#the image quality of my posts suck ass there though

[t1koy-roll]

Petey's Spider Experience

[halfetirosie]

🔥🔥🔥Vigilant Observer Edmond's R2 is UNDER-RATED!!!!!🔥🔥🔥 (a self-indulgent long-ass Edssay defending a room I really REALLY liked)

So, I have seen a weirdly large amount of comments online saying that the new SSR Edmond's Intimacy Room 2 sucks. I've seen it called boring and a waste of intimacy gifts.

Peace and Love, I know everyone has different tastes---and I am hella biased towards Edmond---

BUT!!!

I believe any perceive shortcomings are completely out-weighed by the elements this room actually focuses on.

At the very least, this intimacy room DESERVES to be appreciated more, rather than ruthlessly slandered.

1) What Happens VS What Doesn't

Here's a very general outline of what happens in R2:

Eiden initiates a "Guard searching/punishing a Prisoner" scene (Roleplay)

Eiden provokes (/ is a Brat to) Edmond (Dom/Sub)

Edmond use essence to conduct electricity into the baton, and uses the electricity to stimulate his exposed skin and dick (Electroplay + Masochism)

Eiden's provocations eventually turn into teasing (Dirty Talk, + light Humiliation)

Eiden uses the top of his foot to rub Edmond's bulge through his pants

Edmond cums first; Eiden teases/provokes him for it

Eiden cums shortly after from the Electroplay

Perfectly normal, standard intimacy room, yes?

But, from what I've gathered, people are labelling it as boring or under-whelming because:

There isn't any Bondage

There isn't significant nudity/direct skin-to-skin touching

The areas that are touched are relatively small (basically just each character's groin)

Edmond isn't the one that gets off from Masochism (or at least, not from physical Masochism)

These points go against what people's EXPECTATIONS were; since the setting of this event was in inside a prison--a harsh environment full of rough individuals and literal bondage--they expected this R2 to be more physical and rough than it actually was.

Hell, even I wasn't expecting for the room to be as "tame" as it was.

But just because my expectations were subverted doesn't mean I got pissy about it.

BECAUSE THIS ROOM IS STILL FUCKING GOOD!!!

I think a lot of people are ignoring the fact that not all BDSM plays NEED Bondage, skin-to-skin, physical pain (in this case, just on Ed's part), etc. to be satisfying--just because they expected that but didn't get it.

2) Missing the Point - THIS ROOM IS STILL HELLA KINKY (A Closer Look at Ed's Satisfaction)

If you're seeing this post, there's a fair chance you've also seen my GIANT Edmond Post for Struggling Fanfic Writers; which is basically a long-ass character analysis of Edmond.

As I mentioned in that post, Edmond H-scenes have certain themes/kinks that re-occur; and as it turns out, the Intimacy Room we'll be looking at today features a lot of them.

However, for the purposes of this post, I'm going to narrow it down to just 2--the 2 that, in my opinion, were the main contributors towards Edmond's orgasm. (After all, the quality of intimacy rooms with each unique character relies on the quality of that character's experience.)

The quality with which these themes/kinks are executed is extremely impressive, which is why it was satisfying to the characters; and thus, satisfying for us players to watch.

(I have censored this image in the hopes that Tumblr won't snipe me)

When R2 starts, Eiden immediately sets the scene by provoking Edmond; saying that Edmond should do is job as a guard and properly search the prisoner.

Via Eiden's provocations, although Edmond is in a vulnerable position--kneeling on the ground--he is, for the moment, playing the Dominant role.

This is another subversion of expectations, which I find very welcoming. This is possibly the closest we've ever gotten to characters switching roles--only, Edmond doesn't actually "top." (Though, now that I think of it, Silver Confessor Olivine R5 also has a similar dynamic....*shrug*)

While Edmond is acting as a Dom, Eiden is a Bratty Submissive; saying things like "it feels like a tickle!" when Edmond starts electrifying the baton.

Edmond is surprised when Eiden gets excited by being treated in such a degrading way (I spy, with my little eye, PROJECTION); but he's shortly thereafter put into a degrading position himself---

This is when Eiden starts rubbing Edmond through his pants with the top of his foot--which honestly isn't far off from the whole stepping-on-others position that is common in BDSM.

If you ask me, this is a HUGE POINT contributing towards the quality of this room: This submissive position, symbolizing Edmond's gradual loss of power/control.

Eiden also teases Edmond in the hopes that he'll suck him off; but, staying in-character, Edmond refuses him.

In other words, not giving Eiden head--another expectation people had that wasn't fulfilled--was literally a part of the play. It's Sexual Denial.

But, as R2 goes on, Eiden's teasing and dirty talk get more and more intense, and it basically ends up switching their roles in this play.

You know how in a typical Edmond H-scene, Eiden's kissing, caressing, etc. gradually make Edmond lose his mind with how horny he gets?

Well, so far, literally the only thing Eiden has done is indirectly rub his bulge. Rather than physical touch, Eiden's dirty talk is what makes Edmond the most aroused.

DEADASS---EIDEN DOESN'T EVEN HAVE TO DO THAT MUCH. HE DOES SUCH A GOOD JOB RILING EDMOND UP JUST WITH HIS WORDS, THAT THIS HAPPENS:

BITCH, EDMOND'S NIPPLES GET ERECT ON THEIR OWN!!!! JUST FROM HOW TURNED ON HE IS!!!! WITHOUT THEM EVER BEING TOUCHED!!!! THAT HAS LITERALLY NEVER HAPPENED BEFORE!!!!!!!!!

All Eiden has to do to fully switch Edmond from the Dom position back into the Sub--making Edmond lose control over himself--is TALK.

THAT IS SO FUCKING SEXY, WHAT THE HELL???? ♡♡♡

This is why I DO NOT UNDERSTAND people that don't like this room.

I've said before--in the GIANT Ed-Post--that Edmond is sensitive. And his H-scenes do a great job of showing that off---via PHYSICAL TOUCH.

But what this intimacy rooms excels at is expressing how Edmond is sensitive to more than just physical touch.

AND THAT IS THE WHOLE DAMN POINT!!!

Let's look again at the evidence:

Listen. I know this intimacy room didn't have the play people were expecting.

BUT IT WAS STILL GOOD.

Speaking from personal experience--and from the obvious arousal and satisfaction Edmond shows in this room--not every BDSM play needs to be super physical. Submission/masochism is not exclusively about physical stimulation/pain.

What we see in this intimacy room is Edmond being dominated in a psychological way, and that's what makes is so damn kinky and rewarding; both for viewers and for Edmond.

3) The GOD-TIER Technical Aspects

...So...did the people that are heavily criticizing this R2 just, like, have their sound off the whole time??? Or did they only read the subtitles without looking at the actual visuals of this intimacy room??????

Even if, for whatever reason, the find the scenario under-whelming, I CANNOT FOR THE LIFE OF ME picture a situation where the voice-acting and animation couldn't make up for that.

Quickly referencing back to the last section of this Edssay; Eiden is teasing Edmond like the entire time, and that "slightly husky" and "seductive" voice is INCREDIBLE. An absolute TREAT for my ears. And Edmond's panting, gasps, and moans???? HOT DAMN.

These two could be doing the most mundane, "boring" sexual act ever, but if we can hear that the both of them are clearly very into it, then why wouldn't it be a satisfying intimacy room???

And then there's the art---

It's all just SO GOOD, DAMMIT!!!!

4) ╭∩╮(˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)╭∩╮♡

I know that this Edssay was unnecessary. I know I spent too much time on it. I know that there's a high likelyhood no one will read it.

And, of course, I know that everyone is entitled to their own opinions.

BUT WHEN THOSE OPINIONS ARE BASED ON SILLY-ASS REASONS, AND END UP SLANDERING MY BOI EDMOND????

AND WHEN THOSE OPINIONS ARE JUST OBJECTIVELY WRONG??? (Peace and love)

I CANNOT, AND WILL NOT, STAY SILENT!!

I WILL PUT A STUPID AMOUNT OF TIME AND EFFORT INTO SCREAMING ABOUT WHY THAT OPINION IS HELLA MISGUIDED, AND I WILL SCREAM INTO THE VOID ABOUT IT!!!!

,; (ง 🔥 ﾛ 🔥 )ง ;,

...

.....

..........

This intimacy room was good, dammit....

Stop being so mean to it......

(⸝⸝o̴̶̷᷄-o̴̶̷̥᷅⸝⸝)

[leota-nexus]

So historically tumblr has always fucked with resizing or otherwise randomly trashing image quality levels. It sucks but it does happen, it's not you. I wish I could recommend a way around it but I've just come to accept it. (Though I'm also scanning the advice in the notes, lol)

Personally, all of my cyberpunk VP is from a basic-ass ps4 and most of it is fully unedited though I've started to play with editing a bit more in the last few months. So my shots may not be fully relevant but I hope this helps as a quick example anyway!

Unedited from photomode:

Edited (crop + contrast/saturation, usually just to nudge it past the max the game will allow and/or clean it up to pop a little stronger) :

Sidenote: these are jpgs & I'm not seeing much quality drop (but again, I'm on a ps4, so take that with a grain of salt). But I DO agree with @rindemption here:

From my experience, yeah, pngs are usually a safer bet on tumblr than jpgs. I hope it helps & that you're able to fix the quality issue to your liking! But either way, I still look forward to seeing your VP whenever you're ready to post some! 💕

A question for those who do virtual photography, especially in Cyberpunk 2077. Do you edit pics before posting?

I play on 1440p, ultra settings with Ray and Path tracing. I take pictures with in game photomode through F12 on Steam. It doesn't look bad on Steam at all. In my folder file it seems to looks worse than in game and on steam. When I post on tumblr, the quality is like I play on 720p or something? Even the dialogues are blurry.

What do I do wrong? Is this the photomode or me? How to fix that?

I would appreciate any help, really.

[pinuphead]

I know I talk a lot abt how the hellraiser comics aren’t that good and how the Hellraiser movies uhhh have some moments that are bad, but here’s some Hellraiser writing decisions that I genuinely think are superb: 

-Kirsty having a dad that’s a really nice sweet kind caring guy. It just feels right. That scene where he sits on the phone with her downstairs in his dressing gown because she called him after having a nightmare? Father of all time. Rip Kirsty’s dad forever in my heart. 

-Casting Doug Bradley as Pinhead was perfect, but having him keep his sticky out round ears for each movie was like... perfect casting choice. Yes, this is the Hellpriest... with his adorable round ears. It’s especially cute when Elliott wears his army cap and his ears are just poking out endearingly. It’s just very sweet to me and adds a nice humanising quality to the character. 

-Establishing that when Pinhead loses the human part of himself he becomes just absolutely fucking silly was genius. Pinhead was having the time of his life in Hellraiser 3 being silly as shit with no critical thought because his self control and inhibitions come from his human part. Pinhead has exactly one brain cell and it belongs to Elliott Spencer, and it’s the only thing stopping him from kicking church doors down to blow raspberries at the priests. 

-Elliott being really sweet and nice with Joey and then incredibly sarcastic and sardonic in the comics when he gets turned into a human is a great idea. Like first off Elliott being a sarcastic prick just feels natural and right and I love it, but him canonically being very very sweet to people he genuinely likes is just aw.

 He’s just like: fuck everyone I hate everyone here you’re all stupid. Not you though Joey you’ve never done anything wrong in your life ily #bestfriends. 

-Also just Joey as a protagonist. Yeah... love her. Hellraiser 3 being a meetcute romcom between two girls and the scene where Joey’s new hip girlfriend Terri fucks up her kitchen trying to make breakfast is perfect. 

-Pinhead having a pet fucked up hell hound dog in the 4th movie. Giving Pinhead a pet dog is one of the best decisions in the franchise. Few things top this. 

-Angelique. French mean girl demon who tells Pinhead he looks ugly as shit within 5 minutes of meeting him is one of the best characters in the entire franchise. I love their bickering. They spend most of their scenes together in the 4th movie arguing and it’s honestly just perfect. Cenobite workplace drama. Angelique if ur reading this ily. 

-comics mostly suck ass I do not recommend them at all they’re not worth it for the few scraps of good content they do have, but the scraps are there. I really like this panel from one of the older comics where Pinhead just has a catch up chat with a newly turned Cenobite. I just like seeing the cenobites casually hanging out together. 

image description:two comic panels drawn in watercolour. The first is a close up on Pinhead’s face as he sayd “very nice. you’ve adapted well, leviathan is pleased. The second panel shows Pinhead with his hands behind his back walking next to another cenobite that wears a long black coat. They are walking down sloping stairs in hell, and the other cenobite is saying “I’ve been using staples to fasten them on but I’ve grown rather inured to the pain, I’ve started thinking about screws-”. there is a text box in the bottom right that says the end. end description. 

- also the comics about the cenobites saving kids from shitty family situations are poggers. 

That’s all I can think of for now but I might make another post with more stuff I think of. 

[constellaj]

okay this mornings hot take is brought to you by a post I saw that said "fuck all that 'if you fight back you're just as bad as they are' bs in Splitting Images". I know what you're saying and it was a bad episode.

however danny literally fucking possesses dash, makes him say things he doesn't mean (the Toenails line in parental bonding), violates his privacy (the stuffed teddy bears in a locker in attack of the killer garage sale), uses him for literal slapstick comedy (having dash just run into lockers and beat himself up) and otherwise degrade his own reputation at school. not to mention that we canonically know being possesed isn't a good feeling; when danny goes to possess tucker (what you want I think) he says to get out, and jack is immediately distraught when vlad posseses him (bitter reunions) (I also think it's safe to say that, the worse a ghost's intentions are, the more painful a possesion is, cause jack didn't notice Danny's possession in parental bonding but he did notice vlads, despite vlad definitely being more experienced). also when Danny has him throw his lunch tray onto Paulina; it looks like a very deliberate act and now all his friends are going to think he did that shit on purpose even though dash didn't mean to so like that's sorta life ruining right there

(also dash in good writing isn't a one dimensional asshole right like we all saw micro management and pirate radio and reality trip where he a) is willing to work seriously with phantom b) is willing to put aside a student rivalry to save half a population c) has his respect for phantom outweigh his petty hatred for Fenton and also minor things like "dash I'm too weak and pathetic to open my locker can you do it for me" (which was a setup to him getting blasted by Skulker which idk I think getting shot with a ghost gun filled with otherworldly energy is a little worse than shoving someone in a locker but that's just me) where dash just Does It to be helpful even though he could have not etc etc like dash sucks but he still HAS redeeming qualities but I digress)

it would be one thing if phantom just showed up and physically beat dash up but danny invades his whole ass mind and suppresses his bodily autonomy and betrays some of his closest guarded secrets to the entire student body. like dash sucks but he ONLY ever bullies danny at school and only ever in slapstick. dash can't BREAK INTO DANNYS HEAD and make him say he eats paint chips. even WHEN dash coerces danny into doing stupid things it's clear that Danny is being FORCED into it. but when danny reciprocates it's like he's fucking gaslighting dash with this like how is dash supposed to think he DIDNT just decide to run into a wall and slam his head against it when the student body tells him that happened and he wakes up with a concussion. danny just uses Dash's entire body and mind for his own amusement and while it is born out of vengeance it's fucking Uhhh terrifying (I don't think danny knows any of this cause he's dumb as hell but my point stands)

listen dash will grow out of being 14 (and so will danny) and therefore out of being a little shitstain. who among us was not the worst version of themselves in 7th grade. but you know what he won't grow out of? the perpetual fear that he's going insane and every time he has a lapse in his memory it's because he decided to reveal something he wanted to keep private or said something he didn't mean or took his own hands and beat himself half to death

[the2amrevolution]

@badgerhuan also

Ah. I updated to a newer theme when I came back to tumblr (old one was from 2015ish, fell off using between 2016 and 2018, came back last year), so I guess thats why my posts look normal on my custom page as well, even doing the desktop view in a mobile browser.

And a post reblogged that was originally posted using the new editor.

So using an up-to-date theme solves the issue.

I joined tumblr in 2010. Im used to making adjustments when things change. People fought the way that reblogs showed new replies/comments even though the new way (which changed around 2013? 2014? Which also illustrates the age of your theme) is far easier to read.

There are legit complaints to be had like people having issues with arranging their gifs, or if people are experiencing quality losses on larger images that get sized down for more than just a preview (click to enlarge not working correctly), or tumblr converting things to .webp format which sucks ass and isn't compatible with most websites or messaging apps (can't use my own gifs as reactions or share on discord via mobile 😑), and the issues with posts not showing up in tracked tags or search (another thing I havent personally encountered so I dont know why some people have the problem and others dont).

But its not unreasonable to expect that an old theme isn't going to be compatible with all site updates.

hi! i’ve never used the new web editor (and don’t have the option to try it out, like staff recommends) would you mind explaining what the problems are with it? 

be very glad you don't have the option to try it out

basically, you won't have a text post/audio/photo/link option anymore, you can make a post and then select if you want to include a photo inside that post

old editor my beloved:

when you click on photo:

nasty new editor:

uploading with the old editor:

uploading with the ugly ass new editor (this is where it's the least comfortable):

do you see the huge gaps between the 2 gifs? the title at the very top? it also glitches like it's a fucking word document

results with the old editor my little baby: https://saintalicent.tumblr.com/post/713778412194529280/lovely-old-editor-my-love-3

results with the new ugly sent from hell editor: https://saintalicent.tumblr.com/post/713778389643902976/new-editor-fucking-yikes-get-the-fuck-out-of-here

this whole post glitched like 3 times with the images

@staff

[bangtanger]

CONTENT CREATOR YEAR IN REVIEW

was thinking for 84 hours where should i post it but as its my creator blog i m doing it here <3 i was tagged by @taemaknae @suhdays @ynki @honsool @jjeongukie @taeyungie @dearbangtansonyeondan @lifegoesmon @everythingoes @flipthatjacketjiminie @yoongi-bts @jiminslight @hopekidoki @cowboyjinbop @yoonqiful @jcngkooks @pjmsdior @hobeah @balenciaguks​ @jinvant @hobibestboy @vjimin @yoongikook AND THANK U SO MUCH FOR INCLUDING ME T_T ik maybe its not a big deal but its a big deal to me and im touched :(((((((((((( also gimme some time to check all ur posts 👉👈 also im in a mood to say that ive collected many pokemons here djfksfhsakjddld ok nvm 

also sorry for a long post ik tmblr fvcks things up sometimes when there is keep reading so dont fight me plz <3

❀ first creation and most recent creation of 2020 

ok this is the fist one (still very pleased with colouring here T_T the stage lighting was,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, well yeah as always lmao) and this is the most recent (TBH DKJSKDSDK I WISH MY MOST RECENT POST COULD BE A DIFFERENT ONE THE ONE I WANNA MAKE FOR A MONTH NOW THE ONE ID PUT A LOT MORE EFFORTS IN SO IM A LIL FRUSTRATED i literally just missed giffing but couldnt watch anything new so took an old vid i wanted to gif once I DIDNT EVEN USE MYCOLOURING PSD IT LITERALLY HAS ONLY COUPLE OF LAYERS uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh :( but whatever,,, it just kinda doesnt show the difference -_-)

❀ a creation u r really proud of 

well 👁👄👁 there r quite few,,, and the main reason is colouring most of these r comps and i a b s o l u t e l y sucked at comps and esp at making the colouring consistent there lol so lets begin lol  1 (u have no idea how muchi love this set) 2 (i fucking mastered it i wanted to remake it for two years and i finally did!! 60 fps smooth good moments iconic performance iconic hair colour his attitude bruh and ofc the fact that i could do sth with colouring,,,,,, and chose such an unusual colour scheme that i doubted jckdckfdk and it still worked out 🥺) 3 (lol i had this idea written down since 2018 as well and this year i could finally collect all moments i needed and oh boi yeah,,, AND COLOURING I COULD ALMOST yeah almost do sth decent with it there r still couple moments id changed but im pleased) 4 (im so happy whenevr i see this CUZ IT ALL WORKED OUT it was such an impulsive comp i literally only saw couple moments for past few years as well where i could see three of them in one frame and suddenly I WAS LIKE I FUCKING MUST POST THOSE MOMENTS SOMEHOW and im so proud of colouring it looks so well T_T) 5 (the colouring ofc im still :o that i could get rid of that shitty shit dkksjkj AND THE MOMENTS ITSELF?????? AND BLACK SWAN???????? EVERY PERFORMANCE???? HAIR?????? OUTFIT???????? EVRERYHTIGNM???????? HIS FUCKING STARE? FACE??? DONT MAKE ME CONTINUE AAAAAAAAAAA also if im not wrong this set in particular made me start my before/after posts 🥺) 6 (i jujst love everything about it e v e r yt h i n g also i could made ppl believe that jin fr has purple hair here when in reality its brown djhfdhskdf one of blending modes or adjustment layers worked this way lol) 7 (i wont even comment this tried a great tutorial with great beautiful resuls for the first time ever and it worked out so well and i like it so much and the whole yoongi here,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, also love me some borders that add cinematic feels to some gifs or just make them pretty in a dif way just like i did with prev post i mentioned imo lol) OK LAST ONE 8 (I USED A VIDEO OF STARS AND ADDED IT TO THE GIF FOR THE FIRST TIME EVER I FUCKED WITHMASKING FOR 3 HOURS GRRRRRRRR THIS IS SO HUGE FOR ME!!!!! i cant even explain whew IVE NEVER DID ANYTHING LIKE THIS BEFORE SO I WAS REALLY PROUD TOO even tho i fucked masking up on some layers lmao but lets not pay too much attention to it 👀)

❀ a creation that took u forever

ohhhhhhhh i think this one cuz the moments were long i couldnt decide what do i want to include + it ts file so u kno,,, the speed,,, of processing,, + somehow decided to put them all together + fucked with colouring + had to get rid of the logo and as we know japan likes a lot of big braight text around haha and draw hair in moments where logo made it look blurry + had to adjust the order and all that stuff but getting rid of logo was the longest part 

❀ a creation from 2020 that received the most notes

whew this iconic one im still amazed tbh they looked soso incredible and im glad how everything turned out here <3 (could change some colouring on bg tho so it could look better and more hq :c)

❀ a creation u think deserved more notes 

lol this one cuz i was so hyped to make it cuz their concert in saudi arabia is one of my fav things in the world and i waited for so long to have mood and energy to go throught it to find jk moments and i couldnt choose some for this comp for so long and just,,,,,, overall,,,, the way he looks here............................................................... its a special comp to me haha ill def gif more of it i have shit ton of clips left and also there r other members and i just want to sit and enjoy yhe whole thing to so may find more stuff to gif here lol

❀  a new fandom u joined an a creation u made for it 

i didnt join anything heurheru

❀ a creation u made that breaks ur heart

OKAY LISTEN DSJAKDJHFDKJ THIS ONE IF U KNOW U KNOW AND IM SURE IT BREAKS ALMOST EVERY HEART tbh whenever i see soft smiles or soft interactions or anything like this im just :’( <3 even my serotonin boost tag does it to me cuz its too precious T_T

❀  a ‘simple’ creation that u really love

this one cuz everything about it ah and this one 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

❀ a creation that was inspired by someone else

ummmmmmmmmmmmmmmm idk maybe this one ? cuz i never did anything like this before and maybe i saw someones beautiful headers and decided to try one too ? i could do a lot better there is not enough depth but oh well,,, lol

❀  a favourite creatin created by someone else

oh its gonna be hard :) dear every conten creator i hope u dont mind if i wont go though the whole 2020 gif tag but choose form the most recent ones i loved? u know how much i appreciate ur content cuz i never stop screaming about it in tags but truly there r more content makers and i want u to know that i really love ur content :(

@syubb welllllllllllll i wont even comment this is iconique.....

@jinv T_T val i miss u but there should be bday comps with that BIG ASS IMAGE THAT HAS ITS PARTS ON EVERY SINGLE GIF I CANT EVEN EXPLAIN that icant even find dfjksfskj

@jung-koook i literally couldnt choose ehdskjdjksd but i decided this one cuz its sososososososososososososososososososososo well made every single detail here is chefs kiss

@kkulmoon i truly really cant get enough of ur colouring lately T_T

@minhope !!!!!!LITERALLY EVERY PANTONE COMP OR ESPECIALLY 7 YEARS WITH BTS PANTONE ONE IM AAAAAAAAAAAAA and lmao i think this is one of the most reposted things ive ever seen on internet T_T

@jjoon hng amy u know how i feel about ur content T_T decided this one cuz f l a w l e s s 

@hopekidoki stuff like this makes my jaw lie in the floor dsjkdj

@flipthatjacketjiminie idk whats up but it makes me scream like a madman every time i see it.........

@lifegoesmon i cant even explain why i chose this one but everything here is so incredible !!!!!!!!1

@hobeah one of those good fucking bye ones.....

@taeyungie this made me feel so many things and a whole ass a w e so cool T_T

@jiminfilter i will never shut up about bts core jungkook one should also be here

@seoksjin THE COLOURS I SCREAM OH MY GOD O HMY OGD I JUST WENT TO CHECK OUT AND SAW THIS AND IMMEDIATELY DJKSJD DECIDED THIS IS CRAZY THE PASTELS THE PINNKS AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA EVERYHTGIN but also those birthday posts ahhh T_T

@jinvant i wanna YELL but also u know how much i love ur quality and blacks  T_T and gfxs too!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

@yoongi-bts i love everything here with my whole heart!!!

@everythingoes SHOUWLD I EVEN EXPLAIN WHY

@hobibestboy THIS IS SO COOL AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA THE COLOUR SCHEME

@joenns  I WONT EVEN EXPLAIN IM SO HURT HES SO THIS IS SO T____________________T 

@jjeongukie idk i cant get enough of skin tone!!!!!!!!!!!!

@chaylani i really love the colouring and love these posts with highlights T_T

@eklipxe COLOURING AND EVERYTHIGN

@oncupid cant get enough of every colouring ive seen <3

@jiminslight THIS WHOLE GIF RIGHT HERE

@6dis-ease COZY AND PRECIOUS T_T

@ofkimtaehyung I LITERALLY HAVE NO WORDS ITS SO PRETTY

@taee it was really hard to choose too T_T decided to go with this cuz,, u kno

@yoonqiful CUZ THESE COLOURS DRIVE ME INSANE

OK THIS IS GETTING TOO LONG KDSFJSAKDL I WOULD ADD A LOT MORE CUZ THERE IS A LOT MORE TO ADD BUT IVE BEEN DOING THIS FOR THREE HOURS I BETTER CHILL 

❀  some of your favourite content creators from this year

ok i may forgot someone + in no order in particular + literally every creator that i follow/whose content i reblog @taeguks @tearuntold @cyphertaehyungie @love4hobi @kimnamtaejin @taejoon @jimiyoong @namkook @taeyungie @jinvant @jinv @6dis-ease @jiminrolls @daechwitas @syubb @syuga @jjeongukie @cowboyjinbop @hope-film @minhope @hopekidoki @joonie @namgination @jung-koook @faerieth @kooksv @lifegoesyoon @yoonqiful @j-sope @chaylani @jiminfilter @jjoon @everythingoes @varietae @seoksjin @dearbangtansonyeondan @ofkimtaehyung @yoongi-bts @gaypeople @seokjinyoongis @agustdfeatrm @joenns @houseofarmanto @namjoon (will miss forever) @thebtsgenre @honsool @vjimin @seokjinite @jiminswn @taee @hobeah @lifegoesmon @taemaknae @gukgi @kkulmoon @flipthatjacketjiminie @jintae @jcngkooks @ynki @yoongikook @yoongiandthebiaswreckers @jiminslight @gwkie @oncupid @eternalbulletproof and many more <3

OK SO i wanna say a special thanks to every content creator ever and also i wanna say that im really glad to be a part of this community all of u r so cool and creative and make such beautiful things and many of u made me feel EMOTIONS with ur sets or not only sets ill be forever grateful that i discovered bts and for everything they do to me without even knowing ALSO THANK U FOR STILL BEING HERE ON TUMBRLDSDFKJ yeah this year was less active there were few issues many ppl went on twt but thank u for still being here also happy new year <3333333 i think i sounded deeper and more emotional when i was commenting ppls gifs :| but its almost 2 am so i hope u will understand dkfjkfsjk im happy there is this corner on the internet that feels cozy and so welcoming <3 i love u i wish u a better year ahead <3 ok for checking notifications purpose ill tag my blog lol @eternal-bangtan

[writtenbynightlock]

synopsis: college kept your life busy. the miya twins also have a life of their own. with your secretive nature, things became complicated.

genre: angst, fluff, friends to lovers

wc: 1.9k

warnings: college au, series, post time-skip spoilers

Part 3 | Part 5

The sun shines brightly through the windows of your apartment, disturbing you from your slumber. You covered your head with a pillow, blocking out the light. As you were getting comfy and falling back to sleep, your doorbell rang, making you groan. You didn’t want to get out of bed as your body felt like it has been trampled. Your muscles were sore and your head was pounding.

Standing up still in your dress from last night, you suddenly felt dizzy, making you sit back down on your bed. You hated being drunk. The things you did from last night were all such a blur memory. It sometimes gets you scared. You could only recall a few events. Scanning your room, it seems normal - just like how you left it yesterday afternoon. You can’t help but feel paranoid. Whenever you were drunk, you often do crazy things that was so not you. The last time you got drunk, you puked on Osamu’s t-shirt as he was trying to get you home. The last time you got drunk, you found your phone in the microwave with melted cheese on top. You can’t even remember putting it in there. You ended up buying a new one and got a lecture from Osamu for you to stop drinking and how you wasted quality cheese and for breaking your phone, while Atsumu just laughed his ass off at the story.

All in all, the twins were always there whenever you go out drinking because if you weren’t accompanied, you probably would have already died in a ditch somewhere. 

You squeal as you heard another ring of the doorbell. With a sigh, you stood up carefully and made your way towards the door. Opening it, you saw Kaori with a bright expression on her face, which was the opposite of you really because you looked like you just came out from hell. 

“Kaori-chan, what brings you here?”

“Good morning love! I brought food to help you with your hangover. May I come in?”

“S-sure”

Stepping aside, you let Kaori enter your apartment. You do remember attending Kaori’s birthday party. You do remember having dinner and talked to her friends but it ends there. You pretty much don’t remember what happened after that. 

“H-how did you know I have a hangover?”

“Sweetie, I think you’re the only person I know who could empty a whole bottle of wine alone.” Your eyes widened at this. 

“What?! A w-whole bottle?!”

Kaori’s eyes widened, shocked at your reaction before letting out a chuckle. “You heard me. Do you not remember last night?” You can’t help but feel baffled. Sitting down, you intensely stared at the table thinking long and hard. This sends another pang in your head, making you hiss.

“Hangovers are real fckers. My head hurts so bad.”

You say as you hold your head, massaging it. Kaori then hands you in some medicine and water. You thanked her and drank it, hoping it would cure the pain as soon as possible. You desperately want to remember what happened last night but you’re afraid to ask.

“Did something happen when you got home last night? You’ve got some pretty interesting marks on your neck, (Y/n)-chan.”

Kaori says with a smirk as she points her chopsticks to your neck. You automatically held your neck, confused to what she meant.

“What are you talking about?”

“Take a look at the mirror love.”

Anxious, you quickly went to the sink of your bathroom and there it was. Multiple hickeys were scattered on your smooth neck. A look of horror morphed on your face. You rubbed your eyes again, in attempts and hoping that you were just seeing things but it was still there. Red marks were scattered on your neck and collarbone. Your heart started to raise in your chest. You tightened your grip on the bathroom sink, thinking intensely.

What the fuck happened to me last night?

Who could even leave those on your neck? You didn’t have a boyfriend and Atsumu- Your heart stopped for a moment. Were you totally wasted last night? The images of you and Atsumu suddenly fills your head. The way he was being gently as he kisses you. The way he hugged your body as you sat on his lap. This made you feel the heat creeping up to your neck and cheek. It doesn’t make sense. Was it just a dream? 

“No. It couldn’t be.” You say with an exasperated laugh before you took another glance in the mirror. You noticed how your make up was neatly removed. Was it Atsumu that brought you home last night? If he did, how did those love bites ended up on your neck? He wouldn’t. You two are just friends. He wouldn’t take advantage of you.

Walking back into the kitchen, you sit down on the seat awkwardly, not looking at Kaori. She giggles at your troubled expression, “I’m glad to hear that your night ended on a good note.”

“Oh god!” You exclaimed, pulling your hair, hoping that this was just a freaking dream. You just want to die right there. The suspense was torturing you. You don’t want to think about it right now. It can’t be your ex boyfriend. You didn’t even remember seeing him last night.

“Kaori-chan. What happened last night?” Kaori glances at you, a sudden worry appeared across her face.

“Please don’t tell me you’re one of those drunkards who doesn’t remember anything.”

“Unfortunately, I am!”

Kaori let out frustrated sigh, rubbing her temple before looking at you. She hesitated but continued. Kaori told you everything, on when you arrived at the venue with Atsumu. On when you and Kaori took pictures and had dinner together with the boys and her girl friends. On how you and the rest of the girls gossiped and how it led to Shioko ended up being with Nakamura, on how your ex cheated on you while you two were still dating. On how you confronted Nakamura but somehow you got slapped in the face by Shioko. On how Atsumu took the initiative in taking you home and that was it. That’s her side of the story. It was so much to take in but somehow you felt a bit relieved knowing that you were no longer have any relation with Nakamura. It did hurt though, on how he was seeing another girl while you two were still dating but it doesn’t matter anymore. You two broke up. You didn’t love him. You were just drawn to his good looks. You made a fool out of yourself. You didn’t take care of yourself. 

“You really don’t remember when you got home last night?”

Silence.

Kaori’s eyes then landed on the couch before a sigh left her mouth.

“I think I have an idea on what happened” says Kaori as she stands up and walked towards the couch, grabbing the grey blazer and giving it to you. You looked at it with a confused expression before it hits you. It was Atsumu’s blazer. You could smell his scent from it, so fresh and zesty, like lemons. You then looked at Kaori again, “So...”

Kaori slapped a palm on her face before she looks at you with a weird expression, taking the blazer away from you and sways it in front of your face.

“Atsumu’s blazer. The hickeys on your neck. Both of you were intoxicated with wine last night. A man and a woman alone. That leads to the possibility of?” Kaori sings, waiting for you to answer but you just stayed at her blankly, making her roll her eyes. 

“You and Atsumu were making out yesterday missy! It’s the only plausible explanation!”

You felt your cheeks heat up and the redness creeping up your neck. You don’t want to believe it. If it was true, then you really messed up big time. You just put you and Atsumu’s friendship at risk. You can’t afford to lose it. You always had fun when you’re with Atsumu but knowing you possibly gobbled up his face last night makes you just want to bang your head against the wall a thousand times.

“B-but why?!”

“I don’t know. That’s for you two to figure out. You need to talk” says Kaori with a knowing smile.

“What? No! I’m not just gonna straight up ask him like ‘hi Atsumu, were you the one who sucked my neck last night?’ Atsumu wouldn’t do that! We’re friends for goodness sake. We don’t have that kind of feelings for each other.”

“I don’t know about that sweetie. Your neck tells a different story” says Kaori, chuckling in amusement. 

“Maybe this is just a rash from the wine-”

“No sweetie. I know a hickey when I see one, or in your case, hickeys.”

With that, you just remained silenced and ate your breakfast or lunch rather since you woke up pretty late. As Kaori keeping a conversation alive as she discusses her new designs for their upcoming fashion show exam, you suddenly recalled something. You remembered how you went to the bathroom to vomit in the middle of your make out session. The mortified look on your face made Kaori stop talking and raise her eyebrows a you. 

“Oh my god! I messed up big time.” 

“Why?”

“I puked in the middle of our kissing.” Kaori gasped and covered her mouth. 

“Oh that’s not good.”

Puking in the middle of a make out session is definitely not a confidence booster. That situation could mean two things - either the thought of kissing that person was making you sick to your stomach or it was just bad. 

You panicked at this. Knowing Atsumu, this would definitely offend him. Atsumu is a confident man. He may not mind other people’s opinions but the people closer to the golden-haired setter affects him. It brought butterflies to your stomach just by the thought of Atsumu’s red and soft lips moving against yours. 

Who knew his lips felt so good on your skin?

Deep down, you were always thankful for the twins but somehow Atsumu has a special place in your heart. With his charms and fun personality, any girl could fall for him. You weren’t too confident with yourself and you had to endure the twins’ popularity in high school. You were always the target of being bullied by other girls. They would often bump your shoulder while passing the hallway and tweet about you, though no name dropping but you know it was you. 

When you entered college, you were still vulnerable about it. All the emotional damage that you’ve been through, Nakamura was more of a comfort person to you at first, the fact that he’s the person who has shown romantic feelings for you, but it all went downhill as months passed by. He worsened you. He brought you more emotional and physical damage. 

You hated yourself for it. You went into a relationship when you were still vulnerable. You didn’t take the time to heal but you wanted help but it was the help that you mistook. Why were you so in a rush? 

Am I really that desperate?

How were you supposed to face Atsumu now? What were you gonna tell him once you two meet? If it’s true, how does this change your relationship with him now?

One thing’s for sure, you are in a mess. 

Taglist: @softiebadbitch​

[a-quiet-borderline-diary]

Sex related rant incoming (I don't write about the subject much, so if that makes u uncomfortable compared to my normal diary content skip this post) :

I honestly don't find myself sexually attracted to other people very often. It's not as if I'm asexual, though. I would say I have been sexually attracted to maybe "handfuls" of people in my life. Usually, I become sexually attracted to someone if I fall in love with them. There are few times that I have felt sexual energy with another person (that wasn't one sided on their end), and when this happens sometimes I begin to idealize the person. I create an image of them that makes them appear important, just because I'm sexually attracted to them. In my head, if it is possible for me to find them sexually attractive, it must mean that person is special.

Sometimes I feel like the low occurance I have of sexual feelings towards other people is because I'm too shallow somehow. When it comes to porn, I exclusively look at hentai (anime porn). I am pretty picky about what hentai I want to look at. I prioritize the looks of the women in hentai. When it comes to men, I prefer hentai with a regular looking protagonist. Usually a young man, but 18+. I don't really care what the man/men look like for the most part, but I don't like "ugly bastard" types. I don't like hentai that gets too rapey. I DO enjoy seduction, though. I don't mind seeing both male and female characters be charmed by someone, but I don't want to see anything forced. I strongly favor a specific body type in women in hentai. I like to see women with well-endowed hourglass figures with more preference for the tits being large than the ass. Ass can be whatever size, but I am only really interested in seeing unrealistically large boobs. I myself got implants in the largest size I could fit because I thought that look was so attractive. Even though I like boobs large, I still don't really want to look at hentai that has comically outrageous proportions. I like hentai, but I'm not really into "silly" cartoon art styles. I like the milf stereotype, so I'm into women with a mature demeanor. They don't always have to be older, but obviously at least 18. I'm more likely to look at hentai with mother aged women in it than 18 year old women though. Overall I think most hentai I look at is pretty vanilla but I like group stuff with all genders and sexualities, public sex stuff, and sometimes I do look at fantasy with monsters. I only really look at fantasy hentai that uses humanoid or nonexistent creatures, I am not interested in shit with animals. I like hentai in manga format, but for videos I usually look at cgi or partially cgi 2d stuff. I'm picky about art style. I sometimes take a long time looking for a decent video to watch because I am looking for pretty much 1 specific body type on the woman and I also only watch when the animation quality is pretty high. I like hentai game gallery animations, but I don't really bother with eroge games that have no motion in the sex scenes. My biggest kink is adult breastfeeding, especially group sex where there are a lot of scenes with both of the woman's nipples being sucked. I think I masturbate to hentai maybe 5 times a week tops and usually my husband and I have sex once or twice a week.

That pretty sums up my taste in porn, but I do not have all the same interests for real sex. I would never fuck a monster lmao. Looking at hentai characters drink breast milk is hot, but I would never drink human breast milk in real life. I do have a kink in real life for breast sucking, though. I also like group sex in real life, but I don't often have sexual feelings for multiple people at once. And even then, I can't always see things working in a group with those people. I am poly, but right now only have one partner and that's my husband. I don't even have any friends I would feel comfortable asking to just play around together and have them suck my tits. I feel like I might enjoy that, but I don't feel the attraction or sense of intimacy to ask for that from anyone I currently know. I also sort of avoid getting casual about sex with people very often because I don't want to risk stds.

The people I am sexually attracted to in real life do not usually look like the women I look at in hentai. I do not see much of a pattern in the body types of men or women I date. I generally don't date people who are considerably obese, but I don't care if someone is overweight. Most people I have dated were in average shape, average weight. I am overweight myself, but I am built with a pretty flattering shape. Most people I have dated look pretty similar to me in how they evenly carry weight. I have liked pixie skinny people, and my husband has more like a bear body. I have had exes with mom bods, which is basically what I have now. With the boobs, I don't care about the size on other women. I like both "boyish" women and super feminine women. I can pretty much say the same for men. In hentai I do like twink-like men, but in real life I am just as likely to like a thin man as I am a thick one. Usually it seems my sexual attraction centers around how I connect to a person emotionally or through personality so I guess I don't prioritize physical qualities that much in real life sexual partners.

Maybe watching hentai has made me only be able to feel initial sexual attraction to fantasy...maybe I was always this way. Idk. I honestly feel like people find out what kind of porn I watch though and assume I reject them because I am shallow. If you look at most people I have dated in the past I don't think that is what shows tho. Oh well just high horny ranting owo

[the-wild-wolves-around-you]

Carry Me Home (A Din Djarin/Reader Fic)

Summary: Din and Reader find themselves on a jungle planet hunting a bounty, but nothing goes as planned, and secrets are shared.

***Based off this line from a previous fic in this series: "Then the mysterious bounty hunter told you his name one day when you were trying to hold his femoral artery together with nothing but bacta gel and hope."

No spoilers. Set in Season 1 between Episode 6 (The Prisoner) & Episode 7 (The Reckoning)

Pairings: Din Djarin/Reader; Din Djarin/You

Rating: M(ature)

Warnings: Blood, gore, & violence. Brief mentions of past slavery. 

A/N: In true Star Wars fashion, I'm just writing shit out of order lol. But the idea for this fic kept bugging me, so i just had to get it out on the page. 

You don't need to read the previous fics to understand this one, though (since the others are set in s2.) I have some more ideas for out of order stories, too, so I'll most likely be continuing this series.But let me know if you'd be interested in a fic from Din's POV! I think that could be fun, but if y'all are digging Reader POV, I'll stick to that.

And in case anyone cares, the title is taken from the lyrics of Arcade by Duncan Lawrence, which I was listening to on repeat as I wrote this. 

As always, I’ve posted this piece on Ao3, but I’ll paste the text below. 

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28763814

I’ll also include the links to the other two fics here: 

The Sea Like Glass Ch 1: Here

The Sea Like Glass Ch 2 (includes smut): Here

“Dank farrik!” you hissed as the wire in front of you sparked and sent a jolt of electricity through your already singed fingers. Not for the first time, you wished you could wear your gloves, but some of the pieces that needed repairing were too small to feel through the bulky material, so you could do nothing more than sacrifice your flesh for the cause.

Didn’t make it hurt less, though. You sucked the smarting tips into your mouth, glaring at the trashed circuit board in front of you, but the ruined hardware only crackled in response.

If you were back in Hanger 3-5 in Mos Eisley, you would have probably trashed the whole part and dug through Peli’s stock for a replacement, or gone down to the market and haggled for something newer, but you weren’t on Tatooine. You were smack dab in the middle of a jungle planetoid you couldn’t remember the name of, and it was up to you to get the Razor Crest running again on what you had available.

Which, admittedly, wasn’t a lot.

You sighed as you sat back on your haunches, using the back of your wrist to swipe at the sweat trailing down your temple. The pre-Empire ship towered over you as you dug into her innards, having pried off one of the semi-melted lower side panels to access the appropriate circuits. Your thin tank top was already drenched, and the hair sticking to the back of your neck kept giving you phantom itches. You wanted nothing more than to tie it up completely, but you always felt naked when your nape was exposed. You weren’t necessarily ashamed of the scar there, or the past connected to it, since it wasn’t your fault you were born into shackles, but… still. It was a… personal story to tell, and you weren’t sure you were ready to share it with your new boss.

Well, “new” was relative. You’d been employed on the Razor Crest for several months now, but you didn’t know much more about the Mandalorian than you did when you’d first set foot onto his ship. You knew he was a bounty hunter, from a race of legendary warriors. You knew he had a partially sordid, and dangerous, past if your encounter with Ran and his crew of mercenaries was any indication. You knew the green baby was his ward, or foundling as he called it, and Mando was tasked with returning the little guy to his people. And you knew his Creed forbid him from removing his helmet.

That was about it. The Mandalorian didn’t talk much, but it didn’t particularly bother you. You’d always been a quieter person, and after years of Peli’s constant chattering, you were kind of relieved for the silence.

Most of the time, anyway.

“How’s it looking?”

You gasped in alarm, jolting yourself off balance and falling back onto your ass in the dirt.

“Maker, Mando,” you panted as you craned your neck back to stare up at the bounty hunter. “What have I told you about sneaking up on me when I’m working on electrics?”

The impervious mask of the Mandalorian stared down at you silently, blotting out the sweltering sun and providing you a modicum of relief. A moment passed, then two, and you shifted uneasily under his unblinking gaze.

“I thought you heard me approach,” he said finally, his modulated voice flat and unaffected, but he didn’t move from where he was looming over you.

“Well, I didn’t,” you grumbled as you flopped your head forward and popped your neck, stretching your legs out in the dirt.

The tight leggings you wore ended not too far past your knees, so your shins were streaked with the red soil of this planetoid. The dirt didn’t bother you, but the heat sure did. It was different than Tatooine’s dry desert. This heat was oppressive, stifling, almost cloying, and every time you took a deep breath, a small part of your brain panicked, images of drowning flashing through your mind even though you knew it was irrational. You were just grateful your clothes didn’t look a fraction as hot as the Mandalorian’s all black get-up and what had to be twenty-five kilos of armor.

“So,” the bounty hunter said after a few more moments of silence, interrupted only by the call of exotic birds in the canopy, “how are things looking?”

“Honestly?” you sighed as you pushed yourself off the ground, dusting the red dirt off your hands but not even bothering with your pants. “Not good. The bounty’s guns must have grazed us when we were still outside orbit, and entering the atmosphere certainly didn’t help matters. Some of the side paneling has been melted beyond repair, and a lot of the wiring is fried, too.”

“Can you get it flying?” Mando asked, crossing his arms over his chest and making his silhouette all the more imposing. The sun glinted off his silver beskar, and you squinted in the glare.

“Maybe.” You pursed your lips and averted your gaze, turning back to stare at the charred panels and sparking wires. Sweat trickled down your neck, and you reached back to cup your nape, feeling the bounty hunter’s eyes on you.

“Didn’t know I was paying you for maybes.”

“You’re not paying me at all if you can’t even catch that quarry,” you snorted before your brain could catch up to your mouth.

You froze when the words finally registered, nails digging into the back of your neck. Stupid. Your mouth always did get the better of you. You used to mouth-off to your former owner until he backhanded you into silence, and now you’re starting shit with a bounty hunter you’d seen kill half a dozen men in just as many seconds.

Stupid.

You waited for Mando to say something, staring at the Razor Crest without even seeing it, and even if you didn’t really believe he’d hurt you for a simple off-handed comment, your body didn’t get the message. Muscle memory was a hard thing to forget, and every fiber in you braced for the blow.

The birds chittered in the towering blue-green canopy above your head as sweat poured from every single one of your pores, and you were just about to come out of your skin when the Mandalorian finally spoke.

“Well, to catch the quarry, I need my ship to fly,” he said, and when you chanced a glance over your shoulder, you discovered he’d somehow moved further away from you, like he took several steps back.

Was he… giving you space?

His tone was still flat, but after several months spent in close proximity with the bounty hunter, you were now able to parse out several different minor inflections in his modulated voice. You were by no means an expert, but you knew for a fact he didn’t sound angry in this moment. When he was angry, his voice took on a softer, menacing quality. The few times you’d heard it—thankfully never directed at you—every hair on your body stood on end, and the lizard part of your brain had screamed to run and not stop running until you were in a completely different star system.

This wasn’t anger. This was… something else. You almost wanted to say… amusement, but that would have been crazy.

Still, the tension bled out of your shoulders like sand through a sieve, and you dropped your arms as you turned to face the Mandalorian fully again.

“Alright, this is the best I can do,” you said. “I can get her flying again, I think I can even get her shielded enough to withstand leaving the atmosphere when we’re done here, but it’s gonna take some time.”

“How much time?” he asked.

You glanced over your shoulder again at the damage, did some calculations in your head, and added some padding to give yourself a margin for error. Then you turned back to the bounty hunter.

“At least two days,” you replied, confident in your abilities. “Anything less, and we risk blowing ourselves to the Inner Core and back when I go to start her up.”

“Hmm.” Mando stared at you for a moment and then shifted to gaze into the jungle. “The bounty will most likely be off planet by then.”

“I don’t think so,” you contradicted him, and your heart actually skipped a beat when the T of his visor turned to look at you. There was something nerve-wracking about staring into the dark, reflective glass, but then you noticed your red-streaked appearance, and you cringed self-consciously as you looked away.

“Why do you say that?” he asked.

“Because,” you started, stooping down to pick up the tablet beside your tool bag, “when I first came out here and saw the damage, I was afraid we’d end up in this situation. But then I remembered that the quarry’s ship took more damage than we did in our little space battle. I know for a fact we landed at least one solid hit, I saw it myself.”

“And?”

“Well,” you said as you tapped at the screen, “given the make and model of his vessel, and the location of where we struck the ship, I was able to deduce that we most likely damaged his engines. If his engines are damaged, then there is a maximum distance he could have gone before he would have been forced to land, or even crash landed. With all this information, plus the fact that I knew the general location of where we lost visual of him when we entered the atmosphere, I’ve estimated the quarry can’t be farther than five klicks from our current coordinates. And with his entry trajectory, he’s most likely in this triangulated area three and a half klicks to the west, which should be easily reachable on foot.”

You turned the map on the tablet to face the Mandalorian, and he stepped forward to take the device from you. His gloved fingers brushed across your singed ones, remnant electricity shooting through your veins, and you stifled a flinch as you dropped your arm.

Mando studied the map for a long moment, cocking his head and zooming in to get a better look. You shifted uneasily in the silence, scuffing the tip of your boot into the red soil, but then the bounty hunter finally looked back up at you.

“When did you have time to do this?” he asked, and he actually sounded… impressed. “You were out here for less than ten minutes after we landed.”

“It wasn’t that hard.” You shrugged as your cheeks flushed with heat, but you blamed the sweltering sun overhead and the soup-like air.

“I didn’t realize you were so good with numbers,” he said, his helmet staring directly at you.

“Numbers are easy,” you replied, shrugging again as you raised your hand to chew nervously on your nails, but you stopped yourself when you saw the crimson dirt still caked on your skin. “They don’t lie, once you understand the rules.”

“Did Peli teach you how to do this?” he inquired, and you were surprised by all these questions. Most of the time, the bounty hunter asked you one-or-two-word questions and expected one-or-two-word answers. You couldn’t figure out why this situation was any different, but you found yourself responding anyway.

“Partially,” you explained, and you wondered how you could phrase your answer to be vague but satisfactory. “She… taught me a lot of the specifics for bigger jobs like ships and larger machines, but I’ve always been good at numbers and tinkering.”

That seemed good enough. You didn’t think it was relevant that you first started tinkering because your former owner used to lock you in his shop’s basement with broken droids when you misbehaved, and putting the discarded machines back together kept you from going crazy when your punishments lasted days. You also didn’t think it relevant that when your former owner found out and realized he could profit off your skills, you fine-tuned your abilities to become indispensable. The bastard still hit you occasionally, and his other slaves weren’t treated any better, but you had to admit, him locking you in the basement all those years had saved your life. If you hadn’t cultivated the skills you had, Peli wouldn’t have bought you at auction when the bastard bit the sand, and she wouldn’t have dug out your transmitter chip and effectively freed you the moment you walked into Hanger 3-5. The tiny woman had said she needed an apprentice, not a slave, and so that was what you became. Now, you were a mechanic in your own right, and a damn good one if you did say so yourself. Mando just didn’t need to know how you’d gotten there.

The bounty hunter seemed to think the same thing, too, because he nodded once before he looked back at the tablet.

“This is good work,” he said, and something in your chest preened at his words before you squashed it down. “If these calculations are correct—”

“They are,” you interjected before you could stop yourself.

“Then I think I can set out on foot, find the quarry, and bring him back tomorrow just as you’re finishing the repairs,” Mando went on, and he glanced up at you again. “Does that time frame sound right to you?”

“Maybe.” You shrugged. “Should work for me, but it could take you a little longer. I’m unfamiliar with this terrain, and there are too many other variables, like jungle beasts or indigenous species, for me to be sure.”

“The terrain won’t be a problem,” the Mandalorian said as he handed you the tablet back. “And neither will any beasts or natives.”

You cocked an eyebrow at the bounty hunter but didn’t contradict his confidence. “Alright. Then, yes, I should have the ship up and running by the time you get back. Are you leaving now?”

“Once I grab some supplies,” Mando replied before he paused and seemed to consider you. “Will you be… okay until I return?”

It was a familiar question, albeit still surprising. The Mandalorian was a stoic, usually silent warrior, literally a wall of beskar steel. You’d seen him kill men as easy as breathing, and he threw each bounty into carbonite without an ounce of remorse.

And yet, every time he had to leave the ship alone, he asked you if you would be alright until he got back. The question and concern would have made no sense… if you hadn’t seen the bounty hunter interact with his foundling. He tried to hide it, but he treated the little green baby so gently you knew there had to be a warm, beating heart beneath all that beskar. You just never expected any tenderness to be aimed at you, so it drew you up short every time.

“Yeah.” You smiled. “I’ll be fine. Besides—”

You trailed off as you felt something touch your lower leg, and when you looked down, big brown eyes set in a little green face blinked back up at you. Then little green hands lifted in your direction, and you laughed as you swooped down, picked him up, and set him on your hip.

“Besides,” you continued, still chuckling as you booped the child on the nose and left a smudge of red dirt behind, “I’ll have this little guy to keep me company. Right, kid?”

The baby cooed and reached out, his three tiny fingers settling on the bridge of your nose as he tried to boop you back. When he withdrew his hand, though, his skin was dyed black.

“Huh?” You frowned at the slick ooze on his fingers, your eyes crossing as you tried to bring his hand into focus. “What’s on your hand there, bud?”

“It’s grease,” Mando supplied.

“What?” you asked as you turned your head to the bounty hunter.

“Grease,” he repeated, and he touched the intersection on the glass T of his visor, right over where the bridge of his nose would sit. “You’ve got some just there.”

“Oh.” You blushed, your hand flying up to cover your face. Not only were you covered in dirt and sweat, but grease now, too. Typical. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I thought you knew,” the Mandalorian said, but there was that faint undercurrent in his voice that you were sure was amusement now. “Don’t you have any rags?”

“I did,” you muttered as you tried to rub at your face with your shoulder, “but I had to throw most of them out after that oil leak we had on the moon we left about a week ago. It’s fine. I’m already a mess anyhow, and I’m just going to get dirtier as I fix up the ship.”

Mando seemed to stare at you intensely for a moment, and you had the feeling he was taking in just how filthy your clothes were. You could read nothing from his body language, though, and since he wasn’t speaking, there was nothing to infer from his voice, either. Embarrassed heat crawled up your neck, and you suddenly felt naked in your tank top and leggings. You shifted the child in your arms a little to bring him more in front of you and block more of you from view, but the effort was useless because Mando was abruptly spinning on heel and marching toward the ship’s ramp.

“I’m going to gather supplies,” he said gruffly over his shoulder. “Don’t let the kid touch any of the wires.”

And then he was gone, his cape flapping behind him as he disappeared into the bowels of the Razor Crest.

“Okay, bye,” you muttered, and you frowned after him before looking down at the kid and lowering your voice. “Your dad’s a little weird, you know that?”

The child blinked up at you and then seemed to nod his head in solemn agreement.

You laughed and kissed the top of his head even though you knew you were toeing a dangerous line here. You knew you were just the ship mechanic, the hired help, but you and the foundling had spent a lot of time together when the Mandalorian was out hunting bounties, and you couldn’t help loving the adorable baby like he was your own. He was mischievous and always looking to put things in his mouth that he shouldn’t, but something about his presence was calming, soothing. Plus, those big brown eyes were to die for. You weren’t even that surprised the kid had managed to wiggle his way under Mando’s beskar. It had only been a few months, but you knew without a shadow of a doubt that if it came down to it, you would give your life to save this child.

Which was wildly inappropriate, but you chose to ignore that fact.

“It’s just gonna be the two of us again for a bit, little man,” you told the foundling, turning back to face the Razor Crest. “But we’re gonna have some fun, yeah? Do you want to help me fix up the ship?”

The child gurgled into your ear and patted your cheek, which you took as an affirmative.

“Alright,” you laughed as you set him on a large root right next to your tool bag. You dug around until you found a tool you would need eventually, and then you handed it to the kid. “Here, hold this until I need it, okay? But don’t put it in your mouth.”

The foundling seemed to pout at that last bit, but he dutifully wrapped his three little fingers around the tool and held it firmly.

“Thank you.” You smiled. Then you turned back to the ship, put your hands on your hips, and furrowed your brow. “Now, where to start?”

You spent the next ten minutes assessing what was completely ruined, what was salvageable, and what you had on hand that wasn’t necessary and could possibly be retrofitted to fix the damage. The skeletal beginnings of a plan were already forming in your mind by the time the Mandalorian was clomping down the ramp again. You set down the tablet you’d been tapping away at and picked up the child once more, and the foundling babbled as he waved around the tool he was still holding.

“Be careful with that,” you chuckled, and you craned your head back to avoid getting smacked in the temple. “I’ll need it soon, so keep holding onto it.”

The child cooed and then shifted to wave the tool at the bounty hunter as he approached.

“Putting the kid to work now?” Mando asked as he stopped a few feet away. The crescent-shaped hilt of his favored Amban rifle jutted out over his left shoulder, and a small bag was slung over his right, probably filled with spare ammo, cuffs for the bounty, and possibly some food. You’d never personally seen the Mandalorian eat, though, and a part of you was convinced he didn’t, even if you rationally knew that wasn’t possible.

“Nah, I’m just teaching him a thing or two,” you said as you settled the foundling more soundly on your hip. “You’re never too young to learn something new, and on the plus side, being my little helper keeps him out of trouble. For the most part, anyway.”

“Thank you for watching him,” the bounty hunter said, tilting his visor down minutely to stare at the child, who grinned a gummy grin and waved the silver tool again. “I know it isn’t exactly what I hired you for—”

“I don’t mind,” you cut him off, and you glanced down to smile at the kid. “He’s pretty good company, and some of Peli’s droids have given me more trouble than he does. It’s really no problem.”

“Well, regardless,” Mando replied as his visor returned to studying you. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” You nodded, flushing again under his scrutiny. Then you cleared your throat and gestured at the bag on his back. “All ready?”

“Yes,” the bounty hunter said. “Days are longer here, but the sun will set eventually, and I want to try and find the quarry before moonrise. If all goes well, I should be back tomorrow before sunset.”

“Good luck, then,” you told him, and you lifted your chin with confidence. “I should have the ship ready when you return.”

“Thank you.” He inclined his helmet.

The baby suddenly burst out babbling something, and you glanced down to see him reaching out with his free hand toward the Mandalorian. His three little fingers made grabby motions, and the bounty hunter sighed.

“Listen to her while I’m gone, okay?” Mando murmured as he stepped closer into your personal bubble and held out his finger for the foundling to latch on to.

The child cooed, swinging the Mandalorian’s finger from side to side, and the breath stilled in your lungs as the bounty hunter’s glove brushed the edge of your mouth. You smelled something like leather and smoke, probably blaster residue, but then Mando was stepping back again, and the baby was forced to drop his finger.

“Keep alert,” he addressed you as he adjusted the pack on his shoulder. “We’re pretty far from any civilization out here, so I don’t think you should encounter anyone, but don’t assume you’re safe. And get inside the ship once the sun sets. The jungle will be more dangerous at night. I’ll have my comlink on me, but it’s affected by proximity, so you most likely won’t be able to contact me until I’m on my way back.”

“Don’t worry, Mando,” you said, and you patted the blaster he’d given you that was almost permanently attached to your hip. “I can defend myself if need be, and I have no desire to be caught outside after dark. We’ll be fine.”

“I know,” he replied, but you weren’t sure if he was trying to convince you or himself. Either way, he seemed to compose himself because he nodded once. “I’ll be back soon.”

“We’ll keep a weather eye on the horizon.” You smiled. “Try not to die of heat stroke.”

“I’ll try my best,” he said dryly, but after one more moment of staring at you and the foundling, he turned on heel and marched off into the jungle without another word. The multi-colored trees swallowed him almost instantly, and suddenly you were alone.

The child cooed sadly as he stared after the Mandalorian, and he turned his big brown eyes on you as if to say, Where’d he go?

“Don’t worry, bud,” you said, turning back to the ship. “He’ll be fine and back before you know it. Now, let’s take a look at those power converters, shall we?”

You set the foundling down beside your tool bag again, but you couldn’t help glancing over your shoulder in the direction the bounty hunter had disappeared in.

He’ll be fine and back before you know it, you repeated silently to yourself.

~~~~~

Two days later, you were starting to doubt the validity of your statements.

The sun had set and risen twice, and there was still no sign of Mando. Now, the celestial orb was steadily making its way across the horizon for the third time, and you sat on the ramp of the ship and glared up at the chattering canopy.

The child was down for a nap in the hammock the Mandalorian had set up in his own bunk, and your eyes burned with a similar exhaustion, but the anxiety slowly mounting in you made it impossible to sleep. The past two days had passed uneventfully. You’d spent every hour of sunlight you had at your disposal patching together the ship, and since days were longer on this planetoid, you estimated you’d spent over seventy-two hours getting the Razor Crest in working order again.

And you’d done it. It wasn’t perfect, but the ship could fly, and you were ninety-eight percent certain it would withstand leaving the atmosphere.

Now, all that was missing was the Mandalorian and his bounty.

“Dank farrik, Mando,” you grumbled under your breath as you dragged your singed, cut-up, and bandaged fingers through your hair. “Where the Maker are you?”

The chittering birds and critters in the underbrush didn’t have an answer for you, and you huffed out an aggravated breath as another bead of sweat dripped into your eyes.

By your estimate, there were about six hours left before the sun set again. Part of you, the illogical, irrational part, wanted to charge into the jungle in search of the Mandalorian. You had a general direction and location he should be in. Maybe you could find him.

But the rational side of your brain thankfully pointed out all the problems with that plan. For one, leaving the ship unattended was dangerous. You hadn’t seen anyone in the past two days, but that didn’t mean you were alone in the jungle, and now that the ship could fly again, someone could potentially walk right in and steal the vessel if you weren’t here to stop them.

Then there was the issue of the foundling. Sometimes, Mando took you and the kid along with him when he was hunting a bounty in a more populated area, but he was always there to protect the two of you if something went wrong. What happened if you brought the child with you into the jungle and you couldn’t protect him? And you couldn’t exactly leave him behind. Someone could steal both the child and the Razor Crest in that scenario.

The most compelling reason to stay with the ship, though, was Mando himself. Before he left, he’d confidently declared that neither the jungle itself nor the beasts or peoples therein would pose any problem for him. If he was wrong, and these things had posed a problem for the bounty hunter, what luck did you have of doing something he could not?

Anddddd that’s where the irrational side of you chimed in again with, Well, if he did run into an issue, he could need your help, so you should go look for him.

It was a vicious cycle, and your head was pounding with how fast it was running in circles.

You groaned as you dropped your face into your hands, digging the heels of your palms into your eye sockets.

“Fine,” you sighed into the darkness. “I’ll give him until morning.”

If the Mandalorian hadn’t returned by then, you’d start up the ship and fly over the area you’d triangulated for him. If you couldn’t find him from the air… well, you’d cross that bridge when you came to it.

~~~~~

You huffed in irritation as you tossed and turned in Mando’s bunk that night. You turned one way, rolled another, but then you found yourself with your nose buried in his pillow, and you instantly flipped back over, face hot with embarrassment even though it was dark and you were practically alone. You weren’t sure if he slept with his helmet on when he was alone in the closed confines of the bunk, but either way, the small space smelled of him intensely. You tried not to put words to his scent, told yourself it was inappropriate and he was your boss, a Mandalorian to boot, and you had no room or right to think of him in any way other than strictly professional… but that apparently didn’t work because you knew he smelled like the cheap soap from the fresher, and the rest was a blend of smoke, leather, and metal, the degrees of which varied by the day and yet was still always uniquely him.

You knew you were playing a losing game even just having these thoughts, but you somehow couldn’t help yourself, couldn’t stop yourself. Ever since Mando stepped between you and Ran’s crew all those months ago, blocking you with his body, a startling, protective rage in every inch of his armored silhouette, this little voice had come to life in the back of your head and wouldn’t shut the kriff up.

What if? the little voice whispered. What if it’s not just you having these thoughts? What if you could have him in more than just your dreams and fantasies in the darkness of this bunk?

Usually, you shoved the voice into the deep, dark recesses of your thoughts and recited equations until it grew quiet. You knew that was nothing but wishful thinking at best and delusion at worst. The Mandalorian was just that: a warrior closed off from the world by a shell of silver beskar. He cared for the foundling, yes, but that was entirely different and bore no correlation to the bounty hunter’s relationship with you. There was little he could possibly want from a former slave turned mechanic, aside from your skills, of course, so you clenched your eyes closed and tried to take shallow breaths through your mouth, but nothing you did could get his scent out of your nose, your memory.

You sighed for the umpteenth time and rolled to face the wall of the bunk.

When the bounty hunter was on the ship, the two of you usually slept in shifts so you could share the bunk, though sometimes the Mandalorian slept upright in the cockpit. It had been his idea originally. You’d been fine with a thin sleeping mat on the floor of the cargo bay, but he’d insisted in his strange, stoic, nonchalant way. So, you shared, and when it was just you and the kid on the ship, the two of you had the run of the place.

The child was currently in the hammock above your head, but you were pretty sure he wasn’t asleep, either. Every so often, he’d gurgle or make some other noise, and more than once you peeked up to find big brown eyes staring down at you in the dimness. You wondered if he could sense your anxiety, and you shifted so you could glare past your feet, out of the bunk, and at the closed ramp door.

You wanted to be angry with Mando, but by the time the sun set a few hours ago, you’d moved past that anger and straight into worry. The bounty hunter had never been gone this long before without contact, and your gut told you something was wrong and wouldn’t let you sleep. You wished you could blame your insomnia completely on your concern, but sadly, that wasn’t the case.

As if on cue, a sudden, piercing shriek echoed through the ship, and all the muscles in your body locked up on reflex.

The child gasped and made a worried noise as he poked his head over the edge of his hammock and stared down at you, and you tried to plaster on a fake, reassuring smile.

“It’s alright,” you murmured, reaching up to gently rock the foundling. “The ship’s closed and locked up. They can’t get us in here.”

The baby made an unconvinced sound, but he settled back into his bed without any further argument.

You sighed as you continued to rock the child, and you did your best not to flinch when another high-pitched screech sounded outside the ship.

You weren’t entirely sure what “they” were, but you knew they were nocturnal and carnivorous. And hungry. The past two mornings, you’d found bloody animal remains torn to bits and strewn along the edges of the clearing the Razor Crest was parked in like gory, crimson confetti. You’d kept the child practically glued to your side during the days because of this, but nothing ever attacked you during the day. They just circled the ship incessantly at night, howling and screeching and keeping you from finding a moment’s peace or rest. They hadn’t outright attacked the ship yet, but you were ready for it, your borrowed blaster a cold and heavy weight tucked under your pillow.

Reaching for it now, you curled your fingers around the familiar hilt and tried to block out the crescendoing, bloodthirsty shrieks of the mysterious jungle beasts.

You didn’t know how or when, but you must have dozed off at some point because all of the sudden, you jolted awake with a panicked gasp.

The bunk was dark and close around you, but since you’d left the door open at your feet, it wasn’t claustrophobic. Your vision was still blurry with sleep, so you swiped at your eyes with the back of your left wrist as you scrambled into a seated position. In your right hand you grasped the blaster, and you pointed it blindly in front of you, toward the rear of the ship.

You couldn’t remember what had woken you up, but it had been something. Your heart pounded a frantic tattoo into the underside of your ribcage, your arm shaking minutely with adrenaline. The ramp was still closed in front of you, so it hadn’t been Mando opening the door and returning. You squinted in the darkness but couldn’t see anything beyond shadows and vague shapes in pale, muted moonlight. It must have still been night, then.

You strained your ears, listening for the howling, but it was quiet. Suspiciously quiet. The jungle beasts usually didn’t go silent until right before dawn, but it was dark enough in the ship that you estimated it was still the middle of the night.

Where had they gone?

Your heart rose up into your throat, sweat beading at every one of your pores, and your mouth was so dry that your throat clicked when you swallowed.

The child made a noise of inquiry above you, barely louder than a breath, but it still made you jump all the same. Your gaze darted upward to find brown eyes staring down at you, but they were wide in an alarmed sort of way. One three-fingered hand poked over the edge of the hammock, making grabby motions at you, and the noise he made this time was more urgent, louder.

Had he heard something, too?

“What is it, little guy?” you whispered, reaching up with your free hand and awkwardly grappling him from his sling-bed.

He tumbled gently into your lap with a soft “oof,” but almost immediately he was standing up, turning around, and frantically patting at your cheek.

“What?” you asked with a frown.

He babbled and continued to tap the side of your face, and his noises grew increasingly distressed until he was grunting with frustration.

Then his tiny palm actually slapped down right across your ear canal so hard that both of your ears rang, and you hissed as you jerked your head back.

“Kriff, what was that fo—” you started to ask, but another hiss cut you off, and this one wasn’t from you.

Your heart stuttered, eyes skipping over the child’s head and out into the cargo bay, and your right hand tightened around the blaster you’d lowered to your side.

But there was nothing there. Nothing moved in the shadowy ship beyond you, and you frowned, thinking your mind was playing tricks on your startled and sleep-addled mind, but then the hiss came again.

And this time, you recognized it.

“Oh, pfassk!” you cursed as you craned around and shoved your hand under the pillow. Your fingers scrambled wildly across the sheet but encountered nothing, and you growled in aggravation, shifting the child off your lap and coming onto your hands and knees. You tossed the pillow over your shoulder in a fit of frustration, and your right hand slapped at the wall around your head until the bunk light came on.

You squinted in the flood of harsh light, the child gurgling behind you, but when your vision cleared, you spotted the thumb-sized comlink off the edge of the cot, shoved up into the far corner of the bunk. You lunged forward and wrapped your fingers around the small device, and the words were falling out of your mouth before you were even sure you had hit the button.

“Mando?” you called into the comlink, cringing when your loud voice echoed back to you in the close confines of the bunk. “Mando, can you hear me?”

Mild static crackled back for a moment as you huddled around the tiny communicator, but then a louder burst of static—the hiss from earlier—exploded to life.

And you were sure you heard Mando’s voice in there.

“Mando!” you shouted as you heart did its best imitation of a speeder, and you cupped both hands around the comlink like that would help him hear you better. “Mando, it’s me! I’m here. Can you hear me?”

Another burst of static. Then…

Mando yelled your name, clear as day, followed by a scream of what sounded like “help” and a chorus of familiar howling, and your stomach bottomed out inside of you.

“Mando!” You were gripping the communicator so hard you were afraid you were going to break it. “Mando, where are you? What’s wrong?”

He didn’t respond. You sat there frozen for a full minute, ears straining to the point of ringing, but only quiet static crackled back at you.

“Dank farrik!” you cursed, punching the side of your fist into the bunk wall.

The child cooed at you, brown eyes big with concern, and he put his tiny hand on your knee as you raked a shaking hand through your hair.

Your chest heaved up and down as you fought for breath, your mind spinning off into a million directions at once.

Mando was in trouble. Mando needed your help. He was fighting jungle beasts, and he was far enough away that you couldn’t hear the shrieking with your own ears, but close enough that he could partially reach you over the comlink. You had to do something. You had to go help him.

But what about the child? What about the ship? You couldn’t take the Razor Crest. It was pitch black outside, and you wouldn’t be able to see Mando below the thick, dark canopy. You had to go on foot.

And you had to take the kid with you.

“Come on,” you said as you tucked the communicator into your pocket, grabbed the foundling and blaster, and scooted to the edge of the bunk. Your boots were on the ground below you, and you shoved your feet in them blindly, tying the laces in three deft movements.

Then you were on your feet, turning on the cargo lights, and jogging the child over to his floating silver carrier. You grabbed the spare remote on top of it, pressing the button and watching the top slide open with a hiss. Then you set the foundling down inside of it, and in the same motion you were tucking the remote into your pocket, turning on heel, and striding for the armory.

Another button press, followed by the hiss of hydraulics, and you were left staring at several walls of guns and weaponry. Some of them you knew. Mando had even taught you how to shoot a few, but those were typically smaller blasters.

And based on those howling screeches, you needed something with more of a kick.

Your eyes skipped over the blaster pistols since you already had the one on your hip, and after a moment’s indecision, your gaze settled on a midsized rifle you’d shot once before. You hadn’t been very good at it, only hit four of the ten targets Mando set out, and you remember it being very heavy.

But it was better than nothing, and you needed something to fight back against the dark jungle.

So, you took the rifle down and looped it around your shoulder, pursing your lips as the strap dug into your skin. You spent a moment checking the power cell and gas canister, and even though both were full, you still stuck a few spares into a belt that you wrapped around your hips. You also added a few grenades to your arsenal, both explosive and ones set to stun, plus a pair of Mando’s vibroknives, as a last defense measure. If you were being honest, if the rifle and grenades failed you, you probably wouldn’t live long enough to use the knives, but it made you feel better to clip their sheaths unto your belt.

The rifle and belt weighed you down with an extra five to six kilos, but you had lugged far heavier burdens through Tatooine’s desert, so you knew you could handle it.

The last two things you grabbed were the head lamp you typically wore when working under or inside ships and the cuff you’d programmed to work the twin lights—along with a variety of other tasks aboard the Razor Crest—resting at each of your temples. The cuff was a haphazard creation of yours made of old leather, metal, and glass, but it worked and was comfortable, which was all that mattered. It also had a small magnetic slot that was specifically meant for the remote of the foundling’s floating carrier, so you fished that out of your pocket and felt it snap into place with a satisfying click.

You were armed and ready now. All you had to do was move.

“Mando,” you said as you stuck the comlink in your ear and synced it to your cuff, which had a built-in frequency booster. You were already moving toward the ramp, tapping at your wrist and listening to the foundling’s carrier humming after you. The rifle felt heavy as you maneuvered it into your slick palms, and your heart hammered a war song in your ears. “Mando, I’m coming for you. Just hold on, okay?”

Static crackled in your ear, and your chest began to heave up and down as adrenaline flooded through you.

“Okay, little man, you’re going to take a nap, alright?” you said as you looked down at the child in his pod, your voice shaking even though you tried to stop it. “And when you wake up, your dad will be back with us.”

He cooed up at you with a fearful expression on his face, but you only spared a moment to press a kiss to his head before you were tapping at your wrist again. The lid of the pod started to hiss close as the ramp of the ship began to clank open, and you slid your finger onto the rifle’s trigger as the door slowly lowered before you.

The ramp finally thudded to the jungle floor, and you took a moment to stare out into the foreboding darkness. The moon was pale and wan in the purple-tinted sky, and all you could see were shadows along the edges of the clearing. Your eyes darted back and forth, every muscle in your body locked and braced for an attack, but nothing happened. Nothing moved save the indigo clouds over head, and the only sound you heard was the muted chirps and hums of insects.

“Okay, come on, quit stalling,” you muttered to yourself even though your heart felt like it was about to roll off your tongue. “Mando doesn’t have time for this.”

At the sound of his name—or at least, the only name you had ever known the bounty hunter by—some of the fear inside you vanished, and you were suddenly jogging down the ramp without further thought. The child’s carrier trailed after you quietly, and you jabbed at your wrist to close and lock up the Razor Crest.

You spared half a glance over your shoulder to make sure the ramp was secured, and then you looked down at your cuff. Mando’s comlink had a built in GPS transmitter, but its range was limited. However, if he was close enough to briefly contact you…

A dot flickered in and out on the grungy screen on your wrist, and you spun in a circle to figure out which direction had the strongest connection. The dot flared brightly when you angled toward the west, and you started running before you even had a plan.

You crashed through the underbrush with the child’s pod hot on your heels, and the thick, humid air sawed in and out of your heaving lungs as you gasped for breath. The lights at your temples provided enough illumination to see several steps ahead of you but not much else, and you tripped and careened over root and vine as you tried not to lose your grip on the rifle.

The good news was the dot on your read-out was no longer flickering, and it was now a strong red point about a kilometer ahead of you.

The bad news?

The jungle was no longer quiet around you.

As your feet pounded into the red soil and carried you forward, static crackled loudly in your ear, and the howling returned, faint at first but growing closer. Shivers wracked your sweat-slicked spine, and every fiber of your being was screaming to run the other way.

But you couldn’t. Because now you could hear Mando grunting and shouting over the comlink, clearer and clearer with each step, and as you vaulted over a protruding root in your path, you distinctly heard a roar of rage directly ahead of you.

You would have shouted his name if there was any breath left in your lungs, but instead you just lowered your head and sprinted as fast as you could.

The howling was nearly deafening now, echoing all around you, seeming to come from every shadow in the jungle. Your ears rang with the soul-piercing shrieks, and the cacophony was so disorienting, you tripped over your own feet and crashed into the dirt.

“Kriff!” you gasped, your knees and palms stinging as you skidded to a halt. Dots danced in front of your eyes as you panted harshly, and the rifle knocked painfully against your sternum.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the child’s pod come to a stop several feet away, the silver orb glinting in the pale moonlight barely filtering through the canopy.

Then you saw something else shift in the shadows behind the floating carrier.

At first, you thought it was your swimming vision, but then the weak lights of your headlamp reflected off several glinting eyes, and the breath stalled in your lungs.

A guttural, wet growl echoed out of the bushes beyond the foundling’s pod, and in the next instant the beast was lunging forward, vaulting over the carrier in one bound.

You yelped as you scrambled backward, fumbling for the rifle’s trigger, and you got the barrel up just in time to block a bifurcated jaw of gnashing fangs. The beast let out a piercing shriek as it snapped at your face, and the familiar sound nearly popped your eardrum at this proximity, but the pain barely even registered as you wedged your legs up under the creature’s chest and heaved it off you.

The beast let out a high-pitched yip as it smacked into a tree trunk, but you didn’t give it the chance to regain its feet. In one swift movement, you brought the rifle up, sighted down the barrel, and pulled the trigger.

The blaster must have been set on full-auto because a continuous stream of energy screamed out of the weapon, and the barrel jerked upward with the recoil. Bolts of energy shredded through the vines and branches overhead, and some kind of bat-bird creature screeched as it dove out of the canopy and swooped over you. It thankfully wasn’t trying to attack, merely flee, and the avian-beast cawed angrily as it disappeared into the jungle.

“P-Pfassk,” you panted, your voice as jittery as your racing pulse. Still, you scrambled to your feet, with the smoking rifle held tight in your shaking grasp, and you stared wide-eyed at the corpse of the beast that had attacked you.

The thing was almost two meters long, and six disjointed looking limbs jutted out from underneath it. Your would-be-killer looked vaguely canine yet also insect-like, with its long snout and what looked like scaled plates along its spine. The combination made your stomach churn. The blaster had carved smoldering holes into most of the creature’s flesh, but the uncharred remains were blackish-purple, mottled with spots of blue and green that matched the jungle’s underbrush. The beast was entirely hairless and slick-looking like an oil spill, and its bifurcated maw hung open to reveal rows of rotted black fangs. Two pairs of pale white eyes stared blindly up at the dark sky, and purplish blood seeped out around the carcass to stain the jungle floor.

Bile rose in your throat, but before you could even process your fear, terror, and revulsion, a very human sounding scream echoed through the dark night, and you whipped your head in the direction it had come from.

“Mando,” you breathed, and you spared the dead beast one last glance before you took off running again, every sense on high alert.

You didn’t dare blink as you crashed through the underbrush, and you pushed your aching limbs as fast as they would go. The din of snarling and howling was so loud now it was rattling your teeth, and all of the sudden you were stumbling out of the thick tree line and into a small clearing.

A clearing riddled with bodies, both living and dead.

Your brain stuttered as it tried to assess the scene before you. The canopy overhead was broken in a perfect circle, so the moonlight here was strong and bright after the deep shadows of the jungle, and it illuminated everything perfectly. The Mandalorian stood in the center of the carnage, half collapsed against a rotten log twice as tall as he was. Carcasses of the canine-like beasts were piled up in mounds around the clearing, some shot but some charred into blackened skeletons, and the stench of burnt flesh invaded your nose and sat heavy on the back of your tongue.

For every dead beast, though, there were two more still snarling, and boy, were they pissed.

The pack of creatures prowled in a semi-circle before the bounty hunter, all their attention centered on him, and they growled and snapped their bifurcated jaws in his direction. They didn’t seem to want to attack him head on, and a moment later you saw why.

One of the beasts must have reached its breaking point, because with the same piercing shriek that had kept you up the past two nights, it lunged for the Mandalorian, the moonlight glinting off the armored plates along its spine.

The poor bastard never made it.

While the creature was still in mid-air, Mando jerked his wrist up, and a blast of flames roared out of his vambrace. The beast screeched as it was swallowed by the inferno, and its charred corpse crashed to the ground at Mando’s feet a moment later. The remainder of the pack snarled in fury as they paced in front of the bounty hunter, but you felt your throat tighten with fear.

The flamethrower was obviously a great weapon at repelling these creatures, but judging by the radius on that last spurt of fire, you estimated Mando had enough fuel for one, maybe two more attacks.

And there were dozens of the beasts left.

What were you going to do?

You heaved for breath as your eyes darted around the clearing, trying to look for a solution, but you knew the answer was obvious: you were going to have to fight.

You blindly tapped at your wrist, and a moment later the child’s carrier rose up above your head and nestled against the lowest branch of the tree you were standing under. You didn’t know if the beasts could climb, but the pod was made of a strong, reinforced metal, so as long as the creatures didn’t notice the kid, he should be fine.

The same couldn’t be said for you.

Maker, you were going to regret this, weren’t you?

You didn’t give yourself the chance to change your mind.

“Hey!” you shouted as you stepped further into the clearing, one of your hands dropping to the belt on your waist.

The chorus of snarls and growls tapered off for a moment as the pack whipped around in unison to face you, and the saliva evaporated in your mouth as you stared at the dozens of glowing white eyes.

At the sound of your voice, you could see Mando jerk upright in your peripherals, but you didn’t dare tear your eyes off the pack as they started to stalk toward you. Sweat dripped down your face and trickled along your spine as you palmed a cold, heavy orb in your right hand, and you watched the distance between you and the creatures shrink bit by bit.

Mando shouted your name, but you ignored him.

“Yeah, that’s right!” you yelled at the beasts instead. “You guys hungry? Why don’t you come and get me?”

“What are you doing?” Mando roared, but you still didn’t pay him any mind as you tracked the pack. There were maybe three dozen left alive, and they bared their black fangs at you as they drew closer and closer.

Twenty meters… fifteen… ten…

Now.

“Take this!” You heaved your arm back, aimed at the beast in the center of the pack’s line, and threw with all your might, and the creature yelped as the stun grenade struck him in the skull.

A moment later, a web of electricity exploded out of the orb and arced through half of the pack, and the poor bastards screeched and screamed as they fell spasming to the jungle floor. The beasts on the edges snarled as they jumped away from their sparking brethren, and you saw some of the canine-monsters retreat into the shadows of the clearing.

This was your chance.

You darted forward the moment you had a clear path to take, and you vaulted over the pack’s twitching bodies in three swift strides. When you landed on the other side of them, you spun around and faced the fallen creatures as they whined and spasmed on the ground. Then you lifted your rifle, aimed haphazardly, and pulled the trigger. You swept the barrel from side to side for a moment, energy bolts tearing and searing through flesh, but then you whirled back around and sprinted toward the Mandalorian’s prone form.

He was propped up against the log with his legs splayed out in front of him, and you inhaled sharply when you saw the dark stain of blood on the ground beneath his right thigh. His Amban rifle lay beside him, but since he wasn’t using it, you assumed he was out of ammo. The bounty hunter listed heavily onto what you first thought was a rock of some kind, but as you skidded to a stop in front of him, you realized the lump was the body of another humanoid, except it didn’t look to be breathing.

“Mando!” you gasped as you crouched down in front of him. “Maker, w-what happened—”

“What are you doing here?” he cut you off with a snarl, and the absolute rage in his voice drew you up short.

You gaped at his visor, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. “W-What… you called—”

“I didn’t call you, he did, right before they tore out his throat,” Mando growled and shoved the prone form beside him.

The body flopped over with a thud, and you stifled a gag when you realized the poor bastard had been eviscerated. He was torn open from gut to gullet, intestines and innards gleaming wetly in the dark, and his bulging black eyes stared up unseeingly at the moon.

“Dank farrik, Mando,” you breathed in horror. “What happened?”

The Mandalorian tilted his helmet up to look at you, but then his gaze seemed to shift over your shoulder, and he was suddenly latching onto your wrist with an iron grip and tugging you forward.

“Watch out!” he shouted as you tripped over his legs and landed on the other side of him, and a moment later you heard and felt the roar of flames at your back as another beast met a smoldering end.

You scrambled up onto your knees and whirled around, rifle held at the ready, but there were only the two new dead creatures sprawled at Mando’s feet. Their corpses smoked as their blackened flesh crackled, and this time you weren’t successful in stifling your gag. You dry-heaved off to the side, tears blurring your vision, but when the chorus of bone-chilling howls started up again, you blinked away the tears and clenched your rifle in a white-knuckled grip.

“We gotta get out of here,” you panted, your eyes darting from place to place as you tried to track the beasts slithering through the shadows.

“Can’t,” Mando grunted, and all of the sudden, you realized his voice sounded off, slurred.

You whipped back around to face the bounty hunter, and your gaze immediately fell to the dark stain under his leg. It had grown since you’d first seen it, and then you realized a haphazard tourniquet was lashed around the top of his leg, right above the metal plate that covered the front of his thigh.

“You’re hurt,” you breathed. It wasn’t a question.

“Yeah.” Mando’s head jerked up and down in an unsteady nod. “Just… happened. One of them got me… when I was trying to save the bounty. Pretty sure they nicked my femoral.”

His words were softer and definitely slurred now, and panic rose up in your throat like a burning coal.

“Then we need to get back to the Razor Crest now,” you said as you reached for his shoulders, but the Mandalorian sluggishly shoved you away.

“I’ll… only slow you down,” he grunted. “The bounty and I… are easy meals. The pack should stay to finish us off while you make a break for the sh—”

“No,” you cut him off, and the snarl in your voice surprised even you. “No, Mando. I’m not leaving you to die. We’re only a kilometer away from the Razor Crest. I have extra power cells and grenades. We can make it.”

Mando’s head thunked back against the log he leaned on as he stared up at you, and even if you couldn’t see the face underneath the visor, you could see the resignation in every inch of him.

And it ignited a fury in you unlike anything you had ever known.

“So, what?” you growled, bending down to bare your teeth in his face. “You’re just gonna sit here and die? What about the kid? You just gonna abandon him?”

You’re just going to abandon me? you didn’t say, but the words rattled against the backs of your clenched teeth.

“He’ll… have you,” Mando said, and suddenly his gloved hand reached up as if to touch your face, but he didn’t seem to have the strength, and the tip of his index finger barely grazed the edge of your jaw. His touch left behind a warm streak on your skin, and you didn’t have to look to know it was blood.

“That’s not good enough,” you snarled before you stooped down and grabbed the ends of his makeshift tourniquet, yanking tightly on both ends until Mando groaned in pain and latched onto your shoulders.

He murmured your name, his modulator crackling in your ear, but you ignored him as you looped his spent Amban rifle over his shoulder and shifted to slide your left arm behind his back, throwing his right arm over your shoulders. You took two deep breaths to brace yourself, and then you dug your fingers into his waist as you tried to leverage the both of you onto your feet.

It was nearly impossible. The Mandalorian had to weigh nearly ninety kilos in his beskar, and with the added weight of the weapons and grenades you carried, you could feel the muscles in your legs, core, and back scream at the strain.

“Dank… farrik,” you hissed out between clenched teeth, but you managed to get the two of you upright, even if Mando was practically limp against you. Still, you had to leverage your back against the log behind you to keep from collapsing.

“We’ll never make it… back to the ship like this,” Mando panted, his cold helmet brushing against the shell of your ear.

“Shut up,” you gritted out, listening to the howling beasts closing in again like they could sense your weakness. “I refuse to leave you behind. So, unless you want to kill us both, you need to get your ass in gear, Mando. I can keep them off our backs as we go, but you need to walk with me. Understand?”

“Cyare,” he slurred, and the unfamiliar word sounded pained as his helmet thunked into your temple. “I… don’t want you to die.”

“Then walk,” you grunted as you tightened your grip on his waist and lurched forward a step.

Mando staggered behind you, half draped over your back, but you widened your stance and refused to go down.

“Please… Mando,” you panted, shoving the barrel of your rifle into the loamy red soil to act as a crutch. “Help me save us. Just… just put one foot in front of the other.”

“Wait,” the Mandalorian said, and he actually lifted his head off your shoulder. “The bounty…”

“The bounty’s dead,” you grunted as your eyes darted to the trees again. You could see the sinuous shapes of the pack weaving between the towering trunks, but they kept their distance for the moment. They’d lost more than half of their numbers by your estimate, and you prayed to the Maker they would just give up, but you knew that would be way too convenient for your life.

“The puck… said dead or alive,” Mando sighed, his arm weighing down on the nape of your neck like a yoke, and it reminded you of the slave’s collar you once wore.

“I can’t carry both of you back, Mando,” you growled in frustration. “I can barely drag you.”

“Don’t need the whole body,” he clarified. “Just… the head. It’s… a big bounty.”

You groaned as you glanced down at the quarry’s corpse, and then you tilted your head back to try and look at Mando.

“Can you stand by yourself for a minute?” you asked.

“Maybe,” Mando grunted, but he shifted his weight off you bit by bit and leaned up against the tall log at your backs. His boots slid a few inches in the blood-soaked dirt as he almost collapsed, but he dug his gloved fingers into the rigid bark and stood there shaking.

“Didn’t know I was paying you for maybes,” you parroted his words from days ago back at him in an attempt to take his mind off the pain, and it seemed to work because he actually huffed out a strained-sounding chuckle.

“Hurry,” he panted, and you nodded as you quickly stepped away from him, stood over the bounty’s corpse, and shoved the barrel of your rifle between his shoulder and neck.

It was so dark, and you were running on so much adrenaline you couldn’t even be sure of what species the man used to be, but you pushed the thought away as you took a deep breath and held down the trigger.

The rifle screeched as it tore through flesh like a hot knife through butter, and you tried to ignore the feeling of lukewarm blood splattering across your lower legs. Moments later, the jittery, rapid-fire motions of the gun ceased, and the bounty’s head rolled away from the smoldering stump of his neck.

Bile rose up in your throat again, but you swallowed it down as you picked up the decapitated head and started punching buttons on your cuff.

Instantly, you heard the familiar hum of the child’s pod drone closer and closer, and behind you Mando inhaled sharply as the jungle dogs yipped in curiosity from the shadows.

“You brought the kid?” he growled.

“Well, it wasn’t like you left me much kriffing choice, but you can fire me later for child endangerment,” you snapped as the carrier floated down to stop in front of you. Then you turned to the Mandalorian and held out your bloodied hand. “I need your fibercord whip. Eject it.”

Mando didn’t even question you, he just did as he was bid. Within moments, you had the thin but strong wire wound up in your palm, and then you started the gory process of wrapping it securely around the bounty’s bloody head. Your stomach churned at the slick warm goo covering your skin, but you swallowed the saliva pooling in your mouth as you tapped at your wrist again.

The child’s pod opened with a hiss, and you made sure to lower the decapitated head so it was below the carrier and out of the foundling’s line of sight.

“Hey there, bud,” you said as you leaned down and tucked the end of the fibercord into the interior of the pod near the hinges. “Look who I found.”

The foundling cooed and gurgled happily when he caught sight of the Mandalorian, and he lifted his arms and made grabby motions at the bounty hunter.

“Not yet,” you said as you stepped forward and blocked Mando from view. “First, we need to get back to the ship, so I need to close you up again. Don’t worry about anything you hear, though, okay? I promise we’ll be fine.”

The child murmured a soft sound as you bent down and kissed his wrinkled brow, but then you tapped at your wrist, and the pod closed with another hiss, locking the wire with the dangling head in place. You keyed in a few more commands, and the carrier rose up high above you, hovering at least six meters off the ground. Blood dripped from the severed stump of the quarry’s neck as it dangled from the pod, and you flinched when a speck of it landed on your cheek. It might be disgusting, but this way, the child and the remainder of the bounty would hopefully be out of reach of any of the beasts, and you could focus all your energy on getting you and Mando back to the Razor Crest.

“Alright.” You tore your gaze away from the silver pod and shifted your grasp on the rifle, wedging the stock against your right shoulder as tight as you could. You knew your aim would be abysmal since you were going have to shoot one handed while dragging Mando, but you hoped the full-auto setting would grant you some leeway. “Let’s go.”

“You really should—” the Mandalorian started, but you clicked your tongue to cut him off.

“That wasn’t a request,” you said as you sidled up against the bounty hunter and double checked that his tourniquet was secure.

“Fine.” He reluctantly draped his right arm over your shoulder, and you wrapped your left one around his waist. Then the two of you pushed off the log at your backs, and you staggered forward several steps, trying not to trip on any dead jungle dogs.

Mando’s cold beskar felt like it was burning you wherever it brushed against your bare, hot flesh, and he groaned in your ear as he practically dragged his injured leg behind him. The agony of his voice made you want to stop and sprint forward all at the same time, but you settled for stumbling several more steps.

“That’s it,” you panted in encouragement. “One step at a time.”

The pack howled and shrieked as you painstakingly shuffled your way across the clearing, but you haphazardly aimed your rifle into the jungle and held down the trigger. Rapid-fire bolts of energy careened into the darkness, illuminating white eyes and flashes of twining vines and snarling beasts, but several yowls echoed through the night, so you knew you’d hit at least some of them.

“Mando,” you gritted out as you neared the tree line. “I need you to hit my cuff. There’s a button on the side that will turn up my headlamp. I want it at maximum. Since these bastards are nocturnal, I’m guessing they don’t like the light.”

The Mandalorian grunted something that sounded like an affirmative, and then his left hand was swatting blindly at your cuff. After fumbling for a moment, his thick, gloved fingers encircled your wrist, his thumb brushing faintly over your thudding pulse point.

Your feet nearly tangled beneath you, but then Mando found the button on your cuff, and he pressed on it until the lights at your temple were bright enough to blind. The beams of white light cut through the oppressive darkness of the jungle, and the canine creatures yelped in pain as they darted back into the shadows. You swung your gaze back and forth, your lamp dragging over the scenery like a burning laser, and the beasts whimpered as their tails disappeared into the bushes.

“Come on,” you groaned as you dragged Mando forward, and the two of you finally stumbled into the thick of the trees.

You didn’t know how much time passed as you and the Mandalorian struggled back to the ship. Seconds seemed like minutes, minutes hours. The moon appeared frozen in the sky above your head, and more than once you had the thought that you were already dead, and this was some messed up version of an afterlife where you were tortured for eternity.

In the end, though, you knew you were alive.

If you weren’t, it wouldn’t hurt so much.

“Left,” Mando slurred in your ear, half draped over your back, and your feet stuttered as you swung both of you around to the left.

The rifle screeched as it fired off into the darkness, followed by the yelps of dying dogs, and you hissed as the stock dug into your already sore shoulder. The pack snarled and gurgled as they encircled you, but they were hesitant now that you’d killed a majority of them. You wondered why they just didn’t give up, but you realized they could most likely sense you weakening, slowing.

Sweat ran in rivers down your face and spine, and every tendon in your body felt like it was on the edge of snapping. You could tell Mando was trying to take some of his weight off you, but he was becoming more and more unsteady with each step, his breath jagged and uneven as it rasped out of his helmet. He probably wouldn’t remain conscious for much longer, and if he passed out before you reached the ship, you were both dead. You couldn’t fully carry him, and you would not even entertain the idea of leaving him, so it was all or nothing.

Either you both reached the ship together, or neither of you did.

But, as you glanced up at the child’s pod hovering high over your head, you knew the second choice wasn’t really an option. The kid needed you. Needed both of you.

So, you were going to kriffing live, even if you had to break your body down to achieve your goal.

“Come on,” you encouraged as you stumbled over a tree root. “Come on, Mando. We’re almost there. Stay with me, okay?”

You had no idea if you were almost there or not. The homing beacon on your cuff was beeping steadily, but with all the howling, and the blood pounding through your ears, you couldn’t approximate how close you were to the Razor Crest.

“I’m… trying,” Mando mumbled, lifting his head just slightly. “B-Behind us.”

You cursed under your breath, letting the rifle dangle against your chest as you fumbled at your waist. Your fingers curled around a cold, metal orb, and you clicked the button in its center before you lobbed the grenade over your shoulder with all the strength you had left, which wasn’t much.

Then you staggered forward a little faster, dragging the bounty hunter behind you, and five seconds later, you heard the stun grenade go off, followed by the crackling of static and the yelping of beasts.

“That’s my last… stun grenade,” you panted, and the hair on your arms stood on end with all the electricity in the moist air. “I have some explosive ones… but…”

“But we’re not fast enough to get out of range in time,” Mando finished for you, his helmet bumping into the crown of your head as he sagged a little more.

“Yeah,” you huffed, but then a crunch to your right had you whirling and firing in one motion.

The canine yipped and screeched as the energy bolts tore through its chest mid-lunge, and it crashed into the ground at your feet as you staggered into a tree. The bark scraped painfully across your bare shoulder blades, and Mando groaned as you almost lost your grip on him.

“No,” you growled, tightening your arm around the bounty hunter and tugging you both upright. “Dank… farrik!”

The muscles in your arm burned hotly from the strain of keeping the Mandalorian on his feet, and you bit through your tongue to keep from crying out, the metallic taste of blood coating your teeth and whetting your parched mouth.

You stumbled forward blindly as you tried to work through the pain, but all the sudden, the claustrophobic darkness caused by the towering trees lessened a few degrees. You thought you were hallucinating it at first, but then you lifted your head a fraction and realized the trees were thinning out ahead of you.

And the beacon in your cuff was beeping like mad.

You were almost there. The Razor Crest was so close.

Of course, that’s when the snarling behind you reached new frantic heights, and you knew the pack was gearing up for one final assault.

“Mando, listen to me,” you gasped as you shifted to shove him against a tree, using your palm to keep him rooted at the sternum and on his feet.

He groaned as he listed there, mumbling something that didn’t sound like it was in Basic, but he remained upright, so you seized the opportunity to jab at the screen on your wrist. A moment later, the child’s pod swooped down from where it had been hovering near the canopy, and the bounty’s head dragged against the jungle floor with a dull crunch. You tweaked the carrier’s settings half blind, one eye on the encroaching darkness and the beasts therein, and then you grabbed the floating orb and shoved it against Mando’s gut.

“Ugh,” the bounty hunter grunted, his feet starting to slide out from under him.

“No, lean forward,” you rushed out, grabbing one of his shoulders and tugging him toward you.

Mando moaned as he collapsed onto the child’s pod, but since you’d cranked up the carrier’s power output to the max, the bounty hunter didn’t crash to the ground. Instead, he hung there half suspended, the pod whirling angrily from his added weight, his feet limp and dragging behind him.

“Mando,” you said as you tapped the side of his helmet, eyes still on the shadowy trees. “Mando, I need you to hold onto that pod as tight as you can, okay? Can you hear me?”

“Hear… you,” the Mandalorian just barely breathed, and you saw his arms wrap around the bottom of the silver carrier.

“Hold on like your life depends on it,” you instructed as you tapped at your wrist again. “Because it does.”

“What—” he started to ask, but he didn’t get to finish the question because the pod was suddenly surging forward, in the direction of the ship. The bounty’s head and Mando’s feet dragged loudly against the ground, but with one last jolt of power, the pod lifted away from the jungle floor and began to float away.

The pod would probably have just enough power to get Mando back to the ship before it died, but that was fine. That was just what you needed.

The jungle dogs howled and shrieked as they watched the Mandalorian drifting away through the trees, but as you listened to them start to skirt around you in his direction, you finally gripped the rifle with two hands and aimed into the dark.

Then you pulled the trigger, full-auto, and the shrieking of the energy bolts collided with the screeching of the canines and crescendoed into a deafening cacophony. You sprayed the jungle in wide sweeps as you slowly started to walk backward toward the Razor Crest, the rifle stock jolting into your shoulder in time with your racing heart. You just needed to give Mando time to reach the ship. You had programmed the pod to open the ramp at a certain distance, so they would just fly on into the cargo bay, and it would close behind them. Once they were safe, you could make a break for it and—

Suddenly, one of the shadows broke away from the trunk directly to your right, and you turned too late to see it was a slavering beast, its bifurcated jaw wide open and aimed for your throat.

“Ahh!” You stumbled back, trying to crane away from those jagged black fangs, but your feet got tangled up beneath you, and you came crashing down. A root slammed into one of your rear ribs so hard you heard and felt the snap as the bone gave, but you didn’t even have time to register that pain before the jungle dog smashed into your chest.

You instinctively shoved your arms outward, wedging the rifle between those deadly, snapping jaws. One of the beast’s jagged fangs scraped down your forearm as you tried to keep the bastard from swallowing you whole, and you screamed in fury and pain as blood spilled from your rending flesh.

Then you brought your knee up and smashed it as hard as you could into the jungle dog’s ribcage, and this time you felt its rib snap, and grim satisfaction burned like a wildfire through your blood. The warmth filled your limbs until you thought you would burst into flame, and you kicked the beast again and again as it yipped.

You were just starting to think you had the upper hand when the creature’s jaw started to close with a creaking sound of bone on metal, and your eyes widened in horror as the canine jerked its head back, taking your rifle with it. Then its bifurcated jaw snapped close with a horrible crunch, and the rifle shattered into shards of metal and sparks.

The beast roared in pain and rage as it tossed the remains of your rifle aside, but now you were acting on pure survival instinct, not thought, not logic, and you were already wrenching two grenades and a vibroknife off your belt when the nightmare dog finally settled its four milky white eyes on your face.

“Eat this, you bastard,” you snarled as its terrible jaws, rowed with serrated teeth, descended on you.

Then with one hand you stabbed the vibroknife into its neck just above the shoulder, and with the other you activated the grenades and shoved both of them down the jungle dog’s throat.

Warm blood sprayed down on you like humid rainfall, and you twisted the blade in to the hilt, feeling as it tore through flesh in a jittery fashion. The creature gagged and gurgled as its throat muscles convulsed around your other wrist for just an instant, but then you yanked your arms back with all your might, teeth catching on your elbow again, before you crashed into the dirt.

You were scrambling up in the next instant, barely listening to the creature heaving and choking behind you as you staggered forward into a clumsy sprint.

The rest of the pack howled at your back, but you were flat out running now, and you could see the Razor Crest through the trees. The pounding of paws on dirt sounded at your heels, and you couldn’t tell if you were gasping for breath or sobbing as you tore the final grenades off your belt, activated them, and let them fall through your numb fingers.

In the next instant, you broke through the tree line, and you could see the ramp of the Razor Crest, closing. You slapped at your wrist blindly as you sprinted as fast as you could, lungs heaving to the point of seizures, legs at the point of collapse. You didn’t know if the dogs were still right behind you, but the grenades…

You must have finally hit the right command because the ramp suddenly shuddered before it started to lower again, and you were ten meters away when the grenades went off like dominoes falling.

The first two explosions—of the grenades you shoved into the jungle dog—only shook the ground hard enough to make you stumble forward, but then the rest of them detonated much closer, and the combined shockwave hit you moments later and catapulted you into the air.

Thankfully, the ramp was just low enough that you scraped over it and crashed into the ship, smashing into a bulkhead with a dull crunch. The howling shrieks of dying dogs reached you through the ringing in your ears, and you felt a wave of heat hit you as the grenades engulfed the jungle trees. You curled into a ball on the cargo bay floor, your back to the ramp, and you just barely had the presence of mind to tap at your wrist one last time. A moment later, you heard the whirling of the ramp closing, and when it clanked shut a moment later, you rolled over onto your back and stared blindly above you.

You could just barely hear the roar of the building wildfire outside the ship, and the screeching of the jungle dogs died down within seconds. Your entire body—your lungs, your heart—heaved up and down as adrenaline pulsed through you like a bad hit of spice, and your ears ached in the relative silence.

Then the child cooed, and Mando groaned weakly, and you jolted upright like you had just been struck by lightning.

“Mando,” you rasped, flipping over onto your raw hands and bruised knees.

The bounty hunter half-sat, half-sprawled on the floor at the foot of his bunk. The foundling’s pod lay askew on the ground in front of the fresher like it had crash landed there when it finally died, but the child stood unharmed beside the Mandalorian.

Who was currently bleeding out on the floor of the cargo bay.

“Kriff!” You scrambled forward when you saw the spreading stain of blood below his leg, and as you drew closer, you realized his tourniquet must have been loosened when he collapsed.        

The Mandalorian barely even seemed conscious at this point. His chest stirred only slightly beneath his beskar chest plate, and if it weren’t for the soft groans he was exhaling, you would have thought him dead.

“Mando!” you shouted as you shakily rose onto your feet and staggered the rest of the way to the fresher. Your hands were shaking as you tore one of the storage compartments open in search of a med kit, and your voice cracked when you said his name again. “Mando! Stay with me. We made it back. We’re on the ship. Just stay with me for a few more moments. Please.”

You crashed down onto your knees beside the bounty hunter, tearing the med kit open with bloody hands and broken nails. His helmeted head lolled onto the edge of the bunk behind him, and you could barely hear his raspy breaths through the modulator.

The child stood between Mando’s splayed boots, eyes large and frightened, but you couldn’t pay him any mind right now. Your frantic gaze darted between the bacta gel patch in your hand and Mando’s bleeding leg, and even though it felt crazy, you set the patch down for a moment and reached for the last vibroknife on your belt.

Suddenly, Mando jerked awake with a gasp, and you reached out without thinking, pressing your left palm over his heart and feeling his faint, fluttering pulse.

“Mando, I’m right here,” you murmured soothingly. “Keep breathing for me.”

The Mandalorian muttered your name as his head lolled toward you.

“Yes, that’s me, I’m here,” you said, rising up on your knees and leaning over him. The vibroknife glimmered in your hand, looking like a real-life glitch, but you shook off the unsettling feeling and fixed your eyes on Mando’s visor.

“Mesh’la,” the Mandalorian slurred. The word was soft and elongated to the point of sounding like gibberish, but his hand settled firmly on the wrist you still had pressed to his heart, like he was talking directly to you.

In any other situation, your own heart would be fluttering with a feeling you didn’t want to name, but as the bounty hunter’s blood started to soak into the knees of your pants, all you could feel was dread.

“I need you to stay still, okay?” you said as you dropped your hand from his chest to grip the top of his injured thigh. “I need to cut your pants away from the wound.”

“O… kay,” he muttered, and his hand fell to settle over yours again on his leg like he was grounding himself by touching you.

“Nice and easy,” you cooed, trying to blink the tears out of your eyes so you could see to cut through his pants and not his flesh. “I’ll have that bacta patch on in just a moment. Why don’t you talk to me, huh? Mando, talk to me. Tell me something. J-Just stay awake.”

“Aw…ake,” he whispered, but it sounded like he was just repeating you now, barely clinging to consciousness.

Your hand shook as you slowly sawed through the blood-soaked fabric, and an aborted sob rose in your throat. But you shoved your hysteria down, down, down, you had no time for it, you had to stay level-headed, steady-handed, Mando was counting on you, Mando was dying.

“Mando,” you choked as you finally pulled the cloth away from his wound. Three parallel gashes, each nearly five centimeters deep, ran from his hip crease and nearly all the way to his knee, and blood pulsed sluggishly from the wounds in crimson gobs. “Oh, Maker, Mando.”

You dropped the vibroknife with a loud clang as you lunged for the bacta patch, and out of your peripherals you could see the child waddling closer, standing in between the Mandalorian’s knees, the hem of his little robe slowly staining scarlet. You didn’t have the heart or the strength to shove the child away now, so instead you focused on settling the bacta patch over the bounty hunter’s grisly injuries.

Mando twitched and inhaled sharply as the bacta adhered to his skin, and you sent up a million prayers to the Maker that you had administered aid in time.

“There y-you go,” you sniffled, unable to stop the tears from coursing down your cheeks now. “I got the patch on, Mando. You’re going t-to be okay. You… you have to be okay. Do you hear me, Mando?”

You felt like a glitching holotape repeating his name over and over, but you couldn’t stop yourself. You wanted, no needed, him to stay awake, and every time you said his name, he seemed to jerk a little, like he’d been recalled from a long distance at the sound of your voice.

For a moment, there was only the faint, raspy wheeze of the Mandalorian’s breath through his helmet, but then he suddenly mumbled something.

“What?” You shuffled closer, slipping in blood. You practically had your ear pressed against his visor. “What was that, Mando? Say it again. Come on, talk to me, Mando.”

“Not… Mando.”

The words were stilted, sluggish, and you frowned in confusion. “Huh? I-I don’t understand.”

“My… name isn’t… Mando,” the bounty hunter struggled out, and his helmet tilted forward a fraction like he had lifted his head and was looking right at you. “It’s… Din. Din Djarin.”

The shock you felt was muted, distant and removed, like a crack that formed deep in the heart of a glacier, buried beneath the adrenaline, horror, and helplessness warring within you.

“Din,” you breathed, and the word somehow tasted like the exact moment Peli dug out your transmitter chip. It tasted like freedom, like infinite possibility, and you didn’t understand why.

Mando—no, Din, Din Djarin—exhaled heavily as his head thunked back against the bunk, and even if you couldn’t see it, you could tell his eyes were slipping closed. “I… wanted at least someone to know before I—”

“No,” you cut him off vehemently, reaching out to cradle the sides of his helmet like you were cupping his face. “No, you’re not going to die. Not now. Not when… no, do you hear me, Din Djarin? I will not allow you to die. Not when I worked my ass off to fix this ship and drag you back onto it by the skin of my kriffing teeth.”

“Mmmm.” Din’s head lolled in your grasp, the weight of him growing heavier and heavier. “I knew I would like the way… you say my name.”

Oh, Maker. He was nonsensical now, and terror gripped you by the throat and squeezed.

“Then stay awake, Din,” you begged, and your heart felt like it was on the edge of a great precipice. “Stay awake for me.”

“’m so… tired,” he sighed.

“I know,” you breathed as you guided his head back to rest against the bunk, and you couldn’t speak above a whisper because your voice was thick with tears. “I know, but just listen to my voice, Din. Just—”

You trailed off as the child suddenly waddled into your line of sight, and you dropped your gaze slightly to find him standing between the Mandalorian’s thighs, right next to the bacta covered wounds. The foundling stared up at the bounty hunter with a furrowed, seemingly determined expression, and then he closed his big brown eyes as he reached for Din’s leg.

“Oh, buddy, don’t,” you started, reaching out to stop him, but Din—Maker, his name felt delicious and forbidden even in your mind—weakly placed his hand on your wrist to stop you.

“It’s… okay,” he panted. “He can help.”

“Help?” You frowned down at the child. How could he help? Was this one of the “powers” the bounty hunter had vaguely mentioned before? You thought the foundling’s ability dealt with physically moving things, not healing, but honestly you could do for a miracle right about now.

The child gurgled a small noise as his three fingers settled over Din’s wound, and the Mandalorian inhaled sharply at the same time that you felt… something. You weren’t sure what it was, but it was like the very air shifted, became magnetic, charged somehow. The air stilled in your lungs as you feared even the barest breath would fracture this fragile spell you were bearing witness to, and you watched with wide eyes as the gashes on the bounty hunter’s legs began to close right in front of you.

Bacta worked fast… but not that fast.

Several still, endless seconds passed as the foundling healed the Mandalorian, but then just as soon as it began, the moment ended. The atmosphere snapped almost tangibly, time jolted back into motion, and the child suddenly started to pitch backward.

“Oh!” you gasped as you lunged forward, your hands cupping the baby and bringing him close to your body. The foundling’s eyes were closed, his face slack, but his little chest still moved up and down with breath.

“He’s okay.”

You snapped your head up, more tears spilling down your cheeks with the motion.

Din was sitting up a little straighter, and his helmet looked squarely at you. His voice sounded stronger, too, and you gaped at him in bewilderment.

“He’s okay,” the Mandalorian repeated when you continued to blink at him. “He usually… tires himself out when he uses his powers.”

“I d-didn’t know he could do that,” you breathed, and your tongue felt like a disembodied lump of flesh in your mouth. “I… wait, how do you feel? A-Are you okay?”

You suddenly realized how close you still were to the bounty hunter, practically kneeling in his lap, but you ignored this as your eyes darted back to his leg. It was a little hard to tell through the dried blood and blue bacta, but it looked like the three gashes had closed altogether, leaving behind faint pink lines.

“I’ll survive,” the bounty hunter sighed, thunking his head back against the bunk again, but he tilted it to the side to regard you still. “Thanks to you.”

“I-I’m not the one who just healed you with magic,” you stuttered incredulously as your cheeks flared hot, and you cuddled the child against your chest even though you realized you knew almost nothing about the apparently powerful foundling.

“No,” Mando said evenly, “but you did charge out into a dark, unknown, dangerous jungle, fight off a pack of wild dogs, and drag both me and the bounty back safely.”

“Well,” you snorted with an edge of hysteria in your voice, and you gestured to the discarded head that lay sprawled against the corner of the fresher. “I don’t know if I’d say he got here safely.”

Maker, you felt a little crazy, hollowed out and wrung dry by the sheer amount of emotions you’d just experienced in a span of a few minutes.

“I’m serious,” the Mandalorian replied. “You… saved my life. I am in your debt.”

“I-I’m not one for debts.” You shook your head to try and clear it, dropping your gaze to the foundling’s face, nuzzled against your sternum. “I don’t like to owe anyone or be owed. You’ve stuck your neck out for me before, so let’s just call it even… Din.”

You saw the bounty hunter freeze out of the corner of your eye, and you bit your cheek until you tasted blood.

You should have known that was too much to ask for.

“Sorry,” you muttered, peeking up at the Mandalorian through your lashes. “You… mentioned your name when you were—”

“I remember,” Mando said, cutting you off, but you couldn’t tell what he was thinking, his expression hidden as always and his voice pitched in a way you didn’t recognize, couldn’t identify.

“Right.” You cleared your throat, feeling the adrenaline starting to drain out of you and be replaced by every ache and pain you had ignored in lieu of survival. “Of course, I can just forget about it. You weren’t exactly in your right mind, after all. I’ll just… using ‘Mando’ is fine for me.”

The Mandalorian’s visor stared you down unflinchingly for what felt like an eternity. Then…

“You can… use my name, if you like,” he said haltingly, then quickly amended himself. “But only when we’re alone, on the ship. I… my name could be a dangerous thing in the hands of my enemies.”

You blinked in shock at the bounty hunter.

“A-Are you sure?” you asked, and you tried to keep the hope out of your voice, but you knew you failed miserably. “O-Only if you’re sure. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

You’d thought giving up his name had just been a delusional, dying declaration, and you didn’t want him to regret it. What you said had been true enough. You were fine using “Mando,” even if the traitorous feelings buried deep in your chest said otherwise.

“I’m sure.” The bounty hunter nodded minutely. “I… trust you.”

The admission flooded your whole body with warmth, and goosebumps broke out across your skin. You’d known the Mandalorian trusted you, he wouldn’t have left his ship or his foundling in your care otherwise, but hearing him say the words felt like something out of a dream.

“Okay, then.” You smiled, heart thudding against where the child was pressed into your chest. “Din.”

At the sound of his name, the tension in the Mandalorian’s worn body seemed to bleed out of him entirely, and he sighed as his helmet fell back again.

“Let’s get off this Maker-forsaken planet,” he grumbled.

“I second that,” you chuckled dryly before you slowly clambered to your feet, careful not to slip in Din’s tacky blood or jostle the sleeping baby in your arms. You very gingerly leaned over the prone Mandalorian to set the foundling in his hammock, but you hissed when the movement jarred the bruised or fractured rib in your back.

“What’s wrong?” Din asked below you, and he was so close you could feel the rumble of his modulated voice against the bare skin of your stomach, your tank top having lifted up a fraction.

“Nothing.” You took a quick step backward, trying to put distance between you and the bounty hunter, but now that he was no longer actively dying, you were starting to realize you were a little more beat up then you’d previously thought.

The moment you stepped back on your right leg, your hamstring seized up, and when you went to grab at it, you realized your fingers were a little numb. You glanced down and saw fresh blood dripping down your forearm—your blood, not Mando’s—and the sight of the wound seemed to flip a switch in your brain because a moment later, pain crashed over you like a wave.

“Dank farrik,” Mando cursed lowly as he tried to shove himself up.

“No, no, no, no,” you babbled, holding out your less injured left hand in a gesture to stop him. “Don’t get up so fast.”

“You’re hurt,” he grunted, and you could practically hear the scowl in his voice as he tilted his helmet back to stare at you. “You’re bleeding.”

“I’m fine,” you stressed, even though you could still taste blood on the back of your tongue. “Also, you seriously have no room to talk. You were literally just bleeding out less than five minutes ago.”

“How much bacta do we have left?” he asked, completely ignoring your statement. “We should take care of your injuries before they get any worse.”

“Maker, you’re not even listening to me, are you?” You rolled your eyes as you leaned your shoulder against the bulkhead, but when the Mandalorian started to get up again, you held your hand out once more. “Alright! Alright. Let me at least set the coordinates to meet up with the client and get the ship in the air. I’m pretty sure the jungle is burning down around us as we speak anyway, so the sooner we lift off, the better.”

Din stared up at you silently for a moment like he wanted to argue.

“It will take me two minutes, max,” you reasoned with him. “I won’t pass out or die in that time frame, okay?”

“Fine,” he finally sighed and dropped his chin to his chest. “Just… be careful climbing up there.”

“I’ll try my best,” you snorted, wincing when pain flared through your body, but you still slowly made your way to the ladder.

It took you way longer to climb five rungs than it should have, but you thought not falling back into the cargo bay was a feat in itself, given how every muscle in your arms and legs twitched in pain. The blood pouring down your arm also did nothing to help your grip, nor did your scraped up palms, but you still made it into the cockpit relatively unscathed.

Dawn was just breaking beyond the windows, but you could barely see it through the black smoke that hung thick in the air. Guilt sat heavy in your chest as you saw the charred trees and the birds fleeing the flames overhead, but you told yourself you did what you had to in order to survive.

And it wasn’t like you were walking away scot-free, either. Your arm pounded painfully in time with your slowing pulse, and every time you took a deep breath, you became a little surer that the rib in your back was, in fact, broken.

You punched in the client’s rendezvous coordinates without sitting in the pilot’s chair since you knew if you sat down now there was no way you were getting back up. While you waited for the Razor Crest to power up, you cringed at the blood you were dripping all over the floor, but there was nothing for it at this point. The whole ship would need a thorough scrub down the next time you made a pit stop, but that was a future-you problem. Right now, you were mainly focused on getting off this planetoid and out into orbit without crashing and burning.

You held your breath as the pre-Empire ship rose up above the now smoldering jungle, but no warning alarms or messages sounded. The Razor Crest glided steadily upward, and you leaned heavily on the control panel as you breeched first the clouds and then the atmosphere. Entering orbit rattled the ship and you more than you cared for, but nothing broke off or burst into flame, and before you knew it, you were drifting through the familiar black void of space.

“Thank the kriffing Maker,” you sighed as the autopilot took over, and then you turned and shuffled back to the ladder, exhaustion starting to make the edges of your vision go fuzzy.

Or maybe that was blood loss?

You were a little less graceful with the descent than you were with the ascent, but you at least landed on your feet before you nearly collapsed into the fresher.

“Careful,” Mando’s modulated voice murmured, and suddenly his bare hand was on your left, uninjured elbow, skin against warm skin.

“What are… you doing up?” You frowned as you studied the Mandalorian, trying to make sense of what you were seeing as he led you to sit in the open mouth of his bunk.

“I told you,” he said, reaching over and grabbing another med kit from the fresher. “We need to take care of your injuries before they get any worse.”

“You should be resting,” you grumbled, but you were too tired to put any real heat behind your voice.

“I’m fine,” Din parroted your earlier proclamation back at you. “The kid did a thorough job.”

Then the bounty hunter sat on a crate before you, a crate that hadn’t been there before, and you realized he was no longer wearing a majority of his beskar, save the ever-present helmet, of course. Instead, a faded but clean pair of duraweave clothes covered his body, and the bloodied outfit you’d basically sliced off him was piled up between his feet. It also looked like he had haphazardly tried to mop up some of his blood with the dirty clothes, and you wondered if you’d been up in the cockpit longer than you thought.

“Hey,” you chuckled suddenly, and you distantly noted that your voice was a little slurred with exhaustion. “Looks like I’ll have some new rags after all.”

You giggled a little loopily as you gestured to the Mandalorian’s blood-soaked clothes and then to the blood and dirt your outfit was also currently coated in, but Mando didn’t seem as amused as you were.

“Let me see your arm,” he said as his helmet stared at you impassively, but then he paused and added, “Please.”

“It’s really not that bad,” you tried to argue as you held out your injured limb, but since it was still actively dripping blood, your words didn’t carry much weight. Then the bounty hunter gingerly gripped your wrist with tentative fingers, and you hissed through your teeth as pain lanced up your arm.

“Osik,” Din cursed in a language you didn’t recognize, slowly rotating your arm to take in the extent of the damage. “Did one of those dogs get you? The bastard almost flayed you to the bone in some spots.”

“Yeah, well I shoved two grenades down his throat, so I think we’re even,” you gritted out.

Din froze and lifted his head, your blood, sweat, and dirt-streaked face reflecting back at you from his visor. “You what?” 

He must have really been on death’s door if he didn’t notice or remember you literally blowing the jungle dogs to Tatooine and back, but you just shook your head.

“Story time later,” you huffed, narrowing your eyes as you tried to breathe through the pain. “Bacta time now, please.”

“Right.” Mando jerked back into action, and in the next moment he was shifting into medic-droid mode.

Few words were shared between you two as the Mandalorian tended to your bumps and scrapes. Beside the deep lacerations on your forearm, your palms and knees were scraped bloody from tripping your way through a dangerous jungle in the dead of night. Your upper back was in the same condition since you’d been wearing a tank top when you decided to grapple with blood-thirsty hounds, and when Din accidentally brushed against your lower back, a small whimper squeezed out between your clenched teeth.

“This rib is probably broken,” the bounty hunter said, and there was a heavy quality to his quiet voice.

“Thought as much,” you grunted, trying to sit up straight without breathing too deeply. “Too bad we don’t have a full bacta tank to soak in.”

“I could always… drop you back off on Tatooine,” Mando muttered. “With the payment that I owe you, of course. Should be enough to pay for a full treatment and then some.”

You froze sitting there in the doorway of his bunk. The Mandalorian wasn’t looking at you, too busy double checking the bandage he’d wrapped over the bacta on your forearm, but you could see how rigid his body was as he awaited your answer.

“Do you… want to drop me back off on Tatooine?” you asked hesitantly, the breath shallow in your lungs. You could hear the child snoring softly in the hammock directly behind your head, and the thought of leaving him opened a dark pit inside you.

And that was nothing to say of the thought of leaving the Mandalorian. Of leaving… Din.

Now that you knew his name, the feelings you had done your best to ignore came surging up to the surface, that little voice whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

He told you his name. He trusts you. He wants you here. Maybe he wants you for more than just your skills.

You shoved the thoughts away as quickly as they cropped up, but that didn’t stop something small and fragile from unfurling in your chest. You almost wanted to call it hope.

“I—” Mando started, stopped, fidgeted on his crate, and then sighed as he scooted back a little to stretch out his injured leg. “No, I don’t want to do that. You’re a talented mechanic and… good company. I’ve… enjoyed having you on my crew.”

“Oh.” You blushed as the breath whooshed out of your lungs, leaving you feeling lightheaded and buoyant. “T-Thank you. Current circumstances notwithstanding, I’ve enjoyed being on your crew, too. A-And not just for the payment. Seeing new worlds, as dangerous as they are, was something I never thought I’d get to experience. So, even if the price to pay is a few bumps and scrapes, I think that’s a fair deal.”

“You have a skewed idea of ‘fair,’” the Mandalorian chuckled dryly as he reached down beside him, picked up a pair of his gloves, and slipped them back on.

“No kriff,” you snorted, the scar on the nape of your neck tingling. “But it works out in your favor, so I wouldn’t question it too much.”

“Fine.” Din held up his hands, but then he lowered them to his knees and cocked his head at you.

“What?” you asked when he didn’t say anything for a full minute. His gaze made your skin prickle even if you couldn’t see his eyes, and with each passing moment, you grew acutely more and more aware of how dirty and disheveled you looked and felt.

“Nothing,” he said, fingers flexing against his knees. “Just… thank you. Again. For saving me, the kid, the bounty, and the ship.” 

You fidgeted in discomfort. You didn’t know what to do with praise and compliments, having never really received them before, so you shrugged your shoulders as you picked at the bandage on your arm.

“I told you, we’re even,” you muttered.

“It doesn’t feel that way to me,” he argued, and something about his tone told you he wasn’t going to let this go. “So, how about this: after we drop off this bounty with the client, you can pick the next planet we stop on.”

“Really?” Your eyes flicked up to the bounty hunter and widened. He’d never let you pick a destination before. You’d always just been along for the ride.

Mando nodded. “And make a list of parts and stuff you need to keep the ship running. We’ll stock up wherever we stop off next.”

“Okay.” You grinned as your heart did a little jig in your chest, and you stuck out your bacta-wrapped hand to shake on it. “You’ve got yourself a deal, Din Djarin.”

His name rolled off your tongue like a grain of sand spiraling down a dune, picking up momentum as it went, and it sent a shiver of pleasure straight down your spine. You knew you were playing a losing game with your own heart here, but as you stared into Mando’s visor, you also knew there was no stopping yourself now. You would just have to deal with the future heartbreak.  

The Mandalorian tentatively reached out and grasped your fingers in his gloved ones.

“Deal,” he rumbled back.

“Good.” You nodded as a yawn cracked open your jaw, and you reached up to cover your gaping mouth and scratch your nose. “Now, given the client’s rendezvous coordinates, we should have a few days of rest before we reach our destination, and if you don’t mind, I think I’m going to start right now by taking a well-deserved nap.”

You made to stand up, but Din gently placed his hand on your shoulder to keep you seated on the edge of the bunk.

“Take the cot,” he said as he nodded behind you. “I’m going up to the cockpit to send a message to the client anyway.”

“Are you sure?” you murmured around another yawn.

“I’m sure,” he said, but then his gloved fingers were suddenly ghosting over the bridge of your nose. “By the way, you’ve got a little grease right here. Just thought you should know.”

You went cross-eyed as you tried to draw his finger into focus, but when he stepped back, you noticed the fingertips of his glove were shiny, and glancing down at the hand you used to shake his revealed that your palm bore the same black sheen.

“Hey, this is your grease,” you muttered indignantly, but then Din was pressing gently on your shoulder, guiding you to lay back on the cot, and you went willingly.

“Get some rest,” he said, turning off the bunk lights. “We’ll worry about cleaning up later.”

You tried to grumble something, but exhaustion was starting to tug at your limbs and eyelids, and your body unwound bit by bit as you buried your face in the bounty hunter’s pillow with no remorse.

A moment later, Mando’s boots were clomping up the ladder to the cockpit, but he left some of the cargo bay lights on and the door to the bunk open, like he somehow knew you were afraid of the dark.

The beginnings of a smile tugged at your lips, but you spiraled into sleep before you could fully process the thought.

[blu-archer]

A pajama day.

Right so here’s the next one. 

Flower shop and bakery AU. It’s wholesome.

Snz

No warnings.

Main Pairing: Jimin/Yoongi [because they’re wholesome]

“I vote today be a pajama day.” Jimin mumbled hoarsely as he shuffled into their dainty kitchen looking like he’d just rolled out of bed.

Tae glanced up from his seat on the table, pausing from scrolling through social media long enough to do a once over of his roommate. Quite frankly Tae had thought that Jimin had already left for work, hence why he was on top of the table instead of in the seats. Jimin was a stickler for the ‘glasses not asses’ rule and Tae liked to test the limits as long as he was sure his roommate wasn’t home. 

Jimin was usually the one to open the bakery he worked at in the morning since Jungkook -the only other front man besides the owner, Jin - was prone to over-sleeping and Jin liked to go shopping for the store as early as possible. Which left Jimin to be the opener.

Usually.

This morning however seemed to have taken a different route. Jimin’s cotton candy hair was in a rat nest state, and he seemed a shade paler than usual. The dark rings under his eyes more prominent than they usually were. Not to mention that the shorter man was still – as he’d declared – in his sleep rumpled pajama’s, despite it being fifteen minutes away from when the bakery was supposed to open.

“Were you up late or something?” Tae asked with a frown, taking a sip of his tea as he watched Jimin blankly stare into their fridge.

Jimin sniffed and rubbed harshly at his nose, only succeeding in increasing the irritation. He shut the fridge with disappointment and moved to test the heat of the kettle. “Something like that. When did you boil this?”

“It should still be hot.” Tae replied, still watching Jimin with cautious eyes. “Are you okay?”

“No.” Jimin muttered with a pout, getting a clean mug and a tea bag before putting in the hot water – not even bothering to add his usual heaps of sugar or dash of milk. He collapsed into the seat next to Tae, not caring that the other was not seated in the chairs like a normal person, and promptly rested his head in his arms waiting for the tea to rest.

“Jimin, what-“

Hih’ngxsh. Hih’eeXGNshh. ESHishew. Snf.

Ahh. Taehyung winced as he watched Jimin try and fail to stifle his sudden sneezes into his sleeve barely even lifting his head from its previous position. The elders body shook with the effort behind each one only to be left looking slightly flushed and itchy when he pushed himself back upright to try stop his nose from running. 

This made a lot more sense, Jimin must have called in sick.

“Oh, poor Minmin.” Taehyung stroked Jimin’s hair. “Do you want me to call Yoongi-hyung to come over?”

“And let him see this?” Jimin asked rhetorically, congestion lingering in his speech. “No thank you.”

Tae nodded in understanding, biting his lip to stop the smile that urged to grow. He was aware that Jimin and Yoongi had only been dating for about a month, but the two had known each other since Jin had decided to set up the bakery next to Yoongi’s flower shop almost five years ago. They had surely seen each other in many different states, probably even sick, but there was obviously something different about it now. 

Now it mattered. Because they were “exclusively attracted to one another”, and for some reason that changed things.

“My mistake, do you want me to call someone else? Or get you something before I leave?”

“Can’t you stay…” Jimin pouted harder. “…for pyjama day.”

Tae gave an apologetic sigh. “I have a booking for the day, Min. I can’t cancel on them.”

He knew Jimin understood that. As a freelance photographer he really shouldn’t make a habit of turning anyone away. It was difficult to find any decent work sometimes, so he needed anything he could find. His chest ached in sympathy as he watched Jimin rub at his nose again, only to hitch and catch another double wetly into his wrist. He barely had time to try stifle them like he normally did. 

Tae slid off of the table and went to the supply closet they had in their bathroom, haling out whatever cold medicine he could find along with one of the tissue boxes that they stocked in bulk for allergy season.

He returned to see that Jimin hadn’t moved, his wrist was still raised to his face with the expression of pre-sneeze.

If there was one thing Tae could relate to with Jimin, it was the annoying fact that he was also sneezy in nature. Between the two of them they had their fair share of allergies paired with a trait of being prone to illnesses, which made it easier – or perhaps he should say more forgiving – to live together. There was an understanding.

Taehyung set everything down on the table before opening the tissue box for Jimin, smiling at his friend’s thankful eyes before moving to the kitchen cupboards to look for food.

“Do you want soup?” Tae asked. “I think we have some canned stuff, or I can order you something?”

Jimin wiped his nose with a tissue, annoyed at the tickle that still had not left him. “I’ll just heat up a can later.”

Tae hummed but dragged out a can of soup anyway. “This seems to be all that we have, I’ll put it on the stove so that you can eat something before you take some meds.” He pulled out a small pot and opened the can, listening as Jimin gave up on just wiping and ended up trying to clear his sinuses – only to induce his next fit of sneezes. “If I can get back early enough, I’ll try stop at the store and get some more stuff for you.”

With the soup being heated up Tae hesitantly left his roommate to his tea while he went to shower. he felt really bad about having to leave, but he really didn’t have a choice.

 Jimin spent a few minutes coaxing out the annoyingly ticklish sneezes that left him a teary mess, trying to catch everything into the once soft but now wet tissues. His head and throat ached with each hitch of his breath and all he wanted to do was be able to breathe normally again.

Jimin could not believe his luck.

Wednesdays had quickly become his favourite days of the week. He would arrive at the bakery just past 6:30 to open at 8. Once he had checked that all of the goods were displayed and fresh, making sure that the shop was clean and the coffee machines were on, then he’d wait. It never took long, 8:15 sharp, Yoongi would peep his head in with a single flower – often changing it with each meet up, but they were all equally beautiful and left Jimin feeling warm inside. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t see Yoongi those other days, it was just that Wednesdays held the charm of letting them have some moments alone before other staff or customers bothered either of them. In fact, despite Jimin and Yoongi not working in the same store, it sure seemed like they did at times with how well the two places worked together. More often than not the staff would be running between the back doors to make sure that orders were handed over and information shared from customers that had asked ideally for some collaborated event.

Jimin loved Wednesday’s because he and Yoongi got to relax for at least the first twenty minutes, without having the fatigue of the day wearing on him or the stress of having to multitask their work as well as socialising with everyone else. That last part was probably worse for the elder, who had never been a fan of interacting with others so much anyway. 

Jimin got to witness Yoongi being soft and gentle and hear about his days and thoughts without interruption. Even the few dates they had been on had been a bit tainted by exhaustion for the both of them, so the brief moments of peace were always a blessing – especially if Jimin got to share it with a particularly sweet flower boy.

But now he was going to miss that today.

Perhaps he should send a message to Yoongi and let him know what was happening… but then he wasn’t sure what Yoongi would do. 

Jimin had barely acknowledged his phone, only using it to message Jin a brief explanation of his absence and a quick but sincere apology. He hadn’t bothered to check the messages he was sure had come from Jungkook and was at a loss of what he should tell Yoongi. It was just a cold, he was sure. If he could try to catch and control it early he could go back to work quicker. 

Telling Yoongi would just be pointless, he decided. Jimin would be back to work in a few days but knowing his co-workers they would surely relay any information onto the florist.

It still sucked though.

After Tae had left – having forced the soup into Jimin then made sure some form of medication had been taken before leaving – Jimin had found himself bouncing between his bedroom, the lounge and the balcony overlooking the city- bundling against the cold wind every time he chose the third option.

He couldn’t seem to go back to sleep despite being tired and it was no fun trying to watch movies by himself. He wished Taehyung could have stayed, or that Jungkook could come over just so that he could have someone to cuddle with, but he couldn’t call the younger over and rob the bakery of yet another worker. No, Jimin would just suffer through the day with tea and tissues.

Eventually, after a lot of shifting and another small dose of cold meds when his sinuses had encouraged a headache to settle in again, Jimin retrieved his phone from where he had left it in his room. He perched himself on the couch and scrolled through social media, looking at pictures of old friends going out and travelling to new places. It looked like fun, but it wasn’t something that Jimin had always been too keen on. He preferred the small community that he worked and lived with and took pride in the beauty of the place he had made his home.

He paused on an image of the front of ‘Spring Day’ that had been posted on the bakeries Instagram page. From the quality of the photo Jimin could only assume it was Jungkook that had taken it – work must not be too busy then. The image showed Hoseok grinning widely as he opened up the large shop windows, becoming surrounding by flowerpots and plants hanging down from the ceiling and the vines creeping along the trellis beside him. It was a very natural and welcoming photo that Jungkook had captioned with some cheesy flower quote. Looking closer Jimin could just make out a second figure in the back that fell just out of focus. Yoongi must have been setting up some of the new stock inside while Hobi was goofing off with Jungkook.

Jimin could almost imagine the grumpy mumbling that the elder must have been doing before trying his best to stay out of the range of the camera – never wanting to be the face of the company. 

Jimin’s smile fell as he coughed openly, snuggling deeper his seat and pulling a blanket that Tae had left out over himself. His eyes trained onto the blurry figure of his boyfriend, his own vision becoming somewhat blurred and the small ache  growing in his chest only seemed to worsen.

[starkaer]

it’ll last longer.

my @starkerkink prompter was @demons-sing-me-to-sleep, and i choose the third prompt. this was both all of the place and so much fun to write! hope you like it, though i didn’t manage to fit as many of your kinks as i’d like to. i might post it on ao3 later, but here we go!

tags: underage (peter is sixteen), incest, unnegotiated kink, mildly dubious consent, exploration of kink(s), unbetaed bc i’m a mess tm.

Nice! Peter will have the whole Stark Tower for himself, for more than a couple of days, for the very first time in his sixteen years. He had plans of inviting over Ned for the whole weekend, maybe bringing over Liz or Harry to try and impress them - maybe even invite that cute pizza boy in and let the things he saw online become reality. But, on the first day, he is going to do what he had been wanting to do for oh-so-longnow.

The tv in his room is indeed huge and he would never complain about it, but nothing could ever compare to the one in the living room. 4k porn. God, he is going to be living the teenage dream. Computer on the coffee table, a towel on his side, clothes not even on after the shower a couple of hours ago.

God, he is actually feeling nervous! He sighs to get the anxiety out, and gets to work. Connects the two screens, opens the secret folder he had put a password on, finds that nearly 3gb sized file (one of the ones he downloaded when he learned his dad had a meeting out of the state), and waits a few seconds for the show to start.

And then it started. A redhead twink, laying on a bed, flipping over a random comic book, only wearing the skimpiest of red speedos. He’s already so damn hard, and the muscled step-dad wasn’t even on the screen yet- oh, there he was. Bulging muscles, skin a dark-ish shade of golden, eyes clearly hungry.

That went on for nearly two hours, Peter stroking himself to the cliff but making sure to never fall in, since he wanted to enjoy as much of this as possible. He had watched all the highest quality porn he managed to download, but maybe he was in the mood for something new.

Maybe some amateur videos? Those typically had great positions. Or perhaps one of the spanking ones? He liked the whimpers from those, they did great things for him.

But then his eyes set down on something else, and his finger doesn’t take long to follow. A few seconds, and there were two men on his screen, the lighting not good enough for him to make every single detail out, but he didn’t mind. He knows very well what happens.

“Do you like that, Stark? Like a big man destroying your ass?”

That first line almost did push him down the cliff, his hand flying away from his pulsing red cock in order to avoid it; now it was becoming almost a game. That man was Steve Rogers, one of his father’s most long-lasting boyfriends, he later learned.

“Yeah, please, ruin me, sir! Fuck me until I can’t walk, please!”

That second line almost pushes him down the cliff, and his hand was still away from his pulsing red cock. That begging whore was his dad, he thought with a smirk, and his dick twitched in response.

Two videos later, his dad has two men deep in both of his holes, one with the best dirty talk of all the sextapes and the other with the longest dick he had ever seen. The moans his dad was making was unholy at best, and he knew this was going to be it - it was the last one, and he barely lasted through the one before with the long-haired one, the most brutal one who got Tony nearly in tears with his pounding.

Oh, it was coming! Oh, he was coming! This is-

“Peter, what the fuck is that?!”

Peter loves horror games, even liked the ones with the cheesy jumpscares - they got the adrenaline flowing, it was fun. But none of those ever made him jump quite as much as he did when his father’s voice came from behind him instead of from the screen.

He shoves his finger on the computer’s button so fast one would think he has superpowers, but it was clearly long past that point. “Hey, dad, you’re, um- You’re not supposed to be home.” His heart keeps drumming on his ears and brain, as he tries to cover his junk.

“What the fuck are you watching Peter? Why?! Why would you watch that, that’s-”

“I know! I know, dad, I know, and I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry-”

If whoever was that cold man had his father nearly in tears of pleasure, his father had him apologetically bawling on the floor. All it took was the slight tone of disgust on Tony’s voice to get him sobbing, begging for forgiveness. He was disgusting, and he knew it. All he could do is hope his dad would see how truly sorry he was, and maybe put him in a mental hospital, so those gross thoughts could go away and he could be a normal person, a normal teenager.

“Pete, don’t- don’t cry, it’s- It’s okay, it’s okay... You were just curious, that’s all, it’s okay, come here...” Oh, he was very much not just curious. That was nothing on those videos for him to be curious about anymore, he knew every detail very fucking well - but it felt so great to be hugged and apparently forgiven by his dad, he wouldn’t mind if that’s what Tony would have to believe in order to forgive him. “I just hate those videos, but you did nothing wrong, okay? I shouldn’t ever have filmed them, but that’s not on you.”

It took more ten or fifteen minutes of calming and soothing and tranquilizing for him to say anything. And, if he had his mind in place, those probably wouldn’t be his first words.

“Why do you hate them, though?” Head on his father’s lap, feet hanging off the couch in misery, it takes some seconds for him to get a response from above.

“They just don’t represent me well, I guess. Or at all, really.” There’s a good-humored tone to it, but then it gets a bit more serious. “I just... Now I just relate more to the other man, y’know?”

“You’re a top now, that’s what you’re saying?” The question is genuine, but not even Peter himself can’t help but laugh along with his dad when he realizes how simplified it was.

“I guess there’s also that, but...” The man takes a long breath, his face clearly showing he is trying to pick just the right words. “The thing is that... The things those men said to me... Now I prefer to say than to hear them. You know what I mean?”

“So... You’re a dominant, is that it?” There could have been some laughing again, since it was also apparently simplifying Tony’s answer, but the man just stared at him for a few seconds, almost admiring his words.

“Well, yeah... I didn’t know you knew what a dominant is, but yeah, that is what I mean, I guess. But also I’m just a very different person overall.”

“How do I know what I am?”

“Well...” There are butterflies in his stomach, and he tries not to think about how good his father’s thighs are as pillows. “When you watched those videos, did you like to hear what those men said? Do you, well, wish they were being said to you?” 

Cheeks turn bright red immediately. “Yeah.” It’s almost nothing, and his dad has to make a questioning sound to get a clear and louder version. “I think I did, yeah.”

“Well, that means you’re probably a submissive. But, like I said, those things can change with time. I used to enjoy those things being said to me, but now I prefer to say them. You’re too young to know for sure what you prefer, anyway, Pete.” He hopes ‘those things can change with time’ would include his taste for his own father’s sex-tapes.

“I’m really sorry, dad. I should never have watched them.”

“It’s okay, Pete, it’s okay. You’re a kid, you’re supposed to be curious about that kind of stuff. Do you... Do you have any other questions about them?”

“When was the one with uncle Bruce filmed? And who was the long-haired dude?”

“Oh, you do. Was hoping we could wrap things up. Okay, um...” He motions to Peter to get up, which he does, sitting on the couch like his father, heart beating fast.

“The one with uncle Bruce… Do you like that one?” He shyly nods, feeling even more gross, but...

But, ugh, that one was definitely his favorite one. He loved when those men called his dad the filthiest names - but that one was completely different, and so much better. Tony sets up the camera, eyes dark in lust and smirk on his lips, then turns on his back and drops to his knees and sucks Bruce dry. Once, twice, thrice, in twenty minutes. The simple image of the man adjusting his glasses while looking down to his father, shaking and trembling and whimpering for some reason, had powered many of his late-night jack offs.

His father lets out a long breath, but Peter can’t tell if it’s good or bad. The thought of ‘is he disgusted again?’ nearly brings tears to his eyes.

“Yeah, that is indeed a good one...” Like they’re talking about pizza toppings, not the man’s own sex-tapes. His dick is spasming and growing and redning, and he wonders if his father’s eyes are actually going from his face to his cock or if that’s his horny, gross imagination. “Do you know why uncle Bruce was crying like that?”

After some moments of nervous silence, he shakes his head, swallowing hard and waiting to see what his father is up to. “Do you want to find out?”

There’s another nod, but never a sound — Peter's mind is turning on itself, really. It hits him: his father, at that moment, was hitting on him. Without a doubt. And, with that question, his cock can’t get any harder. The image of him trembling and moaning while Tony works on his cock like the hungriest, meanest slut hits him like a truck, turning his cheeks bright red.

“Say it, then. Say that you want daddy to suck you off.”

Despite the request of a confirmation still in the air, his father is sliding down to his knees, and he can’t breathe for a second. He doesn’t say it, but he spreads his legs. He doesn’t say it, but he bites his lips. And then he says it, voice shaking more than uncle Bruce. “I want daddy to suck me off, please.” The ‘please’ was out of habit, and he would have laughed for it, if his father wasn’t about to give him the very first blowjob of his life.

His dick was standing nearly straight by now, hardened by his father’s words, and yet Tony’s big hand wrapped around it like it was a pencil. It was so agonizingly slow, but oh so fucking good. Up and down, up and down, always with a twist of his wrist — he wasn’t sure if he was wanting to scream in pleasure because it was someone else, or because it was his father, or really just because that technique was better than his basic quick-up-&-down-strokes-until-he-cums one. Probably all three.

Some more seconds of only masturbating, and his father’s lips were approaching his crotch. Tender kisses to his thighs, which felt both burning erotic and way too intimal (like when a whore has sex, but doesn’t kiss a client), and his father’s eyes are staring into his soul, but he doesn’t pay it much attention. He can deal with his soul later.

“Should I talk like them?” It clearly takes a few seconds for Tony to understand, and he’s scared he’s ruined the moment. “The men, on the videos?” And his father looks up to him, grinning like the devil.

“No...” A long, wet, epically slow lick to his cockhead has him squiming his hips forward for more, but his father doesn’t allow it. “But tell me, Pete, do you want daddy to make this little dick of yours warm?” Oh. That’s right. He was Tony in the videos, and Tony were those men. So he was the little whore, the cockhungry slut, and the fucking faggot — even if he was the one being sucked off. And that thought almost made him cum on the spot.

He didn’t know if Tony would wait for his confirmation this time, but he gave it immediately, nodding quickly, eyes closed in desperation and need. And so, he can’t see when his dad places his mouth around his throbbing dick, but he lets out a moan nearing a scream, and the edge is so close.

The mouth worked up and down his shaft, making lewdy, wet sounds all the way, and Peter looks to the edge he’s being pushed to. This feels so good, he doesn’t want to fall in yet. “Yeah, oh, dad…” He wasn’t required to make those noises, they come from somewhere between his very soul and his genitals.

But it doesn’t last one minute, and he’s being pushed off the edge, falling into the delicious, bright abyss, and screaming all the way down. When he opens his eyes, Tony's face is painted with his seeds, and seeing that is a thousand times hotter than watching any of those videos could ever be. In fact, one second of that blowjob was hotter than any of his thousand hours of jerking off to those videos.

“Oh, that was a lot, Pete.” He could get hard just from watching his father cleaning his hand, sucking the cum out of his fingers like it’s vanilla ice cream. Like giving his kid a blowjob is just his thursday.

“Yeah, I was, uh- I was jerking off for, like, two hours before, so, yeah, that’s why.” He wants to ask if that, the blowjob, will ever happen again (and also why dad isn’t cleaning his face), but knows he shouldn’t. This shouldn’t have happened, but he is so glad it did. “DAD, AH!”

Tony is back to sucking; and, instead of the blessing that was falling from that cliff, he’s falling from grace. It’s burning and cramping and hurting, and he is shaking and trembling and whimpering. Exactly like uncle Bruce.

“Please, dad, ah! It hurts, please!” It seems the more he tries to squirm away, the harder Tony sucks — for one second it hits that, perhaps, he is indeed sucking harder the more he struggles, perhaps he likes him to struggle, but that thought won’t make the cramps stop, so it’s of no real use for him. “Please, daaad!”

But, both as sudden as a lightning and as smooth as a cloud, the anguish leaves, and he is welcomed with another hard-on, and his hurt twitching and whimpering turns into jerking and asking for more. He now opens his eyes, but the sight of his father in his knees, looking deep into his eyes with a pulsating cock in his mouth takes all of his air away, so he closes them again.

He feels proud of passing the one minute mark, but it’s just some more minutes until the gagging sounds and the slick warmness take him down the marvelous cliff once again. There’s more of his semen on his dad’s face, but it seems like just when he's done squirting cum out, he’s falling from Mount Olympus for the second time, and it might be worse.

The cramps return with all force, drowning him in ache, all throughout his legs and his wrists and his elbows — and he can’t wait for the sweet release of sudden pleasure, but it doesn’t seem to be coming. He gives in to begging, “Dad, dad, please stop, please, ah!” And it still doesn’t come for what feels like days on end.

There’s tears falling down his cheeks, and he is grabbing the couch so hard it might break his fingers. His cock is getting hard again — but none of the sweet pleasure that came the first two times hits him, the cramps never go away. He continues to beg and cry and ask, until he comes again, and this time he realizes no more jizz really comes out. He doesn’t even open his eyes, waiting for the ache again, until his father speaks.

“Already dry, kid?” That’s when he allows himself to wake up, and is faced with the man’s face covered in his own cum. There’s quite a nice amount on his forehead and his right cheek. His nose, left cheek and goatee also have some of his liquid, and he thinks one of the eyes is red-ish, so he guesses some landed on there too. “Wanna clean me up or should I?”

He gives no response, breathing deeply from both relief and tiredness. His eyes are starting to weigh, and Tony must have taken it as a no. If he wasn’t so done with the cliffs and the edges for tonight, the sight of his father brushing his cum to his mouth and licking his lips and fingers clean of it like it’s vanilla — that would definitely get him hard. “You know why uncle Bruce was like that?”

Just a tired nod, and he’s dozing away. “You were even prettier than him...”

Just a warm smile, and he’s nearly gone. “Hope you don’t mind me recording it...”

Just a pair of closing eyes, and he’s done, but- “Maybe later I’ll explain the Bucky one to you…”

[popculturebuffet]

Toons For Our Times: The Loud House: Strife of The Party/ Kernel of Truth

Lana plans her and Lola’s party with copius amonts of dirt and garabage while Lola tries sabotaging it and I struggle to figure out which one we’re supposed to be rooting for exactly.  Meanwhile Lincoln and Co find an abandoned news room and attempt to start their own news show with the immediate threat of cancelation hanging over their heads. You know like most shows on nick. Also Rusty gets hurt a lot which automatically makes this a winner. News Team Assemble, under the cut. 

Well this week was a mixed bag.. which granted could apply to this week as a whole but I meant it specifically for this episodes. Like last week one of them is a true classic that uses the series new status quo to create something intresting, and the other... is the worst episode i’ve reviwed so far. Yes not even one week and the show managed to go from having a boring episode to having a truly odious one. Both metaphorcially and literally as there’s a lot of grossout gags this time around. And unfortuantely since i’ts first in the pairing and the airing, I have to talk about it first. Pitter Patter, let’s get this over with. 

Strife of the Party I”m not exaggerating either. I admit I was hard on Schooled! and Family Bonding, but the former sitll had some good content and the latter was .. well it’s still a boring lazy retread with a bonkers ending, but I admitted to having seen worse. But “I’ve seen worse” is never the best defense. I’ll admit usually I avoided the worse episodes of the loud house. I haven’t seen some of the more infamous episodes of the show like “No Such Luck” or “Kings of the Con”.. because as just a viewer I could skip an episode if it sounded like toilet dinner. Sure i’ve still ran into them: “Study Muffin” was just eh when it aired but now both post me too and post chris savino being rightfully fired for being a harassing dickweasel thanks to said movement, it’s realy fucking creepy, has Lori at her worst (Actively trying to cheat on bobby), and .. I have no third thing. All we really got out of it was Lynn Sr’s obsession with the British. And “The Green House”’s reputation proceeds it and there’s a reason I couldn’t finish it. Point is i’ve been lucky to only step in a few cowpies in the field of this show, and now i’m watching it as it comes out i’m accepting the hard truth that with the show’s hit and miss quality, i’m going to have to go panning in shit creek some weeks if I want to find the nuggets of gold.  Now I will grant this episode doesn’t sound NEARLY as bad as “No Such Luck”.. but as opus would say....

Exactly my Pengy pal. Again not being worse than the worst episode of the show, still dosen’t make you a good episode. It just makes you marginally less terrible. It’s like saying Creed isn’t as bad as Nickelback. While tha’ts true they both still sound terrible, it’s just playing Creed isn’t a warcrime in some countries. And yes I just compared two episodes of a children’s show to bands my audience thankfully likely weren’t aware ever existed, I don’t care. If you haven’t left my blog running and screaming your either new here or tolerate me being an obscure weirdo.  

Before we get in proper, I haven’t covered the twins yet so let’s do that quick. I haven’t really watched a ton of Lola and Lana’s episodes, their not bad characters htey just don’t intrest me much as i’ve seen their gimmicks a lot, but I will say lola’s slightly better and I will say I like Lana more when she’s doing animal antics instead of grossout. Not terirble characters and their acted well, just not my cup of tea is all. Okay enough stalling , pitter patter!

We open with Lola planning the twins upcoming birthday and talking to her stuffed animals which is cute and all.. before a POSSUM CHESTBURSTS OUT OF LOLA’S UNICORN DOLL. 

The.. the fuck. Look i’m all for scaring the crap out of kids in children’s entertainment. I loved Courage the Cowardly dog as a kid and as a grown ass man writing about children’s entertainment. I love the lich from adventure time, i’m okay with scaring kids. But this is just.. a bit too realistic. Yes really. While  doll that size probably can’t fit a possum it could sure fit something else and i’ve seen stuffed animals big enough for a posssum, so yeah.. this could actually happen to one of my nieces and that thought terrifies me. It happening to me also terrifies me but I’m a grown man not a small child who’d be scarred for life. Christ.  The episode does get better, for a second I didn’t bitch for a few paragraphs for nothing. Lana comes in, claims the demon possum, and tells Lola she’ll fix the doll. Uh Lana i’m not sure she wants it back.. you’d be better off burning it and setting the possum free in a republican center’s home where it belongs. 

Anyways Lana has a good point, Lola’s been plannig their parties ‘since before they were born”.. literally as the image above shows which is just.. fucking amazing. I cannot belivie they got to go there and it’s glorious they did. I can’t think of many, if any, other chlidren’s cartoons that showed a fetus on screen so kudos. 

But yeah that was the one good moment of the episode. Next our twins go to a party suply store where Lola, clearly knowing the host well because these kids have connections, has her stash all the poop colored stuff away... which backfires as lana instead goes to the garbage for party favors and decorations. It fails to get better: Next they go to a bakery where Lana makes her own literal garbage cake and then go to flips for entertainment i.e. a bull. NOw i’ll grant both stops have good bits: The cake store guy asks if Lana’s a cop when she asks for grime and Flip has them sign a waver for the bull. And the bull being lana’s idea of entertainment makes sense.. but overal it just comes off as gross and mean spirited. I mean yes Lola’s about to do some terrible stuff herself and yes Lola ouvershadowed lana.. but she dosen’t deserve this abuse and none of this is healthy or tolerbale for.. well anyone, and could get the Loud Parents in serious trouble, which also leaves the obvious plot hole of “why don’t they step in in either situation. “ 

The episode would’ve made more snese if Lana went to them to get them to let her host the party and their guilt over letting Lola always do it means they don't’ reign her in despite wanting to. Instead their just.. there at the end for a great bit we’ll get to. It’s always the bad episodes that paint the loud parents as terrible parents honestly. No Suck Luck had them cast their son out into the cold over nonsense, On Thin Ice had Lynn Sr decide forcing his children to embarass themselves was more important than teaching one of them that maybe sometimes you don’t always get to force your family to obey your whims for dumb reasons, and the april fools eps have Lynn Sr so terrified of pranking retribution instead of you know.. GROUNDING Luann for going full joker on their asses. IN most episodes their kind and reasonable but it’s always the bad ones where they instead make Homer Simpson look like a good parent. 

But yeah my rant aside the episode COULD work if Lola, encouraged by one of her other siblings, Luann would be a good bet as she could easily slide into the party setting when appropriate without being too distracting, realizes she’s been selfish and tries to hold her tounge for lana’s sake. Maybe then she tries sabotage.. or better she DOSEN’T, but both of them realize something; Lola realizes she’s been doing this to lana their whole lives by forcing her into a party she doesn’t  like so LOLA can be happy while Lana realizes she’s being no better. Hell even if Lola did complain, which is in character, this plot woudl still work. instead.. Lana is just as bad as Lola while Lola is still pretty terrible.  See the big problem is that NEITHER girl is likeable. As I’ve made clear Lana pushes a gross, dangerous party on her sister she clearly doesn’t like, and Lola, instead of trying tot alk to her parents or get Lana to tone it down.. tries to guide her to what she wants, then when that fails sabotages the party, makes it so Lana has nothing and gets her party. Both sides are being really bad, but instead of them realizing this, lana is treated as the one we should be sympathetic to when she gets mad when she finds out about Lola even though NEITHER of them are sympathetic or likeable and deserve to win 100%. But Lana does, lana gets her way, Lola apologizes and hte paradigm just shifts from one sibling being unhappy to another. We do get that one gag I talked about where when lola goes to make things right she has Lynn Sr stall and he pulls out a cowbell “You thought I wasn’t going to need this”. No bud, Rita HOPE you wouldn’t need this. There’s a difference. Thank god it’s the end. 

Final Thoughts for Strife of the Party: They should be obvious but to be clear this is hippo excrement. i’ts not funny, it makes both it’s leads look bad, the parents look worse by inaction and  just isn’t pleasant ot watch. I do GET the show has a young audience, and they like grossout, I get i’m not the target demographic, so I probably would just be okay with a good version of this episode.. but even with that in mind both twins come off so unlikeable it’s just not fun to watch or to see Lana win as she didn’t feel like she earned it. It’s bad and it should feel bad, and i’ts the first truly odious episode i’ve had for weekly coverage. I’ve had okay or eh ones, but this one is truly bad and belongs in the pantheon of bad loud house episodes.. or at least in the honrable mentions. Good gravy this blew. 

Kernel of Truth

Okay now we’ve panned the gold nugget out of the crap creek, we can get on with the GOOD episode this week. I was excited for this one.. I was excited for both actually, even not being a huge fan of the twins I liked the idea of a loud birthday but as we just saw,.. didn’t work out so good. But this one while I thought it would just be average, promised another lincrew shenanigan and I like most of those i’ve seen, and plus I knew it’d allow me to refrence anchorman a bunch so i was llike :Fuck it let’s go”.. and this one ended up being REALLY damn good and probably one of the best episodes with this group i’ve seen, right up there with “Be Stella My Heart.” I’ts good stuff. But before we get into it you probably noticed my ranting about girl jordan but turns out, while I haven’t watched that episode, she’s in the sand field trip episode from last season hanging out with stella so I have an answer to if they forgot abotu her, they didn’t they just need to use her more, and a new ship so i’m satisfied and I apologize for bitching about it. Next time i’ll just check the wiki and see before I bitch about something. ON with the review. 

We open with our motely crew searching for a hidden Game Room rusty’s cousin claims exists, with Stellas as lookout and the guys.. er all in stacks that make it look like their doing a team up move from donkey kong country 2? 

I mean I have been playing the game a lot since it came to switch online, seriously if you have the service go play it, but i’m not hte only one seeing this right? Right.  So yeah the kid stack fails and Zach doubts Rusty’s story.. because when has rusty ever been right.. well apparently just this one time, but we’ll get to that. They even checked the boiler room. 

And then promptly vowed never to go back to the boiler room while Principal RAmierz just sighed at having to deal with a freddy kruger infestation again. They loose more children that way and the school board JUST got him out of the high school.  Liam also gets the line of the episodes when he calls the group “Fellas and Stellas” Which is just objectively amazing and needs to be used every time this group appares from now o. Luckily= Stella noticed another closed door, this one taped off instead of just with a keep out sign and the Fellas and Stellas make their way inside and find themselves in.. a news room! But it’s nto a fox news room so it actually had news in it once and not Tucker Carlson, the answer to what happens to an 80′s or 90′s yuppie scumbag villian after they fail to get the orphange paved over for condos

Anyway, our heroes alll ohhh and all while Zach thinks this is where children are harvested. Nah Zach they just call them up on the pa system.

So everyone does what’s natural to them: Zach and Liam inspect the cameras, Stella looks at the old mic because she’s a natural for being an on camera personality and Rusty.. oggles an old group shot of the news team. You know I may not hate him with the hatred of a hundred suns, but he’s still objectively the worst. Zach gets mad at him over it because “That’s my mom”. Rusty defends himself by calling her hot and while th. no please god no dont’ talk about women like that you creepy little weatherbeaten Chucky doll that somehow became a real boy, or had dustin diamond transfer his soul into it befrore he died. Either is possible. The point is Ewww. The other point is while Rusty’s being his usual living proof of while he’ll die alone Zach has no right to get upset , AT FIRST because how the hell would Rusty know that’s hsi mom. You two have the combined braincell of a dead feret. Stella is the only one out of all 6 of you evenmy boy liam who has more than one brain cell. This argument is stupid and I hate you both,  just settle things in the most humane way possible.. or at least THIS is what I consider the most humane way possible. 

So while those two are being as stupid as expected, Lincoln suggets fixing the place and becoming the new school news crew. I mean they’d need new equipment since even if the stuff there still works’ it’s all worn out 80′s tech none of you know how to use but given their seen with a modern camera later int he episode, I assume they just sold this off and got new cameras. Even if the show flopped, more on that in a minute, the principal could still use those for other projects so it’s a win win. Stella Zhau agrees.. and FINALLY has a last name. Like holy shit i’ve been waiting a full season for this and it feels like that bit was JUST to give her a last name. Now they just need to do Liam but still, I needed this one more. Plus it also means we can now firmly say she’s chinese. Neat!

So after that blockbuster reveal Stella wonders where Rusty is, because fuck if I know, and they all find him continuing to oggle zach’s mom at their age....

Zach snatches it away and crumples up understandably annoyed. Rusty’s response is about what you’d expect. 

So once Liam’s done throwing that calender into the school furnace, and saying hi to freddy as he passes the boiler on the way, our team heads to the principal to plead their case. They run into Meryl, the identical in personality, plot function and apperance outside of wearing pink instead of yellow to Cheryl, the receptionest at the elementary school who I really liked and it’s a clever way to keep the character at both schools and pays off the runnig gag of Cheryl asking liincoln or clyde who looks better her or her sister by having said sister show up and ask the same. Good stuff. 

Meryl ends up agreeing to let them go see the wizard, I mean Principal Rameriz, because her soap is on. Also clyde’s a fan to his friends blank stares. Come on guys he watches romance movies, of course he’s going to love drama shows, even the non teen ones. I now imagine he joins the loud sisters on their riverdale nights. Riverdale the clusterfuck that has something for all of them: Teen drama and shirtless hunks for Lori and Leni, Music and scantly clad “teens’ of both genders and neither gender for Luna, something to laugh at for Luann who probably loves mst3king stuff, and violence for Lucy.. dosen’t seem like it’d be Lynn’s thing honestly but I rest my case. Also the rest of the sisters are too young but the parents figure Lucy’s desentised enough to violence and blind enough to sex to make an exception. 

Now that fun headcanons out of the way our heroes pitch the principal whose skeptical, as the 80′s news show ended because it was boring, much like why that 80′s show ended. That and it was a bunch of 80′s pop culture refrences strung together. I do have a minor nitpick that it seems odd a school room would be in disuse for this long, but given the Principal has apparently spent years looking for aformetioned game room as we find out in the end, the school blueprints are apparnelty lost to the ages or if they exist are some sort of ancient treasure map buried beneath the school drawn in blood by an old witch. I mean this universe has cherry hating peach loving spies now, i’ not ruling anything out. 

But our heroes beg them: Clyde has journalism experince on the school paper, Stella has the dedication and heart and Rusty .. thinks people need to see his face on camera. Rusty as far as we know your face functions like the vdieo from the ring and everyone in school is going to die 7 days after seeing it on film. That’s my theroy and i’m sticking to it. Thankfully everyone else is just as annoyed with him as me for once, and we get the glorious shot above of everyone just looking.. done with his antics and wondering why they keep him around. Finally for once I agree iwth the characters on something rusty related. Let’s show that agian. 

Poetry. You can just feel the levels of “So done with this crap” seeping from every poor.. except for Poor Lincoln who just wishes his best friends and rusty woudl stop using him as furniture, and Liam whose covered but probably very much on team “Rusty Stop Being Yourself your blowing this for us”. They even have an action news pose.. which is botha dorable and breaks the principal’s bust of herself, so she relucntantly agrees to get them out of there. Plus as I said there’s really no loss for her here. If their sucessful the school gets a new elective, something to put on the tv’s every morning, a way to do announcments so she dosen’t have to, and free good publicity for her next bonus. If not.. then she has somehwere to store her new cameras she can use for other stuff, and come up with something else to do with the media lab. Either way she wins. Plus iwth phones and stuff noawaydays they only need the one new camera.  Okay before we move on confession time: I was on a school tv news show’s crew myself. Not in middle school, we werne’te that lucky but in high school we had video media, an elective where seniors edited news segments and what not for the school’s WhamTV program. I hope i’ts still around honestly. I started on a field crew doing stories but my awkardenss and a blow up at my partner where my awkward rage prone ass threatned him by accident, got me bumped to doing credits.. which I genuinely loved. I got to something fun, creative and unique, I was still part of hte intros every week, and I got plenty of time to goof off and watch videos. It’s how I found channel awesome and first got to watch atop the fourth wall since it wasn’t on youtube back then, back before you know, it turned out Doug was abusing all of them and younger me was just unaware of it. But it was still good times so this episode does feel a bit nostalgic for me. But enough teary eyed reminciings of ten years ago, back to the plot. Our heroes air their newscast. It’s the Middle School Action News with with your Anchors Lincoln Loud and Clyde McBride, Stella Zhao in the field, Rusty Spokes on Sports for.. some reason, Cameraman Liam Wedon’tknowhislastname and Zach Gurdle somewhere out of the way. Middle School Action News, always on, always free.. no wiat tha’ts pluto. Middle School Action News, Taste the rainbow. Middle School Action News.. The Good Guys Always Win, Even in The 80′s. Yeah that’ll do! 

But yeah while our heroes try their best, and to their credit this does feel like a middle school news show. The writers not our heroes. Anyways Lincoln and Clyde banter and we get our first segment Stella trying to interview mr. Bohlmer about his birthday.. which goes about as well as doing anything for him on ron swansons’ birthday. 

Next we have Rusty on sports.. which I questioned when I first say this but as obonxious as Rusty can be.. yeah this is the best place to have him. Stella has the drive and the talent to be their field reporter, Clyde and Lincoln have a lifelong report that does well for the desk, Liam is nice and patient enough for camera work, and Zach is a paranoid weirdo so he probably has experince editing since thats where I assume where he is since htey ddon’t do weather and even if they did Liam’s just not the right shade of oblivoiusly nuts. 

I do however at least get why they keep him around as Rusty needs someone to get fed up with him.. but as the above moment showed Clyde and Stella can do that easily, as can Lincoln, so he really has no functional purpose other than as a B-Grade dale gribble. ANd I know kids don’t know who that is but they frankly deserve better. Seriously Zach...

Okay getting back to the segement. For starters Rusty does a breath spray first.. but suprisingly despite interviewing a lady, specifically Lynn, he DOSEN’T hit on her and is actually professional and manages to get a quote despite her disintrest. LIke I know it’s the bare minimum but you’ve met rusty right? the Bare Minimum is hard for him to grasp. Earlier this episode he was oggling old pictures of his friends mom and saying he should take it as a compliment which, Hard No. So the fact hours later he’s talking to a woman without radiating creep after that is an achivment. For him and him alone mind you, most kids should know better. But still I may be hard on the kid, because DAMN is it fun and damn if he dosen’t give me plenty of joke fodder, but I will give him credit even if it’s the bare minmum. Good job rust you passed the very basic plateau of human decency. 

Stella wraps things up with a look at the cafteria that’s about what you’d expect from a kids cartoon, shoe int he beans etc. Unfortuantley bean shoes, sportz and angry assholes aren’t enough to float the show and the principal is ready to can it.  On hte bright side they have their first lawsuit from Mr. Bohlmer. I mean John Olvier idnd’t start getting sued by dickheads with no real case till he was 30, nicely done kids. And it’s not even why, it’s just boring and the kids aren’t enjoying it. So Stella, being again the one with her own brain cells here, proposes to let them find a big story, and Ramirez reluctantly but graciously agrees. And that’s why I like her so far. Don’t get me wrong having Steven Tobolowsky as principal was great, but I like Rameriz better: she’s smart, weary of the crap she puts up with and tough but fair.. which is a cliche btu fits here: She’ll be honest with her kids but will give them an honest chance and sees our news team really doees want this bad and her giving htem one more day to find something actally intresting is more than fair.  So our heroes spitball about what to do for news. LIam suggests alien because again he has about one character trait, so everyone tells him for hte last time no. I mean it isn’t much worse than his last suggestion. 

So once agian it’s RUSTY who saves the day, bringing in beet snacks.. which he tries to get them not to stone him over over the fact the popcorn was all gone.. which okay 1) I get the show’s tring to be healthy so maybe ther’es not chips, but I have a hard time buying that there’s no Chez Its, snack packs or other goodies between “Popcorn’ and “something with beetz that only two men would eat” For the record those two men are Dwight Schrute, for obvious reasons, and this guy my boy Tony Chu. 

I highly recommend this comic, Chew for the record, to anyone. Just.. anyone whose not a children it gets voilent, but it is sublime. We’re not here for that, but I thought i’d plug it. It also has a spinoff currently running, Chu, following his criminal sister. Also real good and dosen’t really spoil anything for hte main series thus far so you can hop in there instead. Either way your in for a ride.  Back on topic, while Rusty failed with snacks he actually brings up a good point: The popcorn isn’t just gone because it’s late in the school day, but because as the kids notice, it’s just missing in general despite the trucks arriving. They have their story and head out to investigate.  And suprisingly, unlike last week’s investigation they find something: A mysterious hooded figure bribing the driver for popcorn, and taking it off somewhere. They fail to catch her, as Rusty dives over her telling Liam to “Make sure you get this”.. he instead gets a shrub and video of him attacking a shrub. I’ts a good runner and shows the writers are leanring to use Rusty better.  They take the footage to the principal, who is impresssed, but states they need to find out who dun it for the story to be complete which is fair enough. They stalk out the nexxt delivery time later that night, but find the drivers have been switched and the mystery person has fled to canada. Rusty once again tries catching her and fall sin the water. Liam once again responds with a cheerful “Don’t worry rusty I got it”.. okay this dynamic is honestly better than him and Zach: Cheerful oblivious Liam and scheming dumbass rusty. Why isn’t THIS the “Those Two Guys” dynamic in the group, honestly. 

Anyways Lincoln is dispondent the next day as iwth no leads, they have no programa nd prepares to do a spider-man no more with his anchorsuit.. which okay 1) you can use that for other things man. Peter Parker can’t really use a spider-man suit for anything but spider-manning but you can use that suit for dates and dances and stuff. and 2).. whya re he and the clyde the only ones with outfits? I mean.. it’s clear from this episode there will be more school news stories nad it just looks weird that they get to play dressup in suits but the rest of the crew isn’t. Liam at leat is working the camera and Zach is Zach but rusty and Stella are field reporters. Field reporters, while not always, usually get nice suits too guys. 

ANyways Lincoln finds something in the garbage. And not his sister this time, as Lana oscar the grouched it up lat episode in sadness. Which to be fair will be her future career mark my words. At least I think that’s a career. Anyways, our heros find a ferry ticket meaning whoever fled to Canada is in the building. They trail some popcorn from the ticket to the locked door from earlier, which Rusty, finishing the rule of three, tries knocking it down hwile Liam gets it. Stella, again proving to be the real hero of this tale, uses her hair as a lockpick. Is.. is there anythign this child can’t do? She and Marcy should swap notes sometime damn. 

And the culprit is MERYL! She was using the popcorn for insulation to get a quite room to herself and begs the kids not to tell which. is the weaker part of the episode> We don’t have the investment in Meryl we do in Cheryl, and she did you know.. steal school property.. or at least buy it off under the table. But the kids being the sweet kids they are understandably, schemes or not don’t want her  to loose her job, and agree to not tell on her even if they loose their show. And to their creid and what keeps this from sinking the episode Meryl is genuinely greatful for this gesture, and gives them the scoop.  And as i’ve been mentioning turns out RUSTY WAS RIGHT. Yes Rusty. That Rusty. Was Right about something. The Game Room exists. They find it thorugh a hidden locker entrance and unlock it from the inside, with af lodo of viewers coming in. Granted at first I didn’t know why Meryl didn’t just use this room but then I thought “Oh yeah she’s a full grown adult and can’t fit in the entrance and i’m assuming it was locked from the other side to the rest of the school”. So the kids have a new hangout and as the principal joins them, they havea  show! Turns out she’d been looking for this place for years.. and doesn’t turn it into something else. What a legend. She plays Air Hockey with Meryl, is there something going on there or are my shipping goggles acting up.. probably both. Anyways our heroes have genuine thanks, a fun new hangout at school, their own headquarters and their own news show. It’s a heck of a day but it’s no time to rest as Rusty tells them he has another tip and i’ts off... to pick up a broom to sweep up the gumball machine they knock over.. THEN they can go find the hot tub for the teachers lounge. 

Final Thoughts:  OH me mow, this was a great one. For one the main complaint I had I mentioned at Schooled! of it not feeling like Lincoln’s friends were given enough personality sometimes? Gone enitrely. Everyone except Clyde and Zach get a moment and Clyde is still fully present and has gotten several focus episodes at this point, while Zach again should just leave already. But the rest of them? All on form. Stella continues to prove her competence, energy and adorability, Rusty is not only actually useful for once but was actually really funny his episode. The gag with Zach’s mom was actually pretty hilarious, my jabs at him aside, and the runner of him trying to do some epic stunt, telling Liam to film it and then humiliating himself while his pal cheerfully tells him he got it is just great and Lincoln’s Spider-Man no more moment with his suit was both said and kinda funny and I love him and Clyde’s reporter outfits. It’s why I wanted everyone to have them, especially since this will be a recurring theme and looks to be a fun one. It was fun, creative, and took me back a decade. It was a REALLY damn good one and I’m glad I watched this one first, a true highlight of the series and a true good sign that the season can, even with some hiccups, will apparnetly have some REALLY great episodes on average even with the weaker ones.  That’s it for this week... and somehow for loud house coverage as, for now, their doesn’t’t seem to be any new episodes in October, but that could change. Until then, follow this blog every Monday for regular ducktales coverage and come back in October for more loud house, more the Casagrandes  and some spooky spooky fun Until then, Go team venture. 

[96harmony96]

Chapter 2

Just before I exited the elevator into the vestibule of Waters Field & Leaman, the advertising firm I worked for on the twentieth floor, Lauren whispered in my ear, “Think about me all day.”

I squeezed her hand surreptitiously in the crowded car. “Always do.”

She continued the ride up to the top floor, which housed the headquarters of Jauregui Industries. The Crossfire was her, one of many properties she owned throughout the city, including the apartment complex I lived in.

I tried not to pay attention to that. My mom was a career trophy wife. She’d given up my father’s love for an affluent lifestyle, which I couldn’t relate to at all. I’d prefer love over wealth any day, but I suppose that was easy for me to say because I had money—a sizable investment portfolio—of my own. Not that I ever touched it. I wouldn’t. I’d paid too high a price and couldn’t imagine anything worth the cost.

Megumi, the receptionist, buzzed me through the glass security door and greeted me with a big smile. She was a pretty woman, young like me, with a stylish bob of glossy black hair framing stunning Asian features.

“Hey,” I said, stopping by her desk. “Got any plans for lunch?”

“I do now.”

“Awesome.” My grin was wide and genuine. As much as I loved Cary and enjoyed spending time with him, I needed girlfriends, too. Cary had already started building a network of acquaintances and friends in our adopted city, but I’d been sucked into the Lauren vortex almost from the outset. As much as I’d prefer to spend every moment with her, I knew it wasn’t healthy. Female friends would give it to me straight when I needed it, and I was going to have to cultivate those friendships if I wanted them.

Setting off, I headed down the long hallway to my cubicle. When I reached my desk, I put my bag and purse in the bottom drawer, keeping my smartphone out so I could silence it. I found a text from Cary: I’m sorry, baby girl.

“Cary Taylor,” I sighed. “I love you . . . even when you’re pissing me off.”

And he’d pissed me off royally. No woman wanted to come home to a sexual clusterfuck in progress on her living room floor. Especially not while in the middle of a fight with her new girlfriend.

I texted back, Block off the wknd 4 me if u can.

There was a long pause and I imagined him absorbing my request. Damn, he texted back finally. Must be some ass kicking u have planned.

“Maybe a little,” I muttered, shuddering as I remembered the . . . orgy I’d walked in on. But mostly I thought Cary and I needed to spend some quality downtime together. We hadn’t been living in Manhattan long. It was a new town for us, new apartment, new jobs and experiences, new partners for both of us. We were out of our element and struggling, and since we both had barge loads of baggage from our pasts, we didn’t handle struggling well. Usually we leaned on each other for balance, but we hadn’t had much time for that lately. We really needed to make the time. Up for a trip to Vegas? Just u and me?

Fuck yeah!

K . . . more later. As I silenced my phone and put it away, my gaze passed briefly over the two collage photo frames next to my monitor—one filled with photos of both of my parents and one of Cary, and the other filled with photos of me and Lauren. Lauren had put the latter collection together herself, wanting me to have a reminder of her just like the reminder she had of me on her desk. As if I needed it . . .

I loved having those images of the people I loved close by: my mom with her golden cap of curls and her bombshell smile, her curvy body scarcely covered by a tiny bikini as she enjoyed the French Riviera on my stepdad’s yacht; my stepfather, Richard Stanton, looking regal and distinguished, his silver hair oddly complementing the looks of his much younger wife; and Cary, who was captured in all his photogenic glory, with his lustrous brown hair and sparkling green eyes, his smile wide and mischievous. That million-dollar face was starting to pop up in magazines everywhere and soon would grace billboards and bus stops advertising Grey Isles clothing.

I looked across the strip of hallway and through the glass wall that encased Mark Garrity’s very small office and saw his jacket hung over the back of his Aeron chair, even though the man himself wasn’t in sight. I wasn’t surprised to find him in the break room scowling into his coffee mug; he and I shared a java dependency.

“I thought you had the hang of it,” I said, referring to his trouble with the one-cup coffee maker.

“I do, thanks to you.” Mark lifted his head and offering a charmingly crooked smile. He had gleaming dark skin, a trim goatee, and soft brown eyes. In addition to being easy on the eyes, he was a great boss—very open to educating me about the ad business and quick to trust that he didn’t have to show me how to do something twice. We worked well together, and I hoped that would be the case for a long time to come.

“Try this,” he said, reaching for a second steaming cup waiting on the counter. He handed it to me and I accepted it gratefully, appreciating that he’d been thoughtful about adding cream and sweetener, which was how I liked it.

I took a cautious sip, since it was hot, then coughed over the unexpected—and unwelcome—flavor. “What is this?”

“Blueberry-flavored coffee.”

Abruptly, I was the one scowling. “Who the hell wants to drink that?”

“Ah, see . . . it’s our job to figure out who, then sell this to them.” He lifted his mug in a toast. “Here’s to our latest account!”

Wincing, I straightened my spine and took another sip.

* * *

I was pretty sure the sickly sweet taste of artificial blueberries was still coating my tongue two hours later. Since it was time for my break, I started an Internet search for Dr. Terrence Lucas, a man who’d clearly rubbed Lauren the wrong way when I’d seen the two men together at dinner the night before. I hadn’t gotten any further than typing the doctor’s name in the search box when my desk phone rang.

“Mark Garrity’s office,” I answered. “Camila Cabello speaking.”

“Are you serious about Vegas?” Cary asked without preamble.

“Totally.”

There was a pause. “Is this when you tell me you’re moving in with your billionaire girlfriend and I’ve got to go?”

“What? No. Are you nuts?” I squeezed my eyes shut, understanding how insecure Cary was but thinking we were too far along in our friendship for those kinds of doubts. “You’re stuck with me for life, you know that.”

“And you just up and decided we should go to Vegas?”

“Pretty much. Figured we could sip mojitos by the pool and live off room service for a couple days.”

“I’m not sure how much I can pitch in for that.”

“Don’t worry, it’s on Lauren. her plane, her hotel. We’ll just cover our food and drinks.” A lie, since I planned on covering everything except the airfare, but Cary didn’t need to know that.

“And she’s not coming with us?”

I leaned back in my chair and stared at one of the photos of Lauren. I missed her already and it’d been only a couple of hours since we’d been together. “she’s got business in Arizona, so she’ll share the flights back and forth, but it’ll be just you and me in Vegas. I think we need it.”

“Yeah.” He exhaled harshly. “I could do with a change of scenery and some quality time with my best girl.”

“Okay, then. She wants to fly out by eight tomorrow night.”

“I’ll start packing. Want me to put a bag together for you, too?”

“Would you? That’d be great!” Cary could’ve been a stylist or personal shopper. He had serious talent when it came to clothes.

“camila?”

“Yeah?”

He sighed. “Thank you for putting up with my shit.”

“Shut up.”

After we hung up, I stared at the phone for a long minute, hating that Cary was so unhappy when everything in his life was going so well. He was an expert at self-sabotage, never truly believing he was worthy of happiness.

As I returned my attention to work, the Google search on my monitor reminded me of my interest in Dr. Terry Lucas. A few articles about her had been posted on the Web, complete with pictures that cemented the verification.

Pediatrician. Forty-five years of age. Married for twenty years. Nervously, I searched for “Dr. Terrence Lucas and wife,” inwardly cringing at the thought of seeing a golden-skinned, long-haired blonde. I exhaled my relief when I saw that Mrs. Lucas was a pale-skinned woman with short, bright red hair.

But that left me with more questions. I’d figured it would be a woman who’d caused the trouble between the two men.

The fact was, Lauren and I really didn’t know that much about each other. We knew the ugly stuff—at least she knew mine; I’d mostly guessed her from some pretty obvious clues. We knew some of the basic cohabitation stuff about each other after spending so many nights sleeping over at our respective apartments. she’d met half of my family and I’d met all of her. But we hadn’t been together long enough to touch on a whole lot of the periphery stuff. And frankly, I think we weren’t as forthcoming or inquisitive as we could’ve been, as if we were afraid to pile any more crap onto an already struggling relationship.

We were together because we were addicted to each other. I was never as intoxicated as I was when we were happy together, and I knew it was the same for her. We were putting ourselves through the wringer for those moments of perfection between us, but they were so tenuous that only our stubbornness, determination, and love kept us fighting for them.

Enough with making yourself crazy.

I checked my e-mail, and found my daily Google alert on “Lauren Jauregui.” The day’s digest of links led mostly to photos of Lauren, in black tie sans tie, and me at the charity dinner at the Waldorf Astoria the night before.

“God.” I couldn’t help but be reminded of my mother when looking at the pictures of me in a champagne Vera Wang cocktail dress. Not just because of how closely my looks mirrored my mom’s—aside from my hair being brown, long and straight—but also because of the mega-mogul whose arm I graced.

sinu Cabello Barker Mitchell Stanton was very, very good at being a trophy wife. She knew precisely what was expected of her and delivered without fail. Although she’d been divorced twice, both times had been by her choice and both divorces had left her exes despondent over losing her. I didn’t think less of my mother, because she gave as good as she got and didn’t take anyone for granted, but I’d grown up striving for independence. My right to say no was my most valued possession.

Minimizing my e-mail window, I pushed my personal life aside and went back to searching for market comparisons on fruity coffee. I coordinated some initial meetings between the strategists and Mark and helped Mark with brainstorming a campaign for a gluten-free restaurant. Noon approached and I was starting to feel seriously hungry when my phone rang. I answered with my usual greeting.

“camila?” an accented female voice greeted me. “It’s Magdalene. Do you have a minute?”

I leaned back in my chair, alert. Magdalene and I had once shared a moment of sympathy over Corinne’s unexpected and unwanted reappearance in Lauren’s life, but I’d never forget how vicious Magdalene had been to me the first time we’d met. “Just. What’s up?”

She sighed, then spoke quickly, her words flowing in a rush. “I was sitting at the table behind Corinne last night. I could hear a bit of what was being said between her and Lauren during dinner.”

My stomach tensed, preparing for an emotional blow. Magdalene knew just how to exploit my insecurities about Lauren. “Stirring up crap while I’m at work is a new low,” I said coldly. “I don’t—”

“she wasn’t ignoring you.”

My mouth hung open a second, and she quickly filled the silence.

“she was managing her, camila. She was making suggestions for where to take you around New York since you’re new in town, but she was doing it by playing the old remember-when-you-and-I-went-there game.”

“A walk down memory lane,” I muttered, grateful now that I hadn’t been able to hear much of Lauren’s low-voiced conversation with her ex.

“Yes.” Magdalene took a deep breath. “You left because you thought she was ignoring you for her. I just want you to know that she seemed to be thinking about you, trying to keep Corinne from upsetting you.”

“Why do you care?”

“Who says I do? I owe you one, Camila, for the way I introduced myself.”

I thought about that. Yeah, she owed me for when she ambushed me in the bathroom with her catty jealous bullshit. Not that I bought it as her sole motivation. Maybe I was just the lesser of two evils. Maybe she was keeping her enemies close. “All right. Thank you.”

No denying I felt better. A weight I hadn’t realized I was carrying around was suddenly relieved.

“Something else,” Magdalene went on. “she went after you.”

My grip tightened on the phone receiver. Lauren always came after me . . . because I was always running. My recovery was so fragile that I’d learned to protect it at all costs. When something threatened my stability, I ditched it.

“There have been other women in her life who’ve tried ultimatums like that, camila. They got bored or they wanted her attention or some kind of grand gesture . . . So they walked away and expected her to come after them. You know what she did?”

“Nothing,” I said softly, knowing my man. A man who never spent social time with women she slept with and never slept with women she associated with socially. Corinne and I were the sole exceptions to that rule, which was yet another reason why her ex sent me into fits of jealousy.

“Nothing more than making sure Angus dropped them off safely,” she confirmed, making me think it’d been a tactic she’d tried at some point. “But when you left, she couldn’t chase after you fast enough. And she wasn’t herself when she said good-bye. she seemed . . . off.”

Because she’d felt fear. My eyes closed as I mentally kicked myself. Hard.

Lauren had told me more than once that it terrified her when I ran, because she couldn’t handle the thought that I might not come back. What good did it do to say that I couldn’t imagine living without her when I so often showed her otherwise with my actions? Was it any wonder she hadn’t opened up to me about her past?

I had to stop running. Lauren and I were both going to have to stand and fight for this, for us, if we were going to have any hope of making our relationship work.

“Do I owe you now?” I asked neutrally, returning Mark’s wave as he left for lunch.

Magdalene exhaled in a rush. “Lauren and I have known each other a long time. Our mothers are best friends. You and I will see each other around, Camila, and I’m hoping we can find a way to avoid any awkwardness.”

The woman had come up to me and told me that the minute Lauren “shoved her dick” in me, I was “done.” And she’d hit me with that at a moment when I was especially vulnerable.

“Listen, Magdalene, if you don’t cause drama, we’ll get by.” And since she was being so forthright . . . “I can screw up my relationship with Lauren all by myself, trust me. I don’t need any help.”

She laughed softly. “That was my mistake, I think—I was too careful and too accommodating. she has to work at it with you. Anyway . . . I’ve taken up my minute. I’ll let you go.”

“Enjoy your weekend,” I said, in lieu of thanks. I still couldn’t trust her motivation.

“You, too.”

As I returned the receiver to its cradle, my gaze went to the photos of me and Lauren. I was abruptly overwhelmed by feelings of greed and possession. she was mine, yet I couldn’t be sure from one day to the next whether she’d stay mine. And the thought of any other woman having her made me insane.

I pulled open my bottom drawer and dug my smartphone out of my purse. Driven by the need to have her thinking as fiercely about me, I texted her about my sudden desperate hunger to devour her whole: I’d give anything to be sucking your cock right now.

Just thinking about how she looked when I took her in my mouth . . . the feral sounds she made when she was about to come . . .

Standing, I deleted the text the moment I saw it’d been delivered, then dropped my phone back in my purse. Since it was noon, I closed all the windows on my computer and headed out to reception to find Megumi.

“You hungry for anything in particular?” she asked, pushing to her feet and giving me a chance to admire her belted, sleeveless lavender dress.

I coughed because her question came so soon after my text. “No. Your choice. I’m not picky.”

We pushed out through the glass doors to reach the elevators.

“I am so ready for the weekend,” Megumi said with a groan as she stabbed the call button with an acrylic-tipped finger. “A day and a half left to go.”

“Got something fun planned?”

“That remains to be seen.” She sighed and tucked her hair behind her ear. “Blind date,” she explained ruefully.

“Ah. Do you trust the person setting you up?”

“My roommate. I expect the guy will at least be physically attractive, because I know where she sleeps at night and paybacks are a bitch.”

I was smiling as an elevator car reached our floor and we stepped inside. “Well, that ups your odds for a good time.”

“Not really, since she found him by going on a blind date with him first. She swears he’s great, just more my type than hers.”

“Hmm.”

“I know, right?” Megumi shook her head and looked up at the decorative, old-fashioned needle above the car doors that marked the passing floors.

“You’ll have to let me know how it goes.”

“Oh, yeah. Wish me luck.”

“Absolutely.” We’d just stepped out into the lobby when I felt my purse vibrate beneath my arm. As we passed through the turnstiles, I dug for my phone and felt my stomach tighten at the sight of Lauren’s name. she was calling, not sexting me back.

“Excuse me,” I said to Megumi before answering.

She waved it off nonchalantly. “Go for it.”

“Hey,” I greeted her playfully.

“camila.”

I missed a step hearing the way she growled my name. There was a wealth of promise in the roughness of her voice.

Slowing, I found I was speechless, just from hearing her say my name with that edginess I craved—the sharp bite that told me she wanted to be inside me more than she wanted anything else in the world.

While people flowed around me, entering and exiting the building, I was halted by the weighted silence on my phone. The unspoken and nearly irresistible demand. she made no sound at all—I couldn’t even hear her breathing—but I felt her hunger. If I didn’t have Megumi waiting patiently for me, I’d be riding an elevator to the top floor to satisfy her unvoiced command to make good on my offer.

The memory of the time I’d sucked her off in her office simmered through me, making my mouth water. I swallowed. “Lauren . . .”

“You wanted my attention—now you have it. I want to hear you say those words.”

I felt my face flush. “I can’t. Not here. Let me call you later.”

“Step over by the column and out of the way.”

Startled, I looked around for her. Then I remembered that the Caller ID put her in her office. My gaze lifted, searching for the security cameras. Immediately, I felt her eyes on me, hot and wanting. Arousal surged through me, spurred by her desire.

“Hurry along, angel. Your friend’s waiting.”

I moved to the column, my breathing fast and audible.

“Now tell me. Your text made me hard, camila. What are you going to do about it?”

My hand went to my throat, my gaze sliding helplessly to Megumi, who watched me with raised brows. I lifted one finger up, asking for another minute, then turned my back to her and whispered, “I want you in my mouth.”

“Why? To play with me? To tease me like you’re doing now?” There was no heat in her voice, just calm severity.

I knew to pay careful attention when Lauren got serious about sex.

“No.” I lifted my face to the tinted dome in the ceiling that concealed the nearest security camera. “To make you come. I love making you come, Lauren.”

she exhaled harshly. “A gift, then.”

Only I knew what it meant for Lauren to view a sexual act as a gift. For her, sex had previously been about pain and degradation or lust and necessity. Now, with me, it was about pleasure and love. “Always.”

“Good. Because I treasure you, Camila, and what we have. Even our driving urge to fuck each other constantly is precious to me, because it matters.”

I sagged into the column, admitting to myself that I’d fallen into an old destructive habit—I’d exploited sexual attraction to ease my insecurities. If Lauren was lusting after me, she couldn’t be lusting after anyone else. How did she always know what was going on in my mind?

“Yes,” I breathed, closing my eyes. “It matters.”

There’d been a time when I’d turned to sex to feel affection, confusing momentary desire with genuine caring. Which was why I now insisted on having some sort of friendly framework in place before I went to bed with a man. I never again wanted to roll out of a lover’s bed feeling worthless and dirty.

And I sure as hell didn’t want to cheapen what I shared with Lauren just because I was irrationally scared of losing her.

It hit me then that I was off balance. I had this sick feeling in my gut, like something awful was going to happen.

“You can have what you want after work, angel.” her voice deepened, grew raspier. “In the meantime, enjoy lunch with your co-worker. I’ll be thinking about you. And your mouth.”

“I love you, Lauren.”

It took a couple of deep breaths after I hung up to compose myself enough to join Megumi again. “I’m sorry about that.”

“Everything all right?”

“Yes. Everything’s fine.”

“Things still hot and heavy with you and Lauren Jauregui?” She glanced at me with a slight smile.

“Umm . . .” Oh yes. “Yes, that’s fine, too.” And I wished desperately that I could talk about it. I wished I could just open the valve and gush about my overwhelming feelings for her. How thoughts of her consumed me, how the feel of her beneath my hands drove me wild, how the passion of her tortured soul cut into me like the sharpest blade.

But I couldn’t. Not ever. She was too visible, too well known. Private tidbits about her life were worth a small fortune. I couldn’t risk it.

“she sure is,” Megumi agreed. “Damn fine. Did you know her before you started working here?”

“No. Although I suppose we would have met eventually.” Because of our pasts. My mother gave generously to many abused children’s charities, as did Lauren. It was inevitable that Lauren and I would’ve crossed paths at some point. I wondered what that meeting would have been like—her with a gorgeous blonde on her arm and me with Cary. Would we have had the same visceral reaction to each other from a distance as we’d had up close in the Crossfire lobby?

she’d wanted me the moment she saw me on the street.

“I wondered.” Megumi pushed through the revolving lobby door. “I read that it was serious between you two,” she went on when I joined her outside on the sidewalk. “So I thought maybe you’d known her before.”

“Don’t believe everything you read on those gossip blogs.”

“So it’s not serious?”

“I didn’t say that.” It was too serious at times. Painfully, brutally so.

She shook her head. “God . . . listen to me pry. Sorry. Gossip is one of my vices. So are extremely hot women like Lauren Jauregui. I can’t help but wonder what it’d be like to hook up with a gir whose body screams sex like that. Tell me she’s awesome in bed.”

I smiled. It was good to hang out with another girl. Not that Cary couldn’t also be appreciative of a hot guy, but nothing beat girl talk. “You won’t hear me complaining.”

“Lucky bitch.” Bumping shoulders with me to show she was teasing, she said, “How about that roommate of yours? From the photos I saw, she’s gorgeous, too. Is she single? Wanna hook me up?”

Turning my head quickly, I hid a wince. I’d learned the hard way never to set up an acquaintance or friend with Cary. He was so easy to love, which led to a lot of broken hearts because he couldn’t love back the same way. The moment things started going too well, Cary sabotaged them. “I don’t know if he’s single or not. Things are . . . complicated in his life at the moment.”

“Well, if the opportunity presents itself, I’m certainly not opposed. Just sayin’. You like tacos?”

“Love ’em.”

“I know a great place a couple blocks up. Come on.”

* * *

Things were going well in my world as Megumi and I headed back from lunch. Forty minutes of gossip, guy-ogling, and three awesome carne asada tacos later, I was feeling pretty good. And we were returning to work a little over ten minutes early, which I was glad for since I hadn’t been the most punctual employee lately, even though Mark never complained.

The city was thrumming around us, taxis and people surging through the growing heat and humidity as they crammed what they could into the insufficient hours of the day. I people-watched shamelessly, my eyes skimming over everyone and everything.

Men in business suits walked alongside women in flowing skirts and flip-flops. Ladies in haute couture and five-hundred-dollar shoes teetered past steaming hot dog vendor carts and shouting hawkers. The eclectic mix of New York was heaven to me, stirring an excitement that made me feel more vibrant here than anyplace else I’d ever lived.

We were stopped by a traffic light directly across from the Crossfire, and my gaze was immediately drawn to the black Bentley sitting in front of it. Lauren must’ve just gotten back from lunch. I couldn’t help but think about her sitting in her car on the day we’d met, watching me as I took in the imposing beauty of her Crossfire Building. It made me tingly just thinking about it—

Suddenly, I went cold.

Because a striking blonde breezed out of the revolving doors just then and paused, giving me a good, long look at her—Lauren’s ideal, whether she’d been aware of it or not. A woman I’d witnessed her fixate on the moment she’d seen her in the Waldorf Astoria ballroom. A woman whose poise and hold over Lauren brought out all my worst insecurities.

Corinne Giroux looked like a breath of fresh air in a cream-colored sheath dress and cherry red heels. She ran a hand over her waist-length hair, which wasn’t quite as sleek as it’d appeared last night when I’d met her. In fact, it looked a little disheveled. And her fingers were rubbing at her mouth, wiping along the outline of her lips.

I pulled my smartphone out, activated the camera, and snapped a picture. With the proximity of the zoom, I could see why she was fussing with her lipstick—it was smeared. No, more like mashed. As if from a passionate kiss.

The light changed. Megumi and I moved with the flow, closing the distance between me and the woman who’d once had Lauren’s promise to marry her. Angus stepped out of the Bentley and came around, speaking to her briefly before opening the back door for her. The feeling of betrayal—Angus’s and Lauren’s—was so fierce, I couldn’t catch my breath. I swayed on my feet.

“Hey.” Megumi caught my arm to steady me. “And we only had virgin margaritas, lightweight!”

I watched Corinne’s willowy body slide into the back of Lauren’s car with practiced grace. My fists clenched as fury surged through me. Through the haze of my angry tears, the Bentley pulled away from the curb and disappeared.

[kikis-writing-world]

hii congratulations on hitting your milestone! can i have an oscar character for the ships, please? i’m an entp 7w6 and i really like the enemies to lovers trope a lot but you can do whichever you think fits me the best! im a chinese girl, 5’2, and im kind of like shaped like a real proportional human person but squashed a little? like someone took my image, put it on a google doc and like the words were too much so they just made the picture shorter and now the pictures like not proportionate 😂 but like i tend to be really friendly, i think im a cheerful person and i try to be nice to people i meet. people have told me their first impressions of me are either that im quiet and academic or extraverted and sexual. i think i tend to be colder and introspective more naturally though and i kind of isolate myself sometimes. when i start talking though, its hard to get me to stop. especially if its about like sci fi or crime or philosophy or like psychology. some of my worse qualities are that i dont think im very hard working. i think i try to do the bare minimum most days and that gets me in trouble. i try harder socially more than i do, academically. this past year, ive been trying really hard to understand people and be more openminded because that doesnt come very easily to me. thats another thing- although im getting better, i have a hard time dealing with other people’s emotions and even my own. i kinda take a while to open up to people and mask insecurities by like... oversharing? like i pretend to be confident by sharing too much about myself, particularly sexually. i also tend to get into arguments without realizing im arguing with someone until im too deep into the discussion already 😂 i like arguing over petty ass shit when its fun and ironic (and when the other persons being chill too 🥰) but im always afraid i offend people because i also do that on accident sometimes. with a romantic partner, im very affectionate and i like to give a lot of praises and ���� can i include the fact that i think im service sub? i just want to spoil my partner with love and do whatever they ask of me (within reason). i really like older music, just cause. i dont try to find obscure music but i get happy if someone shows me a song most people dont know because it feels like a ✨lil sekret✨ hobbies i like include singing and playing guitar and i love writing too. i also, since im in my own mind a lot of the time, i developed a lot of darker fantasies (cnc) and like i kind of hope my partner will be openminded enough to try it out but also kind and thoughtful enough to be cautious as we try it. i also really like sucking dicci so do with that what you want 😂 thank you so much and congrats again!

Thank you so much! I know you sent a second msg saying sorry for the long ask, but really it just gave me more to work with to pair you... and I pair you with Blue Jones. In the brothel version of the movie, I can imagine you working there. You say you’re open sexually and consider yourself subby, but don’t get emotions. I can see you being perfect to work there - and if you ever get a client that was looking to cuddle and talk, you’re just like “are you for real?” lol - You’d work for Blue, but you’d be his favorite girl. Slowly he’d start pulling you from other clients to spend time with him. It doesn’t take much to realize he wants to keep you for himself, so you adjust to that and start “serving” him, in more ways than one! He’d definitely be responsive to your darker side, too.

This movie is already like 3 AUs in one so where do I go with this? lol Let’s take it to a Crime Family/Mafia AU. You’re in the family. I would think your father was the Don when you were younger and maybe now your brother has stepped up for the job. You don’t really deal with the crime, don’t get your hands dirty. You’re just the family and you’re taken care of.

Blue works for your family. He’s some kind of underboss that runs the streets and does the dirty work. He’s high enough on the ladder that he comes by the family house often enough, is invited to the big dinners etc. The two of you tease each other a lot, but you kinda tease all the boys a lot. You can’t deny that he’s your favorite, but you know how complicated that would be.

I can see the two of you sleeping together, maybe it was after a drink or two (still sober, but just less inhibitions) and that’s what breaks the dam. Now you two are in it, and you can’t stop. You try to, but you both keep going back for more. I think one time, to avoid suspicion, he probably shows up with a woman to some event and it just makes you see red. You’re slapping and punching him when he explains she’s no one and it’s a cover. He finally gets you to calm down.

When the family finds out, oh fuck. You seriously think they’re gonna shoot him! You stand in front of him, begging your brother not to kill him. Blue wouldn’t be worried about himself, only you. He’d tell you to get out of the way so you don’t get hurt, and let whatever happen, but you refuse. With some pleading and crying, and you adamantly threatening your brother that you’ll kill him if he shoots Blue, they decide to let him live - after a bit of strong discussions that he’s with you because he wants to be and not to try to gain more status in the family. He gets a very stern warning though that if he ever mistreats you, they’ll make him dig his own grave.

Post with the rules and possible tropes here. Join in the fun!

[nevergoinganywherearewe]

Mister and Mister (Saizon, NC-17)

This is something I wrote by myself and talked over with J a few times before posting it here.

It’s technically part of the gym AU universe but can also be read as a standalone.

Anyway, hope you enjoy!

S

It was barely light out when Saifah groggily opened his eyes. A bleary glance at the clock on the other side of the room told him it was way too early to be awake. Zon and he didn’t have to be at Dean and Pharm’s new place until noon and it wasn’t even six yet.

Speaking of Zon, Saifah hooked his chin over his shoulder and inhaled the combination of his coconut shampoo and clean sweat on the sleep-warm skin, tightening the arm he had around Zon’s waist. Saifah loved Zon’s new habit of sleeping without a shirt. He loved to pretend that it had everything to do with much increased confidence in his body and nothing with the fact that summer nights were almost unbearable with clothes and no AC. Especially if you were sharing the bed with someone else.

Zon mumbled something unintelligible in his slumber and wiggled back, as if it were any possible to get closer to how Saifah was plastered against his back. It did, however, redirect Saifah’s attention to the reason he was awake way before he had to. Zon’s readjusting had also bumped his butt all the way back into Saifah’s groin, both a blessing and a curse. While the feeling of his erection snug against Zon’s buttocks was quite enjoyable, the fact that Zon was still asleep meant Saifah couldn’t do anything about it, which was less lovely.

Saifah tried to come up with an idea on how he could get rid of his hard-on, ideally without Zon noticing. Not that situations like this hadn’t already happened in the past, but usually they were both awake for them and could take care of each other.

He tried thinking about the day his grandfather showed up to the family reunion in nothing but a vest and speedos. In his defence, they had very recently had a swimming pool installed in their backyard. But the mental image had still scarred 15-year old Saifah for life.

Taking a deep breath, Saifah willed his erection to go down. In retrospect, holding his breath would’ve been a better idea. Zon’s scent invaded his nose again and Saifah’s hips hitched forward without his consent.

Saifah bit out a quiet groan. Shit, this was not supposed to happen.

In front of him, Zon moved, letting out a sleepy rumbly sound. Saifah knew he was about to wake up, though still caught in the sphere of slumber and wakefulness.

What he didn’t expect, though, was for Zon to start moving again, or, to be specific, move one part of him.

Saifah cursed, the pressure against his dick absolutely delicious. His little shit of a boyfriend was no longer sleeping. Instead, Zon rolled his ass back again and again.

Through the haze of arousal, Saifah moved his arm from where it was curled around Zon’s upper body and squeezed where Zon was just as hard as he was. It was the first time Saifah had ever heard someone laugh and moan at the same time. He found the sound quite addictive.

“Why must you torture me this way?” Saifah grumbled into Zon’s ear, earning another laugh.

“Because,” Zon complained, grinding his ass against him one more time, “you wake up fairly easily when you’re being poked in the butt by your boyfriend’s erection. What time is it even?”

“Just past six,” Saifah said, “and you weren’t complaining about my erection last night, were you?”

Zon turned his head over his shoulder and gave Saifah a satisfied smile.

“Mmmh, not even a little bit,” he said, grabbing the back of Saifah’s head and locking their lips in a kiss, easily granting Saifah’s tongue entry. They were so beyond the careful-of-their-morning-breath stage.

After a long moment Zon broke away with a wet sound, lips swollen and shiny with saliva.

“I’m going to complain even less if you give me a repeat of last night,” Zon murmured and rubbed his nose against Saifah’s affectionately.

Saifah hummed and broke away to pull off his own t-shirt and grab the bottle of lube as well as their box of condoms from the nightstand drawer.

They’d have to buy new ones soon, he thought, shaking the last condom out of the box. Saifah remembered that they had only bought said box a week ago. Maybe more than one box next time.

He turned back to see Zon lying in the same position he had left him in, except that he had lost his boxers. Zon shot him a sly look over his shoulder and wiggled his hips in silent invitation.

Sometimes, Zon switched between sexy and dorky so quickly it gave Saifah whiplash. As far as Saifah was concerned, it was one of his most endearing qualities.

Leaving lube and condom within reach, Saifah re-attached himself to Zon’s back and started trailing kisses just under his ear.

Emitting a happy hum, Zon bent his neck to give him more space and was rewarded with Saifah sucking a hickey into the skin right below his jaw.

All the while, Saifah’s hands were travelling over the planes of Zon’s body, pinching and teasing his nipples before venturing lower, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

Encouraged by the tiny moans and whimpers Zon let out, Saifah claimed Zon’s mouth in another kiss, licking into his mouth and sucking on Zon’s lips.

One hand reached behind himself and fumbled for the half-empty bottle of lube, the other reached down to give Zon’s cock a few firm tugs.

Saifah swallowed the sounds escaping Zon and tried his best not to be distracted by the way Zon thrust into his hand. Ignoring Zon’s disappointed whimper, Saifah moved away a little to dribble some of the lube on his fingers, spreading it around evenly.

He nudged the back of Zon’s thigh with his knee as a signal. Zon pulled it closer to his body to give Saifah easier access.

Licking his lips at all the naked skin, Saifah nudged Zon’s buttocks apart and circled his entrance with one wet finger. With how much they’ve been going at it, Zon wouldn’t need all that much prep, but Saifah knew he enjoyed this part a lot.

Leaning back in, Saifah pulled Zon’s earlobe between his teeth playfully and drank in his impatient whines as his finger pressed in slowly, past the first ring of muscle.

It wasn’t long until Zon pushed back against the probing digit, so Saifah pulled his hand back only to return with two fingers. If human beings were capable of it, Saifah was sure Zon would’ve purred. Instead, Saifah dragged breathy little noises from him with every push and pull of his fingers.

In the mood to tease, he crooked his fingers and was rewarded with a sharp gasp and Zon’s walls clamping down on him.

“Saaaaaai, don’t tease me,” Zon whined, “You know how sensitive I am.”

Saifah pressed a quick apologetic kiss against Zon’s shoulder before retracting both fingers and wiping them on the sheets. He grabbed the condom and carefully ripped open the foil.

With a bit of luck, Zon would not notice the fact that the condom was blue once they were done. Saifah could already imagine the sheer mass of jokes Zon would come up with about ‘having been fucked by a smurf’.

Shaking his head to get rid of that thought, Saifah squeezed the tip and rolled it down on his dick. Without any friction for a while, the motion felt incredible. He covered his smurf-y - okay, he really hated his brain sometimes - cock with some additional lube. After all, Zon did like it wet.

“Ready, baby?”

In response, Zon stuck his hand backwards and tried to drag Saifah closer to him by grabbing onto his ass.

Saifah chuckled at the impatience, but settled in behind Zon just the same, nudging his leg forward and up. Then he lined up with Zon’s entrance and watched, as entranced as he did the first time it happened, as the head of his dick pressed closer and closer until it disappeared.

Eyes nearly rolling back, Saifah pushed the rest of the way in until his pelvis rested snug against Zon’s ass. Saifah would never get used to how amazing Zon felt around him, all velvety and hot, squeezing in all the right places.

He could hear Zon’s happy sigh at being filled and Saifah was almost overcome again with how much he loved him. Crowding in even closer, Saifah pressed soft kisses to the skin of Zon’s neck, tongue darting out every once in a while.

Saifah’s first thrusts were lazy and slow, a leisure rolling of his hips, enough to give stimulation, but not enough to get either of them off. This is how he would love to start every day for the rest of his life. Comfortably fucking Zon fully awake.

Zon pushed Saifah’s head away from his neck to attach to his mouth instead. As their kisses grew more heated, so did the movements of Saifah’s hips. No longer lazy and slow, he picked up the pace, one hand holding onto Zon’s hip to stop him from pushing back against him.

Zon’s moans got louder, and he dug his fingers into Saifah’s hand on his hip.

But it wasn’t enough.

“H-harder, please,” Zon gasped, “Sai, please!”

Breath coming quicker, Saifah rolled Zon onto his tummy with one swift move and pulled back, hands grabbing Zon, helping him get his knees under himself. Saifah stroked down Zon’s quivering sides and slid home again, immediately picking up both speed and strength.

The only sounds that filled their bedroom now were those of moans and skin slapping against skin.

Zon tried to stifle his moans by pressing his head into the pillow, but Saifah pulled him up with a strong arm around his chest, changing the angle of his thrusts.

Zon’s eyes squeezed shut as the intense sensation of Saifah’s cock hitting his prostate dead on almost made his knees give out, pre-come steadily dripping from his own neglected length. He was getting close, his moans turning a higher pitch.

“S-s-so close, Sai,” Zon moaned. The drag and pull of Saifah’s dick inside him never ceased to turn him on beyond belief.

A frustrated whine was ripped from his throat when Saifah pulled out suddenly. Zon was moved again, this time shoved onto his back.

“Wanna look at you,” Saifah almost growled, biting at Zon’s collarbones and blindly guiding his cock back into him.

Zon wrapped his arms around him tightly, ankles crossing on Saifah’s lower back. Saifah picked the pace back up and raised his face, his forehead pressing against Zon’s, both of their mouths open, sharing hot breaths.

Saifah was completely entranced by Zon, hair damp and sticking to his sweaty forehead, cheeks and ears flushed, lips cherry red and swollen. Saifah went faster, fucked Zon harder.

After only a moment, Zon’s brow started to furrow. It told Saifah all he needed to know. Wrapping one hand around Zon’s cock where it lay flushed against his belly, Saifah jerked him off in time with his thrusts.

That as well as one well-placed hit against his prostate had Zon arching his back, tightening around Saifah until Saifah saw white and filled the condom to the brim. Zon clenched around him all through the aftershocks as he rode out his own orgasm, come spurting from his cock and painting his stomach white. One particularly stubborn drop even managed to land on Zon’s chin.

Breathing heavily, Saifah wanted nothing more than to collapse and sleep for at least two more hours, but there was one thing he wanted more.

He pulled out carefully, tied the condom and threw it into the general direction of the trashcan.

Once that was done, nothing stopped him from wrapping himself around Zon, pressing loving pecks on every millimetre of skin he could reach.

Zon in turn also wrapped his arms around Saifah to the best of his ability. Almost being squashed by Saifah was Zon’s favourite state of being.

“I love you, Mister Saifah,” Zon mumbled, eyes closing rapidly.

“I love you, too, Mister Zon,” Saifah replied in kind, smiling dopily.

Sated, sweaty and satisfied, both Saifah and Zon drifted back to sleep.

The rest of the world could wait.