#teaofpeach

[madhyanas]

a strumming of nerves

“Take it,” Din whispers, hissing between his teeth. He’s pleading. “Take it, destroy it. Anything. Just don’t leave me alone with it.”

Read this on AO3!

Characters: Din Djarin & Boba Fett

Rating: T/PG-13

Word Count: 2k

Warnings/Ratings: Post-S2. Boba Fett POV. Haunted Darksaber/Din’s Haunted AU. Sleepwalking. Implied possession. Not horror, but creepy vibes for sure.

Notes: this au was originally created by @keldabekush, @kyberpistol and others! i’m just messing around with it. good luck trying to parse through this one lads idk how it’ll go

masterlist

———

There’s a noise keeping Boba awake.

It’s a thrumming. Quiet enough to settle into the background, seep into the rocky palace walls, it’s almost innocent. He could almost mistake it for the whine of some desert gnat that snuck in underground.

Almost.

But in the months since he and his companions have settled here, lying awake and staring at the ceiling of his palace quarters has never invited such a sick feeling to his stomach. It’s not nausea — he’s well acquainted with that. Kamino, Geonosis, Coruscant, Tatooine. Nausea has followed him like a diseased shadow.

This is different. He calls it anticipation, for to hear a noise and feel fear is foolishness he’s long outgrown.

The noise doesn’t get louder. The snaked, coiled thing growing in the pit of his stomach gets heavier, and heavier.

Just as he feels he may be crushed into the soft sheets by whatever waking night-terror has decided to sit on his chest, Boba sits up. In fact, he gets out of bed, swings his legs over the edge to touch the chilly stone floor, and steps outside. He’s always preferred doing things, anyway.

There’s nothing out of the ordinary as Boba stares out into the empty throne room. Thin, slivered shadows and hollow caverns. There’s nothing besides that kriffing noise, he thinks sourly, tiredly, before he turns his head.

Someone is standing in the hallway.

Danger.

At first he doesn’t believe it. A simple silhouette that Boba can barely make out in the dark. Something about it doesn’t quite seem real, as if that same waking night-terror hasn’t yet been rubbed from his eyes. Boba blinks. Its outline is blurry, encircled by a slim ring of darkness and seeming to shift in and out of focus. Moonlight doesn’t touch the shape, doesn’t even creep near.

Boba doesn’t approach either. Not even when he recognises the figure. The shoulders, the stance. He can feel in his bones that in the inky blackness hides a scruffy jaw and sad, weathered eyes. “Djarin?”

Din does not respond. He continues to stand there, staring silently down at the floor, which throws the figure’s identity into question because Din is polite to a fault. Fennec had laughed about it when they’d first met the man; a bounty hunter with manners.

What’s wrong with the figure, Boba realises, is that it’s still. Too still. He squints. His eyes aren’t what they used to be, and it’s dark, but he doesn’t think ‘Din’ is… breathing.

The very wrongness of the situation has his fingers twitching for a weapon that isn’t there.

Boba is beginning to think he should have carried a blaster.

“Din,” he calls, more urgently. “What are you doing?”

Silence, again. A sudden gust of wind whistles outside the window, churning sand against rocky architecture. It scrapes.

Boba’s frown deepens. This isn’t right.

The figure then turns — though that isn’t the right word for the movement. It’s a kind of swaying, as if the body can’t quite settle its centre of gravity and settles for a light, weightless bobbing around a fixed point. Almost like dangling. There is no rustling of cloth, no scrape of foot against sandstone floor.

Against his better judgement, Boba glances down. Both of the figure’s feet are flat on the ground.

Of course, his rational mind whispers. What were you expecting?

This ‘Din’, still standing at the other end of the hallway, now faces him directly. And gripped tightly in his left hand is the source of that infernal thrumming.

The Darksaber. Ignited and ready for battle, as it always has been.

Now, technically, pointed at Boba. The figure doesn’t turn away. The light it gives off is sickly, splattering Din’s shirt with the same strange, inverse not-glow the blade itself emanates.

It reminds him of a fish, of all things. One he’d read about, so many years ago. The type that suckers in prey with a shining, blinding light.

A throb in his temple makes itself known, winding the tension in his spine even tighter. When did the thrumming get so loud? It’s everywhere; it bites up his legs and punctures the soft spots between his ribs. A clawed hand crushing a spoilt fruit in its grasp.

Boba clenches his fists to stop himself from covering his ears, nails biting into the flesh of his palms. The sound is more piercing this time, with purpose and deadly aim.

Thick, oozing cold settles in his gut. There is only one possible target in this room.

It gets louder. And louder. It ebbs and flows like the tide but so much more vicious. It doesn’t stop; the noise simmers and bubbles and rings in his ears, resounding through the hallway so strongly it shakes his teeth to the tender, aching nerves and pounds at the insides of his skull. It’s swarming out from behind his eyes and it doesn’t stop, why can’t it stop — the Darksaber swings upwards, ready to strike the final blow — why is this happening he should take it—

“Din!”

The figure flinches. Boba’s shout is as good as a bullet. His shoulders heave with staggering breaths. His heartbeat pulses jaggedly at his throat and he’s panting; a cold, thin sheen of sweat is draped over the back of his neck.

The Darksaber is held high above Boba’s head. The crest of a wave, frozen. Then the blade retreats with a quiet whoosh before the hilt clatters to the ground. That’s the only reason Boba realises the thrumming has stopped.

It still doesn’t feel fixed. Nothing does.

The figure stumbles forward and Din’s haggard face is suddenly awash in a sliver of moonlight. He’s a puppet cut down from his strings, crumpling to the ground.

Boba is there to catch him. As it will be.

“Easy. What happened?” he questions gruffly, too preoccupied with checking the other man over for injuries to hear just how hoarse his voice is.

But whatever state he’s in, Din is worse. He stares at some point on Boba’s shoulder with glazed, unfocused eyes. The man is sweating buckets. “I... I don’t know.”

Din’s voice is soft, as Boba has come to expect, though not reassuring. It crackles and bursts to suggest there’s mucus sitting in his airways, spitting and popping like rotting fat thrown out to sizzle on Tatooine street corners.

Perhaps it is reassuring, then, to be holding his friend so limp in his arms like this. Because Boba knows what blood in the lungs sounds like, and the distinct lack of it anywhere in the musty hallway finally brings his racing pulse something close to calm.

Boba makes a slow, calculated move to rise from the floor and lift the other man with him, but Din flinches when he feels Boba’s shoulders tense. A flinch that dissolves into faint tremors wracking his body, which Boba is loath to ignore, but it also clears the fog from his gaze somewhat.

“I’m—” Din clears his throat and forces out a hard, sharp breath. “I’m fine.” He looks Boba in the eye. “I’m fine. Thank you.”

“No, you’re not,” Boba returns dryly, though he can’t deny the weight that slips from his chest. Breathing, talking. Even with the tremors leaching from Din’s bones into his own, they’re good signs.

Din cracks a weak smile, which comes out more as a grimace. In any case, it doesn’t matter when it’s wiped away almost immediately as Din glances to the side.

Boba looks too. Next to the wall, the discarded hilt of the Darksaber stares back.

“Fett,” Din says gravely, keeping his eyes trained on the weapon. So gravely in fact, that Boba’s hackles rise. He’s speaking as if— as if his life depends on it.

“What?”

The fingers on Boba’s shoulder dig in tightly. “Take it,” Din whispers, hissing between his teeth. He’s pleading. “Take it, destroy it. Anything. Just don’t leave me alone with it.”

Boba is not a man easily surprised. But there is something inherently sickening in the crease of Din’s brow, anxious and abandoned. So much about all this is wrong.

He’s pallid, Boba realises. Din is shivering and sickly and sweaty like he’s in the slump of a fever. He’s still staring at that damned saber.

In the dark, they’re both kneeling on the ground. They are kneeling, technically, before the Darksaber itself.

And with a stubborn set of his jaw, Boba makes a decision.

He swings Din up from the ground, maintaining a stable hold on both arms and looping one round his own neck before either of them can topple back down.

“Right,” Boba barks, and Din’s head snaps up. “You’re going to get some sleep. And you’re leaving that blasted thing here.” His voice leaves no room for discussion.

As he marches them back to Din’s quarters, taking careful stock of any acute weaknesses in the other man’s posture and satisfied to find none for now, Din’s gaze remains forward. It latches onto the door with sharp, quiet focus, and the sight could make Boba grin.

The haunted look in his eyes is new territory. But determination; that, Boba can work with.

Walls of granite and sandstone are taller at night, it seems. Boba gets the fleeting sense that they’re boxed in on either side, in such narrow walkways, then shuns the thought. The palace is his territory. He has nothing to fear, here.

Still, he makes his way around the corners a touch quicker than before.

By the time they’ve gotten to Din’s door, neither of them have looked back once. It’s illogical, he knows. But they both look straight ahead without fail. As if that would keep the thrumming at bay. As if they feel the silence is any better.

Din takes a moment to push himself upright, testing his balance. “Thank you,” he says quietly. It’s sincere, which Boba can respect. He just doesn’t know what it’s for.

Settling on a nod, Boba suggests, “I’ll keep it in my quarters.” The empty sword still lies in the other corridor. “We’ll… figure things out in the morning.”

Din’s mouth flattens into a pained line, and a muscle jumps uncomfortably at his temple. Here, with a little more light, Boba can see the bags etched under the man’s eyes. He’s struck with the impression that this… sleepwalking, for lack of a better term, is not a recent development.

“Yeah,” Din mumbles. “In the morning.”

He eyes his cot as a starving man would a feast, but lingers at the boundary.

When Din speaks, Boba almost regrets waiting to hear it.

“I don’t know what it’s doing to me.”

The words are uttered with a familiar, resigned shame that drips to the floor. It puddles around Din in viscous trails, drooping his shoulders and shutting his eyes. Weighing him down for longer than a night, clearly.

“I don’t know anymore, Fett. Sometimes I can hear it talking to me. Talking. I think I might—” He wheezes out a sigh, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes as if to purge whatever he sees there.

A moment to collect himself, drag all the pieces together with string and a loose knot. Then, in a quiet, ragged voice, Din confesses, “I think I’m going insane.”

False platitudes have never come easily to Boba, and they don’t start now. His jaw is slack as he searches for the words, anything to fill that chasm, until he realises there aren’t any.

So he doesn’t say anything at all, save for a slow, sympathetic hand on Din’s shoulder. He stands with his friend.

And in the dark of the palace, Boba wonders if Din might be right.

———

#din djarin #boba fett #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fic #haunted darksaber #din's haunted #dins haunted #haunted darksaber au #au #star wars #star wars fic #gen fic #my writing #teaofpeach #a strumming of nerves #i wrote this as a genfic but now im realising that i made this a tad fruitier than i expected. do w that what you will #fun! v different to what i usually do i think #not sure if it's great but ah #got more haunted darksaber stuff to work on but this was ok ish #aaaaaaa

[starpeace]

☕️ lightsaber colours?

the prequels jedi only having blue and green lightsabers outside of mace windu is unironically the biggest design mistake in star wars. imagine having the potential of lightsabers and choosing to be that boring. i bet george lucas is responsible for this

everything is so much more interesting if there is no one colour symbolism that means good or evil. like colours have general associations yes but also i think lightsaber colours and perceptions of those colours should be as individual as interpretations of the force. that would be so cool. it also fits with the fact that in high republic, where the jedi have more freedom in interpretations of the force, there’s significantly more variation in lightsaber colour and design

anyway i just thought abt making a jedi heretic oc with a red lightsaber and now that is going to consume my brain

#jedi order #asks #teaofpeach

[jangofctts]

whore tell me right now what they said in mando'a tell me NOW

tee hee :)

#guess we’ll Never know rbdkdb #ask #keida answers #teaofpeach

[forcesensitivebantha]

if only brendan frasier has shown a little more leg.......... 😔

im not going to harass a 53 yr old white dude to flash some skin thats tasteless. plus p*dro p*scal stans already have that market cornered.

#teaofpeach #tristan answers your questions

[lyalii]

omera for the asks please!!

YES LEE I WAS HOPING SOMEONE WOULD ASK FOR OMERA

How I feel about this character

im in love with her. im in love with din being in love with her. she’s a milf who deserves to have the ground she stands on worshipped. All the people I ship romantically with this character

Din! Mandomera all the way!

My non-romantic OTP for this character

Love the mother-daughter relationship with Winta, I really hope they bring back both of them! Also I really do think that she and Fennec would have an amazing opposites-attract friendship!

My unpopular opinion about this character

i have nothing negative to say about Omera, but i know that half the fandom thinks she is abusive/manipulative/etc., which is NOT true at all, y’all are just afraid of a milf4milf romance. One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.

OMERA IN SEASON THREE! And more character development for her!

#teaofpeach #asks

[kill-the-feels]

bro seeing boba saunter into bib fortuna’s place. shoot the man in charge. throw the body to the floor. and then take the THRONE dkfkfkflf please it will take me 3-5 business days to recover from this affront

aksjajsj YESSS

boba laid me low this whole episode not even gonna lie

like can we talk about the “princess” cause oomf

i love him and temura morrison and i’m still recovering

#teaofpeach #ask #kat speaks #the mandalorian spoilers #thank you for visiting my inbox i needed someone to yell with

[littleferal]

sinning sunday huh 👀 thinking about like,, din’s shoulders. man is BROAD broad djdjdjdj can you imagine tryna fit those between your legs? o o f anyway if you need me i’ll be simping for one (1) refrigerator man

it is always sinful sunday with me :’) and listen. listen. i am not coping. i mean

this

to this?

send help. i will never recover. he is  b r o a d  and i am having  t h o t s  and i am not ok.

talk to me ✨ cos its sinful sunday

#teaofpeach #sinful sunday #din asks #honestly i am not ok #i didn't even realise it was a thing for me #until the second season came and cracked me around the head

[lesbinewren]

that anon is windowshopping tumblr

lmao

#ask #teaofpeach

[madhyanas]

a crack; a chasm

When the factory blows to all hell, the first thing Rex feels is relief.

Then he can’t find Commander Tano anywhere, and that relief curdles into something else.

Read this on AO3!

Characters: CT-7567 | Rex & Ahsoka Tano

Rating: T/PG-13

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings/Ratings: Spoilers for s2ep6 of Star Wars: The Clone Wars - ‘Weapons Factory’. POV Rex. Missing scene, internal monologue. Mentions of explosions and building collapse. Descriptions of post-explosion wreckage, but no gore/claustrophobia. Platonic relationship. Mild angst. Mild character bashing [Luminara Unduli, from the narrator’s perspective.]

Notes: was rewatching this episode recently and aaaaAAAAAAA rex's body language after the factory explosion got to me. also i adore luminara so so so much do not associate me w luminara h8 i will curbstomp you <3 rex just. doesn’t agree w her very much in this. he’s valid.

masterlist

———

When the factory blows to all hell, the first thing Rex feels is relief. A minor dust storm billows out in the wake of the blast. As he and the men get down for cover, it’s a weight off his shoulders that this battle is almost won.

Then he can’t find Commander Tano anywhere, and that relief curdles into something else.

General Skywalker comms him immediately, ordering for half a dozen tank-lifters. It isn’t the order so much as how he gives it that sets the gears in motion. How many times has the man sounded worried?

This was a bad idea. They sent two Commanders into the catacombs armed with nothing but a memorised map, a handful of explosives, and their lightsabers. Jedi powers or no, it’s risky.

They’re commanders, Rex attempts to reason. Capable. But they are also young — so, so young — and he tries very hard not to think of the words suicide mission.

There are days when he’s grateful for his helmet; this is one of them. Stops the boys in the transport carrier from seeing his clenched jaw, the worry he feels for the girl trapped under a collapsed fortress.

A girl. A child. Adiik.

When the General tells him to start shifting the rubble, Rex is almost offended that he had to ask.

———

The conversation he overhears between the Generals is one he’d rather forget.

Eavesdropping isn’t something he makes a habit of either. Even with his brothers, Rex sticks to his own business unless someone else drags him into it.

But then the words drift over the scorched battlefield — “I won’t let Ahsoka die!” — and Rex has to wonder who the kriff had the gall to suggest otherwise. General Luminara Unduli, as it turns out. The only other person who should have as much at stake in getting to the commanders as Skywalker.

But Rex sees the Mirialan Jedi talk about mourning the commanders as if the debris is just a grave, as if they’re dead beneath her feet already. He doesn’t feel it when he bares his teeth. A silent snarl without a witness.

She was standing with her commander just hours ago. And now she’s offering eulogies like the galaxy could go on as normal. Like the war would ever really mean anything to Rex or General Skywalker without the kid. The procedural instinct in him sets off a slew of warning bells; that kind of defeatist talk has no place in war, before or after the battle.

Someone behind him calls his name, asking for assistance with the debris removal. He pauses for a second, staring at the backs of two generals that should never be so opposed on something as simple as this. Being under General Skywalker’s command is a small mercy sometimes. At least someone can fight for what they should be doing.

General Unduli’s shoulders are too relaxed for two missing children.

He’s this close to telling her as much. Probably for the best that we turns away. It’d be walking the line of insubordination, and his balance isn’t what it used to be.

Rex is grateful for the helmet, but not much else.

———

The General’s comm pings. The voice that filters through is faint, and though she’s far weaker than she ought to sound, it’s Ahsoka.

Speaking, breathing, living Ahsoka.

The pressure on his chest lets up at the sound. His ribs creak, his breathing becomes easier. Alive.

Rex is quick to offer the heavy-duty machinery. If she’s there then they should go get her. But the generals decide on the best move they’ve made all day — bypassing the lifters and opting to levitate the slabs of wreckage themselves.

It’s a marvel, watching two people float an entire wall of duracrete and steel with nothing but concentration. Rex still isn’t sure how it works. He doesn’t need to be.

Because after a handful of tense seconds, drawing the sweat from his brow and the throb in his temple, he sees it. A flash of familiar blue and white, covered in rusty Geonosian dust. A chain of beads glints in the sun; spindly limbs clamber out from under the rock.

Ahsoka’s smile is tired. It is blinding.

And suddenly Rex is grateful for something else, too.

———

He can’t hang around to greet her immediately. That’s always been a job for General Skywalker. Bringing each other back from the brink of death is a regular habit.

Not everyone is so lucky. Rex watches the stretchers dart past, knowing how slim a fraction will be saved. If in one piece, physically or otherwise. So many dead, so little ground gained. His next deployment will be soon. His shoulders ache.

“Hey, Rex.”

He turns at the voice. “Commander,” he greets. It sounds hollow, so he clears his throat. “Good to have you back.”

The kid beams. “Good to be back. Never thought I’d miss the weather up here.”

As Ahsoka glances up to the sky, she wrinkles her nose with distaste. A familiar expression. It cracks through his mind that she might never have done it again.

Again, procedure. Hypotheticals like that don’t help anyone but the Seppies.

A medic’s coming to look her over, he’ll be here in a while. There’s some time till then.

“Listen,” Rex starts, sounding so out of sorts that Ahsoka visibly straightens to attention. He winces.

“What’s wrong?”

Osik, Rex could laugh. What’s wrong, like he was the one inside the factory when it exploded. What’s wrong, like he was the one trapped under rubble for hours, running out of air. What’s wrong like she hadn’t nearly suffocated to death in a war she shouldn’t be anywhere near—

She’s older than him, he realises. Technically, if you go by standard years.

In my book, experience outranks everything.

She barely comes up to his shoulder.

Ahsoka blinks, then frowns. Her brow furrows into a crinkled, concerned splotch of white.

“Nothing,” Rex amends quickly, before realising he must sound like a fool. “It’s just—”

“Rex.”

Ahsoka’s giving him a look. The look, if he remembers Cody’s advice correctly. And now Rex is the one straightening, because even though her eyes are a little sunken and she might be swaying on her feet, that’s almost certainly one she learnt from General Kenobi.

He sighs. Then his arms drift upwards, and he swipes the helmet off.

It takes a few blinks for his eyes to adjust. This dust really gets everywhere.

The kid’s mouth has flattened into an awkward, patient line. But she’s not left yet.

The hand that wavers before him is awkward too. On instinct, it reaches out to hover over her head momentarily — she doesn’t like her montrals being touched — before landing with a gentle thud on her shoulder.

Adiik doesn’t so much as flinch, waiting for him to continue.

“It really is good to have you back,” Rex insists. “We thought you’d—” The word remains stuck on the back of his tongue. “Well. The war wouldn’t… be the same without you.”

He makes a face. What a shitty holocard that would be.

“Thanks, Rexster.” Her eyes crinkle. “Right back at you.”

When the medic eventually comes around, Rex takes it as his cue to leave.

As always, the commander doesn’t agree.

“Stay,” she blurts, one hand darting out to grab his elbow. “Please? Anakin’s still busy with…” She waves her other hadn’t around vaguely. “Jedi Master things.”

The words are blithe. Carefully constructed to be cheerful. Her fingers tighten around his elbow, digging in like hooks. She doesn’t blink as she waits for his answer.

“Sure thing, Commander.”

So he stays. Quiet settles over; the whole battlefield seems to comply, grating machinery tracks and whistling wind muffling to a soft hum in the background. The medic works in silence, offering a sharp nod in return to Rex’s own.

Until Ahsoka speaks up. “The war wouldn’t be the same without you. Some holocard that’d make, huh?”

Rex does a double take as Ahsoka grins, baring teeth. He wonders if she did that Jedi mind-reading… thing. Just for kicks.

Then again, probably not. She’s never needed it anyway.

———

#star wars #star wars fic #star wars: the clone wars #sw: tcw #ahsoka tano #captain rex #ct-7567 #rex star wars #gen fic #no ship #star wars: the clone wars fic #my writing #sw #teaofpeach #a crack; a chasm #sw: tcw s2ep6

[goldafterglow]

if it makes you feel any better - this friend asked me once if p*dro p*scal was in cars, and i obviously said 'no bitch wtf are you on' and she said. and i quote. 'oh my bad it's bc they're both dilfs. him and the hudson guy. got confused.'

LEE I LIKE DONT BELIEVE YOU

#YOU MADE THIS STORY UP??&;&:&2 #STOPPPPPPP #HAHAHHHAHAHA #iris answers #teaofpeach #babez

[hansoulo]

every mando child ever is just this vine

------

LEE PLEASE JHFJDJHFJHDFGDG toddlers b up in the covert like

#concussions all day every day #i cant 💀💀 #teaofpeach #submission #lari speaks

[jangofctts]

listen bitch i haven't read the throne filth yet the tab is sitting next to this one and GLARING AT ME i just needed you to know my dumbass had no idea it was going to be a sequel to 'being no one' alright that's all thank you for your time imma go read this bitch and promptly get checked in for an mri scan bc my brain gonna be F R I E D bbye now <3

eHEHEHE I LOVE YOU VERY MUCH PEACHY BABY

she wiLL come for ya fuckin THROAT and when I say sequel I mean it’s moSTLY JUST PORN KFHEKDJH

#YOU MAKE MY DAY AND NIGHT EACH TIME #ilYYY #teaofpeach #ask #keida answers

[forcesensitivebantha]

appropriating tusken culture w that url 🙄

im going to delete my blog but not before posting a three mile long white guilt essay complete with apa style citations 😭😭😭😭

#tristan answers your questions #teaofpeach #fake callout meme

[moskaisley]

not to sound like a complete fuckin heathen but maam 🅱️lease i am begging u what is this antichrist fic inspo i see swimming around on my dash

ckdsjl;afj ok so uh

long ago i wrote this lil blurb about javi and i’ve been working at it little by little since summer. it’s a mess in my drafts rn but uh ! ! it was just supposed to be a sexy lil one shot but now it’s morphed into this love story with javi and filipina!reader where he basically follows her to church and they end up going every sunday together and fall in love over the course of a year. it’s less about religion and more about two lonely people trying to be good. in the words of siken, ‘we are all just trying to be holy’

they still smash tho dont worry LOL

#unpacking my relationship w catholicism and being k*nky w it at the same time 🤡 #idk if it's gonna be multiple parts or i'm just gonna drop like 10k+ words and not look back #teaofpeach #answered #i am the antichrist to you

[mndalorians]

💐🌷🌹🌺 send this to ten other bloggers u think are wonderful! keep the game going!! 🌺🌹🌷💐

Lee!!! My fellow Toro-hater!! Thank you!!!

#ask #teaofpeach

[di-kut]

if it's been 6 months since they swapped, would din be a lil weaker than before? in terms of a fight? assuming that gotabor hasn't been absolutely shredding at her fitness routine in mando's body 😤

You are correct! They’ve been so busy and poor Gotabor has absolutely been avoiding Din’s body as much as possible lmao. So she’s definitely not been down in the hull getting her reps in lmao.

AND Din is really out of practice and he’s not used to his own body anymore. His idea of his reach/strength/weight are all adjusted to Gotabor’s body now. So even though tin can man is back in business he’s not at peak fitness.

The plus side? His soft lil tum is peak soft!

#he’s still gonna throw down tho #like a mother fucker #but he’s not gonna be quite so efficient as before #the strength? diminished #the rage? #at an all time high #and i am READY #ask #teaofpeach