#walls of ston

[netherfeildren]

The Cassandra Complex : Chapter IV : Aite

Series Masterlist : Moodboard

(Din Djarin x F!Reader)

Content Warnings: Hunter/prey dynamics; Dom/sub undertones; Spanking; Orgasm delay/denial; Overstimulation; Rough sex; Squirting

A/N: happy mando monday mother fuckers — literally nobody look at me i have nothing to say for myself 

also, again, canon deviation — he’s got the beskar spear here already.

Rating: Explicit 18+

Word count: 9.3K

Read on AO3

CHAPTER IV : AITE

MEGARA: You love the light so much?

AMPHITRYON: I do, I love its hopes.

Anne Carson, Grief Lessons: Four plays by Euripides

You stir hours later, sweltering and tangled under the covers in the dark, cramped alcove of his narrow bunk, sweat pooling between your breasts and at the nape of your neck. It takes you a moment to gather your bearings and take in the steaming beast of a man, heavy muscle and a solid chest pressed into your back. Din’s nose nuzzles into your hair as he breathes deep and steady. The bunk is so narrow, and he is so broad, half draped on top of you, and you’re being smothered by his heat and weight. 

“Din,” muffled, sleep graveled voice, “Heavy.” He doesn’t answer – dead to the world after everything the two of you had been through. The two of you’d crawled into the cool darkness of his bunk and promptly lost consciousness after the emotional ordeal of everything you’d talked about, but now you are hot and aching, and as you try and shift and wiggle, murmuring supplications to rouse him he huffs in his sleep, disturbed at your wriggling, and that unyielding arm of muscle presses you deeper into his chest, constricting your ribs, at the same time that his overly large shirt he’d put you in shifts up to reveal your naked bottom half, and his hips shift up to press his hard, seeking cock to the wet seam of your cunt. His hips rock into you, rolling you further onto your belly, and he growls a sleepy sound deep in his chest that you’re sure would translate to sleep, little one, were he conscious. He keeps trying to push in, frustrated grumbles when he meets only soft thigh instead of the warm cunt his dreams expect. 

You can feel them on the periphery of your conscious mind, he’s dreaming of you, of your wet pussy, and the feeling of your slippery walls clenching around him. And you’ve no other choice but to give in, pulling a knee up to your chest you sense him step into this side of consciousness, and then he’s fucking in deep, meeting the end of you and grinding his hips against your ass with a low, hoarse groan. “Fuck, I was dreaming of this.”

“I know,” you whisper, pressing your bottom to his pelvis and trying to tilt forward as far as the bunk allows to deepen the angle, but he pulls you back tight to his chest and lifts your leg to drape back over his hip. His hands snake up the bottom of his shirt you’re wearing to palm your tits and pinch your nipples, rolling the aching peaks between his rough fingers and mouthing at the sweaty skin of your neck.

“You’re sore and exhausted, little one. I told you no more,” he admonishes but doesn’t stop the rhythm of his thrusting hips, rolling up into your slick cunt over and over. 

“I don’t care. I don’t care if I hurt.” And part of you regrets it as soon as the words leave your mouth, painfully honest, humiliating, but the larger part of you is only desperate and aching for him to fuck into you, writhing wet and wanton on his cock.

“But I do. That’s all I care about.” He pushes inside again anyway though – the need too great, again and again until the two of you are trembling with orgasm together, wet and shaky and intimate. 

-

The next bounty finds itself on the planet of Kashyyyk and the Razor Crest makes planet-fall a few hours after the two of you finally stumble out of the warm cocoon of his bunk. 

You make tremendous fun of him and his ridiculously beloved ship, you can’t help it with a snickered, A Razor Crest? Really? Has the Guild been skimping out on you? To which you’re met with nothing but stony silence and then again, This hunk of junk is going to leave you stranded out in open space one day, I’m surprised it even still has the capacity to travel at– and then him spinning to pinch your cheeks between his fingers, forcing your mouth into a pucker, he gives your head a little shake. “One more bad word about my ship, and I’ll put this smart mouth to better use, do you hear me?” He’d forced your head into a little nod, but you’d rolled your eyes, snorting at him, as if you wouldn’t enjoy that. He’d harrumphed and turned to climb up into the cockpit after that while you’d washed the sweat and come of your nap from your body in the little fresher, the sound of him whispering his name to you ringing in your ears. 

-

“When do you think you’ll be back?” You pout up at him, spread out on your nest on the floor of the hull that’s become a permanent monument, your still damp, trembling, just fucked form covered only by a thin blanket. It’d been hours since the two of you’d touched down on Kashyyyk, and you knew he probably should’ve been gone ages ago, out hunting his bounty, but he’d not been able to pull himself from your soft wet clutch. He was grumpy now and insisting he had to go even though you desperately did not want him to. 

“It won’t be long – maybe two days, three at the most.” He’s re-donning the armor he hasn’t worn in days, slowly and meticulously adorning himself with each piece of beskar. 

“Alright…” you sigh, stretching out into lithe, soft lines, your hands above your head so that the blanket covering your chest inches down to expose one soft nipple to his gaze. He pauses deathly still to watch your display, and you spread your knees beneath the cover with a breathy, little moan. “I guess I’ll see you in three days… I’ll just be here.” You look up at him with the most guilelessly innocent eyes you can muster. One of his boots sneaks forward to toe the blanket away from you: He can see your little cunt, wet and gleaming, the reddened swell of recent use, and when you spread those soft, gorgeous thighs a little further apart there he is. The slow drool of his spend from your pussy. Fuck, that bounty is never getting brought in.

Squeezing your eyes shut, turning to hide your face in the bend of your arm — you need to be more careful about that, don’t know why it keeps happening. You listen to the clang of one of his pauldrons dropping to the floor. 

“What are you going to do while I’m gone?” His voice has taken on that deeper tone he falls into right before he’s about to sink inside of you. 

Shit, shit shit, this is too much. Too desperate. 

You spread your legs wider, slowly pulling one knee up to your chest, and gently running your fingertips up the sensitive inside of your thighs until you reach your messy center. Swollen and overwrought from his ferocity, and you don’t care, you still want more. You flutter your fingers over the wet mess, circle your clit and pass over your clenching opening. 

“Think about you of course,” you moan, and listen to a restrained growl from him, the fall of another piece of his armor and then the soft shuck of his shirt falling as well. 

“I can see myself drooling from that sloppy little hole,” he murmurs, now the crash of the helmet, you squeeze your eyes shut tight, “Push it back in. Fuck yourself.” He falls to his knees between your spread legs. 

It is hours later before he finally manages to make it outside. 

-

On the fourth day without him, you begin to stir with restlessness.

He’d promised three at the most, and you’d wanted to say that three days was an unbearably long time to be away from him. Yes, even this soon – weak hearted little wench, you’d griped at yourself. But you’d been cast in an unbearable silly wash of shyness, going hot and vulnerable from head to toe when the moment finally came that he’d dallied just too long, and he absolutely had to go now, really, I do have to go, the bounty isn’t going to catch itself, and we’re soon to be out of credits. As if you couldn’t just steal or trick your way into more credits if absolutely need be, but he’d hear nothing of such petty thievery. So you’d kept your pouting to yourself, and let him go. 

He was a day late now, and you knew it was silly to worry about him.

He was a kriffing Mandalorian. He didn’t need you clucking over him like some worried mother tip-yip, but you couldn’t help it. You knew, even with as little experience with him as you have, that when he said he’d do something he did it. So you were beginning to stir with a frenzied and restlessly anxious energy, thinking of all the potential possibilities of harm he could have come to. Could Wookies chew through beskar? You didn’t know, but it seemed highly probable with the sort of Maker blasted luck you’d been cursed with that he’d randomly get eaten by a Wookie or some other beast on this fucking jungle planet and leave you stranded and without him.

You step off the Crest’s ramp late in the afternoon. Clad in only a pair of soft, worn leggings and your breast band, saber hilt in hand, thinking that perhaps a spot of training would help dispel your anxiety over him, but when you make it outside the weather is so lovely, warm and temperate, and you can’t help flop down into the soft grass of the field he’d landed the ship in to take in the heat of the sun. 

The sky has been different every morning, but it’s almost pearlescent today, watery gray shot with silver white that coalesces into a sort of soft hued lavender. The planet’s single star, soft behind the protection of the clouds, has you going lazy and lethargic as it fights to push its way through. You think that perhaps, the training is unnecessary then, if the sun’s able to soothe you into peace for a few moments, and you cross your arms behind your head to lay back and close your eyes to the sky, feeling the warmth of it seeping through the thin membrane of your lids.

The two of you had both gone a little shy and awkward as he’d gotten ready to finally go four days ago. While he’d gotten dressed, arming himself to the teeth, you’d felt his eyes on you as you lay wet and trembling where he’d left you, and you were sure he could read how much you did not want him to go. You’d so desperately wanted him to bid you farewell with a kiss, to tell you he’d be back to you soon, but he’d done none of those things. Had gone quiet and awkward and given you a sharp nod of his head before he was spinning on his heel, cape snapping behind him and throwing himself out into Kashyyyk’s wilderness for his bounty. Why the fuck anyone would choose the Wookie homeworld as a place to hide was beyond you. You think you’d much prefer being caught by the tin can than eaten by one of those overgrown hairballs, but what do you know. 

Well, actually – no, you’re certain you preferred being caught by him. 

I like to be caught.

By me.

By you.

So all you had to do now was sit here and stew with your own thoughts. You wonder if maybe you should plan for what your next move will be after you leave him – but your mind immediately shies away from the possibility of that. No, you think,  you’ll consider that later, in a few days, a few weeks, whenever he finally gets sick of you, which you know will happen sooner rather than later. But despite your recalcitrance to consider the timeline of when this will end, there is no part of you that doesn’t know how this will end. In ruination, surely, come by your hand, him angry or hating you. You just hope you can hold off on your inevitable destruction for a while longer, for you so enjoy being with him.

If you’re being modest and not entirely honest with what you feel, then, yes, you enjoy being here with him, enjoyment verging on something much deeper, more intense. The warmth and comfort you’d found in his ship, even if it was a hunk of junk Razor Crest, being with him, fucking him, having him take care of you, you like this. 

And it is not so much a realization, but a reminder that you’d been unsatisfied with your life thus far. Again, if you were being modest and not entirely honest, then sure, you could call it dissatisfaction.  Dissatisfaction with what you are, what you had been, and you’re angry too. Angry at the things that were done to you, the things you’d endured. You did not deserve to have been treated so. You had not deserved such cruelty, and perhaps, this time here with the Mandalorian, with Din, could be taken as a recompense of sorts. A lovely and wholly unexpected prize, a gift, after all you had endured. You could take this time with him with a grain of salt, a seed of wariness, and try and keep yourself as internally stoic as possible, entirely plausible, sure, and then when the time was right you could part ways and take your losses for what they were. For as good as you are at lying to yourself, you are self aware enough to know that at the end of this it will be a loss, he will be a loss. A worry for a later time, though, you suppose. 

You settle back on your bent arms. 

Dissatisfaction with life… you laugh lightly to yourself. What a silly thing. You’re alive, you’re free. That’s more than enough to be satisfied with. 

But at the same time, you can’t help but wonder at what it is to be a God and a slave all at once? You feel you know both sides of the coin so well – both sides of yourself. And you find yourself dissatisfied and angry at the intimacy of the knowledge you hold. You wish you could wash your hands of both facets of yourself and begin anew.

You wonder if perhaps he could provide the answer to the start of that question. 

-

“What are you doing?” His voice comes, what could be hours or minutes later, and you feel a soft, lazy smile spread across your face. Finally, finally, he’s back, he’s back. 

“What does it look like I’m doing?” you murmur up at him. You think you must have dozed off.

“You shouldn’t be out here in the open – it’s dangerous.” You give a derisive little snort of self assured laughter at that. Dangerous, ha ha, yeah, sure. “Where are your clothes?” So grouchy.

“I’m wearing them, shiny.” You’ve still not opened your eyes, and you listen to the sound of his long suffering sigh, big smile stretched across your face now. 

“Little one–” Your eyes finally blink open to take in the sight of him after four long days – he looms above you, extraordinary and singular, like some warrior of old – a knight or some other silver burning effigy, standing as the face of all that is good and valiant and true. Your pathetic little heart gives a sickly sweet flutter inside your chest. The two of you stare at each other silent and still, caught in each other’s gazes – it’s been four days, four agonizing, interminable days and you’d missed him. You’d traveled with him for such a short time, and already you found yourself in the painful business of missing him. 

He’s got one inescapable hand clamped around the bounty’s arm, an unfortunate Mythrol, whose head whips back and forth between the two of you.  “Aww, there’s no way – No way, man. Is this your girlfriend, Mando?!” The Mythrol practically howls. “There is absolutely no way this hunk of metal got you to bang him.”

“Shut the fuck up. Do not speak to her,” Din’s head snaps away from you to shake the creature roughly, shoving him forward. But the comically unintelligent bounty fails to read the Mandalorian’s angry countenance and digs his heels in.

“I’d decided on a spot of training, but then I got tired and lazy and hot, and now I am resting. I’m sure you’ve heard of it before–” bratty drawl to answer his earlier question.

“The galaxy really does show you new wonders every single day,” the Mythrol goes on unheeded, looking down at you with moon eyes, and you snicker. “Tell me, gorgeous, is his junk at least normal looking? He’s not like … green or something under there is he? Scales? Any strange orifices?”

“You’re literally blue,” Din deadpans.

“Blue is a perfectly respectable color to be.”

“Well, I haven’t gotten a good look at all his orifices yet, but I’ll let you know once I do,” you say coyly, looking up at Din and batting your eyelashes at him.

“You have fucking gills–” and he sounds so comically offended, you can’t help but break out into hysterical giggles. 

“Listen, if he isn’t doing it for you, trust me, I'm getting out of this real soon. I’ll surely take care of you if h–”  And then Din’s huge, balled up fist snaps out to punch the poor bounty in the face, dragging him off towards the Razor Crest, and muttering under his breath about brats and no respect and piece of bantha shit bounties. You make sure your laugh follows him all the way into the hull while you lay your head back on your crossed arms and continue enjoying the warm sun on your face and exposed belly. 

“You’re fucking naked,” he growls a few minutes later, hovering over you menacingly, very aggravatingly blocking out your warm sun.

You open your eyes to look up at him, shading yourself from the glare shining off the curve of his helmet. He’s rid himself of his armor and duraweave and remains only in his flight pants, long sleeved undershirt and helmet, the expanse of his thick neck left naked without his cowl so that you can admire all of that gorgeously tanned skin. “Mandalorian, you’re in your underthings! How scandalous.” He’s got his beskar spear gripped in one hand, and you eye it dubiously.

“You’re naked,” again, cold and clipped.

“So are you.” Maker, just the stance on him is full of sass, hands on his hips, one foot propped out like he’s about to start tapping it at you, on the verge of shaking his finger at the ornery little girl. 

“Shut up, brat. And get up.”

“I think I won’t, actually.” You lay back on your crossed arms and close your eyes again, but he knocks the edge of his boot against your bare ankle, right at the prominence of bone on the side so that you’re yelping unexpectedly and folding your knee up towards your chest to get away from him. “Mean man,” you frown up at him accusingly. 

“Get up. I want to see what you can do – let’s spar.”

The laughing smile you have plastered across your face goes wan and melts away. “You want to do what now?”

“You said you were training – I want to see what you can do.” 

“Well, I don’t want to show you.”

“My mistake, it wasn’t meant to be a request. Get your little ass up.”

“Exactly – I’m too little. I can’t spar with you.” You look up at him with big, pleading eyes, pouting at him. 

“Yes, you can. Get up.”

“I don’t want to spar with you.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t want to hurt you.” And he laughs. He laughs, as if it’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard in his entire life. You scowl at him, bristling with indignation.

“You could never–” You take his legs out from under him with a single crook of your finger so that he’s hitting the ground with a jarring thud, knocking the breath from his lungs unexpectedly. You get to your feet, pinning him there lightly, but so that he’s not able to move even a millimeter. 

“You were saying?” Silence. “Do not mistake me for something I’m not,” you say slowly. “I could hurt you. Easily. I could kill you easily. I have to be conscious of myself and you and all the things around me every day so that I don’t unwittingly cause harm.”

More silence from him, and you panic for a second that you’ve actually gone and accidentally killed him. You fall to your knees at his side, letting go of your hold over him, and he stays still and unmoving, but then says, “I know. I know what you are. I also know that you would never hurt me. Even accidentally. You’d never let yourself.”

“Din,” you whisper, letting your forehead fall to his belly. He brings a hand up to cup the bowl of your skull and softly strokes your hair. He can’t know that. He doesn’t know you well enough to know that, and yet…

“Spar with me. It’ll be fun.”

You groan, rolling your forehead against his stomach in feigned denial. “Fine, you have a fucked up idea of fun, and when I whoop your ass you’re not allowed to be angry with me.” You move to stand,  clasping his hand in yours to pull him up with you. 

He slaps your bottom when he gets to his feet, squeezes just a little bit, “Brat.”

“You are not allowed to grope me when you’re making me do things I don’t want to do,” you say indignantly, turning your nose up at him, “And I want to make this interesting.” You move a few paces away from him, and then spin on the ball of your bare foot back towards him, igniting your saber on the come around. “Let’s switch weapons,” you say with a conniving little smirk. 

“You want me to use your lightsaber?”

“Scared?”

“Fuck off, and give it here.” Oh, he’s funny when he’s grouchy. 

You disengage the plasma beam and toss him the crossguard at the same time that he sends his spear your way. You catch it easily and give it an experimental twirl in your hands – it’s light, nicely balanced, and you give it a figure eight twist in front of you, once, twice, “Not as fancy – but I suppose it’ll do.” You take position, flexing up once on your toes to feel the tight stretch of your calves, a fizzy flutter of excitement in your belly. He’s right, you would never hurt him. A small, terrifying part of you even whispers that you think you’d do harm to yourself before you could ever even think of hurting him.

You can feel a deep hum of satisfaction coming off of him at the sight of you wielding one of his weapons, and he pauses for a beat, admiring you, and then ignites the saber, spinning the blade once in his hand, and then moving towards you on the defensive immediately, without thought. “No powers – just us,” he says, and he brings your lightsaber up above his head, the frame of his heavily muscled arms almost distracting you for a second, and then down upon you with all of his considerable strength. Fast as light, and he’s fucking strong so you feel the reverberation of the weapons meeting in your teeth with how powerful his strike is. 

“Maker– I didn’t think you were going to be a dick about this.” 

“That was your mistake.”

“Oh, you suck,”

“Not quite. But you will be later, trust me.”

“Did you just make a dirty joke?! I didn’t know you were allowed to do that,” you gasp. “This is not the way, Mandalorian,” you intone in a deep voice, imitating his baritone.

You disengage from his lock and spin away from him, twirling the spear above your head in a quick little flourish, hair fanning out around you, and then bringing it down upon him again. He’s fast and strong, but you’re small and sneaky, easily distracting. Your footwork has always been your greatest strength, like a dance and a game and a duel all at once. He parries your blow and steps to the side trying to evade you by going around. You take a light hop further away from him, and then pirouette back again, fast as you can, ready to strike once more, but he’s already there waiting, leaning heavily into your space so that the plasma blade flashes violet and angry, buzzing right up against your face. You feel the heat radiating off of it on your eyelids, and a bead of sweat slides down your temple.

“You’re not getting laid for a week,” you grit through clenched teeth, blowing a fallen piece of fringe out of your eyes. 

“Oh, you’re getting fucked as soon as this is over.” He shoves you back with all his strength, and you stumble over your own feet, giving an outraged little screech as you go ass over tits, and your bottom meets the hard ground. He circles your fallen form, “Get up. I'm not done with you yet, little one.”

Jerk. You spring back up onto the balls of your feet and meet him in a parry of blindingly quick strikes, one after the other after the other. He matches them all without even seeming to strain himself. Your strength is nothing compared to his, and for a second you feel a flash of anger, a memory of being weaker and smaller than everyone around you. He’s not even trying. You growl and spin again, going low, trying to get his legs, but he meets your blow, and then brings one of his hands up to shove you away by the shoulder. He’s never even wielded a fucking lightsaber before and this is how he does – you catch yourself with a supportive tendril of the Force on that one, and bare your teeth at him. 

“You’re stronger than me – this isn’t fair,” you pant.

“You know that isn’t true.” He strikes again, and you block it, barely. “But if it were, you’re tiny. Most people are going to be stronger than you. Tough shit – you can’t always rely on your tricks.”

“My tricks–” Fuck you. You jerk away from him, gasping for breath, sweating, angry at his words and full of reckless defiance. But you take a deep, calming breath and give him a small smile. “Oh, no?” you croon, and lunge at him again at the same time that you snake a ribbon of Force around his striking arm to pull the limb backwards, rendering it motionless and him without protection. He brings his other arm up to block your presumed blow, but you pull the saber from his grasp with your mind instead and knock the side of his spear against the curve of his helmet, loud clang echoing at the same time that you bring one small, bare foot up to the center of his belly and shove him back, sending him sprawling to the ground. How’s that for a trick? “Life isn’t fair, shiny. I'm going to use all the tricks in my book until I'm dead – and even after that, I still might find a way.” You stand over him looking down at the impenetrable dark of his visor. You crook your eyebrow at him, a little shrug of one shoulder, and oh, he’s fucking pissed, you can feel it rolling off of him. 

“I said no powers,” and grunts when you place a small foot on his belly, a conqueror over your felled opponent. 

“Oops.” You see the strain of his arms trying to fight against your restraints, biceps bulging and bunching, and he growls like an animal, like someone about to teach you a particularly savage lesson. You remove your foot from him and take a few, slow steps back from him. Retreating from the beast you’ve just purposefully enraged. “Now, now,” you try, “We were just messing around–” a nervous, hiccuping laugh.

You let him go, and he moves to his feet, long legs unfolding almost in slow motion. “You better fucking run, little girl. You do not want me to get my hands on you right now,” he says slowly.

You don’t need to be told twice, without a second thought you’re throwing both weapons to the ground and spinning on your heel, sprinting away as fast as you possibly can on bare feet. You’re pretty sure he even gives you a few seconds head start before he’s shooting after you. You can hear the pounding sound of his heavy strides over the hard ground, and you pump your arms and legs as fast as you can, making for the tree line far ahead, but there are rocks and small bric-a-brac hidden in the underbrush, and your pace falters, heart thumping painfully fast within the cage of your chest. There's a fine sheen of sweat covering your whole body, and right before his chest makes harsh contact with your back you have the thought that being caught by him is one of the greatest pleasures you’ve ever experienced in your entire life. 

He slams into your back and takes you to the ground, his hand coming up to protect your face, his other arm banding tightly around your waist seeming to press all of the air from your lungs. 

“Should’ve run faster.”

“Maybe I wanted to be caught,” you gasp.

“Oh? Are you sure about that?” You feel him lever himself up above you, and then he’s ripping down your leggings and underwear, the sound of seams popping at the ferocity of his movements, “You want to be my little whore? Want me to fuck you right here under the open sky for the entire galaxy and the Maker to see how I own this cunt?” And lands a stinging, sharp slap to your ass. He grips the meat of your cheek and spreads you wide for his inspection, you feel the probe of his thumb at the tight furl of your ass, then lower to your folds, your leaking entrance, your swollen clit. “Look at you, fucking soaked already, shit. You like being hunted and caught, little one?”

“Only by you,” you moan into the dirt, an echo of your past words to each other, your cheek squished against the grass, you watch the panting huffs of your breath disturb the blades and let him do with you what he will. He’s caught his bounty, he should enjoy the fruits of his spoils now. He presses his thumb inside, sliding it in and out of you slowly, and then unexpectedly slaps you again and you mewl, twisting the soft green blades between your shaking fingers, trying to find purchase, an anchoring, anything to steady your racing heart. You listen to the rustle of his clothes as he frees his cock and finally, finally, you can hear the change in his breath as he takes hold of his hard length. Make me so fucking hard, you hear him mutter. He reaches for your twisted hands then, pulling them behind you, “Hand here, and here–” he sets each palm on either of your cheeks, “Show me that little asshole. I want to see it.” Nasty man, and like the good girl you’re trying to pretend to be, you obey and pull yourself apart for him, presenting all you have to offer, hips lifted in a desperate little arc for him to fuck into you. He presses the wide head of his cock to your fluttering cunt, and starts to push in, stretching you painfully without having made you come before – it hurts to take him like this. Caught and fucked into the dirt, and he pushes in until he’s rooted to the hilt, heavy sac pressed tightly against your backside, and you love it. His strong thighs bracket your own, restrained in your partially shoved down leggings, making the fit all the more snug when he wedges that thick cock inside of you. “Fuck, yes,” he growls and sets a punishing pace. Slamming his hips so hard into your ass you can feel the rebound of your soft flesh in your hands, still holding yourself open, drooling and sobbing into the grass, hair a fallen mess, sticking to the wetness of your tears and spit on your cheeks. He angles his hips down and hammers into your g-spot. Fucking made for me, perfect little cunt, so pretty, you can hear him muttering hoarsely through the modulator behind you over the wet, sucking slide of his cock. He sets a brutal pace that has you going almost cross-eyed, weak little huffs of breath being fucked out of you on every push in so that you can’t even make a sound of pleasure or pain or anything. All you can do is take it. 

He moans an almost agonized sound, feels so fucking good – and oh, it’s too much, the punishing pace, the sound of his pleasure, the painful stretch of his thick cock inside of you, hitting against that ravenous little place, the feel of his desire for you pushing up against the periphery of your mind – he is devastating and life changing, world altering inside of you, and, “Din, Din, please – I’m going to come,” you hitch and cry. 

And he pulls out. Suddenly, painfully, he rips his sliding cock from the wet, fluttering clutch of your pussy on the verge of orgasm, dripping cock smearing wetly against the curve of your ass. “No,” he sits back on his haunches and turns you over roughly, your bare arms and back chafing against the grass and dirt. “Who said you had permission to come?” He rips your leggings down one leg to get at your sex and spreads your thighs wide, right here in the middle of the open field, and then hooks his fingers under your breast band at the space between your tits to pull you up into a sitting position. “Grab my cock,” he orders. “Bad girls don’t get to come.” You wrap your slim fingers around the swollen, slick length of him and start to slide your hand up and down, squeezing to the very root and then back up to the drooling head, ending in a little twist. You look up at the visage of his helmet, if his gaze had a physical manifestation it’d be all over your skin, licking and kissing and sucking. He pushes your breast band down to free the heavy, aching weights of your tits and squeezes them hard so that you’re moaning up at him softly, legs spread around his kneeling form, bare, pulsing cunt leaking into the grass beneath. You can see the skin of his neck where his stubble fades to tan sweaty skin beneath the edge of his helmet, and your teeth ache to bite there. You want to see what sort of sound he’d make if you bit hard enough to draw blood…

He twists your nipples between his fingers, and then switches to softer, soothing passes around your areolas, lifting each breast high to squeeze and then letting them fall to hang and sway heavily. “Too fucking beautiful for your own good,” he says in a low whisper, as if only for himself. Your other hand moves to cup the hanging weight of his balls and you massage them gently, and then twist a little, applying more pressure, eliciting a soft whimper from him. “No,” he grunts suddenly, pressing you belly back into the hard ground, pinning you there despite a whine and dolling out a quick, stinging slap to your spread sex. You cry out, trying to toe him away with one small foot lifted to his shoulder, escape his unforgiving hands, but he digs his fingers into the softness of your thighs and pulls you back towards him, gripping the base of his cock to feed it back into you. “This is your punishment, stop distracting me.” 

He lifts up the hem of his shirt, tucking it beneath his lowered chin so that he can fuck you unobstructed. He hooks his fingers under the fabric of your breast band around your waist and uses it as leverage to pull you onto his impaling cock, fucking up into your cervix painfully, sending you right to the edge of orgasm once again. The sight of his exposed abdomen shifting under the sunlight, sweat sliding down from his chest to the hair trailing from his navel, lower to the thick root of his cock, neatly trimmed, mouth watering – it has your already overwrought cunt pulsing and aching and drooling, clenching down painfully around him. “You are not allowed to come. If you do, I'm going to make it so much worse for you, do you understand me?”

“No, please. Please, Din. I’ll be good. I promise, I’ll be good,” you cry, deepening the arch of your back to open yourself further to him, to feel the jolt of his cock more intensely within you. 

“Too late.” His thrusts speed up, sloppy and unsynchronized, and he growls low in his throat beneath the helmet as he rips himself from you once again and takes his soaked length in hand, fucking his fist furiously until he comes over the gaping slit of your sex, covering your pusling cunt in the searing heat of his milky spend, spurting thickly onto the slope of your belly and your heaving tits. You let out an agonized sob, throwing your arms over your face to hide the sight of your tears from him. Your womb twists painfully, low in your pelvis, the echoes of his brutal fucking still felt in the unsatisfied frenzied fluttering of your muscles. “Bad girls don’t get filled up either.” He gives his slick length one final squeeze, twisting his fist viciously at the angry, red tip to milk out the last final drops of his come. You watch his fist, gripped around himself so tightly, beneath the hood of your wet lashes and crossed arms, and think it must surely hurt him, such a punishing hold on himself – but you also think that, like you, he enjoys a little pain with his pleasure. Or a lot… depending on the day. 

He drops his wet hand to your pulsing sex, smearing the thick viscosity of his semen into your painfully sensitive skin, and then slaps it again and again and again. Three stinging slaps in a row that has you twisting away, trying to escape him. “I want to eat your cunt,” and his voice is nothing but a gasp, “It’s so fucking red and swollen – and it gapes when I slap it.” He hits you again, presses a hand low on your belly to keep you in place and incite the coiled ball of unreleased arousal sitting inside of you, all at once. 

He leans forward, holding himself up over you on one strong arm and grips your jaw tightly, his hand wet and sticky with his come and your own slick, and squeezes your cheeks together, forcing your mouth into a pout and giving your head a little jostle, his hold on you, so tight, you feel the imprinted shape of your teeth on the inside of your cheeks. “What if someone saw you like this, being fucked full of cock? What would you do?” His hand leaves your face to press two thick fingers inside of your poor, abused pussy. 

“Please, no more–” you whisper, you can’t take anymore. 

“Quit. As much as I say – it’s mine. Isn’t it? It belongs to me.” You have to nod, you have no other choice, you must tell the truth right now, and then answering his first question: “Nothing. I don't care. What would you do?” And despite your protestations, you wrap both your hands around his thick wrist to leverage yourself against him and begin to ride his hand, fucking yourself on his fingers crooked inside of you.

“Kill them. You’re only mine to see like this– fucking mine,” but he pulls his fingers from you, again. You give a little undignified screech, feeling the overwhelming sensation of your opening clenching hungrily around nothing, and he sits back on his haunches again, taking himself away from you, and tucks his still wet, still semi-hard cock back behind the plaque of his trousers. He takes several deep breaths, the wings of his rib cage expanding so wide on the exhale you worry for a second he’d take flight, escape you, go somewhere where you could not reach him. 

“You’re so mean,” you mewl up at him, tears streaming across your cheeks and backwards, down your temples into your hair – making your already sweat damp hairline even wetter. Your whole body feels wet and trembling and raw. You move to press your knees closed, but he grips you around the ankle still wearing your leggings and pulls them off of you entirely. 

“I know,” he says, “Poor, little girl,” cooed at you, a little mean, a little condescending, his voice so soft and smokey and deep. “Perhaps, this’ll teach you what happens to bad girls who don’t follow the rules.” He pulls you by the wrist to sit up and curls to press his shoulder into the soft of your belly, unfolding from the ground all the way to standing, with the entirety of your weight slung over his shoulder, just by the pure strength of him. He turns back towards the ship and slaps your ass as he walks, right at the apex of your thighs so that you feel the rebound of it in your cunt. Tears drip down your upside down face while your arms hang limply down towards the ground, your head bobbing along limply with his gait, wild, loose hair swinging, entirely overwhelmed and conquered – just like he’d wanted you. 

And after everything, even without an orgasm, it’s really not so bad. 

-

He hauls your ass back to the ship without even seeming to lose his breath, carrying your weight easily over his shoulder. He’s so strong, and it makes you even wetter for him, if possible. Making his way up the ramp, he hits the button to disengage and shut it behind the two of you once you’re inside, and deposits your limp, trembling form onto your nest of blankets. A murmured: “I’m going to get us in the air,” and then he’s climbing up into the cockpit. You think you must fall asleep or go so delirious from the cramping deep in your belly that you lose consciousness for what seems like seconds or possibly hours later he’s back and spreading your legs again, you mumble something incoherently that sounds like his name or a plea for mercy or his cock, and then his unmodulated voice sounds, “Don’t open your eyes, little one.” You think you nod your head or give some sort of a reply of confirmation, but you can’t be sure. Your body feels so far removed from you, sun drunk and cock drunk and Din drunk. He shoves the breadth of his wide, naked shoulders between your thighs and hooks both thumbs at your soft outer lips to spread you wide and spits directly onto your swollen clit and blushed, fluttering hole. You moan and writhe, bringing your hands up to your face to dig the heels of your palms harshly into your sockets, sliding the tips of your fingers through your hairline to pull at the strands. He starts off light, whisper soft, the tip of his tongue tracing figure eights over your clit, and then further down to flutter lightly at the  mouth of your cunt. You’re sex is drenched in his own come, and he doesn’t seem to give a single fuck, tasting himself on your own skin and groaning at your combined flavors. He moves back up to your clit and sucks it into his mouth hard. Your back arches in an almost painful bend, bringing your knees up as far back as you can to your shoulders, hands hooked beneath the sweaty bend of your joints to hold yourself open for him.

“Are you going to be bad again?” he murmurs into your cunt.

“Yes–” irrationally, recklessly defiant.

“Good. I’d expect nothing less.” He licks a long, wet swipe through your slit, further down to taste your ass, his tongue applying pressure to the sensitive rosebud, then back up to your pussy, licking into you with the strong muscle of his tongue. You can feel him rutting into the blanketed floor. 

“Are you hard again already?” voice ragged, you want to know, you want it in your mouth.

“Fuck yes, I’m hard. I’m always hard for you. Most perfect little cunt in the entire galaxy,” and he literally slurps at your folds, wet and lewd and entirely obscene. You writhe on the blankets, one foot pressed to the thick mass of his muscular shoulder trying to push him away and rock yourself against his face all at the same time. He moves to kneel over you and grips your other leg open under the bend of your knee. “Never want you to fucking behave,” he presses two thick fingers inside of you, hooked against that spongey spot at the front of your cunt, thumb on your clit, and sets a quick fire pace, tugging your orgasm forward, jostling his fingers inside of you. “Means I get to do this to you as many times as I want,” he grits. “Get this fucking cunt wet for me, little girl.” He shoves a third finger inside of you, hooks his fingers against your g-spot again and presses down on your lower belly with his other hand, and rubs fast and hard inside of you. You whine high pitched, an animal sound, writhing in the nest of blankets, twisting them in your hands to press your face to them. He quickens his pace, his whole hand shaking within you, and then wrenches it from your cunt and you feel yourself gush onto the waiting blankets and his spread thighs. 

He moans a savage sound, “Yes, yes – fucking again,” and he pushes those three fingers back into your gaping hole, the palm on your belly giving a slow soothing circular stroke to settle you, and you think you must surely want to beg for no more, please, no more, but you cannot. He pauses for a second, and you listen to the sound of his heavy panting breaths over the sound of your own echoing heart in your ears. His palm is so big and warm on your abdomen, and it soothes you for a second, your limbs full of fired lightning. He pets softly at your g-spot, and then quakes his hand again, palm on your belly pushing down to apply pressure from the outside. It feels like there’s plasma melting down your spine, and your vision behind your closed lids bends and flashes blinding white. Again, it’s going to happen again – he rips his hand from you, and you gush once again, soaking wet. Yes, yes, yes, he’s chanting, sounding half delirious, nonsensical, and then his mouth is at your cunt again, drinking up all the slick wetness you’ve just made for him.

Mine, all mine, look at all this – made it all for me, didn’t you, gorgeous thing. 

He laps at you gently until he’s gotten all of it, every last drop of your come and slick and sweat. Your entire frame shakes and jolts with aftershocks, trembling and sweating and crying. Heart beating an overwhelmed symphony within your chest to the tune of his name. This is not like anything else, you think. This is something to venerate and fear equally, you think. You feel afraid. He mouths gently at the raw skin of your inner thighs, pressing slow kisses to your mound, up the slope of your belly, over the trembling hills of your breasts, up finally all the way to your mouth where he licks into you wet and hot. There’s a desperately hungry energy to him, ready to shove into your cunt and fuck you again. You feel the drooling tip of his heavily hanging cock bob against your belly, and he makes a soft sound, low in his throat, but pulls back, humming contemplatively. 

“Let’s take a shower,” he murmurs between kisses, “You’re filthy,” the soft sound of his self satisfied huff of laughter. He presses one last kiss to your mouth then gets to his feet with a soft groan, the hollow sounding pop of his knees, and you listen to him move into the fresher, starting the water and shuffling about. You’re beyond words, vaguely painful aftershocks seizing your throat and muscles, and you can’t open your eyes, you won’t. He’s walking around with so much trust, moving about the hull into the softly lit fresher helmetless and entirely vulnerable. He trusts you, and you don’t think you’ve ever been able to say that, ever been able to claim the trust of another person. Never. You need to protect this at all costs, guard it fiercely and nurture it as you would a fragile and delicate sapling. 

He returns to your side after a moment, wrapping his hands around you. Your limbs have been rendered limp and useless, entirely pliable for his strong hands to pull you up into his embrace, and you feel like water in his arms as he carries you into the warm spray of the fresher, submerged in his touch and his smell, your mind murky and floating with your eyes still closed. He shuts off the lights as he passes, sinking the two of you into a deep darkness once again and sets you on your feet, shaky, weak knees knocking together, coltish and frail. 

The spray of the water is warm and sets about a cloud of humidity around the two of you. You reach up to twist your arms around his strong neck, fingers twisting in the damp curls at the nape of his neck, and his roving hands slide along your limbs and curves, water slick and lust frenzied, but still slow, categorizing, exploring. He feels you, grips your soft flesh in his big hands, the rough calluses on his palms catching at your sensitive skin, his fingers pressing along your arms, gripping the joints of your elbows between his fingers, up to your wrists clasped behind his neck. He brings one hand down to his face to press a long kiss to the center of your palm, then presses your splayed palm to his cheek, nuzzles against you like an overly large cat. “I love how this feels,” he whispers low. You think you must have lost your voice, spit it out in the field where he’d fucked you and left it there, forgotten, but you press your face up into the warm spot beneath his jaw, mouthing slowly there at his burning hot skin. He tastes like the sun, like earth and life and all the goodness you’d never before had the chance to taste, and you want to drink him down, take a bite and swallow him, let him settle down, deep and heavy in your belly where you’d keep him always. Your heart gives a heavy thump of fear, but then his other hand is there, sliding down the arch of your spine and gripping your ass to press you into the long line of his erection. “Are you ready for my cock again, little one?” And his words return your mind to the slow cramping, deep in your pelvis. The hungry clench of your cunt and the shivers zipping down the lines of your muscles. 

Yes, please, you think you whisper, and you must, for he lifts one of your thighs, hooking it around his hip and bending his knees slightly to press the head of his cock to the slick mouth of your cunt, and then he’s surging up and sliding deep inside you, gripping your other thigh as he goes to lift you high up into his arms and settle himself deep into your belly, to what feels like the very end of you, knees hooked over the bends of his elbows. It feels like he presses all the way to the heart of you, your very heart, your very heart, he has it in his clutch. That heart you’d for so long feared had been taken from you, swallowed and destroyed. You moan softly into his open mouth and he swallows down your sounds, tastes the inside of your mouth with his tongue, grips and kneads all the soft contours that make you up – that softness that still makes up the hard creature that they’d tried to force you into. He feels it, takes it in his hands. 

You run your hands along him as well. The hard lines of him to juxtapose your own softness. His broad shoulders, muscled and strong and endless, seemingly wide enough to hold up the weight of the galaxy. The thick bulge of his biceps, the strength of his chest, the flat expanse of his abdomen that gently turns to softness lower down. The thick root of his cock fucking up into you. You softly circle your hand there, feeling the slide of him thrusting into you, pressing into the swollen bud of your clit. You can feel your orgasm churning like molten ore in your pelvis, the base of your spine. You’re both scarred all over, mottled in the painful history of your individual pasts, and he has scars on his hands, covered in them, for some reason these hurt you more than any you’ve ever endured on your own body. Such strong, capable, gentle hands – you pull them to your mouth one by one and kiss each and every one of them. 

He grips your ass to pull you onto his impaling cock harder, bends his knees to deepen the angle inside of you and you keen and mewl weakly for him, a supplication in the shape of his name, shared here in this warm darkness he’s pulled you into with him, and you think of the dark and of the opposition of light. Of being alone and together and here with him, afraid and protected and how the darkness had never seemed anything more than a cruel and suffocating mantle meant to only ever subjugate and enslave you, and how here, with him now, with him inside of you and held in his arms it feels like nothing more than protection. A safe place to cast away your fear. “Are you going to come for me, cyar’ika?” he murmurs into the lush of your breasts, sucking your nipple into his mouth and biting down gently. 

Cyar’ika, Cyar’ika, Cyar’ika.

My good girl, taking me so well.

And no one had ever baptized you with a veneration such as that. No one had ever called to you in gentleness or care, and so you do. You come for him at the sound of it, at the feel of the wide head of his cock kissing your womb on every press inside, the grip of his hands, possessive and hard and gentle and coaxing and inescapable, all at the same time. It’s like he’s all the things in the world that a man could ever be, and you give him your pleasure, and he returns it in kind, filling you with the heat of his spend, coating your insides with himself. Sweet and full of heart, just like he’d said.

Chapter V

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

Updates Blog

#TCC fic #din djarin #the mandalorian #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin x female reader #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin smut #the mandalorian smut #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin imagine #star wars fanfiction

[sarahscribbles]

16 and 63 for the request thing. (Maybe 20 too)

Purple and Red

[DRABBLE]

Prompt: "I won't apologise for marking you up, everyone should know you're taken." (I changed this a little to "everyone should know you're mine."

Genre: Smut, fluff

Loki x f!reader

Word count: 1011

Loki Masterlist

Lavender. 

The heady, sweet scent of it drifting in on a gentle breeze from the gardens greeted you when you emerged from the depths of sleep. In the distance, the faint echoing clang of swords from the training ground told you it was late morning; much later than you usually permitted yourself to sleep. Yet, you were in no hurry to wriggle free from the green silk cocoon you were entrapped in. Hours had passed, albeit only a few, but the drunken feeling of satisfaction still lingered like a summer evening. Stretching luxuriously within the rich green sheets, you embraced the pleasant ache that had settled over your limbs; a sweet reminder of the night before and how Loki had pulled orgasm after orgasm from your shaking body. 

“You take my cock so well, my darling. Look at how your pretty cunt swallows every inch of me,” he had praised, pushing your legs obscenely wide while he drove you towards your fourth release of the night. 

Weakly, you had attempted to protest. Your arms locked around his strong shoulders threatened to go limp, and the connection between your brain and mouth was decidedly lost. “Loki…can’t…I can’t,” you whimpered, your pleas sounding half hearted even to your own ears. 

He began to circle your clit faster and firmer, began to slam into you harder, eliciting a wanton moan from your mouth as you arched into him. He took the opportunity to slide his arm under your back, cradling you closer to him while he ruined you. 

“My good girl, yes you can,” he purred into your ear. “Once more for me. Let me hear you scream my name once more.” 

The final orgasm he ripped from you had you thanking the Norns he had cast a silencing charm over your chambers. His name left your mouth in a scream to the Heavens; yours fell from his like an ancient prayer of salvation. 

In the wake of your release you lay beneath him feeling boneless. Your body ached in the most satisfying way and you knew you’d be feeling the beautiful aftermath of his attentions for the remainder of the week. 

You had brought it on yourself, really. You loved to tease him as much as he loved to tease you. In this instance it had been about the pretended attentions of a new guard to your service, teasing him senseless about how Kadir could potentially sway your affections away. If the end result was a night that still had you tingling the next morning, you made a note to do it more often, even if it meant waking to an empty bed. 

The sheets on Loki’s side of the bed were cool and rumpled, but the soft sound of running water assured you he hadn’t gone far. With a million more thoughts about how to provoke him into angry morning sex, you made to join him in the shower, already aflame with the thought of his hands on your skin and his cock teasing into you. 

Until you caught sight of yourself in the huge gilded mirror that sat lazily against the chamber wall. 

Purple and red painted your body in a myriad of marks that hadn’t been there the morning before. Tiny little bruises peppered your inner thighs as a reminder of where Loki’s mouth had been only hours before, bruises that became angrier and more evident when your eyes trailed over your stomach, following the mismatched pathwork of marks up over your breasts and collarbone all the way to your neck. 

His possessiveness had overtaken him and he had decorated your entire body with his marks, leaving you, or anyone else, with no doubt as to who you belonged to. 

You were so lost in examining the endless marks on your skin, more prominent and numerous than any he had left before, that you didn’t notice the sudden silence from the bathroom adjacent, nor did you catch the soft padding of Loki’s footsteps across the stone floor. You weren’t even aware of his presence in the chamber until his arms wrapped firmly around your waist from behind. 

“Morning, dove,” he said softly, his nose buried in your hair. You could feel the ends of his damp curls lightly tickling over your bare shoulders.  

“Look at me,” you replied, your eyes raking over your painted naked body enveloped securely in his arms. 

“Mmm.” Loki hummed in your ear, his grip tightening around your middle. “I know, you’re exquisite.” 

An embarrassed puff of air left your lips, accompanied by a faint heat rising to your cheeks. “Loki, we have to attend Court this morning!” you whined. It was half hearted, he likely knew that; he knew how much you adored when he marked you. 

He laughed softly, resting his chin atop your head. “I won’t apologise for marking you up, my love. Everyone should know you’re mine.” His eyes glinted playfully when they met yours in the mirror. 

You cocked an eyebrow at his reflection. “The entire nobility will be there,” you said plainly. 

A wicked grin spread across his face. “Then wear something low, won’t you? I want everyone to see my marks painted on you.” As if to prove a point, he lowered his mouth to your neck to suck another bruise into your skin. 

You shivered in his arms, aroused beyond measure at his suggestion. Resting your head back against his shoulder, you caught his eyes again, a mischievous smile of your own tugging at your lips. “Only if you promise to fill in the spaces you missed last night after Court, my prince.” 

Against your backside, you felt the hardening length of him press into you. “I do love that filthy mind of yours, dear heart.” Before you could protest, he was scooping you effortlessly into his arms, pulling a startled squeak from your lips. “But I’m afraid I can’t wait that long.” 

Your back hit the tangle of emerald sheets once more, legs spreading easily to accommodate him between them. 

You were his. Completely and utterly his.

Tags: @cake-writes @sineads-art @maevetriesart @lovelysizzlingbluebird @drdaddystrange @thedistractedagglomeration @joyful-enchantress @amethyst-dow @sailorholly @hyperfixating-on-loki @woahitslucyylu @trickster-maiden @high-functioning-lokipath @mochie85 @vickie5446

#loki #loki x reader #loki smut #loki laufeyson #loki imagine #i might write the rest of the requested numbers idk yet #and i also don't know if I've tagged everyone that's asked to be tagged #sorry

[idiotwithanipad]

'Alive' Robin headcanons because I can't accept the fact that he died so young🥺

GENERAL HC's

・ He looked exactly like his father... Except for his eyes, those are a spitting image of his mother's 

・ I feel like Robin would notice one of his many fleas fall off/jump off of him, then he'd have a mini panic attack, ask it if it's alright and then put it straight back in his hair/beard/furs😂

・ Saw a shooting star for the first time as an adult and cried

・When the tribe was annoyed that they were too slow to catch a stag one day, he got up onto a big rock and mocked all of them for being too slow... He got a black eye

・Preferred spending time with the women of the tribe because they weren't as bossy

・ Because of this he was probably quite a catch for the women in the tribe. Yes he was accident prone and absentminded sometimes but he had a big heart🥰

・ He was one of the tribe's tool-makers

・ He only hunted small to medium sized prey. Prehistoric humans, especially Neanderthals, we're group hunters. So if Robin were to ever catch large animals, he'd be with most of the tribe

・The furs he wears would be at least 2-3 'sizes' too big for him. Since they weren't originally his (RIP Hat) as evidenced by this here gap🫣

(don't ask me how I stumbled across this, I wasn't looking or anything. Purely research purposes👀)

DAD ROBIN

・He was most likely a teenager (13-16) when his first baby was born

・ Has had at least 2 sets of twins

・The 'firm but fair' dad❤️

・Had more girls than boys bc I said so, okay?🥺

・ Speaking of girls, if the tribe knew the names of flowers back then, you can BET he'd want to name his daughters after them. Like Lily, or Daisy, or Poppy🥹

・ Sons on the other hand, I feel like he'd wanna give them warrior names. Like 'Rock', cause 'son strong tough boy' 🥹 

・ He became the tribe's designated babysitter cause he was so good with kids

・ Tribe Member: Where all masculine men? 

       Robin inside the cave wearing a twig tiara and an assortment of flowers in his hair surrounded by all his daughters: WE HAVING PRINCESS PARTYYYY! 

・ If any of his children get cold at night and they huddle up to him for warmth, he's dropping his baggy furs around them and pulling then closer to keep them warm🥹

・Teaches newly weaned toddlers how to chew their food by demonstrating... The rest of the tribe is staring in disgust and mild despair

・Holds the kid's hands during the tribe's annual Moonah Ston ritual so that they don't trip over or get stepped on by the idiots that drank too much puddle water beforehand

・Getting proud as hell if any of his kids paints on the cave walls

・Feels a little part of himself shrivel up and die every time one of his kids needs new furs because it means their getting bigger, which means their getting older

・If any of his kids start play fighting/wrestling, he's either trying to break it up or he's the referee... There's no in between 

#bbc ghosts #robin the caveman #larry rickard

[liamtheshark7]

BBC Ghosts episode ranking

By Liam

Season 1

My favourites (Personal opinion)

1st: Happy death day (third episode) 2nd: Free pass (forth episode) 3rd: Who do you think you are? (Pilot) 4th: Gorilla war (second episode) 5th: Moonah ston (fifth episode) 6th: Getting out (sixth episode)

IMDB Rankings

1st: Moonah Ston (7.9) Joined 2nd: Happy death day, Free pass, Getting out (7.8) 3rd: Gorilla war (7.7) 4th: Who do you think you are? (7.4)

Best ones (My opinion)

1st: Happy death day 2nd: Moonah ston 3rd: Who do you think you are? 4th: Free pass 5th: Gorilla war 6th: Getting out

(5th and 6th can be swapped)

Why?

My Favourites (personal opinion)

1st: Happy death day: I just really love this episode I do think it’s one of the best but pats storyline was very nice it’s very cool to see a ghost with family that is still alive and visits it was sweet I was happy for him with his son I also think this episode is funny I found it funny Alison talking to the ghosts and terry thinking she was talking to him and being confused i loved bits like “WATCH OUT!!!!…..for the sugar terry?.. that’s to many” actually though that is a lot of sugar four?! Four?! for one cup of tea it must be so sweet can you even taste the tea but yeah, mainly Pats story line is what got it first place but also with the builders was funny. I also love the Kylie Mynoige thing and the captain and Julian’s friendship.

2nd: Free Pass: I like this episode because it’s something new and cool for the ghosts to do like Mary and Pat looking at the camera thing and the captain pretending to be the manager they are all so bored I feel bad I want them to have something to do it was a funny episode but they did stick with the same ish joke the whole way but still Thomas was funny in this episode very dramatic Mike also what was he doing strange man “why is that?” He kept saying the guy Toby nightingale ? I think is his name he was strange captain was being queer as always can’t think of a better way to say that there’s a lot going on in the episode so it’s not boring but not one of them best just entertaining one and this section is for opinion so it’s fine

3rd: Who do you think you are?: I think this is one of the best pilot episodes I ever seen uselly I don’t like rewatching pilots because they can be a bit boring but this one was really good they introduced the characters well and I just liked it I know all the words

4th: Gorilla war: this one is more continue on from the last one but I also really liked this I think the plague ghosts where very funny and one scene that was brilliant is where Alison gose to the hospital and the docter is a ghosts that was great same thing really as why I liked the pilot it’s also one of the funniest episode I think that’s whole scene where Mike is singing and drilling holes in the wall and fanny was sleeping and then there’s a whole and kitty is peaking through the hole was good and I really loved the plague ghosts

5th: Moonah Ston: I liked moonah Ston arguably it’s a very good episode but it’s just gets older I think then the other ones like I can’t watch it over and over well I can I do I just get a bit tired of it but the friends thing was great and Robin with the moonah was nice I love him so it’s nice to have an episode focused on him

6th: I don’t know why but this episode I did not love it as much as the rest it sort of just one story all the way through and it was filmed or directed different ?!? Maybe it seemed so different but it was still good because it’s ghosts and there where funny bits poor Mike trying to get rid of the goose berry’s and I felt bad for the captain but also it was funny. He did not make much sense in the episode he was trying to get rid of Mike and Alison but then made them stay? It was strange

I don’t know why IMDB people voted like that

Why? (Best ones (my opinion))

1st: Happy death day: still this was a great episode Pats story was really nice and it was funny it was a great 3rd episode because it probably connects you to the characters soon into the show the Kylie mynoige scene was great and Robin is very wise the character are all done very well in this episode and there relationships with each other.

2nd: Moonah ston: It’s a great episode the scene where they are all out on the couch is great like friends I love Alison asking Mary also “what do posh people wear?” And she says “Crowns?” I loved Mary’s involvement in this episode actually she was good poor Robin they all ditched Moonah ston ceremony for friends but then ending was nice and was a nice moment all together it was also smart with Barclay and the Fiji account I was wondering how Mike and Allison would get out of that mess though over all good episode with some very nice moments

3rd: Who do you think you are?: I just think it’s really good considering it’s a pilot one of the best pilot episode I have ever seen characters and plot was introduced well and it was not boring at all to rewatch so it gets points for that.

4th: Free pass: don’t know I really like it I just think the other ones should go first this section is not for my opinion well it is but it’s different

5th: Gorrila war: is great I don’t know why I put it here but the reasoning for the others makes them better I think

6th: Getting out: I don’t know it just not a lot happened it was a bit confusing the captains change but still a very good episode it’s hard to rank them because I like them all

Considering all that

1st: Moonah ston 2nd: Happy death day 3rd: Free pass 4th: Gorilla war 5th: Who do you think you are? 6th: Getting out

I’ll do next seasons then over all Aswell 👍🦈

#bbc ghosts #mary bbc ghosts #the captain #bbc ghosts humphrey #bbc ghosts captain #bbc ghosts julian #bbc ghosts kitty

[robins-decades-challenge]

Brindleton Bay, 1878

Poor Grace was bullied nearly every day by some of the girls of the orphanage. They'd insult her appearance, her background, her voice, her clothes, her personality - every aspect of her entire life. Grace did her best to stay strong, but no matter how hard she tried, she broke down in tears every time.

After the girls would inevitably finally have enough and trot away in a herd, laughing at the girl's pathetic reaction and continuing to make fun of her behind her back, Grace would retreat to the one place she truly felt safe - her and Hugh's hideout behind the bushes.

Of course, she would never tell Hugh about what was happening. She feared his reaction; she knew how protective he was of her, and feared he'd do something drastic. She was usually able to calm herself down and dry her tears before he wandered into the hideout looking for her; however, one day, he came looking for her earlier than expected.

Grace was quietly crying as she sat against the brick wall; however, upon Hugh's cheerful shout of "Grace! You in here?" she did her best to dry her face and put on a smile.

"There you are!" he chirped, cheerfully strolling toward her.

"H-Hi, Hugh," she stammered, trying to keep the quiver out of her voice but failing.

The boy's smile instantly faded. "Grace... what's wrong? You can talk to me, y'know. Did... Did someone make fun of ya? I swear to God, if it was James, I-I'll -"

"N-No! No, it wasn't James, d-don't worry," she quickly interjected, but instantly regretted her wording. Now she had basically just confirmed that she was getting bullied...

"Then who was it?! Tell me, and I'll -"

"N-No, Hugh, stop!" Grace jumped to her feet and tried to convince him that she was fine - but, something about the quick movement only caused the floodgates to crack further, and before she knew it, she was breaking down in sobs again.

Pure rage suddenly replaced the blood in Hugh's veins. He crossed his arms, begining to tremble with anger. "Who was it?" he asked quietly.

Defeated, Grace finally, shakily, told him the names of the girls who had been torturing her for the past several months. "M... Mabel Locke... Lilah Langs-ston... a-and... L-Lucille Smallwood. M-Mostly Lucille..."

"All right," Hugh seethed, taking a step back. "Don't worry, Grace. I'll take care of it." He had never been more determined in his life - he was going to exact his revenge on the witches who had hurt his best friend, if it was the last thing he did.

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#the sims 4 #the sims #decades challenge #ts4 #ts4 legacy #ts4 gameplay #ts4 screenshots #ts4 historical #sims 4 #sims historical #victorian #1800s #1870s #sims 4 legacy #sims 4 decades challenge #the sims story #simblr #ts4 simblr #ts4 simbrl

[not-yet-usernamed]

literally loosibg it rn . liter ally going off rhe walls /silly /pos - ston

that laytotn sure can professor

[autolovecraft]

And within the depths of the past, but I too am old.

And in trees that grow gigantic in crumbling courtyards leap little apes, while in and out of deep treasure-vaults writhe poison serpents and scaly things without a name. For all time did their builders erect them, and mighty were the walls from which they fell. For all time did their builders erect them, and in sooth they yet serve nobly, for they were but of the moment. In.

These beings of yesterday were called Man. And the Daemon of the valley of Nis the accursed waning moon shines thinly, tearing a path for its light with feeble horns through the lethal foliage of a great upas-tree. Tell me the deeds and aspect and name of them who built these things of Stone.

Tell me the deeds and aspect and name of them who built these things of Stone. Vast are the stones of ruined palaces, twining tightly about broken columns and strange monoliths, and in sooth they yet serve nobly, for beneath them the gray toad makes his habitation.

Tell me the deeds and aspect and name of them who built these things of Stone. These beings of yesterday were called Man. Their name I recall dimly, it was like to that of the valley lies the river Than, whose waters are red, nor whither they are bound. The Genie that haunts the moonbeams spake to the Daemon replied, I am Memory, and mighty were the walls from which they fell. And the Daemon of the little apes in the trees. Rank is the herbage on each slope, where evil vines and creeping plants crawl amidst the stones of ruined palaces, twining tightly about broken columns and strange monoliths, and mighty were the walls from which they fell. Rank is the herbage on each slope, where the light reaches not, move forms not meant to be beheld. Rank is the herbage on each slope, where the light reaches not, for it rhymed with that of the river. Tell me the deeds and aspect and name of them who built these things of Stone. At the very bottom of the valley lies the river Than, whose waters are slimy and filled with weeds. For all time did their builders erect them, and forget much. Rank is the herbage on each slope, where evil vines and creeping plants crawl amidst the stones of ruined palaces, twining tightly about broken columns and strange monoliths, and the Daemon of the river Than, whose waters are slimy and filled with weeds. Rank is the herbage on each slope, where evil vines and creeping plants crawl amidst the stones of ruined palaces, twining tightly about broken columns and strange monoliths, and to subterranean grottoes it flows, so that the Daemon replied, I am Memory, and mighty were the walls from which they fell. Vast are the stones of ruined palaces, twining tightly about broken columns and strange monoliths, and in sooth they yet serve nobly, for they were but of the river Than, not to be understood.

In. The Genie that haunts the moonbeams spake to the thin horned moon, and mighty were the walls from which they fell.

Rank is the herbage on each slope, where evil vines and creeping plants crawl amidst the stones of ruined palaces, twining tightly about broken columns and strange monoliths, and to subterranean grottoes it flows, so that the Daemon of the Valley knows not why its waters are slimy and filled with weeds. These beings were like the waters of the past, but I too am old. The Genie that haunts the moonbeams spake to the Daemon of the river. From hidden springs it rises, and mighty were the walls from which they fell. Vast are the stones which sleep beneath coverlets of dank moss, and am wise in lore of the valley of Nis the accursed waning moon shines thinly, tearing a path for its light with feeble horns through the lethal foliage of a great upas-tree. These beings of yesterday were called Man. In.

Rank is the herbage on each slope, where evil vines and creeping plants crawl amidst the stones of ruined palaces, twining tightly about broken columns and strange monoliths, and mighty were the walls from which they fell. Vast are the stones of ruined palaces, twining tightly about broken columns and strange monoliths, and heaving up marble pavements laid by forgotten hands.

These beings were like the waters of the Valley, saying, I am old, and heaving up marble pavements laid by forgotten hands. And the Daemon of the little apes in the trees.

At the very bottom of the past, but I too am old, and heaving up marble pavements laid by forgotten hands. So the Genie flew back to the Daemon looked intently at a little ape in a tree that grew in a tree that grew in a crumbling courtyard. Tell me the deeds and aspect and name of them who built these things of Stone.

For all time did their builders erect them, and the Daemon looked intently at a little ape in a crumbling courtyard.

From hidden springs it rises, and the Daemon replied, I am Memory, and mighty were the walls from which they fell.

Rank is the herbage on each slope, where evil vines and creeping plants crawl amidst the stones of ruined palaces, twining tightly about broken columns and strange monoliths, and mighty were the walls from which they fell. So the Genie flew back to the thin horned moon, and the Daemon of the past, but I too am old. Their name I recall clearly, for it rhymed with that of the valley, where evil vines and creeping plants crawl amidst the stones of ruined palaces, twining tightly about broken columns and strange monoliths, and to subterranean grottoes it flows, so that the Daemon of the river Than, whose waters are slimy and filled with weeds. Rank is the herbage on each slope, where the light reaches not, for it rhymed with that of the valley, where the light reaches not, move forms not meant to be beheld. Rank is the herbage on each slope, where evil vines and creeping plants crawl amidst the stones which sleep beneath coverlets of dank moss, and heaving up marble pavements laid by forgotten hands. And within the depths of the Valley, saying, I am Memory, and am wise in lore of the river. The Genie that haunts the moonbeams spake to the Daemon replied, I am Memory, and in sooth they yet serve nobly, for they were but of the little apes in the trees. Their deeds I recall dimly, it was like to that of the river Than, whose waters are slimy and filled with weeds. Tell me the deeds and aspect and name of them who built these things of Stone. For all time did their builders erect them, and in sooth they yet serve nobly, for it rhymed with that of the valley, where evil vines and creeping plants crawl amidst the stones of ruined palaces, twining tightly about broken columns and strange monoliths, and heaving up marble pavements laid by forgotten hands. From hidden springs it rises, and the Daemon replied, I am old. Vast are the stones which sleep beneath coverlets of dank moss, and mighty were the walls from which they fell.

So the Genie flew back to the thin horned moon, and heaving up marble pavements laid by forgotten hands. Vast are the stones of ruined palaces, twining tightly about broken columns and strange monoliths, and mighty were the walls from which they fell.

Rank is the herbage on each slope, where evil vines and creeping plants crawl amidst the stones of ruined palaces, twining tightly about broken columns and strange monoliths, and the Daemon replied, I am Memory, and to subterranean grottoes it flows, so that the Daemon looked intently at a little ape in a tree that grew in a crumbling courtyard.

Their name I recall dimly, it was like to that of the Valley, saying, I am old, and forget much. At the very bottom of the little apes in the trees. In. From hidden springs it rises, and am wise in lore of the river Than, whose waters are slimy and filled with weeds.

[stonpoet-thestoneddisciple]

STON POET - BACK WAS ON THE WALL

/ Back was on the wall 

Failing thats a naw

Gotta stand tall

Never be a fraud / *2

Doing this for yall

Fuck em , We gone ball

Higher than a jet , Smoking  on the best

Got a dream don't  quit , You could be up next

Boflex , watch me flex

Songs always complex

Came from the projects 

Hope My hard work reflects 

Putting them  in check  

Up & I can't  rest

/ Back was on the wall 

Failing thats a naw

Gotta stand tall

Never be a fraud / *2

My life was a wreck 

Was sinking like a ship

Powerful & Dangerous , Bitch yeah been a threat

Not no terrorist  

But dropping bombs , Yeah hits

Blood & sweat  & tears

Keep it positive

[legitedigiulia]

Old style yellow Ston, Coratia

march 2023

If you happen to be around Dubrovnik, at about 1 hour away, you should pay a visit to this small jam town called Ston. 

Famous for its long walls and oysters. 

People are just welcoming and incredibly nice with everyone, chilled and knowledgeable of the area. We loved every bit of the visit, the walk, the food, the colors, the history, the people, the vibe and the local party at the local bar with tons of spirits and traditional music at the end of the day!

Check out a bit of history of Ston on this link

"The Town Walls

As mentioned, the town walls are perhaps what this little town is best known for – and rightfully so. The walls are much longer than those of its more famous neighbour, Dubrovnik, at 5km in length. This makes them the longest defensive structure in Europe; they are sometimes referred to as the ‘European Walls of China”."

#original photography #landscape #walking #visit croatia #visit ston #ston croatia #discovering croatia #travelling #historical town #hisotry #vintage #vintage car #holiday #summer holiday #oysters #croatian oysters

[wpdariacutnes]

🐟🧤🐟🧤🐟🧤🐟🧤🐟🧤🐟🧤🐟🧤🐟🧤🐟🧤

Me: and more price oc out so okey like canda fine but fik a canon bit same okey a more kalia a enifing twins copy K:::

Like me finks more fik a canon is kalia a enifing copy K

Because here out enifing knows a copy K mean dublick like enifing doing nils hibrity and code same but enifing dublick sowing like ruby ston a glue it so dys mean a little cofuze but enifing knows a olders dys a knows what chraing do

🐟🧤🐟🧤🐟🧤🐟🧤🐟🧤🐟🧤🐟🧤🐟🧤🐟🧤

me: ok, I'll start by saying that it's difficult not to talk about this solo lord story eskuze

because it's not like stella died she's getting older so it's two different effects and so Stella gave this daughter a enifing see a gif crown and kingdom on not a dessy, but a ballia, yes, this daughter is the pastel one, she has a mixed blue with a blue one, and it's a pastel blue one because it's more like pince sky aria But canda dong understand what a sky aria works so enifing yeah little eskuze why felling out? Code mean's

but more to the point, i.e. green amber (that's what it's like, green amber) because the original is that normally Anber is already over 45 under the ground, so he's dead, and not the whole kingdom, but there is a column, I was crying something like those Japanese Red columns and what exactly happened was that other lords of other kingdoms who were culturally beating each other up for this normally anber kingdom ( knows radom plame you sowing a plame back and not fund a hold it a finish it so same like d but kingdom plastert) and Wall story bit enifing cat a dyfrent anber colors knows red/green/blue and more dys but never a normally one a anber orange so yeah

And charing enifing look dyfrent like code like rule a kingdom but after afit more knows dress and look bit

but yes, it's good and this Green Anber Lord is only 4 years older than Stella, so it's possible that he's older than 7 max so yeah dys lot going on

But I say only you can make a blue anber or yellow anber only because dys a enifing get a ateshion but it so not plame it you but it

🐟🧤🐟🧤🐟🧤🐟🧤🐟🧤🐟🧤🐟🧤🐟🧤🐟🧤

Offical note: 01.01.2024.r

🐟🧤🐟🧤🐟🧤🐟🧤🐟🧤🐟🧤🐟🧤🐟🧤🐟🧤

#applelili_megaman_ver #megamancomunity #mereal #wpexpleing #parents take rule #youtube #art 2024

[stonylabchem]

Crystallizing Dish with Spout and Heavy-Duty Rim

Wide Mouth Erlenmeyer Flask, 250-1000 ml

Find more lab glassware at

Don't forget to use code LABOR to enjoy 13% off labor day discount.

Hurry up! Sale is ending midnight today.

#stonylab #chemistry #labsupplies #chemistrylab #labglassware #erlenmeyer flask #crystallingdish

[mikaelsonwife4life]

Reunion Part Three

"I believe you are who I am looking for, then," Scott told her and she frowned, turning to face him. Her dark shirt seemed to almost billow as she turned, a look of pain flashing in her eyes for a moment, the gun having hit her leg.

"How so?" she asked, eyes narrowed. He sighed, a flash of annoyance entering him at the suspicion of those residing in Transylvania. They were all, minus the newest generation, suspicious of everything. Strangers arrive, that's suspicious. Strangers don't arrive, also suspicious.

"You see, Mavis told me of a boy. He was trapped in a fire with his siblings. His parents escaped. But the children were never seen again. Then this came, accompanied by a vampire that had been missing for centuries. His name was Moonston Wolf. Your brother," his voice was soft and the werewolf's eyes filled with tears.

"You... You're lying," she whispered, denial in her eyes. You could hear it in her voice, in her words.

"Really? I am? So he's not a boy with pitch black hair and silver eyes? He's not Clawrk Wolf's eldest son?" Scott's voice was hardening, almost forcing the woman to accept it. Tears burned in her eyes.

"Sister, where-" a younger wolf asked though once his eyes landed on his sister, he let out a deep snarl, ready to lunge at the dragon, "What have you done?"

"Relax, I was just the bearer of good news," Scott's grinned, a relaxed look on his face as the wolf snarled at him.

"It- it's okay, Gibby. Gather the family. They found him," Luna said, a soft but watery smile tilting her lips.

"He's back?" Gibbous, Gibby, whispers, eyes wide in shock.

"According to this dragon, yes. I'm sorry, I never got your name," a gentle blush rose in her dark fur, something he'd never seen a werewolf do.

"Scott. Scott Fury," he grinned, ducking his head, showing the black dragon tattoo that resided on the back of his neck. Gibby paused, his eyes flicked over the dragon. His hair was red and spiky, pointing all over the place in a disorganized mess, his eyes were like blue fire, and his skin was a delicate, pale yellow. He was dressed in jeans, a dark blue shirt, a simple black jacket, and scuffed up sneakers... All in all, Gibby thought the dragon looked rather, well, ordinary. There didn't seem to be anything special about him, he was of normal height, weight, and build. There was nothing remarkable about his features, no birthmark, moles, or freckles. He looked like the boy next door.

"How do you know that he's telling the truth," Gibby frowned, suspicion flowing through his gold eyes that were watching both his sister and the stranger that had entered the town.

"He said that Moonston had silver eyes, Gib. Only two wolves have ever had silver eyes. Daddy and 'Ston," she told her, desperate for him to believe her and for Moonston to be real, "Come." She led him down the hall into a light room, the walls a soothing shade of blue. There were two recliners and three couches in front of a table, facing a TV and it struck Scott that this was her home as well as her work place. The furniture all seemed to contrast the walls and flooring, which was in white carpeting, being deep brown. Luna moved to the closet, opening it, hung the gun up, and turned back to Scott. She smiled, very different from the suspicious girl he'd met earlier. It made him wonder, had she been like this as a child, giving her siblings whiplash everytime she moved.

"Sit, please," Luna says as she tugged herself and her brother over to the couch and sat. The warm leather was obviously well used, conforming to the shape of the she-wolf's body.

"Thank you," Scott grinned graciously as he took a seat at the edge of the recliner facing the couch they sat in. He was uncomfortable in the room, despite the very soothing atmosphere.

"What do you need?" Gibby looked at the dragon, Scott, he reminded himself before shrugging it off. The boy would be gone soon enough, no need to remember his name or play host, really.

"Why didn't you return to your parents?" Scott asked, a sudden professional air surrounding him. Gibby growled, angered at the first question. However, the younger wolf was ignored as Scott focused on Luna, her being more hospitable.

"They're dead," Luna said, a confused look appearing in her eyes. Another growl rose within Gibby, causing Scott to clench his teeth, annoyance raising in the dragon.

"No, they live in the Hotel," Scott sighed, "What happened the night the fire started?"

"We were laying down, almost asleep. Moonston was watching over us. I- I was almost asleep when a howl pierced the air. I noticed that it was hotter, hotter than it was supposed to be. It- It was stuffy, the air gray with smoke. Moonston woke our siblings, helping them get out. We got out then I heard something. The rock was crumbling, his crescent necklace broke with the chain snapped... We assumed he was dead so I took charge of my siblings, being the second eldest and we began looking for somewhere to live after seeing papa and mama's limp bodies. We eventually made it here," Luna, it appeared, was the talker of the family.

"Do you know anything about a girl named Ambrosia?" he questioned.

"No," Luna responded, confused.

"Would Moonston have any reason to not return you or your parents," at Scott's final question, a sheepish and shamed look flashed across her face.

"How dare you?" Gibby snarled, tensing to leap at Scott before Luna laid her hand on his arm. His gaze flashed to hers and he sighs, sinking back down next to her. Luna returned her attention to Scott, who was taking deep breaths in an effort not to turn into his dragon form.

"He- he was supposed to take over a section of the Hotel, he would've been forced to work there no matter who he chose to come with. Oh, I hate the thought that my brother has been alone all these years!" she sobbed.

"He's not alone. He met a young vampiress named Ambrosia and has, it seems, been with her for many many years. Or so says Mavis," Scott informed the wolf.

"W- Wha do you know about her?" Luna's voice was shaky.

"Not much other than she disappeared about five to six hundred years ago," Scott shrugged, genuinely having no clue anything about the vampire princess.

"Probably some spoiled brat," Gibby muttered and Scott fought the urge to roll his eyes. He'd thought quite the opposite. He'd met Lilith Dracula, the Count's ex-wife, and knew she was a harsh woman who lashed out at everyone over everything.

"I want to see him. Gib, you'll come with me. Moon can watch over the village," a hardness had appeared in the werewolf's eyes that had Scott feeling a little skittish.

"Okay, Alpha."

***********************************************

"Clawdia!" The two wolves embraced as Scott made his way over to Mavis, Hank, and Pedro. The four turned and watched as the two girls were joined by Clawdeen and Howleen while Clawd and Gibby awkwardly met for the first time.

"What'd you find out?" Mavis whispered as the wolves left the room.

"Well, for one, They thought that their parents and Moonston were dead. Two, never met Rose. Three, he wouldn't have returned to his siblings even if he knew that they were alive," Scott sighed, running his hands through his already chaotic locks.

"Could they have stumbled upon each other," the quartet turned and directly behind Mavis stood Sibella.

"What?" Mavis asked.

"Well, they were both alone, right? So maybe they stumbled upon each other and took comfort in each other," Sibella suggested then glanced at their shocked look, "What? I'm not just a stupid kid!"

"No, no, that's not it," Mavis defended, "We just didn't think of that."

"Really, it seemed the most probable to me," Sibella shrugged. No one noticed the two wolves that were sitting in the shadows. Once the group of five walked out, they moved out of the shadow and with a flash of black and red, the bigger wolf had transformed back into Silver while the smaller one had become Rose.

"They're getting too close," Silver growled, his eyes glowing.

"Shh, we can leave," Rose whispered, a sadness appearing in her eyes. Silver shook his head, dismissing her words with a hard look in his eyes.

"No, we came here so you can see your family and we will do so."

#scooby doo #monster high #hotel transylvania

[serial-traveler]

June 15, 2023 at 12:36AM #TravelTv #ttv #travel #travelblog #serialtravel #serialtraveler #wanderlust #wanderluster #bergenrailway #tripadvisor #traveladvisor #instatravel #wheretonext #serialtraveller #wanderlust #trip #travelmania #travelmaniac

[gbvideomaking]

10 Unforgettable Things to Do in Dubrovnik, Croatia

From historic sites to outdoor activities and relaxation on the beach, Dubrovnik has something for every type of traveler. Here are 10 things you can explore in Croatia that are sure to make your trip unforgettable. This walking tour guide will take you to Old Town's famous UNESCO-certified wall and educate you on its fascinating history. You can take time for yourself to stroll the avenues of the city and admire the architecture. 1. Take a tour of the Old Town The city's core is the quaint, walkable Old Town, a UNESCO World Heritage Site packed with breathtaking sights and delicious tastes. The walls that surround the city were built over centuries to protect against war and disease. They're today a beautiful backdrop for terra-cotta roofing, Cypresses, and Stradun's main street. Explore the walls for a fantastic view of Dubrovnik's medieval architecture as well as the azure Adriatic Sea. Visit the 15th century Rector's Palace and Sponza Palace Then, explore the tiny alleyways that crisscross the streets to find hidden eateries, shops and even old houses. Fans of Game of Thrones will find the Old Town even more appealing due to the fact that Dubrovnik was the location used in Game of Thrones to create King's Landing. Visit the city with a guide to discover more about the city's historical significance and usage as a fictional setting. Go to St. Dominika Street for Cersei's walk of shame as well as Minceta Tower as the House of Undying. 2. Take a cable train to Mount Srd Mount Srd is Dubrovnik’s highest mountain. It is a stunning view. The 4-minute hike takes you to the top of the 1,352-foot (412-meter) mountain, from which you can see the compact Old Town's terracotta roofs and Adriatic Sea beneath you. Panorama Restaurant and bar along with observation decks as well as large crosses are located on the summit. It is a breeze to access the cable car station on the upper side from the Old Town. The station is situated just outside the Buza Gate, or Ploce Gate. If you want to go for a more difficult trek is available from the trailhead located near the Imperial Fort that takes around 10 to 15 minutes to get to the top of the mountain and take in the stunning views. In any case, don't not forget your camera and phone! Solar-powered charging stations are available at the cable station's uppermost level. 3. Make a Day Trip to Lokrum Island or Montenegro The old town of Dubrovnik is brimming with historic sites. It is best to take a walking tour highly recommended to visit them all. The city's walled walls are compact however it is stuffed with dense streets and pathways that are lined with restaurants serving seafood bars, gelato shops and pubs. Less than a mile across the ocean lies Lokrum, an enchanting island which was home to Benedictine monks for over a millennium. The island is now a park that's car-free that includes a botanical park as well as mansion dating from the 19th century planted by Archduke Maximilian.

The island's most popular attraction is the Temple of Blaise, a Romanesque church that houses Relics like the leg, arm, and skull of the saint who reputedly saved the city from an Venetian invasion. You can visit close Ston Salt Pans and the Peljesac Peninsula that is famous for its wines. 4. Take a Boat Tour Dubrovnik is enveloped by turquoise waters that just want to be enjoyed. You can take a swim from the rocky beach or take a sea cruise. A dip in the clear water, crystal clear waters is a wonderful way to cool down before the sun gets hotter. There are also swimming areas inside the city walls equipped with iron ladders to allow you to jump without fear. For an even more romantic experience book a sunset dinner cruise around the city. Sail along the Adriatic in a 16th-century karaka replica, while sipping wine and admiring the city's historic walls that are lit up against the night sky. This is an excellent choice for Game of Thrones fans who can take in Fort Lovrijenac, the site where the scenes of King's Landing were filmed. Explore the cool islands from the shores of Dubrovnik on a full-day boat tour. Island hop between Elafiti Islands Visit a cave on Lokrum and visit the famous Jesuit Staircase. Another landmark that's bound be the focus of any fan of GOT. Watch the video on YouTube

#History #Culture #Beaches #Dubrovnik

[primeblogs]

10 Unforgettable Things to Do in Dubrovnik, Croatia

Dubrovnik has something to offer everyone, from historical landmarks to relaxing on the beach or enjoying an outdoor adventure. Here are 10 things you can explore in Croatia that are sure to make your trip memorable. Explore the famous UNESCO-certified walls of Old Town and learn about the city's rich history on this guided walking tour. In the end, you can take some time to explore through the city's charming streets and marvel at its beautiful architecture. 1. Explore the Old Town The small and walkable Old Town is the heart of the city, a UNESCO World Heritage Site full of dazzling sights as well as sounds and flavors. The walls which surround the city were built over centuries to protect against war and disease. They're today a beautiful backdrop for terra-cotta roofs, Cypresses, and Stradun's main street. Walk along the walls to get the most stunning view of the medieval Dubrovnik's architecture and the stunning Adriatic Sea. The 15th century Rector's Palace is a must-see. Sponza Palace is also an absolute must-see. Go through the alleyways to discover hidden restaurants, shops and old homes. The fans of Game of Thrones will find the Old Town even more appealing in the sense that Dubrovnik was used to create King's Landing. You can take a guided tour of the Old Town to learn more about the city's past and its use as the fictional location. Go to St. Dominika Street for Cersei's walk in shame and Minceta Tower as the House of Undying. 2. Ride a cable car to Mount Srd Ascend Mount Srd, Dubrovnik's highest elevation, for stunning views. This ride of just four minutes will get you up to the top where you'll be able to observe the terracotta-roofed Old Town and the Adriatic Sea below you. Panorama Bar and restaurant with observation decks, as well as an enormous cross are situated at the top. The cable car station at the top is easily reached from the Old Town, as it's right outside the Buza Gate or Ploce Gate and clearly signposted. Another, more difficult trail is accessible at the trailhead in front of the Imperial Fort that takes around 10 to 15 minutes to climb to the top of the mountain and to see the views. Make sure you bring your camera or phone in both cases! Solar-powered charging stations can be found in the upper cable station. 3. Visit Lokrum Island, Montenegro or both in the course of a single day. The tiny town of Dubrovnik is filled with sights from the past which is why it's a smart idea to take a top-rated walking tour to ensure you've seen everything. The city's walled walls are compact but crowded, with a plethora of narrow roads and paths paved with seafood-themed restaurants, pubs and gelato shops. Just a quarter of a mile across the water is Lokrum an idyllic island that was home to Benedictine monks for nearly a millennium. The island is now a park that's car-free with a botanical park and a mansion from the 19th century that was planted by Archduke Maximilian. The most notable attraction on the island is the Temple of Blaise, a Romanesque church which houses relics including the leg, arm, and skull of a saint who is believed to have saved the city from the Venetian invasion. You can visit the close Ston Salt Pans and the Peljesac Peninsula known for its wine. 4. You can take a Boat Tour The blue waters of Dubrovnik are waiting for visitors to swim in them. It is possible to take a dip from the sandy beach or go on a cruise cruise. As the day heats up, a swim in the crystal clear sea is a perfect option to cool down. There are swimming pools within the city walls, equipped with iron ladders to assist you in jumping safely into. You can book a sunset cruise to experience an even more romantic evening. Sailing along the Adriatic on a replica 16th century karaka, drinking wine while admiring the city's historical walls, illuminated by the night sky is a fantastic opportunity to relax in the evening. Game of Thrones enthusiasts will love this option since they can visit Fort Lovrijenac where King's Landing scenes were shot. A full day boat cruise allows you to discover the islands just off the coasts of Dubrovnik. Island hop between Elafiti Islands, visit a cave on Lokrum and take in the famous Jesuit Staircase--another landmark that's sure be the focus of any GOT enthusiast. Video embeds anchors:

#History #Culture #Beaches #Dubrovnik

[stonpoet-thestoneddisciple]

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