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unholyhelbig · 1 year ago

Note

the oversight part 5? i love that series!

Title: The Oversight [Part 5/7]

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff

Wordcount: 7589

Warnings: Blood, guns, general violence, empty threats, angst, and horrible grammar.

[A/n: Listen, I straight up just finished watching 'The Iron Claw' and if you value your ability to hold it together, I suggest not seeing it. But also... go see it because it's phenomenal. Oh, and Happy Holidays!, like with most things, I regret my direction on this.]

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Softly, you denied the small wooden bowl that was passed person to person, filled with numbers scribbled haplessly on strips of paper. There was a pit of guilt in your stomach for not bringing a white elephant gift- but as the honorary plus one of Darcy Lewis you succumbed to your fate. She’d drawn a middle grade number and sidled up next to you with her third vodka tonic.

You took a swallow of your own cranberry flavored drink, something that masked the sharp taste of alcohol. You were feeling fuzzy, but in the light way that would assure you’d get through the rest of party and the competitive game of gift swapping.

“Thanks for doing this,” Darcy said to you, nudging your shoulder “it was a little too fancy for my liking.”

She had stressed that she needed your presence to get through all the small talk about science. Darcy was an expert engineer but she could only go so far when it came to awkward co-workers murmuring amongst the twinkling Christmas lights and pre-paid meals. She got along well with most, but you could sense her anxiety well.

“Of course, you know I’d never turn down smoked salmon.”

Truthfully, it sounded a lot better than what your own work was planning. It took some quiet background checks and calling babysitting references, but you eventually conceded to a teenage girl that was certified in CPR and didn’t charge interest.

Your own holiday celebration at the Diner had been lackluster and consisted of much more alcohol. This was quiet and subdued, and a welcome break from the usual chaos that surrounded your life. You were more than happy to watch people tear paper from candles and blankets and ornaments.

“How much money do you want to put on Jimmy bringing some sort of magic kit?”

You hadn’t noticed the girl that hugged the side of the bar, waving down the bartender wordlessly. She was drinking something sweet and garnished with orange. She had a beautiful smile and the clearest eyes you had ever seen. Darcy smiled at her with familiarity and it eased you.

“I don’t bet on things I’m going to lose.” Darcy said with finality. “Y/n, this is Monica Rambeau.”

“It’s nice to meet you,”

Her grip was firm, and you squeezed her hand back with the same amount of pressure. Her smile widened at that before the bartender returned with a fresh drink garnished with another twirled orange peel. The two of you separated.

“So, Monica, what do you do?”

Something in science, the answer was obvious if she was at this holiday party. But she humored you all the same, turning her back to the counter and leaning close to you. There was pride in her answer, and it bloomed in her chest.

“I’m a mechanical engineer, specializing in astrophysics and astrobiology.”

“Don’t’ sell yourself short.” Darcy interjected with a watery laugh “She’s the head of our S.W.O.R.D division.”

Darcy had spoken about this before and the name rang familiar. Her company was looking at alternative fuel sources that could supply space exploration. All the while, they focused on vertical growing and bettering the community. From what you understood, this was a big deal. She was a big deal.

“Wow, that’s very impressive Ms. Rambeau”

Your voice was filled with genuine awe, but your conversation was cut short when the number sixteen was called out. Monica sheepishly pulled herself away from the bar and held her strip of paper up before approaching the table filled with wrapped gifts. She went for a medium-sized one adorned in reindeer.

“Oh wow!” She forced a smile, voice sweet like honey “A magic kit!”

The air in your room was stale and fought you as you pulled it into your lungs. You’d, at some point, kicked off your comforter and were splayed out on your sheets in nothing but a pair of boxer shorts and an oversized shirt. Sweat hat soaked through both and the fabric clung to your skin.

On a blind instinct you grabbed at the gun under your nightstand, fastened by nothing more than duct tape. You could feel your heart in your throat and struggled to swallow it down again. You weren’t sure when this became second nature for you, something within the last two months of accompanying Natasha to the gun range for hours a time.

All the same, you held the tip of the weapon to the ground and rounded the corner of your bedroom into the dark hallway. You were unsettled from the dream you’d just had. The memory. Your subconscious had finally connected the woman who stood at Carol’s side. Her familiarity.

Monica Rambeau.

It was true, there was a stark coldness to her when you’d met at a Christmas party just the year before. It was only in passing and there were moments, like at the fair, when Darcy would mention her co-worker.

This changed things. Anxiety spiked haplessly, even as you diligently searched and cleared each room the way you had been taught. Keep your gun down, keep your eyes on the darkest corners of the room, ready to fire your weapon at any point. Especially if it was aimed at Natasha.

There was the slight movement of a shadow to your left and you quickly raised the gun, aiming it directly at the disturbance. Veronica stood on a chair in the kitchen, struggling to fill a glass with warm water, the only temperature that the faucet would allow.

You let out a quiet, mortified sigh before tucking the weapon into the waistband of your shorts. Your daughter blinked with wide eyes and that same guilty feeling flooded you at once, overtaking the anxiety.

“Baby,” You breathed, closing the distance between you and flicking on the overhead lights. You both flinched at their harshness but eventually blinked the shock away. “What are you doing up?”

You didn’t expect an answer, nor did you get one. Instead, you scooped her up under her arms and set her gently on the linoleum. There was water in the fridge, but she always had issues pouring it from the large jug. Ronnie was stubborn and shot you a frown at your intrusion.

“Don’t give me that look, kid.”

Her expression eased and you dumped the water down the drain before refilling the glass with something colder and more refreshing. Ronnie gulped it down eagerly, soaking the collar of her shirt with the liquid. She let out an appeased noise and wiped the rest of the water away from her mouth. She stood on her tip-toes and placed the glass in the sink.

“Couldn’t sleep, huh? Me either.”

You tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She blinked tiredly at you, your heart melting at the sight. It was easy to remember the words Natasha had trusted you with on the Ferris Wheel. Veronica would talk when she wanted to, but you had become quite good at reading her expressions and movements. Within the last month, you had stopped the long drives and the specialists. It eased you both.

“How about a sleepover?”

The exhaustion turned into joy and then combined within her look. You couldn’t help but chuckle as you scooped her up. She was getting too big for this, but you didn’t much care. You’d gotten stronger in the last few months and even if you hadn’t, you’d do the same.

With a show of dramatics you tossed her onto the bed and replaced the duvet that you’d flung off. Carefully, as Ronnie’s stare averted, you placed the gun in the drawer next to your bed. The last thing you did was prop the window open, letting out the flat air and letting in the sound of the city.

Ronnie was pulled flush against your chest in a matter of moments, though you had suddenly lost all exhaustion. You listened to the sirens, to the calls of people just ending their nights. If you listened hard enough, you could hear the horns of the boats that settled into the harbor.

“I love you so much.” You whispered into the small of her neck, “One day I’m going to get us out of here.”

Veronica didn’t respond, but the squeeze her little hand gave yours was all the reassurance that you needed.

Clint swallowed down steaming black coffee without blowing on it to cool it down. The nutty scent filled the cab of the car and warmed your nerves. He drank like your daughter did, but with the purpose of waking himself up before the sun. You never did get back to sleep and were wired enough to refuse the cup he offered you this morning.

He’d knocked on your door as the orange sun moved over the horizon. You were to accompany him to the docks to check on business. This somehow seemed less intimidating than the dinner you’d attended with Natasha.

“It’ll be easy. We have a chokehold on the harbor, we just have to check with a few of the vendors to collect their dock rent and call it a day. Everything else is done under the table. People aren’t too happy because at the end of the day, we’re the ones that take money from them. But it’s a necessary evil.”

You nodded and watched as the city went by. It was peaceful, quiet. There had been a single foster home that you stayed in that had a view of the entire skyline. You were too far away to see the bustling people and the everyday chaos that accompanied it.

There were, of course, moments of calm when you would work the early morning shift at the diner. But that would always shatter by the time you made the two minute walk from your apartment to the back door that was choked with the scent of garbage and cheap cigarettes.

“We have some invitations to hand out too. In the glovebox.”

You furrowed your brow and popped it open. His weapon (or his second, or third) sat upon a stack of manilla cards with elegant writing on them that had to be done by hand. You inspected them but didn’t’ dare separate the paper.

“What are these for?”

“Nat throws a party for her benefactors every single year. It’s real fancy, a suit and tie thing. Her renters are invited too and if they have the balls to show up, they always have a good time. She makes sure of it.”

“We’re expected to attend?”

He nodded, “It’s a requirement, really. As Natasha’s right hand. You go where she goes and once your probationary period is over, you’ll be on her like glue. Though, I don’t think that’ll be much of a problem.”

You frowned at his statement, his insinuation. Sure, you had gotten close to Natasha, had even grown to like her. She had a way of getting under your skin until it felt like she lived in it. Otherwise, you would have cut your losses long ago and let her slit your throat the first moment she met you.

There was a feeling of devotion that you felt the need to uphold. She had spared your life, after all. You’d spent the last two and a half months with her guiding you, teaching you how to obey her every word. Without fault, you would. Clint knew it, Kate and Yelena knew it. You knew it.

Instead of admitting it, you frowned and slumped further in your seat, struggling to ignore Clint’s own shit-eating expression. By the time he pulled to a stop, it had started to drizzle enough for him to flick his wipers on. The sound of them scraping against the window filled the silence.

You took careful attention to stay quiet and observe. Your gun was strapped carefully to your side and the invitations rested in your side pocket. You didn’t dare get them wet and let the ink run in a soupy mess. It had been years since you’d been out here and part of you was unsteady on the aged and slick wood.

“Sam is a cool guy. His family has hold on a good portion of the harbor. He likes to joke, so don’t pay him any mind.” Clint jabbed you with his elbow. “And loosen up a little bit, would you?”

You glowered at him and rubbed the stiff spot on your ribs but felt your shoulders lower a bit. There was a lot of weight behind this, that had been made clear to you the second you were inducted into this system.

Instead of heading directly down the long stretches of worn dock, Clint took a turn just before the asphalt ended. A small structure that looked less weathered than the rest of your surroundings rested at the lots end. The windows were thick enough to withstand the watery winds.

Clint stilled his large hand shooting out across your chest. It took you a few seconds to clock the shattered glass on the front door. Small smears of crimson pocked the shards that remained. Much like the evening before, you drew your gun on instinct, and Clint did the same.

He didn’t take care to hide your presence. Instead, he took the brunt of his large boot and cracked through the doorframe with the force of one kick. Wood splintered, raining down on linoleum and a desk that was easily from the 70’s.

You could smell the blood before you saw it, nearly sliding on the flooring. You caught yourself before that happened, heart pounding in your ears. “Fuck!”

“Jesus Christ,” Clint mirrored your sentiments.

Whoever had been here was long gone, but they’d left quite the mess. They’d torn through the filing cabinets, leaving legal papers and folders scattered against the desk and the expanse of cabin space.

You tracked the source of the pooling blood with little difficulty. A man- one that you had rightly never seen before- was laying on his back, facing the ceiling. From edge to edge of his throat was a long cut leaking an ugly red color. His stare was frosty, soaked into his sweatshirt.

It was like a car crash, something that you struggled to avert your eyes from until Clint physically grasped your chin and turned your attention to him. “Hey, you alright?”

“Yeah, yes. Good.” You answered cooly, swallowing whatever dryness was in your throat. “Who would do something like this?”

“Carol… one of her lackeys. This is an eye for an eye thing.”

Even if it was an act of revenge, this was extensive. It sent a clear message even if you didn’t’ exactly know all the specifics of the feud. Of course, you’d seen Yelena at work and even that was mild compared to the brutality of this.

The thought of Monica, if it even had been her, completing a task as unfeeling as this filled your veins with ice. You felt your nails dig into your palms, soft and stinging. There was a surge of anger, and sadness that mixed into resolution. Natasha was right to despise the Danver’s family. Any family that treated the world with this much cruelty.

Natasha was in the gym on the second floor. Large windows overlooked the backyard, and a prolonged view of the harbor. There were blue mats adorning the floor, and a few wracks meant for weightlifting.

You had never seen this part of the house before. Usually the weather permitted sparring outside, but the late summer rain had made that impossible. Sheets of water obscured your usual view, though, it wasn’t exactly trained on the windows.

Natasha had her back facing you, her breathing timed evenly with each punch she threw at an 80-pound bag filled with sand. She wore tight-fitting shorts and a sports bra that left little to the imagination. Not that you had imagined her in that situation before.

Her muscles tightened and relaxed with each movement. They were scarred in a deep orchid pink, long ago healed. At one point, she was lashed. You recognized the damage done by a leather belt and shivered at the memory of it.

Natasha was fit, she was coated in a layer of sweat that dripped across her strength. You had to be clear minded for this and the state of her wasn’t making it easy on you. Her knuckles were wrapped, and she would grunt with each thrust of her fist. For just a moment, you wished you were under her mercy instead of the punching bag.

That broke when she panted against the bag, stopping its swinging with a firm grasp on either side. “Are you just going to stand there and watch?”

Natasha had focused her green eyes on you through the reflection of the window. Of course, you hadn’t intended to gawk as long as you had. But you were leaning against the doorframe of the gym, practically drooling. You had forgotten yourself and you wouldn’t’ put it past Natasha to notice.

She turned to you, a wolfish smile on her face. “Take your jacket off. Holster too.”

You struggled to ignore the haughty expression on her face when you did exactly what she said without question, almost too eagerly, depositing them on the edge of the mat. You pushed your shoes off too, knowing not to track mud on any of Natasha’s carpets.

Her eyebrow lifted at the action. She’d moved closer during your actions, and you’d nearly run into her before noticing. Her presence was intoxicating. All-consuming.

“You’re here to tell me something,” She proclaimed “you’ve got that adorable look on your face. It’s good to know someone in this house still fears me.”

She was joking and it tugged at your heart to send that mood down to the ground before lighting it on fire. You’d expected her to be in poorer spirits after Clint had called her and let her know what had happened at the harbor. Instead, she responded in her same calculated coolness that she regarded you with now.

There was nothing about her demeanor that eased you, and suddenly, it felt like you were being scolded for a decision you had made. Even more so when she grasped your chin and forced you to look at her.

“That woman with Carol from the other night. I know her. Briefly.”

“Briefly?”

“As in, I met her at a Christmas party a few years back and… left with her.”

Natasha’s grip tightened against your chin, her thumb digging into your jaw. There was too much alcohol flowing that night and after making stinted conversation about how to disconnect two metal rings smoothly, the two of you went back to her apartment.

Before the sun came up, you left. There was shame in it, and the walk back to your own apartment punctuated with Darcy’s scolding was enough to make you forget the encounter altogether. It was one night- a fun night, but singular all the same.

Natasha let out a small noise of disapproval that sunk straight to your core. “Is that so?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Does she remember you?”

“It… didn’t seem like it.”

Her eyes narrowed, nose a short distance from your own. You could feel the hotness of her breath against your throat. How you had disappointed her. That much was clear from the lack of tenderness in her grasp. She eventually released you, trailing her fingers down the expanse of your neck.

She played with the small charm of your necklace, nothing more than a dainty gold chain with the tiniest whisper of a diamond in the center. Your skin prickled at the sensation, breath audibly catching as she worked her fingers over the length of chain.

“Well, I suppose this could be a problem. Especially with Carols violent behavior lately.”

Natasha sighed dramatically, and within an instant her nimble hand had tightened around your throat. She walked you the three steps backwards to the nearest wall. The small of your back landed with a heady thud and you used the last of your available breath to grunt out in protest.

Of course, you had seen her angry before, but it was never directed at you. Not like this. She wasn’t squeezing tight enough to injure you, not really. But the shock of the movement had made you think she would end you all the same.

“You should have come to me right away, pet.” Her grasp tightened; words growled. “And here I thought you were such a good, obedient, girl.”

Her words filled you with an immense shame for letting her down. Over the past few months, it had become impossible to be anything but perfect for Natasha Romanoff. The fact that you hadn’t connected the dots sooner was disillusioning.

The grip against your throat loosened ever so slightly as she leaned closer, her lips nearly ghosting your own. You could barely taste her, a strangled whimper escaping you. She pressed her body close. It was warm and overwhelming.

“I expect you to handle this on your own if it becomes a problem, darling.”

Before you could close the distance, Natasha pulled away from you entirely. It left you panting against the wall, wanting for something more. She knew exactly what she was doing. You craved her more than anything, and she had brought you so close to something you both wanted before denying it altogether.

Natasha sauntered, actually sauntered, across the gym and grabbed a towel from a nearby bench. She regarded you with flushed cheeks, her eyebrow raised as if nothing had just happened and you supposed that nothing did.

“Clint has told you about the party?” It took a few seconds before you found your voice, after her gentle urgings “Use your words, sweetheart.”

“Yes ma’am. He did.”

She reached for a water bottle, exchanging it’s spot on the bench for the towel. She takes three hungry swallows, and you watched the way her throat moved in response to the water. Each of her movements seemed deliberate, nearly calculated to get a reaction out of you.

“Perfect. Don’t worry that pretty little head of yours about what to wear. I’ll lay a dress out in your room.”

“My room?” Your words were squeaked.

There was a short hum in response as she gulped down another helping of water before setting it down entirely. That anger had ebbed away from her almost entirely. The fire that had been within her eyes excited you, and despite yourself, so did her demands.

“You’re so skittish. Come here. We need to work on your lead hook.”

Natasha didn’t offer to wrap your knuckles, nor did you ask. Instead, you leaned into the bag, letting the course material cut into your knuckles with a welcoming sting.

There was great thought put into any Romanoff party that was thrown. Lights were wrapped around the banister, and caterers walked through the teems of people with unwavering silver trays of finger food that cost more than your old salary for a number of months.

Back storm doors were opened to the pool, lit up and buzzing with an equal amount of people. Natasha had hired a piano player who haplessly pressed down on keys and drew a small crowd with each song that would crescendo into the dining room.

The overlapping theme was a dark forest green that reminded you much of the paint color slathered on Natasha’s bedroom walls. Something you hadn’t seen in months, but remembered so fondly. It was clear that she wanted to present a united force, something strong and unwavering in their power.

Clint was dawned with a finely pressed suit and a deep green tie that matched the shade of Kate’s dress to the very hue. She wore something silk and modest, reaching down to her heeled feet but leaving her muscular arms entirely bare.

Yelena stunned in a dress of her own, a crushed sage velvet that had a dipping neckline and sleeves that met at her wrist. By the confidence of her stride, you had no trouble believing she had chosen the outfit with the thought of how many weapons she could conceal. Her devilish smile only confirmed your thoughts.

As of you, Natasha had picked out something a little more revealing. Much like the maroon number she wore to dinner the other night, the dress she chose for you hugged every inch of your body. Its fern color complimented your complexion, bringing out the redness of your cheeks.

A slit moved from the base of your dress to the middle of your thigh. A halter neckline clung to your breasts, nearly pushing them up and out. It had been years, high school prom, since you’d worn something even close to this. You felt your shoulders flush red when you descended the stairs and struggled to blend in.

Natasha was sidled up by the mantel in deep conversation with someone who was a stranger to you. Most of the people here were. Though, their hands gave way to their high-ranking positions in the city. Few had callouses or oil stains.

She was in a three-piece suit that was color matched to your own outfit down to the shade. There were gold accents on her jewelry and the neckline of her waistcoat dipped down the tanned expanse of her skin.

Kate let out a low whistle in response to your entrance as she offered you a hand at the base of the stairs. You’d almost missed the last one due to your shameless gawking at the woman of the party. “Quite the looker, y/n. Natasha chose this?”

“Naturally,”

She chuckled softly, a small sound “Nothing if not calculating. Do you know how to socialize at one of these things?”

“Mm, as the caterer, yes.”

This seemed to amuse her more than you’d like. Katherine Elizabeth Bishop was a name that you had reluctantly googled early on in your employment. She had grown up wealthy and well acquainted with gatherings such as these. Of course, that was before her mother wound up incarcerated for white-collar crimes. The skills seemed to benefit her here, however.

Kate did everything with practiced fluidity that you envied. She plucked two champagne glasses from a nearby tray. “Only one of these, nurse it like your life depends on it. That way they won’t keep trying to shove alcohol into your hands. This is work, after all.”

You followed her lead and took a small sip of the bubbling, sour liquid. It was more expensive than anything you had ever had before and far-from-palatable. It wouldn’t be had to keep the drinking at bay.

“The man that Yelena is schmoozing over there is Billy Russo. Jigsaw. He’s in charge of the lower quarter. The Romanoff’s and the Russo’s have a cordial relationship and Yelena is much more feared than him.”

“Why do they call him jigsaw?” You whispered.

“He tends to chop people into pieces until they’re impossible to put back together. And that’s if you find all the missing parts. He has a very nice summer home up in the Poconos, so don’t get on his bad side.”

Suddenly the drink in your hand didn’t look too bad, but you held it right where it was. Clint was laughing by the window, obviously pushing his charm on a woman that you had never clocked before. She was running her fingers up his tie, tightening it before letting her hands drop.

“Barton is with Ophelia Sarkissian, the Viper. She is known for her cunning leadership. She’s got a huge organization in Hell’s Kitchen. Something called Hydra. I wouldn’t worry too much about it though because Natasha is keeping a tight eye on it.”

“Mm, cut one head off, two more grow back.”

“What?”

“Greek mythology. Hydra is a big water snake that has nine heads. Each time one was cut off two more would grow back in its place. It was practically unkillable until Hercules came through the marshes with his nephew. Hercules would slice each head off while Iolaus cauterized the wounds so the heads couldn’t grow back.”

Kate blinked at you with shock in her eyes. You simply gave her a shrug in return. People constantly underestimated you and your intelligence. Besides, when you were a child, you had a morbid fascination with Greek mythology as a whole.

She stared beyond your shoulder, lilting her head to the side.

“I didn’t realize that Natasha’s new plaything was so knowledgeable.”

Ice ran thorough your veins. Your eyes darted to the window where Clint and Mrs. Sarkissian had once been. It was vacant now, and an expertly painted hand drummed past your arm. They were sharp and sent chills down your spine as she rounded you, sidling up next to Kate.

“Trust fund kid, leave us.”

Kate drew in a sharp breath, straightening her shoulders. She nearly opened her mouth to stay something but thought better of it before shooting you a look of apology and vanishing into the crowd in the dining room.

Ophelia was intoxicating in her presence. She towered over you and wore snakeskin heels to widen the distance. She wore a tight-fitted black dress that had cuts on either side, exposing her toned stomach to the world. What she wanted with you wasn’t clear, but her hand toyed coyly with the neckline of your own dress, adjusting it.

“Word travels fast in this city. I just couldn’t wait to see it myself. Hearing that Natasha Romanoff of all people expelled her Winter soldier for a… Summer Sentient. All seasons are temporary, I suppose.”

“Expelled?”

The word had slipped from your tongue, and you quickly thought better of it when she settled her splayed hand against your shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. It was cold, unfeeling. Unlike the fire that Natasha had instilled in you earlier.

There was a demonic smile that spread across her face, both of her eyebrows lifting as she let out an exaggerated grasp. It was clear that this woman, this leader, couldn’t keep her hands to herself in any manner, including the internal affairs that she dangled in front of you like a prize.

“Oh, did Natty not tell you? She had Bucky under her thumb for years, nearly a decade. A few months back, he was just gone. There’s a lot of gossip in these streets and not much of it is plausible, but I’d put money on this one.”

Again, her fingers danced over your collarbone. “Miss Romanoff is not known for her mercy, but after beating the Winter Soldier within an inch of his life, she let him go. He ran like any sensible man would, of course. But he left a trail of blood behind him. I’m quite sure he’s somewhere out west struggling to move in an upper body brace.”

She laughed cruelly at the look on your face. There was no use in masking it. You knew that Bucky had been absent, but through your own turmoil you had forgotten all about it. Your stomach twisted in unease. What if Natasha grew tired of you? It was inevitable, really. You’ only prolonged your fate by bending to her whim.

“Ophelia,” Natasha’s voice drew your attention first, and then the heat of her touch on the small of your back. “Have you tried the lamb?”

The woman faltered, gritting her teeth “I was about to.”

“Oh, you must.” Yelena seemed to materialize out of nowhere, looping her arm around Madame Hydra herself. She pulled with intent. “I haven’t seen you since Moscow. We need to catch up!”

“I was never in Moscow.”

“That’s a shame. I can paint you a brilliant picture.”

Their voices faded away into the rest of the party. It was then that you noticed Clint by the door, his stance stiffened. Kate glowered next to him, not following her own rule and downing the rest of her drink before plucking another off the passing tray.

You stepped out of Natasha’s grasp, not wanting to be anywhere near her at the moment. Her perfume was intoxicating. Its floral scent made you dizzy and took away your ability to think straight. It was part of the reason you had been lulled this far into complicity. It scared you that you were willing to do anything for her.

“y/n,” she urged.

“I don’t want to hear it.”

Natasha’s stare hardened. She gripped the back of your neck in a movement that would otherwise be familiar, sweet, even. However, the way she led you down the hallway made your stomach drop in a feeling of doom. “Not here, Malen'kiy krolik.”

Natasha’s office was strictly off limits, but you found yourself in the warmth of it in a matter of moments. There was no wall that wasn’t adorned with floor to ceiling bookshelves, and a large cherrywood desk was at its head. It was kept neat like the rest of the house.

There was a PHD on the wall, and an associates under that. Each bore Natasha’s name. She closed the doors behind her. Without regarding you, she went to a shelf in the back of the room, pouring herself a glass of bourbon, much like the one she was drinking when you stirred in her bed.

She swallowed it back, before pouring another. This time she sipped it. Your own back was against the far wall, heart pounding mercilessly through you. Yelling at Natasha had a lot more weight behind it than you anticipated.

“You’re going to do the same to me.” You eventually whispered.

Her body stiffened, muscles tightening and then releasing before she turned to you, her eyes reddened. “What?”

“I’ve been entirely blind to my purpose here. I’ve never… I’ve never understood why you chose me. Why not go for someone who knows what they were doing? Who knew how to protect you and care for you? You had that with Bucky.”

Her eyes hardened. “Don’t you ever mention that name in this house.”

“It’s the truth, Natasha! You could have let me die, just like that, and you didn’t. Instead, you took me in and trained me, and for what? Just to throw me into the harbor with cement blocks chained to my ankles.”

“That is an entirely outdated practice and frankly, it’s insulting.” Her words were soul deep, but they barely broke your skin. “I would never do that.”

“A bullet through the head, then?”

“No.”

You were gaining traction enough to pull yourself from the wall and take heady steps towards her. If you didn’t do it now, you would never. Part of you was certain that you’d never see the outside of this room again. That she’d snap and do exactly what you were imploring her to.

“He served you for years and within a singular night you nearly kill him.” Your breath shook, you were so close to her now. “What is stopping you from doing the exact same to me?”

“No, no” She reached up and grasped both sides of your face. There were tears against your cheeks, something you hadn’t realized dripped from your chin. “Malyshka, no don’t cry.”

Everything had come to a head; the months of non-stop training, the pressure of keeping this side of your life away from your daughter, away from Darcy. A true friend that you had been lying to. And now, knowing that it could be all for nothing. It was easy to dispose of someone like you.

There was no reason to show weakness in front of the woman who was training you not to feel anything at all. Above everything, you found yourself ashamed. She still held your face within her grasp.

“He hurt you.” Her jaw clenched and unclenched, there was a fuzzy vulnerability in her green stare. “I can show mercy, y/n. But I’ve learned, not when it comes to you. Even before all of… this, there was something that I saw within you. Something that made what I did to Bucky all the more worth it.”

You breathed in a watery sniffing sound that was replaced by nothing but a whimper. Natasha softened even more, letting her shoulders fall. She tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

“He was pulling back for months, and you were the final straw. I had never seen someone so resilient, someone who didn’t beg for their life but recounted it. In a moment of weakness, I let you go. I thought that training you, that making you mine, would absolve my sins but it’s only deepened them. My feelings for you have only deepened.”

Her forehead was pressed against yours, her ministrations, and God help you, her apologies were startling. Her lips were so close to yours; you could nearly taste the liquor on her breath “Natasha,”

Suddenly, she was all you could feel. Her hand was against you back, pulling you into her body to fit directly on hers. There was such a strong guiding power to her. Your shock was muffled by her mouth on yours, your whine swallowed in moments.

You melted into her, kissing back with enough fever to leave you both breathless. There were stars dancing in your vision, you lungs burning eventually pulling you both apart. She panted twice before pecking your lips once more, you nearly chased after her.

“Fuck,” she growled “you… are absolutely delicious.”

Your cheeks suddenly heated up and you hid your face in the small of her neck, letting out a small groan in embarrassment. You felt Natasha’s laugh rumble through her.

“No need to be timid, pet. There will be plenty of time for that later.” She raked her nails up your back, “Right now, I have a snake to behead.”

[Taglist🕷♡: @dumbasslesbi, @lostremind, @toouncreativeforausername @autorasexy @eringranola @mikookaaaaaao @marvelwoman-simp @pacmanmiles @mostlymarvelsstuff, @mrsrushman, @milfsandtittyenthusiast, @random-raccoon4, @ravenromanova, @mysticalmoonlight7, @ahintofchaos@cowboyboots236 @lissaaaa145, @natsxwife]

#Natasha Romanoff x reader #Natasha Romanoff x you #Natasha Romanoff x y/n #Natasha Romanoff #Natasha romanov #Natasha Romanov x reader #Natasha Romanov x y/n #Natasha Romanov x you #Marvel #Marvel Au #Mafia au #Kate Bishop #Yelena Belova #Clint Barton #bucky barnes

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slimybeth69 · 24 days ago

Text

Touch: Part 2

Din x f!reader 18+ MDNI

Summary: The Mandalorian thinks you're an incredible artist and he just loves your doodles so much that he couldn't stop himself from doing what he does. He makes up for it though.

a/n: I know so very little about the Star Wars universe. I dunno shit about fuck when it comes to planets and ships and how things work. You'll see what I mean in later chapters, but I'm just warning you that I make a bunch of shit up, and am probably entirely incorrect about some of the things I may talk about in this chapter or upcoming chapters. I'M SORRY. I JUST LOVE THAT HELMETED MAN AND HIS GREEN CHILD, OK???

unbeta'd, poorly proofread because of my AHDH

Mando was gone when you woke up the next morning. Bed empty. Left you wondering if it was all a dream. He’s gone.

With your notebook.

It’s gone too. Nowhere to be found. At your own expense, you tore the ship apart looking for it but you can’t find it anywhere. The child loved this game. He helped massively.

Maker.

What is he doing with it? Why does he still have it?

You think you know the answers to all those questions but you’re still freaking out a little. Mostly because he has it.

Really it’s because now you’re stuck with nothing to do besides stare at the child. Which you’re currently doing. Just staring at him. And his big eyes and ears. Little robe. Where’d he get that little robe? You should make him a new one. Ask Mando to buy fabric and sew him a new one.

He’s so cute. You pick him up and carry him outside so you can lay in the warm sun together. He does, for a while. Snuggles beside you and then moves to your head and plays with your hair. You make him a flower crown.

You don’t know where you are. You stopped asking Mando. Stopped caring, mostly when he made you stay with the ship. He brought you everything you needed. You had to stay with the child. Something about a fire and the ship being at risk if the kids left alone for too long. You don’t know. You didn’t care then but now you’re bored. And your mind is wandering.

The kid just stares back at you.

“I know. I’m bored too.” You say to the child, he responds in little baby coos and warbles. He looks at something on the ground by his feet and picks it up. He inspects it for a long time and then looks between you and the object in his clawed fingers. Then he holds it up to you to take from him. You do, and you inspect it as well.

It’s a dead bug.

“Thank you...so much .” You gently set the dead bug down next to you. The child goes searching for more; he thinks you love your gift. You must want more. So he goes to find you as many as he can. You end up with a little pile of dead bugs and leaves and pebbles next to you.

You think you love the child and that's weird to you. Because it's a baby and you don’t normally like babies. But he’s not like any baby you’ve ever met before and you think about what’ll happen when Mando doesn’t need you anymore. It actually knocks the air out of your lungs.

Impossible.

Unthinkable.

You didn’t really plan for this. To get attached to the child.

It just happened one day. Now it’s your child. You’d do just about anything for the lil’ green squirt.

But he’s also not your child. He’s Mando’s. Don’t forget that. It’s his kid.

Mando was gone for two days before you saw him again. When he did return the child was already asleep. But you were still outside looking up at the stars around the fire.

“I told you not to–” A voice rings out in the darkness and you nearly fall into the fire. You move so fast you almost stumble right into it trying to get away from the voice behind you but there’s a strong hand on your shoulder and stops you from moving.

“What the-” You place a hand over your heart and pant softly. “Why!?” You shout, pushing his hand away. “Always! With the shaking me and scaring me in the dark!” You snap.

“I still didn’t shake you.” His helmet is tilted down to look at you. “Do you need me to define the word shake to you?”

All you can do is blink at him.

“Where is my notebook!?” You point a finger at him accusingly and attempt to leer at him. “I thought you’d put it back when you were done.” You say with contempt because you really did think he was going to put it away.

But really, if you’re going to be honest with yourself, the last two nights have been you laying in his bed thinking about what he’s doing with your notebook. And you’re doing the same thing he you hope he’s doing. And you can smell him on his sheets. It’s his natural muskiness and it’s amazing. You fall asleep when you’re done cradling them to your face just to try and be close to him. And he wasn’t even the one who made you come that night together. You did it yourself! You cannot stop thinking about it though. Not at all. It’s the only thing you’ve thought about besides keeping the child alive.

“I took it with me. I also told you not to be outside after dark when I’m not here.” He said it sternly, like he did when you made mistakes.

You could hit him. Maker, you could. You think about how the beskar would feel on your dainty- has never seen any sort of forced punch– fist. Also, he’s got a lot of weapons in there. And the Amban on his back. So you decide that in his best interest, you shouldn’t hit him.

“Well, it’s a good thing you're here, isn’t it?” You snip at him. He shakes his head.

Mando stares at you for a long time. Saying nothing like always. Maker please, make him speak.

“I got you something.” He says quietly from behind the modulator.

What was that Maker? Huh? What’s a notebook? I’ve never seen a–

“You what?” You ask, stunned. Because he’s barely said a total of twenty non mean words to you this whole time before two nights ago and now he’s getting you gifts? As in something you didn’t tell him you needed and he got it with credits you gave him for it? You know, because he doesn’t let you go anywhere.

“Here.” He says, pulling something out from underneath his cape, maybe stuffed into a pocket or a bag, you dunno, but he pulls out another notebook. Not your notebook. But another one. A new one. There's a new charcoal for you as well.

You take it from his outstretched hand and stare at it for a long time. You’re the silent one now.

“Do you like it?” Mando asks after a few quiet moments. You nod, unable to really find the words for how you feel about it. He watches you, looking at your gift and stands by the fire with you.

“Thank you.” You finally look up at him. He’s got his head tilted down at you still.

“You’re welcome.” Said so simply like he didn’t just make the last two days so lonely and bori– Hold on one Maker loving minute.

“Where's my other notebook though!?” You ask suddenly. There is no alarm in your voice, just curiosity, because now you kind of like the idea of him carrying it on him while he travels without you.

Mando’s head turns away from you, like he’s observing your guys�� surroundings so intently.

“Mando.” You drop your head to look at him through your lashes.

He doesn’t say anything, he’s staring up now and then points his finger up to the sky.

“Do you see that star-” He starts.

You groan in frustration, closing your eyes and putting your forehead in your hand.

“Did you lose it?” You ask after a minute. “I won’t really be that upset if–”

“I didn’t lose it.” He’s offended. “I can keep things safe.” He responds quickly. You blink at him. “I keep the child safe. You.” He motions to you with an up and down gesture.

“First– give me some credit for keeping the child safe.” You’re still looking up at him. “Did you know that he jumped into that river over there–” You point behind you. “Did it two times. He cannot swim. I had to go in after he started floating downstream! I’m here with him all the time. Every waking and sleeping second. I’m not saying you don’t keep us safe.” You hold your hands up. “I don’t really know what you do when you leave us here in these fields or deserts. I really dunno, but I’m sure it is keeping us both very safe. Second– You still have the doodles then?” He nods at you. “Can I have them back please?” He shakes his head from side to side.

Oh Maker ! Is this what I get for doodling? Is this my punishment?

“I’d like to keep it.” Garbled modulated voice from underneath the helmet says so casually. Like he didn’t steal it out of your bag. Like you let him give it a test run to see if he’d like it and now he does and wants to keep it. “That's why I got you the new one.” He’s trying to justify it, funny.

You look at him with disdain.

“I’ve upset you?” He asks curiously. “You’re…”

“I’m just really disappointed in you.” You shake your head at him. You’re not as disappointed in him as you’re saying, you’re just saying that because he’s just being really cute right now but you’re not gonna let him know that. “What do you want it for so bad anyway? Gonna rub the charcoal all off it the way you’ve probably been touching it.” You snap at him.

“I looked at it while I was gone.” He says. “I thought of you.”

Okay . He can keep the notebook. He can have it. Because he was thinking about you while he was gone and you wonder what else he was doing while he was thinking of you, looking at it.

He finally sits down next to the fire with you, not close but he sits, and lets out a loud sigh as he leans against the log behind him.

“Did you have a rough day?” You ask quietly. He shrugs and picks at something on his beskar. When he does that it reminds you of the child.

“The child got all these dead bugs and gave them to me the other day. Like all the dead bugs he could find. He didn’t try to eat them or anything. Just gave them to me like they were a gift.” You chuckle nervously.

“I hope you like mine more than his.” He looks over at you.

“It’s a close one. I won’t lie.” You smirk at him and wonder if he’s smirking back at you.

“So, can you ever take it off?” You motion towards his helmet. He touches it gently with his fingers. “You kept it on in the complete darkness the other night.”

“I can. No one can see my face though.” He explains carefully. “I kept it on to see you. I like to look at you sometimes.”

“Wh-what?” It’s like the breath got knocked out of you.

“My religion. It’s a part of the creed I was sworn into.” He explains the helmet.

“ Sometimes ?” You raise an eyebrow. “You’ve done it before?”

He looks away from you.

“I’m ashamed of it. But yes. I can’t help it.” He’s still looking away from you, into the woods on the far side of the field and you wonder what he can see over there that you can’t.

You think for a long time, a lot of different thoughts running through your head.

“What happens if someone were to see you?” You ask, changing the subject because you decide you’re not mad about it. Mando looks back at you.

“I wouldn’t be able to put it back on.” He explains. “I’d be banned from my creed.”

Oh. That’s serious. You don’t know as much about Mandalore as you thought you did.

“And that would make you upset?” You’re curious and he’s chatty.

“I’d be…” He trails off again. “ Disappointed .”

You know he’d be more than disappointed but that’s the word he chose, so, you roll with it.

“Then let's not have that happen. No one likes a disappointed Mando.” You tease, reaching out and he lets you touch your foot to his with a gentle tap. He doesn’t pull away, not even after he sees what you’re doing.

“Especially you. What’s the ship look like?” He tilts his head down as if he was looking at you through his eyelashes.

“Clean. Surprisingly.” You snap. “ Someone took my only form of distraction so I actually had to do something today to not die of boredom.” You explain sassily.

“So I should keep the new one too then?” He teases you.

“Please Maker no.” You grip the notebook to your chest. “I need it.”

Then he snorts or laughs or something. But it is the sound of air being exhaled at force through his nose and it's loud enough to register in the modulator. Your head snaps over to him. “Did I just make you laugh?” You’re stunned.

It's been so long since you’ve spoken to someone who wasn’t green or Mando himself that you’ve completely forgotten how to talk to people apparently, because you can’t think of another time in your entire life that you’ve asked someone if you’ve made them laugh.

Okay. It’s not common that the person you're trying to make laugh has a helmet and face visor on, but still. What a weird question to ask.

“Maybe.”

Now we're back to the short simple responses and you have an idea. A scary one, but an idea.

“Would you like to know what I did while you were gone? Besides, swimming after the child and cleaning and being bored?”

The reason you’re nervous is because you don’t know how he’s going to react. At all. He could hate what you’re about to tell him, he’s so particular and he can be a little abrasive sometimes, so yeah, kinda nervous.

“I would.” He’s still looking at you.

Okay, he’s on the hook and now we just have to reel him in. You lean one elbow on the log behind you and turn to him.

“I slept in your bed.” You say it quickly to see how he reacts.

He doesn’t move. He doesn’t speak.

“Do you– you sleep on the floor when I’m not here?” He asks, shocked.

Now you’ve completely forgotten what else you were going to say because you could have been sleeping there the whole time? And you’ve been sleeping on the paper thin mat instead when the bed has been empty.

You blink at him.

“Don’t do that anymore. Use my bed when I’m gone.”

You keep blinking at him.

“You didn’t think to tell me that?” You’ve been distracted from your original point.

“I thought it was obvious.”

This makes your eye twitch softly.

“Okay.” Because it wasn’t really obvious. He’s yelled at you every day he’s been here except for the night. So why would he want you in his bed?

“Is that all? Was that supposed to make me laugh?” He asks. You stare at him.

“No. It wasn’t. But now I’m mad and I don’t want to tell you anymore.”

“Tell me.” He says it softly but the modulator messes it all up and you don’t get his real softness. You might never get it. Probably won't.

“I touched myself thinking about you touching yourself looking at my notebook.” It comes out way less sensual and sexy than you had planned on saying it but it does the job. He gasps softly but loud enough to register.

“You did?” His voice changed immediately to being filled with awe and excitement rather than just sounding like he was putting up with you.

You nod at him, softening slightly because you like when he talks to you this way. Nicely and sweetly.

“D-did it g-get..” He pauses. “Did it get wet?”

You nod.

“Maker.” He sighs. You can’t help but smirk.

“How many times? Please tell me.” He’s leaned in, apprehensive of what you have to say.

“Four.” You sigh at him. “Twice a night. I couldn’t sleep unt-”

“Would you do it again for me tonight?” He interrupts you. “Twice. Please.”

“Okay.”

You barely have time to think about what’s going to happen before Mando is up on his feet, holding his hand out to you. You stare up at him for a moment, not recognizing the gesture especially from him. You place your hand in his eventually and he pulls you to your feet. Then, he holds your hand as you begin to walk inside.

“Are there rules about..” You trail off as you get to the ship's entrance. You stop walking. “Are you not allowed to, you know, touch me like that?” You ask as he turns to see why you’ve stopped.

“No.” He says quietly now that you’re both within earshot of the child again.

“So why don’t you help me tonight?” You ask hesitantly unsure of how he’ll react. He takes a step towards you so fast you take a step back in fear but he pulls you into him gently.

“You’d let me? Really?” He asks, surprised, like you weren’t just splayed out at his request a couple nights ago.

Yes?” You say confused. “Why do you think I said yes the other night?” Mando doesn’t speak. For so long. Again with the silence Maker.

“I don’t know.”

“You’re impossible. Do you know that?” You ask, rolling your eyes at him.

“I’ll help.” He says, taking a step backward onto the ramp of the ship. “I can do more than help, too. If you’d let me.”

“Let you? Like I don’t want it either.” You chuckle to yourself.

“You really thought about it? About me?” He asks in a hushed whisper as you walk into the ship and you place your new gift in a cupboard high enough that the child can't reach. Once you’re fully into the hull he shuts everything up. You’re starting to undress, Mando has disappeared somehow, he was just in front of you, and you turned to check on the child and now he’s gone. The ship goes completely dark, just like the other night and you’re plunged into the void once again.

“Mando.” You whisper into the abyss. “Mando I don’t like wh-” But you feel his hands.

You didn’t even hear him walk to you, only feeling his hands on your waist. Mando slips two fingers behind the button of your pants and then with his thumb, pops it open. You can’t even comprehend how he did that before his touch is gone again.

“Do you have to keep the beskar on all the time?” You whisper. He’s disappeared from touching you so you start to unbutton the front of your shirt. But then his un-gloved hands move yours away.

“Do you think I sleep in it?” He teases from behind the modulator.

“Yeah, kinda.” You respond honestly because why would you not think that? You’ve never even seen Mandos' wrist or ankle. To you, his beskar may as well be a part of him. Something he physically cannot remove.

He does the laugh again.

“Do you want me to take it off?” He asks after a moment of silence. He’s undoing your buttons so slowly.

“If you take it off, am I– am I allowed to touch you?” He doesn’t respond but he’s finally got all your buttons undone and now he’s sliding his hands where your shirt opens in the middle and he’s sliding the flat of his palm across the skin just below your breasts. He groans softly.

“You want to t-touch me?” He asks, like he cannot believe that you’d want to do that.

“Yes!” It’s louder than you intended. You put your hands over your mouth because the child is close by. “Yes. You don’t want to just touch each other?” You whisper now.

“No.” He says quickly. “I me– I mean yes. But I want to watch you too. I like doing that. You’re very– v-very… You know how you like to be touched. I want you to show me.” The raspiness of his modulated voice is making your knees weak.

“Okay.” Is all you can come up with; it’s your favorite word apparently. You wonder if Mando can sense that all the thoughts in your brain just leave when he says things like that to you.

You hear the soft metal clicks of something being set on the floor beside you and now, your heart is racing. He’s a real person under his armor and cape and helmet and you’re about to touch him. Standing in the dark waiting for Mando to disarm himself for you. Your heart is pounding out of your chest, you’re sure that Mando can hear it or he probably had a sensor for it in his helmet, since it’s so useful to him all the damn time.

“Touch.” He whispers. You hesitantly reach your hands into the darkness and your fingers brush up against the hottest skin you’ve ever touched. It’s like he’s being incubated inside the beskar. So warm. So… strong . His skin is soft on your fingertips but he’s got muscles under there. You can feel them. You press into him, making sure he’s real because this has got to be a dream.

“Wow.” You manage to whisper in awe into the dark. You’re impressed with how he feels behind your hands, yes, so impressed it’s making your legs tingle again. It’s also nice to feel another person against you again. He’s so inviting now that his armor is off. Now that he’s exposed it’s like a different person is standing in front of you.

You press the flat of your palm against his sides, feeling his ribcage against your hands. Fingers still pressed tightly against his flesh so you can feel him.

He’s breathing heavily and you’re so close you can hear him under the modulator.

“You want to keep that on?” You ask, looking up to where the breathing is coming from. He says nothing. “It’s okay if you do, I just wanna make sure you’re comfortable.” You snake your hands around his waist and run them up the length of his back and he’s got even more rock hard muscles back there, Maker, how? He’s like one big rock hard bag of muscles and it’s incredible to feel his strength under your hands this way.

“I’d prefer to see you.”

You’re pressing your own naked body against his now, the hard peak of your breasts press against him and you feel him shiver against you.

“I like looking at you.” He rasps quietly. His hands touch you. Really touch you. His flat palms are running down your sides. He started up under your arm and is slowly dragging his hands down your waist and sides. Mapping you out. Taking in every inch of you.

“I like when you touch me.” You whisper. When you speak, he presses the tips of each finger into your flesh and gropes you gently.

Maker, the strength behind his touch is almost debilitating. It’s incredible and you feel bad for anyone he’s ever put his hands on in any way that isn’t this because he’s holding back for you. You can feel it, in the tenseness of his arms as your hands now explore his forearms and biceps and triceps. Mando is so tense he’s almost shaking. Like he’s desperately holding back from just grabbing you, tossing you on the bed and not listening or watching you like before.

You’re obsessed with it, the way he’s breathing while he’s touching and exploring your body. It’s staggered and sometimes, when his hands will roam across your ass or your breasts, he’ll gasp softly like he was surprised. You wish on everything that was good, Maker, that he’d just take the helmet off. You’d do anything to just feel the warmth of his mouth where his hands are right now.

Mando takes both of his hands and lifts you right below your bottom, and lifts so your feet are just barely touching the floor. You have to hold onto his shoulders to keep from falling and your whole body presses into him for support. Mando sighs softly into your ear from behind the modulator before he starts to walk you backwards. You're on just the tips of your toes and you let him guide you to his bed.

It's not much better than the mat. But it's off the floor and has a little more padding. And the blankets, oh Maker, the blankets are so soft. You’ve slept in them naked the past two nights because they’re the most beautiful feeling on your skin while you twist and turn in your sleep.

Now, Mando is laying you down on top of them. As he lays you down, he kicks either one of your knees open with his so he can kneel between them, he’s still leaning you back, moving one hand to behind your neck so you don’t fall.

“I like this better than the doodles .” He says as you finally lay back, his hand slides from behind your neck and over your collar bone slowly. He snakes it around your fleshy mound and between your breasts, still pressed flat against you. “S-so much better.” It’s a sigh through the modulator but you can tell he’s watching his hand trail down between your breasts and over your stomach.

“You can look whenever you want.” You tell him breathlessly as his hand moves across your stomach. His index finger traces over your bellybutton so lightly it almost tickles but this is too erotic to be laughing and squirming from tickles. You are squirming but it’s because he’s still tracing over your belly button but his other hand has found where your thigh meets your hip. Now he’s touching you so close to where you want to be touched but his fingers trace across your lower stomach and he sighs again.

“Do you mean it?” His raspy modulator makes you jump because he’s been quiet for so long. You forgot what you said, it's been so long. He’s been teasing you with his fingers like this for what feels like twenty minutes.

“Mean what?” You sigh as the back of his hand grazes over your slit. You’re already soaked. If you could think about anything besides how fucking hot this was, you’d be a little embarassed getting to excited for someone who hasn’t even kissed you.

“I can look whenever?” Mando rests the back of his hand against you and pushes his middle finger into your slit. “Because I would like to. I’d look all the time.” His finger is pushing against your clit gently and it’s sending blaster beams through you.

“Yes. I m-meant it.” You gasp softly into the dark. The heat of his hand feels like it’s going to burn right through you.

Mando flips his hand around and cups your sex and pushes. The pressure from your own fold and his hand make you moan softly. Now he massages you, slowly and you assume he watches as he makes you squirm again. You suppress another moan as he increases his pressure and almost pushes you back a little, his massaging getting a little fast.

“I like watching you try and hold back.” His raspy voice behind the modulator scares you again in the dark after a bout of silence and slow crescendoed increases in his speed of his rubbing. Then he pulls his hands away. You snap your knees up to trap him so he can’t leave and you feel his naked body against your inner thighs and it makes you sigh softly because he is so warm and so inviting as his hands find your legs. He’s gripping you.

“Don’t leave.” You whine, squeezing him tighter between your legs. You hear him chuckle, a real chuckle and his hands relax and he slides them up to your middle.

“How could I? You’ve ensnared me.” And then his hands slide up your waist and you can feel him leaning over you. “I won’t leave. Not now.” He whispers to you, his hands now just under your breasts. “I have to touch you.” Mando’s hands slide across your fleshy mounds and he gropes them gently in his palms. Squeezing them. “P-perfect.’

“Don’t stop.” You reach up and place your hands on top of his and make him squeeze them harder. “F-feels so good, Mando.” One of your nipples slips between his fingers and he pinches it unknowingly as he gropes and massages. He’s following your lead, feeling the pressure you put on his hands and he mirrors it. “Sss- so- oh shit, Mando.”

Mando has pressed his erection against your slit, but not inside. You feel the length of him pressed between your legs.

“Fuck.” He groans through the modulator. “You’re s-so wet already.” The cold metal of the helmet is on your shoulder. “Fuck.” He moves now, slowly and his entire length moves between your folds, the ridges and veins of him moving against your clit. Your hands are still holding his to your chest. “You’re exquisite.” He rasps into your ear quietly.

“O-oh M-maker.” You moan softly but he pulls away from you, his entire body jerks back.

“No.” He exhales loudly. “I want to watch you, first.” Like he just remembered that’s what you came here for originally.

You’re a mess below him and before he can even finish speaking your hands are in between your legs. You’re working yourself in every way you can for him, if he wants to watch you’re going to give him a show.

Quickly and easily you have two fingers inside you curling and uncurling against your wetness and your other hand is spinning tight circles around your clit. It’s so sensitive it’s not going to take long to get you there. You hear him moan softly in the darkness and his hand holds on to one of your knees that are still resting by his side.

“Yes, oh y-yes. Little one, d-does that feel good?” He coos down to you. You hear him speak and your fingers are working faster. They’re trying hard to make him want to touch you again.

“Yes, so g-good.” You moan, the circles getting tighter as he continues to speak down to you.

“Keep going, little one. I’ve been thinking about the sounds you make when you do it.” He grips your knee a little tighter and with the other hand pushes your legs open a little further. “S-so lovely.”

And then you give him what he’s been waiting for. It starts in your toes this time and you curl them, pressing your feet hard into the bed as your hips lift– either to let him see better or because the feeling is just so fucking good that it’s making you levitate– and he sighs loudly.

The wetness between your legs and your little choked sobs of bliss are the only sounds in the ship as you come with him kneeling before you. Mando’s grip on your knees tightens as your fingers continue to move around your clit and curl inside of you. He’s listening and watching and you love it. It makes you come harder.

“Mando.” You whimper softly. You wish you could see him. “Fuck.” It’s a strained through another gasp of pleasure.

“Can I touch it?” He asks so politely. You nod, panting and letting your head fall back again after looking up into the darkness for him.

Mando’s fingers leave one of your knees and he’s at your entrance. He’s pushing two fingers into you gently and then he pulls away. He does it several more times before you realize what he’s doing.

“You taste so good.” He whispers but the rasp of his modulator is gone and it’s just a man speaking to you now in the dark. Your heart almost explodes in your chest because it’s exactly what you imagined it would sound like. You try to keep your composure. Then you feel his hands on the back of your thighs and the warm breath – oh Maker it’s so warm– your lower stomach.

Mando is kissing you. He’s trailing kisses along your stomach and stops at your belly button. He kisses it gently and trails his tongue around the outside of it like he had earlier with his fingers. You’re trembling, biting your lip and clenching your fists to your sides because this is the most incredible non orgasm feeling you’ve ever felt and Mando is the one doing it to you.

His tongue traces your belly button as his hands trail up the back of your thighs and find the bend in your knee. He pushes your legs up gently and the tip of his tongue dips into your belly button for just a moment before he’s planting kisses down your stomach.

“Much b-better than just w-w-watching, huuh?” You stumble out as he bites and nips at the skin on your inner thighs.

“If I can make you do what you did, yes.” Then his mouth is on you. Theres no hesitation, no teasing. Just his lips pressed against your slit and he’s parting you with his tongue.

“Oh.” You weren’t expecting it. Everything’s had such a big build up that you were expecting this to go on until the sun came up but he’s licking and lapping at your still sensitive clit.

“You,” He whispers against your slit. “-taste incredible.”

“Can I touch your hair?” You pant. Your hands have been searching for something to hold onto and grasp and tug at in pleasure but you’ve been too nervous to touch him anywhere since he took his helmet off.

Mando is quiet for a long time and he’s stopped licking you. He’s still holding your knees up to your chest.

“It’s okay if I can’t, I just wanted-” You start rambling nervously into the dark because you’re scared he’s gonna back away and tell you to go sleep on your mat on the floor.

“I think that’d be okay.” He says after so painstakingly long. You sigh and let your head fall back again in relief.

Tentatively you reach for him, unsure of where he is in the dark. Your hand brushes his shoulder and you rest your fingers against him and trail them up his neck. His hair is thick and coarse and you just know it’s dark hair. You can feel it in your soul as your fingers curl in it.

As your fingers find their grip, he goes back to licking you. He has no real meaning behind his movements with his tongue. You’re semi disappointed but you come to realize that he’s exploring. Mando wants to know every inch of you and he’s taking his time.

His hair feels so good between your fingers. You pull and tug on it gently every time he presses the flat of his tongue against you and slides upwards. He’s licking you like you are his sweet treat, his dessert.

“I like that.” He says suddenly. You’ve been laying on your back, you moved one of your feet to his shoulder and have his hands tangled in hair still. He’s been lapping at you leisurely for an unknown amount of time. You haven't complained at all, it’s heavenly, Maker, heavenly.

“What?” You ask breathlessly. You care what he likes but you wish he would keep his mouth on you. You never want him to stop. It’s incredible how thorough he is with his tongue.

“Your hands. In my hair.” He’s back to your middle now but there’s meaning behind his movements now, like your voice ignited something in him, maybe, you don’t care. You let your head fall back and your grip tightens in his hair again and you push him against you gently, letting him know you need him there.

Mando loves it, he lets you know he loves it by increasing those perfect circles around your clit and then he moans. That moan sends vibrations through you that you didn’t know were possible. They’re head spinning.

This is when he decides it’s a good time to add two fingers into the mix. He pushes his ring and middle fingers into you while his tongue swirls quickly. Instead of curling his fingers, he angles them upwards slightly and then pulls them back out and drags the pads of them along the spot inside you.

You arch your back and tug at his hair harder because this is the best feeling, this right here. You’ve never been able to make yourself feel this way. You didn’t even think pleasure like this way possible.

“Mando.” You whimper quietly.

“Din.” He moans against you. You’re so confused because what’s a Din? Why is he saying that.

“What?” You ask in bliss filled confusion. “What did you say?” You lift your head to look up at him but it’s still dark and you can’t see.

“Say Din. It’s my name.” His tongue is back on you and your head falls back and you can’t even be excited that he’s just told you his name because his fingers, Maker, his fingers.

They’re thrusting into you; hard enough to make you shake every time he drives them forward and his tongue hasn’t stopped moving in just the perfect way.

“Din.” You whimper and clench your eyes shut. Your fingers are gripped so tightly in his hair you’re sure you’ll still have some in between your knuckles when he’s done. “Din. P-please don’t stop.” You have to whisper but you’re holding back a moan that would wake the child and you’re just so desperate for release that you’d die from frustration if the child did wake up.

Din’s fingers move faster, he knows, he’s so ready to feel you come on him that he’s panting against your clit as he laps at you.

“Ohh Din.” It’s drawn out in a long moan whisper as you feel it wash over you. This time it’s radiating out of you from your middle and your hips start to rock against his mouth– they’ve been still this whole time– but this orgasm makes you pitch and reel against him because it’s just so fucking good. It’s mind numbing. One hand leaves his hair because you need to cover your mouth and nose to stop from moaning.

Din doesn’t stop, he keeps going as your walls contract and restrict against his fingers. It’s making him work harder and his tongue is lashing against you because the feeling of you gushing against his hand is a new feeling to both of you.

“Fuck, Din.” You whimper as the sensation now becomes too much. You twitch with every touch of his tongue and your legs clamp around his head in disapproval of his touch.

Din doesn’t move for a couple seconds and then, from muffled between your legs you hear him.

“You’ve ensnared me… again.” You laugh because you really have. You open your legs and he leans up and kisses along your stomach. “Can I do what we did the other night?” He asks impatiently.

“You don’t want my help?” You inquire knowingly. He says nothing back but you hear him, hear his fist on himself and then he’s stealing your wetness to do it.

“N-no.” He grunts out softly. “No, lay back. P-please. Lay back.”

You do. But you feel weird about it. Like does he not want you to touch him? He seemed excited when you said you wanted to touch him earlier but he’s being different now. You lay there, legs still bent at the knee and spread around Din’s body.

He slips his hands between your legs to take more of your wetness.

“Th-th-this is what I-I thought about.” He groans out quietly but the modulation is back. “I want to w-watch and-and I–” But he cuts himself off and you hear him moan quietly. Then he’s leaning over you again, you feel his hand rest beside your head. You reach up and wrap your hand around his wrist gently while he comes on your belly. “So good. It’s so good, Little one.” And then he’s resting the cool metal of the helmet against your shoulder. He rests there for a while, letting you keep your hand on his wrist.

You grab his hand when he pulls away and bring the tips of his fingers to your lips and kiss them softly.

“Let me next time.” You whisper and slip one of his fingers into your mouth and swirl your tongue around it gently. “Can you see this?” You ask with the tip of his finger between his lips. He says nothing but you can hear his modulated breathing still.

“Yes.” He says softly. “Let me clean you up.” He says, but he doesn’t pull his hand away.

“Feed it to me.” You say, licking the tops of his fingers gently.

“Wh-what?” He stutters at your question.

“Let me taste you, feed it to me.” Your tongue and lips are still teasing his fingers and with his other hand you feel him swirl two fingers in the pool he shot into your belly button. He brings them to your mouth and you move your mouth to those fingers instead. He moves his saliva coated fingers down to your stomach and picks up more of himself on that hand and puts them into your mouth when you pull away from his other hand. He does that until there’s nothing left. Neither of you say anything the entire time. You just do it. When his searching fingers can find no more you feel him sit back.

“You like that?” He asked quietly in the dark.

“Only yours.” You whisper back, laying with your hands behind your head. “You can clean me up now.” You tease. He eases himself off the bed and you also start to ease yourself off the bed but you feel him stop.

“What are you doing?” He asks softly.

“I’m going to go back to my bed,” You say because why wouldn’t you? The bed he has isn’t very big and it’s also not very comfortable besides the sheets.

“Why?” He asks. “You don’t want to sleep here?”

“With you?” You ask suspiciously. He says nothing in the darkness. It’s quiet for so long. Then a damp cool cloth on your belly is wiping you down, getting everything he spread out across you in his search for more to put into your mouth. Dips the rag into your belly button. You’re waiting for him to respond. “Mando?” He pulls away from you.

“I said call me Din.” He rasps from the darkness.

You had almost forgotten but really, you were too scared. What if it was just only while you had your clothes formality.

“Din, you wanna share the bed?” You inquire nervously. More silence.

“I– I could sleep on the mat.” It sounds like a question but it isn’t. He sounds a little disappointed.

“No, you sleep on the bed. I’m gonna sleep on the mat.” You nod your head into the dark and go to get your nightgown.

“Not share?” He grabs you by the upper arm as you try to pass him.

“No. Not share. It’s too small.” You look up and wonder if he’s looking down at you. He releases your arm and you go back to your mat. It’s cool down here now and you feel refreshed. It’s hot underneath Mand- Din. It’s hot. He’s a hot man,

You get yourself tucked into bed and wonder if he’ll be there in the morning when you wake up or if you’ll be in the stars once more. You’ve been in this same field for four whole days. It’s starting to look boring. You need a change of scenery. So does the child. He didn’t make a whole sound th-. You sit up suddenly

“Din!” You exclaim quietly. You hear something bang against metal and he groans. “Sorry.”

“What?” He grumbles, no raspy modulation.

“The kid! I haven't heard him once since we turned the lights off, is he in the bassinet?” You’re sweating now and every good feeling you’ve had inside of you just two minutes ago is gone. You hear him bang again on something metal and then he’s at the bassinet.

“Shit. I have to get my hel-” He shuffles back to where he came from, you hear him, no metal banging this time and then the light comes on and you’re blinded .

What was once a void, a terrible darkness you didn’t think was possible is ripped from you and then you are plunged into the brightest lights you’ve ever seen. You raise your hand, trying to shield them from the light above you but you’re not concerned with that. You stumble to your feet and look into the empty orb.

“No.” You mutter and look around. “Nonononononononoo.” You whine, the sweat starts to bead in the center of your back. “Where is he? The ship’s not that big, where could he be?” You look at Mando for the first time since the lights came on. He’s got his helmet and just black pants. You stare at him for a long time, forgetting what you were so worked up over because he doesn’t look like your doodles. He’s muscular, yes very but there is a softness your doodles are lacking. He’s got shape and curves and valleys to his body and it’s beautiful.

The child.

“Fuck!” You exclaim. “We would have heard the door? Right?” You start to search, every little crevice and door or cupboard you can think of. He’s nowhere.

“He’s still in here.” Din says, looking around much more carefully and less destructive as you are.

“How do you know? He’s so small Din, what if something happ-” But he shoots his head over at you in a way that steals the words from your mouth.

“Don’t. He’s still here. I just know.” Then he goes back to looking.

You two look everywhere for what feels like way too long and finally Din calls to you.

“I’ve got him.”

You’re on your hands and knees almost inside the engine of the ship, a place you have no reason being because you don’t know what goes on inside, just that there was a space big enough for the child to climb through.

You relax. You can breathe. He’s got the child. Everything is right in the world.

Making your way back to the room, you wipe off your hands and knees and fix your messy hair because you’ve just been on the floor, crawling around on your hands and knees like an animal. When the child sees you, he reaches for you and you take him gently from Din’s arms.

“Where were you? Huh? Scared me half to death thinking I lost you.” You cradle him close to you. “Where was-” Din is looking your way with your brand new notebook in his hands. All the pages have been torn apart or chewed on. “How did you even get up there?” You look down at the child who is already sleepily blinking up at you. “How do you do stuff like that?” You rub his forehead with your index finger and he closes his eyes slowly.

“I’ll get you another one. Two.” Din tosses the notebook back into the cupboard. “Sorry.”

“You didn’t put him in that cupboard… did you ?” You tease quietly now that the kid’s back to sleep. You go to put him in his bassinet but Din stops you.

“Sleep in the bed. With him. Don’t let him sneak around like that again tonight. I’ll sleep on the mat.” Before you can protest he's got his hands on your shoulders, guiding you to the bed. “Please. I feel bad you’ve been sleeping on the floor. I’ll get you a better mat.”

So you crawl into bed and Din goes to turn the light out. The sheets are so soft. You place the child beside you and curl your body around his. You’ll feel if he decides he wants another paper snack or a midnight stroll around the ship.

“How do you sleep down here?” Din says with almost no expression from your place on the floor.

You chuckle and snuggle into the child.

Tag list (I'm putting anyone who showed me love and interest in this story, tell me to fuck off and I'll remove you if you'd like) @glitterymanboy @pedrospookie @thereaperisabitch @furiousmushroom

I'll also add whoever wants me to add them!

<- Part 1 Masterlist Part 3 ->

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #long reads #din djarin x female reader #din smut #Mando smut #I don't know what the razor Crest looks like in these first couple chapters #pedro pascal characters #smut #fanfic #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian fanfiction #mando x you

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meanbossart · 3 months ago

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ASK COMPILATION: Miscellaneous questions about lore and art!

Tried to address some of the shorter ones, thank you everyone as always for the endless patience as I struggle to keep up with my inbox ☠️

On the upside, found a few that went into my "future art prompt" folder ;)

As someone who prefers animals who roam and largely take care of themselves, only coming around to ask for a pet, a cuddle or a treat when they very well want to - cats would be perfect for him.

Thank you! I'm glad you like her. There's plenty of Orin in the horizon, it's unfortunate that I can only draw so fast 😂

Lacking

Thank you so much for giving it a shot! And I very much understand that personal policy LOL

Hopefully between life, art, and plain occasional laziness we will both live long enough to see it finished 😂 at least the bulk of it is set!

And I'm glad you enjoy my writing! Always a pleasant surprise to hear that considering that I have no idea what I'm doing. But I do constantly try to improve it!

[MORE BELOW THE CUT]

Hmm I hadn't considered it, but you never know!

We all know the answer to that already

I really don't think there is DU drow without the DU part. It's a pivotal aspect of his development not only biologically but in regards to all that happened in his life that eventually led him to be the way he is 🤷‍♂️ Like, his name itself is kind of a joke, he really isn't much of a drow to begin with!

His size, features, strength, it's all due to being a Bhaalspawn, and not a matter of winning (or losing, depending of how you look at it) the genetic lottery. Without it, he'd just be some forgettable Jaluk.

Thank you both so much!

I'm surprised about how often I get this question. He does, but he doesn't react to fear conventionally, he just buries it, powers through, or fuels his anger with it. This ask isn't about fears, but I think it applies better here than any summary or bullet-list I could type out. Feel free to draw your own conclusions!

Thank you so much!! And I'm also sorry to anyone who's had a similar experience, because I've certainly gotten a couple of messages about it by now 😂😂😂 listen If I could make him real I would!

It depends! Usually, anywhere between 1-3 days.

(Right now I'm in the process of dropping the smokes and because of that it's become more of a 5 day process, though. Send aid in the form of nicotine patches I Beg)

What do you mean, don't YOU dress like that???

Astarion is far more Bowie to me, personally, but something to think about 🤔

The only sword I've drawn him wielding more than once is the Balduran's Giantslayer from the game itself! Otherwise, they've just been random designs I made up on the spot.

Hello!

I'm pretty positive that by the time Minthara was invited up to be enthralled, the Dark Urge had already been shipped off under Kressa's care - but feel free to correct me if I'm wrong.

Either way, I don't really read too much into Minthara's and Orin's "relationship" myself, seems like a pretty clear cut victim/tormentor situation, which Orin and DU drow had plenty of prior.

#ask compilation

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ask-train-trio · 7 months ago

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~.~.~𝐀𝐒𝐊 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐎 ~.~.~

INTRODUCTION MASTERPOST!!!!!

(ᴛʜᴇʀ�� ɪs ɴᴏ ᴀᴜᴅɪᴏ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴠɪᴅᴇᴏ, ɪᴛ ᴡᴀs sᴜᴘᴘᴏsᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴀ ɢɪꜰ ʙᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ꜰɪʟᴇ ᴡᴀs ᴛᴏᴏ ʙɪɢ ᴏᴏᴘs)

This is an askblog for @lunozapp 's Indigo Park OCs! This post contains everything you need to know about this ask blog/AU and its characters! Context, boundaries, references etc. Asks are contextualised a little differently here, so check the blog description for the tl;dr on the context.

Check out issue 1 here!

CONTEXT:

This is DappleTilez24, also known as Tilez. He's a relatively small streamer in his universe's indigo park community, and is known for tirelessly completeing run after run, trying to beat his personal records (with.... varying sucess).

One day, he tries to speedrun a build of the game that he's never seen before...

...and stumbles across 2 MORE Rambleys than usual, much to the surprise - and confusion - of the Rambley we know and love!

Naturally, our hero Tilez is pretty damn confuddled... so he (mistakenly) asks his live chat for an explaination.

This is where YOU fantastic askers come in!

You act as Tilez's live chat. This means you don't even have to answer his queries, just say whatever you want to this interdimentional triplet of trash pandas, just like a REAL insufferable livechat would!

...within reason, of course (jokes aside, please read the boundaries)

[updated as of 04/07/24] CHARACTER REFERENCES: (in the animation i forgot twimbly's GT badges lol)

CHARACTER BOUNDARIES:

I want to make it entirely clear that i see the raccoon trio as brothers, especially with their very similar origins.

This is to say that I would not feel comfortable with any of them being shipped with eachother and I forbid the public sharing of that kind of content. If you see that kind of stuff around, please just mention this to the OP and block them if they refuse to respect it.

FURTHERMORE, please keep in mind that I ( @lunozapp ) am a MINOR. SO DON'T PUBLICLY POST NSFW/FETISH ART OF MY CHARACTERS, PLEASE AND THANK YOU.

However, shipping Twimbly, Ranglore, Rambley and Tilez with other characters that aren't related to them is fine by me (e.g. any of the original indigo characters x any of them, since they're not related)!

Again, please just keep it sfw.

ASK BOUNDARIES:

Pretty basic criteria, really. Just please don't spam the same ask over and over, I will guaranteed see them all unless this thing gets an explosion of attention out of nowhere lol

if i don't answer, its probably because either the question doesn't really fit the kind of story i have in mind for these characters or i just don't feel comfortable answering it. please respect that.

If you have a question for me specifically, start your ask with '[OOC]' (Out Of Character) or just ask me directly: @lunozapp

FURTHER INFO:

Asks are moreso used here as a prompt for conversation rather than the basis of an entire issue. More often than not there will be more than 1 ask in an issue, so going forward I'll make sure to tag everyone who asks without annonymity.

Also, please TRY to keep them as actual questions and not goofy 1-word sentences, the asks help me actually formulate a coherent premise for an issue

I don't OWN the concept of making ocs based off lore.mp4 and the GT thumbnail. if u see someone doing the same, try not to be all like 'OMG TWIMBLY/RANGLORE!!!! THEY ALREADY EXIST THIS IS PLAGARISM YOU CAN'T DO THAT!!!!!11!!11' unless it is blatant plagarism. Just use ur common sense ig

In terms of fanart/other fanworks, A MILLION THANKS IF YOU FEEL CALLED TO MAKE THAT!! The stuff i've gotten so far is genuinely so awesome, make it all you want if you feel called to do so. I'll try to reblog any fanart I find on here. If you want to go straight to asks, just click on the tag '#train trio asks'

alright, that's everything. Now what are you still doing here? Throw 'em a question! Or a compliment!! Or an insult.

or don't idrc just have fun here haha

fun fact!! putting everything together for this took a WEEK

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jules-writes-stories · 9 days ago

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2024 Fic Writer End of Year Roundup

Answer and then tag three or more creators to keep the game going!

Thank you to everyone who tagged me! I'm sorry this is late. I've been working on it for days. It's really long.

1. How many words did you publish on AO3 in 2024?

366,893

2. How many fics did you complete this year?

3. How many in progress or ongoing fics did you start this year?

I have 1 WIP: A Love That Bleeds and a Koschei x Eris fic that's not posted yet (but close to drafted).

4. What was your favorite thing you wrote?

I love all my babes equally, but I am most proud of Just Enough Light to Cast Shadows, which was my first fan fic, and a true labor of love.

5. What piece was your most experimental or different from your usual style?

Monster feels different from a lot that I've written. It's pre-cannon and examines Lucien and Eris's relationship, and is not ship-centered.

6. Did any fics surprise you - either while writing or their reception?

My Azris modern AU The Night Court Lounge really took me by the throat. It was supposed to be a slutty little spite fic and then it just took off. The boys caught feelings and I caught feelings. But I have @pippsmcgee to thank for hyping that story up. She was the brain child behind a big plot point, the pet names, and just talked me through positions and timing and what ifs... truly a gift.

7. Do you have a fic you wrote and loved that went under the radar? (This is your sign to reblog/repost it!)

Hmmm... not sure? Maybe my Amarantha x OC fic? It's hard to write pre-canon stories, especially for a villain! A Love That Bleeds is pretty dark and touches upon themes of slavery, love and autonomy, and is different from much that I write. But I am so proud of it.

8. Who is an artist that inspired you?

There are too many talented artists to list. Here are a few: @nus4y who makes Azriel's skin literally glow and everything just screams passion. LOOK AT HIS BRILLIANCE on A03 (NSFW)

@queercontrarian never fails to surprise me. Their take on the Court fashions, hair styles, jewelry. So much diversity and representation. THIS is one of my all time favorites. THEEESAN.

@palomita-de-la-sangre whose style is so unique and gorgeous and raw. This is what I mean.

@seihdacalling is immensely talented! Her Eris and pups and JEL Eris? AND LOOK AT MITHRAS (my beloved OC).

@bloodyplunder whose work is so passionate and full of color and movement. LOOK at this! AND (NSFW) LOOK AT JEL CHAPTER 25 on AO3!

@fourteentrout is inspired and talented. And all around incredibly kind and supportive. Just brilliant. LOOK AT FIRE SPRITE ERIS

@laxibbeb creates characters' faces in a way that hold so much emotion. NESTA is a favorite, omg... and AZRIEL IN STIRRUPS.

@elleybug @chunkypossum @lucychanart (who made me a Tamsand believer. God, this one?) so many more...

9. Who is an author that inspired you?

There are SO many. First and foremost, @chunkypossum who welcomes new creators with so much warmth and support. Every single story. Every word is magical. @iftheshoef1tz is another legend who is so kind and warm and wickedly talented. Every single story is perfection. Will they adopt me as my Azris parents? Maybe. Congrats! It's a shoe-possum!

@the-darkestminds is truly someone I could write a book about. The emotions she brings out with her characters and words will leave you breathless. If you want to feel, read her stories. You will walk away so full of every emotion, but also with a newfound appreciation for each character. And @mistandmemories whose Eris is the funniest, most clever, most lovable in the biz. Her Azriel makes me laugh constantly. How you ask? Shenanigans. Windows, pants, awkward moments of self doubt and a precious inability to communicate. Go read it. The plots, the politics. The WIT. The decades of delicious edging. (It was several chapters but gods it felt like a lifetime).

These two have been writing their own multi-chapter fics beside me this year, and without their friendship and support, I probably wouldn't have finished. ILY!

@pippsmcgee will never be rid of me and my neurotic little paws. This one just looks at a story, a character, a scene, and says "you know what will make it even more (painful, sexy, exciting)?" And you better listen. But she also wrote a beautiful story about young Azriel that inspired me so much this year.

@shadowsandlint is full of talent-- Her prose is layered with meaning and flows so naturally. I can't put her stories down.

@zenkindoflove For her OC Alexius, who is my baby forever and ever. Creating an OC is gutsy and brave and takes so much talent. She's got it all. Also stunning world building and dialogues! And don't get me started on Elucien...

@talibunny30 For her depictions of young Nesta and her OC Boudica. She shows so much of Nesta's trauma in a thoughtful and honest way. I love it!

@neciebee whose writing is like poetry. Every time I read it I'm like, wait! Come back. Tell me more. I want... more? Gimme!

@witch-and-her-witcher whose fics are so magical. Her Nessian is my all time favorite. Nesta, Cassian, the Illyrian culture that she built for us. Just stunning.

@born-to-riot for VAMREN. But also sexy plots, hilarious shadows, and fluffy Azris moments we need.

@acourtofladydeath for writing pieces that challenge readers to sit with uncertainty-- gray characters and grief that lingers but also carry lessons and hope.

@secret-third-thing for such perfect storytelling-- every word matters and every image counts. The descriptions and details are exact, the settings are lush and imaginative. Also, Artaban.

I could keep going... If you are not on this list, but I've commented or left kudos or bookmarked your fic, you've left a mark. If not, I'm coming for you in 2025!

10. Who is a new author you discovered?

@g00seg1rl who writes smut like a witch. A very sexy witch. @nus4y who is another sexy witch? Watch out for these two. @jolenes-library is so talented! Motorcycle Azris AU. Enough said. @buffy-vanserra whose prose is beautiful. Every word matters. @clockwork-ashes has so many lovely pieces I couldn't choose just one. @unanswered-stars for those damn letters. You know the ones. I'm still crying. @yanny-77 : Best Elain in the biz. And the Lip Ring.

11. Did you do any collaborations? How did it start?

@brunetterebel010 @mistandmemories and I wrote A Solstice Carol. It started as a lot of joking about Rhys being Scrooge. And it became a true passion project! @talibunny30 helped with brainstorming ideas and beta reading, and @fieldofdaisiies and @pippsmcgee beta read.

Also my partner in crime in all Azris fics: @pippsmcgee who talks me through plotting the political animal, asks the important questions, and twists the knife of angst. She keeps my eyeball obsession in check.

12. What accomplishments are you proudest of?

I'm most proud of Just Enough Light to Cast Shadows. It really is silly, but finishing it, right at the end of 2024, and looking back at all the new friends I've made along the way, and how it has touched other people just makes this year feel special.

Thank you so much to @pippsmcgee for helping me land that plane. And for being my very first comment, ever. When I saw you and @talibunny30 and @neciebee were reading, I felt legit. And to @mistandmemories and @the-darkestminds who were on this journey with me. It was so important to walk beside you during it all!

13. What did you learn about writing or creating this year?

Write was brings you joy. Comparison is the thief of that joy. You can only write your own story, and it's ok if it's not for everyone. Because a story that is everyone's is probably no one's, you know? It will reach the people it needs to.

Outlines are important (for my process). They saved my ass so many times. And beta readers. And friends. And reader-readers. They all saved me too.

14. What is your advice?

Surround yourself with people who cheer you on. Be sure to support other creators. The community aspect of fandom is important. We're all just out here putting our hearts onto the screen and hitting Post.

15. What are your creative goals for 2025?

Finish A Love That Bleeds, Finish my Koschei x Eris fic, and start plotting out a longer Azris multi-chapter fic. It's a little seed right now, but one day soon...

#acotar asks #askjules #acotar fanfiction

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thrill-seeker-vn · 7 months ago

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Hello everyone. I have no idea how to start this post, but I want to start it as upfront as possible.

TLDR: My uncles shipped my sick grandmother to my home, and they called me to tell me only after she had already landed... when her visa was expiring very soon. And so obviously 1. My job was to keep her alive, and 2. I had to scrounge up money to send her to her home. It has been a very few stressful months.

In between this, I hit a slump with writing, and felt very burnt out, as I had no time for it between work, trying to keep my grandmother alive, my own health, and my own business. I wish I could say I worked on Thrill Seeker in this time, but I simply couldn’t. I think a huge part of what was so daunting for me was only having myself to rely on and set the schedules, and in a way it came to be that there were lengths of time nothing could get done because there was simply no time in my life to do it.

This is not meant to be an excuse as to why I was away from the blog for so long. It is simply what made me realize that I cannot continue alone on this project, as I would then be taunted by how much I would have to do that I would end up not being able to do anything at all.

I was discussing this project with a friend of mine who has been beside me since I started this project, who I know shares my passion in making games, and who has rooted for me from the beginning. While I’m more interested in the storytelling, she’s incredibly fascinated with coding. During this time, we discussed perhaps making a game together-- but recently we got the opportunity to make that into a reality.

Thrill Seeker is not ending, but rather, it will be changing format. I am so happy to say my incredible friend, Kismet (@kismet-dev), is going to be joining me to reform Thrill Seeker into a Visual Novel! She is one of my best friends and is the most organized person I know, so no more falling off the face of the Earth for me, because I’ve put a lot more planning into the game and now have someone to hold me to my schedules, too!

I understand that it could be disappointing to hear that I’m switching from an entirely text based format to a VN style. I apologize to anyone who is disappointed by this change. It’s been amazing the support I’ve gotten for this game and how many people have stuck to the project, even when I’ve been so flaky, and I want to thank you for sticking to the project when I haven’t been the most reliable developer. I am so grateful for your kindness to me, for all the people who have sent asks and been interested in my characters and story.

When I first created this project, it was just not a viable option for me to make a visual novel, as there would’ve been no chance I had the opportunity to create art, write, and code it. But creating the art for the game inspired me more than when I only had words to go off of, and many different concepts for the game that I had in mind were simply harder for me to make into reality on twine. Thanks to the absolute angel that is my friend Kismet, I will actually be able to create the vision for the game that I’ve seen in my head for the longest time. She’s an excellent programmer and such a wonderfully organized and hard worker, and I know that I wouldn’t have anyone else by my side as we begin to make games together.

I will be making some changes to this blog as I make it more cohesive for the VN, but I will also use it as an opportunity to organize this blog for those who are interested in knowing more about the characters, settings, etc. It’s a little unorganized and hard to find certain questions, and I’ll do my best to fix that! Note that this will mean that changes are coming to the characters, and pretty major ones. I know that many of the asks I answered in the past will no longer apply to the story as I’ve changed it, so I will be reforming it quite a lot. However, what will not change is the characters themselves; they will still be gender selectable, and their personalities will still remain similar; but I feel like some of my characterization of them has been shallow, and I’m going to be fixing that.

The launch of the game as a visual novel, with the first chapter, will be coming in August. Thank you so much for reading all this and I hope you have a wonderful weekend!!

#life update #I am so so so grateful for every single person who has read Thrill Seeker #every person who has sent me kind words and encouraged me to build this project #i am so so so so grateful to all of you #Thank you for supporting me all this time #New changes are coming!

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bengiyo · 2 months ago

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Sailom from Wedding Plan? 👀 ✨?

Ah, Sailom, my beloved. Thank you, bestie.

How I feel about this character

I think he's one of the best versions of a closeted rich man we've ever had in Thai BL. Sailom works so well because Namnuea isn't poor, and Wiwa Square isn't struggling. He's also got completely valid reasons for withholding information from Namnuea. The way this situation spiraled is so believable, and it's also believable how they got themselves out of it. This is my favorite MAME work because I completely get both Namnuea and Sailom. I will forever love this man for putting his own life on hold to protect his best friend's lesbian relationship.

All the people I ship romantically with this character

Namnuea, baby!! My man earned this moment!

But also...I know in my heart that he and Prapai fucked exactly twice in England.

My non-romantic OTP for this character

Yihwa is the only answer. The entire story revolves around how much Sailom is willing to sacrifice for her. The reason why they are one of the best platonic OTP's of all time is that Yihwa and Marine never took what Lom was doing for them for granted, and they were also unwilling to let him sacrifice something real with Namnuea for them. He and Yihwa protected each other for over a decade. He was genuinely sad when they couldn't go to England for their wedding. Their friendship is so important to me.

My unpopular opinion about this character

My unpopular opinion is that he's not a bad guy, and Namnuea isn't a damsel being abused by him. I find it a bit difficult to engage in romance stories if we're reading one person as an giver and another as a receiver. It feels a bit reductive, and the characters start to feel inhuman. What I love so much about Wedding Plan is how actively engaged all of the characters are in their stories, even down to the supporting cast. I think this show captured queer peril in a real way. I think I'd feel differently if the show didn't directly confront Lom's actions as he flirted with Namnuea and stressed him out. As it is, they are married, and I love that for them!

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.

I kinda wish we'd see Lom's dad. It feels pretty pointed that he's completely absent from everything that happened, and we know he's around. I'm a bit sad that we only ever saw Lom be flippant with his mom, when we saw Nuea's parents involve with the entire wedding.

For the Character Breakdown Ask Game

#answered #ask game #wedding plan #thai bl

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verdantwyrm · 26 days ago

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Hi! Sorry to rant, I don’t know if it’d be appropriate, or if the theme has been discussed already… But you’re, like, the ambassador of Curly enjoyers to me, so I figured this would be my best bet.

The thing is, I’ve been quietly seething lately thinking about how much the perception & treatment of Curly post-crash is defined by his injury. Like, how much it would’ve changed if the man had at least retained his face.

(I mean, he is my fav character for many reasons and in a lot of ways, and yet when replaying the game I have to stop and remind myself every now and then that this is the same person we occasionally play as, with the same set of memories, traits, thinking patterns etc. Not because I forget the fact, but because of how easy it is to subconsciously divide them when he neither behaves nor looks the same anymore. I have a mind exercise of coming to the med bay as I have to pass by, to observe Curly where he lies on his gurney table and try to imagine his pre-accident version looking up at me from there. Something of an attempt to strengthen the associative connection and not be part of the problem.)

Imagine an AU where basically everything is the same but the cockpit didn’t catch fire during the crash, and instead the ship just stopped very abruptly, Curly hit the wall/control panel badly and broke his spine, leaving him paralyzed from the neck down. So he is aware but unable to move around or communicate effectively (like in canon), but also he’s completely recognizable. Now, I’m not saying people in the fandom wouldn’t have still treated him like a prop or a pet or a child or some kind of silly f/cked up mascot (bc some people are *****), but I bet my kidney the occurrence would’ve been considerably less common than it is now. And that’s it, that’s the point. The whole dehumanization thing going on is just disheartening.

Anyway, sorry once more if it was all over the place, didn’t mean to be rude... Thanks for listening and for all your committed work as an ambassador and an advocate!

Hi Anon! o(^-^)o Thank you so much! And do not apologise, you have no idea how much I appreciate you and others coming into my inbox and giving me their opinions, feedback and perspective of stuff! Curly is my favourite character as well and I will not tolerate slander! Especially when its just straight up incorrect.

But to answer your question, alot of Curly's post-crash dehumanisation does immensely come from the fact that he's lacking any real facial features. Real life burn victims that have suffered directly to their faces experience this basically every day. Because they lack a """normal""" face thats recognisable, alot of people subconsciously stop recognising these people as Human because they Do Not Look Like One.

Even people that are just double or triple amputees (or in Curly's case, a quadruple amputee) deal with an immense dehumanisation and infantilisation because they "lack the necessary equipment to be an adult human" and perform tasks on their own. There comes a very specific type of infantilisation towards disabled people and thats the utter denial and ignorance that once you "become" disabled you no longer have sexual desires, that you no longer function as an adult and anyone trying to have sex with you or engage with you in that way is a creep because to them you are the equivalent of a 10 year old.

Curly and how he's treated by the fandom and whatnot is significantly impacted by how he looks, and the example you give me of him managing to not burn all of his skin off but would become paralysed from the neck down, I know for a fact that if that was the case, he would be treated significantly worse because he cannot move. Canon Curly isn't paralysed, he's just in an excruciating amount of pain that reduces his movement, but he does still have somewhat control over his limbs. If he somehow ended up paralysed ontop of that, the treatment he receives would be way, way worse. And I can't even begin to describe what that would look like, but I know deep down in my gut that it absolutely would.

If he were to somehow not get burnt but still get paralysed like you said, I think his treatment could be different, but I'm not sure exactly how. He would absolutely still be dehumanised to an extent especially with being paralysed, but its the fact that he has a face that makes a difference. People might be able to remind themselves that he's a grown ass man, but probably not.

You going through the effort to conciously remind yourself that they are infact the same character is actually fantastic, and it shows that you're willing to see disabled people as human beings, real people, even in this case. And you're doing marginally better than alot of people who look at him and completely reduce him to nothing but a dog, creature or an "it" or "thing"

And it's also evident in how Jimmy treats him too, as a liability, that because he's in this state he can just strip away his title like it doesn't mean anything, dehumanise and project his own authority over. Jimmy does this with Anya and Curly, significantly so with her, but in an increasingly horrifying way with Curly.

And thank you so much Anon! Never apologise, I had alot of fun answering this question, and I will continue to work hard as Curlys ambassador and defender! ヾ(*・ω・)ノ

#mouthwashing #mouthwashing curly #mouthwashing jimmy #mouthwashing anya #anon #ableism #tw ableism

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river-mort · 5 months ago

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Hi I love your mohg/rhadan art very much it’s my favorite thing. I also love your Morgott art a LOT. I love your more serious style and it brings such joy to my heart to see your art of the twins and little things about their relationship dynamic, that’s one thing that kills me about the game is we never get to see mohg & Morgott interact.

If you have any silly/angsty headcanons for rhadan/mohg I’d love to hear them. Or ones for the twins too for that matter.

i wish i drew more serious art it's just too much silly ideas occupied my head. I hate being the clown all the time it's my curse - being funny.

And thank you to ask question about some stuff I hc or draw. Last time I received such question was....years ago I feel

I'm also glad to intoxicate people into radmohg its such a funny and sweet ship. It's so sweet that I can't even come with any angst for it. They both might have their own sad stories they deal with (sometimes together) but something rough between them? They two has their own worldview and plans but they never confront each other. If someone disagree they just..... Don't talk about it? So You're a blood cultists? Okay just leave my army alone ok? They make some agreements and keep living. In fact I think it's impossible to make Radahn feel strong emotions - hate, anger anything. He is a big man of accepting and compromise when it's about relationship (not only romantic). He might be emotional on the battlefield and it's the only place when he can be rough but when it's a calm life he is as calm as capibara. He is a simple positive man. He is such a Kronk coded character to me lol, even if you throw a table at you it will just break and he will be like you okay? You seem sad :( . On mohg side, even being quite a self centered man, he somehow respect Radahn's personal space and decisions. He doesn't force him to follow his lead or do as be say - unless it's something small like carrying him in the top of the tower. But with Radahn everything is new to mohg - before he would never care about anyone in any way. He doesn't care for others opinions, decisions and desires. With Radahn he is unbelievably tolerant and sweet. From other side it actually looks like pretending and Morgott was absolutely sure that Mohg is up to something. Even Mohg himself thought he was up to something - he just didn't know what exactly he would possibly need from this man. During first period mohg acted so fun while pretending he doesn't care for Radahn and just want to use him for SOMETHING while actually he was simply interested in him. That's all. He was like no I don't care that he doesn't answer my letter for second day already and u walk around this room nervously because I think about other matters and definitely not because of that one specific. I don't care for him. At all. And morgott is like okay but I didn't ask?

With mohg and morgott on the other hand there's pretty much angst. And I'm not even talking about their different worldview and religions - that's quite obvious. Saying about headcanons I like to think that mohg has soft spot for his brother - too soft I would say. Being ruthless and cunning, he could've already get the leyndell throne even without killing his brother (which he always say he CAN do but no. He can't), but instead he actively helps Morgott rule, in mimic veil au he even becomes his advisor but basically he's a nanny - he forces him to wake up, to go on meetings, to do his duties which morgott due his strong, I mean strong, depression doesn't want to do at all. He didn't ask mohg to help and sometimes he doesn't even like mohg being around but mohg still do it - which probably makes some of his followers question his decisions and his promises. But mohg can'thelp himself. When he knows morgott will have some meetings HE is nervous because he knows how hard it for his brother.

Talking about angst I also like the idea based on my personal experience - some people can't be your therapists. They shouldn't at all but if they will they can't help you on a professional level which is what happened between these two - mohg has NO idea how to help his brother who is drowning in self hate. He is here in the time of need but he can't offer anything special. And in morgott case some simple support words and presence is barely enough to survive through some of his states of mind. I think sometimes mohg is exhausted. Based on my experience when some person you talk to is ALWAYS depressed and self hating unstoppable you just.... Give up at some point. And I think sometimes mohg is quite close to this. Of course he won't but it feels like you hitting a wall with your head constantly. Pointless

But talking about positive hc I think instead of open conflict they just tend to make fun on each other. You know, all these cocky comments ir sarcasm with all this "at least I don't serve some his ass tree that doesn't even answer" And they start fighting. Just two stupid boys. I don't have siblings but I think lots of memes about siblings relationship would suit them

Also Morgott and Radahn will find a way to communicate. I think Radahn is actually respect morgott for his skills at fighting and for morgott Radahn is just.... An okay guy. He doesn't try to take the throne or destroy city. I think they would even become sports companions because I think that morgott likes doing sports. It's his only hobby

#radmohg #mohg the lord of blood #morgott the omen king #general radahn

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utilitycaster · 2 months ago

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anyway this is obviously a wild shift in the topic of conversation, but I was talking about it in the group chat last night as a distraction and would like to continue the distraction if I am being honest, so, with the caveat that this is based off of Fandom Osmosis Observations and a few reads of reviews and I have at this time played neither of these games, some thoughts about BG3 vs. Veilguard and what I've seen. many thanks to @captainofthetidesbreath for actually knowing things about video games and answering my many questions.

also just putting this up front with all said caveats: if you disagree that is great, I am very open that this is an outside observation and I could be very wrong but I am going to block people who get hostile without warning, and make this nonrebloggable if too many people get hostile. You are always permitted to disagree but like, I don't really care about your opinion if you're not someone with whom I have a pre-existing rapport unless idk you're like, actually a BG3 or Veilguard official story writer who happens to be on Tumblr. If you're a player? You have all of your own biases and they are not mine. Save it for someone who wants to get in a fight about this; I am not that person.

Essentially, what I've seen in terms of criticism from Veilguard that isn't just rampant transphobia comes down to the following:

why am I not playing my previous character from Inquisition again

why am I limited to a fairly consistent through line for the story

But first, I'm going to talk about BG3. What's funny is I seem like a much more obvious candidate for playing BG3, as a longtime D&D player who has come around on Forgotten Realms as a setting. However, while I looked at it for a while, I eventually lost interest for a couple of reasons. One is that apparently all the characters are WAY too eager to romance you which is like, a fun fantasy for 10 minutes but would probably annoy me in the long run. Another is that everyone who watched early reviews and kept abreast with the game told me that there was a clear favorite companion (Astarion) and that many of the characters had most of their interesting flaws sanded down (eg: Wyll was apparently much cockier originally; Shadowheart even more petulant; and as these are perhaps the two characters I was most intrigued by, reducing them to something blander destroyed much of the appeal). But perhaps the most interesting one is that as a boring goodie two shoes sort of person, my thought back when I was like "yeah, perhaps I will play this" was "oh, I do not want to have a murderous urge within me."

It became very apparent, through watching people play through and post on my dash, that if you didn't specifically play as the Dark Urge, and didn't specifically resist that urge, the story didn't really cohere. I have to admit, I know the premise of BG3 very well (tadpoles), and I know a lot of shipping trends (put a pin in that), and I know some of the more obvious points within it (Astarion is a vampire, Gale and Karlach both have bombs in their chests somehow, Shadowheart bleaches her hair) but I don't really have a great sense of the ending, and I did not avoid spoilers.

It feels like BG3 is designed for people who have one of those massive spreadsheets of D&D characters they haven't had a chance to play that are meticulously kept and thoroughly realized...and don't really leave room for modifying to fit the campaign you will actually be playing in. It feels like an OC sandbox simulator unless you do actually pick the choice the writers actually wrote for (Durge), and while it's not technically playersexual...it kinda is. I mean, I am a big fan of the trend in video games towards making it possible to romance anyone because it conjures up the idea of a world of high-powered bisexuals running around, which is very enjoyable for me, but the criticism of the Mary Sue archetype originally was never "how dare you fantasize about being cool." It was "wow, the characterizations are all warped beyond recognition solely so that everyone is in love with this character, and that makes for a dull and unsatisfying story." If you're everyone's type, and it's for romance and not just sheer lust, then either everyone around you is boring and wants the same thing, or you are sort of bland and inoffensive, or else the story is bashing characters together without a good basis for a compelling romance. This is also compounded by the fact that the companions can't get together with each other if you're playing your own character and not an Origins character.

None of this is to say it's bad to like BG3 and again, I didn't play it; but it is why I ultimately said "you know, given the effort involved to play it for me, a person without a gaming system, it's not worth it."

Veilguard has specifically intrigued me for going against a lot of this. You have a lot of choices in your character build, but they're all fairly thematically consistent: you did something within your faction that was well-intentioned but upset higher-ups and so you need to step away for a while. This establishes a personality for you! We know why you're part of a faction but also something of a free agent at the moment. We know why you're here and why you might be a good candidate for the current mission.

I'm not going to go into detail for the choices because while I'm not avoiding spoilers I don't want to spoil a relatively new game for others, but a lot of choices are fairly parallel, not in an "illusion of choice" way - they have consequences - but in terms of hitting similar themes. You can only save one city and both are places you have seen and places your companions have connections to; while the exact details may differ you are telling a consistent story.

I also think the fact that the companions can romance each other in your absence is important too! They exist even when you're not there. They are not just here to woo you, and indeed, they might be a better match for each other. I've been informed this is true in Inquisition as well, and I think it's a much more rich world if you, as the player, as the person who can ultimately decide the fates of your companions, aren't the center of their personal life. I also think it prevents the ability to sand down companions to be more agreeable to you as a player if you have to make an NPC/NPC romance compelling (and I will freely admit that, in a move that is not at all like me, I was pretty well sold by a potential in-game NPC/NPC romance, which is usually not the thing that gets me into works of fiction).

I'm not the right person to speak to the Inquisitor not being a significant character because I did not play DA:I, and I get that 'well, this is a new game with a new protagonist, as there has been for every Dragon Age game' is still not necessarily an adequate explanation. Nor is "hey, maybe it's good to attract new players" even though as someone who is highly attracted as a new player that is my opinion. However, I want to go back to the point about Resist Durge being the strongest option in BG3 in terms of story by a long shot. When I was trying to learn more, I said "ok, so just like how you're Tav in BG3 and Rook in Veilguard, you're Lavellan in Inquisition, right?" and was told that you are not - that's just the elvish Inquisitor option. Obviously this is anecdotal, but the fact that one option was far and away the most popular and thematically resonant is an indication that perhaps bringing forth the Inquisitor is carrying over some of the limitations of that game, whatever they may be. The true argument is "they are trying to tell a specific story here, and it is about a different POV than the one you previously had."

And that's really my point. I know I'm not an expert here - in fact I'm usually quite hesitant to write meta about things in which I'm not highly steeped, and very critical of those people who do - but I think an outsider perspective is useful here. The thing that is drawing me to video games is a new way to experience a fictional narrative (the other game I have been meaning to play - and even own on Steam- is Disco Elysium). That's not what everyone wants! But it is what I want. And so I want to be put into a developed, thoughtful narrative, and I don't mind if my choices are restricted in order to support it, and if I am playing a person I did not entirely choose. In tech, there is a saying of "make it easy to make the right choice (and hard to make the wrong one)" and so if you need your protagonist to hit certain beats, you should make that the required protagonist.

I think a story is stronger if your choices matter but if there is something of a foregone conclusion because it gives the writers thematic throughlines. This might sound a little silly given that this blog is largely dedicated to Actual Play but the thing is, most actual play does have, if not a foregone conclusion, at least a strongly intended conclusion of "work towards uncovering this mystery and achieving this goal", though the success of said goal is not guaranteed. I would argue that when a campaign lacks that, it tends to suffer in all aspects. RPG video games almost always have a foregone conclusion, but that's its own liability. In actual play, lacking a forgone conclusion means you spin off in any direction and it's anyone's guess if it's coherent. In an RPG, having this conclusion but not supporting it through the rest of the game will make it feel contrived. I feel a lot of Veilguard criticism is focusing on small contrivances early on that really mostly matter to a highly specific subset of potential players that prevent much larger and less forgiveable contrivances later on.

Anyway. Again, I am an outsider here, and I'm not here to say that it's bad to have a more open-world, sandboxy game with a self-insert-y OC type; but I have to be honest, I'd rather explore that in a true sandbox of fanfiction or original fiction, which is significantly cheaper and in which I can actually tell the entire story I want to tell. I don't want to be given more choices if a lot of them will be profoundly unsatisfying as a narrative. I don't want to cut through the world like a hot knife through butter. I want to be affected by it, and that's very hard to do with a character whose only trait is "self-insert whom everyone wants to fuck" or "guy that already carries the baggage of years of personal headcanons and highly variable choices that are hard to account for for every single person who ever played the previous game."

#long post #i'm not tagging this for the games obviously in the hopes of preventing the people i mentioned in paragraph 2 #but for now; you can reblog.

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