#getting plats is fun ok???? :w;
Text
feather , part 14
“ i feel so much lighter, like a feather ”
series m. list
previous chapter
next chapter
( socialmedia!au )
yourusername
liked by _quinnhughes, rutgermcgroarty, jamie.drysdale, and 58,100 others
yourusername so i went to the mall w eddy and mackie and NO ONE TOLD ME THERES TARGET IN MALLS NOW???
tagged: mackie.samo
view all comments
username87 sweetie there’s always been targets in malls
→ yourusername SINCE WHEN TF
_alexturcotte yooo did you buy the teddy bear??
→ yourusername no ethan said there would be no room for it in the car when we drive home 😔
→ _alexturcotte ah damn i was gonna steal it from you
username35 omg they went into one of the expensive clothes stores
username28 if they wore that and tried to break into my house honestly i’d let them
→ username7 FRRRR
edwards.73 you were skipping through the aisles as soon as we walked into target
→ mackie.samo fr we had to pretend like we didn’t know you
→ yourusername i hate you both
jamie.drysdale you know i can see your credit card history right
→ yourusername UHHHHH MOM SAID NO ONE COULD SEE IT BUT ME
→ jamie.drysdale she lied to you
→ trevorzegras whats she been buying 👀
→ jamie.drysdale a 50 pack of takis, 4 squishmallows and way too many kids toys
→ yourusername I BOUGHT ONE CONTAINER OF SLIME. ONE. jamie.drysdale
lhughes_06 should’ve brought me, i would’ve paid for u
→ yourusername oh it’s okay i’d feel bad 😭
→ colecaufield you are insanely dense lil drizzy
username94 it’s so endearing how they’re having so much fun together
jackhughes maybe i should’ve gone with you
→ yourusername no i would’ve had 10x less fun if you came with
→ jackhughes ok buddy 😐😐
bookerburke_ i’ll take you to every mall with a target in it as soon as you get back
liked by yourusername
yourusername
liked by jackhughes, luca.fantilli, trevorzegras, and 99,837 others
yourusername i’m never playing val with these idiots ever again oh my god like THE LACK OF ASSISTS WAS UNBELIEVABLE
view all comments
markestapa the only reason u could even play valorant was bc i let u use my pc so be quiet
→ yourusername yeah and i got you to gold 3
→ markestapa I WAS AT PLAT 2
→ yourusername YOU MADE ME PLAY ON UR UNRANKED ACCOUNT DUMMY
→ markestapa oh um well IT’S NOT RADIANT SOOOO
rutgermcgroarty such a gamer girl
→ yourusername never say that again i’m begging you
username80 i don’t understand anything but yessss!!
→ username47 fr at this point im jus faking it all
dylanduke25 okay well the rest of us were playing on our laptops
→ yourusername marks pc was laggier than ur laptops 🙄🙄
→ markestapa MY LAG WAS SKYROCKETING
trevorzegras play val with me rn i dare you
→ yourusername okay mr “i dropped from gold to bronze”
→ trevorzegras hey don’t expose me like that 😕
username37 what is this gold, bronze, plat speak i don’t get it
_quinnhughes oh so thats what all that yelling was
→ jackhughes i heard her from down the street
→ _quinnhughes “MOVE MOVE MOVE YOU DUMBASSES”
→ yourusername 🙍♂️🙍♂️🔫🙃
bookerburke_ i’ve never played this game before, only cod and overwatch so i dont get the lingo 😭
→ yourusername oh it’s okay i’ll explain it to you 🤗🤗
→ username82 the “lingo” 😭😭
edwards.73 i didn’t do THAT bad
→ mackie.samo liar i was looking at your screen the whole time
→ lhughes_06 dude you were dead weight
→ yourusername my kda was 5/0/0 and urs was 0/5/0 we are NOT the same ❌
next chapter
notes )
i actually have a grudge against all val players and they all frustrate me to no end (I NEVER GET FUCKING ASSISTS)
anywayyy i hope u enjoyed this and im getting back on the grind i promise 🤍🤍
tags: @aliaology @hockeyboysarehot @absolutelyhugh3s
#luke hughes x reader#luke hughes x y/n#luke hughes fic#luke hughes fanfic#luke hughes#quinn hughes#jack hughes#alex turcotte#cole caufield#trevor zegras#jamie drysdale#mackie samoskevich#mark estapa#dylan duke#ethan edwards#luca fantilli#adam fantilli#rutger mcgroarty
237 notes
·
View notes
Text
awesome compilation of how atsv characters play league
miguel
rank: hardstuck diamond
role: jungler / igl (in-game leader)
champions: hecarim, udyr, elise, sylas
gameplay style: on a good day, is literally everywhere on the map. harasses the enemy team w violent precision.
he malds super hard when he loses. he has violent gamer baby rage and tilts really easily. gets super toxic in all chat.
gwen
rank: low gold
role: adc (attack damage carry) / mid
champions: caitlyn, samira, lux
gameplay style: really bad at CSing. can get kills if she gets ganks. somewhat understands fundamentals, but struggles to keep up in late game.
doesn’t really mald. she gets frustrated, sure, but never really malding. duos with miles most of the time.
miles
rank: hardstuck high silver / low gold
role: autofill (support)
champions: braum, milio, nautilus
gameplay style: he has ok mechanics, but struggles a lot with making decisions during team fights. often goes for high-risk / improbable plays and then fucks it up afterward only to get pinged eight billion times.
is basically just happy to play w friends. gets easily anxious abt impressing them which leads to those risky plays.
hobie
rank: high plat
role: autofill
champions: doesn’t believe in maining a champion. has m6 on most of them.
gameplay style: he does not care. he runs off-meta stuff frequently and loves limit testing. he tailor crafts builds for each game and then forgets them afterward.
pure ‘for fun’ type of player. if he can’t have fun, he ensures that the enemy will have less fun playing against him.
pavitr
he just doesn’t play league. he plays its sister game, TFT (teamfight tactics)
rank: masters
he could be grandmaster in TFT, but refuses to grind. doesn’t get league of legends and mostly thinks it’s kind of ridiculous. he does think the little legend mascots in TFT are cute though.
peter b.
rank: grandmaster (smurf is in high plat)
role: autofill (top) / the real igl
champions: fiora, jayce, viktor
gameplay: literally cracked out of his fucking mind. is insanely good at league. the only thing is that he throws games just to see miguel get mad.
everyone listens to him and respects him. hard not to be the real IGL. plays exclusively for fun and only plays league when the rest of the kids want to 5 stack and don’t want to be left alone with miguel.
#kath rambles about stupid shit#bro idk what this is#spiderverse#across the spiderverse#gwen stacy#miguel ohara#pavitr prabhakar#miles morales#peter b. parker#spiderverse headcanon
16 notes
·
View notes
Text
was finally able to put my finger on something that’s been bothering me abt bayo 3 while i was retrying the witch trials + attempting more pure plat….the homunculi have no innards!!!!
when ur fighting angels their shiny outer coating gets flayed off to show their guts underneath, not only is it objectively cool asf but it’s an important visual indicator for how close you are to killing them (especially important on lesser enemies that don’t have visible health bars). the homunculi just…don’t have that. they have something similar that indicates how close they are to being stunned by showing cracks on the enemy and their health bar but it isn’t nearly as useful. it’s very hard to gauge how close you are to killing them without constantly monitoring their health bar (if they have one) which i just find super unintuitive. also it’s no fun that they’re just goop w/ no bones like cmon man. it’s ok u can give them weird little homunculus organs and blood. lame ass in-universe answer for not letting me rip and tear platinumgames a loser for that one
the point of this post is that that big ass snail homunculus is getting on my fucking nerves and i would like to see his skin peeled off in a fantastic display of violence
11 notes
·
View notes
Text
My stance on P5 (cause apparently I need to explain myself :/)
So someone just told me someone was vagueing about me on the confessions blog (can’t say my name cause it’s against the rules but they’ll try to get as specific as they can 🙃 if you have issues just be a real anon hater and send to my inbox directly you coward). And I’m not going to do a reblog to that post, because I’m pretty sure that person must be on my blog. Because the post they were vagueing me about was......not tagged.....in the P5 tagged (I did not tag it as P5 nor Persona 5), it was just a post that was on my blog (now if it showed up in the tag or search I dunno why but I didn’t tag it for P5 for a gd reason cause I keep it to my blog). The post was me pointing out how P5 when they first enter Futaba’s dungeon they didn’t have shoes on, but after the cutscene they DID. The post was more comical (with me getting salty in the tags, but then you’d have to go out of your way to read my tags). And tbh, I’m half and half, yeah I know it’s a nitpick, and I’d just chalk it up to an animation error and let it go usually, but it’s P5 and that game is already inconsistent with it’s plot/world building/characters/anything important that I’m like “nah I’mma rag on it cause it’s just one more thing they screwed up” so I’m like half let it go and half rag on it (fun fact, when I saw they didn’t have shoes on I was gonna make a post saying “hey look this is cool, nice attention to detail” and then they messed it up literally 2 seconds later so dklsjf;afa yeah). (oh and btw, it wasn’t just “one” character, it was the whole PT cast at the time 8U” at least get it right 8U)
But the thing is......that was just a post on my blog, I’m not me berating the P5 tag. So that means you, person who vagued me, tend to go on my PERSONAL BLOG. So like....why are you on here? No, don’t ask me about me and P5, I will answer that, but you answer why are you bothering looking at my personal blog? Is it cause of certain content I post? Then just blacklist certain tags (like my “silly plays” tag cause nothing really interesting happens in that tag, or my more negative “persona problems” type tags), I know I need to be better at tagging my asks, but if you like my original content then just.....go to the OG content tags (aka videos/pictures/edits/coloring)? That way you avoid anything not made by me? Or if you don’t have a reason and you’re just here to be mad cause someone doesn’t like your game, then block me. You don’t seem to like me, so just....why are you here? You seem to want to ask why I’m here with P5, and I have my reasons, but if you don’t have a reason to be on my blog then why are you on it?
I’m not saying this to be mean, but I don’t want to be policed, esp if someone is going to be hypocritical about it. And it’s annoying to see vaguing (cause imo you are as bad as someone who sends anon hate, but you don’t have the balls to just send it to me directly XP)
Ok now where’s my stance on P5? I don’t like it, but it’s a part of a larger series and lore which I do LOVE! Which means, considering I’m a LORE WHORE, it doesn’t feel right to just skip a game esp if it could contain info about the MegaTen/Persona lore (or even Character lore) I want to know. In fact, I really hate it when I’m talking lore with someone and if expanded info is brought up from a side game they are like “Oh I didn’t play that game so it’s not canon” No Bethany, just because YOU didn’t play a game doesn’t mean it’s not canon. And no, no one is bullying you over the fact you didn’t play it, you just don’t like being wrong and the person was like “Ok well it IS canon and it’s in the game, you don’t have to play it but you.....can’t ignore this fact, also why are you arguing this part of the lore when it’s heavily established in said game you ignored???? I mean you do you but don’t get mad when someone corrects you. No one’s forcing you to do anything.” Ahhhhrrrrgggh so many convos I’ve seen happen, I’m not going to be on the end that I hate. DX<
Also, P5 is not the entire Persona fandom, so while I put up with it and indulge in it by association, it doesn’t have the ownership of the fandom (like with all the original games+ spinoffs+all remakes/ports and P5S/P5R included, but not mobile games, it’s only 23% of all of Persona in terms of game entries, and that’s overlapping with crossover games, and if we included other stuff P5 is def a minor aspect in terms of entries). It’s not that hard, I’m just a bigger all around Persona fan than I am a Persona 5 critic (I don’t want to say hater, because it feels like it sounds like I’m hating it just to hate it, when really it was a game I was excited for and loved and then it just burned me bad and I’m just dealing with the scorn). Always keep in mind, I loved P5 before I hated it, it’s probably why I’m as salty about it as I am, because I love P5′s potential and....I was just let down (it wasn’t unrealistic expectations, like I said earlier, P5 contradicts itself.....all over the place, it’s hard to ignore and it’s not something that was as big of an issue, or even an issue at all, in other games).
Why do I still post P5 stuff when I don’t like P5 (by which I mean...posting about the OG manga raws, or wanting to do a partial game to anime dub or even would be willing to help with editing a fandub for the anime)? Because I remember being a newbie Persona/Megaten fan, getting into the series, and wanting to know more about it and it’s side materials but then not being able to have access it any of it (because it was still prettty niche when I first joined and I had no money at the time). I want to give people access to it! Sure it’s harder for me to now to devote time to it (than it was a few years ago), but I want to help with giving access to this Persona/Megaten stuff now that I have some ability! And it also means P5 as well gets some of that love. 8U
As for why I was replaying P5, so this is one thing that’s making me wonder if you are a regular on my blog or not because I’ve been talking about playing the Korean version (but in my one post I forgot to type “silly plays P5/Persona 5 KOREAN” so yeah I forgot to specify Korean at the end). So tbh....I’m actually ignoring P5′s writing while I play (cause I’m just going through the gameplay motions), cause I don’t know korean. 8U And I’m mostly using that tag as a means to point out different things in the korean ver (no that much, but yes Ryu’s shoes ARE censored 8U). But why? Well.....I talk about it here and there but anon/person....1) I’m a trophy whore, I love plat trophies and P5′s is super easy I can get it (and I’m not above playing bad games, oh yeah burn, I’ve played a lot of bad games for plats, and I’ve also played the same games multiple times for plats, I do this to myself but really I don’t mind replaying P5 4+ times for 4+ plats esp since I don’t really have to pay attention). 2) I’m a big MegaTen/Persona collector, I want all the plats I can have (I plan on platting the other versions of the all the dancing games on Vita and PS4, P4G, and the versions of Catherine I don’t have, like I legit have a gd excel sheet keeping track of the versions of Megaten games I don’t have yet....I’m just doing P5 cause it’s 1) one of the easiest to do and 2) it was easier to get my hands on them atm). I don’t talk about my trophy hunting on here that much tbh, but that’s.....really a big reason why I’m doing it (plus with the Korean/CHinese ver I don’t have to pay attention to any story so it’s all good! :D) Yeah I do it to myself, but I don’t really mind. 8U And I mean I tend to keep most of my P5 issue on my blog too. I think the only two posts that I put in the P5 tag were 1) a few consistency issues I wanted to meme about (aka the I’m about to head out post, which was actually the 2nd post I made on that topic but I decided to just meme that one, so I thought it was better than me just bitching, at least I tried to make it a bit funny yet informational 8U), and 2) something that I tbh had an issue since I back when I liked P5 (aka wishing they worked on speeding up the loading times and the fast forward feature), so since I was playing the game I was like “That reminds me, man I hope they fix this in the re-release!”. As for english P5, the only reason I’ll be playing P5 OG in english is for either archiving reasons or research reasons (probably both at once so I don’t have to play through it more than once again).
As for P5R, uhhhhh I’m excited for Kasumi (Jose is cool too, and the new dungeon has me interested too, and all the P2 demons coming back to it makes me wonder what else is/if anything is coming back), she’s my main draw. Yeah it’s connected to P5R, but she looks so much like Hamuko I JUST HAVE TO KNOW WHAT’S UP WITH HER! Hamuko’s my girl, and I need to know if Atlus is going to do something with that, or if I need to be pissed for them literally lifting Hamu’s face! Am I gonna get pissy about P5R’s new add-ons (aka, I’m aware that P5R is probably going to keep the issues from OG P5, so I’mma just judge P5R based on it’s new content)? Yeah, if they kept up the same writing P5 OG had. So yeah, I’m probably going to get pissy if they eff it up, but I’m not going in pissy, going in with really low expectations tbh, but I’m giving it a chance. But if they don’t eff up the new stuff then......that’s good! It means they did something right. So far Kasumi is not Marie so we’re off to a good start. I’m hoping the keep that momentum. 8U
So yeah, I think I have valid reasons for staying, maybe you don’t like it anon/person, but they are there.
tldr; someone feels like the need to police me despite the fact they could just ignore me (even tho it seems like they specifically came to my blog to get mad, rather than me clogging up the tag, like I post there maybe once or twice every 2 months). My stance on P5 is that I deal with it cause it’s part of a bigger fandom I’m a part of and the fact I love the lore of that bigger fandom so it’s not like I can ignore it. I also have a Playstation trophy problem. 8U And I’m excited for Kasumi is that so bad???? (also I didn’t mention it, but Anne/Haru are enough to keep me around 8U)
#silly talks#i'm actually on my last 3 trophies for korean so after that i"m going to chinese#I don't mind the new teacher#not my main draw but I'll give him a shot#also mementos mission is a good manga to read#not canon and still perpetuates issues with mako's character#and the fact that those guys totally gave that one shadow a mental shutdown i'm not letting that go (esp since if they did that'd be so#INTERESTING please dont' let that go to waste mangaka ;w;)#but the mystery is really fun and I like it#i really need to post those raws tho#fdklsajf;lakjfl;a i just....oh man......it's a lot#it's easy to find me and look at my trophies#i have 151 plats yeah I have issues#getting plats is fun ok???? :w;#but yeah I'll try to get working on the P5 OG raws#i love anne and haru ok????#sure I have issues with their writing but I just really like them still
5 notes
·
View notes
Text
Are You in Or Out?
Rated: Explicit
Word count: 11.5K yall I am SORRY
Warnings: good lord y'all here we GO-- smut, explicit language, violence and mentions of blood and gore, injuries, unprotected sex (don't be a dick, wrap that stick!), oral (m&f receiving), blindfolding, vaginal and anal fingering, vaginal and anal sex, double penetration, spit is used as lube but for the love of GOD doNT DO THAT, there are some dom vibes on Paz’s end
Summary: The job you’re on takes a turn for the worst--Paz comes to your rescue and you're brought to the Covert. There you meet Din Djarin. though during a good natured sparring session, you’re suddenly stuck between an age old rivalry that spirals out of hand. Hopefully an agreement can be met.
a/n: hey...how y’all doin....SO lemme explain you smthn. I said helmets must be OfF--giv me them LIPS BABEY so this is a slight AU in which mandos can see other mandos’ faces. ya get me? I also tHot that it would be nice and fun to set the timeline 5-6 years BEFORE the plot of the Mandalorian so we gots a younger din here. anyway, as always enjoy and I hope you like!!
Mistakes, mistakes, mistakes—
Some as little as burning your finger on the nozzle of a smoking blaster or tripping over your own shoelaces. Simple things. Mindless things.
Nothing that could ever compare to the catastrophic decision of picking up bounty hunting as a reliable source of income.
The little ones were easy—tax evaders and deserters of the Empire—most who’d yield and gladly follow without complaint just at the sight of your blaster pointed between their eyes. And the gag of it is—most of the time you never bothered to load the damn thing.
Reckless.
An invitation for disaster.
But skirting that precarious edge, one little slip up away from plunging head first into inevitable trouble is better than Bracca. Stars—anything is better than Bracca. There’s no glory in bounty hunting but there’s even less in ship scrapping. Abysmal pay in exchange for risking your life on rain slicked metal with only the Ibdis Maw to break your fall.
The guild you work for is considerate—scratch that. Greef Karga is considerate. Sure the flirting is a touch unbearable but it saves your ass in the long run. All easy money bounties set aside for you in exchange for a cheap drink, hollow laughs and sugar sweet smiles.
It’s enough credits to get by—more than plenty to rent a room and charter a ship.
But there’s only so many bounties to capture within the limits of the guild and oh so many people the empty blaster trick works on. And so the credits begin to thin; it gets too expensive to buy off a pilot and the debate over buying food or being able to pay for your room becomes more frequent than the scraprats that skitter inside the walls.
It’s suicide to snag a higher paying bounty because....well—these bounties shoot back.
Whatever.
Might as well die trying. Who knows, maybe you could score big time if you manage to pull this off.
Maybe.
-=-=-=-
You’re not sure who’s more surprised—Karga when you asked for the bounty or yourself when he actually gave it to you.
“Are you sure, kid? This could—“
“End in a fiery shitshow? Yeah—I figured that,” you sigh, swirling your drink with a little complimentary toothpick. “But I need the money.”
“Hah! You’ve got guts, girl.” He flashes you a smile and smooths down his mustache with his thumb and forefinger. “Tell you what. The last assignment was just taken but I’m sure if you run you could catch him. Work somethin’ out.”
Jumping from your seat, you throw on your coat and toss a couple credits onto the table to cover the drink. “What’s he look like?”
“Big fellow—Mandalorian. You’ll know when you see him.”
You shout your thanks over your shoulder and hightail outta there. The landing docks aren’t far, you can see them from here. It’s finding the guy that could pose a problem.
If he hasn’t already left, you bitterly think.
However, it seems the universe is on your side today. Karga was right. He is big. Stands out like a sore thumb against his ship that glitters dully in the overcast sky. Kinda like an oversized blueberry. A yellow and blue blueberry….not important—
“Hey! Hey, you!” You’re so close, just a couple yards away. You swear and hurry up your pace as he steps onto the loading ramp. “Big guy! Large...blue man?”
You trip over your own feet as he turns his head. Fuck—
No way are you gonna be able to bargain with this guy. Built like a fucking AT-AT and probably just as stubborn. After all, no one would ever be dumb enough to come between a Mandalorian and their quarry. You grimace, and suck in a breath—
Before a word even leaves your mouth he interrupts with a steady, unwavering;
“No.”
Your brows furrow. “I didn’t even say anything!”
“I know what you were going to ask,” he huffs, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “I work alone.”
Ok, then. You didn’t want to resort to begging, but you’re kinda running out of options here. You take a steadying breath and plant yourself at the bottom of the ramp. “C’mon man. Look—I’ll let you take seventy percent of the cut and I can—“
“You’ll let me?” He repeats, the staticky tone of his voice dropping into an edge more cutting than broken transparisteel. The metal platting on the ramp vibrates from the weight of his step to move closer; Stars it takes every fucking inch of willpower to hold your ground. “You’re lucky if I let you leave with your life. Get lost.”
Fuckfuckfuck—you should listen. You wanna fucking run for the hills and never look back in case he comes looking to purge your name from the kriffing galaxy. You clench your jaw and steel your nerves. Too bad—you’ve dug your heels so far into this empire of dirt and false bravado that your only way out is continuing to poke the sleeping bear until he snaps your spine or caves.
You have to crane your neck to glare into that dark strip of his vizor, seeing as he’s invited himself into your personal space. “No.”
“No?” He mocks, now toe to toe with your scuffed up boots.
Your teeth clench, a scalding flush burning through your cheeks and all the way down to your chest. He’s toying with you—finding amusement in your stubbornness and apparent lack of braincells for challenging him. “You don’t scare me.”
The man hums, a deep purr that rumbles through his entire ribcage as he raises his gloved hand. You curse yourself for flinching because surely he’s about to crush your skull like a fucking grape, but no. All he does is fix your rumbled collar then pat your cheek.
“I don’t need the extra baggage.”
“I’m not baggage,” you sneer, slapping his hand away. “I can handle myself.”
“With an empty blaster?” He points out, tipping his head to the side. “Your parlor tricks won’t do you any good on this job.”
“I’m a good shot!” You sputter, placing your hands over you hips and mustering up your best glare. “W-when I have ammo…”
“Right.”
Meeting Paz Vizsla, could have gone far better, to put it into the most simplest of words. Jagged and hard to settle into a routine around each other for the journey to Nar Shaddaa in a tiny, old, and cramped freighter ship. Most cycles you have to wedge yourself beside a cargo crate to sleep. In addition to that, how it’s able to break through the atmosphere let alone fly is beyond you—an entire mystery on its own.
At least you’re able to sit in the spare seat inside the cockpit—one of the only places available to stretch your legs. The only problem is that it’s also where Paz Vizsla likes to lurk (well, not lurk—it’s his ship and it’s where he can comfortably fit but—to each their own).
There’s a net of tension still woven between you—each interaction like tiptoeing over eggshells. Though, like all things, it becomes simpler. There’s not exactly any ongoing conversations—you don’t want to pry into a life you know nothing about—it’s not your business despite the cumulation of questions that linger in the back of your mind. You know when to take a hint—not every person is willing to indulge you about their livelihood, and surely not something as secretive and well guarded as the Mandalore.
Familiarity is what you want to call it. Comfortable with each other’s presence with small talk speckled in throughout the never-ending vastness of hyperspace. Compared to the infinite turmoil in your life, slippery footholds and uncertainty—Paz Vizsla is steady. In a way— predictable and safe in the confines of this ship.
You’d even go as far as to label him kind, a friend maybe—if you look past the grumpiness and rather poor taste in corny jokes. You know it’s stupid, no doubt stemming from the deep ache of loneliness that comes hand in hand with staking it out on your own in the galaxy; but you can’t help but wish that this could be a new normal. Not some once in a lifetime thing where you both part ways, fade into the recesses of memory and leave it at that.
If things go well—and rarely do they on a job—maybe you’d pluck up enough courage to ask him if you could stay. There’s no harm in it…right?
-=-=-=-
Well—the cynical part of you was right.
It did end up in a fiery shit show.
Turns out the stupid quarry you’d been tracking excelled in long range weaponry. A former marksman for the Empire to be exact. Guess that tidbit of information wasn’t pertinent. A need to know sorta thing, if you will.
You feel the molten bolt of plasma connect with your side before your ears pick up the sound of a weapon firing, like a crack of lighting in the empty alleyway. And before your body even connects with the duracrete, Paz is returning fire. A brilliant neon red against the hazy blur of shadowy buildings.
Kinda weird how knocking the back of your head hurts worse than the literal blaster wound burned into your side. Shock maybe. Or the heat from the plasma cauterized each veins and artery it tore through and ate away at flesh and nerves. Hm…
You’re sprawled in a wet pool of something—either your own blood or a puddle of stagnant gutter water and damn—you’re wearing your favorite shirt.
It doesn’t matter at this point…
You’re choking on your own air from the big ass hole blasted into your diaphragm, so to say things are looking grim is an understatement.
Nar Shaddaa isn’t your first choice to kick the can on, but hey—not everyone gets the luxury of dying on Naboo. And just as you’re ready to slip away into that sweet, sweet abyss, it seems your fellow armored friend has other plans.
The beskar is freezing against your cheek after he deadlifts you off the duracrete—you remember that plain as day. That and the hushed rumble of Paz’s voice insisting you save your dwindling supply of air instead of apologizing to him—or ordering you to stay alive for kriff’s sake. It’s impossible to argue with Paz—like trying to bite through durasteel, and while those beckoning tendrils of eternal slumber are mighty tempting, you cling to your life with all the strength you have left. After all, inconveniencing someone with a corpse is such a party foul to the highest degree.
The rest is muddled—like dredging up silt and clay in a murky river that just leaves you with a pounding headache between your eyes. It’s a terrible mess of pain and bouts of temporary consciousness, mistaken with fever dreams and yup—more pain. The only consistent is Paz—hovering nearby or settled beside you—through thick and thin as you heal.
There’s no solid reason your brain can conjure as to why he brought you to the Covert—it’d have been easier to just dump you at the nearest hospital and be done with it. You’re not his responsibility and you’re too afraid to ask what it means. Too many possibilities—too many answers you aren’t in the mood to face or untwist.
And so you leave it be, set aside for another time—which brings you to the present day…
You’re splayed over your little makeshift cot, feet propped up on a spare pillow as you scour through a cheesy Coruscanti gossip magazine. It’s years old—the only piece of entertainment you could find other than a weapon in the Covert. And seeing as a massive hole had been blasted through your ribcage, picking up the clever art of throwing vibroblades or shooting targets to pass the time was out of the question.
Even if you’d rather fall into a Sarlaac pit than stare at the wall for hours on end yet again—it hasn’t been all that bad. It’d taken weeks before you regained enough strength to sit up on your own, let alone walk—and walking is putting it lightly. It was more of a stiff legged shuffle better suited on a two hundred year old woman seconds from disintegrating into dust at the mere hint of a breeze.
Not to mention—your right lung was all but shredded. Ripped apart from the plasma bolt and miraculously reconstructed by a more than questionable bacta tank, hopeful thoughts and well wishes. To this very day you still sound like a broken air filter.
Eh.
Could be worse.
At least you aren’t dead.
Just another setback that adds on the growing pile of reasons why never to leave the Covert. Free food, free board and mild entertainment to top it off. Paz had stayed at your bedside for the most part while you recovered—stuck with babysitting your sorry ass until you regained a bit of mobility. The times Paz hadn’t been at your side to stave off the boredom, it was up to you to find your own fun.
Snooping is what Paz had labeled it—but you saw it more as an adventure. You met Din Djarin exploring (lost is what you actually were) in the dimly lit underbelly of Nevarro, after all. Yes, you may have scared the ever loving shit out of the poor guy and yes, he may have singed off your brows with a five foot jet of fucking fire—but hey. No one got hurt.
And you made a new friend. Sorta…Din is difficult to read, subtler in his soft spoken words and quiet demeanor. A bit like a skittish loth-cat at the start, but nowadays it’s not uncommon to find him lounging in the same space as you or hovering over your shoulder, awfully curious in whatever it is you choose to do. Like Paz, Din isn’t overly fond of sharing much information about himself but he never complains after you regale tales of your own vastly fascinating past. He seems interested enough—tilts his head a tick to the right when you speak to indicate that yes, he’s listening despite the unforgiving dark line of his visor.
There are others in the Covert too—some so elusive you have a hard time believing they exist. Shadows of what they once were before the rise of the Empire. And so, you count yourself lucky that you’d been introduced to two others—Aeris Fenn, a young man nearly as tall as a Wookie, and a woman named Ives Arrey; her armor a flashy green—damn near florescent in the light.
They’re nice enough company. Aeris is a chatterbox, his wit sharper than a blade but lacking in any forethought before he speaks. Ives is the far opposite—rolls each sentence in her mouth before she voices it, but in no way is she angelic. Maker—you’d bet your entire left asscheek she’s behind each bad decision and silly shenanigans Aeris sticks his nose into. He never learns—not after a harsh chiding or cuff around the helmet from Paz or the Armorer could dampen is childlike enthusiasm or steer him away from repeating the same mistake over and over.
Though if you read one more kriffing sentence of this garbage magazine you’re about to invite chaos himself to entertain you. Good thing too because just as you sit up to find the red armored Mandalorian—Paz rounds the corner and steps into your little broom closet that hardly passes for a room.
“Paz!” You greet, tossing the magazine over your shoulder. “Please tell me we’ll be doing something interesting or else I might start ripping my hair out. Or maybe commit a heinous crime—haven't decided yet.”
Paz grunts and shakes his head. “You’ll be doing neither. But today we’ll be sparing—hopefully that will curve your boredom.”
You scrunch up your face. “Sparring? Er, no thanks—I choose life.”
“You breathe funny since your injury,” he says, jabbing a finger between your ribs. “And all you’ve been doing lately is laying around.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” you sneer, tucking your arms over your chest. “Didn’t realize I was supposed to be running laps with half a lung.”
“It’s like stretching a muscle, you need to gain your strength back.” He retorts. “This will be good for you.”
You groan and flop back into bed. “I don’t wanna. I was pretty much dead like three cycles ago—cut me some slack, man.”
There’s a brief silence as if he’s mulling over your words, but he’s stubborn. You crane your head to look at him as he says your name with a deep sigh attached to it.
“Truthfully, I’m surprised you’ve survived this long.” He says it quietly, fragile even, like he’s still expecting you to tip over and die on the spot. You very well might.
You huff. “Wow. Thanks, Paz.”
You feel his heavy stare through the helmet. “What happened to you that night was a mistake. It wasn’t preventable but the least I can do is teach you basic selfdefense.”
You gripe out your complaints but you know you’ve been beat—and well, a bit of your agreement is based on guilt.
Damn it.
-=-=-=-
It’s weird to see Paz without his heavy duty gear—like seeing him naked or a crab without a shell. The only piece he continues to wear is his helmet and padded gloves and under clothes, but it’s still weird. Strange enough that it shocks you tongue into remaining still instead of bitching about this.
He leads you to a wing of the Covert you’ve yet to discover and ushers you through the doorway. The floor is padded, a bit smaller than you expected and already occupied by none other than Aeris Fenn.
It’s a whole other kriffing shock to the head seeing him without the plates and layers of fabric and beskar too. The armor makes him bulkier—fuller and much more intimidating. Now, with only his black underclothes on, Aeris could be the spitting image of a sentient tree. Willowy limbs that stick out like branches as he stretches on the padded mat. He lazily swings his head around as you greet him, his face still covered by the black beskar painted with streaks of red.
“So you choose sparring over knife throwing?” Aeris snorts. “And to think I thought of you as a friend.”
“You think I chose to be here?” You say, grumpy and still upset at the choice of activity. Really, a brisk walk around the Covert would’ve been fine.
Aeris shrugs. “Ah, and I see you’ve roped in my favorite vod. Tch, he uses his fists instead of his words to teach. I wish you luck—you’ll need it.”
You open your mouth to retort but Paz beats you to it.
“Leave.”
“I’ve just arrived, actually,” Aeris scoffs, folding his torso over his other leg to stretch. “Perhaps you could reschedule. After all—our guest is quite free most days.”
Welp—you’re perfectly fine with that. Problem solved.
You spin on your heel and make a break for it but Paz snatches your wrist and pulls you back to his side. “Aeris.”
“Paz,” Aeris mocks, tipping his helmet to the side.
Paz exhales, a long, tired sound and grovels out another plea in clipped Mando’a. Aeris languidly stands and brushes off imaginary dust from the front of his pants. “Sorry, what was that? I don’t understand your accent.”
“Boy—“
“No, no, it’s alright.” Aeris sighs, waving his hand in a mopey display as if he were told that his birthday party were canceled for the fifth year in a row. “I’d have trouble speaking too if my enormously thick head were cooped up in that little bucket of yours all day.”
You wince.
In the time you’ve known Paz Vizsla, he’s never been one to launch into rash decisions fueled by anger—he lets it simmer and build like an oncoming storm over the ocean. Devastating once it reaches land.
Aeris bobs his head and inspects his black leather glove, picking at a loose thread on the inseam over the thumb. He clicks his tongue. “Or'dinii—you’re going to kill her.”
Your offended scoff is ignored as Paz steps forward; jutting his chin up to even out the few inches Aeris holds over the man. “You still haven’t learned to shut your mouth, boy.”
The tension surges and crackles like a volt of electricity through the air—unresolved and ready to ignite with the sparking embers of Paz’s growing irritation. It’s not a fight Aeris Fenn will win. He’s volatile and hotheaded—but his expertise is in long range weaponry. Precise, deadly and swift—not whatever this little pissing match is heading towards.
Aeris clicks his tongue as Paz digs a fist into the black fabric of his shirt. Paz yanks him forward, the metallic clink of their helmets colliding an unpleasant scrape that pierces your eardrums. Aeris snarls out sharpened words in Mando’a as his willowy fingers shoot up to curl beneath the lip of Paz’s helmet.
In the blink of an eye, Paz lifts Aeris up by his collar and launches him across the room like he weighs nothing more than a couple of down pillows. His helmet meets the wall with a resounding clank, chipping some of the red paint outlining the visor. Ouch.
Like a kicked dog, Aeris clambers to his feet, still dazed and swaying and for a fearful second you think he’ll retaliate. But with whatever braincells he happens to possess today—he instead spits out a venomous curse that even yourself would hesitate to repeat. He leaves without another word, bristling with rage.
Your flash Paz a questioning stare. “The hell was that about?”
Paz waves it away with an irritated grunt. “His heart is in the right place but he is young. Aeris doesn’t understand his place in the Covert yet and I doubt he will for years to come.”
You frown. “Poor guy…”
Paz mutters something under his breath. “Enough distractions. We’ve wasted enough time already.”
“Y’know…I think that’s enough excitement for today. I think I’ll be going now—“ Your last ditch attempt at weaseling out of this is quickly thwarted the moment you turn your back.
You wheeze as the heel of Paz’s palm shoves into your shoulder blade, the force of it sending you stumbling to the ground. “Paz—“
“Go on. Hit me,” he orders. You squeak, narrowly avoiding the well aimed kick that skims the top of your scalp.
You scramble to your feet, skirting out of range of the oncoming right hook. “So you attack me instead?”
“How do you expect to catch quarries who are bigger than you?” He presses. You hiss as the points of his knuckles dig into the meat of your shoulder.
You dance out of reach and rub your arm, a dull throb flaring up in the muscle. “I dunno—electrocute them?”
“Not if they take you by surprise.”
You screech as his knuckles skim your cheek. Adrenaline pierces you veins and you wildly throw a flaky punch that wouldn’t even impress a toddler. He catches your fist with ease, his entire hand dwarfing your clenched fingers. “You can do better than that.”
You snarl and struggle to rip your hand back. “I’m a scrapper. I don’t fight.”
“No,” he retorts. You fall onto your ass as he abruptly lets go of your hand. “You’re a bounty hunter.”
You roll your eyes. “Hardly—why can’t I just stay here?”
Although there’s nothing to see with that swatch of black covering his eyes, you can certainly feel the look he’s giving you. A deep sigh hisses through the vocoder. “You can stay here—“
A triumphant smile splits across your face—
“—but not without contributing where it’s due.”
You puff up your cheeks and let out a dismayed stream of air. “Booo—lame.”
He sighs again and helps you off the floor. “Even if you leave the Guild, what I’m teaching you is helpful.”
“Yeah, yeah,” you say. “I’ll give you a call after I use your invaluable skills to beat up some thug.”
Paz ignores your comment and turns on his heel. “Let’s go through it again. This time use your front two knuckles instead of your whole fist.”
As your eyes land over the stretch of tight fighting fabric over his back an idea pops into your head. It’s a petty move but getting a punch in is fruitless—like trying to beat up a brick wall. You don’t fancy a broken hand and your knuckles are already bruised and swollen to the point where it’s hard to bend them.
And so, without any forethought and with a running head start, you launch yourself onto him, your arms coiling around his neck. It does the job—takes him by surprise and makes him tip to the right.
Aha! Yes!
Your reign of victory is short lived, however—
He latches onto your forearms strung around his neck and yanks. And much in the same way he threw Aeris like a sack of potatoes—you’re no different. For a short stretch of time that feels kriffing endless; you soar through the air, your directional whereabouts violently ripped out beneath you and equally nauseating in the same breath.
Why you ever agreed to this—you don’t know.
Your shoulder blade connects with the mat first, leaving behind a dull sting as you roll and tumble with uncontrollable momentum. Oh, yeah—you’ll feel that in the morning.
Groaning, you thank the Maker that your body eventually settles into a miserable little pile of limbs and pain. But, it seems whatever higher power that lingers in the edges of the galaxy hasn’t decided to put you out of your misery just yet.
A bulky shadow blocks out the dim lighting overhead, and for a brief anxiety ridden moment you’re afraid it’s Paz. You roll onto your back with a pathetic groan, a beg for mercy on the tip of your tongue—but as your eyes flutter open they’re met with an entirely different man.
Din Djarin looms over you, his head cocked to the side as you blink in dumbfounded bewilderment. Ah, hell—
You swallow, a furious heat bitting at your cheeks. “Uh…fine weather we’re having…”
“We’re inside,” he states with a brief glance up to the ceiling.
You purse your lips. “Huh.”
With a pensive hum he offers his hand, you sigh and roll over, accepting his gloved hand. He hoists you up easily and adjusts your rumpled collar. “You ok?”
“Pfft, yeah,” you groan, rubbing your throbbing shoulder. “Never better.”
The low grumble of your name is a cross between disbelief and irritation. Din jerks his head, his attention zeroing in on Paz. “Are you trying to kill her?”
“She isn’t made of glass.”
“She is still recovering—“
Normally you’d intervene, but their bickering is tiring and it gives you the excuse to lie down. By the time one of them caves you’ve counted exactly one hundred and twelve weird ceiling stains. They should get that checked out.
“Very well,” Paz snarls, cutting through your wandering thoughts. “You teach her.”
Din scoffs, his shoulders drawn tight as he stomps over to your splayed out self. “Get up.”
“Geez, fine,” you grumble, not in the mood to test his patience further. “Since you asked so nicely.”
Later he’ll no doubt apologize but right now? He has to prove a point. Din cuts right to it, moves in close to place your clenched fists in the right stance and nudges at your feet until they’re a bit wider than hip distance.
“You have to get in close with a bigger opponent,” he says, stepping into your space until your fists are close enough to touch his chest. “We don’t have much range here—easier to break our guard too.”
“Right. And how would you suggest I do that?”
“You’re always beating me at cards.” Din says, tipping his head to the side. “You have a clever mind. Use it.”
“But I always cheat.” You point out, dropping your guard to swat at a stray hair.
He catches your wrists and returns them to where they ought to be. “Quick enough to get away with it.”
You make a noise of uncertainty but do as you're told. Din takes a couple steps back and with a rough order you begin.
He’s faster than Paz—bats at your guard in quick bursts and steps away when you attempt to hit back. It’s a dance almost—somehow elegant in its brutality of bruises and flashes of pain as you move around one another. Compared to Din, Paz is almost clumsy but unpredictable. Din—despite the rapidness of his attacks and evasiveness, becomes predictable.
He steps to to left—you follow. He rocks onto his toes to jab his fist forward and that’s where you find a break. Punching Din’s helmet won’t do you any good but catching the juncture of his shoulder with your elbow is completely feasible. Too bad that you’re not the only one with a clever mind.
Din uses the momentum of your attack to catapult you to the ground—his own body rolling with you in order to capture you in a headlock of sorts. This sucks. After this you’ll never be setting foot in this Maker forsaken room again.
Din tightens his elbow that’s looped around your throat as you squirm and flail, trapped against his chest. He grunts as your elbow digs into his ribs but holds steady and snakes his free arm across your front, pinning your limbs to your body in an unbreakable vice. All mobility is cut off as his knee pushes between your thighs, locking your leg out into an uncomfortable and frankly quite awkward angle.
Inhaling a shaky breath, you arch as the crown of his helmet skims along the curve of your throat; the bite of beskar frigid and startling against your flushed skin. You can see his visor out of the corner of your eye; glittering and dark like the polished obsidian on Black Spire and endless like the greedy maw of a black hole.
Your breath hitches as he shifts and curls his head closer to your ear. His voice rumbles low and deep through his chest and vibrates against the delicate cartilage. “Yield.”
However much your pride wrestles with the sensible part of your brain, it’s all for naught as you jerk your head in defeat.
In retrospect you should’ve said something—used your voice or made some kinda sound because suddenly Din’s forearm digs alarmingly hard into your windpipe. He read the stuttered jerk of your head as another pitiful act of defiance but no. Nope.
Here you are—asphyxiating.
Not exactly what you had in mind, being strangled by a Mandalorian and all—but a chokehold where you could very well die was not it.
Fuzzy darkness begins to shade the corners of your vision, lightheadedness and a curious warmth that prickles down your spine settling low in your belly. A raspy gasp manages to slip through your blocked off airway, and stars why does this feel good?
“Din—”
Paz’s sharp bark is distant above the ringing in your ears and it all stops.
You gulp in air that burns your throat like refined fire whiskey—hunched over the mat as a large palm rubs soothing circles over your upper back. You cough and roll over, sounding like a dying animal run over by a speeder then hit with a spiked club to polish it off.
You’re quickly herded into Paz’s arms and pulled into his lap. Still wheezing and attempting to recover lost oxygen, whatever Din is trying to say translates into an indiscernible hum against the ringing in your ears.
“I’m fine,” you mutter, though neither of them care to listen. Like bristling wolves, snapping at each other’s heels.
“Apologize to her,” there’s not so much as a centimeter of room to argue. “Now.”
It’s nice of Paz you suppose—defending your honor and what not, but you’re not a vengeful person. It was an honest mistake and you want to explain that so Din quits looking like a kicked puppy, yet the sudden touch over your ankle stops you. All the times Din has initiated contact it’d been a friendly pat to your shoulder or ruffling you hair, and while touching your ankle isn’t exactly scandalous it’s certainly an odd place to put your hand on.
Your fingers clutch Paz’s shirt as you eye the man lingering at the bottom of your feet, his gloved thumb unconsciously rubbing patterns into the exposed skin between your boot and your pant leg. “Cyare—I’m sorry.”
You blink and lick your lips. Interesting. “I-I don’t know what that word means.”
His hand inches higher, resting on the swell of your calf. “Sweetheart…darling…loved one—“
There’s a shift—a dark undercurrent that none of you should be dipping your toes into. There’s a million and one things to say or do to sever this at the root, but are you going to? Nah.
Din’s thumb now rests over your knee, goosebumps following in his wake. “Should I keep going?”
It too hot—stuffy with both of their heavy stares locked on your flushed face. You squirm and glance up at Paz who only offers an impassive stare. Great.
“I can make it up to you,” Din continues, his hand stationary—a warm weight even through the fabric of your pants. “If you let me.”
Your mouth feels drier than the desert on Jakku. This…nothing good could come out of what Din is hinting at. This is uncharted territory—launching yourself into the great unknown without any idea of what’ll fester and grow if you agree.
It’s not like it hasn’t crossed your mind—it’s just…it’s never been both of them at the same time. These men are short-tempered, an open flame to jet fuel with deeply seated ire woven into the very fabric of their beings. You’ve barely scratched the surface on the inner workings of their mutual hostility, but you’re bright enough to question if this will make it worse. Tinder and brittle twigs feeding and enabling the hungry flames of rivalry to spiral and consume with chaotic brilliance of a dying star—
But, oh—
Isn’t it worth taking the risk?
You suck in a grounding breath and slowly extend your leg that Din touches, gingerly skimming the toe of your shoe along the inseam of his inner thigh. “H-how would you…make it up to me?”
Din preens at your answer and shuffles closer, lifting your legs so that they rest in his lap. Devotion drips off his words like a fine liquor as he toys with the laces on your boots. “Anything—say it and it’s yours.”
Sparks of molten heat race down your spine and metastasize in your lower belly, spreading through each vein and artery like a some sort of invasive ivy. You spare a look up at Paz as he shifts.
“Go ahead, girl,” Paz assures. “Answer him.��
It’s an unspoken, buzzing sort of thing like the static air before a storm, crackling and surging with pent up energy. You all know the implications of what’s to come—but it’s your words, quiet and steady that irons that nail into your coffin.
“Take me like you mean it.”
The next few moments pass in a dizzying blur, a mess of anticipation as your shoes are yanked off, your pants following soon after and tossed into some unknown corner of the room. Paz helps you out of your shirt, a shiver wracking through your body from the chill, leaving you bare save for your underthings. Yet the warmth that seeps through his shirt and his hands that linger over your ribcage do a lovely job at making up for the cold.
Din shuffles closer and brings his fingers up to cup the side of your face, lowering his head to rest the crown of his helmet on your forehead. “Wanna touch you.”
Your breath hitches as Paz’s hands sweep up your torso, cupping and kneading your breasts. “Y-you already are touching me, Din."
Paz snorts as the rough leather of his gloves scrape over your skin and unhook your bindings. You hardly hear Din over your own whine as Paz rolls your hardened nipples between a forefinger and thumb.
“I want to feel you—without the gloves,” Din clarifies, fighting to keep your attention on him. “Will you let me?”
Maker that shouldn’t even be a question. You moan out your approval, delighted that both of them decide to slip off the padded fabric. Din touches your bare thigh the same moment Paz returns his hands to your tits and it’s exhilarating. The rasp of their bare palms against your flesh is addicting—something so foreign and warm compared to their usual armor and thick layered clothing.
You arch into Paz’s hand as it curls around the base of your throat, a tentative pressure but still heavy. “You’d let us do anything, wouldn’t you? Needy little thing.”
“Yes,” you croak, already debauched and falling apart at the seams. “Anything.”
You’re all too happy to fade away in the embrace of the larger man but the other participant is far from letting that slide. Din grabs your hand, guiding it towards the front of his trousers, the drawstrings already loose and easy to pull aside. He groans and twitches as your fingertips flirt along his navel, then curl over the waistband, tugging his pants the rest of the way down to pool around his knees.
You reach for the already impressive outline of his cock pressing against his boxers, but Paz cupping your cunt through your underwear just before you touch Din is distracting. You gasp and arch as Paz digs the heel of his palm against your clit, electrifying ecstasy zipping down your spine with each touch.
There’s a twinge of guilt after Din huffs and drags your limp wrist back to his cock, this time encouraging you to palm him by guiding your actions with his own hand until you lazily oblige. Din’s quiet grunts, gravely against the vocoder do nothing but throw more jet fuel to the fire inside your belly. The growing urge to actually touch him gnaws and corrodes the forefront of your brain. With a firm yank his boxers are quick to join his trousers and Maker—
Fuck—
Will he even fit?
Din is thick, rosy brown and flushed at the tip and beginning to curl towards his bellybutton. A bead of liquid shines at the tip, dribbling down the underside as he wraps his fist around the base of his length. He gives himself a languid stroke before he, once again, reminds your hand of what it’s supposed to be doing. Din is searing in your palm, molten and stiffening to hardened steel in your grip.
“You look so fuckin’ pretty like this,” Din hisses as his head rolls back onto his shoulders. “S-so pretty holding my cock.”
Your desperation tears at your insides, insatiable and Maker— you wanna taste him. You want to hear every little stuttered moan and feel each twitch of his hips as he claims your mouth as his own.
But before you’re able to ask Din if he’d be willing to fuck your throat, Paz grips your knee and slings your leg over his thigh, murmuring praise as he peels off your underwear. Paz’s hand snakes down to your pussy and runs two thick fingers through your already slick cunt, then delicately parts your folds.
It’s like a fucking bomb going off as his thumb grazes over your swollen clit. His forearm locks tight around your waist, keeping you in place as you arch and tremble. Paz is feather light and teasing, as he strokes over the little bundle of nerves in a painstakingly slow rhythm.
“Paz—“
He nudges your cheek with his helmet and chuckles. “You’re so sensitive, vaar’ika. Such lovely noises too.”
Paz trades in his light touches for using his two fingers instead. They form a relaxed ‘v’ shape, trapping your clit in between the digits as he massages in a steady up and down motion. You cry out, every nerve shocked and flooded with saccharine pleasure, shoving you so treacherously close to that precarious edge of release.
You have no fucking chance as a different set of fingers, leaner in length but just as bulky, carefully prod at your entrance. Din’s pointer finger slides into your cunt, quickly adding a second as your core clenches and stretches for him. The dual sensations over your clit and Din’s fingers steadily pumping and curling inside you send you hurling into that dazzling white-hot pleasure.
Throwing your head back, you cry out—a jumbled mess of their names or just nonsense— pleasure crackling out from your core and all the way down your legs. Your cunt tightens like a vice around Din’s digits, your legs twitching as your high dips into prickly overstimulation. You whine, and swat at Paz’s hand, Din pulling out his own fingers a moment later and wiping your wetness on the inside of your thigh.
Your head rests in the crook of Paz’s shoulder as your breath fans across the side of his helmet, fogging up the metal where the blue paint is chipped and scraped away. The shirt he wears smells a bit like sweat but the underlying scent of him is comforting—worn leather and something crisp, like fresh laundry. You don’t mean for the words to slip out—
You know better than that, but everything feels muddled and silly and, and, and—
“I wish I could kiss you.”
It’s like dousing ice cold water on a pile of smoldering coals. A silence, petrifying and like the inhale before jumping off a cliff and into a rocky sea, ensues. Stupid, stupid, stupid—
Paz shatters the fragile suspense with a rich laugh that burns away all the icy worry making itself a home in your ribcage. He moves his arm up, his fingers gripping your jaw to fix your gaze onto the other Mandalorian. “You want his mouth on you too?”
You whimper and nod, but it isn’t enough.
“Use your voice vaar’ika,” Paz hums, pressing the crown of his helmet against your cheek. “Tell us want you want.”
“I-fuck—” Paz’s fingertips sneak up your torso, rough callous catching deliciously on your skin. “I wan’t your mouth on me. B-both of you.”
Paz chuckles and releases his hold on your chin. “You’ll have to be blindfolded, sweet girl.”
Din scoffs, a harsh crackle through the vocoder. “Like she’d want to see your face anyway.”
“Please,” you mewl, turning your head to curl into Paz’s neck. It’s not ideal, but it’s a sacrifice you’re willing to make. “I don’t care. I need—“
“Patience, little one,” Paz purrs, rubbing up and down your bare sides in a soothing manner. All it does is stoke the flames. “You’ll get what you want.”
Paz shifts, reaching for your abandoned shirt and stars—
You can feel his cock, firmer then tempered durasteel and poking into your lower back. Oh, hell—these men are going to ruin you.
You’re nudged forward, your vision going dark once your shirt is securely tied around your head. The knot traps a few hairs that pull sharp against your scalp but the measly pain is worth it. Oh so worth it.
“Is it too tight?” You hear Din ask, concern lacing his gravely vocals.
You wave your hand in dismissal. “S’fine.”
“Cant see anything either, right?”
You squirm, your patience spreading thin. “Din, please.”
“Fine.” There’s no bite to his tone and under different circumstances you’d have more composure. Acknowledge that they’re putting their religion, their whole being into your hands—a fragile trust that could so easily be shattered.
Your ears pick up their subtle movements, their helmets landing onto the thin mat with soft thunks. With bated breath you wait for them to jump into action, seize every spare moment to taste your skin and breathe the same air. But—
“You need a haircut, vod.”
“And you need to shave.” Retorts Din with bitter indignation.
“It’s hardly even stubble.” He chortles. You giggle and twist away as he scrapes his prickly cheek up and down your neck. “Besides—she likes it.”
There’s another lull, and with the blindfold everything is amplified—the quick and quiet breathing of Din on your right and the slide of fabric against skin as Paz shifts. Your attention is captured by Din’s bare palm, warm and calloused like weathered leather left out in the afternoon sun. He caresses the outside of your thigh in smooth, longing strokes, enraptured by the softness of your skin. You whimper and let your leg fall open, exposing more of your thigh for his curious exploration.
The sudden touch on your cheek is jarring. You know Paz is there—it’s not an easy thing to forget the solid chest you’re leaning against but it’s hard to focus. Difficult to settle on one thought before it slips away like grains of sand between a clenched fist. Paz’s touch is heavier than Din’s, ambitious and greedy but…mindful. Even as his fingers spread along your jaw and drag you into a deep, mouthwatering kiss. It’s…stars—
There’s nothing that can describe this. No word that could ever hold a candle up to the way his lips, plush and soft, move against yours. His nose brushes against your cheek as he tilts his head and deepens the kiss, his warm tongue sliding against the seam of your bottom lip.
You whine and bury your hand into his hair as Paz groans, a low rumble in his throat. You wonder what color it is, but carding your fingers through the curls atop his head suffices for now.
Your curiosity is abruptly ended as Din’s hand snakes around your forearm. You’re forcibly yanked away, only to be met with another pair of lips. Din murmurs an apology at the sting of his teeth bumping into your upper lip, but the pain is hardly the first thing on your mind.
Din’s kiss is devouring—
Scalding and bright—the galaxy, a thousand suns, all there ever will be and all that ever was. The way his lips move against yours is a devastatingly sharp contrast to the steady, syrupy sweet kiss Paz offers. Desperate and eager to surround you in his own arms—steal away any lingering thought and replace it with him. Din Djarin—
You gasp as Din’s teeth nibble and pull on your bottom lip, only a moment before he surges closer, wrapping his hand around your jaw to hold it open as he licks deep into your mouth. Breaking for air, Din tangles his fingers into your hair at the base of your neck and yanks, baring the column of your throat. His travels down, the tender kisses morphing into teasing nips and lingering sucks that’ll turn into tender bruises in the morning.
Din hovers over your breasts, his heated breath and cooling saliva the catalyst to the goosebumps that rush over your skin. He lightly tugs on your nipple using his teeth, then plants a sweet kiss over your sternum.
“Can I taste you?” Din murmurs, his lips ghosting over your flesh. “Maker—wanna put my mouth on you.”
“Din—“ A different set of lips latching onto the juncture of your neck and hijacks your train of thought. Wipes your mind clean until Paz is the sole thing you can consciously focus on.
Paz laves his tongue over the shell of your ear and urges you to lean back against him once more. Your nose scrapes against his stubble as you tuck your head into the crook of his neck, his hips lazily rolling his hardened cock into your backside.
“Or…” Paz rumbles, capturing your hand and interlacing your fingers with his. You marvel at the sheer size of his palm—astounded still when he leads his and your hands to palm his cock. “I could give you this. Fuck your pretty little cunt until you’re screaming for me.”
It’s a punch to the gut. Why the fuck do you have to choose? You squirm as Din points his tongue over your nipple then sucks it into his mouth.
Working through the fog in your head, the answer is clearer than fucking crystal. Because who in their right mind would turn down a Mandalorian’s request to eat you out? Not you, that’s for sure. “Din—want your mouth.”
Din huffs in triumph and slips between your legs that part to accommodate his broad shoulders, leaving no patch of bare skin untouched and worshiped. You shiver as his tongue circles around your bellybutton then retreats. Din settles his head beside your knee and mouths a kiss there.
You whine his name and buck your hips, heart beating wildly in your ears. The teasing is unbearable and, stars—if he doesn’t start now—
He nibbles on the inside of your thigh, laving his warm tongue over each mark he leaves behind, buffering the sting of his teeth. Din snake his hands under your ass, hooking your knees over his shoulders as he heaves your cunt closer to his mouth. Din’s thumbs part your soaking pussy, his breath hot fanning over your cunt. His tongue his scalding—like liquid velvet as he dips the tip of his tongue from the base of your slit all the way up to your clit.
Din sucks on the little bundle of nerves, rolling his tongue until you’re crying out, molten pleasure zipping through you. He grunts as your fingers tangle into his hair—fuck. Fuck, you need more.
Arching into his mouth, all thoughts are obliterated; nothing but the warmth of his tongue, and his lips, devouring you as if he were a man seconds from death and you’re his saving grace. That frenzied desperation lingers on the edges of his movements like he’s afraid you’ll fade into smoke—but you’re not going anywhere. Not even a million credits could convince you to push Din’s head away.
He sinks two fingers into your clenching hole and curls his fingers, stroking and curling his fingertips to make you sing. Zeros in on that little spot that causes the involuntary twitches of your leg and wrenches embarrassing, high pitched mewls that fill the room. You’re careening towards your high, the sensitivity of your last orgasm amping up the influx of pleasure.
“Shit—Din. Close—I’m so close,” you gasp, pulling his hair tight enough that you know it must hurt. He makes no sign that it does, just groans and buries his tongue into your dripping hole, licking alongside his fingers that shovel more of your wetness into his mouth.
Your release unfurls through your body like sticky molasses—smoldering embers that seep into each limb until they’re heavier than lead. Fuck—it’s so hard to think and at this rate your brain is as good as gone.
You pay only a fraction of attention to Din as he kisses his way back up your body and lands a final one over your lips. His thumb grazes over your chin, his gravelly words of praise cutting through some of that foggy haze, how good you were, how fucking delicious you tasted when you came on his tongue. You taste your own arousal on his mouth as he noses your cheek and captures your lips in another kiss.
“Are you done?” Paz asks dryly, much too barbed to be thrown your way. You groan when Paz jostles your limp body as he hoists you back into his lap.
“Just starting, actually,” Din quips. “Why don’t you hand her back over? I’ve got some more things I wanna try.”
Paz scoffs and secures a heavy arm around your middle. “Greed will get you nowhere.”
“Neither will your arrogance.”
“Shut up—both of you,” you interrupt. Your voice is raw and choppy but it does the job. “Just fuck me already.”
For now their little spat is sidelined—it’s not worth ripping off that bandage of a temporary truce. There’s a chaste moment of quiet, like they’re considering tearing into each other’s throats instead, but with a touch to Paz’s thigh the standoff fizzles out.
“We need to work on your manners,” Paz suggests, curling his large, calloused hand around your neck in a loose hold. “I believe it’s please fuck me.”
Maybe if you weren’t practically a pile of brainless goo, you’d argue. See how far you can push—though this time you fold. “Please fuck me. P-please—I need it.”
Seemingly satisfied with your answer; Paz wedges a hand between your bodies to grip his cock and run the tip through your folds, soaked from you own wetness and Din’s saliva. The head of his member nudges at your entrance, and wether it’s his size or the fact you can’t see anything—you panic.
Your hand shoots out, nails harpooning into the meat of his forearm. “W-wait—you’re too b-big.”
Paz freezes and moves you up his lap and presses a kiss over you hairline. “We can stop. Just say—“
“N-no, I’m fine,” you assure, planting an apologetic peck on his stubbled jaw. Stopping is the last thing you want to do—it was just…overwhelming. A sensory overload testing the very fringes of your being. “Go slow?”
You feel his head bob in compliance as he moves you back to where you’re hovering over his cock. You relax this time, not as many alarm bells clanging through your head as your cunt flutters around the fat tip and then that glorious, first thick inch. Paz’s thumb bumps over your throbbing clit, coaxing your pussy to take him further.
“Yeah, that’s it vaar’ika,” he grunts, his breath fanning over your neck in quick pants. “Taking my cock so fucking well. So nice and pretty.”
Your pussy flutters, fresh waves of arousal hot and burning.You nearly keel over when Paz starts shallowly rocking his hips, easing your body the rest of the way down his length until the back of your thighs touch his. Maker—how the hell is he all the way inside? You can feel him in your fucking guts—
“See?” Paz purrs. He sucks a bruise into the meat of your shoulder and pushes his palm against your lower stomach, making the fit even tighter. “Fits fucking perfect.”
The noise your cunt makes pulling out and the debauched moan that filters through his vocal chords is obscene. If anyone where to walk by, well—it’s certainly not training that’s going on, for the better lack of words.
Paz holds true to his word—keeps his pace limited to deep, languid thrusts that brush up against something that makes your whole body shake—like strumming a golden chord molded to a musician’s fingers. Fuck—he’s doing all the work too. Lifting you by the swell of your hips and pulling you down onto his cock with a rough buck of his hips.
Abruptly, he slows to a gentle rocking—quick to lock you in place as you thrash and roll your hips. “Paz—n-no. Keep going. You n-need to—“
Paz silences your please with a wet, open mouthed kiss. “Our friend looks lonely. Why don’t you use that pretty mouth and suck his cock?”
Din.
You hear the man curse in Mando’a, probably some stab at Paz—
But with a pat to your outer thigh, you don’t need any more prompting—you’d give up your left hand to get a chance to suck him off. With the help of Paz, you’re eased onto your hands and knees, shocks of white-hot pleasure zipping through your core at the change of angle. Like this Paz is seated deeper inside, stabbing into each spot that makes you sing.
Fuck—your arms are shaking—only able to hold yourself up for half a click and then you’re sinking face first into the floor, ass in the air as he fucks into you. Paz clicks his tongue and wraps his arm around your front, pulling you back up from your slumped position.
“I told you to suck his cock, girl. Not take a nap.” Paz accentuates his words with heavy, well measured thrusts—the kind of force you know will leave your whole lower half throbbing and sore in the aftermath.
You whine as Paz grabs a hold of your jaw, digging into the tender joints until your mouth falls open. “Good. Keep it like that.”
Paz’s hand falls away, replaced by a softer touch. The pads of Din’s fingers hook under your chin, guiding and tempting you nearer to what rests between his legs, hot and heavy and large.
You feel the tip of his cock, flushed and pulsing, rest on your bottom lip. You lap up the beads of sticky precum with kitten licks that morph into suckling the entire head. Din grunts out your name and tangles his hand into your hair as you tongue at the ridged frenulum. He never forces you to swallow down more of him—lets you cradle the first few inches in the wet warmth of your mouth and languidly roll the pad of your tongue around him.
You want to take him deeper, let Din fuck your throat raw, but your jaw already aches. Your lips are pulled tight around his shaft, drool dribbling down your chin and landing on the mat below. You’re not sure if you could take more of him without the danger of your teeth catching or dislocating your jaw. So you manage like this—hollowing out your cheeks and and using the momentum of Paz’s thrusts to pleasure Din.
It’s frustrating—it must be each time you let his cock slip out of your mouth to breathe or the fact Din isn’t able to fucking fit his cock into your mouth. Annoying that you aren’t able to think properly to help him out a bit ore when that said brain is being fucked straight outta you, put through the wringer and then body slammed onto duracrete.
Din cups your cheek, strokes over your skin with his thumb and maneuvers himself out of your mouth. You whine and lean into his palm, his touch addictive like smoldering coals in the dead of winter.
“You want me there instead of him?” Din purrs, using the tips of his index and middle fingers to tilt your chin and drag you into an open mouthed kiss. “Fuck you like you deserve.”
The profane imagery of Din between your legs instead makes you clench tight. It only takes a couple seconds and a few more feverish kisses before you’re nodding to his request. Paz mutters a swear, hesitates, and reluctantly pulls out, leaving your cunt empty and aching with need.
Din, however, is speedy—quick to hoard you to himself and yank your legs over his hips so that you’re draped on his lap. He jumps straight to the point, no fancy maneuver or drawn out teasing—just grabs the base of his cock, slides the flushed tip between your folds and sinks into your cunt. Even after your pussy had been stretched and molded around Paz’s length, you struggle to take Din’s entire cock into your aching center. It’s easier than Paz but, Maker—not by much.
You whine, harpooning your fingernails into his shoulder once he bottoms out. Din snarls a curse and latches his teeth onto the juncture between your neck and shoulder, prickly pain shooting directly to your belly. “Fucking tight. H-how—fuck.”
There’s no time to adjust before Din sets a pace, harsh and desperate—his hands digging into the flesh of your ass for better leverage. Each roll of his hips borders erratic, taking his pleasure without thought—intent on reaching his own end before it could be yanked out from under him. Din’s staggered exhales below your ear are interlaced with subdued moans that start low in his ribcage then dip into a higher, airy pitch. A delicate sound you’ll guard closer to your chest than any secret you possess for the rest of your life—precious and yours.
Din turns his head to steal a kiss. “You feel fuck—fucking good. Wanna feel you cum around me. S-squeezed so fucking hard around my fingers—“
You choke out a groan and feel your arousal begin to drip down your thighs—hear the thrusts of his cock into your cunt become shamefully wetter. Heat sizzles down each vertebrae in your spine, burning up each and every cell with the brilliance of a wildfire. Stars, this is gonna destroy you.
Din’s hand sneaks between your bodies and rubs tight, little circles over you swollen clit. There’s no build up to your orgasm—just a blinding surge of blistering warmth that knocks you off your feet and steals away all the air left in your lungs. Your nails dig into Din’s back as you shake and grapple for a foothold in your own consciousness—the steady warmth of his body a much needed anchor for the madness that threatens to drown you.
“Good girl,” Din praises, pace faltering from just how tight your pussy squeezes and flutters around his cock. “S-such a fucking good girl for me.”
Regaining some semblance of control, you realize he’s still fucking going—still rock solid and throbbing, fucking you through the aftershocks of your release. Your arousal turns sharp, like rough cotton over a fresh sunburn as it dips into overstimulation. It’s not unpleasant but Din has to slow his hips to a delicate roll for you to recover.
In the time it takes to inhale, a different calloused hand kneads into your lower back then smoothes up your spine. A second later you feel the scrape of Paz’s stubble prick along your exposed shoulder as his tongue drags along your sweat dampened skin—all the way up the curve of your neck and ending at the shell of your ear.
You’re not sure if it’s intentional, but as Paz crowds closer the tip of his cock pokes at your other hole. With a surprised mewl, you tense and shy away—but he follows, molds his chest against your back to sandwhich you in. The hand gripping your bicep jumps to your neck and pulls your head against his shoulder.
Two of Paz’s fingers dip down the curve of your ass and brush along the puckered skin—far less jarring this time. “Do you want to be fucked here too?”
Maker—
You’re gonna fucking explode.
Stuffed to the brim already, it’s hard to imagine Paz cramming himself in along with Din. A little red light blares in some corner of your mind but it’s quickly soothed as Paz plants soft kisses over your cheek and jaw. You trust him—there’s no reason to think he’ll hurt you or push you to the point of pain.
You catch his mouth with a kiss and rock your hips back. “Y-yeah, ok. I trust you.”
You feel his smile curl against your cheek. “Don’t worry vaar’ika—I’ll take care of you.”
Paz strokes your bottom lip with his thumb and kisses the crown of your hairline as you sink into him. With his ring and middle finger, he pushes past the seam of your lips. “Suck.”
You obey, sealing your lips around his two digits and coating them in your saliva. Paz pulls them out with a pop and moves them between your legs, and with the added wetness dripping from your cunt, the first finger is easy enough. The second and third have you gasping as he scissors them and stretches your tight hole wider. You claw your nails into Din’s shirt—and he’s no better—Din’s own hands are clamping around your hips, struggling to keep still and biting back moans each time your cunt constricts.
Your hips begins to meet the thrusts of Paz’s fingers as your body familiarizes the feel of him there. It’s a deep thrill that rushes up through your spinal cord—much different from anything you’ve felt before.
“You like this, don’t you?” Paz goads, chuckling when you whine as he extracts his fingers. “I think you’re ready to take my cock, yeah?”
You shudder and nod, your voice no more than a squeak as it pilfers out. Paz strokes the top of your head and tips you forward into Din’s eager arms as Paz slicks up his length in a mix of precum and your dripping arousal. He touches the swell of you ass in warning, lines himself up with your hole and wedges the tip of his cock inside of you.
Involuntary tears dampen your makeshift blindfold as Paz buries himself deeper, his rumbling tone urging you to relax—relax even though your mind is drowning in an ocean of arousal and swirling emotions you have no hope to pin down and analyze. It’s for the best—thankful as Paz bottoms out that it wrenches you back to a feasible reality you’re able to manage.
“Shit—I-I’m gonna die—“ You sob, writhing at just how full you are. But there’s nowhere to fucking go—
“Easy,” Din breathes, and you wonder if he’s said it to keep his own head on his shoulders. “Easy.”
Din’s gravelly rasp cuts through the fog in your head, and stars—you sound like you’re fucking dying. Your wheezy breaths and lightheadedness would certainly suggest that—but no…no, you’re fine. Better than fine.
A rush so acute and devastating launches up your spine as Din’s patience cracks. He experimentally rolls his hips and that’s the end of it. You’re swallowed up in that riptide you fought so hard to avoid—fuck. You won’t be the same after this. How can you?
You can feel them both, separated by a thin wall as they sprint towards their own highs. You’re never once left empty—Din reaches the end of you as Paz pulls out and while there’s not exactly any finesse involves it’s the best fucking thing you’ve felt in your entire life. There’s no bickering—no teasing and you’re struck with an idea that makes you clench tight around both of them. You wouldn’t mind if this was the way they decided to settle scores or finally see eye to eye.
This time you can’t discern your high—just a constant overflow of ecstasy and dazzling arousal like an imploding supernova. You cry their names—sob and shake in their hold with such fervor that Paz traps you tighter between them to keep you still.
“Fuck—you get so fucking tight,” Paz growls, blunt nails digging into your hips. “And so fucking wet.”
His fingers touch the inside of your thigh and stars—he’s right. “I get to fuck your cunt next time—see how much you’ll drip for me.”
Even if the blindfold were off—there’d be nothing to see but a white wash of nothing. Blinded by pleasure and bursting at the seems.
Jealous, Din steals your breath away with a kiss, licking and nipping at your swollen lips until you whine his name. His jagged pants fan across your chin—chapped lips and patchy facial hair tickling across your bottom lip as you breath the same air.
Din whispers your name like a prayer, his fingers clutching tight around your thighs as his pace starts to flounder to choppy jerks. “Shit. I-I’m close—“
Your fingers twist into his hair. “Yeah—ok baby. Let go.”
Din’s teeth sink into the base of your throat and cums. His seed coats your insides—hot and copious and fucking shit—if there’s a next time you want him to cum in your mouth.
You don’t get time to relish Din’s stuttered gasps of your name, laced with praise and a show of a tender and bleeding heart before Paz is gathering up your hair in a tight fist and jerking your head up. “You—you want me to cum too? Say it.”
Without a breath of hesitation you beg for it, cry and arch into him. It does the trick—
Paz is loud—shouts a thunderous roar and buries his cock deep into your hole. Din is still recovering from the aftershocks of his release when Paz pulls out after what seems like ages pumping you full. His cock no longer there to plug you up, his cum begins to dribble out and mix with the mess between your legs. Your legs shake and you wobble--crying out as Din slips out, your body dreadfully empty and aching.
You're lowered to the mat by Din and if you weren't still trying to formulate words, you'd thank them. Lips dart over your cheeks and hairline, and for once nothing needs to be said. It’s nice...the radiating warmth from their bodies and the simmering flush through you body is something you could get used to. But you’re no stranger to the shifting tides of the future.
You shrug it off.
Your eyes are heavy and with one of them stroking your hair and the other your thigh, you drift to sleep. Later—later all unspoken things and disastrous words can be dealt with tomorrow. You must be dreaming when it’s said--careless and bold, but the words nestle into your heart and sprouts with fear.
“You love her, don't you?”
translation:
vaar’ika--pipsqueak
or’dinni--dumbass idiot
vod--brother/comrade
tag list:
@bobafctts @djxrxn @teaofpeach @corrupt-fvcker @nelba @datmando @ben-is-a-hoe @dreams-like-clockwork @aerynwrites @auty-ren @huliabitch @anxiety-riddled-mando @phoenixhalliwell @trippedmetaldetector
#happy SINday :)#pls accept some mando schlong#din djarin x reader#din djarin x you#paz vizla x reader#paz vizsla x reader#paz vizla#paz vizsla#din djarin#the mandalorian#the mandalorian x reader#star wars#sw#fanfic#my writing#reader insert
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
ive sputtered about this on twitter before that’s gone now so i get to do it again anyway jotaro and kakyoin featuring proposal. just bear with me here this got kinda long
post-part-6-but-happy-ending-au kakyoin wakes up in hospital after the fight and he wasnt injured too badly all things considered. by that i mean he manages to shuffle his way to wherever jotaro is cause he just needs the assurance he’s alive cause th last thing he saw before blacking out earlier was jotaro’s face almost getting cleaved in half. once he sees nd hears the heart monitor and jotaro’s chest rising and falling he kinda slumps into the chair next 2 the bed and goes to bed. obviously he gets scolded by doctors when a nurse comes by doing rounds and finds kak in jotaro’s room but kak refuses to budge from the room so the docs are like “FINE” and they both get moved to a double room
kak just kinda fades in and out of consciousness while he waits for jotaro to wake up. while he’s waiting tho jolyne and emporio come visit. jolyne confirms everyone’s okay and hermes is getting fitted for arm prosthetics and kakyoin brings up avdol cause he had a similar procedure done. basically he’s reassuring jolyne it’ll go well. she appreciates it. then they both just kinda stare at jotaro for a sec. jolyne asks kakyoin if he thinks he’ll be okay and kakyoin is like hmm. probably. just cant let him out of our sight anymore. jolyne laughs but it’s tired. kakyoin tells her to go rest so she heads out w emporio
a couple hours after jolyne leaves kakyoin wakes up to jotaro’s heart monitor picking up. kakyoin only just gets his bearings when jotaro shoots forward gasping “jolyne”
kak immediately gets up and sits next to jotaro and helps him calm down. he takes his hand while doing this. basically “jolyne’s okay” “kakyoin?” “im here” jotaro blinks at kak w his only visible eye (the other’s buried under bandages) before his heart monitor starts 2 slow again and he slumps a bit
kak asks how he is and jotaro just grimaces which kak laughs a little at like “that’s understandable” jotaro grumbles that’s he’s getting old and kak is like “rather u old than dead” jotaro hums thoughtfully and neither speak for a second
anyway kak is Also getting old and he’s tired of beating around the bush and frankly with all he and jotaro have gone through there’s no way unrequited feelings will get inbetween them so he’s like “jotaro i am in love w u” with no warning
jotaro’s like “HUH?” and kak kinda elaborates cause why Not lay his heart bare the world almost ended
jotaro’s like stammering for a good minute before he’s like “u. i. u. me too” “what” “you. i. .” jotaro sighs but he’s always been more a man of action than a man of word so he takes kak’s hand which is still holding his and kisses it. kak is like “oh” and he cant bite back his smile
so basically they confess finally after (does the math) 23 years. god. then after they both get discharged from the hospital they go to a beach cause jotaro and kakyoin’s nerves are FRAYED and what else is more calming for old ppl than just sitting outside together. so they do that at a beach
anyway it’s nice and theyre there all day. jotaro pokes fun at the sunburn kak has on his nose and kak just throws sand at his face (star plat blocks it). when it’s dusk jotaro’s talking abt how some fish creep up the water column at night to hunt and kak is just smiling so softly at him before “marry me” just drops from his lips. completely unthinkingly but like it’s sincere
both freak out for a bit like “HUH” “HUH? I. I DONT KNOW WHY I SAID THAT. SORRY THAT WAS KINDA INTENSE” “I MENA. I MEAN. I MEAN” “WHAT???” “I. I!!!! GOD. KAKYOIN” “STOP WHAT DO YOU MEAN” “I MEAN!!!!!!!”
and jotaro just shakes his head before kissing kak. they break apart and kak is like “uHh” all dazed and jotaro just rolls his eyes good naturedly like “ur acting like an excited teenager” “shut the HELL UP kujo” “kujo-kakyoin to you” “SO DID YOU- DO YOU REALLY??? WANNA?? MARRY ME???”
and jotaro is like “iiII I MEAN LIKE WHY NOT WE’RE??? WE’RE CLEARLY IN THIS FOR THE LONG HAUL IF OUR ENTIRE HISTORY IS SOMETHING TO GO BY. WE’VE ALREADY GONE THROUGH THINGS TOGETHER MOST MARRIED COUPLES DONT AND WE STILL STUCK TOGETHER” “I. YEAH GUESS”
so there’s that. kakyoin doesnt have a ring to give jotaro cause even he didnt know he was gonna do this that night but it’s ok cause then they go ring shopping the next day and they both take the other out on cute little dates wherein they give each other their rings (like jotaro takes kak on a museum date and gives him his ring there, and kak takes jotaro on a boat for a couple of days wherein he gives HIM his ring)
uh yeah.
5 notes
·
View notes
Text
in a good mood for .02 seconds bfore the fear sets in
#gaster rants#its so hard to tell myself its ok to like shit bcuz im sO USED to being shamed for liking anything tht#often times ppl saying 'i like ur art of x thing' doesnt rlly register like AT ALL like#i hear 'i like ur art style' and not 'i appreciate u making this content for something u like'#like hell i gotta preface a lot of wht i say to friends w 'im gonna talk abt homestuck now pls dont make fun of me' bcuz im so fucking#terrified of them shaming me for even enjoying it !!#like its. hm.#i m just gonna go back to playing ovw for a while and try to get into plat again. take my mind off it.
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
ok so goals for this week while im up here on vacation:
higher the 2 programmers to start building OH!DAM & PWN!LND
draw 1 second of the opening animation for the site
get to plat 3 in teamfight tactics
start writing a purely for fun/me novel
complete the kickstarter plans for OH!DAM on 10/13
make a short terrible film for practice w all of my equipment i lugged up here to do that specifically
#kinda fucks me up i can fit 7yrs of savings for film equpment into a cardboard box#20k an 1/4 i still owe on my cc xD life savings baby#fuck a house?
1 note
·
View note
Text
Nanny Anon 2
Nanny Anon 2
Sept. 17
———————
Sept. 18
NANNY ANON, well’ I’ve packed and ready to go ,himself came to say goodbye and thank me for being in the wee-ones early development, It was quite touching. The mistress had the maid drop off a card reference last night and left this morning without a word. ( no surprise there). M and her mistress are looking forward to next week when I move in to the P. And I can’t wait to start a new chapter with a loving family. It sounds wonderful and never again will I have to utter the words ‘ all too…………”
———————-
Sept. 22
NANNY ANON, hello darlings ‘ I’m having a wonderful day with little C&L , M is taking G to see Star Wars so I have the the wee-one and little C. This afternoon we’re going to bake fairy cakes , although little C wants to make Unicorn cookies and take them to school tomorrow … it’s a privilege to be in a loving home with such a wonderful mistress and adorable children, last night I cried with joy. And M and I have such a history of professional duty together. What a joy for a white Lady TTFN 😌😌
———————-
Oct. 3
NANNY ANON, hello darlings, we have been Sooooo busy with the little ones while the mistress and W have been engaged on royal duties. The mistress is such an understanding and compassionate woman she insists on the nannies as being part of the family and treats M and I the same. We have such fun with the little ones , there’s a tree house in the gardens which C seems to have turned into a Unicorn palace with daily visits from her school chums ‘ it’s a hoot ‘life is good for a white Lady TTFN.
—————-
Oct. 5
NANNY ANON, hello darlings, both M and I are getting a program together while the mistress and W are away, we both want to take them on a scavenger hunt at high grove with C&C. Unicorns will probably be involved and G is into Star Wars. So it’s going to be a full itinerary. Little C is platting her hair at the moment and loves the tree house playing with her school chums. It’s a wonderful life for a white Lady. TTFN.
—————-
Oct. 6
NANNY ANON, Hello Darlings, Little G came back from the match with a football signed by the team , and C had a book explaining the women’s World Cup. G is now officially a fully fledged supporter, such a fun day, the children are so exited I can see bed time will be fun. M and I are getting ready for an outing with the little ones as soon as the mistress and W depart for the tour. There off to the in-laws today so M and I are go into F&M for tea …… TTFN.
—————
Oct. 15
NANNY ANON, hello darlings, M and I have just returned with G&C from Thorpe Park ‘ I’m exhausted!! We went on all the rides, Little C wanted to have another ride on the Big Dipper ‘ o dear I nearly lost my breakfast ……… they had toffee apples and candy floss and G had to have tree rides on the water Shute ‘ I came over all emotional remembering Diana doing the same ride with W&H. O DEAR ‘ all too much for a white Lady 😢😢😢😢😢😢😢 TTFN 😢😢😢😢
————-
Oct. 19
NANNY ANON, hello darlings, The mistress and himself returned to a rapturous welcome from the children ‘ lizards ,Unicorn costumes and hugs lasted for over an hour , it was a joy, I think the first stop was BP so we waited a while but it was an exiting evening. This weekend M&I have the time to ourselves as the whole family are going to the country. We shall have a spa weekend in Bath and indulge in a lot of R&R. All To much for a white Lady. TTFN
—————
October 20
NANNY ANON, hello darlings,” O joy and jolly japes”Tonight we all trip over to the in-laws to watch the“ Docudramarama” the mistress has asked her sister to come and himself is off to pick up C&C ! M and myself are busy making savoury and sweet popcorn 🍿 boss baby is having fun strapped in the Bouncer and G&C are playing 🦎and🦄 , it’s a joy to be part of a loving family ‘can’t wait for the fun to begin. God bless the future monarchy. TTFN.
——————
Oct 27
NANNY ANON … hello darlings, still about ,things are hotting up for Halloween 🤡👹👻 the children are expected to wear their creepy costumes and my darling mistress is taking them and other little ones around the the village with the parents. M and I are going as the Markle Sisters 👯♀️ So don’t expect to return without egg 🍳 on my face 🤣🤣🤣all too much for a white Lady TTFN
—————-
Oct 28
NANNY ANON, hello darlings, WELL, WELL, WELL, I’m flabbergasted absolutely stunned darlings, I’ve just received an invitation from my previous mistress and himself to a private meeting in SH London for the opportunity of returning to her employ. Apparently the wee one is missing his nanny!!! and this is causing a lot of headaches for the mistress as she wants to be able to leave the wee one with a nanny she knows will be a bonding influence. I’ll keep you all updated as to my decision darling.
—————
Oct 29
NANNY ANON, hello darlings ‘ salutations to all who grace the blog of our beloved Skippy. 🐼. WELL , I’ve made the decision I was debating on yesterday. I’ve decided to remain at KP in the employment of the present mistress ( god bless her and himself) because I ‘ much like M have fallen in love with little 🦄🦎And 👶. It’s a constant privileged challenge to be part of this family, The Sunday night gatherings looking at the social media laughing at the ageing train wreck. Love to all. TTFN. 🤣🤣
—————
Nov. 1
NANNY ANON, hello darlings, Little C is refusing to change out of her Halloween costume 🦄, and we’re all going down to Sainsbury’s to buy some giant marshmallows to roast for the rugby match. When C digs her little feet in there’s no movement. The mistress is having quite a debate with the little one trying to see reason. In the end the RPO got her to change by promising her he’d find a police helmet as a substitute. All too much for a white Lady. TTFN
—————
Nov 4
NANNY ANON, hello darlings ‘ O joy!! Today M&myself take little C and G (with their poppies) to RP zoo with RPO. ( one of the zoo keepers are going to fix a Unicorn to a zebra 🦄for little C.) and G will gain access to the reptile house to look at all the 🦎🦎 “ what larks pip old chap” the mistress is having some down time back at KP with little L. Afterwards we’re all of to Harrods for 🍨🍦. So much joy for a white Lady. TTFN.
—————
Nov 9
—————
Nov 11
NANNY ANON , hello darlings, my day off with M. We are exhausted darlings, absolutely knackered. Little C had a sleepover with four friends (fiendish demons) , OMG it was the sleepover from hell , first’ we put them all in the nursery, made up beds and lots of 🦄🧸🛴🏓🍪🍿🧁🍕👧👧👧👧stuff to play with and favourite eats. Only problem they didn’t want to sleep, himself had a few words to Little C at one in the morning because of the screams. All too much for a white Lady. TTFN. Bless.
—————
Nov 18 (Royal Variety)
NANNY ANON, hello darlings, tonight M and I had too draw lots as to who went to the RVP. I lost , so I’m looking after the little ones. The mistress spent the afternoon getting ready as the dresser fitted the last tucks to the bodice. My goodness she looked magnificent when she walked down the stairs all the little ones cheered and clapped. Tonight it’s a treat, we’ve ordered 🍕 PIZZA and knickerbocker glory’s such a joy. All too much for a white Lady. TTFN.
—————
Nov 19
NANNY ANON, hello darlings, a wonderful evening was had by all at the the RVP. The mistress and himself stunned all who met them with there relaxed countenance, early that evening the little ones started to write a present list to Santa. Little C was the most vocal inquiring how Santa arrives on his sled and parks his reindeer on the roof of KP and shimmy’s down the chimney ( she’s now asking to sleep near the fireplace to meet Santa ???? ) all too much for a white Lady,TTFN. 🎄🎄🎄🎅🎅🎅
—————
Nov 21
NANNY ANON, M and I went to see “ The sound of music “ tonight, we both love the film. We spent the day with the little ones and C had somehow got hold of one of the mistresses cameras 📸 and was ( would you believe it) taking photos of M G boss baby and me. I asked her to give me the camera as it was mummies and all I got was , NO !! later I saw the snaps she took and was surprised. I returned the camera to the mistress who looked amused. Little C been watching mummy. TTFN. 📸📸📸
————-
Nov 22
NANNY ANON, haddow darlig 😷🤧🤧 I dink I got vlue, my node I’d all blogged up , god a rodden hed and snoddy node. The lidda wonds is so fuddy, lidda C broughd be up bregvast od a tray. Bledd, da midredd called he dogta ad he gave be sum pawasetamol , M Id doig grate. Ib dink I’ll ged sub shudii , ord doo buch for a wide Lady, DDFN.
Ohhhh flu has hit KP! Hope you have a quick recovery 😔❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
————
Nov 23
NANNY ANON, hello darlings, still a bid bunggd up, but I’m sure I’ll be ok within the week, M and I are looking after little G and boss baby today,the mistress has gone to a shopping mall outside London with little C for Christmas shopping. Things are hotting up for the holidays and this weekend they bring the Christmas 🎄. Then we can have real fun dressing it. Back to wee boss baby 👶. TTFN.
—————
Dec 3
NANNY ANON, hello darlings, M&I very exited,tonight is the school nativity play and the mistress and himself has invited us. G is a wise king and little C is an “angel on high” …… M wickedly suggested boss baby could be baby Jesus 😱😱, But I don’t think the school is ready just yet. Little C has to say “and behold ‘ the three wise Kings” can’t wait, it’s going to be a hoot!! We all helped to make the costumes , G wore his this evening and looked very regal ( prophetic), and little C with wings.
—————-
Dec 7
NANNY ANON, hello darlings, is the mistress pregnant ‘ all I can say is little Lottie wants a pony for Christmas and himself has quite rightly affirmed that she’s much to young. I think in a couple of years great auntie Anne would be the first to help her into the saddle. We’re all looking forward to the forthcoming banquet ( I wonder if the mistress will wear the emeralds)’ enough gossip, all too much for a white Lady, TTFN.
—————-
Dec 8
NANNY ANON, hello darlings, Lottie has just returned from a visit to the “stables” at the royal mews. (Enough said) , himself has retired to the lounge after breakfast 🥞, pancakes and crispy bacon 🥓 with maple syrup to laugh at the Sunday tabloids. The mistress is having a “late morning” so M and myself are busy with boss and George who is finishing his homework 📚. Another Sunday joy. TTFN.
—————
Dec 10
NANNY ANON, hello darlings, it’s manic at KP , in a good way !! the mistress is becoming enthusiastically involved in her tennis lessons, ( several professional players lining up to coach her) my lips are sealed, Little Lottie is on a mission … it’s a day long mantra from the darling girl , anyone who she thinks will have sway with W&K is propositioned about the “pony”. I think some of her older school chums ride out. I bet Gan Gan soon enters the equation. All too much for a white Lady. TTFN.
—————
Dec 11
NANNY ANON, hello darlings, busy this morning ,decision to choose what C&G will wear for the Christmas walk to the service , winter coats and warm socks are the key. It’s going to be a joy seeing them for the first time at the Sandringham service with W&K. M and I are going home for Christmas M has invited me to Spain with her family, wonderful and the food darlings, I’m in for a real treat. Little Lottie will certainly have a pony ride for Christmas I’m sure, Such joy!! TTFN.
—————
Dec 13
NANNY ANON, hello darlings , we have cancelled our holiday In Spain 🇪🇸, duty calls darlings, we had a chat with the mistress and himself last night and decided we’re going to accompany the family for Christmas, it’s our love for the children and to help the mistress, a joy really. Also the BP PR are briefing the DOD of C about forthcoming commitments. On a lighter note, tonight’s Blog night 😂😂😂 skippy,pg,and troll the colonial Banshee. All too much for a white Lady. TTFN.
—————
Dec 16
NANNY ANON, hello darlings, Little Charlotte is Bewildered as to why there are no unicorn pony’s. The answer Zara gave was Unicorns are different , pony’s are special, clever Zara!! Lottie is full of questions, ( that age) it’s a daily challenge of wits. Last night was blog night, such fun ,all the usual suspects, where is @printskylie ? Never miss pg and her interpretations, so clever , the mistress loves skippy and Hunnymae , duty calls!, all too much for a white Lady, TTFN.
——————
Dec 16
NANNY ANON, hello darlings, O’thank you all so for your messages, the unicorn presents 🎁 look fab. I’ll pass on your message, but I’m sure the the mistress has all information directed to her MPC. ( amazing device). W&K are both very high Tech. My life is full of love and joy, I’ve got Lottie a picture edition of “ The night before Christmas”
—————-
Dec 17
NANNY ANON, hello darlings, the children all sat watching TV, and watching mummy and daddy make cup cakes and roulades. EPIC . The kitchen is now centre of the universe, Lottie and George M and I making cup cakes and roly poly Christmas chocolate logs. Lots of mess and icing sugar. 👦🏼👧👶🧁🍰🍪🎂🍩 it’s boss baby, “ Mary Mary” Christmas 🎄 we are blessed, TTFN
—————-
Dec 18
NANNY ANON, hello darlings, himself is taking C&G ice skating this afternoon, I think this is another diversion from pony’s. It’s a dismal afternoon,raining in London so I think the little ones will enjoy the outing , the mistress is off to play a few sets of tennis with her coach. M and I are going to check online for some new clothes for boss baby, he seems to grow by the day!! This is a busy time leading up to a family Christmas, I think it’s Sandringham this year but arrangements are
——————
Dec 29
NANNY ANON, hello darlings, such a busy Christmas, the little ones were so exited with presents and gifts from the public. The mistress had a clearinghouse Of presents 🎁. A large amount of them go to local hospitals. Believe me they are talking thousands!! There’s a pink Flamingo in Little Lotties bedroom though.M and I are going to have a wee holiday over the new year, it’s been a wonderful Christmas. All too much for a white Lady,TTFN. ( sorry for no posts) been V. busy with the little ones.
—————-
Dec 31
NANNY ANON, hello darlings, M&I and a bottle of celebrity plonk, our night off so it’s on with a movie,feet up and relax. All the i are crossed and the Ts are dotted , o dear the drink 🥤 has taken effect ………… we both wish shoo a happy new year and prosperoush , prosperoust, positives, O you get it , we never normally celibate like this , o dear, all too much for a white Lady ,TTFN. 🍹🍷🍾🍸🥂……………☕️☕️☕️☕️☕️☕️☕️
—————-
3 notes
·
View notes
Note
hehe totally understandable!!! also i forgot to compliment your mobile header!!! its super nice and pretty😊💞man i'll be wishing you best rachel n will be hoping those marks are better than you expect!😭💞and thank you! only got one more final left!!! luckily yes i enjoy my major, it's doable!!! omggg microbiology and immunology!!! Respect😤💞i have a cousin who majors in micro bio too so i know how tough it can be! so always wishing you the best with it😚do you enjoy your major? :0 -🎁💫
omg thank you msdjgsdkg things i do to avoid studying haha sorry for my late reply btw!! 😭 aah no hopes for those marks just want to not think about it 😩✋ you finished tuesday right! how was the last one! are you graduating soon? :O i enjoy parts of my major!! some parts i could do without (@biochem. Die)
also i saw your final moodboard n recent text post ; ^ ; i hope you're doing well and that tomorrow is kinder to you!!! i'm cheering you on and sending you positive thoughts🙇🏻♀️💓and goodness that just makes the intros a lil more special then!💞oh you're right! :0 i remember seeing that interview!!! i hope felix can indulge in more song writing since he clearly seems to have a passion for it!💞gremlin rap i djsakjslka😭n oh gosh voices is so!!! beautiful n so emotional🥺-🎁💫
my final tomorrow morning.. prayer time... looked my prof in the eye as i left and i felt kinda like 😒 but thank u for your kind thoughts!! me too!! i feel like he wrote his own lyrics for the song they did on immortal songs and 😯 felix bls write more rap lyrics hehe .. i said what i said! he’s Gremlin! + i agree.. voices (also hellevator) always makes my heart hurt 😩
side effects!!!!! nice to know you're a cultured stay😎i loveeee side effects!!! i'm gonna have to say miroh is my favorite title tho bc it was their first title i listened to so i'm gonna remain sentimental about it for a while! even tho i reallyyyy love levanter🥺💓i feel like binnie would pull off plat blonde... but true who knows😣and wow we got even More changbin selfies yesterday... hes really blessing us huh🥺the binnie drought... she improving!!! oh and the group before was got7! -🎁💫
njasdg i love side effects.. the choreo... i’m always 😭 omg that’s fair!! i love miroh too it’s what brought me back into skz after a while so i’m always like ~hype~ about it too 😌 binnie drought back again.. winning 1st for levanter and bin only posting a hyunjin pic.. ok changbin.. i see how it is....
oh interesting got7!!!! hehe i had a phase w got7 too they’re lovely 😖
from all the things i've seen skz really are such sweeties🥺i'm SO slow tho i really gotta start watching more of their variety omg... tired of being a fake stay😔i watched that video the other day n i swear the transition to changbin getting his punishment sent me😭this may be too much wishful thinking but i am desperately wishing when they go to LA they can go to buzzfeed n see some pups or kittens🥺oct 2017!!! truly an og stay pls thats so cute😭💕happy late anniversary! -🎁💫
they really just are the biggest sweeties :( me watching their vlives just 😭 don’t be sweet i’ll.. i’ll fall in love with u boys stop that... if you haven’t already you should watch their reality show finding skz!! they’re so funny 😞 omg i would DIE for a buzzfeed interview now i want that too 😭the monsta x puppies one was so cute bls skz.. bls do one.. also thank u!! i’m ancient 🤦♀️
binnie's rap truly takes me out all the time... the talent inside this little man i just😳😳😳when i first saw the matroshyka perf i was!!!!! mind blown omg. i've always loved rappers in groups but changbin really won😭and ofc! take time with your list n do it only if you want!!!😊felix and hyunjin as wreckers!!! so cute i totally get it hehe since truthfully ot9 always gets to me! -🎁💫
omg “this little man” msdgj it’s true .. i always think abt how felix was like “yeah when i heard changbin say maaaatroshyka on the survival show i knew we won” like bro. ur right.. me too! changbin 🤝 changkyun best rappers. nd ur right! i rly cycle so much through ot9 wooj was rly climbing to the top and then the News 😫
so cheesy but when i heard channie singing to tenerife sea i just Knew he was the one🥺🤲🏼and when i saw a video of him just being his sweetie self in chan's room n talking about how we can always come to him n skz!!! i just admire his sweetness so much, idk he just inspires me a ton!💞hehe do you think chan is my only bias though? i'm not sure if its obvious, i feel like it is, but i'm double biased!!!😎💞even tho all of my friends say i should just claim to be ot9 biased🙇🏻♀️-🎁💫
omg cute!!! he rly is the sweetest boy :( his recent-ish live w felix sent me they’re just so pure nd just the goodest boys 😔💕 omg! double biased!! who’s the other! :O ot9 bias goes too hehe
also hope you're doing well rachel!!! i'm doing okay🤗💞don't apologize for the late reply bc i totally understand! please take your time, its all good!💞💕(also dont mind the paragraphs at all! i send bunches too! its nice talking to you🥰💞)-🎁💫
me and chronic lateness.. terrible smh! but i guess you’d be on break now, do you have any fun plans? 😊
1 note
·
View note
Note
hey dave! my s/o is better at the game than i am, im high gold (practically low plat but shitty games lately) and they were basically dia but lost a lot of sr due to queueing w me. and i just feel so guilty. i do my job ok but im a limited support main since i cant aim and ive been trying aim hero and other heroes tahn mercy/moir/luci in arcade but it doesnt feel like my aim is improving... everyone ive seen on forums talked abt their improvement and progress and i just. hopelessly stagnate.
if you want to improve your aim you have to practice! that’s the major ‘you have to practice to get better at this aspect of the game’ skill. improvement doesn’t have to mean you’re only working on aim, though.
you can always work on improving your gamesense (more experience), positioning (experience helps, but you can also learn by watching others play), timing (same as before, exp but also watching ppl to see when they use abilities), and generally learning to keep your cool (ymmv; i can’t tell you what works best with this, but keeping a cool head in teamfights reduces chances of doing shit like panic ulting)
don’t focus on your sr number. focus on improving when you play the game, and know where you derive enjoyment from the game. it sucks if you never have fun! continuing to play means constantly learning, and improvement doesn’t always show in your spot on the ladder. also burnout is real so if you’re not getting anything out of playing more, give yourself a break from the game so you can tackle it again nice and fresh.
#overwatch 89#i realized that all my advice is all the same...#i have a guide but i hvaent published it yet#anon#ask answer
8 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
stars-n-feelings
beep-boop
razzeldazzelblingbling
Lord of the Flies
