#rebel junk

[seekerofpatterns]

[kaitlinj16]

Pitch Perfect 2 (2015)

💛💛💛

[dailybrittanysnowpics]

Dance like no one is Watching

[weirdwillowtree]

it says" keep the community fires going as a symbol of rebellion "

[dany36]

aw my sister just sang some lyrics from "forever yellow skies" by the cranberries and it surprised me so i was like "oh dang you know that cranberries song?? it's not that well-known! :D " and she looked at me like "🤨 you'd play their entire discography when i was little" and idk it just made me happy that she still remembers them! 😌 but i mean forever yellow skies IS a bop so who could forget that song

[lyric-civic]

A graveyard for unwanted cars, or a playground for those who build, fix, and restore new ones?

Shot on Canon EOS Rebel T7 11/24/23, Unedited.

[saphronethaleph]

Fascist, Thus Inefficient

“As you can see, my young apprentice, your friends have failed,” the Emperor said, triumph in his tone. “Now, witness the firepower of this fully armed and operational battle station!”

Luke looked at him in shock.

“Fire at will, Commander!” the Emperor said.

Fourteen months previously…

“Shipment IL-214-73 arriving,” a petty officer reported.

“Thank goodness,” muttered one of the technicians. “After the delays we’ve been having, we need to get those Khyber crystals into the third main focusing array. It’s been on the critical path for a week.”

He brought up the display, frowning. “All right, I think we can make up a bit of time if we just get them straight to cutting and installation.”

“Don’t we need to run them through the testing process first?” a more junior technician asked. “That’s on the list.”

“I know it’s on the list,” the senior tech replied. “But the list was written when they didn’t expect there’d be rebel attacks hitting our supply lines.”

He waved at the screen. “The testing process means heating each individual crystal up to eighteen hundred, even though we know Khyber can all handle temperatures of up to forty-seven-fifty. The cutting process doesn’t rely on heat tolerance either. Any crystalline flaws will come out in cutting, and we can just junk them. It means cutting takes a bit longer, but by going straight to cutting we can save at several hours on the overall process. And you know how much time we’ve lost already.”

The junior tech looked worried, then shook his head.

“All right,” he replied. “I guess so.”

“You need to learn how things are done in practice,” the senior tech said. “No big deal.”

Eleven months previously...

“I’m quite sure Rothana Heavy Engineering’s XJ-15 hypermatter feed systems will meet your needs better than the alternatives,” the Rothana representative said, as Admiral Jerjerrod examined the datasheet.

He wasn’t so sure. The newer units had better specifications, certainly, but they weren’t proven, and they were also somewhat more expensive.

“I don’t think that’s necessarily the case,” he said, out loud. “While I appreciate Rothana’s position, the Sienar alternative has similar flow rates and more proven applications.”

The Rothana representative nodded, sagely.

“I understand entirely,” he said. “However, I must point out that Rothana has some important additional information to present.”

He held out a credit chip, which Jerjerrod took and inspected.

“Owing to the XJ-15’s protracted development, we are willing to provide our test units at cost,” the representative went on. “That is in addition to having a higher production rate than our competitors and a less committed production output.”

Jerjerrod hesitated, then pocketed the credit chip.

“That all seems in order,” he said. “The XJ-15 it is.”

“Marvellous,” the representative declared.

Nine months previously...

“I’ve examined the records that exist from the first Death Star,” a senior technician said. “The amount of strain that was placed on the flash suppression systems was minimal to nonexistent. Even with the full firing that destroyed Alderaan, surviving records indicate that the flash suppressors had no more than a five percent load placed on them – an amount that can be handled by untreated durasteel.”

The other men and women in the meeting looked at the data on the screen behind their colleague.

“You’re suggesting we forego the duratemp treatment on the flash protection systems?” one of the women asked, cautiously. “I can see the advantages, but the downsides seem significant. I’d even say potentially destructive.”

“It is my position that the cost of including the duratemp treatment is unacceptable,” the tech replied. “It takes time and effort, including supervisory attention which cuts into the available man-hours on the project. We only have so much experienced manpower.”

That drew winces, though none of the humans in the room drew attention to the fact that they were spending a lot of that time in interminable meetings.

“In the following presentation, I’ll discuss my proposal and how it could shave as much as one week off the final completion timetable,” the senior tech continued, flicking to the next screen of his presentation. “This model shows how the flash suppression systems are built around the main weapon…”

Six months previously…

“There simply isn’t an option,” the head of personnel replied. “Our existing system is not providing enough technicians and operators.”

“This was quite sufficient for the first Death Star,” Jerjerrod protested.

“The first Death Star was a project that took decades,” the manager replied, shrugging. “It didn’t come up at first, sir – for that I apologize – but if we are going to redress the problem, we need to act now. There is no alternative.”

Jerjerrod rubbed his temples, thinking about the problem.

The fully functional Death Star was going to need hundreds of thousands of qualified technicians and operators, familiar with the systems of the vast battle station, and so many of the men who knew much about the Death Star at the moment were busy building it.

There hadn’t been many left after the destruction of the first battle station, because most of them had been working on it at the time.

“All right,” he said. “So your proposal is…?”

“We keep the same number of trainers for now, but abbreviate the course,” the manager answered. “Two months – at most. Then we have the new graduates train the next batch for two months, and so on. Exponential growth. At twenty students per instructor and a hundred instructors to start with, we’ll end up with eight hundred thousand in six months.”

That was extremely tempting… they wouldn’t be anything like the equal of what they should be, but they could learn on the job.

“All right,” Jerjerrod said. “Approved – see to it.”

One month previously…

“Next item on the checklist?” Commander Jaskier asked.

“Step one hundred and seven,” Technician Mils replied. “Self test.”

She pressed the self-test button, and the computer system clicked and flickered as it ran through the diagnostics.

Data results and readouts went up on the screen, and Jaskier and all the others in the control station watched the results.

None of them had any comment to make about the numbers. The checklist said to run the self test, so that was what they were doing.

“Step one hundred and eight,” Mils went on. “Sign off on results.”

She did that, as well, and Jaskier nodded.

“Good,” he said. “And I believe we’ve finished that half an hour ahead of schedule! Good work, everyone.”

Now.

The firing commands flashed out through the Death Star’s systems, triggering a cascade of further commands, and the whole massive battle station’s main superlaser woke for the first time.

Fifty XJ-15 hypermatter flow regulators controlled the flow of energy from the power core into the power collectors, and the energy being channelled into the system surged rapidly – rising to one hundred and eighteen percent of nominal, above what would have been anticipated, and greater than the one hundred and two percent that the older, more proven Sienar systems would have generated.

Thousands of high powered beams were generated, controlled and focused through an enormous array of Khyber crystals… a small but measurable fraction of which were cheap industrially grown diamonds instead, added to the shipments by subcontractors eager to stretch out their production from the strip-mined planet of Ilum without running so late on their deliveries that financial penalties were imposed.

None of the technicians who were in a position to spot the problem at this stage were actually capable of doing so. Their necessarily abbreviated training had mostly been on what buttons to push, and nobody had the deeper knowledge of the systems to recognize that the system was in an anomalous state.

Then some of the diamonds shattered under the load, allowing the beams free to damage adjacent systems, and in moments the whole of the energy drawn from the hypermatter core was unleashed.

The flash suppression systems were wholly, and fatally, inadequate.

“Watch yourself, Wedge!” Lando called, his head on a swivel, and banked the Falcon around so his ventral turret gunner could clear off one of the TIEs attacking Red Leader. “We’ve got to-”

Then there was a sudden blinding flash, and Lando did a double-take.

The Death Star’s protective shield was instantly, and dramatically, visible – because the entire inside of it was full of plasma and flame, lighting it up as clearly as Ackbar’s briefing had done back before the operation was launched in the first place. Then something blew up on the surface of the forest moon as the plasma followed the funnel of the shield, and the explosive force was no longer contained but began to drift out into space.

“...the kriff?” Lando asked, eventually. “What just happened?”

“Ow,” Darth Vader said, indistinctly, reaching up to feel his helmet, which had been crushed in by an impact with the ceiling.

The Emperor’s throne room seemed to mostly be intact, though there was an Emperor-shaped hole in the window nearest his throne, and Luke had his hands out to either side as he stood on the wall.

“Father, are you all right?” the younger Skywalker asked.

“What happened?” Vader replied. “I remember the Emperor ordering that the Death Star should fire…”

“I don’t know, it exploded just after he said that,” Luke answered. “It turns out that overconfidence was his weakness… do you have any idea where the nearest spaceship is? Keeping the atmosphere in is tiring me out a bit.”

[gunpowderdtim]

It's no wonder Out happened when you really think about it. Nastya doesn't like organic life because it's complicated, it can break, sometimes it's even unfixable.

quote from gender rebels

Nastya is in love with Aurora, and in saying that she is saying "you are not organic life, I can deal with you because you are metal and algorithm and predictable" - we can see this in bedtime story when she says she'll tweak Aurora's story creation algorithm

screenshot from A Bedtime Story

Aurora is not inorganic. She is not ai. She is a space moon made of flesh and blood and teeth and bone. She is not an ai. She is a body that was taken and stripped of autonomy, of the right to self identify, of the right to think- to be imperfect and organic.

The metal is a veneer that hides how messy and traumatized and unfixable she is. From the outside she is a starship. From the inside she can still bleed.

And this makes them fundamentally incompatible. But yet, they are in love.

And really, it's no wonder Nastya fell in love with Aurora. Let's take a look at Nastya's home planet, or at least home society:

"Terminals were scattered across the planet. There was one on every street corner, one beneath every lamppost and one in every commune block." "The midwife-machine performs a series of programmed manœuvres to quieten [the baby]. It cradles it and hums at several pitches until it finds one that seems most soothing. Mechanical arms stroke the baby’s flesh even as others start the process of implanting augmented reality interfaces into its nervous system." "The Czar an atrophied frame, never present in the real world and worn to dust by the chemical compounds that kept his brain alive so it could live forever in a perfect virtual paradise. The Rabotnik a copy, a mind preserved unchanging in the instant before its death and placed in an everlasting metal frame." (Cyberian Demons)

Its safe to say the world Nastya was born into, from the very minute she was born, was ridden with technology. She has augmented reality interfaces inplanted into her from birth. It would stand to reason that being taken from this society, wherein technology is everywhere, inside and out, would stand for a bit of a shock.

Aurora too had been augmented by the Cyberia.

While it is stated that the last time Nastya had used the ports themselves was directly before her death — "The last time she had used the ports, her tutor had ripped them out of her as the rebels stormed the palace" — Aurora is laced with Cyberian technology. I'd imagine she has something of a 'bluetooth wireless connection' with Aurora, rather than the physical data transfer of files between the ports and Nastya, it may as well be similar enough.

Imagine being Nastya, going from Cyberia, wherein there is augmented reality contantly, transplanted onto a ship with metal blood, a jonny, and a vampire. To Aurora, where the only bits of augmented reality run through Aurora.

Of course she'd fall in love with her. Aurora is familiarity. Aurora isn't organic. Aurora isn't human.

And of course when the undeniable part of aurora that is organic, that is a flesh moon plated in metal with her brain hooked to machines, when so much has broken and been replaced, when, presumably, aurora is less of an algorithm, nastya leaves with the brand cyberia left on her.

Because Aurora healing, becoming more of herself and less of a starship, is messy, and organic, and human.

and hard for nastya.

‘Think how long she’s been flying you around. Think how many bullet holes you’ve punched through her and how many atmospheres you’ve dropped her through. Think how many alterations and improvements we’ve made, Tim to her guns and Ashes to her storage and Brian to her engines and the Toy Soldier to who knows what. How much do you think is left of her after all she’s brought you through?’ Nastya held up the ancient, battered piece of hull plating. Just visible under the grime and scars of particles of space junk was a fragment of the Aurora’s original logo and serial number. Jonny honestly couldn’t remember the last time he had seen a version that hadn’t been painted by the Mechanisms themselves. ‘So she’s free, now.’ Nastya gestured around at the spaceship they were standing in. ‘This Aurora can take you where you want to go. I’m going to take my Aurora somewhere else.’

Aurora was ship of theseus'd. Aurora was improved. Aurora was no longer cyberian. (both literally, and metaphorically)

So nastya left.

[lyneira]

♡ Nightly Visits + Your First Time ♡

-> It might be a little cheesy, but imagine having late night talks with Malleus in your room and instead of simply knocking at your door, he would enter through your window (using his teleportation magic LOL)

malleus x fem!reader

1st section: fluff! / 2nd section: smut (Your first time with Malleus)

part of the [#lyneira's old junk] collection!

fluffy sequel -> the first morning

Sebek and Silver would be looking all over for him after all and he didn’t want them to see that he was always coming to see you, so entering through your window was the best solution he could come up with.

If Sebek ever found out that Malleus was frequently coming to visit you at such a late hour, you would never hear the end of it. He’d probably be like “STOP BEING SUCH A BAD INFLUENCE TO WAKA-SAMA!” or “ARE YOU TRYING TO SEDUCE WAKA-SAMA?! YOU TEMPTRESS!!”. (But the crown prince was willing to be a little rebel when it came to you, hehe)

Malleus might apologize for having to visit you in such a manner, but tell him that it makes it all the more special because it’s just like in the storybooks where the prince would come to visit his maiden at her window in the tower. And most of all, tell him that you're his maiden and he’s your prince. If you do that, he'll swoon.

These were those rare moments where he enjoyed being alone- well, as long as he was alone with you. Any worries he had seemed to slip away. He was too focused on you to care.

It was a routine between you two. You'd leave your window open for Malleus and he'd soon come so that you can finally enjoy each other's company in peace.

One time, Malleus ends up coming while you’ve already gone to sleep. You seemed to have forgotten to close the curtains and window that would usually signal that you’re sleeping. You even forgot to change out of your uniform. You must have been so tired, Malleus thinks.

He looks at your sleeping figure longingly, gently taking a strand of hair away from your face, which looked absolutely exquisite under the moonlight. He's now hovering over you, so enamored. Your peaceful expression, your scent, the sound of each delectable sigh when you exhale, it all intoxicates him. Oh how he just wanted to have all of you already. He's indulging himself as his lips inch closer and closer to yours. Though, right before they can touch, he stops, realizing that he's getting ahead of himself and being improper.

He then goes back to what he should have been doing– simply setting you properly in bed and covering a blanket over you since you left the window open and he wouldn’t want you to get sick. (Though, if you did, he’d be the first to offer to take care of you, without a doubt)

After doing so, he looks at your serene face one more time, leans over, and leaves a soft kiss on your forehead. "We'll talk another time, my love", he'll whisper.

You slowly open your eyes, sensing the presence of your beloved, though when you fully open them, he was already gone.

NSFW SECTION BELOW - MINORS DNI

cw: fem!reader, penetration, oral, praise kink, and very sliiiiight yandere if you squint hard enough

I could also imagine that it would be during one of these nights where you and Malleus would have your first time together.

You and Malleus are laughing over something silly and he takes a look at your contented face as you laugh.

Absolutely beautiful.

He feels like the happiest fae in the world being able to laugh like this with you, and was so grateful that you were his and he was yours.

He cups the side of your face and smiles at you tenderly, just gazing at you with such love. You lean into his hand, "Yes, Malleus?"

He begins to caress your cheek with his thumb,

"I'm absolutely smitten by you, Y/N…There's nothing more that I can do to express all the love I have for you…I simply love you too much"

You kiss his palm, your heart all a flutter because of his sweetness. "Aww…I love you too- oh!"

He suddenly pulls you into his embrace, holding you firmly but gently.

"...Please, don't ever leave me", he whispers softly into your ear as he holds you a bit tighter.

You're shocked to see him so vulnerable. So desperate. As if anything you'd do in that moment would make him fall apart.

You lean back to stare deeply into his eyes, holding his face with both hands. "I would never leave you Malleus, I love you"

You both continue to stare at each other with such faithfulness and devotion as you two slowly lean in and kiss. It doesn't stop at a single peck. It's initiated by Malleus' desperation that devours your mouth and you can't help but reciprocate it.

Things are getting steamy between the both of you, so you both begin to undress. You begin to unbutton his shirt and he holds the edge of your nightgown. "May I…?"

You hum and nod in response, also giggling at his politeness. That little smug moment is soon cast aside as he discards the rest of your nightgown, leaving you to feel so bare.

Being your first time, it was a foreign feeling to be this vulnerable and quite literally, naked, underneath someone, so you instinctively cover yourself.

"Don't…. Let me admire you", Malleus says in a low tone

You slowly allow him to take your arms away to finally reveal yourself in all your glory, and he's starting to get hard at the sight

He kisses and caresses your body, leaving no place untouched. He's always wanted to know all of you, both body and soul and now that he had the opportunity to do so, he wanted to be thorough.

He'd take his time with you, savoring the taste of your lips, your skin, and your sweet, sweet nectar, all the while savoring your expressions as well.

He leaves a trail of kisses from your lips, down to your jaw, down to your neck, to your collarbone, to your chest, to your stomach, and finally down to your womanhood, muttering praises of you with each time he moves.

When he goes down on you, he pleases you so well that you hold onto his horns and grind into his mouth, causing him to quietly growl into your pussy as he delves his tongue even further inside you than it already was.

And when you finally pour your juices into his mouth, he ensures to drink every single drop. He was drunk on your essence. He needed to be inside of you. Now. And he felt that you were ready enough with how sopping wet you were.

You get a little nervous when you see his cock for the first time. It was deliciously long, as well as thick, you weren't sure it could fit. But he reassured you that he would be gentle and take it slowly, and he wanted you to let him know if it hurt too much at any time.

When he finally slipped it in, oh it hurt alright. It hurt so good. The way he stretched you out as he gradually penetrated you deeper and deeper was making you hold onto him tighter, nails digging into his back. He began to feel your tight walls adjusting to him as he fully sheathed himself inside you.

He then gave you a look, "That’s it, my love... you're taking me in so well….ah, so tight…are you ready for me to move..?"

As soon as you breathe out a "yes", he's pumping in and out of you with short strokes, eventually gaining more depth with each thrust.

When he feels your walls begin to flutter around his length, he attempts to go even deeper into you with longer strokes, the sound of skin slapping and the obscene squelching of both of your juices mixed together filling your room.

He's chanting numerous "I love you's" and you're moaning his name as you begin to tighten around him, getting close to your high. He was getting close to his too.

With one more deep thrust into your core, you cry out in ecstasy and become undone, creaming all over his cock. Not long after, he releases his own load into you as well, coating your walls with the seed of his love.

And he would stay inside you just like that. Not wanting to be released from your embrace.

Close. Closer. And even closer is how he wanted to be with you. He was able to see you in your vulnerable state, to inhale your intoxicating scent, to hear your melodic moans, to taste your essence, and he was able to feel your warmth, both inside and out.

He's experienced so much of you, but he can't get enough.

He will never get enough.

a/n: these old headcanons are actually the inspiration for my other malleus x reader fic, ♤ the crown prince and his wife-to-be pt.II: your first time ♤ that I currently have in progress. Getting into detail with smut is not my forte so I'm honestly having a hard time trying to finish it, so take this for now pls 😢

© 2023 lyneira. PLEASE DO NOT COPY, PLAGIARIZE, OR REPOST MY WRITING ONTO OTHER PLATFORMS

[maternity-morningstar]

Struggle Bug 🕷️🕸️

By @bunny-is-cute

CW: egg laying, eating dirt

When Angel was told that he may lay an egg instead of giving birth to a live baby, he tried to laugh it off. After all he hated to admit it but he was a nervous laugher. He often tried to bite his lip just to suppress a smile, but it always manages to creep out in the worst of times.

Like now, when he’s being told that he needs to be prepared to weigh an egg.

“Oh pfft! No way! I’m only 18 weeks pregnant! I shouldn’t have the baby for 22 more weeks right? If my math is right?”

Belphegor, the Sin of Sloth and his new doctor, gave him an incredulous expression. “Mr. Dust you are a spider type demon. Sinner or not, that has a huge impact on your pregnancy. Even the father has an impact on your pregnancy. You said he was a moth-sinner right?”

Angel’s nervous smile wavered into a weak frown, “Yeah. I believe he’s the father. He’s the one who gave me that drug in the first place.”

Bel looked at with a serious expression, “well moths also lay eggs. Spiders lay eggs. You are going to lay an egg.” Bel said and wiped out the freshly printed ultrasound. “See? The baby is in his embryo state but this,” she circles the layers surrounding the embryo, “that is the layers of egg forming around it.”

Angel's hands trembled as he stared at the ultrasound, his eyes fixated on the image Belphegor had circled. The tiny shape within the layers felt so surreal, like a distant nightmare coming to life.

"Laying an egg," Angel repeated, his voice barely above a whisper, as if saying it too loud might make it real. His usual bravado crumbled in the face of this terrifying reality. He'd been through hell—literally—but this was different. This was his body doing something that felt alien, something he had no control over.

Belphegor watched him with a calm, patient demeanor. "It’s natural, Angel. You have insect traits, and that’s going to affect your pregnancy. The egg will continue to form, and you’ll need to lay it when the time comes. It’s part of the process."

"But—" Angel cut himself off, struggling to find the right words. His nervous laughter bubbled up again, but this time it was more strained, on the verge of hysteria. "But what if I can't do it? What if something goes wrong?"

Bel's expression softened slightly, a rare show of empathy from the usually aloof Sin. "It’s okay to be scared but your body knows what it’s doing, even if your mind isn’t quite ready for it."

Angel swallowed hard, his thoughts racing. He couldn’t shake the image of himself laying an egg, like some monstrous parody of birth. He felt like a freak, more than he ever had before. The shame, the fear—it was all overwhelming.

He took a deep breath and told himself that he wasn’t going to lay an egg. No he was going to have a normal pregnancy and just deal with whatever happens.

But he was determined to keep this egg sealed inside of him.

——————

As the days passed, Angel couldn’t shake the weight of the news. Every time he glanced at his growing belly, the anxiety crept up on him, whispering that there was something unnatural inside of him. He started avoiding mirrors, unable to face the reflection that felt more foreign with each passing day.

Despite his determination to hold onto some semblance of normalcy, his instincts were relentless. He'd catch himself instinctively curling up, wrapping his arms protectively around his stomach, as if trying to shield the egg from the outside world—or maybe trying to shield himself from it. The more he tried to deny what was happening, the more his body seemed to rebel against him.

His appetite changed, cravings shifting from the greasy junk food he usually loved to things he never thought he’d stomach—raw meat, insects, even dirt. DIRT!!! He didn’t even know what spurred on this craving but he just found himself staring at a potted plant one day when he was walking through the halls and after making sure no one was watching him, he just scooped some dirt into his mouth and the rest was history.

The cravings disgusted him, but the hunger gnawed at him until he couldn’t resist anymore. Every bite felt like a betrayal of normalcy he was clinging onto.

One night, as he lay in bed tossing and turning, he felt a strange pressure deep within his abdomen. Panic seized him as he realized what it was. The egg was growing, solidifying, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. His breath came in short gasps as he pressed his hands against his stomach, as if he could somehow force his body to reverse the process.

Angel gritted his teeth, trying to focus on anything but the pressure building inside him. But it was impossible to ignore. His instincts were taking over, pushing him toward something primal, something that terrified him. He could feel the egg shifting, demanding to be laid, and with every passing day, the urge became harder to resist.

The thought of building a nest had seemed ridiculous at first, but now it haunted him. Every time he passed through the hallways of the Hotel, he found himself eyeing dark corners and secluded spaces, his mind unconsciously evaluating them for safety and comfort. He would snap out of it, cursing himself for even considering it, but the thoughts kept creeping back, more insistent each time.

Angel couldn't take it anymore! The need to build a nest had become unbearable. He had to do something, anything, to ease the overwhelming instinctual drive. Without thinking, he grabbed some blankets and pillows from his bed, piling them into a corner of his room. He worked quickly, almost frantically, arranging them into a crude nest-like shape. His heart pounded in his chest as he stepped back to look at what he'd done, shame washing over him.

"This is insane," he muttered to himself, running a hand through his hair. "I'm not some...bug." But the moment he said it, a wave of nausea hit him, and the pressure in his abdomen intensified. He clutched his stomach, the realization sinking in that this was happening whether he wanted it to or not.

Angel hesitated, staring at the makeshift nest, feeling a pull toward it that he couldn’t explain. His mind was at war with his body, the rational part of him screaming to stop, to fight it, while his instincts urged him to give in, to make himself comfortable, to prepare.

Finally, exhausted and overwhelmed, he gave in. He curled up in the nest, his body relaxing for the first time in days. It was as if a switch had been flipped; the anxiety lessened, and a strange calm settled over him. The nest, ridiculous as it seemed, offered a small measure of comfort.

But the peace didn’t last long. The pressure inside him was reaching its peak, and he knew what was coming. His breath hitched as he felt his body begin to tense involuntarily, his instincts guiding him in a way he had no control over.

Angel squeezed his eyes shut, gripping the blankets beneath him. "Okay...okay...just breathe..." he whispered to himself, trying to calm the panic that was rising again. He had no idea what to expect, only that he couldn’t fight it any longer. His muscles tightened, and he gasped as a wave of pain shot through him. He could feel the egg moving down, his body doing exactly what it was supposed to do, but it still felt wrong. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. He wasn’t supposed to lay an egg.

But as the minutes ticked by, his instincts took over completely. His breaths became ragged, his body shuddering with the effort. The pressure built until it was almost unbearable, and then, with a final push, he felt the egg slip free.

Angel collapsed back into the nest, trembling, as he stared at the egg in front of him. It was smooth and round, a soft pearlescent white with a faint sheen. He was too exhausted to process what had just happened fully. All he could do was lie there, panting, his mind numb with shock.

This was real. It was happening. The egg was there, a physical manifestation of everything he’d been trying to deny.

Angel stared at the egg in his palm, marveling at how delicate and beautiful it was. The pearlescent sheen caught the dim light of his room, making it look almost like a precious gem. Despite the whirlwind of emotions—fear, confusion, disbelief—he couldn’t help but feel a deep, instinctual connection to it. This was his baby, and now that it was here, a new instinct kicked in: the need to protect it.

Without thinking, he reached up to his mouth and began producing a thin, silky web from his spinnerets, a part of his spider-like anatomy that he rarely used. He had always been somewhat embarrassed by his ability to spin webs, seeing it as another reminder of how different he was from everyone else. But now, as he carefully wove the silk around the egg, it felt natural, even comforting.

The webbing wrapped snugly around the egg, forming a protective cocoon. He worked meticulously, ensuring that every part of the egg was covered, the layers thick enough to shield it from harm but breathable enough to allow it to grow. The process was oddly soothing, the rhythm of spinning and weaving calming his racing thoughts.

When he was done, he held the egg up to the light, admiring his work. The webbing glistened, shimmering with a faint silvery hue. It was as if the egg was now encased in a delicate, yet sturdy armor, a barrier between it and the harsh world outside.

Angel knew he couldn’t just leave the egg out in the open. His protective instincts were screaming at him to hide it, to keep it safe from prying eyes. The last thing he wanted was for anyone to find out about this, to see him as even more of a freak than he already felt.

His gaze darted around the room, searching for a hiding spot. Finally, his eyes landed on the closet. He stood up, clutching the egg carefully, and made his way over. Inside, his boots were neatly lined up on the floor. He grabbed an old boot box from the back, dusted it off, and opened it. It was empty—perfect.

Gently, he placed the egg inside the box, making sure it was nestled securely. He then closed the lid and placed the box in the back corner of the closet, tucking it behind a stack of old clothes. It was hidden away, out of sight, just as he wanted.

Angel stood there for a moment, staring at the box. His heart was still pounding, but the anxiety that had been gnawing at him seemed to have dulled slightly. The egg was safe, for now. He had done what he could.

But as he shut the closet door, sealing the secret away, a new worry began to creep in. How long could he keep this hidden? And what would happen when the egg eventually hatched? The uncertainty loomed over him, but for now, all he could do was wait.

And so, with one last glance at the closed closet door, Angel turned away and curled back up in his makeshift nest, trying to find some rest, even as his mind raced with thoughts of what was to come.

[bluesest]

A Diarrhea Camp

In the "Orange Lake" camp there have always been adventures of all kinds, from wasp chases, to cases where for certain reasons, some campers used to have… stomach problems.

On this occasion a large group of campers arrived at the big green forest, where they will share great moments together. Jeremy was one of these campers, he was the rebel of the group, always looking for a way to get into trouble. On the third day, Jeremy insulted a fellow camper which was heard by the camp guides and as a punishment, he would have to serve the food dishes to the campers of the place.

That's how it all started, he hated having to work when he was supposed to be having fun with his buddies, in short, he was annoyed by the situation. On the first day, almost finishing his shift he overheard two of the campers complaining about the food:

"Wow…is this stuff even edible?"

"Is this supposed to be mashed potatoes?"

"The only thing pure here is how my stomach will end up after eating this."

"Rather, how your diarrhea will turn out after eating this attempt at food."

Hearing this, Jeremy couldn't help but get a feeling, one he had never felt before, it was a mixture of need and the obscene, like a great desire inside his heart that made him start sweating. He thought, "Just imagine how those unusable toilets would end up if any of these guys had an urge."

Night came and he was in his cabin with 5 of the other campers:

"Hey, I don't recommend you go to the bathrooms in this place, they're worse than last year, I'd choose a tree to mark my territory over that attempt at hygiene."

"And when it's your turn to do number two?"

"First of all, it's called shitting, second of all, I wouldn't have a choice to be honest."

Again that feeling came, piercing his chest and making certain parts of his body start to fill with blood. "Do I really like that kind of thing…? Naaahhh… but I should be able to do something to prove otherwise… I have an idea!"

While no one was looking, Jeremy grabbed his backpack and searched through his clothes, "I usually usually put all the medications on my shelf when I leave… Here it is!" Among several capsules he found a hand-sized bottle of a powerful laxative, and if you're wondering why a person would have a big bottle of laxative, well, let's just say our friend has had trouble with unclogging the pipe when he usually eats a lot of junk food.

The next day it was time to execute the plan, he waited for the cooks to be distracted to pour at least a small spoonful of the laxative to each of the dishes, the taste was not going to be a problem because the food itself was disgusting, Jeremy's conscience kicked in and almost caused him to stop his plan, but his desire was stronger, and that's how around 40 campers were intoxicated with laxative.

Once he finished his work, he grabbed a plate of food and sat down with his companions:

"This tastes a little weird than usual, but it's still gross."

"There are lots of activities at camp today: canoe paddling, swimming, a foot race, arts and crafts and among other things, what will you guys be doing?"

This just added more excitement to the matter, many of them would have to cut their activities short because their stomachs wouldn't hold out for long.

Twenty minutes passed and Jeremy was sitting on a log when he spotted a camper in the distance trying to hide the fact that he was carrying a roll of toilet paper in his hand, he was Jeremy's first victim, or at least the first one he could observe.

Slowly he approached him taking care that he didn't see him, surprisingly he got to the bathroom earlier which was because the camper could barely take small steps. When he arrived he saw that the bathroom had only two compartments, it was a typical wooden latrine with a large hole in the floor as a toilet, there are about 10 of these bathrooms around the camp, but even so they were not enough for the large wave of diarrheic young people, Jeremy hid in the second toilet and with a knife he had in his pocket he made a hole that allowed him to see everything that happened in the first latrine and that made it difficult to observe what was happening in the second one from the first toilet.

Finally he hears the first door creaking and being abruptly closed, he hears a small voice: "Oh God, Oh God, Oh God, Oh God!" followed by the sound of the boy's pants strap to then drop his pants, after that the boy was able to free himself:

*PPPPPFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFTTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFT* *HSRQQQHRHRHRSQRSRSHRSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSQRSFS FFFFFF*

The first blow was a devastating one, you could tell from afar how he'd been holding that in for a long time.

*GASP* *PPRRRRHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHHS* *PPFFFFFFFFTTT* *SQHHQSHQHQHQ* *PPPFFFFFFFFFFTTTT* *PPPFFFFFFFFTTTT*

The second one violently hit the hole, liters of liquid was expelled from the small anus of the subject that was not enough to expel everything in one blow:

"Why me?!?!?!?!?" *PPPFPFPTTT* *PPPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSSQHHQSHQSHQSHQSHQSHSQHSQH*.

Sobs began to be heard which were confused by the drops of brown liquid coming out of the poor boy, Jeremy was able to fill his desire, but this is not where it ends. Suddenly a knock was heard at Jeremy's cubicle door:

"Hey buddy, excuse me, but have you cleared the bathroom yet? I just really need to go, and to be honest, the guy next door sounds like he's just getting started."

Jeremy took his eyes off the hole, opened the door and answered, "All yours", he was a tall young man with some muscle, his clothes were stuck to him due to sweat, and with a smile he thanked Jeremy obviously not knowing that he was the one who was to blame for his suffering.

The big guy closed the door, Jeremy almost left the place disappointed until he saw a small hole that would allow him to see what was also happening in the second cubicle: He saw how the tall guy started to undress, he was the type of person who undresses to go to the bathroom when it is something urgent, Jeremy managed to see part of the guy's penis before his ass fell into the toilet:

*PPPPPPFFTFFFFFFFFFFFFTTTTTTTT* *PSSSSSSSS*.

The first blow was weak compared to that of the previous person, who by the way was still expelling large amounts of poop in embarrassment as he knew a new person entered with the same problem:

*PSSSSSSSSSSSS* *PPFFFFFFFTTT* *PLOP*.

The second hit was somewhat disappointing for Jeremy, apparently this guy was having a bad constipation, he was about to leave to find other campers until a big noise made him stay:

*PPPSFFFFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTF* *PPRPRPRPRPRPRPRPRPRPRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR* *HQSHHSQHQHHSHHSHHSHSSSSSS* *PSPSPSPSSHSHSHHHHSHSHSHSHSSS* *PLOP* *PFFFTFTTT* *PLOP* *PRRRRRRRRRR* "Aghhhh!"

The smell hit him all at once, a mixture of bread and meat with a hint of pepper, the man managed to unclog his pipe and managed to release a third shocking wave as the first person had already finished and proceeded to clean himself up Tall: "Uffffffff I really did have to get rid of a couple of extra pounds…wait a minute…I FORGOT TO BRING PAPER…*KNOCK* *KNOCK* hey, I know you're in there, could you lend me some paper? I really need to clean up the mess I have on my butt."

Shy: "ummmm… Ok… but don't finish it all, I'm afraid this is a… diarrhea."

Tall: "Don't worry, I have more in my backpack, just let me know when you want to hit the porcelain again."

Shy: "That would be strange…"

Tall: "In another context yes, but come on, we both heard and smelled what was going on in each other's toilet, we're like bathroom bros!"

Shy: "Well… do you want to go paddling after this… with me?"

Tall: "Sure, why not, I don't have many friends around here either."

Those words reminded Jeremy of one of the other activities which would be interesting for his new hobby: canoe paddling, just the thought of a person having an emergency in a place surrounded by water and the only way out is using brute force which raises the risk of causing an anal leak, is something that fascinated Jeremy. As he left the area he saw that very few campers were around, that was a sign that most were already affected and that only those with strong stomachs were not affected, even so sooner or later they would all fall.

As he made his way to the lake he could see the start of the foot race that he heard in the cafeteria, there were 5 contestants, all of them were sweaty, but only one had a worried face, apparently 4 of them had already used the bathroom and the sweat remained as a souvenir. The camper was wearing a yellow sleeveless shirt with tight black shorts that exposed his well polished legs.

The guide started the race, the one in the yellow shirt that we will call as "Runner" was in first place, apparently his urgency gave him the strength to explode his legs and want to finish the race as soon as possible, not even Jeremy taking shortcuts could catch him, so he followed him with his eyes, after 5 minutes the runner reached the finish line but he did not stop there and kept running, in the distance Jeremy could distinguish something between the runner's legs, a big lump, Jeremy decided to chase him again, he could even see how liquid diarrhea began to drip out of the shorts: a big lump, Jeremy decided to chase it again, he could even see how liquid diarrhea started to drip out of the shorts.

The runner arrived at his destination and after 1 minute Jeremy arrived too, while the runner was making a huge effort to take off his tight shorts without causing a mess, Jeremy took advantage of his urgency and opened a hole with the razor to observe what was going on inside: he saw how an agitated camper with big legs was undressing and with the speed that made him win the race he made his ass reach his own finish line:

The first wave was brutal, the smell was starting to permeate Jeremy's eyes, but also permeating the great view of what of the biggest asses Jeremy has ever seen in his life.

*PSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPS* *SQSHHSHQSHQSHSQHSHQHSHQHSHQHHS* *GASP* *PPPFFFFFFFFFFTTTTTT* *PRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR* *PSPPSPSPSPSPSPSPSHHHHHHHHHH* *SQSHHSQHHSHQSHQSHQSHQSHQS*

The second wave did not disappoint, so strong was the smell that Jeremy's eyes began to water and in his mind he said, "someone ate a lot of garlic today, didn't he?"

*PPPPPPPPPFFFFFFFFFFFFTFTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT* *PLOP* *PLOP* *PLOP* *PLOP* *PLOP* *PLOP*

By the third, things had calmed down, Jeremy pulled his face out of the hole, wiped his eyes with a handkerchief and set out to continue with his original plan: go to the lake.

There was only one person already in the lake, a brunette person wearing a swimsuit, he looked ridiculous wearing that knowing he wouldn't touch the water, but Jeremy was not one to judge as he was doing worse.He approached the dock and in the distance he saw how the "swimmer" started hugging his stomach, Jeremy imagined that sporty body squeezed by that blue suit and when he saw him heading towards a secluded shore, Jeremy set out to run just to reach to hide and get a better view of the swimmer's butt. It wasn't easy but he finally got there before him, he positioned himself in a small bush as the canoe was parked:

Swimmer "Oh my god, the toilets are too far away and… I don't think I can hold on… shit."

*PPPFFFFFFFFFFFFFTTTTTT* *PPPFFFFFFFFFTTTT* *PPPFRRTRTRTRR* *PPPFRRTRTRTRR*

A machine gun of farts was coming out of that tight ass, with force and desperation the swimmer started to quickly take off that suit exposing that under that suit was hiding a nice ass, he barely managed to free his ass and started to shit without even squatting down:

*PFPDPDPDPDPPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPPS* *PPFPFFTFTFTFTTFTF* *PPDPSPSPSPSPSPSPS*

They were wet farts coming out forcefully as they were inundated by waves of violent diarrhea, it had a dark color and stank pretty bad.

*PRPRPRPRPRPRPRPRPRPRPRPRP* *PSPSPSPPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSPSSSSSSS* *PRPPRPRPRPRRRRRRRRRSSSSSSSSSSSS* *PRPPRPRPRRRRRRRRRSSSSSSSSSS*

Followed the liquid, there was no trace of any solid material, the frequency of the farts was going down, but they were much louder, at this part the camper could barely squat:

*PPFFFFFFFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTTF* *RPPRPRPRPRPRPRPR* *PRPRPRPRPRPRPRPRPRPRPRPR* *PSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS* *QSHQSHHSHQSHQSHSHHQHQSHQHSHSHSHS* *PPFFFTFTTTT* *PPFFFTTTT*

An even more powerful jet made the swimmer tremble causing him to nearly lose his balance and fall into his own fecal material. Finally, the poor camper finished and wiped his butt with the lake water hoping no one had seen him.

Jeremy seeing that the swimmer left was ready to return to his cabin and rest from the marathon he ran all day, but something strange, in the mud of the forest he saw footsteps, a trace of someone walking through the forest and so far did not return, Jeremy exhausted did not miss the opportunity and also went into the forest.

5 minutes was the time Jeremy was walking among the big trees, he was about to return when he heard some moans, when he looked out he saw another camper sweating, walking and hugging his stomach, so Jeremy decided to deviate from the dirt road and hid in the trees following the lost camper.

He looked exhausted and dizzy, he stopped for a second and changed his route next to a tree, defeated, he slowly dropped his pants leaving his somewhat flat butt in the air:

*PPPPPPPPPPPPFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFTTTTTTTTTTT*. It was just a dry fart, apparently yet another one who is constipated.

Slowly a monumental poop made its way out, it was so big that it couldn't easily pass through the poor boy's anus:

*SQHHQSHSHSHSHSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH* *SPLASH*.

Finally, it fell leaving the way free for:

Shit was falling and exploding as it hit the ground, many flies around started to approach the boy which made the situation more uncomfortable:

*PRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR* *PPPPPPPFFTTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTFTF* *PQSPSPQSPQSPQSPSSSHHSHSGSS* *PFFFFFFFFFFFT* *GASP*.

Camper: "I think… I'll stay in camp…"

He slowly took several sheets and wiped his bottom, they were rough but worked well for the situation. After leaving, Jeremy walked over to the pile of shit and admired it by touching a certain part of his body.

Upon arriving back at camp, his friends told him the news that several campers had severe diarrhea.

[kaitlinj16]

Pitch Perfect 3 (2017)

💛💛💛

[eatommo]

Like Real People Do [d.d]

Summary: You and Mando have a history of broken hearts and are both looking for a place to land in the galaxy you live in, but you'll always have each other.

A/n: Not beta'd! mistakes are my own! and look a Hozier song to a Pedro fic what's new! I love this. I hope you do too! 6.2k

Cw: Canon typical violence, mentions of human trafficking, use of weapons, mutual pining, discussions of loss, discussions of war, brief mentions of grief, Reader is from Alderaan (trauma that comes from that), the reader has some of my tattoos because we love a self-insert, broken glass, pubic hair?, unprotected p in v, mentions of marking, hickeys, mentions of oral sex m/f receiving, fingering, the helmet stays on, breeding kink if you squint, as always touched starved Din, themes involving depression and loss, takes place post season 3 but has a flash back to season 1, I probably missed something but let me know!

It had been ages since you’d seen him. You’re not sure how many rotations, but not a day has passed that you didn’t think about him.  But there, just passing the entrance to the trading post, his shiny beskar helmet flashes over the crowd.  

You put your head down, looking at the spare parts you were hoping to auction off for some measly credits at a holiday festival for some caf and to help you hopefully buy some piece of junk craft to get you off this dusty and dry planet.  

Maybe you’ll be lucky and you can slink away, and evade an awkward reunion all altogether.  You found an outcropping and a small table covered in different smoked meats and small roasted animals.  

You try to sell the fact that you look busy while you think about the last time you spoke to him.  Your conversation about the rebel symbol marred into your skin with black ink, Cara had done it herself, and you’d helped her put the very same symbol on her cheek. The pain felt good, it mirrored the grief that felt immeasurable and it almost felt like a release of all of the terrible thoughts of your family’s final moments.  Had your family suffered? Did they even know what was coming for them?  

You were young and had just gotten off the planet in search of something greater, a higher purpose. Something to believe in, and the empire stole everything you’d ever known in one simple explosion. 

It had handed you a purpose, for a time. Working with the rebellion, standing with your Princess, and fighting and punishing the Empire for the loss of Alderaan.  Cara and you were hiding out on Sorgan after leaving your post as shock troopers. You were in the fresher when they started to tousle outside, you expected some gruff Klatoonian who she sharked in a bet, as it often was.  Instead, she lies on her belly, a blaster pointed at a chrome-covered Mandalorian, who is lying on his back with a weapon drawn.

The only thing that holds your attention is a little green baby holding a cup of soup, mirroring your amusement waddling up next to you.  

He coos, looking between you and his companion like he expects you to save him.  “Sorry bud, I’m with her.” 

An aggravated harsh pant cuts you off, “Stay away from him.” The blaster shifts to you, but you raise your hands and keep an even temper.  He looks between the two of you, who clearly have no intention or idea what he is in possession of, and offers to buy the two of your dinner.  

He didn’t speak much at first, but as you and Cara drank away a flagon of spotchka and you shared your interest in his ship, having to grow up around the rebel's fleet and wanting to see such an old military craft, he offered to show you.  

“It’s a short walk, the kid is falling asleep in your lap anyway.”  You look down at the little wrinkled green monster, blinking slowly with his massive eyes as you stroke his ears, you can’t help but fawn over him.  

“I can’t believe they’re hunting a baby.”  Whispering, as you feel the warmth of his tiny body, heartbroken at the idea of an imperial remnant looking for children.  

“He is older than I am.” His surprisingly playful voice almost startled you, he’d been quietly walking by your side as you carried the little guy nestled into your chest.

“He’s” you struggle to find words, but you can feel an energy emanating from the little creature in your arms “magnificent.” 

The Mandalorian hums lowly, agreeing with you.   There’s a pause for a few moments while you look over at him, “Did you find a lot of purpose? With the rebellion?” 

It's your turn to be broody, “For a time.” Suddenly feeling subconscious you speak a little bit more quietly, “Just waiting for the next thing to believe in I guess.” You sigh, gazing down into the dark black ink just above your rebel stripes, “It feels like I could keep fighting forever, but hearing all this, seeing such a small child threatened by the same evil as I was, it feels like I already have.” You’re not sure if he understands you,  or even what side of the war he stood on.  

“You feel like there’s reasons to fight.” He looks down into the baby drifting to sleep in your clutches.  “But afraid that you have no fight left.”  You half expect him to be criticizing you.  Mandalorians have lost almost as much as you have, but are warriors by nature and have fought and continue to be feared across the galaxy as mercenaries and bounty hunters.  His voice is soft, and understanding, as if processing his words himself. 

 You spot the ship ahead, falling silent in your admiration you trudge through the leaves and sticks that have fallen from the ship clearing its landing.  The ramp hisses as it falls open to welcome its pilot, but you stop outside to admire the twin engines and their decades-long wear and tear.  

Walking around the ship to admire her heavy laser cannons and her yellow markings.  He watches you with a quiet but proud silence, as you eventually shuffle up the ramp to set the little one into a floating pram.  Your eye catches a glimpse of a carbonite freezing chamber, and a little anxious butterfly seems to stir in your belly, how much do you trust him?  

“I always thought I’d die looking for a bounty when I got too old, too slow, or just in plain luck.”  You turn heel to face him, heartbeat clipping unsteadily in your chest, but you raise an eyebrow, encouraging him to continue.  He hesitates and sets himself on top of one of the shipping containers. “But protecting this child has made me dream of a life I never thought I could fight for.” 

You can feel your body soften at his confession, cursing yourself for thinking lowly of a man whose been nothing but kind and trusting of you.  “I’m sure it's lonely.” You take a small but calculated breath, “He is lucky to have you.” The smile is soft, and you try to reassure him despite yourself. 

He looks at you standing but a few steps away from him, and nods, “I’m just as lucky.” 

The bustle of the holiday market slows to accommodate him, traversing through the stalls as all shapes and sizes scurry out of his way.  You swear to yourself, turning away and buying some meat you can’t afford.  When you hear your modulated name fall out of his mouth like a prayer, soft and delicate.  He steers around the crowd, veering right into your path as a child walks in front of you blowing bubbles from the straw of a festive drink.  

The Mandalorian approaches you with purpose, his walk deliberate and commanding as if everyone in the vicinity answers to him.  “Mando.” you smile briefly, warmth heating your cheeks, and the never-fading crush you have on this man skipping around your belly.  “Hi.” 

His gaze stays fixed as he reaches for your arm, touching a patch of ink that not only is new to him but you completely forgot about.  His glove runs over it and when it doesn’t smear it might’ve made his knees buckle. “The Crest.” 

You peer into the helmet, glad to have him near you again, and realizing how much you missed hearing his voice, a rush of blood washes over your cheeks again.  “Yeah,” you fumble around doubting your reasons for getting that tattoo in the first place, “I’ve been adding a couple of ships that are important to me.” 

You hear a small noise but are unable to determine the emotion behind it, “I was hoping to see you on Nevarro,”  your heart rate picks up in your chest, and of course, his helmet picks it up, “the last few times.” 

“I’ve been moving around, looking for something new.” There’s a sleepy squeal coming from his satchel, “is that?” He swings it around to the front and opens the top of the bag to reveal your favorite green forehead. “Handsome man! I’ve missed you little mudscuffer.” 

Mando chuckles under his breath as you pull the baby from his confines and offer him a piece of the meat you just bought. He swallows it down greedily.  “I swear he eats. He just woke up.” 

You smile and give him a playful look, “Is daddy feeding you enough munchkin?” You hand the baby another strip, Mando is glad you don’t see him adjusting his pants as the word daddy slips between your lips innocently, “Don't worry I’ll get you something sweet too.” 

Mando rests his hands on his hips, and shakes his head in mock defeat, “He’s not gonna want to leave.” He follows at your back as you carry the child through the marketplace, sometimes letting his palm rest on your back to keep close to you.  

He would not be one to admit but seeing you carry the child around reminds him of the times on Sorgan, of the weeks you spent together and his floundering inability to court you.  Even now the way you look at him has him hiding behind his beskar helm like a foolish schoolgirl.  

“He doesn’t have to, are you here for business?” You cast a look over your shoulder, “He can stay with me while you take care of whatever you need.” You find a stall selling some fruity overpriced drink for the planetary holiday. 

You look into your bag, coming up just a few credits short, and cursing at yourself.  Starting to walk away, “I’ve got it.” He cuts in front of you while gripping your shoulder and standing over the top of you, handing more than enough credits to the man in exchange for two drinks.  

Yet another blush creeps into your cheeks, “No need to spoil me.”  You offer the child his drink and he snatches it away from you eagerly with a screech.

“I want to.” That causes your brows to knit together and a deep ache below your belt to settle and warm. 

You sip away at the luxuriously sweet drink, wishing you could at least share it with him. “I have a room at an inn,” you offer, “or we could go back to the Crest, and catch up.” 

You lean against one of the walls so that you don’t accidentally traverse even further from his bounty.  “I don’t have the crest.” 

Your drink turns to ash in your mouth, “What? Is she in disrepair? I’m sure Karga-“ 

“It’s rubble on the planet Tython.” He’s sad, of course he is, but his hand finds the mark on your skin again, and you can’t help but mull over the memories, the connection you shared on that ship eviscerated. 

“I’m so sorry.” You let your head hang low, remembering how many conversations you shared hoping he’d invite you aboard as crew.  “I loved that ship. I mean not as much as you I’m sure.” 

He chuckles, thumb brushing over the silhouette as he speaks, “You don’t happen to know how to rewire an N-1 starfighter engine?”  

“I’m sure I could look at it, but I don’t think I’d be much help. Where the hell did you find one?” You’re a bumbling mess, wanting so eagerly for him to scoop you off this planet like he had before, but also knowing your heart couldn’t bear to watch him leave a third time.  

“I didn’t think so but I have no idea what you’ve been up to and-“ he pauses, stopping himself to watch you take a sip of the drink after licking some whipped cream off of the straw.  

“And?” You prompt him to continue, but he stares between you and the child who have matching bright red tongues and are both sporting some whipped cream out of the corners of your mouths.  

You catch a hint of strain in his voice, “We can rest at your place for a while. He’s due for a nap.” You squint at him a little, easily reading his stiff body language and the change of subject.  

At the word nap, the baby babbles away while chewing on the straw of his drink, “There’s a lot of sugar in this, so we might have to wait it out.”  

Mando lets out an exasperated sigh, “What have you gotten us into.” You’re both sitting on the floor of a modest single room with the little one taking turns climbing up and over the two of you.  

“You bought it,” raising your hands in defense, smile splitting ear to ear,  “I was going to split one with him.”  You reach out to try to grab his surprisingly quick body but he darts away with a giggle.  

“He’ll crash, eventually.” You could hear him talk about the baby for hours,  to sit with him and watch the two of them play together always felt like a treat on its own. “Get down from there.” 

“He’s fine, this place is a dump anyway.” You smirk over your shoulder as he climbs up onto your bed, rolling around and giggling half to himself while chewing on the mythosaur skull pendant around his neck. 

“How did you end up here?” Your face falls a little, but he’s kind, and soft, and you can tell he doesn’t want to pry but his curiosity is getting the best of him.  

“I was tracking a bunch of smugglers, the republic got word that they were hauling children to Canto Bight, and exporting them maker knows where.” You continue, trying to keep your breath even, “Cara had asked me as a favor, but I had a run-in with a group of pirates who saw my stripes and stole my ship.” 

“Does she know?” He shuffles closer to you, folding his knees in so that he can run a hand soothingly across the skin of your leg.  

“I don’t know,” You clear the tightness in your throat, “At least I don’t think so.” You find the words pouring out of you as if he is comforting you into realizing something you’ve been fighting for a long time.  “I don’t think I can fight like this anymore, and I don’t know how to tell her that.” 

He is quiet, giving a simple solemn nod, before pulling the rising phoenix from his back, and laying it on the floor.  He scoots closer to you, settling next to you as you both lean against the foot of your bed.  His beskar shoulder plate is cold on your cheek, as you lean against him, seeking reassurance you haven’t felt in so long.  

Silently a tear falls down your face, and as if prompted by his little superpowers the baby, climbs into your lap nuzzling your cheek and touching your face gently with a warm hand.  There are a lot of things this child is capable of, things you can’t begin to understand, over a lifetime that is marred with more violence and confusion than you will likely ever know existed. When he touches you, you can feel his pain and loss, but he also shares with you a joy and unfathomable curiosity over the smallest things he remembers.  

“I can’t take you on the N-1,” his voice startles you out of your stupor with the baby, “but if you’ll give me a few days, I’ll be back to pick you up, and you can stay with us on Nevarro until you find somewhere else, something else to do.” 

Your breath is shaking, and you’re not even sure the last time you felt safe enough to cry.  A small piece of you wants to run because that's what you've been doing for these last 10 or so years of your life.  Running from the Empire, running after them, and then running from yourself.  “I don’t think I could.” 

“Why not?” he reaches for your shaking hand, setting his gloved hand on top of yours, driving the energy in the room with the ease of piloting a speeder bike.  

“You’re a family, he has a routine, you’ve settled into this beautiful life that you’ve worked tirelessly for.  I couldn’t impose.” You try your best to sound strong like you’ve got a plan ahead of you, and the idea of not being around the two of them doesn't make your heart ache. 

He hums, and for a moment your cry is less of confusion and more out of pain.  His hand is gone from yours, and the lack of his warmth feels like a slap into reality, as you pinch your eyes shut to stop yourself from being embarrassed even further. 

You jump.  There's a much larger warm hand caressing your cheek, and turning your head into the dark stare of his visor.  You can see the tanned skin of his wrist as he turns your face slightly, wiping away a stray tear with his thumb. “It is the greatest mistake of my life leaving you on Sorgan.” 

You sniffle, the words sorting through the emotional fog of your brain, searching the blank emotionless canvas of metal for a hint of human connection, a flutter of an eyelash, anything.  You can’t find anything, until you hear the faint sound of his breath from beneath his mask, stuttering and insecure, his chest rising and falling like he’s fighting a battle with his own emotions.  

You feel it again, a swell in your chest of love and admiration and then you feel the tiny claws digging into the skin of your bicep. You look down at the tiny man as he steps between where your chests are separated by mere inches, “Could I have her come and get us?” You’re quiet as a loth cat, voice heady and rough. “I don’t think I could watch you go.” 

He lets the little one settle into his lap after a moment, this time you can hear relief and a half-broken smile in his tone, “Let’s just wait until he falls asleep, I’ll go to the ship and send a transmission.  I’ll come back with his pram, and then where we go. You go.” 

You clear your throat again, wanting so desperately for this to be real and aching to touch him.  “Okay.” your voice barely makes a squeak, he pressed the cold beskar helm to your temple.  

Wondering if he feels as raw as you, you place your hand on top of his suppressing the need to comment on how large it is, and tangle your fingers with his.  You stare at his hand, tanned and massive and warm. Human. You fold your legs in on themselves and shift your body so that you may properly look at him. 

The glove sits in his lap, and he looks so imposing in this tiny half-furnished room, polished and chrome in the dingy and ill-lit space you've called ‘home’ for these last few cycles.  You take his other hand, and look up to see if he’s going to stop you, but he is still and silent, so you slip the glove off his hand.  You trace from the tip of his middle finger, down his palm and up towards the pulse point of his wrist. 

He shudders beneath your touch, thankful for the mask to hide the crimson flush of his cheeks. He’s never had the opportunity to enjoy a tenderness like this, to feel his pulse quicken and the nervous butterflies he’s heard described during love stories on a holodrama.  It’s terrifying, he feels like he could vomit, but the way your delicate fingers trace circles over the palm of his hand makes him want to run his hands over every last inch of your body until he knows it inside and out like his blaster. 

The child settles into his lap, leaning his head against your arm as his head and eyes grow heavier with sleep.  “Why don’t we walk to your ship together?”  

Your eyes are bright, and he can tell by your posture that you feel better, but he can’t stop the audible grumble, not ready to let you or even your hand slip from his.  He nods and swallows harshly to clear his throat, “Alright.”

You walk across the market again, and the crowd parts before the two of you except this time you are holding onto his hand, and rather than trying to avoid his gaze like every other soul walking the market, you cling to his him trying to suppress the smirk curling the corners of your mouth.  

Nevarro has changed so much, you spend the first few days just getting accustomed to the new layout of the town.  Dropping the child, ‘Grogu’ (it took a while but it grew on you) at school, and then going to spend time in the market picking up some rations and some of the seasonal veg you’ve been coaxing into the little one’s belly.  

The domestic bliss that comes with living with Mando is both welcome and intoxicating.  You’re awake at odd hours of the night, talking and sharing stories about Jawas and your run-ins with Ewoks,  and sharing your dreams and hopes for the galaxy.  

He shares stories about Mandalore, about visiting there for the first time and bathing in the healing waters, about Bo Katan seeing a Mythasaur alive. All things you heard about as a young child, and symbols that brought hope and purpose to the entire creed were real and were aiding to heal the planet and its inhabitants. 

Then there were times when you both laid on the floor, watching the little one interact with a metal sphere, using his magic to hover it just out of your grasp and giggling himself to a peaceful sleep.  You’d lay together, wrapped in the comfort and protection of his house, and stare at the little man as he sleeps occasionally peaking into the reflection of yourself in his helmet, and blushing when you catch your own heart racing.

You want to tell him how you crave to be with him, how addicting his presence and his mind are to you, but you’re afraid.  Afraid to move too fast, to step over his barriers, but also knowing that each second without knowing the softness of his mouth is torture. 

The first time you see him in his sleep clothes, a plain dark green shirt with three buttons on the top and loose-fitting black canvas pants, no metal aside from his helmet, you choke on your cup of Jawa juice.   He’s large even without the metal beefing up his silhouette, his back broad and the fabric thin enough for you to see his muscles move as he opens a drawer for silverware. Even treating yourself to a glimpse of his waist and the way it tapers to his ass and hips.  

It’s become more common, in fact when he gets home, he almost immediately strips out of the armor in favor of something more casual and comfortable.  

Tonight the energy is different. The kid passes out early and you’re soaking a pot you used for dinner in the sink when he emerges out of his room.  You hear his footsteps, but they’re muted and soft, he’s barefoot. As you glance over your shoulder as he offers you a glass from his bedroom you see he’s in briefs, (the house is admittedly warmer as the seasons change) but the shock is plain as day as you turn so quickly away the glass slips from your hand and shatters on the floor. But the image of his chest spattered with hair that trailed down his soft belly and into the top of his black undergarments. 

You both are silent for  a moment, hoping the noise isn’t loud enough to wake the baby, in his silence you swear, “Kriff, don’t move I’ll get a broom.” You shy away, looking to the ground for a safe path.  

He cuts you off arm darting in front of you to halt your movement,  “I’ll get it.” His hand comes to rest on your hip stalling your movements with his warm palm. 

His other hand reaches out and before you can grumble in discontent he's lifting you onto the counter. You sit there, flustered with your hands tucked between your thighs as he fiddles with the control of his helmet flicking through to see which would help him find the scattered pieces of glass the best.  

It's moments, but it feels like an eternity as he searches for a broom, sweeping the glass into a neat pile before discarding it into the bin silently.  He settles between your legs, silent as a mouse.  

“I'm sorry.” You smile sheepishly, struggling to maintain eye contact as he hovers in front of you, inches separating your face, and if it were any cooler you would’ve fogged the front of his mask with your breath. 

He chuckles dryly, “Don’t be, I’ll take it as a compliment.”  His posture is full of confidence, but also comfortable and relaxed.  You long to touch him, to run your hand over his chest and abdomen, to feel the muscles shift in his back as he- “Mesh’la?” 

You blink yourself out of a daze, “You should, you’re so handsome.”  He braces his hands on the counter next to your hips and leans ever closer.

“Yeah?” His voice is hot like a pant, stroking a fire in the room that neither of you are able to ignore any longer. 

“Yeah.” You smirk at him, emboldened and smoothing your hands up the strong plains of his arms, squeezing lightly around the muscles of his biceps.  You let your foot run across his calf, urging him closer to your body, his hands find your waist, firm but careful as his thumbs stroke the skin just below your breasts.  You curse yourself for even bothering with a bra band.  

“I like having you here.” His head tilts, you can almost see the gears turning in his brain as he continues, “Do you know how many times I’ve thought about this?” He uses his strength to pull you a little closer to him, so with each breath your chests touch and your core is flush to his abdomen.  “Having you in my kitchen, sitting on my counter looking so pretty, so-” He swipes the hair off your shoulder exposing your neck and throat, “edible.” 

Any chance you had of playing it cool is gone, you want nothing more than to bend to his will.  His hand disappears from your side, and he tangles it in your hair, using it to fix your eyes to his through the helm, as he strokes your cheek with his thumb.  You feel completely safe, but there’s something about him thats dangerous, hungry even, and it makes your skin damp with sweat.

He sounds like he’s in agony, like each passing moment without consuming you is torture, and you ache for him in a way that astonishes you, embarrasses you, not even sure that you could stand on your own two feet.  

“I need you.” He whispers, breath uneven almost a growl, “Tonight. Now.” He reaches between your legs, letting his fingers ghost over you ever so gently, as if asking, no begging, for permission.

You swallow hard, his helmet tilts, admiring you, and you hardly manage to stutter a yes.  Part of you expects him to be quick, tearing at your clothes and taking you right here in the kitchen. 

 He doesn’t.

 He goes slow, letting the crest of his helmet fall to rest on your forehead, taking his time to caress your hips, tracing up your sides and taking your shirt with it.  His hands are warm, but bring goosebumps to your skin as he touches you, hands squeezing your breasts and rubbing your nipple.  You keen, pressing desperately against his hands.  You lean in, placing a kiss to his collarbone, gentle and moving slow so he may stop you if he wants, but he drops his shoulder and tilts his head to expose his neck.  

You kiss his collarbone again, letting your tongue dart out to taste his skin, he’s vibrating beneath you. Trembling as you kiss the hollow of his throat and nibble at the skin of his neck.  You run your hands down his chest, basking in the intimacy and living for the scent of his skin.

He lifts you in a fluid motion, whisking you out of the kitchen and into his modest bedroom.  Laying you on the bed, he runs his hands down your legs and removes your pants.  You blush, unable to hide your arousal but noticing the prominent tent in his briefs, your mouth waters and you get to consider getting on your knees for him briefly.  

He’s faster than you, and not thinking about himself.  Ripping your underwear from your body and running the tip of his index fingers through your folds. “All this for me?” He circles your entrance, gathering your slick before brushing across your clit with leg-shaking precision.  

You chase his touch, the pleasure coating your tongue and fogging your brain even more than you can put into words. You beg for him to get closer, to press your bodies together until you weren't sure you'd ever part.

You're expecting to feel shorted by the absence of his mouth on yours.  No taste of him, and not getting to hear his words directly from his mouth, but his touch is consuming.  Like he's worshiping and waking each cell with caresses and adoration that's as palpable in the air as his sheets were soft on your back.  

There are noises, words you think, that he is muttering between each supple squeeze and tease, words you've heard him say before but their meaning is only now defined by his actions.  

Love.  He loves you.  You can feel it in the heat of his hands as he spreads your legs apart and admires the way you part for him, and he sinks two fingers into your fluttering pussy, pushing up and stroking something dangerous. 

His erection is nestled against your leg, and he shifts his hips with every twist of his fingers for a few moments, pressed between your bodies he feels a glimmer of relief with a groan, as much as he wants to bathe you in attention, he thinks that if he waits any longer his heart might give out before the best part.  “Mesh’la,” he twists his fingers as if to be sure you're listening, “Please.” 

“Yes,” you nod, swallowing harshly as he slips free of his underwear, cock springing free of its confines.  You gawk, unabashedly, as he did to you just moments ago. He's large, intact, leaning slightly to his left, and the skin is tanned brown, slightly darker than the rest of his body, thick and weeping out of the brilliantly flushed pink tip, the base adorned with sparse but dark hair that trails up to his navel deliciously.   When he steps between your legs and lets it rest on your abdomen to press your forehead together again, you feel its heady weight against you and stoop so low as to beg, “Please.”

You're echoing each other's moans as he grinds against your folds, coating himself in your slick before sinking into you in a single brutally slow thrust. When he bottoms out, you do your best not to squeak as the girth of his member breaks you open, it doesn't hurt, rather it feels like you've both waited an eternity to come to this very moment, euphoric and fulfilling the needs of your body and soul.  

He grinds his pelvis against yours letting his hand shift to cup your cheek, staring at you, he hopes somehow you can sense it. How he is barely able to stop passing between the pout of your lips and the deep pleading look in your eyes, begging him for the same thing his heart is calling for.   He could weep, having finally shorn the armor to dedicate himself to you, because the truth is, all you needed was to ask. He would've dropped his creed, everything he had achieved, and the meek life he'd planned for himself to grovel at your feet for the rest of his human life.  

Devotion, that's what it was called.  He had felt at many moments of his life that he was in the right place, blessing along his journeys that started out as miracles, friends, familial bonds he didn't think he deserved.  It felt misplaced, the little blessings that had entered his life so quickly that he swore they had to have been accidents. It had taken losing the child and abandoning you on that god-forsaken planet, for him to reflect, and to realize that the life he deserved was not determined by some blasters and an army, nor his home planet.  He had the life he wanted in his palms once, and watched it slip through his fingers with the charred remains of his ship.  His grip tightened instinctively, twisting the sheet in his fist. 

It was you.  You were the representation of all of the things he wanted but never thought he deserved.  A family, a place to call home, and you even had committed something as passing as his ship to your skin with a permanence that scared him.  

Here your skin was warm, surrounding him, nurturing him, squeezing him, and his mind was trying so hard to be a person, not a machine, loving someone else for the first time.  

He found the words, he said it to you, over and over with his pelvis angled just right as he ground his hips into you.

He was throbbing inside of you, you could feel the slick slide and pulse of him with each thrust. The pleasure was so intense you were whimpering and mewling beneath him, wetness smearing onto your thighs and running on the sheets below.

You've had sex before of course, and now you seriously doubt you've been doing it right. You kiss at the hollow of his throat, and in response he hunches over you, arms on either side of your head, animalistic yet praising affirmations go straight to the building heat in your core.  

You let your hands, come up to his back digging your nails into his skin.  He moans in shock as his thrusts grow more frenzied, spurred on by the bite of pain at his back.  He reaches between you and circles your clit with his thumb, pulling you headfirst into your orgasm.  You're body goes taught and relaxes all at once, the pleasure blinding you as your vision goes white and each tilt of his hips makes you stutter out an overstimulated moan. 

The fluttering of your sex around him would be enough to send over the edge but as you catch your breath you begin to beg for him to finish inside you.  He does, still feeling you shivering through the after waves of your own, as he groans and revels through the most intense orgasm he’s ever had, complete with curled toes and a knuckle-popping grip on the sheets.  He’s still looking at you, the rise of fall of your chests bumping into each other and your breath fogging the front of his helmet so much that when you kissed right over his eye, he could see the imprint of your lips for just a passing moment. 

“I can’t believe we waited so long.”  You chuckle, all smiles but looking as dazed and spent as he felt. A shiver coming over him as the small sounds cause you to tighten slightly around him as he softens, his body incredible sensitive. 

“I’ll spend the rest of our life making up for it.”  You note the sound of him speaking through the grit of his teeth, and do your best to lie still, not wishing to be parted just yet.

Months later, you’re married in a private ceremony in front of friends and his brothers and sisters of the clan.  It's quick, and everything you had expected of a warrior’s wedding.  You get the mudhorn symbol tattooed into the skin nestled behind your ear, wearing it proudly and with your vows you are made a family, a clan of three in front of all the important people you care about. 

You’d be remiss if what had you most excited isn’t the filthy promises he’s made to you about that night, taking his helmet off and kissing you everywhere he can for as long as he wishes.  Promising to leave a mark over your new clan sigil as he marks the rest of your body for him, as you’ve done to him many times over. You get to admire his face and the most handsome man in the galaxy who kneels before you with reverence and vows to take care of you with more than just his words. 

[j4gm]

SPOILERS!!! REFERENCES AND EASTER EGGS IN F&C ep. 9: CASPER & NOVA (1 of 2)

I hit the image limit so this post will be in two parts.

These last two episodes feature traditional Adventure Time title cards with intro credits, which is something the others haven't had.

There is a butterfly floating above Fionna when she enters the "Land of Ooo". The same thing happened to Cake when she entered Ooo, and to Simon later on, but this butterfly doesn't have a face on it like those. This is our first hint that something is wrong.

The Betty statue in the background of this shot is on top of a four-faceted object that sort of resembles Glob's helmet; an item that she used to gain her magic powers in You Forgot Your Floaties. Also in this shot are several gnome fairies from The Enchiridion and Billy's Bucket List, and of course Mrs Cupcake and genderswapped Chocoberry. Mrs Cupcake has appeared before but I think Chocoberry is a new design for this episode.

This is our first and only look at what Hunter Wizard would look like. Mostly the same as his main universe counterpart.

This species of dragon first appeared in Memories of Boom Boom Mountain and has been in several subsequent episodes. I'm not sure who the giant cyclops is. It could be a genderswap of the cyclops from Another Way, or perhaps the rock giant from Five More Short Graybles.

Lots of the text in this scene is hostile. There is this sign behind the counter, of course, but lots of the books on the shelf also have violent names.

This series loves giving us extremely fucked up Simons.

This background character looks like Phlannel Boxingday. It would be hilarious if that was the case, considering he is widely assumed to have been a disguise of Princess Bubblegum rather than his own character.

This might be genderswapped Tiffany. She's wearing Tiffany's pink shirt under her jacket. Maybe she has a masculine name in this universe.

We get a better look at the newspaper from the first episode, featuring Betty. It also features the fake butterfly from the dream which feels like a bad omen.

Marshall Lee's t-shirt features the cake pop from Princess Bubblegum's rock shirt, first seen in What Was Missing.

The Lich first mentioned being a Scholar of GOLB in the episode Whispers. In this episode it is confirmed that he has been working towards his goals in GOLB's name. But it doesn't seem like he's actually had any line of communication with GOLB this whole time. GOLB doesn't seem to appreciate The Lich's efforts to wipe out all life; and now that GOLB is fused with Betty, they certainly don't.

The Lich rips off Billy's skin to reveal his skeletal form, which is the same as it was in Escape from the Citadel, complete with the metal plate on his ribcage.

GOLBetty turns the Lich into a tetronimo, implying that all of the tetronimoes surrounding them were once powerful beings who defied GOLB; perhaps they are even all alternate versions of The Lich.

Shermy and Beth! This episode incorporates a lot of the extra lore that writer Steve Wolfhard published shortly after the release of Come Along With Me. It canonises the fact that Shermy and Beth are rebels who oppose the tyrannical rule of Gibbon, who is Charlie's future son from Daddy-Daughter Card Wars. This place is the Pup Kingdom, which is featured in the Come Along With Me title sequence and is a central part of Wolfhard's 1000+ lore.

These are the same kinds of soldiers as seen in Graybles 1000+ when Cuber interrupted the space wedding. In that episode, you only got a very brief glimpse of their jowls. This episode makes it more obvious that they are pups.

All of these pups in the windows are designs from Steve Wolfhard's "Every Pup Has a Power" series of drawings. They once had superpowers, but their powers were extinguished by Gibbon.

This is Jake's favourite mug from the episode Puhoy, and the house in the snowglobe is Tree Trunks' house.

There is a Shermy plush in this pile of junk. There might be some other recognisable stuff in that pile too. I think the popcorn machine is from something but I can't remember what, and the pool toy might be a reference to the Lub Glubs from Beautopia.

This is our best shot of the Pup Kingdom, with its space elevator.

Beth is a revolutionary communist confirmed.

Shermy Simon shouts breadballs, an expletive that he previously used in the episode Simon & Marcy.

The clouds in Fionnaworld are shaped like GOLB blocks while Simon is in the presence of GOLB. We also get a better look at all the glitched out buildings, like that door that leads nowhere.

I think the creature next to Gunter in this advert is a yeti from the show Summer Camp Island, which a bunch of Adventure Time alumni went to work on after the original show ended.

There is a poster for Super Porp, a fizzy grape juice introduced in the episode Dark Purple, along with their mascot Cheryl.

Jake is on these packages in one of the shops.

The Library looks incredible now. In the original show, only the top part with the dome could be seen sticking out of the ground. Either the ground has eroded away to reveal the rest of the structure, or the library has been greatly expanded over time.

Turtle Princess is dead and apparently a robot took over her empty shell and continues to work as a librarian. These are the first gun-books we've seen that also function as actual guns.

These are the pagelings from the episode Paper Pete. They're much larger than they used to be. They don't have many books left to protect these days.

Casper & Nova mention lodging in the seaside town of Scandia on their quest to find the crown. This is a reference to the fact that Simon and Betty found the crown in Scandinavia, as mentioned way back in Holly Jolly Secrets.

I hit the image limit! Link to the second part.

[somegirlontheinternet135]

🩷✨Rewrite!Yui Headcanons✨🩷

(tw: Dark topics will be discussed)

🩷 Yui was extremely malnourished, and for many reasons. Firstly, due to living with thirsty vampires, they dictated everything she ate so that she could keep them supplied with good blood, which meant absolutely no sweets or junk food. Another reason was that she stopped eating all together as an act of defiance; after so many years of those parasites feeding off her blood, she'd grown sick & tired of it, refusing to eat as a form of rebelling, which usually led to punishment. But now that she's safe within the Glass Labyrinth, she's free to eat as much as she wants, whatever she wants. Which turned her into a massive foodie, excited to try new & different foods

🩷 If it wasn't already obvious, she is very self-conscious about her body, as it is a war-zone of past inflictions done by her abusers, bruises & scars that never healed, cuts & scrapes that still remain, and vampire bites almost cleverly hidden on her very freckled body. She was fed the unhealthy idea that she wouldn't be considered "beautiful" or "ladylike" if she had such things on her body, so she tries her best to cover them up

🩷 But despite the issues, Yui still tries to dress feminine. Which wouldn't be a problem if half her life wasn't centered around men. Whether she did it by choice or by sheer force, everything she wore had to appeal to them, in more ways than one. . . Now in the labyrinth, she can wear whatever she wants, but her taste in fashion hasn't seen to change, still wearing short dresses & skirts, any basically everything pink and girly. Because of this, she's extremely good with fashion, and is able to give great advice on fixing one's appearance. She's also good with make up for the same reasons

🩷 Yui tries to pull her weight around the Glass Labyrinth, making herself useful for the other inhabitants, though she & the others don't require rent to stay. In her eyes, she doesn't have many skills; but if there were three things she considers herself good at, it's cleaning, fashion, and makeup. She loves to clean & organize, and can't stand a mess, so she started doing cleaning services around the Kame Isles. She also offers to help with clothing, and doing make up during big events for a lot of the girls in the labyrinth

🩷 If anyone read the "Diabolik Lovers: The Glass Labyrinth pt. 2," you'd know that Yui crazy about mythology & its creatures due to her past. Because of this, she can easily identify any mythical creature with the labyrinth, and knows their likes & dislike as species

🩷 On the topic of mythic creatures, she's taken quite a liking to the horror genre, enjoying reading horror novels and often watching scary movies with her friends

🩷 As sad as it was, Yui would sometimes forget that she's free from the parasites due to episodes of anxiety & trauma. She has to be reminded by others that she's safe now, and can make her own decisions

🩷 Recently, Yui had been learning all sorts of self defense classes in the Glass Labyrinth & takes extra precautions when going out on top of learning magic, carrying pepper spray or a taser on her at all times. She was already taken advantage of so many times in her teenage years, she's not going to have it happen again

🩷 Everyday, Yui is getting a little bit stronger, and the head mistresses couldn't be more proud of her!✨

And that's all folks!

Be on the lookout for my other projects

And as always stay tuned^^

[tartarusknight]

The Fallen King and the King of the Freaks | Part 3

Ao3 Link | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16

Steve wasn't planning on actually becoming friends with Hellfire. Not after the obvious way he made them uncomfortable. So, after Eddie helped him, he said to himself that he was done... then Billy picked on him again, and Eddie came to the rescue again. Honestly, it was like Eddie became his white knight.

And Steve... Steve could take care of himself. However, he couldn't stop himself from wanting to be their friend. He hated the way he jumped at the chance to just go to watch them playing a game like he couldn't even stop himself.

Steve didn’t understand why he offered to go watch them after swimming. No, that was a lie. He knew exactly why he did it.  He wanted to go. He loved listening to stories. He loved hearing people talk about something they were passionate about. So, it sounded nice. But when lunch was over and he tosses his untouched meal, he regretted it. They were just pitying him and he didn’t need to force his shit on anyone else.

So, he decided he’d just ignore them until they forgot about him completely. It was the day after Hellfire, so he’d have an entire week to become a background thought. It shouldn’t be too difficult… most people only knew Steve’s top layer. People left him behind all the time, Hellfire wouldn’t be any different. After all, everyone who had learned who he was, left him. His parents were gone more than they were around. Nancy called him bullshit after he let her in. Tommy and Carol, his best friends from elementary school, had used him to become more “powerful” and “cool”. Hellfire would be the same way; he knew they would.

Except, they didn’t just let him disappear. Grant would wave at him in the hallways with a kind smile. Gareth had the same free hour and suddenly Steve didn’t sit in the library alone. Eddie would constantly find him during lunch and offer a seat which Steve had turned down with a polite smile. Always saying he needed to work on school shit. (Which was never a lie. His head swam, trying to keep up in class after Billy bashed his head in.) However, the first real interaction with Hellfire was with Jeff.

It was Saturday and Steve stood in the supermarket. The kids were coming over later in the day and Steve got a call from Lucas’s mom asking him to not buy her son junk food. And well, Steve knew how to cook. However, his house was completely void of any food. He hadn't felt the need to cook if it was just himself lately… After that night Steve’s stomach rebelled against most foods.

He was staring blankly at the meat section for, what could’ve been, a long time when a hand dropped on his shoulder. Steve flinched away and his body went into fight mode before he noticed Jeff. He dropped his hands and gave the other an extremely fake grin. “Hey man,” he smiled and Jeff looked him over as if he could see right through Steve.

“I thought it was you. Your hair is very distinguishable.” He joked and Steve let out a small chuckle.

“Well I’m called The Hair for a reason,” his voice didn’t hold much joy in it and he winced.

“So, what brings you here?” He asks lamely.

Jeff shrugs, “gotta pick up stuff for my mom. Same for you?”

Steve huffed a laugh, “nah, she’s not in town. But I’ve got a few of the kids coming over and need to make them something that their parents would approve of.” He over-explained but Jeff just nodded.

“Struggling with a plan?” He asked like he wanted to talk with Steve. “Not a big cook?” He asked when Steve didn’t respond.

It makes him smile, “oh I know how to cook. When your al-” he stops himself with clearing his throat. “Nah, just not really feeling meat at the moment.” He gestures and when his gaze hits the bloody meat he shudders.

“There are lots of meatless options out there.” Jeff offers and Steve freezes, he hadn't even considered that. After all, he was told every meal needed a good amount of protein. “My sister doesn’t eat meat. So we’ve learned how to work around it. It’s a little different but still,” he shrugs and Steve’s brow furrowed. “It’s a little hard to get the hang of right away but with practice, you should be able to get it down.”

That makes Steve frown, “I don’t really have the time to experiment.” He swallows and looks back to the meat selection.

Jeff nudged him with his shoulder, “If you want I could help. I’m not that busy today.”

Steve felt something swell in his chest. “Really? I don’t want to be a-”

Jeff scoffed, “please I’d love to help. Showing off to King Steve. It sounds like fun. Plus, then I have an excuse to leave the house.” Steve nods and Jeff gestures him to follow. Jeff puts things in Steve’s basket with an explanation to what he’s planning and Steve just nods. He also helps Jeff get the stuff for his mom before heading to his house.

He only has a few moments alone in which he grabs out his stereo and sets it on some rock station he figured would be more Jeff’s speed. Then he cleans the dust off his counters and waits for the other. It doesn’t take too long and Jeff takes off his shoes politely before he follows Steve into the empty shell of a house. “Okay, are you ready?” Jeff questions and Steve nods. They work together, Jeff giving him instructions. However, they also talked about music, Steve mostly just listened as Jeff explains some songs that he likes. It’s nice. It’s like having a friend and it makes Steve’s hands shake. He didn’t want to let them in. And yet he let Jeff into his house.

They end up making Vegetarian Enchiladas. It’s filled with corn, beans, and zucchini. Topped with cheese, avocado, tomato, and parsley. However, Jeff makes them look normal and Steve hopes the kids won’t notice. “I’ve got two younger siblings. My sister doesn’t do meat and my brother refuses vegetables. I’ve gotten really good at making a vegetarian meal that he will eat. Don’t worry the kids will just think you made them normal enchiladas.” Jeff says and Steve leans against his counter, so fucking thankful.

“So, you cook normally?” Jeff questions as Steve grabs them both out a soda he got for the kids.

He nods, “yeah. My mom’s not one to cook” at least not for me. “So, I’ve learned.” He does look at Jeff and his shoulders slump. “Thanks for the help, man. It was really appreciated. Honestly, it’s a big help. I have to repay you, or something.” He states and Jeff looks confused.

“No need, it’s not a big deal.” He stated but people weren’t nice without wanting something in return. Not many people were kind as they grew up.

Jeff seemed to see Steve’s confusion and sighed. “You know what, how about you bring cookies or something to Hellfire’s next meeting. You’re still stopping by after swimming, right?”

It was a chance to get away from going. Steve could just say, no man something came up. But instead, he grinned, “yeah of course. Any allergies?”

“Grant’s allergic to tree nuts,” Jeff offers, and Steve’s phone rings. “But I’ll get out of your hair, just remember they cook for 12 minutes at 400.” He reminded and headed out. Steve went to the phone as the door to his house shut. Why couldn’t he let go of the Hellfire club?

@zerokrox-bloglog @cyranyxx @adaed5 @the-redthreadd @lifeisnotsobadonceyoustopcaringceyoustopcaring @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshitorthisshit @failedstarsandgoldencloudsds @bisexualdisastersworldd @deadlydodoss @anythingyouwanttobee @nburkhardtt @bestwifehaverr @thehumblefigtreee @megzdoodlee @swimmingbirdrunningrockk @mightbeasleepp @bxlthazarar @autumnal-dawnn @nelotegreitic @chillichatss @nonbinary-eddie-munsonon @the-daydreamer-in-the-cornerner @eddie-munson-is-my-wifewife @a-little-unsteddiedie

(Sorry if I missed any of you!!! Please remind me if I did!)

(No actual Steddie but just some good old CC content. I want more than just Steve and Eddie to become friends. I want the whole CC to adopt the jock&lt;3<3)