#like idk man. those hunter gatherers were really onto something | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

shorkbrian · 3 years

Text

Prelude - I need to stop catching sight of poetry on my explore page lol. This is entirely self-indulgent and very specific cause I’m rotting thru life rn and so if u dislike I understand lol. When I was in the hospital this last time it sucked rlly bad and like the awful horny degenerate I was I kept thinking abt Kirishima and soft sweet Sugawara idk lol

Pairing - Death god Kirishima x Reader

Warnings - Suicide, suicide attempt, no smut. Death. Drunk Drivers. Yandere but only a little bit and cause I can’t voluntarily accept love it has to be forced bc I cannot handle the thot of someone who is sane loving me bc there is no freaking way lol

Music - https://open.spotify.com/track/5Iy1wdO0tMaHwKnfFYtlel?si=-vqod-W6SHia8ui2Hdl_9g

Adding this one bc it’s like one of my favorites and I wish god I wish and I hope that this year is better than the last amen lol also there’s nothing more sad to me than someone pleading and begging and crying for the year to treat you nicely like bitch u okay? no. the answer is no.

https://open.spotify.com/track/0xRO7EKgYKVB8zKIoiXMDD?si=HYBaiBzjRGmQwfCHgnTUxA

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“It hurts.” You had told him, as the entity sat at the end of your hospital bed.

He often sank heavily onto the nearest surface, as if his bones ached with the weight of his body. You saw him often during those first few days in the hospital, days spent puking up pills, every move you made monitored, doctors and nurses scolding you about the severity of your actions.

You didn’t think they could see the hulking figure that comforted you.

“I”ve heard that it’s supposed to.” The red god of death would think aloud.

“I don’t want it then.” Tears upon your cheeks, soft, misty. “Take it.”

“Your life?” A nod would affirm his question, but the red god would shake his head. “I am no thief. Not a hunter, simply a gatherer of souls. I won’t take what doesn’t belong to me.”

“Then it’s yours, have my life. A gift, from me to you. Don’t make me live it any longer…..”

His sadness would show in his eyes.

But the soul-crushing hugs that were provided were admittedly a tiny bit nice.

“You’re far too sweet for your own good. I’ll receive your life when the time is right, not before.”

“But I don’t want it!” You sobbed into his shoulder, the god seeming to be your only friend in the world.

Hands stroked along your back, soft shushing sounds as the god attempted to soothe you in the ways he knew how. Soft touches, kind truths. “Many don’t. But it happens - life happens anyways. All you can do is find the things that make it less painful.”

“That’s not enough, it still hurts. I can’t stand it.” The sobs wracking your body didn’t stop the entity from holding you.

“I know, and I’m sorry.”

——

He’s patient and kind.

Surprising for a god who’s work involves collecting souls as if they were taxes. A job that should be bitter and tiresome, but the entity has infinite softness resting inside of him.

He walks with you, as you get “better“.

You watch him stop to marvel at flowers, to study the way dew drips from trees in little drops, eyes wide and wondering as crows startle from their perches and take off with noisy weeping.

This courtyard is drab and brown, a prison. Safe.

Yet the god of death treats the space gently, with respect. He thanks the old walls for standing, the worn stones beneath your feet. Their service is noted and appreciated. He’s so tender it almost makes you sick.

But you come to realize that he’s simply allowing himself to be vulnerable, to experience the earth and the beings in it.

For as soon as one recognizes vulnerability, which is so different from weakness or tragedy, one experiences a sense of tenderness. Without tenderness, pleasure means nothing. You need only look at the animals to see the truth of that. It is gentleness that distinguishes their playing from the actions they constantly take to ensure their survival.

You ask why he walks with you, why he is so focused on seeing you get “better“.

A soft smile, a meeting of eyes. “There is an end to your pain, sometime and somewhere. It’s most likely not here, not in this place at least-“ and he looks around, at the cold walls, the other sick patients, the staff. All human.

“-It will come. But for now, it’s enough to try and seek it out ourselves.”

You must look more sick than you really are, talking to thin air like that.

——-

Once you return home, the red god writes you letters.

He’s an old soul, an old god. You’re sure if you asked, he’d be able to recount the very first souls he reaped, a man and a woman, sinful and sweet but in love.

The letters help you get out of bed. What new stories or little quips the god has written pique your curiosity, even when you don’t want to move, don’t want to be awake or alive.

He tells you stories about certain souls, how each one is infinitely interesting, how they all interconnect. How some of them struggle against him, however fruitlessly. But he’s not the one who brought about their death, he’s there to comfort and guide.

Other souls, (“souls like yours” he writes) welcome him, run to his arms like a long lost lover. Their death was terrifying by their own hand, and it hurt. He can’t take away that pain, those memories. The red god says he wishes those souls find peace wherever he must take them afterwards, or at least, some form of contentment.

“The meaning of life is to give life meaning, at least, that’s what seems to be the consensus.” You rip off that part of the letter, hang it on your wall by your bed. The other letters you keep in your nightstand, content with the knowledge that there are souls out there like you

It’s hard work, creating meaning for yourself.

The red god takes to visiting you between each letter, says he misses you, the way your soul cries. He tells you that he wishes he could help you quiet it, quiet that raging, terrible storm that hurls you about.

You make him cookies - it’s the only way you know how to say thank you. It’s what your mother taught you, so it may not be right, but the god eats them nonetheless. He likes it when you eat with him, feeding you bites from his cookie, wiping chocolate off of your nose, making you laugh with stupid jokes and a mouth stuffed full of cookies.

Even if some of them are too crunchy, or others too soft, all of them imperfect.

Imperfection is the essence of humanity, he tells you, and it’s more fun eating each cookie with the thought that you’re devouring your imperfections, making yourself whole again, filling up the empty spaces in your soul.

——

Eventually, the crawl back to your feet, rise with the unsteadiness of a toddler. You fall frequently, cry often, but you’re able to get up and try again.

Some days you need to bury yourself in sadness, let yourself feel and feel and hurt. Other days are not so bad, but still tinged with regret and fear and sadness.

The red god is by your side, gives you something to cling to when you waver.

He is always there.

He will be there when you meet your end.

The god is in no hurry.

You question why he wastes his time on you, hours spent reassuring you, talking to you, tucking you in your bed and leaving glasses of water on your nightstand before taking his leave.

Home is a feeling, not a place. Home is with you - that’s what he tells you. You take his breath away, even though he might not even need to breath because he’s the god of death. HIs thoughts muddle and he trips over his feet and can’t help himself from wanting to hold you.

You learn that even gods yearn for home.

He’s capable of feelings and emotions just like any other human. He may be wiser, and older, able to draw from experience and a deep well of wisdom. But he still feels, and feels deeply.

Just as he gives the earth around him such reverence, he extends that same attitude when he deals with you.

“Everything I see reminds me of you. When I wake and the sun creeps over the mountains, hesitant, it reminds me of the way that you rise - haltingly, yet it happens nonetheless. The flowers in the field that so steadily grow, you’re like ground they take root in, soft and unstable yet still tenable with the potential for growth. I don’t know, I haven’t exactly held such closeness with a human-“

He trails off, but you think you understand.

Maybe you don’t. It’s hard to relate to a god.

——

A confession occurs, and you’re surprised to learn that the blood-red god of death is in love.

“What did my hands do before they held yours? What did my heart do without all of this love? I can’t hold enough of you, I carry such love for you in my heart.”

With a frail, hopeless human nonetheless.

You don’t know what to tell him, how to explain that you can barely take care of yourself right now, meet your own needs.

But the red god seems to know, seems to understand the way your breath hitches and your eyes widen. One more hug, squeezed tight to his chest while he promises nothing has to change.

Things do change, even if you wish them not to. The world doesn’t bow to your whims, nor the death-god’s.

Innocent touches, his hand on your shoulder, patting your head, offering to rub out the tension in your back after you’ve had a crushing day - they don’t feel so innocent anymore.

The constant survellience still seemed kind, and you knew it was with your best intentions in mind that the god hovered so close, invading every aspect of your life.

But a creeping tendril of unease took hold, and you worried.

Everywhere you turned, he would be there, ready to support you, walk you through anything you wished.

Again, you questioned his commitment. Why? Why you?

“I can’t explain how fond of you I’ve grown. How heat blossomed in my chest as we grew closer. There’s infinite things I wish to say to you, ways for me to express my-my love, but I’ll just let you live.”

He neither killed you nor let you live.

Was it frightening? Maybe. But you had nothing to really live for, lost, searching for your own meaning in a big big world, floundering in an endless sea of sadness and suffering. You weren’t afraid of anything the god could, or would, do to you.

Until you woke up, not knowing where you were, in pitch black.

Arms encircling your shoulders, a soft body beneath your own, holding you tightly, a hand caressing your cheek.

A sun rose, on a strange new land, on the blood-red god gazing at you.

“There seemed to be so much more time for you. But accidents happen, Drivers drink and hearts give out. I was expecting you to grow old, for us to live and love like that, see how you grew through life.”

He looked around this new world, and you vaguely remember what had come before. A walk along the sidewalk, blaring horns, impact, blood.

“But this will be just as nice. You can stay here with me now. Life can’t cause you anymore pain.”

You don’t feel comforted by those words. There’s no way for you to know whether this new world would be better than the one you left behind.

#kirishima #Kirishima Eijirou #kirishima x reader #kirishima imagine #bnha kirishima #kirishima x you #yandere #Yandere kirishima #tw.death #tw.suicide

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santigarcia · 4 years

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piryc beskar buy’ce

a din djarin x reader fic

rating: m for smut; mentions of squirting; masturbation

word count: 2k

summary: The Mandalorian’s heat seeking signature’s in his helmet have malfunctioned, and he can see that you ache for him.

a/n: look idk if his heat seeking vision in his helmet works like this but we’re gonna roll with it! and the title translation will be at the end of the fic cuz it’s a spoiler ;)

You didn’t exactly plan it this way, to become a stowaway. The Razor Crest was the first ship you saw with the hatch doors open. You’d find out later the Mandalorian let you on his ship – you didn’t sneak onto it. You did your best to hide from him, and you jumped when he ‘found’ you. It was not the hunter’s intention to startle you, but his cold Beskar exterior did the job for him.

He didn’t have to ask to discover you’re running away; he knows it when he sees it. You don’t have a bounty puck on you, and the way you treat the child lets him know he can trust you. You’ve given him no reason to doubt you, nor will you ever. He even offers to pay you for taking care of the child; but as long as you have a place to stay and food – you don’t need credits.

So that’s how you became a part of his life.

It was interesting to learn about the Mandalorian and how he operates.

He’s often times quiet, but you know from the way he speaks and when he speaks – that he has heart. Why else would he have taken in this small child? It was for no benefit of his own. In fact, it was of great cost to him.

You respect his way of life. You understand you’ll never see his face.

You saw a fraction of the back of his head once, only enough to see the tips of his brown hair. That’s the only detail you’d get. It made your heart skip a beat; you don’t want him to know you saw.

It didn’t bother you that you’d never see his face.

At first.

Your relationship with him in the beginning was purely professional and he was kind to you. For which you’d always be grateful. You called him ‘Mando’ and it was simple.

You’d watch him with the child or do something small and sweet and it made your heart ache a little. Who is this man?

Mando would startle you on accident – he’s always so quiet. And he’d offer an apology for scaring you. That always tugged at your heart that he apologized.

Then one day he tells you his name. Din Djarin.

Something changes that day in you both. That’s the day you ache to put a face to the name. And that’s the day when he walks up behind you and you jump – he actually laughs. There’s amusement in his voice.

Amusement.

Where there’s amusement, that means a smile.

You never thought much about how he felt about you, but now you think maybe he sees you as a friend. Something about this brings joy to your heart, and more longing you don’t know where to put.

You wonder if you’ll ever know what’s going on behind that visor – you only ever see your own face reflected. How does he see you in there?

Life with Din isn’t always easy, tonight is no exception.

He’s bringing in a dangerous bounty.

“Keep the kid safe,” he told you before he turns and stalks down the ramp of his ship, ready for the hunt. His cloak brushed against your leg as he left, and you shivered. There’s something unspoken, a need to reach out and touch him. But there’s no skin to touch. He’s closed off from you physically, and emotionally. You suppose his name is all you’ll get, but you’ll take it.

It doesn’t occur to you that this bounty is actually dangerous – Din always tells you to keep the kid safe. But when he returns to the Crest with something very angry with claws in a bag – you lock yourself into one of the compartments with the child in your lap. You wait for the hiss of the carbonite before you come out.

Din is panting heavily and tapping against his helmet, whatever it was he was wrestling must have hit him on the head.

You put the child in his pram, and he starts to doze off from all the excitement.

“Are you alright?” you ask, and he looks at you, really looks. He cocks his head to the side and your heart is beating rapidly in your chest. His gaze pierces through you and it eats you up inside that you don’t know what he sees, or even what his eyes look like.

His helmet was slightly damaged – and he can see right through you. Literally. His heat tracking sequence is turned on. He can see the warmth in your face, hear your heart pounding in your chest. He feels as if he shouldn’t look at you like this, and he turns his head away. But in the brief moment, his eyes catch a glimpse of warmth pooling in between your legs.

He’s no stranger to an aroused woman, but it still catches him off guard for a moment. Has he been this blind? Have you wanted him all this time and he not seen?

Testing the waters, he takes a step forward. Your heart only pounds faster, and there is no mistaking the heat at your core.

Something inside tells you that he knows that he can sense you desire for him. You don’t know whether to be embarrassed or aroused all the more. So, when he takes a step forward, you stand your ground.

He raises his gloved hand – reaching for you. You stand still, unsure of what he’s doing. He places his hand over your heart, and gently backs you up until your back hits the wall behind you. You’re trapped, but there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.

Maybe it’s the thrill from capturing a dangerous bounty, the adrenaline pumping in his veins. Seeing your obvious arousal has him feeling a heat he’s not felt in some time. He’s quick to close the pram, giving the two of you some privacy from those big eyes.

“Your heart,” he says, feeling the pounding under his palm and hearing the thrum bounce around in his helmet. “Do you want this?” he asks, just to be sure. As if he can’t see the heat sensors picking up your need.

You nod and whisper a ‘yes.’

You’re not entirely sure how sex with someone who can’t take off their helmet is going to work but you’re not asking any questions.

A sturdy thigh makes its way in between your legs and you shudder violently at the chill from the steel under your hot flesh. You want your clothing off so you can feel as much of him as possible. You’ve never really touched him before, maybe only in passing if you clumsily bump into him. But not like this.

Not when his thigh is purposefully spreading your legs apart.

You reach for him, your hand landing on his forearm. His hand is still on your heart, still pressing you to the wall. It’s not rough, it’s as if he’s just enjoying the feeling of another’s heart beating quickly for him.

He pulls back then, suddenly and you gasp at the loss. He undresses you then, slowly. It’s more intimate that you anticipated, you’re not going to see him naked, so he draws this out for the both of you.

When you’re fully exposed to him, you somehow feel barer than you already are. He’s covered from head to toe, and there you are without a stitch on you. Which is why his next move makes your heart ache with tenderness.

He offers you his hand, he simply holds his hand out to you. Somehow you understand his meaning, and you slowly pull off his glove. You drop the garment to the floor, and you see his bare hand. His knuckles are scarred. His hands beaten and showing the life he’s lived. His hand is relaxed, and you take it in both of your hands, feeling the warmth and heat of his skin. It sends a thrill down your spin; this is what you’ve been waiting for.

You bring his hand to your lips and kiss his knuckles, which surprises him. He gently pulls himself from your grasp to tenderly brush his finger down your cheek.

His other glove comes off and you’re quick to put his hands on you.

A warm hand cups your breast, and the other rests on your chest – just under your throat. His thumb rubs along your collarbone. It’s just as meaningful to him to touch skin as it is to you.

You let his hands explore your skin. There’s an eagerness to it, laced with a heat and desire. You can’t see his face but the way his fingers dig into your flesh tells you that he wants you back.

His thumb swipes along your breast, slowly. Just touching your skin. His head cocks when you cry out from your nipple being so teased. His other hand is on your hip, fingers dancing along – his fingertips slow in the movements. It’s as if he wants to memorize the way you feel.

He wishes to see you without this heat tracking – the images in his helmet are blended. He can see your skin, but there’s an unnatural red over your body showing him the heat you’re giving off.

The heat is building, so he takes this opportunity to guide you to his bed. He lays you down – your legs hang off the edge of his makeshift cot. He kneels then in front of you and grabs a hold of your leg to put it over his shoulder. He does the same with your other, his cold Beskar under your bent knees.

Much like his thumb had brushed over your nipple, he brushes his thumb over your clit. It’s one slow stroke, but it has you gasping harshly from your lungs. He repeats the stroke, and you cry out. If you could see him, there’d be a smug smile on his face.

Slick has gathered at your opening, and experimentally he dips a finger inside. When you moan, he takes this as his cue to continue. His thumb is pressing into your clit, he can hear your heartbeat pounding and he can feel it under his thumb.

A second finger joins the first while his thumb strokes back and forth. He’s in no hurry. He gets you off once, then twice this way. Letting it build slowly, then he increases his pressure and speed. He says nothing while you reach your high and cry out for him, but you can tell he’s pleased.

“One more?” his voice rasps through his modulator. Tears are in your eyes from such intense, sweet pleasure and you nod. You’re not above begging, and you would if he were going to stop here.

His fingers curl and thumb is toying with you. You look up to see his helmet there between your legs. His vision is clouded with you spread out in front of him, red hot pleasure, and your heart rings through his helmet. He curls and curls his fingers again and again until you feel that sweet release approaching.

You feel your stomach tighten, and a sensation you’ve never felt before begins to grow. It builds and it builds, and you groan – throwing your head back. You’ve moved your leg to press your foot against his shoulder while his fingers move, you press hard with your leg, but he’s ever steady. His strokes don’t stop, and you scream when you find your release. You whine as you come down and you can’t breathe it feels so good. Your vision is clouded now with red hot pleasure. It burns.

You lean up once you can breathe to see his helmet is covered in your essence, you gushed all over him. His fingers still inside you are coated with your slick. He’s still, unmoving. It’s a sight to behold. A wave of embarrassment washes over you. To see your wetness dripping from the Beskar helmet. Then you hear him let out a soft grunt. You look to see him with his free hand wrapped around himself. You don’t know when he pulled himself free of his pants, but he’s nearing his end. Your release set him off and he’s coming on his own hand in mere seconds. He pulls his fingers from your heat, and you see his both his hands are covered in cum.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, though you know he’s not angry.

“Don’t be,” he rasps, then clears his throat. “That was-“

“That’s never happened to me before.”

“Me neither,” he chuckles, there’s that amusement again. “We’ll have to see if we can get you to again.”

Your eyes widen at his simple and sudden remark. He’s completely nonchalant as if he didn’t just say something that made your heat clench again. He slides your leg off his shoulder, some sticky left on his hands gets on your leg – adding yet another strange thrill.

You get an eyeful of him just before he tucks himself back into his pants.

“If you want to use the refresher,” he points, bringing your attention back to his ‘face’ instead of his length. Your face heats realizing he saw you, and again when you see your arousal is still stuck to his helmet.

You clean up in the refresher while he cleans off his helmet and fixes the heat sensors. He won’t need those anymore to know if you want him.

You wish you could have seen the look of surprise on his face when you came. His shocked expression hidden under the safety of his helmet. You can’t get it out of your mind as you clean yourself off in the refresher, the way he sat – stunned. The grunts that escaped his lips as he stroked himself. How casual he spoke about the ‘next time.’

The need to see his face grows stronger, but how well his hands took you apart tonight is more than enough to keep you satisfied – there’s proof of it. And The Mandalorian is wiping it off his helmet.

piryc beskar buy’ce = wet beskar helmet

@agentpike, @aliciaxglasgow, @bisexual-space-slut, @blancatobarxoxo, @cosmicmando, @damndamer0n, @feelmyroarrrr, @ghosttofcalum, @giselatropicana, @huliabitch, @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa, @javihoney, @jubileetion, @knittingqueen13, @limenlimon, @literatureandqueen, @maciiiofficial, @magicsuperheroes, @mandofucks, @mandoplease, @marvel-dameron, @melanietrancy, @mitchi-c, @pajamasecrets, @pascalplease, @pascalz, @perropascal, @phoenixhalliwell, @poeticandors, @punkpascal, @rewritingstarrs, @saved-fanfiction, @sgtbookybarnes, @shadow-assassin-blix, @stanningtoomanypeopleatonce, @stardust-galaxies, @the-bird-suit, @thehippiequilter, @thepjofanqueen, @this-cat-is-dea, @tintinwrites, @triggerhappyflygirl, @waatermelon-sugaar, @wakalas, @xremember-me-notx

#the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #my writing

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taptroupe · 3 years

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evergrace novel chapter whoaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaWhoaaaaaaaaaaaaa whoaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

don’t let this chapter preview illustration fool you. it’s kinda messed up. actually, it’s really messed up. i think this bit implies that evergrace takes place in.... in a strange world, for sure.... like.......

where is darius being taken to? this kind of world, it’s kinda... familiar...

The world below consisted of a mountain range dusted in snow. From the blue sky, the dazzling sunlight shone down on melting snow, creating a small, flowing river.

The base of the river was devoid of snow, but rather it was moss covering the surroundings. After the moss quickly came grass, and immediately beyond that were shrubs, interspersed. The thicker the shrubs became, the more they blended into the forest beyond them, with tall trees... And a grassy clearing.

There were birds in all different colours, shapes, and sizes, they chirped to each other as they flew through the trees. A flock of deer-like animals calmly gathered in the field. The green surroundings bloomed abundantly with brilliantly coloured flowers, and the fruit that dangled were being happily munched away by small animals.

At the borders of this scenery, a dark stain was slowly encroaching. The sign of black smoke. Where the grass refused to grow, where the dust kicked up in a dance, a huge stone wall stood alone on a large piece of land.

Beyond these walls was a crowded town of sturdy stone and iron buildings. Men and women alike came and went in this town, wearing clothes in a style never seen before.

There was smoke coming from a huge chimney, attached to a house. Not a fire just for warmth, but for eating, for pumping up water, for weaving clothes and for all the other purposes of life. Not just for survival, but to thrive with entertainment, too - plenty of wood, thrown into the fire, turning into smoke.

In order to burn that wood to the end of its life, axes and saws gripped by the hands of many carved a path into the forest chopping anything no matter big or small. All to bring that wood back into the town.

The animals, chased within the forest, had their way of living chased away too as they became prey for hunters. New forests had to be found in order to build more and more buildings.

And all that was left was an empty town with polluted water and lifeless earth.

My jaw was just kinda slack this whole time reading this bit. er........ isn’t that like.......... just what life is today? using energy like that, seems like it’s turning wood into coal or something, deforestation, extinction, erm..... that really came out of left field, but perhaps solta would’ve become like a city in north america today. idk does this imply evergrace takes place in like some post-apocalyptic world. well. well.... here comes some more scathing allegories

These invaders, coming across an especially huge forest, were met by villagers who lived along it. These people lived in the natural caverns and homes shaped by the forest. Small in height and with mediocre weapons in hand, they stood bravely against the invaders who desired to chop down the forest.

The invaders were clothed in iron forged in that town, with huge iron weapons and iron horses [tanks? trains? actual horses clothed in armor?]. It was as if an entire army had appeared before the villagers.

In the overwhelming strength of the ironclad soldiers, the villagers were killed one by one, and the forest was set alight. As fire and smoke danced in the air, what stood before the advancing soldiers within the forest..

Was a single girl.

Though all her companions from the village were simply not there anymore, she stood still against the soldiers with a piercing stare.

A solider yells something at her. She yells back. What they said, it couldn’t be understood in its foreign intonation.

But watching the solider prepare his spear made it all the more obvious.

The girl continued to tell something to the solider in a heavy tone, and one word stood clear from the mix - Crest. But the solider only smiled, mockingly, and launched the spear at the girl.

At that moment, the Crest on the girl’s shoulder glowed as it took form, illuminating the environment a golden yellow around it. And amidst the light, the girl rose, shouting something that couldn’t be heard... And began to change shape.

idk how to draw wolves and this bit really fucked up so i’m just using this image off wikipedia. https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Eurasian_wolf_2.jpg

A golden wolf appeared before them, with a very long tail. She howled, reverberating through the forest. The rain of spears before her - no, not just that, but the soldiers, the horses, everything that touched the glow of the wolf’s body simply disappeared. As if they became specks of dust.

Once she had killed every last solider, she leapt out and away from the forest rendered dead by the invaders, into the land of beginnings, with golden yellow light breezing through the wind as she ran through it all.

Wherever the wolf galloped, golden streaks formed, covering up even the land of death. And at the very end, the solitary wolf let out a sorrowful howl and disappeared.

And at that moment, the earth, the people, and all the towns covered by golden yellow light... disappeared into nothingness.

What remained of the wide, barren land was a single floating ball of light. This greenish spectre-like light, floating above the land...

Green as the Billiana forest.

As if trying to fill in a wound, the Billiana forest fills the land. And that small light has taken on a recognizable shape on the branch of a great Billiana tree - Billiana fruit.

The white fruit turns silver, then slowly into a blue colour. Then green, then to a golden yellow, and then to a faint red. The Billiana leaves rustle as the ripe fruit falls from its branch and onto the soft ground below.

As soon as the fruit touches the ground, roots begin to form, and a sapling sprouts forth. And in the next second, the trunk of the tree grows up towards the sky - and into another huge tree.

That spectre-like Billiana has disappeared. In that deep gouge of the land, those newly born Billiana trees sprout forth, and within those radiantly lush [blue, technically, but can also be green] leaves, a seemingly endless amount of white flowers bloom.

Those glowing flowers [phosphorescence, so like glow in the dark], as soon as the wind blew, they danced along and rained upon the tattered land. They fell upon the land as if snow, and grass and small trees alike sprouted across the earth.

The petals that remained floating in the wind become small insects, flying down on just blooming flowers. The last remaining petals flew high into the wind, to the faraway forest and villages, until they became the seeds of the next living beings, people and animal alike.

O_O

as much as i’m shocked from translating that, can you imagine how darius must feel. man. that’s a lot. take a breather here. that

was a lot.

#evergrace novel funtime #i'm. damn

2 notes · View notes

starfirette · 4 years

Text

Every Which Way: Chapter Seven

The Wayward Souls

⇢a/n:aksfjghdlfjknv i’M SO SORRY. pls forgive me for this being late, and also for how potentially painful it is

⇢Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Join The Taglist

⇢ Din Djarren x Reader/The Mandalorian x Reader | impregnation kink (smut) | mild violence | angsty ending | word count: 9, 287more or less idk anymore

🏷 @woterezwhet @talesfromtheguild @poupoupoupoupou @multifandom-fiasco @fandomqueen74 @fifiyau105 @shayna-winchester @mserynlarsen

>>NEXT CHAPTER AVAILABLE NOW!<<

The gathering hall is filled with Mandalorians and their children, all eager to bid Din and his new bride goodbye. You felt dizzy as you thanked and hugged person after person. Din had given every child (who had formed a line) a warm hug. Your heart fluttered to see him hug younglings while still decked out in his armor. He had a fine way of holding them gently against the plates over his chest.

You watched from the sidelines; you didn’t mind that you weren’t being swarmed the way Din was. You liked to see this side of his life--the one side that could be his and his alone. How it truly warmed your heart to see Din give and receive such affections. You could see him tilting his head in to no doubt say his goodbyes to the younglings.

Wendi appeared at your side. She leaned up against the stone walls. “He’s always been a natural with them,” Wendi said in her melodic voice. Spinning a sheathed dagger between her fingers, she sent you a sideways glance, her helmet reflecting the light of the hall. “I’m surprised he hasn’t wrangled in a foundling by now. Even more surprised you’re not juggling babes by the dozens by now.”

You felt a furious blush loom across your cheeks. “What makes you say that?”

“Well,” she said in a purr, “you have been a rare sight aroudn these halls since your wedding. I can only assume that you’ve been ‘busy.’”

You graoaned. “This isn’t a conversation I want to have, with you of all people.”

“Aw, why not?” Wendi laughed. “You know lots of girls are jealous of you. Din is what we know to be a resident heartbreaker. I’m sure everyone is dying to know just how well endowed he is.”

“What does that mean?” you asked.

“You know what it means. The size, of course,” she says then.

“The size? Of what?”

“Oh sweet stars. Annie Aniri, I of course mean the size of his penis.”

“Ohhh,” you say as you realize. “I would say it’s normal sized. How big are they usually?”

Wendi let out a pained sound. She hesitated as she audibly tried to think of how she might word this. “It’s not often that they are decently large. In fact you could even say it’s hard to tell when it’s in. It’s what makes most marriages feel more like a punishment.”

You grimace. “I didn’t know that,” you groaned. “I think all I can really tell you without being too innapropriate is that he’s certainly on the larger side. I guess it really depends on the average size range.”

Wendi hummed as she thought. She held her fingers out, creating an invisible model that went about four inches wide. “Too big or too small?” she asked.

You winced. “Much too small,” you tell her. She went up a bit, but it still didn’t do Din justice. You finally adjusted her hands for her, and she let out a small gasp. “Annie, how are you still able to walk?” she cried out.

You stifle a laugh that wheezed way back in your chest. “You’re too embarrassing,” you told her when you could breathe. Wendi knocked her shoulder into your own. “I hope you two will have fun,” she says finally. “It’s not often we have a happy couple around here. Everyone is very happy for him. Despite all the trouble I give you two, I’m also happy for him. I don’t think there’s a better match for him in all the galaxy. You’re both terribly annoying, either way.”

“Much appreciated,” you tell her, meaning the words with all of your heart..

She held her hand out without really facing you. The dagger had become still in her open palm. “This is a going away present,” she says.”For some reason I have a feeling you’ll be getting into trouble out there.”

You could hear the vague amusement in her voice. You took the dagger and pocketed it after a brief examination. It’s dark silver with paracord wrapped tightly around the handle. “Thank you,” you say with a small incline of your head.

“Have fun in the world, Annie,” Wendi tells you. “But be wary of it. You never truly know what will happen.”

The Razor Crest lifted off the ground with a rumble you could feel under your feet. Leaning forward in your seat, you could see the figures of Gold and Paz preparing to depart back to the tunnels, waving the ship goodbye. Waving you goodbye. You waved back, half knowing they couldn't see you. They’d been kind enough to escort you and Din out of the city. Imagine the surprise in the trooper’s voices when they saw four Mandalorian’s leaving.

The sky cast around you like an endless sea; clouds wandered the sides of the ship as Din rose into higher altitude. The fog parted into the dark sky of what you knew had to be space.

You were completely enamoured with the sights that you hadn't realized time was ticking by. The stars weren't like you'd imagined. From the ground, the stars looked like close neighbors, but as you are among them you can see now that they are spread out farther than you would have ever thought possible.

When Din spoke, it snapped you out of your trance. His voice tethered you to your reality within the ship.

"What are you thinking?" he asks.

"That I should have paid attention the first time I was in space," you say. "I guess I had other things on my mind."

"It's very beautiful," Din comments.

You made a small sound of agreement. It really is.

Din pressed a few buttons on his dashboard. The engine hummed in the back of your mind as Din slowly took his hands away from the steers.

"Are you sure you don't have the force?" You tease him.

He gives you a look and you know it is exasperation that is behind his helmet. "Auto pilot," he ammends you.

"Ah, I suppose I should have thought that first,” you chuckle.

"My thoughts exactly," Din snickered back. He unbuckled the straps of his pilot's chair, rising to his feet and pulling off his helmet. He runs a gloved hand through the unruly waves of his hair. "Would you like a tour, Mrs. Djarren?" he asks with a crooked grin quirking his soft lips.

You slowly removed your seatbelts. "I've been on the Crest before, you know," you tell him pointedly. He helps you navigate out of the narrow cockpit with his hands gently on your waist.

"Not as my bride," he pointed out. "The ship should be your home away from the covert. Our home."

His words rang in your ears. You are grateful for the dim lights that hid your eyes which falter under the embarrassment. It's amazing that you could still feel embarrassed with your husband, even after everything you two had been through.

Perhaps it's the utter lack of people that has you feeling this way. You'd never really been "alone" before. The first trip, towards Nevarro, you were alone with Din but in a much different way. You'd been a much different person!

Now, you're alone with your husband. The man that you've grown to love so dearly. The man that warmed your bed!

You suppose you're not sure what you should expect from this trip.

Din guided you first towards the engineering bay. It sat directly beneath the cockpit. On the walls were the electric panels, as Din called them. He briefly explained how inside the panels were switches, or "breakers", that controlled the flow of electricity and power to the smaller utilities of the ship, like the lights and the stovetop. In a strange jar to the left is the storage bay. There’s enough food and clothes there to last for at least a month.

The hallway straight ahead were the cells that Din used for storage. He had lots of weapons in there. You were stunned at just how many weapons a single bounty hunter needs. It seemed on par with the entire armory at the covert, but condensed into four of the six cells. You recognized one as the cell you'd taken refuge in. Lined with pistols and spears, you had hidden inside and stayed there, sweating as the ship turned in violent spins to evade the Aniri ships.

It seems like long ago; practically a distant memory. And yet it's been a matter of months, hardly even three.

You asked Din what occupied the final two cells. He pulled back the doors to reveal a strange machine. You couldn't guess it's purpose after a few tries (and laughs from Din). When you gave up, he explained that he wouldn't have it if he didn't need it.

"What is it?" You asked, now unsure if you wanted to know at all.

"A carbonite freezer. It can freeze and keep lifeforms in perfect hibernation."

You looked at Din with incredulity in your wide eyes. "Are there convicts on this ship?" You asked in a low whisper.

"Not currently," Din said. "My mother told me it's impolite to keep frozen criminals so close to a lover."

You couldn't really laugh as you stared at the strange contraption.

"So it freezes people?" You asked as you ran a palm over the smooth, dark surface of the metal.

"It does. I can use it to transport bounties without worrying they'll cause trouble." Din sounded too calm to be saying such things. But you guess it's something all bounty hunters have to worry about. You cringed away from the freezer as you imagined the process.

"Does it hurt?"

Din shook his head. "No. It could be dangerous, though. It takes calculation."

You sank into his arms, which folded around your back to keep you tucked against him. "Mmm, my amazing husband is dangerous and calculating,"you grinned.

Din tipped your chin up with his forefinger. "Would you want it any other way?"

He pressed a warm kiss against the corner of your mouth, just below the crevice of your dimples.

He turned you around, to look at the freezer once more. “I’ve heard,” he muttered as he nestled his chin onto your neck, “that those coming out of hibernation feel ill. Feverish, shaky, even blind.”

“I’d hate to be frozen,” you said as you imagined the process. An endless sleep only to be followed by days of severe sickness.

“You won’t be,” Din promises you. “Not unless you’re a prisoner.” His hands rested over your stomach She.

"Wendi told me marriage is a lot like being a prisoner," you point out.

“Then you’re my prisoner, and mine alone,” Din whispered into your ear. “Shall I lock you up in a cell? Freeze you? Or should I let you attempt to negotiate?”

“Do you often negotiate with prisoners?” You ask.

“Only the beautiful ones,” Din says. “And you’re much more than beautiful.”

“You’re a scoundrel,” you giggled as Din nipped your ear. With his arm around your shoulder, he pushed you along towards the kitchen. It’s small, but it’s enough, with a cooler and a stovetop. Past the kitchen are the living quarters.

The lumpy bunk that was once propped into the corner has been replaced with a wider mattress, one that is surely capable of fitting both of you.

“You’re a sneak,” you sigh as you push onto the mattress with your hands. It’s so lusciously soft that you’re looking forward to falling asleep.

Din leaned up against the door jamb. “I couldn’t force you to endure that old excuse for a bed. Is the ship up to Mrs. Djarren’s standards?”

You felt pinned to the wall by his smile. His damn smile. The warmth of his eyes that crinkled under his smile seeped into you like warm cacao and cinnamon on a cold day. You could feel his gaze rush through your blood as he took a step closer towards you.

“Would you like to wash up?” He asked, his words a suggestive murmur. You nodded more eagerly than you would have initially liked to, but it earned a laugh from your husband.

You helped him out of his beskar, the ship still rolling softly throughthe cosmos in autopilot. The beskar is discared oto the bed, followed by your clothes. His hand slid into yours, and while you giggled, he led you into the refresher.

You’d remembered bathing in here for the first time when Din had saved you all that time ago. You recall being ecstatic by the warm water.

Steam rose between the walls as Din pulled into his hold. You sighed under the feeling of the everlasting heat. The water and his body could keep you comfortable for an infinite age of time.

The crown of your hair knocked against Din’s chest as the warm water streamed down your neck.

Din’s open palms curved around your breasts, thumbs tweaking your nipples while his lips sucked bruises over your neck.

Words of affection floated between the stream of hot water and the steam. His hands slithered down to your hips. He held you tightly, making you whimper in sheer anticipation. Even under the streams of water, you could feel your thighs becoming slick with arousal and excitement.

“Turn around,” Din murmurs in your ear.

You slowly turned, his hands never leaving your body. You couldn’t bring yourself to look up at him until he forced you to do so. His finger tapped the underside of your chin. “Are you my prisoner?” He asks, his thumb pulling your bottom lip down.

His dark eyes are filled with focus.

His looks are intoxicating. The brown scruff coming in along his jaw is scratchy, but you find yourself fond of the feeling it leaves between your thighs.

"I could be," you gasp.

You pull him down by his hair, forcing him into a rough kiss that made your heart pound.

Parting your lips to let his tongue sweep over yours, you moaned his name. You earned a low growl in response. The growl resonated way back to your throat.

Din’s hands raked down your back. He held you tightly, like he feared you’d be torn away with him at any second. All of his strength poured into his hold onto you.

You lifted your leg to grip it around his thigh. “Din,” you rasped against his mouth. “Please. It hurts.”

Your cunt ached roundt its own emptiness. You’d become swollen and your heartbeat pounded all the way to your clit. Something within you screamed to be filled and ravaged by Din. The thought of his cock slipping its way inside of you practically did the job itself.

Din’s eyes hardened as he grabbed you by the waist. You are pushed into the shower wall, then lifted with remarkable ease. He fixed your legs around him.

“I need you,” you gasped. The weight of his eyes on your body had become unbearable.

“You want to take me alraedy?” Din said in your ear. His voice is hoarse and thick and low, striking a pleasurable chord deep in your stomach. “You want my cock now?”

You nodded, sinking your face into the crook of his neck.

Keeping you hoisted with one arm, Din slid a hand between your two torsos. He gripped his thick cock in his large hand.

Looking down, you watched with strained eyes as he rubbed the tip of his cock into your clit. A strangled gasp pushed out of your mouth as he whispered more intimate words to you.

“You’re going to be a good girl and take it all?” Din asked. His rough voice wavered as he guided his cock into your cunt. You cried loudly at the feeling. The velvety walls of your cunt eagerly accepted Din’s cock, hugging around him tightly to feel as much as you could.

“My seed,” he grunted, “will stay inside of you all night. Will you give me children?”

His strong thrust knocked your hips back against the walls of the shower. You sank your teeth into the flesh of his neck as he rocked into you unrelentlessly.

“Will you bear all of Clan Djarren with your pretty hips?” he snarled into your ear. “Will you take my cock without question?” Your brain felt like it would short circuit at any minute. You could hardly stammer out the “Yes” you so desperately wanted to scream. The idea of it all made it all the more unbearable. You could feel him reaching for the stars of climax deep inside of you, hips snapping into yours loudly under the water. You whimpered his name as his arms kept you upright. His strong, smooth biceps flexed widely as he grunted against your skin.

“Ah, fuck, my meshla,” he swore loudly. As if he wasn’t moving fast enough already, his hips quickened their pace, snapping against yours with the loud slaps of wet skin to echo around you in the steam.

You couldn’t even process a coherent thought as you felt lost in the pleasure you’d been plunged into.

“Taking me so fucking well,” Din hissed to you, nipping at the lobe of your ear. “You want it?”

“Yes,” you stammered. You clutched against him as tightly as you could, your thighs and torso shaking violently as you lost control of your senses. The spasming climax burst in your stomach like an explosion of fire. You jerked in his arms, but he pressed you flat against the cold tiled wall with his smooth, broad test.

“Din, I want it,” you sobbed.

He groaned so loudly you felt the reverberations in your chest. His hips rocked so hard you thought he was going to split you completely in half.

As quickly as it had started, he spilled his seed into you, making you shudder and spasm closer into your hug.

Din buried his face into your neck, his laugh muffled by your skin. You both panted for breath for a solid minute. His cock remained hard inside of you, but any movement made you flinch and clench around him.

Din licked the sweet drops of water up your jaw before whispering into your ear, “Can you take it again?”

Laying in the bed, tucked into Din’s chest, you asked him, “What is the bounty we’re going after?”

His hand that played with your hair paused for a brief second before resuming the little swirls. “A man that’s wanted for evading debt.”

You nodded. “I see. That means he owes another man money, right?”

“Correct,” Din said. “We’re going to a planet called Bespin. The manciple of Cloud City, Lando Calrissian, has reported this man to be roughly a million credits in debt. I’ve heard the bounty’s name come up before. He’s most likely in deep debt with multiple people.”

“Frightening,” you murmured.

You kissed over the heart of your husband. Laying your ear over it, you could count the beats without even thinking. The rhythm sank into you so that your own heart eventually beat in perfect synchronization with your husband’s.

“Did you mean what you said about children?” you asked suddenly.

The rumbling of Din’s ship is all you heard for some time.

“Yes,” Din replied softly. “Since we married, I have been consumed with the image of you with my child.”

You chuckled, though feeling bashful. “I’m honored.”

“Meshla,” Din breathed. His fingers combed through your hair in the darkness. “I am honored. Honored to be your husband. Honored to be the one you’ve chosen to bear warriors with.”

You nuzzled closer into his arms. “I love you very much,” you say quietly.

“And I love you more than you’ll ever, ever now,” Din replied. “For now, let’s sleep. We can devise to make children tomorrow.”

With that being said, you were lulled to sleep by the humming of the engine and the beating heart of your one and only husband.

After two days, you and Din reached Bespin. You learned that ‘Cloud City’ is a literal name. Tucked in the fluffy clouds is an actual city, which Din explained prospers through mining.

Din explained that he suspected the city is being used by the Empire to operate trading posts. Because the city is known for its peace, Din said, their governor would likely cooperate with Lord Vader to keep his people out of danger.

The ship rumbled as landed on its cleared pad.

For a long moment, Din sat behind his steers. You watched him carefully; you wonder what he is thinking.

“Din?” you finally say. “What are you thinking?”

Rubbing his jaw thoughtfully, Din cast you a glance. “I’m thinking you should stay on the ship and wear your armor. I can’t say for sure that the city is under Imperial authority. It’s only a hunch. But I can’t risk your safety.”

You sent him a soft smile. “My doting husband,” you sighed. You unbuckled your self from the copilot’s chair. “I’ll be changing into armor. Will you be alright?”

Din nodded. “I’m going to meet with a few officers. They’ll give me their puck and then we can go after the bounty.”

You took his hand in yours before you left the cockpit. You pressed a small kiss over his glove. “I’ll be here.”

It is a struggle to dress in your plates quickly. Din showed you how to do it many, many times, but you’d never been able to do it as fast as he could, especially on your own.

Your small arsenal of weapons fits snugly around your waist. Your flute, your blade, and your pistol have been your constant companions since you’d been gifted them from Gold. It felt strange to be without her. Strange, but exhilarating.

You knew you would eventually find your way back to the covert when Din decided to take a break from bounty hunting. You looked forward to the moment you could see your newfound friends and tell them all of your adventures.

You left the bedroom in you beskar, the rosegold sheen blinding you in any sort of light.

You found Din in the engine bay, fiddling with what you presumed to be his puck.

You are both in your armor and helmets now; with your visor down, you felt like a proper woman. It made you feel safe somehow, like you could truly protect yourself.

“Where is he?”

“Off the city,” Din said. His voice is rougher through the modulator, much like yours. “It won’t take long to find him. Before that, I have something for you.”

You tilted your head. “Oh? I am sorry to say I don’t have a gift for you.”

Din chuckled. “It’s more for myself than it is for you, actually,” he admitted. He fastened something small to the tunic behind the breast plate. “A tracker. If anything happens, I can find you.”

You repressed a sigh. You wished you could ease his fears. You hadn’t realized how he felt until he had mentioned it before. He didn’t like the thought of you mingling with Imperials.

“It’s going to be alright,” you promised him. “It’s just a normal bounty. Only you have a supporter with you.”

He couldn’t help but let out a hearty laugh. “Wear it for me,” he said after catching his breath. “It will make me feel truly at ease.”

You couldn’t say no to that.

With the tracking beacon hidden behind your breast plate, you and your husband returned to the cockpit. Din let you hold the puck on the way off Cloud City. You hadn’t realized just how intense bounty hunting was until you fiddled with the puck’s features. You learned from Din that some pucks can be synced with the target’s genetic signature. This can allow any bounty hunter to track them throughout the galaxy.

When you’d noted just how intense that is, Din explained that is usually used for the higher rewards: murderers, serial thieves, other similar criminals. “Our guy,” he said, “isn’t that serious. He was just sighted a matter of hours ago. I doubt he’s ran off anywhere, especially if he has no money. I think we’ll find him just fine.”

You had started to hope that would be true.

The Crest took its landing ten minutes later, on a lower city thick with fog.

You had prepared to follow your husband, but he set his hands on your shoulders and warned you to stay put.

You sighed. “What if you need help? You may be able to track me, but I can’t track you. What if––?”

“Meshla,” Din sighed. “If I need help, I’ll call the ship’s comm. You can come find me then. Just stay put to guard the ship. I’ll need my loyal, supportive wife to stay here so I can bring the bounty back without any obstacles.”

It’s clear he knew what he was saying, as well what his words would mean to you.

You mimicked his sigh of annoyance. “I do not like that you’ve used my own supportive creed against me,” you told him sternly. “But I will stay. How long should you be gone before I get truly worried?”

Din thought about that for a moment. “At least,” he finally replied, “an hour. I give you full permission to come after me after two hours.”

You warned him you would come looking for him after two hour’s time. You would have liked to kiss him goodbye as he left the Crest, his hunting cape flying in the cool breeze as he did.

You proceeded to sit in the cockpit for your mandatory two hours. You tried to read a book you’d found in Din’s bedroom while you waited. You felt impatient, and you thus could not focus on the first paragraph, as your eyes continued to wander to the comm embedded in the steer’s dashboard.

It took almost the full two hours for Din’s voice to come through.

“I’m coming back. Be ready for us.”

You sighed loudly with relief. By Prince Melv’s kind, resting soul, you’d been very close to leaving the ship to go after your husband.

You waited at the ramp for him, your hand resting steady on your pistol sheathed at your thigh.

His voice finally called through the mist. You squinted, using the focus feature of your helmet to scan through the fog. Two figures were dragging through the thick clouds towards the ramp.

You ran after them, eager to help Din.

His bounty is being dragged in unconcious. As you hooked one of the limp arms around your shoulders, you debated asking him what he had done to the poor fellow.

You’d seen Din in action before; you wouldn’t ever want to be one of his bounties. You somehow feel he wouldn’t be as kind to them as he is to you.

You helped Din drag the bounty into the cockpit. The poor fellow’s body got slumped in a side chair. “Close the ramp,” Din asked you. “Leave your helmet on. If he wakes up, don’t even speak a word to him.”

You lifted a brow behind your visor. He didn’t look that vicious. “Is he so dangerous?” you asked in a low voice.

“No,” Din answered. “But I don’t trust him around my woman either way.”

You shook you head as you went to shut the ramp.

Rentering the cockpit with a glass of water from the kitchen, you found that Din had already tied the bounty up in the seat. “That was quick,” you noted as you offered it to him.

Din lifted the helmet up just enough to gulp the water down. He thanked you for it. Before you could leave to put the glass away, he grabbed your wrist. He rested his forehead against yours, the metal of either helmet clinking together like bells. “I am lucky to have such a supporter with me,” he murmured.

“Oh, Mando,” you sighed. You hadn’t used the nickname in a long time. It felt nice to say it now. “How romantic it is to hear you speak sweet things as we coddle one another in front of a criminal.”

Din howled out a loud laugh. “Just buckle yourself in. We’re returning to Cloud City.”

With the bounty still unconcious, the Razor Crest lifted up through the fog. You thought about many things on the ride back.

“Could I ask an unintelligent question?” you finally asked.

“Of course, though I seriously doubt it will be so bad,” Din assured you without looking away from his screen.

“Well, why is debt such a serious crime? I understand that it’s wrong, and of course why someone would want their money back. I’ve only thought that people should know the potential consequences.Wouldn’t that alone be enough to prevent such crimes?”

Din did not ridicule you for asking. In fact, he answered you perfectly. "Debt isn't often overlooked," Din says. "Many times, people are in debt due to high interest rates or deep end gambling."

"Why gamble if they know they can't pay what they'll owe?" You asked.

"It can be addicting for some people," Din explained. "They will give themselves the benefit of the doubt, thinking they have a good chance at winning a sum. Eventually, they owe more than they had originally hoped to win."

You cast a glance over your shoulder, looking to the bonded man in the spare seat. He hasn't come to, not yet, and you're half dreading the moment he does.

Din could take him easily enough; though you still feel unnerved to be in such a small space with a wanted criminal.

The rational voice in your mind knows nothing bad will happen. The hard part is done, at least.

The landing pad is cleared for Din's use over the Razor Crest's commlink. You watch the clouds out the window as Din descends through them, lowering the ship slowly onto the pad.

The ship rumbled as Din shut down the engines. You looked back at the bounty.

"Should I come with you?" You asked as Din unbuckled.

He stayed silent as he leaned forward, examining the surroundings of the Crest.

"It's not very crowded," he noticed. "I'd feel better if you stayed aboard the ship," he finally says. "Be careful."

"Shouldn't I be telling you that?" you asked him with a small smile. He seemed to hear the affection as he leaned over your seat. He pressed the forehead of his helmet against your own, resting like that for an easy moment.

"I'll be back soon," he assured you.

He approached the bounty calmly, bending down to use his hand to carefully slap the man awake.

The man awoke with a great start, jerking back into his bindings in a panic to get away from Din.

“Knock that off,” Din warned him. “Get on your feet. Meshla, stay here,” he called to you.

You nodded, not saying a word as you recalled Din’s earlier instruction. You listened to the bounty attempt to negotiate with him all the way out.

You followed behind them to close the ramp.

That had gone smoother than you’d really been expecting. It’s half a let down, half a relief. Part of you had been expecting somehting exciting. You pulled off your helmet as you settled in your chair in the cockpit. You used the inside of your wrist to dab away the sweat that had formed along your hairline.

Now, you could rest easy; you even looked forward to the next place Din would take you. Perhaps you’d actually be able to go exploring that time. Though you wouldn’t be surprised if Din would coax you into staying on the Razor Crest.

You settled into the copilot’s chair, shutting your eyes to rest them. It took some time for the commlink to ring with static.

You peered closely, expecting Din to ring in to tell you he’s on his way back.

What actually came through sent fear shooting through you.

“Get off the ship and run. You’ve got to find me, Y/n, but go now. Someone’s coming for you.”

You had almost misunderstood his words. You had almost thought them to be a joke.

They weren’t.

You grabbed your helmet and shoved it over her hair, not bothering to keep it neat.

You raced out of the cockpit on shakey legs. You darted into the weapons cell. You grabbed what you knew you’d be able to carry. Din had a large amban riffel that you could keep strapped on your back. You also grabbed his vambrace. You weren’t sure how it worked, but you figured it would be good for him to have.

You sprinted off the ship, unable to look back and give it one last goodbye.

You ran across the landing pad, keeping the riffel steadied in your arms.

You’re not fucking sure where to go, or what to do, but you know that Din’s hunch must have been right. That’s all you can assume. Imperialites must be swarming this place. But how could you know who from who?

As you darted through the large building, you saw many people who simply gave you puzzled glances.

Not many seemed threatening until you reached the intersection at the hallway. On one path is a swarm of officers with their weapons drawn and aimed at you.

You fired the amban. It had very little recoil,or at least from what you’re used to. You hadn’t expected a bolt of electricity to spear down one of the officers. You truthfully didn’t know what an amban riffel did. You just knew it had the basic workings of any other riffel. You’d expected plain old plasma. You darted around a wall, holding your breath as you fiddled with the dial that hid right beside the trigger. You spun it to the next setting, before you darted back out to the open, the riffel aimed outright.

You shot at an officer that promptly fell to the ground, his shoulder a cloud of ash that scattered to the floor.

Oh.

Alright.

You recalled everything you’ve learned today as you sprinted down the halls, pointing and shooting everyone who tried to shoot you first.

Gambling is an addiction.

Amban rifles have several settings.

Curiouser, and curiouser.

You weren’t sure where to go from then on. Din had told you to find him, but where could he be? You’re the only one with a tracker, and the opposite link is still on the ship. As far as you know, there’s not a way to hunt Din down besides using pure luck.

Your boots stomped down the hallways as you ran around. It became easy to seperate the enemies from the bystanders. The bystanders, for the most part, hid and ran away from you. The enemies just ran towards you. Little did they know, you have an amban rifle. You assume they don’t know what it can do, like you had just a matter of minutes ago. Unfortunate for them.

You cleared a hall, switching between the settings to do a better take down of officers with more durable suits.

You approached a large room. It looked a lot like an engine bay. Hissing tanks that let off steam stand everywhere. It’s like a maze of boilers and dials that you darted through.

“Mando!” you yelled. “Mando, where are you?!”

Your heart faltered as you realized Din might not be here; you’re not sure where else he could be.

You went through another series of corners and turns. Cast along the wall in front of you is a tall shadow, a very visible weapon in hand. You armed your riffel up, your finger sweeping just by the trigger as you bolted forward to catch the by surprise.

“Oh, Mando!” you cried when you found your husband turning, his own weapons drawn up like you. “What’s going on?!” you exclaimed as you are drawn into a tight hug.

“Thank the stars,” Din breathed in a heavy sigh of relief.

“No, no, no thanking anything yet,” you snapped. “What’s going on?”

You shoved the vambrace into his arms. As he fastened it onto his right arm, his voice, tight and taught, echoed around the metal floors and walls. “I think we’ve been setup,” he said. “I delievered the bounty to Calrissian, and he took me to a room where I was ambushed by someone else. There are many sorts of Mandalorians in the galaxy, but a small handful of them branched off to work with the Empire.”

You are quick to remember the lesson you’d been given by Gold:

And meanwhile, the cruel descendant of Tarr Vizsla began to attack the Creed more and more.

The Way has been deserted on Mandalore, but it has lived on through coverts, such as this. There are others like us. Others are waiting to seize our place as protectors as they hide on distant planets like lakebats.

“There are mandalorians here?” you asked in a trembling voice.

“I think so. I saw one. Listen, it’s going to be alright,” Din promised. “Do not ever take off your tracker. Don’t even mention it. If you have to, swallow it. If we get separated, you can’t come after me.”

Stirring with shock, you stammered, “That’s crazy. I’m not going to leave you.”

“You will if I tell you too,” Din demanded from you. “If it comes to that, then we’re going to have to split up.”

The words felt like a slap in the face. You couldn’t imagine splitting up. You couldn’t imagine how you would sruvive without him. You’re not as skilled as he is; by now, you’ve been getting along from sheer luck and an nasty build up of lifelong rage issues. You’re not a Mandalorian, not really, and you aren’t able to take down giant crowds like your husband.

In the distance, beyond the boilers, came gunfire. You and Din seized up by each other, trying to gauge where it had come from.

“I’m not looking to hurt anyone, today,” a voice echoed around. It had the familiar static of the modulators found in any Mandalorian helmet. That must be him. That must be the terrorist Mandalorian that Gold had mentioned so long ago.

Din caught you by the wrist and forced you to run alongside him.

“I hear you, little mice,” the voice called. His footsteps came from everywhere, but nowehere, all at once. Despite the clammoring of the Mandalorian’s boots, you couldn’t pinpoint which directino he’d been coming from.

Din dragged you into a small gap of a room, just off the main path of the boilers. You both huddled close together in the darkness. You tried to steady your breath out, so that it would not give you away.

Din pried his helmet off, to your surprise. You felt frantic as he tugged yours off as well.

Shut in the darkness, Din could only run his hands through your hair.

“Never stop fighting,” Din says into your ear. “Do you understand that? I will find you. You can never stop fighting.”

You managed to nod. “Alright,” you shuddered. “Never.”

Din’s hands grasped the sides of your face feverishly, tipping your head back so he could press a hard kiss to your mouth. You felt his lips tremble as you tried to grip onto his chest. You clawed against his chest plate.

Your mind turned over the possibilities of what might happen the moment you and your husband ducked out of the small hiding place.

The fighters that raged beyond the little walls are searching for you both, and searching quite loudly at that. They call out to one another while you beg the galaxy for more time in Din’s arms.

He held you in a tight hug for a moment longer, his breath shuddering as he hid his face in your neck. You wished to know what he was thinking; but you had an idea. He is likely thinking the same as you—that he must memorize all the finer details of your scent and skin, because there’s a good chance one of you will die.

You hope it’s you.

There isn’t any way you could live without Din; it’s too late for that.

Din places a kiss on your eyelids, his lips wiping your tears away. “I love you,” you rasped.

“I love you, too,” Din said. His hoarse voice didn’t sit well in your stomach. It felt painful to be unable to comfort the man who had always comforted you. You wouldn’t get the chance ever again. You know that in your heart as Din pulls his helmet back on.

He slapped his blaster in your hand, forcing you to curl your fingers around it tightly. “If you see a way out, take it,” he instructed. “I don’t care if that means leaving me.”

Your bottom lip quivered at the thought. You couldn’t do that, but you refused to tell him, knowing it would only pain him more. You forced yourself to nod in understanding.

Din steadied himself. His face became pinched with focus as he fit your helmet back over your face; he followed in suit.

You two waited in silence. You listened for the footsteps of the Mandalorian that lurked the maze like a ghost.

Your stomach wrenched painfully when you heard the strange clicking of boot buckles round the corner. You could tell that this was the end. He would find you both, and you couldn’t fathom what he would do.

The footsteps paused for the longest handful of seconds you’d ever felt. You felt the same fear you’d felt when you were caught by the court guardians during your attempted escape. Your heart seemed to clog up in your throat, leaving you unable to breathe as you waited in anxious anticipation.

Din held you tightly as the Mandalorian found you. He cackled behind his modulator. He loomed over you and your husband as he sheathed his pistol. “I found you.”

You and your husband became tied up on two unsavory chairs. The Mandalorian led you both at gunpoint to a new room at the other end of the building. He tied you both one by one, knowing neither of you would take the risk of running when he had stationed officers everywhere. You knew you couldn’t risk Din’s life that way.

That must be the very same thing Din thought about you.

Sitting feet away felt more like miles. You could strain your head back to look at your husband. The strange sight of Din being bound is one you’d never forget.

The Mandalorian that had caught you both stood tall as he paced back and forth. His armor is a dull, forest green, faded as though he’d seen many years of battle.

He had the telltale marks of a Mandalorian, even down to the jetpack strapped on his back Those were rare enough, even at the covert, reserved for the most elite of the warriors. You know deep down he can’t be a true Mandalorian––you couldn’t imagine Din greeting another Mandalorian with such malice.

As the green Mando paced back and forth, the odd buckles on his heavy boots clicked, like an ominous bell counting down to your demise.

“I suppose neither of you know what I want?” he finally asked.

Neither of the Djarrens answered this question. You knew better than to speak when Din hadn’t.

The green Mandalorian sighed in disbelief. “Imagine my surprise when not one, but two Mandalorians show up here. It must be my lucky day. I’ve been waiting for you both for such a long time. It’s been a while since I’ve been with my own kind. You both can imagine the feeling, right? We Mandos are quite misunderstood in the cruel world.”

“What do you want?” Din finally asked.

The Mandalorian paused, his helmet focused on Din’s chair. “You really can’t guess?” he asked. His voice is heavy through his modulator. “I’d like to know where the rest of us are.”

You didn’t know what the really meant. You assume Din could, for he remained silent. The Mandalorian sighed, sounding rather crestfallen. “I mean, of course, that I’d like the locations of the other coverts.”

Your heart fell like a stone into the pit of your stomach.

“And is that why we stay hidden?” You asked. “Because of the Jedi?”

Gold weighed stones of steel in her hands. They scrape over the edges of the newly bred sword, sparks flying as the edges build a razor tip.

“There are more threats than the Jedi,” she mutters, voice pitched darker than you’d ever heard. “War rages throughout the galaxy as we speak. Mandalorians have abandoned their dignity and fall in league with the Imperial scum.”

You shudder. Imperial scum. You know of such people. You’d unknowingly worked for many.

Clearing your scratchy throat, your blurt out, “Why? Why would the “pacifist” Mandalorians work for such horrible people?”

“Not all Mandalorians or black and white,” Gold explains. “This has happened in the past. The descendant of Tarr Vizsla had worked with an Imperial Sith Lord. He had intentionally waged territorism on his planet, even abandoning his child. It is more common that you might expect, Y/n.”

The Mandalorian held his hands out patiently. “Well? Wouldn't you rather tell me where your covert is than face what I could put you through?"

You kept your head down, staring at your thighs through the focus of your visor. You're breathing so hard that the Mandalorian no doubt hears you.

His boots clicked as he approached your chair. He knelt before you, tucking his hand under your chin to force your gaze upward.

Din jerked in his bindings; an unfamiliar sort of snarl tore from his mask. He spat threats to the Mandalorian who donned the forest green armor.

“Calm yourself,” the Mandalorian said coolly. “Your lover is in tender hands. Isn’t that right?” he asked you. Tears dripped down your face behind your helmet. You didn’t feel as scared as you did angry. Fury had bellowed in your belly, as it had Din’s when he saw the Mandalorian lay hands on you. You became filled with the urge to unleash as much pain on the Mandalorian as possible; it drove you mad to feel such a rage that you’d never felt before.

It felt similar to the anger that had driven you to kill the men on Nevarro. At least there you had a valid reason. Those men were Anirians, your greatest threat. But this man is a stranger––you fear that you are being driven to such anger too quickly, and for bad reason.

“I only want to know where the coverts are,” he assures you. His tone is almost believable; he sounds so troubled to be inflicting the mental torture onto you and your husband. You easily know that it’s a lie. It isn’t hard to fight that off. “Could you at least tell me your name?” he tried.

Your jaw ached from the everlasting flex it had been locked in.

“Tell me your name,” the Mandalorian urges, “or I’ll kill your lover.”

“Vidia,” you spit out. “Vidia Thorpe.”

You felt guilty for using your late best friend’s name this way, but it was the only possible thing you could say to avoid inflicting harm onto Din.

“Interesting,” the Mandalorian mulls. “I’ve never heard of Clan Thorpe. You must be a foundling.”

You couldn’t calculate what to say to that. Recalling every single rule and tradition you’d been taught, you did your very best to withstand the Mandalorian’s interrogation.

“Who took you in?”

“Shut up,” Din shouted.

“I asked you a question, Vidia,” the Mandalorian repeated. “Which clan rescued you? Can’t you see that I mean you no harm? We both have sworn the same creed, as you can clearly see. We share the same armor. I guess I’ve been a bit rude, however. My apologies. I am Boba Fett, the first and only heir of Jango. I am pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“I will not tell you anything,” you said again, trying to sound firm. You know that your voice betrays you as it wavers out of your helmet.

The Mandalorian stared at you in silence for a long two or so minutes. Sweat dripped down your back, even in the folds of your wrist that have become chaffed by the bindings.

With a soft sigh, the Mandalorian sheathed his heavy pistol on his hip. He lifted off his helmet with no resolve or guilt. He dropped it to the metal floor, the helmet clattering loudly. You couldn’t begin to express your shock.

His dark skin and hair and eyes are too cold and unfamiliar for you to feel anything but nauseous. You swore that his eyes seeped into yours, seeing straight past your helmet and heart and into your insecurities.

“You still don’t trust me do you?” he asked after a second of silence. “I’m not sure what else I can do to encourage it...I do, though, think that you and I are the same.”

“I’m nothing like you,” you say in a tremble. “You’re a traitor to your own kind.”

His eyebrows quirked at your words. “My kind? Why not ‘our’ kind? Vidia, would you like to know what I think of you?” he asked. “I think,” he says slowly, “that you’re not a Mandalorian at all.”

“And you are?” you say through your clenched teeth. “You broke your creed.”

“And what is that creed?” the Mandalorian asked; his lips puckered as his words wrapped up in a coo. “I don’t think that you really know it because you’re not really a Mandalorian.”

He took a step closer to you, kicking his helmet away. “Let’s do us all the pleasure of seeing your face.”

You struggled against him as his hands gripped the undersides of the helmet. He tore it off, leaving your hair in disarray. The Mandalorian whistled a low tune. “You’re very beautiful, Vidia, but I always knew that you were a liar. Do yourself a favor. Tell me where the covert is.”

“Why do you want to know?” you gasped. You jerked your chin out of his hands. He frowned down at you. “Because they’re my people,” he says kindly. “Do you doubt it?”

“You broke the creed,” you seethed at him; you feel that you’re practically foaming at the mouth with anger. “You removed your helmet.”

“But not my armor,” he amends. “You should do your research before playing the role.”

His boots click as he paces towards Din’s chair. Your husband had been silent all this time.

“So are you a Mandalorian?” he asks your husband. “Or should I reveal your face, too?”

“No,” you exclaimed as he grabbed the edge of the helmet. Din jerked his head back, fighting the Mandalorian as best as he could.

The Mandalorian stepped back, hands raised defensively. “Forgive me,” he said, touching his chest. “I truly assumed. Well, this is an interesting match. I’ve heard of inter-marriages, but never of dressing an outsider in our garb. He must be trying to protect you. Am I right?” His thick brow lifted in questioning, his eyes flickering to you both for an answer. “I think,” he says slowly, “that I am right. I’m on a roll, right? Let me ask you both one more time. Before you answer me with your determination, allow me to explain the terms. Behind me you see a carbon freezer. I intend on using it today. It’s by far my favorite contraption. Usually, I’d freeze you both, one by one to encourage some talking. Unfortunately for all of us I only have enough material to freeze one of you. Meaning I’ll go home with one trophy, and one of you will be losing a spouse. If neither of you answer me, I’ll freeze Mr. Stoic and I’ll keep Vidia for my own use. She’ll make a fine gift to the Hutt clan. I’m sure she’d look gorgeous in one of those skimpy bikinis.”

“Like fuck you will,” Din roared. “You’re not touching her.”

The Mandalorian held his hand out again, trying to ease Din’s rage. “I won’t touch her if you tell me what I want to know. I’m only asking for some planets. What’s the worst I could do with that?”

Your heart thumped in your chest.

Din’s loyalty to the creed forbids him from betraying his people; your loyalty to Din forbids the same.

You can’t hold back the sob that shakes your body when you finally realize that you’ll be losing this fight. You’ll be left without Din, in the hands of the strange Mandalorian who has openly expressed his plans for you. You have to fight back. You promised Din that you would.

The Mandalorian sighed. He pulled out his dagger and approached the back of Din’s chair. “There’s still time to get talking, lovebirds,” he warns you both.

Din shook his chair, even in his bonds. He thrashed and bucked like a wild animal in a trap. “You’re a fucking disgrace,” Din bellowed. “You’re an insult to man and to your father. You’re not a Mandalorian. He would never be proud to call you his own.”

Boba Fett paused his sawing past the ropes. His handsome face contorted into a mask of anger; his eyes filled with more hatred than you’ve ever felt before. You never imagined someone could express such emotion.

Without a word, Boba tipped Din’s chair down. Your husband landed on his side with a groan, the clash of his beskar to the floor loud enough to hurt your ears.

You flinched when Boba walked towards you.

You hear his blade cut through your ropes with remarkable ease; the splitting of the threads sent icy fear through your veins.

“Disgrace?” Boba repeated. His teeth ground together loudly as he grabbed you roughly by the shoulders. Even through the arm bands you could feel his grip bruise your skin. “Insult? I can accept those,” he hissed. “I don’t think I can begin to tell you how hurt I am that you’d bring dear old dad into this.”

Manhandling is all you could describe as Boba Fett pushed you towards the freezer. Your eyes widened as you realized what he had intended.

“I figured that freezing her man would be enough to scare Vidia into sharing some information with me,” Boba laughed. “But I see, now, that you’re not willing to play nice.”

Boba roughly tossed you into the chamber of the freezer. You watched Din thrash violently on the floor, still bound in his ropes. His voice echoed around the room as he shouted. He shouted your name more than anything. You could only hear your own name in his voice, which has never been pitched with such despair. It frightened you.

The anger you’d felt before had disspeared. All you could think of now was the shade of Din’s eyes.

His lovely brown eyes, the exact shade of hot cacao. Your mind raced through all the images you’d collected over these months; his eyes, his messy hair in the morning, his damn smile.

Boba shut the chamber before you could begin to scream at yourself to fight back.

There wasn’t a way out of this.

You collapsed against the metal, a high scream ripping out of your throat. You screamed your husband’s name, hardly able to understand that he was pleading with your captor.

The chamber hissed loudly, the sound bursting your ear drums. You clutched onto the blank pendant that swung around your neck as you cried.

The pendant was meant to one day be stamped with Din’s signet. He had told you himself he was looking forward to the day your belly swelled with his child, so that he may officially have the symbol of Clan Djarren stamped into the back of his armor.

It would never happen.

You would never lay with him again, let alone bear his child.

You couldn’t register that pain as the icy freeze blasted over your face, leaving you frozen in time, forever.

>>stay tuned<<

Comment your thoughts!!!!!!!

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incarnateirony · 5 years

Text

Democratic Debates, Day 1

So a few ground rules:

If you’re going to reply, be an adult about it, and don’t try to read everything in bad faith default lens. Ask questions of anyone who engages rather than accusing. And not in that presumptuous white guy bad faith questioning that isn’t a question tone.

If replying, put your comments with a lead in no longer than two (reasonable) sentences behind a cut. Because

some of us are fandom blogs first or whatever interests and our followers aren’t deeply invested

I just don’t want goddamn pillars of text on my reblog wall if I respond to discussions.

Literally if you’re a republican out to just be a shitlord and start whining or complaining or insulting or “no u”ing, see rule 4

I will not reblog or reply to any commentary that doesn’t fit these very basic guidelines, because internet trolling etc is not worth the future of our country. And that’s very much at stake now.

If you don’t want to see this, blacklist #politics and/or #democratic debates. Now, my takeaways on this, some surprising.

So, I’ll start with some disclaimers: I’m pretty much “vote for my dog over Trump” party line right now but we need to figure out a mix of “our best chance of winning” along of “award for the least tool” with hopefully a side of “I really like them and their policies”

Honestly, I entered this without being fond of Warren. She had some... establishment backing and other things that were just rubbing me wrong. I actually went in to day one looking to hear about Tulsi since I heard great buzz about her but honestly had only pulled up a few pages that sounded great on paper, but wanted to see her in action. Everyone else was littered policy ideas disembodied and, as a very visual person, I need to be able to connect to how they handle their podium beyond writing nice policy platitudes or listening to the toss back and forth online with everybody screaming at everybody else.

I’m also going to get something out of the way, and BEFORE you flame me on my marks on the image, read why I selected one that... I generally wouldn’t. First, this was my original graphic I released.

Okay so sore thumb here: De Blasio. The reason for the circling being simple: if you took every semi-valid idea of every other white guy’s platform on this lineup, gave it a little bit of meat, and showed ACTUAL LIVING PROOF OF HAVING ENACTED IT ALL IN HIS TENURE AND MAKING THE IDEAS WORK, you get De Blasio. A lot of the ideas of the other nominees is basically *hand raise* “I did that.” So like. That’s that.

Anyone with no mark whatsoever is kinda like “you’re there and not trump so good for you” but there’s some updates further down this conversation on one of those.

The internet keeps acting like Klobuchar did well and I really don’t get why. It kinda feels like our token non-canuck trying to appeal to them-there northern hunter-type and cheese folks to reach out as a middle ground without actually committing to much and honestly, she’s just not going to last.

Booker caught my eye even if I was kind of head tilting because that is quite literally the whitest black man I have ever fucking seen, but he made a point about intersectionality, marginalized groups, and held his ground. He was all but unknown to me but I at least looked at him now. On the other hand, a lot of it felt like borderline pandering. I don’t know. I’ll keep an eye on him, but he actually stood out a bit at least. Not hard with the mayo jars up there but whatever.

It’s not a rare take online that Castro took the internet by storm. I love him. Everyone loves him. I do have some concerns long-term though; it’s less having actual problems with his ideas and more knowing that ... our country is too fucked for him right now. He’s advocating some pretty heavily open borders and while in principle I enjoyed watching him stomp on Beto about that, I honestly feel like if we put him against Trump, we’d lose.

There’s people in the red party that ARE tired of Trump, that ARE experiencing a crisis about the inhumane shit going on at the border, that WOULD be willing to crossvote to make it end -- but we can’t forget that a lot of them initially voted for Trump BECAUSE of a deep seeded Xenophobia, and the level of aggression -- again, the kind of aggression I personally agree with -- Castro had may end up being very dangerous long term in getting that vote. Pretty much everyone up there agrees we need very comprehensive immigration reform and immediate action about the travesty, but I feel like unless Castro smooths his roll a bit we’re in for a long term faceplant that gives us another four years of Trumpian hell by people pulling back into their xenophobic mindset and -- if not voting for Trump -- abstaining from voting for him, which I think several other candidates have in their court.

Castro made a bit of a gaffe about switching trans genders but the fact that he tried, I guess. And considered trans in the discussion of choice and birth control etc. It could have very easily just been a stupid fumble. He’s still trying to take it into account. I can forgive that, in the scale of it, even if it has a bit of performer aspect.

Also I’m left to wonder where Castro was when they needed help running in Texas to begin with. I also just don’t see the passion in his eyes of several candidates, it’s strangely calculating on most topics. I like his platform, in theory, but I’m very cautious.

Jay Insley is just weird even if everyone likes him.

Dulaney is a meme and I don’t know why he’s even here.

Tim Ryan accidentally wandered in on his way to the Republican debates as best I can gather.

Tulsi was the one that I was watching. All in all, I was underwhelmed. And then... it got worse.

The better part of her time was spent repeating her time in the military. And while it was great watching her school Tim Ryan, that’s not exactly hard to do. The fact that she lit his ass on fire when he just about self combusted in front of the party without her help -- I mean, it was the highlight of her showcasing aside from the snazzy Rogue hair.

Somehow, for as woke as tumblr is, and the progressives that had me looking her way, I hadn’t heard of her anti-LGBT past which she’s mostly couched her opinions on and held as recently as 2014 or THE FACT THAT I HAVE FOUND OUT THAT SHE WAS VETTED BY THE FUCKING TRUMP ADMINISTRATION TO BE ON THEIR CABINET, I’M FUCKING HORRIFIED.

BUT THEN THERE WAS THIS LITTLE GEM THAT I FOUND BEFORE ACTUALLY DISCOVERING THE PREVIOUS PARAGRAPH.

What the FUCK? What are you, seven? That’s literal pre-emptive “my sister stole my phone lol sorry” level tweets. YOU’RE A FUCKING PRESIDENTIAL CANDIDATE TALKING ABOUT IMPORTANT NATIONAL MATTERS LOCK YOUR GODDAMN PHONE.

Because THAT’S just what we need, we’ll go from Trump impulse-tweeting to like “LOL fuck korea - lmao sorry my sister texted that”????

Neverminding how STATISTICALLY INCORRECT that is. Depending on exactly HOW you count time Warren got 2nd or 3rd most time -- yes, more than Tulsi. She did not have the most. She did not have “more than all the other candidates combined.” And Tulsi did not have the least time, but center-ground on time. She wasted a bunch of it endlessly reciting her time in the military, scoring an okay shot on Ryan, and... well, vagueblogging about her opinion on LGBT to the vein of “something something equality my bad I was raised conservative” great. Great selling point. Great couching there. Five years ago you were fighting against me having rights and now you’re basically against government deciding what people can’t do but what the fuck is your opinion on me as a human being?

Doubling back from that problem though, that’s when I dug in her LGBT history and ended up tripping over the Trump stuff. AND THIS IS THE CANDIDATE I WENT IN TO HEAR FROM TONIGHT LIKE “YES PLZ LET ME HEAR MORE” because people I knew LIKED her, but then I find out she’s a Trump frand that has Trump-like hyperbolic meltdowns on twitter? NO I DO NOT WANT FEMALE TRUMP WITH ROGUE HAIR THANKS BUT NO THANKS.

Back to Warren, who I started with a MEH on, she came out WICKEDLY strong out of the gate. Her second half was weaker, she kinda has next to no active plan beyond talking/passing around more research on gun reform, but everything else, yes. Do I think she has the potential weight to pull it off, yes. And most of all, watching as she gets mad, upset, or emotional, do I believe she believes everything she said tonight, yes. Look, I know there’s STUFF about her claiming she had Native American heritage or whatever but I’m honestly so far past giving a fuck about the obscure shit like that if they have decent policies because our country is so FUCKED right now that I DONT CARE. She held her ground.

So in the end my spread ends up looking more like

of day 1 contenders, Warren still maintains her strong chance. Castro kind of sprouted up out of the earth and I really goddamn like him, but I do hold caution for my reasons above, because again, our country is THAT FUCKED.

Booker really turned some heads and I liked him Booker... Booker’s very concerned about a lot of marginalized intersectional issues and it took him from “who the fuck is that” onto my radar which is a leap, but he didn’t drill in as hard as Castro did to my mind and I feel like he’s just... I dunno, I could be wrong but I feel like he’s gonna fade. Beto, IDK, still exists, isn’t an embarrassment and doesn’t just morph in with the other white guys up there. He’s not Trump. So I won’t delete him, but let’s say he barely, and I mean BARELY hedged into my consideration in this image, I almost just cropped it over to Warren.

De Blasio is just sort of “status quo, but actually enacts it” but I wouldn’t weep to see him vanish, either. In the end out of this debate though, I see like

Everyone else go home.

ON THE OTHER HAND, MOST CANDIDATES I’M ACTIVELY INTERESTED IN ARE ON THE FLOOR TOMORROW, WHICH BY THE LINEUP IS SLATED TO BE A BLOODBATH.

I’m really, REALLY hoping everybody has the common sense to make such an ass of Biden he’s knocked out early. Like that’s part of why I’m so goddamn interested in day 2. If we end up with Trump vs Biden we might as well all just put on our goddamn clown suits but he has the fiscal backing to push through even if he shouldn’t unless he’s utterly DECIMATED early on.

I don’t like Kamala Harris’ prison industrial complex CRAP but I’d be HAPPY to watch her drag Biden around like a wet rag. Sanders is a given point of interest. Buttigieg is another one to watch. Yang... isn’t... gonna last. But is just sort of a ... fun thing to watch I guess in this mix up. Someone else may surprise me, I don’t know.

#politics #democratic debates

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