#they dont need to stick to the timeline or whatever

[this-user-has-been-erased]

I feel like I'm the only person who doesn't like Ganondorf's design in TotK, especially his "Demon King" form. In my opinion he's not supposed to be 'sexy', he's supposed to be menacing. At least in TP his cool design kind of made up for his lack of character, as well as the fact that he's the same Ganondorf from OoT. In TotK he has no character and no actual motivation that isn't the most generic anime villain bs. Also, what was the deal with Calamity Ganon??? Where did the Sheikah tech actually go? Why did they get rid of the Sheikah Slate and the Shrine of Resurrection?

And, WHY are we relying so much on Zonai technology, after the Calamity destroyed the kingdom USING ANCIENT TECHNOLOGY??

[stuck-in-the-ghost-zone]

MACKERELMORE hii good morning i hope u r goodddd :] anyway. staring up at u w/ my big sopping wet shark eyes.... do u have any new haven wards costume opinions & thoughts. ik a while ago u said smth abt imprint showing an Inadvisable amount of skin considering his power bc he's cocky & it's an intimidation thing..... wraith with the whisperer cloak... what else!!!

AH hello!!! I have been. underwater all morning <3 I will be underwater again all afternoon but it's lunch time first :] I will say hi 2 the sharks for u . blow the grouper a kiss etc etc

UHHHHHHHH I DONT HAVE A WHOLE LOT OF THOUGHTS OTHER THAN WHAT WE'VE SAID BEFORE especially because. outfit design is not my strong suit idk how to talk about clothes lmao. but! the generals:

wraith: big loose fitting clothes that conceal a layer of body armor. they let him move and give him a bigger silhouette than he actually has and look deceptively weak? you go to kick a guy in a hoodie and your foot hits a kevlar vest instead. whisperer cape is a must. i dont think he knows the similarity. william was never big into capes i think if he ever saw anything of the whisperer it was only in passing and not enough to stick in his mind. full-face mask (which i would assume is like.... built into the hood somehow? to keep it up on his head better as hes moving), undecided on whether he would keep his hair fully covered or let some of it out from under the hood. i think at first his costume would be white with blue accents ("ghostly" vibes without being too scary) but as time goes on i think it would be cool if it got darker and darker until the white parts have gone from grey-dark grey-black (idk how that would work mechanically but. nudges greyscale implications)

failsafe: HONESTLYYYYY I REALLY LIKE WHAT YOU HAVE FOR HIM SO FAR. crop top is essential. failsafe has way more skin showing than imprint. i think hed keep his knuckles/forearms taped bc his fighting style is very physical? i know dakotas whole thing is kicks only but i think failsafe should get to punch things super hard too like cmon. hes got the likee.... headband mask . i like what u have for him a lot. i think his pants are a lot like wraiths thing where theyre loose and mobile but hes wearing armor under them.

imprint: tactical. his stuff is mostly black i dont think he would budge on that for anything. i do think he should have skin showing like. in case they get caught off guard by a fight i dont think hed want to take the time to have to pull off sleeves or gloves or whatever in case he needed to use his powers in a snap. i DO however think he has gloves just for convenience's sake. but i think he keeps specific body parts uncovered? majority of his arms for sure. he has the half-face mask. idk if this is something the prt would necessarily allow but i think he has a lot of straps and belts and things for holding weapons. i feel like hes trained in so many ways to fight he would probably always want at least a knife or gun on him at all times. the purple accents were the PR teams additions so he wouldnt be totally black. since he wanted to keep his shitty dyed purple hair, theyd at least make the costume match so it looked somewhat cohesive and intentional

OH YEAH u didnt ask abt tide but its very important to me that his costume is like a wetsuit. i havent made my post about tide and wetsuits yet but i think abt him a lot. also i think the ear fins are cosmetic and not a result of weird clone things but i do think he should keep them bc i think theyre cute. ive been imagining wavelengths costume pretty much the exact same as in pd . and i have. no ideas for auxiliary but whenever i think abt him i think abt ur timeline art so thats canon 2 me

[yifftwiceplz]

rambling about daves timeline under the cut

this info has been touched on but a little more in depth

so i couldn't decide what age dave i wanted to RP and came up with some weird bullshit to be able to jump around impulsively but i have a general timeline for my dave

16-17: beats sburb, moves onto earth c. i DONT care about the endless isekai plot i want my boys to be happy B( i support anyone strong enough to stick with it, but personally i am rewriting it in my head the strilondes move into a duplex with roxy and rose on one side, dave and dirk on the other side. they do this because it seems like the healthiest option for all of them to live with their siblings and help each other grow and heal

dirk and dave have a lot of shit to work out both with dirk's chronic isolation and impossible standards for himself, and dave having been raised by a basement dwelling abusive dick. it's a little rocky at first especially with dirk's messiness and dave's clinginess but they push through and the strength of their relationship grows

neither of them has a job at first but they both piddle around with comics, youtube channels, and side projects until they both start messing with crypto scams. namely scamming crypto bros out of their money. it's around this point where they somehow get the rights to interdimensional twitter, which is a silly meaningless side plot but a fun one.

i probably won't play him at this age too much, but if i do the main things to look out for would be that he rambles way more and makes weird run-on sentences, like a full paragraph of metaphors, and still lives with dirk / the fam. he's also quite scrawny and still wears his god tier jammies most of the time.

around 22-23: dave moves into a house with karkat, funded by dave's youtube channel, karkat's job as a marriage counselor, and help from dirk, who's sad to not be living with his bro anymore but is very supportive and pointlessly rich.

he's at home pretty much 24/7, just casually working on youtube videos, comics, whatever he wants really. karkat is fine with being the breadwinner and household leader, dave is fine with being bossed around and he likes to clean. he has very few priorities to deal with so he does what he wants (mostly troll you all here)

this is his current "real time" age, around 25, so after he's lived with karkat a couple years already. he doesn't ramble as much, usually in a good mood and lets things roll off his back. he is also chunkier and doesn't wear his god tier outfit much anymore; he got tired of the style. he does still wear the pants around the house.

around 30 is when dave really makes a name for himself on youtube and makes his first movie, which is relatively low-budget and simple. his career kind of explodes from that point and by 35 he's in the middle of making his second movie, which is a genuine hollywood affair. he loses quite a bit of weight due to stress / being busy, usually has a 5 oclock shadow, and his outfits are usually pretty dumpy (unless it's a premiere or a press tour).

he and karkat are mostly long distance at this point, which dave stresses about more than he should. karkat is fine letting dave do his thing, but dave is beginning to overthink the fact he's going to far outlive karkat. he eventually decides to bring dirk on, which he was reluctant to do because dirk really needs to work less and get out more. but dave accepts he needs help and dirk is the only guy who can do the job properly. and dirk is happy to live his childhood fantasy of being on set with his bro

things to look out for would be his hair has a nice fade, he wears his shades less, he's usually scrawny (unless he's on break back home to be re-fattened by karkat), and he uses punctuation/rambles less

he's really busy most of the time so until i get some more things worked out he's like a little old man treat that i sprinkle to you guys like goldfish pellets in a pond of giant koi

around 40 is tbd but chunky hairy homebody dilf-with-no-kid dave supremacy.

[miiilowo]

unfortunate happening, we introjected your will and now him and our will (dave)... well they arent fighting... im not sure how to describe the look theyre giving eachother.

anyways id love to learn literally everything i can about your will!

(that and i have no choice but to try to turn this wood block of a will into himself through learning about him.)

ive said will too much.

please and thank you for if you choose to humor me ^^

well, i guess my perception of him is like. 90% based in canon evidence. There's some headcanons, but theyre not pulled out of nowhere, usually being derived from some trait hes shown to have in the books

The two timelines that have piqued my interest regarding fnaf are wendigoon's timeline and matpats (which is . kinda surprising tbh), and while I think matpat's might be slightly more grounded, wendigoon's covers williams personality and motivations in more depth, which is what i generally stick to if you want to take a little peek over there. The rundown, though, is this:

Evan gets his shit rocked by fredbear -> william notices hes in there -> is kinda wrought with grief -> really loves him and wants to bring him back, starts experimenting with the idea of Killing Murder -> sister location animatronics -> elizabeth dies -> he shuts down circus babys pizza world due to 'gas leaks' (its elizabeth dying) -> henry notices whats up, kicks him out of fazbear ent -> he snaps, kills charlie -> goes on to kill the 5 kids at freddys. hands on this time

while i dont necessarily think this is canon, it still sets up the grounds for his personality in my mind, with the main things being that he set out to be a childrens entertainer, loved his kids very much, and when shit gets bad he kinda starts spiraling in the worst way imaginable. Perhaps always a little bit on the .. silly. side when it comes to The Killing Murder, but whatever happened here pushed him over the edge

speaking of silly, he just straight up is that. i mean, you could infer that from the fact he made a chuck e cheese kinda restaurant chain where he'd get in a rabbit fursuit to entertain kids. for fun. his idea. but beyond that, the books corroborate it:

he is incredibly theatric, a good example being the reveal of his springlock scars to carlton; explaining in extreme detail what will happen if carlton fucks up while wearing the suit, very calmly, and then with a flourish he reveals his scars and screams at him to not move. not normal behavior

hes very expressive with body language. this is seen in the books, but it also is very evident when you look at how glitchtrap and vanny move

he says he viewed dave as a role to play over just like, a disguise and alias. i cannot emphasize enough how much he did not need to make up a nightguard oc

he kinda did the same thing with springtrap in the novels, stating he wanted to be a comical over-the-top villain

(theres also like...the fact funtime foxy and spring bonnie dont really.....have solid genders. like in fnaf world spring bonnies blurb is 'boy? girl? its a rabbit, who cares' and then theres funtime foxy having he/she pronouns. these are williams creations. one of them being very close to him, near & dear to his heart. much to consider when you remember he was a dad of 3 in the 80s)

there is always those journals they find in the books. i can let those speak for themselves. the exact description for them: "A search of his house…found stacks of journals full of raving paranoia, passages about Henry that ranged from jealousy to near worship." Do with this what you will

This more so comes from me rather than canon evidence, and is inferred (unless im wrong and there is evidence for it- i dont really own the books) but I generally imagine he was incredibly charismatic. Not in the way where he was charming because he was attractive, but in the way where he was charming because hes just a fucking weirdo. over-expressive theatric childrens entertainer that loves his job? and a businessman, no less? come on now. Though, you could also see the intro bit for sister location where he's being interviewed about circus baby; his voice. his.Voice his bvvvrhrrg

There is conflicting information on HOW he killed the kids thats present; In the ultimate guide (which is, decidedly, more canon than the narrative timeline) it details that the murders were done via telling the kids something and then kidnapping them before killing them, some of which done in..incredibly violent ways. In the novels, it mentions sedating his victims before killing them for use in his remnant research shenanigans.

The difference here is that in the novels, William is killing out of a pure desire to advance his understanding of possession and remnant, and in the ultimate guide he's doing it in a far less calculated and clean manner. It's messier, more violent, and frankly, probably more fun for him.

Generally, when it comes to William, I try to take what I can from the novels, and if it contradicts evidence offered up by the games, I can probably disregard it as canon. This is one of those few situations where i CAN disregard it, because I highly doubt he, in a heat of the moment, passion driven murder, killed charlie because he thought to bring a sedative in his car. (not the mention how the books are dubiously canon and the ultimate guide has more grounds in what is actually real)

I did forget to mention how much I think he did care about his kids; I mean, outside of just that rough timeline I presented, theres a shitton of evidence he DID care about them over the evidence he was abusive or purposefully neglectful. He more than likely had all this triggered by evan's death via fredbear, which says enough in of itself, but theres also the cameras in their house, and the fredbear plushie that has a speaker and a camera in it. No matter where HE was, he could always keep an eye on them, talk to the kid that was constantly riddled with anxiety, and make sure they were okay. idk about you but that doesnt sound like the actions of someone who doesn't like their kids. Arguably, he might have loved them too much, since that kind of crosses over into like...Weirdly TOO watchful, but it makes sense since he was really obsessed with his work.

Baby is also worth mentioning, since we can glean that she was based off of Elizabeths appearance & made specifically for her, but since shes. yknow. a murder robot, William forbades Elizabeth from ever going near her, because he doesn't want her to get hurt. That says enough i think.

also i think his wife either left him or he never had one in the first place and the kids are a result of one night stands gone wrong amen

This is not NEARLY as in-depth as it could be, and if you ask specific questions I can certainly narrow things down more, but as a quick rundown of some of his traits:

Theatric

Silly :3 Very expressive

Obsessive & jealous

Bit paranoid; Superstitious as well (i know i didnt touch on that but it is corroborated by the books)

Charming in a manner of ways

More than likely got a kick out of killing

Really did love his kids, particularly evan and elizabeth

A good resource for what hes like based off the books is the @canon-william-afton blog, which has been a lifesaver for me personally

[n7punk]

found my old dragon age notes lmao

(i have actually played every da:o origin and romance, just didn't attach much to anyone but those three. i've actually played niera twice, once without and once with the marriage-unlock alistair mod LMAO)

she's my favorite child i've played her at least two maybe two and a half (unfinished) times

i love hawke so much but da2 is definitely the game ive replayed the least because the gameplay just needs so much more polish. hopefully da4 is solid since it's the furthest thing from rushed development

casc is actually my least favorite of the wardens ive latched onto because she's kind of boring lmao but she made a lot of great choices to set up the rest of the world with. i thiiiiiiink she was an arcane warrior because fuck yeah arcane warriors.

for my nobility playthrough, i love hollicity but it looks like my notes for her are mostly blank, probably because she was my newest/last warden playthrough. she's like 16 and just fighting for her life out here. she was raised for political power though and that gives her enough wits to outweigh her naïvety. she didn't romance anybody. ended up backed into a corner with not enough favor so she was forced to take up a political-ONLY (seriously she's like his baby sister but also would be a more competent ruler than him lmao) marriage with alistair in order to rule because the nobility's fucked like that 👍 no actual romance even as she ages. she says it's because she's not about to risk the stability of the crown for that if she's caught but she honestly finds she never has interest.

there comes a certain time where you spend enough time in canon you start throwing it out and my trevelyan twins were the start of that, bleeding into the elves playthrough (even though i played nyer first shhhhh). i think i played through inquisition once with both of them as the inquisitor, but the intent was that denal was the inquisitor and his sister was one of his companions/inner circle

niera is actually a fucking gremlin don't let this fool you. she's my "immoral" playthrough. i actually played her twice (one making horrid choices like using blood magic to sacrifice the slaves and one making less-bad choices), and the personality from the second playthrough ended up being the one sticking. she's a duel-wielding rogue so she can stab you in the front and back at once!

you can't play an elf in da2 which kind of ruins my "elves fuck shit" playthrough line, but i did my best with garret hawke. i dont have any notes on him but he's my red hawke because again, this is the immoral characters timeline (my canon hawke being purple). since this is my "fuck canon" playthrough i think the headcanon was that hawke was half elf here.

we don't need canon anymore 🥳 okay fun fact about Selain: the way i spelled her name changed dozens of times. other fun fact: i only romanced solas as her to get the vallaslin off cosmetically since she wouldn't have any with her lineage but then i liked the angst of the romance just for her. generally i think solas is an egghead.

and then some randoms:

I think Raya might have been my nightmare difficulty playthrough for the trophy? no actually i did that with Anerra Again. oh yeah she was actually exclusively to romance sera LMAO. I don't have notes on aeducan but yes he was named after That aeducan and he was my Challenges trophy playthrough with all the difficulty modifiers like getting x2 disapproval from companions but keeping them through the first act or whatever that achievement was. he only managed that because he's a pathological liar - otherwise he would have driven everyone away a lot quicker. i didn't finish him but i did play raya through to trespasser for the seramance.

[calamarispiderart]

found chonny jash through ur art and i am so invested. i need to speedrun learning the lore as fast as possible. where would you recommend going to do this r there specific videos i should watch or something

YAYYYYY!!!!! ok so. the main thing id suggest you do if you havent already,, is listen to chonnys music!!! all of his stuff is rlly good. heres a link to his channel

for 'lore' or story stuff thatd be his recent tally hall cover album. its incomplete, and he uploads the songs out of order, so there isnt any 'canon' or 'right order' yet per say. ppl have definitely put together playlists and timelines for songs, but rlly were only gonna know the full 'correct' order to things when the album is complete. here is a link to a playlist of the tally hall/lore specific songs, and here is a link to a playlist made by pathos, with their proposed listening order.

the videos that go along with the songs themselves give added context to things like whos singing what, along with the actual tone and sound of the voices in the songs themselves. advance warning though, THERE ARE FLASHING LIGHTS. chonnys puts a flashing light warning at the start of every video where applicable iirc, but i wanted to say here as well.

i first found him through his cover of the mind electric, which is. AMAZING btw. but also like right in the middle lore wise so dont worry too much abt listening to things the 'right way' or whatever. theres also a fan server!!! i can give the invite link if ur interested, the ppl there are very cool and theres lots of discussion abt the lore and music B:]

unfortunately as far as i know theres no comprehensive video about everything if thats what you were looking for. first and foremost, just listen to his stuff!!!! a lot of my art is pulled from single lines and ideas that stick with me, or from jokes in the server, or just from funny images that appear in my head when i listen to chonnys music!!

[alltimefail-sims]

I dont want to sound rude but I wish youd stick to 1 project. I followed months ago and u seem to work on a lot of different things

This ask is over three weeks old; sorry to the sender that I've just gotten around to answering it.

First and foremost: I'm going to spin this a positive way and say thank you for being interested enough in one of my projects to follow me and inquire about my posting timeline. There are a handful of stories on simblr that I read and personally adore, so it's flattering.

With that being said, this is my hobby. I think of myself as a storyteller first, and I hope everyone who follows me can enjoy and value that enough to look past little editing errors and random (or slow) rollouts. It's kind of crazy to even be getting an ask like this because I do have a good amount of followers (thank you if you follow me, that's awesome), but there are MANY blogs that have a way larger following than me and I cringe when I think of one of them receiving a message like this. Good content takes time. If we're being honest, even subpar content takes time honestly lmao. I think everyone on here is sharing their sims and their stories for the love of it, for a creative outlet/stress relief, and/or for community engagement. Adding a timeline to something like that feels kind of unnecessary, imo. Plus, with the new pack coming and the infant update, I've been wary to go into any of my important saves. I can't afford to lose anything or have anything corrupted, and I'm not going to dive into anything when I know the game is about to undergo a massive amount of updates (and I'm going to have to wait on lots of mod and cc batch fixes most likely anyway).

Since we have opened this dialogue, in the spirit of honesty I want to add that this does kind of sound rude. We both know someone would never ask this off anon. It's just a peculiar demand to make of someone you don't know, and that's probably why you chose to approach this topic with anonymity, right?

Although, I will admit this ask poses a fair assessment: I absolutely do work on other things, whatever I feel like working on in the moment! I get new ideas every day. I'm sure I am not the only blog operating this way? When I really care about something though (like my Strangerville story, for example) I am extra meticulous about it. I'm not going to put out a story I love and am proud of in a half-assed way. I have a lot of learning, world building, and writing to do before that's even remotely ready to roll out. But I am doing my best, and I've shared details throughout the process because I'm excited about it. On the other hand, there are some projects I might try out but they just don't work. For instance, I hated doing the Bachelorette Challenge. It was extremely boring to me, and as much as I LOVE when other people do them, nothing exciting was coming of mine. I feel bad about that a little because I got some wonderful submissions, but this is my blog and I'm going to give myself permission (as everyone should) to only do what brings me joy or what I feel is worth my time. I haven't fully canceled it, but it's on the edge of the chopping block for sure. It's just not my thing, and that's okay. This is a hobby, and I want to spend my time on projects I love. I know follower count is always a big discussion on simblr for some reason, but that's not really why I'm here and I don't feel it is fair of followers to demand one type of content just because they followed for a specific reason.

Sooooo TLDR, I have to keep running my blog the way that works for me. I'm going to work on things as I want to and as inspiration strikes (that might mean I'm working on 5 WIPS at a time). I don't need a perhaps well-intended but nonetheless unnecessary performance review. I do appreciate you giving me an opportunity to explain this, and I ask for opinions frequently, so feel free to share them when that time comes. ❤

[salomeapologist]

do you think it would be a good idea for the show to take the book route and have daneil end up with marius by the end? do you have any thoughts on their relationship?

thank you for the incredibly interesting question!! im gonna kinda try to work out my thoughts as i type:

i think it really depends on a lot of things. well actually first of all lets back up. i do think daniel and armand are back together by the end of the books. both textual evidence wise (go girl give us one sentence!!) and bc my sappy heart cannot handle an alternative. so ill kinda answer the question of do i think the show should have them…get together? cohabitate? shack up??

i guess ill get into my answer for the second part and say that i dont think it’s like a permanent relationship for either of them. no matter what one thinks the exact nature of their relationship was. i do think daniel (no one could possibly care about spoiling books theyll never read right) needs a safe space to get back on an even keel but that there isnt a lot drawing him to marius besides that. i mean think about what daniel likes and what excites him. and even for marius like okay sure he could probably stick with the same mentee or whatever for a long time because that makes him feel good but is that really what would be most fulfilling? im like. fine that they were hanging out for so long and who knows fucking sucking being in love like all these vampires are (but okay kinda insanely funny for two of the blonds to get together. like.) it helped daniel uncrazy and im glad h had someone there for him when armand couldnt be but i am never gonna be super into a relationship between one of my most and one of my least favorite characters in the series.

as for the show, theres a lot to consider. would they put this right after the queen of the damned plot? how? what would the circumstances of old man resigned to his fate daniel being turned be? if not right then, right before they do prince lestat? are they gonna get that far? are they going to do all the books as discreet seasons and are they going to be largely faithful? is there anyone on earth who would want that? but then how much will we know about marius by then? only what we know from lestat and from marius’ own actions in the timeline of the show? daniel being old definitely makes for some fun possibilities! but i just dont know if itll be necessary for them to come together or if there will be enough space in the narrative for that. maybe it’s all just a passing mention, but i think thatll be disappointing for a lot of people who have already been very disappointed (see the one sentence thing).

i think it really depends on what marius is like in the show and what daniel needs, to sum up. im not against it because it makes a certain kind of sense in the books and is also a certain kind of fucked up (what if the two people you care about most in the world have spent more time together than they have with you? and i mean then theres also louis and lestat who armand also cares about and also prioritize each other most of the time…anyway we dont need to get too upset over armand rn always time for that later. but also daniel having a positive relationship with marius could be a strain on his relationship with armand which is very interesting). i definitely could do without it, though! fuck marius!

[great-kung-lao]

why dont you like multishipping?

I think it is deeply rooted in my psychology. I have experienced parents divorce at the very early age and it affected my perception of relationships for life. One might say that's one of the major reasons I'm so strongly into shipping. Since I don't have healthy love examples in real life, I'm searching for it in fiction. I think the concept of love is beautiful and I want to believe in its existence. Unfortunately I have no irl examples to follow and in order to keep my faith in love going I keep on shipping.

There are two things I need in life in order to feel happy: loyalty and consistency. If I have an OTP, I will be forever loyal to it. I can't have my OTP shipped with other characters because to me it would feel like I force/encourage infidelity. I have no room for cheating, so I won't cheat on my OTPs as well. You might bring up stuff like multiverse and stuff, but that's where consistency part comes in. In my belief OTP stays together even across realities/timelines/dimensions/reincarnations/etc. They never get with somebody else, because both characters are always pulled towards each other like under gravity. Love that persists through infinite universes is very beautiful to me and I'm sticking with it.

But that's a me thing. That's how I feel. I'm in no way discourage you to multiship. It's your life, do whatever you want with it. I just told what I decided to do with mine.

[nineliabilityrisk]

⭐ do William also :3

[ send a " ⭐ " and i will list muses i would be interested in throwing at yours ]

[ asked by @trapton ]

WILL WILL WILL WILL

would you believe me if i said that i had absolutely zero interest in william as a character until i joined this community. but then i got introduced to you and nicole and ur guys' portrayals of him uh. successfully converted me. literally half my muses are obsessed with him. its your guys' fault. william afton my unhinged little babygirl i want to wring him out like a towel.

since this blog is solely for will, im just gonna list out my muses and then the possible verses / situations they could interact with will in

all the animatronics are pretty much a given, of course. what "version" of will it is just depends on the time period ofc, id love to write with any of them!! some highlights would probably be og freddy + bonnie with him, or the puppet or the funtimes . maybe even lefty or molten freddy for mr peanut if he feels particularly talkative

mikey ofc ofc - teen / younger mike is always fun to write even if its. a little difficult to do sometimes. like emotionally. (same with evan tbh i love writing him with will but he is IMPOSSIBLE to write if i dont have the muse.) and then of course fnaf 3 or pizza sim era with post ennard mike and springtrap or scraptrap,, plus i gave mikey a sb verse now! so! make him deal with his dads bullshit AGAIN! he will never be allowed to rest! never ever!

cassie maybe?? - i know TECHNICALLY nothing she did in ruin was related to him in canon but CMON. if you feel like yknow. subjecting her to MXES / glitchtrap or burntrap or ur like. literally anything. i feel like him having to deal with this bitchy little child would be incredibly fucking funny.

henry. henRYYYYY henry henry henry. - i need more of him and henry immediately right now like stat. fredbears family diner era or earlier or having them somehow meet in pizza sim era without one of them ending up dead. i do not care i just. i need them in any possible capacity. they r everything to me they r the reason i have had the phrase "doomed old men yaoi" stuck in my head for the past week and a half. it will not go away. i am in hell.

ciarán - are you kidding me. you KNOW how insane i am over them. also the benefit of ciar being an oc is that he isnt constrained by timeline. we could put him ANYWHERE. you wanna write springtrap? he could be there with him. glitchtrap? sure why not. literally anything. we dont have to stick with just this era weve sorta picked for them i can drop him ANYWHERE. i love their dynamic so so so much i am never not thinking about them

josh - i know mike was the only nightguard at fazbears frights and therefore the only one around while springtrap was Active, but also. josh is the type of guy to get assigned fucking Springtrap Maintenance Duties. subject him to the horrors thats literally what hes there for. he gets dropped in whatever awful job i decide to give him solely to have the absolute worst time of his life. get a little silly with it.

birdie - glitchtrap glitchtrap this ones for glitchtrap <3 a whole ass help wanted / sb centered muse. he has like 4 verses already planned out and i can always set up more i cannot WAIT to show you her blog i am always thinking abt her

[ghostlynimbus]

Twilight Question!

so im movies only so apologies if this is super clear in the books, but i am a bit confused about some timeline stuff.

So as i originally understood it, the Cullen's mostly bounce between the Forks house and the Denali house (presumably with occasional vacations to like, Isle Esmee or whatever). But like... they can't spend that much time in Forks. i think they could probably get away with sticking around for ~10 years or so if Carlisle didnt insist on being a doctor (bc if he's a doctor he has to start at an age at least old enough to have completed his schooling, like 6 years older than when he was turned as far as i understand), but he does it seems so like maybe they get 4-5 years out of Forks.

And then they probably need to stay away at least long enough for most of the Forks residents who knew them to have died so like minimum 60 years?

Are they spending 60 years in Denali and 5 in Forks? And even if they dont spend the full 60+ years in Denali, they still spend that time away from Forks right?

Is this Emmet's first time in Forks? As far as i understand it he's the youngest of the Cullen vampires (until Bella)

it always seemed to me like they spent a decent amount of time in forks and just took occasional breaks at the Denali house, but that wouldn't make sense? People at that school were so thirsty for Eduard, and this is a small town. Cant just come back in ten years without a bunch of moms picking up their kids from school and being like 'holy shit its that hot guy who always ignored me in high school!'

idk im just confused.

[cosmo-clown]

i’ve gone on a lore deep dive for so many aus that so much content i see being drawn leaves me like scrunching my nose because theres so many claims of canon and fanon and as a blueberry fanatic i think it hurts the most because the canon/fanon debate is so strong everyone’s a wimp to actually explore his character in the multiverse

at the point we’re at he’s been cross 2 which is NOT MY BLUEBERRY SANS and it wouldn’t infuriate me so if he wasnt EVERYWHERE

i read the entirety of the ask dusttale blog and i’m all caught up on whats posted in horrortale publicly and those characters are ssoo poorly written in a multiverse context too (dust would canonically never join nightmare unless he was forced, horror is more of a good guy in his timeline?? and he’s also never eaten a human EVER????) but whats MILDLY forgiveable about that is that there isnt a legion of hypocrites screaming ITS MURDER NOT DUST and call you cringe for calling him otherwise

there probably is but ggod damnit i just wanna see my homeboy underswap sans named blueberry not be seen as a sin against god, i’m tired of people saying this is how canonical blue would act

i read the underswap masterpost google doc, i’m pretty sure thats where the original us lore is that everyone refers to and if i’m wrong please correct me! i’ll read whatever source i need to

but even classic canon undertale isnt a stick in the mud the way “canon” blueberry is. and i dont get why he acts so tired in a multiverse setting. he’s a roleswap. even if you disagree the personalities shouldn’t be switched he still takes the role of papyrus and both sans and papyrus’s personality are goofy fun loving guys, i dont get how we got to the point “canon” underswap is right now. sans doesnt hate jokes and papyrus makes his own too so why is “swap sans” a complete hater to ink and dream’s antics?? is he not a force of chaos on his own??

he is a flavorless character in so many ways and people only give him nuance when they wanna make the star sanses split up and that BOTHERS ME SO MUCH. WHY IS THERE NO GOOD REP OF THE STARS

and i say this as someone who is in love with the character representations that are NOT CANON to underswap, like cpau and ask error. why is everyone a coward to use those??? it makes me sad… i feel likee underverse came and everyone started screaming about ink being evil and dream was villainized too and blue is just

dead to the multiverse literally and figuratively.

i miss you my mr. president… fly high..

hi hello rant time feel free to ignore this i’m just going to explode and it’s not the end of the world

the amount of times i’ve seen people go off on someone for stating canon facts about media, and they say “oh that’s not true! where’s the source! grrr! you’re pulling that out of your ass!”

and then immediately be like “i haven’t really read the canon ✌️”

…AND IT SHOWS.

y’all listen. i love canon and fanon interpretations. it’s a playground and it’s free space and don’t let canon puritans ruin the fun.

THAT SAID. CAN WE. NOT. pretend we know the canon of something if it’s blatantly being ignored?

i was just reading a post where this was happening, this specifically happens a lot with dreamtale (WHICH FAIR ITS CONFUSING) but for the love

pls pls pls pls don’t say something is wrong and fake and made up when you don’t know the canon?

JUST READ THE CANON. OR DONT, AND BE OK WITH SAYING YOU DONT K N O W THE CANON

you don’t HAVE to know it but YOU CANT PRETEND TO BE INFORMED THEN

don’t call a story bad that you haven’t read yet, don’t label a character as shallow if you’ve never explored them!

i’m kinda a “know the rules to break the rules” person when it comes to fandom spaces, but i digress, and i re state that if the canon doesn’t interest you that’s fine. ITS FINE. IM FAMILIAR WITH MOST OF THE CANON STORIES (to me knowledge😏😏) AND SOMETIMES I CHOOSE TO MAKE THE CHARACTERS FANONIZED BCS ITS F U N

THATS NORMAL.

but i hope that someday i’ll see more respect for the place original works will always have even amongst all of the fun and PERFECTLY VALID fanon content 😁 like the canon creators making that media is the reason we have the characters, it’s a peeve when people try to “do it better” instead of just “have fun with a new interpretation ” (this happens with character designs and art a lot as well)

hating on fanon content is cringe

being disrespectful to canon content is also cringe

and the MOST CRINGE THING I SEE SO OFTEN

is people who say they only respect the canon, or hate on and shit on fanon content, only to turn around and CLEARLY KNOW NOTHINGGGGG ABOUT THE ACTUAL CANON THEY ARE “SO AWARE OF”

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa*screams so loud and dances seductively*

like yes good sir. mr nightmare sans from dreamtale WAS essentially possessed by a corrupted human man.

yes good sir. this is on more then just a wiki this is actually canon

this is canon. it’s an integral part to their entire story. i will literally write it all out for you if you so desire, but instead your gonna try to ridicule this random person in your comments mentioning it

unless it gets changed in the future that is an example of a canon truth, it’s fine to not know, BUT DONT. PRETEND YOU KNOW.

like i know not everyone has done lore digging but pls i can tell you’ve based your “canon take” off of tht one shitty stolen art dreamtale video we’ve all seen (pls for the love of god if you know what i’m referring to don’t use that as an up to date canon source i’ll cry so hard) just go ahead and say you don’t know the whole canon

jus accept your interpretation will always be fanon ALSO (again which is fine???) unless you KNOW a general amount of knowledge about the canon!?!???!!? it’s not that DEEP EUEUEUEU

again that’s just a minor example of this happening so often everywhereeee😫😫

someone will critique and hate and call a narrative 100% trash and then turn and say it’s “not their thing so they never read it”

OK? THEN DONT TALK ABOUT WHAT YOU HAVENT READ

you can choose to like or dislike smth sure but don’t be so convinced you know something you’ve never looked at. don’t think you can judge an entire book off of the cover just say whether or not you liked the cover

how would you feel if your favorite movie in the world , the one you have so many intense deep feelings and thoughts on, was trashed and hated on by some critic who watched the first five mins???? and then they went off on you abt how ass your take is on this movie you’ve completed and they haven’t given a second thought? they are gonna tell YOU what you aren’t and are allowed to get out of the movie??? HUH???

anyways. seeing that post ate at my guts bcs it was so mean to the other person and outlandishly WILD in so many ways and i’m not specifying who or why bcs that would be immature and dramatic imo

IF YOU READ THIS, 1. WHY, 2. LOOK AWAY FROK YOUR DEVICE FOR A SECOND AND REMEMBER THAT THIS ISUNIMPORTANT and just some rando fandom mutt who’s crying about hate culture and it’s not that deep at the end of the day :)))

drink water and remember it’s ok to not know things and that it’s not bad to ACKNOWLEDGE THAT😭

also don’t let haters talk down to you fandom is for fun and RESPECT that is all GOOD DAY 🫡🩷🩷💞💞✨✨💜💥💜💜💥💥💥💫🙂‍↕️

[nattyslover]

two wise unknown people

picture NOT mine credit: @castielbarnes

loki x gn!reader

f l u f f

warnings: loki episode 3 spoilers!!, mistakes?

wc: 2k

Today has been a hectic day so far. First started off with a few minute-men,Mobius and Loki alongside you going to Alabama 2050 to try to catch the variant in an apocalypse but went downhill when you got enchanted by the variant and then got passed out. The only thing you can remember was being picked up bridal style and carried through a portal going to the TVA. Once Loki followed the variant and ended up in the TVA he gently woke you up telling you to follow him. Loki grabbed his daggers from the locker hunter b-15 stored.

Following Loki through the halls of the TVA, minute-men on the ground passed out, or they looked passed out. When you caught up with the variant, Loki and her started to fight. Loki got thrown, you tried to stop her before she killed him. Throwing a few punches here and there, and dodging a few you wrapped your legs around her neck and flipped her to the ground were you grabbed Loki’s dagger and brought it to her throat leaving her defenseless. out of breath you opened your mouth to say something but was interrupted by Ravonna and two minute men on both of her sides with those look alike glow sticks. While you looked up at Ravonna, the variant got a hold of the dagger and flipped you on the group about to stab you but Loki came up from behind her and got the TemPad and opened another portal underneath all of you and fell through.

You ended up on a moon called Lamentis-1 2077 where a planet was going to destroy everything and everyone. The TemPad is dead and needs to be charged but in order to charge it, it needs to have a lot of energy. You found out the variant is now named Sylvie or wants to be called that. You still didn’t trust her since she tried to kill you multiple times but yet again you fell in love with a man just like that. You found out that there is an ark where people are getting on in order to escape this coming disaster. You will have to take a train to get there.

Loki disguised himself to look like one of the men guards and took you and Sylvie as “hostages” to Shuroo by orders. One of the men in charge of looking at tickets wasn’t buying all of that and just as your cover was about to be blown, Sylvie touched his arm and enchanted him so you could board the train. And that’s how you ended up here, on the train going to the ark to charge the TemPad to get back to the TVA.

The doors slowly opened, and stepping inside the train there were people that you could tell were high class. The walls were green and there was a small bar in the middle and all around the room were tables with booths. “Good evening, passengers. Hi.” Loki said to everyone while still holding you and Sylvie by the arms. Sylvie sits down in a booth, and you follow by sitting on the opposite side of her.

“Um-“ Loki starts hesitantly, “Uh look, I can't go backwards on a train.” You snickered at that trying to cover it with a cough. Loki looks at you glaring but with a small smile rolling his eyes before Sylvie starts to talk.

“Well, I never sit with my back to the door.” She says, turning her head away.

You scoff, “what? there are doors on both sides.” Loki said, looking around.

“Oh, just sit down.” you told Loki, grabbing his arm and yanking him to your side.

There was little silence before Sylvie spoke up. “FYI that wasn’t even a plan.”

“Oh really?” replied Loki. “plans have multiple steps, dressing as a guard and getting on a train is just doing a thing.” said Sylvie with a scoff.

Loki shifts his jaw, and about to open his mouth but is interrupted by you.

“Oh, are you a bit tired? feel free to, you know, get some rest.” you tell Sylvie after you see her yawning.

She glared at you before grunting and rolling her eyes. “I can't sleep in a place like this.”

“You can’t sleep on a train.?'' Loki asks. “No, I can’t sleep around untrustworthy people.” she replies leaning over the table staring Loki right in the eye. “Oh right, is that me?” “You feel free to take a nap.” “No you can.” “I already told you I can't.” “Right because untrustworthy people.” you had enough of their bickering.

“Shut it!” you whispered and shouted at the pair. they both stopped and looked at you. ”Just shut it.” you tell them again before leaning back and taking a deep breath.

Sylvie looks out the window while Loki keeps staring at you. “What?” he doesn’t respond, he just keeps looking at you. “Why are you staring at me like that?” you ask. He just smiles and taps his shoulder, motioning for you to lay your head on him. You comply and lay your head on his shoulder while he grabs one of your hands and holds it under the table before he kisses your head.

Seconds later you fall into a deep slumber. Loki looks down at you with a loving smile thinking how lucky he is to have you even if your relationship isn’t a romantic one. He tore his gaze from you to Sylvie, “So, where’d you learn to do the..” Loki motioning his hands while he speaks. “You know, the… whatever i-“ “I taught myself” Sylvie interrupted Loki, knowing what he’s asking.

Loki's eyes went wide. “You taught yourself?” he asked in disbelief.

“Yeah I did.”Sylvie replied, shaking her head.

“Do you just go into their minds and project some sort of illusion?”

“It’ll be easier if i just-“ bringing her hands to Loki’s head.

“Enchant me and take the TemPad and lead me out of the train? No thank you.” Loki tells her slapping her hands away but being careful so he doesn’t wake you.

“Well then don’t ask.” Sylvie leans back with an emotionless expression.

“You almost woke up y/n by the way.” Loki informs her, looking down at you sleeping still.

“Did not.” “Did to” “Did not” “Did to” “Not” “To” “Not” “T-“ they were interrupted by you stirring a little bit while still asleep. Loki let out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding before getting the last word in. “Did to.”

A lady comes by the table a few seconds later asking if anyone wants champagne. “Champagne?”

“Ah yes, thank you very much.” Loki says to the lady without hesitation.

The lady moves over to Sylvie where she replies with a dull answer, “No i’m good thanks” with no emotion.

“Oh i’ll take hers, thank you” Loki grabs the other glass of champagne and with that the lady walks away. Sylvie looks at Loki with a raised eyebrow, questioning him.

“For y/n when they wake up” Loki says knowing what Sylvie was asking about.

“Cheers,” Loki says, clinking the two glasses together, “To the end of the world.” Loki takes a sip.

“I pity the old woman who chose to die, don’t you think?”

“She was in love.”

“Mmm-, she hated him”

“Maybe love is hate” Sylvie replies back smirking.

Loki conjures a quill and paper. “What was that? ‘love is… love is hate.’”

“Oh, piss off!”

Loki makes the items disappear before going back to the subject of love while pouring your glass of champagne to his.

“Is there a lucky beau waiting for you at the end of this crusade?” Loki asks while raising the glass to his lips.

“Yeah there is actually.” She responds easily.

“Oh,” Loki takes a sip.

“Managed to maintain a quite a serious long-distance relationship with a postman while running across time from one apocalypse to the another.” Sylvie says sarcastically.

Loki chuckles lightly, “Witch charm like that who could resist you?” Loki jokes.

Sylvie smiles a little looking down before looking up at Loki, “How about you? wait, don't answer that you have y/n.”

Loki's eyes went wide,“What? I-I dont- me and y/n we aren’t together.” Loki is a stuttering mess.

“You aren’t? Really? I don't buy that.” Sylvie says slightly surprised. “Y’all are practically in love with each other, I keep catching you staring at them and vice versa. Y’all have the love look in your guys eyes when one looks at the other, quite frankly it’s sickening.” Sylvie says, gagging a little but smiling.

Loki turns red after he hears that. Has he really been that obvious of his staring problem? Has he really been that oblivious to not notice you staring at him? Do you know he stares at you? Do you feel the same as him? No you couldn’t possibly feel the same- could you?

Loki's brain was hurting from overthinking and asking himself over and over again if there is a chance you could feel the same as he does for you. Loki takes a deep breath before looking at you then back up at sylvie.

“Why don’t you tell them?” Sylvie asks before he has a chance to speak.

Loki thinks for a moment, remembering something he read that stuck with him, “‘Friendship Or Love... It's really hard to choose, though sometimes friendship ends in love. If romance ends, it's hard to return to friendship.’ but also ‘Over thinking ruins you, ruins the situation, twists things around and just makes everything much worse than what it actually is’ do you know the two people who said that?”

Sylvie shakes her head no. “Two wise unknown people said that. Not knowing that their words would relate to almost everyone who is in love with their best friend but doesn’t want to ruin the friendship if something happens.” Loki is rubbing his thumb on your hand looking down at your sleeping figure. “To answer your question ‘why don’t I tell them?’ it’s because I overthink and because I don’t want to ruin something so great just because I want something more. I would rather stay friends forever than get into a relationship not knowing if it will last forever.” Loki says honestly.

Sylvie doesn’t say anything for a few seconds and just looks between you and Loki. “That's with every relationship.” Loki looks up, encouraging her to continue. “Whether it's friendship or a romantic relationship you don’t know if it will last forever. no one does.” Sylvie laughs a little , “Not even the time keepers. you know why? because they can’t decide your future for you, no one can, only you.”

“The timekeepers know everything.”

“Do they? Then why are you here? They didn’t know you would change the timeline and come here did they? The time keepers didn’t plan on having you at the TVA. So who says they know everyone's futures? Because from the looks of it, they don’t know everything that happens in the future.” Sylvie finished with a sigh.

Loki stares at Sylvie, surprised that they had this conversation with each other even though not even 24 hours ago they were trying to kill each other and now they are talking about love and being honest and open.

Sylvie shakes her head before clearing her throat, “I need to get rest so you do your thing and i’ll do mine got it?” Loki nods and Sylvie gets comfortable and closes her eyes.

Loki just sits there looking at you before him, getting comfortable himself with your head still on his shoulder, closing his eyes and letting rest take over him in a matter of seconds.

You open your eyes looking at Sylvie before looking at Loki, slightly shocked because of two things. One they had a full conversation that didn’t include any arguing or childlike behavior and two you just heard your best friend talk about his love for you.

[jangofctts]

Are You in Or Out?

Rated: Explicit 

Word count: 11.5K yall I am SORRY

Warnings: good lord y'all here we GO-- smut, explicit language, violence and mentions of blood and gore, injuries, unprotected sex (don't be a dick, wrap that stick!), oral (m&f receiving), blindfolding, vaginal and anal fingering, vaginal and anal sex, double penetration, spit is used as lube but for the love of GOD doNT DO THAT, there are some dom vibes on Paz’s end    

Summary: The job you’re on takes a turn for the worst--Paz comes to your rescue and you're brought to the Covert. There you meet Din Djarin. though during a good natured sparring session, you’re suddenly stuck between an age old rivalry that spirals out of hand. Hopefully an agreement can be met. 

a/n: hey...how y’all doin....SO lemme explain you smthn. I said helmets must be OfF--giv me them LIPS BABEY so this is a slight AU in which mandos can see other mandos’ faces. ya get me? I also tHot that it would be nice and fun to set the timeline 5-6 years BEFORE the plot of the Mandalorian so we gots a younger din here. anyway, as always enjoy and I hope you like!!

Mistakes, mistakes, mistakes—

Some as little as burning your finger on the nozzle of a smoking blaster or tripping over your own shoelaces. Simple things. Mindless things. 

Nothing that could ever compare to the catastrophic decision of picking up bounty hunting as a reliable source of income. 

The little ones were easy—tax evaders and deserters of the Empire—most who’d yield and gladly follow without complaint just at the sight of your blaster pointed between their eyes. And the gag of it is—most of the time you never bothered to load the damn thing. 

Reckless.

An invitation for disaster. 

But skirting that precarious edge, one little slip up away from plunging head first into inevitable trouble is better than Bracca. Stars—anything is better than Bracca. There’s no glory in bounty hunting but there’s even less in ship scrapping. Abysmal pay in exchange for risking your life on rain slicked metal with only the Ibdis Maw to break your fall.  

The guild you work for is considerate—scratch that. Greef Karga is considerate. Sure the flirting is a touch unbearable but it saves your ass in the long run. All easy money bounties set aside for you in exchange for a cheap drink, hollow laughs and sugar sweet smiles. 

It’s enough credits to get by—more than plenty to rent a room and charter a ship. 

But there’s only so many bounties to capture within the limits of the guild and oh so many people the empty blaster trick works on. And so the credits begin to thin; it gets too expensive to buy off a pilot and the debate over buying food or being able to pay for your room becomes more frequent than the scraprats that skitter inside the walls.  

It’s suicide to snag a higher paying bounty because....well—these bounties shoot back. 

Whatever.

 Might as well die trying. Who knows, maybe you could score big time if you manage to pull this off. 

Maybe. 

                                                       -=-=-=-

You’re not sure who’s more surprised—Karga when you asked for the bounty or yourself when he actually gave it to you. 

“Are you sure, kid? This could—“

“End in a fiery shitshow? Yeah—I figured that,” you sigh, swirling your drink with a little complimentary toothpick. “But I need the money.” 

“Hah! You’ve got guts, girl.” He flashes you a smile and smooths down his mustache with his thumb and forefinger. “Tell you what. The last assignment was just taken but I’m sure if you run you could catch him. Work somethin’ out.”

Jumping from your seat, you throw on your coat and toss a couple credits onto the table to cover the drink. “What’s he look like?” 

“Big fellow—Mandalorian. You’ll know when you see him.”

You shout your thanks over your shoulder and hightail outta there. The landing docks aren’t far, you can see them from here. It’s finding the guy that could pose a problem.

If he hasn’t already left, you bitterly think. 

However, it seems the universe is on your side today. Karga was right. He is big. Stands out like a sore thumb against his ship that glitters dully in the overcast sky. Kinda like an oversized blueberry. A yellow and blue blueberry….not important—

“Hey! Hey, you!” You’re so close, just a couple yards away. You swear and hurry up your pace as he steps onto the loading ramp. “Big guy! Large...blue man?”

You trip over your own feet as he turns his head. Fuck—

No way are you gonna be able to bargain with this guy. Built like a fucking AT-AT and probably just as stubborn. After all, no one would ever be dumb enough to come between a Mandalorian and their quarry. You grimace, and suck in a breath—

Before a word even leaves your mouth he interrupts with a steady, unwavering;

“No.”

Your brows furrow. “I didn’t even say anything!”

“I know what you were going to ask,” he huffs, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “I work alone.”

Ok, then. You didn’t want to resort to begging, but you’re kinda running out of options here. You take a steadying breath and plant yourself at the bottom of the ramp. “C’mon man. Look—I’ll let you take seventy percent of the cut and I can—“

“You’ll let me?” He repeats, the staticky tone of his voice dropping into an edge more cutting than broken transparisteel. The metal platting on the ramp vibrates from the weight of his step to move closer; Stars it takes every fucking inch of willpower to hold your ground. “You’re lucky if I let you leave with your life. Get lost.” 

Fuckfuckfuck—you should listen. You wanna fucking run for the hills and never look back in case he comes looking to purge your name from the kriffing galaxy. You clench your jaw and steel your nerves. Too bad—you’ve dug your heels so far into this empire of dirt and false bravado that your only way out is continuing to poke the sleeping bear until he snaps your spine or caves.

You have to crane your neck to glare into that dark strip of his vizor, seeing as he’s invited himself into your personal space. “No.”  

“No?” He mocks, now toe to toe with your scuffed up boots. 

Your teeth clench, a scalding flush burning through your cheeks and all the way down to your chest. He’s toying with you—finding amusement in your stubbornness and apparent lack of braincells for challenging him. “You don’t scare me.” 

The man hums, a deep purr that rumbles through his entire ribcage as he raises his gloved hand. You curse yourself for flinching because surely he’s about to crush your skull like a fucking grape, but no. All he does is fix your rumbled collar then pat your cheek.     

“I don’t need the extra baggage.”

“I’m not baggage,” you sneer, slapping his hand away. “I can handle myself.” 

“With an empty blaster?” He points out, tipping his head to the side. “Your parlor tricks won’t do you any good on this job.”

“I’m a good shot!” You sputter, placing your hands over you hips and mustering up your best glare. “W-when I have ammo…” 

“Right.”

Meeting Paz Vizsla, could have gone far better, to put it into the most simplest of words. Jagged and hard to settle into a routine around each other for the journey to Nar Shaddaa in a tiny, old, and cramped freighter ship. Most cycles you have to wedge yourself beside a cargo crate to sleep. In addition to that, how it’s able to break through the atmosphere let alone fly is beyond you—an entire mystery on its own.       

At least you’re able to sit in the spare seat inside the cockpit—one of the only places available to stretch your legs. The only problem is that it’s also where Paz Vizsla likes to lurk (well, not lurk—it’s his ship and it’s where he can comfortably fit but—to each their own). 

There’s a net of tension still woven between you—each interaction like tiptoeing over eggshells. Though, like all things, it becomes simpler. There’s not exactly any ongoing conversations—you don’t want to pry into a life you know nothing about—it’s not your business despite the cumulation of questions that linger in the back of your mind. You know when to take a hint—not every person is willing to indulge you about their livelihood, and surely not something as secretive and well guarded as the Mandalore.  

Familiarity is what you want to call it. Comfortable with each other’s presence with small talk speckled in throughout the never-ending vastness of hyperspace. Compared to the infinite turmoil in your life, slippery footholds and uncertainty—Paz Vizsla is steady. In a way— predictable and safe in the confines of this ship.       

You’d even go as far as to label him kind, a friend maybe—if you look past the grumpiness and rather poor taste in corny jokes. You know it’s stupid, no doubt stemming from the deep ache of loneliness that comes hand in hand with staking it out on your own in the galaxy; but you can’t help but wish that this could be a new normal. Not some once in a lifetime thing where you both part ways, fade into the recesses of memory and leave it at that. 

If things go well—and rarely do they on a job—maybe you’d pluck up enough courage to ask him if you could stay. There’s no harm in it…right?

                                                 -=-=-=-

Well—the cynical part of you was right.

It did end up in a fiery shit show. 

Turns out the stupid quarry you’d been tracking excelled in long range weaponry. A former marksman for the Empire to be exact. Guess that tidbit of information wasn’t pertinent. A need to know sorta thing, if you will. 

You feel the molten bolt of plasma connect with your side before your ears pick up the sound of a weapon firing, like a crack of lighting in the empty alleyway. And before your body even connects with the duracrete, Paz is returning fire. A brilliant neon red against the hazy blur of shadowy buildings.  

Kinda weird how knocking the back of your head hurts worse than the literal blaster wound burned into your side. Shock maybe. Or the heat from the plasma cauterized each veins and artery it tore through and ate away at flesh and nerves. Hm…          

You’re sprawled in a wet pool of something—either your own blood or a puddle of stagnant gutter water and damn—you’re wearing your favorite shirt.

It doesn’t matter at this point…

You’re choking on your own air from the big ass hole blasted into your diaphragm, so to say things are looking grim is an understatement.  

Nar Shaddaa isn’t your first choice to kick the can on, but hey—not everyone gets the luxury of dying on Naboo. And just as you’re ready to slip away into that sweet, sweet abyss, it seems your fellow armored friend has other plans. 

The beskar is freezing against your cheek after he deadlifts you off the duracrete—you remember that plain as day. That and the hushed rumble of Paz’s voice insisting you save your dwindling supply of air instead of apologizing to him—or ordering you to stay alive for kriff’s sake. It’s impossible to argue with Paz—like trying to bite through durasteel, and while those beckoning tendrils of eternal slumber are mighty tempting, you cling to your life with all the strength you have left. After all, inconveniencing someone with a corpse is such a party foul to the highest degree.    

The rest is muddled—like dredging up silt and clay in a murky river that just leaves you with a pounding headache between your eyes. It’s a terrible mess of pain and bouts of temporary consciousness, mistaken with fever dreams and yup—more pain. The only consistent is Paz—hovering nearby or settled beside you—through thick and thin as you heal. 

There’s no solid reason your brain can conjure as to why he brought you to the Covert—it’d have been easier to just dump you at the nearest hospital and be done with it. You’re not his responsibility and you’re too afraid to ask what it means. Too many possibilities—too many answers you aren’t in the mood to face or untwist.     

And so you leave it be, set aside for another time—which brings you to the present day…        

You’re splayed over your little makeshift cot, feet propped up on a spare pillow as you scour through a cheesy Coruscanti gossip magazine. It’s years old—the only piece of entertainment you could find other than a weapon in the Covert. And seeing as a massive hole had been blasted through your ribcage, picking up the clever art of throwing vibroblades or shooting targets to pass the time was out of the question.   

Even if you’d rather fall into a Sarlaac pit than stare at the wall for hours on end yet again—it hasn’t been all that bad. It’d taken weeks before you regained enough strength to sit up on your own, let alone walk—and walking is putting it lightly. It was more of a stiff legged shuffle better suited on a two hundred year old woman seconds from disintegrating into dust at the mere hint of a breeze.  

Not to mention—your right lung was all but shredded. Ripped apart from the plasma bolt and miraculously reconstructed by a more than questionable bacta tank, hopeful thoughts and well wishes. To this very day you still sound like a broken air filter. 

Eh.    

Could be worse. 

At least you aren’t dead. 

Just another setback that adds on the growing pile of reasons why never to leave the Covert. Free food, free board and mild entertainment to top it off. Paz had stayed at your bedside for the most part while you recovered—stuck with babysitting your sorry ass until you regained a bit of mobility. The times Paz hadn’t been at your side to stave off the boredom, it was up to you to find your own fun. 

Snooping is what Paz had labeled it—but you saw it more as an adventure. You met Din Djarin exploring (lost is what you actually were) in the dimly lit underbelly of Nevarro, after all. Yes, you may have scared the ever loving shit out of the poor guy and yes, he may have singed off your brows with a five foot jet of fucking fire—but hey. No one got hurt.        

And you made a new friend. Sorta…Din is difficult to read, subtler in his soft spoken words and quiet demeanor. A bit like a skittish loth-cat at the start, but nowadays it’s not uncommon to find him lounging in the same space as you or hovering over your shoulder, awfully curious in whatever it is you choose to do. Like Paz, Din isn’t overly fond of sharing much information about himself but he never complains after you regale tales of your own vastly fascinating past. He seems interested enough—tilts his head a tick to the right when you speak to indicate that yes, he’s listening despite the unforgiving dark line of his visor.      

There are others in the Covert too—some so elusive you have a hard time believing they exist. Shadows of what they once were before the rise of the Empire. And so, you count yourself lucky that you’d been introduced to two others—Aeris Fenn, a young man nearly as tall as a Wookie, and a woman named Ives Arrey; her armor a flashy green—damn near florescent in the light. 

They’re nice enough company. Aeris is a chatterbox, his wit sharper than a blade but lacking in any forethought before he speaks. Ives is the far opposite—rolls each sentence in her mouth before she voices it, but in no way is she angelic. Maker—you’d bet your entire left asscheek she’s behind each bad decision and silly shenanigans Aeris sticks his nose into. He never learns—not after a harsh chiding or cuff around the helmet from Paz or the Armorer could dampen is childlike enthusiasm or steer him away from repeating the same mistake over and over.  

Though if you read one more kriffing sentence of this garbage magazine you’re about to invite chaos himself to entertain you. Good thing too because just as you sit up to find the red armored Mandalorian—Paz rounds the corner and steps into your little broom closet that hardly passes for a room. 

“Paz!” You greet, tossing the magazine over your shoulder. “Please tell me we’ll be doing something interesting or else I might start ripping my hair out. Or maybe commit a heinous crime—haven't decided yet.”      

Paz grunts and shakes his head. “You’ll be doing neither. But today we’ll be sparing—hopefully that will curve your boredom.”

You scrunch up your face. “Sparring? Er, no thanks—I choose life.” 

“You breathe funny since your injury,” he says, jabbing a finger between your ribs. “And all you’ve been doing lately is laying around.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you sneer, tucking your arms over your chest. “Didn’t realize I was supposed to be running laps with half a lung.”

“It’s like stretching a muscle, you need to gain your strength back.” He retorts. “This will be good for you.” 

You groan and flop back into bed. “I don’t wanna. I was pretty much dead like three cycles ago—cut me some slack, man.”

There’s a brief silence as if he’s mulling over your words, but he’s stubborn. You crane your head to look at him as he says your name with a deep sigh attached to it.   

“Truthfully, I’m surprised you’ve survived this long.” He says it quietly, fragile even, like he’s still expecting you to tip over and die on the spot. You very well might.  

You huff. “Wow. Thanks, Paz.” 

You feel his heavy stare through the helmet. “What happened to you that night was a mistake. It wasn’t preventable but the least I can do is teach you basic selfdefense.”  

You gripe out your complaints but you know you’ve been beat—and well, a bit of your agreement is based on guilt. 

Damn it.  

                                                     -=-=-=-

It’s weird to see Paz without his heavy duty gear—like seeing him naked or a crab without a shell. The only piece he continues to wear is his helmet and padded gloves and under clothes, but it’s still weird. Strange enough that it shocks you tongue into remaining still instead of bitching about this. 

He leads you to a wing of the Covert you’ve yet to discover and ushers you through the doorway. The floor is padded, a bit smaller than you expected and already occupied by none other than Aeris Fenn. 

It’s a whole other kriffing shock to the head seeing him without the plates and layers of fabric and beskar too. The armor makes him bulkier—fuller and much more intimidating. Now, with only his black underclothes on, Aeris could be the spitting image of a sentient tree. Willowy limbs that stick out like branches as he stretches on the padded mat. He lazily swings his head around as you greet him, his face still covered by the black beskar painted with streaks of red. 

“So you choose sparring over knife throwing?” Aeris snorts. “And to think I thought of you as a friend.” 

“You think I chose to be here?” You say, grumpy and still upset at the choice of activity. Really, a brisk walk around the Covert would’ve been fine.

Aeris shrugs. “Ah, and I see you’ve roped in my favorite vod. Tch, he uses his fists instead of his words to teach. I wish you luck—you’ll need it.”      

You open your mouth to retort but Paz beats you to it. 

“Leave.” 

“I’ve just arrived, actually,” Aeris scoffs, folding his torso over his other leg to stretch. “Perhaps you could reschedule. After all—our guest is quite free most days.” 

Welp—you’re perfectly fine with that. Problem solved. 

You spin on your heel and make a break for it but Paz snatches your wrist and pulls you back to his side. “Aeris.”  

“Paz,” Aeris mocks, tipping his helmet to the side. 

Paz exhales, a long, tired sound and grovels out another plea in clipped Mando’a. Aeris languidly stands and brushes off imaginary dust from the front of his pants. “Sorry, what was that? I don’t understand your accent.” 

“Boy—“

“No, no, it’s alright.” Aeris sighs, waving his hand in a mopey display as if he were told that his birthday party were canceled for the fifth year in a row. “I’d have trouble speaking too if my enormously thick head were cooped up in that little bucket of yours all day.”  

You wince. 

In the time you’ve known Paz Vizsla, he’s never been one to launch into rash decisions fueled by anger—he lets it simmer and build like an oncoming storm over the ocean. Devastating once it reaches land.

Aeris bobs his head and inspects his black leather glove, picking at a loose thread on the inseam over the thumb. He clicks his tongue. “Or'dinii—you’re going to kill her.”  

Your offended scoff is ignored as Paz steps forward; jutting his chin up to even out the few inches Aeris holds over the man. “You still haven’t learned to shut your mouth, boy.” 

The tension surges and crackles like a volt of electricity through the air—unresolved and ready to ignite with the sparking embers of Paz’s growing irritation. It’s not a fight Aeris Fenn will win. He’s volatile and hotheaded—but his expertise is in long range weaponry. Precise, deadly and swift—not whatever this little pissing match is heading towards.    

Aeris clicks his tongue as Paz digs a fist into the black fabric of his shirt. Paz yanks him forward, the metallic clink of their helmets colliding an unpleasant scrape that pierces your eardrums. Aeris snarls out sharpened words in Mando’a as his willowy fingers shoot up to curl beneath the lip of Paz’s helmet. 

In the blink of an eye, Paz lifts Aeris up by his collar and launches him across the room like he weighs nothing more than a couple of down pillows. His helmet meets the wall with a resounding clank, chipping some of the red paint outlining the visor. Ouch. 

Like a kicked dog, Aeris clambers to his feet, still dazed and swaying and for a fearful second you think he’ll retaliate. But with whatever braincells he happens to possess today—he instead spits out a venomous curse that even yourself would hesitate to repeat. He leaves without another word, bristling with rage. 

Your flash Paz a questioning stare. “The hell was that about?” 

Paz waves it away with an irritated grunt. “His heart is in the right place but he is young. Aeris doesn’t understand his place in the Covert yet and I doubt he will for years to come.” 

You frown. “Poor guy…” 

Paz mutters something under his breath. “Enough distractions. We’ve wasted enough time already.”

“Y’know…I think that’s enough excitement for today. I think I’ll be going now—“ Your last ditch attempt at weaseling out of this is quickly thwarted the moment you turn your back.  

You wheeze as the heel of Paz’s palm shoves into your shoulder blade, the force of it sending you stumbling to the ground. “Paz—“

“Go on. Hit me,” he orders. You squeak, narrowly avoiding the well aimed kick that skims the top of your scalp. 

You scramble to your feet, skirting out of range of the oncoming right hook. “So you attack me instead?” 

“How do you expect to catch quarries who are bigger than you?” He presses. You hiss as the points of his knuckles dig into the meat of your shoulder. 

You dance out of reach and rub your arm, a dull throb flaring up in the muscle. “I dunno—electrocute them?”

“Not if they take you by surprise.” 

You screech as his knuckles skim your cheek. Adrenaline pierces you veins and you wildly throw a flaky punch that wouldn’t even impress a toddler. He catches your fist with ease, his entire hand dwarfing your clenched fingers. “You can do better than that.” 

You snarl and struggle to rip your hand back. “I’m a scrapper. I don’t fight.”

“No,” he retorts. You fall onto your ass as he abruptly lets go of your hand. “You’re a bounty hunter.” 

You roll your eyes. “Hardly—why can’t I just stay here?”

Although there’s nothing to see with that swatch of black covering his eyes, you can certainly feel the look he’s giving you. A deep sigh hisses through the vocoder. “You can stay here—“

A triumphant smile splits across your face—

“—but not without contributing where it’s due.”

You puff up your cheeks and let out a dismayed stream of air. “Booo—lame.”

He sighs again and helps you off the floor. “Even if you leave the Guild, what I’m teaching you is helpful.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you say. “I’ll give you a call after I use your invaluable skills to beat up some thug.”

Paz ignores your comment and turns on his heel. “Let’s go through it again. This time use your front two knuckles instead of your whole fist.”

As your eyes land over the stretch of tight fighting fabric over his back an idea pops into your head. It’s a petty move but getting a punch in is fruitless—like trying to beat up a brick wall. You don’t fancy a broken hand and your knuckles are already bruised and swollen to the point where it’s hard to bend them. 

And so, without any forethought and with a running head start, you launch yourself onto him, your arms coiling around his neck. It does the job—takes him by surprise and makes him tip to the right. 

Aha! Yes!

Your reign of victory is short lived, however—

He latches onto your forearms strung around his neck and yanks. And much in the same way he threw Aeris like a sack of potatoes—you’re no different. For a short stretch of time that feels kriffing endless; you soar through the air, your directional whereabouts violently ripped out beneath you and equally nauseating in the same breath. 

Why you ever agreed to this—you don’t know.   

Your shoulder blade connects with the mat first, leaving behind a dull sting as you roll and tumble with uncontrollable momentum. Oh, yeah—you’ll feel that in the morning. 

Groaning, you thank the Maker that your body eventually settles into a miserable little pile of limbs and pain. But, it seems whatever higher power that lingers in the edges of the galaxy hasn’t decided to put you out of your misery just yet. 

A bulky shadow blocks out the dim lighting overhead, and for a brief anxiety ridden moment you’re afraid it’s Paz. You roll onto your back with a pathetic groan, a beg for mercy on the tip of your tongue—but as your eyes flutter open they’re met with an entirely different man. 

Din Djarin looms over you, his head cocked to the side as you blink in dumbfounded bewilderment. Ah, hell— 

You swallow, a furious heat bitting at your cheeks. “Uh…fine weather we’re having…”

“We’re inside,” he states with a brief glance up to the ceiling. 

You purse your lips. “Huh.”

With a pensive hum he offers his hand, you sigh and roll over, accepting his gloved hand. He hoists you up easily and adjusts your rumpled collar. “You ok?”

“Pfft, yeah,” you groan, rubbing your throbbing shoulder. “Never better.”

The low grumble of your name is a cross between disbelief and irritation. Din jerks his head, his attention zeroing in on Paz. “Are you trying to kill her?” 

“She isn’t made of glass.” 

“She is still recovering—“

Normally you’d intervene, but their bickering is tiring and it gives you the excuse to lie down. By the time one of them caves you’ve counted exactly one hundred and twelve weird ceiling stains. They should get that checked out.  

“Very well,” Paz snarls, cutting through your wandering thoughts. “You teach her.” 

Din scoffs, his shoulders drawn tight as he stomps over to your splayed out self. “Get up.”

“Geez, fine,” you grumble, not in the mood to test his patience further. “Since you asked so nicely.”

Later he’ll no doubt apologize but right now? He has to prove a point. Din cuts right to it, moves in close to place your clenched fists in the right stance and nudges at your feet until they’re a bit wider than hip distance. 

“You have to get in close with a bigger opponent,” he says, stepping into your space until your fists are close enough to touch his chest. “We don’t have much range here—easier to break our guard too.” 

“Right. And how would you suggest I do that?”

“You’re always beating me at cards.” Din says, tipping his head to the side. “You have a clever mind. Use it.” 

“But I always cheat.” You point out, dropping your guard to swat at a stray hair.   

He catches your wrists and returns them to where they ought to be. “Quick enough to get away with it.” 

You make a noise of uncertainty but do as you're told. Din takes a couple steps back and with a rough order you begin. 

He’s faster than Paz—bats at your guard in quick bursts and steps away when you attempt to hit back. It’s a dance almost—somehow elegant in its brutality of bruises and flashes of pain as you move around one another. Compared to Din, Paz is almost clumsy but unpredictable. Din—despite the rapidness of his attacks and evasiveness, becomes predictable.

He steps to to left—you follow. He rocks onto his toes to jab his fist forward and that’s where you find a break. Punching Din’s helmet won’t do you any good but catching the juncture of his shoulder with your elbow is completely feasible. Too bad that you’re not the only one with a clever mind.        

Din uses the momentum of your attack to catapult you to the ground—his own body rolling with you in order to capture you in a headlock of sorts. This sucks. After this you’ll never be setting foot in this Maker forsaken room again. 

Din tightens his elbow that’s looped around your throat as you squirm and flail, trapped against his chest. He grunts as your elbow digs into his ribs but holds steady and snakes his free arm across your front, pinning your limbs to your body in an unbreakable vice. All mobility is cut off as his knee pushes between your thighs, locking your leg out into an uncomfortable and frankly quite awkward angle. 

Inhaling a shaky breath, you arch as the crown of his helmet skims along the curve of your throat; the bite of beskar frigid and startling against your flushed skin. You can see his visor out of the corner of your eye; glittering and dark like the polished obsidian on Black Spire and endless like the greedy maw of a black hole. 

Your breath hitches as he shifts and curls his head closer to your ear. His voice rumbles low and deep through his chest and vibrates against the delicate cartilage. “Yield.” 

However much your pride wrestles with the sensible part of your brain, it’s all for naught as you jerk your head in defeat.  

In retrospect you should’ve said something—used your voice or made some kinda sound because suddenly Din’s forearm digs alarmingly hard into your windpipe. He read the stuttered jerk of your head as another pitiful act of defiance but no. Nope. 

Here you are—asphyxiating.   

Not exactly what you had in mind, being strangled by a Mandalorian and all—but a chokehold where you could very well die was not it. 

Fuzzy darkness begins to shade the corners of your vision, lightheadedness and a curious warmth that prickles down your spine settling low in your belly. A raspy gasp manages to slip through your blocked off airway, and stars why does this feel good?   

“Din—”

Paz’s sharp bark is distant above the ringing in your ears and it all stops.

You gulp in air that burns your throat like refined fire whiskey—hunched over the mat as a large palm rubs soothing circles over your upper back. You cough and roll over, sounding like a dying animal run over by a speeder then hit with a spiked club to polish it off. 

You’re quickly herded into Paz’s arms and pulled into his lap. Still wheezing and attempting to recover lost oxygen, whatever Din is trying to say translates into an indiscernible hum against the ringing in your ears.  

“I’m fine,” you mutter, though neither of them care to listen. Like bristling wolves, snapping at each other’s heels.  

“Apologize to her,” there’s not so much as a centimeter of room to argue. “Now.”           

It’s nice of Paz you suppose—defending your honor and what not, but you’re not a vengeful person. It was an honest mistake and you want to explain that so Din quits looking like a kicked puppy, yet the sudden touch over your ankle stops you. All the times Din has initiated contact it’d been a friendly pat to your shoulder or ruffling you hair, and while touching your ankle isn’t exactly scandalous it’s certainly an odd place to put your hand on. 

Your fingers clutch Paz’s shirt as you eye the man lingering at the bottom of your feet, his gloved thumb unconsciously rubbing patterns into the exposed skin between your boot and your pant leg. “Cyare—I’m sorry.” 

You blink and lick your lips. Interesting. “I-I don’t know what that word means.”

His hand inches higher, resting on the swell of your calf. “Sweetheart…darling…loved one—“ 

There’s a shift—a dark undercurrent that none of you should be dipping your toes into. There’s a million and one things to say or do to sever this at the root, but are you going to? Nah. 

Din’s thumb now rests over your knee, goosebumps following in his wake. “Should I keep going?” 

It too hot—stuffy with both of their heavy stares locked on your flushed face. You squirm and glance up at Paz who only offers an impassive stare. Great.   

“I can make it up to you,” Din continues, his hand stationary—a warm weight even through the fabric of your pants. “If you let me.” 

Your mouth feels drier than the desert on Jakku. This…nothing good could come out of what Din is hinting at. This is uncharted territory—launching yourself into the great unknown without any idea of what’ll fester and grow if you agree. 

It’s not like it hasn’t crossed your mind—it’s just…it’s never been both of them at the same time. These men are short-tempered, an open flame to jet fuel with deeply seated ire woven into the very fabric of their beings. You’ve barely scratched the surface on the inner workings of their mutual hostility, but you’re bright enough to question if this will make it worse. Tinder and brittle twigs feeding and enabling the hungry flames of rivalry to spiral and consume with chaotic brilliance of a dying star—

But, oh—

Isn’t it worth taking the risk? 

You suck in a grounding breath and slowly extend your leg that Din touches, gingerly skimming the toe of your shoe along the inseam of his inner thigh. “H-how would you…make it up to me?”

Din preens at your answer and shuffles closer, lifting your legs so that they rest in his lap. Devotion drips off his words like a fine liquor as he toys with the laces on your boots. “Anything—say it and it’s yours.”    

Sparks of molten heat race down your spine and metastasize in your lower belly, spreading through each vein and artery like a some sort of invasive ivy. You spare a look up at Paz as he shifts.      

“Go ahead, girl,” Paz assures. “Answer him.” 

It’s an unspoken, buzzing sort of thing like the static air before a storm, crackling and surging with pent up energy. You all know the implications of what’s to come—but it’s your words, quiet and steady that irons that nail into your coffin.

“Take me like you mean it.” 

The next few moments pass in a dizzying blur, a mess of anticipation as your shoes are yanked off, your pants following soon after and tossed into some unknown corner of the room. Paz helps you out of your shirt, a shiver wracking through your body from the chill, leaving you bare save for your underthings. Yet the warmth that seeps through his shirt and his hands that linger over your ribcage do a lovely job at making up for the cold.

Din shuffles closer and brings his fingers up to cup the side of your face, lowering his head to rest the crown of his helmet on your forehead. “Wanna touch you.” 

Your breath hitches as Paz’s hands sweep up your torso, cupping and kneading your breasts. “Y-you already are touching me, Din." 

Paz snorts as the rough leather of his gloves scrape over your skin and unhook your bindings. You hardly hear Din over your own whine as Paz rolls your hardened nipples between a forefinger and thumb. 

“I want to feel you—without the gloves,” Din clarifies, fighting to keep your attention on him. “Will you let me?”  

Maker that shouldn’t even be a question. You moan out your approval, delighted that both of them decide to slip off the padded fabric. Din touches your bare thigh the same moment Paz returns his hands to your tits and it’s exhilarating. The rasp of their bare palms against your flesh is addicting—something so foreign and warm compared to their usual armor and thick layered clothing. 

You arch into Paz’s hand as it curls around the base of your throat, a tentative pressure but still heavy. “You’d let us do anything, wouldn’t you? Needy little thing.”

“Yes,” you croak, already debauched and falling apart at the seams. “Anything.”

You’re all too happy to fade away in the embrace of the larger man but the other participant is far from letting that slide. Din grabs your hand, guiding it towards the front of his trousers, the drawstrings already loose and easy to pull aside. He groans and twitches as your fingertips flirt along his navel, then curl over the waistband, tugging his pants the rest of the way down to pool around his knees. 

You reach for the already impressive outline of his cock pressing against his boxers, but Paz cupping your cunt through your underwear just before you touch Din is distracting. You gasp and arch as Paz digs the heel of his palm against your clit, electrifying ecstasy zipping down your spine with each touch. 

There’s a twinge of guilt after Din huffs and drags your limp wrist back to his cock, this time encouraging you to palm him by guiding your actions with his own hand until you lazily oblige. Din’s quiet grunts, gravely against the vocoder do nothing but throw more jet fuel to the fire inside your belly. The growing urge to actually touch him gnaws and corrodes the forefront of your brain. With a firm yank his boxers are quick to join his trousers and Maker—

Fuck—

Will he even fit?

Din is thick, rosy brown and flushed at the tip and beginning to curl towards his bellybutton. A bead of liquid shines at the tip, dribbling down the underside as he wraps his fist around the base of his length. He gives himself a languid stroke before he, once again, reminds your hand of what it’s supposed to be doing. Din is searing in your palm, molten and stiffening to hardened steel in your grip.   

“You look so fuckin’ pretty like this,” Din hisses as his head rolls back onto his shoulders. “S-so pretty holding my cock.”

Your desperation tears at your insides, insatiable and Maker— you wanna taste him. You want to hear every little stuttered moan and feel each twitch of his hips as he claims your mouth as his own.    

But before you’re able to ask Din if he’d be willing to fuck your throat, Paz grips your knee and slings your leg over his thigh, murmuring praise as he peels off your underwear. Paz’s hand snakes down to your pussy and runs two thick fingers through your already slick cunt, then delicately parts your folds. 

It’s like a fucking bomb going off as his thumb grazes over your swollen clit. His forearm locks tight around your waist, keeping you in place as you arch and tremble. Paz is feather light and teasing, as he strokes over the little bundle of nerves in a painstakingly slow rhythm. 

“Paz—“ 

He nudges your cheek with his helmet and chuckles. “You’re so sensitive, vaar’ika. Such lovely noises too.”  

Paz trades in his light touches for using his two fingers instead. They form a relaxed ‘v’ shape, trapping your clit in between the digits as he massages in a steady up and down motion. You cry out, every nerve shocked and flooded with saccharine pleasure, shoving you so treacherously close to that precarious edge of release.      

You have no fucking chance as a different set of fingers, leaner in length but just as bulky, carefully prod at your entrance. Din’s pointer finger slides into your cunt, quickly adding a second as your core clenches and stretches for him. The dual sensations over your clit and Din’s fingers steadily pumping and curling inside you send you hurling into that dazzling white-hot pleasure.     

Throwing your head back, you cry out—a jumbled mess of their names or just nonsense— pleasure crackling out from your core and all the way down your legs. Your cunt tightens like a vice around Din’s digits, your legs twitching as your high dips into prickly overstimulation. You whine, and swat at Paz’s hand, Din pulling out his own fingers a moment later and wiping your wetness on the inside of your thigh. 

Your head rests in the crook of Paz’s shoulder as your breath fans across the side of his helmet, fogging up the metal where the blue paint is chipped and scraped away. The shirt he wears smells a bit like sweat but the underlying scent of him is comforting—worn leather and something crisp, like fresh laundry. You don’t mean for the words to slip out—

You know better than that, but everything feels muddled and silly and, and, and—

“I wish I could kiss you.”  

It’s like dousing ice cold water on a pile of smoldering coals. A silence, petrifying and like the inhale before jumping off a cliff and into a rocky sea, ensues. Stupid, stupid, stupid—  

Paz shatters the fragile suspense with a rich laugh that burns away all the icy worry making itself a home in your ribcage. He moves his arm up, his fingers gripping your jaw to fix your gaze onto the other Mandalorian. “You want his mouth on you too?”  

You whimper and nod, but it isn’t enough. 

“Use your voice vaar’ika,” Paz hums, pressing the crown of his helmet against your cheek. “Tell us want you want.” 

“I-fuck—” Paz’s fingertips sneak up your torso, rough callous catching deliciously on your skin. “I wan’t your mouth on me. B-both of you.” 

Paz chuckles and releases his hold on your chin. “You’ll have to be blindfolded, sweet girl.”

Din scoffs, a harsh crackle through the vocoder. “Like she’d want to see your face anyway.”

“Please,” you mewl, turning your head to curl into Paz’s neck. It’s not ideal, but it’s a sacrifice you’re willing to make. “I don’t care. I need—“

“Patience, little one,” Paz purrs, rubbing up and down your bare sides in a soothing manner. All it does is stoke the flames. “You’ll get what you want.” 

Paz shifts, reaching for your abandoned shirt and stars—

You can feel his cock, firmer then tempered durasteel and poking into your lower back. Oh, hell—these men are going to ruin you. 

You’re nudged forward, your vision going dark once your shirt is securely tied around your head. The knot traps a few hairs that pull sharp against your scalp but the measly pain is worth it. Oh so worth it.  

“Is it too tight?” You hear Din ask, concern lacing his gravely vocals. 

You wave your hand in dismissal. “S’fine.”

“Cant see anything either, right?” 

You squirm, your patience spreading thin. “Din, please.”

“Fine.” There’s no bite to his tone and under different circumstances you’d have more composure. Acknowledge that they’re putting their religion, their whole being into your hands—a fragile trust that could so easily be shattered. 

Your ears pick up their subtle movements, their helmets landing onto the thin mat with soft thunks. With bated breath you wait for them to jump into action, seize every spare moment to taste your skin and breathe the same air. But—

“You need a haircut, vod.”

“And you need to shave.” Retorts Din with bitter indignation. 

“It’s hardly even stubble.” He chortles. You giggle and twist away as he scrapes his prickly cheek up and down your neck. “Besides—she likes it.” 

There’s another lull, and with the blindfold everything is amplified—the quick and quiet breathing of Din on your right and the slide of fabric against skin as Paz shifts. Your attention is captured by Din’s bare palm, warm and calloused like weathered leather left out in the afternoon sun. He caresses the outside of your thigh in smooth, longing strokes, enraptured by the softness of your skin. You whimper and let your leg fall open, exposing more of your thigh for his curious exploration. 

The sudden touch on your cheek is jarring. You know Paz is there—it’s not an easy thing to forget the solid chest you’re leaning against but it’s hard to focus. Difficult to settle on one thought before it slips away like grains of sand between a clenched fist. Paz’s touch is heavier than Din’s, ambitious and greedy but…mindful. Even as his fingers spread along your jaw and drag you into a deep, mouthwatering kiss. It’s…stars—   

There’s nothing that can describe this. No word that could ever hold a candle up to the way his lips, plush and soft, move against yours. His nose brushes against your cheek as he tilts his head and deepens the kiss, his warm tongue sliding against the seam of your bottom lip. 

You whine and bury your hand into his hair as Paz groans, a low rumble in his throat. You wonder what color it is, but carding your fingers through the curls atop his head suffices for now.

Your curiosity is abruptly ended as Din’s hand snakes around your forearm. You’re forcibly yanked away, only to be met with another pair of lips. Din murmurs an apology at the sting of his teeth bumping into your upper lip, but the pain is hardly the first thing on your mind. 

Din’s kiss is devouring—  

Scalding and bright—the galaxy, a thousand suns, all there ever will be and all that ever was. The way his lips move against yours is a devastatingly sharp contrast to the steady, syrupy sweet kiss Paz offers. Desperate and eager to surround you in his own arms—steal away any lingering thought and replace it with him. Din Djarin—  

You gasp as Din’s teeth nibble and pull on your bottom lip, only a moment before he surges closer, wrapping his hand around your jaw to hold it open as he licks deep into your mouth. Breaking for air, Din tangles his fingers into your hair at the base of your neck and yanks, baring the column of your throat. His travels down, the tender kisses morphing into teasing nips and lingering sucks that’ll turn into tender bruises in the morning. 

Din hovers over your breasts, his heated breath and cooling saliva the catalyst to the goosebumps that rush over your skin. He lightly tugs on your nipple using his teeth, then plants a sweet kiss over your sternum.   

“Can I taste you?” Din murmurs, his lips ghosting over your flesh. “Maker—wanna put my mouth on you.” 

“Din—“ A different set of lips latching onto the juncture of your neck and hijacks your train of thought. Wipes your mind clean until Paz is the sole thing you can consciously focus on. 

Paz laves his tongue over the shell of your ear and urges you to lean back against him once more. Your nose scrapes against his stubble as you tuck your head into the crook of his neck, his hips lazily rolling his hardened cock into your backside. 

“Or…” Paz rumbles, capturing your hand and interlacing your fingers with his. You marvel at the sheer size of his palm—astounded still when he leads his and your hands to palm his cock. “I could give you this. Fuck your pretty little cunt until you’re screaming for me.”

It’s a punch to the gut. Why the fuck do you have to choose? You squirm as Din points his tongue over your nipple then sucks it into his mouth. 

Working through the fog in your head, the answer is clearer than fucking crystal. Because who in their right mind would turn down a Mandalorian’s request to eat you out? Not you, that’s for sure. “Din—want your mouth.”

Din huffs in triumph and slips between your legs that part to accommodate his broad shoulders, leaving no patch of bare skin untouched and worshiped. You shiver as his tongue circles around your bellybutton then retreats. Din settles his head beside your knee and mouths a kiss there.  

You whine his name and buck your hips, heart beating wildly in your ears. The teasing is unbearable and, stars—if he doesn’t start now— 

He nibbles on the inside of your thigh, laving his warm tongue over each mark he leaves behind, buffering the sting of his teeth. Din snake his hands under your ass, hooking your knees over his shoulders as he heaves your cunt closer to his mouth. Din’s thumbs part your soaking pussy, his breath hot fanning over your cunt. His tongue his scalding—like liquid velvet as he dips the tip of his tongue from the base of your slit all the way up to your clit. 

Din sucks on the little bundle of nerves, rolling his tongue until you’re crying out, molten pleasure zipping through you. He grunts as your fingers tangle into his hair—fuck. Fuck, you need more.   

Arching into his mouth, all thoughts are obliterated; nothing but the warmth of his tongue, and his lips, devouring you as if he were a man seconds from death and you’re his saving grace. That frenzied desperation lingers on the edges of his movements like he’s afraid you’ll fade into smoke—but you’re not going anywhere. Not even a million credits could convince you to push Din’s head away. 

He sinks two fingers into your clenching hole and curls his fingers, stroking and curling his fingertips to make you sing. Zeros in on that little spot that causes the involuntary twitches of your leg and wrenches embarrassing, high pitched mewls that fill the room. You’re careening towards your high, the sensitivity of your last orgasm amping up the influx of pleasure. 

“Shit—Din. Close—I’m so close,” you gasp, pulling his hair tight enough that you know it must hurt. He makes no sign that it does, just groans and buries his tongue into your dripping hole, licking alongside his fingers that shovel more of your wetness into his mouth. 

Your release unfurls through your body like sticky molasses—smoldering embers that seep into each limb until they’re heavier than lead. Fuck—it’s so hard to think and at this rate your brain is as good as gone.   

You pay only a fraction of attention to Din as he kisses his way back up your body and lands a final one over your lips. His thumb grazes over your chin, his gravelly words of praise cutting through some of that foggy haze, how good you were, how fucking delicious you tasted when you came on his tongue. You taste your own arousal on his mouth as he noses your cheek and captures your lips in another kiss.           

“Are you done?” Paz asks dryly, much too barbed to be thrown your way. You groan when Paz jostles your limp body as he hoists you back into his lap.

“Just starting, actually,” Din quips. “Why don’t you hand her back over? I’ve got some more things I wanna try.” 

Paz scoffs and secures a heavy arm around your middle. “Greed will get you nowhere.” 

“Neither will your arrogance.” 

“Shut up—both of you,” you interrupt. Your voice is raw and choppy but it does the job. “Just fuck me already.”

For now their little spat is sidelined—it’s not worth ripping off that bandage of a temporary truce. There’s a chaste moment of quiet, like they’re considering tearing into each other’s throats instead, but with a touch to Paz’s thigh the standoff fizzles out. 

“We need to work on your manners,” Paz suggests, curling his large, calloused hand around your neck in a loose hold. “I believe it’s please fuck me.” 

Maybe if you weren’t practically a pile of brainless goo, you’d argue. See how far you can push—though this time you fold. “Please fuck me. P-please—I need it.” 

Seemingly satisfied with your answer; Paz wedges a hand between your bodies to grip his cock and run the tip through your folds, soaked from you own wetness and Din’s saliva. The head of his member nudges at your entrance, and wether it’s his size or the fact you can’t see anything—you panic. 

Your hand shoots out, nails harpooning into the meat of his forearm. “W-wait—you’re too b-big.”  

Paz freezes and moves you up his lap and presses a kiss over you hairline. “We can stop. Just say—“

“N-no, I’m fine,” you assure, planting an apologetic peck on his stubbled jaw. Stopping is the last thing you want to do—it was just…overwhelming. A sensory overload testing the very fringes of your being. “Go slow?”

You feel his head bob in compliance as he moves you back to where you’re hovering over his cock. You relax this time, not as many alarm bells clanging through your head as your cunt flutters around the fat tip and then that glorious, first thick inch. Paz’s thumb bumps over your throbbing clit, coaxing your pussy to take him further. 

“Yeah, that’s it vaar’ika,” he grunts, his breath fanning over your neck in quick pants. “Taking my cock so fucking well. So nice and pretty.”

Your pussy flutters, fresh waves of arousal hot and burning.You nearly keel over when Paz starts shallowly rocking his hips, easing your body the rest of the way down his length until the back of your thighs touch his. Maker—how the hell is he all the way inside? You can feel him in your fucking guts—         

“See?” Paz purrs. He sucks a bruise into the meat of your shoulder and pushes his palm against your lower stomach, making the fit even tighter. “Fits fucking perfect.”

The noise your cunt makes pulling out and the debauched moan that filters through his vocal chords is obscene. If anyone where to walk by, well—it’s certainly not training that’s going on, for the better lack of words. 

Paz holds true to his word—keeps his pace limited to deep, languid thrusts that brush up against something that makes your whole body shake—like strumming a golden chord molded to a musician’s fingers. Fuck—he’s doing all the work too. Lifting you by the swell of your hips and pulling you down onto his cock with a rough buck of his hips. 

Abruptly, he slows to a gentle rocking—quick to lock you in place as you thrash and roll your hips. “Paz—n-no. Keep going. You n-need to—“

Paz silences your please with a wet, open mouthed kiss. “Our friend looks lonely. Why don’t you use that pretty mouth and suck his cock?” 

Din. 

You hear the man curse in Mando’a, probably some stab at Paz—

But with a pat to your outer thigh, you don’t need any more prompting—you’d give up your left hand to get a chance to suck him off. With the help of Paz, you’re eased onto your hands and knees, shocks of white-hot pleasure zipping through your core at the change of angle. Like this Paz is seated deeper inside, stabbing into each spot that makes you sing.    

Fuck—your arms are shaking—only able to hold yourself up for half a click and then you’re sinking face first into the floor, ass in the air as he fucks into you. Paz clicks his tongue and wraps his arm around your front, pulling you back up from your slumped position. 

“I told you to suck his cock, girl. Not take a nap.” Paz accentuates his words with heavy, well measured thrusts—the kind of force you know will leave your whole lower half throbbing and sore in the aftermath. 

You whine as Paz grabs a hold of your jaw, digging into the tender joints until your mouth falls open. “Good. Keep it like that.” 

Paz’s hand falls away, replaced by a softer touch. The pads of Din’s fingers hook under your chin, guiding and tempting you nearer to what rests between his legs, hot and heavy and large.       

You feel the tip of his cock, flushed and pulsing, rest on your bottom lip. You lap up the beads of sticky precum with kitten licks that morph into suckling the entire head. Din grunts out your name and tangles his hand into your hair as you tongue at the ridged frenulum. He never forces you to swallow down more of him—lets you cradle the first few inches in the wet warmth of your mouth and languidly roll the pad of your tongue around him. 

You want to take him deeper, let Din fuck your throat raw, but your jaw already aches. Your lips are pulled tight around his shaft, drool dribbling down your chin and landing on the mat below. You’re not sure if you could take more of him without the danger of your teeth catching or dislocating your jaw. So you manage like this—hollowing out your cheeks and and using the momentum of Paz’s thrusts to pleasure Din.          

It’s frustrating—it must be each time you let his cock slip out of your mouth to breathe or the fact Din isn’t able to fucking fit his cock into your mouth. Annoying that you aren’t able to think properly to help him out a bit ore when that said brain is being fucked straight outta you, put through the wringer and then body slammed onto duracrete. 

Din cups your cheek, strokes over your skin with his thumb and maneuvers himself out of your mouth. You whine and lean into his palm, his touch addictive like smoldering coals in the dead of winter.    

“You want me there instead of him?” Din purrs, using the tips of his index and middle fingers to tilt your chin and drag you into an open mouthed kiss. “Fuck you like you deserve.” 

The profane imagery of Din between your legs instead makes you clench tight. It only takes a couple seconds and a few more feverish kisses before you’re nodding to his request. Paz mutters a swear, hesitates, and reluctantly pulls out, leaving your cunt empty and aching with need. 

Din, however, is speedy—quick to hoard you to himself and yank your legs over his hips so that you’re draped on his lap. He jumps straight to the point, no fancy maneuver or drawn out teasing—just grabs the base of his cock, slides the flushed tip between your folds and sinks into your cunt. Even after your pussy had been stretched and molded around Paz’s length, you struggle to take Din’s entire cock into your aching center. It’s easier than Paz but, Maker—not by much. 

You whine, harpooning your fingernails into his shoulder once he bottoms out. Din snarls a curse and latches his teeth onto the juncture between your neck and shoulder, prickly pain shooting directly to your belly. “Fucking tight. H-how—fuck.”

There’s no time to adjust before Din sets a pace, harsh and desperate—his hands digging into the flesh of your ass for better leverage. Each roll of his hips borders erratic, taking his pleasure without thought—intent on reaching his own end before it could be yanked out from under him. Din’s staggered exhales below your ear are interlaced with subdued moans that start low in his ribcage then dip into a higher, airy pitch. A delicate sound you’ll guard closer to your chest than any secret you possess for the rest of your life—precious and yours. 

Din turns his head to steal a kiss. “You feel fuck—fucking good. Wanna feel you cum around me. S-squeezed so fucking hard around my fingers—“

You choke out a groan and feel your arousal begin to drip down your thighs—hear the thrusts of his cock into your cunt become shamefully wetter. Heat sizzles down each vertebrae in your spine, burning up each and every cell with the brilliance of a wildfire. Stars, this is gonna destroy you.      

Din’s hand sneaks between your bodies and rubs tight, little circles over you swollen clit. There’s no build up to your orgasm—just a blinding surge of blistering warmth that knocks you off your feet and steals away all the air left in your lungs. Your nails dig into Din’s back as you shake and grapple for a foothold in your own consciousness—the steady warmth of his body a much needed anchor for the madness that threatens to drown you.  

“Good girl,” Din praises, pace faltering from just how tight your pussy squeezes and flutters around his cock. “S-such a fucking good girl for me.”     

Regaining some semblance of control, you realize he’s still fucking going—still rock solid and throbbing, fucking you through the aftershocks of your release. Your arousal turns sharp, like rough cotton over a fresh sunburn as it dips into overstimulation. It’s not unpleasant but Din has to slow his hips to a delicate roll for you to recover.            

In the time it takes to inhale, a different calloused hand kneads into your lower back then smoothes up your spine. A second later you feel the scrape of Paz’s stubble prick along your exposed shoulder as his tongue drags along your sweat dampened skin—all the way up the curve of your neck and ending at the shell of your ear. 

You’re not sure if it’s intentional, but as Paz crowds closer the tip of his cock pokes at your other hole. With a surprised mewl, you tense and shy away—but he follows, molds his chest against your back to sandwhich you in. The hand gripping your bicep jumps to your neck and pulls your head against his shoulder. 

Two of Paz’s fingers dip down the curve of your ass and brush along the puckered skin—far less jarring this time. “Do you want to be fucked here too?” 

Maker—

You’re gonna fucking explode.  

Stuffed to the brim already, it’s hard to imagine Paz cramming himself in along with Din. A little red light blares in some corner of your mind but it’s quickly soothed as Paz plants soft kisses over your cheek and jaw. You trust him—there’s no reason to think he’ll hurt you or push you to the point of pain.

You catch his mouth with a kiss and rock your hips back. “Y-yeah, ok. I trust you.” 

You feel his smile curl against your cheek. “Don’t worry vaar’ika—I’ll take care of you.”

Paz strokes your bottom lip with his thumb and kisses the crown of your hairline as you sink into him. With his ring and middle finger, he pushes past the seam of your lips. “Suck.”

You obey, sealing your lips around his two digits and coating them in your saliva. Paz pulls them out with a pop and moves them between your legs, and with the added wetness dripping from your cunt, the first finger is easy enough. The second and third have you gasping as he scissors them and stretches your tight hole wider. You claw your nails into Din’s shirt—and he’s no better—Din’s own hands are clamping around your hips, struggling to keep still and biting back moans each time your cunt constricts. 

Your hips begins to meet the thrusts of Paz’s fingers as your body familiarizes the feel of him there. It’s a deep thrill that rushes up through your spinal cord—much different from anything you’ve felt before. 

“You like this, don’t you?” Paz goads, chuckling when you whine as he extracts his fingers. “I think you’re ready to take my cock, yeah?”

You shudder and nod, your voice no more than a squeak as it pilfers out. Paz strokes the top of your head and tips you forward into Din’s eager arms as Paz slicks up his length in a mix of precum and your dripping arousal. He touches the swell of you ass in warning, lines himself up with your hole and wedges the tip of his cock inside of you.     

Involuntary tears dampen your makeshift blindfold as Paz buries himself deeper, his rumbling tone urging you to relax—relax even though your mind is drowning in an ocean of arousal and swirling emotions you have no hope to pin down and analyze. It’s for the best—thankful as Paz bottoms out that it wrenches you back to a feasible reality you’re able to manage.

“Shit—I-I’m gonna die—“ You sob, writhing at just how full you are. But there’s nowhere to fucking go—     

“Easy,” Din breathes, and you wonder if he’s said it to keep his own head on his shoulders. “Easy.”

Din’s gravelly rasp cuts through the fog in your head, and stars—you sound like you’re fucking dying. Your wheezy breaths and lightheadedness would certainly suggest that—but no…no, you’re fine. Better than fine.     

A rush so acute and devastating launches up your spine as Din’s patience cracks. He experimentally rolls his hips and that’s the end of it. You’re swallowed up in that riptide you fought so hard to avoid—fuck. You won’t be the same after this. How can you?  

You can feel them both, separated by a thin wall as they sprint towards their own highs. You’re never once left empty—Din reaches the end of you as Paz pulls out and while there’s not exactly any finesse involves it’s the best fucking thing you’ve felt in your entire life. There’s no bickering—no teasing and you’re struck with an idea that makes you clench tight around both of them. You wouldn’t mind if this was the way they decided to settle scores or finally see eye to eye.   

This time you can’t discern your high—just a constant overflow of ecstasy and dazzling arousal like an imploding supernova. You cry their names—sob and shake in their hold with such fervor that Paz traps you tighter between them to keep you still.  

“Fuck—you get so fucking tight,” Paz growls, blunt nails digging into your hips. “And so fucking wet.”

His fingers touch the inside of your thigh and stars—he’s right. “I get to fuck your cunt next time—see how much you’ll drip for me.” 

Even if the blindfold were off—there’d be nothing to see but a white wash of nothing. Blinded by pleasure and bursting at the seems. 

Jealous, Din steals your breath away with a kiss, licking and nipping at your swollen lips until you whine his name. His jagged pants fan across your chin—chapped lips and patchy facial hair tickling across your bottom lip as you breath the same air. 

Din whispers your name like a prayer, his fingers clutching tight around your thighs as his pace starts to flounder to choppy jerks. “Shit. I-I’m close—“

Your fingers twist into his hair. “Yeah—ok baby. Let go.”

Din’s teeth sink into the base of your throat and cums. His seed coats your insides—hot and copious and fucking shit—if there’s a next time you want him to cum in your mouth.      

You don’t get time to relish Din’s stuttered gasps of your name, laced with praise and a show of a tender and bleeding heart before Paz is gathering up your hair in a tight fist and jerking your head up. “You—you want me to cum too? Say it.” 

Without a breath of hesitation you beg for it, cry and arch into him. It does the trick—

Paz is loud—shouts a thunderous roar and buries his cock deep into your hole. Din is still recovering from the aftershocks of his release when Paz pulls out after what seems like ages pumping you full. His cock no longer there to plug you up, his cum begins to dribble out and mix with the mess between your legs. Your legs shake and you wobble--crying out as Din slips out, your body dreadfully empty and aching.     

You're lowered to the mat by Din and if you weren't still trying to formulate words, you'd thank them. Lips dart over your cheeks and hairline, and for once nothing needs to be said. It’s nice...the radiating warmth from their bodies and the simmering flush through you body is something you could get used to. But you’re no stranger to the shifting tides of the future. 

You shrug it off.    

Your eyes are heavy and with one of them stroking your hair and the other your thigh, you drift to sleep. Later—later all unspoken things and disastrous words can be dealt with tomorrow. You must be dreaming when it’s said--careless and bold, but the words nestle into your heart and sprouts with fear. 

“You love her, don't you?” 

translation:

vaar’ika--pipsqueak 

or’dinni--dumbass idiot 

vod--brother/comrade 

tag list: 

@bobafctts​ @djxrxn​ @teaofpeach​ @corrupt-fvcker​ @nelba​ @datmando​ @ben-is-a-hoe​ @dreams-like-clockwork​ @aerynwrites​ @auty-ren​ @huliabitch​ @anxiety-riddled-mando​ @phoenixhalliwell​ @trippedmetaldetector​ 

[samthecookielord]

Sam makes a pinned post on her main 2021 2023 2024colourized

Art Blog: @samtheartblog (mostly just reblogs from my main lol)

Open to art requests and art trades!! Shoot me an ask! or dm me (if its an art trade)! :]

So sorry if I haven't responded to your ask in a while!! I am cursed with the spell of forgets to do that and/or procrastinates

💜Do not repost my artworks to other platforms. The only exception is Discord, but please link the original post if you do! You may use my art in profile pictures/headers/etc. on any platform as long as you credit me via link, or username + platform :]

🎤Want to dub my comics? Ask me first! I'll probably say yes, but it's good practice! (Plus, I'd love to see the dub when you've finished! And I can also help if you need isolated panels and such!)

Wanna know how far I am into the Layton series or look at my playthrough videos orrrr look at layton AUs i consistently tag on my blog?

🍪carrd🍪

🐈neocities🐈

☕Ko-Fi☕ (im selling stickers!)

🎀COMMISSION INFO (open)!🎀

Check #cookie lords commissions for examples!

🍭Art n stuff🍭 <- #cookie lords art

✨Edits n stuff✨ <- #cookie lords edit

🎵Music n stuff🎵 <- #cookie lords music

🎮Games I made🎮<- #cookie lords games

🖌hi fight me in the dennys parking lot by drawing each others ocs!! (theres a bunch of my oc refs here)🖌

🎯Artfight Hitlist Form

Feel free to ask me about my ocs or aus!! :]

Once again i apologize to anyone who follows me for one specific thing loll

(Vv Feel free to request that i add any of my blog's tags to the list below!! vV)

🎉🎉 Cool AU or OC tags/links or whatever the hell i want idk:

MY AUS!!! vv

#one but spaceboy i mean comety is there for some reason - hfjone but spaceboy from omori, taken directly from headspace, is thrown in with batch 3

#omori deltarune au - consists of 90% spaceboy content LOLL but some lightner!spaceboy content isnt tagged with this cuz idk. Find it in the lightner!spaceboy tag lol (omorune masterpost)

#omori soft science au - me and pastel were like What if our ocs were omori..

#pastel corruption stuff - literally anything i post that has to do with @ pastel-player's corruption concept

#sol omori au - margaret dooley, aka Elegy in Headspace, adventures with her friends Terrence, Bruise, and Noël as kids

#mcsm s3 admin jesse au - what if season 3 of minecraft story mode existed and jesse was forced to become the admin? (Poll series & doc here)

I moved my layton aus to my layton status post (scroll up!)

OC STUFF!!! vv

#paint city - original oc world based on different kinds of art

#2 bards 1 evil wizard - shadows over loathing ocs and obie go on a journey together (timeline doc here)

Straight up just a spreadsheet of people's loathing ocs have fun

#magic stick smackdown - hypothetical stick figure fighting game where everyone has magicpowers

#interdimensional server shenanigans - catch some glimpses at this friend oc server im in where we roleplay as our ocs crossing over in one discord server that timespace!kale created

BLIND DATE TOURNAMENT POST

Blind date tournament sequel post

Blind date tourney THREEQUEL post

MODDING TAGS vv

#loathing shenanigans - (for west of loathing and shadows over loathing) it is a Journey in there

#oneshot shenanigans - not much here

#omori shenanigans - mostly memey graphics editing

#wandersong shenanigans - just memey music changes

ETC. IDK vv

#random stuff - my talk tag sorta. Im rlly inconsistent with it tho lolll (i used to just use it for anything non-fandom related but now its a talk tag i forget to use sometimes)

Capitalist poll. (Read the saga in order here!)

SOL CHARACTER COMPILATION MASTERPOST

#vibe doodles - any art i make of my sona :3 i think i mightve also used this tag wrong early on but i dont feel like fixing it

#artfight - look at my artfight attacks

[badgloop]

no? seems to be alot of the case for everybody

unfortunately we either dead, hiding, or lost and need found.

my case was lost for a motherfuckin bit til i started reachin out here.

i hope ya find yours )o:

earth c as a whole on my timeline is different planets in fuckin orbit or whatever. dont remember how it was all exactly explained at me.

but i stick to the part of that thats alternia. troll kingdom. whatever the motherfuck they wanna call that shit. its all fucky generally.

@formerlyasprite ill record it next time he fights which is a good fuckin chance cuz this fuckers a ball of energy