#Reality thinks they’re very sneaky | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

stinkysam · 7 months

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Buggy The Clown - Five more minutes.

Warning : none

Genre : fluff

Synopsis : "I imagine buggy’s hair gets kinda wild. Would you be up for doing something for buggy and his boyfriend where buggy has is do his hair while they’re in a bath together? Just something very cute and fluffy. But also I kno buggys sneaky" - @inhumanshadows

Reader : male (you/yours)

His hair is everywhere. On the pillows, mattress, sheets, brushes, clothes, even yours.

But you don't care much, it makes you think when cats rub themselves on your legs and leave a trail or their hair on your pants.

It's also a subtle way to show and remind yourself you two have been physically close together, especially since it's bright blue.

To the point some members of the crew began to wonder if you and the captain weren't more than just friends.

They weren't so far off but in reality you had so many strands of hair on you because you kept getting tangled in his hair care. Quite literally. Like today.

You saw Buggy grab the first towel he could find, putting some water on it and rubbing his face. Harshly. You could already feel the stinging sensation that came from it lingering on your own face.

"Oh my god stop it !" You said laughing a bit as you grabbed his arm, stopping him.

"What ?"

"You're rubbing yourself like you're trying to get a new face. Let me do it."

"Ugh...Fine." He grimaced as if he didn't like the idea.

"I like your face, don't try to change it." You said quietly as you grabbed the towel. Smiling a bit while he tried to conceal the blush from creeping on his cheeks.

You began to gently rub his face, careful as to not irritate his skin further. You went around the eyes, they were staring right back at you intently, mirroring your studying gaze. God, he loved the way your eyes looked at him.

You worked on his forehead, his eyes still studying you. Then your focus shifted to his lips and cheeks. You tried to not think about how much you wanted to kiss him, his lips slightly parted as you softly patted them, the red lipstick slowly fading away.

You smiled once you were done, there were still faint traces of make-up, but it was nothing the bath couldn't take away.

"Done." You said, giving him back the dirty towel to undress. He threw it away on the floor and gave your ass a nice slap as you took your clothes off before you quickly entered the bathtub, sighing happily as the warm water was already relaxing your muscles.

Buggy eyed silently before deciding to put on a show while he removed his clothes too, chatting with you.

You gently slapped his ass back when he approached you, making him laugh a bit while he untied his hair.

He sat between your legs, trying to ignore the fact he could feel your dick against him and gave you his brush. Your fingers were already digging in his hair to delicately rub his scalp. He let out a loud groan, relaxing in your hand, becoming putty.

You finally grabbed his brush and began your work, wetting his hair, careful as to not let water go in his eyes. You combed his hair at the same time.

You could see him shift a bit each time you removed a strand of hair that was stinking to his back, tickling his skin lightly making you giggle softly.

"Ticklish ?"

"Am not." He lied and loudly gasped when your fingers hit his sides, making him wiggle in your grasp.

"Stop it." He warned, squinting his eyes, turning to you ready to fight back as you raised your hands in surrender.

With some hesitation and suspicion he turns his back toward you again, biting back a smile.

You return your attention to his hair, playing with them a little bit and even braiding them. If Buggy could purr, he would be doing so right now.

You hummed as you continued to touch his long hair, getting rid of the few knots that made their way in since the last time you bathed together. Not once did he wince, to say how careful you were being.

You let him rest against you once you were done, his back pressed against your chest as your arms snaked around his waist.

After a few minutes you nudge him.

"We should get washed." You said, planting a kiss on his shoulder. He groaned, clearly not wanting to move.

"C'mon Buggy."

"Five more minutes."

"The water will be cold and you won't like it. You'll whine like a baby." You say smiling against his skin.

"I don't whine. Especially not like a baby." He retorts with an offended scoff. "But fine, whatever."

You watched his hands detach themselves from his body and grab the washcloth and the soap before coming back, handing them to you.

You take turns washing each other's back and you'd expect him to rub as harshly as he scrubbed his face but no, he's surprisingly gentle, making sure to get every inch of your skin.

He blushes and turns his head to the side when you stand up and wash your front while he tries not to stare at your dick from the corner of his eyes.

You sit back down in the water and give him the washcloth and soap and he's a bit sheepish on which way to face.

You end up having his ass right in your face as he washes himself and you can't help but give him a pinch, making him jump.

"Stop it !"

"But it's right in front of me !"

"Would you prefer this ?" He says, turning around, his dick now facing you.

"Yeah." You say, giving him a shrug and he throws the washcloth on your face as you laugh.

"Pervert."

"Pervert yourself, you're the one who kept ogling me while I washed."

"You little- I wasn't- it's not- ugh, nevermind !"

You smiled at your victory and he placed his hands in front of his dick and turned around, his ass facing you again.

"You lost your watching privileges."

You laughed as you moved closer and bit his ass, making him yelp.

"Aw ! What the fuck !?" He yelled as he quickly jumped out of the bath, rubbing his ass with his detached hands as you laughed.

"Don't you wanna cuddle ?" You ask, wiggling in the water.

"Not with a cannibalistic guy."

You shrugged, your head falling back as you closed your eyes and began to relax once more. Buggy eyed you, still suspicious before finally jumping back in, moving your legs so he could sit between them.

"Better not bite me again." He says, leaning against you with a small sigh.

"Can't promise." You say, opening your mouth. Your teeth about to graze at the skin of his neck.

"Don't think about it." He warns. You smile and kiss his neck instead.

"I wasn't gonna do anything."

"Right, and I didn't feel your stinkin' breath on me." He says, slightly turning his head to look at you.

"I was breathing through my nose."

"So you admit you were about to bite me ? Again."

"I admit I want to eat you up." You say with a smile, closing your eyes and resting your chin on his shoulder, squeezing him tighter against you. "Because you're too cute." You add, kissing his shoulder.

To this he says nothing, a slight blush dusting his cheeks, squinting his eyes as he looks at your peaceful form.

"The water is cold now." He grumbles.

"Mh. Five more minutes."

#male reader #m!reader #buggy the clown #opla buggy #buggy the clown x male reader #opla buggy x male reader #opla #one piece #one piece live action #one piece imagine

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longtallglasses · 2 months

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who's gonna write the stranger things/byler/lumax amazing race competition reality show au???

like byler is marketed as the nerdy childhood best friends team, “we've already gone on much crazier quests together when we were ten so this race is gonna be a piece cake!”

the whole audience at home picking up on their insane chemistry like... 👀

they're the clear front runners from the start because they hardly need to talk at all to get things done, work so quickly on their feet, mike is a crazy good strategist, and they’re always on the same page. and ToTally side eye other teams that are a mess, judgy shared smirks and eye rolls.

I know mike would be taking the whole thing soooo seriously while will is like :) ☺️ as mike figures out all the clues in seconds. even better if in this universe they already know lumax so mike is extra competitive bc he wants to beat them.

lumax is the loud and funny bickering couple, (also *cough* the couple everyone is attracted to) either freshly newlyweds, or just engaged. they have a million moments in the show where something goes wrong and they look at each other like 'wtf?!' 'this isn't my fault!' 'well you said we didn't have to worry about water!' they still would somehow manage to pull through and do okay

they are more 'secret planners' being sneaky that the audience is also blindsided by some of their actions. they excel best at the physical challenges that’s where they don’t need to check in w the other, but sometimes also really surprise everyone with their smarts.

also 100% love being sabateurs!!! very excited to fuck over another team if they can. if it airs at a time of social media people would be making comps of all their little zingers, one liners, and banter.

and simply bc i think this would be SO funny is dustin and mr. clarke as a team. teacher and ex-student team. the science guys! however despite being super smart a lot of their skills and knowledge aren't translating to most of these practical challenges and obstacles (mr. clarke more than dustin).

they don't do the best communicating with locals and stuff of the like, but people LOVE to watch them, i just have this vision of mr. clarke having to sky dive or crawl through some dark cave and freaking out, while dustin yells at him to keep going. instant comedy gold to the folks back home. dusitn for some reason still refers to mr. clarks AS mr. clarke.

they would also be the team hit with every detour task, slowing them down so much, dustin is so irate every time while mr. clarke is like weirdly overtly optimistic bc he's really there to just have fun. (like yes a steve/dustin team would be great too but i think i'd rather a steve/robin or a robin/nancy team alongside these)

#lumax #byler #so who’s gonna write this #bc surprisingly i actually hav very little knowledge of this show lol #will byers #mike wheeler #stranger things #lucas sinclair #max mayfield #dustin henderson #byler fic #amazing race #the amazing race #byler headcanon #wait fuck! and el and hopper father daughter duo!!#longtallglasses

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dystopicjumpsuit · 6 months

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Stars Beyond Number - Chapter 11

Between the Motion and the Act

Rating: M - Minors DNI

Pairings: Echo x Riyo Chuchi; Gregor x OFC Cerra Kilian

Wordcount: 4.2k

Warnings and tags: fluff; a sneaky OT reference (literally wrote a whole scene just so I could make that joke); some angst; SMUT; oral sex; Echo x Riyo is GO!!!

Suggested Listening:

Summary: The team plans for Balmorra; Echo commences diplomatic negotiations with the senator from Pantora.

A/N: This story shares continuity with Martyrs and Kings and "Do It Again," but all three fics can be read as stand-alones.

Between the idea and the reality

Between the motion and the act

Falls the Shadow

—T. S. Eliot, “The Hollow Men”

cerulean-senator: Would you rather fight one rancor-sized tooka or ten tooka-sized rancors?

Echo grinned as he typed a response.

ur-fav-cyborg:That’s easy. I’ve already encountered a rancor-sized rancor, so I know the secret to defeating them. They’re hierarchical by nature, so I would rather fight the ten tooka-sized rancors and set them against each other. When they established which one was the alpha, I would challenge it for supremacy. My turn: would you rather eat nothing but dessert for a week, or no dessert for a year?

There was a pause as he waited for Riyo to respond. Rex and Cerra were debating the technical specifications they needed in their ship for the Balmorra mission. Echo and Rex had determined that their best chance of success was to extract Howzer when he was being transported. Rex’s mysterious contact hadn’t known exactly when that would happen, but had said it was inevitable. They’d pored over blueprints of the Gozanti-class cruisers that were being used as prisoner transports as they’d formulated a battle plan.

“What about a leech vessel?” Cerra asked. “Two points of entry.”

“That… could work,” Echo said. “Dock with the main vessel as a diversion, and then breach the hull with the leech.”

“We’d have to divide our forces,” Rex said.

“The pilot would have to stay with the ship anyway,” Echo pointed out. “Gregor can keep their troops occupied at the docking port while the extraction team boards from the leech.”

“Flank ‘em and spank ‘em,” Cerra said, tapping her beer bottle against Rex’s.

“Always so eloquent,” Rex teased as he took a swig.

“I learned from the best, and he learned from you,” she said with a grin. “You’re like my tactical granddaddy.”

“I thought you said I was a youngling,” Rex said.

“Granddaddy is a state of mind,” Cerra shrugged.

She slouched on the sofa with her boot-clad feet propped on the holotable, and Echo had the brief, tangential thought that Tech would have an aneurysm if he could witness it.

His comm chirped, and he checked the message immediately.

cerulean-senator: Wait, when did you fight a rancor? That sounds like a story worth hearing.

ur-fav-cyborg: I’ll tell you all about it next time I see you. Now quit stalling and answer the question, Riyo.

The reply was immediate and indignant.

cerulean-senator: I wasn’t stalling! I was thinking. I do like dessert, but a week of nothing but sugar might put me in a coma. I’ll have to say I’d rather go a year without desserts. Would you rather kiss a Gungan or a Wookiee?

ur-fav-cyborg: That depends. Are we talking a mouth kiss, or just a quick peck on the cheek?

cerulean-senator: Full-on mouth kiss, with tongue.

ur-fav-cyborg: In that case, I’d rather kiss a Pantoran.

cerulean-senator: You’re not going to charm your way out of answering the question, trooper.

ur-fav-cyborg: Worth a shot. Fine. Assuming consent from all parties involved, and given the knowledge that Gungan tongues are nearly a meter in length—which would present a high probability of death by choking—and considering that I’ve met some very nice Wookiees who almost certainly wouldn’t rip off my one remaining arm, I would rather kiss a Wookiee. But only if the Pantoran is unavailable.

“Care to share the joke, Echo?” Rex asked.

“Sorry, sir,” Echo said, stashing his commlink away.

“You know, we’re not in the GAR any more,” Cerra said. “He’s allowed to check his comm in meetings.”

Echo glanced quickly at Cerra, surprised that she had defended him. Rex sighed, and Echo immediately felt guilty.

“You're right,” Rex admitted. “Old habits are hard to break, but what are we fighting for if not the right to live our lives as we choose?”

Echo wasn’t sure what to say. Freedom was a complex thing to navigate when he’d been trained his entire life to follow orders. It was different with the Batch; they had always had a more relaxed dynamic, and all the members were accustomed to speaking their minds freely, even if the ultimate command decision defaulted to Hunter. But this was Rex, who’d saved Echo’s life more times than he could count, who’d been his longest-standing commanding officer, who’d hand picked him to join the 501st, who’d recommended him for ARC training, who’d believed in him against all odds, who’d fought to bring him back from Skako Minor when everyone else had written him off. Every instinct Echo possessed screamed for him to obey the captain.

Suddenly, he recalled something he’d overheard Cerra tell Rex. “He trusts you so much that he’ll do whatever you order.” Gregor had said something similar when he confronted Rex after the disastrous mission to 79’s. There was something about Rex that inspired absolute loyalty in his soldiers. The problem was, they weren’t just soldiers any more. Perhaps Riyo was right, and they had always been more than that.

Cerra stood and stretched. “I don’t know about you boys, but I could use some food.”

“Good luck finding anything,” Rex said as she dug through the kitchen cabinets. “I cleared out the conservator last night.”

“We have ration bars,” Cerra said. “I can’t wait ‘til Gregor gets back so we can eat some decent food again. Want anything, Echo?”

“I could eat,” Echo admitted. “Are we finished here?”

“I’ve got what I need to start looking for a ship,” Cerra said. “Rex?”

“We’ve done as much as we can with our current intel,” Rex replied.

Cerra tossed them each a ration bar, and when Echo’s comm chirped again, he checked it, careful to maintain a neutral expression.

cerulean-senator: Solid reasoning all around, but now I have blackmail material in the form of written proof that you want to kiss a Wookiee.

ur-fav-cyborg: Only under duress. Now it’s my turn: would you rather be too hot or too cold?

cerulean-senator: That’s easy! I would rather be too cold. You can do all sorts of fun things to warm up.

ur-fav-cyborg: Such as?

cerulean-senator: Drinking caf, wearing cozy sweaters, snuggling in front of a fireplace—and other things.

ur-fav-cyborg: What kinds of other things?

cerulean-senator: That’s for me to know and you to find out. My turn: would you rather have dinner with me or breakfast with me?”

ur-fav-cyborg: Both.

cerulean-senator: Great! When is a good day for you?

Echo choked on his ration bar and dropped his comlink. It skittered across the floor and came to rest against Rex’s boot. The captain arched one eyebrow and handed the comlink back to Echo without a word. Echo took it and sent a quick response.

ur-fav-cyborg: After the next mission?

cerulean-senator: Sounds perfect. I’ll meet you there and we’ll see where the night takes us.

Echo smiled and tucked his comlink away. Turning to Cerra, he asked, “Is your hand healed enough to spar?”

She nodded. “I’ve been wanting to practice those moves you showed me. Would you rather be my partner or my coach?”

“I’ll coach if Rex will partner with you,” Echo said. “Sparring is a little tricky with my prosthetics.”

“Rex?” Cerra asked.

“Only if you go easy on me,” Rex replied. “Remember, I’m a grandfather.”

Cerra snorted. “Sure, grandpa. When I fail to land a single hit on you, it’ll be because I’m going easy on an old man.”

Despite her self-deprecation, Echo found that Cerra was a decently competent fighter. It was true that she was far outmatched by Rex, but most opponents she was likely to face would not be genetically engineered supersoldiers with years of combat experience. She had good form and technique, and she took direction well. With a blaster and a few modifications to her armor, Echo suspected that she would be able to hold her own against a wide range of adversaries.

Just as Echo was contemplating the best armor mods to augment Cerra’s reach and upper body strength, Rex took her to the ground and pinned her. She tapped out immediately, contradicting Rex’s claim that she didn’t know how to back down from a fight. Rex stood and pulled her to her feet.

“Again,” Echo ordered. “And Cerra, remember what I showed you.”

She nodded and snapped into a fighting stance at once. Rex tested her defenses a few times, light punches to see how well she could block. He moved with rigid control, never taking it too far and risking hurting her. It was very different from the way Echo had been trained. ARC trooper training had been brutal and no-holds-barred. There was a very good reason that so few clones successfully passed, and that was that the training was extreme even by the Kaminoans’ standards. A nat-born wouldn’t just fail; they would very likely be killed or permanently debilitated.

“Attack, Cerra,” Echo ordered. “You can’t just dance around him all day.”

She hesitated, and Rex saw his opening. His fist darted past her block and tapped her jaw. It wasn’t hard enough to hurt, just to get her attention. She tightened her stance and returned the hit, albeit too slowly. Rex blocked her effortlessly.

“Like I showed you, Cerra,” Echo said. “Do it.”

“I don’t want to hurt him,” she panted.

Rex smirked. “You won’t.”

“That’s not Rex,” Echo snapped sternly. “That’s an enemy. Take him down, now. He’s going to hurt you. He’s going to hurt Tup.”

Cerra gasped and dropped her fists. Rex struck just as Cerra turned, his blow connecting much harder than he’d intended. Cerra staggered backward.

“Kark!” Rex exclaimed. “Are you all right?”

Cerra’s large, wounded eyes weren’t looking at Rex, though. She stared at Echo instead. A trickle of blood dripped from her lip, but she didn’t seem to notice.

“How do you know that name?” she asked, her voice shaken.

“You called Fireball Tup the other night,” Echo said, taken aback. “I thought it was a friend of yours.”

Cerra spun and stalked out of the sparring ring, not stopping until the barracks door slid closed behind her. Echo turned to Rex, whose mouth was set in a grim line.

“Tup was Fives’s best friend after Umbara,” Rex said quietly. “The three of them were more than close. They were inseparable. Cerra thought of Tup as her little brother, and he was the first she lost. And a few days later, she lost Fives, too.”

“Kriff,” Echo breathed. “I had no idea.”

“She keeps to herself,” Rex said. “Probably more than she should.”

“Why?” Echo asked bluntly.

Rex sighed. “Cerra is a soldier, but she’s not like us clones. We’ve always had each other, even when we didn’t have anyone else. But Cerra’s family turned on her when she needed them most. It’s not easy for her to trust.”

“I thought she told Gregor everything,” Echo said.

“She doesn’t even tell me everything,” Rex replied enigmatically.

Echo remembered now that even Gregor had not recognized Tup’s name the night that Cerra mistakenly called Fireball by it.

“Kriff,” he said again. “I need to apologize.”

“Better give her some space,” Rex counseled. “If I know Cerra, she’d rather just pretend none of this happened. She’ll be all right.”

“That doesn’t seem like the healthiest way of dealing with it,” Echo said.

“Do you want to be the one who tells her that?” Rex asked.

“Fair point,” Echo acknowledged. “Maybe I’ll take the speeder bike and get some air.”

Echo strode out of the garage and hopped onto the speeder bike, riding without paying much attention to where he was going. He avoided the Federal District, and after a while, he piloted the bike to the top of a ramshackle skyscraper. Maybe sometime long ago it had been a beautiful and prestigious edifice like 500 Republica, but now it was crumbling. Still, it had an expansive view of the city and the setting sun, and he parked the speeder on the roof after a quick recon determined it to be abandoned.

He stared out across the city of trillions, hating how alone he felt. He couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to Fives’s death than Rex had told him. They were soldiers. Cerra was a soldier. They were accustomed to losing people—it hurt like hell, but they knew the risks. What had happened to carve that deep well of pain in Cerra’s eyes? What was Rex not telling him? On impulse, he holocommed Riyo.

“Hello, Echo,” she said with a smile. “This is a nice surprise.”

“Is this a good time?”

“Yes,” she said. “I’m done with work for the day, and I’ve just finished eating dinner. I’m all yours for as long as you want me. Is everything all right?”

Kriff, she was pretty. Her full lips curved in an alluring smile, and the sparkle in her golden eyes was visible even through the shaky hologram.

“Yes,” he said. “Everything is fine. I just wanted to see you.”

“I didn’t think you got many opportunities to be alone,” she said.

“I don’t, but I needed some air. Cerra and Rex are back at the garage.”

“And where are you?” she asked.

“I’m not sure,” he frowned. “On top of some abandoned building in a part of the city where I would never bring you.”

“Is that safe?” she asked, concerned.

“I’m not worried,” he said.

“I’m a little worried,” she said. “Why don’t you come to my flat?”

Echo was startled. “Are you sure?”

“There’s a private landing platform that accesses my suite at the Pantoran embassy. I’m sending the coordinates and access code now.”

“In that case, I’ll see you soon,” he said.

Riyo paced in her suite, unaccountably nervous. It was strange; she could easily give a speech to tens of thousands of senators and dignitaries, but as she checked and rechecked her reflection to make sure her hair wasn’t doing anything strange and she didn’t have anything stuck in her teeth, her body filled with jittery energy. She smoothed her hands over her blouse, trying to brush away some of the wrinkles it had accumulated after a long day of committee sessions and meetings with constituents.

The door chimed. Not the main door; the private entrance at the back of her suite. A quick glance at the security holocams revealed Echo, helmeted and in full armor. Riyo’s heart lodged in her throat as she hurried to admit him. The door slid open, and Echo removed his helmet.

“Hello,” she said, feeling suddenly shy.

“Ma’am,” he said with a formal nod, and she realized this was just as awkward for him. Somehow, that eased her nerves.

“Please come in,” she said.

He glanced quickly around the room as he entered, and she wondered if he was looking for threats. It must be practically instinctive for him by now. His eyes came to rest on her, and he gave her a small, gentle smile that sent warmth tingling through her.

“Thank you for the invitation,” he said.

“Of—of course!” she stammered. “You seemed like you might need to talk to a friend.”

“Is that what we are?” he asked. “Friends?”

“I hope so,” she said.

“I hope so, too,” he replied. “But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t hope we could also be more. Is that something you want?”

There was something refreshing about his directness, accustomed as she was to the doublespeak and prevarication of her fellow politicians.

“I think you know the answer,” she said.

“I need to hear you say it,” he replied, taking a step closer to her.

Oh, stars, he smells amazing.

“Yes,” she whispered.

He raised his hand to her face, trailing his fingers along her jaw, brushing his thumb over her lips. She swallowed thickly as her breath became shallow and fast. She closed the space between them, tilting her head back to meet his gaze.

“You have the most beautiful eyes,” she said softly.

He slid his hand to the back of her head, fingers threading into her hair, and then he kissed her. His lips were soft and warm, and Riyo let out a quiet, involuntary moan as his tongue brushed against hers. She felt as though she were drowning in him—his taste, his scent, his touch. When their lips parted, she gradually became aware that her arms had wrapped around him, seemingly of their own volition, as she had explored his armored body with her hands. He was holding her, too, his prosthetic arm wrapped firmly around her waist, and he traced a path down her throat with his thumb.

His gaze roamed over her, taking in the way her lips parted and her breasts rose and fell with each quick breath, the way her wide eyes gave away too many of her thoughts, and she felt vulnerable, exposed, as though he had laid bare her entire soul. Look away, her mind begged. Don’t let him see. It’s too soon for you to feel this way. What if he thinks you’re a pathetic little girl with a silly crush? He could destroy you, grind your heart beneath his heel and leave you a mangled, bloody mess.

But somehow, as she looked deeply into his eyes, she knew that he would never, ever do that. That he would carry her heart as carefully and securely as he did his own. And so, she traced her hands lightly down his chest plate until she reached the belt that held up his heavy kama and unbuckled it with a deft movement. Next, she slipped her fingers beneath the shoulder straps of his cuirass until she found the clips that held the two pieces together, and one by one, she teased them open. She removed the plates carefully, setting them aside, and then stroked her palms down his chest and abdomen, feeling the firm, wiry muscles beneath the dark red fabric of his jacket.

He watched her with undisguised hunger, and when she stood on her tiptoes to lick the bit of exposed skin at the top of his neck, he snapped, pulling her body tightly against his and crushing his lips to hers in a ravenous kiss. He walked her backward until she pressed against the wall, and when he rocked his hips against her, she could feel the rigid length of his cock through their clothing.

“Oh, stars,” she panted, breaking away from his lips. But he didn’t end the kiss; he worked his mouth across her jaw and down her throat, licking and biting and sucking gently on her skin, and the sounds she made would have embarrassed her if she hadn’t been so aroused. “Don’t stop, Echo, please don’t stop.”

She felt his hand cup her breast and dimly wondered when he’d unbuttoned and slipped her blouse off her arms, but it didn’t matter, because he was making his way down her chest with that incredible, talented mouth of his, and then he was kneeling in front of her, and when he sucked her nipple into his mouth, her legs nearly gave out. She tugged at his pauldrons until they clattered to the floor, and then she felt the waistband of her trousers loosen and the fabric slide down her hips, leaving her utterly exposed.

Echo paused long enough to bite down on the fingertip of his glove and yank it off, and then Riyo felt the smooth, glorious slide of his skin against hers as he grasped her inner thigh and glided his hand upwards. She cradled his head in her hands as he sucked on her breasts, and when his fingertips brushed over her sex and felt her slippery arousal, he groaned against her.

“Fuck, Riyo,” he said, sitting back on his heels to take in the sight of her. “Look how beautiful you are. So, so kriffing beautiful.”

He leaned forward until he was nearly pressed against her, but before he touched her, he raised his eyes to her face.

“Is this all right?” he asked, his honey-gold eyes wide and serious.

“Yes, please yes,” she said. “Please, Echo, I need you to—oohh—”

Her brain skidded to a halt and took her power of speech with it as Echo slid his tongue into her, latching his lips over her cunt.

“Fuck!” she gasped, her voice barely a breath. “Gods, fuck, I can’t—”

He dropped lower and leaned forward, stroking his scomplink up the inside of her calf and encouraging her to drape her leg over him. His height made it a little difficult for her to reach, but once Riyo rested her thigh on his shoulder, he moved in between her legs, his tongue diving deep inside her as his thumb traced firm circles around her clit, not pressing directly on the sensitive flesh, but finding the perfect rhythm to drive all the thoughts from her head. Quiet grunts of pleasure escaped him, as though he had never tasted anything so delicious in his life.

Riyo was less controlled than Echo. She tried to keep her voice down so as not to draw the attention of the guards outside the doors of her suite, but she couldn’t suppress her whimpers and gasps as Echo devoured her like a man starved. Her leg trembled as pleasure swirled tightly through her body. Echo flattened his palm against her belly and slid up her body to cup her breast, squeezing gently and rolling her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. He gazed worshipfully up at her from between her thighs, and she locked eyes with him as the pressure in her abdomen finally snapped and sent her hurtling into ecstasy.

Her body crumpled, but Echo caught her, clamping his hand firmly over her mouth to muffle her cries, even as he wrecked her over and over with his mouth. At last, when he had wrung every last shuddering drop of pleasure out of her body, he lowered her onto his lap and wrapped her comfortingly in his arms, stroking his hand gently across her skin.

“That’s it, love,” he whispered in her ear. “That’s my lovely girl. You look so beautiful like this. You make such pretty sounds when you come. I hated to stop you. I wanted to hear every little moan and gasp and scream. Next time, love.”

Riyo shook her head. “Bedroom,” she gasped. “Soundproof.”

Echo smiled. “Lead the way.”

Cerra didn’t look up when the barracks door opened. The mattress shifted as Rex sat next to her on the bunk. He leaned close to peer at the holo she held.

“Was that at 79’s?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she said.

In the picture, Tup’s long hair tumbled around his shoulders as Cerra hugged him close. They were both laughing uproariously as Fives made a crude gesture at the holocam. She remembered the night with crystal clarity, even though they’d all just done a round of shots with Jesse and Kix when Kix snapped the holo. Jesse had been teasing Tup about his non-regulation hair and had threatened to shave it off next time Tup fell asleep.

“Never!” Cerra had exclaimed, shrieking with laughter as she wrapped her arms around Tup’s head. “I’ll protect you, Tup!”

“Kix took this about five minutes before we all got bounced for being too loud,” Cerra said. “I’m honestly surprised we didn’t end up in the Corrie drunk tank.”

Rex cupped Cerra’s chin in his hand and tilted her face toward him. “Do you need bacta?”

She shook her head. “I’ll be fine.”

He leaned in to confirm that she wasn’t seriously injured then stroked along her jaw. “You’re going to have a nice bruise. Gregor is going to kick my ass when he finds out how you got it.”

“I’ll tell him I had an argument with the speeder, and the speeder won,” she said. “It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve dropped a vehicle on myself.”

“I’m sorry I hit you,” he said.

“No need to apologize, Rex. I know it was an accident.”

“Echo didn’t mean to hurt you, either,” Rex said in a low voice.

“I know,” she said. “It’s fine. I just wasn’t expecting it. I’ll talk to him in a bit.”

“He took the bike out for a spin,” he said. “It’s just us for now.”

“Just like the bad old days,” she said with the faintest flicker of humor. “Maker forbid.”

Rex had slept like the dead for more than half a day, but he still looked exhausted: the kind of bone-deep weariness that could never be cured by a mere few hours of extra rest. She wondered if she looked like that, too. His thigh felt reassuringly warm and solid as it pressed along her leg, and she shifted a little, seeking the comfort of his touch.

His breath ghosted softly across her skin, and she swayed unconsciously closer to him, close enough to see the individual hairs of the stubble on his jaw, close enough to smell the soap they all shared on his skin. His thumb traced back down her cheek, and when she raised her eyes, his gaze was riveted to her mouth.

“I’m not him, Cerra,” he whispered.

“I know,” she said quietly. “And I’m not her.”

At last, Rex dragged his eyes away from her mouth and shot her a rueful smile. “Quite a pair, aren’t we?”

She tried and failed to return his smile, then closed her eyes as he dropped his forehead to rest against hers.

“Rex?” she asked without opening her eyes.

“Hmm?”

“Do you ever think about giving up?”

“Every day,” he said. “You?”

“Every day.”

“Do you think you will?” he asked.

“Never.”

---

Next chapter

A/N: Want to read about the night from Cerra's hologram? It's from the first half of this one-shot: "Do It Again."

#bad batch echo #captain rex #captain gregor #riyo chuchi #oc: cerra kilian #echo x riyo chuchi #gregor x oc #star wars #the bad batch #bad batch fanfic #star wars fanfic #stars beyond number #dystopicjumsuit writes #Spotify

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cold-heart-warm-writings · 1 year

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OHSHC Members as Different People at a Big Family Dinner

Holiday times are here, as are family get-togethers. Each member is unique and can fill many “rolls”, but these are the cousins at your family get togethers that I envision the Host Club members to be.

Tamaki - The Family Disappointment™. The reason the table breaks out into a yelling argument before the turkey is cold. He’s the cousin everyone thinks is gay, and then is shocked when he brings home Haruhi, and not just because she’s a commoner. He’s very popular with all the little kids, and they always defend him on the ride home when the parents are talking shit.

Kyoya - The Single Rich Aunt/Uncle who jets all around the world, casually name drops the famous and wealthy (even more so than who the Ootori family normally associates with), and is Very Much Against Having Children. That being said, I could see him doting on his nieces and nephews, giving them the best gifts, and paying particular attention to the youngest members of the family.

Haruhi - Haruhi is the cousin that the kids are vaguely indifferent too, but when they find out she is the Only Reason why there are desserts and food that actually tastes good and has any amount of flavoring, they all latch on to her, asking if they can help with the extra baking and cooking. They play music while making the food, and Haruhi asks them about school and life. The cousins quickly discover they are revealing all of their secrets, and that while at first they were indifferent to Haruhi, she actually has her shit together and is a comforting presence in the chaos of family.

Hikaru - The Prankster. Hikaru pranks the ever loving shit out of everyone, and even though everyone knows that it’s him doing the pranks, they never catch him in the act or have solid proof. His pranks range from harmless whoopee cushions to an incident with a range rover and fireworks. Allegedly. It is never dull when he’s around, and he’s the one your parents talk shit about on the car ride home.

Kaoru - The Partner in Crime. He’s either helping Hikaru get away with pranks, or he’ll do you a solid and sneak you a beer or distract your parents so you can call your “special friend” and have it not be a big deal. He’s a cousin you can depend on for anything. He is sneaky, but he also just wants everyone to have a good time. Kaoru knows family can be stressful, so what’s bending a few rules so everyone can make it out of the family gathering alive?

Mori - The Cool Cousin. You know nothing about him, but you want to. His natural quietness makes him seem a bit bored at family get-togethers, but in reality, he’s probably just feeling super awkward.

Honey - The Cousin that Lowkey Bullies Everyone. He’s the cousin that could kill a man (his brother), and all the aunts and uncles would still defend him and gush over how cute and well mannered he is. As long as the cousins give up their treats, they’re safe, but if you try to keep the snack that you snuck away? You’re going to learn first hand why the US and Japan have had diplomatic relations since Honey arrived on the scene.

#ohshc #ohshc imagines #tamaki suoh #haruhi fujioka #kyoya ootori #takashi morinozuka #mitskuni haninozuka #kaoru hitachiin #hikaru hitachiin #ouran #ouran host club #ouran high school host club #happy holidays everyone!

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invisible-key · 3 months

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Sick in Public - part 3

This is an indirect continuation of my Sick in Public series – it can be read without reading part 1 and part 2. While the previous two parts represented a blog post Bernie has written to describe his experience with vomiting on a bus, this part is about a new character, who found inspiration in Bernie's post and tried to recreate it herself. ;)

Kinks: emetophilia, stuffing for emeto purposes

OCs: Emily (pic)

Warning: slight nsft (mentions of arousal)

===================

My name is Emily, and I am an emetophile.

I’ve been fascinated with puking for as long as I can remember, but only after leaving for college and getting my own room away from my family, I have found courage to experiment with self-induced vomiting.

I’ve been following the blog of this one digital artist who draws a lot of emeto and asphyxiation stuff. But occasionally he makes a post about himself vomiting irl as well. Recently, he wrote a post about his true experience of throwing up on a crowded bus and it’s given me brain rot. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. The image of chunks of vomit reflecting back onto my skin as I puke on the doors of a bus was living in my brain rent-free 24/7. I was obsessed. I needed to feel it.

I’ve never had the courage to make myself vomit in public, but it’s one of my biggest fantasies. Nobody would suspect a thing. When people see a petit, innocent-looking 19-year-old girl get sick on a bus, they’re not going to assume that she is a gross degenerate who gets off on making a public mess. They are going to think she is very ill and feel sorry for her, maybe even comfort her. Something about the idea of deceiving people like this made my brain tingle.

The important question was: how do I induce nausea inconspicuously? I went to the internet to research ways to induce vomiting (this search itself made me excited to puke right now). I saw a picture of mustard dissolved in water and it kind of looked like orange juice so I figured it might be a sneaky way to make myself sick in public.

On the designated day, I took an empty 0,5 L bottle, added three teaspoons of mustard in it and filled it with water. I put on a light orange dress with a pattern of white flowers (hopefully I’ll be able to wash vomit stains off of it).

I wanted to fill up my stomach as much as possible, so I cooked a vegetable soup and forced myself to eat the whole pot. I was starting to feel a little queasy from fullness, but I didn’t give in until I swallowed the last spoonful. My belly felt heavy and tight. It became visibly round and protruded from under my dress.

After the large meal, I hopped onto a bus headed for the shopping centre. I sat at the back of the bus, away from people, so that they would not realize that the orange juice smelled like mustard. When I settled down, I opened the bottle. I took a sip and grimaced. The taste was revolting, but I tried to supress gagging because I had to remain inconspicuous.

I was only able to down half the bottle, the taste was just too much. My mouth started salivating a little and I gagged into my palm. A bit of acid came up to my mouth, but I swallowed it back down.

The bus ride took ten minutes, during which… nothing happened. I was queasy due to the gross taste, but it didn’t seem that I was going to vomit. My fantasy of feeling droplets of vomit reflect back onto my skin off the doors of a bus was not going to become a reality.

Oh well. If I’m already at the mall, I might as well buy a new summer dress.

I got off the bus and made my way towards the entrance of the mall, feeling water sloshing inside my heavy stomach. The disgusting taste lingered on my tongue, and I felt a bit queasy and lightheaded.

I entered the mall and headed for my favourite clothing store. As I was browsing dresses, I still felt nauseated, but at this point I didn’t think much of it. I became more interested in shopping than in throwing up. I found a delightful light green dress with a pattern of white flowers that I was sure would go great with my red hair, and I made my way to the changing rooms to try it on.

Suddenly, I was overcome by a shiver followed by a cold sweat.

No – no way that I’m going to vomit NOW…

But there was no mistaking the feeling as my throat tightened and my mouth filled with a large amount of saliva.

I basically threw away the dress and ran out of the store. I emerged at the central plaza of the shopping centre. In the middle of it was a small fountain surrounded by benches. I knew where the bathroom was, but I could tell that I was not going to make it there.

I stopped halfway to the fountain. I was shaking and my legs felt weak. My heart was pounding in my chest, and I felt a little dizzy. The time has run out. I leaned forward and put my hands on my knees.

“Egk – guuuurh – cough!”

I gagged and retched, and a small amount of brownish water came out my mouth and fell on the tiles below.

“Cough, cough…………”

I’m not vomiting that much yet, maybe I can still stop it… I tried to supress the nausea by sheer willpower, but my belly convulsed forcefully, putting pressure on my overfilled stomach, which sent a large amount of undigested soup up my oesophagus. A waterfall of puke spilled out of my mouth and splashed noisily on the tiles underneath. The puddle was light brown with visible pieces of vegetables. It didn’t look all that different from the soup I had eaten. This thought created a mental image of me eating puke, which made me shudder and immediately retch again in disgust. A small, rather chunky wave of vomit made its way to my mouth and I let it spill out. A piece of vegetable stayed lodged at the side of my tongue, tickling my throat, which stimulated my stomach to spew uncontrollably. “Uuuuuuuuurrrgh!” – splash, splash! The intensity of this heave put tears in my eyes. I could barely catch a breath, and I was swaying on my weak legs.

I startled when I felt a hand on my arm. I flinched and looked in that direction, while I was still coughing and gagging as the aftereffect of the last wave. Through vision blurred with tears, I recognized a tall man. “Are you alight, miss?” he said in a kind and soft voice. “Let’s sit you down, okay?” He took my hand and lead me to the bench at the base of the fountain.

As soon as I sat down, saliva started filling my mouth once again. I was breathing rapidly, and my heart was pounding in my ears. I was covered in sweat, my belly muscles hurt, I was trembling with sickness, and I just wanted this to be over. I tried to breathe deeply to soothe the nausea, but it wasn’t working. My stomach contracted and more vomit shot out of my mouth, staining the bottom of my dress and splashing on the tiles underneath.

“Huuuuurk!!”

I felt the stranger’s gentle hand caressing my back as I gagged and coughed up forgotten chunks of food from the depths of my throat.

I tried to breathe deeply, for the nausea was overwhelming. There were tears in my eyes, my whole body was trembling, all I could do was breathe. Breathe in, breathe out…

I looked up at my saviour. „Th-thank you…“ I strained through my tense throat, just before a massive wave overtook me. My stomach contracted painfully, and I lurched forward, a watery projectile shooting out of my mouth. It went on for longer than I thought possible, water after water making its way out of me without a break. When it finally ended, I felt a bit dizzy. I tried to breathe, the outside world felt distant, and the only thing I sensed was the hand on my back. When I managed to catch my breath, I opened my eyes and noticed that the puddle of vomit in from of me was HUGE. I was worried that the people might suspect something… But what could they possibly suspect? Nobody is going to assume that an innocent-looking girl overate on soup and then took an emetic to make herself violently sick in a mall.

The man kept rubbing my back, which felt comforting.

“What happened to you, young miss? Why are you so sick? Should I call an ambulance?”

I shook my head dizzily. “No, i-it’s fine…”

I barely managed to finish the sentence before I coughed up another mouthful of bile. It did not shoot far so basically all of it landed on my dress.

I breathed and breathed, and then my stomach contracted again, straining heavily to get just a little bit of water out.

I breathed in and then I started to feel better. The sweet after-vomit feeling of relief washed over me and made me feel light and ecstatic. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the pleasant feeling while the man kept rubbing my back.

When I opened my eyes, I looked down at the massive pool of vomit on the floor. I thought that this huge amount of water and all of these chunks of food came out of my stomach, and it turned me on. My panties were completely drenched, but I wasn’t sure if it was from arousal or if I had pissed myself due to all the straining. Maybe both.

I decided that I should leave before the cleaning staff shows up and starts yelling at me.

I smiled softly at the man (probably didn’t look that charming with pieces of barfed up leak lodged between my teeth). “Thank you for your help, I feel better now. I will leave now. My dad is at the parking lot, he will take me home,” I lied, because I didn’t want to inconvenience the man any longer. I got up and made my way to the exit on weak legs. When I got on the return bus, I sat next to the window and I closed my eyes. I smiled. I did not end up spewing chunks onto the bus door, but it turned into an exciting experience nonetheless.

===================

Disclaimer: This is a fetish story and as such meant to be fiction and not an inspiration for irl deeds. Do not try this "at home". (Also pls don't try to make that mustard emetic, I'm not sure how safe it actually is and I heard that it might not be safe for people with diabetes or a heart condition etc.)

#emetophilia #emetophilic character #female emeto #oc: emily #my kink writing #vomiting in public

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homo-ousios · 9 months

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I have 100% become a metatron-is-fucking-with-reality truther after reading that one essay. I keep seeing new things in the rewatch:

- Maggie somehow not guessing that Nina wouldn’t have a record player despite her previous comments? (Maggie’s not real)

- their phones going dead when the power goes out, and coming back on immediately when it’s restored? Phones don’t work like that, metatron.

- the ominous music at Aziraphale’s (imo) out of character resistance to Crowley’s questions before the beginning, the same music that op noticed at several other ooc places

- Crowley’s depression and little speech at the park about how everything is pointless. It’s such a clear sign that things in general are Wrong. He’s an optimist, and he usually cares about the world for its own sake (the point is the point is dolphins etc). He’s lost his grounding here, and it makes everything feel eerie.

More than anything, there are just too many continuity gaps and red herrings (like the Eccles cakes). They initially made me feel like the season simply wasn’t very good, but they’re too consistent and look too purposeful on the rewatch, and frankly it strains belief that neil gaiman would be that haphazard with his storytelling.

(I think I was primed to expect this season to be not-good because the new beelzebub, the re-casting of previous actors, and Crowley’s target box dye lookin hair color felt sloppy or shoestring to me. But those are totally different issues from story structure, so unless neil really dropped the ball or john finnemore is a loose cannon, I think the continuity gaps are plot relevant. And given the story’s long arc about who gets to shape reality, from god and adam in the first season to the archangels and the metatron now, all versus humans + crowley and aziraphale—well, I’m convinced anyway. I think the metatron is editing bits of reality here and there to break up the min. 25-lazari power couple.)

Here’s the link to the original post (read it, it’s incredible):

#good omens meta #good omens #got my red string and cork board; reconciled to my incipient madness; focused; flourishing

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punkpandapatrixkdailyread · 8 months

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世代を開放するのはだ～れ sedai o kaihou suru no wa da~re／Generation Liberation

Moon Day 10 in Sagittarius／Waxing Gibbous

day’s V I B E – 8 of Cups

The 10th moon day is a lucky day. With this industrious Sagittarius energy relating to the 10th House, today is a massively good day to get on with our more pragmatic tasks. The things under the influence of the 10th House of career and legacy that you must do from now.

Although many of us hold dreams that are quite beyond the conventional, tradition, or custom, we still have practical duties that need catering now. Get on with that responsibly—when it feels right, too—so the path towards your unconventional desires is littered with less annoyance.

In another news,

Irrespective of your age (but especially if you’re below the age of 30, I guess) do realise that the future of jobs is looking very different from what we’ve been familiar with up until… the last 5 years, I guess?

The world is changing big time and in spite of the criticisms launched at Gen Ms and Zs about their incapability to deal with the common stresses of the conventional workplace—that’s really on the older generations, innit?

They’re the ones who’ve created stupidly massively toxic systems and we’re fed up. We’re SO fed up and worse about us is that we’re SO self-respecting that we refuse to be part of their comically disrespectful systems. There’s got to be another way of living, right?

The way I see it, a lot of older Gen Ms are currently breaking through with breaking many conventions. Yeah sure, a small portion of the Gen Xs and Boomers are on this as well, but older Gen Ms are definitely changing the world in their own sneaky Scorpionic ways to create that Solarpunk (the optimistic version of Cyberpunk LMAO) reality we all wish could come sooner. And so, that’s basically good news for the Gen Zs.

If you’re a Gen Z, or a younger Gen M, or whoever and whatever you are if you’re a weirdo, I think you could claim this possible timeline and decide to join in on the circus towards Liberation from the constrictive chains of this slavery matrix.

Lotsa good things are in store for us all when thinking about jobs and careers of the future. It’s gonna be superbly exciting! In the future, most people are gonna be able to earn a comfortable income doing what they like and care about. Are you in? So don’t be anxious.

Just that, before that happens, make sure you prioritise and take care of your mental health for rational decision making; spiritual health for healthy optimistic daydreaming; physical health to ensure you live long enough to be part of this exciting future; and most of all, don’t be afraid to believe in TechnoMagick😉

Priestess of Magick

m o o n a v i g a t i o n ♥︎

‘Technomancers of the New World are working hard behind the scenes of this deceitful Matrix. If you wanna be part of this movement, just close your eyes and affirm that you wanna see the manifestations of this Dream Work. We’re all connected and ruled by the Law of One. By confirming your daily decisions you’re becoming either part of those who serve the Light or those that serve the Dark. The magick of co-creation is in you. What kind of Reality do you wanna be part of? You must affirm to yourself for all the world to see.’

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

[Main Blog] [Patreon] [Paid Readings]

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

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davnittbraes · 1 year

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The Fourth Step - Chapter Twenty-Eight

Part of The World Is Light, Embodied.

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 3700

Warnings, etc.: anxiety, anxiety spirals, negative thoughts, negative self-talk, overall intense emotions, FLUFF see I can write balanced fic, the briefest of brief mentions of smut

Notes: I think a little explanation will help put reader’s mindset in this chapter into perspective. Those who deal with cognitive dissonance can hold conflicting thoughts in their head at the same time, and they have equal weight and significance even if they’re complete opposite lines of thinking. It can be confusing, lead to a disconnected sense of reality because you never know what’s true, and you distrust your own perception. Cognitive distortion is like a poisoning of positive thoughts, your mind twisting the good things into bad things. It’s very clever, very sneaky, and very difficult to tell the difference from a healthy thought process.

I deal with both, and lemme tell ya, when I first learned about it a lot of stuff started to make sense. If you’d like to learn more, go to your local library or do some googling. I hesitate to suggest direct links because there’s a lot of kooks out there who preach psychology without any actual education in the field, so please just do your research and check sources. And above all, love yourselves 🥰

Mando’a translations and spoiler notes at the end of the chapter.

Please check out the Series Masterlist page for more info.

Dank farrik, you’re tired.

Even now, after curling up in your blankets and letting sleep dull the edges of that ache in your chest. Apparently you’ll need more than a few hours rest to get rid of the weakness in your muscles, that borderline tremble that keeps trying to take hold of your body again.

You need some kind of normalcy to truly shake it - not the normal you had lived before Din and the kid. Not the normal your treacherous mind was pushing you toward, back in Mos Eisley.

You need the routine of content domesticity that you’ve found only in the last few months. That gentle feeling of belonging.

The warm, bright thing in your chest flares, weak but still there, pushing against the hollow ache that had been scraped out, reaching for something.

You need Din.

Shoving the blankets away along with the threatening memory of just how far you’d spiralled, you stand up and stretch, muffling a groan at how good it feels, the pull in your muscles and back, the prickle of the cool air over the bare skin of your arms and legs left exposed by your nightshirt.

The rush of blood moving through stiff limbs fades from your ears and you pick up on the hum of the engines, that specific frequency that tells you the Razor Crest is moving through hyperspace.

No other sounds drift over the engines, no quiet chatter or soft coos. The hold is dark, in the middle of night cycle - the kid must be asleep.

Where’s Din?

You glance down at the blankets, as if his tall, broad frame would suddenly materialize there.

A curl of unease swirls in the pit of your stomach.

Why hadn’t he come to bed with you?

Pressing a hand over the place where unease threatens to start building, you dig the tips of your fingers into your skin just enough to sting, distract you from falling back into those thoughts.

He had suggested you get some rest, the moment the ship had broken Tatooine’s atmosphere. Nothing in that had been unusual, it was a typical Din gesture, always looking out for your well-being, reminding you to take care of yourself.

Your cheeks warm with the memory of how his hands had cupped your face, large and steady, helping you remember how to breathe.

Unease surges under your palm.

He hasn’t touched you since then.

Pfassk.

He hasn’t even looked at you.

In fact, he’s kept his distance with something almost like intent. Striding toward the cockpit without a glance behind him as the door slid shut. Initiating the launch sequence in silence, black visor focused on the control console. Keeping his back turned to you in the cockpit, even while verbally prodding you to go lay down.

Your stomach turns slowly, nauseating.

Something is wrong.

A thousand thoughts burst across your mind, disjointed and sharp.

Was he injured? Kriff, you hadn’t noticed, so caught up in your own head -

Something had happened, something to make him pull away from you after you had calmed down but what could -

He’s hurt, somehow, you can sense it, he’s not acting like himself.

The urge to go to him pushes your feet toward the cockpit. He must be there, if he’s not in bed.

Carefully, you pick your way through the hold, muscle memory guiding your steps despite the pitch-dark of the night cycle. Pausing by the bunk, you press your ear to the closed door, wave of relief passing over your skin at the muffled sound of soft snores.

At least the kid’s ok.

The durasteel floor is cold under your bare feet as you pad over to the ladder, pausing at the bottom. You take a deep breath, then climb into the cockpit, a frantic energy buzzing in your limbs, concern for him worrying your teeth over your bottom lip.

It’s dimly lit, the lines of hyperspace the only light source, flooding the small space with a white glow tinged faintly blue, flashing ever-so-slightly. The unease dips low in your stomach when you see the glint of his helmet, and you quickly take him in, noting the straightness of his spine and shoulders, the tension pulling them back, holding him stiffly upright in his chair.

Something is wrong -

But then he’s shifting, just a little, gloved hands moving over the console to pull up some kind of data report. There’s no indication of injury in his movements, and you release the breath you didn’t know you were still holding.

Maybe you’re imagining things. Maybe everything is fine and you’re just feeling whatever residual anxiety is left after what happened on Tatooine.

That craving for normalcy swarms over the unease. Yes, you need that, you need this to get your head back on straight. Routine. Quiet conversations with Din as the light of hyperspace flickers over the two of you. Just as it has countless times.

You settle into your chair, tucking your legs close to ward off the chill. The nightshirt leaves your arms bare and only falls to mid-thigh, you probably should have brought a blanket with you, or taken a moment to change into clothes, but you’d been so worried about Din and now - well, now that you’re back in his presence, even the cold isn’t incentive enough to leave him again.

It’s quiet in the cockpit. Just the engines, a distant pulse. It’s soothing on your frayed nerves.

For a moment.

Then it stretches, pulls tight. Fills with something unknown, a tension that radiates out from the beskar-clad frame in the pilot’s chair.

Your tentative peace shudders, heartbeat picking up, hurting that scraped-raw spot behind your ribs.

Something is wrong.

His modulated voice startles you, sounding loud in the thick silence. “How are you feeling?”

A mix of relief and uncertainty makes you shift in your seat. It’s a normal question, one he’s asked before, voice warm with concern for your wellbeing.

But there’s no warmth in his voice, now. No cold bite, either.

It’s just empty words.

You shake your head a little, blinking. Come on, pull out of it. Normal, you need normal.

Forcing a smile on your face, you idly pick at the hem of your nightshirt to give your fingers something to do. “Much better, thank you. How’s the new coolant system working?”

“Fine.”

You wait, but he doesn’t say anything more, the black visor trained on the data scrolling across the screen in the console.

Something is wrong -

Normal you need normal -

You clear your throat, trying again. “That’s good. So, where are we headed now?”

He shifts, helmet turning away from the console, corner of the black visor coming into view. But no more. The tension running through his frame seems to stop him short of looking at you. “Tionas. What happened?”

Unease is boiling into dread and you shove it down deep. “Oh, it wasn’t a big deal, really. Bad Knee Creep saw me on the street, tried to claim I owed him. I obviously argued otherwise, his nose may or may not have gotten broken during the conversation, and he had a few friends with him so I ended up running for it. They didn’t track us as far as Motto’s hangar, I know that, so there’s no need to worry about them recognizing the Crest or - “

“I’m not talking about that.” His words slice through your rambling, efficiently cutting it short. “What happened two days ago?”

Two days ago? You frown, thinking back. What - oh.

A rush of embarrassment warms your skin, and you try to shrug it off with a casual lift of a shoulder, a self-deprecating smile, just in case he catches a glimpse of it out of the corner of the visor. “Oh. Right. I was in my own head about some things, but I’m better now. We can just move on.”

He’s still, silent. Motionless.

Something is wrong -

You scrub a hand over your face, trying to brush away the itch of discomfort that settling over your skin. “Honestly, it’s fine. I mean, I still have some things to work through, but I won’t let it get in the way of the mission. I’ll stay focused on taking care of the kid, finding your people, the Jedi, all of it.”

Your hand drops to your lap, suddenly weak. Something like desperation grips your heart, squeezes. Why isn’t he saying anything? “I’m really fine, I swear. We can just move on and forget it happened.”

The white lines of hyperspace flash through the transparisteel, unsteady light that seems to amplify the silence.

Something is wrong something is wrong something is -

He suddenly spins toward you, chair squeaking with the movement, broad shoulders blocking out the light. The modulator crackles as his voice pushes through it forcefully.

“No.”

You blink. “What?”

His gloved hands fist on his thighs, the line of tension pulling so tight it might snap. “No. I’m not going to forget it happened and move on. You shut me out. For two days.”

A rush of guilt floods your stomach, gnawing, dull and aching. “I know, I’m sorry. I got caught up in my own stuff and… never mind, it’s stupid.”

“You pushed me away so hard that I -“ his voice cracks, barely noticeable but enough to resound in your own chest - “You were so distant, you wouldn’t talk to me, then you show up with him and I thought - fuck, I sat here for the last few hours, waiting for you to wake up and tell me you were leaving.”

A sting of pain nips at your fingertips - your hands are curled too tight into the hem of your nightshirt. “I - none of it was your fault. I’m not - it’s not… it’s my own stuff to deal with, my own hangs up and anxiety to work through. It’s not your responsibility.”

His shoulders shift with a deep breath, fists flattening against his thighs as he visibly calms himself down. “We’re supposed to be in this with each other. Step by step, together. Remember?”

“We are, we are in this together.” Your own fists unfurl, damp palms sliding over your bare knees in an attempt to copy him, do the same and calm down, but guilt and desperation claw their way up your spine until your throat squeezes tight. “It’s just that I should deal with my own stupid mental shit, not you.”

A harsh sound of frustration snaps through the modulator. “It’s not stupid, and it’s not just yours. If we’re doing this together, then it’s mine, too.”

He pauses, suddenly slumping as if exhausted, voice losing the edge of anger to soften into something gentle. “You don’t have to take it all on yourself. I want to help you, tionas. I can’t be with you and not care about you.”

Darkness creeps at the edges of your vision. It’s blinding, all-consuming, throbbing as it fills the hole it had already occupied just a few hours ago, using your tongue to speak. “Then maybe you shouldn’t be with me.”

No no no stop -

You wrestle your thoughts back. The palms of your hands press tight to your eyes, trying to block out those whispers telling you to go run away it’s what he expects he knows you will he even said so -

Don’t please don’t -

I want to live -

But it’s too much, too much emotion battling for control and you can’t keep it contained.

It bursts out, a flood of choked words that come from deep, deep down, beyond that dark throb and warm bright thing warring in your chest.

“I can’t do this, I can’t anymore. I can’t keep fighting that voice in my head telling me to run, hide, get away from you, because you know me, you know too much of me and -“ the words stop up in your throat and you cough, swallow hard, they rush out once again - “I don’t have the strength to keep pushing and trying and - it’s too much. I’ll never win. I’m so screwed up that I see people who are trying to help me as a threat, even the man I love.”

Tears are hot hot hot on your cheeks and they sting, you shove them away with fingers that shake and shut your eyes tight to keep more from falling. “You deserve better than this. Better than me. Kriff, Din, you’re so strong, so brave and thoughtful and kind and smart - you should be with someone like you, not a terrified coward who runs away from everything. Crikking hells, you’re a Mandalorian, and I-I’m a runaway slave. I ran to get my freedom, and I have never stopped running. Not really. Not deep down, where it matters. And I don’t think I can stop. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry I wasted your time. I’m so, so sorry.”

Your heartbeat is so loud, frantic, uneven, heavy, and you can’t hear anything over it, over the rush of air pulling through your constricted lungs, the grind of your teeth as your jaw clenches tight against the invisible force that presses down on you -

Something warm envelopes your hands, a gentle strength pulls your fingers into broad palms and holds them there.

The warmth flows through your fingers, wrists, arms, pools in your chest and eases the pounding of your heart as it continues down, through your body until the weight lifts and your breathing steadies.

It’s ok. It’s going to be ok. You just need to open your eyes.

And let him in.

You obey, eyelids flickering slightly as they lift, and the black visor is right there, a familiar slash of dark through silver that makes the warm, bright thing in your chest surge to the forefront.

He’s holding your hands in your lap. The leather of his gloves smooth against your bare thighs.

Yes. Good.

Calm. Focus. Control.

Breathe deep. See him there, in front of you, holding you. Listen to him.

His voice is so soft through the modulator. “I am a Mandalorian. And a bounty hunter. And a… a father to a little green dude. But I am not just one of those things, I’m all of them and more. You told me that once, remember?”

The corner of your mouth ticks up, an almost foreign feeling. “Yeah. That was the night you first called me ‘tionas.’”

He hums in agreement, helmet tilting as he looks down at your joined hands. “Tionas. A question. A mystery. A namana berry farmer, and an eopie herder, and a distiller. All of them and more.”

His hands turn yours over, thumbs tracing the curve of your palms. “A mother to a child who loves you. A slave, and a free person.”

The black visor meets your gaze once more, voice a hushed whisper. “A woman who has lived a thousand lives. Ne’kotir.”

You want to believe him - to let yourself believe him - so badly it’s palpable, a bittersweet bite on the back of your tongue. “How can I be undefeated if my own head is against me? I’m not strong enough to fight it by myself.”

“Needing help doesn’t make you weak.” He releases one of your hands to brush a fingertip over the curve of your cheek, tracing the path of your tears. “Defeat only comes upon us when we deny ourselves that which gives us strength.”

You jolt, surprised by the huff of laughter that bursts from your chest. “It sounds so simple when you say it like that.”

“I know it’s not that simple. But those words have helped me many times.” His hand cups your face, steady as you lean into his touch. “My people believe in the power of personal bonds. The strongest are those with a clan to support them.”

“I… I’ve never had that. I don’t know how to be part of a clan.” Your voice trails off into a whisper, emotion closing your throat again.

The helmet tilts. “Yes, you do. Because you are.”

You frown, searching the visor for that hidden gaze behind it. “I’m what?”

“Part of a clan.”

Time stops. The cockpit disappears and it’s just him and you as he pulls your joined hands to his shoulder, presses your palm to his pauldron.

To the signet of the mudhorn.

The hand on your face nudges your gaze back to his - you hadn’t realized you were staring at where your hand covered the signet.

His voice moves gently but firmly through the modulator. “This is yours, just as it is the kid’s. As it is mine. We are the same, kar’ta. Family. Aliit. Nothing can break that.”

He hesitates, breath stuttering, but then his hand pushes yours tight against the pauldron, rounded edges of the signet imprinting on your palm. “Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar’tome.”

There’s a formal cadence, an importance to the words that settles deep, beckons you to know more. “What does it mean?”

A pause, then - “We are one when together, we are one when parted.”

Tears of a different kind sting the corners of your eyes, and you can’t help but try the weight of those words on your own tongue. “Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar’tome.”

His thumb presses to your lips, like he’s preventing you from saying more but also desperate to feel those words that just fell from them.

You look at him, seeking answers to a question just starting to form in your thoughts but then there’s a flurry of motion, a hand covering your eyes and a clink of metal and then his lips are on yours and you forget everything else.

His hair is soft between your fingers, his scent replaces the air in your lungs and you welcome it. The faint scratch of stubble on your cheek as his lips move over yours sends a shiver down your spine, and his free hand slips under your shirt to follow its path, blazing heat over skin still so new to touch.

The combination of sensations reminds you of the secrets you share with each other, the mutual trust that remains unbroken.

That warm, bright thing in your chest glows.

You pull away, reluctant, but you know you need to say it. “I meant it, you know.”

A faint tremor moves through the hand over your eyes, the only sign that he understands what you’re referring to. His lips press another kiss to yours. “I know.”

You slip your hand from his hair, trace the line of his jaw with your fingertips. “I was waiting for the right time to say it. Guess my own foolish tongue ruined that plan.”

His huff of laughter is everything. “Your tongue is anything but foolish, paklalat.”

“What does it mean?”

“Clever-tongued.”

Your smile doesn’t feel as strange anymore, curves of your cheeks brushing the edge of his hand. “Yet you called me mir’sheb, first.”

“It’s a fine line.”

He lets you tug him forward again, trail your lips over his jaw. “Is there a Mandalorian word for ‘love?’”

The hand on your back sweeps up, resting between your shoulderblades, holding you at an angle so he can tilt your head back, kiss you deep, leave you breathless. “Not exactly. We say it in different ways, depending on the person.”

You catch him off-guard with your teeth on his lower lip, savouring the shiver that runs through him. “Everything is different with you.”

“Yes. Like that.” His mouth curves into a smile against the skin of your neck as he presses a kiss to your pulse.

You hum in agreement, tempted to let him continue his path downward, but the warm, bright thing in your chest makes you pull him back up. “I think I still need to say it, the way I wanted to, given how terrible I clearly am at communicating.”

He hesitates, thumb stroking the line of your shoulderblade, breath falling hushed over your lips. “You don’t have to, I know -“

“I love you, Din Djarin.”

It’s then, in that moment, that you feel it.

Finally, just.

Feel it.

No second guessing, no attempting to distract yourself. No picking everything apart to find errors, doubts.

No fighting to convince yourself you don’t deserve to feel it.

It spreads from your chest, bright and warm and love and everything.

His lips brush yours lightly, letting you feel his words. “I love you, tionas.”

Then he’s kissing you, and you’re kissing him, and every last shred of darkness evaporates from your thoughts until there is nothing but light.

You only stop when it gets to be too much - not enough - and your panting breaths ghost over warm skin, quivering with an underlying barely-there urge to laugh for no reason - or maybe for the only reason that matters.

He shifts, a sound of contentment in the back of his throat, and pulls you into him. You bury your nose in his cowl, breathe deep, smooth your hands over his shoulders, biting your lip to keep the laughter contained when your fingers glide over the signet on his pauldron.

Your signet.

Your clan.

His hands trace steady circles on your back as you both come back into yourselves. Time starts up again and a few seconds tick by, your thoughts meandering through everything you had talked about tonight.

They stick on a memory, and you turn your face into the curve of his neck so he can hear you, keeping your gaze down to avoid accidentally seeing him. “You know what else happened that night, the night you first called me ‘tionas?’”

He kisses the top of your head, groaning softly. “You almost made me lose it and fuck you right there on a storage crate. If the hyperdrive hadn’t blown, I would have.”

A little thrill of arousal warms your core at the memory of his solid form behind you, the hard length of his cock pressing against your ass as you rolled your hips back into it. “Yes, that. But it was also the night I found out about your obsession with HoloNet dramas.”

He sighs heavily. “Mir’sheb.”

“Ah. There’s the line.”

*****

Mando’a translations

Tionas - question

Ne’kotir - undefeated

Kar’ta - heart

Aliit - clan, Mandalorian equivalent of family

Mir’sheb - smartass

Other notes:

*takes deep breath*

Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar’tome is the first half of the Mandalorian wedding vows

*screams into pillow**sobs*

My interpretation of how Mandalorians express romantic love - I know the fandom commonly uses “Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum” which loosely translates to “I will know you forever” as a Basic equivalent of “I love you” but I haven’t seen it used in official works enough to feel like these two should use it in this fic. Since Mando’a is such a flexible language, I think it makes sense that they would find their own ways to express romantic love, in a way that reflects their specific relationship. Am I overthinking this? Yes. Am I picking and choosing what I want to be “true to the universe” and what I want to play around with? Absolutely. And that’s fanfiction, darling 💋💃

***** Previous Chapter Next Chapter

#the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin fanfiction #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x female reader #the mandalorian x f!reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x you #mando x reader #mando x female reader #mando x f!reader #mando x you #reader insert #no y/n #the world is light embodied #TWILE

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astrognossienne · 1 year

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scorpio: a rich conspectus

*the zodiac sign of Scorpio, Luigi Gonzaga (1500/2-1532), with inscription: Qui Vivens Laedit Morte Medetur (Who wounds when alive, heals when dead).

The aforementioned phrase is all you need to know about Scorpio. They will cut you down to size for seemingly no reason only to build you back up when they see you down and out. This is the Pluto in them. They’re not designed to make sense - hell, I’m sure they don’t even understand why they do the things they do. Scorpio is the zodiac sign that is possibly the most unnecessarily calculating and sneaky yet they’re intensely irrational and emotional as well. They are always on guard expecting someone to cross them which makes them paranoid about betrayal. The paranoia leads to the sneakiness. It’s as if they always have to stay ahead of you just in case you do something to betray them/their trust. I enjoy watching their emotional and mental gymnastics most of the time, because I can’t understand why that behaviour is necessary and I wonder if they ever get tired. They’re the ones who confide to their closest friend their guilt over the shitty way they’ve treated their family/friends/love interests. This is the only zodiac sign represented by an INSECT...a poisonous one, but an insect nonetheless. Like the scorpion and the frog, it’s in their nature to sting. Since they’re so full of venom, they feel the need to distribute it on others and/or self-immolate on their own bile. You see, even if their perfect match fell into their lap, they are too controlling, self-destructive, reactive, and stupid to not destroy it. It’s funny hearing Scorpios call themselves “loyal and honest” yet they are constantly playing the game of not revealing, and leaving things unsaid, to people they claim to “love”. Very passive aggressive. But of course, unlike everyone else, there's separate laws for them because they are “super sensitive and scared of being hurt” LOL. It’s funny that they brag about being “super-tough” annihilating machines, yet are such snowflakes that they demand special treatment and require protection in case they get hurt. Fascinating.

Scorpios honestly think most signs find them “sneaky” and “mysterious” but the reality is that they just don’t feel inclined to tell their business to everyone. They feel that they have to stay one step ahead because they feel like they can pick up on certain patterns and behaviours from other people. Like Virgos, they do overthink, but they’ve literally predicted the future when it came to certain situations, believe it or not. I don’t find them particularly mysterious, especially if you start observing them. After a small amount of time you can tell what their triggers are because they’ll start to act from their shadow side (shit talking, shit stirring, manipulating, backstabbing, etc). Scorpios, like Cancers and Virgos, are primarily a defensive sign - they generally don't come at you unless you come at them first. Where it gets tricky is if you're dealing with an unevolved and/or insecure Scorpio (of which there are MANY, hence the hate this sign gets). Those people don’t just go for the defense, they are equally as offensive as they are defensive. Those Scorpios tend to be toxic people who confuse someone outshining them or not falling in line kissing their ass as an attack, they’re like all the other fixed signs (as well as Sags and Virgos) that way. Further proof of how pathetic they are is the feigned indifference to being hated and also felt the need to summon other Scorpios to defend what's left of their deservedly shit reputation. Cancer and Scorpio are the signs for survival/self-preservation. If they feel their survival is at stake, even the nicest Scorpio will hit overdrive and do their absolute best to evade or shut down that threat. Remember, like Aries, Scorpio is also ruled by Mars. However, that warrior Martian spirit is intensified by the presence of Pluto. The two planets together (and both rule Scorpio) can be really destructive - and Pluto makes sure the damage lasts. Pluto is an abysmally RUTHLESS planet.

Like the rest of the fixed signs (Taurus, Leo, Aquarius) Scorpios have a HUGE ego but they also tend to be about value. Evolved Scorpios value authentic, preferably intense, emotional interaction and connection. Devolved Scorpios value obsession, worship, sadism, and sycophancy. This is a sign of passion and extremes. Moderation is not in their makeup and the balance embodied by the previous sign of Libra is the anathema to their very being. So that means if Scorpio discovers that another person has used that connection or those interactions to play them for a fool...it can get ugly real quick. Their intensity cuts both ways. It's a violation of one of Scorpio's primary values. Hence they, the sensitive water signs that they are, get hurt to the core. It hurts. And so they take protective measures. That could mean severing the connection with you. Why? Because they valued that connection and it's been exploited. They don’t know how to live with that. Hence they cut you off. It may seem unfair. But that usually is because the person Scorpio sees as exploiting the connection, didn't value the connection. It could also mean an aggressive, combative interaction with them - although interestingly enough, that's actually kind of uncommon with healthy Scorpios. It's hard to explain. It's not like Aries, the sign whose Martian association they share. When Aries blows, it's destructive but they get over it really quickly. Scorpio does NOT. It generally takes longer for a healthy Scorpio to blow and when they do, it's more like a volcano erupting in that whatever happens, however things are resolved, the landscape of the relationship is permanently changed. Aries is a destructive storm that blows over. Scorpio changes the landscape. From what I have seen, if anything, despite their sneaky ways, oddly enough they're some of the realest signs in the zodiac. They're like Sags because they’re blunt and don't like to sugarcoat anything and that's what I like about them. But then again, I don't like overly fake, pc people.

Scorpio takes all that Martian energy and weigh it down with the destructive lead weight of Pluto. Incidentally, lead is the metal associated with Scorpio; iron is Aries’ metal. Lead is softer than iron. But lead is also toxic. It can poison you very easily in small amounts. It also is one of the few sure containers of radiation. If a toxic level of radiation is coming your way, you better jump behind some lead real quick. It will block and protect you. But if that lead container is opened, you get exposed to a level of damage that can't be cleaned up, at least not easily. If you get wounded by an iron weapon and aren't killed, you can most likely be fixed. However, if you get poisoned by lead...well, you better act fast cause if you don't, you’re toast. In other words, Scorpios can be TOXIC. And as self-aware as they like to think themselves as, they have fixed-sign delusions of grandeur and they won't necessarily see that they are toxic. About the vengeful part: yes, they also make a mission out of seeking revenge. This is a misuse of Scorpio energy, and too many of them do it. Scorpios should always avoid that behaviour as best they can because, like Saturn (planet of karma) -ruled Capricorn (and unlike Pisces, as well as a lot of the fire signs - damn, you people get away with murder!), Scorpios always pay for their misdeeds, sooner or later. And it's usually kind of ugly. Deservedly so. So it’s best for them not to dish it out.

If you don’t know who you are, they will ruin your life if you let them get close enough to you. They're good as acquaintances if you're looking for someone to have a good time with and keep it real with you about certain things, but I wouldn't advise the insecure to get too close to them. Needless to say, I've never had my life ruined by a Scorpio but I've observed what they've done to other people and I definitely keep my doubts about Scorpios, as well as my distance; again, they only ruin someone’s life if they think that person is weak (nice, very understanding, give a lot of grace, etc.). When they meet their match (usually a Gemini, Aquarius, Capricorn, or a fire sign) they're total cowards. They’re like Virgos because they think that they know everything and will tell you what you need to do in a heartbeat but can't listen when you tell them the same. They will tell their business, but not everything and when you find it out, you had no clue. Unhealthy Scorpios are always best avoided - and you'll know them by their tendency to always be bullying, underhanded, controlling, dirty, lowdown, abusive, hateful, mean-spirited, scathing, draining, willfully destructive, miserable, don’t like themselves, vengeful, irritable, nitpicky and, mostly, to have a need to control every little thing and every person in every environment they are in. They’re wayyy crazier than Cancer is made out to be. However, their “sexy” and “dark” archetype along with their courage/fixed-sign audacity and compulsion to take things to the limit makes them exciting/interesting to others, hence others turn a blind eye to their antics and ways.

If others have had the unfortunate experience of dealing with an unhealthy Scorpio, I don't blame them for being wary of all members of the sign. But it just might be a good idea though to remember that evolved Scorpios (eagles) are actually really good to have in your corner. They'll have your back, they'll recharge you, they'll show up to help in times of trouble. Like the other water signs and Leos, Scorpios are other people's power chargers - they tend to power up the people they love and value. They tend to recharge people. That's why folks so often ask them for advice or help. And if they love you, they will help you. A lot of times, you may not even see them every day, and then all of a sudden trouble hits you and there they are, sleeves rolled up and ready to dive in. The recipient may not realize it until they do something that damages the relationship (connection) and then they sever it. Suddenly, you've got lower energy levels and you can't figure out why. It was them, charging you up, and now they’re gone. Cancer, Taurus, Capricorn, and Scorpio are the main signs that have a lot of internal power - which must never ever be willfully misused. But with the Plutonic/Martian Scorpio, it’s imperative that they don’t misuse their internal power, because it always comes back to them. With great power, comes great responsibility. Like I said, their intensity cuts both ways. And even if you fail to understand the value of your connection and violate it to the point that a Scorpio cuts you off, a healthy Scorpio will not take vengeance. They know better. As with Cancers, just don't threaten their survival and you'll be fine.

previous tea: capricorn • aquarius • pisces • aries • taurus • gemini • cancer • leo • virgo • libra • scorpio

#end of the season tea #drink well children #scorpio #mine #forgot about them tbh lol #and as per usual the typical responses are coming in 🤪🤣#they’re so predictable

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alyjojo · 16 days

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Thinking of You - April ✂️ 2024 - Capricorn

Whole of their energy towards Capricorn: 10 Wands rev

Feelings: The Hermit

Intentions: Knight of Pentacles

Actions: 2 Wands, 3 Pentacles & Ace of Swords

This feels like a work colleague or someone platonic in your world, they either see you as a loner or they are one, someone that keeps to themselves. Probably because they don’t like you, that’s how it comes off, but somehow have to interact with you. They’ve given up ever trying to make this better than what it is now, they don’t have faith that you *can* or want to, and it’s like they’re being patient with your bs (how I heard it) but that’s only because they have to. If you work together, that’s the clearest story I see, they need the money. They feel like they can see right through you & your intentions, which they don’t see positively, and they celebrate that fact to anyone that knows them on a personal level. They feel like they’ve been separated from you or have purposely tried to, waiting on a bad cycle to end, waiting for you to be moved to the other side of the room, another office, not in their immediate periphery. Could all be switched too 💯 They just want this issue you two have or you to go away as a whole. It’s like negativity and you are synonymous with each other - in whatever way they know you - or whatever problem exists.

More work energy, in their intentions they just plan to celebrate their work and their successes, which they seem to be having, and otherwise stay away from you. Come in, do their work, collect their money, go home. They’re independent and grateful for what they have and like the Oracle says, they don’t allow any irritation with you to get to them, they’re a serious person with their priorities in order. I do see something of a celebratory nature, like they may have sly comments that make it very clear where they stand, they’re not a sneaky or quiet type. Like they’ll leave you alone gladly, but…say something 😳 In their head anyway. In action, they’re making an attempt to work together with you to bring clarity to a situation, like a forced business meeting/project or something. Do they choose it, no. Will they be an asshole, also no. They’re trying to be the bigger person and gain a higher perspective, trying to cut through some bs so that you will then have to - especially if this is your boss. They definitely won’t hold back what they think or how they feel, but also it’s in the spirit of teamwork, and I don’t see them being unnecessarily sharp either. They can’t be. The oracle could be your advice 😆 or their attitude.

Messages:

Their side:

- BOSS 😎

- Follow My Lead

- This was only temporary for me.

Your side:

- I just want to start over!

- Cannot Handle Reality 😵‍💫

Oracles:

The path to inner peace begins with four words: Not My Fucking Problem 💯

Justice ⚖️

Equality - Neutrality - Logic

Goal 📈

Purpose - Expectation - Destination

Possible signs:

Virgo, Capricorn, Sagittarius, Aries & Pisces

If you’re dealing with:

Ace of Swords brings clarity & truth to all situations and relationships in your life. Sometimes the truth hurts, but it’s better than living in confusion or murky bs, rather have all of the information available so that you can make sound decisions and give sound advice, like Caps tend to do. You could be being very open and honest with your people about all sorts of things, or you’re hearing a lot of information that also somehow helps you learn a thing or two, I’m seeing training for someone. Maybe you 🤷

Aries - their goals are running out of steam due to drama or arguments, possibly competition, they’re starting to feel defeated

Taurus - apologizing or healing a connection, 10 Cups at the bottom, could be a loving relationship or a close family member

Gemini - has an opportunity to travel or they’re giving you one, and it’s a good thing 💯

Cancer - someone very chatty, could be telling you their every thought at every moment

Leo - leaving someone for someone else, or a new opportunity that connects with their heart

Virgo - one of you has no leg to stand on but somehow will die on that hill, so stubborn, and the other person is like 🤷 okay die then

Libra - wants to quit their job every day, plans it out and changes their mind, could also be a deeply committed relationship complete with spouse and kids, but they haven’t yet, running out of steam

Scorpio - could be going through an awakening, it’s like they’re having to question every belief they thought they had ⛪️

Sagittarius - secrets will come to light at home or within their/your relationship

Capricorn - expecting someone else to step in and take charge, and if not, will happily do it themselves…move 💯 They keep getting that everywhere.

Aquarius - nostalgic about you in positive ways, probably doesn’t talk to you much

Pisces - one day they’re super generous and loving, the next day they’re icy and uninterested, hot/cold Pisces style, could have something to do with a passionate approach that turns them off, or switch it

#Capricorn #thinking of you #april 2024 #astrology #tarot reading #tarot #tarotblr

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toinfinitywinning · 2 months

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What you see & hear- or even if you can. Just a cover.

Open it? There’s no tellin’ the worm. But you bought the ticket. It’s your Day 1.

They’re gonna try to break you.

Yk every Day I wake up. And I’m scared of it. Don’t want to. And not b/c im warm in my bed snuggling w/ my feather duvet and rain, with the weight of a horse on my legs play pretending he’s a 3 lb Show shhnowzaa but b/c I’ve already, already lived it. And having been in a constant State of fight or flight, normal or abnormal, sometimes u can’t tell —I still feel bad. W/e differentiation you had to separate the two both ended up at the North Pole but you’ve at least got Santa.

So this means I’m confused all Day but I still want some of Michael’s Secret Stuff Gatorade (haterade) from “welcome to the space jam—alright.” 🎵. To get me through. A safe energy drink. And your body doesn’t ☊ anymore so the more you talk to yourself the saner. It’s just I’ve never had to fake I’m physically okay to be present so much. Physical sickness affects ur mind Health and if you already struggle w/ that my condolences b/c your leg hurts too.

It’s a nightmare never 1-upping to a dream of being without. Then some days it’s will hear a song or remember a Good time or just Start crying-faucet not included. No acute-reason onset. (We gotta find another word for trigger no joke). I only subconsciously wonder will today be better…Will I get better? And I don’t know why I continue to continue being somewhere inbtw positive and negative. All the sudden my mind is taxed and so are your paychecks and I’ve been up for 15 minutes not even thinking I was thinking b/c Truth is, when something becomes your reality for such a Long time, everything just runs together. You’re afraid to feel anything yet know if you don’t it’s not just your body ready to atrophy. Not Good. And it’s a sneaky lil’ mf.

I can’t Imagine the omnipresent (best word for constant I got) Pain people feel having been with Illness their whole lives. How differently their world is shaped. Pain, prolonged cynicism, Illness prolonged, disability prolonged, w/e u used to think about things is gone unless you’re born one of these ways. Now to be clear I was born this Way but not THIS Way don’t get it twisted. Some days I wonder what it would be like to swap around. W/e it is—This presence does not belong to God— but maybe its mere existence really does b/c we won’t have anyone to thank if things get better? And there’s no joy in the things we’ve hoped for and overcome? And everything always has an End result of some kind…Right? If that’s my endgame I can only look at some things very matter of fact-ly. But. Here we are. Pending. Loading. Accept All Cookies. Your Health for potential healing is At the mercy of literally a button click away from quality or lifesaving or changing Medicine or therapy. CAN YOU AFFORD TO STAY ALIVE? Be fired? Bankrupt-ed? Evicted? No college, no trade School, but you work ur butt off to provide but you’re still paid $7.25/hr as I was as head intramural supervisor at Georgetown College. 15 years ago. Not just that, exist, like eating, clothes to wear, some sort of roof. So you’re choosing between crappy and crappier. Literally no difference. How in the is someone even going to try to stay healthy?!

Thankfully I don’t have to worry as much about the material, which, its Stress alone induces more trauma and Anxiety, but I’d bet how we feel physically isn’t too different. All the sudden again in the subconscious where I am all the time I’m figuring and not truly present you really think existentially like how in not God’s name clearly did I get here? I fixed everything. But Life isn’t played by a claw that has never won anybody a teddy bear. I wouldn’t pin karma to me in itself but it sure makes you think.

None of this is about to make sense but it’s where my mind took me.

Think about what was happening in your Life before things changed. Before literally waking up one Morning and knowing that very second things had to change or I was headed toward death a lot faster than I thought until that God moment. I don’t have many of them that are that dramatic but nothing was clearer to me in that moment. And then that Damn bat and conspiracy crap of government population control. If anthrax was sprinkled in Amazon boxes we’d be extinct. But Pretty sure we know how to get rid of people without breaking a beaker or test tube and then turning on a fan just gifting particles. And Unraveling ALL of the many ways of healing I’d finally lived into. I was so close. To every Fk up id invited. And so asking why anymore seems vacant. Echoing. And my ears hurt. ATP I’m More so saying well, I’m not sure that strategy is going to work anymore. Where’s the ღ in Health. It’s lost it. How much are you worth? No, like write down a monetary number on a piece of paper, fold it and slide it across the desk. Insurance companies be like: I see your offer and I’ll raise your offer: have you tried dying yet? B/c you could save a lot of money that way. The money it will take to bury you might even be more deadly.

So The most defeating part is beginning the Day as it ends. When I think about that it’s just like how did I get here? I’m still stubborn about it but maybe regardless of w/e someone accomplishes there’s the reality you’re still living in an imperfect world where you can only control so many things. Even if u gain that control back all those traps R still available. So you can Imagine my surprise when there’s not enough OCD to Go around to control THIS. regardless of what we can have control over, do that, b/c the smaller victories become magnified and walking to the kitchen to take your Meds that may or may not be helping is like an 8-ball w/ only 8 options. Eenie meenie miney. Mo.

I don’t set out to cry or tear up in the videos I share. I’ve always been a cryer. I’ve been told I feel things more intensely so it hits different, does different. The direct quote will remain anonymous but the sentimental pack rat in me wrote it down ASAP. Like, a handwritten letter. You took TIME for me. The quote—It was several years ago and I almost can’t stand it b/c it’s me in whatever kind of Shell is available at the time.

[“people perceive me as an individual who has the kindest of all hearts, but who struggles with the realities of life given that kindness…Like how the tenderhearted feel the pains of the earth more intensely.”]

It’s so true. But if I can’t be real what Good’s that gonna do? For me it further affirms what I already am living. In Edgar’s scary A** pit or with the company of not one canary in the coal mine.

C’ya in the AM. 🫡

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recklesslycaffeinated · 2 years

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Sorry I have one more question (Can't help it, especially after re-reading you're fiction, its so good)! What if Nolan got his way with MC when he insisted to come inside and done his crimes like he done to others? Maybe MC told Sans what had happened in tears, considering to quit her job? How would this go down?

Never apologize for asking questions! You’re very patient in waiting for replies so you can ask all the questions you want. :)

Well, in this awful What If, nothing would not have gone well for anyone.

Reader would be in denial for a very long time. While Sans (and Skull) would know her Soul was in a great deal of distress, he wouldn’t know for sure what had happened.

It would probably take weeks, maybe even months. But she’d need to tell someone and, ironically, she’d come to see Sans as the safest opinion. Particularly if he’d been spending more time than usual easing her into the idea that she can talk to him about anything.

Who else can she tell? None of the staff at the prison - they’re all gossips. Don would be horrified and devastated, then go after Nolan to the fullest extent the law would allow (plus a sneaky kick to the balls if he can get away with it). She doesn’t want that. Red is lethal, killer who takes pride in the fact. He’d already butted heads with Nolan. She doesn’t want to give him any more incentive. She knows he has people on the outside, she’s not completely daft. Just a bit willfully blind, sometimes.

And what would telling Skull do but infuriate him?

The Reader grew up knowing that absorbing the body blows and just forgiving and forgetting is how you keep the peace. But sometimes, that just isn’t enough. She’s feeling it more and more, and eventually, she’s going to break down.

Sans is, let’s be honest, is an emotional manipulator. He’d get it out of her eventually. And unfortunately, I think the tipping point would be initiated by Sans. There’s something compulsive about his nature. He’s slow to get started, being chronically lazy, but once he is moving, he’s a rolling bolder. A fixator.

So, while gently joking, prodding and poking, Sans eventually trips on the trigger. And Reader just breaks down in tears.

Red finds naked emotion like that deeply uncomfortable. Skull gets panicked and baffled, and doesn’t know what to do other than try his rather heavy handed comforting.

Sans is a lot more emotionally distance when he needs to be, so lets her cry it out until she’s ready to talk. He’s happy to be there however she needs; whether she wants him just to be there, or to stroke her back, or even let her cry into his shoulder.

At different points in the novel, she’d want different things. But by chpt 29 (which I think is the time you’re thinking of?), she’d want more contact. Probably starting with holding his hand, then letting him stroke her shoulder.

And as awful as it is, Sans can see how the release of that emotion starts the healing in her Soul. All Souls scar, but you can limit the damage by accepting and moving past the pain. That’s what she’s doing.

He can bury his own feelings for now.

When she tells him what happened, again, he can pull back – with effort – and listen. To let her say what she needs to say. Force himself to be abstract, to speak his lines, just like he’d done in the Underground... while inside, he’s seething with anger.

Would she consider quitting her job? Absolutely – whether in this reality Nolan was still at the prison or not, this would be a massively sharp red flag that the prison was not a safe world for her to be in.

This would be the part Sans hates himself for. He’d convince her to stay. He’d know that it was terrible advice. It would be selfish advice, because of course it would be safer for her to go. But Sans just can’t bare the idea of her not being around.

Sans is one of those dual track thinkers. He can listen and speak and be planning ahead while giving everything the same attention. He’s already planning and considering what to do. This initial conversation wouldn’t be the time so suggest anything he’d really want to happen.

He’d ask her what she wanted to do about it. Nothing? Okay. So long as that’s what you want. So long as you’re safe.

Sans would start working things in the background from that point. A furious, avenging Skeleton when you’re not around (poor Harris would have his hands full for a while) and a calm and supportive friend to Reader.

He’d eventually talk her round to formally going after Nolan. Knowing the Reader, Sans’s best argument would be ‘what if he does this to others?’ rather than ‘because he did this to you.’ He’ll say whatever he has to say – the truth is, Nolan is already dead. He just doesn’t know it yet.

If Sans is lucky, VERY lucky, after Nolan gets arrested, tried and convinced, he’ll end up in New Ebbott Prison. Maybe the Greene/Spratt family would even push for this, thinking Nolan would receive preferential treatment.

Now, all Sans has to do is figure out how to kill Nolan before Red does…

#STES #Sans #AskMe #Savnig Three Ex-cell-ent Skeleton

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retroghouls-if · 5 months

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Care to share some facts about the ROs?

Sorry, this took me so long to answer. I had to think about things that wouldn't be too spoilery.

Ilim

After having done on and off gigs with a bunch of different small bands as a fill-in, Ilim got their big break into the music scene when they got hired as the drummer for the rock band Mouthpiece. While it didn’t last very long – they were with the band for just over a year – it definitely got the ball rolling for them. Which is where things get a little complicated because Ilim (before Mouthpiece) apprenticed at a tattoo parlor so now they have this strange, limbo image of a celebrity tattoo artist who also drums sometimes.

Tuesday

Tuesday started out playing the guitar. However, their main band needed a bassist who could on occasion contribute rhythm guitar stuff depending on the song. So, they learned the bass and it’s just sort of stuck to them. They love both instruments but for different reasons. At the start of the story, Tuesday will be a part of Mouthpiece although they will have joined sometime after Ilim left.

Micky

Micky comes across to some as very soft. They have a quiet voice, light footsteps, and they always seem to be trying to take up as little space as possible, which allows them to be super sneaky. They’ll never admit it, but they get a kick out of popping up behind people and scaring the shit out of them. They’re a big fan of horror too, be it movies, games, or comics. Micky also plays into an image of being passive and shy when the reality is much less cut and dry.

Jack/Jackie

Up until they turned fourteen, J would spend each weekend with their grandparents. On Saturdays, their grandmother taught them how to sew and on Sundays their grandfather would take them on a drive after church. Because of this, J is extremely talented at tailoring (they could have made a living off it) and an absolute maniac on the road. To this day, whenever they get too stressed out they’ll go for a drive.

#retroghouls if #retro ghouls if #micky #ilim #tuesday #j #ro ask #answered

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vanquishful · 1 year

Text

[ JODIE COMER ] – have you heard about [ SASHA NEMITZ ]? [ THEY/THEM ] lives at the qz. I think they’ve lived there for [ NINETEEN YEARS ]. they’re [ TWENTY-NINE ] yrs old and seem very [ PLAYFUL ]. i’ve also heard they can be very [ ERRATIC ] as well. they’ve been assigned as a [ FIREFLY SPY / TRAINER ]. they often daydream about [ WITNESSING CITIES DROWN IN FLAMES ]. i’m curious to know more.

General Information

▒ ― faceclaim: jodie comer ▒ ― full name: sasha nemitz ▒ ― pronouns: she/they ▒ ― age: twenty-nine ▒ ― date of birth: july 15th, 1994 ▒ ― the big three: 🌣 leo ☾ aquarius ↑ scorpio ▒ ― place of birth: munich, germany ▒ ― sexuality: queer ▒ ― gender: cis female ▒ ― gender identity: nonbinary ▒ ―current location: pittsburgh qz ▒ ― occupation: trainer / firefly spy ▒ ― height: 5′8 foot (1,73 cm)

Family

▒ father ― jan nemitz ✝ ▒ mother ― julia nemitz ✝ ▒ significant other ― (tba)

Positive Character Traits

✓ ― playful ✓ ― charming ✓ ― humorous ✓ ― empathetic (when they want to be) ✓ ― intelligent ✓ ― honest ✓ ― flexible ✓ ― persistent ✓ ― resourceful ✓ ― spontaneous

Negative Character Traits

✓ ― self-centered ✓ ― reckless (at times) ✓ ― unpredictable ✓ ― sarcastic ✓ ― sneaky ✓ ― perfectionist

Wanted connections:

✓ ― Fellow fireflies (for intel exchange, plotting ect.) ✓ ― Potential students that need training (weaponry, self defense, combat) ✓ ― Residents to be corrupted / turned against fedra ✓ ― Rivals (Sasha is a sucker for a good competition) ✓ ― Enemies ✓ ― Mentor (someone Sasha looks up to and usually sticks around for) ✓ ― Bonds that don’t necessarily involve into friendships, but develop due to mutual respect ✓ ― Partners in crime (esp. those that like to get each other in trouble) ✓ ― Unrequited love (from your characters side as Sasha might not get the hint that there might actually be serious feelings there) ✓ ― On-and-off flings ✓ ― One that is not yet official relationship, but something is definitely going on as feelings are or have already developed to a particular extent

Personality

At first glance, Sasha appears to be very well balanced, knowing when to take their job seriously and when to let loose in other occasions. They take pride in their position as trainer since they have spent numerous years studying in fedra school to become one. When off duty, they can be seen lurking around the quarantine zone, either annoying some citizens for the fun of it, or perhaps, according to others, making some very questionable decisions. From the outside it may seem like they are pretty flaky and all over the place, but that might not be the reality of the situation. Sasha is very adaptable which makes them able to blend into almost any and every crowd, setting and match anyone’s vibe. Most of the time, they are calculated and analytical. If they made a move towards someone, that is with a certain goal in mind.

In their default state, Sasha seeks to help other citizens of the quarantine zone and the youth of Pittsburgh survive by spreading their knowledge in combat training, weaponry and self defense. They often are quite friendly, open on the surface and even charming when there is a need. Otherwise they may be difficult to read. They tend to deflect from uncomfortable feelings and situations with humor. All in all, it is quite a challenge to get to know them fully since they almost never reveal their inner motivations. However, it is not impossible if you pay close attention.

Backstory

During the outbreak

Sasha was born in Munich, Germany. They lived there until the age of 6. It was September 2000 when Sasha and their family went on vacation to Pennsylvania United States, to visit Jan’s relatives. The family was supposed to stay in the states for only a couple of weeks, then return home. Sadly, they did not get to properly enjoy their vacation as news of some dangerous infection started spreading across the world. It only took 24 hours from that point for everything to go up in flames. Major cities were destroyed first due to high population and risks that it posed.

Having been residing in the suburbs at the time of the bombing, the family of three along with Jan’s brother and his pregnant wife fled deeper into the country in hopes to put some distance between themselves and any type of infected. It worked for them for a little while, but eventually they ran out of gas and had to travel on foot. The family was lucky to have an old-fashioned radio that they found in the trunk of the car, which gave them hope by providing the coordinates of a list of several quarantine zones in the states. So they decided to head to the closest one ― Pittsburgh.

‘The journey there was no the easiest, as they had to face infected and even raiders at some point. But they did manage to find other people too. Decent ones, at that. Sasha did not remember most of the things that happened during their journey, but what they did remember was their parents brutal deaths. That day they were very low on water and the high temperatures outside did not help. The main wall of the entrance of the quarantine zone was already in their sights as the group slowly approached. Jan was injured due to the last encounter with the infected and therefore now had a limp. He was the first one to approach the qz, but did not manage to get inside. The ones on the look-out posts deemed him as infected and as a result shot him multiple times to rid themselves the risk of infection. Upon witnessing that, Julia abandoned the group and ran to her husband in hopes of saving him. Little did she know, Jan had already bled out and she was next. Both of Sasha’s parents were shot in front of them, leaving a 6-year-old child an orphan. All they had now was a group of people they were previously travelling with. One of them was named Marlene. She took Sasha under her wing after passing of their parents. The group decided not to try their luck trying to get into the quarantine zone, but ended up taking shelter elsewhere.

Life in Pittsburgh QZ

Two years later Sasha was taken in the quarantine zone as they were found outside the walls. It was a mystery how they got there and how they managed to survive. The child did not comment upon those aspects, only that they were starving and cold. Next thing you know, they were put in fedra school with the rest of orphans. From then on out they had one goal in mind ― finish that school and get a proper job to survive. Another twelve years had passed as Sasha had just finished fedra school and had a career path to take. There was a possibility to become a fedra officer, however given the responsibilities and the rest of the baggage, Sasha ended up choosing to be a trainer. They had a knack for weapons from a very early age and were constantly finding resources in the qz to come up with many unique styles and designs of weapons. Of course those “weapons” they constructed did not pose any threat since they were made out of wood and what not. But that mind full of wild ideas persisted into Sasha’s young adulthood giving them a chance to experiment with different knives, pistols, rifles and the rest of the firearms that fedra allowed them to get their hands on. These days Sasha spends half of their time training fedra students, making sure they are able to protect themselves and others. While off duty, they are unofficially training some citizens as well for a small fee. Everyone deserved a right to protect themselves, especially in a world like this. It was crucial to be able to defend others in time of need. Sasha was not able to protect their parents given how young they were all those years ago but knowing that they will make a difference by allowing others to have that opportunity, gave them strong motivation to keep at it.

#― intro ‣ sasha nemitz #pitts;intro

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sashanemitz · 1 year

Text

[ JODIE COMER ] – have you heard about [ SASHA NEMITZ ]? [ SHE/THEY ] lives at the qz. I think they’ve lived there for [ NINETEEN YEARS ]. they’re [ TWENTY-NINE ] yrs old and seem very [ PLAYFUL ]. i’ve also heard they can be very [ ERRATIC ] as well. they’ve been assigned as a [ FIREFLY SPY / TRAINER ]. they often daydream about [ WITNESSING CITIES DROWN IN FLAMES ]. i’m curious to know more.

General Information

▒ ― faceclaim: jodie comer ▒ ― full name: sasha nemitz ▒ ― pronouns: she/they ▒ ― age: twenty-nine ▒ ― date of birth: july 15th, 1994 ▒ ― the big three: 🌣 leo ☾ aquarius ↑ scorpio ▒ ― place of birth: munich, germany ▒�� ― sexuality: queer ▒ ― gender: cis female ▒ ― gender identity: nonbinary ▒ ―current location: pittsburgh qz ▒ ― occupation: trainer / firefly spy ▒ ― height: 5′8 foot (1,73 cm)

Family

▒ father ― jan nemitz ✝ ▒ mother ― julia nemitz ✝ ▒ significant other ― (tba)

Positive Character Traits

Negative Character Traits

✓ ― self-centered ✓ ― impatient ✓ ― reckless (at times) ✓ ― unpredictable ✓ ― obsessive ✓ ― manipulative ✓ ― sarcastic ✓ ― impulsive ✓ ― sneaky ✓ ― perfectionist

Wanted connections:

Personality

In their default state, Sasha is selfish and seeks to gain. If there is anything they need, they will get it by any means necessary. They may appear very friendly, open, and even charming to lure others in, otherwise they are difficult to read. They tend to deflect from uncomfortable feelings with humor. All in all, it is quite a challenge to get to know them fully since they almost never reveal their inner motivations. However, it is not impossible if you pay close attention.

Backstory

During the outbreak

Life in Pittsburgh QZ

#( sasha nemitz ) ― intro #pitts;intro

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