#and then they somehow turn out to like the ''''''canon'''''' ship more than mine

[yamikawaii]

im just really tired honestly

[zvtara-was-never-canon]

You're saying that zutara wasn't supported by the writers and shouldn't have been an endgame. That's a lie! and you can verify this, for example, by reading this post. Zutara has a huge support of writers and actors, she was supposed to become a canon! We were just robbed.

https://www.tumblr.com/crienselt/744143410729041920?source=share

I can show you lots of videos of Grey Delisle saying Azula and Zuko are totally fucking (including one she recorded for my birthday), and there's an infamous clip of Bryke proposing Azula and "The Blue Spirit" as a potential ship in a pannel. Somehow I don't think you'll take that as meaning my OTP is canon and was just robbed of it's endgame at the last second - but apparently tumblr posts are solid proof, therefore my argument is perfect and all you Zutara fans are now gonna have to accept that you ship Katara with a guy that canonically (by the standards YOU GUYS are trying to set at least) loves incest even more than Jaime and Cersei Lannister did. And oh, would you look at that! During one of the times Grey mentioned Zucest, Dante said "The Fire Nation are a bit like the Lannisters." See the links if you don't believe me. WHERE'S YOUR GOD NOW?

The creators/showrunners, writers, and lead writer have all said a billion times "Kataang was always the heart of the show and by the time the first episode aired we were set on it being endgame. Some people in the crew liked BOTH Kataang and Zutara, but Zutara was NEVER seriously considered as a real possibility for endgame or even temporary romance. The only love triangle ever considered was Aang, Katara and MALE Toph."

It doesn't matter how many interviews yall fake, how many clips you take out of context, how many deleted scenes you claim existed without a shred of proof to back it up, how many times you go "but this actor whose job is ACTING not WRITTING says he likes Zutara" or "This writer that wrote tons of Kataang episodes said the word Zutara once when writting a scene between Zuko and Katara" - your ship is still fanon. That's not a dig at you or saying it's bad, it's just a fucking fact.

Write some fanfic if you like it so much, but don't turn the production of the series itself into your fanfic just so you can lie to yourself about how there was ever any chance of you getting what you wanted in the actual canon.

And for real, you're gonna try to use the LIVE ACTION as proof? The thing the creators disowned? Netflix's over-glorified cosplay session that everyone keeps saying "It's mid at best" is THE argument you go for? Have some goddamn standards, I'm begging you.

[notyoureve]

Well, what can I say about my feelings after LiS:DE...

First of all... I still believe in the Chaseprice supremacy, yay!!! Even tho I didn't get the same impression of flirting in their conversation in the comments as the others😅 But at least they talked! My faves since 1st game! What a blessing to a shipper!

2) Thanks for the Caulscott content — not in the ways we as the MxN shippers could ever expect, but still🤣🤝 I just knew one of the D9 crew is one of us since that little background scene in BTS — what can I say, hinting twice (if not thrice) is almost canon to me🤪😁🤭

3) Vinh, freaking, Lang... The moment I saw Vinh in the sneak-peak before the release I predicted him to be the male love interest😜 I'm so grateful I was right — their progressing relationship was so beautiful... Even though their kiss was shorter than the kiss with Amanda, but damn... butterflies in my stomach were enough to say it was one of the most romantic scenes in the whole franchise. And the way he didn't want her to leave? Oh, my man, she has a way with leaving her almost boyfriends after kisses😭 And how happy he is after the game events when he finally sees her? And their hug? I'll never recover... I also believe in the DE Langfield supremacy, their interactions were absolutely one of the best parts of the game for me!!!

4) The pretty barista I didn't expect to love❤ I liked Amanda somehow, but I don't see her with Max at all... I'll say a very controversial thing, but the girl deserves so much better than Max😃 I would rather ship Ms Thomas with Ms Chen, and yet — they have some very nice scenes together. But even as a die-hard Caulscott shipper I'll say that Pricefield>>>Caulmas, especially after the way D9 just pushed the romance with her from the very first scene... The pushing was so cringy that I literally thought I would never like Amanda🤔 But here we are! She is fun and I love her, so she's my girlfriend, not Max's, okay?

5) Safi and Moses!!! Ooh, I loved them so much💔 Didn't like what they did to Safi by the end of the game, but she's a very great character besides all the other shit. And Moses is simply one of the best characters in the franchise, beat me. And his friendship with Safi is sooo dear to me🥺 Tbh, I expected much more from his role in the game and I believed at some point that he was helplessly in love with Safi. Not sure if this is for the best it turned out absolutely differently... And IMO Max x Safi/Max x Moses still have a better chemistry (even as a friends) than she and Amanda romantically😅 But there were definitely some sparks with Safield, yeaaah (it's very funny btw that it's the only sounding acceptable name of their ship, lmao)

6) The plot... What plot? Was it there? I missed it? Ah, it was so little and hasty it didn't deserve to become a BIG game... And yet! The game was much better in some ways I didn't expect, and so much worse at the same time((( There were some great ideas I truly liked, because they resonate with some of mine, but all the same they were ruined by some plotholes and inconsistencies — ooh, disappointment is strong here. But overall I liked the game! The music — one of the best parts of the finished product indeed🔥 The narrative was very lazy in the start and too rushed in the end, and it was the main reason what ruined the full experience to me😟 As for the characters... Well, most of them were cool, but there are so few of them comparing to the previous games. I honestly expected more of them, or at least more interactions with them... But let's end here!) Even if the plot wasn't perfect, there were plenty of moments I truly enjoyed.

7) The whole Chloe thing. I didn't expect much from the start (and I mean announcement), but was quite surprised we didn't saw her in the game besides photos. Breakup wasn't unexpected for me, but I suppose I can understand the feelings of the die-hard MxC fans. I won't say that I'm fully on their side, but still I understand what it's like🙏 And btw I had no problem with revoicing her by Rhianna since announcement, but... um... Something went strongly wrong — I absolutely fell in love with her work in BtS, and was absolutely shocked with what I've heard in DE🤯 She doesn't even sounds like herself((( What they did with her..? And why did she sound so emotionless? It was the only disappointing thing with Chloe for me. But perhaps there was some reason, if some theories will turn out to be true, who knows... But her haunting the narrative in the start and in the end was delightful in some ways, I won't lie.

8) The whole NOTMYMAX thing. Well, I can agree with some statments, but I do not see anything contradictory in her actions or her design. Even if it's Max-fkn-Caulfield, it doesn't make her less human and does not forbid her to grow and change, and especially doesn't forbid to become more serious and pathetic at the same time😃😆 Aaaand... Jesus Christ, Hannah Telle gave a simply outstanding performance — I missed her so much💔💔💔 Her returning to Max is also one of the best parts of the game and it's so heart-warming that her voice hasn't change at all🥺 And in the end: the bisexual queen returned — Max still is so Max it made me involuntarily smile throughout the game)))

I can endlessly speak of everything I think about the game, but there's so much to say I won't say no more at all😆😆 But all cringe and weak plotlines aside, some sides of DE were really great to explore! And since I'm more of an optimist, I will not rate the game just to not upset myself🤣

[shyinsunlight]

You call yourself a Regulus stan while you publicly hate talk about Jegulus? You don’t deserve him.

oh, anon.

the only reason i answer this is because i think i know who you are. and i think you sent me this because i pissed you off with an incest joke after you told me to seek therapy for shipping tomarry.

i don’t deserve him? why, you do? he’s a fictional character from a children’s book series where we have like 4 lines of canon about him. he’s. not. real. is it perhaps time to take a step back and ask yourself why you’re getting so worked up about an internet stranger’s interpretation of an imaginary person?

about regulus, jegulus, and why we need to touch grass

i don’t bash ships (publicly) because that’s not what fandom should be about. it should be a creative safe space where we can all enjoy our interests without getting annoying hate anons/harassment for it.

i have several fandom friends who are jegulus shippers, and—surprise—we get along amazingly. we respect each other’s preferences, don’t force our ships on each other, and can have intelligent discussions without losing our shit. they write their thing, i write mine, and somehow, the world’s still spinning. wild concept, i know.

it’s not a secret that i don't like jegulus. it means that i filter it out as a tag, and i don’t engage with jegulus content. i keep vibing in my corner of the internet, enjoying the interpretations i actually like. so why are you, and numerous other jegulus shippers so obsessed with forcing your interpretation on me and on others? what gives you the right to bash me for shipping tomarry while demanding that i accept jegulus as gospel truth?

it’s genuinely unfair how a vocal minority can taint the reputation of an entire ship community, especially when there are so many jegulus shippers who do nothing but quietly enjoy their content and respect others’ boundaries.

let’s be real here for a second. jegulus is the textbook definition of a crack ship. james, who canonically despised everything the black family stood for, who’s best friend is sirius (who literally ran away from that family), who fought against blood supremacy and everything regulus believed in… would he fall for his best friend’s baby brother who was actively choosing to be a death eater? 

and regulus, who thought blood traitors were beneath him, who probably saw james as the person who corrupted his brother and turned him against his family, who’s partly responsible for regulus losing sirius… would he want to date him? touch him, at all? 

these two would never even want to talk to each other, let alone be involved romantically. regulus most likely thought james wasn’t even worth being spat on—and james would’ve seen regulus as nothing but another blood purity-obsessed mini death eater who hurt his best friend.

making this ship work requires completely butchering both regulus’ and james’ characters into something that’s further away from canon than draco malfoy working in lululemon as a soft-spoken slam poetry major.

imagine having such a surface-level understanding of regulus’ character that you think the most interesting thing about him is his potential to be james’ boyfriend… regulus, who:

grew up believing he was superior to others 

was the spare heir until he suddenly had to shoulder all the family expectations after sirius left (and since we’re here, yes, he probably felt the need to overcompensate after this. i personally don’t see how it leads to him wanting to make out with james in broom closets, but you do you) 

had such a complicated relationship with his brother which deserves so much more exploration than reducing him to ending up dating his best friend

was so devoted to voldemort that he put up posters in his little fanboy lair

willingly joined a terrorist organisation

was kind to kreacher yet still gave him to voldemort for “testing”

made one single good decision in the end 

he wasn’t misunderstood, and that’s not what his story is about. it’s about choices, consequences, and what it means to finally do the right thing for once even when it costs you everything. (also, he failed even in that because he just made it all worse for everyone else later. he's a flop and i love him for that.)

listen, i get it. fanon is fun!! headcanons are fun!! i write many au fics, and i totally understand the appeal of playing with characterisation and what ifs. but there’s a “hey, this is my fun interpretation about this” and an “if you don’t accept my interpretation then fuck you, you’re fake, you don’t deserve him.”

SHIP AND LET SHIP

[tbgkaru-woh]

hi hi hi!!! since last time u asked for hcs or ideas, and i couldn't come up with any in the moment, I AM HERE TO SHARE (mine) AND ASK UR OPINIONS ON XIANXUAN (WWX X JZX) NOW... 😩

dont even get me started, personally for me, its HARD TO NOT ship two men who have punched each other for at least once in their life. AND WHEN THEY BOTH ACTUALLY HV CONSIDERATION FOR EO DEEP DOWN LIKE from hating each other's guts to punching each other's face to competing to an extent (over one girl literally) to actually having no hard feelings for each other to having consideration deep down for each other to believing in each other (to love the girl genuinely) to wwx accidentally and unintentionally killing jzx to mourning over his death and blaming himself for all of it to living again and taking care of his child...😩 i...ok half of the grief came bcs of shijie but ONE CAN IMAGINE AAAAH.

im sorry for making this long, help. (honestly ure the first ever acc i have found shipping them in one of ur arts so i HAVE to rant omg)

i love their dynamic sm, somehow i want wwx to top jzx at any fucking cost. WHY ?! because he wanna prove he's better and better and BETTER than this fucking peacock and he wanna crush his attitude so bad like...and jzx just tryna keep up with him and this fucker is back with new tricks to put him where he belongs. then ends up putting him under himself. oMG. help. im crazy. bye.

SJSHSKSK MY GOD. looks like im gonna go on a brainrot.

They were some of the most obvious to me too only to find no one talking about them, I guess the whole WangXian tunnel-vision and Jin Zixuan not having a fandom will do that to a dynamic.

I just hoped in canon they'd have...more. I wanted to see their arc, I wanted them to fight side by side, wanted to see Zixuan defend Wei Wuxian in front of the gossipy pricks and his word mattering to them, wanted to see Wei Wuxian punch someone for Jin Zixuan, instead of punching him for Yanli.

Straight Zixuan is also extremely boring to me and him secretly crushing on the brothers, maybe even popping a boner while wwx gets REAL CLOSE to him during a fight and needing to leave RIGHT NOW... He'll be a good bridge between the two, he's quiet, arrogant and loyal to duty as Jiang Cheng is, but wwx is what he wished he could be like in certain aspects, not to say that with their constant teasing and play-fights, some truths will come out sooner rather than later.

And when it comes to smut I love to imagine that something that starts as a hate fuck with neither backing down but both their inexperience starts showing but unlike jzx who's more honestly embarrassed about it, wwx has this fake confidence and "need-to-take-cate-of" impulse that turn it into something a bit clumsy but respectful and with a genuine goal of the other enjoying it. Maybe wwx can keep it as their secret,as jzx parades himself around like the straight guy people think he is afterwards.

[queerofthedagger]

not to stir the pot but i’ve seen some really shitty takes recently about arthur being gay and completely erasing gwen’s importance to him. what are your thoughts?

oof well that is in fact a loaded question but I genuinely feel your frustration so let's give this a shot lmao

the short of it, to quote a friend of mine: 2012 tumblr called and wants its shitty shipping discourse back (derogatory)

the slightly longer of it.... to start this off, no one has to ship anything. no one's saying that anyone has to ship anything, or headcanon characters a certain way, or that you're not "allowed" to say that you don't ship certain ships. that's just . not a thing that's happening, and I do wanna reiterate strongly that you don't have to ship anything.

that said, well. maybe if you find yourself with the urge to nail your 'why i don't ship this canon interracial couple' against the proverbial church doors, you should ask yourself.... why is it always the black characters you find "badly written." why is it always the black and the white character who have "no chemistry." why is it always the black character you find unrelatable, that you think would be soo much better suited dating another character of color, etc. etc. These things do not happen in a vacuum, and you don't need to hate or even dislike that character to play into tropes, stereotypes, and issues that very many people have very extensively explained to be less than stellar, to put it mildly.

And Imma come out and say this: fandom is not activism, you don't need to be a loud, outspoken activist and/or turn this into anything more than a hobby. if, even amongst the discussions had in the last years, you have never once stopped to ask yourself how you might deal with the internalized racism that we're all dealing with, how it might affect people in the spaces you share while doing your hobby, then, frankly, you gotta do better. fandom is not activism, but we all have some basic responsibility of not causing more harm than there already is going around. this should not be a controversial statement either.

you can ship merthur without invalidating and trampling all over the frankly brilliant fact that this show went and casted a black woman as queen guinevere. you can ship merthur without taking away scenes that are not about them - god knows there are enough. you can acknowledge that 75% of your shipping takes are subjective, that merthur isn't, wasn't, and was never going to be canon, and literally none of this takes away from the two generic white dudes whose faces you'd like to smash together. this entire fandom is and has been majorly about those two generic white guys, for well over a decade, and i'm saying all this as a white merthur shipper. like, this is the bare minimum. and yet, here we fucking are.

as for the arthur being gay thing - again, you don't need to headcanon anyone a certain way, but whenever i do see this specific headcanon it "somehow" always comes with an incredibly weird (to put this mildly also) understanding of sexuality, top/bottom discourse, and - you guessed it - takes on arwen, that are maybe something people might want to uhh. examine also.

this isn't a callout, or a call for a witchhunt, or or or. personally i block and move on, and I wouldn't have said anything more on this than a vague shitpost on my sideblog, but god knows i can never shut up and even less so when asked, and I do think that while, again, fandom is not activism and I'll stand by this, people should... try and aim to make some basic attempts at not causing harm. it's not even hard (although that should not be your measure but like, again. bare minimum). it really is as easy as not constantly invalidating and side-lining ships and/or characters, by doing basic research in how not to whitewash characters, why not to compare skintone to food when writing, etc.

On that note, none of these are things that I've come up with. A lot of people, especially fans of colour, have done a great deal of work to provide resources and education that are... incredibly easy to find if you can be fucked to make some effort. Imma link a bunch beneath too but like. Yeah I guess that's my take. You can ship whatever you want, genuinely, from the bottom of my heart. But 1. maybe sometimes take some time to consider what you're saying, 2. maybe take some time to do some basic self-education on some issues in general, and 3. writing posts on why you don't ship whatever ship has never accomplished anything beyond getting people who agree with you to stroke your ego, and step on the toes of people who don't. at best.

But also, last but not least, the block button is your friend and all that

Resources by people much better equipped to talk on these things than me:

How to stan the white guy with minimal contribution to fandom's racism problem

The racism in the Merlin fandom and towards Gwen specifically

Educating Merlin - a blog that's specifically tackling racism in this fandom

Fanlore on Fandom's Racism Problem(s) (use to find many links leading you to further discussions on it)

More Fanlore with further links

When white people talk about racism in fandom

Writing with Color - Resource blog for writing specifically, but honestly also covers so many topics that it's incredibly useful for doing some self-examination too

I'm not saying you need to agree with everything said in all of these sources, but also if your constant reaction to these discussions as a white person is to get defensive, to dismiss it, etc., I'm saying this in the nicest way possible: maybe sit with that for a bit. Ask yourself why requests like not constantly making fun of a ship gets you in such a huff. Etc. etc.

Lastly: if people would like to add onto this with more resources, that's highly welcome. That said, anyone clowning/harassing/being a bitch on this post will be blocked.

[skycas1noregular]

Doing an introduction post because I didn't before

Hi! I'm usually known as Sky Cas (Sky Casino Regular - AO3 username of mine). I decided to make a Tumblr acc because I have free will (as Nikolai would say), and because of easier interaction with BSD fandom.

The most important thing about me is that I write fanfiction, specifically Bungou Stray Dogs fanfiction. What's also an important information is that I have a co-writer with who I write those fics with, so I'm not entirely responsible for plot, but I am for most of the writing!

This blog will be focusing on BSD and fanfics, so here is my AO3 account!

Post is a bit longer but it's gonna be pinned so I want to put everything about me/this blog in one post!

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DNI

Since I do write E rated stuff, sometimes M rated, my posts will also be of that nature. I don't feel comfortable interacting with people younger than 17, so please keep that in mind.

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Favorite characters

Sigma

Nikolai

Fyodor

Shibusawa

Bonus: most "hated" character in my case is Dazai. Somehow, he always ends up being the bad guy in our fics.

Favorite ships

Fyosiglai

Siglai | Fyolai | Fyosig

Fyoshibu

Fyozai

Sigzai

I mostly write Fyosiglai or individual ships of theirs. I adore Fyoshibhu too, especially when it's one-sided.

Bonus: I don't like SKK nor do I intend writing about them (I do have one work, though).

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What I write

Mostly smut, sometimes with plot, sometimes just shameless one without plot. Depends on the day and the fic. Sometimes angst because I love hurting people and myself with my words :) And sometimes fluff, but that turns into smut real quick. Overall, I am mostly focused on ships.

I have my fair share of AU fanfics, so most of them aren't set in canon universe.

I do tend to start something new and I do kind of push back some fics that I'm working on, but I do try to post updates to most at least once a month!

Fics of mine (ours)

Some of them, my favorite ones. If you want to see all of them, feel free to check my AO3

DOA game nights - fic with most kudos, smut with undertones of plot (the plot will come later on, though). Of course it's Fyosiglai :)

A new Angel of the Decay - sadly not everyone's cup of tea, but me and my co-writer adore this family drama we came up with, and our dear Theo (Fyosiglai's kiddo)

Series "Diary of Angels"

A whole AU focused on Fyosiglai; from Fyolai meeting in high school, them being in college, finding Sigma, becoming fwb, and later lovers, then a married couple with their dear Theo. Currently has around 160k words!

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Messages/questions/requests

I am more than happy to interact with BSD fans and people with same intrests, the same with people who read my works, so don't hesitate to contact me, talk to me via messages, or ask questions at that ask thingy!

I don't do any fic requests because my ass can't write what it doesn't want to, so I won't pressure myself into doing that, at least not yet.

But I'm more than happy to talk about most themes, prompts, headcanons, and all that.

Posts

Right now, I'm posting things from my Kinktober, and I will be promoting my works here. But I will also post my random thoughts and things that are too short for AO3 (or are just not "worthy" publishing there).

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I think that's all? I hope I didn't leave anything out that's important.

So bye bye!

I did leave something out, actually!!

I cosplay! And since this blog is mostly BSD, I'll post my BSD cosplays here and there :3

[papasmistakeria]

Cursed Enterprise headcanon (maybe AU) cause my favourite series is now Enterprise and they're the closest to the 21st century so I can make millenial headcanons for them and it'd still be considered canon:

One time, Malcolm had the crew do archery for target practice and survival training. Ironically, the person who had the worst score was Archer

Archer lost Porthos this one time and he was depressed for an entire month. In a show of good will and friendship, T'Pol decided to make it her mission to find Porthos. She brought Archer the beagle back and he was so happy he cried and hugged her for an entire hour. 3 days later, Hoshi and Travis showed up with the real Porthos. Archer was left with one question; If that's Porthos, then who the fuck is the beagle that T'Pol brought? In the end, Archer gave up trying to figure it out and decided to adopt the other beagle

T'Pol was fascinated by the human custom of international communities discussion through means of forums as a way to recognize cultures. For her research, she signed up for Twitter. It was then she's convinced humans are fucking stupid

Trip had top surgery twice; First time when he transitioned and second time on his arm when he grew those nipples

Trip has spent most of his young adult life trying to lick his elbows. Nearly died twisting his neck one time

Malcolm had a Green Day phase and Trip laughs at him for it

Because he's smaller than most Security Chiefs, Malcolm is very resourceful in combat. Meaning, he bites and claws at people like a rabid animal. He also has near perfect voice imitation which adds to the long list of 'Things Absolutely Fucked Up about Malcolm Reed'. Some people thought he's a skinwalker or some demon

Whenever he's drunk, Malcolm shifts through 10 different personalities and accents and all of those are just Dominic Keating characters

Hoshi has a soft spot for rodents. She snuck in a bunch of her pet mice into the ship during launch and some of them escaped and at the same time, the whole ship power died and the only ones still active are weapons and warp. Turns out, some of her mice are in Engineering having the feast of their lives (they're chewing on the cables). Trip nearly had an aneurysm while the entire Engineering crew were chasing multiple mice away with brooms

Hoshi's role model is Hatsune Miku

Travis' role model is also Hatsune Miku

Travis plays Roblox. One time he made a Roblox game based off the Enterprise but then the captain found out and told him to shut it down. Nobody even noticed that Archer himself plays Roblox

One creature that Phlox absolutely cannot stand is the Earth Wasp. During his first few days on Earth, he thought the wasp was a bee and tried to observe it but instead it stung him and he hasn't forgiven it

Phlox is a big fan of Scooby Doo and has spent years trying to find a talking dog. He still believes Porthos has the ability to speak but hides it

Hayes is a Brony. His favourite is Applejack

The Enterprise crew has a Minecraft server for everyone. The Engineers are the ones who built every structure in the server. The Science and Medical crew are the ones making farms and whatnot. Command crew are the ones mining. The Security crew logs in every now and then just to blow shit up and ruin everyone's day

The only time Harris regretted recruiting Malcolm to Section 31 was during his first solo mission and somehow Malcolm managed to bite a Starfleet security officer's fucking fingers off clean and Harris nearly had an aneurysm trying to do damage control

Shran tries to learn about human custom through their history since he's a firm believer that history is the door to the present. The next time he greeted Archer, he did a dab and Archer cried

Shran went to visit Earth as a show of diplomacy and for a date with Archer. Someone offered to give him more money if he gives them some money and he mistook that for weird human hospitality tradition. He got scammed

There's a thirst trap of Soval somewhere and it's on Forrest's private tiktok account

[staysaneathome]

Okay so because this won’t leave my brain, have a weird, tentative, not-quite canonical in any sense timeline:

Bad end of Wolf 359. Pryce and Cutter get the Dear Listeners’ cloning technology and secure the way for humanity’s domination amongst the stars

In response, Goddard Futuristics pulls funding for Dr. John Geistman’s cryotechnology development. After all, who needs to worry about the future of humanity if you’ve guaranteed your corporate survival? Sure, you’ll bring a few of them along as “citizen-employees”, but there’s new markets to conquer among the stars! Forget the sad kiwi, it’s time to diversify services!

And then Dr. John Geistman goes and develops inexplicable necromantic abilities. Hm.

Pryce and Cutter try to have him arrested, secreted away to the states, but the man makes a flesh fortress out of cows, of all things! And then is recruited by the U.S. government to have the sitting president reanimated after the president’s “accident”!

But Pryce and Cutter have excellent PR people, and you can’t survive the cold recesses of space if you can’t adapt! It turns out their corporate “rivals” have the same idea: the weird necromancer can say what he wants about “saving the Earth”, but it turns out that no one really wants to listen after being reminded of what he did to those cows! And those policemen. And the cult he’s steadily amassing.

All told, it’s easier than it feels like it should be to escape the rapidly failing Earth with all of Goddard Futuristic’s vital employees, plus a few lucky relevant non-employee participants (Dr. Geistman has some cousins that Pryce is most interested in seeing if she can awaken any latent wizardry in, see if their children can inherit anything—Warren Kepler is her reluctant lab rat in this). Really, blasting off to space with all the other multitrillionaires is almost boringly simple!

Dr. John Geistman somehow killing the entire planet, ascending to godhood, and destroying every other planet in his way to stop them escaping in an act of spiteful vengeance is the only interesting part of the whole ordeal! And sure one of the twelve ships gets slightly damaged and can’t make it the whole journey.

But Pryce and Cutter have decades of experience in cheating death. This academic can’t even make them break a sweat.

(The unfortunate denizens of this twelfth vessel attempt to soldier on and create civilization anew on the planets they do reach. When the Empire of the Necrolord Prime, the renamed John Gaius, retaliates by killing these planets, they get a bit testy. The descendants of the survivors form the rebellion group the Blood of Eden.)

The eleven ships set up shop several hundred galaxies away. This becomes the Corporation Rim, which warns its inhabitants to not expand too far for fear of “alien” (really necromantic human) remnants.

Goddard Futuristics, with the help of the Dear Listeners’ cloning technology and Pryce’s advances in AI, rebrand as Stellar Firma Ltd. and begin making and selling planets. Pryce and Cutter remain the shadow-rulers behind the all-powerful Board.

Their business rivals on the other six ships set up their own corporations, beginning to set up colonies for mining and contractually -obligated labor. Some of those colonies get lost in the violent in-fighting between these lesser controlled companies which constantly devolve and are reborn anew. Those abandoned colonies form their own governments and societies opposed to those of the Corporation Rim. These are much more successful, and even propagate higher learning and better infrastructure.

In order to keep up with the competition over this new source of income and potential exploitation, the Corporation Rim kickstarts the development of Security Units within their companies, with inbuilt monitoring to data mine their new clients.

Pryce and Cutter meet an untimely end when they take a party barge to the Pleasure Moon of Quixotic, along with the rest of the Board and their families. Stellar Firma, deprived of the overlords that have guided its course since the twenty first century, is thrown into chaos.

I.M.O.G.E.N., Pryce’s magnum opus, becomes the supercomputer behind Stellar Firma’s operation in constant conflict with Internal Standards. She is in charge of using the Dear Listeners’ technology to combine DNA that’s proven to be receptive to the obedience protocol (Donors include R. Min., D. Jac., D. Eif., and A. Max.) to create clone assistants to design and sales consultants. One of these clones proves to be resistant to this gene. She decides to roll with it.

Years later, a Secunit that managed to hack its governor protocol follows a young human that an Asshole Research Transport AI feels very protective over into a coffee shop run by a clone and one of the most powerful administrative AIs to escape the Corporation Rim…

[red-man-of-mustache]

Meet the Mun

ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴘɪᴄᴋ ᴜᴘ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴜʀʀᴇɴᴛ ᴍᴜꜱᴇ(ꜱ) ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ?

Mario has been a fixture in my life since my fifth birthday. Mario 64 was my first Mario game actually! There's just something about his happy-go-lucky attitude and ability to persevere that I find inspiring. Comforting even. Originally, I wasn't even eyeing tumblr but my girlfriend at the time all the way back in the prehistoric age of 2014 suggested I make a blog. I decided to pick up Mario on a whim and have stuck with him(on & off mind you) since!

ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇ?

Smut. Sometimes I find it to be cumbersome. I don't lead with this objection because sometimes it's over quickly but other times I'm just not into it. And angst! Angst exhausts me.

ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ?

Action! I love seeing how characters react in tense situation(despite what I just said about angst). I also like a bit of fluff because c'mon, I'm sure we could all use some relief from the outside world. It's kinda scary.

ʜᴏᴡ ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴜᴘ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴᴏɴꜱ?

I try to start off slow. What I mean is I look at what we got in canon, side content(comics,shows, etc) and reasonably merge the concepts where they can mesh. Then I draw conclusions from that! Other times when I'm doing research on certain aspects on Mario's character such as plumbing, being a physician, his italian heritage, etc I pick parts from it and mentally labor over how they apply to him. Really, it's like a little Mario calculator is in my head and I see how the info I'm gathering reacts with what I already know.

ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇ ɪɴ ꜱɪʟᴇɴᴄᴇ ᴏʀ ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴘʟᴀʏ ᴍᴜꜱɪᴄ?

Anytime I try writing with music doesn't end well. I always focus more on what I'm writing rather than the song. Podcasts work best.

ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴘʟᴀɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʀᴇᴘʟɪᴇꜱ ᴏʀ ᴡɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇᴍ?

I'm almost always winging it out. I open up the reply/draft and just let things flow.

ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ ꜱʜɪᴘᴘɪɴɢ?

I'd ship Mario with a tree if it could talk back.

ᴡʜᴀᴛ'ꜱ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴀʟɪᴀꜱ/ɴᴀᴍᴇ?

Papa Pasta

ᴀɢᴇ?

Just turned 28!

ʙɪʀᴛʜᴅᴀʏ?

February 7th

ꜰᴀᴠᴏʀɪᴛᴇ ᴄᴏʟᴏʀ(ꜱ)?

Lavender, red, and orange

ꜰᴀᴠᴏʀɪᴛᴇ ꜱᴏɴɢ(ꜱ)?

I got deep into Tame Impala a while ago. Favorite song by far from him: Cause I'm a man. Right after that is "New Person/Same Old Mistakes". Another favorite of mine is Close In The Distance from Final Fantasy XIV

ʟᴀꜱᴛ ᴍᴏᴠɪᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀᴛᴄʜᴇᴅ?

Final Destination. Wanted to see if it was as good as it was when I was a kid. Not disappointed.

ʟᴀꜱᴛ ꜱʜᴏᴡ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀᴛᴄʜᴇᴅ?

Centaur World! Very cute show

ʟᴀꜱᴛ ꜱᴏɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ʟɪꜱᴛᴇɴᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ?

On Melancholy Hill by Gorillaz

ꜰᴀᴠᴏʀɪᴛᴇ ꜰᴏᴏᴅ?

Spaghetti & Meatballs!!!

ꜰᴀᴠᴏʀɪᴛᴇ ꜱᴇᴀꜱᴏɴ?

Fall. I like watching the trees shed their leaves

ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ ʙᴇꜱᴛ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ?

Hmmmm, definitely have to say @thehouseofivo. Him & Julian have been with me since the very beginning. I'm having a little trouble remembering exactly how things started off between us but it's been so long! We've kept in contact outside of tumblr and things fell apart a few years ago when I was deep in my pit but we picked up right where we left off pretty much recently! He's a real nice guy and I'd do anything in my power to help him along! Give him a follow if you haven't already, you won't be disappointed! One thing I don't see too often on here is a coherent continuity. (If you know any other blogs that do this then pls pls pls tell me) Most threads he does will go into the development of Julian somehow.

tagged by NOBODY stolen from @lultimagoccia uhhhhhh I'mma tag @thehouseofivo @adara-of-the-flame @timid-plumber @atimelesslullaby @musescfmusic & anyone else who wants to steal it!

[that-spider-fan-over-there]

God, how much salt can I have over a stupid manga ending and when does it end!?

(Or: I have finally processed that BNHA 431 exists and stopped laughing about it in favour of actual critical thinking)

(Or: or: A mid-ass manga ending that somehow pissed me off enough I can't stop thinking about it months after got more pages and none fo them amused me more at who knows O'Clock god I need a new hyperfixation)

"Turn off the cameras", "three endings", my ass, you just didn't want KT/IZ shippers breaking down on your doorstep.

Idk, I've laughed on the day because of how ridiculously worse it got (and maybe that was a cry for help because I don't want to be in the building anymore), but something really, really bitter in my mouth to hear the author said "nah this last chapter ain't mine, just an optional extra" after the ship wars over KT/IZ and HM/CK vs. IZ/CH makes me hit my head so much. Which isn't to say you shouldn't care about it, mourn it in disappointment, pop the bottles and celebrate, that's your right.

(Seriously, congratulations to IZ/CH fans, and for HM/CK fans, you deserved better.)

But I'm a little bit frustrated that the story could've chosen to do something for the villains, like bringing them closure, show they've been vindicated by the Saviour Trio, have something significant in the system change in their name... but apparently it was more compelling to make IZ/CH canon than actually do something about the LOV.

(because let's be honest entertaining 4-6yo children into playing with their Quirks for a month and dipping doesn't replace therapy or calling child services no matter how much Ochako wants to believe it somehow does.)

Idk, Himiko being used to reinforce a IZ/CH moment for the second time in a row (bury your gays for a F/M relationship), Touya getting one panel after getting his moment taken over by Endeavor in his last chapter ("Bad" Victim dies and dies painfully but who cares), Tomura's last words being used so Deku can get together with his highschool crush (how do I even qualify this one???), Spinner got an extra illustration of him sadly brainstorming a comic, Kurogiri, Mr. Compress and Twice got nothing... and AFO still gets to be right while none of the characters have a single cell of self-awareness the story has that this ending just doesn't connect to the rest of it all.

And I'm supposed to just. Care about whatever the fuck Deku's doing? Fine, here's my thoughts: I wished Katsuki and Kirishima crashed the car so I wouldn't see that empty shell of my former favourite character smiling at the end. Alas, my MC fully flatlined the second punching OFA to Tomura was a thing and I regret ignoring that sign. I tried to be nice before when I posted my thoughts for 430, hell, I held out hope for every epilogue chapter, but now, the hopeful superhero manga, you gave me this: REGRET FOR HAVING HOPES UNTIL THE END.

Like. I still prefer to ignore canon, especially after spending... What, May to August hoping the LoV would turn out to be miraculously alive, only to get that ripped to shreds and still be mad about it months after (and I've never been this fucking angry about a shitty finale). It's just irritating, these extra pages could've been a way to show the villains actually impacted the hero society.

And instead all we get is a job rejection treated like a breakup (seriously, why was it drawn like a rom-com shot?) and a push from the canonically bi character to the implied romantic F/M handshake that's gonna fuel the ship wars for the next month.

But I can at least say it was in character for 422-onwards Izuku. I mean, killing a guy and proceeding to never think about it is in character with making another one waste eight years for a dream that was never gonna happen.* I guess "not being the author's chapter" makes it alright for almost everyone else though. Whatever, at least Shoto got an actual good ending and is finally chilling in his life and Katsuki's getting an IRL statue since the manga wouldn't do it (I don't like the billboards existence, it literally caused half of everyone's problems in the story but if I'm supposed to care: Number 15, really man?) I guess.

*Seriously now, fandom's proving why a timeskip in BNHA was never a good idea: yes it's OOC Izuku would reject Katsuki like that... If he was the 16 year old Izuku who actually gave a fuck about saving people and being a hero no matter how. It picked realism over the themes, and this is the end result. It's not unnatural or anything, it's just what happens when you got a last-minute timeskip this huge: You miss on character development and it feels sudden, this is how we get the fandom in-fighting. In eight years he changed careers, if he doesn't want to be a full time hero, then he doesn't, and considering how the other option turned out for Tomura or Tenko or whatever you call him atp, I'm sorry but for me it's a relieved "thank fuck" which means the chances of another's guy getting killed by him are lower.

But hey. Who the fuck cares, Izuocha vs. Bakudeku is the most important part of this, right? I mean, I'd take it if the LoV was fine so I wouldn't feel rage at the main character, but again. Who cares?

... I swear I don't want to hate the ending but fuck's sake I just wanted it to mean something.

Whatever, the story's over, all of that is canon because unfortunately it's on the published paper for the entire audience to see, and yet, I still hate the ending, not gonna stop shipping the stuff I ship, and *grabbing Midoriya Izuku pre-412 by the neck* I've already drew the line at this. Life of denial where LoV is still alive, thriving and the beginning of a new era for a reformed hero society and they throw away the hero billboard concept as a whole and heroes are more akin to social workers and not the same celebrity cops from Chapter 1, instead of stopping at installing a one-month counseling program for kids and saying "FIXED". This chapter changes jackshit about it, if anything it reinforces that resolve.

With that said: "Story of how I become the world's greatest hero" Midoriya shut the fuck up and just pay up the money wasted by twenty people on that suit since you're not even gonna commit to it, you useless empty shell.

[cloneshiprarepair]

Full Voting Form

We got some requests to include the full list of ships that had been voted on for people to mine for ideas/see who didn't make it, so we are providing!

Additionally, we wanted to include a shout out to the ships that were nominated but did not advance to the voting round due to having too many fics! This implies a perception they should be more popular? So while they didn't count for this event, maybe it will still get some folk's brains turning.

Crosshair/Howzer (33) Boost/Sinker: What's not to love about this pair? They survive the Malevolence, their banter is pretty silly, they have each other's backs fighting off droids (with their General) that plan to off them in space and plus their names match (Boost being the opposite of Sinker). (39) Fives/Fox: So much angst potential, as tragedy or fix-it (39) Echo/Fives/Tup (42) Dogma/Fox (43) Echo/Fives/FoxI know technically there's 43 fics on Ao3, but half of those are just podfics of the other half. Regardless, Fox deserves to be sandwiched between a pair of beefy ARCs who will lovingly bully him into taking care of himself! (43) Fox/Wolffe (116) Crosshair/Mayday (137)

Below the cut is the ships as they were displayed on the voting form including pitches:

Commander Fox

Alpha-17/Cody/Fox

Alpha-17/Fox

Appo/Fox: Being the clone commander working for an active Sith Lord isn't fun, it'd be nice to have someone who can sympathize

Bacara/Fox

Bacara/Fox/Neyo/Wolffe

Boba/Fox: I'm haunted by the human/elf dynamic, the childhood friend who was your age and is suddenly very much not. First he's younger, just a little baby, then he's your age and you're friends, then he's your big brother, then your babysitter...then he's an adult, somehow going grey even faster than all the rest. soon enough he'll look like your father, just like he's meant to. (plot ideas range from canon compliant with complicated age issues to time travel AUs)

Cards/Fox: Commander Cards was a canon commander in the Star Wars Adventures minigame Card Commander (in which he taught the player how to play the game) and was stationed within the Temple, and separate from the Guard. As such, I truly think he and Fox are each others gossip buddies, with good natured rivalries between the temple troopers and the Corrie guard. If some of those bets result in them falling into bed and “blowing off steam”, can you really blame them?

Cody/Fox/Rex: i just think they can make each other worse. ya know. they are compelling both for the canon angst aspects but also because i think the three of them together would create a perfect storm of fucking with each other. u know that post thats like "i'll take care of u" "like hell u will" thats these three 2 me. like they make each other a little bit miserable but also if they could they'd live in each others skin.

Cody/Fox/Wolffe

Fox(Commander)/Fox (Sergeant): just the name shenanigans alone make this one worthwhile

Fox/Hound: I'll be honest I don't have much to say other than they compel me

Fox/Hound/Stone/Thire/Thorn

Fox/Hound/Wolffe: The canids! aka the three clones most likely to be turned into werewolves without anyone else noticing any difference

Fox/Jesse

Fox/Kix: Fixkox

Fox/Mayday

Fox/Neyo

Fox/Stone/Thire/Thorn

Commander Cody

Bacara/Cody

Boil/Cody/Waxer

Boil/Cody/Waxer/Wooley

Cards/Cody

Cody/Crosshair: There aren't many regs Crosshair respects, but Cody might be the first, because he believed that Crosshair and his brothers could be more than just defective product. And after O66, he believed Crosshair could be more than just a tool of the empire, too./They are so competent together

Cody/Crosshair/Hunter

Cody/Echo

Cody/Echo/Fives

Cody/Echo/Fives/Rex

Cody/Echo/Rex

Cody/Fives

Cody/Fives/Rex

Cody/Hevy

Cody/Howzer

Cody/Kix

Cody/Longshot: "Cody is a pivotal and well known trooper, sometimes having a lover that fades into the background of the wash of faces keeps them safe, and keeps people out of their business. Longshot didn’t stand out initially, to the Commander, but he was always there. Always taking down the droid in his blind spot seconds before disaster. Always attentive, and Cody appreciated it. Then came the Citadel raid, and Cody knew he should have kept him closer, but he didn’t. And now he won’t be able to ever again. Great Angst prompt, opportunity for “am I good enough” and “I should have been better” thoughts. 10/10 def recommend "

Cody/Mayday: they are both CCs and quite as likely to have grown up together as any of Cody’s fanon batchmates.

Cody/Mayday/Oddball

Cody/Mayday/Rex

Cody/Ordo

Cody/Rex/Wolffe

Cody/Tech

Alpha-17/Cody: I think this ship is a special case in terms of cloneshipping because of the wildly changing potential dynamic between them.

Meeting in Alpha-17's ARC training program, where Cody's individuality is encouraged for the first time, and the usual hangups of standard issued Clones are thrown out the window, a certain cruel favoritism is born that is just barely hidden behind this instructor/instructee dynamic. Cody and Alpha 17 are toe to toe in terms of stubbornness, which is a bit of an issue considering their borderline diametrically opposed views of their world up until that point./ Alpha 17 has his ruthless realism and willingness to sacrifice anything and everything for the mission, not because of some grand moral reason or care for the good or the Republic, but because those were his orders, alongside a deep seeded belief that he really is not much more than a product (with all the detachment and self denial that brings). And Cody who deep down does everything he does out of a strong belief in justice and the value of sentient life (as long as that life is mostly aligned with the ideals of the Republic, the indoctrination is not easy to escape), truly believing that if he's just competent enough he'll manage to minimize death and destruction and actually secure a future for his brothers.

Cody becomes a better version of himself in many ways during ARC training, and is thrilled despite it all by Alpha 17's honesty, competence and ability to give him a challenge (in more ways than he can imagine), while Alpha 17 physically feels weaker as a result of Rattatak, and also troubled by his new fascination with this specific cadet that feels like he was just sent to make his life more complicated than it needed to be (His attraction to him serves as one more thing he can't control that forces him to come to terms with his own needs and desires. Whether he actually does something about it or just lets it boil beneath the surface is another thing).

It's not quite that healthy of a dynamic, there's a lot of assuming what is best for the other without taking their input into consideration and pushing the wrong buttons at the worst possible times, but they're also operating in a wavelength that the rest of the ARC cadets haven't caught onto yet.

Alpha 17 is simultaneously trying to shape the "perfect" commander to ensure that Cody will survive (He can't begin to imagine a future where Cody dies because of his personal incompetence as a trainer), but also fighting against his own personal desire to keep the flame that makes him Cody intact, both because of fascination and hope./ After Cody graduates the program, he rapidly rises to his status of Marshal Commander and actually has the chance to put his beliefs to the test, letting his work almost completely envelop his time in the process. Alpha 17 feels Cody's absence hit him like a truck and finds himself unable to pretend than he can go back to the way he operated before, he starts preparing to go back into action, because he is at his most certain when he is in a fight.

They barely meet. Cody is too busy, Alpha 17 wouldn't be caught dead asking to talk for non work related reasons, but he at least checks up on battle reports all the time. Eventually he gets back into action, but not tied to any one specific battalion./ Their dynamic at this point has reversed, with Cody being the one giving out orders and expecting perfection from Alpha 17, having a lot of things on the line and balancing lives like they're pieces on a chessboard, and Alpha 17 being the one who has his previous way of operating challenged constantly and learning new things about himself every day (against his will)./ Them butting heads is something that doesn't change, except the stakes are way higher, so the fallout is usual much harsher between them. However the sheer thrill and adrenaline of working beside someone who is so certain in your skills and competence that they would trust you to order them to hell and be back by sunset, and follow through with it, is enough to keep things even a little at bay. In the rare times where they fight together their minds miraculously sync up flawlessly, only until the adrenaline wears off.

(This ended up being a bit long and a bit specific, so trim and edit freely! Thank you for taking the prompt into consideration!!!)

501st

Alpha-17/Echo/Fives

Alpha-17/Fives: Fives would be all over that in arc training

Blackout/Hardcase

Boil/Rex/Waxer: So much angst potential with Umbara, whether as tragedy or fix-it

Cut/Slick

Cutup/Droidbait/Echo/Fives/Hevy

Dogma/Echo

Dogma/Echo/Fives/Slick/Tup: A terrible horrible polycule (derogatory)(affectionate)

Dogma/Fives

Dogma/Fives/Tup

Dogma/Fox (Sgt)

Dogma/Glitch

Dogma/Glitch/Sev

Dogma/Jesse/Kix

Dogma/Rex

Dogma/Sev

Echo/Fixer: Echo and Fixer are so similar in the beginning. Both fixated so much on the regulations and doing everything by the books. But Echo evolves from that, he grows and learns and finds a way to exist after and outside of those and Fixer could lern so much from him, find a way to live outside of the Empire as well. I just think they could be really good for each other.

Echo/Kix: Echo and Kix caring for each other and helping each other. They being there for each other and trying to figute out how to be one of the few clones who survived the Clone Wars and the aftermath of order 66 and the slow decline of the importance of the clones. And Kix helping Echo through the trauma and the aftermath of the torture he endured is just something that captures my imagination and wont let it go./Look, I read this fic one time and it stuck with me, okay?

Echo/Mayday

Echo/Mayday/Rex

Gregor/Rex

Hardcase/Jesse/Kix

Howzer/Rex: Your honor, hot plus hot equals OH HOTT. and I really like the idea of them getting involved amid all the drama and tragedy of running the clone resistance.

Jesse/Kix/Rex

Jesse/Kix/Sister: Bc Sister needs two amazing supportive boyfriends <3

Mayday/Rex

Rex/Stone: Rex, after all the 501 chaos, might develop a taste for something steady and stable, and Stone is steady enough to put up even with Jar-Jar, so why not?

Rex/Tup

Tup/Wolffe

Vaughn/Sterling: There are two fics, and only one features Sterling/Vaughn as the main couple.

The Clone Wars (Other than already listed)

Alpha-17/Wolffe

Bacara/Neyo: theyre both misunderstood loners who only like each other. what more could you want?

Bacara/Ponds: They're both underrated badasses, Neyo's two big brothers. But most importantly they complete each other's perfectly. They're just as competended and strong as the other, but Ponds is someone with who Bacara can be soft. And Bacara is someone Ponds can rely on freely without feeling like he should be the protector. (And Ponds's paint look a bit like a mix of the 91st with Bacara's)

Bacara/Wolffe

Blackout/Hevy

Blackout/Spark

Bly/Doom: They're both the sweetest and kindest CCs but in opposite ways and would just be adorable together

Bly/Keeli: "This ship resulted somewhat out of my own headcanons, in which Cody & Bly are batchmates and childhood best friends, and Rex & Keeli are the same. Codex is my favorite ship, and I've always liked the idea of them falling in love during command/ARC training on Kamino. And, well, Bly and Keeli have pauldrons like Rex, so it would make sense if they were there too. I like to think they met through their best friends and fell in love from there, but they're a sweet pair no matter the circumstances of their relationship. This ship has the opportunity for a lot of fluff in the sweet moments, and plenty of angst about being separated, since they probably don't get to see each other even as often as Cody and Rex do."

Boil/Howzer

Boil/Waxer/Wooley

Boost/Comet/Sinker/Wolffe

Boost/Sinker/Wolffe: They're all that's left of the first wolfpack, and no one else can fully understand what they went through together

Colt/Wolffe

Comet/Gregor: there are only 9 works and all of them are mine ?

Comet/Wooley: there are 4 works and half of them are mine. furthermore, they're both so vod'ika ?

Cutup/Droidbait/Hevy

Doom/Thorn: Because Marvel, that's why

Fireball/Gregor

Fireball/Howzer

Fireball/Howzer/Nemec

Fireball/Nemec

Gregor/Wolffe: Very fun pairing with like 16 fics. Energetic fun boy x grumpy serious boy. Couldn’t get better than this

Hevy/Nub

Hevy/Slick

Hound/Stone: There are so many possibilities that can happen between them as they both have so little screen time and 0 together. Plus, who doesn't like a corrie pair that comes with a cute lizard dog?

Hound/Thire

Howzer/Keeli: They were both deployed on Ryloth and quite possibly knew each other because of it. They also both understood laying down their life to what’s right and to protect the people of Ryloth. I’ve always called this ship KeelHowz (KillHouse) in my head, and isn’t that badass?

Howzer/Mayday

Jek/Rhys

Jester/Slick

Mayday/Wolffe

Neyo/Ponds

Punch/Sketch

Sandwich Clone/Soup Clone

Bad Batch

Boba/Omega: the two unaltered clones (and imo, prime folgers commercial material)

Crosshair/CX-2 (Not Tech): There was something decidedly charged about CX-2's obsession with Cross. There's history there, I know it.

Crosshair/Echo/Emerie/Hunter/Tech/Wrecker

Crosshair/Echo/Fives/Hunter

Crosshair/Echo/Fives/Hunter/Tech/Wrecker

Crosshair/Echo/Hunter: Listen, all dynamics within this ship are impeccable: Crosshair and Hunter are soulmates since childhood, Echo and Hunter are squad co-parents, and Crosshair and Echo are trauma buddies who could sass the CIS into surrender. There's so much potential here.

Crosshair/Echo/Hunter/Rex/Tech/Wrecker

Crosshair/Emerie

Crosshair/Emerie/Hunter

Crosshair/Emerie/Hunter/Tech/Wrecker

Crosshair/Fives

Crosshair/Fives/Hunter

Crosshair/Fives/Hunter/Tech/Wrecker

Crosshair/Fox: I read in a post that Fox had sniper training or listed sniper as one of his main skills, and since then I've wanted to see what would either be the best or the worst relationship dynamic ever.

Crosshair/Hunter/Mayday

Crosshair/Hunter/Tech

Crosshair/Hunter/Tech/Wrecker: holds out hand. you too can join me in increasing the number of og bad batch poly fics. together we can right this egregious wrong that has been done.

Crosshair/Hunter/Wrecker

Crosshair/Howzer/Mayday: They all deserve to live and Crosshair deserves two boyfriends who will both challenge him and dote on him.

Echo/Emerie

Echo/Emerie/Fives

Echo/Emerie/Rex

Echo/Hunter/Tech/Wrecker

Emerie/Fives

Emerie/Hunter

Emerie/Rex

Emerie/Tech

Fireball/Wrecker: height/size difference and cooking for each other :D what's not to love?!

Fives/Hunter

Gree/Tech: It's nerd4nerd. AND height difference (if you consider that Tech is a lot taller than regular clones)! What's not to ship?

Gregor/Wrecker

Hunter/Jesse/Rex

Hunter/Mayday

Hunter/Tech/Wrecker

Hunter/Wrecker: Wrecker is overall an underrated character in shipping. Him and Hunter have a very nice dynamic of sunshine x broody. Around ish 25 fics on ao3 (some of them being mistaken tags)

Legends/Republic Commando

A'den/Sull: A’den helped Sull desert the GAR

Boil/Horns: because they both have Death Watch insignia in their armor paint (Horns throws away his DW-painted helmet by the end of the comic he is in) but I think it would be cool to explore if they got that way of thinking from a common source.

Boss/Fi

Boss/Niner: Their ship has so much potential but what really got me hooked on them is Boss constantly surprising Niner with how blunt and open he is with everything, even his affection and love for Niner and Niner being one of the few people that manage to calm Boss down enough so that he doesn't run himself into the ground and yet there is so much more for them that I didn't even think of. I think I'd just love to see more of them than just as a background ship.

Boss/Sev

Corr/Fi

Corr/Mereel: There's no way the only thing Mereel taught Corr was just how to be a commando/they just make my brain go brrrr

Corr/Stone

Darman Skirata/Niner Skirata: Those two just deverse more love. They've such an interesting dynamic that could go either supportive, codependent, possessive and I'd love to see what people could come up with for them

Darman/Fi

Fi/Ordo: For my pitch, I humbly submit this excerpt from Chapter 2 of Triple Zero: “Ordo’s always on time,” Fi said, trying to take his mind off his churning stomach. “Don’t fret, Sarge.” “Your buddy …,” Darman teased. “Rather have him for a friend than an enemy.” “Ooh, he likes you. Hobnobbing with ARC officers from the Bonkers Squad, eh?” “We have an understanding,” Fi said. “I don’t laugh at his skirt, and he doesn’t rip my head off.” Yes, Ordo had taken a shine to him. Fi hadn’t fully understood it until Skirata had taken him to one side and explained just what had happened to Ordo and his batch on Kamino as kids. So when Fi had thrown himself on a grenade during an anti-terrorist op to smother the detonation, Ordo had marked him out as someone who’d take an awfully big risk to save comrades. Null ARCs were psychotic—bonkers, as Skirata put it—but they were unshakably loyal when the mood struck them.”

Glitch/Hevy

Glitch/Horns

Glitch/Sev

Hevy/Spar

Maze/Niner

Maze/Ordo: they're worsties (affectionate)

Mereel/Rede

Ordo/Spar

Spar/Sull

Sull/Tavo

[amiedala]

SOMETHING HOLY

CHAPTER 1: Start At The Beginning

WARNINGS: explicit sexual content, power play, dark!Din, canon-compliant violence

SUMMARY:

“Mine,” Din is saying like a prayer, “you’re mine.” 

There’s a desperation to it, an undercurrent, and Nova unhinges her mouth as Din watches, hard and desperate pressed against her, so desperate that it burns through their clothes. A hymnal, he’s singing, with nothing but the same syllables. It’s desperate, pleading. More than piety. Like a zealot, for her, only for her. Like Novalise is something holy. 

AUTHOR'S NOTE: TELL A FRIEND TO TELL A FRIEND... SHE'S BAAAAAAAAAACK! i'm SO excited to share the 11,000+ word Prologue & first chapter of Something Holy with you all! buckle up my friends, and enjoy ;)

If you're new here, Something More & Something Deeper are the first installments in this series, available on here & ao3!

PROLOGUE:

The story goes like this: Boy meets girl. Boy loses girl. Boy moves the entire earth to find girl. Girl moves the stars above to be with boy. Fate intervenes. Life stops for both boy and girl, eventually. Love is the conqueror of all things—except death. Death is always triumphant, always the winner, always the end of everything. Boy and girl are no exception. The stars give, yes, but they also destroy. They supernova. They take.

This is always the story.

There is no other ending to the story.

*

CHAPTER ONE: START AT THE BEGINNING

The end of the galaxy does not come with a whimper, or a bang. There is no immediate fadeout. There is one supernova, the Mandalorian she loves, and their ragtag band of rebels holding up the sky. The galaxy’s end is not immediate, it doesn’t come in a flash. There’s nothing that shows that the end is inevitable, is on the horizon. 

Nothing except Nova’s dreams. 

It’s a hurtling—almost like through hyperspace, through that crush of space that only warp can provide. But it’s different. Darker. 

Greyscale.

Novalise only dreams in color. 

Lightning—not blue—a sinister laugh—resounding. Everything comes in ellipses, like her vision’s been altered. Nova can feel herself teetering between sleep and consciousness. The voices in her head—so real, so tangible—feel like they’ll follow her back into the light. This isn’t like the visions Grogu pulls her into. It’s not like the warped hallucinations that came with Sparmau. It’s not even like her glimpses of Ezra—his face so similar to her own, almost a reflecting pool, almost, almost—but everything is fleeting. Ephemeral. She turns on her heel, her long hair blowing in the wind. 

Wind, she thinks, there’s wind here. She looks up, left, right, sideways—it’s like she’s in a funhouse of mirrors. Like the one on the dais—back on Jedha, or the one in the forest on Naator. But she can’t see anything—not the enemy, not herself—just that persistent, unfurling darkness.

Even in her dreams, it settles like a pit in the center of her belly. 

“Wake up,” Nova whispers to herself. “Wake up—” And then it comes in flashes. Still in black and white, still in that greyscale, but—clear, all of a sudden. Blips of nightmare fuel, of a tall figure who is somehow both man and not man, of a lightsaber whirring past her face, of Din’s startled eyes, of crying in the background, screaming, someone’s screaming—is that her screaming?—Bo-Katan’s iced-out glare, Wedge flailing in the background, the sound of a ship splintering into a thousand pieces, the pulse and flicker of the Darksaber, Mandalore being bombed, stepping through a doorway, a doorway she’s seen before, and then—

“Hello, Novalise.” 

Nova whirls again, toward the sound of the voice, but—silence. And then, the screech, a chittering, awful pulse, and then she’s in the mirror again, staring at herself, and Nova knows what she looks like, but this version is not Novalise, not Andromeda, not anything she’s ever seen. Evil. She looks drenched in it, sweating out something terrible. She holds her fingers up to her reflection’s own hand, trying to find harmony, symmetry, anything to anchor herself to—

“Don’t you dare. Don’t leave me.” Din, suddenly, is as clear as day, as undone and as divine as his bare face. “What if you don’t come out?”

Nova swallows, stepping forward, cradling his cheekbones in between her hands. Delicate enough to keep him steady. Strong enough to shatter bone. She can feel the glow—that constant, utter darkness, pulsating, calling to her. It’s not holy—it’s the opposite, but it beckoned just the same. Nova leans in, lips flush against her Mandalorian’s. So quiet, quiet enough that only Din can hear her: “Then you bring me back.”

Nova hurdles awake, pressing her hands against her hammering heart. She can’t slow it down, can’t force it to steady, but she’s slamming her sledgehammer pulse as if that will shock it back to normalcy. 

A beat later, Din’s up, blotting out the moon shining through the gossamer curtains—it’s so rare, Nova marvels, before she’s caught her breath, that anything can cut through Mandalore’s smog—and then Din is back, her single locus, that one, eternal star. She collapses against him. 

“Dreams,” she whispers, as his hands tangle in her dark hair, hanging almost to her waist, still smelling of coconut and forsythia after their wedding. “Just—dreams.” 

Din’s brown eyebrows furrow, creasing down the middle. “Bad ones?” His voice is still gravelly, stuck with sleep.

Nova considers, inhaling a normal breath. “Urgent, at least.” 

Din observes her. “Jedi dreams?” 

And Nova smiles at that. She can’t help it. She reaches forward, through the interrupted darkness, punctuated by the rare shine of a full Mandalorian moon, and brings Din’s forehead to hers. “Probably. They’re always knocking around in there, somewhere.” 

She can feel Din’s gaze on hers. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

“No,” Nova whispers. “I want…I want one night. One perfect night—our wedding night, Din—that isn’t about the uncertain future, about the–the impending doom hanging over our heads.” She looks up at him, forehead still pressed against his, biting on her bottom lip. “I want one thing, right now, and that’s you.” 

She shifts, laying back against the silken sheets, dragging his naked body down with her. Nova can feel him, broad and hers, hard and ready between her thighs, pressed up against her stomach. She doesn’t break his gaze, careful, intentional, hands slipping off his shoulders to caress his cheek, to slip one down to the small of his back. 

“Nova—” 

“Just you,” she repeats, breathier than she intended, relishing in the feel of his brown, bare eyes against hers, that this is her Din, her Mandalorian. Hers. In this lifetime of so much loss, they’re here, together. “Nothing else matters.” Nova reaches up, kissing the long column of Din’s neck, right at his pulse point, encouraging, coaxing, the dreams already forgotten. “Just for one night,” Nova breathes, “the end of the galaxy as we know it can wait.” 

Din moves forward, lips latching against hers, his eyes star-studded and filled with something reverent—

Three knocks at their bedroom door. 

Nova clenches her teeth together as Din stifles a tiny laugh against her mouth. A laugh—one that she savors every time it bubbles out, and she can’t even enjoy it, because of the three knocks. Again. 

“As your Mand’alor,” Nova calls, anger sluicing through her voice, “unless the palace is being razed, again, I order you to leave until the morning.” 

“It’s morning.” 

Nova’s head drops back against the pillow, exasperated. “Bo-Katan, it’s our wedding night—” 

“The sun will be up in an hour. Listen, I’m—I’m really sorry, Nova—” 

“Leave!” Nova yells, again, suddenly furious, “now, please!” 

“Nova,” a voice calls, and it’s enough to make Din’s eyes catch hers in the low light, enough for Nova’s heart rate to pick back up. Wedge. “I’m sorry. Truly, I am. But…but we found something, and it can’t wait.” 

Nova stares at Din. Din stares back. 

“It’s your call,” he mouths, and Nova debates just stuffing a pillow through the crack in the door and muffling them out, but there’s an undercurrent running through Wedge’s voice, one she hasn’t heard in a very long time. One she hasn’t heard since her parents were killed. 

So she disentangles herself from her husband, throws her discarded robe on, and strides for the door. Nova wrenches the handle open, Din still in the shadows of the bed, and tries her very best to look menacing, untouchable. 

“What?” she asks, low and furious.

Bo-Katan doesn’t even notice, eyes blinking rapidly. Wedge’s knuckles are white, clenched in a fist up against his mouth. At first, she thinks he’s stifling his laughter, but there’s not laughter there at all. Bo-Katan is worried. And Wedge is afraid. 

“What?” Nova repeats, but it’s lost all of its fire. 

“The Chimaera.” 

Nova blinks. “What?” She asks, for a third time. 

“I went to Yavin.” 

“Yeah, Bo-Katan, I remember. For my wedding dress. And I’m very thankful—truly, I am, but I don’t think that matters right now—” 

“I ran into an old friend on Hoth.” Wedge finally speaks, and his voice is as taut as a wire. “Nova, when Bo-Katan was on Yavin, she…she listened to a distress call. And at the same time, I was on Hoth, and I ran into someone—”

“Hera.” 

Nova looks back at Bo-Katan, shaking her head, trying to make sense of it. She, decidedly, cannot.

“Hera told me that the Chimaera was picked up on her radio. The distress call, the callsign signature. She—”

“Nova,” Bo-Katan says, strained, “I need to tell you about my—if this ship is back, we are in for—”

“Bo-Katan,” Din says, materializing behind them, as silent as a shadow, “you need to spit it out.” 

Irritation flashes across Bo-Katan’s face. Then, pointedly: “Something very bad is on that ship, Nova.”

Nova looks back at her, and that gnawing pit in the center of her stomach comes back, slung with the full force of gravity. She swallows, eyes locking on Bo-Katan, on Wedge, to Din, who’s moved out of the shadows and is standing in line with them. What a strange quadrangle, the four of them are, whisper-yelling in a palace that’s more like a ghost town. Mandalorians, Rebels, all of them in varying degrees—and now Nova’s not listening, just staring at the three people she trusts most in the world, all three of them speaking in glances and riddles. 

“What do you mean,” Nova whispers, “by ‘something very bad’?” 

“I knew someone once,” Bo-Katan says, her voice faraway, “and he disappeared into deep space. In a ship that’s been presumed missing since—with someone who scared me even more than Ladmeny Sparmau.” 

Nova feels thunder. She doesn't realize it for a moment, but it’s coming from inside her chest. “Who?”

Bo-Katan looks at her. “Nova—”

“Who did you know?”

Bo-Katan looks at her head-on. “His name was Ezra Bridger.” 

*

Nova’s not sure how they materialize down in the war room, but they do. Somewhere, between Bo-Katan dropping the bomb that she knew—knows—Ezra, that he’s real, not just someone knocking around the inside of Nova’s head, and the holotable flickering on, Nova, Din, Bo-Katan, and Wedge all descended the staircase. But Nova can’t remember it, the whole journey downstairs completely blank. 

She stares upward through the domed ceiling of the palace, and the jolt of realization that she can still see straight through the sky is electrifying, a warning sign. Of what, Nova’s still not sure. But it’s odd, the blue sky—slowly receding into a lighter and lighter color—shining above her head. 

Bo-Katan and Din are arguing when she filters back in. “Stop it,” Nova whispers. 

“Nova—” 

“I need you to run this again for me,” Nova says, evenly, blinking away sleep. “Start at the beginning.” 

Bo-Katan inhales, exhales, trying to regain some semblance of composure. She’s a soldier, that much is clear—in the way she gives reports, in the way she gives her delivery. Bo-Katan is so focused on the strained set of her jaw that for a minute, she can’t listen. Bo-Katan stops, observing Nova back, waiting for her to catch up. That sense of softness is in such stark contrast to the girl Nova once met, and despite the entire situation, Nova smiles. 

“I have a lot in my history that I’m not proud of.” 

Nova swallows, looking up at her friend. Bo-Katan is facing the throne now, instead of her. Tentatively, Nova steps forward, trying to bring her back, but Wedge, slowly, shakes his head. Nova’s hand jumps back like a pulse. 

“I… used to be in a group called the Death Watch.” 

“You did not.” Din’s voice rings out, unencumbered and clear without his helmet on. Nova shifts back to face him. “You were part of a cult?” 

“You’re one to talk,” Bo-Katan snarls, turning on her heel. “Child of the Watch.” 

“You and your group,” Din says, evenly, angrily, “were so focused on returning Mandalorians to warriors that you killed thousands of them.” 

“Hey—” 

“You and your group,” Bo-Katan counters, “were religious zealots that ostracized anyone who adapted to our modern ways.” 

“Stop,” Nova whispers, but it’s Wedge that cuts in. 

“We are on the same side,” Wedge yells, so foreign from his normal tone of voice that everyone stops. “I know the two of you have your differences. But I thought we were past this.” He gestures at the tensioned air between them, pulled taut and ready to snap. “We have a mutual enemy here. Aren’t you tired of the infighting? You’re friends. Bo-Katan, you’ve told me as much, so don’t deny it. Din, Bo-Katan just said she’s not proud of it. Stop. We’re not arguing about this anymore.” Everyone stares. Sheepishly, he turns to Nova. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to steal your thunder.” 

Nova smiles. “Steal it anytime. Well said.” Carefully, she positions herself between Din and Bo-Katan. “I know none of this is simple,” she says, looking at both of them. “There’s a lot of history here, and it’s not going to be smoothed over in one conversation, especially with the differences in how both of you were raised. But that isn’t the focus, not tonight.” 

“It’s morning,” Bo-Katan mutters, and at Nova’s exasperated look, she shrinks. Barely, but it’s enough. “I was a commander in the Nite Owls, a subsect of the Death Watch. I believed in what I was doing. I thought that I was…returning Mandalore to its former glory, that anyone who opposed me was wrong. I was young, and I wasn’t exactly naive, but I was headstrong. It put me at odds with my sister.” Her eyebrows are clenched together in pain, clouding her expression. “Satine,” Bo-Katan says, like it burns her coming out of her mouth, “was peaceful in every way I wasn’t. When she ruled Mandalore, she wanted us to be pacifists.” Bo-Katan stops, considering. “I disagreed.” 

“Where does Ezra fit into this?” Din asks.

Bo-Katan glares at him. “I’m getting there. We were exiled to Concordia.”

Din stiffens.

Wedge clocks it first. “What?”

Din sighs, running a hand over his exhausted face. “I…also grew up on Concordia.” 

Bo-Katan gives him a look, but doesn’t press it. Like she recognizes it, like their history may have overlapped. “Listen, my history is… it’s complicated. Complex. I’m trying to give you the important stuff.” 

Nova nods. “I know.”

“My sister and I…we fought, and Death Watch was… relocated. But while all of this was happening here…there was unrest in the Senate. In the rest of the galaxy.” She looks at Nova. “The Empire was on the horizon. And I met Maul.” 

Nova’s eyebrows furrow. “Who?” 

Bo-Katan looks appalled. “Darth Maul?” 

Nova shakes her head, genuinely lost for the second time today. “I don’t know who that is.” 

Din nudges her with his elbow. “You sound like me.” 

Nova rounds on him. “Do you know who this Maul person is?” 

Din peers down at her, puzzled. “Nova, I’m a Mandalorian. Of course I do.” 

Staring, Nova prompts him to go on. 

“He overtook Mandalore,” Din sighs, “Not well. Not for long. But for a while there, someone other than a Mandalorian—by blood or by Creed—held the beskar throne. It’s a big part of Mandalore’s history.” 

Bo-Katan sighs. “I helped him do it.” 

Din looks back at her, stricken. “You helped—”

“To reinstate the Death Watch,” Bo-Katan interrupts, sourly. “It was a coup. I didn’t want him on the throne any more than I wanted my sister to be.” 

“Right,” Din scoffs. “You wanted to be on the throne.” 

Bo-Katan raises her chin, clenching her jaw. “It is no secret that I wanted to be on that throne, Din Djarin,” she whispers, deadly and cool. “In fact, I helped you find Ahsoka so that you would return the Darksaber to me.” 

“How’d that work out for you?” 

“Things change,” Bo-Katan spits. “I changed. Is that so hard to believe, after everything we’ve been through?” 

Nova bites down on her bottom lip, ready to hurl herself between the two of them again, but—amazingly—Din shrinks back, looking chastised. And apologetic. “I’m sorry,” he mutters, genuine, brown eyes shining through the dark. 

“Maul killed my friend,” Bo-Katan says, “decapitated him. Right in front of me. And he became the leader of the Death Watch. I began seeking out other ways to retake Mandalore. So I met Sparmau. I thought I loved her.” She swipes her hand across her bottom lip, angry. “She was so bright. So vivid, and dangerous, and I thought she had enough compassion to help me. But she never loved me. She took and took everything that she could, and cut me down until I was the basest version of myself.” Bo-Katan swallows, her face simmering, like she didn’t mean to reveal all of that. “Obviously, that went south. And I went to try and break Satine out of prison. For redemption, maybe. But I wasn’t thinking about anything other than Mandalore.” 

Nova stares at her, feeling worry carving a scar through her own heart. She’s seen Bo-Katan vulnerable—but this is offering up information in front of both Din and Wedge. Information Nova didn’t need to pry out of her. 

“It went badly.” Bo-Katan stares off somewhere in the past, eyes unfocused past Nova’s shoulder. “Maul killed Satine.” 

Nova knows this part of the story—barely, but enough—and she strides across the distance, taking Bo-Katan’s trembling hand in her own. Surprised, stunned out of her reverie, Bo-Katan looks over at Nova as if she’s materialized in front of her, but squeezes Nova’s hand back.

“There’s more to the story,” Bo-Katan sighs. “But I wanted revenge. I wanted Mandalore back. So I teamed up with the Jedi. That’s how I met Ahsoka. And Kenobi. They fought alongside me to capture Maul. I wanted to kill him. Obi-Wan, for some reason, said no.” She shakes her head. “Ahsoka told me that I could be a great leader. That Mandalore could change. But I didn’t want change. I  wanted to rule it in the way I always thought it should be—I never shared Satine’s idealism. And I thought I would finally have the chance to rule the planet.” She sighs. “But Order 66 happened. And the Empire rose.” 

“Bo-Katan—” 

“I was rash. And violent. But I refused to do the Empire’s bidding, Nova,” Bo-Katan says, her voice almost wobbly. “I swear.” 

Nova squeezes down on her friend’s cold hand. “I believe you.”

“Clan Saxon took their chance and forced me off the throne.” Bo-Katan casts a glance up at where it sits on the dais, resetting her jaw. “Eventually, I met a friend. Sabine Wren. She tried to gift me the Darksaber, and I said no.”

“Is that when you lost it?” Din’s voice isn’t goading, or combative, but Bo-Katan’s eyes flash with anger, and as soon as it appears, it vanishes. She looks unsettled—sad, Nova eventually quantifies. Bo-Katan Kryze has been a lot of things, but Nova’s never seen how poignant and powerful sadness looks on her face, like it’s held back by floodgates, raring to be released. 

“That came with the Great Purge,” Bo-Katan says, “and it’s a story for another day. I did gain the Darksaber, eventually—but I was gifted it. I declined, originally, but I…I was assured that enough people thought I earned it. And some Mandalorians accepted me as their leader, but others—” she shoots a pointed, but not unkind, look at Din “—did not. When the Purge came, I lost. Again. And Gideon got the Darksaber.”

“Ezra,” Wedge reminds her, softly, like he doesn’t want to disrupt her speech. This is, Nova realizes, the longest Bo-Katan has consecutively talked in front of all of them. 

“Oh,” Bo-Katan says, faraway, distracted. “Sabine introduced me to Ezra.” She turns away, like she’s swiftly dismissing herself. 

“Ezra Bridger,” Wedge steps in, relieving Bo-Katan, “was a part of the crew of a starship called The Ghost. It was piloted by General Hera Syndulla, who I saw on Hoth. She, along with her crew—including Sabine, and, eventually, Ezra—were Rebels, too. But they didn’t fight in the wars we did, Nova, and they didn’t ever cross paths with you or your parents. I know Ezra was—is—a Jedi, like you. I only know Hera in passing. But she stopped me when she saw me on Hoth and told me that she heard the distress call—” 

“Ezra disappeared into deep space with a man I’ve only heard about,” Bo-Katan interjects, shooting a slightly apologetic look at Wedge, “but he’s certainly the stuff of nightmares. On his ship. The Chimaera. And neither of them were heard from since, until Wedge saw Hera. So we’re facing something…massive.” 

Din sighs, leaning back against the holotable. 

“Am I boring you,” Bo-Katan says, eyes glittering with ice again. Her voice is flat. It isn’t a question. “Because I can stop. But I would advise you to listen to me, because I’m the only person in this room who was on Mandalore for all of this. And if we’re going to fight this—if we’re going to make Mandalore the center of a war again, which we are—I think you should shut up and listen.” 

“All of this matters,” Nova cuts in, letting go of Bo-Katan’s hand to draw a line through the air. “I don’t think I need to remind anyone in this room how we don’t know what’s coming next. Sparmau is dead, but the First Order is still out there, gathering in the dark. Gideon is gone, but whoever he was involved with is still lurking. Grogu’s still terrified every time he sees a stormtrooper. There’s something off about Leia’s kid. The darkness is in every dream I have. And Ezra is a real person—a real person—and he’s trapped out there with someone who scares Bo-Katan more than Sparmau.” 

All three of them are staring at her. Nova swallows the tide of rising emotion in her throat. 

“I’m exhausted,” she whispers, “and I know you all are, too. But there’s something out there, and the only way we’ll be able to stop all of it is if we listen to each other. Piece together our past. We can’t win this fight if any of us are on different sides.” She swallows. “None of this is easy. But we have a hell of a battle ahead of us. I’m tired, but I’m exhausted of being one step behind them all. We’re going to win this war.” 

Din looks at Nova, a tiny, proud smile whispering across his mouth. Everything is solidified by that one look, that forever, eternal locus. “I’m in. And, Bo-Katan, for the record, I was only sighing because I was trying to keep all of the people straight.”

Bo-Katan rolls her eyes, but the set of her shoulders drops. “I’m with you all, whatever comes next. Even you, Din.” 

“Rebel by nature,” Wedge grins, stepping closer, closing their circle. “Count me in.” 

Nova smiles at all of them. “What did the distress call say?”

Bo-Katan and Wedge exchange a look. Wedge speaks. “Just that the Chimaera is back in detectable range. But someone—presumably Ezra—turned a beacon on a shuttle, which let the Rebel base know where it is.” 

“Where what is?” 

This time, it’s Bo-Katan that speaks. “Ezra’s relative location.” 

Nova nods. “Gear up.” She surveys the faces of her confidants, her Rebels, her Mandalorians, her family. She tucks her long curls behind her ear, extinguishing the azure light of the holotable. Above them, the sun is—miraculously—still shining. “Meet me in the docking bay in a half an hour.” 

Din looks over at her, familiar, quiet love sparking in his eyes. “Where to, Mand’alor?” 

Nova smiles, adrenaline rushing back through her veins, breaking through the floodgates. “We’re going to bring Ezra home.” 

*

Din and Nova ascended their staircase alone. Bo-Katan and Wedge are stationed downstairs, Grogu sleeping in his carrier in the corner, tiny mouth open in even smaller snores. 

Silently, Nova peels off the robe she’s wearing, Mandalore blue. Through the dark, she can feel Din’s eyes on her, lazer-sharp, lustful. They track her every movement—the curve of her hips, the way her stomach twists when she bends to pull on underwear, tan pants a few shades lighter than her skin tone. He’s still watching as she clasps her bra, gaze hungry, full of the moment stolen from them earlier. 

“Din.” 

“What?”

“You’re staring.”

A slow, wicked smile spreads across his face, glittering in the early-morning blue of their room. “I won’t apologize for that.” 

Chills spread across Nova’s body. “We have a mission at hand,” she whispers, ignoring the way she shivers as Din moves closer, closer. She loves to be hunted by her Mandalorian, willing prey. 

“My mission,” he says, reaching out, a phantom limb at first, and then the rest of him appears. His open hand rests against the extension of her open throat, and Nova sighs, pressing into Din’s touch, “is to devour you.” 

Nova moans, the sound of it breathy, like it’s been coaxed out of her mouth. Din’s still only weaning his underclothes—no armor, nothing to shield him from her touch. Transfixed, she arches closer to his body, pressing her torso against his. She hums when he growls, low and primal, free hand skating over the small of her back. “Now?” 

“Always.” 

Nova shudders as Din’s hand clenches down—not enough to deprive her of air, but enough to make the stars shoot into her vision. Nova always welcomes the crush of space, the shuddering blackness of it, but this kind is her favorite. Buzzing, she presses her windpipe into the crest of Din’s hand, the sound of her sigh glittering off somewhere starward. 

Din murmurs something she can’t hear, trailing his hand up her back to fist in her hair. Nova knows she has a few seconds of pure bliss before danger sets in—that’s where she and Din live, that fault line. But this is the danger they chose, the danger they crave. She opens her eyes, sage green into dark brown, locked on Din like a laser beam, refusing to shy away. 

He lessens his grip, and Nova sags against his taut, hard body, the apex of his shoulders wider than hers, welcoming her in. Nova sighs, feeling that buzzing in her ears hum back to normal. “Mine,” Din is saying like a prayer, “you’re mine.” 

There’s a desperation to it, an undercurrent, and Nova unhinges her mouth as Din watches, hard and desperate pressed against her, so desperate that it burns through their clothes. A hymnal, he’s singing, with nothing but the same syllables. It’s desperate, pleading. More than piety. Like a zealot, for her, only for her. Like Novalise is something holy. 

Nova steps back.

Din stumbles forward, and they both tumble into where the sun is rising in the east, blue, soft light forcing them into the day. 

“What?” he asks, genuinely concerned. Nova blinks, tracing a line over the map of Din’s face—her Mandalorian, her husband, her beloved. The thick, coarse hair of his mustache, the bow of his upper lip, the ridge of his beautiful hooked nose. “What’s wrong?” 

“What was that, back there?” Nova whispers, afraid to take her touch away this time. Something haunted and terrible is skirting the corners of Din’s eyes. “With Bo-Katan?” 

Din sighs, blinks, and the expression shifts, but doesn’t disappear. “Her group and mine have been enemies for a long time.” 

Nova brings her other hand up to cup Din’s cheeks in equal measures. “Your sects of Mandalorians, sure, but you’re friends, Din.” 

His eyes cloud, uncloud. “Yeah,” he says, unconvincingly, and Nova squeezes down, trying to bring him back. “Yes,” he corrects, much stronger. “We are. But it’s beyond that. Being here…it’s strange.” He clears his throat. “I don’t know how to explain it.” 

Nova tilts her head to the side. “Din. It’s me.” 

“There’s so much history here,” he says, carefully. “And when it’s just us, it’s one thing. But…with war on the horizon, we’re going to have to unite the Mandalorians. You will, as reigning Mand’alor. They will follow you. You’ve proven yourself as a warrior, and they respect you. But…”

“This is a larger war than they’ve ever fought,” Nova fills in when Din trails off, eyes slightly unfocused. “This is bigger than one enemy, and it’s going to force all of us to be on the same side, regardless of their history.” 

Din nods, once.

“There’s more, though,” Nova breathes, circling her thumbs around his temples. “What’s going on?” 

Din’s gaze snaps back to hers. “I’m so tired, Nova.” 

Something fractures along her heart. Another fault line, cracking and bisecting. Small until it isn’t. Nova tries to brace herself against her racing heartbeat, tracing her fingers over Din’s cheekbones. “I know, my love.” 

Din’s jaw clenches. “Do you wish—”

Nova tips her head closer when he stops short in the middle of the sentence. “What?” she whispers, barely air at all, trying to coax it out of him. 

“That we just stayed on Naator?”

Nova blinks. “Din—”

“You have the galaxy to worry about,” he says, a weight behind the word, a heaviness that Nova never noticed before. “And we have a duty to Mandalore. I don’t want to run away.” 

Observing, Nova moves closer, tipping her forehead against his. 

“But,” Din whispers, so quietly it’s like there’s nothing there at all, “what if we ran away?” 

Novalise is speechless. For a tortuous, long second, she doesn’t speak. Whatever haunted thing was lingering in Din’s eyes breaks away, hides like it was never there at all. 

“Wishful thinking,” he mutters, trying to pull away, but Nova anchors him in place. 

“One day,” Nova vows, “one day, we will save the world, we won’t fight another war, and you and Grogu and I can live the rest of our lives under Naator’s pink sky. I promise you, Din.” 

He gives her a sad smile, hand grasping her chin, tipping it up to meet his eyes. “But you’re a fighter. It’s who you are. You aren’t…just going to leave. It’s not in your blood.” 

“You’re a Mandalorian,” Nova whispers, repeating his own words back to Din, “and fighting is part of your religion.” 

“Yeah,” Din says, kissing her on the mouth, lips lush and full against her own, “sure, it is.” 

It’s not until they’re both dressed, Grogu in tow, and heading towards the ship bay, that Din whispers something so quiet that Nova doesn’t hear it. 

“But I don’t worship the fight anymore. Just you.” 

*

“For the record,” Bo-Katan yells, over the hum of her ship’s engine starting up, “I still think this is a terrible idea.” 

Nova squints, long black braid swinging over her shoulder. “What choice do we have?”

Climbing into the cockpit, Nova and Bo-Katan take the helm. Wedge and Din disappear as they take off from Mandalore’s surface, the atmosphere clouding with every second they rise towards the stars. Wedge is likely going to eat. Din, Nova knows, touching his helmeted cheek as he disappears into the bowels of the ship, is going to try and sleep. 

“I don’t know,” Bo-Katan sighs, pushing all the thrusters up high. Her ship is made of the same metal and steel that Din’s was, but it’s older, less flashy. More utilitarian. Very Bo-Katan. “We’re going after an entire Star Destroyer. We can’t beat them.” 

“We are the galaxy's mightiest heroes,” Nova says, tossing Bo-Katan a grin. 

Bo-Katan gives her a sour look in return. “Yeah. But the four of us have almost died a lot.” 

“Grogu and I have the Force.” 

“Novalise,” Bo-Katan sighs, “no offense, but when has that ever really worked in your favor?”

Nova mimes getting struck in the heart, throwing her head back. “Ouch.” 

“We should have brought Koska and Axe. At least. Maybe a few other warriors.” 

Nova studies Bo-Katan as the ship ascends above Mandalore’s atmosphere. “You usually don’t share the fight.” 

Bo-Katan’s jaw clenches. “I’d share this one,” she mutters, flicking switches until the ship levels. A furrow in her eyebrows appears as she leans forward, trying to calculate exactly where the Chimaera’s signal was pulsing from. “Shit.” 

Adjusting, Nova brings herself closer to the nav system. “Where is he?” 

“Way out there.” Bo-Katan’s long, lean finger taps against the tracking beacon. 

“Primea?” Nova asks, squinting at the planet. “That’s not in the Outer Rim. That’s…”

“The other side of the galaxy,” Bo-Katan supplies. “The Unknown Regions.” 

“Luke’s out there,” Nova counters, trying to fight the rising anxiety in her stomach. “Luke’s on Ahch-To. That’s in the Unknown Regions. So, maybe, Ezra found—” But the impossibility of the entire thing catches up to her, flutters in her throat. It would be a couple days of journeying, even at full warp. They might have to stop somewhere to refuel. And Ezra was trapped out there, trapped with someone Bo-Katan was actually scared of… Maybe they are in over their heads. Nova realizes she stopped abruptly in the middle of her sentence. Now it’s Bo-Katan’s turn to stare at her. “I guess it’s too much to hope for,” she whispers, “that Ezra is anywhere close to Luke. That… that he might have found safety.” 

“Well,” Bo-Katan says, checking the fuel gauge as she fires her ship into hyperspace, “If Luke’s anywhere with Leia’s freaky son, maybe he’s not safe either.” 

“Bo-Katan—”

“That kid’s a weirdo,” Bo-Katan says, a mirthless laugh rising in her mouth. 

“You haven’t even met him.”

“Do I need to?”

Nova purses her lips, considering. “No,” she admits, quietly, and Bo-Katan barks a laugh. “But he’s…he’s troubled.” 

“Troubled like he’s a troublemaker? Or troubled like he’s a little Sith lord in the making? Because I think you and I both know the answer to that one. And he’s not a troublemaker.”

Nova stares out into the crush of space, thinking of Din’s hand on her throat, Bo-Katan’s words echoing in her mind. “He’s…he has the power to be terrible,” she says, carefully. “I know he’s Leia’s son, but there’s a darkness in him. Something awful. I’ve seen visions. I know who he’s destined to be.” 

“Kill him,” Bo-Katan shrugs. “Now, before he has that chance.”  

Nova stares at her. “I’m not going to kill a child. Leia’s child, no less.” 

Bo-Katan shrugs again, unaffected. “She’d thank you in the long run. If he turns into the monster you’ve seen he will.”

“Bo-Katan—” Nova sighs, pressing on her eyes hard enough to see stars. “I can’t kill him. I won’t. I… It would be wrong.”

Bo-Katan eyes her. “I’ll do it.” 

Nova blinks. Once, twice. “Maker above.” She bites the inside of her lip, looking at her friend. Bo-Katan’s rigidity is back, her ice queen persona snapped and frozen into place. Din looks haunted, permeated by something torturous he can’t bring to light. And, as always, Nova is oscillating between the both of them, orbiting their morality, trying to find the will to either bend or break. For once, that black hole in the pit of her stomach just feels too massive, too full of possibilities. “No one is killing him. Besides,” she says, hoping this will prod at Bo-Katan’s facade, “this is bigger than Ben Solo. This is bigger than just Mandalore, or the Order, or the Rebels. This is bigger than all of us, Ezra included.” Pointedly, she stares at Bo-Katan, wielding Ezra’s name like a weapon. 

It works. Bo-Katan’s front doesn’t shatter, but she falters. 

“Who is he with?” Nova whispers.

Bo-Katan’s spine goes straight. “Nova—”

“Why are you so afraid? Is…is this other person a god, or something?” 

“No,” Bo-Katan bites, “something of nightmares and legends, but absolutely not a god.” 

Nova offers her a tiny smile. “So…they’re killable?”

“If Ezra couldn’t—didn’t—then I don’t know. Genuinely, Novalise, I do not know. This…man, if you can call him that…is terrifying.”

“How?” 

Bo-Katan is staring out into space, a tiny crack in her armor showing. 

“Bo-Katan,” Nova whispers, just as desperately as she tried to get through to Din earlier, “it’s me.”

“I don’t know,” Bo-Katan finally spits, seething. “I don’t know, Nova. I don’t know anything about him, really. Hera Syndulla would know more. Ahsoka would too.” She turns her burning gaze to Nova. “Where is Ahsoka, Novalise?”

Nova blinks. “She’s…she’s out there. She told me she’d show up when I needed her next. That our paths were destined to cross again.” 

Bo-Katan snorts. “Typical Jedi nonsense, then.” 

“I thought Ahsoka was your friend—”

“I have no friends!” Bo-Katan yells, “Not anymore.” She swallows. “Except you. And Wedge, when he’s not getting on my nerves. “And Din. I guess.” She gives Nova a glance out of the corner of her eye. “I’m sorry,” she whispers, and the words still sound so foreign coming out of her mouth. “Of course you’re all my friends. I don’t…I don’t know what’s going on. I’m… Things are getting…wrong.” 

It shouldn’t make sense, but it does. Nova reaches out, grasping her friend’s hand. 

“If I wasn’t so vehemently opposed to the notion,” Bo-Katan says, sniffing, “I would say Mandalore is cursed.” 

“How can it be?” Nova asks, voice quiet, tucking her half-braid and curls underneath behind her shoulder, giving Bo-Katan an earnest, tiny smile. “It brought me to you.” 

It’s the type of quip Bo-Katan would typically roll her eyes at, but instead they flicker, her lips quirking up at the edges. “There’s something off about all of this,” she whispers, finally, clutching Nova’s hand back, “Nova, can’t you sense it?” 

Nova doesn’t say anything.

But that’s the problem. She does. And it’s seeped under her skin. It won’t scrub away. 

*

Bo-Katan eventually disappears to sleep. After she’s beaten Nova seven times at Sabacc, effortlessly. Nova took over the helm hours ago, listless, afraid to fall back into sleep. She doesn’t want to have nightmares. She can’t fathom the fact that so much of the galaxy is disintegrating in her fingers. She’s always thought of saving the world colloquially, like a metaphor, even. But this…all of this feels too big. Bo-Katan is scared. Din is becoming unhinged. Nova has made herself an enemy out of so many people—Ben Solo, the First Order, Gideon and his cronies, the sinister laughter, the blue lightning, the myth that Ezra’s been missing in action with. They’re all congealing, coagulating like blood, staining her skin, her mouth, her heart. 

“Hey.” 

Nova jumps. “Stars, Wedge, you scared me.” 

A small smile lights up her old friend’s face. “I thought I’d relieve you.” 

Nova blinks. “How long have I been up here?” 

Wedge cocks his head to the side, holding out his hand to help her off the pilot’s seat. Yawning, Nova takes it, sliding out of the chair. She cracks her neck to the side, realizing how tired she is. “Hours.” 

Nova blinks. “Where are we?” 

Wedge looks at the nav system. “Somewhere cresting through the Outer Rim. I don’t know where the—” he squints, “—Primea system is, but we’re not even close to the Unknown Regions yet. A way to go until we find where exactly the Chimaera’s distress call is coming from.” 

Yawning, Nova nods. Her head is pulsing. “And then what?”

“Well,” Wedge says, crossing his arms over his chest, that familiar orange jumpsuit so warm in stark contrast to the blue and grey of Bo-Katan’s Mandalorian ship, “then we find Ezra.”

“Wedge,” she says, and then closes her mouth. “Do…do you think this is a stupid idea? Going after Ezra with no idea what’s out there waiting for us?”

Wedge studies her. “I think it’s a Rebel thing for us to do,” he says, grinning. 

“I’m serious.” Nova’s voice almost wobbles. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” she whispers, so softly, the truth of it laid bare. It’s something she would have admitted to her parents—she can picture Arokel’s troubled eyes, so like her own. She can feel Piper’s determination, coursing through her blood. But Novalise is tired, and the ghosts of the people she’s lost are just that—a specter, a haunting. Not a fortification, not a lifeline, not right now. “Wedge, what if we’re walking into a trap?” 

Wedge studies her. “Nova,” he says, sighing, resting a strong hand on her shoulder, thumb clasped right against the curve of her neck like her father used to do, gently bringing her back down to earth, “we’ve walked into plenty of traps. You always come out swinging.” He stoops down to catch her eye. “I’m old. I’ve seen a lot of things, now. And I know this—even exhausted, even confused, you are a leader. Even when you don’t feel like one. Even when you don’t want to be. And that crown hangs heavy on your head, rebel girl.” He smiles softly, so much like her father that it makes Nova’s heart ache. “Go give your mind a break.” 

And there’s so much Nova wants to say—so much, but she’s exhausted, and Wedge has given her permission, so she just sways into his hug, turns on her heel, and sinks into the belly of the ship to find her husband. 

*

The room is so dark. Almost entirely blacked out, Nova stumbles through the door after the hiss has resounded, arms out in front of her as she fumbles toward the bed. Bo-Katan isn’t a lavish person, so the rooms are sequestered and small, with only a cot for the bed. It’s big enough for two bodies—if Din isn’t wearing his armor, which he decidedly is not. Nova feels around and locates the curve of his hip, fingers skating underneath the hem. His skin here is so soft—one scar travels up the bone, slightly raised against her touch. 

Nova unhinges, pulling her jacket off, pushing her hair back behind her ears, closing her tired eyes. This is primal—folding her body against Din’s in the dark. It’s what she’s done since before she learned his name, since before he gave Nova her true one. Shivering, she draws her legs up, facing Din in the dark. 

Slowly, she traces the bump of his hooked nose, gorgeous and hers even in the vantablack of the sleeping chamber. How familiar and foreign this feels at the same time—tracing the man underneath the Mandalorian, discovering everything that makes Din the man he is. She feels her heart turn over, drawing him closer, closer still—

“Nova?” 

Her eyes fly open. “I didn’t mean to disturb you,” she whispers, “but I’m here.”

His arms reach around to enfold her. They rustle in the dark. Nova’s enclosed against his chest, feeling Din’s heartbeat flutter in tandem with hers. 

Din’s hand comes up, lazily, sleepily, to stroke through her hair, unraveling the top half from its braid. “Where’d you go?”

“I was keeping Bo-Katan company,” Nova whispers, inclining her head into the curve of his neck, “up in the cockpit.” 

Din’s quiet for a moment. Then: “That’s not what I mean.” 

In the dark, Nova feels her cheeks flush. “I’m nervous,” she admits, “about what this means. Bringing someone back who’s been missing for years. Whoever Ezra was with. Everything just feels…so much deeper. Bigger,” she corrects, licking her bottom lip. “Like we have more to lose.” 

Din sighs into the dark. “We do have more to lose.” 

Nova’s heart sinks, just a little bit. 

“But,” Din says, exhaling through his nose, “it means we have more to fight for.”

Nova wraps her free arm around his back, skating under his shirt, taking careful note of the little groan he lets escape in the dark. Quietly, so quiet it’s like her words aren’t there at all, she breathes: “I thought you were tired of fighting.” 

Nova’s almost asleep when Din’s answer floats out, right into the shell of her ear. “I am. But I’ll never get tired of following you into war.” 

*

Nova’s dreams are in black and white again. Greyscale, like she’s seeing something ancient. Primal. Back before the galaxy existed.

Nova falls through the glimpse of this other side, this vantablack reality. And when Din appears, he’s wrong. 

It’s palpable, the way he radiates. Metal, gunsmoke, danger—that sweet scent of cinnamon gone. Locked away, hidden behind beskar and steel. It’s everything she needs, everything she doesn’t—fear and desire, locked up together in ecstasy. She knows she’s dreaming—but she still needs him, craves him, feels him, everywhere—

“Din’s haunted,” a whisper cuts through the dark. Nova doesn’t know if it’s her own voice or something else entirely. 

All she knows is that she doesn’t care.

Everything in this place is primal, attuned to a frequency only they can walk along. Nova watches, everything obsidian and mottled, hidden in shadow. Obscured. He’s obscured, too. His helmet—it’s visceral, his face underneath it all. Nova can feel it in the silence, in the dark.

Limbo. They’re both in limbo. 

She needs him like a prayer. Something whispered into all that darkness, pleading for a higher power. He’s haunted, this version of him—the version of Din where he becomes the Mandalorian, nothing more. 

In the dark of night, on a bed of velvet and honey, Nova watches him. Moonlit, shining only by the stars that surround them. They glitter and refract off the beskar like a million tiny shards of glass. He stands in the doorway while she rests, listless and unable to submit to sleep. He stalks her in the night like an animal, primal and terrifying. 

“Do I scare you, cyar’ika?” he asks one night. Croons, like the taste of fear is tantalizing. Sweet. Nova shivers, her body only half-covered by the gossamer sheet. They’re both spinning, lost in this nothingness, equally bisected by all this darkness. It would be devastating if Din wasn’t here to share it. Even though he’s haunted. Even though he’s not himself. 

Even though this is a dream.

It is a dream, right?

“Din—”

Gloved hands grab her ankles, throwing off her center of balance. He yanks her to the foot of the bed, throwing the sheet away. Nova tries to cover her body, but she watches the helmet slowly shake back and forth. An order. 

“Do I,” he whispers, velvet and tungsten, “scare you?” 

“You’d like if it I answered yes,” Nova whispers. “Wouldn’t you?” 

It’s not really a question.

She can feel his teeth glint in the dark, white-hot, even underneath the visor. This Din doesn’t take his helmet off. Not now. Not ever. It comes to her in flashes, little vignettes—what he used to look like, what warmth used to live in his eyes. Now, he’s more Mandalorian than man, and she wants him to bisect her, to halve her, to tear her into shreds. Even if it’s just for a moment. Even if none of this is real. She wants him, low and desperate in her belly, and it drives her up to the stars. His gloved fingers are trailing up her legs, predatory. 

“Do I scare you?” Visceral, through the modulator. 

“Yes.” 

His hand stops. 

“Novalise.” It sounds like absolution, a prayer. A reprimand, sure, but something holy. Proof that he hasn’t forgotten who she is. Nova bites down on her bottom lip as Din’s rough, gloved hands start dragging up her thighs again. “Do you like it?” 

He leans in closer. Nova feels something slide across her wrists, keeping her anchored in place. She doesn’t know what it is. She doesn’t care. “Din,” she whines, and his helmeted head is a knife through the air, landing an inch away from her cunt. Nova clenches down as he sniffs, inhaling through the modulator like he’s devouring her already, and her moan comes out broken in two. 

“I can smell you,” he whispers, strangled. “You want me so bad, it’s killing you.” 

“Yes,” Nova manages, her entire body shaking with want—with desire. She wanted it, then—yesterday, a million years ago—back on Naator. She’s always wanted it—to be Din Djarin’s prey.

But right now, he’s not Din Djarin. He’s the Mandalorian. And the distinction is blackened and honeyed, a dangerous, terrible thing. She doesn’t know where they are, what this place is—just that they were plunged into this vantablack and have become forged by it. Trial by fire, trial by desire—the circumstances change, but the story always remains the same.

“I want to devour you, sweet thing.” 

That word again—it, too, feels divine and sacrosanct, living in the light, belonging to the dark.

Nova moans. “Do it.” 

Din inhales again, a raggedy, wanton thing, and when Nova squirms, the blackness tightens around her wrists. She’s on display for him, this haunted man, and she’s an offering to whatever demon lives inside of him. 

When he leans forward, fingers digging into her hips to draw her closer, Nova’s mouth opens into a starstruck O, pulling the sound clean out into the air. “Louder.” 

“Maker,” she gasps—and then—

“Don’t pray to him,” Din grits out, his other hand snapping out of nowhere, clasping around her neck. “Your Maker’s not here. You worship me.”

Stars above. Nova doesn’t look away—she looks into that blinking, leaching blackness. He’s slick like an oil spill, her Mandalorian, and she’s caught in his gravitational pull. It’s inevitable. It’s everything. 

Nova gives in. 

“I worship you.” 

“You’re a miracle, sweet thing,” he whispers, and through the modulator, it vibrates. His head is face-to-face with her pussy. Nova can’t really feel his breath—the helmet prevents it—but the memory of it is just as strong. “But in here, I’m your God.” 

“Din,” she whispers, fallow and weak, hips jerking underneath his light touch, “please—”

When he pushes a finger inside, it’s thick. Unyielding. Without warning. This is what Din’s like inside of here, this husk of a man—something beyond material and metal. He’s both divine and sacrosanct. It’s stifling. Din’s head cocks to the side, considering. Outside the window—is it a window?—the stars are brutal and clear. Without remorse, he cocks it, curling it up inside of her, and Nova shudders. 

“I want your words.” 

“Feels—fuck, so good—”

“Is this enough, cyar’ika?” He leans closer, and Nova can still feel the imprint of his tongue from before, before the darkness swallowed them both, before this—and he pulls her closer, driving that gloved finger in deeper. Nova sobs. “Is it enough?” 

“No,” Nova mewls, finally, “no, I need more—”

“Greedy,” Din interrupts, and then she’s being stretched open with two fingers, and she’s so close to the edge, tasting it, dancing on it—and then nothing. 

“Please,” she manages, and when she looks up, Din’s helmet is obscured in shadow. He’s standing between her legs at the edge of the bed, staring down at her—she can feel his eyes, under there. They haven’t disappeared. A jolt strikes Nova, deep in her stomach. Deep brown, she reminds herself. Deep brown, like reflecting pools. The color of wet soil, the feeling of home.

“What do you want?” 

Nova’s mouth falls open. “For you to come back to me.” 

It’s not what she meant to say. Not what she intended on saying. But still, it’s here, and she can’t take the words back. For a second, the veil ripples—color floods back, color other than black and grey, other than that dulled starshine, and they’re back somewhere where the earth felt warmer. It rips through her like a lightning strike, sudden and unforgiving. 

“I’m right here,” Din whispers, and then the hiss of the helmet disengaging. “I never left.”

Nova swallows. “Prove it.” 

She can’t see him. She can’t see anything, and for a moment, it feels like he’s going to slink out of that darkness unrecognizable, and then she hears the unmistakable sound of Din popping his gloved fingers in his mouth, sucking every drop of her off of them. The moan that follows is so loud—it could shatter bone. Nova feels like it does, for a second. 

“You’re so fucking sweet,” Din pants out. “So fucking—” 

“Yours,” Nova manages, wanting to reach up to stroke his face, to move her thumb over his cheekbone, to anchor her back in reality. Her heart pounds, obsessive and unfettered, and her vision drops out as Din crawls over her. 

“Need to fuck you,” he grunts out, and then his hands are fumbling at the clasp on his pants. Nova reaches up, trying to help, but that darkness keeps her anchored down. She kicks up, trying to get leverage— “Don’t you fucking leave me.” 

Nova moans. 

“You can’t go anywhere, Novalise.” One strong, gloved is anchored on her bare stomach, pushing down hard enough to keep her locked in place. “You belong here.” 

Nova gasps, wanting to buck her hips up—not to run away, not to leave—but to get closer, and Din’s hands free his cock from his pants, and for a second she stops struggling, just staring at it. It’s always big—the bulge of it always swells in her belly—but in the half-light, it looks like it will spear her, split her in two. 

“You can take me.” 

“I need…” Nova writhes against the heat, staring at the head of Din’s cock, bead glistening, and her mouth waters. 

“I know. I know, baby.” 

“Please,” she begs, stars threatening behind her eyes, “please—”

“You don’t even know what you’re begging for,” Din croons, and his free hand slides off the base of his own dick to shoot around her throat, those same stars now supernovas, bleeding out obsidian, “do you?” 

“For you,” Nova manages, “for you, always you, always, always you, Din—” 

“You’re holy,” Din whispers, squeezing down once, “divinity.” 

“Yes,” she manages, sweet tears gathering at the corners of her eyes, “but you—” 

“I’ll drag you down to the darkness with me,” Din says, voice low and guttural, and then he pushes inside of her. No give. No take. Nova moans, a ragged, tortured thing, and Din slides all the way in, pounding into her, and she can’t take it, it’s everything, it’s devastating, it’s— “Look at me.” 

He lets go, stars receding back to the dulled state outside that window. Nova tried, eyes attempting to find their locus in the darkness, but when she sees Din’s face, it’s just the darkness looking back. 

It makes her cum so hard she sees black. 

“Novalise—” 

And she wakes up. 

Nova thinks she yelps—a noise works its way out of her mouth, it’s devastating and dark, guttural, leftover from the dreamland.

Din, only a second’s delay, is up and taut next to her, his body tensed into  warrior. “What?” he gasps, arms braced against her, breath hot in the obsidian of the tiny room. “What’s wrong, cyar’ika?” 

When she doesn’t answer, trying to bring her heartbeat down to normal, to make it even-keeled, he repeats the words. A mantra, a prayer. Tears spring to life in her eyes, this desperate, fantastical dream. It felt real, so real— 

“Dream,” she chokes out, finally, dragging a hand over her flushed, inflamed face, hands shaking from his mouth in between her thighs, the way he pushed into her, unyielding, relentless.

She knows he’s cocking his head to the side, considering. Nova doesn't need to see Din to know the way he moves. It’s ingrained in her—everything about him, grounded in muscle memory. 

“Bad dreams?”

A laugh hitches like a hiccup in her throat. “I’m not sure.” 

“What—” Din struggles, sitting up straighter. His bare hand trails up between her legs, and Nova thinks he’s still talking, but when he finds the apex of her thighs, he stops in the middle of his sentence. “Oh,” he says, low, pulsing, like it’s knocked the air out of his lungs. “Oh. What did you dream about, cyar’ika?” She can hear the proud smirk in his voice. She shivers, despite the heat of his touch. 

“You,” Nova manages.

Din’s hand clenches down. It’s not enough to hurt, but right now, Nova wants it to bruise. She wants Din in every single reality, every single iteration—but this one, right here, this is the basest, realest version of him. She doesn’t need to resort to dreams. She doesn’t need anything except him. 

“Is that all I get?” he croons, leaning in to lick a line up the column of her neck, stopping to flutter his tongue at her pulse point. That, enough, knocks her undone. 

“I can’t explain it,” she gasps, feeling his teeth graze over the same spot, stars shooting out behind the back of her eyes. “I—just need you, please, Din, please—” she’s begging now, begging like she was in the dream, that alternate reality, where Din was razor-sharp and married to the poison. She wants to sink into his skin, here, now, and that’s not enough. 

It’ll never be enough, she thinks, and then Din is maneuvering in the dark, with precision that only he’s ever had, notching his entire broad body between her legs, breath catching as he rips the strap of her top away from her collarbone. His teeth never leave, latching over and over as he makes his way down her body, bunching up the fabric of her shirt in his fist, yanking it away from the terrain of her stomach. Nova cries out, biting into the back of her fist to stay quiet—Bo-Katan’s ship is big, but not that big—

“Don’t you dare,” Din hisses, low and dangerous, “you scream for me.”

High and breathy, a moan works its way out of the open O of Nova’s open mouth. Din flutters his tongue somewhere below her bellybutton, desperate and spurred on. “Please,” she cries out, half delirious, not sure what she’s even pleading for—

Din grabs fistfuls of her pants and yanks down. Hard. Nova yelps as she’s exposed down to her knees, still shaking from her dream, shaking even more from the way Din’s unfurling here now. 

“Louder,” he goads, and she can’t stand the blood rushing in her ears. 

When he brushes his hand against the tender flesh of her inner thigh, Nova quakes. Desperate, pleading up to something high and holy above her, something she’s not even sure she believes in, Nova’s eyes roll back into her skull when Din’s mouth finally meets the apex of her thighs. 

“Oh,” she cries, and he licks a line straight up to her clit. It’s everything. It’s devastating. It’s like her dream, but so much better because this is real, he’s real, and he’s devouring her like she’s that something holy, like she’s the only locus he’s fixated on. 

His tongue feels alive, animalistic. Devour is the word Din used earlier—and devouring he is, bisecting Nova with his tongue. Desperate, she clutches her hands in his hair. Din moans at her touch—no matter how many times she’s done this exact thing, touching him in the dark always brings out that lust, that want. Nova can feel it as he’s trembling as hard as she is, tongue jittering as he licks her clean, over and over again. The tip of his tongue swirls around her clit again, and she’s so close, so close to the edge—it’s undone and divine. They’re sweating out confessions together—Nova’s in her head, Din mumbling them between her legs. Neither of them can vocalize it, make the words come aloud, but Nova knows they’re both pleading, crying, confessing—to whatever higher power they believe in, to the stars above themselves. 

“Cum for me,” Din rasps out, and it’s both a demand and a plea, and Nova can’t take it anymore. When his tongue latches down, fingers plunging into her, desperate—she does. She lets go, loud and warbling, her moan just as shaky as she is. Over and over again, she does, stars supernovae in the back of her eyes, blood thundering in her ears.

She barely comes down to the earth when Din does it again, again, again. He fucks her with his tongue like it’s an apology, like it’s divinity—Nova can’t decide which. Only when they’re both falling from it does he stop, climbing up her body to kiss her on her open mouth, smearing her lips with her own taste, and Nova kisses him. She wants to crawl inside of his teeth, be swallowed down, and live in his heart. She can’t explain it, this longing, this despair. It owns her.

It knows her by name. 

“Thank you,” she whispers, finally. It’s not enough, but it’s a start. 

Din doesn’t say anything, just lurches forward to bury his face in her neck. On the comedown, both of them flutter off into sleep again, and the only thing Nova can think is that Bo-Katan was right. 

Something is off. Something is bigger than they are—like they’re beginning a slow descent right into the eye of the storm. 

*

Knocking on the door brings both Nova and Din back awake. Nova opens her eyes, bleary, remembering that her trousers are still somewhere around her knees, or maybe by now her ankles. She shivers, the warmth of their cocoon refusing to rise up and meet her. She pulls on her sweater, folding her arms against her chest.

A small sliver of light leaches into their darkness. Nova squints. It’s Bo-Katan. Her hair is askew, mussed from her own sleep.

“What’s going on?” Nova asks, yawning, and then something hits the ship. 

Bo-Katan’s eyes are panicked. “We—we fell out of warp.” Another blast sounds, and the hull shutters. Din jackknifes up from the cot behind her. Nova wrenches open the door. 

“Are we under attack?” he yells, loud and panicked, and adrenaline and fear jolt through her with equal intensity. 

“Yes. Nova, you gotta pilot the ship,” Bo-Katan screams, over the noise, and Nova runs, grabbing hold of anything in the hallway she can to keep herself upright, seeing Bo-Katan lurch forward and grab Din’s forearm, dragging them both back down the hall to where the ship’s artillery is located. 

“Wedge!” Nova screams, hurdling into the cockpit. His face is covered with a sheen of sweat, and he looks at her, panicked for the first time in years. She reaches forward, grabbing the controls, helping him anchor it back in place. “What the hell is happening?” 

“Trap!” He yells back, the sound of gunfire too loud to hear anything but a whisper. “We crashed out of hyperspace, and all of these ships were—waiting for us.” 

Nova, wild-eyed, jumps up onto the seat next to Wedge, whose arms are shaking. “How is that possible?”

He shakes his head, trying to regain control of Bo-Katan’s shaking vessel, but Nova bumps him with her hip. “Co-pilot,” she manages. “You’ve been up here for hours. I can hold her for a minute.” 

Wedge’s mouth is set in a thin, firm line, but his eyes hold relief. Nova’s never flown this ship before—it’s decidedly not an X-Wing. But she can handle Kicker, so she can handle anything. She straps in, kicking the thrusters up as high as they’ll go, trying to get the warp to catch. 

“Come on,” she whispers, and she feels the ship shake as Bo-Katan and Din find their footing, shooting back at the armada of ships that are firing at them. Large sharded pieces of asteroids fly into her vision. Nova plays the offensive, swinging and dodging, trying to keep them on a clear path as Din and Bo-Katan shoot their way to safety. 

She looks down at the warp button, bleating a defeated cry. It’s broken—or damaged. A pulse of panic shoots through her bloodstream. “We can’t get out of here!” she cries. “Wedge!”

But as soon as they appeared, the ships encircling them pull back, disappearing behind the giant moon hanging on the horizon. Nova looks at the hyperspace drive again, and dives, lurching over the edge of an asteroid, ears still ringing in the sudden silence.

“We have to try,” she whispers, pushing at the button again. “They can’t have disappeared—Wedge!” She stops short as he slaps her hand away. “What the hell?” she asks, low, surprised, startled. 

“Stop!”

A giant bang resounds. Nova flinches, realizing the bottom of the ship scraped across the asteroid. 

“What?!”

“Stop!” Wedge cries again, finger stabbing at the navigation. “Stop, Nova—”

“I’m not doing anything!” she screeches, near hysterics, heart pumping out a million beats per minute. “Maker, Wedge, what?”

“We’re here!” He roars, and Din and Bo-Katan reappear at the cockpit’s edge. Nova stares down at the pixelated planet on the screen and back to the one appearing in front of them. It’s not a moon at all—it’s a cratered, white planet. Slowly, the noise from the rest of the ship filters back in, loud in the absence of all of the fighting outside. 

“Primea,” Bo-Katan whispers. “How are we at Primea? This journey should have taken us at least three days—”

“Where’s Ezra?” Din asks, and Nova’s heart is in her throat. 

“It cannot be this easy,” Nova breathes, shaking her head. That distress call—still from the Chimaera’s mothership, still blinking her callsign—is coming from a shuttle craft a few klicks down on the planet’s surface. “It cannot—”

“It’s not,” Bo-Katan says, her hair still in disarray, her face pale, discolored. “We’re walking into a trap.”

“Bo-Katan,” Nova whispers, uneven and erratic, “what choice do we have?”

*

Primea is a ghost town. It’s quiet. So quiet. Everything is salty and dusted in white—like snow without the chill. It’s so eerie here. The four of them walk in formation—Nova and Din in front, Wedge and Bo-Katan in tow. Four sets of boots crunch across the crystalline ground, eyes scanning the skies, the craters, waiting for the army to materialize, waiting to be swallowed up by whoever took Ezra.  

“This is wrong,” Bo-Katan mutters, under her breath. “This is wrong.”

“Bo-Katan,” Din hisses, both of their voices modulated under their helmets, “keep it together.”

She doesn’t so much as shoot him a furious look. They’ve all seen–or felt—it enough times to know what it looks like under her helmet. Nova feels unsettled. She’s right. They’re walking a fault line, and no one can tell exactly where the crack is. 

Nova skitters to a stop. “There.” She whispers it, but it sounds like a yell. Nature should not be this quiet. A tiny escape pod, grey like the Star Destroyer it was borne from, is splayed out across a crater, an overhang disguising where the color meets the sky. 

Her heart is in her throat. She feels like she’s going to throw up. 

“We should have an attack plan—” Wedge starts, but they’re already running. Novalise first, then Bo-Katan, then Din behind them, in quick succession. The four of them cross the open terrain, Nova’s hand on the Darksaber in her belt. With one glance at Din, Nova throws the saber to him, igniting her own—yellow, warmth seeping out sunlight onto this greyscale planet. Bo-Katan arms her wrist rockets, fists out to meet the air. Wedge’s blaster has been unholstered since the second his feet touched down on the ground. 

Smoke is billowing out of the ship. Nova didn’t see it before, camouflage against the backdrop of the sky—but it’s impossible to miss now. Fear lurches into her stomach. When they reach the hatch, she leans forward, opening the pressurized door. 

“Ezra?” Nova whispers, her voice shaky and childlike in the dark hull of the escape pod. 

Frantically, they look around the ship, inside, outside, searching every tiny cranny, every impossible nook. It’s clear immediately, but they keep looking. Ezra isn’t here. 

“Where is he,” Bo-Katan manages, panic ripping up an octave in her voice. 

Wedge’s eyes bulge. 

“What?” Din murmurs, looking over at him. 

Blaring, on the dashboard, are two things. 

The timelog reads the date—five and a half days after they left Mandalore. The four of them have been out of space and time for the better half of a week. 

And the hologram button is blinking. 

“What the fuck,” Bo-Katan states, angry and flat. 

Shaking, Nova presses the hologram. His face—the shape of this phantom Jedi that’s visited her, warned her—blares up, azure and tiny. Din’s hand is at her waist, keeping her weak knees steady. Nova leans back into his gravity, hands trembling, heart terrified despite his anchor.

“If you’re watching this,” Ezra says, his voice tinny and distorted, “that means I’m too late.” He looks over his shoulder, panicked. The hologram glitches, flickers, and then it’s just his face—so like her own, Nova feels like a knife in her gut, almost like she’s looking into a mirror—and Ezra lurches closer. “And you guys need to run.” 

*

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*

WE'RE BACK BABY!!!! i hope you all loved it!! i am SO excited to bring this next and final installment in the Something More Series to life. thank you for being here, for staying through all my absence, and for reading—regardless if this is your first journey with Nova & Din or if you've been here since day one, you mean the world to me. <3

CHAPTER TWO WILL BE UP IN TWO WEEKS, SATURDAY, MARCH 25TH, 2023! (hoping posting every two weeks is an easier schedule to stick with this time).

LOVE YOU!

xoxo, amelie

[hislittleraincloud]

You're the one who started screaming "pedo" over a gay ship. Sounds pretty conservative to me.

Also literally none of the actors in the show are teenagers. So you're just a fucking weirdo.

I never "screamed "pedo" over a gay ship".

I have called out the behavior of Wenclairs around their ship and the crazy parasocial shit re: Jenna Ortega that's going on.

You do(n't) realize that it's a running Gen X joke that teens in teen shows or that feature teens are more often than not portrayed by older actors/non-teens (though Ortega turned nineteen during the filming of Wednesday 1). But that has fuckall to do with the pervasive insistence that a show penned mostly by, and directed by, cis het people featuring a boy crazy girl who likes rainbows is somehow coding for her being a total lesbian for her roommate.

You can call me conservative if you want, but you obviously haven't a clue and have only popped in here recently. SNS, not going to give you a full lesson in who I really am. You've already opened your mouth, so I'll just keep opening mine.

I don't think like Wenclairs; then again, by the time I was their age — the bulk of you are young/Gen Z and below — I already knew what I needed to do to grow up and survive in a world that is against my way of life.

But I also knew it was fucking weird to obsess over an actor so much that you write RPF and/or y/n shit about them. Singularly and as a couple. Sure, fandomers have written Mary Sue/Gary Stu since the dawn of fic, but it wasn't like this. This is aberrant...you're all acting worse than the Johnlockers who went after Martin Freeman's partner, Amanda Abbington, when she joined Sherlock. Pretty sure that kind of toxic fandom behavior — pushing things on the showrunners and actors — is what the problem is here. Not the ship itself, if it happens organically.

But there isn't going to be anything organic about it because it wasn't written in canon as such. Y'all just seeing what you need to see to justify the obsession. I mean, friendship. That's what was with the dramatics of The Hug. Everyone in the school knew that Wednesday eschewed touching/friendship and expressions of friendship. The scene's the core of M&G's intentions for Wednesday and Enid.

But y'all took Myers' "roomates" joke and ran right off the side of the cliff with it. And even as she's stated in so many words that you shouldn't ship real people, y'all still fucking do it.

So who's really the fucking weirdo(s) here? The ones who can separate real life from fiction or the ones who can't?

[mobolanz]

AOT OC Show and Tell Days - Day 1: basic introductions

Name: Evelyn Marianne Auroré

Gender: Female

Age in setting: not thought out yet since I'm contemplating if to age up the characters for the storyline actually considering I'm finally laying it out (most likely yes) but I'm not sure on how many years. 🤧

Suggestions welcome 😵‍💫

Bold all of the following that apply to your OC!

Context: Canon Setting | Modern AU | Other AU

What niche does your OC serve for you?:

Self-insert | Completely original character | Self-shipping (in the projecting sense xD) | Roleplaying | Writing fics | Creating art | Only the scenarios and adventures that I imagine inside my head and share with no one! get fucked I ain't creating shit | Something else

A Bit More:

If your character is in the AOT canon setting, what's their allegiance?

Survey Corps | Military Police | Marleyan | Warriors | etc.

Do you ship your character with a canon character? If so, who?

She understands my Reiner love almost better than I do oml 🤧🤧🤧

Do you have any cute art or picrews of them together? Let's see one:

Not pictured is a light brushing with a surprising delicacy of her bangs to the side as he bends a bit to kiss her tenderly on the forehead no I totally didn't come up with this while typing wdym 🤭🤧(⁠◡⁠ ⁠ω⁠ ⁠◡⁠)✨✨✨

Obligatory fake screencap to give her a clearer image in my head for the scenarios since my choice to redesign her came during lasting artblock aofjakkfkakf

I'm planning to make another one for WIT's style based on something I'll mention later in the post!😆😆

For most part here's a rought draft . But also considering her design is for s4 I might create a special pre-timeskip look for that since it's set there.

Character Creation:

How long have you actively been developing your OC?:

As an Aot oc? March 2022. As an overall character? … took a good while since August 2019, jumped between… *counts fingers* 5 different fanbases, nothing came of any of these, all her ships were one dimensional unconvincing shallow and dull. Yet when I tried here, a wave of inspiration hit me like a comet D: 💫

Her hair was fucking blue aodjqidjakdjajkw

Is there any significance behind your OCs name?:

Glad you asked! :D I have this reaching and overextensive research for the meaning & how it ties to the whole character story&arc

Evelyn (driven from Eve,if I added the meta behind this it'd reach the tumblr word limit if there is any) : desired (ahhh ahaah…(⁠〒⁠﹏⁠〒⁠). Also has some fairytale motif not as deep but alfjakdka.) , life (self explanatory :"). )

Marianne: (driven from Maria, also actually what my own name & my 2nd favourite oc's name is driven from🤭)- star, grace. I mostly only added it after making her an aot oc, but a middle name would be a fancy addition right? :D😆😆

Auroré - driven from aurora meaning dawn(& familial ties with another oc of mine themed after Northern lights).

Plus.... fitting for her hair color.! :D

Combine her first and last name and it's sounding like: life's (graceful) dawn.

Which has a coincidental similarly to the last episode of s4 part 2 (the dawn of humanity)

If your OCs appearance is based on yours, do they have any different features?:

No not really, I just unironically want this look and think it's gorgeous. Blood-red hair and everything (⁠ﾉ⁠◕⁠ヮ⁠◕⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠*⁠.⁠✧

Is there anything you want to try doing with your OC that you haven't yet? (ex RPing, art, fics, etc):

I'm actually finally writing the full first meeting oneshot nowadays! As of now it was just brain-dump scenarios connecting (somehow that alone ended up being 2k wth) xD. I've also been more openly brainstorming about it so I'm opening up to questions!:D

Also on an art note, I actually kept on the side a DIY nendoroid figure I'm planning to turn into her 😆😆😆

For him <3

[epickiya722]

I think fandom is also a place in which the majority of people who are really passionate and most active abt it are fans that happened to be queer in some way, so logically, there is going to have quite a big amount of people making these M/M and F/F ships in general. But ALL of the things in that post applies perfectly in one way or another.

For context, this is post!!

Yep, agree with you, Anon. In fandoms, the majority of the fans who are passionate are queer. That's not to say that there isn't passionate fans who aren't queer, before anyone acts up on me.

While it's on my mind, the part of that post that stuck out to me the most is this one...

Yeah I don’t really ship but I do write a fair amount of fanfic, and in most franchises working with the female characters is a chore.

You have to do so much of the work yourself, because the canon left them unfinished, with huge gaps or unexplored contradictions that you have to somehow resolve. Every female character you decide to integrate into your fanwork in some major role constitutes an undertaking in her own right as you patch together an understanding of her sufficient to model a consistent set of reactions and priorities &c.

The dudes just get handed to you. Even the ones whose canon is a mess have properly developed character cores.

That you don’t have to unearth and piece together like some sort of volunteer archeologist coming up with theories way more complex than the available artifacts truly support.

I really felt that as someone who has been writing Miruko-centric fics since March 2022. So, I'll be using BNHA as an example here.

I talked about it in another post of mine, but to summarize; writing Miruko in fics have so far been a wild ride. But a fun one because I get to add onto her character. Compared to male characters, the female characters are blank canvas and honestly, to me, that's what gets my attention more because then my imagination had more freedom.

[I would like to apologize because I had no intentions to make this ask this long (pictures are here), let alone one about BNHA, and I do tend to ramble, that is my bad. So I cut it from here.]

If you asked me now which character I find more interesting between... Miruko and Hawks (I don't hate Hawks), I'm going to say Miruko. Not because she's my favorite. Because Hawks does indeed have too much given about him and it puts me off sometimes. With Miruko, I continue to have questions and those questions turn into my thought posts or fics.

She was already a favorite, but over time I appreciate her more because writing her in fics surely helped me explore more of what I can do in my writing as well as her as what she could have been as a character if she gotten a lot more to her in canon.

It also made me realize that even though a lot of the fandom is queer, when it comes to shipping, there's not a lot of love for F/F ships. Again, comes with the fact that a lot of the cast is male and the male characters have a lot more given to them.

Here's the current count! Look, at the number of F/F fics compared to M/M and F/M.

Looking at this makes me think back to that post about how female characters are often treated to be more accessories to male characters than actual characters or something along those lines.

With F/M coming second to M/M, I wouldn't be surprised if a lot of those fics are written with more male focus perspectives and the female characters are treated as tools to push the fic along. Or those Dekubowl fics where Midoriya is shipped with every single female character. *shivers*

Now, not saying M/M and F/M ships are bad, I have ships within those labels I like.

It just makes one think, you know?

I pressed on the Miruko tag and these are the top results I get. [Press to see full image!]

Now watch when I reduce the number for just Miruko-centric fics.

And you wanna know something crazy? I'm just learning this bit of info about myself. I didn't realize I was doing this!

First page of those 38 fics, the majority of them you will see are my own fics. Most of the additional tags and the top two relationship tags are tags that I used. Out of those 38 fics, guess how many are mine? 19 fics... HALF OF THOSE FICS ARE MINE AND I'M JUST LEARNING THIS!!