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lovelytsunoda · 1 year

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typical male // pato o’ ward

summary: pato is nothing if not a simp for his girlfriend, the most wonderful woman on the planet, in his eyes. or, all the little moments that made pato o' ward feel like the luckiest man on earth

pairing: pato o ward x female! reader

warnings: smut scene, inappropriate use of a mclaren, fucking on the hood of said mclaren, pato is a simp and cannot go five minutes during the act without telling her how pretty she is. weddings and talk of. pato is the boyfriend we all deserve, a game of giant jenga played at a wedding reception (and may end a few friendships)

Tell me lawyer what to do, I think I'm falling in love with you

(..)

All I want is a little reaction, just enough to tip the scales. I'm just using my female attraction, on a typical male, on a typical male

the garage smelled like grease and pennzoil, the hood of pato's mclaren popped open and a bluetooth speaker in the corner blasting a playlist of blues-inspired rock and roll from the seventies and eighties. ac/dc. guns n roses. the usual.

pato didn’t mean to stop and stare, but sometimes he couldn’t help himself, leaning against the doorframe, eyes trained on his lovers ass, barely covered by her grease stained cutoff shorts.

she took his breath away.

"hey, beautiful." pato hummed, slipping his arms around her waist, gently kissing her neck.

"pato, i'm covered in grease, wearing the rattiest shorts i own and i'm not wearing a bra." y/n laughed, lacing her fingers with his. "i feel like a trainwreck."

"but you look incredible, love." pato insisted, peppering her face with kisses. his embrace was warm and comforting, a reassuring presence in her life.

pato made her feel complete, like she was the only girl in the world.

"and you know what no bra means." the driver hummed in between kisses. "easy. access."

"at least let me close the hood first." she giggled under his kiss, slamming the hood of the electric blue sports car down and wiping the grease off her hands as pato slipped his hands up her shirt, gently playing with her nipples. she moaned under his touch, heat growing between her thighs.

"lean down over the hood, mamas." pato hummed. "wanna see your beautiful body."

the hood of the car was cold against her skin, shirt still pushed up over her breats, making her jump in surprise. behind her, pato laughed, gently tracing the linework carnation tattooed on her back, just above the hem of her denim shorts.

"you okay, pretty girl?"

"your car is freezing, jesus!"

"sorry, corazon. we can head inside if you want?"

y/n snorted, resting her head on her folded arms as she looked back at her lover. "you and i both know that we aren't going to make it back to the bedroom."

pato laughed, playfully smacking her ass before pressing himself against her, fingers fumbling with buttons. "god, baby, i need you. i need you all the time, yeah, you looked so fucking sexy bent over my car like that."

"you need a new fan belt, by the way." she moaned, unable to speak as her boyfriend slid her shorts down her legs, revealing her lacy fuchsia panties. "yours is cracking."

"i love it when you talk dirty to me." pato laughed, half moaning as he undid his belt. "but i'm more concerned with taking care of my pretty girl than my car."

"mhm, spank me, papi." y/n joked, shaking her ass in pato's direction. she loved that she could goof around with him, that pato didn't take himself too seriously in the heat of the moment.

"do you have a good grip on the car?" pato asked softly, running his soft hands up and down her spine, giving her full body shivers. "i don't want you to get hurt or anything."

"baby, i'm fine. honestly, i'm shocked we haven't fucked on your car before." she giggled, reaching back to hold pato's hand. "you know that if anything feels off, i'll tell you."

pato gently let go of her hand, reassuringly tracing circles on her thigh as he used his other hand to tease his cock up and down her entrance, making sure that she was ready to take him.

he slipped in gently, listening and watching for any sign of discomfort before y/n reached once again for his hand, signaling that it was okay for him to start to move.

pato's pace was relentless as she moaned underneath him, whining his name as she squeezed his fingers.

"yes, pato! fuck, just like that."

"that's it, corazon. you're doing so well for me, yeah? so beautiful. so fucking beautiful and i wish you could see yourself the way that i see you every fucking day."

the room was dark, the mirrorball hanging from the ceiling refracting the party lights against the wall. the music was loud, the singing bad as y/n and cate, callum illotts girlfriend, took to the stage, singing a duet of ‘the best’ by tina turner.

“i know that look.” alex palou laughs, clapping pato on the shoulders as he stares at his fellow testing drivers awestruck expression, the stars in his eyes as he watched his girlfriend butcher tina turners greatest hit.

felix rosenvquist snorts, looking over at alex “has he told you that he’s spent the last hour debating whether it not he should ask y/n to marry him tonight?”

“marriage?” alex snorted “dude, you’re still so young, why tie yourself down like that?”

“what if I want to be tied down? i love her and I want to spend my life with her” pato said matter-of-factly, pulling a small velvet box out of his khakis

“we aren’t going to stop you, but that perfect moment isn’t just going to present itself.” felix shrugged. “you have to make the moment yourself.”

back onstage, the song was ending, cate and y/n collapsing into laughter fuelled by adrenaline and sugar. the light refracted off her skin, making her glow like some kind of neon goddess in the nightlight.

“before I get off this stage, there’s something I want to say before I lose my nerve!” y/n shouted, lifting her cocktail glass into the air. “patricio o ward is the love of my life! he’s the reason I look forward to getting up in the morning, the driving force behind what I do. he’s my biggest supporter, and the best lover, but moreover, he’s my best friend.”

the room started cheering. felix nudged pato in the arm, the mexican driver getting to his feet with a smile and waving to the room as if he was the queen of england. y/n beckoned him closer to the stage, and pato began to wonder if this was the perfect moment.

the moment he would pop the question.

“patricio, my love, my light, my smile. my best friend.” she smiled, lacing her fingers with his. she’d have got down on her knees to ask, full proposal classic, but with the crowd in this room, it would turn into a sex joke. “will you do me the honor of being my husband? will you marry me?”

pato just laughed, opening the ring box in his hand. “i was about to ask you the exact same thing.”

they both laughed, wrapping their arms around each other on stage, in front of the whole indycar grid as pato kissed her softly.

“is that a yes?”

“you first, tough guy.”

“yes, of course I’ll marry you, pretty girl.”

iii

“you look so fucking hot right now.” pato whistled as his fiancée stepped out of the dressing room, fabric of the wedding dress swishing around her legs as she walked.

they do say not to let your husband see you in your dress before the ceremony, but seeing as y/n was technically the one that proposed, they said to hell with all the regular wedding superstitions.

"you've said that about every dress so far." she giggled, twirling to look at herself in the mirror.

it turns out that the lovesick male is also very unhelpful when narrowing down which dress to buy, as the specimen thinks that every dress is equally as hot.

the dress was simple, white fabric hugging all her curves, with a scooping v-neckline. she loved the way it looked, but wondered if it might be perhaps a little . . . pedestrian. but she didn't even want a big wedding, she was happy with a quiet family affair in cancun.

pato shook his head. "this is different, babe. this dress is the one."

"you don't think it's too basic?" y/n worried, swishing the fabric around once more as she stared at her reflection.

"i think it's beautiful, corazon. you are beautiful." he wrapped his arms around her waist. "i'd marry you if you were wearing ripped jeans and a grease-stained tears for fears shirt."

"good to know. when we have our vow renewal maybe i'll wear a leather skirt."

"vow renewal?" pato laughs, kissing her softly. "we haven't even said them the first time yet."

"i can't wait until we do." y/n sighs, leaning back into his arms. "i love you."

"love you more, pretty girl." pato grins widely, kissing her cheek. "so, how do you feel about the dress?"

"this is the one."

iv.

"pato watch out!" y/n laughed, watching her now-husband remove one of the large jenga blocks from the tower set up in the middle of the reception hall.

pato had stayed true to his word when he promised that it would be a small wedding, only family and close friends allowed to join them in the serene jungle of cancun.

in lieu of a guest book, the o'ward's had bought a massive handmade jenga set, and each of the guests had written a message for the happy couple on one of the wooden blocks now towering into the trees and the stars above.

"relax, honey, it's not going to fall." pato chuckled, using both hands to maneuver the wooden block. "elba, get me the step ladder!"

shaking her head, pato's sister brought over the small two-step ladder that the wedding guests had been using to play the life-sized game.

or, larger than life sized.

"patricio, if you fall, i swear to god." y/n half warned as she held the ladder in place, the glow of happiness and surreality on her face as she tried to comprehend that she was now married to her best friend in the entire world.

pato rested the jenga block on the top of the wobbly tower, straightening it and attempting to stabilize it without knocking the whole thing over. stasified with the structure's strength, pato let out a breath and descended the ladder, moving to stand next to his wife.

he thought she looked so beautiful in the soft, led lighting. the jungle clearing was right on the water, lit up by christmas lights stung between the trees and plugged into a generator. y/n had a hibiscus flower pinned behind her ear, and a small smudge of mascara on her cheek.

that didn't matter. she still took his breath away, made his knees go weak when she smiled.

even after marriage, he was still al lovesick fool.

felix was up next in the massive jenga game, pulling out a block from the middle that he could barely reach, getting alex to hold the step ladder in place as he ascended to the top of the dangerously rickety tower.

"i don't like the looks of that." y/n hummed, resting her head against pato's chest. "if those jenga blocks crush anybody at our reception-"

"they won't, don't worry about it." pato murmured, kissing her forehead softly. "i'm so happy we did this."

"me too."

"the tower's coming down!" alex shouted, pushing felix out of the way and into the water as the jenga blocks fell down.

in the opposite direction of the lake.

"what the fuck was that for?" felix shouted, surfacing in the turqoise waters as he began to doggy paddle back to shore.

"sorry." alex laughed. "i thought it was going to fall on you."

still laughing, y/n turned to pato, kissing him softly. "i love you."

"love you more, pretty girl. way, way more."

TAGS:

@oconso @libraryofloveletters @magnummagnussen @sidcrosbyspuck @scuderiamh @scuderiasundays @cl16version @unluckyhoneybee

#pato o ward #pato o ward x reader #indycar x reader #indycar imagine #tina: the series by lovelytsunoda #pato o ward imagine #pato o ward x y/n #Spotify

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eclairfair98 · 3 months

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The swing doesn’t creak under his weight. It’s different from the little tyre Dad had strung up for him in the backyard when he was a kid. But in the ways that matter, it’s exactly the same.

Securing his grip on the chains, Pete takes a few steps back. And then, he lets go. Swings ahead, kicking the air. The white of his shoelaces almost glowing in the dark.

The height of the swing increases with every pump of his legs, a glorious breeze blowing against his damp brow. The rise in his body’s centre of mass making itself know in bubbly feeling floating in his belly.

It’s almost like one little swing is enough to turn-off something as big as gravity.

And maybe, gravity only exists as a manifestation of the loneliness of all the molecules and atoms and protons and neutrons and electrons that make up the Earth.

Of the loneliness experienced by all the living breathing people with burdens and disappointments and broken dreams that inhabit the planet.

“Pete… slow down. Please.”

The voice reaches out to him, but he can’t really hear it. Smooth syllables rounded out by the faint buzzing in his ears. ‘Cause somewhere in Pete’s head, all the sound has gone out.

And what is life? What does it even mean to be alive?

He closes his eyes against the cool wind buffeting his face, raises his legs as he reaches the topmost part of the arc of his swing. Takes in a breath that makes a gasping sound at the back of his throat.

Is it this?

The act of breathing in and breathing out.

Is inspiring oxygen and expiring carbon dioxide, pumping enough blood from his heart to his arteries and eventually, all of his visceral organs, enough to classify Pete as alive?

Maybe, it is.

If so, maybe he’s only as alive as an insentient tree, or a patch of symbiotic lichen growing on the bark of a tree. Or a non-flagellated bacteria that cannot move freely through its own immediate environment and lives out its brief, insignificant existence stuck in the same ultra-microscopic space that Nature deemed it appropriate to cage him in.

After all, what is he?

A universe of atoms. An atom in the universe.

There’s fresh wetness burning behind his eyelids, clumping his lashes, and Pete makes a valiant attempt to fight the stupid, overwhelming, all-encompassing need to cry, till he ends up crying a little, anyway. Staring up at a flock of stars scattered across the night sky. At the light that’s been traveling for hundreds and thousands of years to reach his tired eyes.

“Push me higher, Daddy, I want to fly!” he would implore. And his father’d always obliged. Instructing him to hold on tight, as the sky rushed up to welcome him with open arms.

The metal chains of the swing dig into his palms, but Pete doesn’t notice the discomfort, tightly closing his hands around the only thing tethering him to the ground.

Pumping his legs for the last time, Pete wonders whether he and his father are looking up at the same night sky, whether Dad sees the frozen lights twinkling against a backdrop of crushed, black velvet, and thinks about just how small he is in the grand scheme of things.

And in that sublime moment that seems to stretch on infinitely, Pete is flying.

After a while, he does slow down, spots Tom who’s now standing next to his swing, off to the side. His shoes skid against the sand as he comes to an abrupt stop. Little spots dancing in front of his eyes. Growing bigger and bigger. Taking on shapes and colors: starry-blues, fuchsia-pinks, firetruck-reds. Till his vision starts crumpling ‘round the edges.

Till strong hands grip his waist and his arm, deftly lower him into the swing, hold him securely till the colors fade away. Bleed into the night.

“I’ve got you,” Tom murmurs, warm hand moving up to cradle Pete’s tear-stained cheek. To caress his quivering chin with a calloused thumb.

This way they’re at eye level, and Pete can see his face clearly. Can smell his scent. Like a rain shower in the summertime after the grass has been cut.

“I really don’t know what this is, but I feel so scared, Tom… I feel so alone...”

Moonlight glances off Tom’s wedding ring, and Pete brushes his pinky against the cool metal. A minuscule movement that stills Tom’s hand. Turns it boneless in Pete’s grip.

“But you’re not alone, Pete. You don’t have to be scared, ‘cause I’m going to take care of you. You have me. You’ll always have me,” Tom whispers. And it feels as though he’s reciting a prayer, breathed into existence against the unsteady beat of Pete’s heart.

He runs his thumb along Tom’s knuckles, over the warmth seeping through his sun-kissed skin. Over the faint scars sloping over the smooth ridge.

Remembers how Tom got those scars. The bubblegum pink balloons that littered the varnished gym floor at prom. The fraying ends of the ribbon tying the corsage to his wrist. It’s rose petals picked away by his anxious fingers. The short-lived relief of getting away from the heat and the people and the noise. From all of the eyes on him, and all of the whispers. Of Annapolis admissions and impending engagements and the possibility of getting bonded before marriage. Of the fact that the Academy forbade Midshipmen from getting married. But didn’t stop them from bonding their omegas.

He remembers the sharp smell of unfamiliar alpha stinging his nose. The cold burn of calloused fingers on his neck. The yelp of distress punching it’s way out of his chest. The white-hot shock that flooded his insides when a senior he hardly recognized leaned in to deliberately scent him and remark: Kazansky’s got himself a sweet one, all right. But you don’t seem to like him very much, do you? Say, if you’re looking for someone better—

Remembers only being able to string together three weak words, nascent tears choking his voice: Let me go.

Remembers the blur of motion at the edges of his vision. Strangled sounds of a brief scuffle. Raw knuckles clenched into tight fists. A spot of blood staining the pressed-clean collar of Tom’s dress shirt. Quicksilver glinting in his steady blue eyes.

Unapologetic even in the face of detention and the threat of suspension.

The same eyes that are looking at him now: open and vulnerable and all the more steadier for it.

“Please, let me be there for you. Let me be good to you. Let me take care of you. Let me…”

Tom shuffles closer, touches the hem of his tee-shirt with shaky fingers. Smooths it down where it had ridden up, exposing a sliver of his pale abdomen.

“Okay,” he whispers.

Because Tom isn’t a liar. He would never lie. Not to Pete. Not to anyone.

Because Tom would never not be good to him.

Because Tom’s hands never shake, but they’re shaking now. As Pete cradles them in his own, brings them down to his still flat belly. Feels the press of them against his covered skin. The space between his breaths shortening, till he lets a little breath go.

Till he closes the distance between them, his mouth hot on Tom’s, the whole of him held between Tom’s shaky palms.

Because Tom feels like home.

Tom’s eyes widen, his next inhale coming in a little shorter, a little sharper. And Tom tugs him a little closer, curls his calloused fingers round the slope of his jaw, kisses Pete deeper. Something desperate in the hard press of his lips on Pete’s. Something heartbreakingly tender about it.

And Pete doesn’t know what to do with it. With the way his chest’s heaving like it’s being crushed under the weight of his ribs. With the way his lungs are bursting, ballooning up and taking his breath away.

And it feels so simple. So easy. Even though it really isn’t. The honesty of it. Of wanting to hold. Of wanting to be held. Of wanting to love and be loved.

But he leans into it. Fingers weaving softly in Tom’s thick hair, thumbs tracing the curve of his cheekbones.

Because, Tom is home.

#the unbearable lightness of being #omegaverse #icemav #tw: unplanned pregnancy / misogyny (in the context of omega verse) / mentions of assault (in the past)

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davekat-sucks · 4 months

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2uck2 two be Sollux

>Be Sollux >Your lusus is mentally unstable that you have to lock him up on top of your home >Get mind controlled by a cerulean to kill your girlfriend >You can hear voices of the dead whispering awful things happening to you and your friends >Unknowingly helped code a game that destroyed your home >Your girlfriend returns back as a robot, but she's taken away by a blueblood >You and your friends get trapped on the meteor >See another cool kid in human form >Blueblood keeps smooching robot girlfriend >she explodes >Your only comfort is a fuchsia princess who you know will also die soon, but decide to be in her comfort to cope your own loss >Lose a duel to a violet prince and you become blind >Find out the fuschia princess was killed when you were knocked out >Use all your power and energy to move the meteor to the next session >After exerting your power, you decide to leave your best friend behind to be with your now alive girlfriend to just watch on the sidelines and hang out with dead ghost versions of your friends >Your ancestor is basically used as a battery to power a giant ship for the fuschia heiress, basically the ruler of your old planet >His teen version self has lost his mind during his game session, which lead to making a scratch and the birth of you and your friends >His love life is better than yours even after dying >After the game was done, girlfriend leaves your ass to be with the human cool kid who has the same aspect as her >You are left on the roof by yourself >Somehow managed to get down, but since you don't have high tech or any special ability to travel after your girlfriend, you just play vidya games for the rest of your life until you probably die

#Sollux Captor #Homestuck #Homestuck Epilogues #Homestuck2 #HS2 #Homestuck 2 #Homestuck^2 #HS^2 #Homestuck Beyond Canon #HSBC

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mandoalorian · 1 year

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Borrowed Time [Din Djarin x F!Reader]

ੈ♡˳‧₊*: • Chapter 9: The Assemblage ✩࿐ ˚.✧

Summary: You are the princess of Mandalore, held hostage on your own planet by Moff Gideon and his army of Imperial troopers. Left with no choice, you send out a distress signal; a plea for protection— and who comes? None other than Din Djarin, a foundling of The Death Watch. He, by creed, is your sworn enemy. And where you have asked for his protection, he has been told by his mentor that he must marry you and gain the ability to restore Mandalore to its former glory.

Word Count: 2500

Warnings: Din being an adorable husband comes with his own warning. Lots of feels!

AN: Did anyone expect me to return after abandoning this fic for a year? When I promised to finish Borrowed Time, I meant it. Please reblog to spread this around! It’s not showing up in tags! i think i’m still shadow banned:(

Series Masterlist

You woke up the next morning to the glittering, golden sunshine beaming down onto your face. You felt the unfamiliar sensation of strong, warm arms cradling your body, and you slowly discovered through your recollection of the events of the previous night, you were pressed into the embrace of The Mandalorian. Your Mandalorian. Your husband.

You hummed in contentment, not daring to move an inch, afraid to wake him or ruin the moment. You could stay like this forever, not having to worry about being on the run or even reclaiming Mandalore. To stay in this bed in the arms of Din Djarin was all you needed.

Perhaps it was foolish. After all, you’d only known him for a matter of weeks. But those weeks you spent together during your travel to Nevarro, alongside the sweet, shared moments of intimacy and vulnerability… it was more than enough to satisfy. For as long as you’d remembered, you’d been alone.

But not anymore. And even if it was all fake, you were happy. You were content. And that was enough.

But he’d purchased your favourite sourberries when he knew you were hungry, despite them being way out of his typical budget for food. He brought you fuchsia flowers on your wedding day, upon learning that pink was your favourite colour. He removed his helm for your eyes only and even when you lied to him, he stayed true to his word and promised that he’d help you reclaim Mandalore… like his life depended on it.

Because in the last few weeks, you’d given Din a purpose. Sure, he had Grogu, and the little green bean was more than enough to keep him afloat; to keep himself alive so he could protect his son and provide like a real father should. But you made Din feel so differently; unalike anything he’d ever felt before.

“Good morning princess,” he mumbled sleepily, rolling over onto his back and rubbing his tired brown eyes.

You smiled and nestled your head in the crook of his neck. “Morning Mando,”

“How did you sleep?” Din wondered out loud, hoping last night’s antics had exhausted you as much as it exhausted him. They most certainly had, and you were more than thankful for the rest. It was well needed.

“I slept well,” you replied sweetly, your words following a yawn.

Din chuckled and propped himself up on an elbow, tucking a piece of your stray hair behind your ear and gazing longingly in your eyes. There was something so authentic and beautiful about looking at you without the sheath of his visor. His vision wasn’t framed with binary code and flickering numbers – it was real, it was true.

“Are you ready to reclaim Mandalore?” he asked with a small smirk, clearing his throat and raising a curious eyebrow.

You nudged him playfully and rolled your eyes. You knew it would be a challenge but with him on your side, you had hope for the very first time.

Last night, you had told him the truth, you weren’t the Mand’alor, and he was still willing to help you retrieve the darksaber and reclaim the throne. Deep down, the rule of there only being one leader of Mandalore, and that leader having to wield the darksaber, felt outdated and way too orthodox for your liking. There wasn’t anything wrong with tradition, but times had changed and the surface of Mandalore had been crystallised by fusion beams well before the Imperials had raided and you had fled. If you were to reclaim the throne, then a lot would have to change; starting by melting the crystals and rebuilding what the Imps had destroyed.

Tearing down a tradition that was as constituted as having to wield the darksaber as Mand’alor would be a risky game. But then again, you’d found yourself facing a lot of risks as of late, and maybe you were just getting lucky – or maybe something much bigger was on your side. Some kind of force or mystic energy making sure that you succeed.

One of your fondest memories from when you were a little girl was sitting in your mothers lap as she braided your hair. She rarely spoke about your father, but now and again she revealed little pieces of information that you’d digest in admiration. You knew better than to ask about him, even from a young age. Your mother, Duchess Satine, reassured you that your father would want to be here if he could, if he knew about you, but his job was ‘important and time-consuming’. You didn’t hold resentment towards him – in fact, you could always feel his love for you in your heart. Your mother taught you empathy and so you accepted her words.

Despite your father never meeting you, you wondered if somehow, deep down, he did in fact know that you were out there. You wondered if he could feel things the way you could.

Still to this day, you wondered if he was alive, or if the Empire had killed him like they’d killed billions of others.

“Your father taught me to never give up and always have hope,” your mother whispered, almost like she was reminding herself rather than telling you. “Hope always finds its way.”

You knew very little about your father but if he believed in hope, then so did you. After all, a part of him would always live in you.

“Are you okay?” Din asked, snapping you out of your daydream. You realised you’d been quiet for quite some time as a result of getting lost in your thoughts.

Feeling your cheeks burn up, you nodded quickly and offered him a smile. “Yeah. Let’s go reclaim Mandalore..” you shot him a toothy grin, leaving the warmth of your bed and finding your clothes from yesterday that were now pooled into a puddle on the floor.

Din watched you get dressed and felt nothing but adoration as he admired the warm summer glow that illuminated your body. He didn’t know how long this marriage would last – he assumed it would be over once you took back the darksaber and returned to Mandalore.

He just didn’t know if he wanted it to be over.

“We have to find Moff Gideon first… and catch him where he’s most vulnerable.” you said, already concoting a plan as you tied up the laces of your boots. “The day we met, you said you had a friend who works for the New Republic? Maybe they can help us.”

“Yes, Cara,” Din replied, getting out of bed. “But what we really need is an army. The Imps won’t go down without a fight and I’m not sure if we can take them on our own.”

He was right. But where the hell would you find an army? Sure, you could try to come in contact with Bo-Katan; but she had left you the second you’d come of age. A part of you felt like she might not be interested in providing you with help anymore. You were an adult now, and responsible for yourself.

Whilst you weren’t exactly trusting of The New Republic, you did know that they’d do anything in their power to destroy Imperial remnants, which was a good sign. All you had to do was focus on your proposal to Cara.

“Maybe you can speak to Cara? I still have some family – my aunt — I could try to contact her through the holo-projector. Last I heard, she has a unit of her own, the Nite Owls. There’s no guarantee of a response but I should at least try. We need all the help we can get.”

Din placed a chaste yet lingering kiss on your forehead. “We’ll get Grogu and I’ll pay Cara a visit. You and Grogu will stay here on the Crest where it’s safe. But in the meantime, try to contact your aunt.”

“Wait–” you paused, standing up and leaning against the door of the Razor Crest before Din could leave. “Do you really want Grogu to come with us? This is a war. Perhaps he’d be safer here, with the Armorer.” you delicately suggested.

Din exhaled, his breathing now modulated by the all too familiar beskar helmet. “I will always worry for him,” Din admitted. “But he would be the strongest asset to our team. We need him.”

You nodded your head, trusting the bounty hunter’s judgement. When has he ever been wrong about anything? You knew that Din would never put the child in danger, no matter what.

When Din had left, you set up the holo-projector in the hull of the Razor Crest and dialled for your aunt, leader of the Nite Owls. You felt a wave of anxiety flood through your body. It had been so long since she had abandoned you, and although you offered her no ill will, family was all you had. You didn’t have your mother or your father, but you still had her.

Bo-Katan Kryze.

Her face illuminated the holo-projector in a jaggedy blue colour, but she recognised you right away, and offered you a warm smile.

“Wow, look how you’ve grown,” Bo-Katan beamed, and you couldn’t help but feel the corners of your lips curl into a smile.

“It’s been a while,” you acknowledged shyly. You might have changed, but your aunt certainly hadn’t. “Listen, I need your help.”

Bo-Katan narrowed her eyes. “What is it? Are you in danger?”

“No… no, I’m fine. I’ve never been better actually,” you felt your cheeks warm up at the thought of the man who had been making you so happy as of late. “It’s the darksaber… it’s been stolen from my possession by a man called Moff Gideon. He was an ISB officer during the Purge. And… I need to get it back. If he gets to Mandalore with the darksaber, then all Mandalorians will follow under his rule. And he leads an army of remnant Imperials…”

Bo-Katan was silent and studied your face for a moment before offering you her response.

“I understand,” Bo-Katan replied, offering you a nod of her head. “I will gather my people and we will come to you. We will help you reclaim the throne. You have my word.”

You were slightly taken aback by how eager she was to assist you.

“Thank you, thank you aunt,” you smiled. “Gideon will be preparing to leave for Mandalore now, no doubt. We need to get there before he does.”

“The Nite Owls and I will leave now and cause distractions if it is so required.” Bo-Katan promised.

You were able to breathe an air of relief knowing that you now had your aunt and her army of Mandalorians on your side. This attack was beginning to feel possible.

Din was amazed with how Karga was slowly beginning to rebuild Nevarro. As he walked through the streets and the alleys, he was struck by wonder and overcome with awe. It was still a work in progress, but Din noted that Karga had begun to rebuild one of the old saloon’s as a school. A place like that would be perfect for Grogu to mix with other kids, the Mandalorian thought.

When Din finally arrived at Cara Dune’s office, he was surprised to see Cara there, as he almost believed she’d be out with the rebels and committing heroic acts. She welcomed Din with a hearty handshake and appeared thrilled to see him.

“Hey! Mando!” she grinned, pulling out a chair for Din to sit on. Din nodded his head in acknowledgement of Cara and silently sat down opposite her. “What brings you to these regions of Nevarro?”

“I’m glad to find you here,” Din stated humbly. “We have a lot to catch up on.”

“We must venture back out to Sorgan and share a vessel of spotchka,” Cara offered and under his helm, Din smiled. “And perhaps you can get reacquainted with that fair maiden who took you and Grogu under her wing, remember?” She smirked.

Din’s smile faded and he was reminded why he was here. “I need your help,” the Mandalorian announced, changing the subject. He almost felt ashamed. Din had never asked anyone for help, he never felt the need to. People required his aid all of the time; hell, that was the nature of his job. He got paid for it. But this time, he hoped that Cara would be there for him the way he needed. “I’m married–”

Cara’s jaw dropped. “Mando, if you’re here for woman advice then I’m not your gal. I can’t believe it. Married–?”

“It’s a long story, but she’s a Mandalorian like me. Actually, she’s more than just a Mandalorian. She’s the princess of Mandalore and she’s had an heirloom stolen from her by Moff Gideon…”

Cara cursed. “You need my help? You got it. I’d do anything to take down that slimy piece of worm-ridden filth.”

There was the familiar Cara Dune that Din had known so well.

“I appreciate it, Cara. We meet on Mandalore at dawn tomorrow.”

“You’ll need an army to take down Gideon,” Cara noted. “Thankfully I have the Rebel Alliance now– my very own squadron. Wherever I go, they will follow, especially if the stakes are Moff Gideon. I’ll help you, Mando, but remember, you have other allies too.”

Din hesitated. “Allies?”

“People who ‘owe you one’,” Cara smiled, nudging her friend playfully. She always found Din’s naive nature endearing. “Your friends. Karga… Mags Mayfeld… and what about the Daimyo of Mos Espa?”

“Boba Fett…” Din pondered out loud.

“There are strong, powerful people who care enough to aid you on this mission. Contact them.” The rebel leader advised. “And once this is all over, you’re paying for the spotchka.”

“Got it.” Din grinned, before turning on his heel and leaving the office.

He ventured back to the Razor Crest but not without Grogu, and not without telling the Armorer about his future endeavours. He didn’t ask her to come alongside him, and the Armorer did not offer. It was simply a procedure to notify the Armorer of his plan, in case he did not return. The Armorer accepted his venture and they parted ways with a simple utterance of their Creed’s code. “This is the way.”

When Din returned to the Crest, you eagerly took Grogu from his arms and snuggled the child into your chest. “I missed you, little one,” you mumbled happily. Grogu cooed in response. You looked up at Din who was now fully masked and armoured. “Did you manage to speak with Cara?”

“Yes, we have the Rebel Alliance on our side,” he announced, and you could practically hear the smile from under his helm.

“That’s good,” you beamed back. “Because I spoke to Bo-Katan and we also have the help of the Nite Owls.”

You followed Din into the cockpit where he began to power up the Crest.

“So, where are we going next? Any final destinations before we hit Mandalore?” you quizzed.

Din booted up the generator. “Tatooine,” he replied. “An old friend owes me a big favour.”

_________________________________________

Borrowed Time taglist in the replies!

Permanent taglist: @paintballkid711 @supernaturalgirl @phoenixhalliwell@xoxo-callie @stardust-galaxies @wickedfrsgrl @goth-topic@nerdypinupcrystal @kiwi-the-first @pedroepascal l @castiel-barnes@honeymandos @rocketqueen @girl-obsessed-with-things @elena-myth@moth-guillotine @pedro-pascal-love @hayley-the-comet@pinkninja200 @maxiarapamaya @autumnleaves1991-blog@artsymaddie @harrys-stan @kennedywxlsh @cripplingmoon@cheekygeek05 @mrschiltoncat @rye-flower @theamuz @persie33@sleepylunarwolf @martellthemandalor @pedro-pastel @steeevienicks@rrtxcmt @saphic-susperia @beskarprincessjenny @readsalot73@softmedics @jade10077 @dodgerandevans @planetariumx @pascals-cat @ajeff855 @spideysimpossiblegirl @smoldjarin @januarycolor @anapnovo-blog @pardebellesnuits@mi0o@supervengerslock@alitaarr@bigpepperpickerr@pedrostoriess@pedroprinces

#din djarin #the Mandalorian #Pedro pascal #Pedro pascal x reader #din djarin x reader #Pedro pascal x you #Pedro pascal fic #multi chapter fic

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yanderes-galore · 3 months

Note

Fandom: Hiveswap

Characters: Joey Claire + Xefros Titroh

Pairing: Platonic

Description: Hear me out, Xefros and Joey with a big sibling troll darling, that is like, doing their every needs, helping them, giving them gifts, and anything! Really.

- Eridan Anon

Alright, sure! I haven't seen Act 2 so this is just me doing a general take.

"Soft Yandere!" Platonic! Joey Claire + Xefros Tritoh with Sibling Troll! Darling

Pairing: Platonic - Sharing

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Overprotective behavior, Clingy behavior, You're just looking after them, Soft yanderes, Dubious companionship.

There's no doubt on a planet like Alternia the two are going to need help from others.

Especially since Joey is vulnerable as an alien.

Sibling relationships are not a common thing in troll culture.

You yourself have no real clue about it.

Let's say you're an older troll who is also secretly working with Dammek for a rebellion.

As a result you are considered an ally, Xefros most likely even knows you and sees you as safe.

You could be a Lowblood, Midcaste, or Highblood it doesn't entirely matter.

Either way you obviously hide your favoritism towards rebellion against the current Fuchsia Blood and Alternian society.

It surprises you when Xefros meets up with you and brings an alien.

An alien is already bad news and could bring a lot of attention so you certainly try your hardest to conceal Joey for Xefros.

After listening to the situation you agree to hide/aid the two.

You even make an effort to know more about Joey as you already know Dammek's Moirail, Xefros.

You learn that she's a human and goes by Joey Claire.

She seems nervous around you at first but you try your best to treat her kindly.

As an older troll you do end up taking on a "sibling" role.

You learn of such a concept through Joey who ended up calling you such a thing by accident.

She says she has a younger brother at home... not that you know what that means.

The two certainly become attached to you, after all you're putting your own life on the line to keep them safe.

You do your best to get them whatever they need.

You learn of human customs from Joey and try to build Xefros' confidence due to his lost Moirail.

Joey definitely tries to educate both you and Xefros on the concept of siblings.

You don't hate the concept, honestly.

You allow the two to use your Hive as a hideout and give tips on how not to get caught.

You even give them items and gifts to defend themselves and stay hidden.

You are very concerned about Joey and Xefros.

Not only is Xefros a Rust Blood but Joey is an alien.

The two could easily be culled if you don't help.

This isn't a very intense yandere concept, I'm going to be honest.

The two are mostly just clingy and overprotective of their new troll guide.

If other trolls gave you trouble both Joey and Xefros want to stand up to them for you.

You are quick to convince them otherwise for the sake of cover.

Taking care of them in general is considered odd to other trolls so you even try to hide that.

Xefros begins to see you as something he can't quite describe, he has a Moirail but he guesses he can see you as a friend or guardian?

Joey just simply sees you as a sibling, even if you don't know the concept.

You are a form of comfort to them.

You've done so much for them.

Joey even has a more convincing troll costume due to you.

You give the both of them weapons to use, even if Joey hesitates at first.

You have to remind them that this is Alternia, you have to do whatever you can to survive.

At your Hive you make them comfortable.

You find it odd how they both sleep without a recuperacoon but let it slide. (Joey you get... but Xefros? Was that Dammek's idea?)

If anything you are the most protective of them.

Their yandere behavior just makes them clingy, while Xefros is also eager to please, but you are the main protector.

The dynamic you have is more like you looking after two younger kids, like a parent/Lusus.

You want to keep them alive in happy.

In return the two want to do the same.

Soon they'll find a way to repay the favor.

After all, you're in danger too, aren't you?

So why don't you all stick together?

They don't want to leave you alone... plus isn't there safety in numbers?

#yandere hiveswap #yandere hiveswap x reader #yandere joey claire #yandere xefros tritoh #platonic yandere

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understandableparadox · 5 months

Text

The Grand homestuck oc tournament poll! Round 3 winners!

the results are tallied, the dust has settled, its time to see who is left standing!

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Auiwyn Trasyl

The silliest, most self deprecating emo you’ll ever have the displeasure of meeting. His favorite movies would be the troll twilight saga, and they would make fanfiction of his rainbow drinker oc and Troll Edward. They have such a large obsession with rainbow drinkers that it’s consumed almost everything in his life. They would geek out if they ever met Kanaya, it would be so bad they’d probably faint. Would bite people to taste the blood and then gag when it tastes bad.

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zalium azoran

Zalium is a rogue fuchsiablood who was raised by an axolotl lusus away from the prying eyes of the alternian empire. eventually he was able to find community in the lower bloodcastes of alternia and here he learned about alternian history from a true perspective.

he gathered an aliance, heavily inspired by the sufferer's rebellion, and rises up against the empire. being a highblood he held a greater chance against the empress and gl'bgolyb, and after a strenuous battle he manages to take down the horrorterror and the empress in turn

i don't even care if he's bad i love him so dearly

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Anomal Conspi

One of the most brilliant, anxiety ridden queens on her whole planet. She’s so paranoid that she has a backup plan for just about anything. She predicted the world was going to end via meteors and had a ship fully ready to go for several years, and had a mental breakdown when she ended up being right. Overthinking is her strongest skill, making plans for her plans just in case something she didn’t think of happened. Her ship, despite being made of old and ruined tech, is so heavily equipped with safety features that she should probably be in charge of OSHA because ain’t no one getting hurt on that thing. Would go outside in a hamster bubble.

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Viiveh Telore (Now with new and improved art!)

Viiveh is a fuchsia blood in an abusive relationship trying to forge his own destiny. He tries to stay positive and is unlearning some classist traits. He goes to the surface and hides his blood color by dressing like a robot. He really loves tech and the mechanics of it, since the seadwellers can mainly only use bug-based tech underwater. He takes the name Vexxin during his hiding. Don't get him started on troll Daft Punk.

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ALERT: bLOCK 5 HAS ENDED IN A TIE, ONE DAY TIE BREAKER ROUND TO OCCUR SOON

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Atroxx

Atroxx lives in a swamp full of boiling tar, lurking in the dark and serving as something of a dark legend to the locals. They fear her and often leave her sacrifices, believing her to be a monster or some sort of demon. She just likes getting free things out of it and sometimes toys with the minds those who wander a little too far out of the torchlight, taunting them from within the darkness. If you survive an encounter with her, she's not very eloquent, and is quite stubborn and impatient, unpredictable and almost wild in behavior. She is also, however, incredibly resourceful and clever.

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Lollie Gravez

Your name is LOLLIE GRAVEZ and you use ne/nem/nir, sh3/h3r/h3rz and h3/h1m/h1z. You are a SCENE KID first and foremost, and a troll second.

You love COMICS, CARTOONS, and SHIPPING, and listen to way too much ALTERNATIVE MUSIC. You send a lot of your spare time SEWING CLOTHES, both for yourself and your PLETHORA OF PLUSH FRIENDS. You spend way too much money on VIDEO GAMES, that you never get around to playing. When you aren’t hiding in your room away from the world, you love watching shows with your friends, then making self inserts for all your friends. Your squad loves the troll anime SUGIO QUEST FOR KOKORO, despite it being outlawed for rebel imagery.

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Orfeus Etimio

Orfeus is soft spoken, docile and as weak as a troll gets, but people tend to fear them because of the horde of ghosts following them everywhere, even for those that can't see spirits the presence is overwhelming.

They constantly give more than they can for the ghosts and have ended up emotionally drained, not properly reacting to most situations and appearing emotionless. İf you grabbed them and took them home they'd only say "ok" and let it happen.

They like playing minecraft with their moirail also

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Persep “Perse” Rhiali

She streams, she draws, she always has a knife on her, with a small size and big personality Perse WILL either be your friend or A Problem (TM)

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?????? Achlys

19 yo Mage of Void hemoanon, Achlys is a air-headed party girl who likes to take it easy, life is definitely too short to be worried about every little thing. She's quite friendly for a troll and always knows what to say to please people. She changes quadrants pretty often.

However when SGRUB begins she seems to know just where to look to learn all the rules and easily makes herself the leader before anyone notices. Not to mention her fake lusus and dreamself that seems to be puppeted by horrorterrors…

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#homestuck #polls #tumblr polls #winners #fan kids #fan charubs #homestuck oc #ocs #fan trolls

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suspiciouslackofclowns · 1 year

Text

At some point in his life, Billy kind of subconsciously starts a collection of all things pink and baby blue and soft. He’s aware that he’s doing it in the sense that he sees something that’s definitely targeted at preteen girls and goes yes, but it’s not something he really thinks about.

His outing clothes stay the same. Combat boots and jeans and band tees, the typical masculine stuff that he’s always worn. Both styles feel right for some reason. It isn’t until he has someone over to his apartment for the first time in a while that it occurs to him how weird all of this probably seems.

He’s confessed to Steve that he likes feminine things before. Likes stuffed animals and the color pink, and Steve responded by gifting him little things here and there. Lip glosses and scrunchies with bunny ears on them. Cute shit that Billy used until it completely ran out or the seams split — in the privacy of his home, of course.

Now, though, as he comes out of the bathroom freshly showered and sees Steve sitting on his fuchsia comforter, he almost laughs. He looks so out of place against the backdrop, like he’s sitting in a little girl’s room who’s obsessed with princesses.

Billy thinks that when Steve looks over at him, he’s probably thinking the same thing.

They both start cracking up because they can’t help it, surrounded by plushies and things with cute little flowers on them. Even Billy’s pajamas are pink. It’s absolutely hysterical in that bedroom for about three minutes, and then Steve is just smiling at him with I love you eyes. Like he’s looking at the most precious thing on the planet.

Billy flops down next to him on the bed, brushing their shoulders together while Steve comes down from giggling. His face is still red when he leans his head onto Billy’s shoulder.

“Is it too much?” Billy asks.

“Took my eyes a second to adjust.” Steve sets his hand on Billy’s thigh, softly swiping his thumb back and forth. “I like it, though.”

“I did tell you I liked this shit, didn’t I?”

Steve snorts, and Billy chuckles again.

“You did.”

They sit together for a blissful few seconds. Billy has the sudden urge to dress Steve up in his comfiest, cutest pajamas. Just to see if maybe it’d fit on him as well as it does himself.

“Think I went a little overboard, but I have to commit to it now,” he sighs. “This shit’s expensive.”

“Well, it’s you.”

Billy glances over at him.

“You think?”

“I do. I’m just sad I didn’t get to see sooner.” Steve smiles to himself. Slumps further into Billy’s side. “Honestly, I thought maybe you didn’t like the stuff that I’ve been buying you because you never wear it out.”

“I use it all the time.”

“I can see that.”

Steve pinches at the fabric of Billy’s shorts, fluffy like a stuffed animal between his fingers. There’s even a tiny cat face near the bottom of the leg.

Slender fingers dance over the knob of Billy’s hip, smooth over his lower abdomen, and suddenly Steve is stretching his limbs around him. Snuggling into his side like he’s a body pillow and tucking his face into Billy’s chest.

Billy grins and combs a hand into Steve’s hair.

“Comfy there, sailor?”

When Steve just mumbles incoherently into his shirt, the blond snickers.

He likes soft things too, he thinks.

#steve harrington my beloved #billy hargrove #steve harrington #fluff #they’re cuddlebugs #I’m gonna be archiving all of my ficlets from here on ao3 sometime soon #my writing #ficlet #not edited

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verdantglow · 2 months

Text

As previously mentioned here, in my trafficstuck AU, the players are all adult trolls in the present day. Given how troll society functions, they can’t stay on Alternia & at various times, they all take off in various spaceships to wander the universe. I have spent way too much time thinking about how this would be arranged, so here’s the first two of six ships to leave Alternia. (Note: The crews have a tendency to shuffle around as time goes on; this is just how they are arranged after they take off but before Last Life.)

Ship 1

The first to take off, this ship carries Lizzie & Joel. Lizzie is a fuchsia blood & spent most of her life focused on the point when Her Imperious Condescension would decide Lizzie was old enough to be too much a threat to leave alive. Then, they would have their epic showdown that would, almost inevitably, end with Lizzie losing the fight & her life.

Joel was very much not down with this plan. Lizzie stubbornly insisted that she had to at least try to win, to take The Condesce down, but eventually Joel convinced her that, at very least, she deserved a more even playing field & to have the fight on her own terms. They decided the best way to do this was, well before their cohort was meant to take off, they would hack Lizzie’s battle ship & escape off planet, buying some time as they went into hiding.

Few of the players knew that Lizzie & Joel had this plan until a while after it went down. Joel first confided in Griann that they needed a grub that could get into the battleship’s systems. Griann suggested Joel reach out to Tangoh, who had grown the game grub for 3rd Life & who Grian insisted would be sympathetic to their cause & not rat them out. After a lot of dithering, Joel contacted Tangoh & Tangoh happily grew & coded a grub for them that could hack into a ship system & basically nuke any tracking that might be on it. In exchange, of course, Lizzie used her position to acquire some extremely rare & expensive tech bits for Tangoh. No questions were asked by either side.

Joel & Lizzie made a slightly rocky, but successful, escape on the hacked battleship, along with hefty amount of supplies. Big down side of their ship is that it can’t sustain FTL very long, as it’s so huge it’d really require psionics to maintain that kind of velocity. But really. They’re not in a rush to get anywhere, just wandering the more distant, empty parts of the universe for long stretches & making port extremely rarely at extremely secluded planets.

Ship 2

Troll life sucks. It sucks for kids, it sucks for adults, & it sucks more the lower on the hemospectrum you are. It especially sucks if you are a gold blood with psionics, given you can pretty much expect to get shoved in some high blood’s ship as an engine. It was that or get culled. So yeah, Impuls had a pretty grim fate to look forward to. Luckily, his moirail, Skizzl, would never let that happen.

With the help of their friend, Tangoh (& the parts Lizzie helped Tangoh acquire), they built a ship & the three of them took off together several perigees after Joel & Lizzie. Since then, they’ve been on the move for the most part, avoiding other Alternian ships as best they can. When they can’t avoid run ins with other trolls, Tangoh does all the talking, which makes sense because, as an indigo blood, he has the most social standing & unless they run into high bloods or royalty, he can generally talk &/or intimidate their way out of trouble. Impuls tries his best not to be around for such things, to minimize risk of being caught. If they’re taken off guard though, they will generally put up the pretense that he & Skizzl are in Tangoh’s “employ,” which usually works well as most troll’s don’t look too closely at a blue blood keeping a couple of low bloods around to take care of things for them. (The moment they’re alone again, though, Skizzl & Impuls gives Tangoh so much shit for using high blood vernacular & acting ‘all proper & shit.’ The poking of fun sometimes lasts days if Tangoh said something they deem particularly ridiculous.)

Fun fact: since they built their ship themselves, it is designed to have two operating modes: 1. It can self-propel & be steered using a navigation panel or 2. It can be controlled, entirely or partially, by Impuls. He & Tangoh teamed up to invent a, uh, less brutal method for hooking Impuls into the system, allowing him to use his psionics to take over various functions without literally being permanently melded with the ship. Given how most space travel is just ‘get a boost in a direction & coast,’ Impuls will often just jump in to set a course & let physics do the rest of the work. If they want to go really fast, like faster than light, he has to be fully controlling things as there really is no replacement for his batshit psionics in those cases. But really, his job as the ship’s helmsman is far more laid back than a psionic gold blood could hope for & he finds he quite likes it this way.

#trafficstuck #Joel SmallishBeans #lizzie ldshadowlady #tangotek #Skizzleman #verdant rambles #trafficblr #specifically not putting this in impulse’s tag ‘cause he does not need to see this.#good lord I don’t want to be the reason someone has to give Impulse a thorough explanation of Homestuck #fuck it I’m adding on #Hermitstuck #‘cause honestly this AU is rapidly expanding to include that as well somehow.#oh damn I also forgot #trafficshipping #‘cause there is some in this post

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mole-ruler · 3 months

Note

Weird Alchemist vs the Condesse cage match Friday noght

Who will win?

Honestly this is a really hard one. Both are kind of overpowered in different ways, The Condesce has, of course, the psionic abilities of all the ancestors (Animal Communion, Mind Manipulation, Giant Fuckoff Death Lasers and Telekinetic Power on the scale that she's capable of moving entire planets). Meanwhile Weird Al the near limitless abilities of both time AND space alchemy. We haven't seen too much of his time powers just yet, but I would not be fucking surprised if he's powerful enough to Stop Time Entirely for a few seconds, considering the utilization of The World's Time stop sfx from JJBA Part 3 in the song Bite The Hand That Feeds You. It's hard to say exactly who could come out on the matter of their Stupid Fucking Overpowered Abilities because there's so many factors at play. So let's go to their physical prowess for now and jump back to that later. This is where we have a more definitive answer to who may come out on top, completely disregarding their powers. Feferi, The Condesce's descendant, is capable of hoisting an entire whale down into the depths of the ocean to feed Gl'bgolyb. This is a considerable feat and, honestly, considering The Condesce is Much, Much older than Feferi, I would assume that she's able to do that and much more. Weird Al, meanwhile, is, in Snowbound Blood, shown to duel with Secily and, while his strength is most certainly Superhuman being able to shatter her wrist and completely sever an arm from her, I don't think it can really be put on the same level as Fuchsia Bloods, no matter how strong Secily was. One point to The Condesce. Metanarrative-wise, I think I'd have to give a point to Weird Al. He's kind of an unbelievably unhinged and threatening eventual obstacle for The Main Characters, in a way that The Condesce just kind of isn't? Like. Yeah. She's a Final Boss but she's also an underling. While you could argue that Weird Al is also an underling to Gaiaeon like The Condesce is to Lord English, Weird Al has more free will. He comes and goes and does as he pleases, without a doubt owing to his Space and Time capabilities, while The Condesce, with Life as her emanant aspect, is only really exhibited through her incredibly long lifespan and penchant for Bloodthirst. Point to Weird Al. Now allow us to circle back to Powers and how everything discussed influences them. I do not think Weird Al truly has the ability to harm The Condesce as much as he can with regular Vast Error trolls. They are more human-like in capabilities than the Homestuck trolls, and ESPECIALLY The Condesce. It took 3 superpowered teenagers and One Undead Troll near the height of their combat capabilities to take her down, and while Vast Error is nowhere near done yet, I don't think Weird Al's battle is going to involve as much power bullshit and Fraymotifs and Actually Insane Shit as it did to take down The Condesce. Who knows. Maybe I'm completely off base and Weird Al's eventual showdown with part of the main 12 will be 10x more insane than The Condesce's section of [S] Collide. We'll just have to wait and see. For now, though, I'm giving this final point to The Condesce.

#homestuck #Vast Error #The Condesce #MSPFA #Sorry for Powerscaling #This was a fun thought exercise though #Send me asks if you want your Homestuck and Homestuck Adjacent Power Analysis questions answered at any point.#Long post #Erin VE Thoughts #Deconreconstruction #DCRC

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contrastparadoxx · 6 months

Note

did you study toxins before you met Diante? is that how you met?

Moving schools in the middle of the sweep was difficult enough without all of the other complications. When you weren’t coming from the scene of a huge massacre, being one of the only survivors, and without any memories of the incident to boot. The whole thing left the cusp-blood quiet, hard to connect to, perhaps- the whispers had started- perhaps it would be best to move him. This school was only going to be temporary, at first. Just somewhere to keep him until he could be transferred to one of the off-planet schools.

So they had sent the strange little boy, with his unrecognized name, and his heavy history, and his missing memories into a brand new classroom. Some of the children feared him, afraid that there was a reason he was alive while so many others were not. Others looked down on him, for being a nobody, and a cusp to boot. He did not care much, really- or, he did not show it, at least, instead spending a majority of his free time within the classroom hunched over one of his books.

Those books were not the same high-adventure, fleet-centric novels that many of his peers were reading, nor the textbooks that the most studious delved into, but rather puzzle books. Tomes filled with ciphers, logic problems, anything of the sort. He devoured them. Sometimes, the teacher would find half written codes on the back of his homework. Maybe that’s why she had rearranged the seating chart, or perhaps that was simply to make her life easier. Whatever the reason, it had a very interesting side effect.

The off-teal had just been quietly copying what was written on the whiteboard, when a folded up piece of paper landed on his desk. A startled look around had easily revealed the sender, a seadweller with a scorpion tail who was miming that the note should be opened. A quick look at the teacher showed she was busy, so he blankly unfolded the page to see what was written.

‘Dlf, p’t kphual, p uvapjlk fvb tpzzlk jshzz flzalykhf, kv fvb dhuuh zll tf uvalz? Dl jvbsk svvr vcly aolt ha sbujo pm fvb dhua!’

Before even attempting to solve it, he looked back at the other with wide, surprised eyes. Somehow- despite the mask covering the seadwellers mouth- the cusp could tell the other was grinning excitedly. He stared blankly for a moment before facing forward again. At first, an attempt was made to ignore the tantalizing treat, but curiosity soon won over and- at moments when he was waiting for new information to go up on the board- he translated. It was easy enough to realize it was a simple substitution cipher, and if he assumed p=i due to its usage…

He made sure the other was looking at him before nodding. The rest of the morning passed quickly, without incident, and then everyone began filing out for their midnight meals. The two met up in the same quiet corner the teal always curled up to eat his simple meal in, and silence did not last long between them.

“I wasn’t totally sure you would figure it out, buuuut I figured anyone who read Cimenial Monthly would be able to get a simple troll caesarean substitution. Anyway, as I’m sure you heard during roll call, I’m Diante. What’s your name?”

Something about this stranger got to him. His usually tense shoulders relaxed, coming out of his default hunched position, and- for the first time since the accident, if not longer- he found a hint of a smile on his face, his tired eyes softening.

“Fuhsaz. I’m- I’m Fuhsaz.”

“Fuhsaz,” he replies. “They call you that for your stubble?” He jokes, eyes tracing to the barest of a little beard grown in patchy on you six sweep old chin. Your hand touches it self consciously. And the barest trace of concern flashes over the fuchsia, as if he didn’t intend to make fun of you. “Not like in a bad way!” He corrects. “I like it” He says, miming stroking his own chin,

“Fuzzy,” he called, for the first time, but not the last.

#My Writing #Fuhsaz Driore

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divinemissem13 · 11 months

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30 Days of Prodigy, day 2: Murf

Murf dreams in vibrant Teals and Pinks, like the colors from the bold box of Crayola markers. Which is odd, since life on Tars Lamora is decidedly drab.

Day in and day out, Murf’s vision is filled with brown dust, grey metal, black skies…

Murf doesn’t remember living anywhere else but there must have been another planet - a home world, filled with colors as bright as the Teal and Violet of his own body.

Because how else would his unconscious mind be able to create such vivid colors?

Golden Yellow is the color of the ball of fire hanging in the Azure sky. Murf calls it “the sun” in the dreams. But that can’t be right because “son” is what a male child is called. Murf may have been called "son," once, on that other planet. But he doesn't remember.

Emerald is the color of the soft covering that grows from the ground in most places on this dream world. Murf likes to roll around in it and then little bits of Emerald stick to him like tattoos. Now, Murf is Teal and Violet and Emerald. It’s wonderful.

Where the soft Emerald covering fades, the ground is covered in dirt that is nothing like the brown dust Murf knows during the day. The Golden Yellow sun shines on the dirt and it becomes a reddish, brownish, orangish, shiny Copper. It is warm and welcoming and Murf wants to roll around in the dirt too but he knows from experience that it’s less pliable than the Emerald spots. It won’t hurt him, of course, it just doesn’t feel as nice as it looks.

Turquoise is the color of water, flowing along a narrow path in currents and eddies. Murf jumps in and rides the Turquoise waves, and finds that it becomes hard to differentiate water from his lower half. Another word that has no meaning springs to Murf’s mind: “camouflage.” Whatever it means, Murf feels safe floating along in the water, just a Violet head floating on the tide, nearly indistinguishable among the Plum and Primrose and Fuchsia seed pods that live on the water’s surface until one day, they open and release hundreds or thousands of Plum and Primrose and Fuchsia petals into the air where they dip and swirl on the breeze. The first time that Murf dreamt of the petals, he nearly cried because it was so beautiful.

Teal is Murf’s favorite. Murf is mostly Teal, after all, and he is the only Teal thing on Tars Lamora.

But in Murf’s dreams… Teal is the color of two arms, flung wide as he rushes toward them. Teal is the color that wraps around Murf and keeps him safe and warm.

Violet is the color that presses softly into the top of Murf’s head.

Teal and Violet - these are the colors that make Murf feel loved. In the dream world, Teal and Violet might be “mother,” but that is only a concept that Murf has heard of and not one that he has actual experience with. It seems right… but then everything seems right in the dreams.

Each morning, the harsh work whistle brings Murf back to Tars Lamora where he passes the days in a cold world of grays and browns. Murf works in the dingy mine and counts the minutes until he can sleep and return to Teal.

#i wrote this #fanfic #30daysofprodigy #murf #he dreams in color #I'm honestly not sure where this came from #maybe because I finally beat the migraine I was fighting all day and now bright colors are happy again.#but I kind of love it?#st prodigy #star trek prodigy #save star trek prodigy #savestartrekprodigy

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nethertrolls · 4 months

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Fenris and nereus 😐

> You know asking for a conversation between some of my worst dudes should be a crime even if they canonically end up working together. Got carried away and there’s more description abt their first meeting and less conversation lol.

> Cute little google doc for preference

> After everything that had happened in the last two months, the calmness of his life right now was almost a blessing to Fenris. That is until on the way home, he was blindfolded and thrown in the backseat of some type of vehicle.

The blindfold on the way to wherever this important meeting was occurring seemed a touch excessive when the one that had set up this meeting was supposedly Nereus Proteus according to his driver and he was just one guy who had been deceased a week ago with exactly one ally to his name. Not that he had much choice in the matter as he had been blindfolded as he had been walking back to his hive and shoved in the back seat of a vehicle.

It could have been a massive lie and if Fenris was being perfectly honest, he had expected this ride to end in his permanent departure from this miserable planet. It had been a thought that increased in frequency as the fun ride ended and he was led through what the undead jade assumed was a building by his silent driver. Fenris didn’t have to continue making assumptions for very long as in two motions, he had gained sight again and was shoved into a nicely lit room.

Although the office space was average in every possible way that it could have been described, the resident made it seem bigger than it was and more daunting. He recognised the troll from mostly gossip magazines and posters, it was Nereus himself.

“I know what happened to you,” Nereus said as the door closed. The fuchsia had his back turned away from Fenris and he looked out a window. If the jade was a much less intelligent being he would have tried to taste that fuchsia blood, “and I know what you did afterwards.”

Fenris didn’t need to ask what Nereus had referred to because he already knew. He had never been remarkable even before he had to dig his way out of the ground, just a standard rebel that had still had the energy to try and change things but then he was murdered and became a rainbow drinker. He had killed the trolls that did it, made the pretty violet look into the sun and that’s what this whole thing was about.

No one carried when any troll under middle class died but if it was a seadweller ? There was action. “It was rightfully deserved,” Fenris growled deep within his throat as he made the decision then and now to get rid of the heir.

It turned out that the surprise tactic did not work as well as Fenris had hoped for as he ended up on the floor with a questionably designed trident being pointed at his throat, “may… you are a stupid one aren’t you little dog.”

Fenris was certainly not going to lower his own self respect more than he already had by reacting so he had chosen to stay quiet, “that’s better,” Nereus said pleased, “now I don’t particularly care about any of their deaths but the public would especially when they find out it was done by some… jade.”

All he could do was watch from his position on the floor as Nereus continued to speak “but I do follow the old traditions and getting rid of you would be a waste… You can kneel now.”

It was worded as a request but it really had not been, as the weapon gets drawn away. He swallowed down his own pride as he pushed his back off the floor, remaining on his knees. A hand lingered just inches among his head without fully touching him, “now that little act of defiance is out of the way, you will do as I say. I want to hear to say that you’ll listen like a good dog.”

“Fuck you,” Fenris spat, keeping the eye contact that had going through out this conversation, “as if I’d do something like that, I’d much prefer watching you choke on your own blood if I have any choice in any of this.”

Nereus didn’t seem affected by anything Fenris had just said.

“Well Fenris Kenlsh.. Here's the thing, an important fact that you seem to be missing. I could do things for you, give you things above your station or I could leave that indigo of yours locked in a cage with you for a while… see what happens, I’m sure someone that has been a rainbowdrinker for a month and a half has complete control of his impulses.”

Fenris ground his teeth together frustrated. Nereus had obviously done his research before this little meeting had been arranged and he is smart enough to know when his beat. “fine, what do you want?”

Nereus laughed in a way that could potentially be described as charming if Fenris didn’t want to snap his neck and drink the man dry, “I knew you’d see it my way hound, get up and I’ll give you the details.”

#Fenris Kenlsh #writings with Fenris #writings with Nereus #Nereus Proteus #Ven can write sometimes ig #conversation meme #let’s all pretend it’s good ok <333

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invertedromance2 · 1 month

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VvV | Hi, Eleven. I don't know what your problem is, but whatever you two are up to, I clearly think there's some underlying issue. Again, I don't know what part of my myriad of behavioural and physical issues warranted your reaction, but I want you to understand this. | VvV

VvV | Despite every insult Second and I have said, it is Second who I... respect more. It is Second who I let (for a moment) myself trust. I am quite literally being insulted, being threatened with culling, being threatened with another planet's culling, being manipulated, and much more (I could go on and on for eons), so if you really are going to abuse your status as a highblood and put your foot down, saying that Second isn't going to talk to me for a while after forcibly taking the husk like you're his culler, then maybe there clearly is an issue or two you both need to work out before you can blame me for trying to defend myself against every single fucking individual coming my way. | VvV

VvV | Pardon my language, there. But you really are showing that every single fucking violetblood needs to have every single morsel of control lest they start taking it from others. I would pity you, but all I feel is apathy. You are the same as everyone else. | VvV

With all due and undue respect. Who do you think you are? Genuinely, who the fuck do you think you are? To talk about us that way? You don't know anything. If you think this was purely about you then you need to reevaluate. It is not about you. You are just part of the problem.

I am NOT "abusing my status as a highblood" for anything. I am "abusing" my pos1t1on as his partner. If you think me being a highblood has to do with anything then you c1ear1y don't know Second we11 enough or simply do not think highly enough of him to be a11owed to talk about him in any sort of way. He does not care about blood or pos1t1on. It does not matter if I'm a rust or a bronze or a violet or a fuchsia, if he wanted to, he'd fight me over it. And he would, if he felt he was being mistreated in that way.

And if you rea11y think so 1ow1y of him to say that, then why the he11 do you need him to defend you? Like you're some he1p1ess wiggler? He's not your lusus, he's not your mo1ra1l. It's not his lifes responsib1l1ty to defend you online. And why does it matter if he does? Like him defending you on the interhex is going to actua11y change anything in your life for real? It's not. Genuinely, what do you think Second's going to be able to do? Besides making you feel s1ight1y better about your existence? What?

Do not talk about me that way. You do not know me. I am not like everyone else. I try so hard not to be, and a11 i get in return is disrespect. But i do it anyway. I try so hard. And what, I'm not a11owed to put my foot down anymore? We11 i am, and i did. It's my relat1onsh1p, not yours. He understands, i understand, you do NOT. Because you have no right to speculate on something you have no clue about.

And who are you to te11 me anything? Since you feel so entitled to my mo1ra1l, what the he11 gives you the right to ca11 me a control freak?

I don't need any of your pity and neither does he. You should learn to defend yourself instead of depending on and expecting some random 1owb1ood you don't even know to do it for you. Don't you have a11 your other freak friends on here? Go to them. Leave us alone.

#mod eleven #our posts #asks #grumblr #rp blog #homestuck rp

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