You Have Been Warned - Tumblr Posts

guess who started playing baldurs gate 3

Oh yeah, so @theartsycatlover made the next three things I’m going to post… they’re all Trash Infinity War memes that are amazing… so here.

Just so you all know I will be participating in Febuwhump! I'll mostly post Bad Batch content but some others will be thrown in there (maybe). I'll try to post every day!

new modern Caphrey/Rickbond drawing (NSFW):

full illustration ► Head (off) BONɆD (modern Caphrey) version

full illustration ► Head (off) Rickbond version

Every once in a while on tumblr i just go on a rampage and reboog everything i see with the letter e then go inactive for another month. let them get comfortable before the flood.

THIS i sometimes feel bad though think what if they were a real person just send a PM or something so I don't block you on impulse and all "OF" and horny messages will be blocked deleted and sent to horny jail.

new to tumblr?

found yourself getting blocked for seemingly no reason?

does your profile look like this:

you're getting blocked because people think you're a bot

do yourself a favour and change your profile images to literally anything except the defaults. give your blog a name, give yourself a bio even if it simply says "new, figuring this out" or something. please, just do ANYTHING that shows everyone you're a human. then you wont get blocked anymore and you'll have a lot more fun here!

oh and while we're here, another hot tip: reblog things. likes do nothing here, there's no algorithm

okay happy tumblring tumblrinos, tumblrinas and tumblrinehs!

🪐 — so i haven’t written oc’s on tumblr in like almost a decade  ( & no i’m not exaggerating )  but i added four that i’ve been developing lately to my roster here,  so if you’d like to specifically plot with one of my oc’s, consider this a lil  PLOTTING CALL specifically my original characters.   just  like this,  &  i’ll reach out to you !

Tigaane - Touches

Pairing: Paz Vizsla x Reader

Summary: Space cuddles in the dark. Face reveal (but not really.) ((because it is dark.))

Rating: General Audiences

Additional Tags: Earthling!Reader, Fluff, Non-Sexual Intimacy, self-indulgent semi self-insert, there's hugs and scritches and they're very comfortable with each other, part of the Mando'a for Beginners!verse

Wordcount: 1.6k

Cross-posted to AO3 (link in the comments).

(Chapter 2: on tumblr and also on AO3)

---

You sit on your side of the sleeping compartment of the little spaceship Paz had… "acquired" a while ago. The room holds nothing more than a double sized cot where both of you fit in comfortably, and some shelves on the wall, and after an initial hesistance you found that co-sleeping and cuddling while zipping through hyperspace was something you both were looking forward to.

You have your headlight on, a hand carved crochet hook in your hand, and you just fasten off another square that you want to attach to a blanket-to-be - as the door opens and the door frame fills with the equally wide frame of your companion.

"Course all set," he grumbles. "If all goes well, we'll have a quiet eight hour trip ahead."

"And if not?"

"Oh you know. The usual. Suffocating and freezing to death in the vast and empty void of space."

You raise an eyebrow. "You think you're funny, Paz Vizsla, but I'll be laughing the loudest if this really happens one day."

He chuckles in response. "Won't hear it, Laar'ika," - he stretches with a groan and several joints pop into place - "Space is not only dead cold and dead empty. It is also dead silent."

You roll your eyes and smirk. "You're an insufferable big blue tin can man sitting in a tiny rusty tin can sham, you know that."

"I do!" he exclaims cheerfully. "And the only thing to make it sufferable is that you're on board, too."

You huff and laugh and switch off your light as he stretches again and starts taking off his beskar'gam. Now the only thing you see is the dim glow of the HUD in his buy'ce, and not for the first time you wonder how he sees you with it - and how he looks without it.

He follows his routine - taking off a piece of his armour, wiping it with a damp cloth, inside and out, and then placing it gently under the bed. You sit in the dark and listen, and by now you can recognize the parts by sound. Or maybe it's the never changing order in which he takes them off. It's probably both.

First thing to leave is the utility belt.

Then left boot, and right boot.

Left shin guard, right shin guard.

Left thigh guard, right thigh guard.

Left side, right side. Like a clockwork.

It's mesmerizing.

Eventually the last metal clonks gently as he puts it on the ground, flak vest and flight suit also rustle into their nightly place on two hangers for some air running through them during resting time.

You chew on the inside of your mouth, unable to keep the curiosity at bay but also unsure of how to approach the matter.

"Paz?"

"Hm?"

"Do you think…-"

"Sometimes, yeah." He chuckles.

"No di'kut, I wanna ask you something."

"Ask then." He sits down beside you against the wall, reaches up, and takes a soda can from the shelf, opening it with a cold crack.

"But you can always say no," you insist.

He takes a long swig, swallows and "ahhh"s the content sound of quenched thirst.

"You know I love to say no."

"I know.. but maybe… eek!" A surprised squeak escapes you as something cold taps your knee twice. You reach to take the offered can and a sip from it. It gives you the courage you needed, and you try again.

"Can.. Could I…Would you…? like… Ugh! Look! I know we're kinda working with a loophole here already, sitting in pitchblack and all, and I don't know if there's any more wiggle room. But if there is, can I… can.. See, I just… really wanna touch your face? Kinda like seeing it with my hand?"

He doesn't answer immediately, and you sit in the dark without the slightest indicator of what he's thinking, and it's a little torture, if you're being honest. And just as you're about to accept his neverending scorn that this bold question inevitably will result in, he clears his throat, takes the can from your hand and empties it in one go. Apparently he needs the courage, too.

"You wanna see my face?" he rumbles tentatively

"Well, technically we're not even talking about "seeing". Just… feeling it."

"Right now?"

"If.. if that's okay? or, you know, never… whenever you like. Or not! it's your ch-"

- "Okay."

Truth be told, he had longed for your touch ever since the Cave Incident, just never managed to work up the courage to ask. And what would he have said anyway? "Excuse me friend from another galaxy, please touch here." No. Nononono. Better to marinate in his own yearning. That is much better, right?

His thoughts get interrupted by your movement as you shift around to look at him (or at least in his general direction).

"Are you sure? I don't want you to get into trouble just because of a silly aruetii and her curiosity."

He also shifts around to sit opposite of you and gently takes your hands, completely enclosing them with his.

"You're not silly, Laar'ika, far from it. And you've proven more than once that there's a mando heart beating in that chest of yours."

He is so soft and earnest that it leaves you speech- and breathless so you just blink stupidly into the darkness.

He lifts your hands up to his lips and presses a very gentle kiss on them. A hot and cold shiver runs down your spine and all you can do is hope that your breathing starts up soon again or you will faint and this moment will end rather abruptly.

With a soft "Ke'haa'tayli" he places your hands on his cheeks.

Your mind spins and you start to see black dots in the darkness and finally you remember to breathe.

You exhale and breathe in and the fresh air into your brain breaks your stupor so you can scoot closer, and end up sitting cross-legged between his opened legs.

You know these scruffy cheeks, you've cupped them before, but never ventured further. Now you relish in running your hands over the scruff of a chiseled chin and jawline and his cheeks that are soft and round, and as you slowly feel your way up you notice the wrinkles and laugh lines around the eyes. His eyes are shut but the lashes flutter involuntarily is you gently travel over the eyelids and eyebrows.

He scoots closer, leans into your touch, tension leaving him with a little sigh.

You go further up, fanning your finger across his forehead. There's more wrinkles there but they soften under your touch. Once more your fingers glide across the forehead, brushing into his hairline. There's a cowlick there, a few stubborn strands standing up despite the constant pressure of his buy'ce and the flight suit's hood.

You scritch, and he can't help a groan, and then you travel back down again to the ears to trace them. Then back over the cheeks to his nose, and you find that it is somewhat crooked, like it was broken a few times. A scar spreads horizontally over the bridge. You massage it with gentle circles before stroking over the eyebrows again a few times.

Paz sighs again, and relaxes even more into your discovering touches. Brain empty, there's only you, enveloped by velvet darkness and the spaceship's hum.

His hands find purchase at your sides, digging into your supple hips as if he wanted to make sure you don't suddenly float away and disappear. As if he anchored himself to stop his spinning head.

At last he can muster a croaked whisper.

"What do you see?"

You smile and scoot forward and gently bonk your forehead to his. "A handsome face with a history."

He laughs. "I'd debate the handsome, but…"

"Oh that's entirely /not/ up for debate, mister!"

"Not?"

"Mh-mh. Don't talk yourself down. That's what you told me. And this includes you, too."

There's not much room left between you but it's still too much, so he wraps you up into his arms, pulls you closer and you detangle your legs and wrap them around him.

He rests his head on your shoulder and you lean yours against his and revel in his warmth and his faint smell of gun oil, blaster residue and lanolin (from the woolly flightsuit), tied together by the soap made by the covert's own soap works into what has become your favourite smell of comfort.

You hear his heartbeat, his calm breathing. The hum of the hyperdrive reminds you of the deadly cold outside, but right now you couldn't care less because if you do crash somehow this very instant, you'd die happy, content and calm.

You start running your fingers through his hair, gently scritching the scalp with your fingernails. Paz can't help a groan escape, and you are not sure if that one was a content or a pained one, so you stop.

"You okay?" you whisper.

Another groan is the answer, but he nods into your shoulder, so you continue your ministrations of slow, languid scritchy circles across his head.

After a while you notice he's completely slack, snoring into your shoulder. You chuckle to yourself, carding through his tousled hair with a small, affectionate smile.

You would have continued like that for a little longer, but he's getting too heavy, just hanging on your shoulder like that, so you try to lower him down as carefully as you can. You search for and pull up his blanket and tuck him in. Then you get your own blanket and place yourself behind him. For now, you're the big spoon, and you use it to your advantage to press a little kiss to the back of his head.

"Jate ca, ner ori'kebiin di'kut," you whisper. "Sleep well."

Soon you drift off into sleep yourself undisturbed, warm, and content.

---

Translations and pronunciations (if available) from www.mandoa.org, and The Total Guide to Mandalorian Language by Tal'jair Rusk:

Tigaane - made up from: tigaanur -- [tee-gah-NOOR] - to touch. The "-e" is the plural suffix.

Laar'ika from laar -- [lar] -- song. "-ika" is the diminutive suffix, making this "Little Song"

beskar'gam -- [BES-kahr-GAM] -- armour

buy'ce -- [BOO-chay, BOO-shay] -- helmet

di'kut -- [DEE-koot] -- idiot, useless individual, waste of space (lit. someone who forgets to put their pants on). But, like, it's affectionate here, okay? xD

aruetii -- [ah-roo-AY-tee] -- traitor, foreigner, outsider. obviously used here in the sense of "foreigner, outsider".

Ke'haa'tayli from: haa'taylir -- [har-tie-LEER] -- see, look. Prefix "ke-" turns a statement into a command.

"Jate ca, ner ori'kebiin di'kut": Good night, my big blue idiot from: jate -- [JAH-tay] -- good ca -- [kah] -- night ner -- [nair] -- my, mine ori' -- [OH-ree] -- big, very (used as a prefix) kebiin -- [keh-BEEN] -- blue

[Also, for the record: All Mandos smell a little bit like sheep because the flightsuits are made of Special Space Wool that saves them from smelling like hell after spending basically their entire time enclosed in a tin can.]

Daily reminder to, if you have trypophobia, don't look up past bananas or melons.

Me: oh it’s almost September 3rd I wonder what I should do for it. I could write a oneshot about people like Ricky and Jason remembering the anniversary or do a piece of art of WN68 or draw Mooney or…

The fucking deranged ass tumblr goblin in my brain: Marie NSFW. Covered in blood but in a Deadpool and Wolverine Honda Odyssey scene kind of way.

Me: wh… what?

The goblin: you heard me