#breaching into new fandom territory

[kindaasrikal]

Me and who?

[leseigneurdufeu]

*leans back in the armchair and knits* "Aye, ah remember when all o' this was Superwholock jokes and Fuck Yeah [Name]'s [Noun] blogs. Of course, we didn't actually call our Blorbos 'Blorbo' in those days, and meme rationing had only just ended so..."

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for posting unspecified fetish content?

I'll try to keep the exposition short. I draw and post sweat fetish content on Twitter. My account has NSFW/"adult only" warnings and I block any minors that I see. Recently, I posted a drawing of two characters exercising together; there were no explicit genitals or anything, but it still had obvious kink elements. I don't usually tag my kink art with any content warnings as it was pretty run-of-the-mill for what I post on that account. Something worth nothing is I tend to draw for one main fandom. It's a family friendly media with a good chunk of it's online fanbase being kids. The characters I draw are adults.

When I checked my notifications a while after it was posted, I noticed one of my drawings got more interactions than usual. I usually get around 100-200 likes on my art, and this one had around 400 when i checked. I saw a lot of new accounts in my notifications, too. I went through the likes on the post and, unfortunately for me, the post had breached containment and entered normie territory. At first I thought it was funny, but as I looked a bit further I saw there were minors interacting and retweeting my art onto their main, SFW accounts. Obviously not good.

So, I posted about what happened in a NSFW fandom discord server in a sort of "this weird thing happened to me and I don't know how to feel about it" way. It ended up starting a bit of an argument in there, with some people laughing it off as normies just not knowing better and others viewing it as an oversight on my end.

Anyways, after a bit of back and forth (I was just kind of watching people talk about it), a server member K replied to my original message with a multiple paragraph long message saying that what I did was dangerous. He said that hiding fetishes in SFW art is a breach of consent (which, for the record, is a sentiment I generally agree with) and claimed that what I did is the same thing groomers do to desensitize kids to sexual content. I responded by saying that I posted my fetish content to a fetish account and one glance at my profile makes it clear my art is not meant to be viewed by kids. He responded to me saying that if I was truly worried about preventing grooming, I would've taken the post down. The argument stopped there because that's when the mods stepped in, asking people to take it to DMs. I did end up deleting and reposting the drawing, but not before I saw K vagueposting about fetish mining in the fandom we're both in.

Should I be more clear when it comes to posting fetish content that isn't explicitly sexual? I honestly feel like it's an overreaction on K's part, but I do understand the anxiety around being accused of grooming. And, unfortunately, trying to "trick" people into making fetish content isn't uncommon online either, so I do get where he's coming from there. Overall, I just want to make sure I didn't do anything predatory on accident.

What are these acronyms?

[peachyfnaf]

Morning peachy!

Happy Friday, I was scrolling through your blog and literally didn't realize you were the one that made the Nexus design that lives in my head rent free. I love your art and vibes ❤️🥰❤️

I'm at the part when Old Moon is back and met Earth it's SO AWKWARD

I don't like it (not mad he's back but it's just the entire lead up has me upset)

I was watching Baby Moon/New Moon and Earth like you said and idk, I think it's really messed up how everything went down. Earth seemed to jump to a lot of conclusions about New Moon and she seemed really upset but also I don't think what New Moon said to push her away was actually that mean. Maybe it's just me?

I also didn't like how Sun went to others for help because he's so lost on what to do with New Moon and everyone was just "let's kill him"

I'm so messed up over this....

What's your thoughts on this? I want to know your observations 👀✍️

First off,

SNIFFS. bro your art and your vibes are INCREDIBLE so that compliment means a whole lot to me. tysm <3

Second off, oh-ho-ho. my friend, you've just opened up pandora's box for me. this response is gonna be a long one, let's see how incomprehensible it will get-

(Also, just so anyone who doesn't know me knows, I'm currently not watching the security breach shows due to a bit of burnout, but mostly due to me not liking the current sams arc. I'm just avoiding it for the sake of me mental health. sooo if I bring up something that has already been acknowledged/fixed/changed in canon, forgive me <3. for sams, I have knowledge up to about "brothers REUNITE in vrchat", so. just go into this knowing that lol)

OKAY. AHEM. DISCLAIMERS DONE. HERE WE GO.

Don't have much to say about "I don't like it (not mad he's back but it's just the entire lead up has me upset)" other than I 1000% agree. I (again, personally) actually don't like that he's back, mostly because the lead up to O.M's return felt very rushed, it makes O.M's original sacrifice for K.C completely in vain, and O.M has essentially just taken N.M's role in the family now that N.M is where he is now, as Nexus. it was all very frustrating to see happen.

And, whooh, I can go on and on and on about how O.M has shown many signs that he hasn't actually improved as a person/brother as much as he claims to have, but I think that harpers on spoiler territory for you Sab so I'll save that for another day dkjfhsdfsd but as for the SECOND part of your statement...

"...I think it's really messed up how everything went down. Earth seemed to jump to a lot of conclusions about New Moon and she seemed really upset but also I don't think what New Moon said to push her away was actually that mean. Maybe it's just me?"

IT 👏 IS 👏 NOT 👏 JUST 👏 YOU 👏

From what I can tell, actually a lot of people agree with you!!! (me included). this leads to kind of a divide in-fandom between people who are on the families side, and those who are on New Moon's/Nexus'. and from what I've seen, even the people who aren't on either side just kind of find Nexus pathetic and emo. which is 100% fair and understandable, considering his "villain arc" was built off of shakey ground lol. AND while I am 100% a N.M/Nexus apologist, that wont stop me from acknowledging that he fucked up bad in some places sdkfjhsdjfk really, everyone messed up a lot to get into the situation they are now story-wise. it's not just one sides fault, and it's draining seeing people trying to make the dilemma one of black and white morals when it is 20x more complex than that. OKAY MINI RANT OVER, ONTO WHAT YOU REFERENCED SKFJDHSDF so. did Earth have every right to be hurt by what New Moon said? oh, 100% yeah, her brother just insulted and demeaned her to her face, ofc it would hurt.

But what really confuses me is how personally she took his insults??? Right before, genuinely, right before that confrontation; Sun warned her that Moon might say something he didn't mean. he warned her, because he knows from experience.

and yet Earth took it to heart??? w. why??? she knows a lot about mental health stuff, or she's supposed to, right??? surely she'd understand that it's a very common trauma/fear response for people to become aggressive and lash out, even against those who they love and care for??? right???

And I also agree that she was jumping to conclusions, or at least misinterpreting N.M's goals/intentions/reasonings. when N.M called her "not a real therapist", she took the greatest offense to that. but. the thing is. he wasn't??? wrong???? did he say it in a rude as hell and aggressive way??? yup, no denying that! but he's not wrong.

Earth isn't a licensed therapist. she is an animatronic with downloaded protocols and processes given to her by the Creator in attempts to try and be a therapist. but she literally admits it to herself multiple times in the show that she's not a real therapist, she just does her best. so it always confused me why she took N.M's statement to heart, because genuinely, for him, her best (or more specifically, her kind and patient style of therapy) wasn't enough. which is v tragic, much ow, big pain.

At the time of being confronted, N.M was exhausted, desperate, spiraling, hallucinating, not wanting to ask for help, lying to both himself and the family, in mourning- basically holding on by a thread. so when cornered, (literally, he physically was cornered in P&S) he lashed out and said mean things to be able to push those he cared about away and "get to safety". it was wrong of him to do, yes, but considering everything we knew about how Moon's (both New and Old) react to stressful situations from prior tragedies, it was to be expected.

BUT THEN??? EVERYONE JUST KIND OF GAVE UP ON HIM AFTER THAT????? he made one mistake. one. one mistake. and suddenly everyone was all like "alright, we've got to kill him." I??? DOES ANYONE ELSE THINK THAT'S A LITTLE BIT FUCKED UP??? HELLO?????

I'm not denying that N.M was becoming unstable. I'm not denying that he was becoming aggressive. he was, and that's why he needed help. he needed someone to stick by him even as he was pushing them away, to love him even at his lowest, and no one did. Imo, at least Sun has the excuse of being traumatized by Old Moon's past actions, which could explain why he was so desperate for everyone else's input, but Earth and Lunar??? Monty and Puppet too??? hello???? why the hell are you doing your brother/friend (who is doing all of this TO GET SOLAR BACK BECAUSE HE WANTS TO MAKE THEM ALL HAPPY, MIND YOU) like this???? HELLO????

And I'm also bringing up that Nexus still hasn't really. done anything??? in the current point of the story??? the worst thing he's done so far is rough up O.M a bit. but other than that, all he did was say cruel/threatening things to/about the other Celestials. he's yet to act on.. anything?? he hasn't killed a single person. and you know who have killed people?? Sun, Lunar, Solar, Old Moon, Puppet, Monty... and yet?? some people see him as an irredeemable monster???? it's. strange to me. it's obvious he's hurting, it's obvious he still cares. and he's literally killing himself to try and make the pain that comes with caring stop- isolating himself, poisoning himself, and literally ripping out his own emotions, idk guys, those don't seem like the actions of an irredeemable villain, but maybe it's just me sdkfljhsdf

As expected, this turned into an essay. BUT I'm done now, me-me needs to go take a shower gkfdjhhfgjsd thank you for the excuse to yap, Sabronda!!! I love New Moon/Nexus so much they're my ultimate cringefail. I'm certain they have an edgy Sonic OC somewhere in that evil lab of theirs

[shallowrambles]

Dear diary, notes for tomorrow - interesting things to think about />>

When Cas found out his superiors were letting the seals fall, there are immediate implcations for the Dean mission in Hell being purposely botched; i.e. potentially, angels put forth bad intel to ground soldiers; potentially, did someone let the first blood get shed for The prized Destiny fight?

Need to rewatch and pay attention to if angels submitted to the prize fight idea before Dean shed blood, or simply went along with it after that fact. Michael sounded very convinced that the fight had to happen if I recall...

Either way, Cas might be suspicious they were letting it happen all along. It motivated him enough to determine that the angelic war was a war of aggression and manipulation on humans, and that in turn motivated him to break rank and try to get a message to the humans. That's a full on moral injury; "my cause is corrupt; my superiors are acting wrongly" injury

Then he got tortured. :(

////

And later in Chuck's house>>> Raphael killing Cas = personal betrayal to him? He knew he would die but maybe he was surprised a little bit, hurt, even (vengeful?) Could this have set up a personal thing with Raphael. It seemed personal in 5x03. I like the idea of Cas being closer to Raphael and it representing a more hurtful breach. (i don't think it's a new idea in fandom; i just like it)

////

Why was Raphael so demoralized. "We just want it to be over." Why so despondant, nihilistic, depressed?" Why was he so rearin' to pick up the apocalypse again? Is he just nihilistic? Similar to AU Michael? Or lost without his brothers. It's a life without meaning, immortality without reprieve...

Metatron changes only when he almost dies, right before he meets up with Chuck. It was the almost-dying, mercy, and miracle of being alive that renewed him to the point he stood up to Chuck.

////

After the end of season 5, Cas went to Heaven to be like a "sheriff." That looked callous to Dean BUT Cas was concerned about the chaos...worried

He snapped into mission mode immediately but kept the details mostly private.

He then became ashamed of the angels for wanting to go after the humans again. Frustrated.

////

And due to what he went through in seasons 4-5, he's got that weighty moral injury telling his brain to be mistrustful of superiors and angels. Of course, he's feeling like he is partially home, and partially in enemy territory. Of course that sets him up to distrust his angelic soldiers, even the ones going up against Raphael with him!

The fallout of this is why Cas needs constant reassurance from his soldiers, and it's why he needs allegiance to feel comfortable.

His "family" operated in this all-or-nothing fashion. To Cas, this is what support looks like. To Cas, this is the type of power his distant father wielded. Loving punishment. Ruthlessness punctuated with gentleness.

////

And I think about this one a lot:

Would he have started a civil war without Crowley or submitted to / died heroically against Raphael?

CROWLEY What are you planning to do about Raphael?

CASTIEL What can I do besides submit or die?

CROWLEY Submit or die? What are you, French? How about resist?

CASTIEL I'm not strong enough, and you know it.

CROWLEY Ah, not on your own, you're not. But you're not on your own, are you? There's a lot of angels swooning over you. "God's favorite." Buddy boy, you've got what they call sex appeal.

CASTIEL Thank you. Get to the point.

CROWLEY Angels need leaders, so be one. Gather your army and kick the candy out of each and every angel that shows up for Raphael.

CASTIEL Are you proposing that I start a civil war in heaven?

CROWLEY Ding! Ding! Ding! Tell him what he's won, Vanna.

///

CASTIEL This is pointless. Your plan would take months, and I need help now.

///

CROWLEY Everything you've worked for -- everything that Sam and Dean have worked for -- gone. You can save us, Castiel. God chose you to save us. And I think...Deep down...You know that.

CASTIEL I wish I could say I was clean of pride at that moment...

INT. KEN LAY'S HEAVEN

CASTIEL Or the next. (Castiel uses the power of the souls to remove Raphael from the room.) There will be no Apocalypse. And let it be known -- you're either with Raphael or you're with me. And so went the long road of good intentions...The road that brought me here.

///

Cas's inability to trust his own rebel angels is interesting, but it does make sense and it results in a sort of wild, tragic (and often well founded) paranoia.

I just. Hmmmmm these problems existed in Cas way, way before The Winchesters. He's a morally injured soldier at this point, and it shows.

[amaryllis-sagitta]

My first impression was very ambiguous, I remember going into the romance scene in EA and saying to myself "boooy that's like 3 red flags in one, k bye" and wanting to never try with him again. I was worried they would try to write him as very dark, egotistical and manipulative by default, and I was fully ready not to vibe with that character at all. Thankfully, my short-term & autobiographic memory dysfunction made me completely forget that impression, and on release I was already pre-warned that this is going somewhere else than I assumed, so I could stay open minded.

But these red flags of him being very calculating in his approach, pretty mean despite an ostensibly flirtatious/ friendly intention, telling many honeyed words without a trace of passion behind them, and making the entire process sound like it's about his satisfaction and safety, are still there on release, and the Ascension amps them up.

This is why the Act 2 moments pack such a punch in terms of Astarion showing vulnerability and sincere intentions (even if he kinda hates them about himself at the time), which re-contextualizes all the buffoonery and malice he has shown before. If you were distrustful of him in Act 1, then from your perspective this is a choice to be fair and principled instead of using him as a tool (there are no disapproving reactions if you give your own blood to Araj), or just unwittingly, reactively returning the snide, malicious treatment that he's giving everyone. But if you've already woobified him, you'll end up woobifying him even more after that, because now he seems to be the poor little meow meow who needs the MC to stand up for him etc.

Even to this day, I say to myself: thank goodness this is fictional guy, because in real life I wouldn't have had the the skill to protect myself emotionally, or the patience to put up with a person like that on a daily basis. He would be kinda entertaining to me for exactly 30 minutes and then rapidly go into the "Don't Touch With a 10 Foot Pole, Only Speak When Absolutely Necessary" territory. I've had coworkers like that and in my experience, having someone Like That around when you have your own CPTSD is exhausting because they're fake, they're unsafe, their sass gets abrasive pretty quickly because of how obvious the posturing is, so they activate all the hypervigilance and people reading instincts that are very unnecessary in most circumstances. News flash, challenging people is hard if you were constantly judged and intimidated. Thankfully, I can challenge characters in games and save scum if I feel I've been too mean. Anyway.

Feels like the worst parts of the Astarion discourse are constantly at tension between infantilizing woobification and absolutely unhinged femme thirst that rides on the train of the initial marketing scheme for Astarion (like hello, Onlyfangs was fully intended as a lie to crumble in your face, and yet so many people haven't gotten past that phase in Astarion's reception). It a) hasn't been properly problematized for what it is and b) has proven to breach the boundaries of Astarion's fictitious reality just like the hate commonly addressed at creators tends to in the Internet spaces.

Both these attitudes are a result of cherry picking and a sort of confirmation bias (not in a scientific sense but in a sense of already having a complete "correct" reading of a narrative before you're finished and not allowing any textual evidence to change it), one is dangerously out of touch with the parasocial nature of gaming fandoms and the sheer force of impact that an Internet mob's opinion can have on someone's mental health if they have to face a barrage of a certain kind of takes. It is about some specific misconceptions about trauma survivors that only serve the healthy people to feel very helpful and very good about themselves, but also a part of a wider tendency where people treat the interpretation of any text of culture like a singular act of consumption that gives you the Correct Key Answer to use in a potential debate, not a proper circular methodology where you constantly agree to acquire new information, have your mind changed, your expectations subverted, where you agree to learn something and make self-discoveries through the classic esthetic shock. This wider tendency leads to all sorts of internet wank, not just in this specific case. Long story short, the fandom needs to get over their ick over fucking Aristotle and read about the parts of the process that necessarily precede catharsis.

NGL, looking at the state of the fandom it looks like Larian aimed a little too high with the kind of esthetic shock wave they wanted to send to Astarion's target audience. Whoever understands, understands it too well, and the collective of these inquisitive, understanding fans is likely to read into more layers of meaning and identification than the authors intended, and that's valid. But most people who need to be taught the lesson will not allow themselves to be shocked and challenged by a deeper literary take like that, because the openness to a classic esthetic experience isn't there.

the weirdest thing about the general astarion discourse in the bg3 fandom is that he does actually suck. and astarion fans seem to forget this all the time but he sucks ass. he’s a shitty guy. he’s lame and a loser and rude and kind of stupid and a bad person if you let him get away with it. that’s why i like him.

maybe it’s the blorbo glasses that make people forget about it or maybe it’s the infantilization of grown adults who’ve been traumatized but i see so much fighting about him that boils down to “he’s a shitty person!”/“no he isn’t, he was tortured for 200 years!”. and the answer is that he was a shitty person, got beaten half to death, and then got tortured for 200 years. he sucks and is also a victim. can we fight about something more interesting please.

[arielxlazarus]

I almost forgot about that fanfic appreciation week, but I wanted to at least do something for it! So here's a rec list for some of my favorite fics in the one piece fandom!

This list is not at all exhaustive btw (there's still loads of other fics in the fandom that I love), so please don't feel bad if you weren't included! Also if anyone wants more recommendations from me, you can check out my bookmarks on my ao3!

Who Knows (what could happen) by Chromi

Rating: T

Pairing: Masked Deuce/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: For as long as he could remember, he had wanted to set out to sea as an adventurer. His father, unfortunately, dictated that he was to follow the family tradition and become a doctor instead.

Following a lifetime of hurt and sorrow at the hands of his family, he eventually breaks free and takes to the sea alone - determined to keep it that way. Fate has other ideas in store for him; fate crosses his path with Portgas D. Ace's, a brand new pirate.

And what does he hate more than pirates?

Nothing.

Or: from Sixis to the Moby Dick - the lives of the Spade pirates.

First Time by Chromi

Rating: E

Pairing: Masked Deuce/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: "Because it is Ace, and it will only ever be Ace, that he wants to see like this, and he wants to be responsible for unravelling him down to his core and loving him to his very center."

In which Ace and Deuce go all the way for the first time.

@chromiwrites

Seabound by AnkhPosts

Rating: T

Pairing: Masked Deuce/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: Ace is a selkie, making one of his periodic stops on land to catch a breather and get some ridiculously tasty human food, maybe see some sights if there are any. His pelt is safely hidden, he'll stay a day or two at most and be on his way.

Deuce is a mer, alone on the sea and traveling as he pleases for the first time in his life, and while he might not be terribly interested in actually interacting with humans it's hard not to see them as fascinating.

Ace meets Deuce. Deuce meets Ace. Neither knows the other isn't human.

@ankhposts

Death is only the beginning by Chizyk

Rating: T

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: “Ankhreshet?” he whipped his head round at the sound of a raspy voice so fast he almost got whiplash. He could feel his body going completely cold as he saw the mummy’s empty eye sockets staring right at him.

@chizyk

I'm Still Here (part of a series) by theprodigypenguin

Rating: M

Pairing: Masked Deuce/Portgas D. Ace (also Izou/Sabo later in the series)

Summary: "When I do die, don't bother burying me in that empty grave. Put my body in a boat and set me out to sea. Let me sleep eternal on the ocean that my father loved so much; because before everything else in this world, I am a child of the sea, and when I die, I want to return to it. Put me in a boat and set it aflame so I can go down in the same fire I lived."

Forget-Me-Not Fall by theprodigypenguin

Rating: M

Pairing: Izou/Sabo

Summary: “Most of the nobles I’ve met tonight look meticulously put together. They look like they were built to portray a certain image paralleled a hundred times over. People who were copied and pasted. Flawless clothes, flawless faces, flawless makeup, flawless hair.”

“Not me though,” Sabo stated, and Izou hummed.

“It’s comforting.”

“Huh?”

Izou met Sabo’s eye. “Everyone else in this place hides their worst attributes with a mask they modified to fit their faces. They don’t seem to comprehend that those perfect masks only make their worst characteristics more pronounced and defined.” His expression was terribly gentle as his eyes wandered across Sabo’s face. “It’s comforting to be approached by someone not trying to be something else.”

Sabo tilted his head. “How do you know I’m not manipulating you like some common Goa aristocrat?”

Izou smiled. “There are a few reasons.”

@theprodigypenguin

A Light To Guide You Home by TheSkyIsMyHome

Rating: T

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: In a world that despises mutants, Ace lives purely to protect his little brother.

Until the flames inside him find their perfect match and opposite, and he doesn't know what to feel anymore.

The Phoenix's Mate by TheSkyIsMyHome

Rating: E

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: Marco is a handsome man. Ace really can't be blamed for being attracted to him. Nobody minds, either.

But Marco isn't always a man. Ace still loves him regardless, and his sexual urges are catching up to that fact.

Marco indulges him, but he might just find himself enjoying it more than he thought he would.

@evvazi

ASL in Red (series) by Kereea

Rating: G-T

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace, Monkey D. Luffy/Trafalgar D. Water Law (both asexual), Koala/Sabo, Akagami no Shanks | Red-Haired Shanks/Benn Beckman, Donquixote "Corazon" Rosinante/Aokiji | Kuzan, Roronoa Zoro/Sanji, and several other minor ones

Summary: In an alternate universe, forces conspired to put Ace, Sabo, and Luffy in the care of the Red Hair pirates as children.

The Grand Line would never know what hit it.

Mates (part of a series) by Deubatty

Rating: E

Pairing: Masked Deuce/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: Deuce just wanted to go searching for plants! A nice walk in the woods. Except, he ends up becoming the mate to a very persistent naga

His First Mate The Mermaid (part of a series) by Deubatty

Rating: T

Pairing: Masked Deuce/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: Instead of finding another person on Sixis, Ace finds a mermaid

@masked-writer

Being Human by MaiKusakabe

Rating: E (no smut)

Pairing: None (heavy focus on the platonic relationships between Marco, Whitebeard, and the rest of the crew as they form)

Summary: The line that differentiates human from object appears to be clear, but sometimes it blurs to the point where it is impossible to tell where one ends and the other begins.

The Unknown Devil by MaiKusakabe

Rating: E

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: Ace hadn’t expected his last week of imprisonment before his execution to be any different from all the years preceding it. Then again, he hadn’t expected to have Marco the Phoenix as a cellmate for that week, or that Marco’s presence would shake his bleak world so much.

Ripple Effect by MaiKusakabe

Rating: E

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: After the incident with Shanks, Garp didn't take Luffy to Dadan's, unaware of how much that would change the life of his other grandson.

@maisstories

To Build a Home by endlessblankpages

Rating: G

Pairing: None (heavy focus on the platonic relationships between the ASL bros and the Whitebeard Pirates)

Summary: The ASL pirates are used to being accused of crimes they didn't commit. But when they're accused of destroying a small village in the New World, it sends them hurtling toward a deadly confrontation with the strongest man in the world, Whitebeard. The results are not what they were expecting.

Persistence & The Impossible (part of a series) by dragonsfall

Rating: T

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: In order to keep himself from losing his job, Ace takes on an impossible story. Get an interview with the ever-elusive Phoenix. Guess he might as well kiss his job goodbye.

Self Discovery (part of a series) by dragonsfall

Rating: E

Pairing: Izou/Sabo (sort of, it's technically masturbation)

Summary: Sabo has been waiting for a day like this for a while but it doesn’t go quite how he planned it.

@clockworkpanic

A Breach of Intention by Depths

Rating: T

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: It was unspoken, but some pirate crews and mermaids had an unspoken solidarity. Pirates throw their enemies overboard, and the merfolk will take care of them.

mer!ace au

@leviathiane

Running on All Sixes by lunarshores

Rating: E

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace, minor Izou/Thatch

Summary: The Whitebeard gang might be one of the most influential in the city, but to Marco they're just his family. Though he sometimes wishes they'd just leave him alone, especially when Izo's playing matchmaker, and Ace is his usual oblivious self. When a brother betrays them, they'll have to fight to show why no one ever messes with their family.

nothing is impossible with you by lunarshores

Rating: T

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: Five times Ace and Marco accidentally mixed their flames on accident and one time that was entirely on purpose.

@lunarshores

I Want You to Look at Me by shockandlock

Rating: E

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: One night, Marco is missing from dinner, so Ace decides to bring dinner to him. He's surprised to see Marco wearing glasses and now he can't stop thinking about the way he looks. Now with additional chapter(s) including more miscellaneous MarcoAce PWP!

To My Dear Fire (part of a series) by shockandlock

Rating: T

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: Living in the city is a new thing for Ace. After being raised near a cozy coastal mountain town through his childhood, it's definitely a change of pace, but it doesn't help when he loses his new job after an unfortunate encounter with actor Marco Newgate. He just wants to live-- and meet his long time pen pal, Phoenix.

Marco knows that being an actor is hard, so he takes the little things when he can: writing his pen pal (and honestly one of his best friends) Fire Fist, flirting with the cute new waiter at his favorite café-- not that he has a chance after a disaster on social media. But maybe fate really does give him a second chance when Ace shows up at Four Emperor Studios...

@shockandlock

Uncharted Territory by silverwolf_fox

Rating: E

Pairing: Masked Deuce/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: This was by far one of Ace's most ridiculous ideas.

When Deuce keeps getting flustered everytime he tries to dominate Ace, they created an opportunity where he didn't have to be afraid of messing up.

Now he's free to do and try whatever he wants...

...so long as Ace doesn't wake up.

Watching the Sunrise (part of a series) by silverwolf_fox

Rating: T

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: Many years have passed since Rouge gave up her life for her son’s...except she didn’t die, but she thinks Ace did. Living her life on Baterilla, she’s mourned each and every day until the morning she receives his bounty poster. She sets off immediately to find him, but finds their meeting isn’t as easy as she’d imagined.

@the-devil-fruit-tree

never shall i forget, how you climbed out of a dream by siojo

Rating: T

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: “Kaido,” Ace smirks, flames burning around his feet as he shifts in preparation for Kaido’s next attack, already trying to decide what he’s going to do in response. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it? You’ve seemed to have been enjoying yourself here.”

“I thought you would be smarter than this, Portgas. You’ve never tried to fight another Yonko before, your bounty won’t matter much when you lose.”

Ace barks a laugh, his teeth bared in a facsimile of a grin, “You must have missed out on the brawl I had with Big Mom after she sent two of her daughters and a son for me to consider marrying. This is a bit more personal than that.”

@wordsdrippinginink

Reborn in Fire by aerle

Rating: M

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: Fireman Marco has earned the nickname 'the Phoenix' by saving numerous people from a certain death. After an accident however, he has to relearn to walk and gets a new job as arson inspector at a different fire station. There he gets confronted with a boy from his past, now all grown up and gorgeous.

Three's a Crowd, Four's a Double Date by aerle

Rating: M

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace (main), Izou/Thatch (secondary)

Summary: "We're not dating," Marco said definitively. "That we're sharing a bed tonight is a total coincidence."

@aerle

Universal Dive by EmpressKira

Rating: M

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: Ace had been making his way through the city to go to one of his favorite cafes. Well, that was until this hole ripped in the sky and some pirate fell out with the flaming bird guy following. Getting targeted, he is dragged into a different world with pirates and everything defying the reality he is used to. Will he make it home? Will he go back when the time comes?

@empresskira

Blue moon (series) by de_Winter

Rating: T-M

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: Urban fantasy AU, werewolf Marco and witch Ace

Red Velvet by de_Winter

Rating: E

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: Ace already knew their routine by heart, just from observing them for a couple of mornings when he had early delivery, and from Izou’s daily long winded—and probably sexually frustrated—rants. Big Blond would come out of the bakery wearing a shirt too tight for him and too thin for the weather as soon as he was done setting up the tables inside the storefront, holding a take out cup and a small box in his big hands. They looked really, pleasantly big from where Ace was standing, and he honestly wished he wasn't standing that far away.

@dee-de-winter

We'll Look Back and Laugh at Ourselves by JuHuaTai

Rating: M

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace, minor Gol D. Roger/Portgas D. Rouge

Summary: Between his new boyfriend and his workaholic boss, Marco felt like he was surrounded by family issues of the father and son dispute variety. Maybe it was just a coincidence.

Or maybe he should've listened to the office gossip more. Maybe then he'd figure it out sooner.

Gratitude of the Phoenix (part of a series) by JuHuaTai

Rating: M

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: [Based on 'The Crane Wife' Folklore]

One day, he saved a bird from freezing to death in a trap. Then, a stranger saved him from suffering the same fate, and a request to stay for one night turned into having someone to fill the void left in the small cottage and in his heart ever since his brothers left.

These two incident doesn’t seem to be related to one another, but they both changed Ace’s life in ways he could never have imagined.

Watashitachi wa Roger kaizoku desu (we still stand proud) by stereden

Rating: T

Pairing: None (heavy focus on Buggy, Shanks, and Crocus)

Summary: The Roger Pirates disappeared after their Captain's death, and were happy enough to let the Marines forget about them.

Until the Marines decide to execute their Captain's son, that is.

@stereden

This Bites! by Xomniac

Rating: M

Pairing: None (heavy focus on a main character oc and the strawhat pirates)

Summary: Sea Kings, sea-sickness, sunburns, a 95% genocidal Navy and more than a million and one other assorted ways to die. It's official: Being inserted into an anime sucks ass... Buuut I guess it could be worse. I mean, look on the bright side: At least I'm sailing with the future king of the pirates.

A Fortune that Never Grows Old by imperialmint

Rating: E

Pairing: Marco the Phoenix/Portgas D. Ace

Summary: It's one thing to get butterflies in your stomach when you seen an attractive person but it's another thing entirely for Marco to want to stomp out a courtship ritual and lay foundations for a nest when he meets the navy's new (hot) secret weapon.

@imperialmint

Most of the authors on this list have many other excellent one piece fics I'd definitely suggest checking out! Enjoy your reading and try to show them all some love if you can!

[tasteofyizhan]

« people in China aren’t aware » LMAO so we, as non Chinese are aware of what’s happening in their country but them, not at all? Okay so different anon there I don’t know what the muslim anon said to you but I’m not even Muslim and I’m honestly shock about how this fandom turned out to be. I don’t necessarily talk about idols here, just how people reacted to the whole thing in general. It isn’t even an issue, it’s literally about f*cking human rights and we’re talking about human lives. The proofs and people are there. Stop being ignorant. You guys just choose to close your eyes. Someone needs to criticize this government. They do not regulate their industries. Cereal laced with rat poison, buildings that collapse, enslaving the Uyghurs.

Anon, I can’t tell whether you’re a troll or not, and I normally don’t post asks like this, but this is clearly a controversial issue that has bothered a lot of people, so I’m going to use this to set out my opinion once and for all. I won’t be addressing it any further after this.

1) Why aren’t Chinese citizens speaking out against this?

I’m not sure where you got this quote “people in China aren’t aware”, but I’m guessing it came from this previous post. I’m going to urge you to read @potteresque-ire‘s incredibly informative post here on the amount of propaganda that Chinese citizens are bombarded with on a daily basis. The media is controlled by the CCP, the Internet is controlled and monitored by the CCP, and the citizens are taught CCP’s revisionist history and CCP propaganda from birth. Heck, even their social media is controlled by the CCP. When you are exposed to this amount of propaganda your whole life, who do you think Chinese citizens will believe when their country tells them that other countries are making up lies about human rights abuses occurring in China in order to tarnish China’s name because the world is afraid of China’s economic might? You don’t even have to look far - just go on W*ibo and read a sampling of the posts there supporting Xinjiang cotton, and that should tell you a lot. Now, @potteresque-ire has also helpfully compiled how these “re-education camps” are framed in the Western media and in the Chinese media here. I’m going to ask you to watch those videos, and then ask you to exercise your critical thinking skills and reflect on what an average Chinese citizen might be exposed to on a daily basis, and how that shapes their belief. 

Now, even if the Chinese citizens do believe that human rights violations occurred in Xinjiang, can they express this opinion? Well, not if they don’t want to run afoul of the morality guidelines for citizens. From the article I linked:

The guidelines, focusing heavily on promoting patriotism, also called for the formulation of “national etiquette” for things such as singing the national anthem, raising the national flag, or ceremonies for when one joins the ruling Chinese communist party (CCP).

Such etiquette should “enhance people’s attitude toward the party and country and organise a collective sense of identity and belonging”, according to the document, released by the party’s central committee and the state council.

2) Why aren’t GG/DD speaking out against this?

Leaving aside whether GGDD believe that there are human rights violations occurring Xinjiang, something that I see happening is international fans expressing outrage at their response. I am going to point you to a previous post on to explain why they made the statements they made. Heck, you know what, I’m just going to paste what I wrote in that previous post here: 

The reality is that as performers, GG DD are also very limited by what they are allowed to support/say. This isn’t something that fans are making up to defend them - in March, the CCP passed new guidelines in wake of the ZS scandal that explicitly states that any performer who breaches these guidelines can face a lifetime ban. One of these guidelines is for performers to “ardently love the motherland, support the Party’s line, principle and policies… and consciously accept [government] and societal supervision.”

From the Variety article that I linked:

First and foremost, artists will be punished for violating China’s constitution, “endangering national unity, sovereignty and territorial integrity,” endangering national security, or “harming national honor and interests.” The second ban is on “inciting ethnic hatred.. or undermining ethnic unity.” The cocktail of above terms are charges frequently levelled at those speaking up about human rights violations, particularly related to the fraught regions of Xinjiang or Tibet.

Realistically, there is nothing that they can say. As soon as they speak out against the CCP, as soon as they fail to express support for the CCP’s policies or for the CCP’s narrative, they’re finished. They will never work again. I am not exaggerating about this last point. Again, from the Variety article:

Beyond issuing performance bans, the committee will try to “implement cross-industry joint punishment,” working with players in other fields to bar violators from financial or cultural success via other channels like endorsement deals. Violators may also have their awards and other honors revoked, and will be subject to a measure of critical “re-education.”

This is the reality that they live in. They live and work in a country that is deeply manipulative and oppressive, and which has almost complete control over how they were brought up, how they were educated, and which currently holds the reins over their livelihood and their future. 

Am I disappointed at their respective statements? Yes I am, but given the reality of life under an oppressive regime, I am not the least bit surprised, and more importantly, nor do I fault them.

[concussed-to-pieces]

Of Gorgons And Gardens

Fandom(s) : The Mandalorian and Prospect [2018]

Pairing: The Mandalorian [Din Djarin]/Reader/Ezra

Rating: Holy shit uh. Explicit.

AN: That's right. I've done it. It's time for the sex pollen. This is a standalone that's not involved with either of my previous tales related to these fine boys, so we have a Death Watch-raised Mando that takes the Creed incredibly seriously and an Ezra that's well armed. Also I apologize for the constant viewpoint switches. Enjoy!

Tag List: @huliabitch @hardcorewwetrash @helplessly-nonstop @lackofhonor @oloreaa @theocatkov @jackierey09 @zombiexbody @crookedmoonsaultpunk @pedrosbigdorkenergy @absurdthirst @culturalrebel

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: For obligatory dubious consent due to sex pollen, as well as threesome activities, breeding kink and gratuitous bodily fluids. Stay safe!]

The quarry was named Ezra. Not that their name mattered, the chain code was freshly generated. The strangest part was that there had been no image attached to the puck. 

Din had tipped his helmet to the side, narrowing his eyes and tapping the bounty puck curiously. "Somethin' wrong with this?"

Karga shook his head. "No, he's just too slick for us to have any holorecords on him. Somebody from Bakhroma wants him alive."

Undocumented quarry was exceptionally rare, and not usually something that one requested a Mandalorian for. It indicated green prey, a first-time offender. "Bakhroma, huh? Pretty far out." He wasn't an idiot. There had to be a reason why Karga had offered him this one specifically.

"Guy apparently walked off with a majority of someone's aurelac pull. Typical floater squabble, but one of them ponied up the mining points for credits and asked for a certified, card-carryin' Mando." Karga had leaned back in the booth. "How's the kid?"

Din had just grunted noncommittally in reply, gloved fingers scooping the puck off the table. "I have to get back to the Crest."

…

"The target has been on Bakhroma relatively recently. Not sure if he was in the Green or not, but either way he'll probably be a walking biohazard." Mando muttered, turning his head towards you. "So you're staying put."

"Until something happens to you and I have to pull you out of the fire again." You retorted with a smirk. 

"Hey, that was one time." You knew he was narrowing his eyes, though you weren't quite sure how you knew. Something about the way he tilted his head ever so slightly to the right clued you in.

"You were full of nexu quills."

"One. Time." The Mandalorian growled. "I even said thank you."

"You sure did," You replied, laughing. "Right before you passed out!"

He palmed over the side of your head roughly. "Brat." His grumble was fond, softening the edge of the insult. "Promise me you'll stay on the Crest, Senaar, otherwise I'll ask Omera to take you and the kid for an extended sleepover."

"Fine, I promise." You relented, huffing in annoyance.

He tinkered with his charts for a moment, then tilted his head again. "Where did you go earlier? I got done with Karga hours ago. Couldn't find you."

You stiffened, abruptly absorbed in checking the fuel levels. "Oh you know. Around." You said breezily. 

"Well in the future, when you feel like going around, at least let me know so I don't think you've been abducted." Mando grumbled, folding his arms over his chest. 

"Aw, you're cute when you care!" You cooed, making him scoff and return to his control panel. 

…

In hindsight, he wasn't sure what he was more pissed off about. The fact that this Ezra character had led him on a wild fucking chase over half of a suspiciously verdant moon, or the fact that his brain had apparently decided to shift into overdrive regarding you. He couldn't get you off…

Get you off his mind, that is. Stars, he was so confused. 

He felt like he had been walking in circles for hours, the only noise the steady beep of the tracker. He was too hot. Thirsty. His armor was chafing like it never had before; it was less like an extension of his body and more like a too-tight skin he needed to shed. Din finally bent over, hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. 

"You look like shit," drawled an unfamiliar voice while a set of knuckles rapped on the back of his helmet. Djarin jerked upright and immediately staggered, fumbling to grip a tree trunk for support. His vision swam uncertainly, and he blinked several times in an effort to clear it. 

The man in front of him was clad in a utilitarian suit that bore an unfamiliar logo, maybe a mining corporation. No duraplast or durasteel visible, no unnecessary frills, old-fashioned rubber gaskets to seal where glove met sleeve. Din's gaze traveled upwards, past the man's chest to his large domed helmet. He kept his motions deliberate. He had been caught off-guard by this man, but he wouldn't--

What?!

"I'll assume you're encroaching upon my solitude to haul my undesirable personage back into civilized spaces?" The man inquired after Din had taken several long seconds to try and understand what he was seeing. "For monetary compensation, if I had to hazard a guess. There are few lures that tempt a man so far out into the uncharted."

Why does he have my face? Sure, the scars were different. Different facial hair, different hairstyle, and a wild little tuft of blond sprang from amidst the dark locks at his hairline. But it was him. Same brown eyes, same nose, same mouth curving into an infuriatingly benign smirk. Djarin was struck with the sudden urge to punch him, his belly writhing.

"I take it the dust has you firm in its grip. A real pity, that. I'd love to sympathize, but regrettably I am at an advanced state of the same condition." The quarry gestured at his right arm, where a bloodstain blooming on the fabric of his suit indicated a loss of the integrity of said suit. "I'm Ezra, though I'm certain you're already well aware. And you?"

"Irrelevant." Din grated out, clumsy fingers fumbling to get his binders off his belt. 

"A man of action, excellent! I shall acquiesce, but only because being removed from this Centaurian mass is infinitely better than being confined to it." Ezra replied with a sage nod, extending his wrists. "Whither to, my recalcitrant steerforth?" 

"Be quiet." The Mandalorian grunted, his mind still reeling. How does he have my face? Then, a new, far more troubling thought occurred to him.

If he turned Ezra in, people would inadvertently know what he looked like. They wouldn't know, but they would know. What would that mean for him? For his dedication to the Creed? Did things like that count against him? Had something like this ever happened before?

"Tell me you, at the bare minimum, have functional transport?" Ezra asked after Din had relieved him of his blaster, sounding hopeful. It was so strange hearing his own voice with such an odd, imprecise cadence to it. The Mandalorian had worked for years to improve his Basic so that anyone and everyone would be able to understand him through the coarse modulator, though he still ended up sounding hitchy or curt most of the time. 

"How else would I have gotten here?" Din snapped, gesturing the other man forward with the encouragement of his own weapon.

At least now he knew how to get back to the Crest, thank the Maker for his helmet and the tracking protocols he had. Now, observing his previous path of forward motion, he realized with a jolt how much it wound back and forth. He had been walking in circles.

Since when did he lose his sense of direction? Even in unknown territory, he usually had a damn good idea of which end was up. That concerned him.

And on top of everything else, Ezra wouldn't shut the hell up.

"Be quiet." Din muttered for what seemed like the thousandth time. How long had they been walking? Probably his own fault. With how much his head was spinning, he didn't dare deviate from the winding trail he had left. Even if a straight path would have been miles quicker.

Ezra continued to drone, "a toilsome marathon of carnage, I assure-"

"I said, be fucking quiet." 

The target huffed out a breath, but obliged Djarin's terse demand for the moment. Din's head was pounding, his already short fuse shrinking with every word out of the talkative man's mouth. Was this the Maker's hysterically ironic way of compensating for how little a solitary Mandalorian would speak? Making a doppelganger that was ceaselessly chatty?

Din talked a lot more these days, between you and the kid. Maker, you. His head swam again and a low, guilty heat throbbed in his belly. You talking to him, the way your mouth moved around your words-

No. No, stop, he told himself sternly, two fingers sliding idly between the gasket and gorget at his throat just so he could breathe a little easier. This planet's air felt thick, like breathing through tar. 

"I would not indulge that craving, were I you." Ezra spoke up, the man obviously watching him claw at his neck. "The less exposure you have, the better." 

Din wanted to snap at him because honestly how many times do I have to say shut the fuck up-

But then he stopped. Since when did he even do things like breach the seal of his own fucking helmet on an unfamiliar planet?! He flinched, tearing his hand away and hating the low, wry chuckle that issued from the quarry. The other man mused, "It's already too late for me, you know. I imagine I'll have an hour, perhaps two."

"What the hell are you talking about now."

"The dust, my armored associate. It permeates. Sludges the mental processes." Ezra shrugged with only one shoulder. "Among other things."

"How do you know so much about it?" Din gritted his teeth against the buzzing pain in his stomach. "Seems pretty stupid of you to hide out here." Especially if you know the flora is deadly.

"There is naught to do on a freighter slingback aside from read." Ezra's eyes narrowed. "And I could hardly pick and choose which moon my pod decided to give out on, you monosyllabic knuckle-dragger."

"Watch your mouth before I break it." Din snarled.

"Lo and behold, he comprehends! I assumed all you knew how to say was a stagnant variation on the theme of be fucking quiet." Ezra retorted with enraging cheer. 

Din's gloves creaked with the tension of his fists and he barely kept from slamming them into his temples. They were almost to the Crest. Almost. Once they got there, he would throw this mouthy nerf herder into the carbonite and…

And what? And turn him over? And inadvertently compromise his whole identity, possibly destroy decades of loyally obeying the Creed? 

All the deprivation, the loneliness, the weakness of his own heart...

"Be fucking quiet." The Mandalorian muttered, knowing full well that the other man hadn't said anything. Be fucking quiet. Be fucking quiet quiet quiet just fucking be quiet-- 

Din ground the heels of his palms against the curve of his helmet at his forehead, praying for some kind of relief.

Carbonite, he reminded himself.

…

Ezra grudgingly held his tongue, which even he had to admit was a rarity. Unlike the other floaters that had approached him before and met their swift demise, this particular bounty hunter was heavily kitted. The gleaming plate he sported didn't seem to hinder his motion in the slightest. 

Interesting.

Ezra knew when he had been outplayed, and he would be lying if he said he wasn't banking on the other man having a functional ship even before he decided to go peacefully. 

The hunter (mentally dubbed Steerforth, he rudely had not introduced himself) obviously had no idea about the pollen, for all his outward preparedness. Clearly Serpentia was not as well known as Ezra had wished. 

Regrettable. 

He could hope that the bounty hunter hadn't been exposed, he mused. After all, the man was wearing that positively arresting helmet, and his suit seemed of a sturdy (if unfamiliar) weave. Here was an individual that Ezra would have to tread carefully around, if he wished to escape with his life. 

His faith waned a bit as he recalled watching the man 'track' him, winding back and forth through the trees like a drunken mule until Ezra had taken pity on him and turned himself in. 

The hunter was terse in his speech, likely weary from the chase. Ezra could sympathize, he was weary from running. It had almost been a relief when that last hunter had attacked him and forced him to crash the pod on this moon. Though his relief had quickly turned to dismay when Ezra had done a full turn outside his pod and realized just what was making all the pollen in the air.

Serpentia, Serpent's Tongue. He had never encountered the plant in the proverbial flesh, but once upon a time he had been accidentally doused with the extract when a holding tank had burst while he was on a job site.

His skin crawled as he remembered the torment that followed during his solitary confinement. He had been nigh-certain he would not recover, clawing free of the haze that had gripped him with the barest vestiges of his mental faculties. 

This moon's Serpentia population seemed infinitely kinder than the concentrate he had encountered, if only for its soft, creeping approach. It lapped at the base of his brain, dulled the edge of his panic until he was nearly comfortable with the ache that licked hot in his groin. 

But thank Kevva for this bounty hunter lumbering through the brush! With a little luck, Ezra would be able to persuade him to accept a few pearls of aurelac in lieu of dragging him back to face that greatly-exaggerated justice.

...

According to the limited information from the Crest's scans, the air on this moon was perfectly safe to breathe. 

And if what Mando had said was right, he probably would need the ship to himself for a little while to decontaminate. So you had posted up beside the ramp once he had departed, occasionally wiping the sweat off your brow. The atmosphere was humid and you watched as breezes too delicate for you to even feel nudged the thick pollen in the air this way and that. 

The moon was liberally coated with lush vegetation; just finding a place to safely land the Razor Crest had been a Herculean effort. You wondered vaguely if there was a lake or spring nearby that you would be able to cool off in. The ship's fresher was functional, of course, but its water had been sitting in the holding tank for a few cycles now and it smelled rusty. 

The pollen covered everything, orange-red substance sticking to your already-damp skin. You grimaced, wondering if maybe you should have put on your suit. But no, the atmosphere was safe. The scans had said so, and you already spent so much of your time in your thick suit…

The sunshine felt wonderful after all the hyperspace travel, like a warm embrace from a friend. You caught yourself wondering what Mando's hug might feel like. Probably uncomfortable, what with all the beskar. You scoffed at your thoughts. You really needed to stop thinking about him like that, he was technically your boss even if he called you his partner. So what if he had passed out on top of you? That had been an infection thing.

It wasn't as if he had stroked your cheek before he dropped, his voice breaking when he called you Senaar... 

So what if you had solicited not one, but two Mandalorians during your last stop on Nevarro? 

It wasn't as if he noticed anything that you did, aside from when it had inconvenienced him. It wasn't as if you couldn't handle your little infatuation with him, even if it did result in you seeking out Mandos that would give you attention.

You propped your chin up on your hand, your eyes half-focusing on the dust floating in the air. It was nice to just relax for once, though there was a little guilty sensation in your stomach. Because Mando was out there working, while you...were lounging around, soaking up the sunlight.

You weren't sure how long you sat there, but you finally got up with a groan and a stretch that felt heavenly. You would investigate the surrounding area, you decided, maybe you could rustle up something fresh. If you couldn't be active on the hunt for the quarry, you could at least restock the larders.

After what only felt like a few steps, you quickly stumbled across thick vines that bore an unfamiliar, violet-hued fruit. The fruit was the size of your fist, and the skin had slight give to it. Light-colored flowers dotted the vine here and there, their tiny stamens crested with heavy crowns of thick pollen. Clearly you had located one of the many sources of the dust that choked the air. 

You picked one of the fruits and propped it up on a flat rock, using your trusty field knife to slice it open. It had orange pulp inside it, and a small hollow in the middle filled with pinkish fluid. The whole fruit reminded you of a sunset. Dimly, you thought that you probably shouldn't be touching this fruit with your bare skin, on the off chance that it might be caustic or toxic. But it looked delicious. 

Surely just a little taste wouldn't hurt?

The pinkish fluid was almost overwhelmingly sweet, and sticky. It dribbled down your chin when you tipped the fruit to slurp it up. You laughed at yourself, tugging your tunic to scrub at your face. 

Mando will love these.

You weren't sure where the thought came from, but obviously it was true. The idea of Mando being alone, slipping off his helmet to eat...the juice from the fruit glistening on his mouth…

Your breathing had quickened. You carefully harvested more of the round fruit, tucking the ripe produce into the makeshift cradle of your tunic. Once you decided you had enough, you turned on your heel and went to make your way back to the Crest. 

...

No.

No no no no no-

Din stared at the partially-ajar ramp on the Crest and he wanted to yell. 

"Oh dear." Ezra murmured faintly. "What a predicament." He had been getting quieter and quieter the closer they drew to the ship, so hearing him talk again sent a jolt down Din's spine. "You left your egress open? How careless of you."

"I didn't." Din snarled, wrapping his fingers around the binders on Ezra's wrists. You. The throbbing in his stomach lurched.

Ezra's eyes widened and he abruptly planted his feet. Din hadn't realized just how off-kilter he was, normally something like a shift in weight wouldn't be enough to make him stagger. But he almost toppled, barely getting his balance back in time. "Is there someone else on that ship?" Ezra asked sharply. 

"Of course." Din didn't even think to lie. "Partner."

"Would they have wandered? Exposed themselves?" The prospector-thief-quarry continued to quiz him and Din resented it just a little. 

"Be quiet," He grunted, tapping at his gauntlet to open the ramp, "and get in the fucking hold."

Ezra abruptly drew himself up to his full height. "I do not believe you actually want me to do that." He intoned with difficulty, his teeth gritted. "Putting myself, yourself and the potential of one more infected person into an enclosed space is a very…" His words faltered. "Oh."

Din whirled, visor traveling up the ramp into the dim hold. And just barely visible at the edge of the ramp, a small pile of what looked like fruit--was that your leg?! He lunged forward, his blaster ready. 

"I would not advise you to approach them!" Ezra barked.

"Fuck you!" Din snapped, striding up the ramp to kneel alongside your body. He crushed one of the fruits beneath his knee, lurid pink juice erupting to soak into his suit. The color was high in your cheeks, your body blotchy with flush. Pollen encrusted your neck and shoulders, drifted through your hair; something pink and shiny coated your lips like a strange gloss.

Din caught himself leaning in and jerked back at the urgency in Ezra's voice when the prospector called, "Do they breathe, man?"

"Be quiet!" Djarin roared. Why hadn't he checked that first? What was wrong with him? He shoved his vambrace against your mouth, his chest clenching in relief when your breath fogged the metal. Stars. 

"I'm afraid this complicates things quite significantly." Ezra said loudly, fidgeting at the base of the ramp. "I was unaware you had a partner of the...other biological persuasion. Had it just been you and I, two masculine-presenting bipeds, things would have been miles simpler."

"What the hell are you saying now?" Din was getting tired of this shit, tired of listening to the other man talk. 

"This plant is...shall we say, heteronormative." Ezra drawled, waving his bound hands in the air to illustrate the cloying pollen. Din cocked his head in confusion. "You know, masculine and feminine? Male and female? Different. Hetero."

Djarin scoffed derisively. "My people don't care about that shit." 

"A noble practice to be certain, very forward-thinking."

"This is the Way." The Mandalorian replied. 

Ezra soldiered on, "Unfortunately, the plant that infests this planet does indeed differentiate. Fruit for the female, pollen for the male." He added hurriedly, "in the biological sense, of course! I will not make any assumptions about your partner. The fruit is a...a catalyst. Are you familiar with the old-Earth religious writings, the ones that mention the Garden? Or perhaps the Greek pantheon may have been more your style?" When Djarin shook his head, Ezra sighed. "The genus name in Basic is slippin' my mind. But this particular iteration is known as Serpent's Tongue, Serpentia. It is Medusine in nature and it inspires feelings of…" Ezra paused, licking his lips nervously. "Heat."  

"Heat." Din repeated blankly, knowing that he must be missing something. 

Ezra ducked his head, breaking eye contact. "As in, being in heat." The man clarified after a moment. 

"Excuse me?" 

"I'm-"

"Excuse me?" Din snarled, running his fingers through the juices that coated his knee. It was thick, sticky like syrup, why was it warm--He bolted to his feet and stalked back down the ramp. Ezra took a step back, and then another, the quarry obviously wary of him. Good. The satisfied feeling took some of the edge off his frustrated panic. "So what the hell is wrong with my partner?" Din grated out.

"Er, to couch it in layman's terms…" Ezra hesitated, clearing his throat. "They are aroused."

Aroused. Aroused. Aroused. "Sexually?" Din hated the way the word came out, all breathy like he was a youngling that had just learned about the wonders of copulation. 

Ezra nodded, grimacing. "From the sound of your tone, I would hazard a guess that the two of you have not been intimate."

"Why would we have been?" Din retorted bluntly.

Ezra raised an eyebrow, seeming as if he was avoiding looking at you. Good. Mine. Din had no idea where the hell that thought came from. "Oh of course, I was foolish to assume so blatantly." The prospector muttered. "That does complicate your own matters further, however. Were you previously sexually intertwined, this would have been much more simple." He suddenly doubled over at the waist, a loud grunt forced from his mouth and a low exclamation of, "fuck, fuck-"

The curse sent a hot flicker down Din's spine and it took him a second to realize that you had made a noise in reply. You sounded dazed, scared. He whirled on the ramp and knelt again, taking your hand. "Senaar, you coming around?" Your eyes looked...wrong, blinking open slowly; your pupils were blown like you'd been spiced. 

You stared up at him for several long seconds before your mouth opened. "Wanted to make lunch." You managed to say. "I don't feel good." 

"Well, you don't look so great either." Din said gruffly. 

"Bastard." You groaned at him, trying to sit up. "Maker, I feel so hot, I...oh! Oh no, you smushed one." You appeared to have noticed the remains of the sticky fruit currently seeping into his knee. "I wanted you to try it. Tastes...tastes...it's so sweet Mando, s'like candy." You saying his name (even if it wasn't his actual name, shit) was like a lightning bolt to his groin. You dragged your hand over his knee, gathering up the remnants of the fruit and then sliding your fingers into your mouth. 

You brought him food. His lungs felt too full and not full enough. Stars, the idea of you feeding him that, smearing it all over his mouth with those pretty little fingers-

No, the helmet. The helmet. He couldn't take off the helmet. The Creed.

He jerked his head up, looking to Ezra. The other man was still doubled over, holding his midsection as best as he could with his hands bound. 

A dark, uncharacteristically evil thought wound its way into Din's mind, sweet and smokey like a good ne'tra gal. "Get in the ship." He grunted. Ezra glanced up and Din was a little startled by the level of emotion he displayed. He wasn't used to seeing expressions play out on his own face. The other man seemed wildly uncomfortable and Din found that grounding, for whatever reason. 

"I do not dare to." Ezra panted finally. "Just being this close is...immensely troubling. I am not the master of my own body at this moment, Steerforth."

"Is this the target?" You asked softly. Din nodded and he could almost feel your eyes raking over the other man. "What happened? He's hurt."

Shit, he had nearly forgotten. Ezra was still bleeding from his arm. The quarry had obviously forgotten as well, clearly dealing with a much more pressing matter. 

You beckoned to the other man and Din had to rein in the knee-jerk reaction to grab his blaster as Ezra reluctantly approached. He had never been territorial about you before, what the hell was the matter with him? 

Ezra halted a good five feet away from you, keeping his head down. "I am Ezra. I apologize in advance for my untoward behavior." He muttered, his voice gone so low and gravelly he actually did sound like Din. The Mandalorian's stomach pitched uncertainly. "I am not myself at this point in time."

"What happened to your arm?" Your tone was warm, concerned. Din's fists clenched. "Did Mando do that?"

"Oh, no! Of course not. Your compatriot has been nothing if not a complete gentleman." Ezra replied wryly. "I sustained this injury during a previous floater's quarrel."

…

You hummed and you saw Mando stiffen up out of the corner of your eye. What was wrong with him? One second he had been leaning over you, all worry and hand holding. The next, he was barking at the quarry. 

And the quarry was hurt. Ezra, Ezra, his slow drawl making your head swim and your chest tingle. Never mind Mando, what was wrong with you? You felt so strange, like you were hyper-fixated. 

Maker, maybe you shouldn't have eaten that fruit. "I'm sorry." You apologized to Mando, your lower lip beginning to quiver. "I just wanted to give-"

"Be quiet." He ordered, his voice startlingly gentle. A gloved thumb pressed to your lower lip and you stared up at him, opening your mouth automatically even though you knew he was just wiping the juice away. You were startled when he slid his thumb into your mouth, but you obligingly cleaned the juice from the leather with your tongue. Shouldn't this be strange? But Mando just did it, like it was normal. Maybe it was normal. 

Your mind flew back to your sultry encounter on Nevarro, how you had occupied yourself while Mando wrapped up his business with the Guild, and warmth lanced through your stomach as you recalled greedy gloved hands grasping and caressing your bare skin-

"Steerforth, if you are to carry on in that heated demonstration I must plead for the carbonite treatment that you were so hellbent on throwing myself into earlier." Ezra sounded like he was in pain. "I have only endured this once before and it was a torment that threatened my already-tenuous sanity. Have fucking mercy man, I implore-"

"Be quiet." Mando snapped, "we have to treat your arm, right?"

"Fuck." Ezra swore again, the sound writhing through your belly. "Hurry then."

"Get in the ship. I'll turn on the filters."

"Do not leave me alone with them, I implore you!" Ezra cried, that domed helmet finally tilting enough for you to catch a glimpse of his face. "I am not the master of my own body, Steerforth." 

His eyes were dark, impossibly dark, and frantic as he argued with Mando. His skin seemed tanned or olive through the sun-struck dome of his suit's helmet. Short brown hair was plastered flat to his forehead with sweat, and the lower half of his face was coated in a somewhat unkempt mess of facial scruff. Too long to be five o'clock shadow, but too bedraggled to be dubbed anything else.

Roguish, you decided, wanting to laugh at yourself. He looks roguish. What a ridiculous thought to have! Not obviously dangerous like Mando, but still dangerous. Was that your heartbeat throbbing in your ears? You sighed softly, taking a step towards the other man without meaning to. 

Mando's hand was suddenly on your arm. "Hold it. Treatment. We have to treat his wound." He said gruffly. 

You nodded. Of course. Who knew what he had been exposed to through the breach in his suit? "I was going to help him walk?"

Mando shook his head. "You get the kit. You've got no gear on. He's contaminated." He reasoned. "Get me the kit and then seal yourself into the cockpit so we can filter the hold." You nodded again and his hand found your cheek, gloved fingers grazing your neck before he jerked back. "S...Sorry." he apologized.

"It's okay." You whispered.

…

Ezra, helmet discarded and suit stripped to the waist, flinched away from Din's touch yet again. "Stop. This is a bad wound. It'll get infected if I do this wrong." Din snapped. He rarely encountered blaster wounds that didn't self-cauterize, even though that tended to come with its own set of problems.

"I do not mean to tear free." Ezra protested. "Blood flow has increased. I am…" He paused, biting his lower lip. "Sensitive. Surely you have a handheld? One of the burners? Just burn it shut man, Kevva, I cannot even endure the graze of your fingers." 

"If I give you a burner patch, it'll seal in the infection." Din reasoned, flushing the wound again. "Focus on something else."

"I cannot." Ezra said sharply. "There is only one matter my brain currently wishes to focus on, and it is not the dire straits of my wounded arm." 

"Them?" Din asked, keeping his voice low. 

Ezra shot him a guilty look from beneath his sweat-matted fringe of brown hair, finally nodding. "It is ludicrous, but I feel as though I can taste them." He confessed. "Gods, I wish I had never landed on this accursed moon. I wish I had never encountered the Serpentia."

"What will happen?" Din did his best to maintain his vocal level as he bandaged the other man's wound.

"Arousal. Sheer, unadulterated arousal. You ache, like the worst fever you've ever had. I've heard it is even more excruciatin' for those of the other human biological persuasion, due to their genitals being internal. Though it is Medusine in nature, so it has a...failsafe, of sorts. You are seized with the primal instinct to mate, conquer, claim. It does not stop until you have buried your...until you have sheathed yourself in an orifice." Ezra was gasping for air. Obviously just talking about it was enough to cause him distress, either that or Djarin was being rougher than he thought. "Steerforth please, I-"

"This will cause them pain?" Din asked slowly. 

Ezra nodded jerkily. "I have been told it's like a sickly, stabbing heat. Fingers are not enough to…er, extinguish the flames." His cheeks flushed. "The tongue soothes, but not overlong. Internals require certain length, and...rigidity." Din didn't miss the way his eyes flickered down to the beskar that covered his upper thighs. "When last I encountered this damned flora, I suffered the effects alone and I felt as if I would go mad."

Tongue. Fingers. Rigidity. Din's mind reeled. "Specifics." He gritted out, his body awash with heat in his armor when Ezra made a pitiful noise.

"Kevva, have mercy on me Steerforth."

"I said. Specifics." Din fisted a glove in the other man's hair, tilting his head back and forcing him to look up. Ezra moved, albeit reluctantly, the Adam's apple of his throat bobbing when he swallowed. "Specifics." Din repeated himself, a little softer this time.

Ezra shuddered all over. "They will seek you out. To be fucked." He said, cringing a bit as if he disliked using the word. "You must open them up with your tongue first, dissolve the Medusine barrier with saliva. That's the failsafe, you see, an individual of that biological persuasion who is suffering cannot be penetrated without tender effort. Ease into it and perhaps they will not loathe you when this madness has run its course-"

"I can't." Din interrupted. 

"What?" Ezra gawked at him. 

"I can't. T-Tongue. Not allowed. Forbidden." Din felt like he was drunk. "Helmet."

The other man's brow furrowed. "You can, I presume, take off other portions of your plate?"

Din shook his head, wishing that he could explain it better. "Technically yes, but it's frowned upon. Exceptions happen. And under no circumstances can I take the helmet off." 

"How in the Fringe have you ever-"

"I...inspire feelings in people." That was probably the most delicate way he could have said I cater exclusively to bipeds with a predator/prey fetish. Din grimaced. "I'm large and imposing. Usually that's...enough. No need for warm up." He said awkwardly. "Armor stays on."

"What a bewildering existence!" Ezra tilted his head in disbelief. "So you have never removed…?"

Din shook his head. "Not in the presence of others. The Creed forbids it."

"Your dedication is admirable, but unfortunately it leaves your partner twisting in the wind." The quarry pointed out. "I would offer my services, but I am an unknown and-"

"Yes." Din gritted out, that dark thought slithering back through his mind. 

"Yes?"

"Your services." Din took a deep breath. He didn't bargain with quarry, but this man had his face. He couldn't turn him in without jeopardizing everything he had sworn his life to. "In exchange, when this is...when they no longer require your services, I'll let you go."

Ezra's eyebrows bunched together. "I'm afraid I don't follow, Steerforth."

"I don't want them to be in pain." Din's voice grated in his throat and he watched Ezra's eyes widen in comprehension. "I don't want them to hurt."

"You...this is not just the Serpentia. You have a prior attachment to them."

"It doesn't matter what I do or don't have." Djarin muttered dismissively. "Because of the Creed, I...I can't. But you can."

"You can't give them your mouth, certainly, but there are-"

"If it's what makes it possible, you have to do it!" Din interjected sharply. "I don't want them to hurt."

"I need you to comprehend what you're askin' of me!" Ezra shot back, his bound fists clenched tight enough to whiten his knuckles. "They don't know me from Job, and you're all but demanding I violate their trust-"

"I don't want them to hurt!" Din roared, startling himself with his own furious reaction. Whatever else he was about to say was cut off by your staggering descent on the ladder. You looked unwell. Ezra skittered back a few steps, falling on his ass with a muffled swear. 

"Mando?" Your voice wavered and you swayed at the ladder. Din lurched forward, tucking you into his arms as you sniffled, "I don't feel so good. I think I'm sick." You were radiating heat that he could feel even through his suit. Your tunic was soaked with sweat.

"Osi'kyr." Din cursed under his breath after he swapped to his infrared and saw just how brilliant your signature was. "Listen to me, alright Senaar?" He murmured, simultaneously loving and hating the way you nodded in a docile manner. "We know what can fix this. But it's not…" he paused, searching for the right term. 

"Appropriate." Ezra supplied loudly. 

"I feel awful." Your whimper made Din's stomach ache. His cock rubbed against the confines of his compression leggings. 

Ignore it.

"I know you do." Din pressed his palm to your forehead. "Listen to me. We can fix this. You trust me, right?" Your nod was immediate and Din barely stifled his groan. "Ezra knows what's wrong. Ezra can help."

"He can help?" You echoed blearily, looking past Din. "Okay. He said something about the fruit before, right? I shouldn't have eaten it. M'sorry. Was it poison?"

"Poison may have been simpler to endure." Ezra muttered. "It is an aphrodisiac. Do not blame yourself. The fruit is visually appealing for a reason, otherwise the plant would not be able to propagate."

…

Aphrodisiac. Your mouth was flooded with that sweet taste at the sound of Ezra's drawling voice, the groan that followed burrowing into your blood. 

You had never felt this way before. Your body ached and twisted, arousal pooling uncomfortably in your pelvis. Everything felt like it was trapped, your tunic sticking to your skin with sweat. Aphrodisiac. 

"Please pay attention." Ezra sighed. "I understand this is incredibly distracting, but I have a limited window of coherence." He was trembling slightly, still avoiding your eyes. "Your partner has requested I aid you where he cannot. I will not harm you." He said with gravity. "This is a situation which bodes exceptionally poorly and I am...I am truly sorry for dragging you into this mess."

"Oh, it's okay. Mando gets me into messes all the time." You brushed off his apology and Ezra choked out a bitter laugh. 

"I fear you may change your tune once the pain truly starts." He remarked.

"He says it'll hurt." Mando murmured. "Like stabbing."

You knew your eyes widened with fear because Mando was quick to envelope you in his arms again. He had never been this touchy before. It was...strangely nice. The coolness of his armor felt wonderful on your skin and you moaned in relief. Mando went stiff at your noise, his gloved fingers clutching the nape of your neck. Up until this point, you had just felt some minor throbbing. Distracting, but negligible.

This was different.

...

Your breath hitched in your throat and your fists curled into his suit, knees buckling as a low, wavering cry left your lips. Din jerked at the sound. He had never heard you make that kind of noise before, not even when you had been shot--

Oh he was fucked. He was so fucked. Was he excited or terrified? "Easy, you're okay, you're okay," he soothed, clumsily brushing the hair back from your face. Who was he even trying to convince?! 

"Make your choice expediently, Steerforth. Am I to be thrown in carbonite or put to work?" Ezra queried through gritted teeth. 

"You know I would never do anything to hurt you." Din said to you, ignoring the other man for the moment. "I won't let anything happen to you. I need you to trust me for right now, alright? We can fix this."

Your grip on him tightened even further. "I don't like how this feels." You whispered. 

Din closed his eyes in a futile attempt to ward off his own self-loathing, pressing your cheek against his breastplate. "I know, Senaar. I'll be right here with you. I just...can't give you what you'll need." He stuttered, offering on a desperate whim, "I-I can hold you, if you want." You nodded frantically into his armor. 

"If you have a...a blanket. A sheet. Something for the floor, we are going to make a mess and I am uncertain if we will be able to protect your partner's modesty." Ezra muttered, his bound hands resting surreptitiously over his groin. "They may be more enthusiastic than one would anticipate."

Din patted your elbow, trying to gentle his voice. "Go get your pillow." 

"O-Okay." You gulped. 

Din tore into one of his many lockers once you released him, the armored man frantically digging around for his extra bedding. Ezra staggered to his feet, moving in close to Din. So that you wouldn't hear him speak, no doubt. 

"There is still time for you to freeze me, Steerforth. I am not a man without morality, tattered though it may be." He murmured, and Din noticed that his weary brown eyes were surrounded by the same deep lines and cracks that Djarin's own face sported. The Mandalorian hadn't ever paid much mind to just how many expressions he still made beneath the helmet, probably because he knew no one would see them.

Din grabbed the other man's shoulder, searching those eyes. Ezra stared at his impenetrable visor, probably confused by his silence. "I need your help." Din rasped seriously. He didn't trust this guy as far as he could throw him, but he could live with the uneasy truce if it would…if it meant that he could…

Stars, this was all so damn wrong. 

Ezra finally nodded. "I will do my best to assist with the...emotional aftermath. This is not your fault, or theirs. This is merely an unfortunate side effect of a hazardous occupation."

"Thank you."

Ezra's eyebrows shot up, but other than that he gave no indication of his surprise. Din elbowed him to the side, unfolding the thick blanket and spreading it out carefully on the floor of the hold.

…

This was certainly an odd predicament. 

Ezra could not say he had ever been in such a charged scenario, despite his checkered history. His jaw worked thoughtfully as he watched the armored man devote an obscene amount of care to smoothing the wrinkles out of his blanket. 

Arousal swirled around him like the thick pollen outside, but it was tempered by the terrible memory of that singular past experience where he had rubbed himself bloody on the inside of his suit. He knew he was worse off than Steerforth. No, what had you called him? Mando. 

Curious. 

A Creed that prevented the devout from showing the world their face.

Curious. And familiar, somehow. Ezra spooled his mind back, trying to recall why it was familiar. He couldn't focus however, his own breathing becoming too distracting. 

Mando hadn't gotten nearly as much of the pollen as him. The other man seemed unbearably, impossibly calm in the light of what was about to occur. Maybe it was an illusion afforded by that unreadable helm, or brought about by his lack of prior experience.

Ezra was wildly jealous all the same. "What is their name?" He asked softly. 

Mando fixed him with a look and Kevva, that helmet was indeed imposing. "I call them Senaar. It...it means bird." He sounded reluctant, like he didn't even want to give up that much. "Names are sacred in the Creed. I couldn't give them mine so they didn't give me theirs, but I had to call them something."

"No names in the Creed, either?" Ezra asked incredulously. 

The armored man shook his head. "To outsiders we are all Mando. To us, we are Mando'ade. This is the Way."

"A veritable legion of nameless, featureless warriors." Ezra muttered, mainly to himself. He rattled his restraints after a moment. "Am I to remain bound during this frotfest, Steerforth?"

"I'm not stupid enough to give you free range. Be grateful I didn't secure them behind your back instead." Mando snarked.

"I will not harm your little bird." Ezra protested.

"I know." Mando leaned in slightly, broad shoulders made even more intimidating by the blue-steel pauldrons that graced them. "I would kill you before you got the chance."

Oh, such confidence! Ezra wished he was in his right mind, he would obliterate this smug cretin--

His breath caught in his throat as you returned from your excursion. Gods, he had nearly forgotten what he was being called to do. He warred with the obscene urge that dragged his gaze to the crux of your thighs. "A divine sight." He murmured, not lying for once. This entire day had been remarkably truthful. 

You actually gave him a ribald wink, and that eased his conscience slightly. Perhaps you were not the unsullied, blushing virgin he had feared you might be. Obviously you had used the time you took to grab your pillow wisely, maybe even given yourself a bit of a pep talk. 

"Have you done this before?" Ezra asked, half-joking. He heard Mando audibly gulp in that damn bucket when you nodded, a pained smile curving your lips. "Not under the effects of such altering substances, I pray?" 

"Nah, nothing like that." You replied, shaking your head. "It was back on Nevarro, I-"

"Nevarro?" Mando hissed. "You disappeared on me for hours. That's what you were up to?!"

You shrugged weakly. "It doesn't really matter but...there were two Mandalorians, and I wanted, um, something that seemed familiar, I guess." You admitted, your tone remarkably cool for the subject matter. 

Ezra hid his grin. He was hardly immune to the allure of saucy gossip, and there was nothing quite like gossip that had no particular bearing on him. "Two?!" The armored man's voice squeaked even through the thick modulation and Ezra burst out laughing, the binders knocking his jaw when he tried to stifle his mirth. 

"I meant more whether you had engaged in copulation in general, but I suppose that would have been a pertinent question as well." He mused once he got himself under control, the low buzz in his stomach blossoming into an excited thrum. "How fortunate that you would be so generous when it comes to your partners, little bird."

"What do you mean, familiar?" Mando carried on over him, obviously agitated by the fresh knowledge that his partner may or may not have some...tendencies. Ezra almost wanted to laugh again; you were nothing if not painfully transparent. Seeking out others like the armored man to have their way with you? Clearly you harbored some sort of affection, kept secret and safe by the walls that humans build around themselves.

But Serpentia had a funny way of sliding that dastardly pink slick through all defenses, leaving the body raw and exposed.

"I mean familiar." You replied, your pillow like a shield between yourself and Mando. Ezra settled back to watch the show, well aware that his smirk was probably insufferable. "I have needs, you know." You continued primly. 

Mando's fists clenched on his thighs before he pointedly flattened them back out, fingers dragging over the plates. "I...I'm sorry. I shouldn't...I'm sorry." He mumbled, patting his leg. 

You wavered again and nearly fell. The armored man caught you, settling you down with a cautious tenderness that fired a thrower shot of arousal directly into Ezra's gut. He had always been a weak fool for chivalry, though he was able to display precious little of it in his own life. Oh, this was the best kind of story. 

...

Your face burned with embarrassment; why had you told him about your rendezvous with two other members of his Creed? It was like the words just fell out of your mouth, like your brain itself was against you. 

You could still remember the way the larger one had pressed his forehead to your own and then encouraged you down his chest to his groin, the way his helmet had tipped back--

A new flood of warmth swept into your cunt and you bit down on your hand to stifle your noise at the pain that followed. Mando paused, then laid your pillow between his open legs. "Lay down on your back." He muttered, patting his leg again. "This way you can see me. I'll be right here."

"I'm-"

"Don't apologize, please." Mando cut you off. "Once this is over, once everything is...over, I...listen, we'll operate as a sealed unit. This maneuver is scrubbed from the start. I never found the quarry. Nothing that we say or do here will ever be mentioned again. Understood?"

Your breath caught in your throat. He was giving you an out. Or himself, you were uncertain. You nodded slowly and his shoulders drooped a little, but whether he was relieved or disappointed…

Well, some secrets were meant to stay that way. 

Ezra nodded his own agreement. "It is best to have certain protocol already in place when engaging in uncharted waters." He muttered. "Decidedly militant, but I must surmise your Creed taught you that."

"This is the Way." Mando said firmly. 

"If we are operating under burner infantry orders, then I must voice my trepidation about this engagement," Ezra confessed to you. "I have endured this crisis once before and it was not a pleasant experience. I do not envy the pain I am certain you feel at this moment, but I also know that you are in a...compromised and sensitive position. I...if any advance is unwanted, I trust you will inform me. And if I do not respond, if I am too far gone, please have your associate rescind my invitation." He gestured at Mando with his bound hands. 

"Wh-What are you going to do to me?" You asked, your voice high in your ears even as you let Mando maneuver you down to the blanket.

"I am going to do for you what your companion cannot, little bird." Ezra's tongue dampened his lips nervously. "And only that, if I understand the situation correctly."

"What he…" you trailed off as a thought occurred to you. Ezra hummed quietly as if to confirm and the sound reverberated through your core, making you whine and squirm restlessly. "Oh, what, stars, you mean-"

"My mouth, little bird." He had a tiny section of blond hair on the right side of his head, the tuft residing rakishly just at his hairline. You hadn't noticed until now, but the whimsical little patch seemed to soften his stern features. "You will need the saliva, regrettably. I am certain that the idea of the mouth of a lowly aurelac harvester on you is a repulsive one, but it is the only way to get the proverbial ball rolling." 

"Wait, you have to eat me out?" You asked in confusion, trying to get back up. "Hang on, I should shower, I'll-" Agony raked down your spine and you spasmed, a breathy sound of pain forcing itself past your lips.

Ezra's incredulous chuckle soothed the sensation back down to a manageable level. "What an unexpected offer, little bird! I cannot recall the last time someone bathed specifically for me. You will wholly ensnare me if you continue such considerate behavior." 

…

Din's body felt like it was on fire in his armor. 

You had gone looking for people like him. 

You had gone looking for Mandos because you wanted familiarity. The idea of you sussing out more of his brothers or sisters because you had needs-

Din wasn't sure if he would survive this particular encounter. He was gripping his cuisses so tightly that the leather of his gloves burned against his fingertips. Mandalorians weren't celibate by any stretch of the imagination, but the Creed could make things...more difficult than they needed to be for a variety of species.

Ezra, despite his hands being bound, was remarkably capable. The man had coached you through the pain when you had tried to move, his voice obviously helping you somehow. Djarin wasn't sure if he was jealous or grateful. Maybe both.

The fact that this was causing you to suffer had him loathing how stiff his cock was in his compression leggings, even though from what he had gathered he couldn't actually help that particular reaction. 

"I must beg your assistance in disrobing." Ezra was saying softly, tugging at the overly-knotted waistband of your loose pants. "Please, little bird."

"Right, yeah, of course." You mumbled and Djarin could hear the pain in your voice, could feel the twitchy little flinches as you tried to follow Ezra's directions. 

Hesitantly, the Mandalorian moved his hands up until they rested on your shoulders. You exhaled a breathy little moan, nuzzling your cheek against his glove in what he had to assume was thanks.

"Better." You gasped, seeming more sure as you struggled to undo the sash at your waist. 

"Well done, Steerforth." Ezra praised, causing something warm and wet to pour into Din's abdomen. The armored man's breathing stuttered, was this what Ezra had been feeling the entire time they had been walking? Stars, how had he even managed-

His cock lurched against the tight hold of his leggings, precome dampening his stomach. Without meaning to, Din's fingers tightened on your shoulders and he grunted quietly. 

Your eyes shot up, locking with his visor. He knew you couldn't actually see him, but at that moment he felt exposed. "You alright?" You asked quietly, your breath hiccuping when Ezra brushed the stubble of his jaw against your naked thigh. Din ached to do that himself, Maker he wished-

"I'm fine." He choked, like he wasn't roasting alive from the double-edged heat of artificial arousal and jealousy. His left hand slid down, resting at the hollow of your throat. It soothed his ego a little to see that your eyes were still on him, despite what the quarry was about to do. 

Ezra, he reminded himself. This man wasn't prey anymore, for all that he was keeping the binders on. Din at least needed that level of control. He needed the stability.

That recurrent devious thought surged forward again, dark and heady. Utilizing Ezra, he could indulge vicariously in the hazy desires he had fought for cycles. The wish to bury his face between your legs and eat you out until you cried, like in the raunchy imagecasts he picked up on rare occasion. Putting his bare hands on you, stars-

Din Djarin was a man of extreme self-control. So far, he hadn't overstepped or shamed the Creed, unless you counted the time he was loaded out of his mind with bacteria-laden quills. He hadn't realized just how many of them were embedded in his back until his vision started getting blurry as he was standing over the nexu's dead body. Served him right for letting the feline get the drop on him before he put his backplate on.

You had been so worried when he returned. You were patched into his coms so you obviously heard the struggle he had dispatching the creature. Heard how ragged his breath got and how hard he had to actually fight. 

Din vaguely remembered flopping down on his belly with you hovering over him, pliers in one hand and bacta shot already buried in the meat of his shoulder. Stars, it was great to have a partner sometimes. If he had come back to just the kid like that, he'd probably be dead from an infection. You didn't even make him take off his suit, you just worked around it. 

You ended up removing thirty-seven quills of various lengths, most of them bearing nasty hooked barbs. The pain had hit different because of the infection, leaving Djarin trembling boneless and silent on the floor of the hold while you wriggled quills out of his back. He had never felt more helpless, more vulnerable, beskar be damned. 

"It's alright. I'm glad you made it back." You had said calmly. "I'm not letting you go alone next time, though."

"Thank you, Senaar…"

Din's face flushed when he recalled how badly his voice had cracked when saying the name he called you by, less speech and more a plaintive cry. The way his glove had slipped over the skin of your cheek, and how he had longed to remove that glove...

Maker, he sullied the Creed with his inability to reconcile over lack of touch. The hunger for skin-to-skin contact that reared its ugly head every time you were out of your heavy exosuit and durasteel served as a painful reminder, one much more poignant than the simple weight of his helm, that he was a Mandalorian.

But this doppelganger loophole was a gift to be thoroughly exploited and he wasn't about to waste that opportunity. 

Ezra buried his face between your legs and Din felt the way your entire body coiled up in anticipation, another trembling cry leaving your lips and your hands twisting frantically into the blanket beneath you. "Mando-!"

His name, his name, you were saying his name even with another man's mouth giving you pleasure. Djarin couldn't help the satisfied little growl that left his lips and made its way through his modulator. He heard Ezra chuckle, the other man pausing to shoot him a sly wink over the length of your body. Din nearly laughed.

"Ezra," He said instead, his voice coming out rougher than he intended. "Make them cry."

He stopped caring about how wrong it was.

…

You gasped at Mando's words, already inches from bursting into tears. Ezra's mouth was slowly coaxing you open, the stubble on his cheeks and jaw rubbing your thighs. Every pass of his tongue, every gentle press and suckle sought to untangle the knotted ball of heat in your belly, but you were certain you would lose your mind before you managed to disperse the agonizing feeling.

You were too full, almost too aroused to handle Ezra's mouth on your cunt but you were positive if he stopped licking at you, you would die. Heat felt like it was sloshing in your belly, there was so much of it...

Ezra placed a series of delicate kisses on your clit, each one lighter than the last. His hands, still secure in their binders, clutched your right thigh for purchase when he pulled back to gulp air. His expression was dazed, eyes managing to focus on the armored man that loomed over you after several long seconds. "Will you not indulge, Steerforth?" He sounded like he was almost begging Mando, voicing what you couldn't bring yourself to say. "They ask for you, how can you sit there so damned impassive?"

Your breath caught in your throat when you heard Mando exhale raggedly, the bounty hunter muttering, "M' not impassive. There's nothing I-"

"Touch them, for fuck's sake!" Ezra cried, pointedly rattling his cuffs. "I cannot do both. We must work together!"

The Mandalorian lurched suddenly up onto his knees, then sprawled over your body, slamming one hand down to support his weight before wrapping his fingers in the neck of Ezra's tattered thermal shirt. "You don't call the shots here, quarry." He snarled in That Voice, the one that he reserved for his bounties.

Your hands crept up to his hips, hyper aware of the sweet taste in your mouth and how good this would feel. 

…

Ezra stared at the pitch-black visor inches from his nose. Felt the strength in the gloved hand that threatened to do much more than stretch his shirt.

The prospector took a mental inventory of his body at this juncture, a bit surprised and entertained to find that he was thoroughly invested in this new direction the encounter had taken. Mando was no doubt glaring at him from the safety of that impregnable helm, the other man's hackles obviously raised by the jab from the prospector.

It mattered very little at this point in time, however, as Ezra heard a zipper fly open. Mando flinched so hard Ezra felt it in his back, and the sound you made was enough to get the devil to start sweating. "Seems that you may be outnumbered, Steerforth."

"Target rich--environment-" The armored man snarled. "Senaar, y-your--mouth, fuck-"

He stuttered. He stuttered. Ezra latched onto that weakness with a filthy grin, easily twisting out of the other man's grip to duck his head back down and taste you. Mando's other hand hit the blanket as you undulated your hips up to meet Ezra's mouth. Ezra could only imagine the noises you were making around the other man's cock. He knew you were making them by the way Mando's arms quivered. And wasn't that a sight, a man in full armor rendered helpless by the power of a warm, eager mouth on his cock. 

"Watch me now, Steerforth." Ezra crooned, tilting his face up to make presumed eye contact. "This is how you make them weep with pleasure." He was sure that his chin was dripping pink at this point and he knew, even without seeing the other man's face, that Mando was barely hanging on. He had to salute the armored man's dedication. A less devout individual would have given out before they made it to the floor.

The Medusine barrier that the Serpentia formed was slowly weakening under the gentle assault of his mouth, Ezra was pleased to notice. Of course, he wasn't exactly rushing, simply going at a steady pace to keep your pain to a bare minimum. You had begun to leak around the barrier, your arousal even warmer than he had expected. Ezra couldn't tell whether it was because he was under the effects of the pollen or whether it was reality that you tasted immaculate, but he reasoned that it didn't particularly matter. 

He was hungry enough to cope with either happenstance. 

"Little bird, fuck my face, won't you?" He requested sweetly, chuckling at your enthusiastic response. "Grind yourself to completion on my tongue, break the barrier so that your associate can sheathe himself balls deep in this delectable pussy and give you respite." 

...

"Fuck." Din rasped, his eyes wide behind the visor of his helmet. The way that Ezra spoke was like fucking music, the man wrapping filthy words in flowery, incomprehensible syntax. 

The Mandalorian's fingers tangled resolutely in the blanket, the armored man panting as you urged his aching dick even further down your throat. Your hands grappled with his thighs, shoving them wider and then taking two hungry handfuls of his rear to encourage him.

"Senaar-" he started to warn you off, but stopped dead when you moaned around him. Stars, he wondered how you could even breathe-- 

You pulled back, coughing and gasping. "You're doing so well, little bird." Ezra murmured from between your legs. Your only reply was to take Din's cock back into your mouth and oh fuck you weren't stopping-

Your hand found Djarin's in the blankets and you tugged on it, forcing him to try and figure out how to redistribute his weight so you could have the appendage. He managed it of course, he was a fucking Mandalorian after all, but there was a moment where he nearly lost his balance.

You guided his hand to your neck and Din couldn't fight back the groan he let out when he felt his cock bulging through your throat. Fuck, no one had ever been able to take this much of him into their mouth before, halfway was usually the stopping point. 

Djarin grunted and tilted his head down to watch you struggle, finally wrapping a hand around his cock and easing it back out of your mouth. Strands of saliva connected the engorged head of his dick to your lips. Din sighed stupidly at the sight, fisting his dick and coating his glove with your spit. "You're good at this, Senaar." He said gruffly, knowing that it wasn't really praise, not like how Ezra said it. But words had never been his forte. 

"Keep speaking to them Steerforth, they leak at every word out of your mouth." Ezra encouraged from between your legs. "That's right little bird, just a bit more…"

Din was startled, to say the least. You liked when he talked? "I…" he hesitated, then his brow furrowed. "Can't wait to fuck you, Senaar." You whimpered, your hips shuddering. "Fuck you until you don't remember your own fucking name." Din growled. "Breed you like a good Mando should, pump you full of my come just like my Creed-siblings did, right?"

You nodded against his thigh, your sweat seeping through his flight suit to meet his own liberal perspiration. He was so hot, his armor had never been this hot--

"Kevva, that's a kink I didn't anticipate." Ezra panted, pink slick smeared all over his nose and chin. "They certainly like it though, if I understand correctly."

Din could smell you, smell the sweet scent of that fruit mixed with your own arousal. His fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of Ezra's neck and he nearly headbutted him on reflex, barely reining the power back in time. Ezra seemed confused at first, the other man obviously dazed with heat and just sort of allowing Djarin to shove his face against his helmet. 

…

The helm was so cool, Ezra couldn't restrain a relieved sigh when he made contact. Mando appeared to be rubbing your essence all over his helmet, utilizing Ezra's face as a paintbrush. Unorthodox, but effective.

"Oh," Ezra realized, "you've got some sort of olfactory sensors in there, don't you. You lewd creature you!" He teased breathlessly. "If you think they smell sumptuous, I regret to inform you that their taste utterly puts that to shame." Words were heavy in his mouth, the prospector having to work harder and harder to put sentences together. It wouldn't be long before his senses wholly abandoned him, he was certain. "Release me, Steerforth, I must…I must carry out my end of the bargain." He groaned, struggling free. "We are almost at their climax."

Mando was nearly vibrating with anticipation, gloved fingers clawing at Ezra's hair. "Careful," was all the armored man said hoarsely. 

Ezra nodded, once again touched by the bounty hunter's surprising display of consideration for his partner. "When the barrier breaks, they will need your cock immediately, Steerforth. I will...not be coherent for much longer." He mumbled against your cunt, giving up on speech after Mando nodded.

With one last sweep of his tongue, the barrier dissolved. You sobbed out, your voice breaking as you writhed beneath your large companion and bucked your hips up against Ezra's eager mouth. Slick fairly poured out of you, leaking down your thighs and soaking the blanket beneath you. 

Ezra didn't remember wriggling his bound hands beneath your rear, simply returning to his senses with your legs over his shoulders and his lungs burning for air but you tasted so good, he felt raw with hunger. 

Mando's gloved hand covered nearly the entirety of his face, easing him back from his feast. Ezra watched the other man's chest heave in a daze until he suddenly remembered what he was doing. "I apologize, I...I am too far gone." He murmured in contrition, lowering your hips back to the floor. 

"Ask nicely to fuck their mouth." Mando ordered, his blunt words digging into Ezra's groin. "You said it hurt you last time because you were alone. You helped them not to hurt. If they don't want to let you to fuck their mouth though, I'll…" he hesitated, "I'll figure something else out. Nobody has to hurt."

"'Something else'?" Ezra repeated, stunned. What on earth could this armored man possibly be offering? Those gloves were remarkably soft, the leather worn smooth from a lifetime of use, no doubt- "Oh."

…

The pain had eased, only to be replaced by a searing emptiness. You squirmed beneath Mando, tangentially aware that he was engaged in a discussion with Ezra. Your hand flew to your pussy, the drenched area making an embarrassingly loud noise when you thrust two fingers into yourself in an effort to quell the ache. 

"Maker, please, please, Mando!" you begged, barely aware of what you were saying. The heat concentrated in your pelvis was burning you alive, desperate tears pouring down your face.

Mando stood to his full height, towering over you, just watching you quiver while you pleaded deliriously. He fairly ambled around your body, moving until he stood between your spread legs. His boot shoved your ankle, opening you even further, exposing every inch of you and the mess that covered the blanket under you. "Senaar." The low burr of modulation made you rock your hips up, whimpering and nodding when he stroked his cock like he was showing off.

Somewhere, deep in your soul, you prayed that he liked what he saw even without the strange pollen instigating. 

He knelt, gloved fingers curling beneath your chin to pull your eyes up from his thick, perfect cock and the puddle of precome it was currently weeping onto your pubic mound. His touch sent flickering trails of electricity through your body, and you could barely focus on what he was asking.

"Ezra...mouth?" 

You nodded rapidly, making Mando bark out what could have been a laugh. He cupped your jaw again, and then his hand stroked your hair in a way that was almost tender. 

"I'll make you feel better." He promised. Ezra was a mess, he looked like you felt. The quarry simply let Mando shove him down onto his knees, his eyes half-lidded. "Undo your suit." Mando ordered and Ezra shakily attempted to obey. He was having a difficult time with his hands still in the binders so you reached out, batting his hands away impatiently to unzip the lower portion of his exosuit.

His thermal leggings were threadbare like his shirt, the waffle-weave fabric soaked through. His cock visibly twitched when you exhaled sharply. "Do not tease me, little bird, I feel as if I am on death's doorstep." The man pleaded through his teeth, "I am raw and agony gnaws at my skin; please take me in your mouth." 

"I have to get your pants off." You tried to explain, fumbling with the article of clothing. The noise of despair he made had you frantically clawing at the pants, finally dragging them down low enough that his cock was freed. It slapped against his belly and he moaned, bound hands digging helplessly into your hair. 

"May I please have your mouth?" He requested raggedly. "I will not take it if you do not give it freely but please, little bird." 

After he had worked so hard to get you to come? You were nodding hurriedly before he finished speaking, and his deep, drawn-out groan of relief was like music to your ears when you swallowed him down. 

…

You were radiating warmth, your hips twitching and shifting restlessly even as you tried to get Ezra's dick out of his suit. Din had to hand it to the other man, he did ask nicely. 

But there were much more pressing matters to attend to. Mainly, your neglected cunt that was currently leaking all over the underside of his cock. Djarin took a steadying breath, and then slowly sank himself into your waiting heat.

Your cry of relief was fucking primal, a hungry, feral snarl that slithered hot and seething in his stomach under the beskar plate. Din was wholly, entirely lost, finding himself mentally shattered at the first stroke into your body. Your thighs trembled on either side of his hips and then your legs fell open, like you didn't have the strength to hold them up. 

Shit, he knew he should say something, he knew he should be reluctant about this, but it was like every cell of his body needed you to fucking survive. 

Maybe he always had. 

Din bared his teeth and growled back at you, his attention divided between watching you eagerly suck Ezra's cock and watching the way his own dick split you open. His passage was eased by the strange pink fluid that continued to ooze out of you, stars it was so hot-

Ezra's fingers tangled in your hair after a moment, the prospector cradling your head to his groin in a manner that could have almost been described as gentle.

"Is this how my Creed-siblings f-ucked you, Senaar?" Din's voice grated in his chest, the armored man barely aware of the heated words tumbling out of his mouth. "Filling you, claiming you, fucking your throat and pussy?"

"Kevva." Ezra breathed. "Your peculiar voice working in tandem with your cock appears to be the thing that turns them into a voracious harlot. I do not know if I have ever-" His sentence broke momentarily, "oh, fuck, very well little bird, take the whole of it then." He grunted, raking his fingers through your hair as you deepthroated him. "You are absolutely magnificent at that, you know." The other man praised shakily. 

Your cunt fluttered around Djarin's cock and he felt your arousal soak through his suit, hot fluid sliding down to coat his balls. "Stars, did you just come?" He groaned, unable to stop the filthy noise he made when you whined around Ezra's dick and nodded as best as you could. His fingers gripped your thigh, digging into the skin as he began to rut against you. The Mandalorian threw his head back, panting, "Feel so fucking--good around me, fuck, Senaar, so good-"

…

You felt like you were falling apart again and again. The taste, the sensations, the curling knot of heat in your belly that released inch by inch. Mando's hand on your thigh and Ezra's grip on your head were the things that allowed you to hold on to your sanity, but only just.

Mando was conquering you utterly, his dick driving into you with enough force that you knew you would be aching later, but in the moment you never wanted him to stop. You had craved him, wished for him for so long, to finally have him was total bliss. 

And Ezra, Ezra, his silky voice caressing your body as his bound hands carded through your hair. His cock choked you again and again and every time you had to pull back off of him for breath he praised you, talked about how good you were, how no one had ever taken him as deep as you…

You were in heaven. 

Ezra abruptly retreated, his cock smearing more precome across your lips. "If you continue on in this manner I will be undone, little bird." He muttered. "Your one-sided assault, while inescapably delicious, is rendering me wholly base. You wish for me to spill my seed on your face?" His hips twitched. "Or shall I fuck my come down your throat, request that you swallow every drop?" 

"Fuck it into them." Mando rasped before you could say anything in reply, a gloved hand grabbing your chin. "Fuck your load i-into that sweet little mouth of theirs. Give them what they fucking need, quarry." He demanded, and you nearly came again from how unhinged he sounded. 

"Well, little bird?" Ezra asked softly, his eyes dark with want. "Shall I take my pleasure from your lewd little mouth and let your beautiful throat milk me dry?"

"Please!" You begged, opening your mouth and sticking out your tongue to encourage him. 

Ezra sighed blissfully at the sight, lacing his fingers through your hair and encouraging you to take his cock until your nose rested against his groin. "Fuc-king gods, you are positively celestial." He groaned, "Relegating yourself to a singular partner would be doing you a disservice, little bird. I highly encourage you to weaponize your talents in whatever field you wish."

Come flooded your mouth, his cock twitching heavily against your tongue. Your eyes rolled back, your lungs burning for air and you dimly heard Mando snarl, dropping his helm to rest on your sternum. The metal was blessedly cool even through your tunic, helping to anchor you to reality. 

"Fucking touch me, please." Mando's voice shook even with the modulator, his words buzzing through your body. "Senaar please, fuck, pl-please, touch me, fucking--"

Your palms crashed into his shoulders, hips bucking upwards to meet his next thrust and you came again. Mando made a noise that you could only liken to a roar, the armored man grappling at your hips and grinding himself against your dripping cunt. 

"Senaar, Senaar, Senaar--" The name he had given you punctuated every thrust, his rasping tone making your belly drop out. You weren't sure if you would ever stop coming, grasping blindly at Mando and Ezra while your cunt gripped down on Mando's cock.

…

If Ezra still had any doubts about being a blatant proxy for the armored man, that was obliterated in his post-orgasm daze. 

A gloved hand slid to the back of his neck and tugged him down to your mouth. Ezra went clumsily but willingly, the prospector humming when he tasted himself and the cloying sweetness of the Serpentia on your tongue. You sobbed against his lips and Ezra soothed you with his mouth, accepting all of your hungry whimpers and whines as he stroked your hair back off your forehead. 

"Little bird, little bird, you will want for nothing with this individual pummeling you so mercilessly." He breathed, relishing the soft cry that quivered against the skin of his neck. "I imagine you can feel every inch of that prodigious girth, burning like unquenchable quicksilver, threatening to breach your very womb." He moved his bound hands down, resting them on your stomach. "Steerforth, I trust you are punishin' their cervix with every thrust?" He queried, chuckling darkly when Mando just snarled in reply.

You threw your head back, hands fisted in the fabric between Mando's pauldrons and gorget. "Mando-!" You pleaded, "fuck!" 

Mando's hands dug beneath the small of your back and he canted your hips upwards, sheathing his cock in the cradle of your body over and over. Ezra envied the armored man's stamina, grunting when he felt his member trying to rise again. Whether he could blame the pollen for that, he was unsure, but the lovely company certainly did nothing to dissuade his arousal. Watching this large, almost knightly figure rail into you, your face still a mess of tears from when Ezra had fucked your mouth…

Kevva, he could not recall a time where he had been so content to simply play voyeur, pressing the occasional kiss to your lips at Mando's behest. "Such tenderness, what a dichotomous sensation for you," the prospector mused, "the contrast between armor and flesh." His mouth brushed against your ear when he continued, "However, I believe you're beginning to realize that there is an untapped wellspring of man beneath all that metal, am I correct little bird?"

...

You squeezed your eyes shut and Din's hand reached up, the bounty hunter unable to keep from cradling your cheek. "I always knew." You said, your voice barely audible. "I-I always...I always-"

"Be quiet." Din grunted. "Y-You...don't have to say it." His heart slamming in his chest had nothing to do with his current exertion. You knew. Shame reached him dimly through the haze of arousal. All the times he ached to touch you, all the times he battled with himself over his desire for contact…

Your hand gripped the back of his helmet and he flinched sharply. He hadn't noticed you move and you could pull his helmet off, shit, he was so stupid for doing this! His eyes flew to yours, even though he knew you couldn't see through his visor.

After a moment of him fighting back his panic, you just shook your head. "S-Sealed unit, ri-ght?" You asked, your words hitching with his thrusts. Djarin nodded warily. Your eyes half-lidded and you knocked your forehead into his helmet, the gesture unmistakable to a Mandalorian.

A kiss. 

Was his heart breaking, or just fucking giving out under the assault of this insane pollen? Was he overloaded? Was this all just some wild hallucination?

Din frantically shoved his helmet against your face, pinning your head back to the pillow. Shit, he needed to be careful, you didn't have armor. "Senaar, I--" Basic had always been so damn heavy on his tongue. Mando'a flowed, but it was secret. Sacred. Djarin hesitated and you reached up again, cradling the indents on his helmet.

"Always. Even with this." You whispered. 

His brain had short-circuited. The roaring in his ears was deafening and he knew he was making some kind of ugly, wounded noise, but he couldn't actually do anything about it. 

Always. Always. 

His heart must have blown, he reasoned desperately. That was the only explanation for what he was feeling right now.

…

The sound that Mando made after you assured him was heartwrenching, a guttural sob that seemed like a mixture of agony and ecstasy. He clawed at the blanket beneath you, gasping for breath as he all but broke you in half, his dick ripping yet another orgasm from your hungry cunt. 

You were lightheaded from his prolonged fucking, your pussy in spasm around his thick cock, but you refused to give out yet. "Did you feel me come, Mando?" You whimpered against the side of his helmet, wringing more feral noises out of him. "Is it good?"

"Fuck, incredible, s-so--" Mando gripped your thigh, hitching it up over his hip and then dragging his fingers hungrily through the pink slick that had pooled in the crease of your hip. "Never want to leave, fuck, m'sorry, I know I'm t-taking--forever-" 

"Only a fool apologizes for his length in the bedroom." Ezra remarked dryly, dipping down to kiss you when you laughed. "How do you fare, little bird?"

"So good." You sighed, feeling half-drunk on your orgasm high. The knot in your belly had finally gone slack, leaving you weak and trembling beneath Mando as he chased his own completion. You hummed and Ezra rumbled back, his touch remarkably careful when he cupped your chin. 

"You have done so well." Ezra murmured. "Serpentia is no simple storm to weather, yet you have endured." Mando wordlessly bumped his helmet against Ezra's temple, the metal rubbing over the blond tuft of hair the quarry sported. "You are most welcome, Steerforth." Ezra chuckled. "One is glad to be of service, but please. You threatened to fill them, didn't you?"

Mando's hips faltered in their rhythm and the armored man finally came with a shattered moan of relief. Stars, you weren't sure if you had the Serpentia to blame for the sheer volume that he came; you could feel it frothing out of you around his cock as he continued to shudder and writhe through his orgasm. 

"Holy shit, Mando." You said incredulously, unable to fight back the urge to slip a hand down between your bodies. "You told me Mandalorians were rare."

"We--are." Mando panted raggedly, his cock still twitching inside you.

"If you come like this, how?" You asked, your combined fluids soaking your questing fingers. Mando just stared at you for a moment, shoulders heaving while he struggled to catch his breath.

And then he started laughing, which was...not nearly as terrifying as you had expected, honestly. "Stars, you--" He wheezed, his helm thudding gently against your forehead. "Fuck you, Senaar." You could hear him grinning, his voice still warm with laughter. 

"Odd method of displaying affection. I take it your Creed is of a fraternitous bent?" Ezra commented, a quiet noise of surprise escaping him when you tugged him down for a kiss.

"Thank you." You mumbled drowsily into his mouth. 

"Hardly. I ought to thank you. When last I endured the Serpent's grasp, I was incarcerated and driven to gratify myself to ribbons on the inside of my gear." Ezra informed you, his tone nonchalant. "This experience was a rare moment of hedonistic bliss in my life. Believe me when I say I shall cherish it."

He straightened up before you could say anything in reply, extending his bound wrists to Mando.

"Whither to, my recalcitrant steerforth?"

Mando ignored him for another moment, stroking your forehead tenderly. He appeared to have noticed your weariness, because he sounded softer when he spoke. "Sleep, Senaar. It's over."

…

"I'll cut you loose on Sorgan." 

Ezra swiveled in the co-pilot chair, knowing that his expression must border on the befuddled. When the armored man had left you to sleep, hauled Ezra into the cockpit and secured his binders to the chair, the prospector had assumed that whatever agreement they struck previously was rendered null and void. "I would be...wholeheartedly grateful to you, Steerforth." He breathed.

"I never found you. Your pod malfunctioned and you burned alive in the atmosphere." Mando instructed him in that level, modulated voice. "Stop stealing shit and I won't have to hunt you down again."

"Those men stole from me!" Ezra retorted hotly, knocking his elbow down into the white case that hung off his hip. "I worked alone for stands and they came along right at the most opportune juncture, put a thrower to my head and robbed me! I simply reclaimed-"

Mando waved a hand, interrupting his self-righteous tirade. "You and I both know that it doesn't matter. I'm forfeiting the credits this time, but next time…" he trailed off pointedly. "Don't get caught again. If someone else from my Guild chapter picks up your bounty, Mandalorian or otherwise, they will catch you." 

Mando leaned in close, his elbows resting on his knees and helmet propped up on his folded hands. Ezra felt for all the world like a specimen underneath a microscope, barely suppressing the urge to squirm nervously. 

"The bounty specified that you be captured warm." The armored man said after a beat. "No promise of half-payment upon cold delivery or even proof of demise. So whoever you got into a pissing match with wants to be the one to put that last slug into your brain. You already heard my advice. For your own good, I suggest you lay low and be fucking quiet." He gestured out the cockpit viewport at the green sphere that hovered in the distance. "There's good people on that planet. Good people that I care about. If you bring hunters to their doorstep, I will find out. And then I will find you."

Kevva have mercy, this man was no joke. Ezra was having a difficult time just mustering up the breath to give him an affirmation! Was this truly the same Lancelot he had watched engage in lotus-eating debauchery with his Guinevere not two hours hence? Ezra's belly roiled uncertainly, arousal and fear a potent combination. This must be how the bounty hunter indulged himself without divesting his plate, the prospector reasoned dimly. Fear was a remarkably stimulating thing. "Of course." He finally answered, his voice a little reedy. "Your mercy is...unexpectedly generous, but no less appreciated for its spontaneity."

Mando grunted, seeming satisfied with his response. The armored man returned to the control panel after a moment, flipping a few switches. The entire ship appeared to be miles above what Ezra was used to. Even the Testin had a dog-eared manual that hung from a chain by the central dash, and the craft was such a rattling nightmare that she needed three bodies just to keep her straight. But this man, this...Mandalorian, he operated the whole blasted vessel with a fluid ease. 

His next words were so quiet Ezra nearly missed them. "Thank you."

"Pardon?" Ezra queried blankly.

Mando heaved a sigh that made his pauldrons visibly dip. "I said, thank you." He growled awkwardly. "I don't know what...I don't know if I would have hurt them because of--because of how I am." 

"It will do no good to ruminate on such dour subjects." Ezra hesitated, then continued, "but your Creed...would you have broken it for them, had you known about the requirements of the Medusine barrier?"

"I…" Mando tightened his hold on the directionals, those gloves creaking with his tension. "I'm not sure." He admitted, lapsing into silence afterwards.

"Your ship is marvelously responsive." Ezra murmured by way of changing the subject. "It reminds me of a diminutive Screamer-class that I endured a few stands on, oh, nearly fifteen cycles ago-"

"Be quiet."

…

Din watched Ezra until he vanished between the large trunks of Sorgan's conifers, the Mandalorian then dropping back into the pilot's seat with a groan. Maker, he hoped he was doing the right thing. Hoped he hadn't just unleashed some mass-murdering psychopath on the unsuspecting populace.

Djarin tilted his helmet back against the headrest of the seat, aimlessly staring up at the fuselage. 

What the hell was he going to say when you woke up? 

Din's heart sank. He knew that he couldn't believe anything that had come out of your mouth while you had been under the effects of that fruit. Serpent's Tongue. He chewed his lower lip meditatively. 

He could lie. 

He fucking cringed at the thought, then shook his head at himself. You would be embarrassed at best, but at worst…

Shit, he didn't want to lose you, even if you didn't feel the same way about him. And then there was the kid to worry about. No, a lie would be better. 

You had sought out other Mandos. His stomach lurched as he recalled that little fact. Fuck, fuck, was it hope that beat so insistently in his throat?

A sealed unit, he had said.

He just wouldn't bring it up. He was the one who had insisted that this whole maneuver was struck from the proverbial records in the first place, right? He just wouldn't mention it. Easy enough. If you said something, that was fine, but otherwise…

Din nodded firmly. This is the Way.

Part Two

[valentinaonthemoon]

I've watched this video essay at the end of last month,

and it got me thinking: why are modern rom-coms so... weird? passionless? unromantic?

Sure, teen rom-coms like To All The Boys I've Loved Before (the first one, because I haven't seen the sequels) are very lovely and might be as near to a "classic" romantic comedy movie as I am looking for, here.

What's with Anyone But You, then? Why does The Idea Of You feel weird to me?

When fanfiction started taking its rightful place in society, and breached fandom containment, people kept associating the entire "genre" with its explicit kind.

Then, people started writing books from their own fanfics, which is always nice to see, good for them! But sometimes fanfiction stories work because you already know the characters, and the author doesn't have to present them to the audience more than it's necessary for the world building.

When you translate these stories in a totally different setting, the characters become simpler, almost archetypes. Do we know them at the end or have we only watched a story happen?

Harry and Sally start to banter from the very beginning of the movie to the very end. We get to know them as they get to know each other, we get to see their characters develop, and their feelings appear. They are all-round people, with thoughts, opinions, and changes of heart.

I don't know why I felt that The Idea Of You went too much into fanfic territory, I didn't hate the movie, but it just didn't click for me.

How do the characters fall in love, for example? Harry Styles realises that Anne Hathaway doesn't recognise him right away and starts being obsessed by her? First kiss they have is literally on the second day they ever meet, and that's after they talk a bit about art, a bit about their lives, taste spoiled milk and eat tomato sandwich.

Is this Love? Do they have any other meaningful conversation afterwards? Just that they'll Get Through this Fame Thing, Together, but no actually, It's Too Much, Goodbye. I Love You, though.

Is this Love?

In Jab We Met, the two main characters get to know each other during a journey to the female lead's Lost Love. Her personality makes the male lead fall in love with her, but he knows that it could never be because she is head over heels for this other guy that her family doesn't approve of. He respects her decision, but just meeting her has improved the way he looks at life. (Something else happens next, but I don't want to spoil too much, if you're ever reading this and might want to watch it.)

Anyone But You is supposed to be a Much Ado About Nothing adaptation, but gosh, how I wish it was better.

The two main characters? Horny, weird, a bit annoying let me just say. Nothing bad about it, but can a story really concentrate on just these traits?

What do they do for a living? What opinions do they have? Why do they hate each other so much? They've only spent less than a day together, she leaves in the morning for no reason whatsoever and he - for no reason whatsoever - badmouths her to his friend. What's the point of that? What kind of rivalry does it start? Why do they still care after a year? When do they fall in love????

In This Is Not What I Expected, the main leads hate each other, because she accidentally vandalised his car and he asked her for compensation. The next time they meet, though, she is the only cook that can make food as he likes it and, let me tell you, that is terrible news for both of them. They find each other insufferable. They find each other's weak spots to prank each other and kinda enjoy it. And then they spend more time together and start to know each other.

And maybe this is what I find weird in these modern romcoms.

Do the characters get to know each other? Or do they talk one time and immediately fall in love and need to spend the rest of their lives together? That's just Cinderella.

I'm not saying the two need to be friends for 20 years before they start dating, but come on! Make these two talk! Make them bond, make them date! Make them go shoot paintballs at each other and then make out when they're both out of paint. Make them sing karaoke together. Make them realise each other flaws and fall in love despite them!

Honestly, for a generation thinking that Darcy's hand flex in Pride and Prejudice 2005 was The Pinnacle of Longing, I don't think longing even exists in these stories anymore.

And the question is still the same: what on earth happened to romantic comedies these days?

ok so does anyone know what on earth happened to romantic comedies these days?

[northernscruffycat]

Tagged by @101flavoursofweird

I’ll tag @pandirpus @krokonoko @my-artblog-is-ssjumi @yallemagne @amberrgalaxy @swamp-y and anyone else who wants to do this. But this is a pretty long one, so don’t feel like you have to :3 (On that note, I’ll be putting most of this under a cut for exactly that reason)

How many works do you have on AO3?

131 at the moment. But some of those are different oneshots from FFN that I posted into one fic when porting over to AO3, so I’d be fascinated by what the actual amount of fanfics I’ve written is.

What’s your total AO3 word count?

1242922 words

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

Just counting what’s on AO3, so far I’ve written for 17 fandoms. They are: Free!, Professor Layton, Hades Game, Steven Universe, Pokemon, Ace Attorney, Yu-Gi-Oh DM, Yu-Gi-Oh GX, Yu-Gi-Oh 5d’s, Sonic the Hedgehog, Super Mario, Dr. Stone, Tintin, Night in the Woods, GetBackers, Good Omens and Cooking Mama What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

‘just wanted to write a fic where senku says ‘get excited’ during sex’ (My SenGen oneshot that gets a wave of attention whenever a new chapter or episode of Dr. Stone comes out)

‘laughable’ (An Ares/Hypnos oneshot I wrote purely as a sample for a zine app and underestimated how popular that ship is lol)

‘the prince with specific tastes; the king with specific regrets’ (THAT Theseus fic. My absolute fave thing I’ve ever written)

‘Shallow Grave, Shallow Bae’ (A Reigisa fic based on Octopimp’s 50% Off! abridged series of Free!; I honestly do think this fic slaps and I’m glad folks like it)

‘Barrel of Monkeys’ (The AsaIku & KisuHiyo collab fic I wrote with Amber that was a lotta fun and I’d love to do something like this with them again one day for a different fandom. Also, I feel like we captained the small KisuHiyo fandom with this fic back in the day)

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

I generally respond to comments. Almost always, unless I really can’t think of anything to say in reply, which is pretty rare. Comments make me so happy and I just want to let people who do comment know that I appreciate them.

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

I think the angstiest fic I wrote was a Free! fic called ‘Moves Across the Land’ - the premise of which is that Makoto died as a young adult of an illness and each chapter is a different person in his life receiving a letter that he wrote for them before he died. But that one had an optimistic ending, with Haru and Kisumi unexpectedly finding a newly strengthened friendship in sharing the grief of Makoto’s death. So I guess technically the angstiest ending I wrote was a short Archie/Maxie oneshot where Maxie gets killed by Kyogre lol

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Yes, but I ended up agreeing with it! Waaay back (probably more that 10 years ago at this point), I wrote a bunch of Layton/Rosetta oneshots that I now don’t stand by. One of them, in my naivety, I went too far with and breached uncomfortable territory. I got a couple of comments about how uncomfortable it was, so I ended up deleting that particular fic and felt better after it was gone.

Do you write smut? If so what kind?

I am a fledgling at writing smut, which is probably obvious to anyone who’s read my smut haha. When I do write it, I prefer to focus on the dialogue between the characters - I like a banterous smut scene. Also, they’re usually pretty tame. I like writing about handjobs, blowjobs and wanking the most when I do write smut.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Again, not that I know of, but that would be awesome! A few years ago, a kind person messaged me about potentially translating my Layton fic ‘Grasping Liquid’ into French, but I don’t think they went through with it in the end. Though honestly, the dialogue and slang in that fic is pretty much illegible in English, so I reckon it’d be a tough fic to translate.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes, the aforementioned ‘Barrel of Monkeys’ that I co-wrote with @amberrgalaxy It was a lot of fun and I love it :D

What’s your all time favorite ship?

Hmm... I don’t think I have a single all time favourite. I jump through a lot of OTPs and they always mean a lot to me, but it wouldn’t seem fair to pick out a single one that’s always shined brighter than the others, because that’s not really how my hyperfixations work. But my current favourite ships are Momus/Heracles (to be narcissistic) and TheseZag from Hades Game. While my oldest ship that I’m still invested in is Yami/Seto from Yu-Gi-Oh DM.

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

Shockingly, I don’t have any right now. A few years ago (I think 2018?), I made a point of going back and finishing ALL my old WIPs that I’d left hanging but intended to finish, even for fandoms I didn’t plan on going back to. So that freed my conscience of them and felt pretty good. At the moment, my only WIP is ‘if found please return to the underworld’ - an AU where Zagreus does make it to Olympus, so Hades sends Theseus, Asterius and Meg to try to get him back. But I’ve only just started writing that one, so I do hope to stick with it until it’s finished.

What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue. Definitely dialogue. I’m told that I capture the canon voices of characters pretty well and that’s always what I’m trying the hardest to get right, so it means a lot to me. I also feel like I’m good at keeping a fic flowing, without being bogged down by too much detail. But the downside of that is that I often sacrifice description, so I still hope to find the balance. Since Hades Game has more flowery prose than I’m used to, I think getting into that series actually helped me with this.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I do not think I am experienced enough to be able to pull this off well and would worry too much about making mistakes.

What was the first fandom you ever wrote for?

It was Pokemon, but those fics aren’t online anymore. The oldest fics you can still find buried somewhere with my name attached to them are Sonic fics.

What’s your favorite fic you’ve ever written?

‘the prince with specific tastes; the king with specific regrets’ - Sometimes I look back at that fic and wonder if I actually wrote it, since I avoided falling into all of my usual traps: I researched it properly and frequently, I kept the focus on the five main characters instead of getting distracted by introducing a million other character like I usually do, I plotted the fucker out from start to finish instead of winging it, and I worked the flashbacks into it in a way that balanced the present-day out instead of distracting from it. Also, I got the whole thing written in about two months, instead of staling for years. ...Whatever possessed me when I wrote that fic, please come back. (It was the first time I’d had two weeks off together in about three years, so I think that had a lot to do with it) OH YEAH and that same kinda villain OC who I recycle in every fandom I’m in actually landed this time. It brought me so much joy to see how much people loved to hate Momus. Those two months when I was posting that fic are easily a highlight of my life. :D

[winchestersingerautorepair]

A Rift Between

A Brief(-ish) History of Dean, Cas, & Rifts

Let’s talk about rifts for a moment. And when I say rifts, I don’t mean their personal disagreements -- if I were to be discussing that, this post would be less of a brief history and more of a thesis paper. 

No, I’m talking about rift rifts. As in, actual, literal tears in the spacetime continuum. They are littered across the whole run of this show, and we’ve recently had two whole seasons devoted to them. So, the sudden reappearance of rift-adjacent plotlines carries with it a weighty load of textual relevance.

Dean and Castiel’s relationship arc, a fan favorite, began when Leviathans, the notorious fan-unfavorite, came into the picture. 

No, Maeve! Dean and Castiel’s relationship arc began in season 4, not 7! Cas was barely even in season 7! 

Well, let me explain. Season 7, the age of Sera Gamble, was a total show reset. Was it uncomfortable? Yes. Did we all hate it? Yes. But like with muscle, you’ve got to tear through the old before you can develop something new, and Season 7 did this job quite effectively. An identity crisis at that scale means either a massive change of pace or a creative death, and as the show is still on, number one it is. 

So, while we can most reliably chart the beginning of an intentional, substantive romantic undercurrent to Season 8, it is the waiting that allowed it to come to fruition-- Season 7 was a void, an unsustainable period of creative drought, a long cold winter in which seeds fell and laid dormant. And like the winter, it was necessary for rebirth.

This brings me to the first DeanCas rift: 

~~

The Purgatory Spell

Episode: 7x01

This tear in spacetime was the culmination of Castiel’s Season 6 character arc. It was the final, greatest betrayal, the irredeemable course of action which struck his relationship with the Winchesters a fatal blow-- and though his last act was to attempt to right his wrongs, the emergence of this rift meant estrangement and death for the relationship (and for Castiel.)

This incident is established as far more significant for Dean than it is for Sam, so I won’t spend much time justifying my classification of this rift as primarily DeanCas. It’s made pretty damn clear through Dean’s behavior throughout Season 7.

Castiel’s departure catalyzed the emergence of Leviathans. As the lore promised, they brought death and destruction to the whole ecosystem, purging the show and readying it for reincarnation; but I’ve already made this point.

As Destiel 1.0 dies, Destiel 2.0 is born.

~~~

The Purgatory Portal

Episode: 8x07

Let us journey back to "A Little Slice of Kevin"-- the gayest thing to happen to Supernatural up to that point. Suddenly, Dean and Cas’s ambiguity is no longer a joke. It’s no longer flippantly referenced, but Built Into The Narrative In A Noticeable Way. After Season 7, Season 8 shocked the system, earning Purgatory celebrity status as the Destiel fandom exploded back to life. 

But, more important things. The events surrounding this portal not only codified romantic subtext, but reshaped their relationship by putting it in grave peril. Lovers trapped in separate worlds. There’s only like ten thousand examples of this in other fictional, romantic(-ally coded) relationships. Sigh.

As Destiel 2.0 dies, Destiel 3.0 is born.

~~~

Seasons 9, 10, and 11 are filled with near misses. Divisions between worlds/fates test and change their bond -- Heaven and Hell exert tremendous force on both, and the gates of Heaven and the Darkness’s breach of barriers flirt pretty openly with the rift theme -- but there isn’t anything that fits the profile cut and dry, so let us leap to Season 12. Five long years of glacial shifts, five long years of a slow, steady amping up of queer subtext. An argument can be made that it had graduated from subtext in some places, but both fandom and GA were frog-boiled enough in their interpretations for this argument to be an aside.

Destiel 3.0 reaches a transitional stage, and becomes Destiel 3.0+.

Now, It’s season 12. And like goddamned CLOCKWORK, six years after Season 6, another unstable tear in spacetime appears, and terminates Castiel’s character arc.

Rift? Check. Cas dead? Check. We’ve seen this pattern. Time for shit to CHANGE. And boy, did it.

~~~

The Rift

Episode: 12x23

Oh, boy. Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy. Castiel’s death in the Season 12 finale was a magnum opus of SPN’s romantically coded imagery. I could elaborate, but if you’ve read this far into this post you likely already know what I’m talking about. My point is, a hall of mirrors is the chosen space in which Destiel 3.0+ is killed. 

The relationship death lasts only a short while; their estrangement in separate realms is a five episode-long period of detachment and review. Our characters, as well as the viewers, stride through a hall of mirrors. In solitude, this DeanCas winter becomes a chance to reflect, because there is no better way to get a feel for the importance of something than to eliminate it. The crucial elements of Dean and Cas’s relationship, what they mean to each other, becomes clearer than ever before because, look! This is Dean without Cas! This is the show without Cas! Don’t you hate it?

I mean, guys. Mirrors. Cas spoke to a reflection of himself in the Empty. Literally. He addressed his greatest fears about relationships with himself. He was forced to rewatch his greatest mistakes, and what gets featured? Our first two DeanCas rifts. F*ck this show.

DreamHunter parallel! 13x10 reenacted this scene for us with Claire and Kaia. 

Then, 13x05 changes the whole game once more. You know, the episode titled Thanatology. The study of Death. Fuck this show.

As Destiel 3.0+ dies, Destiel 4.0 is born.

~~~

The intensity of the queer narrative amps up continually. Things are getting harder to write off.

Rifts between worlds, crossover and confinement, and estrangement, and the blurring of lines, and the breaking of old taboos/breach of old barriers dominates the remainder of Season 13 and Season 14. We hold this broad focus for a long time, and Dean and Castiel become the emotional equivalent of the plot arc, always there, brewing, but taking a backseat to the Big Stuff. A wall rises, and solidifies. Silver Pole of Communication Barriers, anyone?

Then? Season 15 kicks us in the Destiel balls.

Full disclosure: I didn’t see this next part coming. I dared not ask season 15 for anything this significant, so the last scene of 15x08 just about took my life. 

~~~

The Purgatory Rift

Episode(s): 15x08, 15x09

Dun dun DUN!!

This twist was my favorite Christmas present, because it communicated to me that the writers have an understanding of Dean and Cas’s history to match our own. Not only are they actively writing them utilizing the Destiel playbook, they obviously care immensely about the destiny of their relationship. I am speaking too soon to say this definitively, but this mission has all the hallmarks of a plot device designed to serve many purposes in respect to Dean and Castiel. They’ve got ALL the ingredients. There are so many things tied in here that it gets pretty damn near fanfiction territory.

Please read my reaction to the purgatory twist if you need context, as I don’t feel much like regurgitating it. This post is long enough, lol. (A bloom that grows only in one place? Fuck you, writers. You’re going to KILL me.)

~~~

So, to recap: In a universe defined by barriers and guidelines, a relationship that refuses to be defined will be under constant siege. Dean and Castiel suffer from the sheer reality of walking lines between two designated states of being-- friends and lovers, angel and human, take your pick. The current order isn’t friendly to beings who don’t fit a category. Until the barriers are stripped away, they cannot exist as they are, and rifts will continue to rip them apart. 

The Purgatory Rift of 15x08 is such a big deal because it fuses themes. The rifts of the Dabb era have merged with the gateways of the Carver era. Not only are our long-standing almost-lovers returning to their relationship’s place of origin, they are doing so by breaching physical barriers designed to keep them apart; and all the while, the most dangerous, important rift is not the one in the fabric of reality, but the one in their relationship. 

I expect this major rift to end no differently than it has in the past. Dean and Cas will be separated, and Cas will be out of reach. And then, they’ll be reunited. But, where will that take us? What will the next reincarnation look like? 

As Destiel 4.0 dies, something will be born.

[moominquartz]

rating: T fandom: Steven Universe prompt: Near-Death Experience warnings: CW: Drowning word count: 1.6k requester: @koffiepop​

Rusalka

Connie, Steven, and the others deal with a formidable foe: a wayward water spirit.

[Read on AO3]

~*~

Water.

Connie is no stranger to water, to holding her breath. She counts in her head as she thrashes in the freezing deep, determined to reach sixty, and then one-twenty, searching for a source of light despite the way the water burns her eyes. But there is some supernatural force pulling her down, and then it’s not supernatural at all, just the weight of gallons of water crushing her, and then—

Then, her body fights her. She needs to breathe but she can’t inhale water but her lungs beat against her ribcage, barreling for air, and she can’t find the way up and finally she gasps, the saltwater burning against her throat on its way into her lungs, and

PANIC

Something wraps around her waist and she kicks back on instinct; the grip tightens and her eyes squeeze shut and she’s going to die—

Then she hits air. She wheezes as her body hits the mud, coughing; she scrambles as she tries to get her feet under her, to right her sense of direction, to focus. There is a hand on her back and then a familiar body pushing in front of her, grunting from a hit, and then the situation hits her like a baseball bat.

“Steven! Connie!”

Right. The rusalka.

“I’m fine!” Steven calls, his eyes never leaving Connie. Worry creases his brow as Connie desperately tries to get her breathing under control, knowing that any delay could mean her death.

Rusalki are water spirits. Sometimes they bestow spring rain and fertile harvests upon farmland on or near their territory. Most often they operate in groups or ‘schools,’ sometimes playing pranks by tugging on children’s heels when they go too far, or bringing drowned or drowning humans to shore.

When left alone like this one, sometimes they turn vengeful and angry. And that is what they’re here for.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine,” Connie murmurs with a rasping voice. “Guess my drowning charm broke.” She takes Steven’s hand as he helps her to her feet, and she glances over the field. 

“Mine hasn’t, so don’t worry about me.”

Ruby has her fire sparking at her fingertips, directly at Sapphire’s side, though the korrigan can clearly see that Ruby is in more danger here than she is. Garnet is in the thick of it with Pearl and Amethyst, and while Garnet’s onslaught of spells attempt to chain the rusalka, the spirit shrieks and sends a wall of marsh water at her, spiraling Garnet backward. Pearl swoops in with her sword and the rusalka ducks, spinning backwards into Amethyst’s clawed grip.

“Leave me alone!” the rusalka shrieks, so loud it almost makes Connie’s ears bleed. Her voice has a quality to it like it’s being shouted through water but is a piercing volume. Connie grimaces as she stands upright, and when she looks to the fight, the rusalka has slipped out of Amethyst’s grip. Steven hands Connie the sword that she’d dropped, though she hasn’t been using it.

“Still think we can talk to her?” Connie asks with a small, nervous laugh.

“We have to.” Steven’s response is fervent, without room for doubt. He looks at Connie and offers her a small smile. “I know the others don’t think we’ll be able to pacify her, but we have to try. I won’t let anyone else get hurt if they don’t have to.”

Connie smiles in a way she hopes is reassuring. “All right. Then let’s go.”

They nod and burst forward together. They run parallel, side by side, until they are close enough to the fight that Steven shouts:

“RUSALKA!”

And the spirit turns immediately, anger lighting her eyes. She is so incredibly blue, bluer than most rusalki Connie’s seen. Blue skin, navy hair and matching eyes, with a dress the consistency and color of the thick marsh water. 

“Do you have a name?” Steven calls.

That makes the others freeze. “What are you doing?” Pearl shouts to him, but Steven’s eyes aren’t on her.

Only the monster.

“What does it matter to you?” the rusalka spits. Her focus turns from the others and is solely on Steven. Out of protective instinct, Connie’s hand finds his and squeezes it, though she knows better than to intervene or draw her sword now. “You’re here to kill me!”

“No, I’m not.” Steven holds out his free hand in peaceful offering, and Connie would mirror him if she did not have the hilt of her weapon in her hand. “Why have you been killing everyone who passes through here?”

“They mock me,” the rusalka growls. Water swirls around Steven’s feet and up to his knees, trapping him. He glances down, nerves clearly spiking, and Connie wishes he had the proper sense of self-preservation, because right now she thinks he might let her kill him if she wanted to. “And you do too! Do you think you can trick me?!”

“N-no, that’s not what I’m—”

“Everyone here can come and go as they please! Yet I’m made to suffer for no fault of my own!”

She’s nearly at his side. Water swirls around Connie’s ankles and she sidesteps it, dropping Steven’s hand in order to do so. “Steven,” Connie whispers, urgently.

But Steven tries again, stubborn. “Why are you alone? Where’s your school?”

“They left me ages ago.” The rusalka’s laugh is hard, cold… Painful. “Trapped me here, in this land of purgatory. No way out.”

Oh. It clicks. Connie knows right away what she means. She looks to the surrounding environment; this is an estuary. The water flows toward the sea from the multitude of rivers pooling here, but the tides keep the rusalka from leaving. Or maybe not the rusalka herself, but the item to which she’s bound.

“What keeps you here?” Connie dares to ask. “What ties your spirit here? If we moved it, you could be free.”

The rusalka stops directly before them. Rage paints her face for another moment, and then it leaves as something pensive takes its place.

“You would do that? For what?”

Steven opens his mouth, “Noth—”

Connie steps on his foot as hard as she can to shut him up. He yelps.

“Stop this endless bloodshed.” Connie extends her empty hand. “The people who pass through here have nothing to do with you. If we free you, you have to promise. No more deaths.”

The rusalka stares at Connie’s hand with a frown on her unreadable face.

“Where will you take me?” she demands. “If I show you where I’m trapped, what will you do? Break me? Leave me somewhere desert-dry and ensure my demise?”

“No.” Connie smiles. “I’ll take you wherever you want to go. On my honor as a witch.”

“Warlocks don’t have honor.”

“This one does.”

“I can vouch for that.” Steven laughs, high and nervous, but Connie has seen him do this enough to know exactly what he’s trying. There’s a lilt to his voice, a velvet quality that isn’t always there. “She’s probably the most honorable person I’ve ever met.”

The rusalka seems to consider this. And then — after one long, painful moment, in which Connie can see others slowly creeping up behind her, preparing to strike if this negotiation goes south — she takes Connie’s hand.

Connie blinks. It isn’t wet or ethereal at all. Cold, maybe, but distinctly human. They shake, and the rusalka meets Connie’s eyes as the water around her ankles seems to vibrate. “It’s a deal. You can’t go back on that.”

“I won’t.” 

There’s a magical quality to this arrangement, but Connie is more than okay with that. She intends to follow through to the letter.

The rusalka’s smile is a genuine one. “It’s Lapis, by the way.”

“That’s a wonderful name. I’m Connie.” Steven looks at her, alarmed — giving your own name is often tantamount to suicide, but Lapis isn’t like traditional feyfolk. She’s a tormented soul, abandoned and isolated, with no home to return to when things go wrong.

Then Lapis turns, and she leads Connie and Steven through the marshland towards the sea. Steps behind her, Connie grabs at Steven’s arm and yanks him toward her, causing him to yelp again. “Steven,” she hisses. “What was that?”

“I-I was worried she’d refuse.” Steven hisses in return, under his breath. “I didn’t mean to, it just happened, and I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

“I’ve gotten hurt before!”

“I just rescued you from drowning, so I’m sorry for helping you!”

“I thought you made this big deal about how you wanted this to be her choice!”

“I just nudged her in the right direction, it’s not that big of a deal!”

“Steven.” Connie groans and massages her brow. It seems every day Steven discovers a new power, but this is one he’s had the hardest time controlling. Connie wishes she was half-fey.

Connie thinks about Steven’s relationship with his mom and decides no, actually, she doesn’t.

When they almost reach the coastline, where the mud turns to sand, Lapis stops, pausing. When Connie comes to her side, the water is at her waist.

“Here. I’m trapped.”

“I’ve got it,” Connie says before Steven can say anything. 

She takes an inhale and drops to her knees. The water still stings her eyes, but here, Connie sees what she was referring to without issue. The handle of something sticks up from the ground, and it takes nearly all of the real estate in Connie’s lungs to dig it out. 

She goes up for air with mud all over her fingers, and then she goes down again. She does this twice more, and when she breaches the surface this time, she holds the hand mirror high in the air. “I’ve got it!” she gasps, coughing only a little.

“Great job!” Steven congratulates her, wrapping his arms around her and planting a kiss against her cheek. Connie giggles.

When she turns to face the rusalka, she finds the spirit has vanished.

[stevie-steven-stevington]

Febuwhump Day 19: breach

Fandom: MCU Characters: Peter Parker, Ned Leeds, Michelle Jones, Tony Stark Relationships: Peter Parker/Ned Leeds Rating: T Warnings: dissociation Words: 1.7k

read on ao3

first | previous | next

The day the press show up on the grounds of Midtown High is the day the world - or, at the very least, Peter’s world - comes crashing down.

It’s during Peter’s lunch hour that they arrive. He doesn’t notice, at first, too caught up in listening to Ned talk about the newest Star Wars LEGO set. It’s not until someone at the table next to them says, “Are those reporters?” that Peter actually turns to look out the window.

A whole news station worth of reporters stands on the school steps, flooding down onto the walkway and into the grass. There's cameras and microphones and shouting, and Peter can feel his skin itching just looking at them.

He's not good with crowds. Crowds are loud and hectic and claustrophobic, and his enhanced senses don't handle any of those things well.

Students are getting up and heading outside to see what the commotion is about. Peter doesn't care enough to do the same.

That is, until Ned pokes him in the side and says, "Hey, what if they're here for you?"

They're not. There's no way in hell they are because that's impossible. The only reasons the press would be banging down Midtown High's door to talk to Peter Parker would be that they found out he's Spider-Man, and while he might not be very good at keeping secrets from his loved ones, he's been vigilant about keeping his identity unknown to the general public.

So no, they can't be here for him. They must be here for...something else. Someone else.

Who? Peter has no idea, but it's not him.

Is it?

Dammit. Now that the idea's in his head, he can't not go check.

"Come on, guys." Peter stands, swings his backpack over one shoulder. Heads toward the building's main entrance with Ned's hand in his, MJ's calming presence beside him, and his stomach already twisting.

They practically have to wade through the sea of excited teenagers to get out the doors. When they do, the whole courtyard goes silent.

Every set of eyes turns to him.

And then the crowd explodes.

In a split second, there's flashing cameras and hands pushing him to the edge of the top stair and microphones being shoved in his face and questions being thrown at him left and right and -

(he can't breathe he can't breathe he can't breathe)

- too many mingling voices and too many lights and too many sounds and -

(he can't fucking breathe)

- a familiar hand on his wrist. Peter turns, frantically searching for comfort, for Ned, as anxiety courses through his veins and his ears beg for the noise to stop. He finds him quickly, looking stone-faced but immediately softening as Peter meets his eyes.

Ned steps closer to him, leaning in to whisper without his words being broadcast to the world. "Breathe, baby. I'm right here, okay? You're alright, I promise."

Peter inhales sharply through his nose, exhales gently through his mouth. His head pounds, unappreciative of the assault on his senses, but he does his best to tune out everything but Ned's fingers on his skin.

MJ is yelling at the reporters. Peter can only catch snatches (Don't you know what privacy is? He's a fucking minor, for God's sake!), but he's very aware of how angry her tone is.

Okay. So they know he's Spider-Man.  That's...fine. It's totally fine. He can handle this. He just has to figure out what to do.

Call Tony, his brain supplies.

A good idea in theory, but not when he's still standing on the front steps of his high school with journalists trying to jump down his throat. He'll call Tony first thing when he gets out of this, but Peter has a feeling he's not going to get out of this without saying something.

Peter turns to the crowd, feeling much like a deer in headlights, and shakes Ned's hand off his wrist just to clutch it in his own instead. He reaches out for MJ's sleeve as well tugging her close and giving her a nod that he hopes says, I'm okay, you can stop fighting the press on my behalf.

There are way too many people looking at him.

As soon as he so much as glances at the reporters, there's a new barrage of questions. Peter can't make out anything other than his name, shouted over and over in an attempt to capture his attention, and he's about ready to throw up when a shrill sound tears through the air and makes Peter's hands fly up to his ears.

A girl Peter is almost certain he's never seen before, pulls a whistle from between her teeth and lets it dangle from the string around her neck. She doesn't even say anything, just gestures to Peter in a you have the floor motion.

"I never thought I'd have this much respect for the captain of a marching band," MJ whispers reverently.

Peter almost laughs, but well. Circumstances.

Instead, he stares out at the now-quiet crowd and croaks out, "Does - does someone want to tell me what's happening here?"

He knows the answer. Spider-Man. But he can't just say that. And anyway, he still needs to know how they found out.

Everyone starts talking at once again until MJ shouts, "One at a fucking time!" and every single hand in the crowd shoots up. Dazedly, Peter points to a short woman with a bob and a gray pantsuit in the front of the mob.

She goes straight to asking, "Is it true that you have level 10 clearance at Stark Tower?"

That's.

Not Spider-Man related.

Which is good, he supposes. But on the other hand, what the fuck?

"I - where did you even hear that?" It's not false, just...not supposed to be public knowledge. Very little about Peter Parker is supposed to be public knowledge.

"Is it true that you're Tony Stark's illegitimate son and that's why you have such high clearance at a company where only three other people have level 10 clearance, being Pepper Potts, Colonel James Rhodes, and Tony Stark himself?"

What?

The words don't even make sense. Tony Stark's son? How the hell could anyone think he was Tony Stark's son?

When he doesn't answer, the reporter barrels on. "Why does a seventeen-year-old kid from Queens have a level of clearance that's only been awarded to those closest to Tony Stark? Tell us - who is Peter Parker and why is he important to one of the most powerful men in the country?"

This is not happening. This isn't happening, because if this is happening, then there must have been a security breach at Stark Tower and there's never been a security breach at Stark Tower.

Peter's phone buzzes in his pocket. He makes no move to answer it. His fingers are too numb to hold it.

He has no idea what he's supposed to say. Tony has briefed him on what to do in this exact situation before, but now he can't remember a word of it.

His hand is sweaty in Ned's and his chest is tight. He's vaguely aware that he's teetering toward panic attack territory, but he has no idea what to do about that either.

The phone stops buzzing. Then, half a second later, starts again.

This time, MJ pulls it out of his front pocket. "Peter, it's Stark."

He doesn't release MJ's sleeve. Doesn't speak. He's too busy trying to get air into his lungs to focus on anything else.

"Give it here," Ned says. There's a bit of an awkward handover, since Peter has a death grip on both of them, but eventually, Ned has the phone pressed to his ear and is talking quickly. "Hi, Mr. Stark, it's Ned. There's - what? Oh, shit - yeah, there's a bunch of reporters at school and Peter's - he's okay, he's right here - no, he hasn't said anything - okay, okay - yeah, I've got it. Okay, see you soon."

The horde of reporters, which had quieted while Ned spoke to Tony, starts right back up again.

"Peter Parker, what is your relationship to Tony Stark?"

"Mr. Parker, why does Tony Stark trust you, of all people?"

"Peter, have you met the other Avengers?"

"Peter, is this your boyfriend?"

He almost says yes to the last one, just because it's so out of place and part of him figures that if the whole world is going to be talking about him, he might as well let part of it be of his own volition. But Ned is tugging him along, shoving past the students who have gathered to watch the show, and it's probably for the best that Peter doesn't become the next target for angry homophobes on top of everything else. Not right this second, at least.

They make it inside, but Ned doesn't stop walking. He keeps going, Peter in tow and MJ on their heels, until they reach the second floor boy's bathroom, the one that no one ever uses.

The door shuts behind them and Ned says, "Okay. Okay. So that happened."

Peter nods blankly.

"Okay, uh - Mr. Stark is on his way to pick you up, Peter. May's meeting you at the compound."

Peter continues nodding.

"Jesus, alright - Peter, love, look at me." Ned takes Peter's chin in his free hand and tilts his head until Peter's staring blearily at him. "You're okay. It's gonna be okay. There's no more reporters, no more lights and noise, yeah? It's just me and MJ. You're dissociating, but I need you to come back down, alright? Can you do that for me?"

Dissociating. Right.

He's blinking back into reality before he can even decide if he wants to or not.

"M'here," he says. It comes out softer than he'd meant it too.

Ned lets out a relieved sigh and squeezes his hand. MJ, who'd been standing a few feet away and letting Ned do his thing, comes over to clap Peter on the back.

He's okay. He's safe. He's breathing. He's here.

He's apparently the biggest new public interest, but that's a whole other issue.

Tony will be here soon. He's dealt with the press since he was a kid himself, he'll know what to do. They'll figure it out together, Peter and Tony and May.

But until then, his two best friends are here to hug him tight in the middle of a high school bathroom.

[shadowsof-thenight]

Fictober day 2: Hostage

Promptnumber: 2 ‘Just follow me, I know the area,” Fandom: MCU Characters: reader, Sam and Bucky Warnings: Minimal cursing, violence and mentions of it.   Words: 1127 Summary: you and Bucky set out to retrieve a hostage

Hostage

Hiding in the shadows of the tall building behind you, you glanced ahead to where your partner was standing. He moved so effortlessly, keeping to the shadows, becoming one with them. His steps were light and silent, as he took quietly took out a guard. The third already. They obviously knew you were coming, or they wouldn’t have upped the security so much. Of course, you shouldn’t be surprised. They took one of your team, an avenger, hostage and that was a sure way to get you to come looking.

Before today, you had not teamed up with Bucky before. Though there were no set teams, it was a given that Bucky and Sam were together. Until now. The handsome man before you exuded an immense confidence and it threw you off your game. You weren’t entirely sure why and if definitely wasn’t convenient to feel like that. But the man moved like the wind and it made your footsteps, light as they were, sound loud against the pavement.

You tried to keep up with him, but threading lightly was more important than being fast right now, you needed the element of surprise. And when he slipped around a corner, you were too late to get there. He was out of your sight. 
It wasn’t exactly appropriate to call out now and you took a moment to catch your breath and devise a plan. Slinking into the shadows of the alley, you tapped a beat against the microphone that was connected to the earpieces that you and Bucky had in. Since there was little team building beforehand, you weren’t sure if he even knew morse-code, but for someone who fought in world war 2, it did seem a safe bet.

“Guess out teamwork needs some fine-tuning,” Bucky’s whispered, suddenly very close to your ears and you nearly jumped out of your skin. You had not heard him coming and were just lucky that he was on your side. You just nodded in response, not trusting your shocked self to speak soft enough.

“I was able to scout the perimeter,” Bucky continued, his voice barely audible as he leaned in even closer, “We can enter through the south entrance.”

The property you were about to breach was like a fort. It was paramount that the two of you worked well together and you wished that you had shaken up the teams a bit more often. Wanda was your usual go-to girl and she didn’t need words to understand you. It had made you lazy, you realised.

“Are you sure?” Before you would walk into the lions den, you needed him to tell you he was sure.

Risking your life wasn’t new territory for you, not at all, but you usually did your own scouting beforehand. There was no denying that the super soldier standing next to you had done it in record time, but you did have some control issues. You needed his confidence and feeling of control over this situation to convince you.

“Just follow me, I know the area like the back of my hand,” Bucky offered and though you took a split second to mull it over, you finally nodded.

His words sparked your memory again. He had been here before. That was why he wanted to go in the first place. It was so easy to forget these days, that Bucky had been a part of hydra. He was so well-adjusted now, in control of himself and his actions. Though you could still remember his struggles. You shook your head, scolding yourself for letting his confidence take yours down a notch. Instead of wavering, you should be celebrating his success. Pushing the thoughts from your mind, you nodded again and signalled for him to start moving.

Just like he had said, the south entrance was a weak spot that gave easy excess to the grounds. Sticking to the shadows once more, you moved along the other walls towards the main building at the back. Inside these walls there weren’t too many guards walking by and you were glad for their arrogance. They thought they had it covered with the ones outside, the ones Bucky had knocked unconscious.

As you got closer to the large converted manor, loud voices rang through the air out of an open window. Crouching underneath it, you tried to catch some of the argument as the voices kept getting more heated. As soon as you understood the reason for their anger, you could not help but smirk. You winked at Bucky and he returned your gaze with a smirk of his won. Perhaps this super important mission hadn’t been as necessary as everyone had envisioned. 
You could just wait it out, let the prisoner annoy them long enough until they let him go. Of course, knowing hydra they could also kill him, so you weren’t taking any chances.

Sticking to the shadows, the two of you moved along the building, carefully glancing into ever window until you found the object of your mission. Your missing teammate, and current bane of hydra’s existence if the arguments were enough to go by, Sam Wilson. His smiling face could be seen through the half opened curtains. He was obviously beaten, possibly tortured, but he was still talking animatedly to whoever was in the room with him. You didn’t need to see his captors faces to know that he was doing a wonderful job at annoying the hell out of them.

Suppressing a chuckle, you looked at Bucky and without using words you agreed on a plan of action. Bucky whistled loudly, alerting Sam of your presence. He was smart enough to through himself down to the floor, chair and all, just as you threw a smoke bomb into the room through the window you were next to. Pulling on a mask, you quickly jumped over the windowsill and into the room, Bucky close behind you. While you rushed to Sam and placed a mask on his face before releasing him from his restraints, Bucky took out the two operatives that were still standing.

They bravely tried to fight back, but they had not been equipped to handle the smoke and they had been gasping for air. Easy pickings. The attack had taken them by surprise, which showed you that this was not a well organised cell.  And before they really knew what hit them, all three of you were out the door. Bucky jumped up on the wall, much like a cat and pulled both you and Sam up there as well.

All you had to do now was reach the concealed plane that had flown you and Bucky out here. Retrieving a hostage had never been this easy.

[xfilesnews]

‘The X-Files: Cold Cases’ Recap and Review

By Keva Andersen. For a fandom that’s always looking for more adventures of Mulder and Scully, Joe Harris and Audible delivered with “The X-Files: Cold Cases” on July 18. The audiobook is based on the Season 10 comics from IDW Publishing written by Harris and executive produced by Chris Carter that were released starting in 2013. The stories take place after I Want to Believe but before the television Season 10 that aired in 2016. You don’t need to be familiar with the comics to get enjoyment out of the audiobook, as the stories are more fleshed out than they were on the page. I had read the issues when they first came out so I could picture some of the scenes very easily, and while that was entertaining, I know I would have been fine without it. There are six chapters in total, with a brief introductory chapter, and then five different story arcs. Like the TV series, there is some mythology and some “monster of the week” throughout the chapters but there is a definite through-line idea throughout the whole experience.

So does what does this comic-book-turned-radio-play experience have in store? Does The X-Files work well in audio format? Find out more after the jump.

We’ll begin our recap with Chapter 2, as the story starts there, after an introduction in Chapter 1. Chapter 2 follows the “Believers” arc in issues 1 through 5 of the Season 10 comics. This first story is very much a mytharc story and a nice reintroduction of our heroes. We find Mulder and Scully living together as a married couple with the last name Blake. They’ve been hidden by the witness protection program. Scully is working as a doctor and Mulder appears to be writing his memoirs. Walter Skinner, now deputy director, finally, gets in touch with the pair after a security breach at the FBI shows someone or something is looking for information on agents who had been assigned to the X-Files. 

After their meeting, Scully is attacked at her clinic while Mulder saves Skinner from an attack by the same group.  

As the story weaves on, some familiar faces return. We get brief flashes of Agents Doggett and Reyes, now separated but still affected by their ties to the X-Files. We dig up the Lone Gunmen, literally, in a bunker under Arlington National Cemetery and find that they’ve been working to help the government in exchange for witness protection. Old Smokey is back too, but unlike in the TV series, this version of the Cigarette Smoking Man appears to be some type of clone that doesn’t always function very well. Some elements of the old mythology like missing time and magnetite make a good jumping off point for the introduction of a new alien force known as the Acolytes. And despite everything Scully did to try and keep him safe, William is still very much of interest to these Acolytes. The action of the story takes us to the wilderness of Wyoming and ends with a showdown between Scully, Mulder, and this new faction.

At the end, Scully meets with the FBI’s OPR to try and explain what happened in Wyoming and asks to be reactivated. We hear from the CSM again and get more of an idea of what he’s really become and how the Syndicate may be using him now. We end with a sweet moment between Mulder and Scully at home.

“Cold Cases” gets off to a very strong start with this chapter, if you’re a fan of the mytharc. I love that we’re “seeing” so many familiar faces and getting back to some of the weirder alien elements. I think having the CSM be some sort of clone makes a lot more sense than the way we saw him onscreen in the TV series’ Season 10. It can get frustrating to have Mulder and Scully separated for so much of the action but hearing how they fight to get back to each other warms the heart. It’s not The X-Files if we don’t get a few good SCULLLAAAYYYYYYYYY’s!

Though we see Scully taken again, she manages to fight for herself just fine. She gets to kick a lot of ass in this and I’ve missed that side of her. I also think Mulder’s weird sense of humor is captured well. The biggest thing I took issue with, however, was the re-working of William’s parentage. The “I forgot she had a baby” and the constant “my son” made me want to put my foot through a wall. I think it’s fine to play with canon but we do know that William is their son, not just hers. Overall, I think the thing I liked most about this chapter is that we see how it’s possible to have tension while keeping Mulder and Scully in a committed relationship. They’ve grown as characters and them being together doesn’t overwhelm the story. No breakup or stupid dates with Tad needed.

Chapter 3 takes us back into Monster of the Week territory and follows Issues 6 and 7 titled “Hosts.” The title alone should tell you exactly which monster from the past pops up in this one.

We start in Mulder’s old stomping grounds of Martha’s Vineyard where a young woman is attacked while swimming. Mulder and Scully share a cute moment in the basement office before meeting their new assistant director, Anna Morales. Morales assigns them the case, which looks suspiciously similar to one they dealt with years before, good ol’ flukeman. Morales sends Scully to re-examine Fluky while Mulder heads to the Vineyard to investigate. There he meets a sheriff who happens to be from Ukraine, and who has more insight into this monster than he initially lets on. Mulder gets to do most of the field work in this one, but as usual lands himself in a world of hurt that Scully has to fix for him. Before he gets hurt Mulder discovers that Fluky wasn’t exactly the only one of his kind.

I think “Hosts” is a fun jump back into the world of monsters. Flukeman is a good choice, in that Scully joked that would be the one thing she would change if given the chance. I also enjoyed the backstory of the creature, though I felt at times it dragged on a little too long. The Mulder and Scully banter is pretty great as well, though I could have done without the “Mulder scoping out the beach babes” bit. Getting back in the autopsy bay with Scully was a blast, and while, again, it was kind of a bummer to have our heroes separated, they kept things moving nicely with all the phone conversations so it wasn’t too bad. The line “we now have flukemen crawling out of every inlet of the sewage chamber” will keep you up at night.

Chapter 4 follows Issue 8 and is titled “Being for the Benefit of Mr. X” so I bet you can guess which ghost shows up in this episode. We start off with more basement banter and a snoozing Mulder who claims he was meditating instead. Their sparring is interrupted by mysterious beeping messages on Mulder’s phone. The last one is a garbled voice that sends him to his old apartment at Hegal Place. This sends Mulder chasing the ghost of his old informant after the things they find at #42 seem to be more than just coincidence. The original Mr. X is still very much dead and his clone has a physiology we’ve seen before. We get some great insight into X’s backstory and how he almost went public with what he knew back in 1987 but Deep Throat had talked him out of it. The look at how far the Syndicate would go to test their work is truly disturbing.

I enjoyed the historical aspect of this episode, especially the part about how X ended up pointed towards Mulder. We know a little bit about what Mulder was up to before he and Scully were partners, so, for me, any additional insight is welcome. The school shooting with the test subjects can be pretty hard to listen to, and I found myself thinking it would have worked just as well to choose some other horror to demonstrate how far the Syndicate would go with their goals. In an episode that’s pretty dark overall, I think that made Frohike’s eavesdropping on Mulder and Scully’s phone call that much funnier. It makes you wonder what else he’s heard over the years….. I will say, I definitely missed Steven Williams as X and Jerry Hardin as Deep Throat.

Chapter 5 is the shortest of the book, and probably also my least favorite. The story is based off Issue 10 and is titled “More Musings of a Cigarette Smoking Man.” In an effort to learn more about the man he is supposed to be, the clone of CGB Spender is sorting through an archive. We follow the CSM through the Bay of Pigs in 1961, Homestead Air Force Base in 1962, Fort Bragg in 1970, Rhode Island in 1965, the State Department in 1972, and back to the present day. We learn more about his interactions with Bill Mulder, Teena Mulder, and young Fox. The memory with Cassandra Spender is heartbreaking and shows how broken that relationship was from the start. The ending explains more about what this CSM really is, and how little power he has compared to the original. He’s but a tool of Prime Elder. He may look like the Cancer Man of old but this time he’s a pawn in the game.

I’ll admit I’m not much of a fan of the TV episode “Musings of a Cigarette Smoking Man” so I wasn’t too excited about this one as it started. But for fans of the CSM, I think it’s a must-listen. William B. Davis does an excellent job, Spender’s words are just as slimy and loaded as they are on screen. I did appreciate getting more of the backstory of Spender, and I love that he’s back in a way that seems more plausible than “Nah, we just burned part of him even though you watched his flesh burn away from his skull in 2002.” I also like that despite the fact that this is a CSM heavy episode, Mulder and Scully are still part of the action by introducing us to the story and bouncing ideas around.

Chapter 6 is the longest of the episodes and brings us back into heavy mytharc territory. Titled “Pilgrims,” this follows Issues 11 through 15. We begin, like any good X-Files episode, with Mulder’s underwear. Ok, maybe we shouldn’t start every episode that way but it’s pretty funny. Mulder and Scully have been called to Saudi Arabia to investigate an incident at an oil drill site. At first, the agents seem curious as to why they’ve been called in for such an incident, but as we all know, if there’s oil involved, it’s probably an X-File. Assistant Director Morales is back, and she accompanies the agents to the oil field to investigate. Of course, they don’t turn up much there, but Mulder is up to his old evidence-stealing tricks. He takes a card containing video of the incident he believes to have been edited. The agents go their separate ways, with Mulder headed to make contact with the Gunmen and Scully meeting with a woman who was injured in the incident at the oil field. After they split is when things start to get truly interesting. Another ghost from XF past appears, and who should it be? When I consult the notes I was taking while listening, all it says is ALEX FREAKING KRYCEK!!!! But as with our other returned-from-the-dead nemeses, Krycek isn’t exactly as he seems either. As the story unfolds, it would seem Krycek hasn’t been who we thought he was for a very very long time. Though just when you think he’s back, those pesky aliens come calling again.

With the black oil on the loose, Mulder and Scully head to the desert in search of UFOs. You’d think Mulder would have learned his lesson by now, but no. This time, it’s Scully’s turn to get abducted. Thankfully, the aliens were kind enough to drop both her and Krycek outside the Lone Gunmen’s bunker. We also get a return to Skinner’s apartment, who seems thrilled to have a chance to torment Krycek all over again. 

Mulder is still in Saudi Arabia trying to make his way back to Scully but ends up an unlucky host to the black oil. This time the being made of black oil has a name, Sheltem.

Sheltem-as-Mulder makes his way home to Scully, who at first believes this to be Mulder but soon realizes her mistake. Sheltem is familiar in that he’s of the black oil but different in that he’s part of a race called the forsaken ones. After more disappearances and reappearances by both aliens and Syndicate, the story comes to a close in a familiar place, Skyland Mountain. 

The tension builds to the very end, with new alien factions warring with those we’ve seen before, the Faceless Rebels. The chapter ends with some answers, but also plenty of questions, and another look at what CSM has become.

As far as mytharc goes, I thought this chapter was really well done. The blending of the old with newer ideas works well to keep things moving. I did question at first Mulder’s possession by Sheltem. If memory serves me correctly, he should be immune to the black oil after his exposure in Russia. But it seems that Sheltem is “different” enough that I could stretch to let that go. I was also glad there was one element they changed slightly from the comics. The comics insinuated that Scully had sex with Sheltem-as-Mulder, thinking he was Mulder, and that he hurt her, which I found really unnecessary. The X-Files has a history of problematic consent scenes, like “Small Potatoes” and “Post-Modern Prometheus” and I think they made the right choice in not including that scene in the audiobook beyond just a kiss.

Having Krycek return was fantastic, but Nick Lea was sorely missed. I loved how they traced Krycek’s abduction all the way back to the 1013 silo from Season 3’s “Apocrypha.” It would seem then that none of his actions from poisoning Skinner with the nanobots, to selling Mulder out with the UFO in “Requiem,” to his actions in “Existence” were all the work of this clone from the Syndicate, and not Krycek himself.

It also wouldn’t be an X-Files episode without someone making some kind of joke about Mulder’s porn habits. I’m sure David Duchovny was thrilled that that joke made its way from TV to audio. I also got a kick out of Scully’s “I should pull the fire alarm more often.” I liked that she got to take charge of the investigation at points, and how she knew the faceless rebels were coming at the end. A nice throwback to “The Red and the Black.”

A few final thoughts now that we’ve wrapped up the series. I liked the stories, but at times I found them a little hard to follow. Though, I also found myself getting so engrossed in the story I couldn’t listen while driving because I would get too distracted! And while I’m sure voice acting in a booth by yourself without your co-stars isn’t easy, I did find Mulder and Scully to be a little stiff at times. I think the quality of some of the dialogue they were given probably added to that. But they did have some great moments of banter between the two of them and let’s be real, I’d listen to Mulder and Scully read the phone book at this point. Mulder’s sarcasm and deadpan humor comes through really well, and I appreciated that Scully got the chance to be snarky and funny as well. Also, because it’s audio, there’s even more exposition than we’d get on the TV series which sometimes feels silly.

Of all the stars who returned to their characters, I think Mitch Pileggi knocked it out of the park. His Skinner felt spot on to me, just as gruff and no-nonsense as we’ve come to expect. His interactions with Krycek were some of my favorite things. It was a joy to have Tom Braidwood, Dean Haglund, and Bruce Harwood back as the Lone Gunmen, as well as William B. Davis, and they also felt pretty in character as well. I do think it’s a shame that for whatever reason they weren’t able to get Robert Patrick, Annabeth Gish, and Nick Lea to reprise their roles as Doggett, Reyes, and Krycek. Having other actors playing those voices we knew so well was really distracting, to the point I sometimes forgot who was supposed to be talking.

Overall, I really enjoyed the series and I think it’s well worth a listen for any fan of the show. Small criticisms or no, it’s a fun ride and makes a great accompaniment to any road trip or other places you might take an audio book. If “Cold Cases” left you hungry from more, you’re in luck. Audible has announced a second book in the series. “The X-Files: Stolen Lives” will be available on October 3, 2017. You can pre-order it here.  So, we’ve got that to look forward to as we wait for Season 11 to air in 2018.