Imagine How You Might Feel If Your Wildest And Most Wonderful Fantasies Were Brought To Life. That’s

“Maybe I was unsettled. Maybe I was bitter - now you decide to work with me? When you’re actively trying to work against me? Faaaaaakeee.”

When you let yourself go free in your narrative it gets to be really, really fun.

this is the same work as the ‘I didn’t want to be a wanted fugitive’ by the way. It’s the same. I am Enjoying Myself

oh my god

mandalorian grogu would be the best fucking Beroya ever. 

“why do you say so?”

because

he’s already a hunter

oh my god imagine everyone looking at this. this small ass being and going “you’re the bounty hunter? really? i’m spending my money on you?” and then Grogu just comes back with the bounty in record time because he’s already just naturally a hunter. have you seen this mf’s ears? they’re so big wtf you think his prey can escape him?? no?? he can hear your heart beating and you better believe he’s coming after your crusty ass-

“Are you lost, child?”

A small clenched hand wiped at a dirty cheek. Sniffled, stifled cries filled the large and dark throne room.  “I can’t find my Mama,” the child hiccuped out. Her hands clutch at the filthy rag she wore. “I want my Mama.” The King, The God, The Ruler slowly rose off his throne. Dark robes silently swayed with his movement. His footsteps echoed, sending chills and tremors that sunk deep into her bones. The King stopped directly ahead of her. The Child swallowed, her airway painfully tightening around itself. The King knelt. Rich dark eyes met her gaze. To some, they might find the intensity unsettling - yet The Child only felt a rush of warmth flow through her veins. Her sniffling slowly stopped. Though her tears still streamed down her cheeks, The Child found her breathing deeper. The King tilted his head at her. “Where is she from?” he asked. The Child shifted her feet, about to answer before- “Pompeii, my lord,” an unseen voice said somewhere behind her. “One of the many.” The King bowed his head at that. Sorrowful. Disappointed. The child shifted her feet again. Her hands wrung themselves anxiously. “I’m sorry-” she started. The King abruptly lifted his head. Met her gaze again - cut off her apology. “It wasn’t your fault,” he reminded her. Then, he smiled - a sight that filled her with giddy, buzzy energy. The King straightened to his full height. One of his hands lowered themselves to her eye-level; an invitation. “Come,” he said. “Let’s go find your Mama.” The Child took the offered hand. For every step The King took, she had to take three. Nonetheless, she was happy to be by his side. “What’s your name, child?” The King asked her. “Agata,” she replied. Her head tilted back in an attempt to meet those eyes again. “My name’s Agata.” The King hummed then. He glanced down at her - a smile in his eyes. “I am Hades.”

GREEN FLAGS

GREEN FLAGS

GREEN FLAGS

GREEN FLAGS

you’re all valid and you’re allowed to cry and its okay, you’re okay

Yo if you’re a boy with mental illness, a boy with disabilities, a boy who is/was an abuse victim, a boy who has an ED, a boy with trauma, I need you to know that you are not a burden, that you don’t need to “harden up”, that you are very brave, and that you shouldn’t just have to “get over it”.

magic; colours

“Are you sure you want to do this?” The Apprentice turned her head. “What?” she teased. “Getting cold feet?” The Companion tensed. “No!” he was quick to say. “I’m just....worried!” “Uh huh.” The Apprentice chuckled softly beneath her breath. Her hand gripped around a branch, pulling herself up an incline. “What could you possibly be worried about?” She paused and waited, letting The Companion reach up to her level. “Well,” he huffed, “we’re walking through the woods in the middle of the night.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “That’s kinda sus.” “Almost midnight,” she corrected. The Apprentice made to shove at him, but decided against it. Standing at the edge of an decline might not be the best place to rough house. “It’s not like we’re walking in the dark anyway,” she countered - lifting up her flashlight. The Companion hefted his own almost instinctively. With the movement, the light flickered a few times - then died off completely. A look of disbelief flitted across his face. “Really?” He slapped the tool a few times. The Companion groaned, “I just changed the batteries on this thing.” The Apprentice couldn’t help but laugh. “Here,” she extended a hand forward, “let me.” The Companion’s eyes widened in the light of her flashlight. Without another word of protest, he passed over the malfunctioning tool. The Apprentice shoved her flashlight beneath her armpit - using her now two free hands to tilt the broken flashlight around. Her eyebrows furrowed and her eyes narrowed - her fingers tightening their grip around the tool. Purple tendrils streamed out of her fingers. They roamed freely for a while - before The Apprentice narrowed her eyes to slits. The tendrils were jerked back towards the tool, their tips sharpening - plunging and filling up the flashlight with a bright purple glow. As soon as the glow faded, The Apprentice let her shoulders relax. “Tadaa,” she said, grinning - her finger flicking the flashlight back on. Her Companion made a soft sound - a huff of amusement. “Thanks,” he said, taking back the now-fixed flashlight. He glanced up to her. “Purple?” “Electricity,” The Apprentice confirmed. Abruptly, she turned away. “We’re almost at the summit. Come on.” Behind her, The Companion huffed out a breath. “I thought yellow would be electricity.” “That’s a stereotype. Yellow is healing magic.” “Healing magic? Wouldn’t that be green?” The Apprentice paused and gave him a look. “When was the last time you ate green medicine?” The Companion lifted up a finger, then paused. “Fair point.” The Apprentice rolled her eyes - although snickered softly. “Yellow is healing magic because it represents the sun,” she explained. She stepped over a gnarled root. “Green is speed.” “Because green means go?” “Exactly.” The Companion snorted. His footsteps brushing against the undergrowth, he moved quicker to come up beside her. “Okay,” he said, “what about blue?” “Blue’s air.” “White?” “Cleanliness.” “Black.” “Evil,” The Apprentice whispered out, her tone dropped by a few octaves. The act broke at the sight of The Companion’s wide eyed gaze. “Black’s the dirt,” she chuckled. “Fertility and what not.” The Companion rolled his eyes and snorted. “Is there even a color for evil?” The Apprentice stopped then, thinking. “Good question,” she hummed. Slowly, she began to move forward. “I don’t think so,” she murmured. “Evil isn’t a magic - it’s a choice.” The Companion gave no response to that for a while. They made the rest of their journey in silence. Finally, they both came up to a rocky summit. The Companion grinned at her then. “Ready?” he asked, fishing out a device from his backpack. The Apprentice grinned and dropped her own pack. “Ready,” she confirmed, rolling up her sleeve. Her Companion held a small cube in his hand. One wrist flicked upwards to check at his watch - whilst the other held out the cube towards her. The Apprentice grabbed it between both hands - shuddering softly at the warmth it shot through her veins. After a few seconds, he nodded. Held out five fingers into the air. “Five.” The Apprentice braced herself. “Four.” The woods around them went silent. “Three.” The Companion’s grin grew wider. “Two.” Her own grin grew. “One.” With a short grunt of effort, The Apprentice shot multi-coloured tendrils into the cube. The Device shook slightly in her hands, before- In a glorious light show, it shot the tendrils up into the air. A silent explosion - their own personal firework show. More tendrils got shot upwards, more lights, more colours that lit up their faces. The Apprentice stepped back, brushing her shoulders against her Companion. “Happy New Year.” She smiled. The shoulder beside her nudged her gently. “Happy New Year.”

when ppl ask why i'm nice to the low-wage workers

oh my god OP

OP

You can’t just give me this opportunity and expect me to let it be 

oh my god

mind if I switch it up slightly? yeah? okay great anyway-

There’s a man that stands in the alleyway.

He stands with his blaster out. His grip is relaxed - experienced. His shoulders are tense and his stance ready - also experienced. 

Grogu, hidden in an alcove of the wall and staring down, should’ve expected this. This man wore Mandalorian armour. Whether or not he earned it or stole it, he would need the skills to even get a hand on the beskar.

(Other Mandalorians might not have the skill to get the Beskar)

And certainly not so much of it. The armour is silver and unpainted. Grogu has half a mind to try and shoot him in the leg guards just to see if those were beskar too.

But he’s not a fool. Mostly.

Grogu wears beskar too. He has had it reforged to fit him; the armour of his late father. He wears it with pride and guards it with ferocity, like how his father had done before him, and how every Mandalorian has done, had done, and will do.

He walks the way of Mandalore. Not many do.

Grogu’s job is to make sure this man does.

He whistles a long, low tune.

The man jolts subtly - surprised. He whistles back.

Grogu finds a tug of a smile on his face. It would be good to have another addition to the covert, to the people. Mandalorians were strong alone, but they were stronger together.

His helmet whirrs softly. A signal that it’s efforts of connecting to the man’s helmet were successful. Good; Grogu needs the privacy of the comm channel for this next bit.

“Su cuy’gar (Hello; You’re still alive),” Grogu says into the link. He snorts, amused as the man jolts again. “Relax, I’m just in your helmet.”

The man does not relax, but Grogu didn’t expect him too. The phrase ‘I’m in your helmet,’ is not meant to be calming.

“I didn’t...know there were other Mandalorians here,” the man replies.

Grogu frowns. His voice. His voice is familiar - it tugs at him, it hurts. Grogu blinks slowly; now taking in that armour slowly. With every second that passes, Grogu finds it harder to breathe.

His gaze finally falls onto the man’s pauldron, and his signet.

“You’re not from here...” he breathes.

The man tenses further. “No...I just landed on this planet-”

“You’re not from here,” Grogu interrupts him, drawling his voice out. His mind is whirling. He chances a glance into the Force and is nearly knocked over by the sheer intensity of wrong.

The man is not from here - and more importantly, he’s not supposed to be here.

“Take off your helmet.”

The words are out of his mouth before Grogu even registers he opened it. He winced in the dark shadows of the alcove. If he said it to any other Mandalorian, he would’ve gotten a blaster shot right in the beskar and would’ve deserved it.

Understandably, the man tenses. His grip on his blaster tightens. Grogu remembers the skill the man has-

Grogu remembers.

Grogu remembers this man.

The man with the mudhorn signet.

Grogu steps out of the alcove. The man instantly shifts his Visor to stare at him - and Grogu can see him physically recoil in shock.

Wordless and swift - then Grogu stands on the floor of the alleyway. The man is taller than him (everyone is taller than him) but Grogu’s own Visor meets the man’s unflinchingly.

That’s a lie. Grogu is shaking. His breaths sound too loud and instinct calls for him to calm down.

The man is silent as he stares down at him. Grogu can see his blaster shake.

Grogu expels a sharp breath of air. He reaches up to his own head and takes off his helmet in one clean swoop.

His ears twitch - uneasy and unused to being out in the open like this after so long. His being screams at him to put it back on, but he grips the side of his helmet and forces it to be quiet.

The man. The man doesn’t speak. Grogu doesn’t even know if he breathes.

“...Grogu?”

Grogu’s helmet falls from his hands as Buir (father) takes off his own.

“Buir-”

Grogu’s father - Din Djarin - a man who died when he was a child, rushes forward to catch his son as Grogu falls to his knees.

Din: Who are you and where did you get that pendant?

Grogu(Teen): *takes his hood down* My name is Grogu and I am from the future.

Time travel AU

I like how it’s- “Sane Person” and “P.E.A.R” because that’s exactly what it is

friendly reminders with stock photos

Daily reminder to go read Cucumber Quest