Whenever the cat appears, it encompasses all of those things, some of these prevailing over others depending on the scene in question. With that said, let's take each scene and analyze it a little bit, shall we? First instance - Episode 1: Right after Korn leaves, Tonkla hears his cat meowing. The cat looks at him for a short moment, then it immediately flees to the kitchen, where it disappears before it completely turns around. (In this moment I'd like to mention how, in my opinion based on Episode 7, Tonkla's cat was probably killed near or in the kitchen. The space isn't shown clearly but it'd make sense, since 2/3 cat appearances happen close to the kitchen.) In order for us to understand what Tonkla is thinking once he sees the cat, we need to remember what happened for it to appear in the first place: Korn left to go to his dad, his actions and words reminding Tonkla that he doesn't come first. Korn, the man Tonkla loves, left him. Just like his cat did. But it's not only that.

This specific moment has stayed with me. It looks like he's reminiscing a past memory. Like he's remembering how his cat was killed, how he lost something he loved, how it was brutally taken from him. And the memory must have hurt, because he exhales, rests his head on the couch and then:

He does this. Many people, myself included, thought this was about Korn, and it very well could be, and it kind of is, but I also think it's about the cat. It's about the loss and the loneliness and how it's a constant in Tonkla's life. Second Instance - Episode 7: This time, at first the cat meows softly like before to get Tonkla's attention, but then the sound the cat makes is angrier, its gaze sharper. Now it stays there and it doesn't flee and it stares at Tonkla without fear. So, what happens this time to make the cat appear? Tonkla gets upset by Win's approach of bringing Title to justice. He feels it's not enough, like it's not the correct solution to the problem. An important detail to this moment is that we don't only hear the cat meowing. We also hear its bell ringing. The one Tonkla was holding when he pushed his father down the stairs. When he killed him. What goes on inside Tonkla's head this time is simpler to understand: the cat serves as a reminder of what he's done in the past. The realization dawns on his face, his fingers itch with it, the sink becomes his old house's floor with his father's blood smeared all over it.

"Right," he thinks. "I can take matters into my own hands. I don't have to rely on anyone else." Third Instance - Episode 7: Finally, we hear the cat and see it briefly walking by Tonkla's gun, the one he uses to shoot Great. Here, what happens before this moment to make the cat appear is interesting to me: Tonkla finds out Great and Korn are related, something he had no idea about, judging by his reaction:

And it's interesting to me because I believe that for a moment, he was conflicted:

He understood what him doing harm to Korn's brother would mean for him and for their relationship. That's why, even when the cat meows and the gun appears in the frame, he still has that face:

But of course, this doesn't last, because Tonkla understands the poetic irony of the situation. And he finds it hilarious.

That's what his smile means to me. He's not losing it, it's not a deranged expression (although it is). He just finds it all amusing and I can't really blame him. This is the moment the cat represents revenge. This is when it crosses Tonkla's mind. All the other things are still there - the loss, the pain, the loneliness, all of it - but this is what prevails in the end. Oh, and because I saw a few mentions of mental disorders floating around in regards to Tonkla seeing the cat, I'd like to end this post on a very unserious note, by adding a moment from 13 reasons why of all shows: Clay: "I don't actually see ghosts." Justin: "I get it. You wrote my paper on magical realism."

[aspoonofsugar]

RWBY Volume 9 "Epilogue" Thoughts

So, here it comes an extra volume 9 animatic "epilogue" and I wanted to share some thoughts and a brief analysis.

General Thoughts

I really really liked it!

I am happy the Atlas refugees are having problems to adapt and that the Schnee Family has to face their privilege head on

It not being included in volume 9 works better for me because its contents can easily be re-arranged at the beginning of volume 10. In my opinion the story flows better this way (only my 2 cents though)

I am neutral to Raven's appearance.

On the one hand I hope the conflict between her and Yang is not solved too easily (I also think Yang hiding the Spring Maiden identity should be addressed). On the other hand her appearing at the beginning of the new story arc solves several things. She can make progress early on, so that the focus can then be given to other characters. Moreover, she can reveal what happened between her and Summer. If this mystery is solved, then there is more time to focus on Summer's return (either as a Grimm, a human or in some kind of symbolic way). In short, it can all lead to very thight writing, so I approve.

As for people wondering if the story was changed since RWBYJ leave the Ever After on their own... we can't say, but personally I never felt Raven saving them from the Ever After really worked thematically and I don't think it is what the epilogue implies. After all, before the video they say they deleted some scenes which tie with volume 10 plot. I think RWBYJ's meeting with Raven is one of these. Nonetheless, I am happy if we get our "Spring leading to Summer" symbolism. (Which really works on multiple levels doesn't it?)

In any case, I think Raven simply senses Yang is back and goes to meet her. Then she leads them all to Qrow. This in itself is a significant improvement for her. Still, it makes sense if Raven thought Yang was really dead. It can work as a final callout and a consequence of her actions. Yang outright asks Raven to choose between herself and her daughter and Raven makes the selfish choice. As a result, Yang dies. It is no surprise then that Yang coming back is seen by Raven as a final chance to do the right thing.

Speaking of people dealing with grief and loss, here we come to the heart of the new content and the focus of this short analysis.

Winter and Qrow - Grief

So, the heart of the video is really the foiling between Winter and Qrow. This is interesting in itself because these 2 characters are tied together since their first appearance in volume 3:

Qrow is Ruby's mentor

Winter is Weiss's mentor

Both girls look up to them and try to imitate them. Still, this changes with time as both Ruby and Weiss grow until they are able to inspire Qrow and Winter back.

Here, we see exactly this, as both Winter and Qrow talk to the two girls in their minds (Qrow is talking to all of them, but the foiling is between Weiss and Ruby and thematically the focus is on Ruby anyway). Still, their thoughts are complete opposites.

On the one hand Winter focuses only on the problems and sees no beauty at all.

Winter: "But no amount of determination or hard work will change where we find ourselves now. What do you do when there is no hope left?"

On the other hand Qrow is conscious things are bad, but is full of hope.

Qrow: Call me crazy, but I am actually feeling a little optimistic about things. I figure... Don't get me wrong...It's bad. In fact it'd never been worse. And yet, you can still see the goodness in all things. Acts of kindness, people trying to atone for past wrongs.

This ties to their 2 different ways of mourning.

Winter: "You and your friends did all you could to save the world. You would be so disappointed in us. Maybe it's for the best you don't have to see this Weiss" > She is looking at the memorial monument, where it's written "Don't come back"

Qrow: "Things may be bad, but my biggest regret is that none of you are here to see the good that you started because you did start something." > He cries while looking at a picture of Ruby that says "Remember her message"

Winter thinks it is best that Weiss isn't there to see that everything was useless. Qrow instead wishes the kids were there to see that the world is changing. These behaviours aren't limited to Winter and Qrow's feelings over the protagonists, but they fit their reaction to another important loss they both faced:

Penny and Clover's deaths have similar roles in Winter and Qrow's stories, as they are supposed to integrate with their lost loved ones. This is conveyed also through their respective powers:

Winter inherits the Winter Maiden's power by Penny and Qrow's semblance evolves to become similar to Clover's. This shows Qrow has successfully integrated Clover's mentality into his own:

Qrow: Like an oasis in a desert, it's all a matter of perspective. You see, an old friend taught me that.

The same can't be said about Winter:

Penny: "I won't be gone, I'll be part of you."

Winter: "Because of me, Penny is gone. Forever."

As Penny herself states in her final goodbye, she isn't really "gone", as her legacy lives up in Winter. This means Winter should honor her will and adopt Penny's optimistic mindset. Still, Winter is doing the opposite. This is why she feels Penny is really gone forever.

In other words, Winter has understood rationally what a real Maiden should be like:

Winter: No, Penny. You were always the real Maiden at heart.

However, she still doesn't feel it in her heart. This is why probably she needs Weiss to finish her arc:

After all, Weiss is supposed to be Winter's second Gerda, which takes out the final cursed glass fragment from Winter's heart.

Qrow is instead close to the end of his arc, in my opinion. As a matter of fact he has already been inspired by Ruby:

I think he only needs a top off, which will probably come with a final showdown with Tyrian, which will not be about revenge, but rather to save someone (probably Mercury).

What's important is that these 2 characters explore the theme of grief in opposite ways.

Ruby: I… I thought this was lost forever. How’d you have it? Blacksmith: Nothing. No one is ever truly lost.

Qrow understands the meaning of the Blacksmith's words, whereas Winter doesn't. The Blacksmith conveys to Ruby that all the people she lost are still parts of her. This is why she keeps finding Penny's sword over and over. It is because the hope Ruby saw in Penny is really just a part of Ruby herself:

Jinxy: Enough hope to fill this jar.

Ruby fights a Nevermore (grief) by using Penny's sword (hope).

Similarly, Qrow's sense of belonging and his wish to do good don't go away with Clover's death. If anything they are parts of Qrow that Clover made emerge. Thanks to the Lucky Fisherman, Qrow has now the right framework to show them to the world.

Winter too has in herself the heart to be a Maiden like Penny. She too has one of Penny's swords inside. She is just not looking at it out of self-hate and guilt. Luckily she is now surrounded by people who love her and they will hopefully help her take a closer look at the mirror.

[yuseirra]

My brain keeps running on its own trying to formulate a way to make sense out of it all but at this point, I wonder if it'd be worth theorizing(If I can think of something good I'll still love to share :) )

Believe it or not, I'm very, very, very stern about trying to stay true to canon.. Because working with existing characters, they have their cores don't they? I really do want to care about portraying them in ways that are true to how they are in their respective stories, that's what makes them, them

With onk.. I'm starting to wonder...(yeah I just started;) this may be the first time where I may go oh let's just ditch canon I'll do whatever I want depending how it goes. Maybe I still believe some sort of miracle may happen in the remaining chapters that'd wrap everything together at may it be cluttersome(sorry but there is literally no room left for it to be able to meet its closure in a beautiful and graceful way with a deep sense of nuance and depth the way this work deserves. It's INCREDIBLY SHORT. It cannot happen within that amount of space it needs at least ten decently lengthy chapters.) but..I don't know~~.....

Oh I'm more concerned than hyped and it's been that way ever since I started vigorously drawing for this series again this July tbh 154 was GOOD, how come everything went downhill from there haha😂.. That chapter had me so hooked and I felt I knew all the answers that were to come from that point forth. I really had a huge intuition of how things would play out(and surprisingly, the possibility is actually still there)

I don't think I'm the type of fan who can ignore canon and do what I want, I've never been that way and I can't bring to convince myself of what's not there (this means, I sincerely believe in all the things I've been drawing o<-<) but... Let's see how it goes. I was so stressed and tense ever since I started drawing hikaai...I don't like being unsure of things...what if they're totally different from what I make of them...but seeing how CANON's going, maybe I don't have to care so much either if it's doing whatever it wants, canon feels so unhinged, was there ANYONE who was able to predict what were to happen 100%? What are they doing?; So yeah.

Oh;; I hope Aqua's okay. It's just...so cruel. I've been annoyed with him but that's because I wanted him to live!!! Why doesn't he- why did he HAVE to do THAT?? Hurt his dad and everyone he loves and even himself, I'm trying to find a reasoning that's convincing enough for me to comprehend just how this could make sense and hold some kind of message although it's downright horrifying; I kept asking in my posts all yesterday right? What message are thet trying to send with this and what could be the point? I can understand if they do a good job with it, I've been putting my effort in order to make out what good may come out of it but I guess only the author would know for now

I don't know where this post is going myself, I'm just writing out my thoughts, this series may have taught me a lot about myself that I wasn't so aware of...

I guess when conflicts appear I end up going, "they couldn't have had malicious intent, could they?" on many occasions, you really don't know what the other party can be thinking so for most cases, it just feels better to believe they didn't mean harm or evil. Maybe I'm being that way about Hikaru but AI LOVED THAT GUY. I didn't have a lot of thoughts about him before that dropped! I couldn't make a clear judgment so I just left my interpretation of him on hold. Oh ;v;).. It's been REALLY ROUGH holding out for him after that happened pft will that pay off.. That guy's still so ambiguous. I rather him be a good person. The story is better if he were. I guess believing in someone is hard but I'll.. Do that till I can. I think Ai would have?

You know, if I were Ai, I'd end him with my own hands if he became that messed up. That's how I drew that one comic after 162. I'd give him a hug and then end him lol because I'd feel responsible in a way. It's ridiculous and tragic how things turned to be the way it is but it doesn't feel so resolved either

I'm afraid about the fate of this series but at least not long left now. Hopefully I can still draw Ai and her bf in a wholesome manner, I really cared for those guys and I'd love to stick around and do more for it at least for awhile

[tianna-blanche]

Stories of a weeping willow

"You only fear death because you haven't lived enough."-Nefariti Ra

"It is mine to avenge; I will repay. In due time their foot will slip; their day of disaster is near and their doom rushes upon them.”-Deuteronomy 32:35

warning: Smut, blood, violence, gore, use of profanity, pornographic sexual content, death mentioned, killing

The air is moggy and unbreathable. Ever since my father's death, it seems to feel that way. Suffocating and toxic. No release or a way to breathe. As friendly as I am with the dark, I still can't escape the guilt and pain of knowing what I've done. Thoughts consumed and memories infiltrated by the agony and reminisce of his screams. I thought I wanted to hear it, his screams. I was satisfied with the crushing of bones, the blood dripping, the cries, and all of the fear. That was until I realized from where the suffrage came and who would have the carry the burden of it occurring. It's not like I missed him. My father was a horrid man and to rid the world of him was a pleasure. What wasn't a pleasure was the fucking bond he banded us to and carrying a guilt and anger I really had no ownership of. Fucking pussy got what he deserved and yet somehow, here I was. The one stuck with all of his pain and burdens. Had I known that would've been the case, I would have taken the both of us out. Then again, HE wouldn't have allowed me freedom. A seldom evening of Don Julio, Beyonce, and lust led me here. I can't believe this shit.

The cool air brushed past my face. As smooth as my skin felt, it was as tight as leather. Being the walking line between life and death had its advantages and well, the moments it just plain sucked ass. And walking in the cold, it fucking sucked ass. It was chilly, and knowing my body temperature could only go so far up, I was stuck. I wasn't freezing but it was uncomfortable. It's like living a tire in a snow blizzard. Uncomfortable. A walking contradiction, I know but when you're half alive and half dead, well..... You don't really care to make sense. You just tell it like it is and let others make their own assumptions.

Arriving at the cabin, I walked up the short creaky stairs and knocked on the door. Akun should be home. Imma kill his ass if he left after I told him to wait.

"Who is it?" he shouted. I swear he irked my nerves. Nigga got fucked up memory and he obviously blind 'cause the doors got glass to 'em. "Ya dead ass granny. Open the door." I huffed as I heard footsteps near the door and saw a chocolate little figure. "Hey Auntie Kash. Where you been at?" My little Ameena looked up at me and smiled. She was five and already four foot eight. She had my heart as well as my looks and that made our relationship even more special. I walked in the door as she backed up, closing it behind me.

"Hey honey bee. How come you the one answering the door? Where ya big headed daddy?" She giggled. She loved when I was trash talking her pops. Something else we had in common. "He told me to check the door incase it was a brown monster with buck teeth. I'an see no monster but I saw my auntie." She delivered one of her cutest toothless smiles. She was growing up on me and I couldn't stop it. Even if I wanted to. I already had to deal with the fact I would outlive her, but it'd be selfish to stop her from growing just because I wanted to hold her forever.

"And who was supposed to be the brown monster?" I placed my hands on my hips and looked down to her. She gave a cheeky look and turned a cute deep red. My bronzed baby. Kissed by the sun with curls as tight as a black grandmothers the morning of church. A cute little red kinky head baby with life, vigor, and enough love to heal a condemned army. Could she heal a damned soul? Probably not but it would be better to save hers anyway. Thank God my brother kept her innocent. a far cry from the life we had to live. Her mother was in Aspen on business. She wanted to take her with her but she knew she couldn't keep eyes on her at all times due to the conference. So here she was with every allergy, like, dislike, doctor, ambulance, family member and even the damn national guard listed with everything in between in case of emergencies.

It wasn't that my brother was incompetent, it's just with a little adventurous girl who also just so happened to be born with magical gifts, sometimes as a half vampiric, half witch father, it was a bit much. That and he had to watch his fucking Eagles. "They going to the Superbowl this year. watch." Yeah and would still choke just like the previous times. But whatever, as long as I get an excuse to spend more times with my princess before I had to make this transformation. A little more time with my baby before I had to really become a monster she would grow to fear and eventually hate.

"Don't cry Auntie, daddy was just joking. I'm sure he knows you're not a monster. You wouldn't hurt a fly." I touched my face as her little hazel eyes glanced up at me. It was wet with tears, and a tinge of blood. I hated this. Wiping my eyes, I crotched down. "I know baby but daddy hurt my feelings calling me a monster. It wasn't nice." Her eyes grew and she ran in the direction of the kitchen, shouting and apparently giving her dad a piece of her mind. I chuckled and followed her into the kitchen as my brother prepared a roasted chicken. "Lil' girl you knew what I was doing. Don't come in here tryna fake. Gon' fuss at me cause ya punk ass aunt get all sensitive."

I sent a slap to his head telepathically. "oh so imma punk. IM the punk when last time I recall, I didn't piss the bed til' I was 12. Nah that can't be me you talking about right." I smirked as he mugged me. "You got me fucked up. And why you gon' say allat in front of her Kashee. You know this bug eyed little girl don't forget nothing." She gasped and looked up at her dad, "I'm not a bug eyed little girl. I got your eyes. If I look like a bug, then you're a centipede." I had to hold back my laughter. My niece just knew she ate and I could see my brother about to reply with a smart remark. "Baby that's a bug too. What you should say is ya daddy looks like an ass." She nodded in agreement looking back at him who was glaring me down. "Yeah daddy, you look like an ass. a big ass." I choked and started hollering. I went to grab and pull her back from him as he looked at her like she had thousand heads and I knew I was about to get her fucked up. "Good job boo, next time let me cuss. ok." She gave me a smile and a thumbs up before glaring at her dad and running off.

I looked back after her as she left and watched her figure disappear to the foyer to watch a rerun of Sagwa the Siamese cat. Since when they start showing Sagwa on TV? And why I never catch it. "Watchu want nigga? Done came up in here stirring the pot and shit." I looked back at him, getting a serious expression. "I got four weeks Ku. I just need to enjoy the last of my humanity and hopefully ask if you've found a way to prevent this..." I paused with grief. Akun eyes softened, sympathetic to my plight. He had begged our family council for him to carry the burden. He cried and plead and even got into it with one of uncles. In our family there's a curse. For all the power we've accumulated, one must sacrifice their humanity. It's usually the one with the purest heart, and strongest morals. If you carried an extremely positive energy, it's only nature to expect the opposite. The deal was made with the exact man who tricked me into activating the curse. "Kashee, I'm still looking. I may have found a way to make it less painful. But to keep it from happening, it's still looking slim to none sis." His eyes lowered and his aura fell somber. A powerful man my brother was, as he was the only one to have the knowledge of alchemy. He was a necromancer and more. But in this ordeal he couldn't save me. He just couldn't.

"Well, with no solution, we better start preparing me. If I'm gon' be a dead evil cold blooded bitch, I'd rather come in style and prepared." I offered him a small smile and he returned it. "MEENA, WE IN THE SHED, DO NOT OPEN THAT DOOR FOR NOBODY. MATTER FACT, CMON." Her little footsteps came pattering and she followed us out the back door. We walked in shed, "Sit over there and watch the iPad. No matter how loud ya auntie yells, you don't come through that door. Don't answer for nobody. I don't care WHO or WHAT it is. Y'hear me?"

"Yeah daddy I got it. No opening doors and stay in child's business as you perform ya work." Her kissed her forehead and escorted me to the back. Sliding the door closed, I laid on the table with the black leather straps with the metallic reddish gold chains. It was anointed in oil and had stripes of powerful wizards and witches blood of our bloodline to help give it is power. A bible laid to my right and an book of the dead on the left. Jars and accessories laid around and decorated the room. This family always carried power, some more than others and we paid in our souls generations after generations.

"A'ight Kashee. Imma chain ya down and I need you to cut to one from one hundred. Put this chain in ya mouth." I did as I was instructed. Worry swept over my face and my stomach began to turn and ache. Awaiting the pain caused more trouble so I tried to be absent minded, sadly my mind drifted off to the night our father sacrificed our momma. He strapped to a table just like this one and sliced her like a pig for bacon. Draining all her blood and gaining all her strength. The tears down her eyes, the strong metallic smell, the loud screams and hollers. He tortured her and then consumed her blood, forcing us to drink as well. She fought so hard to prevent this from happening and yet she still succumbed. But she never went down without a fight. A warrior, a sorceress, her own alpha and omega. She believed in the God in her as an offspring of God and I will forever love her for that. If only she got away from him, we wouldn't be here now. "I'm so sorry baby sis. If i could take this away, If I could take ya place I would." He grabbed my hand and squeezed a reassuring squeeze. I gave a look of love before he began and endured a long night of hurting.

Why the fuck did I have to be here?

[bumbling-jester]

a post about my bbc ghosts oc because @natequarter made a post that reminded me of him!

TW for mentions of alcohol, vomit and some violence

His name is Axel "Ace" Spades (he/him). Ace is basically an oc insert because I thought it'd be fun (sorry for being cringe </3 /hj). He's a 26 year old indie (wanna-be) filmmaker who died around the late-2010s (i'm thinking like March 2017?). Ace has a pretty long mullet (think like bon jovi) and it's dyed bright pink. He usually wears the same pair of crust pants that are layered with a bunch of home-made patches. Aside from that he'll wear the first thing he can find in his closet, so his shirt is always clashing badly with his pants. He's not very tall, about 158cm, and he makes no effort to look taller either. Ace died wearing a shirt that says "heavy metal" in a bubbly font that he cut the sleeves off of, his crust pants, kirby-themed socks and a pair of vans that are caked with dirt.

Most people know him as Ace because he thought it'd be cool to go by that on top of his chosen name "Axel", so there's no real cool story behind it. Spades isn't his real last name either, he just thought it'd be even cooler to be known as "Ace Spades", and he didn't want to keep using his father's name. Basically his whole deal is that he grew up in a very protected and controlling family, so he took uni as an excuse to get out of his parents' house and get as distant from them as possible. His upbringing also caused him to be a really big adrenaline junkie, since his big belief is to take whatever chance, pick whatever fight and do whatever pops into his mind "to make up for lost time". His impulses has gotten him into a lot of trouble physically and mentally, and so has actually had quite a few instances where he died for a moment and was resuscitated or just got waay too close to death, which brings me to his death and his ghostly powers.

The idea at the moment is that he died on St Paddy's Day, after a long night of bar hopping and heavy drinking. He built up the bad habit of being a pretty heavy drinker and a chain smoker. Anyway, at one specific bar, Ace almost started a stupid bar fight and got kicked out. In anger, he hopped on his motorcycle and drove up to the more secluded side of the village he happened to be in. His motorcycle broke down suddenly as he was riding, and it happened to break down right in front of the Button House borders (territory?? i'm not sure of the right english word, i apologise). He tried to walk up to the house to ask for help, but keep in mind it's about 2am at this point and Alison and Mike (and most of the ghosts) are asleep. Ace passes out on the driveway before he can even make it up to the front porch. Robin is the one to find his body really early in the morning while he's on a walk. In his excitement, he runs into the house screaming and wakes everyone up, including Ace himself, who gets up off the floor to look down and find his own body lying face down with a small pool of vomit near him. Long story short, he died in Button House territory, became a ghost, Alison and Mike have to deal with the shit he left behind, and he becomes a menace to them just like all the other ghosts <3 Now for his ghostly powers!! Basically, because of the amount of near-death experiences that Ace went through while he was alive, Ace also had Alison's power of seeing ghosts. He was just convinced that he was crazy, though. However, Alison only had one near-death experiences. Ace has had so many, he was able to wave away the ghosts he saw as "a result of some kind of brain damage". So on top of being able to see ghosts, he could also touch them if he tried hard enough. So because of his condition and the stuff he did while living, his "spirit" in a sense is confused about its state and as a result, Ace can interact with the human world normally if he focuses hard enough (e.g. he can move and touch things, he can be heard by the living) BUT he can't touch humans normally most times since it takes so much effort to do it and it generally is just uncomfortable (because y'know he's still a ghost at the end of the day). He also unfortunately can't touch or interact with his ghost friends, and sometimes he can't even speak or hear them, unless he puts in the same amount of focus and effort he needs to interact with the living. He can always see the ghosts, though, so they all found a way to mime what they want when his ghost powers go funky. Sometimes, his spirit is just too confused that he can't control what it does, so there are moments where he tries to walk through a wall but face-plants right into it, or he tries to speak to Mike/Alison and they don't hear anything. Same for when he tries to speak or hear the ghosts. TL;DR, i have a silly bbc ghosts oc insert that i went a bit too creative and silly with when i was thinking of his ghost powers and now his ghost powers (which would sometimes seem like a blessing to the other ghosts) also is a curse.

[oletus-carousel]

[[ EVENT START ]] :: "Patrilineal Puppetry"

💡 HOMURA ASTOR HAS ARRIVED AT THE MANOR! 💡

[[ Tag asks with💡to talk to Homura! ]]

~

"after a fall from grace, he'll rebuild his troupe by any means necessary."

"fear is the hand that pulls your strings / useless toy, pitiful plaything."

~

ALIAS :: "The Ringmaster" [formerly The Hypnotist] AGE :: ??? [Believed to be in mid-to-late forties. Refuses to disclose.] IMPORTANT RELATIONS :: "Carrie Astor" - Daughter // Haruhi Astor - Ex-Wife // Bernard [of Hullabaloo Circus] - Childhood Friend, Rival // Ada Mesmer - Former Colleague SKILLS :: Hypnotism, Puppeteering, Deal-Making

FACTION :: Hunter

APPEARANCE :: The Ringmaster stands tall and proud in direct contrast to his daughter, and is around 6''6. His black hair is usually short and well-kept, but he's neglected it for long enough that it reaches the nape of his neck and the fringe almost covers his eyes.

His right eye is covered from view by a simple medical patch, secured with bands. It seems too big to just be covering said eye, as if the concealed damage spread, and is otherwise affixed firmly to his face to prevent any light getting beneath it. His left is normal, hazel coloured, but it tends to stare directly forwards instead of having any sense of direction.

Around his neck, he wears a watch on a chain. This is engraved with the Muse Mark, boasting both a small clock and a photograph in opposing sides. The latter depicts a young man and woman who appear to be at a showground, dressed in appropriate performance attire with a tent in the background. Nobody except the three in the Astor family have witnessed this photo, as it was taken when Homura and Haruhi were young lovers.

He wears a black button-down shirt and pants, the only embellishments being red curlicues sewn on the collar. Above this, he's regularly seen with a black waistcoat adorned with shining red buttons. His shoes are always polished black dress shoes, no matter how casual the occasion.

The oddity in his design, however, lies in the control bar strapped to his back: the black cross of wood, often seen manipulating a marionette, but crafted as an oversized mimic. Its strings wrap around his arms and legs in an unruly spiral, slicing through fabric and skin indiscriminately. Though the man’s own blood dries upon these strings, it is the very control bar that he brandishes as a blunt-force weapon in-game.

PAST :: Homura was a childhood friend to Bernard, the ringmaster of Hullabaloo, and was compliant in helping the troupe form - doing tricks diligently, even as the group rose into popularity and he was cast aside for newer, more interesting acts. So he broke away, attempting to form his own - Sparkslide. This he ran alongside his wife with his daughter as his pawn, for a time that she no longer remembers. After all, he'd spent many years honing his acts, particularly hypnotism. He has unspecified ties to Ada, as she's a hypnotherapist, but declines having worked at the White Sands Street asylum.

He was summoned to Oletus Manor with the promise of everyone there [the survivors] brimming with potential for the troupe, and a possibility of revenge by taking in some of the past Hullabaloo members to that number: even Carrie when she'd run away to join that rival troupe.

All he had to do was use his hypnotism to the Baron's benefit, helping muddle the memories and recall of the participants' lives beyond the games, hollowing them out and making everything easier for the Baron to manipulate. He had no clue that he'd be included in a game himself, eventually, but it'd likely be Carrie's. She's his closest connection in the manor, and he fears that she'll crush his chance of dominion.

[badmusejail]

Senses and other Specifics:

WD (Space!Gaster)

WHAT DOES YOUR MUSE SMELL LIKE?

Nothing. On their own, neither WD nor the Voidling have a smell, nor does WD wear any sort of perfume, nor does he use any lotion, shampoo, etc., that might have a smell.

Sometimes, he will smell like the objects he's working with; grease or oil, or sometimes the heavy cleaner used to get said objects off. Sometimes the faint scent of food or drink can be caught on him.

WHAT DO YOUR MUSE’S HANDS FEEL LIKE?

Rough, but not painfully so. Coarse around the back but smoother at the fingertips, where years of work has gently polished the bone. Probably lighter than you'd think it to be. His hands aren't cold, per se, but they tend to mimic the temperature of the air around them which can make them feel cold compared to human hands. If you were to stick your fingers into the holes in his palms, it'd feel like an almost rubbery resistance despite not really seeing anything. The more force in, the stronger the resistance.

WHAT DOES YOUR MUSE USUALLY EAT IN A DAY?

Anything. Literally. His bond with the Voidling not only allows him but encourages him to eat literally anything without consequence, including metal, glass, bones, animals whole, entire ships, concrete, and more. In terms of taste, he tends to prefer simple meals without much preparation, basic tastes and flavors kept separate.

DOES YOUR MUSE HAVE A GOOD SINGING VOICE?

Not really. He's a bit gruff; warbly, and has a rather small range.

DOES YOUR MUSE HAVE ANY BAD HABITS OR NERVOUS TICKS?

He's usually chewing on something, whether its a toothpick or a sliver of metal. Sometimes he's twirling something between his fingers. The real indication of nerves or strong emotion is when he goes still, however.

WHAT DOES YOUR MUSE USUALLY LOOK LIKE / WEAR?

His rather distinct appearance features a standard pair of coveralls commonly seen by mechanics, a rather typical pair of boots, a coat somewhere between a lab coat and a trench coat, and a pair of goggles atop his head. There are glowing red lines across his outfit.

Also of note is the fact that he, like other variants of Gaster, is a skeleton, and has a cracks above his right eye, under his left eye, and holes through his palms.

However, unlike other iterations of Gaster, you cannot see through the holes in his palms nor his ribcage. It's simply black.

Sometimes, a strange black substance is dripping from his joints, his eyes, or his hands...and sometimes, that substance overtakes him completely, transforming him into something horrific. This is usually the last thing a person sees in their life time.

IS YOUR MUSE AFFECTIONATE? HOW SO?

In general, yes!

He's a very loving person that simply adores the world and its people and wants the best for everyone. His affection most generally comes through gifts and aid to the people that need it most, helping people as often as he possibly can, but also comes in smaller moments, too; helping his men through hard times, being a strong support, heavy empathy for everyone.

Hugs from the side are common from him, or pats on the shoulder in passing.

He's more promiscuous than other Gasters too and will also be affectionate in that manner, though those relationships are usually short lived and with no long term attachments.

WHAT POSITION DOES YOUR MUSE SLEEP IN?

Usually on his back, with his arms folded under his head. He doesn't really sleep much though, and more likely than not is just resting.

He can sleep in just about any position, tho.

COULD YOU HEAR YOUR MUSE IN THE HALLWAY FROM ANOTHER ROOM?

You've probably got a good thirty minutes before you can actually see him from the time you can hear him.

Stolen from @cosmiccanidae ! Steal it and tag me!

[refriedrambles]

So like if the relatability and sympathy for Dib goes up when he's not actively being a dick to and being kept in check by his classmates, and that making things seem too mean spirited towards him with the tone of IZ overall isn't the solution to like try to balance his wonder of being in space with like this rag tag crew he clearly thinks he's better then and are around long enough that he can't hide his freak from them. Also just like age him up cause a kid in space with noone they know is just kinda sad in a poor boy way. And like why the fuck not

Like Dib going off about proving aliens are real to humanity and bring up how it's madness the Roswell tapes aren't enough for people. And they're just like what are the Roswell tapes and he absolutely goes off. They've never seen him more appalled about their "ignorance" or more thrilled to talk about something. He's spitting, he's drooling, he's shaking, he's shaking others and lost all sense of personal boundaries all while talking about these poor stranded dudes getting cut open

Him having a convos with members of the crew where he gets increasingly prying about their physiology, just super invasive with the questions and as this interrogation goes on he offhandly brings up vivisection and yearning to see how all that works. Him pressure them into flexing unusual muscles and demonstrating things humans simply can't do even if they express discomfort. And this just keeps happening. Usually to different people, but occasionally he seems to get stuck on a person or species.

Initially they believe he's some sorta bounty hunter or something. Like he's hunting a wanted irken it's not a big jump, but then as time goes on that's convinced he's this absolutely unhinged obsessive poucher. (I think I need to read Moby Dick)

They've gotta work with an irken for whatever reason and he actively sabotages their own ship and work because he could never trust an irken and is barely willing to humor the idea. He's already left his guard down around Zim thinking he's harmless and he's got no idea where Zim is and its actually fucking eating him alive

Basically Dib in space should lose any social skills he gained over the course of the show because of the lack of humans and potential "betrayal" of Zim. He is the one that brought up being a superior species first after all

Zim's betrayal is simply leaving him alone on earth for any amount of time btw. Whether they were on good terms or in their continuous game of cat and mouse. Zim was supposed to be his constant or his big break then he's just gone. And Dib is alone. He lost his shot

He shouldn't be able to let go if Zim disappears. If anything it's a betrayal. Even if he tries to and he grows up and gets a real job it should eat at him. He knows the truth. He's right. His only proof is gone. But he's right. And he goes full Denzel Crocker until he manages to go to space.

Also it'd be so fucked if he actively decided to be a teacher just to determine if any of the kids are secretly aliens

Typically, crew excluded, Dib's meetings/interactions with aliens are so short he comes of as typical or even a bit charming as he's very attentive and is obviously curious about their cultures and like he's polite enough

[obs3rveparks]

Monument Park - #4

Watching over Monument Park, I don't expect much to happen today. Cars line the curb, as they always seem to do, but their owners are all inside Cary Library or are somewhere else. The only signs of movement are the multicolor leaves in every shade of fall scuttling around from the breeze of the wind. The park itself is barren, the same way it's been for the first few minutes every time I've come.

Of course, life seems to have its own sense of humor some days, so it doesn't stay this way often. Almost all at once, a series of activity starts. It happens back to back in a way that means I have to hurriedly jot down the key details of each thing so as to catch the others in time.

The first is a man in a dull green long-sleeve shirt and dark blue jeans, though his cloths are not what catch my eye initially. It's actually his hair--long, light brown and absolutely wild with a beard to match. The next thing is that he's nearly skipping down the pathway, snapping his fingers to an imaginary tempo and singing loud enough for it to echo across the park to my car. He looks so carefree and lighthearted and it's nice to see someone so unbothered with trying to appeal to society's and other people's opinions.

Not long after the singing man disappears, two men on bikes come pedaling up the pathway. The first one wears a tan jacket over a hoodie and a red backpack. He's going pretty slowly for no apparent reason. From my car, the second guy looks to be dressed in the same tan jacket and on the same bike, but he's going a bit faster and is pedaling a lot harder than the other guy. He seems to have some sort of bike trailer attached to the back of his bike, the kind meant for children, and from where I'm sitting, there looks to be a kid in it. The second guy catches up to the first and they make it up the path and past the amphitheater before they stop. The second guy gets off his bike and goes back to help whoever's in the trailer stand up, but instead of a toddler, it's a grown woman wearing a puffy coat. I stop typing to stare in shock for a moment before I'm overcome with laughter at the sheer ridiculousness of it all. Just from the laughter at this occurrence, I immediately feel lighter. My day, while not the best but also not the worst, brightened. Sometimes, a good laugh just feels nice.

Not a lot happens after that, however. An older man walks past my car on the sidewalk, dressed interestingly for fifty degree weather. He's wearing a light brown jacket over a red hoodie and purple-grey shorts. When he notices me in the car, he lifts a hand in a wave and I wave back awkwardly. A few moments later I notice two young boys exit a car to my left, carrying guitar cases that are almost as big as they are. As soon as they're out of the car, they race off down the sidewalk, presumably to guitar lessons.

It's interesting how things work out sometimes. I'd originally thought that today would be the most boring of my visits, but instead, it'd turned out to be the most eventful. I leave the park, ready to head home, and excited for what my next visit will bring.

[sunlessea]

❛  do  you  deserve  it ?   ❜ + mirror + beg - firespages :)

the enormity of my desire / @londonfallen

it would claw out fires' eyes if only it could reach the bastard! instead, its left equal parts growling and whimpering where it's held down by the throat 'gainst the cold floor of its office, claws twisted 'round its back in the other bat's grasp. its wrists had been near rubbed raw with how viciously it's tried to twist itself free, but there is only so much even it can do when its teeth, still stained with blood from having torn at its vicious paramour's neck leading up to this, cannot catch the hand that has itself wrapped around its own injured neck. it feels like it should be gasping for air, or trying to kick its legs to free itself from the position it's been forced into, rather than letting its knees bruise against the ground's harsh surface. but even if it needed to breathe, it'd barely be able to, only managing to gasp out the most strangled cries each time the full length of fires' cock slams into it from behind.

the sheer silk of its blouse still clings to it, never fully ripped off : likewise, the only real protection it has from outright scraping its knees are the remaining tatters of its slacks never entirely pulled away before it'd had its hips slammed flush back against fires' own. it's a brutal affair, one that's left it near breathlessly goading its colleague onward with what short quips it can manage. where its voice doesn't encourage with insult and barbed tongue, its body makes up for, wet and cum alike trailing not only from its pussy where each thrust deeper inside it causes fires' own to spill out of it, but along its ass where it had previously finished inside before—

"a—aah...!" its legs are shaking, for all pages spoke so highly of its prudish decorum. it doesn't care about volume past the mask of innocence it pretends to wear, not when there isn't a soul dead or alive who could hope to contest its reputation or person the moment it left this office. it knows its employees can hear them if they linger near too long, but who would risk it? no londoner seeks out the business of a master with their right mind, and so it moans where it's able, when fires palm squeezing its throat loosens just enough for it to get a sound out. it hates it! a reprehensible beast, a savage, a barbarian, through and through—!

"d—die," it wheezes out, with a healthy snap still in its tone of voice where it tries what little it is able to shove its leg back and kick it. it can't manage, of course, but it feels good to try, both for a sense of its pride and because the offense leaves fires brazen enough to stop choking it in order to spank it instead— "f—fuc—" it catches itself by shoving its fangs down on its tongue, even though blood floods its mouth again as a result. it stops from cursing, its voice trailing off into a suppressed cry.

"i hate you!" it growls, free to speak despite the weakness in its tone of voice. "brathetic, incorrigible—" it doesn't get the opportunity to finish before fires' fist is in its hair, and it's dragged up with it pulling it. its own voice is far more erotic than its fury would have anyone else believe, but the switch in their position that it leads to is so quick it barely notices the shift in it. it's small enough for its larger peers to throw around, for better or worse : this is no exception. it hears fires' back hit its desk where it falls to sit against the side, and along with it, without its cock even slipping out of it, pages feels its claws free it to wrap underneath their legs where they fall into its lap, back against its chest. it's gasping for breath now, but it hardly gets a break before it's pounding its pussy again, fires' nails digging deep into its brutalized, marked up thighs to keep it steady each time it thrusts up, inside of it.

one would think its newfound freedom would be used to put distance 'tween them now, but instead, it reaches its hand back to wrap behind fires' head, nails digging into the back of its neck to hold it close as its moans pick up in volume. it must catch itself, too, and the falling apart of its act ... it knows why it'd changed their position, letting it watch itself get fucked by it in the reflection of the floor-length mirror it kept leaned 'gainst the bookshelves in its office. pointed right at the desk, right in front of them. it isn't subtle. "b—brute," it hisses, hateful and yet shivering against the feeling of fires' tongue lulling from its mouth, wrapping itself 'round its throat now where its hand cannot. it can feel fires' drool falling down its back in strings now, too, where it purrs the most impolite things in its ear...

pages can't look away, and even if it could, it knows fires would never let it. their eyes meet where they catch each other's gaze in the mirror, blushed red 'cross their entire bodies, pages covered in fires cum from each time it had made a show of how turned on it was along the way, even whilst pages itself refused to hit the same peak. and it'd made it so far, too, no matter how hard its own cock is now, or how desperate it looks with its own spit falling in lines from its lips. there are tears building in its eyes, so overstimulated where it'd held itself back this entire time, and yet—fires deprives it anyways. it wants the satisfaction of hearing it not just ask, but beg... it knows that.

"neculai—" and so it falters in its own pride, whore to the feeling of heat that'd been building and fading and deprived burning along its spine and pooling in its abdomen. it's at the line, about to fall over from all it can take : the pleasure that's taken hold of it is so intense that its entire body shakes pressed against fires' own, and each thrust deeper inside of it is making it gasp, and whine. it digs its nails into fires' neck until it either takes mercy on it or decides it wants more of that brutality ... it can't be sure. either way, it feels it underneath it, shifting itself so it can hasten the pace of its hips, each thrust getting more pointed, harder, until it can both see how deep it's hitting inside of it via the bulge pushing against its stomach. pages has to use its free hand to hold itself steady against the other's thigh, its head falling to the side against its, but it doesn't break eye contact with it in the mirror, even when its vision at last blurs with tears.

"please—! let me cum, please—" its voice is pathetic, broken 'tween sobs and moans. its dick, criminally untouched, throbs where precum trails along the entire length of it in strings, pooling below them in the mess of fires cum, both their juices, and blood. its frame is far smaller than fires' own, not made for this form of savagery... and yet it relishes the feeling of being ravaged, every bit the slut its colleague growls in its ear to remind it that it is. it tries to move its hips in a way that makes its pussy squeeze around fires' cock, and it's almost certain it isn't the only one who is so brutally close to shooting its cum.

if anyone deserves release, it's itself.

"fuck you!" pages snaps, and uses its hand at its neck to slap it against the head, hard enough for it to hurt. it's annoyed! "i deserve everything! you don't deserve m—aaah!" its voice cuts off in blatant, lewd scream, body tensing with a magnitude it hadn't anticipated when fires slams its cock inside of it and holds it there, filling it far deeper inside its pussy than it should, until its cum spills out in a rush. it's own body is so tense, trembling, its expression frozen in shocked eroticism. all it can do is swallow, and then whine, "i'll do anything," it whimpers, falling back against its chest, submissive, and so, so desperate. all it can do is watch it pull out of it and rub its cum-covered dick against its swollen clit in the mirror, depriving it again. "please... please, please... please... i need it, i deserve it, please..."

[kiigan]

ㅤIn his defense- ...maybe he didn't have much of a plausible one, but, still, how was he supposed to have guessed it was that? Here he was, about to develop a stress ulcer over imagining every possible terrible scenario, only to be told that Shisui wanted him. Which, granted, Itachi also wasn't sure if he fully comprehended the depths of it, but then his friend kissed him and if he'd been punched square on the face he wouldn't have been more caught off-guard. Didn't even have the chance to react other than a little gasp and sharingan once more flashing on and off like a malfunctioning light bulb. And then it was over almost as soon as it'd started, leaving him to flop back on his butt unceremoniously, trying for the life of him to make a sliver of sense out of everything that was happening at the same time.

ㅤThat and... feeling oddly empty, now that those other lips had left his own; like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle that had finally lined up, only to be pulled apart again. Shisui had just practically tried to suck the soul out of him through the mouth, and it'd somehow felt more enjoyable than almost everything Itachi had experienced in life before. So bewildering that the words he spoke next, in a shaky exhale of breath, went in a completely random direction; like all his brain cells at once had gone drunk on that kiss.

«...You should be. You just called me dense!»

ㅤWhich was a very rude thing to say along with a kiss, Itachi figured, but then again what did he know of kissing to start with. Never something that he'd done before or even considered doing, far more important priorities and duties ever being pushed upon him. As far as he was concerned, he'd one day marry some complete stranger that his parents found to be beneficial to the clan and that was about it. Yet here he was now, actually getting to do it, with one of his most favorite persons of all time. Actually wanting to do it again. Problem being, he didn't know how to and his brain had yet to recover from the short-circuit. So he acted on instinct, instead, and let his body move of its own accord; shifting so that he was sitting on the floor in between Shisui's legs, his own loosely wrapped around the other's hips.

ㅤ«You had me so worried, you absolute oaf! I thought you were going to tell me you have a terminal disease, or that you're moving out of the village forever, or-» Hands also moving to clutch at the front of Shisui's shirt, maybe a little too eagerly, as if trying to ground himself and calm down the whirlwind of strong emotions that was overriding his usual composure. «...I want to kiss back, but I am unprepared to give you something enjoyable. I need to educate myself first.» And, clearly, it wasn't helping at all. Unfiltered, earnest words falling off his lips helplessly and cheeks burning and flushed in a way that couldn't be blamed on fever anymore.

Shisui held his breath. His eyes frantically searched Itachi's face for any hint of disgust or discomfort. The silence stretched for an unbearable amount of time, within which Shisui contemplated wether he should set himself on fire with Amaterasu or not, before the Weasel at last mustered up a reply to his nerve-wrecking confession.

'Okay'. Shisui stared at him. Okay?? What did he mean oKaY??

'You want me to do what?', was the next thing he said, just as Shisui thought he was about to lose his mind. He blinked, staring at him in utter disbelief. Was he being for real?

For a moment he doubted it, his brain went completely blank for any form of acceptable reply. Just what was he about to answer to that? He could think of a million things he wanted him to do and all of them ended with the raven-haired Uchiha pinned against the futons he for some reason chose to connect last night. Which didn't exactly ease the tension between them.

As Itachi repeated his question it dawned on him. He didn't get it. That doe-eyed, long lashed Weasel seriously didn't get it. Shisui was about ready to pass away with embarrassment, when something shifted on Itachi's face. His pretty mind had finally produced a thought.

He watched his friend's eyes widen, feeling his face redden and his heartbeat pick up pace, as he waited for the impending rejection. He could almost see the gears grind in his head. He heard the blood rush in his own ears, feeling his his breath hitch, as their gazes connected once more, with Itachi still sporting that confused expression on his face. It was then that he succumbed.

"Gods you're as dense as it gets", he whispered, before pulling Itachi into him and capturing his lips in a fervent kiss. Everything within him tumbled over, his feelings exploding into violent flutters as he went. In the lightheaded five seconds his brain didn't catch up to his actions, he almost devoured him, pouring all of his desperate longing, suppressed emotions and affection into his soft lips, cradling his cheek with his thumb.

And then his conciousness set back in.

He pulled back, panting, eyes widened in shock at what he had just done. He could still feel Itachi's lips burning on his own as he stared at him in horror.

"Oh my god- I'm so sorry-"

[dinsverdika]

A Yellow Leaf & Glowing Flowers (one shot)

Pairing: Din Djarin/Reader

Tags (as posted on AO3): fluff, mutual pining, early relationship, me making stuff up about space flora, me making a planet up, angst, hurt/comfort, cuddling, helmetless din djarin (but only in the dark), keldabe kiss (which can be considered as a first kiss), use of mando'a, not canon compliant, reader's gender is not specified

Word count: 4,098

Notes: Hi! This piece has been sitting on my WIP shelf for many months. The entire premise of this one shot has been changed as I couldn't find any more inspiration for it. I hope you enjoy!

not canon compliant: Din's ship hasn't been blown up (it honestly makes writing x reader fics easier.)

use of Mando'a: translations in the footnotes.

ps: the Reader doesn't know Din's name but the narrator and well, you the real reader, do. I'm also my own beta reader so mistakes and typos may've slipped by me, apologies!

You had been walking for a while, it seemed. You could not exactly pinpoint how long it had been but this matter swiftly left your mind as the walking trail you’d been following opened up to a glade. You stopped dead in your tracks and scanned the area, nothing seemed out of order or unsafe. You left the pathway as you stepped forward into the secluded spot.

Your chest expanded as you inhaled deeply. You held your breath, letting the scent of the nature surrounding you reinvigorating your senses. A renewed feeling of wellness blossomed within you as you exhaled, making you feel weightless. You repeated the breathing exercise a couple of times until every single muscle in your body had let go of unwanted stress. You blinked your eyes open, focusing your gaze on what was above you: a purple sky decorated with a few orange clouds here and there. Their fluffy texture made it seem as if someone had painted them there. The sun was not entirely set but a pink moon was high in the sky and a few stars had started appearing as well, freckling the sky with their soft twinkling. 

A splashing sound diverted your attention from the sky, you almost missed seeing a tiny frog swimming away after it'd jumped into the water.

A river. 

The body of water was a few steps away from your feet. The stream created a soft burbling sound, putting you at ease.

You threw a look at the walking trail behind you and weighed your options. With a shrug, you chose to enjoy what the glade had to offer. You promised to yourself to not lose track of the time. You'll go back to where you came from eventually.

Your shoes were in your hands as you wiggled your toes in the fresh grass beneath your feet. It was soft and slightly wet as you strided to the riverbank. The river was not as shallow as you had expected. The water was clear, allowing you to see the riverbed easily. You patted your morning self on the back for choosing to wear mid-length trousers, you could dip your legs up to your calves without worrying about making your clothing wet. 

A single yellow leaf appeared in your field of vision as it floated on the water, following the stream. You trained your eyes on it until it had disappeared down a short waterfall on your left and continued its way deeper into the woods. You had no idea how seasons worked on this planet, making you wonder if it was a sign that autumn was near. 

With that in mind, you dipped your toes, testing the temperature. The water was cool but not cold.

Leaned back on your hands, sitting on the side of the river, your legs were swaying back and forth in the water. 

The sun had fully set now, going below the horizontal line hidden by the trees in front of you, letting place to the darkness of the night. The clouds you had seen when you first arrived had dissipated; nothing was obstructing the moon from casting its purple-ish glow on the glade. Contentment filled you as you fully relished in the peaceful moment the galaxy had granted you. 

A flower suddenly bloomed near you with a soft puff. A soft, comforting glow emanated from it, lighting up the darkness surrounding it. Child-like wonder buzzed within you as a few dozens of flowers bloomed around you as well. You glanced around in awe; the flowers all bloomed randomly around the glade. The trail you had taken also had the same flowers on each side of it, as if to guide night-time visitors to this spot in the middle of the woods.

One last flower bloomed by your thigh. 

“Late bloomer, aren’t you?” you chuckled quietly. 

You gently held the flower from below its receptacle and tilted it, wishing to take a better look inside it. It had white petals with a thin light blue streak in the middle. Each petal had the same pattern. Even though you could not tell how or why it happened, it was evident that the glow was coming from its pistils. Its faint sweet scent hit your nose, urging you to take an even closer look; you feared that the pretty glow emanating from the flower would die off if you were to pluck it out. 

“Here you are,” said a modulated voice from behind you.

The sudden voice made you jump. Relief coursed through you as you whipped your head around, your eyes landing on the Mandalorian. 

“You scared me,” you said, resting a hand on your chest. You could feel your heart beating at a rapid pace beneath it.

“I didn’t mean to,” deadpanned Din. 

“Was I gone for long?” you asked, recovering from the short-lived scare. 

“No," he replied, shaking his head. "You were gone for an hour, I’d say. The sun had set fast, though,” he added. “I was working on the ship until these flowers bloomed and grabbed my attention. It's been a short walk from the ship.” 

The cold air of night surprised you as soon as you got up as it hit your wet legs, making you shiver. The temperature must've dropped a lot quicker since the night had settled in.

“This place is beautiful,” you stated, making your way to the Mandalorian. “I've never seen anything like it before. Do you know what these flowers are?” 

“I’m afraid I don’t,” he replied, crouching down to gently tilt one just like you did a few minutes ago. “They’re pretty, though.” 

You nodded in agreement. “Do you think their glow would die out if we were to pluck some of them out?” 

You gasped as Din swiftly pulled on the flower he was holding, ripping it off from the grass. 

“Mando!” you shouted. 

Din pushed himself back up and inspected the flower wordlessly. He rubbed the inside of the petals, smearing the pollen on his fingertips. Curiosity overtook you as you pressed your side against his, taking a better look at what he was doing.

He hummed and brought his hand closer to your face. “I don’t know if you can see it but it seems like each particle of pollen produces light. That must be where their glow comes from,” he explained. 

Din watched you take his hand in yours, he tore his eyes away from your joined hands to train them on your face. A frown had appeared above your eyes, creating a crease between your eyebrows as you focused on the product smeared on his fingertips. Endearment washed over him as you tilted your head. He swallowed as his eyes lingered on your pursed lips, they've never looked more kissable than right now. The moonlight complimented your face beautifully.

“These flowers must contain a lot of pollen then,” you said, pulling him out of his thoughts.

The Mandalorian hummed in agreement and replied, “it also means that they only lose their glow once they have wilted.” 

“I wonder if bugs pollinate these flowers…” you said out loud. “Do you think glowing honey can be produced out of them?” you asked. 

"It could be a possibility," he replied. 

He glanced around the area, seeking anything that could resemble a pollinating bug. Nothing unusual jumped out of the darkness surrounding you, even after he'd activated thermal vision on his visor. 

"I'm not seeing any bugs around, though," he added. 

His gaze landed on your face once more, your attention wasn't on his hand -although, you hadn't let go of it- anymore but on the glade too.

A soft breeze made the leaves of the trees around you rustle before hitting you head on. The Mandalorian couldn't feel it, his armour and flight suit protecting him from it. 

The same couldn't be said for you, the thin clothes you were wearing were optimal for warm weather -which this planet had proved to have a few hours ago- but not for the colder temperatures the lack of sunlight was providing. 

You shivered and wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to shield your body from the unrelenting breeze. 

Your arms were of little help as you shivered once more. Your legs were still wet from earlier, accentuating the coldness striking you.

In a flash, the Mandalorian had you pressed against him, his back turned to the breeze; doing a better job at shielding you from the cold than your arms. 

You brought your curled fists up to your mouth, deeply exhaling into them, warming them up in the process. Din's hands were on your back, rubbing it up and down. Warmth spread in your chest as you nuzzled his chestplate, pressing yourself against him even more. 

A giddy feeling joined the warmth in your chest as you relished being pressed against the sturdy Mandalorian. The beskar against your cheek may have been cold but his touch was making it easy to ignore. 

You'd thought his attentiveness was part of his job, being a bounty hunter meant being on high-alert all the time; being aware of your surroundings at all times must have become second nature for the Mandalorian. Yet, Din had proven to you countless of times that his attentiveness was not only reserved for his bounties, but for you as well. 

You hadn't been the only object of his attentiveness, you'd seen how conscientious he was with Grogu. You tried swallowing around the painful lump forming in your throat. 

“We should probably head back to the ship, it must be getting late,” said the Mandalorian, tearing you away from your reverie. 

You agreed wordlessly, reluctantly untangling yourself from his embrace. Din cupped your face, his leather gloves were warm on your skin, their oaky scent filling your nose.

A frown appeared above his eyes as you gave him a contorted smile. 

"Is everything okay?" He asked, caressing your cheeks with his thumbs. 

You sighed and leaned into his touch, "yes," you lied. "I'm just tired." 

The Mandalorian didn't believe it but let it go for now. Soon enough, his hand was on your lower back, guiding you towards the walking trail. 

The soil crunched underneath your feet as you walked back to the ship in comfortable silence. 

Din was scanning the area from under his helmet, ready to unholster the blaster hanging off his belt if a threat were to appear out of nowhere. Your eyes, on the other hand, were gazing up the trees, searching for a beehive… a glowing beehive, maybe? 

Disappointment felt heavy on your chest as nothing popped up to your eyes and the shape of the Razor Crest appeared on the horizon. 

The Mandalorian reached the top of the ramp and turned around to be greeted by the sight of you standing at the bottom of the ramp, staring into the darkness of the wood. Your shoulders were low as if you were carrying the weight of the galaxy on them. You were chewing on your bottom lip, preventing it from trembling. 

An invisible force pinched the Mandalorian's heart. He made his way back down the ramp and grabbed your hands, covering them with his. You looked up at him, a silent gasp died on his lips as he noticed tears gathering on your waterlines. 

“I’m sorry this is all very futile, it’s just that-” you apologised. A sob came up your throat, making it difficult for you to finish your sentence.

“I understand,” he nodded. “It’s been difficult for me, too.” 

Your eyes bounced between his eyes through the visor. It was fruitless, the tinted transparisteel was impenetrable. 

Seeing his face contorted by sadness and pain was not something you could've handled anyway.

“We should go up and rest,” said Din, trying to move the two of you away from the painful topic. 

You nodded in agreement, not trusting your voice to not give away how upset you were.

The Mandalorian made his way up the ramp once more, his fingers laced with yours.

“Come on,” Din said once the ramp had hissed shut. “Let’s go.”

His hand was back on the small of your back, guiding you towards the cot. He rummaged under the pillows and retrieved your sleeping clothes. You quietly changed into them while Din had retreated to the 'fresher, offering you a few moments of privacy while he freshened up. 

Exhaustion washed over you as you pulled your sleeping shirt over your head. A grimace pulled on your features, vulnerability crawling its way in your chest. Insecurity prickled your fingertips as you uselessly flattened your shirt with the palm of your hands. The lump in your throat hadn't reduced, sobs threatening to breach your lips to ease the pain. 

It had been a long day. 

"A few long days," you corrected yourself internally.

With your sleeping attire now on, you crawled into the cot and slipped under the cover. Air hitched in your throat as you turned on your back and your eyes landed on the hammock hanging above you. 

Nothing could have held back the painful sob from breaching your lips this time. The Mandalorian had crafted and hung it above the cot many months ago -which felt like years now.-

Grogu's little coos had become a comforting sound, it made you feel at home and safe. Yet, seeing it now brought you no comfort. All it did was remind you that he was gone.

Din appeared in your field of vision, blurry by your tears. He had removed his armour apart from his helmet. He'd ditched his flight suit for a long back shirt, his legs were bare. You leaned up on your hands, tears rolling down your cheeks. You used your shirt to wipe them away. 

The Mandalorian was also staring up at the hammock, his helmet blanking his face of expression. 

You hiccupped a muted sob as you watched him. Din shifted his attention to you, he brought a hand to your ankle, grounding you a bit.

You sighed into his neck as he maneuvered you onto him, his lips pressing kisses on the crown of your head. His helmet was now forgotten on one of the shelves implanted in the walls of the cot. The door had been slid shut and the lights turned off, plunging the two of you in darkness. 

Quietness fell upon you as you settled in your night-time routine, enjoying the physical closeness.

"He would’ve loved it," said Din after a while. 

His arms tightened around your middle and you scooted closer to him, pressing your fronts together. One leg tangled between his legs, one leg above his hip. 

“He would’ve,” you agreed. “The frog I saw jumping into the river before you arrived would've not appreciated his presence, though.” 

Images of the Child squinting his eyes in concentration, lifting his three-fingered hand up, channeling all of the energy his tiny body could muster into the force as he would try to levitate the poor frog out of water popped in both of your heads. It made your bodies tremble with laughter, knowing that Din would have to reprimand him while you would feel sympathetic towards the frog he would have been forced to spit out.

Your laughter eventually died down and quietness filled the cot once more. You fell asleep with no more words exchanged between you.

Your eyelids were still heavy with sleep as you fluttered your eyes open. Slightly dehydrated, your mouth felt pasty. A yawn bubbled up in your throat and breached your lips. You patted the mattress beside you, expecting to feel the body of Din next to you. A confused crease appeared between your eyebrows as it fell flat on the mattress. 

You pushed yourself up and reached for the button near the sliding door. It slid open, letting the light from the cargo hold seeping into the secluded, dark area. You squinted until your eyes got used to the bright, artificial light. 

One look around the cargo hold confirmed your suspicions, the Mandalorian was gone. His helmet was not on the shelf either. It’d always been one of the skills you envied the most; being discreet and stealthy came with the job of bounty hunting. Yet, you couldn’t help but wonder how you hadn’t heard the cot opening and closing. You must’ve been dead asleep. 

You threw your feet over the edge of the cot, the durasteel floor beneath your feet pushed the remaining drowsiness out of your body with a final yawn. You brought the heels of your hands to your eyes and rubbed them until tiny suns appeared in front of your closed eyes.

When you'd reached the cockpit, the viewport allowed you to see that the sun wasn’t that high in the sky. It was still pretty early in the morning. With that in mind, you went back down the ladder and made your way to the refresher. 

The ramp of the ship hissed open as you were brushing your teeth. Your heartbeat slightly quickened as you rapidly spat the toothpaste and cleaned your mouth. Although, you were fairly certain that it was the Mandalorian who was entering the ship, hearing the familiar sound of his steps on the floor reassured you a bit. 

Din seemed surprised to see you awake as you exited the refresher to meet him in the cargo hold, using the back of your hand to wipe the wetness off your mouth.

“I didn’t expect to see you awake,” said Din. 

“I haven’t been up for long,” you waved off. “I didn’t hear you leave the ship.”

“You were sleeping pretty soundly,” he replied. “You were snoring.” 

“I don’t snore,” you scoffed. 

“You do,” he retorted. 

“Whatever,” you said. “Where were you anyway?” 

He didn’t answer right away and fished around in the bandolier bag resting on his thigh plate instead. You trained your focus on the bag, not seeing Grogu peeking out of it brought back the sadness that a few hours of slumber had managed to wash away. Fortunately for you, Din retrieved a jar from his bag before the unwanted feelings could truly settle in. 

Din watched as your eyes widened in surprise as he presented the jar to you. Joy bloomed in his chest as a bright smile appeared on your face. The jar fit perfectly in the palm of his hand. It was of a generous size, too. Yet, he could tell that this wasn’t what had caught your attention.

“Is that-?” you asked, stepping towards him and taking the jar away from his hand.

A soft smile tugged on the corners of his mouth as his eyes followed you. You walked to one corner of the cargo hold. The darker area heightened the brightness of the product inside the jar. 

Din joined you and leaned his pauldron against the wall, his arms were crossed over his chestplate. 

"It's honey," he said.

You looked at him in awe, “honey from the flowers of last night?" 

He nodded. “There's a market not too far away from here,” he explained, “a vendor was selling a lot of artisanal food. Among the different food was dozens and dozens of honey jars." 

His hand went back into his bag and pulled out another jar, “I got two of them.”

Your mouth dropped open as your eyes shifted from the jar to his visor repeatedly. You took the jar from his hand and brought it next to the other jar you were holding. 

The light emanating from the jars was even more intense than the light emanating from the flowers. Your gaze sinked into the Mandalorian's eyes. The tinted visor prevented you from seeing his eyes, you were met with the beskar of his helmet instead, the glow of the honey bouncing off it. From behind the helmet, Din was admiring how the brightness of the honey complimented your eyes beautifully. 

It seemed time had stopped as you gazed at each other. Yet, the air around you thickened and an invisible force was pulling you closer to one another. Your guts tightened from the tension growing between you. 

The Mandalorian's teeth were sinking in the flesh of his bottom lip. The tension between you was coming to a climax as he watched you slide the jars back into his bag carefully; the sudden close proximity had his heart beating into his ears, muting everything else around him. 

It ached. You were aching to show your appreciation for the man in front of you. The tips of your fingertips prickled as you wished to cup his face and thank him for the sweet gesture. Instinctively, your hands reached up and cupped the sides of his helmet, meeting the coldness of the besker instead of the warmth of his face you were craving to feel. 

Air hitched in Din's throat as your hands reached for his helmet and lowered his covered face to yours. He let you maneuver him until his forehead was pressed against yours. All of his senses were on fire as he registered what was happening. His heart was rapidly pumping blood in his veins, facilitating the fondness he was feeling for you course through him and reach the tips of his limbs; making him weightless in the process. 

"Vor entye," you whispered. 

Butterflies sprung free in your tummy as the Mandalorian rested his gloved hands on your hips and brought you closer to him. Your hands slid from his helmet to around his neck, you hooked your chin onto his shoulder. A deep sigh escaped you as you relished in the embrace. 

Protectiveness crashed over Din in several waves as he felt you growing putty under his touch. He'd circled the small of your back with one of his arms while his other hand was caressing your back tenderly. 

"Ba'gedet'ye," he whispered back. 

Quietness fell upon you once more as you enjoyed each other's arms. 

You were the one who broke the silence first.

"I wanna gift one of the jars to him," you said quietly. 

Din replied with a questioning hum. 

"The honey," you repeated. "I think Grogu would like it." 

Din hummed once more as an affirmative this time. "I wanted to gift him something as well," he added. 

You laid your hands flat on his chestplate and leaned away from him, keeping your tummy and crotches flushed together.

"What do you mean?" you asked.

The Mandalorian untangled himself from your arms and walked towards the weapon locker. He picked up the spear made of beskar which was left to be leaned on the locker. 

"I thought of having it melted and turned into a chain mail," he explained. 

"That'd be an amazing present," you retorted. "It'd almost be as if he had his own little armour." 

The Mandalorian nodded and put the spear back. "I'll have the Armorer do it," he said. 

"He'll have something to remember us with," you stated. "Is he allowed to receive gifts?" you asked. 

Din shrugged, "I don't know. I don't see why not." 

You hummed thoughtfully, tapping your chin with your pointing finger. "On which planet did the Jedi take him to again?" you asked. 

"Ossus," replied Din as soon as the words escaped your lips. "It's a planet in the Middle Rim. I'm not supposed to know where it is but I've put a tracker in Grogu's coat, the Jedi hadn't seemed to have removed it." 

The Mandalorian knew the Jedi wasn't stupid, he must've noticed the tracker and chose to not remove it. 

"We should go now!" you exclaimed, clapping your hands together. 

Din smiled at you softly under his helmet. "We can't go now," he said, putting a hand on your shoulder. "We have to get the chainmail done first." 

"Ah, yes," you replied, letting your hands drop to your sides. "Do you know where your Tribe could be?" 

The Mandalorian nodded, "somewhere on a space station called Glavis Ringworld." 

"Somewhere?" you repeated. "You don't know the specifics?" 

"No," he replied. "I'm sure I could get the information I want in exchange for a job done, though." 

"'Makes sense," you agreed.

"Come on," he said, guiding you to the ladder going up to the cockpit, "the quicker we get this done, the faster we get to see him." 

"Can I get some of that honey while we travel there, though?" you asked, looking down at him from your spot up the ladder.

You couldn't help but giggle at seeing shake his head. 

"Of course," he replied, amused. "That's what I bought it for, I guess."

Mando'a translations:

vor entye: thank you (I accept a debt)

ba'gedet'ye: you're welcome

source: mandoa.org

[omg-im-such-a-masochist]

soo i had this dream where jay was like a sex demon and i just thought of your one shots so this maybe a good idea? idk

I love incubus so…Incubus!Jay in tha house 😮‍��

Tag: @theworldofotps , @writtingrose , @letsgivethisonemoreshot , @aerynscrichton , @daddyhausen , @damnnhausen , @unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin , @sophiewolfheart-blog , @sultryfandoms , @new-zealand-chic , @crowleysqueenofhell , @thealliasylum , @legit9thlunaticwarrior , @baysexuality , @josiewrites , @seeingstarks , @sldghmmr , @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch , @whenimakeitshine1234 , @blaquekittycat

In moments like this, you came to regret your curious nature of delving into the occult.

The darkness made you aware it was still nighttime, and the lack of furniture purposefully made you lose the complete sense of time, space, and reality.

The only concrete thing between that abyss of consciousness and unconsciousness was the large and round crimson bed, its matching velvet pillows, and of course him.

Darkness engulfed you. There was no ceiling, floors, or walls. Everything was a big, black pit of nothingness.

His gray eyes seemed to gleam in contrast with the dark, and his pearly white teeth resembled sharp fangs the closer he got to you in bed.

He pressed his knee down on the mattress between your legs as he leaned forward, supporting his weight on his arms and forcing you to lay back down on the bed.

His strong body hovered above you. A toothy grin displayed how amused he was with you.

You gathered some courage from the depths of your being, at least enough to ask: “Where am I, and who are you?”

The young man took a deep breath in, taking in the fragrance of your shampoo: “Red and green apples, cinnamon… with a hint of floral and sandalwood” His grin grew wider as he continued: “And of course, fear. The most delicious scent of them all. And you, my dear honeybee, have plenty of that”.

His tongue left a wet trail from your chin to your lips, and a low moan rumbled in his throat, “So much so that I can even taste it on your lovely skin”

Your breath quickened, and you tried your best to keep calm, at least as much as the current situation allowed you to “You didn’t answer my question”, was your brief statement before a short chuckle left his lips. The small action caused his chiseled chest to brush against your braless breasts, instantly hardening your nipples “You’re trying so hard to be tough, aren’t you, little bee? It’s kinda cute, actually…makes me wonder how long it will take me to break you”. His finger circled the hardened peak through your thin black tank top.

“You got some lovely tits, there. I’ll love to play with them”, two fingers pinched the engorged flesh, making a small whimper leave your lips.

The delicate sound made him smile wide. “You look like a newbie at this, so let me quickly explain what we’ll do”. His rough palm covered your mouth to prevent you from asking anything else, and so he continued:

"I'll take these lovely tits, these cute lips, that pretty little pussy, and that plump ass, and I'm gonna use it all as my little private toy collection".

His words, although crude and explicit, still managed to excite you. Internally you wished for him to do the most gruesome things to you. Things that would make your devoted religious family send Father David your way in no time.

"I'm gonna ruin you in ways you never thought it'd be possible. I'll leave you drowning in pools of your own cum, so desperate to have more, and more, and more of my cock that you'll never want to fuck any other man". His lips pressed a soft kiss on the outer corner of your eye, making you reach up to feel more of his lips.

"Once you have me, my cock, my tongue, and my fingers, you'll never be able to satisfy with no one else. You'll belong to me and only me, do you understand that, honeybee?"

You quickly nodded while reaching up to curl your fingers around his light brown hair. "Yes, sir", was your muffled response underneath his palm.

"That's right, little one, start to train that sentence because you'll say that a lot tonight".