#i don’t owe anyone anything about any ship but if they can be civil I can civil

[theorangerangers]

How do you feel about the JaviAmelia shippers who hate on OllieAmelia (and Ollie in general)? For me, I think it's kind of silly and we should respect each other's ships/faves even if they aren't for us

I do think we should respect each other’s ships but I would be lying if I said the actions of some Javiamelia shippers haven’t left a sour taste in my mouth. I had someone attack me on a post I made about having a feeling about Amelia and Ollie being cannon as well as quite few people thinking it was appropriate to slide into my DMs about it. Ollie is almost a modern Connor in my eyes, (everyone knows a jerk like this in real life and generally he is also receiving the same character arch as Connor did). I like Ollie a lot he reminds me of my dad for all the good and bad that comes from a guy who told me that ‘it’s only multi variable calculus, it should be easy’ (it wasn’t but I still love him even if he wasn’t too happy with my B-). He’s also really really funny in the context of a show that fully acknowledges mystic force happened in a way similar to Preston believing in magic. I think we should make some fun of him but no more than any other ranger because also it’s a bit like how everyone hated on Dax in Operation Overdrive but when I rewatch, sure I cringe a little but he’s still fun in his own right. There’s a difference between making some light hearted ribbing at a character’s expense and then just whatever’s been going on with some of the Javi x Amelia shippers.

Generally though I didn’t care about Javi x Amelia either way I just figured it was different but nothing else about it until people attacked me just just reading into the subtext of a children’s show which since it for children normally follows a predictable plot. after that even just seeing that ship made me feel rotten inside and I’ve done my best to block it since it’s not the ship it’s self that’s ever made me feel any type of way but the my way or the high way kind of shippers and the way they’ve made me connotate being yelled at online with their ship . As a veteran of the supernatural fandom I can easily say this is not the worst thing I have ever seen on tumblr but it feels different when people choose to call you a bad person just for making one post about a couple in a kids show that was very obvious from a story telling stand point since most of the time when they have two rangers pretend to be a couple early in the show they almost always end up cannon by the end so the psychic scene kinda gave it away for me. It’s a pattern we’ve seen multiple times in the show like with Shelby and Tyler and I thought it was kinda cute so I made a post which opened Pandora’s box of just unwarranted attacks.

There’s nothing inherently wrong with the ship and Ollie is a good character and I wouldn’t have him be replaced with anyone else on the show but the way the shippers feel the need to act sometimes does make me actively avoid it block it on all my socials. I don’t have a problem with anyone who ships anything or likes any character as long as they don’t come after me for liking something else or taking something I’ve made for my ship and turning it into something it isn’t to fit their views.

Frankly I only post as much Ollieamelia on my blog as I do now as a way to ward off more people like that. If you don’t like sand, stay out of the sandbox.

#power rangers #dino fury #I was bullied as a kid and didn’t really have many friends growing up and it lead to a lot of anger issues even now #so I really just don’t care for their attitudes #because they really just push my buttons #one of my main ways of dealing with things that makes me angry is just avoiding the people and things that remind me of them #so there’s nothing in my eyes wrong with Javi x Amelia it’s just anger inducing at times #not because of the ship but the shippers #like Pavlov’s dogs that ship is the bell for me sometimes #I’ve never gone after anyone unprovoked #there are times where I do wish I had stayed a lurker on this site because of these people #I have actively considered taking this whole blog down and removing everything from my AO3 because of them #getting rid of discord while I’m at it and just rebuilding from there #I want it to make me less angry though which is why I made that meme #because they should never have that kind of power over me while they hide behind a screen #i don’t owe anyone anything about any ship but if they can be civil I can civil #I am trying to be the bigger person by making that meme to show we do have something in common #it’s the same show we all like after all

[ciaossu-imagines]

For Day 16 of the event, I used prompt 11, numbers 10 to 14 for Zen from Mystic Messenger. I love this fandom, love every chance I get to write for these characters and I hope you’ll all enjoy the headcanons!

Want any piercings?

I do think that, at some point, Zen really did play around with the idea of getting a couple piercings. Aesthetically, he’s not against them and he liked the idea of cultivating a sort of ‘bad boy’ image at the time he was thinking about getting them done. However, he felt it was better in the long term for his career not to get piercings, especially any on his face. Have to protect the money maker, after all. He likes piercings on other people, but for both his career and his own thoughts on treating his body like a temple, they aren’t things he currently wants for himself.

Best friend?

Honestly, except for Jumin, he considers the other RFA members his best friends. Each member brings their own unique things into his life, and they are all very irreplaceable to him. He does think he’s closest to V, of course, but all of the members are people he wouldn’t trade for the world, and he begrudgingly does include Jumin in that camp, even if he sometimes forgets or doesn’t want to admit it.

Relationship status?

He’s either in a relationship with whatever reader wants to be in one with him, or the man is chronically single and working hard on his career. Depends on what the person reading this really wants, to be honest, because you know if any of you lovelies are like ‘he’s my love’, I ship ya’ll together hard!

Biggest turn-ons?

This is a hard one. There’s a lot that will turn him on sexually, but I’m going to go more in terms of turn-ons for like, the sort of people he will gravitate towards and the sort of things in people that will make him go ‘yes, that is my person, I absolutely need to know and build something with this person’. I will say that he does really admire confidence in a person, but it has to be a nice, quiet confidence without bragging or what Zen will see as flaunting privilege, like he feels Jumin does a lot. People who can be both humble but confident, like V (and like Rika had pretended to be)…those kinds of people always attract Zen and astound him a little. People who support him, absolutely and completely, without ever making him feel like he owes them anything just for their care and support really does attract him and turn him onto people, as do genuinely kind hearts. He also really does tend to gravitate and be turned on by other creative people. The more creative people he brings into his life, especially into his close personal life, the more creative and inspired he feels and the more he genuinely thinks he improves in his own art.

Biggest turn-offs?

Again, there are sexual turn-offs he has – he’s turned off by really dominant people sexually, he’s turned off by anyone who absolutely needs a lot of kink to have sex, he’s turned off by asexuality or people with exceptionally low libidos. But again, I really do kind of want to delve into the turn-offs Zen has for people in general. These are the kind of things that absolutely make him dislike someone on instinct, even if he’s civil and polite to them either for his career or to not be exceptionally rude. I will say that hygiene absolutely matters to this man. People who don’t shower regularly and who don’t put any work into looking presentable when they go out bother them. If he can smell someone, he really does think the worst of that person. Going along with that, he cannot really find a lot of respect for people that don’t take care of themselves. I’m not saying that people who carry extra weight or are disabled or anything are automatic turn-offs to him. I’m saying that, no matter what their weight or abilities, someone who doesn’t eat as well as they can and who doesn’t move their body, who doesn’t brush their teeth, shower, comb their hair, who just throws on whatever clothing they grab, people who put absolutely no effort into themselves – those are people who Zen is turned off by. Those people don’t even respect themselves, in Zen’s opinion, so why should he have any respect for them. Liars or people who are arrogant and out of touch with reality? Also huge turn-offs for him.

#unrequested prompts #mystic messenger #mysme #headcanons #hyun ryu #zen

[bossmodeplus]

It’s been a hot minute since I last saw both parts of Lemonhope and goodness does it hit like an emotional truck. 

Lemonhope clashes with PB’s ideals: freedom vs responsibility. In Lemonhope’s mind, he is free to do whatever he desires and he has that right. On its own, it’s not a terrible hill to die on. But given the context that his own family saved him, it’s a really awful sting of a response. This is illustrated with PB offering LH two cupcakes. LH argues that Finn can get his own cupcakes and pouts at the prospect of offering him one of his. 

LH spends the bulk of the episode going about things his own way, even after PB’s visit to Castle Lemongrab. He sees a ship passing by a town and stows away on it. The boy realizes that he is a horse with no steed free to make his own path. The quiet peace of the dream is upended by pink footsteps and a half eaten Lemongrab 2. It’s a really nice symbolism that PB is trying to pave the path for him/LH feels smothered by her and that Lemongrab 2 sought LH to escape his situation.

Eventually the ship crashes and its resources dwindle, leaving a weakened Lemonhope to find resources himself. 

Freedom to get water.

LH finds himself in a desert and laments that a cloud above could be free to produce water. But it doesn’t. He comes across Phlannel Boxingday who gets the boy’s plight of doing whatever whenever. Phlannel also states that sure, Lemonhope is free to do as he chooses but he can also save his family in Castle Lemongrab. This is prompted from talks of the boy’s dreams, another of which being that he feels literally bound over the state of his family. Boxingday cannot do so because of treaties (PB talked of being impeded by the same earlier on....). Phlannel also inspires LH to use his harp as a means of helping them both.

The young boy goes back to his own place of conception, the very place which caused him misery by a now, enlarged despot Lemongrab. The corrupt ruler has gone so far as to engorge on Lemongrab 2, who urges the boy to use his harp. The harp is played, causing the despot to explode and with that LH frees his brethren from totalitarian clutches. 

The ruler isn’t dead, however, as PB knits him back together. She states that the ruler is vestigial and his brain will ‘knit’ itself back after some time. Bubblegum asks the supposed ‘heir’ if he’d like to rule Castle Lemongrab considering its original ruler was usurped by him. LH only comes back because he wanted Finn and PB to stop worrying over his welfare. He departs, leaving a disappointed Finn and PB. Bubblegum tells Finn that she even whipped a new room for him as well as a song.

Cut to many years later and we hear Princess Bubblegum’s song of the young child who turned down the crown. It’s a celebratory song juxtaposed to sadly ambient chords and the silent melancholy of abandoned civilization. It’s a harsh metatextual reminder that nothing lasts forever.

He revisits the castle, though this time on his own terms. It no longer holds the oppressive atmosphere synonymous with its halls. But there’s nothing celebratory that comes of traversing these halls one more time. Everyone’s gone. The end of the two parter sees LH sleeping in respite.

For how self-serving Lemonhope was being in the beginning of his episode, this doesn’t feel like some poetic justice or karmic payoff. It doesn’t feel like a win, either.  There’s a lingering sadness in the end for a few reasons. The destruction of civilization aside, there’s the rough duality of freedom. If you go though life as LH did, it’ll prove very lonely. ‘I don’t owe you anything’ goes both ways. If you don’t do anything for anyone, no one has any obligation for you to lean on them when times get tough. When you get vulnerable, all you’ll have is you. There’s also the theme of extancy being sobering. Hundreds of years is a long time and in that time you’ll see your peers as well as loved ones die. LH will spend the rest of his days with no one. 

#adventure time #princess bubblegum #atimer #finn #bosstext #correct me if i'm wrong

[strawberrymilkgeorge]

Part Four. "You hosted me?? In MINECRAFT??"

warnings: swearing but that’s it (i think)! just karl being a goof and dream being a little shit but whats new word count: 3k (not ncluding pictures)

behind the screen (irl dream x reader) series masterlist ultimate masterlist

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Y/n  sat to Karl's left, out of the camera's view as he scrolled through Twitter on his PC.

"Um... oh, how did you guys meet?" Karl read before looking offscreen at Y/n. "Uh... school?"

"What? I was going to make up a funny story but I'm appalled by the seriousness in your voice! Is that really how you think we met?"

The embarrassment on his face answered her question. "Karl! I'm two years younger than you, how would we meet have met at school?"

"I don't know!" he said back defensively, raising his shoulders. "Clubs?"

"Like I was in any of the nerd clubs you were in."

"Well, then, how did we meet?"

Y/n sighed with a laugh. "Our moms–"

"Oh, wait wait, I remember!" he cut her off, excitedly looking towards Y/n. "Our moms are friends and they forced us to hang out." He smiled proudly and looked back to his screen as he continued scrolling for good questions. "If I'm honest, I only still hang out with you because my mom makes me."

Y/n smacked Karl's arm and he laughed but pretended to be hurt. "WHAT THE HONK, BUGSY?!"

"I can't stand you. I barely hit you, nimrod."

Karl giggled and read another one. "How tall is Bugsy? Two feet, four inches."

"No, I'm 7'6," Y/n lied easily and Karl laughed.

"How tall are you actually?"

'I think 5'10 or something? Maybe 5'11. I'm not 6' but I'm taller than you for sure, I know that much–"

"Okay, you are not taller than me. Just to be clear. Chat, Bugsy is not taller than me."

"Yes, I am. Wanna test it?"

"No," he replied quietly in defeat.

"Because you know I'm right," Y/n laughed as her eyes flicked over to read chat. They were spamming their surprise, expecting her to be short. "Yeah, no, chat, I'm tall. I'm taller than Karl."

"Only because your shoes make you tall! Doc Martens are tall and that's pretty much all you wear!"

"You're shorter than me when I'm barefoot!"

"That's literally false. Like completely."

"Just accept it, shorty."

"I'll accept that you're taller than George and Sapnap, but not me. I'm barely taller than you but I'm still taller."

"Whateverrrr. I'll move on to protect your dignity."

Karl ignored her and laughed, pointing to a message from Dream in Karl's chat.

"Dream said I have short girl energy," Y/n read.

"You kinda do."

"What does that even mean?"

"You're shy around new people and you act all sweet."

"So tall girls can't be shy and sweet? Or shy and sweet girls can't be tall?"

"Stop twisting my words," Karl groaned.

"Also, wait, what do you mean I act sweet? Am I not?"

"No, you are. But I mean you also aren't when you don't want to be. Upset Bugsy is scary Bugsy."

Y/n frowned, not recalling a time she's ever been angry or upset at Karl but she let him move on. He pointed to another tweet as he looked at Y/n, giving her an 'I told you so' look. She read it before shaking her head at him.

"Don't read that one."

"Pleeease, can I answer?"

"No!" she whisper-shouted. I don't want to be shipped with him for asking or you for answering, she mouthed so Karl's chat couldn't put together clues.

"Are you assuming I'll answer positively?" he teased, earning him a hard smack on the arm.

Y/n couldn't help but notice every time she put her hands in the frame, which was usually to hit Karl, half of the chat turned into simps requesting a hand pic because they could see her bracelets and nail polish and now that they knew she was tall they wanted to see how big her hands were. They really wanted every crumb of content they could have regarding her looks. She caught one that said something pretty kinky about her hands which she tried to scrub from her mind immediately.

"Fine," Karl sighed at her request to not read Dream's tweet out loud, instead reading another. "Bestie sleepover? Yes! Bestie sleepover! Bugsy and I are gonna cuddle all night--"

"No, we aren't. I'm sleeping on a completely different bed. Or couch. Nowhere near you."

"WHY DO YOU HATE ME?"

"Karl! Stop trying to get me to cuddle with you!" Y/n laughed as she pushed away his arms, which were trying to give her a hug. "You're a freaking heater and I don't like touching people!"

"That's my worst nightmare in a friend, how did I end up with you?"

"No idea. Deal with it. It's still a bestie sleepover even if we don't cuddle."

Karl giggled and looked back at his stream. "Oh, by the way, in case anyone ever wanted to know or was Dreaming about it, Bugsy is very cute. Just thought I'd mention it in case anyone was wondering or if anyone tweeted specifically asking..."

Y/n smacked his arm again as she yelled, "Karl!"

He grabbed his arm in dramatic pain as if it had been cut off. "Ow! Ow! Bugsy hit me!" he cried as he fell to the floor. "Oh my gosh. Someone call a doctor!"

"I cannot stand you," Y/n  informed as she stared down at him. She glanced at chat, who were all joking about how bad his condition was, saying things like they might have to amputate his arm. "Chat, don't encourage him. Oh, Karl I know what we can do!"

"As long as I don't need two arms for it..." his voice still laced with fake pain.

"Karl Jacobs."

"What is it?"

"Give me a tour of Dream's SMP. Dream whitelisted me yesterday."

"Oh, yeah! What could have possibly made you think of him?" he teased as he got back in his chair.

Y/n glared at him and he cowered slightly.

"Minecraft, yes. There's a PC in the other room you can play on. Do you need help setting it up?"

"No, I've streamed once or twice," Y/n teased as she stood up.

"I'm just trying to be a good host! Gosh!"

"Wait, I have to cross over to leave the room."

"Just do it? What's the issue? Literally no problem, just walk?" he joked before zooming in his camera on his face so it took up the whole screen. Y/n laughed as she went across the room, chat now forced to look at disturbingly close footage of Karl staring directly into the camera with his eyes crossed.

Y/n called Karl on Discord after logging in. "Hi, Karl and Karl's stream."

"Are you on yet?"

"I'm logging in to my Minecraft account right now."

"Okay, join a vc on the smp discord so others can talk to us if we run into anyone. I'll be over in a minute, just give me a bit to read some donations." They both muted, leaving Y/n to herself.

She typed in the IP address to the server and joined a random voice channel that no one was in. She spawned and looked around, confused by the cobblestone wall around her. Her phone lit up so she occupied herself with the texts from Naomi.

A green figure caught her eye on the screen and she looked up. In the distance was Dream's infamous green Minecraft skin punching the air as he faced her. He ran towards her and stopped in front of her. She set her phone down and slid it away, crouching as his character did the same.

Dream whispers to you: are you streaming you whisper to Dream: no but Karl is and he's about to get on to tour me Dream whispers to you: hmmm okay here

He uncrouched and dropped a few diamond blocks before punching the air again and running away.

Dream whispers to you: shh don’t tell anyone you whisper to Dream: omg :D ty <3 you whisper to Dream: first twitch donos now mc donos you whisper to Dream: rich man over here giving out money and diamonds to everyone like it's candy Dream whispers to you: no, only to you Dream whispers to you: a little gift before our date ;) Dream whispers to you: oh and this

He came back and paused in front of Y/n before dropping a red poppy and sprinting away again. She acted cool despite the huge smile on her face.

you whisper to Dream: charming you whisper to Dream: you give me a flower and dart away before I can properly thank you Dream whispers to you: oh yeah? how would you have thanked me?

Y/n smiled, her cheeks flaming up as a dirty thought entered her mind. Stop, he's not flirting, she told herself. It’s literally a block game and he’s not flirting.

you whisper to Dream: guess we'll never know ;) KarlJacobs joined the game

"I'm back," Karl's voice filled her headset as he joined her voice channel, snapping her out of her thoughts. "Where are you?"

Y/n looked away from the chat in Minecraft and turned around in the game. "Still at spawn. Some forest and cobblestone walls."

"Go left and I'll meet you halfway."

As she ran, the Minecraft chat reappeared with new messages for everyone to see.

<Dream> hey Karl <KarlJacobs> hello Dream <Dream> thanks for answering my question on your stream <KarlJacobs> just doing my civil duty as a bugsy dream shipper <KarlJacobs> official petition for the name to be dreamsy <Dream> signed

"Oh my gosh," Y/n muttered, making Karl laugh.

"What?" Karl asked innocently, but his laugh was maniacal. "Oh, I found you. This way! I built everything on the server, by the way. So if anything is impressive, just remember that I did it."

"Karl, that's the biggest lie you've ever told me. I watch the lore videos."

"Well, I did build it all so I don't know what to tell you. Let's go this way first."

Y/n followed as he showed her stuff, including background and unknown facts about things that have happened off stream. After the tour, they messed around the chessboard. At some point, she found a blue cornflower and turned to Karl.

"Do you have an anvil?"

"I don't exactly have one on me at the moment but I think there's one over here. What for?"

She killed some chickens with her fist to gain XP so she could carry out the task in mind. "I need to name this flower I found." She followed him a few blocks away and clicked the anvil and named the flower 'love, bug'. "Okay, thanks."

"Why did you name it?"

"It's a gift for someone."

"Me?" he asked as his character jumped up and down.

"No. My presence is your gift."

"Ouch. You know, honestly, I'm really hurt by that. Like, why would you say that to me? It's just sorta rude."

"Fine, I'll go get you a flower."

"Well, I don't want it if it isn't sincere. Who's that one for?"

"...no one."

"Tell me or I'll keep complaining about not getting a gift."

"I can deal with that."

"Okay, then tell me or I'll make you sleep in my bed and I'll smother you to death with my affection."

"Ah, okay, fine. It's for Dream."

"Wow you really hate me that much!" Karl laughed.

"No, I'm just not touchy like you!" she defended. She always worried she offended Karl since he was so physically affectionate towards his friends but she just wasn't a physical person.

"Oh, speaking of Dream..." he turned and Y/n followed his characters line of sight, having to zoom in to see the green figure perched at the top of a tree.

"He's very menacing."

"He does that."

<Bugsy> come here pls dream <Bugsy> i have a gift :]

Dream ran towards Y/n and stopped in front of her expectedly. She looked at Karl then back at Dream and dropped the gift, backing up after and crouching.

His character picked it up and held it, pausing to read the name. After a moment, he slowly looked up at Y/n's character before jumping and spinning in circles. Y/n hid her smile in her sleeve even though no one could see her.

<Dream> wait lemme see the one I gave you <Bugsy> what D: <Dream> I wanna name it

"What is going on?" Karl giggled.

"Gift exchange. Mind your own business."

"Woah!" Karl gasped dramatically. "Uncalled for."

Dream came back and dropped the renamed flower for her. Y/n picked it up and hovered over it to read the name.

'host, dream'

She gasped and started punching his character. He backed up and ran away but joined the call seconds later.

"Wait! Stop hitting me!" Dream yelled into her headset.

Y/n laughed, trying to contain her smile as she continued to hit the green character. "Dream! Are you kidding? I tried being all cute and you hosted me?? In MINECRAFT??"

"It was a joke! You said something like that to Wilbur on Twitter a while ago, I was just using your humor!" Dream's giggles filled Y/n's headphones and she smiled but quickly dropped it so her voice could sound serious.

"Give it back."

Dream looked at her before letting out a small, "What?"

"Give me back the flower so I can go burn it with the other one."

"Bugsy!"

"What is going on?" Karl asked through a cackle. "Dream, did you hurt Bugsy??"

"Yes, Karl! He hurt my feelings! He gave me a flower and gave it back to name it something mean!"

Dream just laughed so Y/n punched him again.

"Dream! You can't hurt Bugsy!" Karl defended, also punching Dream.

All Y/n could hear was the sound of Dream wheezing, his character running as the two chased him. "Stop! You guys are so– STOP HITTING ME!"

"Fine," Y/n finally said, crouching and facing the ground as she walked into a corner to look like she was pouting. "I'm just not going to go on any Minecraft dates anymore."

"Wait, no," Dream protested in a soft voice, his character stopping to look at her's. "Take that back."

"Heart been broke so many times..."

"You're so stupid."

Karl gasped happily. "You guys have a Minecraft date? Can I help plan it?!"

"We did. In exchange for letting you give me the tour. But I've changed my mind since I've been so betrayed."

"Oh my gosh, you're so..." Dream trailed off but his wide smile could be heard through his voice.

"So what? Finish that sentence, Dream," Y/n dared teasingly.

"So... ANNOYING!"

"DREAM! SAY YOU'RE SORRY!" Karl yelled.

"Okay! I'm sorry! Bug, I'm so sorry. Really. Please let me... let me rename your flower something cute. It'll make you so happy that you'll fall in love with me all over again and–and we can go on our date. Please don't burn our flowers."

"And what if I don't give them to you?"

"I'll just kill you and pick them off your corpse."

"Woooooowwww. Okay, it's like that?"

"Yes, it is like that," he said through a smile. It was so apparent in his voice that he was grinning like a kid on Christmas morning.

<Ranboo> how is the tour going Bugsy was shot by Dream using DEFINITELY NOT PENIS <Ranboo> ah going well I see

Bugsy screamed in her mic as the death screen appeared. "DREAM!"

"You took too long!" He wheezed as Bugsy respawned.

"I don't know where I am!"

"Hold on, I'll avenge you!" Karl declared before he died too.

"You thought you could kill me with your fists? Karl, you're naked and I'm wearing full Netherite."

"You weren't when I started punching you! You pulled that out of thin air!"

<Ranboo> canon

Y/n smiled at Ranboo's comment. She had never talked to him but she knew he and Tubbo were close friends and he seemed really funny. He had already proved he had a dry sense of humor in the 30 minutes she was on the SMP and she loved that. Y/n made a mental note to befriend him before returning to being drama queen to Dream.

"So, Dream, now that you've made me an enemy–"

"WhAT? We are not enemies, Bug. I'm actually naming a flower something really cute as we speak. Enemies don't do that."

"Maybe I'm not your enemy but you sure are mine."

"Oh come on now," he mumbled lowly, running chills down her spine. What the hell was that?? "What do I have to do to make it up to you?"

"You-you murdered me in cold blood. Nothing will make it up."

"So I could get the flower! It was out of love! So I could give you a better present! Does that count for nothing?"

"Hm," she hummed. "We'll see what new name you come up with and then I'll decide."

Karl and Y/n got back to the chessboard and waited for Dream to return with his new flower.

Breaking character and turning towards her best friend, Y/n laughed at Karl. "Sorry for distracting from our BFF shenanigans time."

"This is way more entertaining," Karl assured. "Me and my chat got front row seats to the Dreamsy love saga."

"Shut up," she mumbled as she punched him in-game.

"OW! STOP PUNCHING ME SO MUCH!"

"Okay, okay, I'm back!!" Dream announced and they saw his figure sprinting and jumping towards them. He dropped the flower for Y/n and stepped back, crouching and standing repeatedly.

Y/n picked up the flower and hovered over it to read the name.

"Is it worthy of your forgiveness, Bugsy? Does it pass the vibe check?" Karl asked with a giggle.

Y/n bit her lip as she smiled at her screen.

to the prettiest girl in the world. love, dream <3

It was a joke, obviously. He was just continuing the joke of flirting with her like he does on Twitter just like Sapnap and Karl and George and Quackity do. They all joke about flirting with her and this was another joke.

But it still gave her tummy butterflies.

"Bug?" Dream called softly.

But why would he joke like that when neither of them were streaming? Karl's chat wouldn't see it so there was no one to point in feeding into the joke, unless he meant for Y/n to show Karl? She was overthinking. She needed to play it cool. 

She also needed an enderchest so no one could find it and no one could take it away from her and destroy it but they didn’t need to know she liked it that much.

"Mmm.... it'll do."

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A/N: yeeee hope you guys liked this one! i think this is my favorite so far i just think dream was being too cute and i wanna be best friends with karl so much it hurts. we’re gonna get deeper into the dream relationship soon!! i just needed to indugle in bff karl content real quick!!!

taglist: open (at the time) @hydrate-tion @loraleiix @tinaswagbd @charsdummb @smileyyuta @1ghoste1 @cerberus-hellhound @gaysludge @queestionmark @carnations-red @letsloveimagines @the-fictionwriters-hairdo @boiled-onionrings @a-cryptic @fee-btheweeb​ @letsloveimagines @erwinss @just-a-stan @axths @kayleigh2703 @furiouspockettoad @sometimeseverythingsucks @powerpuffyn​ @itshaileyn @millavalntyne @automaticcomputerpaper @nikkineeky @fivedicksinatrenchcoat @sprucekot​ @bellomi-clarke @possiblyanxioushuman

#rpf #real person fiction #dream x reader #dream x y/n #dreamwastaken x reader #dreamwastaken x y/n #social media fic #dream smau #dreamwastaken smau #smau #mcty x reader #mcyt x y/n #mcyt fanfiction #dream fanfiction #dreamwastaken fanfiction

[azucanela]

chapter i

pairing: bakugou katsuki x fem!reader

warnings: cursing.

word count: 3k

summary: the internet is enamored with the idea of y/n l/n and bakugou katsuki, two renowned pro heroes, dating. the first issue? the pair rarely interacts. the second issue? apparently, they hate each other, not that anyone knows about that bit. of course, after one night of many mistakes, the whole world knows.

series masterlist

Y/N’S HEAD IS POUNDING when she wakes up the following day. Her hand coming to rub her temple as she attempts to soothe the throbbing of her own head, the light just barely seeping through her blinds already feels like too much as she rises up in her bed. Blinking a few times, Y/N’s eyes adjust to the light and she sighs, stretching her arms upwards and almost wincing at the sound of her bones cracking.

You’d think that a Pro Hero wouldn’t have such issues, and yet.

Coming to a stand, Y/N hisses at the feeling of her cold floor, frowning before she makes her way towards the hallway and rubbing a hand against her eye. She catches a look of herself in the mirror, hair amiss, makeup that she’d applied from the night before still on— and yet her eye bags seem to have grown. If Y/N is honest, she looks and feels like a mess.

That should be a given though, seeing as she couldn’t even remember how she’d gotten home last night. Though Y/N was sure the news would detail any screw ups she’d made. Sighing as she grabs the TV remote from the coffee table by her couch and clicks the TV on. 

“You’re fucking kidding me.” She mumbles out when the TV turns on to reveal that she is in fact the headline, alongside Bakugou Katsuki. 

Almost on cue, a set of rapid knocks sound against her door and Y/N already knows who it is, again.

It was an accident, Y/N hadn’t meant to get blackout drunk at a literal Gala filled with several respectable and admirable peers from the Pro Hero world. And she certainly hadn’t meant to speak poorly about one of those peers— well, if she could really call Bakugou that at this point. After all there was a reason she spoke poorly of him.

“He’s an— an ill-mannered, rude, insufferable—” Y/N inhaled deeply as she looked to Lorelai, gesturing her hands vividly as she finally said, “bastard!”

Lorelai stands with a hand pressed against her temple, rubbing it gently as though that would end the headache that Y/N had probably caused with her shenanigans. “I warned you.”  She mumbles out before reaching into her pocket and pulling out her phone as Y/N continues to drone on about the young man.

“I ran into him and I was filled with complete and utter rage. Did I do a few questionable things? Yes. Do I regret them—” Y/N sighs, bringing her hands to her face as the news plays in the background before saying, “I do.” 

If Y/N was honest, she wasn’t remorseful at all, not when it was Bakugou they were talking about. But she was embarrassed, she’d acted out like a child and there was no denying it. As much as she disliked the idea, a public apology was probably necessary and a private one to Bakugou was the least she owed him. 

Currently Y/N L/N and Bakugou Katuski were on every headline and front page there were, all because Y/N had elected to get a little too drunk and start talking trash about Bakugou. In the world of Pro Heroes, her word carried a lot of weight, so although it was unprofessional, Y/N had a feeling it was Bakugou’s PR team that was panicking right now. 

"You’re trending.” Comes Lorelai’s words, a hand coming to scratch the back of her neck awkwardly as she looks back up at Y/N, “I suppose that’s good.” 

Y/N had a feeling the people who shipped her with Bakugou were rather devastated upon finding out that the (non-existent) couple that they idolized yet had zero interaction actually hated one another. “Maybe they’ll stop thinking Bakugou and I would ever enter a relationship now.”

Raising a brow, Lorelai looks up to her, typing away at her phone without looking at the keyboard as she replies, “actually they’re shipping you with Pro Hero Deku. They caught quite a few pictures of you two dancing together last night.” Lorelai’s eyes returned to her screen, squinting as she mumbled out, “the Bakugou shippers are disappointed, but they’re still going strong. Something about… enemies to lovers?”

Y/N groans in annoyance, it was beginning to become abundantly clear that nothing good was going to come of this. Not that she expected such a thing, but a girl can hope. With a sigh, she shakes away those thoughts, pushing them to the back of her mind as she looks to Lorelai, “what are we going to do?” 

“I am going to speak with Bakugou’s publicist, and set up a meeting.” Comes Lorelai’s response, bringing the phone to her ear as she made her way towards the door for more privacy. 

Y/N looked to her publicist, brows furrowed, “I don’t want to meet with Bakugou.”

Rolling her eyes, Lorelai gestured to the TV as she replied, “we don’t have much of a choice do we?” Sighing, Lorelai stares at the ringing phone before saying, “you can’t let your issues with Bakugou interfere with your career— you two were bound to work together at some point. Whether you wanted to or not.”

Y/N can easily pick up on the underlying words as Lorelai steps out the door, she’s essentially telling her to suck it up. And though Y/N recognizes that she is absolutely and completely correct— that she unfortunately cannot allow Bakugou’s existence to interfere with her career, that doesn’t mean she can’t be upset about it. 

And besides, avoiding him had gone perfectly fine up until now. Y/N was still wondering what had possessed him to actually attend a public event. Last she’d checked, the boy hated them with a passion, and most of the time they only further damaged his reputation. 

Last night was only more evidence of that fact. 

“You’re right.” Comes Y/N’s words, sighing dejectedly as she sinks further into her couch. “Let me know how it goes.” Even Y/N could recognize that there was no other choice, and well— she had to be mature and realistic about this.

Lorelai steps away, and Y/N finds herself glad that she can’t hear whatever it is the woman is saying as she straightens her posture, sitting up as she crosses her legs on the couch to watch the news. 

“Famed Pro Hero Y/N L/N was caught expressing her true feelings for Bakugou Katsuki, and they certainly weren’t what fans were hoping for.” The woman on the screen leans back in her seat, moving out of the way to gesture to the screen behind her, as she opens her mouth to speak again, Y/N finds herself grabbing the remote and changing the channel with a glare towards the reporter. 

Not that it was her fault, Y/N had a feeling if she had a job with any news station right now, this story would mean everything for her career. But she didn’t, she was a Pro Hero, and she had more important things to do— and even then, weren’t there more important things to report on? 

The screen changes, and this time there’s another woman on the screen, a solemn look on her face as she leans forward on the desk with her hands clasped. “As the anniversary of the villain Stain’s incarceration grows near, civil unrest has begun to worsen. With another copy cat killer on the loose, it seem that people have once again taken to the streets to demand his release, or at least a change in his current life sentence for the murder of—”

Y/N shuts off the TV, grimacing at the reminder of her school years. Each year, crime would spike, so more Pro Heroes would set to work around this time. And each year, the number of casualties for Pro Heroes would practically triple because of all the people that tried to target them. This wouldn’t be the first Stain copy cat they’d seen, and it probably wouldn’t be the last. Most of them didn’t last this long though, caught by the police by their first attempt ideally, if not then their first kill.

Y/N had lost good friends to people like that. 

Exhaling deeply, she comes to a stand, pulling out her phone to see she had several unread messages from Lorelai, all of which were in reference to the current… situation they were dealing with. There were— unsurprisingly— a few messages of concern from Izuku that Y/N can’t help but smile at. The boy had always been too kind for his own good. But what did confuse her were the messages from an unknown number, Y/N’s brows furrowed as she moved to open them. 

UNKNOWN ???

It was only a single message, but it still leaves Y/N confused, few people had access to her number, and for some reason she finds it unnerving as she goes to delete the conversation.

BAKUGOU WISHED HE COULD FORGET the chaos that had been the night before. Alas, every moment was burned into his mind, especially that bit in which Y/N had cursed him out while drunk and maybe something about him trying to fight Deku but that wasn’t really anything out of the ordinary. 

His eyes open to the sound of his alarm, and like clockwork— Bakugou rises from his bed and when his feet hit the floor he’s slipping on a set of house shoes instantly. He’d always been more of the type to live a methodical, routine like, life. Make the bed, cook himself a healthy breakfast if he hadn’t already meal prepped for the week, take a shower, get dressed, go to work. And then do it all over again. 

Bakugou had never felt the need for any spontaneity, seeing as his job provided enough of that. Surprise, there’s a murderer on the loose. Surprise, the murderer targets heroes specifically. Surprise, it's a stain copycat killer. Surprise! He hates Pro Hero Ground Zero more than anything in the world. 

The entirety of last night was not the type of surprise Bakugou was used to. Seeing as his phone is ringing as he tries to make his breakfast, and when he looks to see it’s his publicist— well, that isn’t really something out of the ordinary seeing as Bakugou seems to have a different “scandal” every week. But when the calls don’t stop coming...

Last night was a disaster, it didn’t take a genius to recognize that. Just anyone with a phone and some sort of social media, or a tv that had access to the news. Which was basically everyone nowadays. Bakugou liked to think that he had gone through worse, like when they caught him speaking poorly about Deku— although the boy had assured them that Bakugou meant no harm, and Y/N probably wouldn’t do the same.

Yeah, this was a problem. 

Bakugou had a feeling that if he hadn’t been the person who hired him, his publicist would’ve cursed him out by now. Regardless, the man in question had remained… kind of calm. He was clearly on the verge of some sort of breakdown, staring Bakugou down like a hawk as he sat across from him— hands pressed together as they rested against his chin. The man had arrived shortly after leaving Bakugou about a dozen voicemails.

“How did you manage to piss off one of the most influential women in Pro Hero society?”

Despite being a newer Hero, Y/N had worked alongside several of the Top Pro Heroes already, probably because of her connections with Pro Hero Hawks and her own Charisma, making her one of the most likable of the next generation. That and the fact that she was regarded as a potential Number 1 Hero given the speed she was rising through the ranks. 

Although Bakugou was sure this had damaged her credibility in some sort of way, he had no doubt she’d come back from this, even if he didn’t. After all, he wasn’t necessarily known for his award winning personality. 

In response to his publicist’s question, Bakugou finds himself crossing his arms, shrugging before he replies, “beats me.”

Inhaling deeply, his publicist brings a hand to his temple, rubbing it rather harshly in an attempt to end the major headache that was coming on. “You have no idea? None at all—” One of the other PR assistants is standing beside them once more, the guy had been leaving and coming back for a while actually. This time he seems rather anxious though, “and what the hell do you want?”

“Well— well, sir. You see, we’ve been getting a call from—”

His publicist, Haru Ishida, as Bakugou had come to know him, appears to have a vein popping out of his head as he replies, “I don’t care which major news platform wants to hear what we have to say, tell them the same thing—”

“It’s Ms. L/N’s publicist!” The man cries out, hand pressed against the receiver of the phone to keep said woman from hearing their interaction, face flushed red in embarrassment as he stands straighter and adds, “sir.”

Haru’ jaw drops open as he immediately shoots up from his seat, snatching the phone from the assistants hand and bringing it to his ear before swiftly saying, “Haru Ishida, how can I help you?”

Bakugou gives the man a look, “put it on speaker.” He hisses out.

The man does as he’s told and a woman’s voice fills the room, “I think it’s more of how I can help you, Mr. Ishida.” A pause, “I’d like to set up a meeting between our clients. We can discuss more in person.”

“Hell no.” Bakugou says instantly, seeing as his little reunion with his former classmate yesterday had gone very poorly, Bakugou couldn’t really see a world in which another meeting with Y/N benefitted him in any way. Despite this, his words cause Haru to glare at him, opening his mouth to respond only for Y/N to beat him to it.

“Bakugou.” She muses, “both you and Y/N are experiencing blowback from this.” Comes her words, the sound of typing on the other end of the call as she continues, “but you need us more than we need you. I know Y/N will come back from this, with or without you. But can you say the same about your career?” There’s almost a subtle threat if you read between the lines and it leaves Bakugou cursing under his breath.

If Bakugou was right, this was Lorelai Flores, a renowned publicist though she was rather new to the game. As someone who aspired to be the best, Bakugou initially sought her out. She’d rejected his attempts at hiring her of course, which is why he’d ended up with the second best he could secure. Haru, who was currently inhaling deeply as he replied, “that can be arranged.”

“No it cannot—” Haru ignores Bakugou’s attempt at protesting, simply shooting him a glare before returning his attention to the call.

“Fantastic!” The woman exclaims, “perhaps it can be just you and I, Haru. Clearly our clients aren’t inclined to be anywhere near each other. Of course, if all goes well then I’m sure they’ll be seeing each other plenty.” The sound of a pen scribbling against a paper followed by, “pick me up at 7, you have my address.”

The call ends, and Bakugou’s brow is raised as he looks back to his publicist, who clears his throat before saying, “we’ll come to a consensus sir.”

Meanwhile, the PR assistant from before looks to Haru, “fraternizing with the enemy?”

“I can fire you.” Haru hisses in response, eyes narrowing at the boy before looking back to Bakugou as he straightens himself and collects the paper’s before him, “if you’ll excuse me, I need to prepare for my meeting with Ms. Flores.” He moves to leave, hovering by the door as he says, “by the way, I believe Pro Hero Red Riot is heading this way at the moment.” 

Bringing his hands to his face, Bakugou groans, if he had to guess— Kirishima was going to lecture him, again. He finds himself coming to a stand making his way around the couch, he doesn’t bother to meet Kirishima the door since he’s already making his way inside. At the same time, Bakugou is left to watch as the rest of his PR team is exiting his apartment one by one, taking their equipment with them wordlessly. 

And so, in comes Kirishima, a bright smile on his face as he calls out, “hey Bakubro!” Arms spread wide as he greets his friend, coming to wrap his arms around him. Although Bakugou doesn’t return the hug, he allows the physical contact.

“Hey shitty hair.” Comes his response, mumbled out as he is finally released from Kirishima’s grip. “What do you want?”

With a shrug, Kirishima, steps further inside Bakugou’s apartment, “I figured you might wanna talk—”

“Don’t wanna talk.” Bakugou interrupts, narrowing his eyes at Kirishima. 

Nodding slowly, Kirishima offers him a tight lipped smile, a short silence encompassing them before he says, “but she said some intense stuff so I though—”

“No.” 

“I can talk to her?

“Absolutely not.”

With that, Bakugou found himself wondering how this could possibly get worse at this point, of course, his question would soon be answered seeing as things could definitely get worse.

#this is not the end series #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #bakugo x you #katsuki bakugo x you #katsuki bakugou x you #bakugou katsuki x you #bakugo katsuki x you #bnha x reader #bnha x you #mha x reader #mha x you

[crystal-witchiness]

***Okay so I found this in my notes from May 2021 as a reaction to the scenes in the beginning of Endgame when Captain Marvel first brings Tony and Nebula back to Earth, when they first get off the ship, and when Tony yells at Steve a few scenes later when he looks like ‘Death Warmed Over’ in his robe and i thought I’d share -

Every time someone argues with me about my ABSOLUTE 100% belief that Steve and Tony had romantic feelings for each other, I’ll just show them this scene. “And I needed YOU.” He didn’t say “You guys” or “Your help.” Tony looked at Steve with so much pain in his eyes and said, “I needed y o u.” And Steve is just as broken watching Tony. This isn’t the first time this has happened between them. They had MANY scenes like this in Civil War (but I like to pretend that movie didn’t happen cause ‘ow blow a hole in my ship why dontcha?’) I mean technically I could submit that whole movie as evidence of their feelings but there are too many negative emotions wrapped up in it and it hurts. This movie is the first time they’ve seen each other since Civil War and when Tony first gets off the ship he basically falls into Steve’s arms. First of all, Steve fricking S P R I N T S when he sees Tony getting off the ship, then Tony sighs in relief and lets Steve take his weight. AND IMMEDIATELY begins unloading his grief about losing Peter cause he knew Steve would understand and comfort him. You can SEE s e e when Pepper runs up that (Ofc Tony does another sigh of relief that the snap didn’t take her (which I wish it did sorry Pepper your character stopped being interesting in the 2nd Iron Man)) Tony has to pull himself off of Steve and pretend to have it more together than he does because Pepper immediately begins crying and Tony has to comfort her. But Steve doesn’t leave his side. Tony cradling Pepper but he’s turning his body so that Steve can cradle him and ugh. Honestly I would have accepted a polyamorous relationship. Tony NEEDED someone to be the leader. THATS LITERALLY WHAT PEPPER WAS TALKING ABOUT. Tony NEVER rests because he always thinks he has to be the one to do everything, EXCEPT for when Steve’s around. Steve is the Captain and even though they bump heads (a lot, awww couples’ squabbles) Tony ALWAYS defers to Steve when it’s important. And Steve? Steve HAS to be a leader, to be helpful, in a healthy way because he couldn’t be that for most of his life in the past. He was a scrawny defenseless guy who always had to depend on Bucky. So to be able to take care of this group of wonderful people who are so powerful and yet STILL NEED STEVE? It’s who he his. It’s who Tony is too but he doesn’t WANT to be that way, he does it because he has to. He does it when no one else can or he doesn’t want to lose anyone else. This scene right now is Tony feeling helpless and so he lashes out at the easiest person, Steve. Steve is their leader and has saved them many times. Tony saw that picture of Peter and couldn’t handle his own feelings of helplessness so he lashed out to bring down the next ‘leader figure’ of the group. Steve and Tony have always been the parents of the Avengers. Steve is the most dad-est dad ever to dad. Meanwhile, Tony invites everyone to live with him while feeding them, clothing them (armor and civilian clothes) and making sure they have top of the line protection. HE LITERALLY EVEN SAYS THIS IN AGE OF ULTRON. SUCH a mom. So he wanted to make Steve feel his pain because Steve made a promise that they would lose together and Steve wasn’t there on that moon. And OF COURSE Tony knows that Steve was on earth fighting his own battle against Thanos but he wasn’t WITH Tony. And they are always stronger together than apart. (Civil War kinda proved this too) Tony sees Steve’s absence as the reason they lost, because ‘if only they’d been together’ ‘maybe we could have won if we’d only been together.’

ALSO DONT EVEN GET ME STARTED ON TONY LITERALLY GIVING STEVE A REPRESENTATION OF HIS HEART. I know he did it out of anger and to make a point but he took away this piece of him, that he made SPECIFICALLY BECAUSE HE FELT VULNERABLE WITHOUT THE ARC, and gave it to Steve. Once again shedding that responsibility and giving it to Steve. Because even with the residual anger over Civil War, Tony trusts Steve. He says otherwise in this moment out of anger but that “vision” he talks about here? He literally watches Steve die (YEAH THATS RIGHT I SAID STEVE. Not PEPPER, NOT RHODEY, NOT ANY OF THE OTHER AVENGERS.) Wanda showed him his worst fear in Age of Ultron and it was the death of the Avengers, but he didn’t see THEM die. Everyone else, Thor, Bruce, Natasha, and Clint were already dead. Tony watched STEVE die and it was STEVE saying that Tony could’ve saved them that spurred him into creating Ultron. He was so scared of losing them and letting Steve down (and letting him die) that he wanted to wrap the whole world in armor to protect him. And he tries to do it again in this scene. He means it to be spiteful but he gives Steve his armor and tells him to hide from Thanos. WHICH IS ANOTHER THING UGH. Tony doesn’t know that out of all of the people who fought Thanos in Wakanda that day, Steve was the one who engaged in hand-to-hand combat with him. Everyone else had armor and suits, weapons, etc. Steve has his serum strength and he u s e d it. It didn’t help for very long but he used his BARE HANDS to fight an alien-monster wielding 5/6 of ALL POWERFUL infinity stones, and ofc he was never going to win, but even Thanos looked at Steve in incredulity at his bravery and resolve. A human (a super charged one at that but still a human) fought him with his bare hands and wasn’t going to stop. (Steve proved this again at the end of Endgame when he’s the last one standing against Thanos and his entire army and just tightens the strap on his broken shield, (and most likely broken arm, based on the flinch/hiss) and readies himself to fight alone. Steve also gave Wanda time to destroy the mind stone (unfortunately, that didn’t mean anything in the end)

AND YET Tony doesn’t know any of this. He doesn’t know how hard Steve fought, just like Tony did on Titan, to stop Thanos. And I REALLY wish we had seen Tony’s reaction to Steve standing up to Thanos at the end of Endgame OR EVEN WIELDING MJOLNIR, but anyways.

Back to the basics. Boss level stuff most people don’t remember or think about- Tony’s dad very unhealthily IDOLIZED Steve. He canonically compared everything Tony did to Steve. So Tony grew up idolizing this man that he also despised because it fueled his father’s abuse of him. Tony shows this anger in the first Avengers. When they have their argument on the quinjet. “Everything special about you came out of a bottle.” He even says something about how Steve didn’t live up to his father’s hype (I don’t remember Tony’s exact words but that’s the gist) And ofc Steve says Tony’s nothing without his armor. But then they go on the prove each other wrong multiple times, but mainly in their last moments in the MCU. Steve proves it by standing alone against an ENTIRE alien army and later by picking up mjolnir. And Tony? Tony is that ONE factor in a million that Stephen sees. Tony, a beautifully pure human-being, with no powers or serums to help, takes on the powers of the stones. KNOWING it would kill him. He had proof. It nearly killed Thanos and Bruce and they were hulking (pun intended) beings with super strength and all that.

Tony and Steve were always set up to be spoils to one another and that makes them perfect together. They balance each other out. Pepper was a boss b****, no doubt, and I loved their relationship in the first two Iron Man movies, but as their characters grew and Tony’s personality was intrinsically changed through trauma- Pepper was no longer right for him. She was good for him, no doubt, but Tony couldn’t relax with her as he did with Steve. Tony could trust Steve to take over and everything could be fine. Pepper was like that for Stark Industries but not in other ways. Tony always saw himself as Pepper’s protector. I will 100% give her props for telling Tony that he’d never rest until he tried Scott’s time travel theory, but other than that she wasn’t particularly supportive of Iron. Man. What Pepper never seemed to understand, and what Steve didn’t understand when he FIRST met Tony, is that Tony and Iron Man are synonymous. Their is no ‘man outside the suit.’ Tony Stark is Iron Man and Iron Man is Tony Stark. Steve was placed into an already created persona of Captain America. Steve didn’t create Captain America even though that’s who he was. He was literally MADE for the role. Tony on the other hand, MADE Iron Man. He was the one who built the first suit - dying in a cave in Afghanistan. He was the one who took responsibility for Obadiah and his father’s actions and became a superhero to save the countries that were affected by Stark tech. Steve may have volunteered to be a superhero because he felt like he had no one other choice but Tony DIDN’T HAVE TO. He had fame, money, power, ALL OF IT. He could’ve EASILY hidden his company’s dark underside once he found out. But instead, Tony was like “Hey um so my company has done some bad things and instead of delegating aid through my money and power, I’m going to personally handle this with a titanium alloy suit and technology that I helped create in a cave while being held captive by a terrorist cell.”

Where was I going with this? OH YEAH.

I will believe in TonyxSteve (Stony) for the rest of my life and I will use fanfiction to fill the void of their deaths. Basically, if I lost anyone in the word vomit above, what I’m trying to say is that- Steve and Tony completed each other. They provided something the other needed. Tony needed stability and protection. He needed to feel like he could let go. Steve needed an anchor in the present. Someone lively and opinionated, SOMEONE ADVENTUROUS AND FUNNY, who Steve could smile with and protect. But also. Steve trusted Tony to be a leader as much as Tony trusted him. They had their ups and downs. Trauma and the Accords didn’t help their relationship at all, but should’ve been it for each other. And I honestly believe they would have t h r i v e d.

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Honestly I applaud anyone who made it this far. I don’t know where this all came from but I will not apologize✌🏻

I rest my case your honor.

#avengers endgame #steve rogers #tony stark #captain america #iron man #stony #marvel endgame #steve x tony #i will die with this ship #i ship them #rip stan lee

[dontcallmecarrie]

Ohhh I’d love to see the Doom POV!!! Justin X Doom has my vote

Loki would be cute too, much drama with the avengers

Honestly? This snippet mostly summed up my take on Victor von Doom in this AU, and I'm not sure how in-character he is considering my main reference base for him is the 2005-7 movies and a handful of comic book panels.

Apologies for any inaccuracies, I'm playing very fast and loose with how I would have made him fit in the MCU. Plus this AU's turning out a lot, lot fluffier than I'd originally expected, too, considering the original premise was supposed to just be 'SI-OC as a villain protagonist, let's see where it goes!' and not much else.

.

Okay, so if we're talking about potential crushes, then it's obviously very one-sided at first [because Justin's brand of obliviousness has him younger-sibling-zoning anyone remotely his age for the longest time].

After all, these two met in boarding school, and were only physically reunited years later but if we're exploring how this ship would work, here's how I think it'd go:

Victor von Doom didn't think much of his study buddy, at first.

Because at first, he just wanted a quiet place to read, and most other children his age were rowdy and kept trying to get him to play with them, or tried to pick childish fights over nothing, and he had no patience for anything of the sort because he was here, at boarding school instead of with his family, and he'd heard the whispers of growing tensions and he knew they'd sent him away for his own safety but that didn't mean he had to like it.

So he mostly kept his nose in a book, and focused on his studies, and just generally tried not to think too much about what was going on in his home country.

If that meant he was a bit more snappish than the average child, he didn't particularly find it in him to care. Sure, this place was lauded as where the social elites sent their spawn to network from an early age, so what?

...as such, he didn't expect to make any friends.

But he did, starting from the moment they wordlessly agreed to share the alcove because there weren't many other quiet places to study for the upcoming exams.

From there, what Victor would have expected to be a one-off turns into a strange sort of routine as they meet up week after week from then on, giving each other a brisk nod as they pull out their books and set to work.

It's...surprisingly nice, having someone to study with. Victor's not certain how old his companion is, but he's quiet and hardworking and generally less draining to be around than most children their age.

Their first conversation is several months after they've first met, when Victor didn't notice he'd forgotten to grab a pencil for his worksheets and his...schoolmate[?] lends him a spare.

From then on out, their friendship is something gradual, something comfortable. Victor's companion respects boundaries in ways he hasn't really seen outside of his family— is sensitive enough to his moods that he knows when to change the subject, and when Victor's struggling to articulate his feelings and just needs time to do so.

...it's one of, if not the thing Victor misses most, when he gets pulled out of boarding school.

Because after that, things only go downhill from there.

.

Latveria's civil war was... bloody, let's just leave it at that.

Brutal, with a laundry list of factions and alliances that were forged and broken from one breath to another and Victor hadn't set out to be the leader of his faction— but it wasn't like he had any other choice.

He was one of the last surviving members of his family, if there was any hope that his country would be anything other than a fragmented mess then he had to step up.

Even if that meant a teenager was the face of one of the most eminent factions of this damn war, someone nobody really took seriously, and if Victor hadn't had years of seeing his oldest friend's charisma at work then he honestly has no clue how he would've managed to get as far as he had.

And then things escalated even more, and Victor honestly hadn't expected to live to see the end of the fighting, let alone what came after.

One of his advisors was the one to suggest making one last attempt at buying their weapons through a vaguely legitimate source; nobody with any sense was selling to their region, but the black market favored some of their biggest rivals and things were getting desperate enough that Victor signed off on it.

It was a long shot, and they all knew it.

...as such, that first shipment of Hammer Industries weapons took them all by surprise.

.

Victor had never set out to become the new leader of Latveria.

But here he was now, loved and feared and reviled around the world and he doesn't know where to go from here, but... the fact that he's alive to even be able to think about a future after the war was an incredible boon as it was.

Now that he is where he is, he can afford to think about more than just surviving from one day to another, and apart from working on rebuilding Latveria, he's also got some personal projects going on.

Such as finding out who came through at the eleventh hour, because now that he has the time and space to look a gift unicorn in the mouth he's realizing just how many laws must have been broken for those first few shipments to have gotten there.

The paper trail is a dead end, but once Victor starts poking around it should be so, very easy for him to get answers.

After all, Victor was a warlord-now-technically-dictator with access to black-ops personnel and honest-to-goodness death squads, getting intel on what he wanted should not be this hard. Sure, Hammer Industries had good information security, but... apparently, Hammer Senior wasn't the type to get involved in this sort of mess, which meant Victor had no idea who was responsible and he wanted answers—

In the end, one picture is all it takes.

Actually— when he'd first seen the picture, Victor had been in the middle of a meeting with some of his most trusted advisors and generals.

...suffice it is to say, nothing productive got achieved after he recognized the face of the heir of Hammer Industries, once he realized he'd never actually gotten his childhood friend's full name.

The less said about his reaction to the picture, the better, too: Victor's advisors had seen him at his best and at his worst, why they'd freaked out so much was anyone's guess.

So what if he'd kept it, after the meeting was over? Those looks were uncalled for!

.

Victor owes Justin more than he can name— so when there's a ghost of a chance to reconnect, he takes it.

.

Regrets were had.

Everyone at the UN summit looked at him, and he gritted his teeth as he faced off against seasoned politicians twice and thrice his age and he knew what they were expecting, knew they called him a dictator where his country called him a hero and neither of them wanted him here but Latveria had to re-enter the international sphere somehow so they were stuck with him.

Until Zemo got his act together and finished that international relations course, at least. Oh, and got out of the habit of shooting his problems, that too.

Victor had managed to get them diplomatic immunity, but that'd be a hard sell.

...it's funny. Latveria's civil war was over, but... he found himself at odds as to where to go from here.

.

It's funny, how the more things change, the more they really, really don't.

Victor had been a quiet and antisocial bastard back in boarding school, surviving a civil war hadn't exactly done much for his temperament either.

Or his social skills, for that matter.

And just like always, Justin's mere presence was weaponized sunshine.

...Victor never stood a chance.

#No Hero [Downward Descending] #I got an ask! #Naught replies #replies

[mandalorewhore]

Two Steps Ahead

PART THREE OF HUNTER (formerly hunter and prey)

gif by @princessxkenobi

Rating: Explicit Content Warnings: SMUT, Fighting as Foreplay, Rough Sex, Penetrative Sex(PIV), Unprotected Sex, Dirty talk, Praise kink, Size kink, Big Dick Mando, Top Mando, Sub/Dom elements, Very slight Pain Kink, possible CNC elements although I didn’t write that I also want to warn anyone who doesn’t want to read about rough sex with physical fighting as foreplay Words: 6.9k AO3 LINK

Summary: Reader and Mando start tracking their first bounty together

A/N: i believe things are happening...interesting

***

 “I feel like you have a distinct advantage here.” A bead of sweat drips over your brow as you mop at your sweltering forehead in irritation. Your temple throbs as you press on it, pain shooting down your neck at the pressure.

       It’s so fucking humid here. You’re tracking one of Mando’s bail jumpers in the middle of a boggy swamp planet that you never caught the name of and you’ve been walking through the forest for at least 24 hours, only stopping for water and ration breaks. Based on the holo-map you’re currently staring at, this entire planet is one big swamp, with no escape from the damp, sticky environment.

 The thing barely makes sense, a jumble of colors and shapes that worsens your headache the longer you try to figure it out. You had borrowed a thin shirt from Mando before setting out, but it does little to protect you from the buzzing swarms of insects, while at the same time it reflects just enough heat to have you sweltering.

 Mando acts unbothered under all that padding and armor, trekking through the trees without any visible sign of struggle. You don’t understand how he can stay awake for so long without caf, yourself being covered in caf-patches to keep from passing out. It’s probably somewhat dangerous to have so much of the stimulant coursing through your veins, but oh well. If my heart gives out then at least I’ll escape the bugs.  

       “Footprints aren’t the only way to track a quarry.” He returns mildly, moving swiftly over tangled tree-roots to avoid the pools of murky water that litter the forest floor. You move with less grace behind him, trying to climb slippery wood and juggle the holo at the same time. The twisted trees of this planet seem to reach inward to point at the forest floor, giving you the impression of being trapped within their clutches. The eerie feeling isn’t helped by the distinct lack of light, odd lichen tendrils drape between branches to create a blanket that absorbs most natural light from the sky. A faint glow emanates from the tendrils, basking the forest with ghostly illumination. You scramble to the top of the particularly tall root he’s perched on then plop down to catch your breath.

       “No, it’s not the only way,” you pause to take a swig from your water skin, dabbing off the spilled drops from your chin with your sleeve, “but the footprints      you    track are apparently all glowy and red. I get to look with my naked eyes for shit like depressions in the ground, which is so fun considering the only paths here are solid wood.”

       Mando rolls his helmet on his shoulders, the effect similar to someone rolling their eyes. When he speaks it’s short and gruff, annoyed by your attitude. Which is… appropriate. The hours you’ve spent walking in this heat together is starting to snap both of your tempers. “Stop complaining.”

 He’s not wrong about the footprints. You’re mostly annoyed because of how useless you feel, more like you’re tagging along than assisting him on the hunt. Drawing your eyebrows together you try to come up with a plan. Most of those mercenary skills you talked up for Karga don’t apply here, this naturalistic setting is too messy and... wild. Unpredictable. You’re used to the structure that comes with starships and cities, places engineered and civilized.

 Tracking people isn’t very hard, you’ve done it plenty of times before. The only issue is that all of your practice came from environments where they left clear signs of direction, displaced gravel indicating a shoe-print, broken branches, a trail in sand. It also helps that your targets didn’t know they were being stalked. The only path here is over hard wooden tree roots, with nothing to indicate direction, not even moss grows over the foot trail for traveling feet to mark. You take in a deep breath and hold it for several seconds before letting out all your air in one huge swoop.

       “I’m sorry, “ you tell him sincerely, “I want to help you -and not just for a bigger cut. Is there anything I can do?” You truly do feel bad for snapping at him even if you know you’re right about his advantage. Just because you don’t have fancy thermal settings and footprint tracking doesn’t mean you’re useless. The Mandalorian settles his hands on his hips and surveys the area, looking for a task to assign you. His helmet tilts up and lingers on the trees, and you’re already two steps ahead before he can voice his idea.

       “I can climb,” you interject, standing up swiftly and moving. “Trees can’t be more slippery than a spacecraft.”

       He nods in acknowledgment. “Find something and your cut goes up by five percent.”

       “Ten percent.” You grin at him cheekily, wanting to tease him even if he won’t give it to you.

       “Eight, if you find somewhere to camp.”

       “Deal.” You return, already halfway to the widest tree you can reach without getting your feet wet. The trunk is covered in knots and twisted vines, ugly but providing fantastic handholds for your hands and feet. Grabbing hold of a sturdy looking ledge you begin your ascent.

 The climb is fairly easy even with the woods damp surface, and you reach the forest canopy with minimal effort. Carefully squirreling around the thin top-most branches you attempt to find a break-through point, the wood beneath you bowing a little from your weight.

 When you finally poke your head through and see the sky you gasp, taken aback by the sight. You hadn’t hung around in the cockpit during landing, instead choosing to pack the bags while Mando skillfully piloted his ship. The forest floor is all you’ve seen of the planet and apparently you’ve missed a lot.

       The sky here is beautiful, a color palette that is completely opposite from the dark, damp underbelly of the forest ground. Swirling aquamarine clouds float lazily in the sky, speckling the orange hued atmosphere above you. There are at least 6 pale moons lined up on the horizon from edge to edge, stars twinkling around each orb as if drawn to their orbit. You drink in the sight greedily, the ache in your head lessening in the natural light. This is      so     much better than the cold stark metal of space stations that you’re used to living on.

 It’s hard to tell the time based on the sky alone, the moons must be constantly present in the sky no matter the time of day and you can’t find a single sun. Maybe this planet lives off the light and heat from each moon, reflected from a distant star? The thought is lovely but you don’t think it’s possible. You file the image away for your daydreams then divert your eyes back to the thick forest, searching for anything useful to tell Mando.

       The line of trees is unbroken, a sea of dark green leaves and glowing lichen. An orange sky helps to warm up the pale glow from the lichen but it’s eeriness still sends a shiver through you. Everything on the horizon is of even height, betraying nothing within its depths. It isn’t ideal. You gnaw your lip anxiously, dreading to return to Mando without any information especially on your first hunt together. Eyes flitting around desperately, you try to analyze any possible breaks in the natural pattern of trees.

     Could that be a settlement there? You think, looking at a slightly thinner section of forest that might roughly be three miles away. You aren’t sure about the planet’s curvature and how flat the terrain is so you double check the holo, looking for the information.

 Something catches your eye as you’re pulling up the data, just substantial enough in your peripheral version that you stop what you’re doing. There is a mist rising from that thinned area, far enough away that you mistook it as some sort of lighting effect from the overwhelming color palette here. That has to be steam right? It’s too thick to be naturally occurring from the bog. There must be machinery over there. A settlement hopefully.

 You’re about to climb down when you pause, looking at the still lit holo with renewed curiosity. Something about the map visually paired with your clear view of the forest allows the pieces to fall in place. When you compare the shape of the map to the trees you’re finally able to make sense of what you previously thought was a topographical mess. A built pathway lies here, a body of water there. And clearings. Several clearings not too far from where you are now, the perfect size to settle down in. Hopefully they’re dry.

 Either the caf-patches are finally sending you into cardiac arrest or you’re manically happy to finally be of help to your hunting partner, but either way, you’re grinning so widely that your teeth clatter together.

 “Hey Mando! Guess what you owe me?” You shout down at the ground, beginning to descend. You’re so excited that you practically slide down the vines, jumping to the ground when you’re several feet high in the air, sore muscles creaking at the impact. The Mandalorian is sitting now, resting with his elbow propped on his knee while he waited for you to come back. There’s a soft pang in your chest and you wonder if he’s tired. You brush it off, feeling as though you’re just projecting, and instead grin widely at him in triumph. “7 percent increase for me!”

 He lifts his helmet and looks you up and down. “What did you find?”

 You reply chirpily, hands grasped behind your back and shit-eating grin still plastered on your face. “There is a settlement of some kind roughly three miles that way,” you point in the direction where you saw the steam, “and several clearings nearby suitable to camp in, if we don’t want to head in right away. Oh, also we aren’t on the actual path used by locals here, the asset must be making an effort to hide.”

 “That isn’t very smart of them,” Din observes, shaking his head at the concept. “Busy path hides more prints.”

 “Hm…” You take that in, wondering what other techniques a quarry may use to shake its hunter.

 It occurs to you that there is a lot you could learn from the Mandalorian, since so far hunting someone has been notably different from your mercenary missions. You’ll find a moment to ask questions later once you’re settled down for the night, wherever that’ll be. “Do you want to camp or find the maybe-settlement?”

 “We should camp,” he responds immediately, rising from his seated position and walking closer to you, “we don’t know what we’ll face there. You can choose the area, since you climbed the tree.”

 You pull up the holo-map again and zoom in on the different options, feeling far more energized now that you actually know what you’re doing. There are two spots that seem encouraging, both a short hike away from where you are now but removed enough to grant you some privacy. You’ll still need to set up a watch to prevent ambush or stray travelers from finding you but it’ll be easier if you make an effort to hide. One of the clearings seems to have a running water source, you hope it’s cleaner than the still-water you’re currently surrounded by. Maybe you can bathe there too.

 “Lets go here,” you pull up the coordinates for Mando, “that looks like a stream, right?”

 He leans into your body for a closer look, broad chest just brushing against you in a way that sends flutters through your tummy. You know he can zoom in with his visor, there is no reason he needs to be so close to you except for your benefit. He seems to enjoy messing with you like this, throwing you off with unexpected touches, looks, and gestures. It’s like a game he plays and you’d be far more annoyed by his teases if it wasn’t so exciting.

 “Looks good,” he rumbles low in his chest. “Fresh water would be nice.”

 Your heart quickens, but you tried to hide your reaction by teasing him back, tapping your fingers on his helm and stepping away. “I was hoping to clean myself up, actually…”

 Mando straightens up at this, visor locked on your face.

 “Lead the way.” He returns quietly, giving away nothing. Trying not to smile, you start off in the direction of the clearing, for once moving faster than your armored companion.

 Your goal isn’t very far, only about 3 miles north of your previous position and a mile adjacent to the settlement you’ll pay a visit to tomorrow. Large, fuzzy fronds of an alien fern droop down the sides of the hollow clearing, providing a barrier between the forest and empty space in between. The trees still tangle above the open area, blocking out part of the beautiful sky, save a few of the large moons, and old pieces of charcoal are ground into the sandy earth here, a sight that makes you a little anxious. This spot must be used by others, you’ll have to be more careful with setting up the watch than expected.

 The water source turns out to be a small spring set on the edge of a cliff at the far end of the clearing, a sizable waterfall cascading down the side and gathering in a crystalline pool. Skipping ahead of Mando to the edge of the pool you crouch and dip your fingers in the cool water, sighing in relief as it relieves some of the warmth in your overheated body.

 You’re unable to hear Mando’s approach - how he is so stealthy under 50 pounds of metal escapes you, but you feel him behind you. You smirk. Arching your back as you rise, you turn around slowly and begin to make eyes in his direction however, when you actually see what he's doing, you cringe at yourself in embarrassment. He’s not looking like you assumed, instead he is surveying the clearing skeptically, body-language imbued with disapproval. Your heart simultaneously sinks to your stomach and contracts in frustration. You thought you had finally done something right.

 “What? Is something wrong?” You ask him tightly, subtly shrinking in on yourself in disappointment. You try to hide this by fiddling idly with a stray thread on your tunic, stubbornly keeping your head lifted high despite wishing you could disappear. He doesn’t respond right away, instead turning and walking the length of the clearing then back, stopping just in front of you sharply. You meet his visor with your eyes, holding the look until you feel like you’re burning up in shame from the pressure of it.

 “It’s too… open,” he finally says, voice halting as he tries to find the correct words. “Anyone could walk into our camp.”

 “I figured we’d set up a watch. There’s only one entrance-”

 He interrupts you. “One ground entrance. Anyone can climb down from the trees.”

 “Maybe, but this planet isn’t supposed to be dangerous, is it? Practically abandoned,” You huff out, fists clenching at your sides as you argue with him. “Besides. It’s… pretty here.”

 The Mandalorian sighs, pinching the helmet just below the visor where his nose bridge would be. “Fine. I’ll take the first watch. No fire.”

 Nodding in response, you cross the clearing and set your bag down on a log, letting out a sigh in relief. That’s fine by you, you don’t need the extra warmth and the glowing lichen provides enough light to get by. You really did not want to hike again after moving for 24 hours straight. Mando mirrors your movements, leaning his rifle next to your pack before settling on the sandy earth. A loaded pause passes between you, earlier implications at the forefront of your minds.

 Letting out a shuddering breath you crouch down and pull your old tunic from your bag, slinging it over your shoulder before making your way back to the small pond. The water is completely clear, an inviting sight after the marshy puddles that made up the forest ground on your way here. You’re facing the water now but you’re still well aware of the man behind you, the intensity of his gaze burning even through the impassive visor. The invitation is clear. Take it off.  

 But you aren’t sure if you want to give him that yet. The exhaustion from today has wrung you dry, small bickerings between you and your work partner dampening the sweet mood leftover from Nevarro. Apologizing with sex isn’t really your thing. You’d rather stoke the mutual respect between you as allies instead of start up a pattern of fighting then making up.

 You crouch at the water's edge, peering into the depths for a moment before splashing your face with cold water, fresh scar throbbing as blood rushes to the surface of your face. The spare tunic you grabbed just brushes the surface of the water, sending ripples throughout your reflection. Curious, you lean over and observe the way the mirror-like pond breaks off into fragments, bits of you here and there mixing in with the moons that lay on russet sky.

     Like a painting. You think in awe, having only seen a couple of the artifacts in person. The richest target you were assigned to owned two pieces of art, real paintings on real paper, encased in transparisteel viewing cases before you smashed open the backing to wonder at them. You close your eyes and try to recall the texture of the paint before the rest of your memory catches up and sours the whole thing. The man's home had to be burned in order to erase evidence, his paintings too large to smuggle out of the city.

 When you open your eyes the pond has settled with your reflection only- you’re not alone.

 “Maker!” You jump at the sight of the Mandalorians gleaming helmet appearing in the reflection. “What the fuck, you sneak.”

 He just chuckles in response and offers you a hand, which you take firmly while rolling your eyes and standing. He leads you back to sit with him on the sandy earth, taking ration bars out of his pack- not yours, and breaking them evenly between you. The gesture is surprisingly tender and none too appreciated what with your stomach growling audibly at the bland meal. All at once, you are reminded by the spattering of caf-patches on your limbs, the jitteriness becoming more apparent now that you’re finally still. You’re shaking. Mando notices as well.

 “You may explode.” He remarks, prompting you to start pulling off the stimulant, crumpling each piece and setting them neatly in a pile at your knee.

 “Good, let me explode. You’re too bossy to work with.” You return with a smirk, hoping your sarcasm lands. He hums in response, pulling one of the patches off of your forearm and flicking it in your direction for you to catch.

 Tutting, you roll the patch into a ball and set it at the top of your pile. “Don’t leave a mess, this forest is ugly but at least it’s untouched,” you tell him firmly. Mando just nods.

 The ration bars are hardly a delicacy but you shove them in your mouth all the same, appreciating the engineering behind them. They are so calorie rich that a piece the size of your palm can keep you going for hours. However, your body can’t seem to relax despite the food lining your belly- perhaps you actually overdid the caf. You should be tired right now. Staying awake for more than a day isn’t exactly the average schedule but your knee bounces uncontrollably in a frantic pattern, stirring up puffs of sand between you and the warrior.

 “You need to tire.” Mando mutters, firmly placing a glove on your thigh and holding the limb down. “Stop that.”

 “Sorry,” you reply, trying to freeze yourself and sit as still as he does. Mando always exists so sagely, like a monk. Completely calm when he wants to be before exploding into action, no warm-up necessary. You wonder if he had some sort of meditation training to achieve that. Is that why he sits like that in the cockpit, his back rod straight like a statue? Weirdo.

 “Hey…” The palm at your thigh presses again and you suck in a sharp breath. You didn’t even realize you were twitching again. “Do I have to hold you down?” He growls.

 You gulp. “Tempting. But no.” Your words come out steadier than you feel. The caf becomes all too much in that moment so you lurch to your feet, his gleaming helmet following your body as it rises jerkily. You feel far too energetic, needing to get the energy out somehow so you can finally pass out. Your idea leaves your mouth before you can truly think it over.

 “Wanna fight?”

 “...What?” Mando sounds truly surprised even if his body betrays nothing.

 “You heard me,” you’re bouncing on the balls of your feet, swaying back and forth like a green sailor on the oceans of Mon Cala. “Let's practice our combat, I rarely get to do that.”

 He’s standing before you can blink causing you to jerk back, startled by his speed. The Mandalorian poses right in front of you, too close to not be a challenge with his weight settled on one leg breezily.

 “Okay. Hit me.”

     What a taunting mother fu-  You swing your left hand out as if aiming for the unarmored spot on his ribs, which he blocks with ease… leaving his throat open for your right fist to sharply jab.

 The bounty hunter doubles over, coughing and clutching his neck with one hand.

 “O-Oh shit! I’m sorry, I- I didn’t mean, let me-” You scramble with lost movements, trying and failing to help him straighten upright. It leaves you awkwardly placing your palms on his back while the crown of his helmet presses into your belly. “I, um… Mando?”

 His arms wrap around your middle in a flash, pulling you tightly against his chest and throwing both your bodies to the ground. It happens so fast that you can’t even shriek before the air is knocked out of you, hitting the sand hard enough to throw it into the air around you. Gasping, you smack full force at the Mandalorian on top of you, his arms still crushing you against him while your legs lock straight together with his knees on either side. It’s sexy, but you’d really like to breathe. He lets up just barely.

 “Nice punch,” he rasps, throat clearly affected by the hit. “Don’t think I’ll hold back after that though.”

 “Don’t… want… you to…” You shoot back at him, sharp as you can manage while wheezing. Mandos visor raises ever so slowly and pins you, hidden eyes holding you down more effectively than his body. After a drawn out moment of this, your head spinning as you calculate your escape strategy, he crawls up your body to prop himself above you, locking your wrists in one large hand with the other presses against your chest, shoving your back into the earth. It is just enough pressure to squeeze some air out of your lungs and it is then when you know he isn’t kidding about not holding back.

 You’re so fucking happy that he isn’t letting you win.

 In other instances, you’d panic at the hopeless feeling of being trapped like this, by someone twice your size and clad in the galaxy’s most powerful steel. But the way he spars with you now, full force and not playing easy... it has implied respect for your skill. He knows you can fight and doesn’t spare you the opportunity to prove it.

 Only a second or two has passed since he fully immobilized you and you’re still locked in your flattened position. When he motions to stand, pulling your wrists as if to drag you, you know you must make your move now or it will be too late. The only spot he has open on his body right now is… well, right between his legs. The first thing a smaller fighter learns about combating larger foes is to fight dirty and there is no reason you should hold back if Mando isn’t. Your legs had been pinned tightly together before he moved to drag you but now there is just enough room to swing a knee up and hit him between the legs.

 Mando doesn’t wear a full codpiece but luckily for you, the padding on his groin isn’t enough to block your kick. A choked sound rips out of his throat and he falls to one knee, the fingers encircling your wrists loosening slightly while he struggles to fight his body’s natural pain response. You wrench one hand free and use it to grip his cowled neckline, planting your feet against his cuirass and swinging yourself into a hanging position before his grip tightens again. He's steady but you try to dig your feet in to throw him forward, hoping to twist around and land on his back with his face down. He totters for one frozen second, both your bodies on the precipice of falling but unfortunately, he manages to wrench himself backwards and land heavily on his back with you on top.

 You’re both gasping and groaning at the shock of hitting the ground so hard, and for one breathless moment all you do is stare heatedly at each other on the forest floor, eyes locking through his visor and somehow you know he is grinning.

 His smile mirrors on your face when you feel his hands rip at your clothes, wrenching the thin pants off of you down to your thighs forcefully enough to knock your legs together with a dull thud.

 “Did I not just kick you in the dick, Mando?” You laugh, working at his belt at the same time. He palms your ass through your underwear greedily, squeezing so hard that you know finger shaped bruises will blossom there.

 “You missed.”

 “Must’ve hurt either way…” You mutter, finally managing to reach under his thick layers and wrap your hand around his length, producing a low growl from the man beneath you. “Maybe, it's good I missed.”

 The only response you get is his hands pulling both your hands to lay on his chest plate then traveling back down your body to tug aside your underwear and grind you down onto his hips, rubbing your now bare slit against his bulge. You vaguely remember deciding against coming onto him as a form of apology, but for some reason, since he started first that all ceases to matter. It feels like a game you’ve begun to play with each other, playing with the tension between you and the Mandalorian until you find out what breaks your resolve. Maybe it started even before you entered this forest, perhaps back on Nevarro or even on the station.

 You can’t tell but you don’t want to question it either.

 A moan falls from your throat, your hands moving on their own volition to try and remove his belt entirely, or at least enough to pull his cock out. Mando’s glove flashes up again to circle your wrists, immobilizing them and harshly pinning you down with his vambrace lain across your back.

 “You yield?” He asks, voice dripping with a sickly triumph. A chill runs down your back and you feel as if he just dunked you into the pond.

 “W-What?”

 “You yield… I win?”

 “Wha- No!” You cry out indignantly, struggling against his iron grip. “I didn’t realize we were still sparring!”

 He laughs, fully bodied and dark with some emotion that swirls deep within your core, and you can’t put your finger on it exactly but you know you’ll have to do something before you’re swept up entirely. “Oh, but we are. What shall the winner gain?” He asks, so quietly that it is almost lost in the warped modulator, barely a question and more so a crackling of static.

 Fuck, you’re so wet.

 You lick your lips and shakily respond. “I am not one to give up, however-”

 “Then don’t. Keep fighting.”

 Oh, and you love what he implies. There is no reason to argue further and less time to act, so you immediately struggle hard with the upper half of your body, wrenching your wrists to try and distract him from the way your legs are free to swing into his ribs. But Mando doesn’t fall for your feint a second time. In fact, he seems to have expected it, his leg is more than prepared to hook around the back of your knees and hold you against his body, rolling to the side to throw you underneath him.

 You’re pinned on your back with nearly his full weight, unable to do more than weakly punch at what you can reach- unfortunately for you all you can reach is armor. Your cry of anger is cut short when Mando flips onto your front, your chest pressed roughly to the floor of the forest.

 The helmet appears over your shoulder, his ragged breathing right by your ear. “T-This okay? You want this?” You can’t find your words to respond with the way you're held so tightly against the earth, so you nod as best you can with one cheek pressed into the ground. Mando snarls something furiously, one hand leaving your back to fumble with his pants and pull his cock out, lining himself up at your soaking entrance and running the head through your folds.

 His helmet drops back down to your shoulder, the visor turning and burying itself into the line of your neck and you know that if he weren’t bound by his creed then he would be kissing dark bruises there.

  “You know this means I win,” he hisses, pressing his cock to breach your tight opening ever so slightly.

 “I-I know.” You whimper weakly.

 With that, he fully pushes himself into you and if you weren’t so wet you know his size would be unbearably painful. Instead, the stretch is pure bliss, a slow burning sensation that has a hint of sting to it, his dominance lending to complete submission and all you can do is lay there and take it. There is still the strain you grew to know from when he allowed you to use his body on Nevarro, but something about Mando topping you encourages you to open yourself for him with more ease.

 He quickly bottoms out then holds himself till, allowing you to adjust to his size. You’re writhing as much as possible under the way he crushes you to the floor, knees carving grooves in the soft sandy earth.

 “Fuck,” Mando grits, teeth clenched together so hard that you swear you can hear the grinding in his jaw. “You’re so fucking tight, fuck.”  

 The position is hard to maintain on the soft ground, his hands keep sliding ever so slightly on either side of you forcing him to adjust every few seconds. His patience breaks after the third time this happens, a growl crackling through the helmet as he settles his hands on your lower back and hoists his body up, knees planted on either side of your thighs, crushing them together with intense pressure on your clit. Your body is locked tight, pussy clenching harder around his cock when he rises into an upright position.

 You let out a genuine scream when he draws back then thrusts sharply into you, pain mixing with pleasure in a manner far more biting than on his ship, when he had let you take control entirely, never even doing so much as to thrust into you. It is almost too much for you but even while you struggle to take his cock, you don’t      dare    tell him to stop, nor do you want him to stop. You’re so blinded by the stretch that you don’t realize he is speaking until you miss several, distorted words.

 “Fuck, why did I wait, why did I wait? I should’ve fuck-fucked you back on the station, approached you in that hangar and made myself fucking clear-”    Each gritted word is accentuated by a mean thrust, his dick is so big that he has to shove himself inside of you rather than glide, breaking you open in a way that burns so sweetly. Your legs are held together, knees locked and straight, which doesn’t help how tight you are but you can’t budge at all to open yourself to Mando, his hands pressing down at your lower back so heavily that you’re short of breath.

 A garbled moan is forced out of you when Mando grinds his length into your pussy as deep as he can possibly reach, hips smashing against your ass while he pulses inside of you and for a second you think he's cumming. But no- he draws himself from your depths and starts to rut his cock between your cheeks, head resting on your upper back and hands by your head.

 A powerful hand wraps under your side and settles at your sternum, pulling you back against his cuirass and lifting so that you end up seated together, fitting against him without even an inch of space between your bodies. His hand lifts your hips, other appendage snaking around to position his cock back at your entrance before allowing gravity to do the work, your legs spreading to rest on either side of his thighs as you sink down on him to the hilt.

 Once settled, Mando starts to work you on his cock, lifting you like you weigh no more than a pebble then letting go. The head of his cock slams full force into your pussy with the weight of your entire body, each brutal pounding sending sparks of pleasure up your spine. Lungs free and no longer crushed to the floor, you’re unable to stay quiet, broken sobs and moans puffing from gritted teeth as he takes what he denied himself on his ship, the memory a thousand miles away as your processing center is fucked stupid.

 You can’t say how long this goes on for, maybe minutes, maybe hours, but the next thing you know is that your cheek is back on the sand, burning from the way it chaffs against the floor with each rhythmic thrust that claps against your thighs. You’re don’t even know if you’ve cum yet but it doesn’t matter, not with the way he is fucking the life out of you here in the wilderness. Mando is still talking, still uttering filth and praise through the helmet and all you can think about is how badly you want to hear his real voice speaking that way to you, you’re so close to asking him to take it off but you can’t find the words, you can’t think, you can’t-

 Abruptly, he grinds to a halt at the deepest point in your body then pulls himself free, pushing your shirt up lighting fast before cumming across your back with a choked exclamation. You’re both still for a second before your knees collapse, landing flat on your belly and gasping desperately. There is a shuffling noise behind you, accompanied with heavy breaths from the bounty hunter. It sounds like he’s rummaging through something then, yeah- your train of thought is confirmed when a wet cloth wipes his pleasure from your skin, gently trailing along your spine and ass.

 You reach behind you and hold his wrist, feeling the fluttering pulse there. “I’ll win next time…” You whisper, drawing his hand along the soreness on your bottom, the area he bruised, you suspect. He laughs- or pants you can’t really tell, but either way his touch becomes more gentle on your body, smoothing out the tense muscles and cleaning you up. Today's travels with the man have suddenly caught up to you and you might pass out right here, half clothed and dirty.

 “Come on, get up. Don’t sleep here.” Mando firmly states, helping you up and guiding you across the clearing after you pull your leggings up from where they gathered at your ankle. You’re trembling like a leaf, fragile in your spent state but glowing all the same. Mando sets you down on a log and brings you a canteen of water which you gulp down thankfully. He chuckles. “Wait up or I’ll have to drink from the spring.”

 That gives you pause, reminding you of something he said while you lay beneath him. You’re slightly nervous to ask but you do it anyway, warm and satisfied on your perch while he cares for you. “You.. When you were, um- fucking me. Well, you said something about how you shouldn’t have waited. Does that mean what I think it means?”

 He nods, “I noticed you for other reasons too, burc’ya.”

 “Maybe you should’ve fucked me back then.” Taking another gulp then handing the canteen back, you stretch then slide down to sit on the ground with him, back against the log. “You said that word before, ber-borshaw?”

 “Burc’ya.”He corrects,“It means friend in Mando’a.”

 “Oh.”You cheeks heat, feeling silly and rude for not recognizing the use of his people’s tongue, also noting that he used it to refer to you twice now, endearingly. It is an honor, one that makes you nervous. You feel like you should apologize, somehow. “Y-You speak Mando’a? I’ve never heard you use it before.”

 Mando settles against the log, leaning his broad shoulders to rest against the wood near your side. A few moments pass before he responds, “I chose to not use it around the others. Didn’t trust them.”

 “Oh, so you trust me?” You giggle, tapping the side of his helmet with your elbow. Questions burn within you and you may as well ask now, in the quiet afterglow of sex where everything is warm and slow. “Why didn’t you trust them if you started the company with Ran? How am I any different?”

 “You aren’t ruthless,” he surprises you by answering immediately, and you can’t decide whether you're insulted or not before he continues. “Ruthless and cruel is all that group ended up being, and it didn’t start out that way. We weren’t just mercenaries, we had a      code.    In the early days, attacking a slave ship would’ve been out of the question. Ran wasn’t always so full of greed.”

 Silence falls after he speaks, letting you mull over his explanation for a while while the waterfall rumbles in the background. Really, his perspective confuses you when you think back on your actions as a mercenary. Desperate to climb the ranks, to make a name for yourself, to earn credits and reputation. You suppose you conducted yourself with empathy, avoiding selection for hits that targeted innocent people if you could help it. You never had much choice in the area but it seems your actions spoke louder than realized. So much energy spent to avoid seeming weak and you never considered that your aversion doubled as strength.

 “Friend…” You whisper, not of your own accord. The word floats on your tongue, a specter within your vocabulary. In your adulthood you’ve had allies, you’ve had teammates, you’ve had acquaintances, but to have a friend… it terrifies you as much as it warms your heart. You considered yourself partnered professionally with the Mandalorian and didn’t      dare    to consider yourself lovers, no matter how much you privately hoped. But a friend is a luxury you didn’t hold close, mainly out of fear. You lost too many as a child. For a faceless man he manages to strike areas that are quite intimate.

 You decide that you’ll enjoy being his friend, a bit surprised that you aren’t too hurt by what is essentially a romantic rejection of the crush you held for so long. Probably because this is      real    , solid and built within reality instead of the silly fantasies you built prior.

     This is better than lovers, you tell yourself, the slight ache in your heart melting into the background of your desires, behind lock and key for another world.

 “I’ll take ‘friend’, Mando.” You grin, extending a hand to him cheekily. He stares for a second before taking it and shaking, helmet tilting in a respectful nod.

 His next words send an unexpected pang throughout your chest, taking all the careful walls you worked hard to set up and throwing them into a blazing inferno.

 “Let’s see where it goes.”

  Fuck.  

   ----------------

   Leather boots prance lightly through thick branches high in the trees, footfalls landing silently with all the grace of an athlete. Through the delicate glasses perched on the pursuers nose, a red glow blooms on the shadowy floor of the swamp, two sets of footprints lighting up to reveal a steady path made by the travelers. A musical giggle bubbles out of the darkly dressed woman as she pulls a small holo-watch from her bag and straps it onto her wrist, pale light mixing with her lavender skin, transforming it into a sickly grey.

 Xi’an claps a hand over her mouth to prevent her cackle from ringing through the trees as her plan takes form.

***

TAG LIST (working on it slowly, message if you want)

@velia27 @shrekscoochiehair @tbhitisdbh @sparklingwitches @lazyonasunday @peach-child @leah-halliwell92 @riot-sounds

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian fic #fanfic #star wars #the mandalorian x reader #mandalorian smut fanfic #smut fic #smut #din djarin #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x you #mandalorian/reader #din djarin/reader #self insert #self insert fic #reader insert #reader insert fic #star wars self insert #the mandalorian imagine #star wars imagine

[confused-as-all-hell]

Nesta and Feyre

“You loved me when no one else would. You never stopped. Even when I didn’t deserve it, you loved me, and fought for me, and …” 

I’ve been seeing so much discourse on these two lovely sisters that it’s genuinely gotten funny. Everyone in this forsaken fandom hates someone, a ship or person or even a fucking ribbon, I’ve heard. So allow me to clarify: this is not an anti post. I am only pointing out the relationship between Feyre and Nesta, and I apologize if I come off as harsh. I love them both very, very much. If everyone would just be the slightest bit kind, that would be wonderful, thanks. 

I have a sister myself. A sweet, gentle younger sister who still argues and fights and insults me without mercy. I often think of her like I do Feyre, someone who loves unconditionally and irrevocably. And I have always felt as though I am more akin to Nesta, furious and fierce and proud. My sister and I don’t always get along. In fact, we very rarely do, but I love her more than I love any other.

Believe me when I say Nesta and Feyre love each other. Nes said some awful things, ill comments she had no right to weaponize. Feyre was wrong a few times herself, though perhaps not on such a large scale. Either way, these two have their own problems and trauma that they are working through, and I can respect that kindly. 

But I will not lie. Nesta’s initial remarks towards the Inner Circle were awful. Even I can point that out without hassle or difficulty. Lovely Mor extended a hand, complimented Nesta’s dress, made her attempts at friendly conversation; in return, Mor was slut-shamed for her own clothing. Rhys tried his hand at civility, which was understandably difficult for him, as Nes had hurt his mate badly; he, too, was shut down.

I am allowed to hold Nesta accountable and love her at the same time. She fucked up more than a few times. But Feyre, she never held her elder sister accountable. I understand our High Lady’s point of view, as it would twist my stomach to side with anyone other than my own sister. Even if she’s in the wrong, it’s always hard to tell her so. 

So when Feyre glanced up from that check, the one stating Nes had spent 500 gold marks on harming herself, she did not get angry. She was heartbroken, not over the money, but over its cause. Feyre had finally decided she could not keep giving Nesta rope to hang herself; she stepped up, chose to extend a hand instead. And she involved the Inner Circle.

Was she wrong to do so? Was Feyre wrong to involve them in Nesta’s trauma? Yes. I can understand why she did so, of course, but I can also understand why Nes reacted in her fury. I would not want my sister’s friends to bear witness to my difficulties. 

However, it was not abuse when Feyre sent Nesta to the House. Nes was hurting badly, and while drinking and sex are not bad things, it’s not healthy to process your trauma by numbing it away. I say this as someone who has dealt with her own trauma. Feyre, as my own sister would have done, saw someone bleeding and raw, and she acted to help her. She removed her from a poisonous setting and set Nesta in a gentler environment, where Nes could not relapse or partake in those activates that hurt her. Feyre gave her sister time to heal, provided her with money, gave her space for several months. And when Nesta continued to harm herself, Feyre did the best she could, and showed her to a house without those toxic coping methods. 

Tamlin locked Feyre away when she was aching and bleeding, shut her in a bedroom and turned the key. But Feyre gave Nesta an outlet for her frustration (the training sessions), and she worked to make sure her sister was not alone and uncared for. There is such a difference between Tamlin abusing his girlfriend because he was blind, and Feyre seeing a struggling sister and reaching out her hand. 

I’ve also seen discourse on the fact Nesta was expected to step into a “motherly role” and care for her family when their mother died. My girl is not expected to do anything. Their father should have gathered his wits about him and provided for his children. Feyre and Nesta and Elain were young, far too young to worry over their lives. I do agree, if one of those three were to go hunting, it should have been Nesta or Elain. But neither of them should have had to. Nes was wrong; she should have attempted to care for her family in some way, not as a stand-in mother, but as someone who loves her sisters. Their father was worse still. There was no good answer to this disastrous equation, but the blame falls on Elain as it does Nesta, as it does their father. They were wrong not to assist Feyre, but that does not mean one or the other are at fault.

Please, can we cease our banter on the topic of Nes and Feyre? They’re both brave and kind and worthy of love. They both have faults. They care for each other. We owe them so much more than our blind hatred.

#nesta archeron #feyre archeron #pro feyre #pro nesta #a court of thorns and roses #a court of mist and fury #a court of wings and embers #a court of wings and ruin #a court of frost and starlight #a court of silver flames #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #no #rhysand #cassian #morrigan #did i fucking lie

[vaguely-concerned]

The Mandalorian Chapter 14 rewatch thoughts, in which there is much ado about Looking

let’s get the most Look heavy out of the way first lol

- the scene of din holding the silver ball is shot from below, like we often get when we’re in baby’s POV because grogu’s almost always gazing up at him. so the camera/audience is looking at him through the child’s eyes still, in a way, just to emphasize the connection even more. h e l p  m e

that firmly established ‘din looks down, baby looks up’ rhythm paying for itself yet again 😭😭😭 also I love the effect that because of the smoke it looks like he’s standing in a serious thunderstorm, while the sky is actually really bright and lit up with only light cloud cover from other angles. it plays into this thing that... this is basically the end of the world for him, and barely anyone else knows or cares. he or the baby never appear in the sequels, din doesn’t have a huge ~*destiny*~ within the Force, his world is so much smaller than what we’re used to in star wars -- his grief at having it come crashing down around him is only a black cloud around him, it doesn’t block out the sun on a galactic scale ala anakin skywalker. he’s not Important. except actually he’s the MOST IMPORTANT, perhaps exactly because of that. (he certainly is to me) y’know? well I wouldn’t blame you if you don’t, I’m not sure I know. but my heart is so full.    

- for a good portion of the scene where din is picking through the ashes of the razor crest (;_____________; still not over it) boba is actually looking at fennec looking at din

more precisely he seems to be looking at her while din is looking at the silver ball, and is looking at din and having some kind of Emotion while din finds the beskar spear

hm. I am now exTREMELY curious to know what boba and fennec’s relationship is actually like in more detail. strictly canonically I’m pretty sure there shouldn’t be enough of an age difference that he could sort of be a father figure, but... there’s something here, some parallells being drawn

the shots of them right before din finds the ball is interesting too -- you have fennec looking at din with a pained flinching sort of sympathy

and then she looks down and glances half towards boba like she’s checking in with him out of the corner of her eyes, but she’s not seeking gaze contact at all, she’s not asking him about anything or even initiating contact (it comes across better in motion but this was the best I could do to show it)

presumably they’ve already decided they’re going to help din, from the matter of fact way they inform him about it right afterwards, but there’s something complicated going on here within fennec at least, I think, it makes me want to know more about her backstory. (boba does look at her when he says they’ll help, and he’s trying to meet her eyes even if she doesn’t reciprocate)

and then at the very end of that scene boba is looking at fennec again, and she’s finally meeting his eyes and they both seem pretty satisfied and pleased (I guess doing the right thing has not necessarily figured hugely in either of their careers lol)   

sideline but boba has so many excellent Stances in this episode, it’s wonderful. he looks so steady and grounded

- also boba and fennec are close enough that the smoke actually affects their point of view for now and darkens their world too. how’s that for a metaphor for empathy hahaha 

- it’s actually quite sweet of boba to take the time to explain his own state of mandalorian-ness to din, like he’s at least eliminating the one source of uncertainty and tension that it’s in his power to remove haha  

(I wonder if he’s also gauging din’s reaction to the concept of foundlings? I’ve seen some people theorize that it might not be a recognized tradition across all of mandalorian space (then again... what even is, the only true mandalorian trait is accusing someone else of not being mandalorian right) and that it was one of the apples of cultural discord in the civil wars)

- the whole journey boba’s face goes on as he watches din with the spear... I do not understand what it is exactly but I am OBSESSED with it, his eyes are doing some things and it makes my heart feel funny

he pretty quickly glances away with a sharp inhale of breath that’s some shade of ‘well. fuck.’, but I can’t quite tell you exactly what’s going on there haha

- okay so honestly -- maybe we find a force user to train the baby and maybe we don’t, but not having din be an active part of that training either way would be a fucking CRIME. din clearly just has so much fun being able to engage with him like that, as does the baby, and it gets results. if someone shows up to help with this I hope they have the insight and flexibility to understand that. (listen to baby’s excited squeal and din’s breath of laughter before he encourages ‘come on, you can do it’! it’s consistently the most engaged and happy we see din and baby obviously feels safe doing this with him when he doesn’t with anyone else, come ON)

- the soft soft mando and baby music kicking in when din gives grogu the silver ball back and tells him he’s special T_______T oh my actual god  

- I love the way boba’s just... studying din all the way through their first meeting, it’s such a look of cold, dispassionate but not necessarily unkind evaluation. that’s the gaze of a bird of prey or something, it’s perfect (his eyes have softened significantly when looking at din towards the end of the episode, I guess that whole father son situation hit a tender spot huh lol)

- din’s shoulders rise up immediately when fennec starts talking about the bounty on grogu :’)

it also seems he’s a little 😬 about being in such a hurry back in chapter 5 that he missed that she wasn’t actually, y’know, dead haha, he slumps a bit uncomfortably and there’s also the “I owe you one” later on

- oh to have the utter yet unwarranted confidence of this storm trooper behind a minigun, still blasting away as the boulder crushes me

- I want to say something to gideon about what sorts of things a man must be compensating for to take the time to gleefully gloat at AN ACTUAL BABY, but thankfully I’m way too classy for that

- fennec shand using her entire strong but slender sniper’s frame to push that boulder off the cliff... poetry

I love that one pose she does jumping backwards off the stones at one point too, it’s so graceful, she looks like a dancer

- this entire scene of boba fett fucking eliminating storm trooper after storm trooper is doing some stuff to me, I can’t lie

it’s so AWESOME to see a mando interact with their armour in the same natural and expert way as din -- bo katan & co didn’t really have that many surprises and tricks to theirs, it’s more sleekly functional, boba and din’s have a different feeling to them, more personal to them and lived in, in a way (probably because they work alone much more often and need some tricks up their sleeves)

bo katan’s armour is for War and has been for generations, theirs is more just to Live as themselves? does that make any sense?   

- I wonder what it feels like for din to try to push through the force barrier - he’s making sounds not just of exertion but with a little bit of pain to it?

- I really like that when boba says “I was aiming for the other one” fennec clearly knows he’s not joking, she doesn’t smile or anything. it makes it feel like they actually know each other quite well at this point

- grogu makes small sleeping baby noises when he’s passed out on top of the stone Y____________Y  

- genuinely touched by how much better boba’s armour looks in the next episode, after him having it back for like a week max. LOVE what this show does with the relationship between a mandalorian and their armour and how it’s almost a living thing when it’s with them, and dead when it’s taken away

- the way boba leans forward a little in his seat when he spots the big ship *chef kiss* it so instinctively reads as him watching something dangerous, and after seeing the way he went through all those troopers like a hot knife through butter you fucking KNOW that if he’s unsettled you’re damn well unsettled too haha

#star wars #the mandalorian #the mandalorian spoilers #the mandalorian meta #this is one of those where I'm trying to explain things to myself more than anything haha #anyway boba fett Hot

[lovelessdagger]

Starlight - Chapter Six: Devil in Disguise

Pairing: Din Djarin x OC, Din Djarin x OFC

Rating: Mature

Enemies to Lovers, Slow Burn, Canon Divergence

Warnings: Explicit Language, mentions of drug abuse

Words: 3585

Summary: In her youth, she hadn’t had the fortune of friends, or really any amicable or civilized relationship. Boarding school provided about as much of a social life as one could expect. What with Imperial propaganda as the basis of all education. Churning out brainwashed children one year after the other. When she was moved to private tutoring, she never stood a chance.

Not that she considered the Mandalorian to be a friend, she didn’t. She was lonely but not desperate.

Starlight Masterlist Here

Read Chapter Five Here

Read on AO3 Here

Something’s off with the Mandalorian, that much had been obvious since she woke. He’s avoiding her, to a much greater extent than she would have expected from him.

She doesn’t know how long she slept in his lap that night prior, how many hours have passed since Eadu. Wults. The breakdown which left her with little dignity.

All she knows is that she is alone.

The smallest part of her, the foolish part that still believed in hope and her being worthy of joy, actually thought he would be there. Greet her maybe. Give her another ration pack. Ask if she felt any better.

Say he forgave her.

She supposes she’d done a much greater deal to him than she had originally thought. All he wanted was to find other Mandalorians. Maybe find the girl he kept speaking of. That side of the dilemma was one she still hadn’t completely understood.

Feelings weren’t her forte. Certainly not positive ones.

Instead she’s alone. Convinced he’s locked himself in his bedchamber with the child.

She couldn’t blame him, not really.

She would have done the same. Actually, she would have done a lot worse.

At least Coruscant would break her back into reality. Into the future she had cemented for herself.

The entirety of her life had been a useless cycle. Wake. Meal. Lessons. Meal. Training. Meal. Meditation. Sleep. Transitioning into adulthood, circumstances only changed for the worse. Schooling was replaced with missions assigned by her father, the devil that he was. Meals grew few and far between, combatant training turned from dummies to fighting assassination droids to real people.

Lather. Rinse. Repeat.

Working for Neri’Kelli offered little difference in routine.

Then comes in the Mandalorian. The annoyingly stubborn asshole that he is, ruining her mission, missions really. Daring to be kind to her, to give an ounce of a damn, why?

He said he cared for the girl because she was good, but what the fuck did that even mean?

Because she, for possibly the first time in her pathetic little life decided to be nice? That she she risked everything to tell Neri about him?

Was that good?

He doesn’t know her. He doesn’t know how vile she is. How sinful her soul is. How that girl is the most terrifying person she had the displeasure of knowing.

She wasn’t capable of good.

She never was. Never will be.

The funny thing about memories is how completely unreliable they can be. In memory, everything can be misconstrued in emotion, perspective, biases, intentional or not, vision is clouded. It was amazing how something so pivotal to the experience of life could just be… wrong. Objectively.

The Mandalorian’s memories, she decides, are clouded. By what she couldn’t say exactly. Ignorance, arrogance, a cocktail of both.

She can’t entertain the thought of his emotions being more than that. More positive, caring, intimate.

The girl isn’t worthy of that.

History was different. History was objective. Based in fact and reality. The assassin prided herself by working off history, not memory. Objective, emotionless stories of the past. She’s seen enough to not care for the fluff of things anymore.

Eadu was a mistake. Where history and memory became one.

Eadu tapped into that part of her again, the foolish side. The one that believed she could ever escape the Empire. That she could be normal if she wanted to.

The words of Wults circles her head, like a scratched record on repeat. “What is it with daughters presumed dead reappearing out of thin air?”

She must have been like her. The girl crying for her father. The girl whose history was stuck in the canyons, screaming for someone to listen.

Historically speaking, the exploded laboratory was a relic of the war. Rebel victory against the Empire.

But in memory, it was a girl, practically a kid really. Scared. Wanting her father. Believed to no longer exist.

A reflection the assassin would rather not think about in all honesty.

She sits in the cockpit alone, fumbling with the buttons of the Razor Crest. Radio static plays in the background, channels aren’t reachable in hyperspace but anything would be better than the ship’s eerie silence.

She should tell him.

But should and will are entirely different concepts. For starters, will requires a conscious. Morality. You didn’t get as far as her with nonsense like that.

In her youth, she hadn’t had the fortune of friends, or really any amicable or civilized relationship. Boarding school provided about as much of a social life as one could expect. What with Imperial propaganda as the basis of all education. Churning out brainwashed children one year after the other. When she was moved to private tutoring, she never stood a chance.

Not that she considered the Mandalorian to be a friend, she didn’t. She was lonely but not desperate.

He makes it to the cockpit before she can talk herself into it. The kid rests his cheek on the cold Beskar of Mando’s chest, babbling quietly into the metal. They sit behind her.

There’s no vocal acknowledgment of each other at first, nothing either could say would do justice to dispel the tension between them.

This would be the worst time to tell him. It feels too late now.

“We should be landing soon,” she says. “You got up just in time, only a few minutes until we’re out of hyperspace.”

Mando says nothing. He doesn’t nod, doesn’t do that sigh he does when he’s especially annoyed, nothing. Through the reflection in front of her, he watches the kid instead.

“We won’t be going to the club, he’s not there this late.” She rubs her hands on her thighs, fidgeting with the wrinkles she creates in the fabric. “Level 1313 isn’t the greatest place in the galaxy, the kid should stay here. It’s not safe, even with the two of us.”

Nothing.

A minute passes. ”If you’re upset about last night, I’m sorry. But I meant what I said, I’ll get you your information.” The ship beeps in the background. Five minutes until sublight.

“How am I supposed to believe anything you tell me?” Mando asks, stoic and hoarse.

“What?”

“How do I know all of this wasn’t planned? How do I know everything I know about you hasn’t been anything but lies?”

Her heart sinks into the acid of her stomach. He knew.

“Why are you helping me?” he asks.

How did he know?

“I owe you,” she says.

There was no way he could know.

“For what?” he asks.

She had been so careful.

She pauses. “Nothing. Everything.”

He hums and they fall into themselves yet again.

---

They’re on a cargo airspeeder roughly a quarter of the size of the Razor Crest. Mando doesn’t know how she managed to get one, or how they managed to bypass the New Republic tunnel checks into the Underworld. No one got in 1313, and no one left unless given a special clearance granted by the Senate.

The descent takes a total of three minutes, its enough for her to leave the operation seat and throw on a cape of her own, hooded, it covers her entire body. Her face is covered again, hair tied back and hidden. His mind felt in limbo. The duffle bag of her personals was tossed aside by the entrance. Tucked away, folded along side all her weapons and clothing, his cape had been there the entire time. It was with her.

“Stick close, even one piece of your Beskar is worth more than anyone’s life down here.”

Unless—

“I don’t need your protection,” Mando says. His eyes catches hers in their distance. There was no guarantee for his suspicions. Atikya having his cape didn’t necessarily mean she was Lumina. She could have killed her, taken a sick trophy instead.

But who was he kidding.

This whole time, she had been with him this entire time. In his ship, in his refresher, in his shirt. Asleep on his lap. With his son.

The kid.

He must have known. This whole time he knew. That’s why he’s been so attached to her. That mind reading, sorcerer, little green womp rat knew. Maybe it was one of those weird Jedi powers, recognition of… aura or something. He recognized her as someone Mando cared about and immediately assumed he should to.

And Mando let him.

It was so obvious. Sure their voices differed. Atikya fell deeper, more sultry, confident. Lumina sounded like a song, the perfect lullaby. She had sounded so hesitant, scared even. It was enough to throw him off.

Still.

Same hair, same height, same teasing manner. Stars, her laughter was exactly the same as that on Tatooine. It lit up the room in joy and filled his heart with warmth.

And her eyes. He catches them again before she turns away.

Fuck her eyes.

He couldn’t see it until she cried. Why couldn’t he see it? She had carried herself so differently in the past days. Always arguing, fighting, brushing him aside at any moment. Avoiding eye contact at all times possible… so quick to hide her appearance whenever necessary.

“Suit yourself,” she says. “I’ll get Neri to tell you what you need to know, then you leave. I don’t need you sticking around to see anything you shouldn’t. You’ll take this speeder back to the surface, no one should stop you on the way up. If they do, show them this.”

She tosses a holographic card to him, inscribed an axe symbol, blood droplets under it. On the back of the card written in gold lettering: THE HOLDER OF THIS CARD IS IN EXEMPTION OF NEW REPUBLIC ORDENACE AS DICTATED BY THE GALACTIC SENATE. In the bottom corner in gold foil, the official seal of the New Republic.

“What about you?” Mando asks.

She shrugs. “If there’s a filter in that helmet of yours, I suggest using it. If you’re not used to the air here it’ll leave you sick like hell, and that’s if you’re lucky.”

The back plank of the ship opens into the city, sprawling in smog, the air is thick. She looks back at the Mandalorian over her shoulder. Words on the brink of her lips go unspoken.

---

“My first time here I was just a girl,” Atikya narrates. Buildings are decrepit, walls covered in fungi excreting toxins, gang symbols, and shattered glass. “My father had employed the Mandalorian on your wall to help train me in stealth and combat. He brought me here to learn how to evade Imperial surveillance systems. It wasn’t always such a shithole here, there used to be police and proper businesses, families. Now it’s mainly criminals, homeless people, black market vendors. So we’re left alone.”

They walk past a group of men huddled for warmth, their hands surround a pile of old droid parts set on fire. They’re covered in dirt and soot, tattered clothes layered as if they were on Hoth. They cough and smoke, passing along bottles of alcohol. In Atikya’s passing their slurred speech turn to quiet murmurs, each one nodding their heads.

At a corner, a female Mirialan lays unmoving, stomach protruding and round. Mando stops in front of the body, he’s sick. A can by her fallen hand holds few credits.

“Shit,” Atikya curses. She kneels by the woman, her hand hovering around the body. It shakes, and her shoulders tense. She lifts the woman’s arm, littered with markings. “It’s only been a few hours, overdose.” She grabs the can, pouring its contents into her hand. “Hey!” She approaches two men on the other side of the street, tossing the credits at them. “Show the lady some respect,” she says, nodding over. “Be gentle.”

“That necklace could be worth a pretty penny,” one hisses in front of her. He lifts the Mirialan by the shoulders, the other taking her legs. “Is it available?”

“Only the jewelry. If I find out either of you stripped her I’ll hunt you myself. Understood?” They nod wordlessly, sunken eyes fearful and avoiding hers. “Good. Get out of here, she deserves to rest.” She waves them away, the men leaving with forgotten apologies.

“Where are they taking her?” Mando asks.

“The morgue. She’ll be expedited for cremation, hopefully word gets out about her by tomorrow night. We try to do blackouts whenever we find these things.”

“Blackouts?”

“Yeah. Nights where the level is silent. No selling, fights, loitering, anything that could cause a scene. Every building goes dark, depending who’s found there might be a vigil,” she explains as they walk. “Sometimes we’ll find kids, they usually get a day or so. It’s community mourning tradition.”

“That’s… really nice,” Mando says.

“No one likes seeing dead kids, or pregnant women. We might be Coruscant’s worse, but we’re not that evil. Most of us anyways.”Above, pipes rumble and clash. “We need to hurry. It’ll rain soon.”

“Rain reaches down here?”

Her head shakes. “It’s not water.”

---

Neri’Kelli’s compound, to the best of the Mandalorian’s ability can only be described as unfortunate. They enter to a foyer of gold ornate statues of naked women, framed art works lining the walls. Black tiled floors are sprinkled in flecks of gold reflecting chandeliers lighting as stars.

Two Trandoshans guard the entryway, blocking the pair in ridiculous red velvet suits. They stand with trembling hands clasped behind their backs, heads turned down.

“Move,” Atikya says.

“No can do ma’am,” one speaks up shakily. “Orders from Mr. Kelli, you’re not allowed in.”

She laughs. “Is that right? I need to talk to Neri, get out of the way.”

“I’m sorry we-“ He coughs. He coughs and coughs and coughs. Each grows increasingly more violent than the last, he coughs so much Mando starts to worry he’ll drop dead right there. His hands fumble around his throat, pulling at his collar.

“He’s in the lounge,” the other guard jumps in. The choking one stops, dropping to his knees with gasps for air.

Atikya nods, stepping over his body, Mando follows in caution.

They find the Twi’lek watching a film projected on the wall in the back of the compound. Fittingly, he thinks, it’s a horror, symphonic devastating orchestra the background of the scene. There are no guards surrounding him, no flashing lights, smoke, drinks. Just him, in the darkness of the red lighting.

Atikya sighs, tossing her bag in front of his feet. “Neri,” she says.

He looks up, grin plastered across pointed teeth. “Ayy’Numa.” He looks around. “I see you failed me, again.”

“Considering you set me up? I take it as a victory.”

“Set you up? I’m hurt. I would never do such a thing.” He’s unbothered, terribly so, more engrossed in the fake slaughter playing before him. “No bounties, no information.” He glances at Mando, “You understand don’t you?”

“Cut the shit Neri. You’re going to tell the Mandalorian everything he needs to know. No tricks. No lies.”

“And if I don’t?”

She pulls out the blaster strapped to her hips, the barrel inches away from his forehead. “I can do this the ugly way too.”

He scoffs. “I always did say I wanted to be burned by you didn’t I? But I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he chuckles.

“And why not?”

Neri leans forward, pressing a button under the table his feet rest on. There’s a loud buzz, a metal door automates open. Two men step out, the Imperial emblem on their uniforms unmistakable. Behind them, two more Trandoshans. “I’ve been in contact with old friends,” he says. Mando whips out his own blaster. “You’re selling for quite the price dear.” His fingers snap, the Imperials walk forward, guns raised to the girl. A disapproving finger wags at Mando. “Down. You shoot them or me, they shoot her.”

“You sold me?” Atikya asks, barely a whisper.

“You sold yourself the moment you tried to leave me. I did what I had to do, it was about time you learned some consequences.”

“Consequences?” She stumbles on the word. “Is that what you’re calling this? Do you have any idea what you’ve done to me?”

“No worries. I was given quite the briefing earlier. When you came here you were just a scared little girl. Look at you now, you’ll be dead without me. What was your plan when you left? You have no one but me.”

“That’s not true.”

“Isn’t it?” He points to Mando, a steady stride poised in his direction. “You can replace your Mandalorian friend as many times as you’d like,” he chuckles, turning back to her. “It won’t bring him back.”

“Stop it Neri,” Atikya says.

“I thought you would have given up, it’s been so many years doll. What will you do next? Find a man to replace your father?”

“Neri-“ The men grab her, one placing handcuffs, the other holding his gun to the back of her head.

“Perhaps a droid. They have the same emotional depth as him.”

“Neri you’re being cruel.”

“Cruel?” The Twi’lek laughs. “Cruel… No, no this isn’t cruel. This is deserved.” Neri cackles, he faces Mando again. “I’ve got no business with you,” he says.“Find Viroz Petiko on Canto Bight. He knows exactly where to find your Mandalorians.”

“The spice lord?”

“Aye. He’s a hermit, only comes out a few times a year. But you’re in luck. He’s hosting a ball in a fortnight. He’ll tell you all you need to know.” Neri pulls a cloth bag out of his pockets, handing credits to Mando. “I believe our contract is done.”

He looks at Atikya and nods, then to the guards who approach him. “You’re right,” he says, pocketing the money. “I’ll be on my way.”

The guards lead Mando out into the hallway, mutters are audible behind them, followed by laughter, shouting. Atikya’s voice is the main cause of the latter, curses echoing out the doorway. Then, gunshots.

Mando strikes the jaw of the first guard behind him, grabbing the gun of the other, he shoots them in the head. Its an easy enough kill, leaving the Mandalorian entirely unfazed.

He runs into the lounge, movie still projected onto the walls. In the middle of the room, a cloaked figure huddled on the ground. The bodies of the two Imperials fallen where they last stood, dead.

“Bad choice Mandalorian,” Neri’Kelli says behind him. He holds Atikya, his knife pressed against her throat. “I told you to leave.”

“Let her go.”

“Oh don’t tell me you care for her!” Neri laughs. He grabs Atikya’s chin, forcing it forward. “After all she’s done to you? You know just as well as I do how useless she is.”

“I wasn’t asking. Let her go before I blast your brains out.”

Neri clicks his tongue, “I was hoping it wouldn’t come to this. I’ll give you a choice Mando. Take her,” he says, tilting his head to Atikya. ”And she dies” He looks forward to the figure who’s head moves. “Or. The other way around. Take a look, I’m sure the choice is clear. Of course you could always walk away.”

The figure breathes heavy. Cautiously, Mando walks towards her, blaster pointed out.

“I’m fine, go away,” she says. It stops his heart, sinking it deep in the dark pit of his chest. His head snaps to Neri, Atikya is still in his arms.

“Hey,” he says softly, reaching for the hood of the cape. Slowly, he pulls it down. In front of him, her face stares, a growing bruise on her cheek. “Lumina?” He asks in a whisper. She sits in front of him, face perfectly captured from memory.

“You have to leave,” she whispers. “I’ll be fine. Go.” Her words earn her a strike at the back of her head by Neri, crying out she falls forward.

Mando stands, he punches Neri in the jaw, his stumble back is enough to free Atikya. She falls on the ground, gasping. Neri chuckles, rubbing the point of impact. He aims two blasters, pointed at each of the girls. “Shoot me and they both get it. Pick your poison. Tick tock.”

Atikya sits up, looking between them all. “He took my weapons,” she says. “I can’t get out of this. Come on, use your brain for once, shoot her.”

Mando stares at her, then Lumina, then her again. He had been so sure. So positive they were one in the same. Everything added up, until now.

“Mandalorian—” Lumina says.

“I won’t hurt you,” Mando shakes his head.

Neri gasps, looking down at the assassin. “Are those feelings?” He asks, amusement trickling in his voice. “Mandalorian,” he whispers. “Don’t tell me. This is too good.”

“What is taking so long,” Atikya presses. “You met her once! She’s the whole reason any of this is happening. Shoot her!”

“Stop it,” Mando warns, facing her.

“I’m right! I’m right, I’m right,” Atikya says. She tries to stand, Neri’s blaster shoots above her head. She ducks down, glaring at the Twi’lek. “If you walk out we’re both dead anyways. I can actually help you. I have helped you this entire time. What did she do? She left you. She doesn’t care about you, if she did she would have stayed!”

“Atikya,” Mando grunts. “You’re not helping yourself.”

“Why don’t you tell him the truth,” Neri says, leaning over her. “Go on. He doesn’t know does he? Tell him.” Atikya’s head shakes, she looks away. “You want to live don’t you?” Neri asks. “Tell him the truth and it’s a guarantee.”

“Don’t,” Lumina says. “No, you can’t. Don’t say anything. Neri… Mandalorian please..”

Atikya scoffs, eyes rolling. “Not so tough now are you? Fine,” she mocks “You want to know why you should shoot her?” Her hand reaches up unwrapping her hair. “I really really really thought you knew,” she muttered. Her mess of hair falls down, then her mask. “Now do you believe me?”

No.

No. This isn’t right. This isn’t right at all. Something is wrong. Something is very very wrong. This couldn’t be possible.

And yet.

There she was. Again. Lumina. Or at least her face, just as he suspected. But…

Hesitantly, Mando’s arm raises, pointed at Lumina, or ‘Lumina’, he wasn’t entirely sure what was happening. A demented fever dream if anything.

Neri laughs manically, lowering his guns. “What a turn of events. What are you waiting for? Shoot him.”

“Get up,” Mando says, holding out his other arm for Atikya. She takes it and stands, hiding behind him. “You have a lot of explaining to do,” he mutters.

Her eyes roll. “Can we fight later?”

“You,” he says, motioning with his gun to the other girl. “Who are you?”

She swears under her breath, eyes squeezed up. She looks up at Neri, standing slowly. “You promised,” she said.

The Twi’lek shrugs. “I never promised anything.”

“Who the fuck are you?” Atikya asks tightly.

“Stupid isn’t a good look on you,” Lumina says. “Mandalorian… if you know what’s good for you, you won’t shoot me. I’m not the one who’s lying.”

“Wait… Stars I know exactly who you are,” Atikya says, stepping forward.

“Atikya wait—“ Mando starts.

“Oh please tell me you don’t actually believe her!” Atikya cries.

“You don’t believe me?” Lumina asks.

“I didn’t say that,” he huffs.

“She’s a monster Mando,” Atikya says.“Obviously this is Torek, he’s trying to fuck with you. He took my face.” She reaches back, taking his hand in her own.

And the world stands still. No flutters deep in his heart, no flickers of light across the walls. If anything it’s a boring stagnation of credits. No outside force tormenting him with what ifs and annoyance.

Nothing at all, except for one thing.

“What?” He turns to her, head tilted.

“I’m the monster?” Lumina whispers. “Do you think I’m a monster?”

Mando steps back from the two of them, his hands falling to his side. He looks between the girls, brows furrowed. He tries to study their eyes in the seconds between his words. He catches contact to Atikya, and she tilts her head questioningly. She was missing something. The spark of secrecy and depth he saw on Tatooine. Her offhanded disappointment in everything. Even the flicker of rage that sparked when she was upset.

It was like there was nothing behind them.

No thoughts, no feelings, no hidden kindness she would never admit to.

“No, never,” he answers Lumina.

“Excuse you?” Atikya frowns. “You’re fucking with me right?”

“Calm down,” Mando warns, gun to her face.

“I am calm. You’re the one being an idiot with a gun in my face!”

“C’mere,” he says to Lumina, motioning to her. He leans down to her, eyes level to each other. She tugs down the collar of her shirt, silver beaded necklace placed across her neck. The one from the vendor’s stall, stolen on Taris.

“Mando,” Atikya says. “What are you—“ Blasters fire before she can finish. The Mandalorian stands, fresh smoke waving from his blaster. The girl collapses on the ground, ending with a bullet between the eyes. The body’s form changes, brown skin turning a scaly green, face morphing reptilian.

“You should have listened when I said to leave,” Lumina says.

He hums, staring down at her. “I’ve done the leaving thing before. I won’t do it again.” He takes a pause. “Lumina?”

She nods. “Lumina,” she repeats. “Well, I’m glad you came to your senses.”

“Right. We’re talking about this later.”

“Of course we are,” she sighs, lifting her gun from the ground.

“Dammit!” Neri shouts, hitting the wall. “You ruined it!”

“I think you’re done here Neri,” Lumina pouts, stalking towards him.

“Not so fast,” Neri chuckles nervously. “I’m still all you have. It was just a little game pet. Lighten up.”

“You know, I think I’ll survive without you,” she says.

“Ayy’Numa,” he says. “Don’t do anything you’ll regret. You used to be so good to me, remember? You’re mine. We’re the same deep down, you know that.”

She leans forward, wicked smile across her lips. “I’m done being you,” she whispers. “Mandalorian?” She asks, looking back. “Will you wait outside? I have a promise I need to keep.”

He nods, squeezing her side. “Take your time.”

The last thing Mando hears when the doors shut are Neri’s blood curdling screams, and he prays she gives him hell.

CHAPTER SEVEN: PRETTY

#Mandalorian #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfiction #mando x oc #mando x ofc #mando x original character #mando x original female character #Din Djarin #din djarin x original character #din djarin x original female character #din djarin x oc #Din Djarin x ofc #Starlight #Starlight Fanfic #din djarin x reader

[disenchantedfaerie]

So many things to say and so many things not to say.

Fandom: This fandom is toxic. There is no other way to put it. It’s toxic from top to bottom, left to right, diagonally. My partners and I discussed this today because we were bored. We whole heartedly believe it starts at the top and by top I mean her majesty of the written word. Of course, now that’s she’s dropped the self diagnosis of “somewhat autistic,” you really can’t say anything because then you’re a horrible person. But she uses that as an excuse for her snark and condescending attitude. Hey. Whatever lady. I don’t follow you, I don’t read your books and aside from the few things I see, you’re no better than the leads. The difference is you’ve been milking the fandom for 30 years; people are waiting for you to finish and you can’t even complete the one that was supposed to be done last year. Yet you continue to yak about this side thing or that side thing and really, I don’t need a JF origin story. We’ve gotten that enough in the 9 other flipping books. You see the pattern here tho folks?

The female lead: She has done her share of being flippant and rude to people on her SM. She becomes sweet as pecan pie on Thanksgiving when she wants to want to launch something though. She was the one who wanted to end the shipper rumors and so IFH happened but sadly when you skirt around a subject and don’t say your partner’s name or take photos of them/with them and only take photos with your male lead in what could be construed as compromising positions - yeah. People will continue to buy what you sell to them. I’ve said it time and again, they are the biggest trolls in the fandom and do more to fuel the ship, even now that she is married to another man who is not the male lead, than anyone else. That’s all I have to say about her. She doesn’t owe anyone anything, none of them do actually, but sometimes being kind goes out the window with the lot of them.

His highness: Where to begin? His “fans” come all the way over here to our little corner of tumblr to hide behind Anon Asks to spew their hate and vitriol to those of us who seem to have opinions that differ from theirs. Namely, he is not a god. He is not someone we worship. We simply come together over coffee and tea and trade stories of current events and talk about the what if’s. My opinion of him is based on his own actions. Maybe all these “fans” want to blur the timeline of events and take it as gospel from his highness that he went on his luxury vacation before the travel ban while the rest of us cancelled ours and many lost jobs and incomes. Well that’s simply untrue. When he was called out, knowing he was wrong, instead of being the sweet, humble, normal guy that everyone says he is, he doubled down, became rude, flippant, went on a blocking spree, posting articles about COVID being no worse than the flu. Did his traveling companion get serious threats. I believe so. I believe he has as well from the same kind of people that come here to our little corner of tumblr, keyboard warriors that hide behind their anonymity and spew hate and vitriol. I also believe that people have gone to Glasgow and stalked his flat, which, come on people. That’s wrong on so many levels. I lived in LA for many years. It never occurred to me to drive to Malibu, Hollywood Hills, Laurel Canyon to actually stalk the celebs. Why? What’s the point? So I can see them in their grungy clothes looking like real people? No thanks. I don’t have that kind of time or energy. Thus the 4 page rant. Hey good for you dude. It’s about time you grew a pair actually but what did it accomplish? Nothing really except people stopped talking about his covidiocy. Why? Not because he wasn’t a covidiot and quite frankly still is (remember, he’s the king of “it’s not worse than the flu”) but because he pulled the mental health card. I think he does have mental health issues. I still have high hopes that some day he will realize this himself and seek the help he needs.

Now these Anons come to our little corner of tumblr and drop their comments saying things like “I hope you get COVID and die. It’s because of you he did his 4 page rant. The people you call mommies are his real fans.” Mmmkay. I used to blindly defend him. I used to buy into his shilling and his ever so sweet exterior, I even bought into the “best fans ever” bullshit. You want to blame us who never name him, her or the one who “writes” in any blog, never hashtag him, her, or the other one or the show, never interact with any of them on other platforms of SM for his 4 page rant, his mental illness, all of his flaws and accuse us of not being fans - fine. He who is without sin, cast the first stone. Perhaps you need to sit back and take a long look at yourself in the mirror as well. Wishing a deadly disease on people, making threats, spewing hatred - isn’t this the exact same thing that was done to his highness and you were all up in arms about it, yet you come here and do it to others and think that’s okay. What makes it okay? Because you’re defending your favorite star? If this is what it means to part of this fandom, part of his fandom specifically, no thank you. When y’all can walk on water, then you can judge me. Until then, judge not lest ye be judged.

I walked away long ago but I’m still human and still have an opinion, everyone does. If he’s your favorite celeb then perhaps you should follow his advice the next time you see something you don’t agree with - suggest you ignore. He’s the one that started the entire “be kind” campaign right? Or does that only apply when it’s comvenient? If you think this is the sort of behavior that will get you on his Christmas card list or the top of his potential list of never ending “girlfriends” - well, good luck. At some point this man (again, he’s a man, he’s flawed, he makes mistakes and he’s not perfect) will fall from the pedestal his fandom have put him on and then where will you all be? He has been unapologetic for all the things he’s done. He continues to shill his swill and all his other crap when a lot people can’t make ends meet. He continues to ask for donations to HIS causes instead of asking people to take care of themselves or their own communities. I love Scotland as much as anyone but my money right now is better served in my community. I ignore most of what they all do, following his own suggestion of ignoring, but things cross my dash and I do not condone or appreciate threats. I didn’t condone it when the threats were directed at him, his traveling companion, or anyone else nor have I ever made a threat against anyone.

I wish to be treated the way I treat others and if you can’t do the same, if you can’t engage with me in a calm, adult manner, I don’t have time for you. You can have a differing opinion than me. It’s okay. We don’t have to agree but we can respectfully disagree and discuss, not argue, about who’s right and who’s wrong. It isn’t cut and dry, black and white. We can agree to disagree and still be civil and still be friends.

My Scotsman added this: When will the games end, when will the games stop? I had high hopes for his highness to lead by example and be better but he’s a follower and he followers her majesty’s lead. He follows his business partner’s lead. He sees her milk the fandom, so why can’t he and he does an excellent job of it. His fandom vote for meaningless awards until their fingers bleed, buy all of his merchandise, buy anything he sells up to and including the ship. Is there an ounce of him being a genuine person left? Yes. He gives us a glimpse now and again but make no mistake, he will take you for what you’re worth. Maybe one day he’ll change and we’ll follow him again. Until then, I’ll be watching like my partner. I’ll be around.

I guess at the end of the day my point is this, the fandom made itself toxic and I highly doubt at this point it can or will turn around. Why would it? All we can do is choose to be part of the toxicity and contribute to it and pass it forward like these precious anons have been doing or we can choose to walk away, scroll on by, try to make the world or at least our little corner of it better.

I’m still disenchanted. I hope one day my wings turn white again with the promise of a better time and place. Until then, take care my friends. I’ll be watching and I’ll be blogging.

#my opinion #my rants #my thoughts #if you cant be nice scroll on by #be kind #suggest you ignore #too long dont read

[bandomslayed]

I’m not saying you should focus more on racism, I’m just saying that that’s something that the community as a whole needs to focus on and try to repair, I’m sure they all already know that people don’t like their ships. If that’s an issue, then groups can have a strict age limit. Easy solve. The other things are things that can be taught and learned but with hostility all that’s going to happen is a deeper divide. You said you wanted to argue with people about the things you don’t like that they do in this community. I’m paraphrasing, but why not instead want to educate them. No one will ever react well to feeling like they’re being ridiculed or patronized. People worth spending your time on are the ones you can talk to without it being a shitshow. We’re having a dialogue. I’ve felt this entire time like everything I say, someone is going to search for one thing to deliberately misinterpret or magnify unnecessarily when, if there’s something that they have an issue with, it could be a perfect opportunity to educate me instead of people being hostile. I’m college educated and can think critically, I’m moderately well spoken, I’m open to instructive criticisms and discussing things that aren’t agreed upon so I’m just sort of confused by the fact that what I’m saying is being picked apart by other anons and to a degree, you. You all want to change my mind about age gaps, despite me being with someone older irl and feeling safe and genuinely valued for the first time in a relationship in my life so why do you think that calling my dead grandpa names, redirecting the conversation and then kinda mocking me when I attempt to understand wholly and agree with some of the things you’re saying? That’s not going to convince me or anyone else. It just makes people feel defensive. Reiterating here that I’m not saying YOU specifically need to talk about racism more, and I’m not trying to diminish your experience or anything like that In just saying that those topics (discrimination of any kind, abuse of any kind) in the community are things we should be discussing instead of ships we think aren’t comfortable. I feel uncomfortable with relationships in real life and in rp all the time but that isn’t up to me to say it’s wrong or bad. It’s no ones right to tell any two consenting adults that what they’re doing is wrong. But it is a human right to tell someone when they’re being insensitive, and that’s a flaw in the community that people can be educated on and learn to handle with more sensitivity and knowledge but we’re never going to reach that point if we’re all just hostile and cruel to one another. Also reiterating that I’m not using personal examples to get cred, I just like examples because I think using them shows where I’m coming from so that any person who wants to have a dialogue can have a frame of reference for why my opinions are what they are on any topic. If I’m wrong, or insensitive, or just kinda dumb I want to know that but simply telling me I’m wrong or insensitive or dumb doesn’t teach me how not to me. And this doesn’t just mean me, I mean the whole community. It will never improve if we all just talk about the things we don’t like and give no feasible solutions.

alright i see what you want so let me switch to my white pleaser voice and deliver since you're so keen on being patronizing and in the same breath, acting like me taking what you say "the wrong way" is the problem. in bullet points so next time u come back to keep going at it u can pinpoint exactly what it is i misconstrued because u will do it anyway.

you're asking the community as a whole to care more about racism but you're talking to me who's leading the conversation in the first place. i understand you didn't imply i specifically should care more about it, but you're still using racism to discredit my point of view on age gap relationships being an important topic to discuss as well, and watering it down to just me not liking people's plots when that is not the message.

nobody is telling anyone how to live their lives. im bringing awareness to the fact that this culture is not okay. it's dangerous to our young. it NEEDS to be uncomfortable to you (you, plural) to invite to this so called critical thinking.

im not saying your partner doesn't have a right to be loving or grandpa and grandma had abuse masked as a good relationship. im saying, since it needs to be spelled out with no room for misinterpretation; the culture behind someone 10+ years older finding it completely okay to pursue someone that much younger — especially when we're talking 18 - 30 age range — needs to be looked at more closely. it's not safe in general. do exceptions exist? absolutely, but the whole two consenting adults point is a terrible one to make when at 18, you're considered that when you're still essentially just a child.

a strict age limit, which most groups adopt now, does little to actually prevent age gap relationships within roleplays. moreso, uneven power dynamics within plots being glamorized. my boss is not over 5 years older than me, but he is my boss. kpop boybands don't have age gaps of 10+ years in groups, usually, but there is a leader most times acting like a father figure, not to mention korean culture is heavy on emphasizing age-related hierarchical order, so a literal still wet behind the ears child establishing a romantic connection with someone who is not their equal? dangerous.

now let's halt. i already told you, i don't give a shit about respectability politics. it is not my job to be nice and educate anyone. and i don't mean just on this blog... most of you whites have come to assume and expect, even, that poc will be subservient, docile, and always willing to switch and nicely explain to you why the very core of the way you think about the world because you grew up sheltered w/e is not the whole picture for everyone. the worst part? most of them do. most of them do put their thinking caps on and write these novel worthy, intelligent, respectful, calculated think pieces only for the white in question to turn around and still deem it aggressive, etc. i don't do that. that is labor that most of you do not deserve.

the implication that there are feasible solutions for these problems that don't require for people to literally rework their entire mindset is naive at best. what am i supposed to do? be like nooo don't be racist, racism is bad BECAUSE it hurts people. i think all of you are old enough to know that by now. you definitely have enough internet exposure to know that, even if you grew up in all white sundown town america.

i explain my points. i actually explain my points more than the average person, yet here we are still saying im not doing enough to educate those around me as if it was my responsibility to change the way people think with sugar spice and everything nice so they feel their hand is held and it's safe to make a mistake that will consequently hurt other people as many times as they need to make it to finally grasp the reality of it and be able to just... not do that in the future. when no. no. when you hurt me, im allowed to react emotionally, not intellectually. when im angry and upset and still explaining why, its YOUR job to swallow it down and listen to what im saying, because YOU hurt me. i don't owe you civility (again; you, plural). i especially don't owe you civility when ive given you nothing but in the past and the end result is still me being an aggro freak who doesn't care for your precious feelings.

you're also assuming things. for example, assuming that im mocking you specifically when i really have not done that. if im going to mock you, im going to reply to your anon and say "okay stupid", then yeah, im mocking you. otherwise? don't assume im directing anything at you.

we're having a dialogue and this whole time all you've done is tell me to stop talking. your messages have all, in essence, said, if people want to date other people who have a shitton of years on them, that is not a problem and you look prettier talking about something else. yes, that's also paraphrased. you didn't say that, of course, but why are we still here if not because you feel personally scrutinized over the reaction to the life examples that you willingly provided?

nobody is trying to change YOUR mind, you're just not willing to consider that your age gap relationships that have been beautiful and loving and safe coexist within a culture that is wicked. a person who's 10+ older than me, 24, has no business seeing me as a potential partner. it's not appropriate. yet if they do, and i also see them as a potential partner, there's nothing inherently evil about that specific instance. it is the circumstances (past), that lead to this kind of thinking in the first place what im asking everyone to analize and understand. and it does matter. it matters as much as racism, abuse, ooc mistreatment of rp partners. again, issues do not queue and wait for something to end so they can begin anew. every conversation i choose to have i consider worth having. you're free to stay out if you don't deem it important.

you're exhausting me thinking by turning my inbox into ap debate we're achieving grand things sooo hope this helps 🖤

[sgtpaine]

The Left’s Revolution Dominates Every American Height, And They Don’t Know Why We Aren’t Cheering

Herein lies a glimpse into just what kind of knuckle-draggers the left thinks we are. They think patriotism means we’ll do whatever they say whenever they say it.

By

Christopher Bedford

AUGUST 10, 2021

“Rooting against Olympians, scoffing at Capitol police, broaching civil war — meet today’s conservative movement.”

That’s the opening of an article last week at Vox.com. You’ve probably heard of Vox. Their self-proclaimed, self-aggrandizing purpose is to “explain the news.” But when Vox’s condescending reporters start talking about conservatives, Christians, guns, or really anyone outside of a few coastal cities, they have a habit of sounding like Jane Goodall observing apes.

So, what’s their qualm now? Let’s let them explain it in their own words:

[There is a] rising tendency in the conservative movement to reject America itself. In this thinking, the country is so corrupted that it is no longer a source of pride or even worthy of respect. … Queer female soccer stars demanding equal pay, Black basketball players kneeling to protest police brutality, the world’s best gymnast prioritizing her mental health over upholding the traditional ideal of the “tough” athlete — this is all a manifestation of the ascendancy of liberal cultural values in public life. And an America where these values permeate national symbols, like the Olympic team, is an America where those symbols are worthy of scorn.

Worthy of scorn; imagine that. Underperforming and overpaid people who for a living play a game no one watches want to be paid the same as people who are better players and earn more viewers.

Rich athletes publicly spitting on their country, their flag, and the men and women who have died for it, so they can push left-wing lies.

An enormously talented athlete quitting on the brink of competition, and saying the problem was she wanted to compete only for herself, not for her coaches, her teammates, or her country.

These are indeed “all a manifestation of the ascendancy of liberal cultural values in public life.” They’re the fruits of a spoiled, privileged, narcissistic, and self-obsessed revolution that began in the late 1950s and has been fighting its way to power ever since. They have it now, and it isn’t simply confined to our sacred soccer ball kickers.

Sports is just the latest, but look at its sponsors: You can be a subpar professional athlete, but if you spit on the flag you get a lucrative Nike contract.

Remember that Nike ad, “Believe in something even if it means sacrificing everything”? It featured Colin Kaepernick. The only problem is, he didn’t sacrifice anything — he discovered he could be paid a lot more playing the American public than he could playing football as a backup quarterback.

Now, thanks to his fake bravery, he gets to decide if the first flag of the United States is permissible. He says it isn’t, because America wasn’t perfect 245 years ago — and Nike sanctifies that decision with a lucrative payout.

They don’t mind; Nike may still be headquartered in Beaverton, Oregon, but at heart they’re a Chinese company. That’s the People’s Republic of China: a godless slave state that uses forced labor to manufacture products and criminalizes dissent. That’s a country Nike respects, or at least one it cares about offending. Guess what: We don’t like that.

They’re far from alone. Silicon Valley was once a symbol of American enterprise: Young men working in their garages to harness technology and revolutionize our lives. Now Silicon Valley symbolizes the most powerful private companies the world has ever known — and they use that power to crush dissent, censor presidents and critics, and push left-wing propaganda. Turns out, when they do that we don’t like them.

We can go on. Blackrock sends its urchins to buy up affordable homes in growing cities to transform a society of homeowners into a society of servile tenants.

Mastercard and IBM build international databases for tracking humans so they can bar them from travel and commercial activity if they don’t take an experimental vaccine. Or, in MasterCard’s case, maybe they’ll ban you if they just dislike your politics.

Bank of America refuses to make loans to American gun manufacturers out of principle while making a $1 billion gift to Black Lives Matter, a racist, anti-American, anti-family, grifty riot squad responsible for dead police, murdered innocents, and burned-out cities. Huh — turns out we don’t like any of that either.

How about the Pentagon? Conservatives used to respect it because it won wars and embodied the finest of American values while doing so. But now the Pentagon loses wars, throws away lives, and wastes trillions of dollars while trashing those fine American values.

The military used to be a strict meritocracy. Now, they cut standards in the name of diversity. They used to demand that every soldier be fit and ready for war. Now, they slash the requirements for our troops’ physical performance and brag about maternity flight suits.

They teach weak and disgusting left-wing racism in their academies, they target Christians, they insult the middle-America conservatives who do most of the fighting and an overwhelming share of the dying in our armed forces. While our enemies run ads touting the manly virtues necessary to a warrior life, our generals run ads about having two moms. It’s not very intimidating. And hey, we don’t like it.

Ladies and gentlemen, we could all go on with example after example, but the point is this: The left got their revolution, the one they spent decades screaming and agitating for. They got their ideologues into the halls of power — not just the university halls, not just the halls of Congress, but all of them: Business, media, military, sports.

If there is an institution in your life and it’s not a good church, chances are that institution has implemented one policy after another pledging itself to the dogmas of the left. Now, the left is shocked — shocked — that we don’t like it one bit.

There was an America that we loved. It was an America of religious liberty and freedom of speech, and equality before the law. An America that loved what is beautiful rather than what is warped and ugly. An America that loved its founders and loved its children. An America that knew that whatever prosperity it possessed, it owed it all to the Almighty, and that it had a solemn duty to Him in return.

That was the America we loved. An America that hundreds of thousands of young men proved they loved more than life itself. We still love that America, and we’re not just going to cheer and applaud their active desecration of it.

Herein lies a great little glimpse into just what kind of knuckle-draggers the left thinks we are. They think patriotism means we’ll do whatever they say whenever they say it. “Drink your can of beer, sit on the couch, and cheer for sports. You like sports, don’t you, you ape? Come on, watch them on your 60-inch Chinese TV you bought at Walmart.”

“Buy our cheap, foreign products, do it now. You like free enterprise, don’t you? What’s more free than your boys and girls in the Navy guarding Chinese ships shipping Chinese products from Chinese companies to run-down American towns that were once industrial hubs?”

“You like cheap things, don’t you? I thought Republicans loved sports and business!”

“When Gen. Mark Milley says jump, you say how high. When he says you’re racist and you are showing white rage, nod along. When he says standards are overblown, and that diversity is our new strength, salute. Come on, don’t you support our troops?”

They don’t get it. They don’t get that we don’t honor and salute empty institutions and buildings! We don’t just bow down before the local magistrate’s hat on a stick.

They don’t get that a church is not just some building that can be made into a nightclub, it’s where we worship God — and it’s from his presence that it derives its meaning.

They don’t get that people watch sports for athletic excellence, good old American entertainment, and the thrill of cheering for the guys fighting for your team. No one watches sports to be condescended to, regardless of what uniform the athlete has on.

They don’t get that we respect the flag and the Americans who’ve fought and died for it and will again, but that doesn’t mean we stand and salute the Pentagon and all the foolish politicians in the brass.

They also don’t get that we’re not all 100 percent serious and miserable all of the time, like a couple of CNN anchors we could name; we still have a sense of humor. So yes, when a woman with an ugly heart says ugly things about America and then flops in a big soccer tournament, we’re going to chuckle about it. Maybe even laugh out loud. Maybe we will have that cold beer.

We’re Americans; we don’t resent success in sports, business, or military service. But as Helen Andrews of The American Conservative recently wrote, conservatives don’t resent the left’s success — we resent the ways they actively harm us. And we’ll never accept the rotten version of America they tell us we’re supposed to love.

America is worth saving. If you live in a major coastal city, leave it whenever you can and see that America. It can sometimes be hard to find — the left has warped it viciously. Today this country kills its children in the womb, celebrates decadence, and glorifies decay, but if Vox is onto anything it’s this: We are onto them. And we’re not buying it. And America lives on in our hearts.

There are a lot of problems in this country. We’re experiencing a secular elite trying to justify their existence in any way they can. Things are going to get worse before they get better, because they want things to and it makes them feel good.

But there’s no God at the end of this tunnel. Just as with drugs or money or sex, no amount of Black Lives Matter,  climate change activism, and yard signs can fill the hole they’re feeling. The good news is, it won’t work; the bad news is, our experiment is delicate and badly damaged.

The work — going to school board meetings, running for local office, speaking up in our towns and our cities and our states — is hard work. We’re going to lose friends along the way, but we will lose this country forever if we don’t, so there’s really no choice at all, is there.

Christopher Bedford is a senior editor at The Federalist, the vice chairman of Young Americans for Freedom, a board member at the National Journalism Center, and the author of The Art of the Donald. Follow him on

Twitter

.

[lo-55]

Tilt The Hourglass Ch. 7

Maul had been many things in his life. 

Student, Assassin, Sith- hopeful, Madman, Crime Lord, Ruler of Mandalore. 

Now he could add corporate spy to that list.

Joy.

Maul found Kenobi and Si Treemba sitting together in the battered mess hall that the Monument was equipped with, each with something suitable for their species. Zabrak were technically omnivorous, but his particular brand had an affinity for meat. They were hunters first and foremost. They both had their heads down, and Si Treemba’s green skin was pale with his anxiety and disappointment. A plate of dactyl and fungus sat in front of him. 

Maul sat next to the pair, and scarred the life out of the both of them. He caught the elbow Kenobi threw at his face with ease. He peered at the jedi, unimpressed. 

“You look like someone pissed in your moof juice,” he said before Kenobi could do something silly like apologize. That didn’t stop the little jedi from looking contrite. 

“We had no luck. Did you?” 

Maul lifted his shoulder. “I found the thermocoms, in a vat of lubricant. So they’ve been recovered but there’s no way to tell who took them. Fingerprints and DNA would have been wiped away. The hutt’s are on a rampage, too. They’re ready to kill someone.” 

“I see,” Kenobi’s shoulders slumped. “If only…” 

“Mmmm?” Maul prompted him while he stole Kenobi’s dinner out from under him. The boy was so sad he didn’t even fight him. Or maybe Kenobi was just a push over right now. 

He looked guilty of something too. 

“It was just a thought I had. When Jemba was threatening everyone. Why didn't Master Jinn just use his lightsaber to cut him down? He’s a cruel person and a criminal, and he won’t stop hurting people. Master Jinn could have stopped it, but he chose not to. I just wonder why.” 

Maul paused, his stolen dinner halfway to his mouth. 

It was disconcerting to realize that Kenobi had had the same thought that he’d had. 

It seemed like every time they interacted like this Maul was thrown off course. Kenobi was not chosen by Jinn. Kenobi was willing to kill someone just like that, however he might justify it. 

Kenobi mis-read his expression, because the little jedi sunk lower in his chair. 

“I suppose that’s not the jedi way, but we’re supposed to defend the defenseless and seek justice in all things.” 

Maul mentally gagged. Familiar anger bubbled up under his skin, beneath the scars that Sidious had left on him. If the jedi had found him they wouldn’t have helped. He was too dark, wasn’t he? Too tainted. At best they would have sent him Dathomir to be a slave to the Nightsisters. He had been defenseless and they had never defended him. No one had. 

“There is no justice in this galaxy,” Maul told Kenobi darkly, his yellow eyes burning. “Not unless you make it yourself.” 

Kenobi looked startled at him, but Maul didn’t pay him any mind. He shoved food in his mouth. 

Si Treemba watched him eat, his eyes on the salt resting on the table. That was right. It was a rather horrible drug to them, wasn’t it? 

Maul paused. 

Maybe he should just poison the hutts and he could convince Jango to leave this job early and go find his brothers? Hutt’s were hardy, but Maul was creative. Starship fuel would do it, right? And he could certainly make it look like an accident… 

“You know,” Kenobi said suddenly, “there‘s one think I don‘t understand. Jemba puts on a good show. But I sense he‘s afraid of Clat‘Ha and the Arconans. And the mandalorian too.” 

“Jango,” Maul corrected, “Jango Fett. He would be a fool not to fear him. Mandalorians are powerful warriors, capable of going toe to toe with jedi. Don’t they teach you history in that fancy temple of yours?” 

Kenobi made a face at him while Si Treemba swallowed a mouthful of dactyl and fungi. 

“We think you‘re right, Obi-Wan. He fears us. Even though it is not our intent, he knows we will destroy him one day.”

“How is that?” Obi-Wan asked.

“In Offworld mining, the chiefs and overseers make fortunes, while the common workers make nothing. Many of them are slaves. But at Arcona Mineral Harvest, we have no chieftains, no overseers. Each worker shares in the profits. This did not bother Offworld until Clat‘Ha began to expand our operations. So she contacts the better workers at Offworld. If they are slaves, she offers to buy them and set them free if they will work for us. If they have signed work contracts, she offers to buy the contracts. Now she has the support of a mandalorian and she is more a force than before.”

“That sounds fair,” Obi-Wan said.

“It is fair,” Si Treemba agreed. “That is exactly why Jemba fears us. Many good workers wish to join us, only the bad will stay at Offworld.” 

“I see,” Obi-Wan said, touching his chin in a familiar gesture. “So in a few years, Jemba will have only chiefs with no one to boss around. He‘d hate that.”

Si Treemba grinned, then turned serious. “But Jemba has stalled us. He has raised the price on labor contracts and slaves. We can no longer afford to hire Offworld workers.”

Maul quietly filed that information away. He had no love of slavers, and freed slaves were loyal to a fault. He could use that to his advantage.

(Maul ignored the little voice that was starting to sound annoyingly like Tano, or perhaps Ezra, that pointed out that he had been little better than Sidious’ slave once. He was a darksider, he didn’t need weaknesses like sympathy.)

 “It’s no surprise. Hutt’s run the crime empire in the outer rim. Of course they’ll use glorified slave labor for legitimate businesses too. Does Jango know all this?” 

Si Treemba shrugged. “We thought you would know. He is your guardian, isn’t he?” 

Maul curled his lip. “I need no guardian, and I am no Mandalorian.” 

“Ah. We are sorry. We had heard that Mandalorians were fond of children.” 

“I’m not a child,” he snapped irritably. “But you are not wrong. They’ll adopt anything that moves if given the change.” 

“I heard Mandalorians were killers for hire, a violent race that tried to conquer the galaxy,” Kenobi said quietly. 

Maul snorted. He wasn’t entirely wrong. 

“Mandalorian isn’t a race. It’s a creed. Anyone who swears the Resol'nare is Mandalorian. I haven’t, and he hasn’t adopted me, so I’m not a mandalorian.” 

“You are a simple zabrak?” Si Treemba said dubiously. 

Maul flashed him his sharp, gap toothed grin. 

“Not hardly. I am a-” dark sider, crime lord, warrior, assassin, “Nightbrother.” 

Si Treemba grimaced. “You should keep yourself hidden from the Hutts then, Maul. We understand that Nightbrothers are very prized on the black market.” 

Kenobi looked ill. He pushed the rest of his plate towards Maul, who had no qualms finishing the bird. Perfectly at ease, he kept talking while he ripped the flesh apart with his sharp teeth. He was still getting used to the feeling of his eye-tooth being missing. Zabrak had a few extra teeth than humans, but his hadn’t even started to come back in, leaving a fleshing gap in his mouth that he kept worrying with the tip of his tongue. It tasted faintly like blood even though it had stopped bleeding some time ago. 

“I’m aware. The Nightsisters breed us to be strong and resilient, among other things,” Savage hadn’t enjoyed telling him about their homeland, but Maul had learned on his own. He learned much on his own after the rise of the Empire, about the sith and the Nightsisters both. Some of it was useful. Most of it would have had Kenobi pale and puking if he knew what his people were capable of.  “Slavers from Rattatak tried to steal me once, for a warlord there,” he added idly. 

“And you escaped?!” Si Treemba stared at him in shock. “We know Rattatak is a dangerous place. They have gladiator tournaments and many civil wars.” 

“It wasn’t that hard. There was only a small force, and I was not alone for it.” 

Maul looked down at the bones on the plate. Wasn’t Ventress on Rattatak now? Or if she wasn’t she would be soon. Maul wasn’t even certain she’d been born yet. Or would be, if he arrived on Dathomir before she was born. He could not promise the survival of all the Nightsisters if his brothers were not in top shape. Talzin may or may not have been his mother, but he would not allow harm to his brothers go unpunished. 

How much would that change? How involved in the galactic plan had Ventress been a part of? She had briefly ruled Rattatak, before being made an apprentice to Dooku, who was in turn an apprentice to Sidious. Had that happened yet? Was Dooku still a jedi master? 

Time travel was just one headache after the other. 

“Still. We think it is very impressive. There are many brave people on this ship,” Si Treemba said with a small smile. Kenobi returned it weakly. Maul tried not to roll his eyes. 

Si Treemba was far too easily impressed. 

Kenobi too. Shouldn’t the jedi have prepared him better for this? 

In fact, shouldn’t the jedi have sent him with an actual guardian, instead of on his own? Jinn certainly didn’t count. The man was much more useless than Maul had initially thought. He’d respected him for his fighting prowess, and for raising a jedi as good at fighting as Kenobi was, but how much credit did Jinn actually deserve, if Kenobi was here on his own? 

“We should tell the others that you found the thermocoms,” Kenobi suggested. 

“I already told Jango.” 

He’d looked exasperated by Maul going off and doing investigating on his own, but hadn’t scolded him in front of Clat’Ha and Jinn. Even if he had, he wasn’t Maul’s father. Maul owed him a small debt, but that was all. 

That was all. 

“Oh.” 

Maul eyed Kenobi speculatively. “Why aren’t you training to become a knight?” he asked suddenly, the question that had been bothering him for hours. Surely nothing Maul had done would change Kenobi’s life up until this point. Which meant that his Kenobi, the one he’d fought for decades, had had this happen to him too. He’d been sent away from the temple. He’d been assigned a farming job. And somehow he had returned to the temple, made a master out of Jinn, and become a powerful duelist as well. 

Kenobi jerked back like Maul had come at him with a knife instead of a simple question. Maul could taste Kenobi’s disappointment, fear, and insecurity. And there, at the center of it all, was anger. Maul had gotten him angry before. Enraged over the death of his loved ones. This was a different kind of anger. 

Maul carefully prodded at Kenobi’s mental shields. They weren’t as strong as they would be in the future, and Maul had to be mindful. His own shields were still ragged and being built back up, but he would need more time to get them back in shape. 

Maul hid a grin. Kenobi looked away from him, down at the table, and fiddled with his sleeve cuffs. 

“I would rather not talk about it,” he said quietly. “The temple decided that I wasn’t fit for- for the role of a knight. That I would be better suited to serve in other ways.” 

“As a farmer.” Maul said dubiously.  

“Yes,” the word came out sour on his tongue, “The agricorps are an important, honorable way to serve the galaxy.” 

Kenobi’s declaration sounded utterly hollow. Maul propped his chin on his hand and his elbow on the table with a ‘thump’. 

“Nearly everyone needs food to live,” Maul conceded. “But you don’t want to be a farmer, do you little jedi?” 

Kenobi shook his head miserably. 

“No.” 

Maul watched Kenobi squeeze his eyes shut, his face flushing under his freckles, before he drew his shoulders back and sat up straighter. His expression smoothed, at least a little. He hadn’t perfected his sabacc face yet. 

“But it was decided by people wiser than I am. And it was my own fault so-” 

“So here you are.” 

“So here I am.” 

Si Treemba, who had been watching the pair quietly, piped up. “We are glad you are here, Obi Wan. We are proud to be your friend.” 

That, at least, got a smile out of Kenobi. 

“Thank you, Si Treemba. And thank you too, Maul.” He must had seen Maul’s confusion. “For helping us. You didn’t have to.” 

Maul huffed at him. “Of course I didn’t have to. But I’m stuck on this ship with the rest of you. If war breaks out it might be inconvenient.” 

The pair looked at eachother, then at Maul, and started laughing quietly. 

Maul stared at them blankly. 

He hadn’t been joking! 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Maul really needed to find a place that was private, where he wouldn’t be disturbed by anyone. 

He was getting tired of only having a blaster and a knife. He wanted his lightsaber back, and unlike jedi he didn’t need to waste his time exploring some overglorified ice cave to get one. He could make his own crystals, and he had his whole life. 

His original crystal, the very first one he’d ever made, had been made from necessity. He’d been sent to kill a reclusive jedi master, Siolo Ur Manka. He hadn’t been able to, and when he was forced to flee he drew upon a design he’d found in his masters sith holocron. A blue print left from the weapon of Darth Zannah, Bane’s apprentice and an unbeatable combatant. 

It took him four days to properly craft the crystals, two for each one. He had entered a deep meditation, one that almost killed him with dehydration. He��d been sustained by the darkside and his own feelings. In the end he had used the trick of the second blade to run Manka through. 

That lightsaber had served him well until he’d lost it after his duel with Sidious on Mandalore. Now, surrounded by hostility and in the presence of jedi, he felt its absence much more acutely than he had on Orsis. It’s weight had always been a comfort on his hip. Even in those years lost to madness he had kept it with him in a box in his scrap cave. 

He wished, sometimes, that he had taken Sidious up on his offer to name it. 

“It, like myself, is nothing more than a tool in your fist. It is undeserving of the honor of a name. Let it be nothing more than what it is. An instrument of murder, and nameless.”

Still true. Maul was an instrument for murder, an accumulator of power, but it was under his own authority now. Not Sidious’. 

His name was his own, whether his mother had given it to him or Sidious had bestowed it upon him, he took it and made it his. 

Maul. 

Now, years later, Maul had learned how to make a lightsaber crystal in less time than two days. He only needed half of a day to make one now, and a furnace to provide heat to the raw materials. 

Those materials, raw minerals and stones, were easy to find on a mining ship. A furnace would be easy too, for the same reason. Miner’s kept small ones with them for any number of reasons, and ships themselves usually had very hot engine’s he could utilize.

The problem came with the face that Maul couldn’t find a moment of peace. 

A strange thing for a darksider to seek. Sith did not seek peace, but Maul required privacy at the very least to do this, or he would out himself to both jedi and Fett as well. 

He was not interested in that at all. Too many complications. 

Anything he needed to build the ‘saber itself was on the ship too. He’d made a small bag of pieces he could use. Spare pieces of mining equipment, ship parts, bits of weapons he’d taken the liberty of removing from the whiphids, would all come together to make a perfectly functional lightsaber. 

While Maul wouldn't be able to conceal his saber in a cane anymore, Jarrus and Ezra were wonderfully creative. When Maul had had his fake legs he’d kept his saber in one of them for a time, before he was old enough to warrant a cane. 

Now neither of those were options. 

Maul ended up patted Jango on the shoulder at breakfast. 

“I’m going to go sit in the vents,” he said, the truth. “I’ll see you tonight.” 

Jango narrowed his eyes at Maul. 

“Are you… okay?” 

Maul was fairly certain that he meant mentally or emotionally. 

“I’m fine. Don’t wait up.” 

Jango caught his shoulder before he could leave completely. 

“Maul,” he said, his voice gentling again, “If there’s anything you need, you can tell me. I’ll do my best to help you.” 

Maul really didn’t understand him. Maul was no mandalorian, and he really could handle himself, even if Jango didn’t understand that. Jango had no obligation to him. Maul was just some rabid zabrak that had fallen out of a vent and tried to strangle him. He’d known him less than a week, and already he wanted to help him recover his brothers. 

He wanted to adopt him for Force sake! 

Against his will Maul felt some tension bleed out of him. Jango was genuinely concerned, but also amused. Others might not have given him the same freedom that Jango did. But Mandalorian children were independent too, if not as independent as Maul was. He’d been self reliant for so long. 

“I am fine. It isn’t something to worry about…. Well. The Jedi might worry about it,” he admitted, tilting his head. 

Jango’s mouth twitched towards a smile. “Don’t get into any trouble you can’t get out of.” 

Maul snorted at him. 

“Give me some credit,” he chided. 

Jango patted his head, mindful of his horns. “Of course. You could take the whole Galaxy by storm if you set your mind to it, couldn't you?” 

Maul was aware he was teasing. That didn’t stop the vicious grin from curling on his face. 

“I’ll see you tonight,” he said again, and left Jango in their shared room. The man was reluctant to eat outside of it, or remove his helmet anywhere on the ship. Maul doubted he was one of the more hardcore Mandalorian’s who never took it off unless in the presence of family, so it must have been healthy caution. 

Maul made sure no one else was looking before he crawled into the vents. One good thing about this ship being so dilapidated was it made it easy for a small zabrak to get around unseen. 

He made his way to the engine room. 

The engineers were keeping a decent eye on things, but they missed Maul picking his way to the sublight engine. While the hyperdrive was engaged it wouldn’t be used to propel them, but it would still be kept running so it could take over in case they dropped out of hyperspace unexpectedly. 

Maul searched until he found the hatch that led to the firing cells. They helped dispurse the heat created by the engine inside, to keep it from melting under the sheer force of fission reaction that happened inside. If they were out of alignment the engine would overheat and explode. 

Maul used the Force to keep the heat inside when he pulled the the hatch open, and used it again to guide the particles inside the firing cells. With part of his focus on keeping the raw minerals, small quartz, carbon dust, and simple coal, in the center of the firing cell Maul scampered back into the vents, out of sight. 

Then he focused. 

Trusting the unrest of the ship to hide his workings from Jinn, and trusting the Kenobi was too caught up in his own turmoil to notice either Maul closed his eyes and focused. 

Piece by piece he pulled the pieces together and drew heat around them. 

Maul reached into the ocean of his being. Deeper and deeper, past the darkest parts of his being, until he found the harsh center where lava made of rage bubbled lazily. Waiting for his use. 

Maul gripped that heat and pulled. 

Anger twisted in his grasp and steadily wrapped around the components of his crystal. Layer by layer, he added more of himself and more of his anger. Anger as jedi, for never coming for him, for discarding Kenobi’s potential. Anger at Dooku and Vader for taking his place. Anger at Sidious for a life time of torment and pain. 

Anger at himself, for not taking his life into his own hands the first time. For not saving his brother, or Kilindi or Daleen. For failing his men. For failing his own ambitions, and letting himself be struck down by the same man twice. 

Maul breathed in, and along with that anger came threads of something else. 

Maul had always drawn on his anger and ambition to drive him, but something else seeped into his mind. 

Kilindi. Daleen. Savage. Kast. People he had failed once. People he would not fail again. 

His hearts twisted hard in his chest. Never again would he allow himself to fail his people. They were his. They belonged to him. 

Their lives were his. Their future was his. Their goals and dreams belonged to him. His to ensure, his to defend, his to push them towards.

His. 

Slowly, inside the firing cell, the components started to split into two distinct crystals. 

Offense and defense. Anger and determination. Vengeance and loyalty. 

Sweat beaded across his brow and the heat increased. 

Peace is a lie, there is only passion.

Through passion, I gain strength.

Through strength, I gain power.

Through power, I gain victory.

Through victory, my chains are broken.

The Force shall set me free.

Maul poured himself into the firing cell. Each sliver of stone fitted together and sealed with the fires of his being. 

Piece by piece. 

Maul forced them together, under the head and pressure of his anger and need. A new heat wrapped tightly with the rest as a part of him he’d half forgotten existed cracked open and bled into his crystals. 

Gold eyes snapped open and he sucked in a ragged breath. 

The engineers had changed. He didn’t know how long he’d been in that fiery state. Maul waved shaking hands at the engineers, who had the sudden idea to go get caf while he stumbled messily into the engine room. 

His hands were tremblings. 

Maul barely had the energy to open the valve and float his crystals out into his waiting palm. He barely noticed how hot they were when they dropped into his black tattoed hand. 

Two crystals. One red, the other scarlet. Just a shade of difference, but enough to catch his eye. 

Maul carefully pocketed the two crystals and stumbled back to the vents. He was utterly exhausted, physically and mentally, but he felt more stable to have the stones against his thigh. 

Jango came back to the room to find Maul passed out on his bunk, sleeping like the dead. It was the most relaxed he had seen the boy since he’d been nearly comatose on their way to Coruscant.  

If it wasn’t for the steady rise and fall of his chest he might have panicked and dragged him to the medical bay. 

As it was he settled on the bunk on the other side of their small room and watched the boy rest. He may not know what had happened, but he knew that tension had risen high on the ship today, and he had the inexplicable feeling Maul was responsible for it. 

He would have let him sleep, but at that exact moment the ship lurched and alarms sounded, blaring red lights through the room. 

They were under attack. 

#Darth Maul #Maul #darth maul time travel #Star Wars #star wars the prequel trilogy #jango fett #obi wan kenobi

[khxpresh]

Rules | Seto Kaiba | Priest Set

OLD URL- KAIBACXRPS

All of my YGO blogs are on hiatus. I’ll only be around for my friends only & current mutuals. I’m not looking for new partners around this community.

Thanks for the great times!

About the mun:

*Mun’s face-claims are Anubis and Seth from the Oh, suddenly Egyptian god series!*

@hxdrostorm​ is where I’m currently at

Hello there! I am Vani! Any pronouns is fine, idc how you guys will address me by.

I am a brazilian, an university student.

25 years old

In terms of YGO, I haven’t touched this serie since the late 2000s, back when GX was the brand new hot stuff. I’ve watched the DM anime both dubbed and subbed.I’ve also watched season 0 and all the movies as well!

If you like my graphics or edits and would like something similar for you, then why not commission me? All my details are here!

Promo - 15/09/2021

Blogroll - Last edit 30/10/2021

Some further info:

Both Kaiba and priest Set are being exclusively based off the DM anime, with the GX continuity. I have no ties to any of the  movies (especially not DSoD), the manga or any of the games.

THIS IS A +18 YEARS OLD BLOG (due to a wide variety of subjects  that aren’t suitable for minors). AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE SOFTBLOCKED, REFOLLOWING ME WILL LEAD INTO BLOCKING.

Here’s my threads tracker!

(please consider supporting the dev’s work on patreon!)

There are very few things that I will refuse to write, obviously some subjects/ships/etc might be better kept off tumblr. But over all, don’t be afraid to approach me to discuss them! I will let  you know when something is making me uncomfortable, so we can change it. Controversial shipping? Plots? Just toss @ me fam! I won’t judge you  based off these things!

I just ask you to do  the same thing for me. If I ever end up making you feel uncomfortable, for WHATEVER reason, LET ME KNOW. Without a doubt it was all a matter of genuine mistake.

I reserve the right to unfollow and block anyone, I don’t owe an explanation for doing so. Do not evade it, nor send people after me in an attempt to score an answer for you. If you find out you’ve been blocked by me, move on like any other person would.  

While I have no problems with personal/non-rp blogs following and interacting with me/my posts, I need you guys to refrain from reblogging my threads/headcanons/edits/art that originates from this blog (unless I’ve said otherwise). This is because I don’t want it spreading around, and messing with my activity!

Reblog karma is in effect, if I reblog a prompt from you I will send in something back. And I expect the same from you, if you do nothing but reblog memes directly from me without sending anything back, you will be blocked. I have a tolerance when it comes to mutuals, I’ll contact you to stop with it. However, the same can’t be said for non-mutuals.  

Just don’t be a dick man, let’s all be civil around here.

I am NOT fictionkin nor self-insert friendly, I’ve had way too many bad run ins with those folks, and want nothing to do with them! Mun =/= Muse, if you can’t understand that concept then leave.

Non-mutuals: please refrain from sending prompts that have been  specifically tagged/marked as ‘mutuals’. They have been marked in such  way, for a reason. I get you may want to draw my attention to your blog,  however, that’s not the way to go about it (If you do this, I’ll likely  take it as an attempt to brute force your way into my boundaries. DMing  me is a whole lot better.). I take a while to follow people back, you can find more info in regards to  what I look into people’s blogs & take into consideration before  following back in my rules doc.    

I’m strongly against the idea of “if we’re mutuals, then we’re immediately friends!” (as it promotes an unhealthy sense of overfamiliarity, and it has put me in awkward situations in the past). My primary goal for RP is to write, I’m not actively seeking out to make friends. I’ll always treasure friendships made along the way, but this needs to be something that happens naturally. So please, don’t go around calling me a friend, unless we’ve known each other and have been in constant contact for quite some time. It’s nothing against anyone, that’s just how I roll.

#[ pinned post ]