#but the pods are too much i cannot be stuck in a pod

[angeladdict]

the crazy shit u see in films & shows is real. thats real. welcome to HELL

[pedrito-friskito]

hey kay bb!! hope you're doing well 💖

mando has been on the brain lately so i'm requesting fluffy smut with him pls 🥺😫 (the yearning is *extra* today)

niiiiiiiiik my darling my dear hope you are also well 💗

ok…this got away from me. I blinked and suddenly a plot! exposition! SMUT! (multiple scenes at that) all the things. I’m a slut for Din Djarin and it really jumped out on this one.

(smut below the cut, a full plot, the helmet comes off, a bit of inexperienced!din, reader is kind of a bad ass, descriptions of bodies, unprotected p-in-v sex - wrap ur shit even if ur in space ok)

sleepover saturday

uncharted territory

(word count 9.1k - it REALLY got away from me okay)

gif by @aceofwhump

Then you are a Mandalorian no more.

Din Djarin aches in a way he has never felt before, much more powerful than any injury he could ever sustain. His Creed, demolished. His son, gone. His life, upended. As he staggers out of the Covert, trying to think of where to go next, he cannot shake the feeling of lost that settles around his shoulders like a cloak.

Maybe coming to Glavis was a mistake; maybe he should have stayed back on Nevarro, kept taking jobs from Karga until he finally had enough credits to take the old man’s advice, get himself a camtono full of spice and disappear into the Twi’lek healing baths until he forgot the whole thing.

The truth of it? He knew he could never forget. There wasn’t enough spice in the galaxy to help him forget it all. It wasn’t possible. And the larger part was that Din didn’t want to forget.

His leg aches as he walks. The bacta Paz had sprayed him down with had helped some, but the ache runs deep, and the drills the Armourer had forced him to run with the Darksaber had only made matters worse. He should find a place to lie down, to hide for the night before he decides what he plans to do next, where he plans to go.

Where will he go?

You are a Mandalorian no more.

The echo of the words make his head split, and for a moment, he has half a mind to wrench the helmet off, to launch it off the ring, let space swallow the beskar whole. But he stops himself; it feels as though his armour is all he has left.

His armour, and the Darksaber. The right to the throne of Mandalore.

Maker, he can’t think straight. The ache only worsens, his limp more prominent, and it gets to the point where he can take no more. He falls onto the nearest crate, his injured leg stuck straight out in front of him. His body feels twice as heavy, his head even more so, and he tips it back against the wall to lighten the load. He’ll rest just a moment, he’ll just shut his eyes for one—

“Mando?”

Din pulls his blaster from his holster as his eyes shoot open. There’s the sound of shuffled steps, something metallic hitting the floor, a murmured dank farrik! He hits a button on his vambrace, turns off the thermal setting on his visor.

“Sweets?”

You look exactly the same as he remembers. It’s been ages, but he could never forget your face. He knows what’s underneath your clothes, too, and the memory speeds to the surface of his mind faster than a pod-racer.

+

Before he had an in with Peli on Tatooine, the Razor Crest routinely parked and tuned up in Hangar 3-5, he had you. You were well-known within the Guild, had more than a few contracts with different gangs and hunters in the galaxy. If something on a ship broke, you were the one to fix it, and you had enough heavily-armed thugs on your side to make anyone think twice about trying to mess with you.

Some called you the Mechanic, simple and descriptive. Others, those you let a little closer, knew you as Sweets, a moniker earned by your penchant for candies and treats. You’d let your favoured clients off easy if they were short a few credits, but had something sweet from the far reaches of the galaxy to offer in lieu of the missing cash.

Din knew he was one of your favoured clients, perhaps your favourite. Or, had been. You’d crowed endlessly about the Crest, desperate to get your hands on it any time he hauled it in for service, whether it actually needed it or not. Sometimes he genuinely needed something fixed, some times he’d found some candy or sweet in a far off corner of the galaxy that he’d brought back just for you.

Other times, he just wanted to see you.

You were sweet in other ways, too. He knew first-hand. And he knew he was the only client you let into your bed. He’d been drawn to you the first time you’d been introduced — a common contact between you and Din sent him your way when the Crest was in serious need of a tune-up, and you were the closest mechanic he could get to without doing more damage to the ship.

Your knowledge astounded him, to start. You were barely into a diagnostic and you knew exactly what needed to be fixed, what parts you had and didn’t, how many credits it was going to cost him. And you hadn’t even set foot on the ship yet. Your competency drove him wild, only spurred on when he brought you aboard the Crest to give the interior a once-over, eager to see if he’d kept everything original, or if you had any modifications to offer that he might be interested in. Din followed you around the ship silently, answering whatever questions you had, mostly just watching you work. It was intriguing beyond belief.

“That’s not much of a bed,” you’d commented, cocking your head to the side when you hit the button that opened the bunk. “When’s the last time you had a new mattress?”

He just shrugged.

“One thing you should know,” you said over your shoulder, descending the Crest’s ramp, heading back towards the entrance to your shop. “I don’t use droids.”

Din nearly fell over. “That’s not a problem.”

“Good,” you replied, tapping at your data pad, your brow scrunching. “It’ll take longer than your usual hangar; I do everything myself.”

“I’m happy to wait,” he said, dipping his helmet, thankful it was hiding the way he was raking his eyes over you. I don’t use droids. Had someone made you in a lab somewhere, on some backwater planet, just for him? “I know she’s in good hands.”

The grin you’d offered him was sweeter than anything he’d ever seen, and you shooed him out a moment later, muttering something about getting back to work.

When he returned three days later to retrieve his ship, he almost didn’t recognize it. You’d repainted most of the outside panels, replaced all the ones that were missing, and the engines were so shiny Din could see his helmet reflected in them. Inside the Crest was another story; you’d outfitted him with a carbonite cell system, top of the line and primed for use. That meant no more mouthy bounties, no more wasting durasteel cuffs and gags when he could just hit a button and have a quiet ride back to the Guild.

And in the bunk, a new mattress, complete with a pillow, and bolted on the wall, a mount for his helmet.

“You don’t sleep with that thing on, do you?”

“The carbonite system,” he nearly sputtered, rubbing a gloved hand over the back of his neck. “I don’t have the credits, I didn’t—”

You poked the toe of his boot with your own. “Call it a gift, Mando. Let’s just say I shouldn’t have had the thing hanging around to begin with.”

“Is that gonna cause me any problems?”

“Nope,” you replied, popping the p. “Wiped all the identification numbers from the system. No one will know where it came from. Except you.”

He stared at you a long moment. “Except me.”

He was sure to pay you in full, plus the candied flowers he’d found at one of the vendors in the markets. You’d smiled again at that, and while Din committed the sight to memory, he also promised himself that he wouldn’t let it be long before he saw your smile again.

And he kept that promise. The next time he landed the Crest in your hangar, it wasn’t because he needed a tune-up or new parts. He’d struck gold at a black market on Coruscant; his bounty had lead him into the belly of a sweet shop, and after the Gungan had been dealt with, Din did some hunting of his own. He took as many boxes as he could carry, trying to take one of each flavour, a few extra of the ones he’d seen on the shelf in your shop.

“What in Maker’s name are you doing here?” you’d called as soon as he landed, stepping out of the shop and into the hangar, your hands on your hips, cocked to one side. “You ruin my handiwork that fast?”

“Not exactly,” he’d replied, walking down the ramp, his arms laden with goodies. Your eyes had gone huge. “I come bearing gifts.”

“For me?” you cried, gasping as you took the boxes from him, tongue poking between your teeth. “Mandalorian, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were flirting with me.”

He’d never been so grateful for his helmet at that exact moment. He might have crumbled to dust if you’d seen how red his cheeks were. “I-I owed you,” he stuttered out, “for the carbonite.”

“You didn’t owe me anything,” you quipped, swaying from side to side on your feet, staring down at your treats. “I told you, it was a gift.” You gave him one of those smiles again, and Din felt his stomach twist at the glitter in your eyes. “Why don’t you stay a while? I’ll feed you and everything.”

You disappeared into the shop, and Din paused a moment before following.

He saw you disappear behind a dark curtain that had definitely seen better days, and Din followed your further to discover there was an apartment of sorts attached to the shop. Apartment was perhaps too kind a word; it was one large room, a kitchen to one side, a large futon spread in the middle. Trunks and boxes and crates stacked along the far wall, a few grease-stained jumpsuits littering the floor. You stumbled over your feet trying to pick them up, tossing the offending fabric into a nearby crate, before you turned back to him. “What are you hungry for?”

You served him first. Noodles with dark sauce and some kind of shredded meat you thought was bantha but weren’t quite sure. But, as you stated with a shrug, “it’s good, and it hasn’t killed me yet.” After you slid the bowl across the table to him, you turned back to the stove and stayed that way. After a moment, Din wasn’t sure what to do, but then your head turned slightly, your eyes trained directly to the left, not wandering towards him over your shoulder. “I won’t look. Swear.”

He lifted the helmet just enough to shovel the food into his mouth. You were right, the mystery meat was good, and the sauce you’d made to go with it was even better. He nearly inhaled the food, not wanting to keep you too long, and when the helmet slid back down, the mechanism hissing back into place, your head turned again, still not looking at him.

“You’re safe,” he said, sliding his empty bowl back across the table.

You turned fully, serving yourself, and he expected you to sit across from him, keeping a bit of distance between you, but instead, you rounded the table and plunked yourself down on the stool right beside him. You ate much slower than he had, and Din let his eyes graze over you. The streak of engine grease on your cheek, the scar that split your lower lip, the intricately messy way you wore your hair. A silver chain sat around your throat, strung with a tiny silver ring. It disappeared down the front of your shirt most of the time, but right then it sat awkwardly, the chain caught on your collar, the ring sitting in the hollow of your throat. He resisted the urge to reach out and fix it.

The jumpsuit you wore was nearly identical to the ones you’d hurriedly swiped off the floor. Torn on one knee, zipper unfurling beneath your chest, a symbol he didn’t recognize patched onto your thigh. You’d tied the sleeves around your waist like a belt, a dirty rag tucked in at your hip. The Mechanic, herself. Sweets.

He thought you were beautiful. He had a feeling you’d look beautiful in anything.

Or nothing.

Din was distracted by your thumb at your lips, swiping a drop of sauce from your chin and sucking your finger into your mouth. His flight-suit was tight beneath his beskar to begin with, and you weren’t helping matters. “So,” you said simply, reaching for your food again. “Tell me a story, Mando. A good one. Best bounty you ever caught.”

The conversation filtered between you two easily. You were a good listener, easy to talk to, and Din felt like he couldn’t stop talking to you, telling you about his first kill, his first bounty. His first ship, before the Crest. He couldn’t bring himself to tell you about the before, before the Guild, before he was just the Mandalorian, when he was just Din Djarin. A foundling. Part of him wondered what you think, what your reaction might be to his past, but a larger part forced his mouth shut.

At some point, he turned himself towards you on his stool, one arm braced on the table, the other resting on his thigh. After you finished your food, you leaned heavily on the table, your head pushed into your palm, legs crossed at your ankles, swinging slowly, the toe of your boot tapping his shin every once in a while.

He could see you were tired, the way you started covering your yawns and rubbing at your eyes. “I should go,” he said, starting to get to his feet. “You’re tired, and I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”

Your hand flashed out quick — not quick enough to startle him, though — and wrapped around his wrist. You’d managed to wedge your fingers right into the space where his glove met his vambrace, and he felt you against his pulse, against his bare skin. “You don’t have to leave, Mando.”

Din. He wanted to tell you. My name is Din.

Slowly, his own hand reached out, hovering in the air, shaking more than a vibroblade. He saw your eyes trace its path, watching until it lowered, dropped until the flat of his palm met the curve of your thigh. His gloved fingers wrapped around the meat of your leg, his thumb pressing towards the inside. 

He heard you gasp. 

He moved forward an inch, and his hand moved higher, thumb riding the seam of your jumpsuit. You hummed, fingered squeezing around his wrist, and Din moved closer, until he had one leg between yours. He let his hand wander higher, listening carefully to the changes in your breathing, the hitch in your throat. The heat between your legs was almost stifling, and something feral in the back of his brain screamed for more.

Whatever snapped in him, it seemed to break in you at exactly the same time. You both shot to your feet together, and Din’s hands moved to your waist, to where your sleeves were knotted at your waist. Yours roamed his chest plate, fingers tapping along beskar until you hooked them in his cloak. He halted his own hands, ready to help you remove the fabric, but you handled it just fine on your own, finding the hidden snaps with ease.

His blood turned to flame when he felt your fingers along his throat, seeking his pulse in another spot. “You should stay,” you breathed out, your voice barely above a murmur. “Please, Mando, I want you to stay.”

He forced himself to nod, his mind now preoccupied with ripping his gloves from his hands. He needed to feel you, no barriers in between.

He needed to see you, something in him screamed, no barriers in between.

He silenced that voice before it could spur him further. Busied himself with diving his hand beneath the waist of the jumpsuit, the broken zipper catching on his wrist. You were even hotter beneath, and he sucked down a breath when he found you wet, slick coating his fingers.

Your body leaned into him, chasing his touches, and he hooked his other hand around your thigh, lifting you up and backwards onto the table. He could feel you watching, your eyes moving from his helmet down his front, to where his hand was jammed beneath the jumpsuit. He crooked one finger, testing, pressing it into you, and grinned beneath his helmet when you moaned.

Din hooked his arm under your waist, lifting you just enough that he could maneuver the jumpsuit over your hips, down your legs. His cock jolted between his legs at the sight of you bare, leaned back on the table, your chest heaving. Even though the visor, he could see how slick you were, the evidence shining on the insides of your thighs.

He wanted to taste you.

He pushed the thought away again. Another time, when he wasn’t smearing the inside of his flight-suit with precum, when you weren’t keening into his touch as he dragged his fingers against the sensitive skin between your legs, when he could turn the lights off and shed his armour, bare himself to you the same way.

You moaned again when his fingers found your clit, drawing a sloppy circle that had your muscles tensing against his hand, knees closing against his hips. “F-fuck, Mando,” you ground out, tipping your head back on your shoulders. “You’re good with those hands.” Another stuttered breath as he twisted his wrist, curling two fingers just inside your entrance, thumb stretching up to swipe over your clit. “Really good.”

He was grinning beneath the helmet again, eyes glued to your face as he pressed further, fingers threading deeper into you. He could feel everything, the twitch of your thighs, the clench of your cunt. You reached out with one hand, using the other to balance yourself, and closed it around his elbow, your fingers digging into the thick fabric so hard he was shocked your nails didn’t bite right through.

“How do you like it, Sweets?” he asked, leaning forward until he was nearly hovering over you. Your hand moved from his elbow to chest, fingers hooked in his armour. “Tell me what you need.”

Your hand moved again, this time moving straight down his front, past his waist, right between his legs. His cock throbbed as you palmed him, a cat-like grin on your lips as you tilted your head level with the visor. You leaned up slightly, pressed your lips to the beskar edge that mirrored his jaw. Another squeeze, and the slow pace of his fingers faltered, his head nearly smacking into yours. “I need this.”

Din couldn’t hold back anymore. Something in the way you stared up at him, eyes tracing over the helmet, told him you didn’t want him to.

“I like it rough.”

It all happened in one fluid motion. He pulled you closer, right off the edge of the table, and you spun in his grip, leaning forward over the table, planting your hands flat. The jumpsuit slid further towards your ankles and you arched your back, your ass grinding against his hardness, and Din groaned audibly, tilting his head towards the ceiling. Your legs spread as much as the jumpsuit would allow, and Din worked his own zipper down, freeing himself from the flight-suit. You made the most delicious noise as the tip of his cock smacked against your ass, the tip dripping with precum.

Your head turned as he took himself in hand, tapping your ass with his cock again. “Maker,” you breathed out, your eyes widening. “I knew you’d be big.”

Beneath the helmet, Din turned crimson.

He planted his other hand between your shoulders, tipping you forward. You went willingly, eyes rolling back as he pushed his hips against your ass. He could see how wet you were as you bent, slick still dripping down your thighs.

There was nothing stopping him from dropping to his knees right then and there, lifting the helmet just enough to drag his tongue through your cunt. The thought alone made his cock pulse.

But then your hand reached back, twisting in the fabric covering his hip, and he couldn’t wait any longer. He bent his knees slightly, notching himself at your entrance, and pushed inside.

The noise you let out was nearly enough to make him cum right then and there. He knew he wasn’t gonna last, and judging by the sounds you continued to make and the way you were bearing down on him, hands clenched into fists on the tabletop, he didn’t think you were either. He set a fast pace, the space filling with the slick sound of him driving in and out of you, your moans echoing each move. Din’s gaze dropped, trained on the sight of his cock disappearing to you. Your hand flapped at his hip, scrabbling for purchase, and he wrapped his fingers around your forearm, groaning when you did the same.

He was right; you didn’t last long, and neither did he. Your entire body clenched as you came, one hand slamming against the table, nails digging deep into his wrist. It spurred his own orgasm, that coil at the base of his spine snapping, and he pulled out, cumming hard across the curve of your ass.

Silence settled over the both of you as you caught your breath. Din couldn’t help himself, rubbing his bare fingers over the expanse of your back, tracing over your spine. You arched a bit into his touch, making a satisfied noise before you lifted yourself off the table. You turned to him, leaned up to press a hot kiss to his bare throat. It made him shiver.

“Think we could do that again?” you murmured, lifting a finger and dragging it along the edge of his helmet. “Maybe you take all the metal off.”

Din cleared his throat, trying to ignore the way his cock twitched, already wanting a second round. “Helmet stays on.”

You stared at him a long moment, smile on your lips. “Helmet stays on.”

+

He kept close to you after that night. He rarely took bounties that took him to further reaches of the galaxy, loathe to admit that he was always within a few parsecs of your hangar. He brought you a long-distance commlink so he could tell you when he was coming back, so you could contact him if you ever needed him. He didn’t worry about you, per se; you were more than capable of taking care of yourself, and he knew for a fact you knew how to shoot the blaster you kept holstered on your thigh when he wasn’t around.

But then the comm went quiet. He called, you didn’t answer. A lead weight formed in his stomach, and he pushed the Crest’s engines are fast as they’d go. Carefully, though — he wouldn’t dare ruin any of your handiwork.

When he landed in the hangar, the lights were all off. It didn’t help his worry, and it only grew worse as he sprinted off the Crest, heading straight for the shop door.

It was locked, but the lock was no match for his vibroblade and a bit of brute force. Inside, the space was empty. no trace of you left inside. There was no sign of a struggle, no blood smeared on the floor or the wall, but it didn’t ease his mind any. What if someone had come for you, spirited you away in the dead of night to some backwater planet? Dank farrik, what if someone had put out a bounty on you? His mind reeled, raced, chewed him up and spit him out.

He never meant to get so attached to you.

Din switched the settings on his visor, finally determining that all the footprints he could make out on the floor were your own. Then he saw it, sitting on the edge of one of the shelves in the kitchen. The commlink, perched precariously, just enough out of sight that no one else would think twice, but not Din.

He thumbed through the screen, saw the icon flashing with a recorded message. Your face lit up the screen instantly, and he stifled the way his stomach clenched. You looked…scared. Not hurt, not injured, but scared.

“Someone sold me out,” you said, your voice distorted and warped. “I can’t give you details. I can’t really tell you anything. Just know I’m going somewhere safe, and I’ll miss you, Mandalorian. Take care of yourself.”

Your eye were shiny as you reached out to cut the recording, and Din’s heart sank into his toes.

He put the commlink in his pocket, and returned to his ship.

He’d watched the message so many times the words were engraved into his brain. The change in your voice, the way you’d blinked harder the more you spoke. The way you paused in the middle, glanced over your shoulder with a shock of fear in your eyes.

And now here you are, standing in front of him, a pile of metal spilling out of a crate tucked beneath your arm, that same streak of fear in those big eyes. Eyes that have haunted him all these years. You nearly drop the crate as you crouch, your gaze zeroing in on the wound on his leg. “Maker, Mando, what the hell did you do?”

“Long story,” he groans out, wincing as you adjust his leg slightly, leaning to the side so you can get a better look. “What are you doing here?”

“I live here,” you reply, getting back to your feet, retrieving your crate of parts. “C’mon, let me clean you up. You look like hell.”

Din goes willingly, not sure what else to do, his mind racing from the combination of the Covert and you appearing out of nowhere. He lets you pull him slowly to his feet, tuck yourself under his arm. “Sweets,” he starts to protest, but you drag his arm around your shoulders.

“Shush,” you whisper, glancing around as you start to lead him in the opposite direction he’d been going. “Lean your weight on me.” He does as you say, nearly crumbling with relief. “There you go.”

The ache only worsens as you go, Din resisting the urge to lean his head against yours. When you finally turn him towards the door, he thinks he may topple over completely, but you’re quicker, producing a remote from your pocket. The door slides open, revealing the inside of a hangar, and you all but carry him through, discarding the crate of parts the moment you’re through, hitting the button again once you’re inside. The door slides shut, and Din lifts his head enough to look around. It looks nearly identical to your old hangar.

Then he hears a curious little beep, and looks down to see a tiny droid scurrying towards you. A BD-1 unit; he recognizes it from Peli’s, though yours is a little more rusty around the edges, the cleaner bits of metal painted grey and yellow. “Not now, Shrimp,” you grit, waving at the droid. It beeps loudly back at you, like an arguing child, and Din stifles his laugh.

“I thought you didn’t use droids,” he mumbles.

“He came with the hangar,” you reply, moving him across the hangar. Shrimp follows a few more steps before darting off, disappearing into a pile of crates. “Couldn’t bring myself to scrap him. Besides, not like he’s much help; tiny thing can’t even lift a socket wrench.”

He laughs out loud this time, and when you pull him into the shop, he laughs again, despite himself.

There’s a shelf of sweets above the workbench.

There’s no curtain between the shop and the apartment, instead another sliding door, another remote. Din lets out a low hum when he sees the apartment beyond. More than one room, furnished with actual furniture. It’s…nice. It’s really nice.

You deposit him on the couch, propping his leg up on the table in front of it. “Wait here,” you mumble, pointing a finger at him before disappearing into another room. 

He doesn’t move, but hooks his fingers into the edge of his helmet and yanks it off, depositing it on the couch beside him. He sucks down a breath of unfiltered air.

You gasp as you walk back into the room, nearly dropping the silver case in your hand. “Mando, you—”

“Din,” he says instantly, reaching down, tugging his gloves off, tossing them onto the helmet. “My name is Din Djarin.”

“Din,” you repeat, slowly, like you’re tasting his name on your tongue. The corner of your mouth quirks. “Din…Djarin.”

He just nods. You approach him carefully, like you’re walking towards an injured animal instead of a man, the silver case clutched against your chest.

“Your helmet,” you start, gesturing vaguely. A memory sparks. He told you before — not in so many words — about his Creed, his upbringing. You’d asked, and he’d answered. It wasn’t information he gave willingly. The second time he had you, when you were sprawled out completely naked on that old futon, writhing and moaning beneath him, when he’d shed almost all his beskar, felt the warmth of your body pressed up against all of him. Afterward, when you’d both been sated for the time being, you’d peered up at him from your place on his chest. “Do you ever take it off?” you asked, your voice laced with sleep.

And he’d answered.

“It doesn’t matter,” he says now, eyes darting towards the curve of silver. “I’m not a Mandalorian anymore.”

“What?” you ask, your brow furrowing. He wants to reach out, let his thumb ride the space between your eyebrows, feel it smooth over as he kisses the spot. “What does that mean?”

“It means…” He trails off. Loaded question. What does it mean? Truly? “My name is Din Djarin.”

There’s still confusion etched into your features, but you don’t question him further. Your brow doesn’t loosen, and you perch on the table.

“What’s in the case?” he asks, jutting his chin towards the silver case still in your hands.

You look at him for a long moment, eyes sweeping over his face, over his features. Like you’re committing him to memory. He’s doing the same, almost scrutinizing your face, trying to remember what it looks like without the filter of his visor, what you truly look like, with no barriers in between.

He could taste you easily now.

The thought catches him off guard, the throb between his legs a welcome change to the pulsing of the wound on his thigh. The bacta the Covert had given him has worn off almost completely, and the pain is climbing. 

“B-bacta shot,” you stutter out, shaking your head slightly as you flipped open the case. Your eyes moved to the wound on his leg, peering at the plates of beskar, the flight-suit, the discarded helmet on the couch. “That needs to be cleaned.”

Din just nods.

“Think you can walk to the bedroom?” you ask, shoving the silver case into the chest pocket of your jumpsuit. He recognizes it ��� the tear in the knee, the patch on your thigh. You fixed the zipper. “It’ll be easier.”

It’s slow-going, getting him back to his feet, shuffling carefully to the bedroom. You ask him if he wants to bring the helmet; he just shakes his head.

What does that mean?

Your bed is unmade, but Din barely notices. The scent of you is amplified in here, and he’s sucking down breaths like he’s been deprived of oxygen. You help him lower to the edge of the bed, and he starts on the armour. You sink to your knees in front of him, setting the bacta shot on the mattress beside him. He removes a pauldron with shaking fingers, and you’re right there to take it from him, your movements sure, setting the metal carefully onto the floor, waiting for the next piece.

“You disappeared,” he says, after more pieces of beskar have been removed, when you’ve moved onto his boots, setting them both carefully at your side.

Your brow had just smoothed out, and it pinches again. “I had to. I left you a message.”

Din pulls the zipper on his flight-suit, reaches into the pocket sewn into the lining, and produces the commlink. “I know.”

Your lips part as you look at the piece of metal, dwarfed by his hand. “You found it.”

“I did.”

Bottom lip caught between your teeth, you look back up at him through your lashes. “It wasn’t safe.”

“You’re safe now,” he says, and you reach for the bacta shot. “Tell me.”

“It doesn’t matter now,” you reply, your voice bordering on stern. “Somebody sold me out.”

“I knew that much,” Din mumbles, and you shoot him a glare.

You sigh. “Let’s just say, there were some parts in the hangar that shouldn’t have been there, someone wasn’t happy with some work I did, and then next thing I knew, there were Imps on my tail. So I disappeared.”

“You could have told me where you were going.”

You shake your head. “They were listening. Tracking every message I sent out. I couldn’t let you get roped into it too.”

“You could have gone to the Guild,” he says. He’s too distracted to notice you pull the syringe out of the case. He doesn’t see the needle until you’re pushing it into his muscle above the wound. He grits his teeth audibly, hands curling hard around the edge of the mattress. “Dank farrik.”

“Sorry.”

“I would have come for you,” he says, breath hitching in his throat as you push the plunger down. It feels like his body has been flooded with ice water, his teeth chattering for a moment before the cold turns to a woozy sort of warmth that spreads through his chest like Corellian fire whiskey. He blinks hard, slow, one eye than the other.

“Can you stand?” He nods. Or thinks he does. “The bacta will help, but I need to put a bandage on that wound, at least.” More nodding. He’s vaguely aware of you draping his arms around your neck, your arms sliding around his waist to haul him up. He plants his feet beneath him, forces his weight over his ankles. His movements are slow, languid, like he’s moving through water. You manoeuvre one arm out of his flight-suit, pushing the fabric down his shoulders, until it settles around his hips. The metallic sound of the zipper seems to echo through his brain, and he knows you’re touching his waist, moving the fabric slowly over his injured thigh. But it doesn’t hurt.

All he can feel is you.

You sit him down again, work on pulling the suit off completely. Your hands are warm, soft, gentle against his bare legs, and he nearly buries his nose in the crown of your head when you bend down. Once the flight-suit has been removed, leaving him in his boxers and undershirt, you disappear again, and Din’s not sure if it’s thirty seconds or thirty minutes.

Something cold presses against his thigh, and he flinches. “Does it hurt?” you ask instantly, and your voice is clear, then muffled, then clear again. “It shouldn’t.”

“Nuh-uh,” he slurs out. He hears you laugh, and the sound is like tinkling bells. He wants to hear it again. “Sweets.”

“Yes, Din?” Clear, muffled. His name is a song on your lips.

“You’re beautiful.”

“So are you.”

“Mesh’la,” he mumbles, and then his eyes fall shut, his body slumps back, and he thinks you laugh again. He’s not quite sure; sleep is too busy yanking him under.

+

Din wakes to the sound of running water.

He’s disoriented, confused, not sure where he is until he pushes up on his elbows, looks around, drinks in the sight of your bedroom. The memory floods back; the Covert, then the hangar, taking the helmet off, the bacta shot that knocked him out.

But more importantly: you.

He rubs the sleep from his eyes. How long was he out? He can’t be sure; there’s a window on the far side of the room, but time on Glavis is different, artificial nighttime and starlight instead of sun. His armour has been moved from the floor, neatly piled on a dresser against the wall, his boots on the floor underneath. His flight-suit is spread out on a worktable in the middle of the room, and he can see from his spot that you’ve tried to mend it, patching the spot the Darksaber had cut open with a square of fabric. It’s looks to be the same kind of material, but the colour is darker. Beneath the sheets, his leg is wrapped in cotton bandages, and there’s no sign of blood seeping to the surface.

His head turns in the direction of the noise of the water, and he pauses, waits for some kind of pain to prick through his body, but it never comes. He feels…good. Well-rested. His eyes follow the sound, and then he sees it.

The door to your bathroom is wide open, and from his spot on your bed, he can see directly into the shower. You’re inside, steam pouring over the top of the glass wall, and Din’s whole body jerks. He never forgot what you looked like naked, and it’s been a long time, but somehow it still feels like the first time. He can feel the blood rushing south, and his hands clench in the bedsheets.

He just stares, watching the water move over you, cascading down your spine, rolling in rivulets over your curves, following the lines of your body. He wants to follow them too, wants to read you like a map only he knows the key to.

Dank farrik, he’s missed you. He hadn’t realized how much.

The water shuts off, and he sees you reach for a towel, wiping your face first. He sinks back down on the bed, wondering if he should feign sleep, feeling like a kid caught doing something he’s not supposed to. But before he can— “You’re awake,” he hears you call, and looks back just as you wrap the towel around your middle. “I thought you’d be out for the night.”

Din coughs, shifting the blankets, trying to hide the tent that’s formed in his boxers. “You don’t close the door?” He doesn’t know what else to say.

You laugh. “I live alone,” you say, stepping out of the bathroom, walking towards the dresser his armour sits upon. “Force of habit.”

He clears his throat. Loudly. Pauses. “…it’s a nice view.”

Your tongue peeks between your lips as you walk over to him, still in just the towel. Your hair is still dripping, water droplets dotting your shoulders. You sink slowly onto the edge of the bed. “How do you feel?”

“G-good,” he spits out, adjusting himself, making more room for you. “Really good.”

The corner of your mouth quirks. “I’m glad. You scared me, Man—” You catch yourself. “Din.”

A drop of water splashes down from your hair, starts a path down your upper arm, and Din reaches out, catching it on his finger. You watch his hand, lips softly parted, and he continues the path, drawing his hand up and down your skin, the backs of his knuckles against your bicep.

“I wondered where you were, all these years,” you whisper. There’s longing in your voice, he notices; the same feeling sits like a weight on his chest. “I never stopped wondering.”

“I’ll tell you sometime,” he whispers back. There’s something forming in the air between you, thick like the steam that still foams from the open bathroom. Din can almost taste it, and the thought he’d had in your living room resurfaces, making him twitch beneath the sheets. He could taste you so easily now. “It’s a long story.”

The corner of your mouth quirks. “I got nothing but time.”

So does he, he realizes. He’s without a ship, without his son, without anything anchoring him to one planet or another, to any sort of path. He’d been wandering already, trying to find the Covert, and now he is unmoored once more, yet somehow managed to find his way back to your hangar.

To your bed.

His hand stops chasing water droplets, and he sees your teeth sink into your lower lip. He lowers his palm until it rests on your bare thigh, and he can feel how your skin is still hot from the shower. “I never kissed you,” he rasps. “Before.”

Your head shakes slowly, and you turn towards him more fully. The towel is loose around your chest, your hand holding it in place, and he reaches for it, slowly uncurling your fingers from the fabric, until your grip falls slack, and the towel goes with it. “You should fix that,” you murmur.

“I’m out of practice.”

Your lips twitch again. “How bad?”

“Few decades,” he says softly. “Since before I swore the Creed.”

“You were a child.”

“It was a childish kiss.” He pauses, moves his hand again, brushes dripping locks of hair from your face. “I don’t want to kiss you like that.”

“Just…” Din leans in slightly, tilts his head to the side. “Do what feels natural.” You mirror his movement, and his eyes are glued to your mouth, to the way your lips stay parted even when you’re done speaking, the way your collar lifts with shuddered breaths. He sees your hands move the towel out of the corner of his eye, pulling the fabric away from your body completely until you’re bared to him, head to toe.

You’re just as beautiful as he remembers. If not more.

The tip of his nose drags along the slope of yours, and his hand slides from your thigh to your hip. “I need you closer, Sweets,” he murmurs, and you nod against him, your foreheads tapping together. There’s a bit of shuffling, the blankets moved back, his tented boxers exposed but barely acknowledged as you climb into his lap. He revels in the way you look above him, your knees pressed either side of his hips. You’re hesitant to lower your weight onto his leg, and he guides you slow, giving you a quiet it’s okay as you settle onto him.

He doesn’t feel any pain; he just feels you.

Once you’re comfortable, your hands clutching at his shoulders, he adjusts his grip on you, palms skimming up your spine, mapping out your ribs and the curve of your ass. You make a quiet noise when he squeezes one cheek, the movement propelling you forward, making your hips roll into his, your core pushed against his hard cock. It makes him hiss with pleasure, and he slides one hand up to your hair, knotting his fingers in it and dragging your mouth down to his.

It’s not artful; he’s sure it doesn’t look pretty from the outside. There’s a lot of teeth and tongue, the fumble of hands as he tries to get you even closer. He’s sure you’ve been kissed better than this, and it makes his cheeks heat, makes him pull away, tucking his chin towards his chest. “I’m sorry, I—”

“Hey,” you say softly, your hands moving to cup his cheeks, tilting his face back up towards you. “It’s okay. Just…follow my lead?” You say it like a question, your thumbs swiping over his face, through the smatter of facial hair along his jaw. “I got you.”

Din nods, lets his lips part as you cock your head to the side, leaning in slow. You kiss his top lip and then his bottom one, giving him just enough teeth that he wants more, wants it harder. He grips your hips as you move, but your kiss stays tender, slow, your tongue a wet heat against his own. He’d dreamed of this, of kissing you, and this one — albeit the second attempt — is everything he ever imagined.

Finally, your mouth grows more insistent. He’s hard as steel between his legs, and he can feel how hot you are, your wetness spreading across his boxers with every roll of your hips. Your mouth is sweet, almost sugary, and he finds himself chuckling against your lips, still trying to get you closer. Your stomach presses to his as you wrap your arms around his neck, kissing him harder, your tongue licking into his mouth.

“Sweets,” he grinds out when you start pulling at his undershirt, insistent to get it over his head. He lets you, and when you lower your head again, your mouth moves to his throat instead, and it makes him moan. “Mesh’la, wait, please, I need—”

You pull back instantly, your eyes bright with worry. “What is it? Are you okay?”

“I want…” His eyes drop, tracing a path down your body, his throat growing dry when they land on the apex of your thighs, the glistening wetness he knows he’s caused. He lets one hand follow the path his eyes made, rubs his thumb over your clit. Your whole body shivers. “I want to taste you.”

Your eyes go big, pupils blown with lust, and Din uses your momentary shock to his advantage. He’s stronger than you, perks of the bounty hunting lifestyle, and he flips you easily with one arm around your waist, his other hand hitching your thigh over his hip. You squeak as your head hits the pillows, clinging to him until you’re laid out beneath him.

It’s his turn to kiss his way down your throat, and he does, laving his tongue against your pulse as he makes his way down your body. He pauses at your chest, moves to the side to close his lips around your nipple. It makes your back arch, a high-pitched noise falling from your mouth, and he grins against you, giving you just the edge of his teeth before he’s wandering across your chest to give the other the same attention.

You’re a writhing mess by the time he’s settled between your thighs. He can’t keep his eyes still, raking over every inch of you, trying to remember every part. He can see the muscles in your legs jump as he traces his fingers over them, the more sensitive parts of your skin making you keen.

With your legs spread, he can see everything, and his mouth waters at the sight of your wet cunt, walls fluttering around nothing as he teases you with his fingers, collecting your wetness on the tips before drawing them to his mouth.

He moans at the taste. Of course, you’re sweet. Deliciously so.

“Din,” you groan out, propping yourself up on your elbows. He can feel you watching, and his gaze flicks up to yours as he drops his jaw, lowers his mouth to you. Your eyes roll back for a moment, one hand moving to knot in his hair, and Din moans into you. His tongue explodes with the taste of you, sending shocks down his spine, making his hips rolls into the mattress, seeking relief.

Just do what feels natural, your words echo in his head. So he does. He licks into you, wide stripes with the flat of his tongue, smaller kitten licks to your clit. He can’t get enough of your taste, hooking his hands around your thighs, pulling himself deeper into you. And you guide him some, your hand in his hair an anchor of sorts, tugging slightly to get him right where you need him, a gasped oh fuck, right there! reaching his ears.

It’s not before long that you’re smacking at his shoulder, muffled moans on your lips with your teeth sunk into your lower one. He detaches from you, gets one more good look and lick in before he’s following your grip, kissing every inch of you he can reach as he makes his way back up your body.

“I need you inside me,” you slur, your hands reaching down, pushing at his boxers. His cock springs up against his stomach and he groans, the sound growing louder when you wrap your fingers around him. “Please, Din, I want to cum on your cock.”

It’s a miracle he doesn’t cum right then and there, hearing your words turn filthy. And filthier still as he hauls himself over you, plants one elbow beside your head, looks between you, reaches down to line himself up and—

Freezes.

He can feel your eyes on his face, features pinched with anticipation. Your hands have found homes along his ribs, fingers tapping out rhythmless patterns. Hips lifting, you must see something in his expression, because you move a hand to his chin, lifting his eyes to yours again. “Din,” you say, and a shiver shoots down his spine again at the way his name sounds on your lips. “It’s okay. We can stop, if you need to.”

“No!” he nearly shouts, and feels himself flush, lowering himself slightly, careful not to drop all his weight on you. “No, that’s not what I…I don’t…”

“Don’t what?” you murmur. Your voice is quiet, understanding. You give a soft laugh. “I know you’re not a virgin, but if you don’t want to, it’s okay, I won’t say any—”

“It’s not that,” he cuts you off, petting his hand over your still-damp hair. “I want to. I want you. It’s just that…” He chews at his lip. “No one’s ever seen my face, while we…when I…”

Realization slides through your features. “Oh.”

“Yes.”

“I don’t have to look,” you say quickly, skimming your knuckles along his cheek. “I can turn over, if you like, if that’s easier than—”

“No,” he says, not a shout this time, but firmer. “I want you to see, Sweets.” He drops his chin, emboldened by your softness, your understanding. He kisses you soundly. “I want to kiss you while you cum.” His words pull a silky noise from your throat.

He breaks the kiss as he takes himself in hand, pushes into your dripping cunt. You’re hot, clenching down on him instantly, arms draped around his neck as he lowers himself further, latches his lips to yours. He hitches one of your legs high on his hip, drives into you deep. He had you close on his tongue already, and he rolls his hips hard, catching something deep inside that makes your entire body seize.

“Yes, Din, please, oh gods, please, please, please,” you’re babbling against his lips, one hand pressed flat between his shoulders, the other knotted in the back of his hair. “Yes!”

Just as he said, he kisses you while you cum. He feels it pulse through your body, your limbs taut and then lax, still holding him close. Your hips chase his, cunt clenching tight as a vice, and Din’s not far behind you, pleasure lighting a fuse down his spine.

You pull your lips from his just as he starts to spill in you. Your hand moves to grip his chin, and you force his gaze to yours. He gasps and your mouth mirrors his, lips parted in a soft o, turning to a grin as he grinds into you, painting your insides as deep as he can go. It feels like an implosion, his bones rattled in his body, but then set on the softest bed of silk as he collapses into your chest. You hold him close, petting one hand through his hair, breathing deep and slow until his own evens out, matches yours, until your heartbeat syncs with his.

“Mesh’la?” he calls after a moment, cheek still pressed to your sternum.

“Yes, Din?” you reply, your voice scratchy as your nails start to drag along his scalp. His eyes are heavy.

“I missed you.”

He can hear the smile in your voice. “I missed you too.”

+

Din wakes alone in your bed again.

He thinks it’s the next morning — the rest of what he assume to be evening was spent in your bed, both of you naked and wrapped in each other. Again and again and again, he pulled pleasure from your body, let you pull it from his, found your bliss together. By the time you were both too tired to move, sprawled on the mattress, your head on his shoulder, you’d whispered, “You’re a good kisser, Din Djarin.” And then you were asleep, Din not too far behind.

He dresses quickly, boxers pulled back on, undershirt in his hand as he pads out of the room. He finds you standing in the kitchen, a steaming cup of caf in your hands. The droid — Shrimp, he dimly recalls — is perched on the table, beeping out a message to you. You’re nodding along, blowing the steam off the top of your caf, and your eyes flick to him as he steps into the kitchen.

“You know Peli Motto?”

Din’s brow crinkles with confusion. “You know Peli?”

You scoff. “That woman taught me everything I know.”

“You’re joking.”

“Swear on my hangar.”

Din just laughs, walking around the table. He slides an arm around your waist once he’s close enough, leans into kiss the side of your head. You lean into him. “Why are we talking about Peli?”

“She sent me a message,” you say, offering him your caf. He takes a sip, only feeling more confused. “Asking if I had any spare ships laying around my hangar. A replacement for her Mandalorian friend.”

Din balks. He hasn’t told you about the Crest. “Sweets…”

You step away from him, pressing a hand to his chest as your eyes go wide with realization. “Din Djarin, what did you do to that ship?”

“I didn’t—”

“Din.”

“It was Imps,” he says, trying to reach for your hip. “It wasn’t—”

“Where is the Razor Crest?”

He sighs heavily, and reaches out to take the cup of caf from you again. “Now it’s nothing but a scorch mark on the planet Tython. It was the Imps. They took my son.” The words are out before he can stop them.

Your eyes go so wide he’s worried they might pop out of your skull. “Your son?”

“It’s a long story.”

You pluck the caf out of his hands, walk around the table, pull out a chair and sink into it. “I got nothing but time.”

[rayassecretlife]

Here with you

Part 1 PLEASE READ PART 1 FIRST

Pairing: Aged up!19 year old Neteyam x Omaticaya!fem!reader

Warning(s): Make up s$x, Explicit language, praise kink, submissive reader, soft dom neteyam, unprotected p in v, mentions of pregnancy, Neteyam and reader entering heat.

Summary: for so long, you and Neteyam’s relationship had been pure teenage fever—running off alone while his parents weren’t around, sneaking into his pod, and enjoying each other’s company in private. But he was a man now, and was expected to procreate sooner or later. The two of you had been putting off this topic for so long, but neither of you knew why. Until one day, you realize you could lose him, and it all becomes so very clear to you.

I don’t have a word count but it’s long, I got carried away ㋛

It had been almost an hour and Neteyam still hadn’t been back from speaking with his mother. You weren’t worried, but you definitely thought an hour was far too long without your knowledge. His last words still echoed through your head and you couldn’t deny the tingling feeling between your legs, groaning as you dug your face into the netting under you.

You were getting frustrated, you could still feel his heat radiating yours, the feeling almost unbearable. His scent stuck to your hammock like glue and it made you smile, closing your eyes with your head against it. Neteyam was definitely in heat, or entering it—because when one mate enters heat, the other feels it and enters it as well, joining the same emotions their love felt in that moment.

And you were correct—because after about 20 minutes of speaking to his mother, he found his body crying for you, practically begging him to go back to your shared pod. Neytiri needed to talk to him, and he was going to listen in fear of his father finding out he didn’t.

Your sweet flowery, forest scent filled his nose just standing there—and that’s when he knew he had to leave. You were nowhere close to him, and he smelled you like you were right under him.

“Neteyam? Are you listening, son” Neytiri snaps her fingers and his eyes meet hers almost immediately, nodding his head at her question. “What is wrong?” The boy shook his head, waving his mother off as he sat down in hopes to hide the fact his loincloth had been getting tighter by the second.

“I need to bathe, mother. Is that all you needed help with?” She nodded her head and dismissed her son, watching him leave the family’s pod.

He went as fast as he could to get to you, worried someone would see what he had been going through right now. Your scent filled his nose even more as he got closer, breathing it all the way like it could’ve been in his lungs.

He finally entered your shared pod, seeing you had been sleeping peacefully on the hammock. He felt bad for waking you, but he knew if this didn’t happen now, he’d be hurting for the rest of the night.

Except you weren’t sleeping—only squeezing your eyes shut in hopes to fall asleep so your arousal would ease up. The sound of him walking into the pod had made your ears twitch and you immediately sat up, eyes on the boy in front of you who already had the same idea as you.

“I cannot believe your entering heat right now” you were still so angry at him for earlier, but it was so much harder now that you had this unbelievable feeling toward him.

He pulls you to him with desire, lifting you up into his arms as you wrapped yours around his neck. You could feel his stiffening cock against your core, his loincloth doing no good as a barrier between you two. You whined at the feeling, dipping your head down to kiss his lips. You thank Eywa your pod had been secluded from the others—they would have definitely heard you.

“Teyam, it hurts” He shushes you, laying you back on the hammock as he followed, hovering over your small body. Your heat had always been more painful then his for some odd reason, and it always made him feel bad when it was him who started it.

“I know, Pretty girl. You’ll get it” You continue to squirm in his hold while his hand travels your body, head dipping down to kiss your neck. His scent now so much stronger, you can feet heat bloom in your chest, and it fills your nose without any remorse. The need for more suddenly became unbearable as his hand worked to remove your loincloth, his tongue tracing along your neck. You needed him, and you didn’t know if you could wait any longer.

“Nete… now” You begged but he ignored your voice, throwing your loincloth to the other side of the room. His fingers ghost over your already soaked core, and you moan at his touch. Eywa, she is going to be the death of me the boy thought as he watches your face twist, your eyes shut and your head back.

“Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?” He bites down gently on the lobe of your ear, his finger slipping between your wet folds. You whimper softly, spreading your legs further for the boy above you. “Your dripping all over my hand” He notes, amused at the sight. You and Neteyam had shared many sexual endeavors, but this was so much more. This was your first time going into heat together.

“Your the worst” you cried out making him chuckle, untying your very loose chest piece from your body. He was taunting you—his fingers still not daring to enter you as he rubbed circles against your clit.

“Really? My soaked hand says otherwise” He cursed under his breath at the tightening cloth covering him, a sudden wave of pleasure washing to him. “S-shit” You smirked, watching your mate crumble in your hands, looking down at where you had been.

“Not so funny now, is it?” You asked, stroking his large size in your hands. His ears fall back against his head, the tips of his ears burning with intense heat as he whimpers under his breath, making you bite your lip. If there was one thing you loved, it was the noises he made. The thought of everyone seeing him as a hard headed warrior, but you saw him. This fact alone, that nobody could do this to him but you, and it made your heart flutter.

He leaned down and connected your soft lips to his, in attempt to silence his sweet noises that had been music to your ears. “Ma’Tìyawn… if you keep doing this, I won’t last” (My love) he admits, His lips brushing your own softly and delicately, just long enough so you could inhale his breath, feel the warmth of his skin, and taste his lips. You swear he had been begging, but you ignore him, wanting him to get the same treatment he had been giving you.

“I’m still mad at you” His tail brushes up against yours, and his hand traveled down your spine, touching your soft hair. He started to place small kisses everywhere he could—trailing from your neck, to your shoulders, and to the ends of your finger tips. His tongue teases the side of your neck, reaching your sweet spot under your ear.

"Let me make it up to you, Yeah?" He pulled you back into a kiss, stilling there for a second before pulling the slightest bit away. "Are you okay with that, Syulang?" (Flower) You nod your head, your body moving itself against his hand, yearning for some type of friction. “Don’t be so needy, baby. I’ll get you there, you know I will”

“I can’t… Nete, please” you plead with your mate, nails scratching down his newly patched up back. You couldn’t help yourself, this feeling was such a curse. He pulled his head from your neck and pressed a small kiss to your lips, trailing them down your naked body until he got to your lower stomach.

An invisible line tugged his lips into a smirk as he watched your eyes on him, lifting your legs more apart then before. You sigh, unable to move because of his strong hands holding you in place. You watch as he lowers his head, placing a few kisses up your inner thighs.

“I’m gonna fucking kill you if you don’t do something!” You snapped, in hopes you’d somewhat push things further—but he only laughed.

“Yelling at me isn’t gonna get you anywhere, baby”the feeling was almost overwhelming. You were helpless, fucking desperate. You needed him so bad, you needed him to make you feel good. “That’s it, Pretty girl. Just relax for me, I’ll make it feel good”

It hurt so bad. This aching feeling all throughout your body just wouldn’t go away. He had to touch you, he had to do something or else you’d go completely insane.

The warmth of his mouth made you gasp as your back almost immediately arched, eyes squeezing shut that the new feeling. Why did no one tell you how bad this hurt? Everyone always said going into heat with your mate was so special and felt as good as anything, but this hurt so bad.

“Neteyam” His name rolled off your tongue as his tongue circled your clit, your hand flying to your mouth to conceal your moans because otherwise, you would have screamed.

“Take your fucking hand off, or I’ll do it for you” you whimper as your ears lower, looking down into his eyes while his thumb found your clit again and you struggle to stay laid down. Had his hand not been holding you down, you would have moved a lot earlier by now. “I’m gonna take my hand off, but you have to promise you’ll be good, yeah?” You nodded in desperation. “Words”

“Yes! Yes, I’ll be good” He opens your legs a certain amount before moving back to hover above you, capturing your breath in a kiss.

“Good girl. Keep these pretty legs spread for me” he breathes, his cock now rock hard against her thigh as he lays his forehead against yours.

You gasp against his lips at the new sensation, Neteyam’s fingers slipping between your folds with ease, pushing into you as far as they could go.

“Teyam… please” His fingers curled inside of you and he grunts. You can feel his desperation, you knew he was trying to hold back for you—to apologize for what had happened this morning, but his heat was catching up to him.

“You have no idea what you do to me, Sweet girl” your hands get lost in his hair as he drops his head into your neck, listening to the beautiful moaning mess you were above him.

“I can’t… I-I-oh my god” you felt that familiar knot build in the pit of your stomach already, your head pushing against the netting under you and your eyes shutting tight. You couldn’t bare it, and Neteyam found it so entertaining.

“Just like that, baby. Come for me, you can do it” Your mate praised above you, pulling his head up to look at your twisted expression. As if he couldn’t get any harder. “Keep your eyes open, look at me, baby”

You cry out as you open your eyes, your hand grabbing onto his arm as tightly as you could, trying your hardest to keep your eyes on him. You were so close, it felt surreal. Why was he so good at this?

“Nete…!” You whimper loudly as you came undone, his eyes watching you in awe as you repeated his name over and over. It sounded so good coming from you, so fucking right.

“Breathe, Syulang. I’ve got you” You shutter as he pulls his fingers from your core, legs closing as soon as they were out. “What did I say, baby?” You whine, opening your legs again for him, your head falling in between his neck. “Open that pretty mouth of yours”

You opened your mouth at his command, opening your eyes to look at the boy, shutting your mouth around his now dripping fingers. He bit down on his bottom lip harshly, watching as you tasted yourself. You were so beyond nasty, and he loved it.

“Good girl” he pulled his fingers from your mouth, dipping his head down to connect his lips with yours. Your hand traveled down his body, thumb wiping the small amounts of pre that escaped from his cock. Like putty in your hands, he moaned into your mouth, your ears standing tall at the sound. It was truly the best sound you’d ever heard, but he was embarrassed. “Y/N… I don’t… I don’t want to come yet”

You smile at the squirming boy above you, placing many kisses along his neck. “My sweet boy, it’s your turn to suffer” you take his length in your hand, looking up at the boy because you knew that drove him absolutely crazy. He was trying so hard not to show it, but he was falling apart, determined to keep it together.

You breathed out along with him, his eyes squeezing shut at the intense feeling. If you didn’t stop now, he was going to release.

“Don’t worry, My love. I’m not done” just as you were about to touch further, he pulled you onto him, carrying you with him as he stood up from the hammock. You furrowed your eyebrows at the boy as he set you on the floor, pulling you onto his lap once he had been on the mat.

Quiet moans were shared between you two as Neteyam leaned against you, guiding you to lay on your back against the soft mat. “That was a good try, but not good enough” you didn’t even care enough to argue at this point, arching your back off the floor as you felt your arousal sky rocket again. The pain had returned, and Neteyam shushed you.

“Your doing so good, baby” A whimper clawed at your throat as your queue’s connected, the heat from both of your bodies now shared together. Your body was on fire and so was his, interlocking your hands as he slowly lined his tip to your entrance, ghosting over your sensitive clit a few times earning a small cry from you. “Shit, Y/N. Need you so bad”

“Take me, Nete. Please, take me already” You lost yourself in your words, throwing your head back once you felt him push into your dripping core. Finally you thought, your nails digging into his shoulders as he pushed further into you—cursing under his breath as you called his name.

“So wet—shit… so fucking tight” No matter how many times you two had sex, it was like the first time all over again. It felt just as good as it did when you were 18, both of your very first times. “Lighten up a bit, baby. I’m not going anywhere” He jokes, feeling you clench around him already.

He fell into a steady pace, his hands pulling your hips down to meet his almost every time. You were a mess under him, your hands pulling him closer to kiss your lips. You couldn’t help it. He was so good at this for no reason, and it felt way too good. “Oh my god”

The slap of your skin filled his ears, along with the breathless panting and muffled moans you let out. “Fuck. Need to hear you, Baby. I need you to tell me how good I’m making you feel” he grasped your hands in his, pulling one of your legs to rest against his shoulder, your eyes rolling back at the new sensation.

“Deeper, Neteyam” Your hips trembled, Whimpering for your mate to fulfill your needs. He chuckled, leaning down to you, stretching your leg further and catching your lips into a kiss, pushing deeper into you like you asked.

“Right there?” He asks, already knowing the answer just off your twisted expression, eyes rolling back as your moans fall from your throat loudly, gripping his hands.

“Mmph! Right there!” You cry out, tugging to get away from his restraints of his hands against yours. “Need to touch you… Teyam, please”

“Not yet, my love. You can do it” He knew you were close. His tip was practically kissing your cervix and it drove you wild, your moans becoming louder the faster he went. He loved watching you fall apart underneath him, watching you beg him for mercy. He was so evil for that.

“I’m gonna come, please!” You begged, your cries mixed with pleasure. You needed to hold onto him—needed to grip something to prepare you for your release, you knew he wasn’t going to let it go.

“Come for me, Sweet girl” his thumb put more pressure on your clit as he watched you with a smirk on his lips, he couldn’t believe he was doing this to you. “Need you to come for me”

You cried, begging him to keep going but you were going so insane, still trying your hardest to get your wrists out of his grip against the floor. It was no use. He was far too strong for you to ever win against him.

Neteyam was trying his hardest to hold his own release, having already planned out yours for you. There was one left, you had to get through this one first.

He placed your other leg on his other shoulder and you he could’ve sworn he fell in love with you all over again, hearing your beautiful moans increase at the position. “Your there, baby. I know you are” He felt your release daring to escape, whispering encouraging words into your ear as you cried out to him.

“Teyam…” You warned and he hummed in approval, looking into your eyes as you dared to fall apart. “I can’t-“

“You can” He coached, laying his forehead against your own. “Come for me so I can finally put a baby in you, Syulang” those words were enough to send you over the edge, your back arching off the floor with a loud cry falling from your mouth as he watched you in awe, continuing to stroke you slowly to ride out your high.

You and Neteyam hadn’t spoken about kids in awhile, but you were getting older and it was expected of you two to start trying, seeing as it was best to procreate when you were going through heat together, and the fact multiple of your people have asked you daily if you were trying or not.

The thought made your heart skip a beat, imagining Neteyam as a dad was something you did a lot more then you should. You dreamed of that—dreamed to have a family of your own. Neteyam wanted a big family, like big. He loves kids, except when they act like Lo’ak—but he wanted 4 or 5, a whole team of warriors, girls and boys. It was his goal, his purpose.

You had been so deep within your thoughts you hadn’t notice him pull you up, your legs now straddling his lap on the floor. You were still hurting from the heat, but so incredibly sore from the release you just had, and Neteyam knew.

“I know your tired, baby. One last one, yeah? Just one more and we’re done” you weren’t sure you could make it one more, but you knew Neteyam hadn’t reached his yet, and you needed to take care of him.

Your head falls in the crook of his neck as he guides your hips, ride him slowly. He couldn’t help but moan against your ear as scratched his back, hands finding his hair and tugging it back gently.

“Fuck” He moans and you smirk, pulling his hair once more causing him to do the same. You knew it. You fucking knew it.

“You like your hair pulled, huh?” You teased but he wouldn’t let you get away with that, bucking his hip up so you’d shriek. “Nete!”

“Ride me until you come, Pretty girl. I’ll be right behind you” you shake your head, coming to a stop as you whimper, wiping the tears that dared to leave your eyes.

“It’s too much, Teyam. I-I can’t-“

“Your a strong girl, you can do it, Baby” Your legs shook against his as he guided you up and down, your nails scratching his chest as you fell into a mess once again. You were doing most of the work, but there was no way in hell you would be able to stay up without his hands under you. “Fuck, Y/N” he curses and you look into his eyes, your arms wrapping around his neck.

You felt it once again, but this time much, much heavier. It had been less then five minutes and he already had you on edge, keeping his eyes on you as you rode him, the sound of your skin colliding and how wet you had been being the only thing you could hear.

“Neteyam” You moaned his name with purpose, cupping his face in your hands as you clenched around him, release threatening to completely shatter you. “I can’t hold it any longer”

He kisses your lips once more before looking into your eyes, cupping one side of your face into his hand. “Do you want this?” He asked desperately and you already knew what he was asking, his bottom lip tucked between his teeth. A heavy breath breaks through your throat and your eyes water, laying your forehead against his.

“Yes. Please, yes” you beg as he shudders under you, “I want to have a family with you, Nete. It’s all I’ve ever wanted”

“Come with me, Pretty girl” With one last loud cry, you let yourself go for the third time, hands gripping his shoulders the tightest they could as he pushed you the farthest down you could’ve went, releasing into you the deepest he could’ve ever imagined and coating your walls with his hot seed.

You both became a moaning mess on your way down from your highs, falling into each others arms as your chests heaved, especially your own. His arms held you to his chest as you whined, crying at any sudden movement that was made. “My sweet girl, you did so good”

You twirled his braid between your fingers, head falling between his neck. You couldn’t move, much less talk to the boy above you. He chuckled at your tired body, stroking your bare leg with his finger tips.

“Can we just sleep on the floor” You sigh making him laugh but he shook his head, running his fingers through your hair as you opened your eyes to look at him. “Hi”

“Hey, Syulang” Thinking back to the very first time he called you that, you would have never imagined you two would be here—in each others arms, mated for life. “Are you okay, Baby?”

You smile against his neck and nod your head, “I’ll be okay as long as I’m here with you” his cheeks flushed at your words and he leaned his head down, pressing a kiss to your own.

“Forever, Ma’Tìyawn”

Guys i got carried away asf omg… um I hope this is good I haven’t written in years.

[vampirememory]

pick a pile || future spouse/lover letter!

I am someone personally who tends to find comfort in these types of readings, so I hope someone here can find the same comfort.

Keep in mind that I am still a beginner, not even quite sure if I have abilities, so I will say that this is mostly for entertainment only, but if it resonates with you, it resonates.

I will be using tarot as a guide and leave the rest for whatever is told to me. Keep in mind I won't be editing the written portions, just the portions that I write myself from my intuition and the cards, everything else is raw and unedited.

pick a pile! webkinz dog inspired <3

masterlist

Pile 1

Wow, they have a lot to say I think.

"Hello, dear (a faint chuckling in the background),

my sweetheart, my beloved. My beloved, I can see you, you are not too far away. Do you miss me? I hope you do, I miss you, I miss you the most. How are you? fine? I'm glad of it. You are stronger than you think, you know, that is why i love and adore you. five years ago, I never thought I would meet someone like you, and here we are today. finally you are here, with me, in my arms, something i never expected to be saying. finally finally finally. there's something about you- there's so much about you that i adore. i cant approach you yet. look at you in your elegance, absolutely a marvel and me? i am just a peasant boy, waking and quaking in your presence. will you do me a favor? don't let someone else sweep you off your feet just yet, i promise that when i get my confidence up and my ducks in a row, marbles in a bunch. it will be soon! I promise. i promise i promise i promise, for your sake and mine we need to meet soon! maybe i hope so, I'm not sure.

anyways i do love you, see you soon.

yours forever. "

I believe that this is from their future self. They are fiery and loving and they love you so much. They may be very nervous in your presence but they want you to know that YOU and only you cause that nervousness, it's like they are a shipwreck when they are around you. You give them anxiety and butterflies! They give off very anxious energy, they just want to keep repeating how much they love you. They'll shake your whole body and shout it from the rooftops and the tops of mountains, only you do this to them. They love you they love you they love you, they really do. I have a feeling that they don't express this verbally but they think it so much and they don't want you to doubt their appreciation.

pile 2

I had to do pile 3 before this one.

"Hi baby <3

My adoration, a mirage of all things beautiful and concrete. Except you're real of course! My beloved baby, how are you? Dazzling, as always. A fortress that cannot be torn down, stopped, or blocked, an absolute unit! (laughter here) I love you, you know? You're funny as hell and I'm glad to be with you. My every wish was granted, would you look at that? I guess the universe really is some unstoppable force, except when it comes to you, it bends for you I guess, like you've got some magic powers? But nothing will stop how I feel for you. You are mine. Alllll mine (hearing Stingy saying "mine mine mine"). Sorry I'm clingy, you know I am though and sometimes you tell me that I need to let go a little bit, which is okay, I can give you a little space sometimes, but I'm still stuck to you like a leech, head over heels! My final resting place will be just in your arms, perfect just how I wanted. God, this is like a school essay. Sorry, this is supposed to be romantic, but maybe it can be funny too? I don't know, sorry, I'm being stupid & silly with you but I think you don't care so it doesn't matter anyway. We are so different but we are so good together yk? Two peas of a pod...except maybe we are two different peas, maybe I'm spike-y, lol! Or no, you're probably the spike-y one, okay I'll stop. But my lovely, I'm glad to talk to you. You're such a good friend to me, how do you put up with me? I'll never know, I can barely put up with myself. Have you ever heard that humans think they're ugly because they get used to themselves and their faces? Maybe that is me, maybe I'm just insecure and you see something magical in me, just like I see it in you. Maybe you feel the same way about yourself and you don't tell me, which makes me sad, but you know you can tell me and I wont push it. I love you ok? stay hydrated and things, do the work, have fun, live your life, whatever bye.

okay i'll give you a proper goodbye, a hug and a kiss on the cheek, a proper smooch maybe? no? okay fine. bye my love, see you in the afterlife... JK!!!! I'm not dead hehe>>, okay sorry bye. nonon wait, okay never mind yeah I'm done now, bye." *phone click*

They have a hard time saying goodbye to you, they never want to stop talking to you. I remember another reading on here (sorry I cannot remember which one or who) describing someone as a "down bad loverboy/girl" and that's what I'm getting for you (if someone knows which reading I'm talking about, please send it to me so I can link it here !!). they are cute. you guys might be long distance in the beginning, which is why i got the phone click. but whatever it is, they love uuuuuuu ok? "to the moon and back."

pile 3

"Hello. (I hear a very deep masculine voice here, very prominent) If I've ever seen such a beautiful soul, no soul could be no more beautiful than yours. No sun could shine brighter than the way your eyes light up, nothing can take that away from me- that appreciation I have for you and your beauty. You radiate, you know? I love that. You radiate like the sun, shining brightly and me being the humble man I am, simply adoring you from below. They say that if you look into the sun, you will go blind, but I would gladly go blind for you my love, because you are blinding and I would rather have you seared into the back of my eyeballs and in my mind as the last thing I've ever seen than to never see you again. Everything is for you, always for you, just for you. Why did you go so soon? We barely had begun our journey and you were off again on your great quest for such knowledge I can never give you. I wish I could give you everything but I cannot, only you can do that for yourself and I will let you- I mean, I don't control you. You're free to do whatever you want, I support you, I just miss you..a lot. more than I admit it. Come home safely, bring me a souvenir? The pretty kind, the beautiful kind, but none will be as beautiful as you are; they're only beautiful because they've been touched by the hands of the angel on earth.

hands I am glad to hold one day, hands I will gladly hold forever.

yours,

fs."

Once again, I got very masculine energy from the beginning. They may be very masculine, I'm seeing mostly a male here. It can be the other way around, or really any gender, but that's what I'm seeing here. They're very....formal? Cut edge, straight to the point. They're good with words, they like using them (I just heard "In more ways than one" :I, that was meant to be sexual but I don't do 18+ readings so they can shut it, haha!). They like you a lot, they think you're amazing and personally lovable (lovable just for them and only them, perfect match, a match made in heaven). They encourage your adventures and your thirst for knowledge, the need to explore, although they may not be able to come with you. They root for you on the sidelines though and may provide financial assistance for you to accomplish your dreams. I'm getting older businessman vibes from this, specifically getting a white older 'gentleman' with brown hair and a very thick beard? that might be someone's person, their name might be Micheal with their last name beginning with an R, very specific.

pile 4

TRIGGER WARNING; d3ath, self-loathing, overall a very depressing & heavy energy.

If you aren't comfortable with these things, here is a quick overview minus the heavier topics.

Your future spouse is going through a lot right now. They may be in a depressed and detached state, they might be a player but it isn't something they enjoy. They need time, they don't believe you exist at this moment. Their energy is very sad and dark, although if they don't change, someone else will take their place as your future lover. The lessons they need to learn are important and you should also take your own lessons seriously.

"introducing... you, my beloved lover!

one of three, hehe. or maybe not, maybe you are the one. i don't know why you would think i am the one, did i make you think that? I'm not that good of a person, you know? people toss me to the side and use me like a puppet, toy on a string. i want you so badly...no, i just want someone. have you ever seen those cute movies with cute couples doing cute things? i would love that to be me and someone, someone out there maybe. but maybe I'm not meant for that, I'm not sure. maybe I'm meant to be a plaything and a lesson and eventually end up in a dumpster somewhere (wow wtf?), not from dying though, just being trash i guess. i'd rather not die. i mean, i don't know anymore. if you're real, can you come get me? pick me up? carry me away, safe in your arms? but there's no guarantees though, I'll probably kick and thrash and be toxic and make you feel lonely for a while and I'm sorry. but i promise I'll be yours one day, let me just get it out of my system. or maybe you don't care? i don't know. I'm tired of people pretending to care, if you don't actually care, maybe it's your actual emotions about me. maybe I'm projecting, I'm sorry. i love you. but this is empty. empty love, no cup to pour from. maybe there's someone else for you out there, maybe i need to find myself first.

-someone new."

oh, this got sad and dark :(? sensing that this is current energy, they're in a bad place. sorry for the sad reading pile 4,if you were expecting something happier & lighter-hearted. i hope you can love your fs in the future for all of the shit they have to go through. they'll be better when they get to you, the universe will make sure of it and if they aren't then someone new will come and take their place for them, they're willing to let the spot go because they know you deserve the best.

they do want you to know that lessons are important.

[rinskazuu]

genshin men as songs in my playlist

aether, albebo, al-haitham, itto, cyno, diluc, kazuha, kaeya, ayato, heizou, childe, thoma, tighnari, scaramouche, xiao, and zhongli

these are written romantically, but if you want to view them as platonic, you can try.

cw: angst w no comfort, fluff, varies depending on character and song i chose. some of these are written in first person, some in x reader form, you can view them however you like!

a/n: initially, i was going for songs fitting their personality, but i accidentally made kaeya and childe's angsty, so i remade them. also, this took so long, for absolutely no reason.

AETHER- hold on by flor

throughout the journey aether's been on in teyvat, all he does is help nations, people, archons, you name it. but i want to be his escape, someone he can hold and be comfortable with. for a moment, i want him to worry less about what's going on outside, and just close his eyes. he's so selfless, and i believe he deserves the same treatment in return.

♡

ALBEDO- something about you by eyedress

you’re just so mesmerizing and beautiful to albedo, that he can’t help but feel subjected to paint you. you’re always catching his breath, from the way your eyes glint when you’re talking about your interests, to the way your body sways when he accidentally catches you dancing in your room, while he’d been busy with his experiments. he just cannot keep his eyes off you.

♡

AL-HAITHAM- out of time by the weeknd

al-haitham would most definitely let his pride get in the way of your relationship. he’d also prioritize his dying love for knowledge over you. the moment you leave him, and he finds his closet half empty, he’s drowning in guilt. he’s reaching for you, but you’ve moved on, and now it’s too late for him to hold you again.

♡

ARATAKI ITTO- always forever by cults

itto is the type of man to boast about you to everyone, having never said anything negative about you. he’s the type of man to snuggle you, and tell you every night how grateful he is, and how happy you make him. he’s going to tell you, that from here on out, you’re stuck with him, and that you’re two peas in a pod.

♡

CYNO- the one that got away by katy perry

cyno isn’t as much of a tsundere as the fandom writes him out to be, so this doesn’t sound fitting. but i feel like his role as the general mahamatra would definitely play a bad part in your relationship. he’d be too busy to take you on a date, or too tired to accompany you to an event. it’s not until you’ve left, that he’s realized he’s neglected you for too long.

♡

DILUC- be kind by halsey

with diluc, i imagine wanting to take his burdens off his shoulders, and comfort him, reassure him. i want him to rely on me, and be comfortable enough to come to me to talk. it makes me sad, how isolated he is, or rather, how he felt the need to isolate himself.

♡

KAEDAHARA KAZUHA- old love by yuji & putri dahlia

not only does the melody suit kazuha, but so do the lyrics. there's not a lot that kazuha holds dear, simply because he wanders a lot. he moves from place to place, and you're one of the only stable aspects of his life. he will always return home, to see you.

♡

KAEYA- midnight rain by taylor swift

i feel like kaeya would suit taylor’s perspective in the song. you wanting to settle down, but kaeya can’t love you for too long, because he's holding a major secret that is threatening yours and potentially teyvat's safety. you’re the sunshine, and he’s the midnight rain. he’ll have to leave you soon, but for now, he’ll let you hold him.

♡

KAMISATO AYATO- still with you by jungkook

ayato is not only head of the kamisato clan, but he’s a commissioner too. he’s used to running things mostly by himself, because he had to take care of his little sister alone, and rebuild the kamisato clan from the floor. he’s often isolated, completing work, but at the end of each day, i want to remind him, that we are in fact together, and any challenges he faces, are mine to struggle with too.

♡

SHIKANOIN HEIZOU- enchanted by taylor swift

heizou is a man who can easily sweep you off your feet, with his charm, pretty smile, and his skills as a detective. he can read your feelings and the type of person you are. he knows exactly what to do to reel you in. your love is enchanting, so unique, and will last for an entire lifetime, if not more.

♡

TARTAGLIA- save your tears by the weeknd & ariana grande

i know we kind of ignore how unhinged childe is, but i want to acknowledge it. he doesn’t know how to love or be loved, which leads to him not knowing how to comfort you. he’s going to hurt you, mentally/verbally, often. he’s going to tell you to stop crying, instead of holding you, or call you dramatic, instead of snuggling you in bed and encouraging you.

♡

THOMA- i wanna be yours by arctic monkeys

thoma is often busy, since he works for a commissioner, and one of the most well known and respected clans in inazuma. he sees you a lot, whether it's running errands, or accompanying one of the kamisatos somewhere. he's in love with you, and he'd do anything for you. but for now, he needs to focus on his duties.

♡

TIGHNARI- sweet by cigarettes after sex

even though he's a busy man, tighnari still makes plenty of time for you. he's sweet and smooth with his swords, easily swaying you. he makes it known, to not just you, that he loves you to the ends of the world. he knows how to make you swoon, from taking days off to pick flowers for you, to having deep talks with you in the shower. he's always thinking about you, even picturing your smile while he's off gathering gifts for you.

♡

WANDERER- space song by beach house

after regaining his memories, and even after his redemption arc, scara will still have major trust issues. wanting to there for him isn't a crime. but because of his trauma, he's going to keep pulling away from you, and pushing you farther from him. no matter, you're not going to give up, and you want him to feel loved and comforted.

♡

XIAO- be there for you by nct dream

xiao is one of the most obvious characters with a traumatic backstory, and i believe i want to be there for him the most. it's not going to be easy, since he's lived 1000+ years. he's used to being on his own, and all he knows is how to protect, and kill. but for once, i want him to rely on me, and for him to breathe a sigh of relief.

♡

ZHONGLI- wildest dreams by taylor swift

as an archon, zhongli has been alive for over 6000 years. even though he's given up the title, and is now living a normal life, he will always remain an immortal. eventually, you will pass on, and zhongli will be alone again. regardless, he's going to spend every waking moment with you, until your very last breath. he will cherish your love for the rest of eternity, even if you're not physically there.

i do want to add, i have so many taylor swift, the weeknd & chase atlantic songs, but didn’t think the last 2 would be as fitting as taylor’s. i have 150 songs & this does not define my entire playlist, there are so many genres. i just happened to make them romantic/angsty..

[wen-kexing-apologist]

Bengiyo's Queer Cinema Syllabus

A few months back I was chatting with @bengiyo when the subject of queer cinema came up (unsurprising considering…ya know, the whole being BL buddies thing). As a semi-recent queerness realizer, and a Certified Baby Gay(™), Ben took it upon himself to share a post between himself and @shortpplfedup that inspired @the-conversation-pod and which also included a Completely Hypothetical Queer Cinema Syllabus Build Up to BL for Baby Gays. According to @bengiyo this started as a thought experiment. 

But, unfortunately or…fortunately? for him, I constantly crave queer media, and @waitmyturtles and her Old GMMTV Challenge have inspired me to try my hand at working my way through this syllabus. I cannot guarantee that I will finish all these films. I have no idea how long it would even take, but I wanted to at least try! 

I have been saying I would do this for months now, but I am inundated with BL content, and getting more every day, so I have been pushing it to the side. BUT! This evening a local movie theater played The Birdcage (1996) and I went and bought tickets and decided now was as good a time as any to get this started, I am hoping to take a page out of Turtle’s book and write notes/thoughts on the movies I end up watching. Forgive me the long winded introduction, but I figured some context would be nice if this ends up being a thing I stick with. So without further ado…

The Birdcage (1996) [Comedy]

Syllabus Unit 6: Gems

Summary: A gay cabaret owner and his drag queen companion agree to put up a false straight front so that their son can introduce them to his fiancée's right-wing moralistic parents. 

Characters:  Armand: Gay cabaret owner, played by Robin Williams  Arnold: Drag queen partner, played by Nathan Lane Val: Armand’s son, played by Dan Futterman Agador: Armand and Arnold's maid? friend? live in slutty pool boy? played by Hank Azaria Katharine: Val's biological mother, played by Christine Baranski

Overall Reflection

This is a film I had never seen before. Hell, I didn’t even know it existed until around the time Ben shared his syllabus, and someone reblogged a scene from it that ended up on my dashboard. This was an interesting film to experience in theaters, because while watching with an audience made the funny bits funnier, there were also moments that I absolutely did not read as funny that other people did, and I didn’t know how I felt about that. 

This film is set primarily in South Beach, Florida and partly in a drag club, which meant that the only thing I could think about whenever the drag club was on screen was Palace, the gay bar, drag brunch, queer club spot in Miami. On the other funny casual note, as a Floridian I feel seen by the moment where Katharine calls and says she’s going to be late, and it zooms out to show she is stuck at the bridge. Real. 

I feel like the majority of gay media I have consumed in my life very much centers around two very masculine characters. So it was really nice to watch a story that involved more femme characters, and that the femme characters were not left as the butt of the joke. Which I recognize might be ironic considering this is a comedy and therefore there are jokes abound. But, when you compare the femme character in something like Legally Blonde, to the femme characters here, they are allowed to be dramatic, and they are allowed to trip and fall, but the love that Armand has for Arnold is palpable, they squabble and they get annoyed at each other, and they hurt each other, but they are partners, and they love each other too, and it shows throughout the film. 

This sounds fucked up, I guess, but I love the undercurrent of pain that is threaded throughout the story. The way that Val starts off seeming like he is very content with the way he grew up, the parents that he had. The way that Val feels so so loved by his Dads, and he hurts them anyway. Because he is scared, because he loves Barbara and he knows that she is good, and that her parents aren’t, and that he has to hide his family. But in making them hide who they are, he is hurting them and at first you can see and feel the ways that Armand is trying to rebel against it. You can tell that initially he is angry, disappointed, upset, incredulous:

“Yes, I wear foundation. Yes, I live with a man. Yes, I'm a middle- aged fag. But I know who I am, Val. It took me twenty years to get here, and I'm not gonna let some idiot senator destroy that. Fuck the senator, I don't give a damn what he thinks.”

gifs by @hellboys

It is one of my favorite lines in the film. Because Val needs to be called out on exactly what he is asking his father to do for him. Because Armand's pain is visceral in this moment. But Armand loves his son and so eventually he relents. 

Arnold’s presence and importance in Val’s life are constantly disregarded and he is allowed to be upset, and Armand is allowed to constantly put his son’s engagement and wedding in jeopardy to prioritize his partner and his partner’s feelings, because Arnold is a part of this family, and to hide him away is unfair. 

I certainly had to grapple with some complicated emotions around the character of Val. I could understand where he was coming from, that he loves his fiancee and that their families have to meet, and that it is almost certainly physically safer for everyone if his parents are not visibly and obviously queer around the ultra conservative moralist senator. But the ways he ends up exhibiting casual disdain, anxiety, and judgment around the aspects of his parents’ home, his parents’ friends, his parents’ themselves makes me kinda hate him a little bit. It is hard for me not to see Val as entitled, not to consider him low-key dickish, because of how frequently he seems to get annoyed and disappointed that Armand and Arnold are not acting straight enough, that their house isn’t straight enough, that their family isn’t straight enough. But the film does not shy away from the mental toll it takes. 

Were there aspects of the film itself I didn’t like? Honestly, not really. There are some jokes and terminology that do not fully stand the test of time, so if I watch it with a modern lens I think I would give it a 9.5. If I watch it in the context of the time it was written, I would probably give it a 9.8. But watching it in theaters certainly altered the way I engaged in certain scenes. 

Mostly with the “I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking dressed like this, I’m even more obvious” scene. 

gif by @rosalie-starfall

Because people in the theater were laughing during this moment. Which is not to say I am judging them, I’m not mad at them for finding the moments leading up to that scene funny. I can understand how Arnold constantly having to catch himself and change his body language could come off as funny. But there is a weight to that scene for me that made the laughter feel incongruous. It is, in my opinion, an incredibly impactful scene. And it was hard for me to fully embrace that moment the way I know I would have if I was alone, after I realized that not everyone reads that scene as a serious one. 

(Side Note: When I was looking for pictures of the movie poster, I found three different versions of it, and I chose the one above because it was the most intriguing to me in the way it presents Arnold. Because it is the only one of the posters that puts Arnold in a suit.)

The other moment, that I think I would have had a stronger response to if I was alone, was the moment near the end where Val takes off Arnold’s wig and introduces Arnold as his mother.

gif by @nicholasbritel

If I had watched this scene alone, I think there is a very high likelihood I would have gotten teary eyed during that moment. Because Val has spent so much time throughout this film trying to hide Arnold away. Wanting to send him off for the evening so they didn’t have to worry, trying to replace him with his biological mother, who he had never really met just for the sake of maintaining appearances. 

Arnold LOVES Val. It is glaringly obvious from the first moment they share a screen that to Arnold, that is his kid. And I cannot imagine what it must have felt like for Arnold to literally have his every move critiqued and criticized for acceptable levels of gayness by his son and his partner. To feel unwanted by his son and his partner. To feel replaced by his son and his partner. He deserves to see and hear his son choose him, to know that Val considers Arnold his parent. Especially when Val’s biological mother is standing right there. 

And as for the comedy aspect of this movie? I mean, it’s Robin WIlliams and Nathan Lane so it is obviously going to be a truly hilarious film all the way through.

gif by @argentinosaurus

Where does it fall in my By, For, About Queers Categorization? 

For and About 

Any piece of media that places queer characters at the center of it is something I would categorize as “About Queers” 

As far as I can tell, the writers and director are not queer. I consider films to be made By Queers when a queer person has a role in controlling how the story unfolds, usually this means a writer or director for me, actors too if they have any influence  over changing the story. (As an example, The Last of Us Episode 3 would be something that I would place in a By Queers category because Murray Bartlet who played Frank is gay and also was consulted to shape the way the characters were written and the story played out.) While Nathan Lane is gay, and I am sure a number of actors who play side characters are as well, I do not know how much influence they had over the film itself. Which is why I am currently excluding it from the By Queers categorization. 

And as for the For Queers aspect? That moment where Arnold appears in a suit and tie before the dinner party, where he appears so much more obviously gay when he’s in “masculine clothes” that is written for the people who understand. The undercurrent of pain I mentioned, that exists to be recognized by the people who understand. Also, I watched this at the movie theater and I saw what kind of crowd it drew lmfao. 

Favorite moment in the film? 

Well, I could go sappy with it and pick one of the scenes I referenced above, but I would be lying. My absolute, hands down, no contest favorite moment in this film was seeing Agador in this cropped tank top: 

gif by @thevelvetgoldmine

Now, I know that Ben told me that the Units could be done in any order, but I think I want to start from Unit 1 and work my way through from there, so stay tuned for a write-up about Pariah (2011) from Unit 1: Coming of Age Post Moonlight.

[theultimatekamehamehavoc]

Random Headcanons of the Trio that I have no clue how to expand upon though that could change for some of them if I gain some ideas later down the road!

· Kyoko and Byakuya share some perfume with one another. It's specifically the blueberry one. · Byakuya has a secret green thumb to the point where he just casually seems to casts revivify on all the plants he touches. · Makoto once fell down 4 flights of stairs consecutively in a shopping mall. Don’t worry! He was fine! · Kyoko REALLY hates hotdogs. One would think Byakuya would hate them more because “poor people food” but she somehow beats him via her own distain for completely different reasons than his. It’s still distain though. · Byakuya doesn't really like the smell of cigars. Or most smoke in general. Gives him bad migraines and makes him nauseous too. · Makoto still likes chicken nuggets as an adult and Kyoko and Byakuya make fun of him for it. Like, if he went some place and the option was their to get chicken nuggets, he'd consider it mentally. He usually fights the urge though there are days where the impulsive voices win. · Kyoko could ingest an entire lemon and be absolutely fine. Others think she’s just really good at hiding the pain, but no. She’s just built different. · Byakuya is surprisingly good at starting fires. It’s almost concerning how good he is at it though, so far, he hasn’t used his powers for nefarious purposes… yet. · Makoto loves the concept of camping. Like the campfire stories and the smores and sleeping in cute little tents together, bonding in the wilderness. Not actual camping though. He finds it lame and was super disappointed when he finally tried it out. · Kyoko likes bees. She is chill with the bees. She also likes honey and honeycomb too. She likes adding it to her tea sometimes or just eating it on some toast or just as a syrup substitute. · Byakuya is not chill with the bees. He’s fine with them as long as they don’t touch him. Has been holding the grudge after one almost got stuck in his ear. He refuses to specify if this incident happened when he was really young or older. · Makoto has at least considered the idea of eating a Tide pod when he was a kid. He's kept this a secret for years and is afraid to tell Kyoko and Byakuya. He knows it's irrational as hell to be scared about this, but he's still shaking in his red converse shoes.

· Kyoko likes rocks. She thinks they're pretty cool.

· Byakuya secretly listens to more alternative music. He's not afraid of being caught or anything. He just likes the thrill of hiding it even though it's not even that big of a thrill though. The concept of hiding it makes him happy though cus he's rich and weird. · Makoto is a puppy magnet and not the fun kind. They just love to chew on his ankles. Doesn't help that he just cannot help making some kind of noise when he gets bit. It hurts, okay! · Kyoko knows way too much about zodiac signs cus of a case she had. · Byakuya's at least a LITTLE bit afraid of roundabouts. He feels incredibly silly about it cus he still has no clue why he feels this way. · Makoto can only name about 5 kinds of pasta even though he absolutely LOVES pasta. The names just constantly trip him up and he seems to mix the pastas up all the time. · Kyoko tends to forget to eat proper meals cus she's constantly on the grind. In order to not forget all the time though, she sometimes resorts to snacking when things get desperate. AKA, she can't ignore her hunger any longer and has no choice but to address it. She only really does this when it's more of a desperate time though. When the going gets tough! · He doesn't care a lot about birth stones but after Byakuya learned that, as a taurus, his birthstone is an emerald, he just got this weird sense of pride about it. Like, "Oh wow. It's green... I like green". He can be surprisingly simple like that. Doesn't help that he already liked emeralds before this revelation · Makoto likes to cling to his pillow when he sleeps. He just likes to cuddle like that! Might make more of these. For now though, this is it.

[pampushky]

Creature (Both Haunted & Holy)

Vinsmoke Sanji/Reader - chapter 6 - 3k

Liberation has never been so sweet, or so complex.

Warning: This chapter does have descriptions of violence. Given the genocides that are now occurring, I ask you all to be careful with your mental state.

Furthermore, it cannot be said enough, but free Palestine, free Congo, free Sudan, and free Haiti. Wars and occupations should not be legal. The only one who should have control over your own body is you, no matter your identity.

ao3 | series masterlist | masterlist | next part

The water greets you as an old friend, comfortable in your skin once more as you spin under the surface, resting on the bottom, beside your former collar. It’s liberating, able to exist as yourself– truly yourself– for the first time in two years. You let out a happy rumble, listening to the sound echo in the pool. You turn to spin, circling to look at your back flippers as you do. Your form is much bigger than you remember, and much faster, the fur more sleek, when there had been soft, downy spots previously as you aged into adulthood. Some of the white fur still clings to you though, in large patches along your back.

You let out another low rumble, mourning the fact that your pod will never get to see you like this, and your cry makes the water tremble around you. Unknown to you, the ocean laps at the other entrance to the park, thrashing as heavy waves slam into the retaining wall. Those remaining members of Arlong’s crew watch in horror, as it, too, starts to give way, creaking ominously, threatening to let the ocean flow inward as you push yourself out of the water, appearing as though a geyser had shot you into the air, your seal form melting away as you land on your feet, water falling around you, and clinging to your skin as you look at the fishmen, utter sorrow, and rage in your eyes.

Your hair had long since fallen out of the ponytail Arlong loved, spilling over your shoulders and down your back in waves, as water dripped from the ends. Your skin appears smoother, scars silvered over as if they’ve had years to heal, and your pelt has taken a new shape in the form of a large, white fur coat, wrapped around your form, slipping off your shoulders as you take a step towards the center of the park, still holding it tight to yourself. The only scars that were still fresh, still red and bleeding, were those on your left cheek, two lines from how Arlong had rutted his sharp nose against your skin as you struggled against him, and the failed claiming bite on your right shoulder, still a tender, sore, and nearly inflamed. A bright, ugly sign of your rejection of him. 

The Straw Hats stood in shock, some stuck in the ground where they were. Sanji looked relieved, and it almost looked like he had been preparing to dive into the water after you. Zoro had a hand on his sword, his gaze hardened, and Usopp, well, looked like he was about to shit himself, which honestly, you couldn’t blame him for. You wanted to puke from how terrified you were.

You hear Zoro call your name, and even see the way that Sanji starts to smile as you come closer, starting to make your way over when the ground cracks in front of you, Chew letting out a cackle at the surprise on your face as you freeze, taking several steps back and putting yourself in a defensive stance.

Arlong looks furious, his eyes practically bulging out of his head as he watches your movements in an almost predatory manner, teeth bared, pushing himself up and gripping the rubble around him so hard it cracks. 

“Get. Them.” He growls at Hatchan, Chew, and Kuroobi. You freeze, like a deer in the headlights, letting out a low, warning rumble, as the fishmen step closer to you. They have not seen you like this, so unafraid of them, with a wildness in your eyes they had thought had been long-since beaten from you, stolen away and destroyed over the period of time you had been their captive. 

But you smile at them viciously, a wide, baring of teeth that shows your molars and canines, evolved to tear the very flesh from their bones with ease. Once upon a time, it had been the selkenfolk and fishmen who ruled the oceans. And once upon a time, your kind had been their equals, but only out of mercy. Oh, there had been bloody wars, between your kind, with shredded bodies and fearful tales told to pups and fishmen children alike, centered around the most dominant and terrifying of all selkie variations. 

The leopard seal. Quiet, quick, and lethal. With eyes that could see as clear as the day in even the darkest depths of the ocean. Skin as hard as armor, and teeth as sharp as razors as they pulled the very skin from the muscles of their prey. Claws that could be more dangerous than a sword, when they were at your throat, and a touch that could freeze whatever it touched, calling the water present in any living thing to turn to ice the moment it made contact. 

And these fishmen were staring one down, backed into a corner, that they had tortured. Hatchan swallowed, all six of his hands held in a fighting position, and you stayed still, breathing heavily, eyes darting between the three of them, before letting out a deafening roar that finally sent the ocean water over the retaining wall, the crash thunderous as you let the waves pour over you, unmoving as you transformed once again, head thrown back in a victorious cry.

Sanji watched this all happen, hoping that you took this as your chance to escape into the ocean, taking your life by the reins and living freely in the water, as selkies were meant to. He can only imagine how freeing it felt. 

Arlong let out a roar as you disappeared into the water, charging towards Luffy and ripping him from the ground, concrete still engulfing his feet as he pitched the captain into the water.

The sea embraced you as though you hadn’t been gone, the current created by the destruction of the retaining wall sweeping you out. And you let it, going along with the flower, basking in the cool touch of the waves along your body as you dive deeper, experimentally snapping at a silvery school of fish passing by you, watching them regroup and dart away as you hover. 

You looked down, letting your form shift a bit more so that you were a mix of the two, the normal shape that many Selkies took amongst each other, diving deeper until you came upon the floor, looking at the swirling forest of kelp around you that you hadn’t known was so close to the Conomi Islands. 

Carefully, you laid your head against the sand, curling into a fetal position and letting yourself mourn, low, baleful warbles and rumble filling the water around you. 

The kelp shifted beside you, and you looked up to see a harbor seal, staring at you in curiosity, before another popped out above it, twisting in the water before they came to float beside and in front of you, their whiskers almost touching your cheeks as they both observed you. They answered back, the water filled with high-pitched clicking, the two forms swirling around you. To these seals, you were a lost pup, crying out for their pod, and in a way, they aren't wrong.

How ironic the world could be. 

The first seal stopped in front of your face again, touching its nose to your forehead, before looking up at the surface of the water, blowing bubbles from its nose, as if to guide you upwards. 

The other let out a low, comforting rumble, one you recognized well. It was the same rumble your mothers had used to put you to sleep each night, calming your fears. And the same rumble that had been sounding from them as you were taken away. You sniffled, a snort of bubbles filling your vision and you huffed, before holding the seal in front of you close, hugging tightly. And it let you, almost seemed to be hugging you back, before nosing your hair, and pushing you to the surface, dark eyes watching you with a nearly-too-human sorrow. 

More seals had pushed their way through the kelp, soft noses and warm bodies helping you to the surface, surrounding you with familiar rumbles, warbles, and trills. When you breached, they did so with you, all eyes turned towards Arlong Park, as you let out a small chuff, diving under again, this time, to return, the first two seals watching you as you swam away.

Somewhere, you can hear your mothers’ laughter.

Kurobi seems intent on making sure Sanji doesn’t get an opening to help Luffy, even as he watches his captain flounder for breath, he knows he has to do something. There is no one else to help Luffy, or who can free him the way Sanji can. 

Even as he surfaces, just for a brief second, Kurobi is on him, pulling him down when he gasps for air. Sanji manages to land a blow, but his movements are slowed by the water. It’s pointless, it must be. Zoro is struggling as well, still injured from Mihawk, and Usopp has led Chew off on some wild goose chase. The villagers are no help, sent sprawling by Arlong, who is intent on blowing off steam by wreaking havoc around him. 

Sanji has come to terms with this being the end of his life, and his dreams not coming true. He still feels this way when he feels something shoot past him in the water, slamming Kurobi into the side of the pool, leaving the fishman stunned. Something grabs his back and forces him to surface, and as he coughs up water, Sanji’s eyes focus on the form above him, breathing heavily, with a mop of tumbling dark hair staring down at him, eyes wide, lips forming some words he can’t quite hear yet. He is vaguely aware that there is some sort of flipper curled around his lower half, as you check him for injuries, before meeting his eyes and diving back into the water to help Luffy, before diving in after you, a new energy in his veins. 

You’d returned. Even after being freed. You’d returned to help them. 

The captain of the Straw Hats has stopped thrashing, and you dart to the bottom of the pool, examining what is weighing him down as Sanji joins you. You look at him for just a moment, before motioning to the concrete encasing Luffy’s legs. Sanji taps you, motioning that he is going to kick, and you nod, looking over his shoulder at a shape in the water, pushing him out of the way just as Kurobi shoots into the spot where the cook had just been, this time striking you, separating you from Sanji, as your form turns fully seal.

The water trembles with your roar of pain, a burst of bubbles exploding from your mouth as you tackle Kurobi, teeth slashing across his torso, shaking him like a ragdoll. Sanji watches for a second, before focusing on Luffy. The plan was obvious, you had given him the opening he needed, and Sanji took it gratefully, able to charge up a kick and crack the very concrete of the pool's foundation, pushing off the bottom with ease, Luffy slung over his shoulder.

When Sanji surfaces, he cannot see into the water, with how rough it is, and he has other things to worry about, namely, his captain, and resuscitating him. Water slips past Luffy’s lips the moment he presses on the boy’s chest, eyes fluttering open, before he outright pukes the water onto the ground, gasping for air as he does so. Sanji has enough faith in you to know that you would not go down without a fight, not after what you have been through. 

A minute passes, before you shoot out of the water, landing beside Sanji with a thud, your form melting into your full human one as Kurobi pulls himself from the pool on your other side, furious, and you growl back at him, despite your injured state, pushing yourself up on your elbows. 

An ugly, deep gash has turned his side red, along with a dazed look in his eyes. He looks worse than you, and it’s a wonder he has managed to outlast you. But, Kurobi is a trained warrior, who has feasted and slept and drank as he pleased for the past two years. You were kept prisoner, and hardly given what you needed to live in that same time. The odds were never in your favor, and you know that. 

But, you think, as you watch Luffy pull himself up, stalking towards Arlong, eyes burning for a fight, I managed to hold him off long enough for Luffy to break free. 

You waited for the final blow, only to find it never came, Sanji blocking the hit with his foot, glowering at the fishman.

“ I think you’ve done quite enough harm to my friend here,” Sanji’s voice is low, before he looks back at you offering a gentle smile, “Thank you for the help, dear.”

You only nodded, letting out a tired rumble as you rested your head on the ground and let exhaustion roll over you, met by a dreamless sleep.

You wake up to Nami’s face hovering over yours and head-butt each other as you scream in partial shock and fear. Nami clutches her head, and you clutch your own, growling at the pain, and then in confusion with how your movement feels constricted in your arms, and the odd patch on your cheek. 

Bandages. You realize, looking down at your hands and forearms, blinking in wonder. Not only are they clean, but they’re fresh— like they’d been changed within the last hour, not soaked through with blood yet. You tilt your head down, jaw slack as you twist and turn, examining the wrappings on your arm, head pain forgotten. Nami, however, is not as impressed by bandages and is rather annoyed that you head-butted her, glaring at you as you throw the top sheet off your body, looking down at your legs, before crying out, slapping around the bed until you find your pelt, still not entirely used to it’s new shape.

“It’s here,” you hold it up to your face as if to hide in it, before you go silent for a few seconds as if you’re buffering through the events of the past day. “Wait…”

And despite all that you two have suffered, both together and separately, Nami can’t help but break out into laughter, so contagious and joyous that you also start to laugh, head thrown back, trilling from how ridiculous it all seems— yet it happened! You were freed, by random strangers, following Nami after she had stolen their boat. 

“You’re an idiot,” Nami laughs into her hands, and you shoot a playful glare her way. “Oh my gods, you’re an idiot.”

“Not as stupid as you,” you flop down on the cot, wincing in pain a bit. “Y'know, I thought I’d cry more.”

“What do you mean?”

“Like… being free. Thought I’d cry more,” you lift up your hand, examining the back of it as you reach for the ceiling. What isn’t covered with bandages, you can see small pinpricks of scars. Silvered lines and dots on your skin, nearly blending in with the natural speckles you have as a selkie. It almost looked like someone had splattered foundation across your skin, albeit several shades too light to blend in properly. “Guess I’m just too tough to cry.”

“As if,” Nami can’t help but smile at you, taking both of your hands into hers. “But I guess you’re right. I never thought about what it would be like after, just focused on getting there.”

“We can do whatever we want now,” Your voice is giddy as you say it, and Nami can’t help but laugh again.

You both sit in a comfortable silence, loosely holding hands, reveling in your freedom until Luffy comes barging in, equally as bandaged, and seemingly freshly awake, shrieking at both of you, until he looks straight into your eyes, flopping onto your cot.

“Oh. You’re joining my crew, right?” 

“What?”

“Well, you make water move, and that’s gonna be pretty important for navigation,” Luffy moves his arms in a wave-like fashion, wobbling himself as he attempts to imitate the ocean, “Plus, you’re super cool looking.”

“That’s what you look for in your crew?” You ask dryly, raising an eyebrow. “Nami, how did you get roped into this?”

“I didn’t!” Nami crossed her arms, “But… I guess, I did in a way, and she leaned back in her chair, a thoughtful look on her face. “It’s not like there is much left for either of us here.”

“Or left for me in general,” You murmured. “Arlong destroyed my village and my pod. I don’t really have anything to return to, in all honesty.”

“So you’re coming?” Luffy grinned for a split second, as Nami struck down on his head, the smile turning into a cringe as he held a growing lump, wailing as Nami scowled at him.

“Don’t be so insensitive! ” 

 “I’ll… think about it.” You put your chin in your hands, closing your eyes as if you’re in deep thought, and Nami makes Luffy leave, shooing him into a curtained-off area where Zoro was sleeping, apparently. 

What do you do? Luffy, however blunt, is absolutely right. You don’t exactly have other options. You had, at maximum, a year and a half of healer’s training under your belt before you were taken, learning only the basics of pushing and pulling energy through purified water, in order to make wounds heal slightly faster, along with how to properly dress and care for most minor injuries and illnesses. 

Quite honestly, what you were most skilled in was your ability to navigate and sense subtle changes in the water, and you remember how you had just started training to become a bosun a month before your capture. You had enjoyed your time learning how to care for the ship, taking stock of supplies and what would be needed on your next docking. It helped that you could also cure the wood, able to make it stronger and more flexible, imbuing the fibers with some of the qualities of water. 

Nami watches you think and sits beside you. Offering at least some support as you debate your choices.

[pinkestmenace]

💫 (Shooting Star) - If they were to wish on a clockwork star, like Galactic Nova or Star Dream, what would they wish for?

🥘 (Stew) - Do they have any favourite foods or comfort foods? What are their eating habits like? If absorbed by the Cook ability, what healing item would they summon?

☀️ (Sun) - What’s their morning routine like? Do they take a lot of time getting ready in the morning? How do they groom themselves? What are they having for breakfast?

🐛 (Caterpillar) - What are your OC’s greatest fears, and why? How do they act or react when they’re afraid?

For the pea!!! :D

Oof! Starting off with some hard ones right off the bat! Have fun picking these apart. Heeheehee...

💫 (Shooting Star) - If they were to wish on a clockwork star, like Galactic Nova or Star Dream, what would they wish for?

I think current her (that is, tournament time/space shenanigans her) is pretty satisfied with her life. Enough that she wouldn't want to risk it misinterpreting her and creating some kind of disaster because it gave her more than she bargained for. This goes for 'canon' Hero of Yore her too. At least until it all goes down the drain after the fight with Void. I haven't completely worked out what happens after that. (I still need to iron out some details.) But let's just say that during the period of her existence where she desperately wants to make a wish she's no longer able to. There's no turning back time. It relentlessly marches forward until the past and all that belongs in it is forgotten. The thread of time can be bunched up and stuck in knots, it can be twisted and repeated, even folded to bridge gaps and overlap with itself, but it cannot be fully rewound. Not for her and not for her friends.

🥘 (Stew) - Do they have any favourite foods or comfort foods? What are their eating habits like? If absorbed by the Cook ability, what healing item would they summon?

I don't think she necessarily has a favourite food. She does like vegetables a lot, but she's not picky at all and always open to trying new snacks! ...Actually, if she's having a bad day (or just winding down from a tiring one) she might enjoy a nice thick soup.

She's definitely a big eater and her daily diet probably involves lots of protein and carbs. (She's a jock, pretty active and needs that fuel!) But she's not that strict in her diet. Her goal is being strong! Not being perfectly slim and trim at all times.

The obvious food for the Cook ability is of course pea soup. For food that actually appears in the games the peas in a pod that can be found in Kirby's Super Star (Ultra) or the snap peas in Kirby and the Rainbow Curse. But just for fun I'd like her to spawn a glass of punch or a club sandwich.

☀️ (Sun) - What’s their morning routine like? Do they take a lot of time getting ready in the morning? How do they groom themselves? What are they having for breakfast?

She wakes up and she's up 'n' at 'em! The biggest part of her morning routine is probably combing her hair. (She has so much of it. Where did it come from?? Where does it go?) She does not bother with pretty outfits often outside of special occasions (not that she dislikes them, they just get in the way), but her luscious locks and her long lashes are her pride and joy. Gotta make sure she looks sharp when she's kicking your butt!

Breakfast is whatever she grabs first that's available in large quantities. (She wakes up HUNGRY!) If you gave her a large pile of waffles with honey they'd be gone in the blink of an eye. And then her big ol' eyes will be staring up at you for more.

🐛 (Caterpillar) - What are your OC’s greatest fears, and why? How do they act or react when they’re afraid?

I'd say she's pretty brave, so when she's faced with a threat she definitely tries to fight back. Fleeing is a last resort to make a tactical retreat and try again later.

There are some things that would disturb her. Things she can't fight. She prides herself on her strength and coordination. If she were to lose that, if everyone suddenly saw her as just a weak useless little bug, if she became so clumsy her friends and innocent people got hurt because of her that would definitely haunt her. If nobody listened to her or took her seriously and everyone saw her as just an overgrown child or dumb muscle, or worse something that's outlived its usefulness, that would break her heart. Especially if she believed it's coming from her own friends.

Oh, and she probably doesn't like the dark either. A cloudless night is fine, she can still orient herself by the stars. But finding herself stuck in murky suffocating darkness that stretches out endlessly wide, too lonely and too quiet, to the point where it cuts off the senses and you lose all sense of body, self, time and direction? That's just eerie! She wouldn't wish that kinda nightmarish fate on anyone!

...Actually let me tag @kirbyoctournament in this. For the 🫛 lore!

Masterpost

[inaconstantstateofchange]

finirà bene - an Astarion/Dark Urge/Halsin time travel redux

Summary: At the very moment of the Absolute's defeat, Astarion opens his eyes to find himself amidst familiar burning wreckage, face-to-face with a Shadowheart who has no knowledge of their companion, the dragonborn Kelis. Stuck in this familiar-unfamiliar situation, Astarion will have to reforge alliances alone as he seeks to make his way out of this nightmare, and find his missing partner(s).

Pairing: endgame Astarion/Dark Urge/Halsin, with a primary in-fic focus on Astarion/Halsin (as Kelis is busy haunting the narrative).

Reposting because I'm very proud of the new banner - Kelis artwork done by @somespareserotonin-please - and because I haven't had a proper masterpost up yet.

Prologue and Chapter 1 are up on AO3, and I'll put them here for anyone who prefers to read that way. Chapter 2 is finished - 5k words! - and in the process of final editing and formatting to post here and on AO3, probably tomorrow at the latest.

I'd love to hear your thoughts, and hope you enjoy the journey as much as I do! ^^

Prologue: alone in the world

The din of battle fades out in patches, his ears ringing as the world swims before his eyes, dizzying colors erupting and obscuring the pitted surface of the nautiloid around him. Staggering to the side, he focuses on catching his balance, running his gloved hand along the gaps in his armor, looking for any puncture wounds carrying poison he didn’t notice.

Not now, not like this. The thought whispers through his mind like the frenzied beat of a drum. After everything they have battled through to reach this point, to survive it together, surely this cannot be the end, not when their true enemy is so close to defeat.

Through the spots encroaching further into his vision, and the strangely warped perspective the world around him is taking on, he casts about for Kelis, separated from him by the tide of battle for some time now.

At last, he sees them, far too close to the Brain for any comfort, near death though it is beginning to seem. Perhaps that is only wishful thinking, but — surely, surely it must be nearly defeated.

Their owlbear form seems somehow larger than he’s ever seen it, magnificent and ferocious. With a resonant shriek that builds from their chest and erupts into the air around them, they jump up toward the stormy sky above, body tilting down gracefully at the apex of their leap in preparation to bring the full force of gravity down with them on the target of their final strike — that wretched, hateful Crown.

He bares his teeth in wild, bloodsoaked joy, ready for this months-long nightmare to be over, but the world will not allow him more than this moment. As Kelis’s claws make contact with the sickening glow of the Crown’s gems, the warping that had faded into the background, holding its breath like everyone else in the battle, rushes to life with redoubled intent, now eating through not only his vision, but seemingly the world itself.

The last image he has before all is overtaken by crackling brilliance is Kelis blinking out of existence — present one moment, and gone without a single discernible trace of a spell’s effect the next.

His unbeating heart twists in his chest, nausea filling his entire body.

Not now, not like this.

“Kelis! Ke-”

His words disappear in the space between breaths, and he himself follows suit.

For a moment, an empty crown glints in the waning sunlight, before it too fractures, cracks, and splinters away.

Across a starlit sky, a burning nautiloid hurtles toward the ground, its trajectory cut short by its impact with the riverbank.

Numerous eyes track its passage, and a multitude of forces and individuals set to devising their responses to this unexpected incursion.

On a grassy outcropping, one pod is ejected at a sharp angle, its surface breaking open and its captive launched forward against the grass.

A white-haired elf lies still among the rocks and silt, unbreathing, as the sun’s rays climb over the horizon, inching closer and closer to his unresponsive form.

“-lis! Kelis?” The world filters back in in discordant jumps and starts — but something isn’t right. Blinking his unaccountably heavy eyelids open against the blinding sun, many somethings are not right.

Behind him lies the burning wreckage of an all-too-recognizable nautiloid, flames still crackling hungrily amidst the ruins.

Dumbly, he springs to his feet and spins around as quickly as the vertigo wracking his body will allow, knowing what he is searching for even as a horrible certainty grows in him that he will not find it.

To the left: the sharp drop to the Chionthar, its brilliant blue water belying the nightmare he must be inhabiting.

To the right: more wreckage, an extremely distressed boar, and — a familiar figure, albeit with a hair color he is no longer used to. His mind catches on this detail for a moment before abandoning it for more pressing matters.

“Shadowheart! What things have come to that the sight of your dour visage brings me relief, of all things. Will wonders never cease!” His voice is overly cheery, perhaps a touch manic, but no one who truly matters is around to mention it, so he’ll grant himself a temporary allowance.

“Now, is this an illusion spell of some form? Do you know of any way to break it? As patient as I would love to be, time is very much of the essence, so a bit of alacrity would be greatly appreciated!”

Alright, perhaps a slightly less temporary allowance.

Unexpectedly, the cleric’s response is to take a sharp step backward, expression growing even more wary.

“How do you know my name? We have certainly not yet been introduced, to my knowledge.” Her voice is icy and biting, without even the edge of begrudging fondness that had begun growing there in the past weeks.

His face slackens for a moment, thoughts whirring through his mind almost faster than he can note them. Something is far more awry here even than he originally considered.

As quickly as he can, he runs through what he knows of spells that could achieve an effect as encompassing as this appears to be. There are not a great many, but of course a creature as unprecedented as the Nether Brain could have access to a multitude of unknown magics.

None of his senses are telling him that anything around him is untrue or fabricated, despite his mind screaming very much the opposite. The wind coming from the water carries with it the expected smells, and the creaks and groans of organic machinery breaking down into the flames is as he remembers from his first day of freedom.

Most damningly of all — everything about Shadowheart is exactly as he recalls from their first meeting, down to the very smell of her, in his experience the most difficult sense for any illusion spell to accurately replicate.

He switches tacks as smoothly as he can, pushing as far down as it will go the part of him that wants to start screaming, and perhaps never stop.

Pasting on the smile that charmed hundreds of Baldur’s Gate’s finest to their deaths, he draws himself up into a less alarming pose, that perhaps screams an iota less ‘I am about to break down and begin stabbing every thing in sight.’

“My deepest apologies; I have had some… dealings, shall we say, with your cohort in Baldur’s Gate before, and was pleased to encounter a familiar face in an area this… desolate.” The sneer on his face as he peers around theatrically is not at all difficult to manufacture.

“I had no idea you were on one of your Lady’s more sensitive missions. Rest assured I will abide by all due secrecy in the future.”

He closes his speech – marvelously tailored under so short a time constraint, as far as he is concerned – with a hand flourish and a tip of his head, telegraphing foppish carelessness with all his might, but in truth desperate for the opportunity to hide his face away, even for a moment. The battle to keep that part of him that wants to break down – in tears or in murder, it is impossible to say – in check is becoming more difficult by the moment.

After an artful pause, he casts his eyes up through his fringe, checking for the success of his fabrication.

Shadowheart’s frown deepens visibly for a moment, discomfited by something about his statement, before the tension lines in her face smooth out and she shifts into a more neutral, although still readied, position.

“Apology accepted, although you would certainly benefit from greater discretion in the future —particularly if you intend to continue your dealings. The Mother Superior does not tolerate failure, as you must know.”

He inclines his head once more before returning upright, smile coming much more naturally now as he submerges himself in his role.

“Of course! My deepest thanks for your helpful reminder and concern for my person.”

A dismissive scoff is her only response as she turns to survey the wreckage herself.

Seeing an opportunity, he ventures a question. “I saw you on the ship, I’m fairly certain. However did you escape from those wretched pods?”

“There was someone else up there, who helped free m-,” Her answer comes without hesitation at first, only to cut off abruptly as her brow furrows.

With furious and feral hope clawing its way up his chest, he interjects as intently as he dares, “There was someone else loose up there? Who? What did they look like?!”

After a moment, he tacks on a weak justification, attempting to play off his intensity, “They must have been impressive indeed, to free you from such a fate.”

She doesn’t pay his inconsistency any mind, eyes clouded as she continues looking over the wreckage, seemingly in search of something in particular.

After another long moment, she turns away with a firm shake of her head. “No… no, there was no one. My pod broke when the ship crashed, just as yours did, I presume.”

He barely keeps himself from pressing her, biting back the words trying to escape him as he marshals the increasing urge to grab her shoulders and shake her, demanding to know if she had seen a red Dragonborn with bottomless black eyes.

At this point in his ongoing nightmare, he is becoming sickly certain that hearing her answer would be even worse than the creeping dread that is slowly overtaking him.

“Well, all’s well that ends well, I suppose!” With a false laugh and a bright grin he doesn’t feel even a fraction of, he commits to the course he’s set for himself.

Stay alive.

Don’t drive off one of your least useless comrades, in the event that this ends up not being some illusory nightmare realm.

Find a camp or similarly secluded place of respite.

Have a breakdown that will rank in at least the top ten of your very long life.

Make a plan.

Find Kelis.

[thatwitchrevan]

we lay here for years or for hours

KHUX post-end fic | 546 words

Ephemer and Skuld wake up - Elias falls asleep.

-

(This fic was started when the KHUX ending came out and I finished it last night - my Player Elias is being absorbed into Xehanort's heart and Skuld is going to be Subject X. Ao3 link in the reblog.)

The world is on fire.

Ephemer wakes up with his pod floating in the water. He scrambles to sit up, the pod pitching as he moves. He looks around, seeing nothing but water and rubble. He steps out to find the water at knee height where he's drifted, but it looks deeper in some spots.

"Skuld?" He scans the area frantically, but there's no sign of anyone nearby. "Elias?" he calls, and bites his tongue. Of course he's not going to find Elias. They're dead. He killed them.

And Skuld - she must be gone, too, or lost somewhere else. She never would have left him on purpose.

He sloshes through the water, calling her name until his throat is hoarse and his face is wet, his nose snotty. At some point he bangs his shin on some rubble and sinks down in the water, freezing his knees.

He's alone.

When the water becomes too cold to bear, he climbs back into his pod and lays down staring at the sky.

Skuld wakes up in her pod and smells flowers. She frowns, gripping the side of her head where it pounds. She tries to get up and tumbles out the side of the pod, face first into yellow and pink petals. The flowers remind her of something, but she's not sure.

She lifts her head - it spins, pain spiking behind her eyes and temple - and she swallows, her throat dry and chapped, and cries out for someone she can't see. "Ephemer!"

Her head is... Is she bleeding? She can't think clearly. Where is she? Does she know this place?

There's cold cobblestone under her hands. Another name is stuck in her throat, but even though her head is foggy she somehow knows that calling it won't do any good.

They're gone.

She doesn't remember what happened. She just knows that she's lost them.

Skuld realizes belatedly that it's raining. Water hits her back and shoulders, running through her hair as she sits up. The pain in her head is still pounding. She pushes to her knees, her hands clenching around fistfuls of flowers. "Elias."

She can't picture their face. She can't picture Ephemer's. She thinks she might pass out.

He promised he'd be with her on the other side.

"Elias!" she screams, her voice echoing off stone buildings. "Ephemer! Where the hell are you?"

Her head hurts it hurts and she cannot hold on to what's happening right now, much less what happened before she got here. She lays down on her back, letting the rain fall on her face and her eyes close. Maybe if she rests the hurt will stop and she'll be able to figure out what she forgot. Maybe her friends will find her. Maybe the rain will wash it all away.

Elias holds Chirithy against their chest as everything dissolves. It feels weird, a little like falling asleep, a little like pins and needles, extremities going numb and mind shutting down. Is this what dying feels like? Elias had expected it to hurt. Remembered it hurting.

Chirithy nuzzles their tears away. They dream of a small boy with white hair, and an island with gorgeous, gentle blue waves.

Their friends are safe, that's all that matters.

The waves sound like a lullaby.

[kisilinramblings]

With how much the ring become highlited in s4 and now in s5 the miraculous is turned into a ring, I began to wonder if that was what the writer actually intended. that we need to watch out for the rings as it will become a major plot point but not in the way the senti theorist thought of but because of how it shown in s5.

I'm not so sure.

With the Miraculous Rings, it shows us how Monarch is abusing powers. First off, he destroyed the individuality of each Miraculous so they are more practical to him. The Kwamis are now stuck in individual prison capsule and they cannot escape. They are feed industrial food pellets as if they were cattle. And let's not forget the new formula : [Kwami's name], your power is mine! (I honestly shiver each time Monarch says that line).

Everything is made so the Kwamis are treated as enslaved prisoners abused for their power under a tyrant's rule. They are not sentient individual but pawns. They are not their Holder's equal, but his propriety. They can't even move freely, it is the technology that move their pods towards Monarch and Monarch's motion that makes them be absorbed by the respective ring.

The Miraculous Rings are also a produce of Gabriel's partnership with Tomoe and her technology.

Meanwhile, the Graham de Vanilly Twin Rings symbolism is other. First off, they have a strong emotional attachment linked to them. They are the symbol of a promise, the one Gabriel and Émilie exchange during their wedding ceremony, but it is also Gabriel's vow to Émilie which he renewed during the first anniversary of her death.

(Please note that all quotes comes from the French dub which I am translating)

Gabriel : Soon, Ladybug and Chat Noir's Miraculous will be mine. I promise. I will then get the ultimate power and we will be soon reunited. You, me and Adrien, soon Émilie.

And second, they are a family heirloom which first belong to Émilie's family before it became an integral part of the Agreste's family and their legacy.

Amélie : Oh! How cute! You are still wearing your wedding band. And Émilie's, I imagine you still have it? You never replied to my email about it. You know I want to get those rings back.

Gabriel : Those rings are precious keepsakes to me, Amélie.

Amélie : They are also extremely precious to me too. Those jewels belong to the Graham de Vanillys. Not to the Agrestes.

And later, during Risk...

Gabriel (while holding the ring) : It is our riskiest plan yet. There are some much variables on which we have no control on. *Puts the ring on Nathalie's finger* If anything goes wrong, I want something that remains of the Agrestes. I entrust you my wife's ring and my son.

It is that emotional and sentimental value that differentiate the Twin Rings (family bond) from the Miraculous and Alliance Rings (tools).

Of course, it isn't because the Twin Rings are linked thematically to family, promise and legacy, that it is all positive and rainbows. A ring wore on the left finger is a recognizable and socially accepted mark that you are bond to someone from an occidental patriarcal POV. Some will understand that you "belong" to someone instead of being "engage" to someone.

Gabriel is presented as the Patriarch of the Agreste ever since S1. "Papa a raison". Father knows best. He is the figure of authority inside his household. He is always in control, will be the one to provide his family and will discipline anyone under his roof.

Think of all the people trapped inside an abusive or toxic household. People who cannot divorce or just leave for various reasons (insuffisant money, nowhere else to go, no ressources, not old enough). They too are under the control of someone who isn't safe to them. And no magic is necessary to be manipulative, to bond them to you.

Still, it is not for nothing that Gabriel gets compare to a fairy tale villain. He gets depicted as the devil by Nino at the beginning of Party Crasher to the evil witch/sorcerer during Marc and Nathaniel fairy tale analogy.

While Gabriel may now present himself a saint or at least as someone doing his best, we know how corrupted / rotten he is. Both figuratively (Monarch) and literally (his sheep clothing).

[proximasc0rner]

(So. I'm going to preface this by saying I'm a Gen Z queer kid who doesn't know what it was like to be LGBTQ in the earlier days of our fight for equality, and I don't know what it was like to have the ONLY queer representation onscreen be queer-coded villains. This post is not to be taken too seriously. It was just a silly thought that popped into my head, so I wanted to share a lighthearted rant about it. Please don't murder me okay thanks)

Sometimes life gives you lemons, and sometimes it hits you with the Disney Villains hyperfixation. Again.

This post isn't going to be about how much I am a fUCKING SIMP because I do NOT have the balls to talk about the shit that runs through my head when I'm just casually in love with fictional Bad People™️

Instead, it's just about me diving through various rabbit holes and learning about the queer community's complicated relationship with Disney Villains. I learned what the Hays Code was, and how it was the origin of the queer-coded villain trope. Good guys weren't allowed to be gay. And even though the Hays Code eventually just kinda died for the most part, the trope stuck around.

But even though the trope was designed to frame queer people as untrustworthy, perverse, and strange, a lot of LGBTQ folks really, REALLY love these diabolical characters, myself included-- although I wasn't around when the queer community first "claimed" the villains as our own, so to speak. I actually watched a really interesting video essay on the subject that I'll link to below! A lot of it boiled down to a sense of relatability to these characters-- these villains want to take charge of their lives, and are more often than not outcasts in some respects. So, really, it becomes easy to see the appeal of these extremely self-confident and unapologetically different characters.

But again. Queer-coded villains come with a lot of historical baggage. Thus, when the live-action remakes started coming out, the villains lost most of the queer-coding they had.

But that gave them the new problem. They are FUCKING BORING. LOOK I HAD TO SAY IT. These bitches do NOT have much personality to them. I'd give an example of a Disney live-action remake villain to prove this point, but uh I'm. Kinda boycotting Disney right now, and these movies. I cannot remember these movies enough to tell you anything about them.

BUT ANYWAY. I realized that kind of leaves queer audiences between a rock and a hard place: either have a queer-coded villain whose trope was literally made to villainize queer people, orrrr have a villain whose personality is so bland that you might as well replace them with a sapient cup of tap water and still have the same impact.

And thus, I propose a solution to this dilemma!

Yes, queer-code the villains (DONT LEAVE YET IM GETTING SOMEWHERE). Make them just as delightfully overdramatic as villains like Maleficent or Jafar. Give them that limp wrist. GIVE THOSE MALE VILLAINS PERFECT EYELINER.

But if you're going to queer-code the villain? Then queer-code the hero, too. Show that queerness is not intrinsically tied to morality of any kind, it's just a part of who some people are. Make those heroes flamboyant. Give them that drag queen gait. If you're feeling froggy, lesbian-code the hero's mom or something! Make her be older and unmarried and give her that deeper voice and then show how fucking awesome of a mother she is to the hero. Walt Disney would be rolling in his grave (or cryogenic pod depending on who you ask /j), and I think that would be truly beautiful.

So. Yeah. That about covers it. Okay everyone go home and drink water. :)

EDIT: HAHAHAHA I DEFINITELY DIDNT FORGET ABOUT THE LINK TO THE VIDEO OR ANYTHING

[annakie]

So, some thoughts and screenshots on the first few hours of BG3 --

Indyara is my Half-Elf Bard. She's a character I have played in several D&D games, wanting to find a game where her backstory mattered and we actually finished the game. I'm actually in that game right now, playing every other Saturday morning, though there was one other game it... almost worked out for her.

Bard is my favorite D&D class, going back to when I played one in a 3/3.5e game for several years in the early 2000's, and I played BG1 & 2 with one.

Decently high CHA (16) but not sacrificing INT, DEX, and CON (14) while having a bad WIS (9) and STR (8). Let's see how that works out for her.

High Half-elf for that sweet CHA bonus and getting Firebolt, so I have an actual useful damaging cantrip. (Do not ask me for my diatribe about why everyone is wrong about Vicious Mockery being a good spell unless you want an earful.)

Absolutely fuming that they still are leaving the version number up and it's visible in screenshots. Cannot believe that oversight. Also that they leave menu buttons visible in cutscenes, what the fuck Larian? Found out last night that apparently hitting f10 should stop that, but that removes the entire UI and obviously you need to turn it back on. But for now my entire first day's of screenshots and videos look like ass and I'm mad about it.

Lots of screenshots and commentary below the cut. I didn't make it too far in-game and honestly I don't talk about the plot much.

Hey, look lady, we're both stuck here. Indy is very patient and diplomatic, whatever it takes to make it through every day as unscathed as possible, but this one might try that patience. At least she's useful. Let's see if we can make a friend.

Indy did save Shadowheart from her pod, but the way she and Lae'zel bicker is already giving her a headache.

Well this certainly is a development, and I'm sure whoever these two are will be completely unimportant in the hours to come.

I told myself I wasn't going to savescum when I failed a roll, but look, I'm not about to let Indyara Nat 1 on a CHARISMA check about magic when she very first meets the future love of her life. I reloaded this one.

Indy's initial impression on meeting Gale: a few seconds of "Wait, THIS is the one I'm going to fall in love with?" met with "Oh. I get it." a few seconds later. Very smart, polite, charming and funny? Sign me up, please.

Plus, we look great in screenshots together.

(Indy's hair is definitely lighter in sunlight than I intended, her hair was supposed to be brown with pink streaks (for bardic flair) but it comes out looking dark honey in direct sun. Ah well.)

A few minutes later though "Wait, this one is as charming and me, and extremely heroic? Are you SURE we made the right choice? They're both great. Can't we have them both?"

(Sorry Indy, we don't need two high-CHA characters in the main party. He's saved for another playthrough.)

Oh come ON. This isn't fair. Another one?

Poly mod... when? Or at least a list of who is officially OK with poly in-game? Shadowheart is growing on me, too, after a bit of a rough introduction.

I'm sorry, Astarion. I already took a level dip in rogue to be the party trap/lock skill monkey since we're bringing along the Wizard, Cleric and, for now at least, the fighter. (We'll see how long that lasts. This game needs more tank companions. Though I don't mind companions that are challenging, generally.)

I love having a camp again. Need better camp clothes, though, for all of us. I did do the Twitch Stream unlock thing, but haven't found those rewards in-game yet. Anyone?

Literally already started unlocking the Gale romance by the time I was just wandering around the Emerald Grove area. He loves almost every decision I make and I'm glad of it.

...of course there's a catch.

Hahahaha holy shit, Volo! I love being a bard in this game and loved bullshitting Volo, and he loved knowing he was getting bullshitted.

See, wasn't this a nice time, ladies, listening to this other bard sing? Let's have less bickering, more listening to Bards. <3

Astarion... I'm just not into Vampires. At least not with this character. Still, I like you. I wish I could have offered to help him find food here instead of just sending him away, but I let him down easy.

Indy found a cute hat at camp and is wearing the FUCK out of it. I mean look at her! And it helps with song of rest! (though it does considerably shorten her hair, but hey, it's a MAGIC hat so that's just part of the magic.)

I've played a Larian game or two before so I picked up Speak with Animals as one of my first level spells and do not regret it. However, I feel like I didn't help this Owlbear enough, though I let her and her cub be. Probably missed out on something cool here. Again, I'll pick it up in another playthrough. I'm trying to not google for answers to every puzzle this time and just play through blind.

OH HOLY SHIT WHAT DID I WALK IN ON. I'M SO SORRY FOR YOU AND FOR ME.

Oh no, Gale is into some other woman... oh wait that's Mystra. I get it, you're a wizard. And I'm a smart Lore bard who's also very into magic so uh, let's make some magic happen? Also, sorry we got this cutscene when Gale was at like 2hp so he's all bruised up. I love that it shows on the character models though.

Ohhh wait you DO want to make magic together? I'm down with that, and got to put bardic flourishes on all my responses to Gale's instructions. I LOVE this game, I LOVED this scene. Though I hate what the magic VFX did to Indy's face here.

Oh my God, is this the first flirt scene!?! Tell me it's the first flirt scene!!

I imagined slipping my hand into his hand on a romantic walk and... he liked it. This was very, very sweet. And getting to flirt over a shared love of magic was... *chef's kiss*

I'm also making great progress with Shadowheart. Okay, we can be BFFs. <3

Things to come indeed, Gale.

----

In Early Access I didn't get very far and honestly I think last night I made it about as far as I ever made then, or close to it. I basically went "Whelp I love this game, I don't want to spend my time playing through this now when I can go through it fresh later in like a year." (and then it was THREE, but that's fine.)

I'm fighting Phase Spiders but fuck that, I might come back when we all hit level 4. That fight sucked. I am trying to make "good" choices but have probably really screwed some stuff up. i feel bad that Astarion and Wyll get left at camp but they don't fit into my party makeup (I think I'll do a Paladin next and bring both of them along instead of Gale and Lae.)

Absolutely love all of the chances to shortcut quests and fights by Barding / persuading / lying my way out of it. So few things I don't love so far, though I definitely feel like I'm stumbling my way through the dark, not knowing if I'm doing the right things.

Can't wait to do almost nothing this weekend but play BG3. A full day of work, first, though. :(

[theprincessandherloyalprotector]

I bite my lip to suppress a wide grin as I read his letter in the dining hall of my school before immediately heading to my dorm to write one back,

Lord Vader,

Whilst I would absolutely love to take you up on your offer, I have to assume you do not know much about the Naboo way of schooling.

Until I am 18 years of age I am not allowed to leave the school grounds (unless I can sneak out for a night to race). It starts in the later teens to curve the reckless things my age group does, apparently. Non-familial visitors are also not allowed, to discourage suitors. Which, quite frankly, I am rather thankful for. Princes, Dukes, and Viscounts be gone. The men of my class are so dull!

When I graduate, if you still wish, I would love to come and see Coruscant before being bound to Naboo forever. Although, gods willing, that won’t happen. I do not know if you’ve heard, but my mother has come to be with child, at the age of 40! And is healthy! I hope it is another girl that I can pass the throne to and not a boy, since Naboo is a Monarchy.

I’d much rather race for a living.

If you are disappointed about the visit then the only consolation I can offer is continuous letters. It helps with the boredom of this place, and gives me bragging rights to the other stuck-up nobility here. Once again, how am I even related to these people??? I’d rather jump out the window than promenade in the park. (Not actually. No suicidal thoughts here, in all seriousness!)

I hope everything is great on Coruscant, and that Anubis is doing well! I’ve been reading the Jedi books you sent me last year and I think I’ve gotten most of the katas down? I practice during my free hours of the day. If you would be willing to send more I’d be grateful. Jedi or Sith, I love to learn.

Thank you!

Lili

Princess of Naboo

Upon hearing you won’t be able to visit, Vader’s disappointment only lasts for a few minutes before he gets an idea and hurries to write back to you.

He slicks his freshly-washed hair back and plops down at his desk in just his towel, grabbing his pen and a new piece of paper.

Lili,

Do not apologize for rules set in place long before your existence. It is on me that I did not know of your situation. A visit would have been wonderful, but I am sure we can find a way around the law.

Your visit upon the end of your graduation term seems more than doable. I can arrange for you to stay in the palace for however long you would like. Your schooling sort of follows the Jedi way… staying until you graduate into Knighthood, then getting a week or two off to visit family or whatever you may wish. We are more similar than you may think, little one.

Congratulations on your mother’s pregnancy. You and your sibling will have quite the age difference, and I’m willing to bet they will look up to you in so many ways growing up.

You want to podrace for a living. I, too, admire the sport, though I must say it worries me to think that you may be injured. It is a dangerous game, and one that even Force Sensitives cannot always win at. I beg you to be cautious always when you are in that pod. Should you ever need help modifying it, I am more than willing to do so. I know a thing or two about it.

As far as your books go… I will have some more sent along with this letter. Your passion for your education of the Force is not only an attractive quality but a noble one, as well.

And, princess, when it comes to no visitors, I believe the Emperor of the galaxy gets a pass. However, I would not want to frustrate your parents- lest I be drowned by water bunnies.

Instead, have these holo courses I’ve prepared. Set them in the middle of the space you are using and the session will go smoothly. I look forward to hearing of your progress and to receiving these continuous letters.

Yours,

Lord Vader

For the next week or so, he dedicates his time to recording these programs for you, even removing some to re-record if they’re not ‘perfect’ to him. He covers everything from meditation to how you stand and even several different fighting maneuvers.

A package arrives for you three weeks after you originally sent your letter. Inside are six more books about the Force, two of which teach Sith training methods with Vader’s writing in the margins. An envelope lies on top of those boxes, the thumb drive for his holo courses tucked safely inside of it along with the letter.

[mobbothetrue]

Me, watching my mutuals slowly start reblogging sonic content: it’s spreading