WHISPERSOFTHEVEIL; an independent multi-muse blog. (30+, gmt+1)
useful links:
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muses
open starters
wanted plots
permanent starter calls
status
muses page: wip but mostly ok
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★
we're not kids anymore.
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@whispersoftheveil
WHISPERSOFTHEVEIL; an independent multi-muse blog. (30+, gmt+1)
useful links:
guidelines
muses
open starters
wanted plots
permanent starter calls
status
muses page: wip but mostly ok
"I know." those words almost make cobb recoil. there was a bitterness hidden deep beneath din's usually flat tone. it was barely there. like a piece of sand that had found its way into one of his boots. tiny, but bothersome. only din's problem was no grain of sand. he must have felt like he was missing another part of himself.
in the back of the bar where neither of them would be disturbed, cobb allowed din to take as much time as necessary. or as much time before the sheriff got restless. he couldn't just sit there in silence while something was obviously bothering his friend. but he also didn't want to come off as pushy, either. "of course not. I don't know if it's physically possible for you to mope." beneath the table cobb does something brave. he rests a hand upon the mandalorian's thigh, squeezing it gently. when he feels that din doesn't immediately pull away he allows his hand to linger. what better distraction can he offer than human touch, after all? it could be just what the mandalorian needs. "then we should create some stories. bib fortuna has bounties available. one of his men passed through here the other evening. told him to shove off. I'm not interested in working for some majordomo."
"I doubt you'd wanna work with him either. jabba was awful, but at least he was honest about how awful he was. bib wants to pretend that he's noble. but he let the power to straight to his head. and other places." his hand inches upward, settling upon the mandalorian's upper thigh.
physically possible? he assumed so, though he wasn't going to answer that. not that he thought cobb expected one, really. the marshal knew him well enough by now. perhaps that was part of the reason he'd found himself back in mos pelgo. the little desert town didn't offer much compared to the rest of the galaxy, but it was quiet. nobody bothered him here. nobody expected anything from him.
his head turned sharply at the first touch. the armor dulled most sensations, but not all of them. he couldn't feel the warmth of cobb's hand through layers of beskar, padding and flight suit, but he felt the weight of it. the pressure. he felt it shift slightly higher against his thigh, too.
he didn't pull away.
what was he supposed to do? tell the marshal to stop? he wasn't entirely sure he wanted him to.
"bib fortuna is dead," he rumbled after a brief pause. the correction came easier than acknowledging the hand resting on his leg. “boba fett took the palace.” whether that was an improvement remained to be seen. but that was also all he knew about it.
“and i didn't come here to write stories.” though he wouldn't have minded a job or two. something to keep his hands busy and his mind occupied. anything that would stop his thoughts from wandering back to grogu and everything that had happened since.
his gaze dropped to the drink in front of him before he picked it up.
"i came to drink."
the answer sounded weak even to his own ears. people didn't cross a planet just for a drink. he knew that. cobb probably knew it too. helmet lifting just enough, he took a long swallow before settling it back into place. "and i don't need a reason for that."
hi guys !! dinner has been had. spent the morning playing icarus with the bestie and tamed an alien doggy and evil horse-bird-cat. im so happy hehe. gotta do some group things, but din is loud, so mando love first.
@inmcrtalis / liked for din & poe :3
cold.
it seeped into everything, settled deep in his bones and lungs and somewhere beneath the beskar itself. there was no memory attached to it, no understanding of where he was or how he'd gotten there. only the sensation of being trapped inside it, suspended in a darkness so complete it might've lasted seconds or centuries.
sound returned first. distant voices. machinery. the sharp hiss of pressurized air venting somewhere nearby. then came awareness, sudden and violent. the world lurched beneath him, every muscle protesting at once. his chest seized. breathing felt wrong, as though he'd forgotten how to do it and his body was scrambling to remember. the first breath burned. the second shook. by the third, his hands were already moving, instinct taking over before conscious thought had a chance to catch up.
light stabbed through his visor—or perhaps around it. he couldn't tell. nothing wanted to focus. shapes bled together. shadows shifted without meaning. his balance abandoned him entirely, forcing one gauntleted hand against a nearby surface to keep himself upright. voices sharpened around him, fragments of conversation finally beginning to separate themselves from the noise.
easy.
hibernation sickness.
don't let him—
the words washed over him without sticking. strangers. unfamiliar voices. unimportant. something was wrong. the realization struck with enough force to shove everything else aside, cutting through the confusion and pain with startling clarity.
grogu.
his shoulder was empty.
panic flared hot and immediate. "grogu." the name emerged rough, little more than a rasp beneath the helmet. nobody answered. din shoved away from whatever had been supporting him and immediately regretted it. his legs folded beneath him. one knee struck the floor hard enough to jar the beskar, but he barely felt it. Hands reached for him at once, trying to steady him, trying to keep him down. din shrugged them off.
"grogu."
louder this time.
the room tilted. his vision swam. somebody was talking, telling him to sit back down, explaining something he couldn't bring himself to care about. grogu should've been with him. he remembered that much. remembered the familiar weight perched against his shoulder, small claws catching briefly on fabric and armor. the memory lingered frustratingly out of reach, buried beneath the pounding in his skull, but he knew the kid had been there.
and now he wasn't.
fear settled cold and heavy beneath his ribs.
then, somewhere beyond the blur of unfamiliar figures and harsh lights, came a small sound. soft. questioning. familiar.
din froze.
another followed a moment later, uncertain and distressed and relief hit hard enough to leave him unsteady. grogu. before anyone could stop him, din pushed forward toward the sound, ignoring the protests around him. nothing else mattered. not the pain. not the confusion. not the strangers surrounding him.
only the kid.
-gently places poe next to din and wiggles brows-
aherm i mean. hi. i've been thinking about space magic. poe's next on my list.
@insidemyblood / liked for din & han solo (ty for making it happen, pedro would be fangirling so hard about this lmao)
the little red LED of the tracking fob danced to a song unheard, but the steady beep led din exactly where he needed to be. he'd been on the hunt for a few days now, sleeping in short stretches whenever the ship was on autopilot and surviving mostly on caf and ration packs. the target had proven smarter than the usual criminals din brought in for the guild. every time he got remotely close, just short of actually finding the man, he disappeared again.
din knew he had to have a ship with how quickly he moved around the outer rim, which was not unusual, but frustrating nonetheless. it took another week to finally track him down, so his mood was less than ideal when the target put up more of a fight than expected. instead of hauling back a live bounty, din ended up bringing back a head, which meant fewer credits, and now he also had to find a mechanic at the docks to patch up his ship before he could leave this damn planet. his shoulders ached beneath the beskar and the last thing he needed was another problem.
he should've known better than to leave grogu with the ship while he went looking for someone, but clearly he still underestimated the little womp rat more than he should. he returned with a mechanic in tow only to find the ship empty, the ramp still lowered and the cockpit exactly as he'd left it. the little menace was nowhere in sight.
irritation flared first, sharp and immediate. concern followed a heartbeat later.
rumbling at the mechanic to wait, din took off, though he didn't have to search for long before he found grogu in the next docking bay, grubby little hands digging through the unknown contents of a bowl din wasn't entirely convinced qualified as food. "grogu! i told you to stay in the ship." only then did he notice the massive vessel behind him. a soft sigh rumbled in his chest. he did miss the razor crest.
I HAVE LOVED THE STARS TOO FONDLY TO BE FEARFUL OF THE NIGHT.
—– independent , selective , mutuals only , multi-muse rp blog . ft. muses from MARVEL , STAR WARS , and others , as well as a few OCs . trigger heavy and contains darker themes , ages eighteen and older interactions only . // penned and cherished by Jay
carrd. interest tracker .
finally went to hunt down some mando merch. biggest shoutout to the nice lady at the smyths store bc she had grabbed that big banner thing for herself (they just took things down bc they got toys story stuff) and when i asked for crumbs, she smuggled it out of the shop for me. 😭😭😭😭 black series modern mando sold out across the country, but i picked up baby mando anyway. and finally found the movie version of PHM but in english!!! 🥰
the issue i had last night has been resolved so i shall be trying to write today.
we be panic attacking tonight bc i did a dumb and then did a bigger dumb to try fix it and now brain worries that messed up my entire plans for the future. hopefully i’ll hear back and find out in the morning… be back then.. hopefully.
i've not done these, but ..... din starter call? i just wanna write my tin can man so ridiculously badly. specify if sw or non-sw. i got u, tho i suppose sw>non-sw rn. but also i just wanna write him ahhh.
me: im too old for single-muse blogs also me: imagine a prettily styled (not by me ahfskl) din blog
GET TO KNOW YOUR MUTUALS
Favorite Color: red + black
Last Song: i was gonna say how you remind me - nickelback bc i've been feeling nostalgic, buuuut apparentlyyyy it's mandalorian and grogu (boys noize remix) which is such a vibe
Currently Reading: the lost - simon beckett
Currently Watching: ummm well, aherm. the mandalorian (nobody saw that coming) and i started gladiator 2 again yday bc it's on netflix now so i can watch it in bed hehe
Currently Playing: icarus, league of legends, overwatch, marvel rivals, dayz are my go-to
Currently Craving: ...more mando + darksaber content, but i'll settle for the behemoth! trailer hopefully dropping this week.
Tagged by: @pec4dores (thank youuuuuu)
Tagging: @vicedmuses, @incubito, @insidemyblood, @boysfromtheburbs, @nastyfck, @neverhcme, @rhapsodc aaaand everyone else i missed who'd like to share! pls tag meee. <3
@pec4dores / for ronan as promised hehe
long nights and early mornings were standard in adrian's line of work, as were weeks or even months of seven-day weeks, but truth be told, he didn't mind. he'd chosen this path and embraced it fully, knowing this was what he'd wanted for as long as he could remember. putting in extra hours where needed never bothered him either, though he appreciated the occasional reprieve between projects.
this one, however, came with something he hadn't expected. most directors who approached him tended to have a very specific image in mind, one he knew by heart at this point and could slip into with practiced ease. still, he welcomed a change of pace every now and then. this time around, he was set to play a musician, which went against nearly everything he knew.
adrian had been born with a few talents, maybe, but music wasn't one of them. he couldn't sing, had never learned to play an instrument and had absolutely no natural rhythm when it came to dancing. safe to say, he hadn't expected to land this role. if anything, he'd assumed someone with actual musical experience would get it instead.
and yet, here he was.
sat on his couch with a man who had been a complete stranger only weeks ago, a guitar resting awkwardly in his lap and fingers that refused to bend the way they were apparently supposed to. somewhere in the next four months, he was expected to look convincing enough on screen that audiences would believe he'd spent years with the instrument in his hands. at the moment, that felt wildly optimistic.
he was determined to succeed, though. adrian always was. determination, unfortunately, didn't seem to make his fingers any more cooperative. he stumbled over the simplest exercises, winced when a string buzzed wrong beneath his touch, and shot the guitar a look as though it had personally betrayed him.
"i swear i'm trying," he said, glancing up from the instrument with a crooked, slightly sheepish smile. "my hands just don't want to listen. i think they're actively protesting this whole thing."
I wish we got more of Din Djarin, the DarkSaber user
@pec4dores / for santi as promised
when life handed you lemons....
thiago hated that saying. because when shit hit the fan, no positive attitude in the world was going to save him. in fact, he was pretty sure a positive attitude had never saved anyone, ever. it was a myth the unluckiest people told themselves to feel a little better about their circumstances. unfortunately for them, thiago was far too smart to buy into that particular brand of nonsense.
he knew no amount of lemonade was going to save his morning when he woke up surrounded by feet and wild chatter, his only apparent way out seeming to involve scaling a wall. he'd learned a great many tricks over the decades he'd spent on the streets, but flight was one he hadn't quite mastered yet.
approximately ten minutes and a brief but spirited display of cannibalistic tendencies (he had never had any qualms about using his teeth), thiago was running for the hills down the sidewalk of a busy street. blood trickled down his chin and along the side of his head, while what little he owned remained abandoned in the alley behind him. he remembered glancing over his shoulder, cursing under his breath because not only was one of the assholes ridiculously quick on his feet, but the usually crowded street had apparently decided to sleep in the one time he actually needed witnesses.
after that, things got a little fuzzy.
the next thing he knew, he was waking with a gasp, bright light stabbing at his eyes and the sharp scent of disinfectant burning at his nose. hospital.
shit.
ready to get up and get moving before anyone could stop him, thiago rolled onto his side with a low groan. one bandaged hand immediately shot to his head, fingertips brushing against more gauze wrapped around his temple.
double shit.
that was going to make escaping significantly more difficult.
still, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and pushed himself upright. the room tilted unpleasantly for a second, his stomach protesting the movement. one foot touched the floor.
then the doorknob turned.
great.