#oc: breathing rapture

[venomweaver]

iterator OC concepts <3

[sonofthedunes]

to all my lovely followers, merry christmas….or should i say, merry slutsmas? yes, i have prepared for you a naughty yuletide treat, a thanks to everyone who has joined me on this wacky trip through revitalized star wars fandom and luke stanning. so below the cut, partake in a peek at our boy engaging in some “self-care.” italics are his fantasy, regular text is the real world. i’ve kept descriptions of his partner vague so that you can use your imaginations. whether you’d like it to be yourself or an oc, to frame this story as before the pair hooks up or during a time when they’re separated—i’ll leave that up to you! here’s to a hilarious, horny, heartwarming 2024. may the force be with you. enjoy!

(MINORS DNI)

this gentle art

He can picture her so clearly, as if she stands before him now in the darkened confines of his room. Her hair, her eyes, the smile on her lips: all lovely—and all making his heart beat that much faster. He swallows, staring back at her wide-eyed. Can she tell, he wonders? Can she sense how much he wants her, how desperate his need has grown?

An involuntary groan of relief escapes him as his hand finally encircles his cock; freed from the confines of his trousers, throbbing and angry-red, it twitches and leaks a single clear drop. Teeth digging into his lower lip, he slicks his length with his own essence. He settles back and allows his eyes to drift closed as he begins teasing the head. All the better to focus on his fantasy….

She sits on the bed beside him, runs a hand over his blushing cheek. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting,” she says softly.

“No!” he insists. “No, I…this is fine.”

“Good.” She leans forward and kisses him—quite faintly at first, then more ardently as he eagerly responds. Their mouths open, their tongues slide between their lips like keycards in a lock. He gasps a little when she tugs his body closer, the combined heat sending a thrill up his spine. Daring to lay her hand against his aching groin, he receives a delighted moan in response. “Stars, you’re so hard…need you inside me.” He’s more than willing to oblige.

He’s fighting his own urges, knowing he could finish by fucking his fist quicker than an ash-rabbit. No, he wants this to last…every delicious moment of it will be his. So he drags his fingers up and down the shaft at a measured pace, huffing and cursing under his breath at how unbelievably right it feels. Of course he indulges in a bit of self-pleasure now and then, most young humans do, but…it never feels as satisfying as it does when he thinks about her. So sweet, so soft, everything he could ever desire.

Their clothes are fumbled off into wrinkled heaps on the bedroom floor, and he helps position her on his lap. The tight, warm wetness enveloping his cock as she sinks onto it—surely no feeling in the galaxy could compare to this. “Oh fuck,” she whimpers. “Feels so good…”

His head is swimming with rapture, his hands gripping her hips. “You don’t…you don’t know how long I wanted this,” he manages.

She giggles breathlessly. “I can guess.” Slender arms drape themselves around his neck. With a slow roll of her pelvis she begins fucking him, and he swears through gritted teeth with an energy that surprises them both. His fingers dig into her hips, guiding her forward and back, and he leans in to sloppily kiss her collarbone.

At some point he opened his eyes and now finds himself gazing on his handiwork: left hand curled around his swollen cock, caressing it from root to tip, occasionally smearing precum around the head. His chest heaves with every breath, occasionally accompanied by a small “hah,” and he can feel his sweat rapidly cooling in the room’s circulating air. This is what the mere thought of her does to him. And he loves it.

The dull slap of flesh against flesh fills the bedroom, mixing with their moans and hoarse words of praise. “Fuuuuck, right there,” she begs, driving herself down to take him deeper; he decides to help and moves with her, angling at precisely the right spot to draw forth a broken cry.

“Like this?” he asks rhetorically, hands wandering and mouth ghosting at her neck. She whines lustfully as he bucks up into her. A moment later she shudders when he lowers his head to her breasts; he kisses them, then sucks a nipple into his mouth and rolls his tongue around the peak, not switching sides until it’s like a diamond between his lips. And all the time they fuck, giving and taking in equal measure.

What he wouldn’t do for just five minutes with those perfect tits! Imagining their softness, the way they’d bounce with every thrust, is enough to tighten his grip and increase his speed. But he’s been nearing that point regardless. His patience is paying off: the slow embers of his climax kindle in his lower belly, his balls heavy with their unspent load even as clear drops dribble down his shaft and onto his hand. Eyes squeeze shut again in concentration. A strangled “mmmm” at the pressure. Almost there…

“Almost there,” he groans, fingers scrabbling at her back. “Please can I cum inside, really want-“

“Yes,” she grants him permission in an airy voice. “Touch me?”

Without disrupting the rhythm, his left hand snakes between their damp bodies to the juncture of her thighs, thumb seeking and finding the little prize. Rubbing tiny circles over the nub, he delights in her arched back and trembling pants. It serves to fuel his own growing passion, and he begins thrusting faster. “That’s it…take what you need, take it, take it,” he murmurs, wholly devoted to his tasks. Is he speaking to her or himself?

“Yes,” he hisses, “take it.” His hard-on kicks against his palm and he grunts at the sudden shock of pleasure. He can’t possibly hold out much longer.

“So fuckin’ close,” she shivers, rocking on him as though she’ll never get this chance again. “I’m so close, baby…”

“Cum for me,” he orders (though not unkindly), thumb still massaging her tender clit. “Wanna hear you, sweet girl.”

He’s properly fucking his fist now, the very thing he swore he wouldn’t do at the start of all this, but quite frankly he doesn’t care. It feels incredible, the closer he edges to the precipice.

She falls apart with a scream, clenching around him, her hands yanking on his hair or lightly pressing his throat. By contrast, he almost sobs when he finally blessedly lets go: his hips jerk as he fills her with his seed, his brain empty of any thought but the urge to hold her and keep her.

Somehow, he has the presence of mind to cover his mouth with his unoccupied hand as he cums. He knows how loud he can be…and selfishly, he wants no one else to hear him moan her name. If he can’t have her tonight, he wants that sound.

Afterward (how long has it been? A few seconds? An hour? It’s hard to tell when your bliss is so great), they collapse on the bed. Their high dissipates gradually: breathing evens, hearts slow. Neither makes a move to clean up or dress just yet. Simply to lie together, exchanging kisses and tracing patterns on flushed skin, is more than enough.

There are a million things he could say, a litany of poetics he could charm her with…but all that emerges is “I love you.”

“You do?” she grins, brushing hair back from his forehead.

“‘Course I do. If I could have anyone in the galaxy, I’d choose you every time.”

Hooking a leg over his hip, she snuggles against his his chest. “The feeling’s mutual, starlight.”

He hopes it always is.

“Oh, shit….” He’d had a suspicion his orgasm would be intense, but…when was the last time he’d cum this much? Thick, pearly ropes of the stuff splattered across his stomach and chest, some oozing onto his hand (still clutching his softening cock like his life depends on it). With a groan of effort, he fishes in the drawer of his bedside table until he finds a spare rag and wipes himself down. It takes a few passes, but eventually he’s clean enough to put off bathing until morning.

Rolling onto his back, he stares at the ceiling, an acute wave of loneliness pulsing through him. In the midst of his fantasy he could forget it, but now the bed feels rather empty and cold. To have her there would be his only wish…but for all the Force can accomplish, it can’t teleport people just by thinking of them.

So he drifts to sleep on his own for another night. But before he does, he whispers her name like a prayer to the shadows…and then:

“Love you.”

[ladyseaforth]

Feline Arch Part 3.

Vincent Renzi x reader/oc

Here’s part three! Hope you enjoy!

It is evening and they have sunk two bottles between one another. Rich scarlet slips down the throat, leaving the lips tinged with purple and flavour. Kissable.

Your back faces the fireplace, one leg draped over Vincent’s lap. His hand rests upon your shin mindlessly, his chest shaking as he laughs at something Sandra said. His wine flicks in the bowl like the crest of a crimson wave. You study it loosely, head rocking on the sofa.

You are down to your loose linen shirt. The heat of the fire permeates the room, swelling the atmosphere with a tangible energy. Everything feels simultaneously far away and alarmingly close.

Studying Vincent’s profile, you smile as your eyes trail over the sweep of his silver hair, down his gently curved brow, his glittering eyes, his pinkened nose, small, quick lips. You study his lips as, every so often, he loses himself in his native language; you follow the foreign mouth shapes and sounds with rapture. The gestures he makes with thin, sculptured hands when he gets over enthused.

You turn your head to Sandra as though it were on a hinge, your movements lagging and unrefined. With a fist under your cheek, you absorb the lightness in her features and the colour that has returned to her face. Samuel-be-damned.

She quickly catches on to your slow, sleepy gaze and grins, “Have we already outdrank you? For shame!” Sandra cackles at your expression, your own smile widening into a falsely seductive, wine stained smirk. You feel Vincent’s gaze upon the side of your face now.

“Not at all!” you retort, perhaps a little louder than you intend. You hear Vincent’s light chuckle, shy and boyish as he runs his hand up and down your shin. Sandra tilts her head teasingly, arched eyebrow over narrowed, blue eyes.

“I just didn’t have dinner,” you acquiesce, eyes dropping to your glass and running a finger round the rim. The small whine elevates in the room, a soft, ringing background to the conversation.

“Help yourself to anything in the kitchen,” Sandra offers, almost pleading, “I have not been up for using, or eating, anything; it will expire if not.” The tone simmers down a bit, the gravity of the situation returning to you all. You cease your finger’s movements on the glass. Vincent shifts.

“Perhaps, Sandra,” Vincent begins, “If you are up for it, we could go over a few developments in the investigation? It can wait until tomorrow - if not - I just thought you would like to get ahead of things.” His words drift away awkwardly and he clears his throat. Sandra looks suddenly lost in thought. You look between them.

“I can give you some space for that,” you offer, sliding your leg off of Vincent’s lap and placing yourself the right way up. “You guys will want to talk in private.” You search for eye contact with Sandra, who looks up at you and smiles gently, small and fragile. Vincent fiddles with his, now, unoccupied hands. His expression is mild.

“I’ll go for a walk around the house, won’t be far,” you gather up your wine glasses and head over to the kitchen sink, carefully placing them to the side. Something to worry about in the morning.

“Please be careful, the snow turns icy when the temperature drops at night,” Sandra says, elbows resting on her knees. You turn to her as you put your coat on and nod reassuringly. You sway slightly as you put your boots on and hope the pair aren’t watching, that they won’t stop you from getting that breath of fresh air you feel you need.

“See you soon,” you wave to them, and open the door. You carefully descend the steps onto the driveway and close the door beyond you, officially out of the space. The moon is bright and clear in the starless sky, a sign of the cold night ahead.

Vincent watches every inch of you as you disappear from sight, putting every part of you to memory before turning back to Sandra, who is watching the floor.

“How significant are these developments?” she finally asks, face stolid and resigned. Vincent sighs gently.

“Quite significant, but nothing we cannot work around,” he responds, training his face to remain neutral and unworried. “Shall I begin?” Vincent continues. Sandra nods solemnly and waves her hand, gesturing to start. And so, Vincent does.

The facts and discrepancies pile up, extracting the very air around her.

…

You stand and stare at the very site where Samuel is meant to have fallen. The ground is churned with the amount of footfall it has received, after the body was removed. Tomorrow they do tests with a sand-filled dummy to see if the way Samuel fell could be natural. That it was a sudden suicide. Or whether it was something else.

That is what Sandra said to you. Whispered over the fireplace. Her face had remained somewhat impassive. You stared into the blue.

The drop was extensive. Injuries consistent with a collision upon the shed’s corner, before finally slumping to the snow-covered ground. But it had to be checked all the same. They were to take it step-by-step.

You think of Daniel, worry about him tucked in his room. Wet pillow and misty-eyed in the dark as strangers invade his home. As they descend to determine whether his mother could have killed his father or not. Unable to look these strangers in the eye.

And Vincent would watch like a hawk. Staring eyes locked on everything they touch in Sandra’s house, anything they move, they affect. He will protest. Be the ever-intercepting lawyer, he will be good and he will be present. And you will watch him.

A chill runs through you, the sky vast and stretching over your head. What must it have been like to simply fall? To become a dead-weight, helpless and loose? At the mercy of gravity. At the mercy of it all.

…

You return to a household in darkness, safe for the last burning embers of the fireplace. Shrugging your coat off and hanging it on the rack at the front door, you see Vincent’s shape in the dying light. He is still on the same part of the couch that you saw him before. He looks over at you and gives a tight smile.

“Eh, Sandra has gone to bed. It will be a long day tomorrow,” Vincent begins, “she said she told you what will be happening?”

You nod slowly, “yes, the tests. Things to do with a dummy and seeing whether Samuel’s fall was accurate.” Vincent nods in response and shuffles a couple of papers that sit before him upon the coffee table. Silence falls upon you both.

“Do you think there is anything suspicious about Samuel’s death?” you ask, suddenly and without much thought. You shock yourself. Vincent’s head jerks up, lamp like eyes fixed on your own. He blinks a couple of times and frowns.

“Do you think there was?” he retorts, head tilting and gaze full of scrutiny. A lawyer at work. You blink back at him and hold your ground.

“I do not know all of the details or what the police find difficult to believe about the fall. What I do know is that Samuel was a bastard,” you speak firmly, holding eye contact with all the conviction you can muster. Vincent looks back, face unmoving.

“And why was he, as you say, a bastard?” he asks, thumbs running up and down the paper. You shift your weight and step forward. Vincent is forced to tilt his face upwards to maintain eye contact with you. He waits.

“Did you ever meet him?” you look down into Vincent’s face, intense and searching. He inhales deeply as his eyes traverse your face. Pupils flickering.

“Oui,” he admits, “once, or twice. A long time ago.” You lean down a little further, face coming closer to his own. You can feel his exhale on your face, ghostly wisps of air.

“Then you will already know that he was a bastard.” You hold his gaze, ensuring that the words hold enough weight to your satisfaction. Once content, you break away, turning to your haphazardly packed bag that lies at the foot of the other sofa.

“I’m taking this couch, by the way. Hope you’re ok with that,” you add rhetorically, not looking for a response. You hear Vincent shuffle a little behind you, placing down the papers.

“Yes, that is fine by me.” You hear him pull a blanket off the back of his sofa. You keep your back to him as you open your bag and pull out an old university t-shirt for your pyjamas. Still, you do not turn as you unbutton your shirt and throw it to the side, replacing it with the t-shirt. Yet, you turn to look at him before slipping off your trousers.

Vincent lies upon the sofa, blanket over his body as he faces you. His eyes flicker listlessly over you, seemingly without much control. The colour of his cheeks undecipherable in the darkness, the fire reduced to smoke. You turn away again and unbutton the waists, letting the pair drop to the floor. You step out of them and pull a blanket off of the back of your sofa.

You lie down and draw the blanket over yourself. You lie so that you face Vincent, whose vision continues to be dusky and unsettled. “Goodnight, Vincent. I hope you enjoyed the Merlot tonight,” you quip into the dark, only catching the glinting whites of his eyes.

A brief silence follows, and so you turn over to face the couch. You settle your head into the decorative cushion and exhale slowly. Eyelashes almost brushing the material.

“I enjoyed having a drink with you.” Vincent utters gently into the silence. He clears his throat in the following quiet.

You hear a similar shuffling, him finding a comfy position to lie in. You let his statement be the last word.

The tension only melts when sleep takes over.

…

The dummy makes a dull sickening thud as it collides with the shed, slithering onto the wet ground.

There are people standing at the top of the balcony, looking down over the pulley system which repeatedly throws the human form off the edge, and jerks it back up again for another go.

Vincent is on top of everything again. Surveying the scene, making sure they’re being good to the house, to Sandra. Asking ‘is this really necessary?’ or challenging a decision to photograph Daniel’s bedroom. He is protective, more than a proactive lawyer.

They pull the dummy up again, discussing it in their little group. ‘Yes, the head did collide off the corner but that does not account for this injury…’ and ‘there are discrepancies between the angle of the window frame and his collision with the shed…’ and ‘the marks on his skull allude to a blow more like this…’.

Marsha and Sandra were unable to force Daniel to stay away from the house whilst these experiments were being done. The boy had cited a fear of going alone to take Snoop for a walk, considering what had happened the last time. So he settled somewhere in the house, no doubt listening to the repetitive thumps of a dead weight beating the earth. The replicated sound of his father’s body meeting death.

You found yourself without a purpose, having made three cups of tea in the past hour alone. You had tried to write whilst all the commotion went on but achieved little. Sandra was determined to oversee her household, appearing stoic but frequently giving in to confusion and panic. You texted Salomé under the table, reassuring her of your whereabouts when she came back to an empty apartment.

The time dragged on as the house, Sandra and the fall were scrutinised bit by bit. The anatomy of it all laid bare and vulnerable. And heavy with suspicion and concern, it was.

…

It was a good week of this before they decided to conclude with the results they had recorded.

After a week, a meeting summoned you back to the city. You promised Sandra you would come back in a bit to see how everything was. That she was to call you if the investigation proceeded any further. She had nodded, eyelids heavy and her expression set, save for a small smile and accompanying squeeze of your hand.

Vincent watched you from afar, employing a new habit of standing at the opposite side of the room to you. In a thick, knitted jumper and hands shoved in his pockets, he looked you up and down as you said your goodbyes to Sandra. After a hug, you glanced over to him and met his gaze.

“When will you be heading back to the city?” you ask, picking up your scarf and arranging it around your neck. He shrugs, woolly shoulders jutting up to his ears.

“I am unsure,” Vincent begins, “possibly in the next day or so. The police may return again so I have to be near. They’re already making conclusions, and they’re being incredibly heavy handed about it.” He tries to keep his body language open, cooperative.

His eyes follow the winding material at your throat. You smile plainly. The cold air outside muffles the windows.

“Of course,” you say, “you are very dedicated.”

Sandra laughs at the expression upon his face, Vincent’s cheeks giving in easily to the rush of blood. He chuckles in response to his own reaction, tugging the sleeves of his jumper up his lean forearms. Vincent ducks his head as he approaches you.

“Do you have much writing to get back to?” Vincent ventures, “I presume you will be equally occupied.” His adam’s apple bobs under his pinkened throat. Tendons stretching into the collar of his expensive jumper. He reminds you of a nervous boy in a man’s body. Out of his element. You want to see him in court. You want to see him in his territory.

You smile wider, trying to catch Sandra’s eye, but find that she has turned away in favour of tidying the kitchen counter. Turning the labels of the jars, bottles, boxes of food items so that they face away from her. You look back and Vincent’s eyes glint.

“There’s always more writing to get back to,” you quip, meeting his gaze with a grin, “and you never really stop. I’m always writing - in my head.”

Vincent’s shoulders jump with a small laugh and he nods, bobbing his head in understanding. The conversation stalls quietly, the ticking clock in the empty kitchen becoming the primary sound.

“If you need me to transcribe anything for you, or write out any documents for your records or anything really,” you find yourself saying before your brain can catch up with you, “let me know. I want to help you out.” You smile restlessly, tucking a loose lock of hair behind your ear.

Vincent arches an eyebrow, somewhat taken aback. Sandra turns away from her food rearranging and looks to you in an amused surprise. A sparkle coming back to her eyes.

“With Sandra’s case, that is. I want to make sure you have more than enough hands for everything that’s happening,” you add, glancing between Vincent and Sandra. His face visibly warms and he nods again. Sandra’s eyes crinkle with mirth.

“That is a very kind offer, thank you,” Vincent says, “there is not much to do at the moment until the police conclude their findings but I will keep you in mind.” His eyes search earnestly into yours, trying to communicate his gentle gratitude.

Keep you in mind. One could only hope.

You blush lightly, and without having anything else to say, you duck your head in an awkward bow and reach for the door. As you descend the steps, you hear Sandra call from behind you, “Have a safe drive, liebe! Send my love to Salomé. I hope to see you in the city soon, we can write together.”

You turn and grin, waving your hand, “I will see you soon, Sandra! You will be a free woman soon,” you promise, eyelids fluttering under the bright sky.

Sandra laughs through the doorway, the shifting figure of Vincent disappearing behind her. As the door closes and you settle into your battered car, you continue to hear her laughter in your ears.

Flying towards the city, both your hands on the wheel, the atmosphere feels light but heady. It was a sign of things to come.

It would only be the very next morning that Sandra would be charged with the murder of her husband. The evidence stilted and accusatory.

The court beckoned.

——————

[powderblueblood]

got thinking about my monkeys paw edlacy au where they become successful professionals in new york (eddie, the founder of necromancer records; lacy, a fran lebowitz-type social commentator and sometimes new yorker columnist) but call off their engagement and end up acting like bitter divorcees (hate fucking and jealousy lmao)

and ended up banging this out idk

pairing: eddie munson x f!oc, written in second person immersive (you/yours)

wc: actually cba to check. it’s short

warnings: p in v, unprotected, office sex, hate fucking sort of, spit kink (m receiving)

eddie has your legs butterflied on a desk you’d wasted no time in insulting the second you walked through the door.

‘where’d you find this? a beer hall? this looks like it has about as much structural integrity as that piece of shit driftwood throne you used to sit on in high school—‘

but he’d swallowed your words with a hurried, ‘pipe down and open up, doevski,’ insisting on his tongue down your throat. a rendezvous like this (that shouldn’t be happening—you’d given the ring back, why are they still happening) require an awareness of his peripherals, so out of the corner of his eye, he can see where you’d neatly hung your skirt over the arm of his office sofa. it’s custom YSL, gifted from the last mucky magazine to-do you’d done, and it was too good to let him tear it off you. your panties were a different story, the shredded remnants of them now rucked up around your waist.

“why don’t you ever come by anymore?” eddie asks between breathless thrusts, mesmerised by your tits bouncing out of your unbuttoned blouse. god, he loves you like this. smart-rail me-casual. he should have asked you to bring a ruler to spank him with, but you would’ve liked that too much and he can’t acquiesce to you completely.

what with you being exes.

“i don’t come,” you gasp, entertaining his bullshit line of thinking, “by anymore because this is hostile territory. one of your little record company groupies called me a prep cunt the last time i was here. and she spat on me.”

a guttural sound gets coaxed out of eddie, and the flash of offense across your face is just too good. the thought of you getting verbally assaulted by some necromancer records acolyte isn’t a jolt to the balls (his fans are rabid and learned and hate you, vocally)—thinking of how angry that must’ve made you is. your cunt reflexively tightens around him and his jaw tightens back.

“if the stupid red bottom shoe fits—“

“—yes, but i could live without the spitting, eddie—“

“fuck, don’t say my name. yet.”

it’d be punishment if he didn’t live to have you choking him out like this.

“hol—hold on, this you sayin’ you’re not into spitting anymore?” he grits out, throbbing like a fucking injury inside of you. eddie’s hoping he leaves handprints where those flimsy webbed panties used to sit on your hips.

a blowback of a laugh leaves your mouth, and eddie wants to shove it back in with his tongue, but you grab the back of his head. “that you saying please?”

you tug; he tilts. he whines before he can stop it. god, he hates you—god, he needs this before he’s got to spend the rest of the day listening to shitty demo tapes.

“please,” he breathes.

you grin like the viper you are—so he promises himself to fuck you so hard that you’ll feel it from the time you struggle to walk out of his office to the time you sit on letterman’s guest chair later. social commentator. cultural critic. know-it-all bitch. love of his life.

“please, lace.” his poor, ragged mouth—the way you grab at his chin almost looks sympathetic, how raptured you are by his desperation. you can’t deny it, he knows that. he appeals to your fragile ego, you box his boisterous one down…

and say things like, “open wide, eddie.”

[ruthlesslistener]

guestion for Takhanobou: do you wish something in your life had gone differently?

Takhanobou jerks at the sound of an unusual voice eminating from an unknown area, and turns his massive head towards you, angling it so that his good eye can stare suspiciously at you. He lets out a hard whuff of breath through his nostrils, pupil constricting, and then looks helplessly to the white dragon draped over his tail when the words aren't forthcoming.

The long mass of feathers and scales lazily lifts his head, and Theodonalus translates his words into the common tongue as Takhanobou begins to speak, his voice like the growl of an erupting volcano, deep and resonant and alien to your ears. The golden eyes of the white dragon remain fixed upon you as he speaks, while Takhanobou shifts uncomfortably and breaks his gaze, tucking his legs under him as he does so.

"Many things I wish to be different. To have steady prey, to have hatchmates I could name as kin, to not have hatched at all. To be better, stronger, faster. To be able to understand that others were not enemies, and to have not slain my hatchmate when I challenged him. To have made my mother proud."

The words are slow and cumbersome. He huffs again, a great expulsion of breath, and then lays his head down by his feet. The air above his nostrils shimmers with heat- a threat aimed more towards himself than at you.

"Now, however, I know better. I wish that I had been raised by a better mother. I wish that I had been reared by someone who cared for me, instead of what I could become. But that is not something that can be changed. It is better to think of the present, and not to lose yourself in pointless dreams."

He turns his head away to tuck his nose under his wing, signaling that the conversation has come to an end. Theodonalus twists his head about to rest his narrow snout in the crook of Takhanobou's hind leg, and with the rapturous gaze of the two drakes taken off of you, you sense that the conversation has come to an end.

OC ask game

[carrionhearted]

Good evening, ghost recorder! (Welcome to the personal blog)

Shiloh/ Sydney, He/Him

Very literally Sydney Sargent /srs

🌿 Art Main: @museofthepyre

🪱 Vulture Culture blog: @breathing-rapture

🌒 Secret other blog: @museoftheprophet (it’s… fictionkin but worse. Sydney O Sargent. Agony.)

Autistic!! Special interests= Vulture Culture, Camp Here & There, R!TGO, and writing/ my OCs.

Fandoms/ Interests: Camp Here & There, Vulture Culture, Repo! The Genetic Opera, Rob Zombie’s Firefly Trilogy, NBC Hannibal, Horror movies in general, The Magnus Archives, writing (I write queer horror, I torment my OCS), mortuary science, theology, Will Wood, and… more.

Fun facts: When they autopsy me they will find thousands of worms where my organs should be. They will find mushrooms where my bone marrow should be. That is, if they find the body at all! I have many secret diseases and am dying slowly from them (chronic illness my beloathed). I spend most of my able free time in the middle of the woods. I love identifying mystery bones, send me pictures of your mystery bone finds, I will identify them.

In light of recent events, in case it somehow needs to be stated, do not use and or claim MY IRL PHOTOS (or art) to be yours. Thanks.

[the12thnightproject]

Chapter 44: A Better Offer - The Winter’s Solstice brings with it a new offer for Katsuko.

Mitsuhide x OC; Hideyoshi x MC (Mai)

All Chapters Archived on Ao3 

Logline - With Mai, Hideyoshi, and Aki missing, Mitsuhide and Katsuko reluctantly team up. Disguised as a merchant and his concubine, can they outsmart the man known as the God of Deceit?

Warnings - M rated chapter, minors DNI

The weather forecasters were correct after all. When we left the hospital (after a very awkward conversation with the police – thankfully smoothed over by Shingen’s fast-talking), the early evening had ushered in a cold front and a thunder snow squall that was probably sending meteorologists into raptures across the country. By the time I returned to the Mikumos’ house, it was snowing pretty steadily.

Sasuke suggested I spend the night in his place, guessing accurately that I was upset, and inaccurately that I would want company. But with Aki once again AWOL (this time voluntarily) I had some decisions to make… but only after allowing myself an evening of indulgence that included putting the turquoise streaks back into my hair, eating an entire bag of potato sticks, then for the grand finale:

Solo K-Pop Dance Party.

The Mikumos might be thoroughly enmeshed in the past, but they did at least own a flat screened television (that I imagined was only used to watch serious academic documentaries, TED talks, and historical dramas that would be highly critiqued for inaccuracies). I felt no guilt over polluting it with K-pop videos. The bands had changed in the years I had been gone, and the dance steps had gotten more complicated (far beyond Gangnam style), but I’d spent seven years in the Sengoku honing my martial arts and parkour skills. I could manage a few dance steps, right?

And even if I couldn’t, no one would ever know.

Nearly an hour later, I’d taken out my filial angst on a makeshift dance floor, singing as loudly as possible (if I didn’t know the lyrics, I made them up), stomping my feet, whipping my newly dyed hair and –

Bang Bang Bang

Could my conception of ‘loud’ could be trusted after seven years in feudal Japan? As the pounding on the front door continued, I hurried to the entry, prepared to beg the pardon of an irate neighbor. With an apologetic smile already on my face and a concessions speech on my lips, I opened the do –

Mitsuhide stood before me, flakes of snow decorating his kimono, and his hair backlit by the neighbor’s Christmas lights.

What? How?

“How did you –“

He stopped my words with one finger pressed against my lips. “Let me go first.”

Like I could stop him. Since his finger was still warm on my mouth, I nodded.

“You were already there.”

Where? Is that supposed mean something?

He took my hand and placed it on his chest… over his heart. “You thought there was no room for you, but in fact you’d already moved in. You’d filled every chamber with your mouth and your rebellions and your passions until I couldn’t turn around without tripping over another thing that I loved about you.”

BSOD

I couldn’t think of anything to say – which was probably for the best, because he crushed me to his chest in a hug so tight I thought we would fuse together. His fingers tangled in my hair, hair that was still damp from my post-dye shower, then he answered the question that had been in my head for the past month. “I believed I didn’t deserve-“

I pulled myself free. “Me? I ought to leave you out here to freeze for such a stupidly clichéd-“

“Deserve to be happy. Hideyoshi already gave me the self-sacrifice lecture, so you can spare your breath.” Then, as if he too had run out of words, he folded himself into me, his arms tight, his hands clutching my waist, breathing me in.

We stayed there, motionless, while once again, my brain struggled to compute the concept of a warlord where I had not expected a warlord to be, and my body opted out of the debate altogether and relaxed into his embrace, and heartbeat, and the scent of sandalwood and cinnamon. I was already there. I am already here.

Finally, the December wind that brought the snow and Mitsuhide to my door intruded with a gust that reminded me we were standing out in the open. I tugged him backward, into the shelter of the house, and secured the door behind him. “I have… many many questions.” Almost too many to organize my thoughts. And my body was just humming along, that prickly sensation of nerves now buzzing along, just overall basking in his presence.

“I expect you do, but again, Brat… Love, let me go first.” He waved his hand toward the back of the house, where the soundtrack of my prior mood played on. “What is that rather painful noise?”

Oh come on, it’s K-pop not death metal. “Music.”

Because at some point he had grabbed my hands, I let him keep them and led him into the living room.

He surveyed the television with curiosity, while I adjusted the volume to low… and after a moment of thought, changed to a satellite radio station that played Japanese classical music. “Better?”

“It will do. I imagine I shall find the progression of culture… interesting.” He took a cell phone out of his kimono, an unusually glittery pink one with a designer pattern on it. The charger cord dangled from the port. “Mai gave me this communication device, with detailed instructions on how to, er, charge and employ it.” He patted the front of his clothing and it crackled with the sound of paper. “And amongst your things, I found a note from Kenshin’s ninja with his ‘cell phone number’ on it and the time and location of the nearest wormhole.”

That’s right. Winter solstice. Honno-ji. Thundersnow.

Ah… I could figure out the rest. After landing in Honni-ji, he’d probably contacted Sasuke and… hm. I looked around the room, and located my own cell, which had been haphazardly flung into the sofa cushion during my dance party. Yep. Missed a text from Sasuke. It had only one word: Incoming. Followed by an eggplant emoji. “Why?”

“Surely you have worked that part out on your own.” He abandoned his examination of the room and pulled me back into his arms. “You are generally more perceptive than that.”

“I want to hear you say it.” I had not expected to hear an ‘I love you’ from him, but now that he was in front of me, I found those three words to be important.

His laugh warmed my ear. “If my memory serves me correctly, I have yet to hear an explicit declaration from you as well.”

“I didn’t think you wanted to hear that.” Not from me.

“As it happens, I find I do.” He tipped my chin up so that he could stare directly into my eyes, as if willing me to speak.

Are we actually arguing over who was going to say ‘I love you’ first?

I was about to offer a count of three simultaneous compromise when he laughed again. “You’re adorable when you’re being stubborn. I’m aware that there’s a part of you that would like me to suffer-“

“I didn’t say tha-“

“Do you still plan to argue with everything I say?”

I considered. “Possibly.”

“Then I’ll have to discover ways to keep your mouth better occupied. This should do it.” He swooped in for a hard and fast kiss, his behavior revealing the desperation I had never gotten from his spoken words. When I was breathless and holding onto him for balance, he whispered. “I love you. I must, for I’ve ceded the high ground and said it first.” He traced the outline of my lips with his finger.

“I love you.” Adding the ‘too’ seemed like it would cheapen my own response. “There is no high ground. Just…” I swirled my hand in the air. “This.”

There was absolutely high ground and we’d likely be jockeying for it for the rest of – “Er, what is next?” Had he come here to live with me in the modern world? Did he come here to take me to Azuchi? This time, I was not against the idea.

He dipped lower, and nibbled the corner of my mouth. “Hm, some of this.” I received another bone-melting kiss. “A bit of this as well.” His hand skimmed over my hip. “I don’t believe I’ll ever want to stop touching you.”

He hadn’t been this urgent, this – almost needy - that night in Sakai. If he had been holding back then, he was not doing so now. I could say that I was more than happy to put my thoughts away for the time being, but the truth of the matter was, they had already fled on their own accord, leaving the rest of me to enjoy the sensation of being sandwiched between Mitsuhide and the wall. “Don’t stop touching me.”

“Your time seems to require a rather excessive number of layers.” He snagged the top of the zipper of my hoodie, and easily figured out how to use it, pulling it down until the hollow of my throat was visible. “Ah, clever this…?”

“Zipper. And no one in this time is require to wear a sixteen layer court kimono.” Because he was taking too long with it, I shrugged out of my hoodie. All I had on underneath was a simple t-shirt and pajama pants that I had intended to sleep in.

“I wasn’t aware that you’d ever been required to wear an imperial kimono either, so the point is moot. And…” He dipped closer to whisper in my ear. “You are arguing again. I shall have to see if I can-“ he bit my earlobe, grazing it with both tongue and teeth, “do something about…” then a hard kiss just under my ear that coaxed a moan from my throat. “That will do nicely.”

He was doing it again. Falling into that pattern of controlled teasing. Granted, I was probably inviting it with my words. As much as I enjoyed these debates – this wasn’t how I wanted things now, not in this moment. I wanted him to lose control. To lose as much as I did.

So when he paused to breathe, while I still had the willpower to do so, I put my hand across his mouth, then ducked away. “Catch me!”

While he was processing that, I scooted past him, knowing that the surprise, my knowledge of the house’s layout, and speed would give me the advantage.

When he reached the bedroom, just a few seconds after me, I tackled him to the bed.

“I was under the impression that I was required to catch you.” He didn’t otherwise protest when I undid his obi and pushed his kimono aside. His body was no less beautiful for being nicked and scarred by various battles, all lean tight muscle that I’d not had a chance to admire last time.

“I lied.” Straddling him, I quickly yanked the shirt over my head, then grabbed his shoulders, hugging him, letting our bodies slide across each other. “Just so you know. This is where the begging starts.”

“You must be aware I could …. reverse this… situation in a moment, should I… desire.” His voice was huskier than normal, and the breathlessness between the words suggested he was ok with the way things were at the moment.

“I know.” I tugged on his hair, just a little. “So I am asking you to take everything you want, except – control.” Though I was still wearing pajama pants, I ground myself against him, and he hardened instantly.

Instead of fighting, or teasing, both of which I had expected him to do, he surprised me by holding me closer, hugging me to his chest. “It seems more apologies are in order.” For a long moment he was quiet, stroking me hair. It felt even more intimate than what we had been doing just a few seconds before. “That night in Sakai. I made you feel as if you were indeed the prostitute you were pretending to be. It was not intentional, but intentions don’t matter. Only the hurt.”

“You didn’t.” I angled my head to look at him directly. “You treated yourself like you were the prostitute.”

His eyes widened and I could see the moment my words registered as truth. He touched his forehead to mine. “I am not comfortable with seeking my own happiness.” His cheeks had reddened somewhat – that might have been the only tell that I had finally found an emotional core. “Knowing that I could bring you to pleasure was enough.”

“Can you credit that I might feel the same way? Or at least that I want things to be a little bit more,” I thought for a moment, trying to find the right word, “balanced.”

He took my hand in his, linking our fingers into a basket. “It seems I am still learning, or perhaps, understanding, more about you.”

“I’m not asking you to completely stop teasing me.” Left unsaid was the fact that I was unlikely to stop fighting with him either. “I can’t deny that it’s fun. Sometimes.”

My comment immediately brought back his smirk. “Hm, yes I did notice that at times you highly appreciate it. I was not aware your voice could reach that pitch.”

I let that one go – given that I’d basically thrown him a fast ball up the middle. “As long as you’re not using it to hide.”

“My automatic response would be to say fair enough.” He closed his eyes and was quite for a long moment. “However I have enough self-knowledge to admit it isn’t something I can easily stop.”

“Take it from someone who has acquired a fair number of physical skills. That, is why we practice.” Then I took the initiative to kiss him first again. We could just see where this ended up going.

Where it went was a short kiss that led to another tiny kiss. Kiss after kiss like a swarm of bright fireflies. Each a little slower and longer until they converged and extended into one deep kiss as he half rolled on top of me and fused his mouth to mine. Still, I was the one setting the pace. It was I who opened my mouth to him first, and my tongue that eagerly encouraged his.

Kissing, touching, we had given each other permission to explore our bodies. I wanted to map out every battle scar I found, pressing a light kiss on each one, knowing that the worst of them were invisible.

I traced a long slash that traveled down his hip, taking the opportunity to remove the rest of his clothes. “Katana?”

“Mm, yes. If I recall correctly, Kyubei half-carried me off the battlefield that afternoon.” When I made a move to kiss the wound, he stopped me. “Careful. I have no major objection to the direction this is taking, but right now I want your face next to mine. Please.”

Ok then. Since he had asked nicely, and since I did want to see his face too, I crawled back up his body. “Hello again.”

He rolled fully on top of me and I reveled in his hot weight pushing me down into the mattress as he poured his desire into a kiss. I don’t know what exactly was the key that had unlocked his desperation, but I rejoiced in the power of knowing that this, this at last, was for me. I wrapped my leg across his, trying to pull him closer. “I take it you approve, Brat?”

“Yes, please.” If that was begging, I didn’t care anymore. His need, the sharpness and frantic movements, yes please.

His sweat slick body glided over mine, as he settled between my legs, not to thrust inside, apparently not yet, but his erection sliding across me set those firefly sparks humming along every nerve ending.

“So perfectly formed.” His mouth latched onto my breast, sucking just hard enough that I shrieked and tugged his hair again.

Each tiny flick of his tongue had me arching against him. My hands, fingers, dug into his shoulders and he continued to lavish attention on my breasts. Each time I thought I’d hit the point where I couldn’t stand it any longer, he would switch to the other breast and the cycle would begin again.

“I could dine on you all day. And night.” His words were rough. Short. He’d lost that slightly removed from things smoothness that usually categorized his speech. I could believe that in this, he wasn’t trying to please me, he truly wanted to keep the taste of me in his mouth, on his tongue, a tongue that usually noticed no flavor.

If he did that, I’d probably pass out from overstimulation. I poked his forehead lightly and just pointed to my lips.

He laughed. “As you wish.” Then his mouth was on mine again.

As the infinite kiss continued, our bodies naturally came closer together, His hand rested on my hip, leisurely drifting to between my legs. I was so close…

“You did claim the high ground.” The murmur was soft in my ear, before he flipped onto his back, the movement carrying me over. In no time, he guided me on top of him. I was already so wet that it was easy to take his length inside.

For a moment, I didn’t move – I looked down at his face, those sharp cheekbones softened slightly by his blush, and that amber gaze warmed by affection, by love. That snarky knowing grin now replaced by a smile. Oh I knew that the wicked tease was still in there, and I knew there would be many times that I would welcome that man into me as well, just as I knew that there would be many times that he would purposefully bait my internal rebel.

But for the moment, both of those people had stepped aside – our worst impulses had been tamed, as we found a new rhythm, mutual sighs and groans signaling that we had tamed each other.

Later…

I awoke from a semi-daze as something feathery tickled my nose. I opened my eyes to discover it was a lock of my own hair. “Oh. For an instant, I thought you had brought one of those peacock feathers through the wormhole.”

“I did not. However if that is something that would be of interest, I’m certain your time has birds, does it not?” From the expression on his face, I understood that to mean that if he could find a feather, he would tease me with it everywhere, and the thought made my nerves zing with a ‘sounds fun, let’s try that.’ He laughed. “I take it that’s a yes.”

“I could be persuaded.” I batted his hand away though when he swooped in with another tickle.

“Interesting shade your hair has become.” He held it up to the light, and the turquoise streaks looked brighter in the glow of the hundred watt bulb.

“It’s temporary. Should wash out in a couple of weeks.” I’d learned my lesson from the last time – even though there would no longer be a Fume ready to chop my hair off. Not everyone appreciates bright blue-green streaks. Which, reminded me… I still needed to clean up the bathroom. I’d left it looking like a slaughter on the Vulcan home world.

“It suits you somehow. Hints at a bit of chaos below the surface.” He linked his hand with mine, then lifted our hands up to the light. “Or more accurately, it warns of the chaos.”

“That’s not fair.” I poked him with my free hand. “I always had a reason and a logic behind everything that I did.” Even if sometimes that reason was to provoke him. Still counts, right?

“I stand corrected. I might not have always agreed with what that logic was, but I cannot claim you were completely heedless.” He was quiet a moment, long enough to pause for me to recognize he was holding something back.

Taking the opportunity to toss his favorite words at him, I asked, “What aren’t you telling me?”

“One of those dark moments of self-reflection – acknowledging that your calculated risks allow for a high degree of that risk to your person than I am comfortable with, because I don’t like seeing you in danger… which was followed by the knowledge that I have and likely will take greater chances with my own safety.”

“We could take them together.” Before he could immediate reject that, I added, “Remember, you got two for one with me. Well, now that you’ve taught me how to pick locks, you get a concubine, a spy and a thief all in one person. Really, I should ask for a raise.”

“If you move your hand a bit lower, you’ll find one.” While I was still deciding whether to react to the pun, he guided my hand to his shaft, and when I lightly stroked him, I received an enthusiastic twitch in response. I should have guessed that he’d have excellent powers of recovery. “In all seriousness am I to understand that you do wish to return the next time the wormhole makes it possible?”

“In about a month, it should be possible, and yes, I had planned to go back with… er, Sasuke.” Hm, perhaps not the best idea to mention that Shingen had offered me a job.

Of course Mitsuhide, being Mitsuhide, noticed my hesitation, and immediately rolled on top of me. With one hand, he easily pinned my wrists over my head. “You’re hiding something.”

“Many things, probably, but-“ my words ended on a squeak when he started nibbling on my throat playfully, then tickled inside of my elbow, the one place I am vulnerable. In moments, I was squirming and laughing hopelessly. “Stop. Stop. I swear if this is the secret of your interrogation techniques, then I want to watch the next time you – eek!” He’d swiped the spot with his tongue.

“I seem to recall you telling me that you’re not ticklish.”

“I lied about that too.”

No escape now. Even though I tried to roll away, he had me cornered. “I believe I have not yet received an explanation, Brat.”

“Oooh. Downgraded back to brat.” I didn’t actually mind the nickname, but there was no way I would let him know that.

“I do mean it in the most affectionate of ways. Now. Stop trying to divert my attention. What. Aren’t. You. Telling. Me?” Each word was punctuated by a kiss.

“So, um, well, Sasuke is actually here with Takeda Shingen.” There was no surprise on his face. Huh. I guess he’d already known that. “And he offered me a job. I was thinking of seeing if I could upgrade that to an apprenticeship, and then, at some point, when I think I am ready, I would take over Aki’s network.” I mean, he’s got a network in every timeline, I suppose, and I would be taking away some of his workload. Besides… technically, I stand to inherit the family business someday anyway.

Mitsuhide stared down at me. “You are a terrifying woman. If I didn’t love you so much, I would be thoroughly intimidated.” No he wouldn’t. But it was nice to hear him say it. “I do hope you have abandoned this idea.”

“Make me a better offer.” It was a bluff since I hadn’t really had a chance to counter-offer Shingen’s initial job offer, but I’m certain he would have agreed.

“I offer this…” He kissed me long and slow, powerfully moving his lips over mine, this time demanding a response. When I was gasping and breathless he continued, “And this –“

He brushed his hand down the side of my body, all the way past my hips. For one tantalizing moment, he kept it there, just long enough to warm my inner thigh…

… then he drifted upward, long, lazy strokes … he’d already learned my body so well that he knew just how much pressure and rhythm would have me arching off the bed and pressing up into him.

“But, most importantly, my love,” he gazed down at me, amber-gold eyes glistening with something I didn’t recognize, something I had never seen from him, “you may have my heart. All of it. To do with as you wish.”

I couldn’t speak – only nod, and he squeezed me tighter as he slowly pushed inside me again. Less frantic. More wondering… exploring this new world.

We moved together, reveling in each other’s touch, in that oh you are here… it’s you… it’s me… it’s us… something different.

Wait, who is crying? Were those tears? His tears were more frightening than his anger, frightening in a ‘with great power comes great responsibility’ kind of way, but I never planned to run from him again. I hadn’t thought it possible, but I loved him more in that moment than ever before.

It’s ok. I’m here.

Our extended, intimate embrace finally crested and crashed into the night, then softly drifted into a cozy warmth. We were home.

The sound of snow against the window woke me just before sunrise. Mitsuhide was still asleep – not in that vampiric pose (I knew that had been just to freak me out), but on his side, arm flung over his face… oh, we never had managed to turn off the light. I got up and did so, not that it mattered as a soft glow from outside infused the room.

With a sudden urge for a glass of water, I pulled on my pajamas, then as I turned to leave the room, something crinkled under my foot. I had stepped on Mitsuhide’s kimono, which had somehow been flung to this side of the room.

What was crackling though? Sounded like paper. I knelt to see, and found Mai’s instructions. Curious to know what she would tell someone who was about to suddenly go into the future, I started to pick it up, then paused. Mitsuhide and I had both read each other’s mail before, and I doubted he would care if I read this letter. However, for my own sanity, I needed to stop being afraid of what Mai meant to him. I set it on the edge of the bed for him, then picked up his clothes, folded them, and put them on the bed too.

When I caught sight of the fat snowflakes swirling across the garden. I upgraded my plan for a cup of water to a cup of hot tea, and once it was ready, I settled on the couch to watch it pile up outside.

I could hear Mitsuhide padding around upstairs, but I figured if he needed help finding anything (or how to work them) he would call for me. I wasn’t ignoring him, or anything. It was just that I was pleasantly sore all over and at present too comfortable to move.

Indeed, when Mitsuhide did emerge, he was already dressed and holding the turquoise robe. “Yoshimoto gave me the things you’d left at Genba.” He smiled as I shrugged myself into it. “It pleases me to see you so happy in something I had made for you.”

“Do you want breakfast? Or tea?” There was still plenty of hot water in the kettle. But when I made a move to get up, he shook his head.

“Not at present.” He looked over the couch with the curious eye of someone cataloging the future, before scooting in behind me. In one fluid motion, he’d lifted me onto his lap, without spilling a drop of my tea.

We sat there, completely comfortable, watching the snow sweep through the garden. The neighbor’s Christmas lights were (of course) still on, glowing softly against the growing drifts. There would be things to figure out later, but for the moment it was to just sit here, and zen out at the sight and sound of snow, in the warmth of each other’s presence.

He put his hands on my feet. “You never remember your socks.”

“Well, I had meant to come back to bed after I got a cup of water, but- oh, you don’t have to do.” Too late to protest. He’d taken off his socks and put them on my feet.

“I told you before. I don’t feel cold like some people.” He gave my toes, now warming up in the soft material, a little tweak.

I wiggled my feet inside the socks. “Probably ought to at some point get you some modern clothing. Or at least a coat and boots.”

“Hm, that was in fact included on Mai’s list. She thought I should go shopping first and appear at your door dressed in a, hm, what did she call it, a nice designer suit.” He shifted around, then handed me the letter. “I must admit to some disappointment that you didn’t even attempt to read this one. Is the mystery already gone in our relationship?” He punctuated the teasing with a light kiss under my ear.

 “Um, technically, I read Aki’s mail, not yours, Mr. I-Kept-a-Letter-for-weeks.” Did I want to probe his feelings for Mai? Now? When we were feeling so cozy and relaxed?

“Your ability to rationalize matters never ceases to astound me.” His arms snaked around my waist as he held the letter open. Even without reading it, I could see that it was indeed a list of how-tos and instructions, complete with very detailed drawings. In her how to recharge the phone, she’d even drawn a map to where the most likely free outlets would be with little tab A/slot B arrows to demonstrate what went where.

There was even a little Sasuke chibi answering his phone, with his familiar expression of blank-face intent, but a thought bubble over his head revealing his inner fanboy was nerding out over a call from Mitsuhide.

Wow. I had known Mai was a good designer, but I had not been aware that translated so well to her drawing skills. “She’s very good.”

“Indeed. Were she not only the Azuchi chatelaine but also a seamstress, I could use her as a scout.” He set his chin on my shoulder.

“No, you wouldn’t endanger her like that. She’s too precious.” Easier to approach the question from the side.

“True. Hideyoshi would very likely dismantle me for the thought.”

Agreed, but that wasn’t what I meant. “To you.”

“My love, you may someday acquire the skills of a very good interrogator, but not yet, and for the purposes of this conversation, you will have better luck simply asking me what you want to know.” He softened the statement by pulling me backward until I was resting on his chest. He brought his hand up and began smoothing out my hair.

“Are you in love with her?” It seemed I had the ability to ask that after all.

“Dear me, haven’t I just spent the past night proving that it’s you I love?” That… didn’t exactly answer my question, something he must have immediately realized, for he continued, “Mai is very loveable and she awakened feelings I didn’t not know I was still capable of. I also believed that the Iife I led required a sacrifice. But in the end, I discovered that the person I could not sacrifice was you. I’d rather condemn my soul to darkness than give up even one more day with you.”

Where to begin to unpack that? I’d wished for reassurance, and gotten an entire monologue. “I don’t really agree that you’re the dark side, but thank you for being willing to face it.” I hoped he knew now that he’d never have to face it alone. It wouldn’t just be me helping him face it. It was clear that Hideyoshi and Mai would also be at his side.

Idly I flipped to the next page of Mai’s instructions, in which a cartoon labelled ‘Grand Romantic Gesture’ portrayed chibi Mitsuhide, wearing a modern suit, kneeling in front of a chibi version of myself. He held jewelry sized gift box in his hands. “She has very specific ideas about romance, but I’m more than happy with the lockpick set.” And with him. To punctuate that, I gave him a kiss.

“Dear me, that is rather a disappointment, for I do have another gift for you – however, it’s waiting in Sakai.” I caught a rather unusual amount of repressed emotion in his tone, and wondered at it.

I knew him well enough to know there was no use asking for details, although… “What would you have done if I’d said I planned to stay here?”

“Gone back in time to Sakai, picked up your present, and brought it to you at the next available opportunity.” He tapped on his lips with his finger. “Because it is a very good gift, if I do say so myself.”

Almost, I asked if it was a pony, but… that had been a private joke between myself and Aki. Which reminded me. “Aki’s gone again.” While I was safely cocooned in his arms, sheltered from my father’s actions, I brought Mitsuhide up to date with what had happened after I disappeared from Genba.

“When you and Iekane went over the edge-“ He trailed off, then rested his face on my shoulder. I could feel a tremor go through him, and that told me more than words could. That this man, known for his cool, dispassionate conversation, could be at a loss for words, was humbling. Maybe no words were necessary anyway. I closed my eyes and breathed him for a while.

Eventually he asked me. “Are you upset that he left you here?”

“More angry that he didn’t leave a note… but I sort of expected him to leave. It’s what he does.” And now that I knew there was only one of Aki, and he was trying to keep several Katsus alive, to prevent several Hikos from being murdered, to find several Toshiies and trying to keep an unknown number of timelines from crashing into each other… I understood.

But he still could have left me a damn note.

“I can’t promise that I’ll never have to leave you behind – temporarily – but I promise I will always come back.” His voice was so quiet I could barely hear him.

“You could always take Katsu with you.”

“We shall discuss that later.”

“Oh, you can be sure of that.”

Artwork by Butterfly n'' Lace: https://www.facebook.com/butterflynlace

@lorei-writes @selenacosmic @bestbryn @lyds323 @akitsuneswife @tele86

[dreamlostdevourer]

The Origin Of A Name.

cw: doll vore, descriptions of vore, predscape, rebirth This is the story of one of my OCs, the doll eater. It's a short narrative about how you need sharp teeth for metal meat, and how legends are forged.

Most witches have intuitive or descriptive names, such as the witch of spilled inks, or "the echoing static".

Sometimes, they have names that let you know when to run away. Unsimple names, like "Katrina the sky devourer" or "please don't think about her loudly." are a red flag.

These names, no matter if they are chosen or assigned, tend to help a witch fit into the mind of the viewer. But Names also have power.

Sometimes the names feed the image of the witch, pushing their choices, aligning fates, nudging cosmic strings. One such name is the Doll Eater.

Originally, the name of "Doll Eater" was a sort of loose joke. The Doll Eater once worked a scrapyard for witches, harvesting the energies and materials of discarded dolls.

And once, on a bet? She had eaten a doll's eye, so they named her the Doll Eater. Not a whole doll, but that is how rumors start.

"The Doll Eater." was soon on the lips of far too many.

Maybe a doll overheard the name on the streets, or a wizard etched it as threat against intruders, maybe a witch simply sought to dispose of a doll discreetly with a scapegoat. But a name that raises such a question? Dashes forward, unbound by truth, spreading a new nightmare for dolls.

The changes were obvious, but only in hindsight.

The first sign of the name twisting her? Her mouth watered while pulling apart an old combat doll, and not in the typical way.

While the hammer and chisel broke apart joints, the desire to taste the doll sinew caught her tongue. Without consideration, she plucked out and devoured a tendon.

A co-worker saw her, and called her Doll Eater again, and she grinned, accepting it, and granting the name more power.

Then even off the clock, she let her eyes evaluate dolls like prized hogs. The idea of scrapping a doll, then nicking a bit there, biting there, pulling things apart?

It filled her with warmth.

Her dreams started to twist.

From fighting and fucking combat dolls to tearing them apart with her new sharp angelic teeth. Day dreaming of a mouthful of combat armor, a stomach full of defeated dolls.

She yawned, her tongue dancing over her teeth. Suddenly, they felt utterly dull.

Returning from the faesmith, her mouth glistens with teeth of shattered halos, and flesh of demonic leather.

Sharp teeth for metal meat.

And that day at work, a living doll, sent for disposal, meekly offered her arm.

And the Doll Eater accepted her fate.

She brought the doll's arm to her mouth, and lips trailing tender kisses up to her shoulder joint. Deep breath. A jaw full of shimmering inhuman fangs. The scream of rending metal. And the scream of a doll. In full joy-pain, being torn apart by a cackling mechanic.

In three swift bites, the Doll Eater had severed the mechanical arm with her teeth. Shards of enchanted alloys and gooey strings of oil-bound magics dotted the floor, mechanical crashing and joyous moans in the air.

When a doll asked about her meal, her eyes went dreamy, mumbling that the metal meat tasted of rapturous emotions, stillness and sugar. That the gooey vital fluids tasted of soft memories, hope and agony. And the smell. The smell. Her warmly sinister grin emerged as she recalled the smell.

This time, word of her feast shot around the world. Vicious and detailed recollections, never quite agreeing or disagreeing on what she looked like or was. For her own part, the Doll Eater simply devoured more dolls, some of them even volunteering. Her human body broke down, corroding into metal and lore. She was lost to the name now.

The human stomach was, of course, not meant to eat metal, magic, emotion, dream and mainspring more than once or twice a lifetime. Simple magics helped her at first, but the name changed her.

Over a quick week, her skin dripped off, revealing quicksilver blood, slivers of magical weaving, freshly made grinding gears and rusty streaks of gore. We don't know what happened inside that body, nor do we want to.

The changes? Were euphoric for her, of course.

Her old name was gone.

The mechanic was simply a vessel that the Doll Eater tore free of. Dolls came to her voluntarily, and she let herself take trophies of them.

A lock of metal hair, a crystalline eye, geodesic joints, impossible weapons. Her memories of joyous kills and filling meals.

Every doll eaten made her feel more at home in her myth, and the narrative wore away at halo teeth and leather tongue, reforming them into shimmering shredding gears and demonic digestive bases, quicksilver flesh and tongue.

The Doll Eater had emerged from the debris of her old self.

As her legend grew, she heard a soft, quiet voice in her head. Then another, and another.

Dead dolls, "souls" having rested in her body and mind, asked politely to be reformed. Out of confusion and decorum, the Doll Eater obliged.

To call the first aborted attempts horrific would be polite.

But with time and more victims, they learned to create as well as destroy. Extruding new dolls, devouring old ones.

Reshaping those that earned their change. And with these stories, their legend grew again, no longer in leaps and bounds, but steady, even growth.

Now she heard dolls in her aura that didn't want to leave, voices of the souls stolen by her gullet.

She learned the secrets of those she ate, claiming the patches of reality they offered her. The dolls who feared her knew she could eat a hunter, and learn it's secrets, and continue the hunt.

As mountains rose and fell, her legend waxed and waned. Her power is no longer all encompassing, but she always all consuming.

Offer her a limb, she will take it. Doll, wizard, demon, angel, or witch? She does not care, meat is meat, minds are minds. And if you ask nicely and give yourself in whole?

She will eat you slowly and gladly, take you into her, and grant you the new self you wanted.

And yes, she has those who follow her. And demand to be eaten often, and she will oblige. And remake them. A cycle of death and rebirth. A promise of renewal.

Give yourself upon her sharp teeth, pledge your soul and meat.

She will be there to turn you from living to dead and back again.

But do get in line, it's first come, first served.

[fade-and-loathing-in-thedas]

Lito (Rook)

RULES: Make a new post with links to music and/or lyrics describing the following

I honestly can't wait to revisit this post game lol

An event that defines your character's past

Not affectionate, my face is still expressionless Take his head off clean, sleepy hollow I'm collecting it Messing with a king, hit the dirt, you gon rest in it I'm meant for this, you try to take it from me blow your head to bits — Do or Die by Ethan Ross, Magnolia Park

How your character sees themselves

I'm not a rich kid, maybe that's a good thing Ain't got shit, but I got this far Keepin it real and rhymin and stealin Doing what I want Oh, got no money but it's always, always sunny honey — Rich Kids by New Medicine

How others view them

You're so obsessed with yourself Maybe you should undress with yourself? Hey Get a table for two, your ego and you Take him home and make a move So obsessed with yourself, obsessed with yourself — Obsessed by Maggie Lindeman

Their closest relationship (platonic or romantic) — I'm making this Solas at this point cos he lives rent free in Rook's head afterall lol

To whiny little bitches, could be gone, you choose to witness Let me occupy your mind because you never mind your business Is my success making you pressed? You're just too stressed? Try to suck less, but I won't hold my breath Look stupid, I'm ruthless, I'm massive, big unit You talk shit, go toothless, can't hear you, you're muted — Win Win by Set it Off, Scene Queen

A major fight scene

Uh, I'm coming in like a punch to the gut Watch out, 'cause you might get cut You can try, but you can't keep up I'm dangerous — Dangerous by New Medicine

End credits song—a little more prediction than anything else at this point but hey it's a vibe

Someone call the doctor, baby Someone call the morgue 'Cause ivory tower shatter When you show them as they are — The Rapture by Scene Queen feat MOTHICA

@/shivunin came up with this tag game and @/dalishious left it open to all, so I just had to do it lol

Tagging: anyone who wants to have a go and feel free to tag me cos I wanna know about all your awesome OCs!

[sardonic-the-writer]

your turn friend :]

excuse to infodump about your sonas / ocs is here, you can make your answer as long as you want and take as much time as you want :]

ooooh hello hello there,,,

okay so i'm going to use this as a place to dump a snippet on ezra that might end up getting posted someday, but it also might not. this is based on season four, epsiode twenty: 'the rapture' in supernatural for those that will be able to recognize it, and is only a couple hundred words out of a couple thousand in the piece. lowercase is on purpose, but if i end up officially posting it someday i'll fix it up then. w.i.p starts under the cut!!

ezra liked jimmy novak. he liked him a lot.

it shouldn't have surprised him so much that the face of castiel was just in fact the face of another human. he knew somewhere in the back of his mind that the angel had a different form — a more holy form. one that mortals like himself would burn up at just the mere sight of. but he had grown so used to accompanying the mental image of dark brown hair and shitty stubble with one of angelic likeness, so it was a bit of a shock when the familiar face suddenly started acting so raw. so normal. so, well, human. 

maybe it was the way jimmy didn’t do a double take at the scars across his face like every other normal person. or maybe it was his order from taco bell that the two of them happened to have in common: a soft chicken taco with nacho fries. that seemed more likely. food was the closest way to ezra’s heart nowadays. but whatever the case, ezra found himself liking the man a lot, especially now that he was more jimmy and less castiel. that’s probably the reason he found himself trailing after the man, keeping his steps silent until he couldn't keep quiet any longer.

“headed somewhere?”

jimmy jumped a foot in the air when ezra spoke. with a twinkle in their eye, they watched as jimmy turned around to face them with stiff shoulders. his posture was akin to a child that had been caught with their hand in the cookie jar, and it made ezra crack a tiny smile. he was used to the piercing look of righteousness and superiority beaming at him from behind those blue eyes of his, and it was a nice change of pace to be met with some form of emotion instead. even if it happened to be nervousness. 

sam and dean were nowhere to be found. in fact, ezra wasn’t even supposed to be up. he should probably be sleeping with everyone else, trying to recharge after all the weeks spent cramped in the back of dean’s Impala. but his nerves had kept him up well past lights out, and in an attempt to calm himself he had eventually ventured out of the room and into the motel's parking lot. even after taking a few steady breaths and getting his heart rate under control, he decided to stay standing amongst cracked pavement and seedy weeds. a good thing, too, otherwise he might have missed as jimmy silently slipped out of their hotel room, an air of anxious energy following as he did so.

[worldoshaking]

15 lines of dialogue

Share 15 or fewer lines of dialogue from an OC, ideally lines that capture the character/personality/vibe of the OC. Bonus points for just using the dialogue without other details about the scene, but you're free to include those as well!

Thank you @ferrocyan for the tag! <3 Tagging @theworldwalkerswols and @crystal-verse if you want to do this :)

*

‘This is, of course, entirely my fault,’ said G’raha. ’I shall be sure to tell Rowena so.’

‘I don’t think the toad was,’ said Fyfnar. ’You could hardly have anticipated that.’

’I—I suppose not,’ said G’raha, a little uncertainly.

Fyfnar began to laugh. ’Oh, Raha. This isn’t nearly the worst mishap I’ve had on an errand. At least it’s the boxes in the lake, and not us.’ Then he stopped, struck by a sudden thought, and eyed the ripples speculatively. ’Now there’s an idea. Hold my hat.’

*

‘Have you seen a pink chocobo?’

’I saw one in Ishgard last year,’ said Fyfnar, trying to keep his head still. ’It was exceedingly fluffy. It did try to bite me, but I’m sure there were faults on both sides.’

G’raha coughed. ’I think he means a sighting of a more recent provenance.’

’Oh! No, we haven’t,’ said Fyfnar. ’Have you lost one?’

*

’There was something of a contretemps on the way here,’ said G’raha. ’You see, we, er—’

’There was a very big toad,’ said Fyfnar.

*

“Smell the mountain air! Isn’t it splendid?” said Fyfnar rapturously. He lifted his face to the sky and took a deep breath, only to start spluttering as an unaccustomed aroma hit his nose. “Actually, I wouldn’t recommend doing that,” he said, chastened, when he could speak again.

*

‘Raha, Raha!’ said Fyfnar. He resisted the urge to take him in his arms and squeeze him very hard. ‘I’ve lost you three times now. I can hardly bear to let you out of my sight for fear you’ll slip through my fingers again. And besides, I wouldn’t go to bed at this hour.’

*

(excerpt from correspondence with Ser Aymeric)

’As for what I’ve been doing, I’m not entirely certain how much I ought to tell you. The truth is, I have been engaged in some endeavours of a rather dashing nature, that I think the romantic in you would appreciate, but that perhaps the statesman in you had rather not know about. Rest assured, my friend, that it will mean nothing but the good of your land and many others, although our manner of achieving that good might be better not spoken of—for the present, at least.’

[cruisingheightswithdragons]

skyrim prompts: 25 for the oc of your choice :]

25. Tracking animals on the plains of Whiterun

They shrunk into the amber grass, forcing their pale, thick furred tail to lay still, resisting the urge to swish it side to side. Dark brown tufted ears perked, listening for any signs of trouble, should there come any. The white diamonds that marked their ears glowed from the sunlight. Hunger knawed at their belly. Dah’ni hadn’t eaten all day, having forgotten to stock up from Carlotta’s food stall in the Whiterun market before heading out, and the sight of a plump deer was too good an opportunity to pass up.

Despite wearing armor of the Dark Brotherhood to aid in their sneaking, Dah’ni was careful in their muffled steps. Creeping closer, their whiskers brushing against a breeze told them that they were downwind. The khajiit stalked their prey, which grazed on the tall grass, unaware of its pursuer.

Dah’ni reached for their bow, and as soon as they had a firm grip on it, they vanished. It was a lucky find, this bow that could turn its wielder invisible. Taking a dwarven arrow from its quiver, the golden head vanished alongside Dah’ni as they drew back their bow.

With a held breath, Dah’ni loosed the arrow. It struck into the flank of the deer, startling it. It bellowed out a painful cry before turning tail and sprinting off.

Putting their bow away, Dah’ni reappeared before giving chase. The stag stumbled as its hooves crashed into a rock face, and it slipped onto its side, driving the arrow deeper into its flesh. With their prey downed, Dah’ni quickly ran up to it, giving it a quick death with a slice of its throat using an ebony dagger.

Before the khajiit had time to rapture in their spoils, low rumbling sounded from just behind a lone hill. Tail bristling, Dah’ni whipped around as three wolves erupted from the underbrush. They hissed and drew themself tall, intent on defending their kill.

If Dah’ni took out their bow, them disappearing would bait the wolves to their kill, which the cat did not want. However, if they drew out their ebony war axe, it would be a close quarters fight with wild animals that could carry all sorts of diseases, and Dah’ni had no potions to spare. Drawing back their lips into a snarl, they hit upon a better idea.

Dah’ni took in a breath, their mind full of concentration. Time seemed to slow as they let their dragon blood flow through them. “Fus… Ro Dah!” A thundering yowl burst from their mouth, a buffeting wind sent two wolves flying.

Dah’ni blinked. Where had the third gone? They gripped their bow tightly, vanishing in case the wolf decided to leap out and clamp its jaws around them. “Laas… Yah..!” Looking around, Dah’ni found a glowing red aura in the shape of a quadruped as it tugged at the felled deer. Drawing their bow, Dah’ni quickly took it out with one shot.

As they approached the deer and now dead wolf, they could smell rockjoint in the beast’s saliva. As well, a mangled bite mark told Dah’ni that the wolf had managed to get a blow in on the deer. It wasn’t worth the risk carving up the meat now, and the khajiit hissed in annoyance.

Stomach growling, Dah’ni looked to the sky, seeing the sun sinking over the orange horizon. Twitching their tail as hunger gripped their thoughts, they wondered if they could make it back to Whiterun in time to ask Hulda at The Bannered Mare for some venison stew.

[shebeafancyflapjack]

(My oc Silver, being the early 00's emo kid she was, finds the perfect song to listen to imagine her adoptive mother speaking to her after she's moved on. Artwork by @idiotwithanipad)

Hold on to me love

You know I can't stay long

All I wanted to say was

I love you and I'm not afraid

Can you hear me?

Can you feel me in your arms?

Holding my last breath

Safe inside myself

Are all my thoughts of you

Sweet raptured light,

It ends here tonight.

I'll miss the winter

A world of fragile things

Look for me in the white forest

Hiding in a hollow tree (come find me)

I know you hear me,

I can taste it in your tears.

Holding my last breath

Safe inside myself

Are all my thoughts of you

Sweet raptured light,

It ends here tonight.

Closing your eyes to disappear

You pray your dreams will leave you here,

But still you wake and know the truth -

No one's there.

Say goodnight, don't be afraid

Calling me, calling me, as you fade to black.

Holding my last breath

(Don't be afraid) Safe inside myself

(Holding me) Are all my thoughts of you?

Sweet raptured light,

It ends here tonight.

[vvindication]

tag, you're it !! shuffle your favorite playlist and post the first five songs. afterward, be sure to inflict the curse (ask game) upon as many favored individuals of your choosing as you see fit (no pressure to do this hehe)

YAAAY I LOVE MUSIC SHUFFLE ASKS THANKS MINTT I swear im typing up a response to the oc ask I Need to talk abt the guys in my head ...

Breathing Rapture ; Le Loup oh, love is shaped like cities burning - sifting through the ashes after we will find your life in laughter - oh, the black and breathing rapture

Bishops Knife Trick ; Fall Out Boy and I'm yours ; 'til the earth starts to crumble and the heavens roll away I'm struggling to exist with you - and without you

Anna Sun ; WALK THE MOON we got no money, but we got h-h-heart we're gonna rattle this ghost town

What Would You Do ; Bastille she said ; "What would you do if your son was at home, crying all alone on the bedroom floor 'cause he's hungry - and the only way to feed him is to sleep with a man for a little bit of money?"

Heat Lightnin' ; 1,2,3 never was a hole in my heart, until I drilled it and then I made myself, made myself - into what I am and then I wrecked myself, wrecked myself - with the violence

bonus: this part of the lyrics I looked up for Heat Lightnin' that is so incredibly real

[vanishedangels]

Clan of Warriors

Click here for First chapter

Summary: While rebuilding Mandalore, Mand'alor Din Djarin is questioned by his people because of his beliefs and origins. In the dawn of a civil war, the council resolves that The Mand'alor must join in marriage with someone close to Bo-Katan Kryze. He’s forced to marry Koska Reeves and accept a loveless union. In the meantime, Din is having a secret relationship with his son’s Master, Jedi Luke Skywalker, his dream of having his own clan of warriors is about to fade away.

Pairing: Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker

Characters: Din Djarin, Luke Skywalker, Grogu, Leia Organa, Cara Dune, Koska Reeves, Bo-Katan Kryze, Axe Woves, OC, Peli Motto, Fennec Shand, Boba Fett, Paz Vizsla, Owen Lars, Beru Whitesun, Han Solo, Chewbacca, Wedge Antilles, The Armorer.

Rating: Explicit (+18)

Warnings: Canon Typical Violence. Explicit Smut.

Tags: Canon Compliant, Post Season 2 Finale, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Friends To Lovers, Fluff, Angst, Demisexual Din Djarin, Top Luke Skywalker, Bottom Din Djarin, Top Din Djarin, Bottom Luke Skywalker, Protective Din Djarin, BAMF Luke Skywalker, Adorable Baby Yoda, Sassy Leia Organa, Gai Bal Manda, Blindfolds, Sub Din Undertones, Fantasies, Jealous Luke, Keldabe Kiss, Smut, Jealous Din, Dirty Talk, Face Reveal, Luke Skywalker in Mandalorian Armour.

Chapters: 39/?

Navigation: <- Previous Chapter • Next Chapter ->

There was a bowl of stew on an improvised table right in the corner, Luke grabbed a small bench dropping himself on it, his feet and knees were killing him as well. He ate his lunch in silence, thinking about Din, thinking about how lonely his man might have felt every time he had to eat alone, no talking, no sharing, and his heart ached "Din." He sighed his name fondly, missing Grogu's chirping noises and the way Din smiled at him every time their eyes met while sitting across the table. Instead, he was now staring at a dull gray wall and the only sounds he heard were the ones coming from himself.

Four days. Four days, Luke.

Chapter 39: Rapture

Din was roused from sleep by a steady soothing sound, he frowned, eyes still closed, he breathed in finally aware of the source of that sound, his ear pressed against Luke's chest, the Jedi's heart beating rhythmically, he smiled realizing their heartbeats were attuned. When he opened his eyes, he glanced at Luke's face, little Jedi was still sleeping, Din had to suppress a chuckle in order to prevent waking his cyare up. He moved his head slightly, squeezing his eyes shut, rubbing his cheek against Luke's skin.

The Jedi's arms were wrapped around his shoulders, the weight of his hands on his back made Din feel safe, loved, protected. He buried his nose in Luke's chest, allowing himself to giggle as the memories of the events of the previous night popped up into his mind, eliciting a silly fluttering sensation in his stomach. He looked at his face again, still remembering the way Luke's lips parted when he started pushing into him, so slowly that Din thought he could implode within seconds. The way Luke swallowed a deep breath until he nodded boring into his eyes as a signal that he was ready and Din pulled out to thrust into him only to feel his heart jumping into his throat as Luke silently opened his mouth making Din imagine the deep gasp he was muffling.

The feeling of Luke clenching around him, the pressure of his heels against his lower back urging Din to thrust deeper, harder, the way little Jedi's back arched, taking him completely, eager to be filled up, Din couldn't last as long as he wanted, but Luke seemed so satisfied when he spilled inside him, and judging by the glint in the blonde's eyes, he was very close as well. Din hardly managed to stroke him, pushing Luke over the edge in a heartbeat.

Din's lips curled up admiring the dimple in his chin, his enticing mouth, even while sleeping Luke looked gorgeous and Din swallowed hard, still mystified by the turn of events that led them to be together in his bed after all that happened. Din's mind was reeling.

"I know you're staring, Din." Little Jedi's voice, thick with sleep, caught him off guard.

Luke opened his eyes smiling and Din's heart started racing faster.

"Also, you're thinking too loud." He smiled moving his hand to stroke Din's hair.

"Morning cyare." He said levering himself up onto his forearms.

Luke hummed closing his eyes "Morning." He stretched himself out with a relaxed expression on his face that Din wanted to remember forever. "Still-" He looked at his eyes pointedly "you are not telling me what is bothering you." The Jedi added arching his brows.

What changed your mind? Why are you here with me? Why did you let me love you? Would you stay forever?

Din had so many questions but he ducked his head, not able to look at Luke's eyes, he kissed the Jedi's chest and he was ready to keep his uncertainty to himself. "You're here, that's all that matters. It's just..." He rested his head on Luke's chest again "I'm missing you already."

He heard the Jedi sigh as he took fistfuls of Din's hair forcing him to look at him "I'm gonna miss you too, but I'll be around." He winked and Din's stomach fluttered again. It was ridiculous how crazy in love he was with Luke, he rested his chin on Luke's pectoral. "In four days this will be over, Din, and we could be together all the time we want." He caressed Din's face reverently "I love you, Din." He sighed, his eyes fixed on his own hand cupping Din's cheek.

Although it was new, Din felt like Luke had been telling him he loved him for months, it didn't mean Din's insides wouldn't melt every time he heard him say it though.

"I love you more." He mumbled running his lips across the Jedi's pecs, completely smitten with him.

He helped Luke put every beskar plate back on, enjoying touching his little Jedi, laughing and kissing him in the process "Shit, fuck... I'm missing you already even more now." Din said under his breath biting Luke's lower lip and then he threaded his fingers through Luke's hair, closing his eyes and pressing their foreheads together.

"Stop or I'm staying, Din." Luke whispered kissing him one last time. He broke apart, frowning and he touched his adorned pauldron "Wait. She said I shouldn't wear this pauldron for now."

Din's stomach churned hating the fact that his cyare couldn't wear their clan signet because of him, because of his leader position, because he owned the darksaber. "I hate this." He said unfastening the ties around Luke's shoulder.

Luke looked down running his fingers over the mudhorn signet.

"I'll keep it for you, babe." Din said absently, holding the pauldron tightly in his hands as he walked towards the bedside cabinet and pulled the drawer open. When he turned around Luke was pressing his lips together, visibly amused, Din could tell he was smiling with his eyes, if that was physically possible. "What?" He lifted one shoulder in a half shrug.

"I just adore when you call me babe..." The Jedi closed the distance between them "Baby..." He ran his hands up and down Din's arms "Cyare." He nibbled at the skin right under Din's jaw making him groan.

"Babe..." He said in a low-pitched voice and Luke tossed his head back exaggerating a shudder. He laughed grabbing him by his hips "Don't make me take your armour off again, Luke." He warned him.

"I'll behave, I promise." He said grinning. "Oh, wait, one last thing... I can't walk around with my lightsaber dangling from my utility belt, but I need it near at hand." He frowned resting his hands on Din's shoulders.

Din blinked a few times and then he held a finger up at his face and started walking away "I'm right back."

Luke turned around staring at his back "Gods, I love when you do that. That thing you do, you know, when you hold your forefinger up."

Din chuckled leaving the bedroom and when he came back, as he gazed at Luke, his face was transfigured with tenderness. The Jedi was cupping his helmet in his hands, completely focused on it, he looked like a child scrutinizing a new plaything, the sight made Din's heart flip. He stood by the door for a while, not able to interrupt him. Then he blinked and cleared his throat, finally walking towards Luke.

The blonde looked at Din and then he lowered his gaze, Din was offering him a brown satchel.

"I used this satchel to carry Grogu with me, I guess... I guess we won't need it. You can take it." He took in a sharp inhale enjoying the way Luke smiled taking the satchel from his hands.

"Thank you, love." He said looking for the lightsaber until he finally found it by the bed leg.

Din took the Jedi's helmet and stood before him, Luke nodded at him, Din leaned in to kiss him and then broke apart to put the helmet back on Luke.

"Don't worry, Din. She will make it in time. Leia is on her way." His voice sounded so deep now, modulated by the helmet.

"I know." Din retorted.

When they were ready, the mandalorian asked Joako to enter the chamber, then he gestured a hand towards Luke "Joako, please take him to the dinner area and introduce him as the new childminder, Grogu's childminder. And afterwards, show him to his bedroom."

"Yes, Your highness, sir." Joako bowed and tilted his head encouraging Luke to follow him. Din tilted his head at Luke as well and he reluctantly stood there, clenching his fists as he watched them leaving the chamber.

~

That noon Bo-Katan walked past Din's chamber front door and she stopped in her tracks turning his head towards the only guard standing by the entrance. She narrowed her eyes tilting her head and Joako didn't make a move, ignoring her completely.

She folded her arms behind her body, staring pointedly at the guard's face, she looked him up and down "Joako." She said "Where's Miko?"

The guard blinked, tongue-tied for a while until he nodded "He's on a recon operation, ma'am." He said flatly not making eye contact with her.

She looked around and then she moved closer to him trying to catch his eyes, but the guard was still elusive "You're telling me that the Mand'alor's personal guard is on a mission... four days before the Royal wedding?" She quirked one eyebrow at him, a fainted smile on her face while talking.

The guard moved his eyes finally looking at her "Yes, ma'am."

She snorted out a laugh and nodded closing her eyes "Right." She said, leaning back and slowly taking a few steps back and tilting her head towards the chamber door.

Joako swallowed hard as the door slid open and she walked into the room, the guard let out a deep sigh and rolled his shoulders back.

~

The Jedi spent the morning cooperating with the cooking staff, he was astonished at the fact that he was really enjoying doing the chores, although it made him a little homesick for his aunt Beru's recipes - his aunt in general actually. He found himself thinking back to Tatooine, secretly longing for those days when everything was simpler, even when Luke was always wishing for more.

They walked him to a small supply room, Luke looked around pressing his lips together behind his helmet "You can have lunch here, no one is gonna bother you. We do respect the children of the watch's creed." The mandalorian cook said, as the majority of the people of Mandalore, he wasn't wearing a helmet. His dark brown eyes fixed on Luke's visor "I heard you and The Armorer came to Mandalore together a couple of days ago. Are you part of The Mand'alor's covert?"

"Yes."

The man frowned and then he took a few steps back closing the door, leaving Luke inside that crowded room. The Jedi took his helmet off sighing relieved, he closed his eyes feeling the air caressing his face for the first time since he left Din's bedroom. His back ached and the muscles of his neck and shoulders were strained to the point he couldn't turn his head to the side without feeling pain, of course Din was used to wearing all that heavy beskar on him, but still Luke found his commitment to the creed, his determination, wondrous.

There was a bowl of stew on an improvised table right in the corner, Luke grabbed a small bench dropping himself on it, his feet and knees were killing him as well. He ate his lunch in silence, thinking about Din, thinking about how lonely his man might have felt every time he had to eat alone, no talking, no sharing, and his heart ached "Din." He sighed his name fondly, missing Grogu's chirping noises and the way Din smiled at him every time their eyes met while sitting across the table. Instead, he was now staring at a dull gray wall and the only sounds he heard were the ones coming from himself.

Four days. Four days, Luke.

When Luke walked into the kitchen area a mandalorian was standing by the entrance, hands folded in front of her body, the woman looked at him.

"Good afternoon, sir, my name is Dentra Kolga. Joako said you're the Mand'alor's son's carer." She squinted staring at Luke's visor.

Luke nodded at her "Childminder." He corrected her eliciting a chuckle from the cook standing by the stove.

"Right, childminder." She nodded back "Well, anyway, it's good to have you here, the little guy needs someone to look after him now that his Master is gone." She added, and her words hit Luke instantly, twisting his stomach into small knots.

She narrowed her eyes pursing her lips "You're not talkative." She tilted her head and Luke sighed behind his helmet. "Come with me, the child needs your presence."

Luke rushed to her side still not saying a word, his heart was thumping inside his chest, eager to see his clan again, they had only been apart for half a day and Luke was already desperate to meet them. As they walked down the main corridor, he realized how uncollected he was feeling, his hair stood on end and something unpleasant settled down in his stomach, afraid of the permanent looming threat of losing the balance, he frowned wondering if he was giving in to unhealthy attachments, he shook his head convincing himself that he was simply and naturally happy to join Grogu and Din again. Maybe uncertainty was washing over him, if that was the case, he knew he was strong enough to deal with his own feelings, he could work on that.

"What's your name, child of the watch?" The woman asked him, breaking his train of thought. They came to a halt by the Mand'alor's chamber door, Joako looked at them with a blank expression on his face.

Fuck. A fake name. Luke widened his eyes behind his helmet, he hadn't thought about that. For the first time in a while, the powerful Jedi was suddenly unable to think of anything appropriate to say, he blinked a few times realizing that she was staring at him, waiting for an answer and his silence was becoming awkward and suspicious.

"Han." He said and immediately regretted it, squeezing his eyes shut and pressing his lips together, it was a relief she couldn't see his face at that moment.

"Nice to meet you, Han." Dentra nodded at Joako, the guard knocked on the door and she turned around finally walking away. Luke's body slumped immediately, losing its stiff posture.

"Hi, Joako." He said, happy to see a familiar face.

"Hi, Han." He replied and chuckled making the Jedi huff a laugh.

The door slid open and Bo-Katan emerged from the chamber, she narrowed her eyes staring at Luke "Mand'alor, the childminder is here." She lowered her gaze and then looked at Din over her shoulder, the way Din walked slowly to the door made Luke's heart leap in his chest. Was Din feeling the same? An urge to hold him tightly until their hearts beat as one just like the night before?

"Come in." Din said moving aside, Bo-Katan did the same and as Luke walked inside he noticed she stood rooted on the spot. "Grogu's in his room, there's this council meeting and I need you-" Din paused, his visor finding Luke's, the blonde Jedi understood exactly what he was telling him between the lines, and his lips curled up, hidden behind the secrecy of his helmet "I need you to stay inside this chamber for security reasons. Don't take the child out of this room." Din added. He was standing inches apart from him, Luke could feel heat radiating from him, so soothing and affable, making his skin tickle wonderfully.

Luke nodded and Din remained immobile before him, Bo-Katan cleared her throat trying to draw attention to herself "Shall we, Mand'alor?" She asked, arching an eyebrow.

Din sighed and Luke pressed his lips together in order to suppress a chuckle, he couldn't help finding Din's annoyance simply adorable. Din made a gesture with his hand inviting Luke to walk beside him as he headed to the door, he started talking about Grogu's routine, which was hilarious because Luke knew everything about the child, it was pretty obvious that Din wanted to stay in that chamber with Luke as long as he could.

Bo-Katan left the chamber as Din and Luke came to a halt behind her, their pauldrons almost touching "Bye." Din said and when he started walking out of the room, he brushed his knuckles against Luke's, throwing a glance at him over his shoulder. His touch lingered, electricity rolling in waves between them, sending shivers through Luke's body until Din finally stepped out of the chamber. The Jedi froze, he could feel a growing heat in his chest that rapidly reached his neck and face as his breaths quickened.

The door closed in front of him and he just stood there for a while, not able to make a move, until he heard a little giggle coming from behind him and his heart soared. He smiled sending a message through the force before turning around.

"Did you miss me, womp rat?"

"Grogu miss you. Grogu train with Luke. Grogu happy."

His smile grew wider as he took his helmet off and bent down to scoop up the child, he pressed their foreheads together and baby babbled happily "Yeah, Luke missed you too, ad'ika."

[crazyw3irdo]

some notes i like

seeing this and going “hm that pfp looks familiar… is that who i think it is…” and clicking the url to confirm that not only is that tybalt’s actor in the austrian retj, but also his description says “tybalt’s defense lawyer” & their blog has many tybalt posts was hilarious

^act 3 scene 1 in a nutshell

hanging those two on my metaphorical fridge. also woah emh url jumpscare (of course the emh fans find beauty in the tragedy of being at the mercy of higher powers that don’t care for your life)

first off this is tumblr we can say fuck here, second off i made this quiz in an hour right before i went to bed 👍

i haven’t written anything public in years lol and id personally say i’ve never really written poetry before which is what ppl tend to be agreeing is what this quiz is. but i do have a lot of OCs that like. given the response to this i might try to do some stuff with. this is partially a plea if anyone has any questions about any of my special interests be that my ocs or romeo and juliet or anything send me an ask i love to talk about this stuff. elevator pitch for my main oc universes:

-group of supernatural guys (witch, ghost, werewolf, elf, and two vampires) in the post-apocalypse trying to save the last vestiges of humanity & look after a little human girl

-seven deadly sins but they’re magical girls fighting the four horsemen to stop the rapture

-more lightheartedly, four monster roommates in the modern world. about a 100 monsters just showed up in the usa one day and no one knows why. one of the monsters starts a youtube channel

-fairy tale type story where a prince has to rescue princess from a dragon but he has to bring a wizard he hates along with him and also the princess doesn’t like him

this is the most mercutio response lmfao. also love how many ppl wanted to get mercutio whether they did or not. glad my blorbo is yours too lol

does the sun have to shine? does the world have to turn? the oceans rise and fall with the moon? your lungs breathe? your heart beat?

the answer to all of these, of course, is none of it has to happen. but you wouldn’t have life without it.

i appreciate the effort but as a mercutio myself i can only be killed by a tybalt. it’s like pokemon type matchups. if the person from the first tag on this post wants to kill me tho then yeah i can’t do shit about that