#ill draw a blueprint when i have the time

[acaesic]

guys if i made a little dallon weekes doll would that be fucked up or what

#i love always referring to him as dallon weekes even though all of you know who he is #i think itd be cute idk #itd have like button eyes and yarn for hair #and that one half black half white sweater with the stripes #and id give him a cute winter coat because canada is cold #ill draw a blueprint when i have the time #chase said something alright #dallon weekes

[leconcombrerit]

A warm hug to Non, or when are we going to stop demanding perfection from victims

It's been forever since I thought about making this post but I've finally decided to write the goddamn thing.

Three disclaimers : one, I haven't yet managed to get past the first third of episode 9, so this whole thing is based on episodes 1-8 at best. Two, I'll block on sight again if I see victim blaming on this post. Finally, I'm by no means an expert on the subject. It's complex, I might get things wrong and I'll have to oversimplify at times for clarity and brevity's sake, please don't kill me for it. It's probably gonna be long enough as it is. I've tried my best to organize my thoughts in a way that would make sense, but. Well. I hope it does.

Trigger warning for mention of suicide, bullying, grooming, sexual assault, rape

Non started as the poor little baby everyone wanted to protect -both the audience and Jin ; for all the shit he got after filming Non and Keng, there are a lot of parallels to draw between him and the audience. Then the dreaded episode 7 happened and all hell broke loose. I won't include screenshots of the disgusting things I read from some viewers about Non, but Jin's reaction is pretty telling already.

The easy explanation would be that he's mad Non isn't returning his feelings, but I think it has more to do with Non not fitting his 'good victim' role anymore. There's sadness on his face, but the dominants are anger and betrayal. Non tries to regain agency and gets crucified for it.

So what's a good victim ?

Non, basically

If you want an examplary blueprint of what society defines as a good victim and survivor, someone worth justice, defending and loving, just take a look at Non. I broke it down in four marks that need to be checked :

-Innocence : none of the person's action prompted the abuse -Moral high ground : the person has values and displays kindness -Helplessness : the person cannot do anything about the situation they're stuck in -Accepting to be saved : self-explanatory. The person has to accept the help that's offered to them, traditionally by a love interest

Non is abused for being poor, something he's not responsible for. He's hardworking, honest, passionate about the things he loves and commits to his engagements. He's kind when talking with Jin. He's resilient in the face of the gang's bullying. None of what he could do or say would make it stop, neither can he help owing Por for a camera he hasn't broken nor get out of Tee's pyramid scheme. His mental illness only increases this impression of vulnerability. Jin doesn't have all these elements, but he's got more than enough to paint a very similar picture of Non as the audience.

As for accepting help, Jin repeatedly offers some -and Non finally lets him in during their conversation on the rooftop. What Jin offers may be little but it's still help ; Non smiles and even gives Jin a shove -what I think is the only time he initiates contact with Jin at all.

"Thank you so much, Jin, for helping me all along." "It's alright, I'm glad to. I just want to see you smile again, Non."

The audience gets even more of Non being happy and grateful to be saved : he calls his "♥" contact for help multiple times, smiles at the reminder to take his meds and, later on, clings to Phee for dear life after trying to kill himself. He doesn't fight him, he doesn't reach for the scattered pills. Hell, even accepting Tee's offer to make money could count as Non agreeing to be saved by everyone around him.

Non checks all the marks. Everyone in the audience is rooting for him, the other boys can all go get impaled on a branch, and Jin looks at him like he hung and lit all the stars in the sky.

Speaking of the other boys...

Tee and Por victims as well but don't get the same amount of sympathy, if any. Tee isn't responsible for being stuck in a criminal environment and can't get out of it ; no one has offered help, so he gets a pass. But he's been shown to be selfish, opportunist, often cowardly and sometimes gratuitously cruel.

As for Por, it's even worse : every actions he takes seems to confirm his dad's opinion of him. The only mark he ticks is accepting to be saved by his mother, which looks very bad taken on its own. I made a post about Por not too long ago if you want more.

The only way for them to redeem themselves and go from 'horrible people who should die' to 'maybe they don't suck they're my poor little meow meows' is penitence. Take Por ; he's the archetype of the rich son who gets abused by his dad and suffers from having so much money. Just like Kang in Dangerous Romance, or Tanthai in Laws of Attraction. Tee ? I don't have names from the top of my head, but he's that hardened jaded guy stuck in a mafiosi network who has to learn to love and be loved again (enters White). Yet the audience learnt to root for these characters.

Basically, nothing is set in stone. Your status as a good or bad victim can shift depending on your actions and the way they're framed. The usual narrative is to get those characters to grow into the acceptable victim pattern. DFF however is going for reverse development (Non, Jin) or stagnation (Por, Tee, Fluke). It makes for gritty yet very realistic storylines ; and while I'm the first to yell that the masked figures should get their ass stat, I also recognize that there's much more complexity to them than this. Except Top. I have yet to come up with a good explanation for what they're doing with Top, but I will at some point.

How did Non fall from grace if he's such a good example ?

Three points : Phee, the paradox of the demand for Non to seek agency but not too much, and his inacceptable betrayal.

Phee as a magnifying factor

I love this kid to bits but Phee's appearance in the flashbacks concurs with Non's flawless image being torn to shreds for a reason. He's a good, strong and caring person who loves and tries to protect Non -something the audience has wanted to do for weeks ; so we all gathered behind Phee and made him our emissary, carrying out the impossible task outsiders to the series' world couldn't : saving Non.

Since Phee voices the questions and concerns of the audience, we are Phee to an extent. Betraying Phee means betraying the hope and love and care the audience has for Non. Phee is the series' moral compass by that point. I'm sure you see where I'm going with this. If not, consider it's a surprise tool that will help us later. When Phee gets hurt by Non or decides he'd be better off lost and dead.

For the record, in this poll Phee gets even fewer votes than White

Seek agency, but not too much

Discontent starts to rise with the helplessness point first as viewers start to question why Non doesn't ditch the group. Why he's putting himself through such trouble. Non changes from being subjected to others' action to being the subject in a grammatical sense. Yet Non has hiw own reasons to stay (how much does the movie mean to him ? How many hours and sleepless nights on the script ? How long would it take for him to find another chance to get enough funding ? How big of a dream is it for him ?). It's the first occurence of the audience claiming to know best what's good for Non.

Complaints quiet down when Non does try to leave for good only to be stopped by Jin. We saw him try, we saw him fail, he really couldn't leave so he's off the hook.

Jin also makes sure Non remains a perfect victim by bringing him back into the group. I'm not accusing Jin of trying to make Non suffer on purpose ; he's a good guy at heart, come fight me to death on this hill. But the only way for him to exist in Non's life is to remain a savior of sorts. If Non leaves, there's nothing to save him from. Which brings us to my next point.

Non must try to solve things by himself, sure. But not too much. Because when you thrash to regain control of your life, you might break a few things in the process. Especially if you have to wrest it away from well-intentioned but firm hands.

He rejected Jin's offers to help numerous times. He looked anything but thrilled when Phee put himself in danger to clear his name. He refused to change schools at first, only to begrudgingly agree when Phee insisted. This insistence is the heart of the matter : Phee is sure he knows best, so he bulldozes through Non's objections and hesitation : he doesn't consult him before asking his dad for help, he speaks in his place when Non doesn't answer his proposal, he puts the bracelet on his wrist. He asks him if he's taken his meds, just in case.

Phee has the audience's benediction in doing so. Part of it stems from our knowledge of future events : we know it's going to end bad for Non. We know he has to get the fuck out. We know whatever decision he makes will be a bad one. Kids and teenagers as a whole are often deemed unable, or not mature enough to make informed decisions anyway. Just look at Non's mother telling him to prioritize his studies so he can go abroad like his brother. Multiply it tenfold for people with mental illnesses ; they get babied on a daily basis. So Non cannot, I can't emphasize it enough, cannot do anything.

All of the above end with Phee getting his way. Non can't win against him, so he chooses to lie instead.

Aside from willing to be in charge of his own life, Non's refusal to let Phee help is also rooted in love and fear. While Phee would offer him an easy way out as he did for the bank accounts, it would most likely only be easy for Non and put Phee in danger. Both their survivals are held in that curt 'no'.

He's already straight up refused help, and now he loses the moral highground by lying (to his perfect holy savior Phee of all people). From here on out, any action he takes will be his -which is what Non wanted ; it's his life, and he won't be a bystander in it. But it also means that he jumped off the pedestal he'd been put on to land on thin ice.

And guess what, Non is a multi-dimentional character in a difficult situation who weighs more than a poor little damsel in distress. Of course said ice cracks. And the Non hate train gets started.

The betrayal

Lying and refusing help to go get it from the worst place he could have had was bad enough. But sleeping with his teacher while he had a boyfriend (Phee, for heaven's sake) ? Unforgivable. Cheating is the BL equivalent of every cardinal sin, the worst of the worst, and no matter the circumstances you'll get roasted for it.

And yet there are circumstances. One, especially, and it's called motherfucking grooming. I won't elaborate on this point cause I've done it over and over already, but Non was groomed by an adult. Does he see things that way ? Probably not. In his mind he's in control of the situation. He can lie to Phee about it because there's no reason for it to backfire. He does what he has to if he wants to save himself, using he one weapon he has : his body. It's cheating, but cheating in a game rigged for you to lose.

Society has two opinions about sex. It's either holy or gross. Take Jin, for instance.

See the look on his face. He's heartbroken, he's sad, he'll live through it. Witnessing Non having sex with his teacher when he has a boyfriend ? Now that's another story. That's a betrayal.

A betrayal of what, exactly ?

Of this goddamn image Jin had painted of Non. The same the audience was given to see prior to these events : Non was perfect and loveable and worth defending, an innocent, pure, helpless baby in need of saving. So when the illusion shatters in what society and especially BL culture hold as the worst action possible, people feel fooled. Stupid, if you will. And they turn their hatred to Non. Non lied to us ! He pretended to be good, dear god, to think I loved such filth ! My heart is so dirty now, ew.

But Non didn't lie. He lied to Phee, but that's it. Everything else was expectations and assumptions. Fail to meet them and suddenly everything is your fault. It's Non's fault for refusing to be dragged along in his own life anymore, Non's fault for lying in order to get some control, Non's fault for lying again not to lose Phee when caught by surprise, Non's fault for listening to Jin, Non's fault for resorting to use his only weapon to get out of a situation he was cornered in, Non's fault for being tricked into thinking any of the decisions he made regarding Keng were his own, Non's fault for everything.

He wanted to claim his life back and made a mistake, yes. He doubled-down on it when he realized it was too much for him to handle. He clung to it and did his best to keep it together. He dared not to be the perfect victim he was supposed to be ; to try when everyone knew he was bound to fail. And you know what, sometimes there's stuff that's someone's fault, consequences they didn't foresee, things they said, slips and falls, and they're still victims, just as much as they were before.

I believe that dealing with his debt himself is as important to Non as finishing the movie is. He's ready to be used and abused (by Keng in the former, the group for the latter) and to break his own heart, values, pride and sanity. He's the most resilient and dedicated character in the show to me.

But the world doesn't necessarily see it that way. So when Non realizes the mess he's made of everything, he fights Keng (who represents his desperate and violent search for complete independence) to reach for the bracelet he got from Phee. He wants help. He needs it. But he's not a victim anymore and any help is denied.

Both Phee and Jin later manage to reconcile their broken image of Non with the man he actually is. Too late to save him, but they still did. I have a hunch that things would have been different if Phee had beat up Keng and taken a crying Non in his arms, holding him tight while whispering none of it was his fault. But our moral compass fucked up, like the hurt kid he is.

What some people did by blaming and hating on Non is closer to the hateful comments he got on the video than Phee or Jin's reactions. They're far worse.

That's the big takeout. What if we stopped stigmatizing or idealizing sex ? What if we stopped demanding perfection and so-called purity for someone's trauma and status as a human being not to be negated ?

Anyway, here's a hug to Non and every victim who live in the paralyzing fear of a single slip. You can make mistakes just like the rest of us. You don't owe anyone perfection.

I'll end this rant on a bright, happy smile. I don't see a good ending for Non, but god knows he'd deserve it.

#I tried to structure it a bit #key word is try #I was angrily typing it and working with a word salad #I hope I didn't lose sight of my point halfway through #but whether I rambled on or not I needed to write it #cause I'm tired of people sorting victims out and choosing who gets respect and justice #and who doesn't #dead friend forever #dff the series #I spent too long on this gotta go shower now

[teethands]

really nailing down the skirl's body blueprint, i think this is pretty finalized and hopefully there wont be many new major changes anytime soon. the largest change i have made here is the removal of the tertiary lungs, as in they only have a single set in their neck now, along with the smaller set in their head. i moved the secondary nostrils up towards the "collar" area. i found three lungs to be kind of excessive. the secondary nostrils are there instead of just having primary nostrils to allow the secondary lungs in the head to become isolated from the rest of the respiratory system for continuous broadcasting and long-term calls without needing to stop for air.

anyways, these two individuals are the two main characters we will be seeing when i begin fleshing out their story. the one on the top, who i have yet to name, presents a piebald-like mutation and complete lack of patterning outside of her natural fur and skin color. shes the youngest of the two by a long shot, being around 16-17? in this drawing, though in the story, she will be around 8-9. skirls mature slightly quicker but have similar lifespans to humans, growing to their full height at around 15 years. shes naïve, ungraceful, and full of curiosity.

the second one, who i have named hühüküju, (ill write another post about language and pronunciation later, huhu is good) is the older, being middle aged in her 40s-50s, and kind of takes our main character under her wing when she needs it most, during the slow-building chaos of the main conflict, which is during the species-wide realization of planetary danger. regardless, shes strong-willed, intuitive, and a natural mentor, though somewhat chaotic and unpredictable at times. she can be hard to read but she has a protective and kind heart. shes an artist and her craft, which is pottery, is incredibly intricate and something she spends countless hours per piece on. (pottery is interesting in the skirl world but thats ALSO for another post)

#every time i draw them i ALWAYS make the head too small and have to resize it. like no girl they have disproportionately large heads #if you think the heads too big. make it bigger. #skirls #skirlworld #rorys art #spec bio #spec evo #speculative biology

[ninjastar107]

Megaman classic AU misc stuff. not sure what to call the AU yet.

Light isn't the only one spearheading robotics. He had a hand in a number of blueprints for helper bots, but he's just one of a handful of scientists working on advanced robotics (Including Wily, Cossack, Lalinde, and a few others).

Blues really was a prototype. There's a lot of functions and parts that are missing in him that are present in Light's later humanoid robots. He was built a lot longer ago than Roll and Rock were, and was out of commission for a lot longer too. - Light, having a breakthrough with advanced AI, kept it sort of under the table. He decided after Blues disappeared that there were just too many issues for it to be stable enough to advertise. - He did a few years of biological structure studies to refine how he approached building humanoids.

Rock and Roll are a lot more refined, and their AI hardware is built a lot more on trial and error over datasets as many other robots were at the time. Light presented this type of hardware in a paper but it was met with some questioning on whether machines *should* be modeled after humans internally and externally. -Lalinde built Tempo shortly after, using a combination of both.

Wily is back seats some of Lights research with the ever saying of 'we're building machines to do the dangerous jobs' to cover for some of Lights more 'questionable' developments (that being building robots that can feel pain and a full range of emotions). - Wily builds a lot of the robot masters off of Protomans blueprints, seeing that the structures require less balance attuning and are cheaper to obtain/make. - He gets jealous of Light being the face of their work and sets Light's first line of robot masters out to cause trouble. Rock becomes megaman to stop him, much to Lights uncertainty.

Roll winds up meeting Blues while out and about with iceman. Neither of them know that each other are related, and Blues mistakes her for a human. They meet a few times this way until she mentions who her dad. - Little does she know that this is the same robot that's been the rival/mentor to her brother.

- Blues reveals himself after the end of megaman 5 (after being impersonated). He visits more often after this and lets Light do a vent-port modification. (Adding a few more heat release areas on his back plates.)

Rock and Roll occasionally stand out in the sunshine, often times their mornings consist with waiting outside for the sunrise. They both have solar cores, and various sections of their plating have solar panels inlaid into them.

Tempo runs on lithium batteries and an alternator, much like a motor vehicle. When she was damaged in a cave in, the battery did more damage to her than anything else. - When she is gearing up to do more extensive work, her alternator kicks in to keep her power usage low. She could run on gasoline but Lalinde tries not to encourage that due to environmental reasons.

Ill probably draw a few diagrams for major differences in blueprints. Maybe give a hand at drawing Bass's layout as well (who I forgot to think about for this AU until now, haha!)

#megaman #megaman au

[risingscorchingsuns]

Hikaru’s Beetle Breathing Facts!! 🪲

HIIII it’s almost 4am and god forbid i sleep for longer than four hours at a time so im gonna infodump about Beetle Breathing!!! Ive had the forms written out since like, December, I can’t believe I haven’t posted them yet lol

I’ll add to this list as I edit and write, but for now, enjoy!! This is equal parts infodumping and fun facts about the technique 🪲

PLEASE ask if u have questions! I’m not sure if im describing this as accurately as I could, id love to ramble if you need clarification!! Feedback is also encouraged- this is mostly a first draft! If you have ideas for making the form more balanced, I’d love to hear it!! I aim for Beetle Breathing to come off as a unique adaptation of Flame and Insect Breathing meant exclusively for Karu’s abilities, but I worry it comes off as “it’s the two mashed together to be more powerful than anything else” lol

• Appearance-wise, Beetle Breathing is most similar to Serpent Breathing, actually!!! In the sense that they’re both creature-based instead of element-based, illusions of beetle anatomy and such will appear when Hikaru uses his forms, like how serpents appear when Obanai uses his. (I know the author said you can’t see the forms technically but shhhh it’s not real canon can be whatever I want)

• The general color associated with Beetle Breathing is indigo, the same as Hikaru’s blade! As well as seeing bigass bug parts, viewing Beetle Breathing also has brief flashes of indigo where Hikaru slashes. I’m not sure if I’m explaining this well, ill have to draw it lol

• Beetle Breathing is a branch of Insect Breathing, with Flame Breathing used to supplement it. For the first few months of being an official Slayer, Hikaru used Insect Breathing- it was also the form he passed Final Selection with. When Shinobu found him in the woods, the two were similar in build, so she taught him to utilize his agility for her poisons. He was… okay at it. He never quite had the grace of Shinobu- his agility was better suited for traversing forest floors and climbing trees. He tripped a lot learning Butterfly Dance. But he got the hang of it well enough to pull it off, and went into the Corps as a user of Insect Breathing. But as he became stronger physically, (especially after he started T and bulked up a bit,) it was sort of the final nail in the coffin for Hikaru’s Insect Breathing career. He was agile, sure, but he wasn’t very graceful, and also he kind of sucked at poisons. But both Shinobu and Hikaru knew there were aspects of Insect Breathing that suited him- he may have gotten stronger physically, but that didn’t mean simply switching forms altogether was the best option for him. So, thus began the development of Beetle Breathing, an offshoot of Insect Breathing!

• Formwise, Beetle Breathing uses a lot of the same movements as Insect Breathing. The main key difference is that instead of using sharp jabs to pressure points to inject poison, Beetle Breathing supplements Flame Breathing’s physical strength to replace the jabs with slashes. It’s like a dance, but instead of grace, it’s built on power and Hikaru’s determination.

• Flame Breathing’s power comes from passion, and passion comes from emotion. Beetle Breathing is similar- the strength in its strikes is derived from Flame Breathing’s inner flame technique, supplementing Hikaru’s physical strength where ordinarily it would be Shinobu’s grace. Shinobu personally requested Kyojuro to help Hikaru develop Beetle Breathing- she recognized Kyojuro was the best fit for the fighting style Hikaru was trying to develop. She did not, however, anticipate that the two would fall in love lol

• While the movements are initially based off Insect Breathing, as I mentioned Hikaru is clumsy as fuck when it comes to dancing- he’s much better suited for skittering about in the woods lol. He took Insect Breathing’s dances as a blueprint, and studied both the stances and movements of Flame Breathing, and the movements of Kani, his Kasugai Beetle ‘Crow’. Flame Breathing is more centered in your core and chest, which was helpful for Hikaru to maintain his balance when fighting, as well as utilizing the full extent of his agility.

• The only written records of Beetle Breathing are in the pocket journal Hikaru always carries- he struggles with memory due to PTSD, so he writes a lot of things down. His journal is the only physical information about Beetle Breathing’s existence, as well as detailed instructions on its history, execution and development. Kyojuro gave these instructions to Senjuro after Hikaru’s death, who transcribed them into an archive. It isn’t well-known like Flame Breathing- but it’s preserved. Hikaru’s legacy, tucked away in a corner of the Rengoku estate.

• A lot of Beetle Breathing’s physical manifestations make use of mimicry and other anti-predatory or distraction techniques used by insects. This is most notable in forms Four and Six.

• Beetle Breathing as a technique isn’t more powerful than Insect or Flame Breathing individually- it’s just better suited to Hikaru’s fighting style and physical abilities. It’s made by him, so it grows and adapts with him. He’s not suited for using Flame or Insect Breathing by themself, so he took the bits that work for him and made them into something new.

FORMS!

There are six forms of Beetle Breathing, just like the six legs of an insect. There’s a brief blurb for appearances, but it’s very unfinished and definitely not final lol. Universally, the Beetle Breathing attacks have indigo flashes in the wake of sword movements. The forms are as follows:

First Form: Mandibles’ Genesis

Execution: The user will burst forward, following with two horizontal slashes in an X shape. Usually aimed at the neck of a demon for decapitation. Could be suited for dual-wielding, but since Hikaru just uses one blade, the X motion is executed with turns of the wrist. The motion can be initiated from a low strike or a high one.

Appearance: The mandibles of a male stag beetle will manifest around the target, seemingly closing around it as the X-slash is executed.

Second Form: Mirrored Horn Strike

Execution: The user darts forward, executing an upward vertical slash brought up from a tail guard. Immediately followed by an identical downward vertical slash. Similar to Flame Breathing’s Second and Third forms, simplified for the sake of speed and accuracy. Less powerful than the Flame forms, but more versatile.

Appearance: A rhinoceros beetle is seen on the slashes, rearing up as through to strike with its horn.

Third Form: Fractured Elytra

Execution: A spinning defensive move that uses the weight of the user’s body as momentum, unleashing an arcing circular attack. The movements and power behind the strike are derived from Flame Breathing’s Blooming Flame Undulation, but the agility required for the momentum is necessary from Insect Breathing’s Dance of the Bee Sting.

Appearance: being fr with you guys on this one, I have no idea what it would look like. Maybe a flared elytra behind the user, with open beetle wings in a circle behind them? Ideas welcome!

Fourth Form: Compound Ocellus

Execution: this one is heavily inspired by the mimicry adaption of eyespots, used for distraction or dissuasion of predators. The user increases their agility using breathing, darting around the target and leaving afterimages to confuse them. The afterimages mimic the user, jabbing and slashing at the target in a cascading mirror image. The user will weaken the target with up to six strikes and jabs, before ultimately beheading them in a final blow. The six strikes and agility are derived from Insect Breathing’s Butterfly Dance: Caprice.

Appearance: Fairly self-explanatory, leaves afterimages of the user that mimic their movements for a short time before fading. (Think kind of like Killua’s technique Rhythm Echo, if you’re familiar with HxH!) Additionally, I’d imagine the target would see eyespots in their peripheral vision, similar to that of the eyed click beetle.

Fifth Form: Catalyst Armor

Execution: The user utilizes their breathing to circulate blood flow more efficiently, thickening their skin and heightening their reflexes. This serves for both a faster recovery and reaction time, as well as making it more difficult to be seriously injured. This form is best utilized in tandem with other forms, but doing so is incredibly difficult due to the immense amount of focus required to maintain the armor.

Appearance: A sort of transparent shimmer appears around the user like an aura, like the iridescence of a beetle shell.

Sixth Form: Kaleidoscopic Swarm

Execution: The user ricochets off of nearby surroundings in faster and faster succession, darting in to deliver fierce, powerful slashes that stack up in damage the longer the form is used. Can be used to weaken powerful demons, take out large numbers of weaker ones, or as a distraction technique. Difficult to maintain, but devastating if used effectively.

Appearance: Again, I’m not really sure how this would work in terms of appearance, but I’d imagine the movements are hexagonal in nature, leaving afterimages of kaleidoscopes that get more confusing for the target the longer the form is used. I have no idea if this makes sense lol

oops i accidentally spent two hours writing this. back to bed with me enjoy your karu lore!!!!! :D

#hikaru eritora #leon writes #leon rambles #demon slayer oc #oc lore #kny oc #kny #demon slayer #rotates hikaru in my brain

[dragons-and-art]

In which the first thing i properly draw for a cyberpunk AU is a pinup of Vinny

My priorities are set differently i supposed lol

Below some info about the AU

In this AU i imagined the trio in a futuristic tech heavy and unsurprisingly corrupted world, the classic cyberpunk stuff. People can enhance their bodies capabilities, hackers are wild and dangerous, and people are trying to live forever through cloning or preservation of the mind by ctrl+s-ing it into a computer. Vinny being the latter of those three.

Due to a severe illness he passed away around his 20s, but he was fortunate enough to be a part of a project before his death, its purpose being to copy and preserve his and other people's minds in autonomous drones.

It was a success at first, Vinny was able to continue living inside a pidove shaped drone called a memory drone, capable of projecting himself onto the world. It took some time to get used to be being what could be described as a living ghost, but it was worth it to ensure his family was okay despite his early passing.

The problems began when the test drones around the world began to fail, the minds inside them tried to grow and change as per usual but the drones couldn't handle that, forcing the people inside them into a digital made Alzheimer's. The horror of it was too strong for the creator of these drones, to the point of driving her to destroy the blueprints of this project, along with herself.

Yet once more, Vinny persisted and held onto his consciousness through sheer will and ingenuity, becoming the last known memory drone to still function as intended. It's quite the achievement, that many want to have their claws on.

Anyways~ That's all for now.

Hopefully i'll be able to finish some stuff about Vex and Nala next, i'm really digging this concept and i wanna play with it some more >w<

#artists on tumblr #digital art #anthro #scalie #Pokemon #pokemon oc #scrafty #cyberpunk #future memories AU #vinnyscrafty

[skylarmoon71]

Eobard Thawne (Flash) - Extra

It’s all bittersweet, being back.

You’d woken up in the hospital with a clean bill of health. Everyone was shocked. Especially the guard who saw you take a full blast of lightning straight to the chest.

When you got to the lab, you didn’t expect the round of applause from fellow scientists. Everyone in the building was standing at the entrance clapping. You shuffled to the side to question one of the other interns that worked with you.

“W-What’s going on?”

She smiled.

“You crazy psycho, you saved the entire lab. That bolt that you ran into would have hit the circuit box in that room. Firefighters said if it had connected, the whole place would have gone up in smoke. You saved billions of dollars of research. Not to mention how many casualties you prevented other buildings close by.”

“I-I did?”

She nods, and she pushes you forward as you walk through the hall waving awkwardly and shaking hands with everyone you seem to pass by. The CEO of the company is wearing the biggest smile. “

“Thank you so much. There’s nothing I can truly do to express my gratitude. “ She shakes your hand vigorously and you just giggle, rubbing the back of your neck.

“N-No problem. A-Anytime.”

The remainder of the day you’re met with the royal treatment. It’s a little strange, but nice to be recognized. Even Jimmy had found you at some point and basically bowed at your feet from protecting his tech. All in all, it was a great day.

But as you returned that afternoon, you felt a bit hollow.

There was no sign of Eobard. It was a bit naive to think he would jump in after you, but you hoped that maybe if he felt even a glimmer of what you did, he would risk it.

So you wait.

Day one you’re hopeful.

Day two you’re desperate.

Day three, you see the truth.

Walking into the lab on the fourth day, you’re fairly sluggish. You get to work on your machine and many others. Your time at star labs has given you a lot of insight. Working day and night with such intelligent people really opened up your eyes. If you thought you got recognition for saving the lab, when you finally got your machine up and running, your resident supervisor was practically glowing with pride as broke down how it worked. It was extraordinary. With any luck, in a matter of months they could actually get it working in hospitals.

The following week, you're sitting on your couch, watching a repeat of one of your favorite episodes. It’s stupid to torture yourself like this. Looking at something you could no longer have. But it was the only thing you have left. You clenched the pillow that night, falling asleep to the sound of Eobard giving Barry a pep talk while dealing with the latest resident bad.

On your way to work the next morning, you down a cup of coffee and get started on a new project.

“What are you working on?”

You smile at Jimmy. He’s become somewhat of a colleague rather than a rival, especially after you helped him with his own creation.

“It’s a memory foam I guess. For people suffering from Dementia and Alzheimer's. I figured if I can create the cure for cancer, why stop there. There’s so many diseases and illnesses out there. We can do so much for people if we really put our mind to it. I guess my time in that coma showed me exactly what I wanted to do. I want to save people.”

“That’s..incredible (Y/N).”

You grin.

“Thank you, I aim to please.” you joke.

He laughs and you spot your supervisor at the door. You wave at him, returning your focus to your work.

The door opens behind as John walks in.

“This is where all our other paid interns work on different projects for the better of humanity. You hear that, paid interns."

 Everyone in the room laughs at John’s quip. He’s caught you all a few times chatting around in the lab or playing uno. So his words aren’t completely unwarranted.

“Who’s the new fish?” Jimmy asks.

You can hear a number of chuckles, and you laugh, drawing up your rough sketch for the blueprints you’ll need to make.

“My name is Eobard, Eobard Thawne.”

Your head whips around at the name and you drop the pencil. 

Your eyes are planted on the blond haired man and the second he sees you, he offers a smile. It’s so warm and filled with light, you almost break down right there. He walks right up to you with his hand extended.

“It’s nice to meet you.”

You just gape for a few seconds, when you finally gather the courage to reach out, you take his hand. A pleasant shock rushes through your finger tips and his awestruck expression mirrors your own. He must realize that he’s been holding your hand and staring for far too long. He pulls back nervously.

“S-Sorry. I didn’t get your name."

You offer the biggest smile you can, because this is nothing short of a miracle.

“(Y/N) (L/N), it’s really nice to meet you.”

He’s smiling just as brightly.

“You too.” 

#unlikelylove #eobardxreader #scientists #love #eobard thawne #hidden feelings #care #change #alternate universe #choosinglove #extra #fluff #meetings

[lloydasspound]

Fellow Lloyd enjoyer!! You should share your Lloyd HCs/any other Lloyd/Code Geass stuff you’ve had on your mind but haven’t had an excuse to put out there!

HAIII. HAIIII I have so so sooo many lloyd thoughts that asking me to just pick some is liek a needle in a haystack but ummm ummmmm if we go from most basic hcs to weirder its like.

He is soooo autistic!!! He is aro to mee. He has really bad hearing from being around all these loud ass fighting robots all day (and knows sign language to compensate in his personal life but no one at work bothers bcuz everyone hates him). Absolutely illegible handwriting (ignoring that one time that he has a beautiful signature) but he's kind of not bad at drawing from making blueprints and stuff (but does NOT understand average art bcuz he can't fathom the emotions surrounding it). Overworks himself a lot, although this is literally canon now bcuz of lost stories like WOW all those lines about working through the night until his body forces him to take a nap gave me permanent brain damage!! Similarly, the fact that he gets shakey hands is another hc turned canon in lost stories but they say its bcuz he gets cold I say its bcuz hes ill and tired and killing his body. Also I think he is actually very warm to touch and not cold!!! Ceciles cooking actually tastes great and lloyds just the insane one in the scenario. He is a bit of a history nerd in his free time!!!! (He named his robot lancelot he named his fuckign dream project number 1 robot lancelot like omfg) I think he secretly knows how to pilot a knightmare and has his own pilot suit stashed away, he just doesn't do it bcuz code geass are cowards. He needs glasses but his vision is not that bad!! He's the type to take his glasses off to read/when he's focused (arguably kind offffff confirmed? The one times we've seen him with a book is with his glasses off technically!!! (LLOYD BDAY CARD I LOVE YOU LLOYD BDAY CARD YOU ARE EVERYTHING TO ME.)) Even though he's rich he doesn't really like servants/basically prefers to do everything himself but also he's fuckign shit at taking care of himself so actually nothing gets done and his place is a mess. Subject to migraines occasionally. Cannot drive. His hair is greasy as hell. Kind of bad hygiene but he never smells Bad, he smells very sanitary or like that weird fake metal smell. He needs to be hurled into the sun.

Other Lloyd thoughts include that his lost stories bday card was still very very Good (understatement) and that's never leaving my mind and they should make a 3* of him. His dialouge there sucks tho. I hope he has the most absurd mention in Roze. He does not deserve the amount of in canon hate he gets at all bcuz literally nothing he does is that bad. Miyahara tatsumi lloyd is peak lloyd. I want him to die

There is definitely more but I hope this is enough!!!! xoxo

(I have nothing to say abt code geass bcuz I hate that show this is lloydasspound not codegeasspound♡)

#TAHNK YOU FOR ASKING BTW. #lloydgang if you have any beautiful thoughts please share in the comments below #also i have a lot of art backed up that ive been too lazy to post idk ill get on that eventually #asks

[iwantmygun]

I’ve seen a few anti Johnny Depp posts here and it’s pretty disheartening to me lol. Did y’all watch the trial? Do y’all know that women are capable of being mentally ill? Do y’all know that women are capable of being abusers? One argument I saw was a rumor that Johnny MUST be a terf based on how he “abused Turd over her bisexuality”, which there is no proof of besides her word, which has been determined to be meaningless. It’s obvious to me that she used her sexuality to hide amongst and pull on the heartstrings of a vulnerable group of people. SHE WAS CHARGED WITH DOMESTIC VIOLENCE AGAINST HER EX GIRLFRIEND. The fact that she even brought up her sexuality to draw sympathy is horrifying, but adding the layer of her being CONVICTED of domestic violence against her ex girlfriend makes it that much worse. The hypocrisy is unending. Psycho lost the defamation trial and for damn good reason. All of her stories about Depp were straight up lies, her photos were staged and edited and she slipped up/was caught in a lie so many times on the stand, not to mention her demeanor was bone chilling. I could feel her getting angry and it was scary to me. She reminds me of my own abuser and made me very uncomfortable to watch her avoid every direct question. Yes I am a Depp fan but I stayed neutral until I learned all the facts. Once you know the case, it speaks for itself. The defamation trial went on for SIX WEEKS WITH A JURY. Sorry but nah you’re just playing the ignorant devils advocate if you’re siding with Turd after all that. Also not only are you sexist, you’re perpetuating the idea that abusers/narcissists can get away with ruining someone’s life and still walk away a millionaire. She will never admit that she is responsible because that’s what narcissists do. They are always the victim of some great big conspiracy. (Ex: her saying some “rogue agents from the Australian government” created a rouse to incriminate her over her knowingly illegally bringing her dogs into Australia). You are allowing yourself to be manipulated by an abuser. This should have been taken as a lesson to all. You’ve been given a blueprint of what a narcissist looks like. So when one shows up in your real life, you’ll know to run for the hills.

#Johnny Depp #mine #domestic abuse awareness #narcissismawareness #I’m with you Johnny #the evidence against her is miles high #if you think about it for longer than one second you’ll figure it out

[napozombo]

4.3.23

i. trash can

i now have a laundry room door

that lacks a doorknob, because why the fuck would i deserve

a door with a doorknob?

i have new blinds 

so i can let the light in to see better the depression piles and lost interests

while everything that gets a little better just exposes 

the soft rot underneath 

in the ever-worse

that nifty neat place where nihilists, soldiers, and retail workers 

compare notes and study for their next existential crisis

and so it is hard to favor bright-eyed optimism when 

the wry half-smile cynic-asshole mode runs deeper than my roots

and i have anchored here for decades 

in the soil of rueful, wishful thinking.

i will throw away old drawings, i will throw away old feelings, i will

commit myself like a bride to this dented trash can

and fold myself into it, legs first, 

like a praying mantis or a lawn chair having a nervous breakdown

but the garbage can is a safe place to be and i do not disappoint myself from inside it

how could i? i have set the bar so low

i am looking for answers to genetic questions, i am looking

in odd places, but the family tree is pruned by age 

and the chance to ask those questions 

is here with me in the trash.

ii. dead rot wood

“you are not trash”

friends shouldn’t have to say it; i know how to self-soothe.

here is the after-taste of sticky, sweet honey in my throat

and the scent of hyacinth that will survive this place, this ever-worse

like me, out of spite, as i poke at the 

dead rot cracks, a spiderweb history 

of decay and fractures that you are i share

cracks that 

will stop with me

and carry on with a sister

who i would not know how to talk to if i even had her number

and i file her under the ever-worse because you have rediscovered her

but the distance and time makes you sad.

she carries too this dead rot, these

cells ignoring blueprints, our three-ring circus of fuckery

and even grown as i am i look to you, 

the mother for guidance because

you’ve been on this road longer and you are kind 

even when you feel hateful; (though the reverse 

can also prove true)

we discuss mental illness diagnoses and a love of puns, we discuss

my sister, even when i don’t want to, but at least you are talking to her

and that is (usually) better than silence.

maybe i should talk to her sometime, sure, but currently

i am looking for a decoder ring for my double helix.

the cereal boxes are different now

so i reclaim my fruit loops nft 

and poke at the soft wood around the gaping hole

where the dishwasher used to be.

iii. ticks

i can’t remember

until i can, and it’s a bullet train to the face when i least expect it.

what did you take? fuck, was it the whole bottle?

i find a malignant memory lodged under my skin 

fat like a tick and i grab and twist it, rip it away 

but the mouth of it is left inside, still biting.

#napowrimo2023 #napowrimo #napo #poem #poems #poetry

[marissapaul]

1/3 day 9: Esperitismo

growing up in the southern baptist church i was never given a satisfying answer to why other religions were wrong and how baptists knew that theirs was the right one. i can't remember specifically what i was told when i would raise those questions, but i know that none of them ever satisfied me. the voice in my head was always skeptical that out of the thousands of belief systems baptists knew for sure that theirs was the objectively correct one. i do remember being told to have faith, and that faith in god is what gives us strength, but i never had access to that strength. with what i have learned in this class, i can say that it is because i was not being offered anything of substance. the endless bible studies and church services did not offer me tangible and actionable insights with which i could better my situation, or work through trauma. at my church in particular there was a heavy emphasis on prayer, and while i know that it can be liberating for some to talk to their higher power, such was not the case for me. that prayer that i was offered did nothing to stop abuse from my parents, it did nothing to stop kids at school from calling me slurs, it did nothing to help my interpersonal relationships with those that mattered to me. and that's because it wasn't designed to do that. unlike these spiritual belief systems that were very much so rooted in the day-to-day experiences of practitioners, and providing them with actionable paths towards healing, evangelical christianity had little to offer my little queer self.

when reading about espiritismo therapy i was drawn to a number of things. the first is that its main imperative is to find the cause, and to try to get the 'intranquil' spirit to leave its victim. that is quite actionable. instead of praying with no tangible plan for healing, these spiritists would try to understand the root cause of strife and then actively try to work on fixing that strife. something that i have been thinking about recently is how misconstrued i was when being taught about other belief systems when i was a child. like from my current vantage point, whether or not i believe in supernatural forces is not all that important to me, what i do believe in is the insights that other humans have offered me through their spiritualities. i may not imagine my mental illness as a tangible, malevolent spirit that has invaded my body, but the image of that helps me in identifying why i am feeling the way i am feeling and i am thus able to make changes to clear up my energy. when i was growing up i was definitely taught that spiritual beliefs like the ones we are learning about this semester were non-objective - as if evangelical christianity is the objective and cosmically-ordained truth of the world. but decolonizing my thinking has allowed me to draw strength from things like espiritismo which are very real forms of knowledge and very helpful tools/blueprints for navigating the universe.

the second thing that i was drawn to is this quote from page 230, The diagnosis of a Spiritist is similar to that of a psychiatric diagnosis in the search for a category to describe a client’s state that would lead to a method of treatment, but it differs in one important respect: “In spiritism, clients do not play an active role in providing the diagnostician with information about their symptoms. It is the diagnostician’s duty to uncover clients’ symptoms” as a result, this also shifts the locus of responsibility away from the individual and to the spirit realm. the individualistic aspect of evangelical christianity is such a constricting force. when the bad things that are happening to me were seen as a moral failing of my own, i felt so much pressure when i couldn't identify what exactly my moral failing was. this was especially compounded as a child with undiagnosed autism because up until recently i could not hold two things to be true in my head at the same time. i was a very black and white thinker and ambiguity was not my friend growing up. this would get me stuck in just the absolute worst perseveration loops. i could understand that the kids at school were making fun of me for being queer and for thinking differently, but i could not understand how it was my own moral failing that led them to put that bad energy on me. and my religious leaders had nothing to offer me than homophobia and further rejection. there were systems far bigger than me at play. and it was not a moral failing that i was not accommodated in a society that was built to deliberately exclude people like me. i think this is the saddest part about growing up in the baptist church. there were so many other modes of spirituality out there that my parents could have turned toward in order to help me (and themselves) navigate strife, yet week after week and night after night i was sent to a hostile space where i was told that the abuse i was receiving was because of my own moral failing. i think that this spiritist approach is far greater and more accommodating. it acknowledges that some things are just bigger than us, but that the way through is community and ancestry and spirituality, and not pulling myself up by my metaphorical bootstraps.

i also loved this quote from 235, Spiritist practice prefers the idea of “healing” (sanar) rather than “curing.” “‘Healing’ means accepting and living with wounds as well as changing the perceptions of distress” i absolutely adore this way of thinking. trauma does not permanently leave us. in my teenage years my parents went in search of curing my mental illness. they medicated me, and sent me to psychiatrist after psychiatrist, and they sent me in-patient again and again all in an attempt to cure whatever was making me unable to function like they could. but that is not how healing from trauma works - not to mention that it wasn't going to be possible to heal while abuse was still actively happening. i didn't need a cure, i needed to heal. and i wasn't given space to do that until i was able to take that space for myself. in the words of the wise kacey musgraves, "healing doesn't happen in a straight line" it is a messy and often convoluted process, the grief and trauma ebb and flow but now, thanks to dra. sotomayor, my curadora, i have been able to move in the direction of healing in tangible ways that have dramatically improved my quality of life and mental health. i am forever indebted to scholars like dra. sotomayor and my advisor dr. skidmore who were pioneers of changing what academia can be. history doesn't have to be stiff and elitist. it can be emotional and healing and beautiful.

a great song for healing.

#Spotify

[caspercryptid]

Hiii! This might be a weirdly specific ask but I loved the way you wrote timebomb on the overwatch au. Would you mind a drabble about timebomb with the hanahaki au? (If that's even how you spell it) and to make it extra interesting maybe jinx has the disease

That's actually the perfect level of specificity! textbook perfect ask, 10/10. TWs for Jinx's psychosis, blood, and choking in the usual hanahaki ways. Thank you for the timebomb ask, love them, don't write nearly enough of them. (Want my playlist for them?)

---

The hardest part is hiding it from Silco.

You’d think it would be the illness itself– the hacking cough that shakes her whole body and makes her feel like she’s going to snap in two, makes her want to reach inside her chest and tear her stupid traitorous heart out. Or maybe you’d think it would be the nasty way the flowers taste or the way they fuck her aim up when she has to stop and breathe through it, or maybe breathing. Maybe you’d think that breathing would be hard. Maybe you’d think heartbreak would be hard, but it isn’t, it’s easy, it’s so. So fucking easy. It’s the easiest thing in the whole world, she’s been handling it over a decade now, she’s loved him almost as long as she’s been alive and he’s hated her for half of it. It’s easy. Dying of it would be easy too. It would be the easiest thing in the world. She felt like she was killing her long before it actually started killing her.

So maybe if she could just lie down and let it kill her she would.

But Silco’s worried, so she’s been careful, in a way that it’s hard to be, so fucking hard to be, all the time, the screaming and shaking things in her head that always make her feel like she’s spiralling down some tunnel she won’t climb out of. It makes it hard to concentrate sometimes, to keep a clear goal and outline and plan in her head. So no one thinks she can. So that makes it easier. She can get away with things because she does them in the spaces between breaths and plans them out with the same attention she pays to the math of her engineering. She’d never make the mistakes she made as a kid again. Her machines would work. Her wiring would connect. Her shots would land. She’d learn the blueprints down to the line till she could draw them on walls in the dark. She did, sometimes. Sometimes just got through the first broad strokes till she was sure she remembered the angles before she switched to drawing a monkey. It was soothing, knowing exactly where her pen or her paint can was going. Vectors, velocities, other words that began with V. Verisimilitude.

Off track again. She’d planned waste disposal like she was building another bomb. She’d carried napkins on her, coughed only when there were other sounds and she was out of sightline. Thankfully, the flowers were pretty common. Ghost pipe grew out of the gutters, had complex systems with their stems from the strange chemical mud by the rivers and down the alleys. They were beautiful. She thought about it sometimes. That they were beautiful. As bleached out as his hair. At least she could die to something beautiful. Whenever she thought about it too much she could hear Mylo in her head laughing at her, so she tried not to. That’s stupid. She just needed to focus on getting rid of them. She dumped them back into the gutters, never the trash cans inside. She didn’t cough in front of him. She didn’t cough in front of him. She didn’t cough in front of anyone, except Mylo, who knew all her dark secrets anyway and anyway he wasn’t real it didn’t matter if he saw her it didn’t matter if he was laughing at her he wasn’t real.

And that would have been fine, except she’d messed up.

In front of Sevika.

They were fighting– she’d fucked something up, she didn’t remember what, and Sevika was getting that particularly brutal set jaw she got sometimes when she was really thinking that Jinx had put Silco in danger, and it wasn’t fair, it wasn’t fair that they both loved him and they both wanted the same thing and that they couldn’t get along they fought all the time. And something slips sideways in Jinx’s head and she’s thinking about something else, she’s thinking about people who want the same thing and can’t seem to talk and maybe if they just talked they could figure it out maybe if stupid boys would stop looking at her like she’s a ghost–

It seizes in her throat, and she doubles over. She tries to pretend like she’s laughing, tries to piss Sevika off enough to get her to stomp off, but the blood comes up faster than she can stop it and splashes through her fingers, hitting the wooden floor of the storeroom the same time her knees do.

“–Jinx–”

Jinx doesn’t think she’s ever heard Sevika use that tone on her before, or she half thinks it, because really she’s thinking fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck and it hurts, fuck it hurts, it’s hard to get it out of her throat and she can’t breathe and she’s wheezing, and then she’s hacking blood and flower petals up onto Sevika’s legs, because Sevika is kneeling in front of her, and she has just enough time to process that before Sevika hits her in the back and knocks the last of the stem out of her throat. They stay there in silence for a bit, broken only by Jinx desperately stealing back her breath, trying to piston the air back into her lungs in rough and seizing breaths.

“Fuck.” Sevika says, and Jinx just nods.

“How long?” She asks, and Jinx wipes her mouth.

“Months.” She mumbles. “Might, uh. Be longer than months. I don’t remember when I got the first ones.”

“You haven’t told Silco.” It’s not a question, though it begs the question. Jinx shakes her head no anyway, and then asks, tentative–

“What would he... do?”

Sevika snorts, once. “No idea. But you gotta tell him.”

“Why. I’m– dying anyway.”

Sevika sighs. “Well, one. Because if you don’t, I will.”

Jinx can’t even really be angry about that. She’d do the exact same thing if Sevika was sick. They understood each other.

“–and two,” Sevika continues, “Because if you just up and die on him, no warning, nothing? He wouldn’t be able to handle it. He’d break. You know that.”

Jinx does know that, but didn’t want to think about it. She looks down at the flowers across the floor, across both of their legs.

“–Can you give me a day?” She asks, finally. “Give me a day. I’ll handle it.”

Sevika eyes her. “You’re not gonna do something stupid, are you?”

“You think everything I do is stupid.” Jinx says, as she starts to climb up on unsteady legs. To her surprise, Sevika stands first and offers her a hand, pulling her up.

“Twenty four hours.” Sevika says. “And you’d better look better, kid. Your aim’s been deteriorating. Don’t think you can say it’s fixed and lie.”

“I won’t.” Jinx says, meaning it, and then sticks out her tongue and blows a raspberry before she ducks around Sevika and darts out the door. “Clock starts now!” she calls.

“Clock already started!” Sevika yells after her, but Jinx is already gone.

___

It’s not hard to find Ekko’s base, but she doesn’t go in. She figures the best way to draw him out is to do something loud a few blocks away and wait.

Or, at least, she was going to do something loud. But she’d forgotten to bring her guns, because this was a peaceful mission, or whatever. So she doesn’t quite know how to get his attention, but there is a really miserably white stretch of undisturbed wall down the alley, and well–

The mural’s gotten fairly elaborate by the time she hears the footsteps down the alley. They’re tentative, not quite at the pace of someone incoming with a gun, and not quite the right weight either. They sound like his, but Jinx hears things sometimes, all sorts of things, and Ekko’s footsteps would absolutely be something she’d hear if she let herself zone out long enough, left her mind alone to run like a hamster on a wheel, so it’s not until he calls out that she looks over.

“What are you– doing, exactly?”

“Painting.” She says. “Duh.”

“Why?” He asks, guarded, and Jinx looks at him.

“–you came alone.” She realizes. It shouldn’t affect her. It shouldn’t matter. That was stupid of him, though, he shouldn’t come fight her alone, he should be trying to protect himself from her.

“So did you.” He says.

“Yeah, but I—” She can feel the tickle in her throat, and she swallows, realizing she doesn’t have a plan. Ekko frowns.

“You’re kinda freaking me out.” He says, sticking his hands in his pockets. “What are you doing here?”

Jinx wants to answer, she really does, but actually looking at him gets her in the chest, and before she can she doubles over, coughing hard, and in her peripheral vision Ekko lunges forward, catches her before she hits the ground as it rips through her. She thinks about fungal root systems– the way love is always there under the surface and growing and she thinks about it because every little tendril and filament burns as she lets out a hacking cough, and it’s warm, she’s warm as she’s lowered to the ground in Ekko’s arms, which makes it worse, and she can feel her eyes stinging as she shakes, she must be sobbing, the force of trying to hack the flowers up is ripping through her, and there’s blood and warmth and pain and then there’s—

Ekko’s mouth on hers.

She reels for a second, but he doesn’t pull away when she freezes, just reaches up to hold her cheek in his hand, pressing closer. Assuring her this is real, making himself solid and close and comfortable, and she remembers to kiss him back, throws her arms around his neck and hold on, and it aches, still, but it’s a good ache. It’s like the sting of her hands when she let go of the bat she’d played with as a kid, the ache of her arm after the pitch, her legs when they were playing. His thumb reaches up to wipe away the corner of her eye, the tears still falling, and he pulls away.

“We’re even.” he mutters.

“Even?” she asks, quietly.

He snorts, once, and then pulls a handkerchief out of his pocket and snaps it open. Freesias fall out of it, all colors, the kind she’d scouted out of Piltover’s trash out of a kid, dumped off from old displays. She picks one up as she presses her cheek into his shoulder, settled into his lap, cupping it in her hands.

“–these are the freshest I've ever seen them.” She says.

“You loved them. Knew it had to be you.”

She doesn’t ask why he didn’t come find her. She presses her face into his shoulder.

“–I’m glad I got to save you too.” She murmurs. “For once.”

He presses her cheek to her hair.

“...same to you.”

#timebomb #ekko x jinx #dad silco #hanahaki tw #casper's haunted fic tag #casper's haunted playlist tag

[syndxlla]

Part Fourteen of the More to Love Series

Summary: The wedding is in a week, and you’re suddenly very aware of how little time you have left to figure out what to do. You decide to take matters into your own hands, and formulate a plan. Din invites you to a night of experience, and you admit a simple truth to him.

Word Count: 11.8k words, NO USE OF ‘y/n’

Warnings: SMUT (PiV, a little degradation, praise, creampie, cockwarming, dirty talk), use of alcohol, drunkness, mentions of scars, sexual harassment

Author’s note: HELLOOOO! this is a fun chapter, and i just wanna let y’all know that we are in the endgame now 😭. don’t worry, i still have so many plans for both the princess and din and just the whole world that MTL is set in. thank you for all the support on this story! it never ends and i will forever be thankful for your love!

Part thirteen

You were a fool for thinking the castle would start to settle down after the ball passed. Alternatively, the planning did not lessen, but instead shifted from masquerade prep to wedding prep. The decorations were taken out, and new samples were brought in. It was made very clear to you that this was really Korkie’s wedding and not your own, because every decision and plan that was made was done without your input.

It had been a few days since Din told you everything, and he truly told you everything. You had plenty of time to reflect on it, and process everything. You worked so hard to gain perspective on it, to try and give your future family the benefit of the doubt, and to understand the full situation. However, you ultimately sided with Din, your heart aching for the situation he was placed in. It had been apparent that he would not have told you any of that if he did not hold immense trust in his heart for you, and the word Ka’rta over grew into your thoughts for all these days. The both of you had agreed to tone things down, deciding it would be a fair middle ground. Less nightly endeavors would keep you two apart, and therefore less suspicious, but it especially made the reunions of passion more sweet.

Your mother was long gone, she left three days ago, and finally you felt that you had the palace to yourself again without Hugo and various other guests breathing down your neck. Your time as Corellian Princess was in it’s endgame now as your imminent marriage to Korkie was just on the horizon, and you still had no idea how to escape from it. Most of your days, you spent making up excuses for missing afternoon tea, and trying extra bites of potential wedding cake flavors in the kitchen. Regardless of what you did, however, Din was always there with you, three paces behind. You were also given the opportunity to dismiss him more often now. The eager infatuation with him has slowly become a steady understanding of feelings, and the two of you were able to fall into a groove without the anxiety of wondering how the other felt, and how long it would be until you reunited. Tradition and duty had lightened up as well, and there were less eyes on how Din was treating you, which gave you the liberty to give him back an ounce of his life.

This was one of the best things to ever happen to Din. You would retire to your room early every night, hoping no one would wonder if you were ill, and because you were away from the eye of Kryze, you could allow Din to leave the castle early. At seven, sometimes even six, he would go home to his son. It made everyone happy, and that is why it was important to happen. This was much preferred over a midnight dismissal. You also noticed a change in Din’s presence after this change was made. He was springier, chuckling more, even sitting down when the two of you were alone. He had finally relaxed around you, and you accredit to the pure fact that he was finally getting more rest.

Those were your favorite parts of the day: when you and Din would find a quiet corner in the library, or maybe an empty sitting room, and he would just tell you about the world. He had been everywhere, you were convinced. He went into detail of cities in Coruscant, explaining how they have extravagant silk markets and countless taverns with exotic drinks. He described the heat of the desert, and how he once had to search for a merchant’s missing camel in return for clean water, a story that led to one of the scars on his back and a very rational fear of the desert at night. His favorite place to tell you about, however, was his home. The Nevarro Frontier clearly had a special place in his heart, and he spoke fondly of it’s tall mountains and tight-knit communities.

“Nothing like the Mandalore you know.” He would sigh. A kingdom that may have been fantastic on the outside, but was riddled with war and political division and heartache on the inside. “Maybe I can take you there someday.”

It was those words that sparked your imagination, and the plan began to formulate.

The real dilemma you had been in all this time was trying to figure out how to live happily with a man you truly loved, but also protect your kingdom, home and family. It was a delicate situation, one with many sighs and frustrated nights. However, after Din explained his battle with Bo to you, it’s resolution was slowly becoming more clear. There had to be a way you could win in this story. You would not give hope on that truth.

When Din mentioned taking you to his home, you realized that there was very little keeping you from up and leaving Mandalore in the night. It would be a scandal, it would probably cause an all-out war, but it was worth a try, or at least a dream.

Now, when you had afternoon conversations with Din in the library, you were studying maps of the world. You familiarize yourself with the terrain of Mandalore, how long it might take to get to the Sundari Front, and drawing out escape routes on the backs. Din assumed you had thrown yourself into cartography so you could grasp his stories and adventures fully, which wasn’t altogether false, but it went deeper than that. You tried to keep it under control, but you were slowly becoming more and more consumed by your studies: a recurring issue in your life.

Din hadn’t realized you were becoming obsessed with the geography of the world until about a week after the ball, when you fell asleep by candlelight at a table in the library, your face smushed into the parchment of a map depicting some old blueprints that he had paid no attention to, and your hair falling over your eyes. It was almost dawn, and he had come back from his time with his son already, distressed to see no one had the courtesy to wake you up and take you to your room. He didn’t really expect much else from Mandalore, however.

Din blows out the candle, and gently picks you up, being extra careful not to wake you, and carries you bridal-style out of the library and to your suite. It was these moments that Din looked forward to the most. When he did not have to put on a face, when he did not have a million rules to follow. When your sleepy head rests into his chest, and he can look upon your face with his own eyes, no helmet to obstruct it.

As Din looked upon your resting face, there was much he realized. He first noticed that scar on your body that he hadn’t seen before, and swiped his thumb over it. He also studied the way your chest rose and fell with each breath, how you were perfectly still, and yet completely full of life and beauty and pure goodness as you slept. Din deeply admired how much you cared, how much you cared about everything. The wellbeing of the staff, the customs of Mandalore, him. You threw yourself into your passions, and you had a deep love for the hobbies and aspects of your life that no one else he knew possessed. You were a dedicated person, and he found both attraction and respect ino that.

Din also realized a fundamental truth at the very moment the sky began to lighten up, your cracked balcony doors letting the curtains blow into the suite dreamily. Din felt at peace. It had been so long since he felt peaceful. Too long. He felt the same type of peace here with you that he would normally feel sleeping under the stars with his son nestled to his side. Or the same feeling of peace that he felt when he held his son for the first time. It was a rare feeling, and it was pure. It was so rare that it was only saved for the people most important to him in his life.

You woke up a few hours later, changed out of the pale yellow gown you fell asleep in. Din had not only put you in your nightgown, but had taken the time to pull your hair so it was out of your face. He was more thoughtful than you could have ever imagined. The Knight sits with his back against your door, helmet tilted up at the ceiling, and you wonder if he slept, and why he was not in bed with you. You had invited him several times, and wished he would fulfill the request.

As soon as you sit up in bed, his head lifts, and he stands at attention.

You yawn before speaking, “Were you resting?” You ask, stretching your arms over your head. He shakes his head in response. “What were you doing?” You ask, your arms coming down to rest on your mattress.

“Listening?”

“For?”

He shrugs, “The birds at first, but then it was footsteps. I didn’t want to get caught waiting for you to wake up.” He sighs.

“Well… I wish you would have listened in bed with me.” You glance over at the empty spot next to you. He doesn’t respond, and you are reminded that in many ways, he is still the silent knight you first met from three weeks ago. Din walks over to you, and you smile as he does.

“Did I wake you last night?” He asks, and you were honestly confused about what he was asking. He sensed the confusion, he was always so good at reading you, “When I carried you from the library here?”

“What?” And then you remembered, your eyes blowing wide. “Shit!” You jump out of bed. “What time is it?”

“Uh…”

“Is the rest of the staff awake?” You let your hair down, and slide on the pink satin slippers on the floor of your bed.

“What?”

“Did you bring the map I was studying?” You look up at his emotionless helmet.

“…No?” To be truthful, he didn’t even take the time to glance at the map you studied, he was far too distracted by you.

“Fuck.” You muttered. Din liked it when you swore.

You thought of nothing, and hurried to the door of your suite, swinging it open and marching down the corridor. Din follows you in confusion, trying to catch up to you and bring you back to your room. You’re weary, and just woke up, so you pay no attention to Soniee who passes you in the hallway with your tea, looking at you in confusion, or the maids who were trying to sweep the floor that you scurried over. Din tried to halt you, but was never one to speak unless spoken to, especially not in public and in the presence of others, and felt unable to stop you and ask what was going on. Everyone turned heads to see the future consort in a panic, and were left with questions. Most of them shrugged and ignored it, a few began the rumors.

You practically ran down the stairs, feeling a little out of breath when you finally made it to the doors of the library. The fact that they were closed was still a good sign, and you swing the heavy door open, entering the library with haste. Your heart drops when you see the last person you wanted to this morning: Prince Korkie.

He turns to see the commotion, his eyes are shocked to not only see you out and about this early in the day, but also in your nightgown. He sputters on a ‘Good Morning’, and you don’t even hear it because you’re too panicked to see that he has the map you were reading last night in his hands. You swear in your mind, and your heart falls out of your feet. Din comes hurrying behind you.

“Princess? What is the meaning of this?” He asks, an eyebrow raised, trying to sound chipper as he greeted his fiance. You swallow thickly. Din bows for the prince, and then bends down to whisper in your ear so Korkie can’t hear it.

“Highness, please come back to your room.”

“What? Why?” You say a little too loudly, and before he can reply, the door is opening again with General Vizsla and a group of knights entering.

“Y-your gown.” Din whispers, and you look down to see that it is very sheer, far too sheer to be in the presence of your fiance… and half of the Mandalorian government. You want to shrink from the embarrassment, and notice that Korkie’s eyes are fixed on your chest. What a creep. You fold your arms over your breasts.

“What map do you have there, Prince Korkie?” You ask, trying not to make it seem too obvious that you were clearly in distress, but shaken up by your exposure and the perverted ness of the prince before you. Din wondered what in the world could be so important about that specific map. He stands behind you to cover your back side.

“What is this commotion?” Vizsla asks, interrupting your conversation.

“Nothing, General.” Korkie clears his throat. He turns to you, “Vizsla and I were just about to discuss the plans we have for… the southern border of Corellia.” Korkie awkwardly smiles. You raise an eyebrow.

“Plans?” You ask.

“Yes, you will hear in time.” Vizsla’s obnoxiously nasally voice busts in again. He was always one to unwelcomely invite himself.

You try not to roll your eyes, “And the map, Your Highness?” You repeat yourself, trying not to sound too demanding. You were still a princess, after all.

Korkie nervously chuckles, eyeing the multiple men in the room and shocked by your ambition. He takes a step forward, rolling the map up in his hands as he advances in you and Din’s direction. Din placed a discreet hand on the small of your back, hoping to reassure you. His touch was barely noticeable, but it was enough.

“Princess,” He says, sort of hushed. “You can call me Korkie in front of other people.” It was clear that he had an expectation to fill, and it would be bad on him if his fiance was still addressing him with a title a week before the wedding.

You scoff, “No, I don’t think I will.”

You hold your hand out for the map in defiance, but the prince doesn't hand it to you. He has a dark look in his eyes, one you have never seen before. Din tries to pull back on your bicep, trying to alleviate the situation, but you stay steadfast. “I will take that map now, Your highness.” You bite through the title, wanting it to cut. Korkie lifts his chin with an authoritative look, putting the rolled up map behind his back.

“Get this woman out of my meeting!” He calls out, and turns away. Your face drops, thinking you had the upper-hand, but realize that is taken away from you as two muscular guards pick you up, pulling you away from Din, and walking you out of the library. Korkie always does this, he’s madly in love with you until he’s not. It makes you remember that all of this is probably a ruse for power. Your heart and spirit drop, and you feel nothing but pure disrespect and rage. Din quickly follows. You try to writhe out of the guard’s grasp, not wanting to give up without a fight, but failing miserably. They were both very strong, probably because they had to compensate for how scrawny the Prince is.

“I can take it from here, gentlemen.” Din says, loudly, louder than you usually hear him speak. “I said I can take her!” Din yells when they don’t respond. Then, you hear the indefinite sound of a punch. These guards were still fully armored, but there was no withstanding the strength and brute force of your Knight when you were endangered. The guard Din had punched lets you go as a reaction, and you use it as an opportunity to take your now free hand and twist the wrist of the other guard off of you. All of the self-defense Din had previously taught you paid off in that moment as he yelled out in pain, not expecting your strength or skill. You were taught by the best, after all.

Now that you were free from the clutches of Korkie’s personal guards, you felt Din grab your hand and pull you. The two of you ran through the corridors, down another flight of stairs, and passed the throne room, making sure not to look back in the direction of the library. You ran parallel to the ballroom, and then finally down a final flight of stairs to the foyer of the castle. Din tugs you into a narrow hall, and down a spiral staircase. It was the way to the staff quarters, you remember from the day you went to the ocean. You were shocked and confused about what happened, and truthfully kind of exhausted. You were relieved when Din finally slowed down, and pulled you into Koska’s sister’s room. It was empty, thank the Stars.

“Close your eyes.”

“What?”

“Close them!” Din says and it startles you, but you do it. He pulls his helmet off with haste, tossing it to the floor with a clang. Din places both of his strong hands on either side of your face, pulling you towards him and then kisses you with so much force and hunger that you stumble back in surprise, your eyes cracking open for just a split second. You didn’t see much, because his face was so squished into yours. All you caught a glimpse of was his eyelashes for a millisecond, but that was enough. Din is pushing you against the wall, pinning you to it, and kissing you so hard that you have to pull away to get some air. “I don’t think I have ever been as attracted to you as I was when you stood up to that prick.” He chuckles, and you hum back. Din takes a deep breath before speaking up again, “What was on that map?” He asks, out of breath, too.

You sigh, sort of embarrassed, eyes still shut tightly, “It was the tunnel plans of the castle.”

“What, you mean the blueprints?”

“Yes.” Your eyes stay closed.

“The blueprints that are at least three-hundred years old?”

“Mhm.”

“How did you get your royal hands on those?” Din asks, baffled.

“It doesn’t matter! What does matter is that I made notes on the back of the map!” You blurt, feeling shame, “I wrote the estimated times it would take and which halls to take from my room!” You groan, so badly wanting to open your eyes. You remembered what you said to yourself all those weeks ago, however, reminding yourself that it should be his choice to show you his face and no one else’s. You sigh, “The Prince isn’t stupid! I’m sure he thinks I’m plotting something now!” You hope you don’t sound too panicked, but if you were being honest, you were. Din sighs, clearly frustrated, although you weren’t sure if he was sexually or emotionally… or a little bit of both. “I’m sorry.” You sigh, your hands coming up and searching for his shoulders. “I should not have been so careless.”

“No, you shouldn’t have.” You weren’t expecting him to agree with you, he usually doesn’t. He takes a calming breath, “…Are you plotting something?” He asks, his eyes moving between your closed eyelids in search of a non-verbal answer that he’ll never receive.

You don’t want to answer, but know you don’t have a choice. “Yes.” You feel guilty after saying it, although you aren’t sure why. Din exhales deeply this time. “But listen! We could run! I don’t have to stay here! We can fix this! We can get into Coruscant and they’ll never come looking for us, and then we can go to Nevarro, go to your home! We’ll take your son-“

“Rue.”

“What?”

“My son, his name is Rue.”

Rue. It was simple, to the point, just like Din’s. You liked it. “We’ll take Rue! Please, Din, we need to! It will be the only way we will ever be happy!” Your thumbs rub into the thick skin of his neck. You didn’t mean to vomit so much information on him at once, but he didn’t really give you an option.

He exhales deeply, and you know he’s processing everything you just told him. “We can’t”

“Why not?”

“Because!” He yells and it scares you. You drop your hands, your heart rate rising. A lump grows in your throat and you silently curse your emotions for betraying you. You swallow back a tear. He walks away from you and you hear the helmet pick up from off the floor. He puts it back on his head, and you know from practice and instinct when to open your eyes. When you do, he’s sitting on the chest at the end of the bed, his head dropped and hands pressed to the edge of the wood by his sides. You frown, and walk over to him. Din pushes his head into your abdomen, and you hold him there, just existing in not-so-comfortable silence. It’s tense, and not the type of tension that you usually like to experience with I’m.

He’s surprisingly the one to speak up, however. “We can’t… because Bo will hunt me and kill me and Rue and you… she’ll kill everything I love.” His voice cracks at the same time your heart does. Did he actually…

“Not to mention the war between our kingdoms it will start. Corellia can’t support itself in a war. We both know that.” Din sighs, maybe he was telling himself this just as much as he was telling you.

You sigh. He was right and you knew it, but it didn’t keep you from wanting to run away with him any less. “Din…” He looks up at you. “We have to get that map from Korkie.” You say, more stern but still comforting this time. His head tilts in question. You sigh, feeling guilty. “I wrote something else on it.” You look away from him, your eyes trailing. His hand reaches up to grab your chin, pulling your head to look right at him. Your eyebrows furrow. “Directions to your home.” The atmosphere in the room changes. You can feel it. “I know I shouldn’t have, I know it puts Rue in danger, but it gives us all the more reason to get that map back from Korkie as soon as possible.” His hand drops from your chin. You felt terrible.

“Okay, okay. We can check the library again and… if it’s not there we’ll go confront him. We’ll get it tonight.” He nods.

“Are you sure? What if he reads it?” You were surprised how lax he was, but something told you that he was controlling himself from his true emotions.

“As far as I’m concerned, the Prince has no reason to cause me or my family any harm.” He nods.

“Not yet.”

—

You swallow, your face inches away from the door of the Prince’s bedroom. Din was around the corner of the corridor, both of you knew this was something you would have to do on your own, without his support. You had never been here before, and after ample search in the library for the map all afternoon, there was no other option. It was late, but not inappropriately late. You wore that same dress you wore weeks ago, the soft blue one that was off the shoulder one that adorned your figure elegantly. It was one of the most sophisticated gowns in your closet. More mature than most of the flowy princess ballgowns. It was a diplomatic but still ethereal fashion choice, which you desperately needed after a humiliating encounter this morning. The scar on your shoulder from the endeavor in Keldabe had mostly healed, and only had a pale pink to it. You looked back at Din, who was peering around the corner, for some reassurance. He nodded, and you took a deep breath. Two knocks would be enough. The door swings open, and you are suddenly very aware that you would have to brave this encounter without the support of your trusted Knight. Korkie is who answers the door, and he looks mildly unamused to see you.

“Princess?” He tilts his head.

“Evening, I hope it is not too late?” You suggest, keeping your voice as monotone and unwelcoming as possible. You wanted him to know that you were here for a serious matter.. You noticed he was covering the door with his body, perhaps he was hiding something from you too.

“For my fiance? Never.” You hated being called that, but if it was what it took for him to invite you into the room,you could deal with it. Korkie’s room was large, it was far more spacious than yours. It had a billowing fireplace and sitting area, the ceilings twice the height of your suite’s, and a private library pushed into the northeast corner. You familiarize yourself with your surroundings, and the heir closes the door behind you. You silently scanned the room for the map, you would have to snatch it up without it being suspicious, and you could not explicitly ask for it again. “What do I owe this honor?” He says from behind, charming as usual, although his words did seem a bit slurred. You see that an opened book sat on the seat of a chair in the sitting area. He must have been reading before you interrupted him. You turn around, and lift your chin, trying to look and sound as put together and unsuspecting as possible.

You clear your throat, “I wanted to apologize for this morning.” You nod. It wasn’t true, but you had rehearsed with Din several times the best way to stall time as you looked for the map, and this was the best way of going about. “It was inappropriate behavior, especially in front of the General.” You disagreed with your own words, and felt bad lying, but it came so naturally when done to the Prince.

Korkie sighs, and crosses over the room, looking up at a portrait above the fireplace. Your eyes still searched for your map, but had no clue where it might be. This was your first time here, after all. “Worry not, Highness.” Korkie downs a bit of brandy that was sitting for him. You didn’t like him when he was drunk.

“You’re sure?” You figured that would have made conversation more natural, but he clearly was not in the mood for propriety. He pours another drink, and even pours one for you, offering it. You shake your head and mutter a ‘no thank you’, not really wanting to get drunk tonight. Din wouldn’t touch you if you were drunk. You admired that he respected you that much, but it also deprived you of the one thing worth all the pomp and circumstance. Korkie shrugs and drinks both, and you’re frankly appalled by this conduct.

“Indeed.” He hiccups. “Everyone loves a little show.” He chuckles, and you frown. Was that all your humiliation was to him? A show? “Now, Princess,” He takes a step towards you, and you feel so unprotected. Din would have stepped in by now, you knew that. You didn’t have the same sense of security you usually had when he wasn’t at your side. “Why did you really come here?” He asks, running his hand through his hair.

“Excuse me?” You nervously laugh. How did he figure any of this out? You take steps back that mirror his, trying to keep the same amount of distance between him and you but struggling to when you hit the post of his bed, your back flush against it. Your hands wrap around the wood working, and you look up at him nervously. You felt the same as you didn’t when you were cornered and harassed in the slum of Keldabe. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You clear your throat, trying to solve something, anything. Where could that cursed map be?

“Don’t-“ He says through gritted teeth, he catches himself from lashing out, and collects his composure before speaking again. “Don’t assume I am blind.”

“I would never-“

“Liar!” He spits out and you flinch back. He laughs a few times, it’s that evil, frustrated laugh. It was the type of laugh that people do when they’re trying to calm themselves down, but in turn they simply seem more angry. You were genuinely scared, unsure of what to do in this situation. “What were the directions you wrote on the back of the map?” He asks, and you furrow your brows.

“I don’t know what you mean?” This was partially true. How did he not understand the very neat and clear directions on the back of the blueprints to the secret passages? And in all curiosity, why did he care?

Korkie grunts again. “You are foolish.” He was dangerously close to you, and you wanted to get out of that room as soon as possible. You wanted Din to come protect you, you needed him to. “Are you forgetting who you belong to?” His hand sets on your hip, and you flinch again.

“I belong to no one.” You defy.

“You belong to me.” He grits his jaw again. You closed your eyes out of instinct due to the sheer anger and tension in his tone. His breath smelled of alcohol, and you wished you had the authority to slap him. He laughs his chuckle of malice again, and then before you can blink, he leans in for a kiss. How could he? How could he take advantage of your vulnerable state like this? Your blood boiled, and just in time, you dodge his lips. You swoop under his arm, away from the bedpost and back to the security of a full room you can avoid him in. He looks at you, clearly appalled. You were dizzy, probably from adrenaline. You wished this was surprising, but it was the exact thing you expected The Prince to do. This is when you noticed the map was rolled up and on the floor beside the fireplace. The new perspective of the room is what made you see it. Had he intended to burn it?

“You know,” You say as you take a step towards the map, “You should have another drink.” You offer. “You’re clearly tense,” You stepped between each phrase, “And it would be better for everyone.” Somewhere deep down you wanted to believe that Korkie was only acting this way because he was drunk. But you knew it wasn’t true. You realized that everything inside of you was looking for a redeemable quality in him, a reason to stay perhaps. You wanted to believe he was worth staying for, but you knew that he wasn’t, not when everything you’ve ever wanted was just outside the door.

Before Korkie can take another step towards you, you’re bolting towards the map, snatching it up in your hands and then running towards the door. The adrenaline shoots through your veins, and it only grows when you hear him growl again and his heavy footsteps run after you. You have to physically hold yourself back from squealing in stress, your hand slapping over your mouth. You rip the door open, and try slamming it behind you, but Korkie’s arm is caught in the door, and you smash it. He cries out, and the commotion makes Din run down the hall towards you to check what was going on. Korkie was able to get a hand on the collar of your dress, and he tries to pull you back in, but your strength is enough to get away. You ran to Din, who looked concerned, you could tell by his stance alone. He was tense and his hands balled in fists at his side.

Korkie pulls open the door, holding his arm to his chest, and you look back, your heart racing. You are so relieved when you make it to Din, and you grab his hand, threading your fingers into his and pulling him down the hall in the same fashion he did early that day. Several guards who heard the heir’s yell were running in all directions, but none of them paid any attention to you, thank the stars.

You think you are crying, but you aren’t sure. You felt raw fear being alone with the Prince. You never wanted to be alone with him again, never.

You keep running nonsense in the castle, not really sure where you’re going but wanting to be anywhere other than there. Din is the one to stop you after the mindless escape, pulling you into a branching hallway and against an unsightly window. He grabs both of your arms, and pulls you flush against his chest. He holds you there for a long time, and you both get a chance to catch your breath. You cry into the beskar chestplate, and feel rather foolish for reacting as such. Din was silent, and just held you, his strong arms wrapped around you as tightly as they could be.

“What did he do to you?” He asks, and you sigh out pathetically. Din repeats his question, still calm and gentle, but more urgent.

“I-I was so scared.” You stutter. Din somehow squeezes you tighter after you say this. After you collect yourself a little more, you can speak again, “he was drink-“

“Did he… touch you?”

You weren’t sure why you felt like you were in trouble, but aggressively reminded yourself that Din would never be upset with you, at least not for something like this. “Yes… But not very much, he just touched my hip and leaned in to kiss me.”

“Did he?”

“No!” You say almost defensively, “I got away just in time.” You pull away and look up at him with teary eyes. His hand comes up, and he pulls the glove off. His bar hand caresses your flushed face, swiping a tear off your cheek with his thumb. “I’m sorry-“

“Why?”

“I don’t know!” You breathe out shakily. “For crying I guess? For letting the map get away? For letting him touch me-“ You try to look away but his fingers catch your chin again, pulling your gaze back onto his helmet.

“Stop that. It’s not your fault. He is disgusting for doing that.” Din nods, and you swallow a sob. “Do you understand?” He asks, and you slowly nod once. “And promise me, that you’ll never ever blame yourself for anything like that ever again, okay?” You nod again. “Promise me!” He wasn’t angry or forceful, just steadfast with his words. He meant what he was saying.

“I promise.” You mutter. After you reply you hear his exhale in his armor. He pulls you against his chest again, and you can feel it move with each breath. You wished you could hear his heartbeat again like you could when you wake up next to him. You’re able to finally relax, and his embrace was the most calming thing you had ever experienced.

“I was worried sick about you.” He says, far more soft spoken than his remarks before. You didn’t verbally reply, but he was able to read how you felt. “I don’t like you being alone with him.”

“Me neither.” You sigh, squeezing your eyes shut and letting the final few tears fall out of your lashes. “All the more reason to leave.” He tenses after you say it, and his arms loosen a bit around your shoulders.

“You really want to?” He asks, you nod against his chest. “You know the possible consequences? This could mean the destruction of Corellia.”

“I know. That’s why it’s so hard. I don’t know what to do. I know what I want, and that is to leave here with you, but I don’t want my own selfishness to risk the lives of thousands who I vowed to protect.” You pull your head away from his chest.

“You… really want to live a life with me?” He asks, almost oblivious to your prior remark. You nod nod, or even say yes, but you just look up at him in all seriousness, hoping it would be enough.

It was.

“You don’t even know what I look like.” His arms drop. Did he think you a fool for that?

“We…” You debate your words, “We can change that.” You close your eyes, hoping that it would mean something to him, and maybe it did, but just as always, he didn’t show it. He just takes his cursed, gloveless hand and tilts your chin up to see him.

“In time we will, but only when it is right.” He nods.

It wasn’t the answer you wanted, but it was enough. It was more than anything he had ever given you before.

“Come on,” Din says gently, “There’s something I want to show you.” He beckons with his head down the hall, and you follow, interlocking your fingers with his again, the map in your other hand. You weren’t really sure how he was able to be so calm and reassuring, especially without showing an ounce of emotion through all of it, but it was a Godsend. You weren’t sure if Din loved you, at least not in the same way you loved him, but you were sure that he cared about you, and he wanted you to be safe and happy. And that was all you needed, for now.

“Had he read the map?” Din asks as you walk down a flight of stairs, descending the various levels of the palace and undoubtedly heading for the staff quarters again.

“I believe so.” You sigh, “Although he seemed confused about it. I think he was a little too drunk to fully comprehend, or he was giving me the benefit of the doubt.” You shrug.

“Well, at least we have it now, right?” Din asks, his head slightly turning back to look at you as he says it, and you give a nervous but relieved smile in response. The two of you loop through halls, and you’re very aware of how much the castle is winding down. Staff have retired for the night, doors were closed, even the usual laughter coming from parlors or the ballroom was silenced. Was it really that late? You didn’t really have much of a perception of time anymore after everything that had just happened.

The one part of the castle that was full of life, however, was the staff quarters. As you got closer, you could hear the usual laughter, and warm, welcoming light poured from the low corridor. Music played, it was loud, and your eyes searched for the spectacle that was just awaiting you.

“You said you wanted to get to know the staff better…”

“I did?” You ask.

“A few nights ago, you were really tired, you might not remember.” He shrugged. You didn’t really care whether or not you really said those things, what stuck out to you, however was that Din remembered that. He was observant enough to remember specific phrases you said, and not any phrases, the ones that were sleepy and probably full of nonsense. You would lie if you said you didn’t gush over that a little.

Din takes you into the staff common room, and it’s all clear. The warm smells, the enticing light, the infectious laughter, it all came from the whole castle staff crammed into this one room. There was food, and everyone laughed and danced to the music that a handful of staff members played. Their instruments were humble, probably retired from the royal orchestra years ago, but you could tell there were fond memories and stories linked with every single one. It was hot, and there were a lot of people crammed into the room. The doors were wide open, and the tables were pushed back against the walls so that the floor could be opened to a large and intricate group dance. It was nothing like the pompous dances that the nobility did at the ball, however. This dance was filled with joy, and mistakes were not only welcomed, but celebrated. Expression was the center of the party, and all types of people were involved. Children who were up far past their bedtime joined in the festivities, dancing and laughing and chasing one another, elderly staff sat at the tables, clapping along to the folk music, and the servants who usually give you sour tea and hot bread had their shoes off, jumping on the stone floor of the common area. Some of the knights and guards had their helmets on like Din usually did, and others did not. You realized it really probably boiled down to personal preference, or duty.

You smiled at the spectacle, and it gave you a deep and undeniable sense of community and love. You quickly learned that the livelihood of the castle did not rest in the parties and rules that an uptight Queen set in place, but the very people who made the castle work smoothly.

The laughter and joy was contagious, and you couldn’t stop yourself from joining the fun. You jump into the dance, not sure of the steps, but picking up your ridiculous skirt and starting anyways. You hoped it wasn’t obvious that you had been crying a half hour before, but no one paid any attention if it was. The women in the circle linked their arms with yours, and you spun in a circle. The one to your right couldn’t have been older than fifteen, and she yelled over the noise how to do the footsteps. You couldn’t really hear her, but looked down at her feet and tried to mimic it. You had the cheesiest smile on your face, and the room spun as you danced. Din crosses over to a wall, leaning against it and crossing his arms, watching you.

After that dance finished, another song started, and the moves were rather different. However, a girl pulled you out of the circle, and tugged on your dress. “It’s too big!” She shouts over the music, “You’ll never make it through the next song!” You nod and then walk over to a table. You stand on top of the table after a few jumbled ‘excuse me’s’. You were sure everyone recognized you, but they didn’t treat you differently for one moment. It was… refreshing. You kicked your shoes off, and several people turned to look at you, some cheered, others laughed. You then bite your bottom lip and pull the strings of the corset you wore, loosening it enough to slip out of your crinoline and ruffled-slip, leaving you in nothing but your undergarment petticoat and the top layer of the gown you were wearing. There was laughter, and you didn’t hear or see Din chuckle. You swayed your hips, and after a playful “huzzah!” from the crowd, a few knights helped you off the table. You immediately return to the dance circle, and you’re able to move much easier. You’re thrown back into the stimulating dance. The woman was right, this was much more physical, jumping and kicking was done and it was far more exciting than any of the proper waltzes you had spent your life dedicating time to.

You step out after two more songs, trying to catch your breath and wiping the sweat off your brow. There was alcohol, just hooch, but a bearded man gave you a big mug and you happily chugged it down. Din was impressed with your ability to consume so much so quickly. The men all cheered and hollered as you downed the drink, also impressed with the skill. You didn’t know you could do it, either.

A game of cards is being played, and you’re roped into that, too. You bet some money (money you didn’t have) and helped a tired, old man who usually worked in the stables play, after a few tough rounds, and struggling to learn the rules as you played, you won the pot for the old man. Three other much younger boys who usually worked at the front gate looked in shock as you pulled the money towards you and the man. He laughed and thanked you for your help.

Some little girls examined your crinoline and corset, a few older women all pinched your cheeks, and a fat man gave you a huge helping of mashed potatoes and greens. You got to overeat shamelessly, and it felt so rewarding after weeks of eating like a bird in fear of being judged by your in-laws. It was the most wonderful feeling in the world to be treated normally. You caught a glimpse of Soniee, who braided a boy’s hair. You even noticed that Koska was there, the center of one of the dance circles, swaying her skirt to the beat with another girl, the two dancing together in a vibrant duet of culture and community. Your feet only began to hurt when you were pulled to dance again, and your cheeks ached from smiling so wide. It was the most alive and accepted you had ever felt in Mandalore.

At one point, you found yourself just a few feet away from Din in the dance. You hold your hands out for him, beckoning him to join. “Dance with me!” You shout out. Before you get an answer, however, you're pulled back into the center of the group. It isn’t for a few more cycles and bars of the song that you’re back out by him. “Please?” You try to be as enticing as possible. He shakes his head, his hand coming up to decline. You raise an eyebrow.

“I don’t dance!” He yells back. You roll your eyes and step out of the group momentarily. You grab both of his hands, your face with the cheesiest smile ever, and pull him onto the floor. He tries to fight back, but ultimately loses.

“Yes you do!” You reply, yelling as loud as possible so he might be able to hear you. “You proved it to me last week!” You say and in perfect time, your arms go up together with the beat of the song. He hadn’t done this dance before, but has watched it enough times to know what’s going on, although he looked rather awkward and foolish doing so. You grab his hand, your hips turning left to right in time, and you look down at your bodies, trying to show him as best as you can.

“I have no idea what’s going on!” Din yells at one point, the two of you now in the heart of the party.

“Me neither!” You laugh, “That’s what’s so wonderful about it!” Then came the part of the dance to clap your hands, the two of you clapping up by your face, and mirroring one another. “Now you’re getting the hang of it!” You nod. He rolls his eyes, and is thankful you can’t see it. It would be horrible for his reputation if anyone knew that he was having even a little fun, especially because it was with you. Din doesn’t usually come to these parties. They happen most Saturday nights, but he runs home to his son. Tonight, however, it was important to him that you got to experience it, especially after everything that happened earlier today.

You both start getting the hang of it, and Din mentally thanks his helmet for hiding the smile on his face. Your feet grapevine, and then you both jump. Everyone hoots and hollers, it’s part of the dance. Suddenly, the both of you are in the middle of the dance circle in the same way that Koska was with her partner a few songs ago, and you’re leading the spiral. You can’t wipe the darkish smile off your face and genuinely can’t believe you got him out here.

“Atta boy, Djarin!” Koska yells from a table, standing up and toasting a Ming of hooch. The music picked up in preparation for the big finish. Din and you spun around one another, your bodies coming flush until your palms press flat, your faces only inches apart. You always thought playing off of one another in a dance was important for the emotion during a waltz, but a fancy three-step had nothing on the emotion and passion put into a dance such as this. Somehow, you could still play off of him, and the performance was one of shared respect and assurance. Despite never having seen his face, you got the Knight, you understood him in a way no one ever did. The song ends, the two of you real close to one another, and out of breath. The entire room roared in joy as they cheered for the both of you, and you looked up at the visor of his helmet.

“I want to kiss you!” He yells, and although his request is very clear, no one can hear it over the volume of the room.

“Then kiss me!” You reply. You didn’t give a damn if every servant of the Mandalorian royal family saw it. He laughs, you feel it, and then he’s pulling his helmet up.

He just reveals his lips, but you look upon them with no shame, admiring the way his Cupid’s bow dipped, and the scruff on his jawline. You smiled wide, and he smiled back. You feel honored to share this moment with him. Everyone around you was so loud, and they were cheering for both you and Din. You couldn’t believe how many of them knew his name as they called it out in encouragement.

Din’s free hand wraps around your waist, and pulls it in tight to him forcefully, you blush at the gesture, and the crowd “ooh’s” flirtily at it. Din Djarin then kisses you. He pulls your body into his soft lips and you sigh into it and it;s too quiet for him to hear but as soon as your lips meet, the crowd of staff disappears. Their cheers blur together, and fade out. Your lips move together passionately, and you do so with no shame. He groans against you, and you can feel it more than you can hear it, and it’s all you ever wanted.

For weeks now you just wanted to share your love with him publicly, and now that you have, you’re aware of how personal your love with him really is.

The crowd fades back in, everyone laughing in support and amusement. Your lips softly party and you grin from ear to ear. Din does too, shameless for once. His teeth are nice and straight. Oh God, you loved his smile.

Oh Stars, you loved him.

“Din!” You yell out. “I love you!” It was time to say it, because it was true. You meant it and as you say it, giggle.

“What?”

“I love you!” It’s so loud that you’re even sure if he can’t hear it, you can barely hear it yourself. But, in classic Din Djarin fashion, he doesn’t answer. He was never good with words, and was much better at showing you what was on his mind. He kisses you again, just as passionately, but this time it’s a series of short, quick pecks on your lips that get progressively more sloppy. He smiles into each kiss and you feel those magic butterflies again.

The rest of the night is a dreamy blur, Din dances the whole time with you, the music eventually slows, you notice that there are less and less kids in the common room. It winds down, and your feet ache in the best way. An ache that would be associated with happy memories. It was long past midnight when you decided to stop dancing, and a lone fiddler is all who was left in the band, playing a ballad to end the night. There was still soft laughter, and a few stragglers who slowly danced to the music. Din was one of the few who were still playing cards, one of his fellow knights challenging him to a game. Din was always up for a challenge, and both he and the man he played against looked deep in thought. You realized you were finally able to read him through all that beskar, and he was far more reactive than you ever would have known if you weren’t looking for it. Your cheek sits in your palm, and your eyes are heavy, but you watch him fondly from across the room. Koska sits next to you, handing you a cup of water.

“You had fun.” She hums, taking a sip out of her own cup.

You nervously laugh in response, she wasn’t wrong. “I didn’t realize how connected you all were.” You say with a sigh before taking a sip of the water and being so relieved to finally get some hydration after all of the energy you exerted.

“Yeah…” Koska was in her typical undisturbed mood, relaxed and observant. “These are the people of Mandalore.” She sighs, “They are what we really represent. We aren’t all about war and decoration, there’s so much more to us that the world doesn’t see.” You were touched by that remark, because you had seen it too. “The truth that’s hard for all of us to believe is that the rest of the world only respects us to stay on our good side.” Her voice drops a little. She looks at you, her eyes heavy as always. You aren’t sure how to respond, because it was true. Koska takes another sip before changing the subject, “I’ve never seen him dance before.” She nods towards Din. “At least not like that.” She laughs into her cup.

You smile, “I didn’t think he had it in him.” You tease.

“He wouldn’t have if you weren’t there.” Koska shrugs. “He’s like a whole different person around you. It’s refreshing.”

“He told me about everything that happened.” You reply. “With him and Bo.”

“He did? I don’t think he’s really talked to anyone about it.”

“He just told me last week, after the ball.” You nod. “I had no idea… but it all makes sense in the end.” You finish off the last of your water as his card game finishes, the few people watching cheering as Din lays down his cards and wins. The other knight, whose face was also covered by a heavy, beskar helmet slammed his fist down on the table in defeat. Din took the money that was on the bet.

“He’s better because of you.” Koska says, smiling as he wins. “I’ve had to look out for him in a way for a long time, he’s one of my oldest friends.” She speaks of him fondly. “But I feel like he doesn’t need me as much anymore, now that you can keep an eye out for him.” Koska turns to look a t you, but you don’t notice it. “You love him?”

“I do.” You nod. “Well… I think I do.” You sigh, “I don’t really know what love is I suppose, but I believe how I feel about him is the closest thing to it.” You shrug. “And I’m totally fucked because of it.”

“I wouldn’t know.” Koska explains, “I’ve never been in love either.”

“Really?” You ask, mildly shocked in all honesty. Koska nods. “There’s no one special in your life?”

“Well, there’s one girl.” Koska begins, “But my feelings towards her are more of an… obligation, I suppose.”

“I used to worry that’s how Din felt about me.” You admit.

“Oh trust me,” She chuckles once, “It isn’t like that for him at all.” She hums and you sigh in response, you sit in comfortable silence for a moment after that before Koska speaks up again, “What are you gonna do?” She asks.

“I don’t know.” You admit, turning to look at her, “But now that the majority of the castle staff has seen us kiss, I need to think of something.”

“That was pretty stupid, by the way.” Koska rolls her eyes.

You chuckle, “I suppose it was…” Din starts walking back to you, “But I can’t seem to care. I’m sick of hiding from everyone.” Din makes it to the two of you, and you smile as you look up at him.

“It’s not much,” He holds out the money before pocketing it, “But Rue will be happy.” He laughs and holds a hand out for you to take. “How drunk is she?” He asks Koska.

“She’s fine-“

“I only had one drink!” You roll your eyes, knowing that your night with Din will end very quickly if you were drunk. You take his hand and he hoists you up with him.

“Hm… that’s what you said the other night.”

“She’s okay, maybe a little tipsy but nothing keeping her from holding a perfectly normal conversation.” Koska says to Din, knowing full well why he even asked, a smirk plasters on her face.

“Come on.” Din hums, and pulls you down one of the various halls that branch from the common room, but not the one that both of you were familiar with because of your aid from Koska.

Din leads you through the candle-lit halls, and into a small bedroom. It was cramped, and there was barely enough room for the both of you, but it was cozy. He lit an oil lamp, and it illuminated the room just enough. Din slowly pulls off his helmet, and it’s so dim that you can’t really see anything like normal, but you can make out faint features and the light in his eyes. It was enough. He started to take off his armor too, and you patiently waited with your back against the outerwall that the window was in. He sets the chestplate and pauldrons in a neat pile on the foot of the bed, and kicks his boots off. His arm comes up to rub his neck, and he stretches a few times. He pulls the chainmail up over his head, leaving him in the same peasant blouse and trousers that he wore at the beach all those days ago. You would never get used to how trim his waist was, and how broad his shoulders were. He turns around, and has a smile on his face. You wished you could see him in the light. Din runs his hands through his thick curls and then steps towards you. You close the gap and wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in for an innocent kiss.

“Thank you.” You mutter.

“What for?”

“For bringing me here tonight… for being with me.” You sigh, and look up at him lovingly. He sighs, and kisses you again. Din starts to deepen the kiss, and you moan into his lips. He was a good kisser, that was for sure.

[SMUT BEGINS HERE]

Din wastes no time, he picks you up by the thighs, lifting you on his waist so you’re kissing down into him, and before you know it, he’s kissing your jaw. Din had learned your body, he knew the sweet spot on your jaw, and always knew just how long he could suck on it before it became a hickey. He never crossed that line, he knew when to stop, but how badly you wanted him to mark you up so Korkie could see, you wanted everyone to see who you loved and why. His strong hands bunch up your skirt, and lift it up so your ass could be uncovered. His arms hold you, and he stumbles back until he falls on the bed in the room. You straddle the knight and get comfortable on his lap. You can feel his hard-on growing, and you’ll never get over the confidence boost that gives you. You start to tentatively rub your hips so that you grinned down into him. You get a sting of pleasure through your spine, and you’re already getting wet. Because you were down in the lower level of the palace, and was totally isolated from most people with thick, stone walls, you take advantage of the opportunity to make noise. You moan into Din’s mouth, and he holds his lips apart for you. His breath against your face was enough alone to drive you crazy, and your fingers twist around the strands of curly, brown hair that sit at the nape of his neck.

Din’s thick, calloused fingers find their way between your legs from the back, and he starts to gently run his fingertips through your slick folds. You gasp at the feeling, he was so gentle with every move. He starts to moan as well as your hips grind further into him in search for more friction and pleasure, and the sound of his voice unobstructed by the beskar is your favorite sound in the whole world. Din settles into his seat, and he pulls you forward onto him. This allows your hips to lift up just enough that he can insert a finger through your cunt. He starts pumping his wrist immediately, fingering you. You pulled your lips away from him, and sat up straight. You throw your head back with a moan, and then bring your hands to the tucked in portion of your shirt. You pull it up over your head, and wriggle out of the slip that kept you clothed. You were finally naked, and you took your free hands and squeezed each nipple. Between the feeling of Din’s fingers deep inside of you, his growing-bulge rutting against your clit, and the added pinch of your nipples, you were already in a euphoric bliss that didn’t take long to reach.

“Din-“ you moan his name, which he loved. He’s eager, and isn’t afraid to show it. Din pulls his cock out from his trousers, and he lets you grind against the tip. You keep it from going in, trying to tease him in the same way that he did the morning after the ball. It was really just driving you over the edge, really, and so before you let his swollen tip prod at your slickness anymore, you steady yourself on his broad shoulders, and take a deep breath before sinking down onto him. Both of you moan out when you do, and he throws his head back, exposing a thick cord of muscle in his neck. You bend down to nip at his adam’s apple before suckling into his tan skin, making sure to leave a massive, purple bruise on the middle of his neck. You bottom out as you do this, and the sensation shoots up your body. You liked being on top for the sheer fact that it gave you a different angle. Din’s length was pressing up into you now, and he filled you up delightfully. Your favorite feeling in the world was being stuffed by him like this.

You could feel every inch of him as you lifted your hips up, you were so wet and it was already such a loud, obscene noise. You kept sucking hickeys into him, and your hands moved from his neck down to the hem of his blouse. You grab the sheer fabric, and pull it up over his head so that Din is finally as shirtless as you. His huge hands stay on your ass, squeezing the fat there and using his own strength to lift you up and down on his cock. It’s slow at first, but it allows the both of you to really savor the feeling of one another. You scratch your fingernails down his pecs, scratching at his abdomen, and then finally trailing in between your legs to circle at your clit as the pace picked up. You lean forward to rest your glistening forehead on his bare shoulder, and your bare chests press into one another.

Din begins to thrust his hips up, and before you know it, you’re bounding on his cock. It’s fast and hard and your weight is slamming you down on to him over and over again with no end in sight. It’s painful in a good way, the same type of ache that would have good memories and passion attached to it. You knew your core would be sore tomorrow, but it was worth it as Din’s huge cock runs against your g-spot over and over again inside of you. Your fingers speed up on your clit, and you bite down on Din’s shoulder muscle to keep from being too loud. He’s grunting and growling and is absolutely feral and the noises eliciting off of his kiss-swollen lips are needy yet dominate at the same time. You could get drunk on his breathy-sighs, his voice as dark and husky as always.

“That’s it,” He groans into your ear, you moan in response to his words. You loved when he was vocal because it was so rare that he actually was. “Are you gonna cum on my fucking cock, Princess?” He asks.

“Mhm.” You pathetically moan.

“Fuck-“ he groans, and then shifts his position. Suddenly, the two of you are standing up, and the way his length moves and twitches inside of you as he stands up pulls an involuntary moan from your lips. Din lifts you up with his arms, arching his torso back so that you can lean on him. He then gets right back at the task at hand: chasing your orgasm. It was close, you could feel it, and somehow Din seemed to have more energy and strength in this position. He lifted you up and down on his cock, and your arms found their place wrapped back around his neck, desperately trying to hold yourself up as he absolutely tears into you. He was so big, you keep forgetting how thick he is until his swollen and hard cock is filling you up like you were only made for this exact thing.

He must have gotten tired, you could tell not only by the sheen layer of sweat on his chest, but he pulled you off of himself, and threw you onto the bed. You giggle at the forceful contact, and like being tossed around in bed. It made you feel small, and it really showed his strength. Din pumps his leaking cock a few times, kneeling in front of you and pulling your legs apart. You bite your lip out of lust before he slaps the head of his length on your cunt a few times. The sound is so dirty, and it makes you even wetter.

“Stars, you’re so fucking wet for me.” He bites his lip, slapping his cock harder against you. “Can you hear that? Can you hear how fucking wet that pussy is?” He asks you. Stars, he was good at this.

“Yes… so wet for you.” You sigh, your hand coming down to play with your clit again. Din mutters a ‘that’s right’ before he slides himself through your folds a few times again before pushing into you one more, and he doesn’t hold back. His hands find their way to your hips, and he presses them down into the bed as hard as he can, pinning you in place. He starts to pound into you, and it knocks the wind out of you because of how abrupt and forceful it is. You can’t even really make noise to show how good it was, and instead a few strangled and helpless cries pull from your throat.

“Do you fantasize about my cock when you’re with your fiance? Hm? Does it turn you on knowing that you’re cheating on him?” He asks, and you can finally moan out. He was right, he knew you would say yes.

“Yes!” You say, “I can’t stop thinking about your cock!” You reply, your voice high-pitched and so needy.

“Do you think about me fucking this pussy like a bitch on my cock when you’re in important meetings?” He asks again. There was something about the disrespect that you loved, it only made things better.

“Yes sir!” You cry. Din chuckles and then smacks your ass cheek. His slamming into you so hard that you can’t believe he hasn’t gotten tired yet. You can see how his muscles flex against the moonlight and your core is aching from the knight but it’s all worth it. “I’m gonna cum!” You warm, arching your back in pleasure. Din then spits on your cut, adding to the hot wetness and dirty sounds, and he pulls your fingers away from your clit and replaces them with his.

“Cum with me,” He groans, and almost immediately, you’re cumming on his leaking cock at the same time that he does. He cums so much, and you’re always surprised by it. His load drips down your folds, and he fucks you through it. It’s filthy and you want to keep doing it for the rest of your life. Your arms come up to grasp his biceps, trying to steady yourself on anything. Din moans loud when he cums, and it isn’t until he starts softening inside of you that he quits thrusting. He doesn’t pull out, however, and he stays stuffed inside of you as he catches your breath. You’re fucked-out, your eyes heavy and breasts heaving with each deep breath that tries to calm your heart rate. “I love cumming in you.” He sighs. You already knew that, but you loved how he told you. He goes to pull out, but your thighs squeeze together, holding him in place.

“Stay inside.” You whine. Din tilts his head.

“Fuck, you’re perfect.” He bends down to kiss your forehead, and then very carefully and slowly turns the two of you so that he is spooning you, his cock still buried inside your dripping and swollen cunt. “You did good, you did so good.” He kisses your neck as he says these, breathing in deep your scent. “S’good… so good.” He catches his breath, and is just as exhausted as you are, if not more. His chest heaves against your back, and his arms pull you against him. You fight against sleep, but ultimately fail, submitting to rest almost immediately after Din pulls the blanket over the both of you. Just before you fall asleep, you hear him mumble something against your neck, although you aren’t sure what it is.

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—

part fifteen

#more to love fic #more to love #din djarin #din djarin x you #pedro pascal #the mandalorian #fan fiction #reader insert #star wars #din djarin fluff #din djarin smut #rough day fanfic #royalcore #royalty au #princess x bodyguard #princess reader #princesscore #pedro pascal fic #mando x you #mando fluff #mando x reader #din djarin loves to c*m!! #din djarin likes to cuddle #knight din djarin

[morgana-ren]

I noticed you write a little for overhaul! Could I get some yandere overhaul?

Efficiency. He likes your efficiency.

Your hands, quick, methodical, precise. Your movements, calculated and sure. No unnecessary flair, no exaggerated nonsense. Quiet. Meticulous. Obedient.

The bird mask latched to your face signifies your position as his subordinate, a uniform carefully chosen to make your individuality invisible. An extension of his own arms, his own will. That’s your purpose, your duty. One you fulfill to the letter.

So why is it when he looks at you, he can still see your face beneath the contraption meant to veil it?

Only once has he seen it, but it was enough to carve a notch in his memory. The curve of your cheeks, the sharpness reflected in your eyes. Something no doubt of importance lost to the space your countenance has taken up on the shelves of his mind. It’s infuriating, how you make a mess of the simplest part of the job while exceeding at all others.

Don’t distract him. Make yourself a tool, useful but replaceable. Able to be tucked away and ignored when your presence is no longer required. Don’t linger. Extend his influence, not your own.

How are you failing so miserably?

He knows the distinct sound of your footsteps in comparison to the rest of his men. Timed, careful, almost soft. While others move with a brashness, an almost unearned intensity, you are loud in your silence. You stick out in that you try so hard not to, filling your role as you are supposed to but drawing his attention, his ire, no less.

His eyes watch you when they’re due somewhere else, keeping you close even when you’re unneeded. Your council is foolish, unwarranted and uneducated, yet he seeks it no less if only to analyze the timbre of your voice when you speak. You know better than to ask him to explain his process but he will do it regardless to make certain you understand.

You tend to Eri with kindness, a certain softness that dries up the moment it’s him addressing you. The girl cries less when it’s you attending, makes less of a fuss when he runs his experiments. She holds your hand so tightly, the tack of the rubber glove against her childish skin making a distinctive and distracting squeaking noise every time her grip tightens. The needles pierce her skin and he doesn’t need to see your face to know you’re scowling. If you disapprove of his goals so much, why is it you stay? If his method is madness in your eyes, why do you work for his vision?

Is it because you know that he’d rather see you dead than beside another man?

It leads his mind down avenues it would be better off not treading. You don’t respect his strength like Rappa and he is not beholden to you like Chrono. So why is it you attach yourself to him, following like a shadow that mimics his own movements? Why do you obey his orders?

Overhaul has thought over his blueprints of the future, painstaking and detailed, yet he has purposefully avoided contemplating just where you fit into it all. At his feet or at his side (truthfully, in the dead of night, he dreams of both.) Even with the sterilized existence that keeps his body clean, his mind is not immune to the sickening licentiousness that plagues the common vagrant. It’s not a mess that can be cleaned with ammonia or bleach, a stain that won’t disappear with boiling water and steel wool.

Are you as efficient with your mouth as you are with your hands?

The line of thought disgusts him, but he crosses that valley in the sand regardless, morbid curiosity and self loathing close in tow. There’s a million ways he could destroy you, yet he fantasizes about the one that leaves you breathing. The rise and fall of your sweat-glistened chest, blown out pupils and quaking legs should make the bile rise in his throat but it makes him salivate instead, a disgusting Pavlovian response courtesy of his biology. The thought of your filthy little mouth on him, lips pulled taught around places so intimate gets his heart pounding but not with thoughts of violence or righteous indignation. A foul little boil he wants to lance into again and again and again until that sloppy hole between your thighs runs dry and he’s covered in your contamination, smeared in your sticky sweet juices, tainting his outside as he has the inside of you.

It’s hard not to rip that mask off your face and give you a taste of his own corruption some days. It’s only by the grace of his carefully honed self control (not to mention the watchful eyes of his disciples who’s respect he cannot afford to pollute) that he restrains himself. You’ve wormed your way beneath his skin, flowing through his blood like a virus; a fever he can’t sweat out no matter how he tries.

If he has to suffer, he’ll make it contagious.

He wonders if the satin of his gloves could even get a sturdy grip in your hair, heel of his hand pressed into the base of your skull while your fetid drool pools on his desk. The thought of the warmth you offer grinds his teeth, makes his skin crawl, churns his gut and yet he wants it for his own enough to go to war with his own mind. The lovely curve of your arched back, pulsing body clamping around him as he burrows inside of you like a parasite just like you did to his brain. 

You belong beneath him, body and mind and soul nothing but a playground for him, a sponge to soak up and cleanse him of his frustrations and his desires. That’s what you are, right? A tool for him to use? You simply have other uses than the rest.

If he allowed himself to take you, give himself a taste of what he so desperately craves, would he build up an immunity or would he find himself even more infected? He’s despised filth and muck and disorder his entire life and it’s spreading from within his own body, a self inflicted illness with no culprit to blame but himself. 

He’ll purge you from his body, one way or another. 

He’ll sit quiet, lips pursed behind his mask and eyes wandering where they shouldn’t. Study you, the way you move, the subtle breathing and the tenseness in your shoulders that only presents in his presence. The muscles in your neck that move as you bite your lip in focus and the way your steady gaze rips from his own anytime it meets. There’s something rippling beneath the surface in you; whether it’s lust or fear, he’s uncertain.

Either way, he’ll cultivate and harvest it, carefully tend it until it blossoms in your lungs and chokes you the same way it does him. Replace your essence with his own and watch you writhe and squirm, open and pliant beneath him, either too afraid to tell him no or too needy to not say yes. He’ll inject you full of his venom, his cure, until you become dependent upon him to live, to breathe, your very existence only flourishing because he allows it.

The thought of drowning himself in you both sickens and excites him, wants to feel your heart thrum against his palm as he cradles the rounds of your neck. He needs you to understand that it only continues to beat because it pleases him. He could take you apart and bring you back together wrong, damning you to an uncanny existence. He can give you life only to take it away again and again until whatever soul inhabits your body bends and breaks to him.

You’re treading dangerous waters, walking a razor’s edge. It’s too late but you don’t even realize it. He’ll be there to watch when you falter, quick and ready to utilize your mistake and wield it against you. You can either give yourself to him, or give yourself to misery, losing your mind again and again until it comes back in a way favorable to him. He can work with either.

The choice is yours.

#Anonymous #overhaul x reader #nsft #sorry this took so loooong once again I deleted my draft #Christ I’m posting a lot lately #sorry folks #I’m trying to do things on mobile so if this is like really long and annoying to scroll past lemme know #and I’ll put a read more when I get my laptop out

[yozzers]

vexos hcs and random notes

ill update as i go, because yes i do update my masterlists every once in awhile, i should probably add them to my pinned... 

General

I sincerely hope they have a small living arrangement so I can inflict them with the pain of having to share almost everything with each other

I just want Shadow and Lync to share a bunk

Like to think that alongside Volt, Mylene and Lync were also recruited by Hydron

None of them officially joined until they were a bit older but probably trained to eventually join the Vexos; in the mean time they probably worked for Hydron or something like that

Volt recruited at 11; Lync a year later and Mylene following not long after (respectively 13, 8, 12 when they’re all gathered)

My reasoning to why Volt is patient with Lync’s antics and Mylene less so but doesn’t lash out as badly as you think she would around annoying little kids; grew up tgt moment

Spectra probably forced his way into the Vexos like��“hiiii i see you dont have any Vexos members <3″ bcs obv he wasn’t using royal scientist dad privelages (i think, bcs Clay seems horrified abt Spectra being a Vexos and well, being Spectra) 

Shadow had an advantage of being a nobleman (in terms of him being accepted into the Vexos’ ranks)

the Vexos and their set of rules magent-ed on the fridge door or something and every time they go over a page they have to staple/tape a new page on

Joined in this order, Volt, Spectra, Shadow, Mylene, Lync, Gus 

Vexos being a “chance of death low but the chance is still there” type of job... they feel like idols girl help they are bakugan idol group who work for the government 

sorry the way the vestal kids talk about them... going to treat the Vexos like a kpop group now

Spectra Phantom / Keith Fermin 

[canon] son of a (royal?) scientist. definitely had it good and comfy

think it’d be REALLY funny if he already knew Shadow before he became Spectra, Shadow just doesn’t recognize him bcs of his stupid get up

throws childhood friends Shadow Spectra at you, just two weirdos 

Keith specifically keeps Shadow from ever meeting his sister which is why neither of them really recognize each other

Pre-Spectra; probably would’ve been really into bakugan biology and what not. Feels like the kind of person to talk w/ his dad about “do you think we could change their appearance if we messed w/ their mechanical ball form or would it not carry over to their released forms”

this mf looks like a biology major i feel it in my guts 

mom isn’t dead she just divorced Clay bcs he didn’t know how to balance family and work, good for her

probably lives in another city now, and it’s a bit more of a hassle to meet with her kids so they don’t see her as much but she is present in their lives (keep in contact in other ways) 

probably went a bit silent when Keith went missing

didn’t bleach his eyebrows bcs he didn’t want to harm the skin around there and he never thought he’d take the mask off around others, or about how stupid he’d look without the mask

please please please please draw him with his pink hair roots in his MS fit he should've grown out some of his bleached hair by then

daddy issues is truly the root of evil

Gus Grav

Just Some Gut background; middle class just living life

[canon?] was going on a route to being an “idol brawler”, because that’s kind of what their brawls felt like, since it was all purely for show with some competition. it felt less like a sport and more spectacle.

Gus wanting to be an idol brawler is actually such a funny string of words put together I’m making that a thing, if he didn’t join the Vexos he would’ve been an idol brawler

I like the Gus needs glasses hc (shoutout to @marmeladebois ‘s post on that) 

The hc of him being half human and Runo’s half brother is so good 

Cooks well but refuses to help cook fr the Vexos (unless Spectra specifically asks) --> that job is usually left to Volt

not related but reminds me heavily of yugioh vrain’s Spectre (or other way around... Gus was the blueprint) 

Shadow Prove

[handbook canon] a vestal nobleman 

has an older brother (oc; Lux- casual Haos brawler)

inferiority complex or whatever, the only thing he bested his brother in was Bakugan

the Prove family being typical prim proper noble family and forcing Shadow to be repressed is something, but the Proves having the same kind of wavelength as Shadow but in different variations is funnier. They’re just Like That.

Probably not a military family, does work closely with the government still; um im thinking somewhere under the Fermins but not by much

Considered running away from home several times 

Unwillingly has knowledge on Vestal classic literature/ music

hard clutching a wall whenever he wants to join in on discussions about it bcs he knows this stuff but no way is he going to make himself look like a nerd + hes not actually that interested

*debates you for fun and bcs i hate u <3* 

You know how he doesn’t take his job as a Vexos member super seriously, I wonder:

did his parents force him to be a Vexos since he wasn’t interested in the political side of his family and probably against taking up anything related to it, so they had him do something that’d still be beneficial to the family?  

joined to pursue a freedom he didn’t have as a nobleman and is now just taking it really easy?

has clowns > jesters debate with volt; obv he’s team clown, volt is team jester

incredibly irrelevant but if he was a human he’d be chinese, i’ve claimed him, prodigal son older brother and fail son dynamic is there 

Mylene Ferrow

While I like the idea of her being from a military family, I want to make her like Ling Wen (TGCF) in the sense she started from the bottom and climbed to the top... it fits her ambitious nature of grasping for more, she hasn’t reached what she considers the top just yet... 

[very Ling Wen specific but Mylene being put in jail fr crimes unknown to me and being recruited  by Hydron bcs she kicked serious ass is an entertaining thought] 

I like to think she’s closest to Shadow due to the fact he kind of forces his presence onto her so... not her choice in that matter. “annoying” to “endearingly annoying, you still aren’t getting special treatment though”

Ofc Volt and Lync are on the same level, but I think they all know when to give each other space so they’re more of a “we hold each other at a distance, but we’re aware of out closeness which is enough for us”

Then its Spectra and then Gus in the “closest to Mylene” scale; she just straight up hates Gus and it’s mutual

whoever made the “Mylene and Spectra were exes” hc I think it’s really funny so I’m adding it here 

terrible fashion, she’s the one who chose the outfits when she and Shadow went to earth; her fashionable armor look she usually has was designed with Volt’s help, she just voiced what she generally wanted 

Her red lipstick look was bcs she thought it’d make her look more serious/ intimidating (Volt and Lync approved, it rlly does work on her)

Shadow matches w/ her (via his red nails) after they get teamed up tgt several times bcs he thinks they’re basically the go-to duo matchup whenever they’re assigned work n it’d be cool

Very forthcoming about the fact she used to be considered a criminal and was from same rundown area Volt and Lync come from

She’s grateful she got out of jail but she still has no respect for Hydron and despite how much she tries to hide it she does make it pretty clear to him she doesn’t really like him

I wish I had more to say about her... but It’s all relationship esque, i think in general she’s enjoyable and good so what I want more out of her is character dynamics

Lync Volan

[eng dub] he has grandparents; whether they’re still alive or not is...? 

was part of the same area Volt is from

probably aware of each other but didn’t really know each other

you sound like you have mommy issues 

came from the same area as Volt, but lived further out and closer to those areas where there were some bits of nature left 

ill expand on why he got picked up by Hydron another day lazy rn

Volt Luster

[canon] he’s from an area that just straight up looks like yugioh 5ds’ Satellite, and Hydron was the one who pulled him out of there  

He says Hydron pulled him out of there when he was a kid? I’d assume at youngest it’d be like Hydron (8) and Volt (11)

has a neat collection of handmade jester dolls 

lot more artistic than he seems 

Had his guardian bakugan with him the longest; had Brontes even before he met Hydron

Would the others consider him weird fr having a talking Bakugan that acted friendly with him n cracked jokes? 

#bakugan #croak

[androidemotions]

OK NEURODIVERGENT GAANG TIME BC I WANNA

these hcs are kinda halfway set in a modern au bc thats my context for this ! (gonna split it up so its not as long bc i drafted the original and it was LONG) water tribe siblings first !!!

Sokka

adhd/autism king 😌

[ID: a screenshot of Sokka standing on a raised stone platform with a map of the Fire nation hanging behind him. He’s holding his arms stiffly by his side with a wide-eyed look on his face, brows raised as he has his mouth open, saying something. End ID.]

- schedules to survive, he likes to know what hes getting into and if you try to change plans on him without warning he’ll be very resistant

- smart kid who doesnt study, oh he tries, oh boy does he try, he ends up reading the same sentence over and over until he gets distracted by drawing something, working on the blueprint for his latest invention, or with researching something completely unrelated to what he’s mean to be studying. then he tosses and turns all night because he’s stressed by not having studied, but when he actually takes the test he makes a 105, despite there not even being a bonus question, he just answered the essay question so well the teacher gave him an extra 5 points

- special interests?? we got em!!! classic weaponry (think swords, boomerangs, but also, like canons and catapults and shit) engineering/physics, art/drawing, strategy games. he tends to hyperfocus within his special interests, so like for a week he was hellbent on building his own full sized trebuchet, much to the dismay of Gran Gran who just wanted to grow her tomatoes without them being crushed by said full size trebuchet

- (also he plays all types of games probably, but he def plays those ones where you take over the world, like the ones online and azula also plays them too and they end up being rivals, while not actually knowing who the other is outside of their usernames)

- he also talks a lot in his classes/is like the ‘class clown’ and ppl think this is him not focusing but engaging this way actually helps him focus way more than sitting silently, a lot of teachers dont understand it but the ones who do are actually paying attention and realize that he’s generally talking/joking about their current topic

- some observations (this shit is all canon babey!!!) - sokka is great at being a leader and communicating in groups he’s in but he really really struggles in front of crowds, one-on-one and sokka can talk well, joke and stuff but as soon as he’s separate from other people and everyone is just listening he clams up (solar eclipse pt 1). he also loves to joke and make people laugh, and a lot of the time he misinterprets stuff because he’s autistic but he also will realize this and do it anyway because he thinks it’s funny and he likes laughing with his friends (idk if this happens in canon but i do this and sokka does too bc i said so :^). He also takes up the protector/comforting role but despite his best intentions he can sometimes say insensitive stuff and not even realize what he’s done to upset people (when he happily told aang ‘the whole world thinks your dead!’) works best when he feels needed, if he feels unnecessary or like something doesnt matter he struggles to complete it (i feel like the beginning of sokka’s master rlly demonstrates what i mean here), and this goes both ways, he will put too much value into certain things that he cares about and can get his priorities mixed if he’s focused too much on what he believes matters more than what might be most pressing (zuko destroyed his suki sculpture, oh right bc he was attacking aang)

Katara

she also has adhd/autism, (so do both Hakoda and Kya 💙)

[ID: a screenshot of Katara, Hakoda, Sokka, and Bato. Hakoda has his hand on Katara’s shoulder as they both look at Bato who is saying something, she has curious look on her face with her brows raised, while Hakoda looks exasperated. Sokka beside him his also looking curiously up at Bato, with one brow raised and the other furrowed. Bato has a neutral expression on his face as he speaks. End ID.]

- palms sweaty thoughts spaghetti, she tries to be practical bc she thinks someone needs to be but really her brain is like a runaway train, she sees something that needs doing and is like, guess ill do that now! and drops whatever she was doing first. she can get very anxious because of this because all the thing that need doing start to pile up because theyre all in her brain at once. that and as much as she tries to be practical she’s very impulsive, getting help from other people really helps alleviate this stuff

- interacting w ppl, when she was only part of her own smaller community she had a lot less toll on her, bc she knew everyone and was used to them, as she meets more people she gets really frustrated with how many people seem to refuse to say what they really mean. Katara is very straightforward herself and she says what she means, so even tho she gets more and more perceptive when interacting with new people, she resents how much she has to work just to decipher what people really mean half the time.

- caring for ppl, with people she cares about communicating is much easier bc she knows them, so she’s very open about her feelings around these people, and she can be hyper empathetic at times, but then sometimes she will say SUPER insensitive stuff off the cuff because she’s just very impulsive and she might regret it after the fact but she really struggles with apologizing because being wrong makes her feel like ppl are going to reject her

- perceptions, she knows what’s expected of her by the world, but she really rejects the idea that she has to stay in her role. still, she has internalized a lot of these expectations and tries to perform them, even when she sometimes struggles. beyond herself, she’s very certain about what she knows is wrong and has a strong moral code, she sees something wrong and she wants to fix it.

- she’s awful in school, not because she’s not smart, but she’s smart in ways that society does not appreciate. she doesnt care at all about all the worksheets and math she’s never gonna use, and all the history that got distorted, she’s much better at learning stuff on her own and she will go on deep dives of subjects she cares about and is super knowledgeable abt them.

also:

[ID: A cropped screenshot of Sokka with his arms extended outwards, palms flat as he gestures. He has a slight grin on his face with his mouth open to speak, eyebrows raised and looking at the viewer calmly. He’s wearing his usual blue tunic with the Earth Rumble XI belt along with his earth kingdom bag hanging across his chest. The text on the image says, “This post made by ADHD Sokka gang. End ID.]

[ID: a cropped screenshot of Hakoda, he has a serious expression on his face as he looks ahead. The text on the post reads, “This post made by ADHD Hakoda gang.” End ID.]

from this post (part of what inspired me to write these out) @meteor-sword​ now just katara needs one 😄

adhd aang next, i will finally live up to my url (will edit with a link when i post)

#a:tla #atla #katara #sokka #avatar the last airbender #avatar: the last airbender #hakoda #adhd headcanon #autistic headcanon #water siblings #image described