#i dont even know what other ship people might want to see but the option is there lmao

[cerealmonster15]

YAAAY

➥ One of your favorite lines (or paragraphs) you wrote in 2024:

I'm giving you two and theyre both idia quotes:

The offer was on the table, and it was up to Idia what happened next. The following five seconds stretched across what felt like eons to them both as Idia focused all his energy on trying not to literally pass out on the bench and take Cater down with him, or get overwhelmed by the possibility that if he DID kiss Cater, Cater might immediately throw up all over him and run away screaming. Really, it wasn’t that he didn’t WANT to kiss Cater, but what if he died? What if they both died!?

^ Blue Raspberry Mango

“...Some one, more like it…” Idia snickered.  And then gasped, a look of horror replacing his expression instantly. “Wait- SERIOUSLY? You- AZUL?!” “Shut up!" Jamil hissed, dropping down beside Idia to cover his mouth. “Don’t be so loud!” “Ugh, EW…” Idia grimaced once Jamil pulled away. “I didn’t expect you of all people to have such shit-tier taste in guys.”

^ Double Sided Pining Coin

I didn't realize those were both 2024 lol what a wild and long year. i love writing idia even though i've only done it a few times lol he's soooo much fun to just go ham with.

➥ A fun fact/easter egg/trivia fact for a fic you worked on in 2024:

i cant think of anything surprisingly lol usually i have a lot to say!! but i guess a fun fact about my ao3 stats is that 2 of my top 5 longest fics are ones i wrote in 2024 [3 if you include the fact that the top one is my multichap fic and i wrote a chunk of it in 2024] and theyre both 5k idi/kei and jami/azu fics lol. something about writing those pairs together makes me bonkers. i love how silly they are on their own and even moreso putting them together. theyre fun ships and i looove the board game club's funny hater friendship, and i also like playing with the concepts of the rest of them being friends/interacting in some degree lol

➦ The title or working title of a fic you're currently working on/planning for 2025:

working title "leocay situationship divorce drama" lol. idk if ill write it into a whole thing, i kinda just wrote down a scene that was haunting me and i have an overall vision for the vibe, ive had this vague idea in my head for a few years now but skdfjklsd i'm kind of shy about it so maybe itll just stay in the drafts. or maybe The Madness will overtake me on a whim and itll find it's way on ao3, we'll see lol.

➦ A scene or fic idea that you want to write/try writing for but intimidates you: (very optional but let's put those stretch goals out!)

^ that one over there LOL ummm also. i have considered many a time writing some of my caterella plotlines, some of which include my twst ocs. but im too shy LOL.....

more reasonably, i do have a trey/cater wip that ive begun but it's a long process because it's one i'm taking my time with, a fic that explores cater and trey [and riddle!!!] as characters and their relationships with each other, like snapshots of scenes from when trey and cater first meet at orientation throughout their years at nrc. i was gonna try and get it out before heartslabyul's section of book 7 began but it's just too slow a process, and now we may or may not get more backstory lore of the beloved trio that i could integrate... if it doesnt destroy me in the process JKLFDSKGHGJ i love my heartslabyuls sooo much so i want to write it with care..... but i get SCARED when i'm going beyond just silly goofy time [tho it will also be silly goofy time. i know who i am]

✦ A link to your ao3 or other posting platform so people can see what you've been up to and what you're going to be up to: :3

My ao3 is here! i also tag "#cereal writes" for cross posting, and sometimes here i post out of context wip lines or babble about my trials and tribulations of writing but i dont really tag those so u kinda just gotta catch me in the act teehee

2024 FUCK YEAH I DID IT + 2025 FUCK YEAH IM PLANNING ON DOING IT (fic) writers edition

➥ One of your favorite lines (or paragraphs) you wrote in 2024:

➥ A fun fact/easter egg/trivia fact for a fic you worked on in 2024:

➦ The title or working title of a fic you're currently working on/planning for 2025:

➦ A scene or fic idea that you want to write/try writing for but intimidates you: (very optional but let's put those stretch goals out!)

✦ A link to your ao3 or other posting platform so people can see what you've been up to and what you're going to be up to: :3

Tagging~ let's see. @ladybundle @basuralindo @deezneezz

anyone else is free to do it too, I have not had coffee yet so my brain is bleary.

[chayscribbles]

now that i have polls i can have you guys make all my decisions for me, starting with:

[fictionfixations]

going through 2.5

2.5 STORY SPOILERS

trigger warning later of minor character death. shown off screen but is described in a way that could sound horrible to the faint of heart

WHAT

i know i joked in my previous post when going through 2.4 that it sounded like the start of a fanfiction but im genuinely disgusted by this ew i was really fucking tempted to just write a fic where jiaoqiu beats his ass (even though i know hoolay is way more powerful then him) but also 2.5 already came out so i gotta get through the story before i get spoiled

the smart choice would be to do 2. but also fuck you hoolay im doing 1. HHH jiaoqiu's voice sounds so like. stressed. like trying to have composure but you can tell hes struggling a little.

also im sorry but hoolays human form looks so fucking ugly (okay maybe im biased but also FUCK YOU HOOLAY) idk ppl might still simp for him but also fuck you im on jiaoqius side >:(

STOPPP USING THE WORD ALPHA like ive heard it so many times in media im DONE i cant hear it the same 😭

"💀 " "None Can Hurt Me" UHHMSOFJFO i sure hope nothing happens to you buddy but

BURN BABY BURN

what the fuck im scared

wait but so i CAN go try to get help? IM SCARED WHAT HAPPENS. uh. uh. uh. FUCK YOU HOOLAY IM DOING IT

wait if i do this will he die. like the the the npc?!?!??!?! GUYSS

AHAHa.. AHgahah.... im. so fucing nervous

im. ohhhh fuck literal chills. im. should i look at what other options i can do to escape or. im so fucking stressed holy shit. logically speaking if jiaoqiu leaves and the ship gets sabotaged or whatever he could die (both him and npc). if he asks him to send a message then the npc will die. guys i hate this what the fuck

I HATE THAT ITS RED TEXT. okay with acheron it was a little startling but we never got like a warning that OUR ACTIONS have CONSEQUENCES. im so fucking scared

me too man. me too. idont want jiaoqiu to die thoguh what if what we choose changes whether or not he dies in canon im

okay ive talked to everyone. and the warning text for everyone is

the skarskiff(?) guy is just an ordinary person the realm keeping person is not prepared for this kind of emergency and that the cloud knight doesnt have backup (has the same choice options as the realm keeping person of borisin are here and introducing ourself)

also that we're being watched. who the fuck

okay the best option would be to cloud knight. but also is it a good idea? no. but. hiusgh. oh my god i hate this.

IM GOING TO BITE THE BULLET. i dont trust that this will end well for me but the logical option even if i get fucked later is to alert someone. a cloud knight knows what risks and responsibilities they're taking on by becoming one and if they die well fuck man but i REFUSE to just not do anything because that'd be like. playing into hoolays hands which 1. i hate him. 2. as a person who very much values my independence I NEED OUT OF THIS SITUATION

and maybe its what hoolay wants, for us to fail his 'test' but whatever. IM REBELLIOUS. (and probably really dumb)

cant wait to see how this affects story in the future. and also seeing how different choices affect things when i watch other people do this. haha. but predicting that they might not talk to anyone out of fear IM going to talk to someone

uhh im going to introduce myself first. its like how you're meant to share your address first in emergencies or something i think maybe? because if the call cuts out then they can find you quickly (i think your phone can be tracked but it takes awhile its not that easy i think?)

okay i did it. wheres the guy who was watching me i cant remember where he was. is he gone? did he disappear? i acnt tell im so fuckings tressed

nothing happened but. but the cloud knights gone now (presumably to spread the news)

i. do i tell other people ? do i. im. okay im

i only talked to the cloud knight. and then im going to do what hoolay asked. thats it. im not brave or reckless enough to tell eVEryone

HIS VOICE IS TREMBLING for the 100th time i hate this

GUH

I FORGOT THEY HAVE OFFICIAL IDENTITIES PRETENDING TO BE--

oh fuck MY DUMBASS

his voice... AGHH JIAOQIUUU

GO FUCK YOURSELF YOURE NOT THE BOSS OF ME

i knew it. i fucking knew it. IM JUSTIFYING IT TO MYSELF BECAUSE CLOUD KNIGHT YOU BECOME IT KNOWING YOU COULD DIE OKAY. id rather have tried to escape then not at all and prove his racist belief 'right'. okay i know im probably in the wrong because they couldve lived if i didnt do anything and i had a hunch that they wouldve died if i asked for help. but. okay at my core i am selfish. and for all i knew there was a teeny tiny chance that it couldve succeeded

and listen. im quoting twisted wonderland now.

"Zero is zero no matter what you multiply it by, right? But if you take some form of action, that zero could potentially become 0.001. And 0.001 has a chance of becoming 100. In which case, there's no reason NOT to do it." (Book 6 - Chapter 48 • A Sequel Cut Short)

i hate these kinds of mind games.

hoolay fucking yapping and i know we're in a tough situation meant to demonstrate how jiaoqiu's kind of powerless but hoolays just talking about how jiaoqiu will eventually crumble and im just. yeah okay big talk. and like i get that hoolay does have connections still and ppl pretending to be foxians keeping a close eye on everything and genuinely wont hesitate to kill someone but okay i just hate him

god he sounds like one of those people who are like. when you refuse their advances and they go 'oh so youre playing hard to get huh?' and keep going with the belief that we definitely want them or some shit💀

i should pretend. but no i cant. thats not the kind of person i am.

oh shit. yeah okay remind me that maybe this could potentially lead to jiaoqiu dying in canon. i mean. its happened in npc stories before right? like that one person in penacony who we could choose to stop her from falling or let her fall

but fucking OW. hoolay talking doesnt terrify me. and maybe thats why im choosing all the dumb options. but ow.

does he have this pose if we pretend to show weakness? i mean maybe its cause we got hurt and hes exaggerating it and showing weakness then. or maybe it actually hurts like a bitch and he cant help but show reaction.

OMG MOZE

okay actually other idea of jiaoqius plan. contacting someone for help and deliberately being caught so its not suspicious if we go along with his demands too easily (but having another plan to get help thats more secret)

like okay i know it was my choice to try to get help and fucking it up but still canon-like right. although i doubt he'd be okay sacrificing an innocent life so um oops

AHHH FUCKING LITERAL CHILLS. we got jiaoqiu flashback where he was like a healer on the battlefield. i dont think im saying that right i forgot what theyre called. but like remember feixiao mentioning in 2.4 how jiaoqiu healed her, and later became her like main healer or something something i forget the wording

and then it goes black and we hear hoolays voice. i have a little hunch that it might be the thing to stop the lupitoxin's effects starting to fade, nad thus the toxin starting to affect him

hh his voice... :(

yeah okay so let us go

sorry did he just bite someone and they turned into a borisin or did it just get rid of the guys disguise

i wasnt paying attention to who it was. i know it wasnt mok tok (different appearance, also it showed jiaoqiu turning away to not see it and mok tok standing there while that was happening)

its genuinely so confusing trying to tell who is a foxian and whose a borisin cause disguises but i assume its an actual borisin who was disguised...

hes talking to moze but all i can hear is monke from ben's stream (aka moze's EN VA LMFAO)

OH IT WAS A NORMAL FOXIAN

what if he does it on jiaoqiu but then they figure out how to turn jiaoqiu back to normal and learn how to cure feixiao. right? right??? probably not but im so stressed

HOLY SHIT JIAOQIU. he sounds so.. wrung out. exhausted.

acting is fucking 10/10 he sounds kind of unhinged but in the slow still exhausted but with emphasis on some of the words?? like. like he still has fight in him. i dont know how to explain this but its really cool

oh shit does he die now

hooly fucking shit literal chills the text appearing on the black screen actually like communicating in a way to us and helping us get an idea of whats going on

okay major manga spoilers for demon slayer. but here is my next prediction: he has poison in his blood that will affect the borisins if they drink it, like how shinobu kocho had like a shit ton of wisteria in her blood (it was also under her fingernails and shit like that, she put it EVERYWHERE) so that when douma (who killed her sister) ate her he'd be poisoned and severely weakened

AM I RIGHT??

I. FUCKING. KNEW ITTTTTT

okay well it was pretty obvious because right before it mentioned the green peppers(?) thing and how to get a picky child to eat it, it re-mentioned that conversation. and then changed it how to get a wolf to something something i already forgot so it was obvious

but JIAOQIU LETS GOOOO i really hope you didnt die

no wait but shit

okay so i cant share any more images i hit the limit on tumblr but okay so if he consumed poison (ist tumbledust. i already forgor. was it like the thing thats like a sedative thats good in small quantities but lethal in large quantities? or was that like yabruh or something)

does that mean he'll die anyway or

i dont think jiaoqiu said it in front of hoolay but anyway im so unhappy that cutscenes lag for me (hoolay immediately clocks on that it was probably jiaoqiu who poisoned him but sdhfuf. this MEANS that hoolay drank JIAOQIUS BLOOD?!?!?!?!? is he DEAD??? )

also i HATE the hoolay fight im struggling so bad ahuisdhdisuad

YANQING LETS FUCKING GOOOOOO (boutta trigger hoolays jingliu trauma)

im sorry for accusing you of being a disguised borisin, sparkle traumatized me ok (and im sorry for pinching your cheeks in 2.4 being cautious of if you were a fake but also i didnt know that was what that option meant)

you were just acting really weird so i got stressed but LETS GOOOO

WHAT WE'RE FIGHTING HIM AGAIN????? YOURE FUCKING WITH ME

oh shit feixiao boss fight

heyy her character. trailer?? i think thats what it was called teased this. like cause she got drunk and couldnt recognize jing yuan and fought him (briefly)

YANQING FUCKING POPPED OFF THIS STORY

i (think) all thats left is feixiao boss fight that we saw in the livestream

some stuff. ill do wardance later. but im gonna end this post here. havent gotten to the end but i dont think ill have anything else to share and i dont have space here anyway so brr

OH FINALLY I CAN ACCESS DIFFICULTY MODES

AND YOU CAN CHOOSE THEM WHILE IN STORY OH THANK FUCK casual mode my precious

okay we figfhting preceptor oh

dan heng: the oath of the alliance doesnt matter to me because im not a part of the alliance anymore *attacks*

me using imbitior lunae dan heng in battle: uh. uh. uh. uhm. YEP

anyway jiaoqius alive (he almost died though)

he sounds so more subdued :(

HOLY SHIT HES BLIND? OH MY GOD thats both better and worse than i thought

OH MY GOD TINGYUN

i was so confused on ruan mei appearance but OH MY GOD

[lovemyromance]

You know that scene in the Jim Carey grinch when he yells “I’m an Idiot” into the cave and the echo says “You’re an idiot!” back at him instead? I feel like that is the glenriel echo chamber in a nutshell. THAT is the real take away from the fated mates quiz that was posted today.

I think the issue in this fandom is that people tend to take things very, very personally. Ive seen it on all sides, but it's especially prevalent when we take a look at some of these Gwynriel theories. Gwyn became a self insert character for many because she's just vague and secondary enough that she has no real flaws and is not very complex or fleshed out. She does a few brave things and is generally kind and pretty - and people just latched on.

Any idea that Gwyn isn't a main character, any mention of the lightsinger theory, any whisper even that Gwynriel isn't backed by evidence from the books - that is something they are going to take very personally. Because even if objectively, all those things are true, these people are using Gwyn as a self insert. So they are hearing people say:

"Gwyn is not an MC" = "you're not a main character"

"Gwyn could be a lightsinger" = You're a cruel evil lightsinger"

"Gwyn and Azriel aren't mates" = "you're not gonna end up with azriel"

And that doesn't seem like something they want to hear. So they lash out, go crazy with their crack theories even more than before. They take it as a personal insult when it is just something that is objectively true. They accuse everyone of being anti Gwyn when they dont support Gwynriel when they are really two separate things.

I'm sure they'll find some way to spin this fated mates quiz anyways. Or more likely, the Eluciens will spin it because Lucien was an option and try to push the Elucien agenda, which the Gwynriels will hop on board for just to say "ofc SJM wouldn't spoil Gwynriel in a quiz 🙄"

That's what happens when you form a conclusion and then read the books to zero in on any scrap of text you can twist to fit that conclusion. When you read backwards, you form backwards opinions 🤷🏻‍♀️

People have got to understand that being anti a ship doesn't mean they hate that character. All I see Eluciens & Gwynriels do is accuse people of hating Lucien and Gwyn. Which is crazy. Nobody hates them, im pretty sure feelings towards these characters have only soured due to the insanity of the fandom, not the books or characters themselves.

And I've been very clear about this. For example, Lucien was actually my favorite character in ACOTAR. But when SJM stopped writing him, I stopped liking him as much. When Lucien and Elain were declared mates in ACOMAF - I was actually in support. It was only in ACOWAR did I see how unsuited they were for each other that I realized I don't think this ship is endgame. I reached that conclusion without hating Lucien or Elain - imagine that?

Furthermore, I actually got Lucien in that fated mates quiz. And I was not surprised nor was I disappointed by the answer. It tracks. If I were to go for a man, it would definitely be someone like Lucien. Even my current boyfriend has the same kind of traits as Lucien (dry wit, snarky, but able to switch to polite and charming at the drop of a hat).

But that's the important distinction. I, personally, would go for a man like Lucien. But I am not Elain.

And I know that. I am able to objectively read these books and form accurate conclusions because I don't let my personal preferences cloud my judgement of what is on the actual page.

I might personally prefer a man like Lucien, but Elain clearly does not. She wants nothing to do with him.

And if people were able to stop with the self-inserts and obsessions over fictional men, they would be able to read these books with a clear mind. The way they were meant to be read.

[rise-my-angel]

How do you think will Jon deal with it? I mean it’s not usual that your brother is in love with your pregnant girlfriend. Is there going to be jealousy? arguments? And how do you think is the reader dealing with this?? Is Jon going to be very mad or jealous?

Remember, Jon already knows that Robb had feelings for you and he is already mad. But now, he's also protective of you in general because of the baby, but he's also very insecure about his own status and his capability as a father. He still sees Robb as his better, and the worry comes that Robb might have been a better option that could provide for you better.

Hell, Jon can't even work from home to be with you, and Robb can. Robb himself tones down on things in front of Jon, knowing that the tension between them upsets you, but Jon struggles to do the same because he knows Robb is taking advantage of the times he's on shift, especially when he's north of the wall for days at a time.

Its going to be less explosive then it has been now, but a lot more tense and personal with you confused in the middle, not understanding why theyre still mad and feeling guilty it's still somehow your fault.

It also might not help that a certain Stark knows about Robbs feelings for you, and supports the idea of Robb one day being able to date you, which does not help Robbs inclination to be sweet on you the days he works from home to help you out. Catelyn also knows his feelings, but she'd never encourage that sort of behavior no matter how much she dislikes Jon. Sansa, spoiler its Sansa part of her almost ships you and Robb and wants her eldest brother to be happy even if it means somehow getting him with you. Shes not doing it to be malicous, but she perhaps still has residual views from Catelyn on Jon and maybe doesnt quite see him as the best one to be with you, and would rather see her oldest brother do so.

Ned watches all of this go down and goes to Theon one day like "Was it this tense in the apartment?" And proceeds to pour them both drinks when Theon says yes. Both almost laugh at how clueless you were about it all for someone who was as smart as you.

Side note, one time Jon was worried he might not make it in time for one of the parenting classes that you take, since he makes sure to come to them all, and Robb casually suggested he would go, and Jon nearly snapped then and there about him taking his place. Meanwhile you were in the other room, feet up on the couch curled into yourself as you read diligently through one of the pregnancy books recommended and calmed down. Telling himself not to snap, and that he would make it, and figure it out with Mormont later.

Jons been to every parenting class with you, he doesn't want Robb going to any. Jons going to be a father, he knows its his responsibility to be prepared, and he also sees how many women are in those classes when their partners either cant come or dont want to and never wants anyone to think he's just dumping the classes off on his brother so he can finally do anything else. Jon might like those classes more then you because of how much information he takes in, wanting to know what to do for you in any situation.

Least to say, Jon is going to have some very conflicting emotions going forward about this, even though for your sake, Robb significantly tones down how aggressive towards Jon he behaves anymore. The tension is still there, but now its much more complicated and in front of many more people everyday.

[monsterqueers]

You know, I can see why sometimes people think callouts are necessary;

When you are in a communal space and being harmed, or have suddenly become privy to serious harm, you want that harm to stop. One of the first things you learn on how to do that, once asking them to stop doesnt work, is to ask for help.

In small communities like forums or discord servers, you ask the community leaders for help. They talk to the person to make them stop or ban them from the small, non life-essential community. If the harm was bad enough they might encourage you to bring it to court (such as an adult soliciting nudes from minors in DMs).

Often this is done without the details being aired to the rest of the community (if the issue was in private).

But bigger websites like tumblr or twitter or youtube are not these kinds of small communities. Banning someone from a huge swath of the internet materially effects their livelyhood and ability to access community and care. The support staff for these websites usually take time to get to the case and often do nothing about it when they do because its not what they consider a TOS violation, even if its harm done.

This means if it cannot be solved by blocking, and you cannot leave because the space has things you need, your final tool to make harm stop is by airing the dirty laundry so social shame hopefully does something.

HOWEVER THE VAST MAJORITY CALLOUTS ARE NOT LIKE THIS

Most callouts are petty drivel attacking minorities (but especially trans women in particular) and filled with lies.

The person making the callout though, often genuinely believes that they are making harm stop like above though- because their definition of harm is much wider and includes things like 'trans woman having sex with consenting adults in a way I dont like', 'I was in conflict with my ex a lot because we could not communicate', and 'reblogged a fanart shipping naruto and sasuke once'.

They think that things that personally upset them out of disgust count as real harm. They think any conflict is always abuse.

Or at least, that is what the people making them will claim, and its hard to sort them from the true victims.

I think a notable part of why callouts are such a plague is because of the structure of social media as a whole. We dont HAVE the usual tools to curate our spaces well enough anymore and protect our communities from bad actors and people know this. Its the drawback of being so connected. They cannot see another way to do this, so they are loathe to let go of a tool that -in theory- can.

I think its something that is overlooked in conversations about this.

Its rare a plea to abandon callouts altogether has a feasable answer for 'what do we do with the confirmed serial abusers, scammers, and cult leaders that DO exist? How do we prevent them from hurting more people? They already had community support and love and they did harm with it. You cannot give them a rape babysitter a la the missing stair essay (of which the story shows works badly) over the internet. You cannot make them go to therapy over the internet and ensure it works. You cannot still act like nothing happened without making their victims feel unsafe and unsupported. What is there left to do?'

And honestly, I DONT have a good answer to assuage these concerns.

With new social media the way it is, with site moderators that only step in for TOS violations if that, how CAN we keep known serial bad actors with no true commitment to doing better from harming others except by warning people to not trust them?

Internet safety tip PSAs only do so much, and not using the megasites is not an option for most people either.

Trying to make callout posts be more accurate by trying to educate what is a calloutable offense has done nothing to reduce erroneous callouts.

People already commit to 'only spreading REAL callout posts', but they still spread bunk posts regardless.

It just... sucks all around.

-This post is not a perfectly worded and cited essay, do not treat it as such-

-This post is saying all the callouts crying wolf have ruined one of the few tools left to oust actual unrepentant serial abusers and scammers from communities without cop involvement, not that one should spread callout posts, dont clown!-

[aikoiya]

LoZ - Hylia as a Character

Honestly, I really like the fact that Zelda/Hylia admits, rather openly, in fact, that what she did was wrong. Then, she owns up to it.

They could've gone the route that "this is destiny, you must" or made it seem like something entirely righteous & that the fact that it saves everyone automatically makes it okay, but the writers didn't.

What happened. What Hylia put into place was a necessary evil, but still wrong by its very nature of being a necessary EVIL. She manipulated Link, not because she wanted to, or because she was a bad person, but because it was the ONLY way that she could see things working out for the benefit of as many people involved as possible.

Still doesn't make it right, but it makes it understandable. Which are 2 very different things. And I've seen a lot of people conflating the 2. For whatever reason not realizing that you can understand why someone did something & that that something can still be wrong or morally questionable. And that these are 2 things that can exist at the same time.

Because Zelda said it best, "it was a war." It wasn't like what SS Link had experienced, where he was fighting most enemies one on one & it was really only himself who was in danger at a given moment. There were battles with armies & even the game says that the demons killed without mercy. In situations like that, you might have to do things that compromise your own morals & I just...

It makes Hylia so much more human in a way. She's not like the 3 golden goddesses who you only really interact with individuals who have their names & who may just be people that resemble them. (Minish Cap, Oracle of Seasons, & Oracle of Ages.) SS Zelda actually remembers being Hylia.

Thus meaning that SS Link's interaction with SS Zelda in that scene before putting herself to sleep, was the closest interaction any Link has ever had with an actual higher deity.

You get her actual opinion. Her regrets, her apologies. Seriously, she apologizes repeatedly. While it may be filtered through Zelda, who obviously cares very deeply about Link (yes, I ship zelink here, what of it), as she said, she was both Hylia & Zelda. Specifically, still Link's Zelda.

And I... I can't hate Hylia as a result.

Which causes me to not really understand the Hylia hate that I've seen here & there.

Like, it isn't Hylia's fault that she, Link, & Ganondorf were cursed. That was all The Bringer of Demise & his toddlerish butthurt over losing to not just a mortal, but a mortal teen. He cursed them, not Hylia. And what exactly do people think Hylia could've done?

What were her other options? She wasn't a goddess anymore at the time! And we dont even know the rules regarding the Hyrulean gods! There could be some sort of rule of non-interference or only indirect interference unless you give up your godhood that we don't know about!

And, if she hadn't done something, then think about what could've happened as a result.

According to the information that we currently have, Demise would've taken over & made a wish that we don't even know. Not only that, but he had apparently been killing so many humans that Hylia felt the need to lift pieces of land into the air via nothing but magic to keep Demise away from them! Like putting a toy up too high for a kid to reach.

This suggests that they nearly went extinct!

Also keep in mind that she literally gave up her godhood to keep everyone safe!! That's... that's huge!

Also, I hate that there are fans out there who blame Sky for them being cursed!

Dude just finished a fight with a Daimaō (yōkai general). A battle that involved a LOT of lightning striking the Master Sword, which is known to cause temporary deafness, disorientation, ect.

He likely wasn't even aware that the Bringer of Demise had cursed him & Zelda both.

The only person anyone should be blaming here is Demise.

Though, that does bring into question why Fi didn't notify Link of this fact.

LoZ Cultural Masterlist

[possessionisamyth]

I agree on your post about fandom with Leon. I like him but the way fandom treats him and acts if he's the only character that has gone thru the most hell, it makes me not want to see him in any further content for awhile. Don't me get started on the shipping aspect of him whether it's self-shipping or his relationships with other characters.

I'd really love it if people who ship leon with themselves or reader or whatever would choose TWO ways to tag it as a group so I can block it en masse and not see their boring ass fantasies generated from character ai play out the same way 500x a day no matter how many variants of the tag I block.

Every time I think it might be a character analysis it's slapped with "He Wouldn't Fucking Say That" but for every sentence, and I get to decide whether I'm going to block or scroll faster.

Shipping aside(because woooo do aeon, cleon, and jilleon shippers love showing their misogyny as much as people who ship leon with other boring white men), seeing people baby him incessantly as if he's not a grown ass man is a different level of fury. Yes, his job fucking sucks. Yes, he was suckered into it. He's not special actually. How many people have the option to not work a shitty job for an uncomfortable period of time in their lives without suffering immediate financial consequences? I'll tell you who. Rich people. Who I don't respect anyways. You know who else has a shitty job? Literally the entire recurring cast of characters we see, majority of whom are women.

You know what usually makes a job shittier? Not having a dick. I cannot fucking imagine the hell that Jill, as much of a paragon in her field as Chris is, has to experience from the men higher ups questioning every single fucking decision she makes on top of dealing with bioweapon bullshit. Her only reprieve? Probably Chris or Barry stepping in for her to shut them up, and if not that, she can get some of that anger out through the gorey, visceral violence some people dream of having as an outlet when dealing with shitty customers in retail.

And don't even get me fucking started on Rebecca and Claire who don't have the mercy of that much of a reprieve! Both of them have to deal with politicians from multiple countries, majority men, also questioning and second guessing their every plan while they try to provide life-saving medicine and resources to people who need them. You know what Leon has to hear from politicians? Arrest or kill this guy and go home. Escort this person and go home. They dont' question his competency. I know for a fucking fact Claire and Rebecca get the third degree if they so much as even suggest a faster way to supply necessary footwork in order to rebuild a neighborhood or save lives, meanwhile Leon goes home and does, uh, fucking nothing until he's called onto the next job.

But oooohh ooohh woobie baby pookie puppy daddy waawaa googoo gaga leon kennedy has a dwinking pwoblem. He's soooo babygirl and needs to be cuddled and protected and loved because his job is sooooooo stressful, and he's a victim.

You know who's a fucking victim in this situation post RE2? Sherry goddamn Birkin who apparently has zero fucking contact with Leon for 15 whole years after the government snatched them. YOU KNOW? THE GUY WHO SAID HE'D KEEP AN EYE ON HER FOR CLAIRE. THAT ONE. Did I mention she is a sudden orphan after watching her mom die in front of her? Oh, and her upbringing can be considered questionable at best due to RE6 being a genuine shit show. Oh and she also let doctors experiment on her body in order to A)Fuck around with the G-Virus, and B) figure out cures and vaccines, WHICH MOST OF WERE MADE BY REBECCA ANYWAY WITHOUT HUMAN EXPERIMENTATION? So like!!!! If I want to separate it further by saying who has the worst shitty government job dealing with Umbrella after it's shut down, it still isn't fucking Leon! Can you imagine the hellscape assignments they send Sherry into with her super healing ability??????? I know they're worse because she can survive egregious injury without them using money to provide medical supplies! And you know governments everywhere love cutting corners when it comes to money.

But Leon is blonde ONCE, in ONE GAME, a good game yes but is apparently so iconic his pain magically takes precedent as the worst above everyone else's. And I hate that so fucking much because even Leon doesn't think this about himself! Leon literally doesn't think he has it the worst out of everyone! He just kinda wants to die sometimes which is not the same thing! Yet, the unfortunate amount of fans with little to no media literacy believe otherwise.

[demadogs]

heyy what are your thoughts on Mike's monologue? Do you think he was being honest or it was a half truth or something? I'm really curious abt what you think bc honestly I'm not sure myself

this might be long i havent dove into this scene in a while.

the short answer is i think it was a mix of some sad truths disguised as romance, things he believes she wants to hear (but is completely wrong), and just straight up lies. but the biggest thing is that what he thought she wanted to hear was what will told him in the van, unaware that those were wills feelings not els.

but before i even talk about it lets just LOOK at the scene. this is what every other romantic scene in the show has looked like:

and this was allegedly mike and el’s “most romantic scene”.

they are not happy here. this was right before mike said he loves her and right after. one of the biggest differences in this scene compared to the other ships is the fact that both of them we’re forced into this conversation. mike was NOT going to say any of this. will had to push him to continue. meanwhile el is physically restrained from responding to him. she was forced to listen to him and mike felt like he was forced to say it.

anyways now im gonna analyze the actual content of the monologue:

sad truths disguised as romance:

“i dont know how to live without you”

i think this is true and it could be a romantic line but it could also be really sad. it reminds me of when finn (or millie i dont remember) said that they were like a married couple with no option of divorce. i think what mike really meant by this is that hes scared to confront who he really is without el. he actually already did confront this version of himself after she and will moved. i think when he was without either of them he realized his true feelings and hated it and he just wants to go back to who he was before he figured it out.

“i feel like my life started that day i found you in the woods”

im not as confident in this one but it could honestly be extremely sad when looked at from a different lens. it was the first night after will went missing. it was the first time things in his life got weird and unexplainable. losing will and finding el is what led to all the supernatural trauma theyve been through. i dont think mike associates el with trauma but that night in the woods did change all of their lives forever and nothing has been normal since that night. when mike told will asking him to be his friend was the best thing hes ever done, thats said in a way that could not be interpreted any other way, especially not in any negative way. this can. (that being said im not negating how much mike genuinely does care about her and im not saying he wishes he never found her or anything like that).

then it gets so complicated because the only way mike knew how to reach her was through everything will said to him in the van, not knowing that everything will said was referring to HIS feelings, not els.

what mike thinks she wants to hear (based on what will said):

mike tells el “im afraid that one day you wont need me anymore” directly referring to when will told him that she (he) will always need him and then we see this shot.

a lot of people interpret this clip as will just being sad that mike loves her but i think here he might actually be realizing that mikes using his own feelings unknowingly to reach her and he feels guilty about it.

will also told mike that “you make her feel like shes not a mistake at all, like shes better for being different and that gives her the courage to fight on” which actually is not the case for el AT ALL. that was the entire reason for their fight in volume one. el told him “i am different i do not belong” and that he thinks shes a monster and thats why she doesnt love him. she doesnt wanna be loved for being different. but will made mike think she does. these are els reactions to when he brings up her powers:

“youre my superhero”

“you can move mountains, you can fly”

during the whole monologue shes crying but both times he brings up her powers she stops and just looks mad. she looks like she just realized something and shes not happy about it.

i think will completely unintentionally made mlvn so much worse with his veiled confession in the van.

just straight up lies:

“and i knew right then and there that i loved you” (referring to the very first moment he saw her in the woods.)

this is the biggest lie of the whole monologue and i dont always like to bring in social media and marketing to my analyses but when i watched this for the first time, the SECOND he said this i immediately thought of this tweet:

we also have proof in the show itself that he didnt feel this way. he brings her home because he just found a lost girl in the woods in the pouring rain. and then he and lucas and dustin immediately come up with a plan on how to get her back to wherever she came from so that the next day they can go back outside and find will.

“i love you on your bad days”

immediately debunked. mikes a fucking BITCH on her bad days. even will thinks so.

“i love you for exactly who you are”

he doesnt even talk about who she is??? at the beginning of the season we had that whole scene of nancy and jonathan talking about all the reasons they love each other and what does mike love about el? that shes a superhero?

and THEN after the monologue is over its not even mike who gives her the courage to fight on! ITS MAX!!! el doesnt have the power to move the vines until she sees max in trouble. and then later when shes reviving her and theres flashbacks of their moments together, specifically when she says “theres more to life than stupid boys” and “not hopper, not mike, you.” thats huge.

continuing with post-monologue volume 2, its so beyond weird that we dont see el speak a WORD to him after this enter speech. not even just after that speech, after she almost died.

if mlvn was meant to be why didnt they have a moment like this after she woke up? we dont even see her wake up. we dont even see them for two days!!!!

anyways that was a lot. i hope it all made sense. i think the purpose of the whole monologue was to show that even after mike says what she wanted to hear, shes still not happy with him. shes realized that that she is her own person and her own superhero. the duffers just made it excruciatingly complicated and i hope they do a good job explaining this scene in s5.

[petrichoraline]

hii petri! for ship bingo, your favorite ship from kinnporsche and/or your favorite ship from the untamed?

mint, i know you wanted to give me choice and creative freedom and i appreciate it so much but my gOSH am i not the person to do that for 😂 not only do i rarely have favourites of anything but i have to figure out my emotions for these unnamed blorbos? this is how you end up with five answers for the price of one ✨

so, for kinnporsche i came to the conclusion i have two - one for the earlier part of the show and one for the last episodes (i think the green is..fairly obvious)

first one is the men themselves who made me feel so many things throughout the show and turnt it into the amazing experience it was for me, watching them learn how to understand each other and open up, the tender scenes, the chemistry, following the discussions on here about kinn and his trust issues (omg especially around the tawan episodes, that was crazy) - their journey was so much fun!

the second one..what can i say, vegaspete were what everyone seemed to anticipate and i was kinda neutral until their episodes actually hit, then i went insane lmao, i just love pathetic men and "only i understand him, only i can tame him" type of stuff - i got plenty of that and some top notch chemistry and they were what made the last episodes for me

onto the untamed.. i don't like thinking about it too much because one cql viewing later i'm a broken woman, i do not understand how people watch it more than once and choose to actively think about it, write analyses, delve into the lore - i'm not built like you guys and you have my respect 💕 all of that is to say i dont think bout the ships too much either, i picked these as faves because they had a certain smth

I don't think anyone could possibly guess what the three couples are they're - not the most popular 😂 except for wangxian, those are my babies:

the next one is jiang cheng with... *drums*

...wen qing 🥰 i didn't ship them as divorced until i saw the option and decided that yes, they would be so amazing as divorced parents or smth and i would read about it for sure; not the comb, not the post-war conversations - that inn scene always comes to mind, it feels like a checkpoint at which you could take a different route and change the outcome, a spot where you can stop and think "what if"... jiang cheng before the weight of zidian, the only thing of importance at the moment - his brother's safety... wen qing with only her brother to look out for, testing how far she'd go for an outsider while risking everything... or, y'know, i just find the scene fun, smart and rewatchable 🤷‍♀️ they're a very interesting ship for me cause i don't mind them not being together, either way is fine and makes sense and i never really feel this way about ships i care about, they usually HAVE to be together y'know but with these two i just have many thoughts and feelings that don't actually make me go crazy which is so refreshing

and the one ship that i'm not sure i even ship but b o y they make me feel things...

...xiao xingchen and xue yang YES I KNOW, still to this day am not sure about some story details lol that whole arc left me shaken to my core and i've worked on forgetting it so it took a while to even remember they exist .. anyways, they found home in each other and could've been happy but they are who they are and they acted how they acted and that's that :) also my feels on song lan (and him with xiao xingchen) are mixed but this might be the one triangle i can see myself enjoying as a throuple.. i avoided stuff about that whole psychological horror arc so stuff that could sway me in any particular direction haven't been encountered in a while ✨

[angy-grrr]

431 illustrates perfectly what Hori's fatal flaw as a writer is, imo. His problem is that he wants to please everyone, prove people who hate his work wrong by always contradicting them. But pleasing everyone is literally impossible.

And as much as he is "unreachable" directly, that doesn't mean hatred doesn't affect him or that he is immune to ego.

So all of that is a much simpler issue. He wants to draw stuff for fun, whatever he wants and enjoys, and have people like it. But he lets his ego get the best of him and acts impulsively, but doesn't want to regret it. That's not to take away from his talent, though that's clearly a problem.

the only reason this could make "sense" is if it happened so they could make izuku and ochako's relationship from scratch -bc they vanished their whole story together in the first place. They dont have a lot going on to begin with, so from a story POV I think the most obvious option is keeping it simple and not focus on it at all -give them more cute moments were its clear they both want to be together like that and confirming they started dating in hs. Theres no reason to make them drift apart like this when they were best friends, to the point they only started SEEING each other more after Izuku got the suit -maybe they want to make extra content about their relationship ignoring the previous interactions bc theres just not enough going on from izuku's side? It just look pretty platonic, and all of the sudden they have to talk after 8 years of not doing so -and worse part, neither cared. I have seen someone claiming they were "yearning" for each other so it makes sense, but it just doesnt -neither were thinking of that until other ppl pushed them to do it indirectly, and while I understand how some ppl could still see it as romantic, it truly is... lacking substance. In 8 years they didnt think about getting closer or hanging out more, even tho they were best friends and went thru war together -but we are supposed to believe they are in love with each other for 9 years and never even tried to get in contact in 7?? and why are izuku's feelings for her always a total mystery? Yeah shes special, but why would he consider her the most special person in his life when he was happily living it without even seeing or thinking about her? And yet he had time to hang out with All Might and ask Katsuki to be a guest teacher?

Theres a lot of regret in this thing, idk if its about creating the ship itself, not giving them actual romantic development, or letting 431 happen.

He really got in trouble after using the original BNHA finale for the movie -and he knew it back then already, he just wasn't able to make it better.

I would love to know how much the editor's influence affected the final volume tho, they changed many many things about what horikoshi wanted to create and limited his options in different arcs. Maybe the romance between them would be more bearable? Idk, they are too similar in too many ways for me to enjoy it, but if it was well done I wouldnt care about it and let it be in canon.

[tyzias-ennnntykk]

My thoughts are: Jade is the loneliest girl and occasionally lets that loneliness lead her to some bad decisions!!!! And thats ALWAYS been true!!!!

Look, Jade grew up on an island *with no other humans* for most of her life!!!! She had Becquel yes, but he's hardly a reasonable companion, and her grandpa who died when she was a *baby* /BY HER OWN HAND AS SHE LATER FINDS OUT/, and then just his stuffed corpse!!! (Side note: I theorize that's possibly part of her Witch of Space classpect; she is cursed by always having everyone at a distance, but that's a whole other post)

She also, if we recall, knew *almost everything about the game*, which meant she was aware that she'd get a chance to meet other people eventually, and not just any people, but specifically her online friends. She almost certainly spent inordinate amounts of time daydreaming about these moments, and what her future past the scratch might look like.

Also also! She's VERY impulsive. We see it described as her being "silly" early on, but thats really how youd describe it for children, which she was early on. Ultimately though, what they mean is that she's kinda impulsive, flies by the seat of her pants, etc...she may *fantasize* about her future, but she doesnt exactly *plan* for it. Heck, why would she, when she knows most of the steps she has to take up to a certain point?

And this is all pre-fusion with Becsprite! Bec is *a fucking dog*, and while she may not bark *constantly* we know his behavior has had an effect on her. Bec adds a whole animal/god level to her impulses, WHILE ALSO separating her further from her humanity! The other kids may all be god-tier, yes, but she's the only one who fused with an actual god, and the whole riddle-ness of sprites. Plus an entire other version of herself! Which is like seven levels of fucked up!

So this brings us to the ship, where we see her date Davesprite, which is *a terrible idea*! But its also an understandable one. I'm pretty sure at some point she hints she has a crush on Dave, and he eventually becomes the one kid who she can date without weird biological grossness, so she probably just went! Sure! I dont have a lot of options and I'm lonely so lets just go with that! Again though, this is a bad idea, and it falls apart. Still, I think this shows how impulsive and led by her loneliness she is.

Finally, we get to see her (technically a different version of her) in the Epilogues where she is uncomfortably flirtatious! But think about it: Her loneliness hasnt gone away much (everyone else has their partners or activities on Earth C), and she feels *even more separated* from most people because she is *literally a celebrity/god to them!!!!* So she's here trying desperately to find *SOMEONE* to attach herself to, to finally fill the gap in her heart, and again, she's *impulsive*! So what do you get from an impulsive lonely person/dog/god? You get someone uncomfortably flirtatious! In fact, you may even get someone who, despite knowing it hurts people, cant keep themselves from inserting themselves into other peoples relationships for just a *taste* of intimacy.

Her inserting herself into Davekat's whole thing was that, but I think even she realized that was bad, and hence...She figured she'd get a family member a different way. One that *couldnt* leave her alone! And so she narrowed down her already-narrow options and. Yiffy happened!

I think this update kinda confirmed all this, not just in-text, but also with her smothering Yiffy with love!!! Finally she has a family member, a connection, and FINALLY she can openly connect to them! So she smothers them with love WHETHER THEY WANT IT OR NOT!!! (Noticing a theme here???)

Also for what its worth I think this is also entirely in-character for Rose, which I think was always the more controversial one here, since people want to paint Rosemary as a wholesome yuri ship. Despite the fact that Rose absolutely has a problem with mediation, and follows her curiosity to great disaster, and loves a bit of drama, and like she says, *knows* kanaya would forgive her! Rose probably barely put up an argument over it.

I'll say it here: I actually *adore* Yiffy, and think she's the perfect punctuation mark to the Homestuck Pantheon's enormous personal problems. I think a lot of folks dont agree with the characterizations in the Post-Canon, because they think these characters finished their plot, and therefore would be well-adjusted adults! But they never really solved all their problems, and buddy. They spent most of their teenage years *trying to survive an apocalypse* befofe being thrust into positions of unimaginable power. Once you consider that, almost all the decisions in post-canon start to make sense: these are the result of gods who are basically arrested-development teenagers who fumbled their way through an apocalypse! They're flawed and messy!!! And frankly thats why i love em!!!

was on twitter (oops) and theres a ton of people going apeshit over kanaya in the upd8 (hs:bc upd8) right obviously and i saw one (1) post about "still hating hs2. jade would not fucking do this" and like. huff.

fosmf if youre there and youve read the hsbc update tell me your thoughts on this. im so curious

in MY opinion, i really like jade in postcanon in general. OBVIOUSLY, the stuff with davekat SUCKS + IS WEIRD + outb of character (i doubt jade would cross boundaries in such a weird way? like a girl can take a hint esp for the people she loves.) but in the update it goes over jade and why she did what she did and like a cute little summary of the yiffy situation. i never really hated yiffy? and i hate yiffy even less with the update. narration + backstory with reasoning did its job.

SUMMARY, AS I SEE IT: jade was dating around mortals but came to the conclusion that they dont want HER, they want to say they dated the GOD OF SPACE. they wanted clout and she hated it. and i dont know. i think she went a little crazy cus of it. she was like I am truly alone in this world. Im cursed to be alone. Im doomed because of my aspect. How can i fix this. solution: HAVE A BABY. and it needs to be one of her god friends. she cant have a baby with a random mortal. john and dave are boys; they cant bear children. she cant have a baby with roxy or jane because she doesnt know them well. that leaves: rose lalonde so jade has a baby with rose lalonde and keeps it a secret. she talks to jane, and this is fine because its largely professional, and she makes sure yiffany (the baby) doesnt become a celebrity. yiffy is normal. yiffy is a normal kid and she has a normal life. jade needs her to have a normal life. jade needs to feel that connection with normality that she never had, jade needs to make sure yiffy doesnt go through the same damn thing she did. and she keeps it a secret. she bonded with rose. if kanaya finds out, thatll tear all three of them apart. jade craves the company. jade craves friendship and closeness. but of course, shes a space player and shes doomed. so they find out. and yiffy gets on the news. and everything is torn

ANYWAY: i think thats so cool. i think thats a great explanation. i think jade WOULD do that is the thing. its a logical train of thought and she makes some stupid mistakes and bad decisions but overall its rational. if i was in her situation i would probably do the same thing. yiffany longstocking is like jade harleys' my love mine all mine by mitski you get me. jade harley yearns for the closeness and having a baby can fill that. what other option did she have? she was crazy

interested to hear other peoples thoughts on this. i may just be biased because i love jade harley

[ierotits]

after a 2nd watching, heres my current view on the barris/guy dexter situation (spoilers below cut)

I love barris! i love richard ellis! i would have been happy to have them stay together! but i completely understand how it was cut off. to me, it seemed like richard saw the risks that come with their life with the gay club situation in the first movie, and decided he didnt want to risk that. which i feel is perfectly reasonable. i like to think he found a girl who understood, and was happy to marry him as he is. richard gave thomas the option of staying together while hes married, but i think thomas has almost grown up since season 1 with the duke, and since then hes decided for himself that isnt what he wants. like he said at the end, he wants a life thats as honest as someone like him can get. i think richard would respect that, they dont part on bad terms, and i like to think they continue to write to eachother as friends, that richard and thomas are both good influences on eachother for years to come, and totally respect eachothers views on life

i also really like guy! hes one of the few people who really seem to respect thomas' feelings and wishes, he instantly changes the way hes speaking to thomas when he realises its making thomas uncomfortable in any way. he put them both on the same level, doesnt want to elevate himself above thomas at all. as everyone else said, hes a really nice person in general. him and thomas seemed to lift eachother up and encourage eachother in the few scenes they had. it was also nice the way guy specifically said "we'd have to work it out" or whatever it was when talking about what would happen if he couldnt act, he wouldnt leave thomas in the lurch, they'd figure it out together. he also makes it clear that its totally up to thomas if they make any sort of romantic/sexual relationship, he'll respect those boundaries. so if you personally dont like the idea of them being in a relationship, just imagine them as friends in the future! its an open ending, it can be whatever you want!

in terms of thomas, i think it was made clear from the start of the movie that what guy is offering is exactly what he wants. he expressed wanting to live as honest a life as possible, he talked about wanting to travel, and those things are completely consistent with his previous characterisation. he did well in america previously, hes really always wanted to get away from the abbey too. he might have had a few happier years, but downton is still a place with some awful memories for him, with people who will never really respect him the same way they did carson. it makes sense for him to want to leave. however you look at it, guy is offering him a stable future, the opportunity to travel, relative safety, and as close to a marriage as they can get if he wants that. it seems as hopeful a future as possible.

im glad barris got some time together, and i do think it made thomas happier, showed him that he does have a chance at happiness. they had a good run of it too, anywhere between a year and 2 years i reckon, and at any rate their relationship was just as long as tom and lucy were together before the wedding.

i also think thomas did have time to get to know guy, even if it was off screen. the actors were there for at least a month, and guy made a point from the start to get to know thomas. to compare that to upstairs couples, it wouldnt seem out of the ordinary for any of them to know someone for a month and do no more than glance at eachother suggestively for them to get engaged. i dont see why the same cant be said for thomas and guy.

tldr, i think both couples are good, and you can imagine the future for both however you want, so long as you arent pulling other people's ships down. thomas can be with guy and still be friends with richard. he can be friends with guy and start up with richard again if you really want. just stop being so fucking pessimistic about with, and definitely stop being a dick about it in the thomas barrow tag. write fics and be nice about it all to everyone. as far as i care, all that matters is thomas' happiness

[isolated-bug]

Hi! I have another question again >.<

About the lady owner sex dugeon (lol) Why she didn't know about Jinx lives/work for silco? I mean... Does Jinx ever go out around Zaun? Recently Jinx did goes to Arcade for playing the boxing game thing.. I can't imagine that Jinx the one who loves chaos and destruction, many people of zaun doesn't know about her like Jericho? Eh I was wondering is Jericho can't talk? Because he just laugh (when Vi eat with Cait) or angry/grunts (like Enemy MV) he never said any word is that why he communicate by giving a napkin with a mark to Vi?

hah i love your questions! They are so creative and focus on really good intricacies in the show. its a lot of wonderful food for thought. Jericho is a bit more simple so i will start there :P I have searched everywhere trying to figure out what race he is but cant find it. The best i can get is that he is likely from Bilgewater given his pirate aesthetic. I personally perceive that Jericho does speak, but in a different language. It sounds very ogre-ish so maybe its his native fish people language? He clearly understands what is being said around him as well. However, i dont think slipping the message on a napkin was relevant to his lack of speaking english (or Piltovan i guess). There are several languages spoken in Zaun and one of them is called Buhru. Itss a coastal island and the imagery on it, if you look it up, has fish but not necessarily fish people. Its possible this grunty language is Buhru and Vi understands it. Maybe she is bilingual from her upbringing in Zaun similarly to how kids who grow up in mixed culture neighborhoods learn other languages.

I think th way Jericho’s character is delivered was supposed to environmentally set the tone for a criminal undercity feel as well as give us a past to present anchor and reintroduction into Zaun.

To me, jericho’s seems like that hidden in plain sight information broker. Often times in media when information brokers are portrayed there is never actually a direct question asked if they are in a public space or venue. Instead they will usually have some sort of coded action like knocking a certain way or using a different name as a call sign. In food shop fronts like bars etc it might be ordering a specific combo or saying you want a sandwich a special way or something. These coded messages allow requests to be made publicly but for the inquirer to not seem suspicious. Maybe ordering that specific meal at Jericho’s was the way to say ‘i’m here for info/help’ etc. Topsiders obviously couldnt stomach the idea of eating that dish and by the looks of it no one would likely think it actually looks appetizing. So it would be a perfect option for that kind of secretive communication. Im guessing Jericho recognized Vi as she hasnt changed too much from when she was younger. He likely was signaling to her what could be a safe-house, rather than where Powder was since there was no way for Vi to state what she wanted discreetly. Jericho would have been aware of Vi’s connection to Vander and would likely assume that Vi needs to know what places/people are safe from Silcos influence. Heck, maybe its even an old system that Vander used to have arranged with Jericho - when people were in need send ‘em to The Last Drop or the brothel or other places in their network of allies via this method. that would be neat if it had that history to it, just a thought with no grounding from me though. So here we see the napkin that he gives her:

And here we see the first second of the scene in which they enter the brothel.

Another possibility is the way to gain access to the brothel is to have a napkin from Jericho’s with its symbol on it. Maybe this is to protect from Enforcer raids? Though Mel’s mothers behavior makes me think that laws against prostitution in Piltover and Zaun dont exist since she openly had one on her ship and accompanying her around Piltover. Now, onto the Yordle running the brothel: She was obviously an ally of Vanders and with the symbol from Jericho, Vi goes straight there after a short sad look at The Last Drops current neon makeover.  Vi is very open about her intentions and what information she seeks. If my assumption of Jericho and the symbol on the napkin being a safe house indicator of some kind is true then this could explain why Vi was so open about her intent. The yordle implies, with the shake of a head, that she doesnt know what happened to Powder but... im fairly certain she just was uncomfortable and didnt want to provide the answer. She has a very sombre expression talking to Vi through the full scene, easily chatting/reminiscing and having a response to everything. But when asked about Powder her eyes look around the room nervously and she takes a moment before responding. I think the yordle was familiar with how close the girls were and just couldnt face giving Vi the bad news. So she offers up info on Sevika instead, maybe out of guilt. The Yordle knew that Vi would find out eventually.. everyone in Zaun who knew who Powder was before would easily realize she is Jinx now. Okay so onto the third question: does Jinx ever go around Zaun? I think so. We do see her primarily in either The Last Drop, Silco’s office, her workshop, and the arcade but i think that is just for storytelling. Throughout the series Jinx’s graffiti can be seen in various spots. One i can recall vividly is when Vi, Cait, and Ekko are leaving the firelights base and we see Jinx’s trademark pink on some of the pipes they are passing

Now this is not one of Jinxs symbol so there is room to be skeptical and assume this is not her graffiti but generally speaking in animation/art/movies etc its a rule of thumb to use colors to identify characters. So while in the real world we can safely assume that anyone could have a pink spray paint, it has been specifically associated with Jinx and generally when its seen this would be reflective of her presence.

Or, who knows, maybe this was something she scrawled a long time ago. or maybe its just random. I dont have screenshots of it but there was also a browser game called “Riot X Arcane” that was up for a short time with rewards/skins/accessories for all of Riots various games like Valorant, Wild Rift, League, etc. In this browser game we explore a different story, sorta like an AU of Arcane, where Jinx caused a rift between worlds and you, as the player from your computer, got pulled in through one of these rifts and are helping Heimerdinger, Jayce, and Viktor try to remedy the issue. They have characters from their other games all there too and even a second Heimerdinger and the plot loosely ties to Jinx did some shit with magic. Through your investigation you encounter Silco and Jinx at the end and get some really precious father/daughter exchanges between them in which Silco tells Jinx to get rid of the magic in her body because he is more concerned about how its risking her life due to being unstable and just *sigh* so cute >.< Okay, enough derailing form the point: in this game, Jinx’s graffiti can be seen all over Zaun on the backs of pipes and on crates and other misc items. Given that its supposed to represent Arcane, even if it is not canon, im assuming we can have confidence that the graffiti is reflective of canon circumstances and use this to further confirm that Jinx gets to go wherever she wants. Here is a video i found on youtube of someone doing a play through of it in case you want to see it https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fNPJrg4wzgk

I'm so tempted to watch through all of arcane 4-9 again now to look for more solid proof buuut i didnt want to wait any longer to answer you.. so i might eventually reblog this if i am not lazy with added stuffs.. idk.. if i can find it.. we will see. lol no promises.

Anyhow, although we dont see Jinx elect to go very many places, i feel like its well outlined that she can go wherever she wants. She goes to the platform for the smoke signal to Vi, she goes to the bridge, she goes to the fountain to spy on Silco, she obviously was able to go to the crumbled building in Ep 9 to set up the banquet table. If Silco were to try and restrict her movements, i think the Arcade would have been a huuuge no-go because it would have been a place she could feel past comforts and anyone wanting to isolate you wont let you have that connection. Silco also expresses his need to ‘find’ Jinx after her Shimmer session meaning that she isnt being followed, tracked, monitored, or restricted. And prior to that, when she is stabbing his eye, he asks her “where have you been?” which further confirms he doesnt know where all she gets up to. I am guessing that when he first adopted her Silco likely would have wanted to keep her close to feel out her allegiance but after a little while and seeing her attachment to him he probably didnt care. In fact, i would even go so far as to say that its very likely Jinx chose to stay close and not wander about too much because of her own attachment/abandonment issues. This could be why he asks “where have you been” because he isnt used to her disappearing. She is probably usually hanging pretty close to him by choice more often than not. There are likely places Jinx doesnt go or only visits rarely because of memories flooding her mind. Maybe she doesnt go to Jericho’s anymore for example? Maybe she is able to emotionally detach from the Last Drop a bit because of the way Silco remodeled it? not sure. but i dont think there are any signs of restricted movement what-so-ever. *deep breath* okay! that was a long one.. man i get out of hand with these, sorry... lol but do please feel free to comment or reblog with any other thoughts/insights/disagreements whatever you have. I love the discussion. And as always, you are more than welcome to send me any asks you like!

[jangofctts]

Are You in Or Out?

Rated: Explicit 

Word count: 11.5K yall I am SORRY

Warnings: good lord y'all here we GO-- smut, explicit language, violence and mentions of blood and gore, injuries, unprotected sex (don't be a dick, wrap that stick!), oral (m&f receiving), blindfolding, vaginal and anal fingering, vaginal and anal sex, double penetration, spit is used as lube but for the love of GOD doNT DO THAT, there are some dom vibes on Paz’s end    

Summary: The job you’re on takes a turn for the worst--Paz comes to your rescue and you're brought to the Covert. There you meet Din Djarin. though during a good natured sparring session, you’re suddenly stuck between an age old rivalry that spirals out of hand. Hopefully an agreement can be met. 

a/n: hey...how y’all doin....SO lemme explain you smthn. I said helmets must be OfF--giv me them LIPS BABEY so this is a slight AU in which mandos can see other mandos’ faces. ya get me? I also tHot that it would be nice and fun to set the timeline 5-6 years BEFORE the plot of the Mandalorian so we gots a younger din here. anyway, as always enjoy and I hope you like!!

Mistakes, mistakes, mistakes—

Some as little as burning your finger on the nozzle of a smoking blaster or tripping over your own shoelaces. Simple things. Mindless things. 

Nothing that could ever compare to the catastrophic decision of picking up bounty hunting as a reliable source of income. 

The little ones were easy—tax evaders and deserters of the Empire—most who’d yield and gladly follow without complaint just at the sight of your blaster pointed between their eyes. And the gag of it is—most of the time you never bothered to load the damn thing. 

Reckless.

An invitation for disaster. 

But skirting that precarious edge, one little slip up away from plunging head first into inevitable trouble is better than Bracca. Stars—anything is better than Bracca. There’s no glory in bounty hunting but there’s even less in ship scrapping. Abysmal pay in exchange for risking your life on rain slicked metal with only the Ibdis Maw to break your fall.  

The guild you work for is considerate—scratch that. Greef Karga is considerate. Sure the flirting is a touch unbearable but it saves your ass in the long run. All easy money bounties set aside for you in exchange for a cheap drink, hollow laughs and sugar sweet smiles. 

It’s enough credits to get by—more than plenty to rent a room and charter a ship. 

But there’s only so many bounties to capture within the limits of the guild and oh so many people the empty blaster trick works on. And so the credits begin to thin; it gets too expensive to buy off a pilot and the debate over buying food or being able to pay for your room becomes more frequent than the scraprats that skitter inside the walls.  

It’s suicide to snag a higher paying bounty because....well—these bounties shoot back. 

Whatever.

 Might as well die trying. Who knows, maybe you could score big time if you manage to pull this off. 

Maybe. 

                                                       -=-=-=-

You’re not sure who’s more surprised—Karga when you asked for the bounty or yourself when he actually gave it to you. 

“Are you sure, kid? This could—“

“End in a fiery shitshow? Yeah—I figured that,” you sigh, swirling your drink with a little complimentary toothpick. “But I need the money.” 

“Hah! You’ve got guts, girl.” He flashes you a smile and smooths down his mustache with his thumb and forefinger. “Tell you what. The last assignment was just taken but I’m sure if you run you could catch him. Work somethin’ out.”

Jumping from your seat, you throw on your coat and toss a couple credits onto the table to cover the drink. “What’s he look like?” 

“Big fellow—Mandalorian. You’ll know when you see him.”

You shout your thanks over your shoulder and hightail outta there. The landing docks aren’t far, you can see them from here. It’s finding the guy that could pose a problem.

If he hasn’t already left, you bitterly think. 

However, it seems the universe is on your side today. Karga was right. He is big. Stands out like a sore thumb against his ship that glitters dully in the overcast sky. Kinda like an oversized blueberry. A yellow and blue blueberry….not important—

“Hey! Hey, you!” You’re so close, just a couple yards away. You swear and hurry up your pace as he steps onto the loading ramp. “Big guy! Large...blue man?”

You trip over your own feet as he turns his head. Fuck—

No way are you gonna be able to bargain with this guy. Built like a fucking AT-AT and probably just as stubborn. After all, no one would ever be dumb enough to come between a Mandalorian and their quarry. You grimace, and suck in a breath—

Before a word even leaves your mouth he interrupts with a steady, unwavering;

“No.”

Your brows furrow. “I didn’t even say anything!”

“I know what you were going to ask,” he huffs, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “I work alone.”

Ok, then. You didn’t want to resort to begging, but you’re kinda running out of options here. You take a steadying breath and plant yourself at the bottom of the ramp. “C’mon man. Look—I’ll let you take seventy percent of the cut and I can—“

“You’ll let me?” He repeats, the staticky tone of his voice dropping into an edge more cutting than broken transparisteel. The metal platting on the ramp vibrates from the weight of his step to move closer; Stars it takes every fucking inch of willpower to hold your ground. “You’re lucky if I let you leave with your life. Get lost.” 

Fuckfuckfuck—you should listen. You wanna fucking run for the hills and never look back in case he comes looking to purge your name from the kriffing galaxy. You clench your jaw and steel your nerves. Too bad—you’ve dug your heels so far into this empire of dirt and false bravado that your only way out is continuing to poke the sleeping bear until he snaps your spine or caves.

You have to crane your neck to glare into that dark strip of his vizor, seeing as he’s invited himself into your personal space. “No.”  

“No?” He mocks, now toe to toe with your scuffed up boots. 

Your teeth clench, a scalding flush burning through your cheeks and all the way down to your chest. He’s toying with you—finding amusement in your stubbornness and apparent lack of braincells for challenging him. “You don’t scare me.” 

The man hums, a deep purr that rumbles through his entire ribcage as he raises his gloved hand. You curse yourself for flinching because surely he’s about to crush your skull like a fucking grape, but no. All he does is fix your rumbled collar then pat your cheek.     

“I don’t need the extra baggage.”

“I’m not baggage,” you sneer, slapping his hand away. “I can handle myself.” 

“With an empty blaster?” He points out, tipping his head to the side. “Your parlor tricks won’t do you any good on this job.”

“I’m a good shot!” You sputter, placing your hands over you hips and mustering up your best glare. “W-when I have ammo…” 

“Right.”

Meeting Paz Vizsla, could have gone far better, to put it into the most simplest of words. Jagged and hard to settle into a routine around each other for the journey to Nar Shaddaa in a tiny, old, and cramped freighter ship. Most cycles you have to wedge yourself beside a cargo crate to sleep. In addition to that, how it’s able to break through the atmosphere let alone fly is beyond you—an entire mystery on its own.       

At least you’re able to sit in the spare seat inside the cockpit—one of the only places available to stretch your legs. The only problem is that it’s also where Paz Vizsla likes to lurk (well, not lurk—it’s his ship and it’s where he can comfortably fit but—to each their own). 

There’s a net of tension still woven between you—each interaction like tiptoeing over eggshells. Though, like all things, it becomes simpler. There’s not exactly any ongoing conversations—you don’t want to pry into a life you know nothing about—it’s not your business despite the cumulation of questions that linger in the back of your mind. You know when to take a hint—not every person is willing to indulge you about their livelihood, and surely not something as secretive and well guarded as the Mandalore.  

Familiarity is what you want to call it. Comfortable with each other’s presence with small talk speckled in throughout the never-ending vastness of hyperspace. Compared to the infinite turmoil in your life, slippery footholds and uncertainty—Paz Vizsla is steady. In a way— predictable and safe in the confines of this ship.       

You’d even go as far as to label him kind, a friend maybe—if you look past the grumpiness and rather poor taste in corny jokes. You know it’s stupid, no doubt stemming from the deep ache of loneliness that comes hand in hand with staking it out on your own in the galaxy; but you can’t help but wish that this could be a new normal. Not some once in a lifetime thing where you both part ways, fade into the recesses of memory and leave it at that. 

If things go well—and rarely do they on a job—maybe you’d pluck up enough courage to ask him if you could stay. There’s no harm in it…right?

                                                 -=-=-=-

Well—the cynical part of you was right.

It did end up in a fiery shit show. 

Turns out the stupid quarry you’d been tracking excelled in long range weaponry. A former marksman for the Empire to be exact. Guess that tidbit of information wasn’t pertinent. A need to know sorta thing, if you will. 

You feel the molten bolt of plasma connect with your side before your ears pick up the sound of a weapon firing, like a crack of lighting in the empty alleyway. And before your body even connects with the duracrete, Paz is returning fire. A brilliant neon red against the hazy blur of shadowy buildings.  

Kinda weird how knocking the back of your head hurts worse than the literal blaster wound burned into your side. Shock maybe. Or the heat from the plasma cauterized each veins and artery it tore through and ate away at flesh and nerves. Hm…          

You’re sprawled in a wet pool of something—either your own blood or a puddle of stagnant gutter water and damn—you’re wearing your favorite shirt.

It doesn’t matter at this point…

You’re choking on your own air from the big ass hole blasted into your diaphragm, so to say things are looking grim is an understatement.  

Nar Shaddaa isn’t your first choice to kick the can on, but hey—not everyone gets the luxury of dying on Naboo. And just as you’re ready to slip away into that sweet, sweet abyss, it seems your fellow armored friend has other plans. 

The beskar is freezing against your cheek after he deadlifts you off the duracrete—you remember that plain as day. That and the hushed rumble of Paz’s voice insisting you save your dwindling supply of air instead of apologizing to him—or ordering you to stay alive for kriff’s sake. It’s impossible to argue with Paz—like trying to bite through durasteel, and while those beckoning tendrils of eternal slumber are mighty tempting, you cling to your life with all the strength you have left. After all, inconveniencing someone with a corpse is such a party foul to the highest degree.    

The rest is muddled—like dredging up silt and clay in a murky river that just leaves you with a pounding headache between your eyes. It’s a terrible mess of pain and bouts of temporary consciousness, mistaken with fever dreams and yup—more pain. The only consistent is Paz—hovering nearby or settled beside you—through thick and thin as you heal. 

There’s no solid reason your brain can conjure as to why he brought you to the Covert—it’d have been easier to just dump you at the nearest hospital and be done with it. You’re not his responsibility and you’re too afraid to ask what it means. Too many possibilities—too many answers you aren’t in the mood to face or untwist.     

And so you leave it be, set aside for another time—which brings you to the present day…        

You’re splayed over your little makeshift cot, feet propped up on a spare pillow as you scour through a cheesy Coruscanti gossip magazine. It’s years old—the only piece of entertainment you could find other than a weapon in the Covert. And seeing as a massive hole had been blasted through your ribcage, picking up the clever art of throwing vibroblades or shooting targets to pass the time was out of the question.   

Even if you’d rather fall into a Sarlaac pit than stare at the wall for hours on end yet again—it hasn’t been all that bad. It’d taken weeks before you regained enough strength to sit up on your own, let alone walk—and walking is putting it lightly. It was more of a stiff legged shuffle better suited on a two hundred year old woman seconds from disintegrating into dust at the mere hint of a breeze.  

Not to mention—your right lung was all but shredded. Ripped apart from the plasma bolt and miraculously reconstructed by a more than questionable bacta tank, hopeful thoughts and well wishes. To this very day you still sound like a broken air filter. 

Eh.    

Could be worse. 

At least you aren’t dead. 

Just another setback that adds on the growing pile of reasons why never to leave the Covert. Free food, free board and mild entertainment to top it off. Paz had stayed at your bedside for the most part while you recovered—stuck with babysitting your sorry ass until you regained a bit of mobility. The times Paz hadn’t been at your side to stave off the boredom, it was up to you to find your own fun. 

Snooping is what Paz had labeled it—but you saw it more as an adventure. You met Din Djarin exploring (lost is what you actually were) in the dimly lit underbelly of Nevarro, after all. Yes, you may have scared the ever loving shit out of the poor guy and yes, he may have singed off your brows with a five foot jet of fucking fire—but hey. No one got hurt.        

And you made a new friend. Sorta…Din is difficult to read, subtler in his soft spoken words and quiet demeanor. A bit like a skittish loth-cat at the start, but nowadays it’s not uncommon to find him lounging in the same space as you or hovering over your shoulder, awfully curious in whatever it is you choose to do. Like Paz, Din isn’t overly fond of sharing much information about himself but he never complains after you regale tales of your own vastly fascinating past. He seems interested enough—tilts his head a tick to the right when you speak to indicate that yes, he’s listening despite the unforgiving dark line of his visor.      

There are others in the Covert too—some so elusive you have a hard time believing they exist. Shadows of what they once were before the rise of the Empire. And so, you count yourself lucky that you’d been introduced to two others—Aeris Fenn, a young man nearly as tall as a Wookie, and a woman named Ives Arrey; her armor a flashy green—damn near florescent in the light. 

They’re nice enough company. Aeris is a chatterbox, his wit sharper than a blade but lacking in any forethought before he speaks. Ives is the far opposite—rolls each sentence in her mouth before she voices it, but in no way is she angelic. Maker—you’d bet your entire left asscheek she’s behind each bad decision and silly shenanigans Aeris sticks his nose into. He never learns—not after a harsh chiding or cuff around the helmet from Paz or the Armorer could dampen is childlike enthusiasm or steer him away from repeating the same mistake over and over.  

Though if you read one more kriffing sentence of this garbage magazine you’re about to invite chaos himself to entertain you. Good thing too because just as you sit up to find the red armored Mandalorian—Paz rounds the corner and steps into your little broom closet that hardly passes for a room. 

“Paz!” You greet, tossing the magazine over your shoulder. “Please tell me we’ll be doing something interesting or else I might start ripping my hair out. Or maybe commit a heinous crime—haven't decided yet.”      

Paz grunts and shakes his head. “You’ll be doing neither. But today we’ll be sparing—hopefully that will curve your boredom.”

You scrunch up your face. “Sparring? Er, no thanks—I choose life.” 

“You breathe funny since your injury,” he says, jabbing a finger between your ribs. “And all you’ve been doing lately is laying around.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you sneer, tucking your arms over your chest. “Didn’t realize I was supposed to be running laps with half a lung.”

“It’s like stretching a muscle, you need to gain your strength back.” He retorts. “This will be good for you.” 

You groan and flop back into bed. “I don’t wanna. I was pretty much dead like three cycles ago—cut me some slack, man.”

There’s a brief silence as if he’s mulling over your words, but he’s stubborn. You crane your head to look at him as he says your name with a deep sigh attached to it.   

“Truthfully, I’m surprised you’ve survived this long.” He says it quietly, fragile even, like he’s still expecting you to tip over and die on the spot. You very well might.  

You huff. “Wow. Thanks, Paz.” 

You feel his heavy stare through the helmet. “What happened to you that night was a mistake. It wasn’t preventable but the least I can do is teach you basic selfdefense.”  

You gripe out your complaints but you know you’ve been beat—and well, a bit of your agreement is based on guilt. 

Damn it.  

                                                     -=-=-=-

It’s weird to see Paz without his heavy duty gear—like seeing him naked or a crab without a shell. The only piece he continues to wear is his helmet and padded gloves and under clothes, but it’s still weird. Strange enough that it shocks you tongue into remaining still instead of bitching about this. 

He leads you to a wing of the Covert you’ve yet to discover and ushers you through the doorway. The floor is padded, a bit smaller than you expected and already occupied by none other than Aeris Fenn. 

It’s a whole other kriffing shock to the head seeing him without the plates and layers of fabric and beskar too. The armor makes him bulkier—fuller and much more intimidating. Now, with only his black underclothes on, Aeris could be the spitting image of a sentient tree. Willowy limbs that stick out like branches as he stretches on the padded mat. He lazily swings his head around as you greet him, his face still covered by the black beskar painted with streaks of red. 

“So you choose sparring over knife throwing?” Aeris snorts. “And to think I thought of you as a friend.” 

“You think I chose to be here?” You say, grumpy and still upset at the choice of activity. Really, a brisk walk around the Covert would’ve been fine.

Aeris shrugs. “Ah, and I see you’ve roped in my favorite vod. Tch, he uses his fists instead of his words to teach. I wish you luck—you’ll need it.”      

You open your mouth to retort but Paz beats you to it. 

“Leave.” 

“I’ve just arrived, actually,” Aeris scoffs, folding his torso over his other leg to stretch. “Perhaps you could reschedule. After all—our guest is quite free most days.” 

Welp—you’re perfectly fine with that. Problem solved. 

You spin on your heel and make a break for it but Paz snatches your wrist and pulls you back to his side. “Aeris.”  

“Paz,” Aeris mocks, tipping his helmet to the side. 

Paz exhales, a long, tired sound and grovels out another plea in clipped Mando’a. Aeris languidly stands and brushes off imaginary dust from the front of his pants. “Sorry, what was that? I don’t understand your accent.” 

“Boy—“

“No, no, it’s alright.” Aeris sighs, waving his hand in a mopey display as if he were told that his birthday party were canceled for the fifth year in a row. “I’d have trouble speaking too if my enormously thick head were cooped up in that little bucket of yours all day.”  

You wince. 

In the time you’ve known Paz Vizsla, he’s never been one to launch into rash decisions fueled by anger—he lets it simmer and build like an oncoming storm over the ocean. Devastating once it reaches land.

Aeris bobs his head and inspects his black leather glove, picking at a loose thread on the inseam over the thumb. He clicks his tongue. “Or'dinii—you’re going to kill her.”  

Your offended scoff is ignored as Paz steps forward; jutting his chin up to even out the few inches Aeris holds over the man. “You still haven’t learned to shut your mouth, boy.” 

The tension surges and crackles like a volt of electricity through the air—unresolved and ready to ignite with the sparking embers of Paz’s growing irritation. It’s not a fight Aeris Fenn will win. He’s volatile and hotheaded—but his expertise is in long range weaponry. Precise, deadly and swift—not whatever this little pissing match is heading towards.    

Aeris clicks his tongue as Paz digs a fist into the black fabric of his shirt. Paz yanks him forward, the metallic clink of their helmets colliding an unpleasant scrape that pierces your eardrums. Aeris snarls out sharpened words in Mando’a as his willowy fingers shoot up to curl beneath the lip of Paz’s helmet. 

In the blink of an eye, Paz lifts Aeris up by his collar and launches him across the room like he weighs nothing more than a couple of down pillows. His helmet meets the wall with a resounding clank, chipping some of the red paint outlining the visor. Ouch. 

Like a kicked dog, Aeris clambers to his feet, still dazed and swaying and for a fearful second you think he’ll retaliate. But with whatever braincells he happens to possess today—he instead spits out a venomous curse that even yourself would hesitate to repeat. He leaves without another word, bristling with rage. 

Your flash Paz a questioning stare. “The hell was that about?” 

Paz waves it away with an irritated grunt. “His heart is in the right place but he is young. Aeris doesn’t understand his place in the Covert yet and I doubt he will for years to come.” 

You frown. “Poor guy…” 

Paz mutters something under his breath. “Enough distractions. We’ve wasted enough time already.”

“Y’know…I think that’s enough excitement for today. I think I’ll be going now—“ Your last ditch attempt at weaseling out of this is quickly thwarted the moment you turn your back.  

You wheeze as the heel of Paz’s palm shoves into your shoulder blade, the force of it sending you stumbling to the ground. “Paz—“

“Go on. Hit me,” he orders. You squeak, narrowly avoiding the well aimed kick that skims the top of your scalp. 

You scramble to your feet, skirting out of range of the oncoming right hook. “So you attack me instead?” 

“How do you expect to catch quarries who are bigger than you?” He presses. You hiss as the points of his knuckles dig into the meat of your shoulder. 

You dance out of reach and rub your arm, a dull throb flaring up in the muscle. “I dunno—electrocute them?”

“Not if they take you by surprise.” 

You screech as his knuckles skim your cheek. Adrenaline pierces you veins and you wildly throw a flaky punch that wouldn’t even impress a toddler. He catches your fist with ease, his entire hand dwarfing your clenched fingers. “You can do better than that.” 

You snarl and struggle to rip your hand back. “I’m a scrapper. I don’t fight.”

“No,” he retorts. You fall onto your ass as he abruptly lets go of your hand. “You’re a bounty hunter.” 

You roll your eyes. “Hardly—why can’t I just stay here?”

Although there’s nothing to see with that swatch of black covering his eyes, you can certainly feel the look he’s giving you. A deep sigh hisses through the vocoder. “You can stay here—“

A triumphant smile splits across your face—

“—but not without contributing where it’s due.”

You puff up your cheeks and let out a dismayed stream of air. “Booo—lame.”

He sighs again and helps you off the floor. “Even if you leave the Guild, what I’m teaching you is helpful.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you say. “I’ll give you a call after I use your invaluable skills to beat up some thug.”

Paz ignores your comment and turns on his heel. “Let’s go through it again. This time use your front two knuckles instead of your whole fist.”

As your eyes land over the stretch of tight fighting fabric over his back an idea pops into your head. It’s a petty move but getting a punch in is fruitless—like trying to beat up a brick wall. You don’t fancy a broken hand and your knuckles are already bruised and swollen to the point where it’s hard to bend them. 

And so, without any forethought and with a running head start, you launch yourself onto him, your arms coiling around his neck. It does the job—takes him by surprise and makes him tip to the right. 

Aha! Yes!

Your reign of victory is short lived, however—

He latches onto your forearms strung around his neck and yanks. And much in the same way he threw Aeris like a sack of potatoes—you’re no different. For a short stretch of time that feels kriffing endless; you soar through the air, your directional whereabouts violently ripped out beneath you and equally nauseating in the same breath. 

Why you ever agreed to this—you don’t know.   

Your shoulder blade connects with the mat first, leaving behind a dull sting as you roll and tumble with uncontrollable momentum. Oh, yeah—you’ll feel that in the morning. 

Groaning, you thank the Maker that your body eventually settles into a miserable little pile of limbs and pain. But, it seems whatever higher power that lingers in the edges of the galaxy hasn’t decided to put you out of your misery just yet. 

A bulky shadow blocks out the dim lighting overhead, and for a brief anxiety ridden moment you’re afraid it’s Paz. You roll onto your back with a pathetic groan, a beg for mercy on the tip of your tongue—but as your eyes flutter open they’re met with an entirely different man. 

Din Djarin looms over you, his head cocked to the side as you blink in dumbfounded bewilderment. Ah, hell— 

You swallow, a furious heat bitting at your cheeks. “Uh…fine weather we’re having…”

“We’re inside,” he states with a brief glance up to the ceiling. 

You purse your lips. “Huh.”

With a pensive hum he offers his hand, you sigh and roll over, accepting his gloved hand. He hoists you up easily and adjusts your rumpled collar. “You ok?”

“Pfft, yeah,” you groan, rubbing your throbbing shoulder. “Never better.”

The low grumble of your name is a cross between disbelief and irritation. Din jerks his head, his attention zeroing in on Paz. “Are you trying to kill her?” 

“She isn’t made of glass.” 

“She is still recovering—“

Normally you’d intervene, but their bickering is tiring and it gives you the excuse to lie down. By the time one of them caves you’ve counted exactly one hundred and twelve weird ceiling stains. They should get that checked out.  

“Very well,” Paz snarls, cutting through your wandering thoughts. “You teach her.” 

Din scoffs, his shoulders drawn tight as he stomps over to your splayed out self. “Get up.”

“Geez, fine,” you grumble, not in the mood to test his patience further. “Since you asked so nicely.”

Later he’ll no doubt apologize but right now? He has to prove a point. Din cuts right to it, moves in close to place your clenched fists in the right stance and nudges at your feet until they’re a bit wider than hip distance. 

“You have to get in close with a bigger opponent,” he says, stepping into your space until your fists are close enough to touch his chest. “We don’t have much range here—easier to break our guard too.” 

“Right. And how would you suggest I do that?”

“You’re always beating me at cards.” Din says, tipping his head to the side. “You have a clever mind. Use it.” 

“But I always cheat.” You point out, dropping your guard to swat at a stray hair.   

He catches your wrists and returns them to where they ought to be. “Quick enough to get away with it.” 

You make a noise of uncertainty but do as you're told. Din takes a couple steps back and with a rough order you begin. 

He’s faster than Paz—bats at your guard in quick bursts and steps away when you attempt to hit back. It’s a dance almost—somehow elegant in its brutality of bruises and flashes of pain as you move around one another. Compared to Din, Paz is almost clumsy but unpredictable. Din—despite the rapidness of his attacks and evasiveness, becomes predictable.

He steps to to left—you follow. He rocks onto his toes to jab his fist forward and that’s where you find a break. Punching Din’s helmet won’t do you any good but catching the juncture of his shoulder with your elbow is completely feasible. Too bad that you’re not the only one with a clever mind.        

Din uses the momentum of your attack to catapult you to the ground—his own body rolling with you in order to capture you in a headlock of sorts. This sucks. After this you’ll never be setting foot in this Maker forsaken room again. 

Din tightens his elbow that’s looped around your throat as you squirm and flail, trapped against his chest. He grunts as your elbow digs into his ribs but holds steady and snakes his free arm across your front, pinning your limbs to your body in an unbreakable vice. All mobility is cut off as his knee pushes between your thighs, locking your leg out into an uncomfortable and frankly quite awkward angle. 

Inhaling a shaky breath, you arch as the crown of his helmet skims along the curve of your throat; the bite of beskar frigid and startling against your flushed skin. You can see his visor out of the corner of your eye; glittering and dark like the polished obsidian on Black Spire and endless like the greedy maw of a black hole. 

Your breath hitches as he shifts and curls his head closer to your ear. His voice rumbles low and deep through his chest and vibrates against the delicate cartilage. “Yield.” 

However much your pride wrestles with the sensible part of your brain, it’s all for naught as you jerk your head in defeat.  

In retrospect you should’ve said something—used your voice or made some kinda sound because suddenly Din’s forearm digs alarmingly hard into your windpipe. He read the stuttered jerk of your head as another pitiful act of defiance but no. Nope. 

Here you are—asphyxiating.   

Not exactly what you had in mind, being strangled by a Mandalorian and all—but a chokehold where you could very well die was not it. 

Fuzzy darkness begins to shade the corners of your vision, lightheadedness and a curious warmth that prickles down your spine settling low in your belly. A raspy gasp manages to slip through your blocked off airway, and stars why does this feel good?   

“Din—”

Paz’s sharp bark is distant above the ringing in your ears and it all stops.

You gulp in air that burns your throat like refined fire whiskey—hunched over the mat as a large palm rubs soothing circles over your upper back. You cough and roll over, sounding like a dying animal run over by a speeder then hit with a spiked club to polish it off. 

You’re quickly herded into Paz’s arms and pulled into his lap. Still wheezing and attempting to recover lost oxygen, whatever Din is trying to say translates into an indiscernible hum against the ringing in your ears.  

“I’m fine,” you mutter, though neither of them care to listen. Like bristling wolves, snapping at each other’s heels.  

“Apologize to her,” there’s not so much as a centimeter of room to argue. “Now.”           

It’s nice of Paz you suppose—defending your honor and what not, but you’re not a vengeful person. It was an honest mistake and you want to explain that so Din quits looking like a kicked puppy, yet the sudden touch over your ankle stops you. All the times Din has initiated contact it’d been a friendly pat to your shoulder or ruffling you hair, and while touching your ankle isn’t exactly scandalous it’s certainly an odd place to put your hand on. 

Your fingers clutch Paz’s shirt as you eye the man lingering at the bottom of your feet, his gloved thumb unconsciously rubbing patterns into the exposed skin between your boot and your pant leg. “Cyare—I’m sorry.” 

You blink and lick your lips. Interesting. “I-I don’t know what that word means.”

His hand inches higher, resting on the swell of your calf. “Sweetheart…darling…loved one—“ 

There’s a shift—a dark undercurrent that none of you should be dipping your toes into. There’s a million and one things to say or do to sever this at the root, but are you going to? Nah. 

Din’s thumb now rests over your knee, goosebumps following in his wake. “Should I keep going?” 

It too hot—stuffy with both of their heavy stares locked on your flushed face. You squirm and glance up at Paz who only offers an impassive stare. Great.   

“I can make it up to you,” Din continues, his hand stationary—a warm weight even through the fabric of your pants. “If you let me.” 

Your mouth feels drier than the desert on Jakku. This…nothing good could come out of what Din is hinting at. This is uncharted territory—launching yourself into the great unknown without any idea of what’ll fester and grow if you agree. 

It’s not like it hasn’t crossed your mind—it’s just…it’s never been both of them at the same time. These men are short-tempered, an open flame to jet fuel with deeply seated ire woven into the very fabric of their beings. You’ve barely scratched the surface on the inner workings of their mutual hostility, but you’re bright enough to question if this will make it worse. Tinder and brittle twigs feeding and enabling the hungry flames of rivalry to spiral and consume with chaotic brilliance of a dying star—

But, oh—

Isn’t it worth taking the risk? 

You suck in a grounding breath and slowly extend your leg that Din touches, gingerly skimming the toe of your shoe along the inseam of his inner thigh. “H-how would you…make it up to me?”

Din preens at your answer and shuffles closer, lifting your legs so that they rest in his lap. Devotion drips off his words like a fine liquor as he toys with the laces on your boots. “Anything—say it and it’s yours.”    

Sparks of molten heat race down your spine and metastasize in your lower belly, spreading through each vein and artery like a some sort of invasive ivy. You spare a look up at Paz as he shifts.      

“Go ahead, girl,” Paz assures. “Answer him.” 

It’s an unspoken, buzzing sort of thing like the static air before a storm, crackling and surging with pent up energy. You all know the implications of what’s to come—but it’s your words, quiet and steady that irons that nail into your coffin.

“Take me like you mean it.” 

The next few moments pass in a dizzying blur, a mess of anticipation as your shoes are yanked off, your pants following soon after and tossed into some unknown corner of the room. Paz helps you out of your shirt, a shiver wracking through your body from the chill, leaving you bare save for your underthings. Yet the warmth that seeps through his shirt and his hands that linger over your ribcage do a lovely job at making up for the cold.

Din shuffles closer and brings his fingers up to cup the side of your face, lowering his head to rest the crown of his helmet on your forehead. “Wanna touch you.” 

Your breath hitches as Paz’s hands sweep up your torso, cupping and kneading your breasts. “Y-you already are touching me, Din." 

Paz snorts as the rough leather of his gloves scrape over your skin and unhook your bindings. You hardly hear Din over your own whine as Paz rolls your hardened nipples between a forefinger and thumb. 

“I want to feel you—without the gloves,” Din clarifies, fighting to keep your attention on him. “Will you let me?”  

Maker that shouldn’t even be a question. You moan out your approval, delighted that both of them decide to slip off the padded fabric. Din touches your bare thigh the same moment Paz returns his hands to your tits and it’s exhilarating. The rasp of their bare palms against your flesh is addicting—something so foreign and warm compared to their usual armor and thick layered clothing. 

You arch into Paz’s hand as it curls around the base of your throat, a tentative pressure but still heavy. “You’d let us do anything, wouldn’t you? Needy little thing.”

“Yes,” you croak, already debauched and falling apart at the seams. “Anything.”

You’re all too happy to fade away in the embrace of the larger man but the other participant is far from letting that slide. Din grabs your hand, guiding it towards the front of his trousers, the drawstrings already loose and easy to pull aside. He groans and twitches as your fingertips flirt along his navel, then curl over the waistband, tugging his pants the rest of the way down to pool around his knees. 

You reach for the already impressive outline of his cock pressing against his boxers, but Paz cupping your cunt through your underwear just before you touch Din is distracting. You gasp and arch as Paz digs the heel of his palm against your clit, electrifying ecstasy zipping down your spine with each touch. 

There’s a twinge of guilt after Din huffs and drags your limp wrist back to his cock, this time encouraging you to palm him by guiding your actions with his own hand until you lazily oblige. Din’s quiet grunts, gravely against the vocoder do nothing but throw more jet fuel to the fire inside your belly. The growing urge to actually touch him gnaws and corrodes the forefront of your brain. With a firm yank his boxers are quick to join his trousers and Maker—

Fuck—

Will he even fit?

Din is thick, rosy brown and flushed at the tip and beginning to curl towards his bellybutton. A bead of liquid shines at the tip, dribbling down the underside as he wraps his fist around the base of his length. He gives himself a languid stroke before he, once again, reminds your hand of what it’s supposed to be doing. Din is searing in your palm, molten and stiffening to hardened steel in your grip.   

“You look so fuckin’ pretty like this,” Din hisses as his head rolls back onto his shoulders. “S-so pretty holding my cock.”

Your desperation tears at your insides, insatiable and Maker— you wanna taste him. You want to hear every little stuttered moan and feel each twitch of his hips as he claims your mouth as his own.    

But before you’re able to ask Din if he’d be willing to fuck your throat, Paz grips your knee and slings your leg over his thigh, murmuring praise as he peels off your underwear. Paz’s hand snakes down to your pussy and runs two thick fingers through your already slick cunt, then delicately parts your folds. 

It’s like a fucking bomb going off as his thumb grazes over your swollen clit. His forearm locks tight around your waist, keeping you in place as you arch and tremble. Paz is feather light and teasing, as he strokes over the little bundle of nerves in a painstakingly slow rhythm. 

“Paz—“ 

He nudges your cheek with his helmet and chuckles. “You’re so sensitive, vaar’ika. Such lovely noises too.”  

Paz trades in his light touches for using his two fingers instead. They form a relaxed ‘v’ shape, trapping your clit in between the digits as he massages in a steady up and down motion. You cry out, every nerve shocked and flooded with saccharine pleasure, shoving you so treacherously close to that precarious edge of release.      

You have no fucking chance as a different set of fingers, leaner in length but just as bulky, carefully prod at your entrance. Din’s pointer finger slides into your cunt, quickly adding a second as your core clenches and stretches for him. The dual sensations over your clit and Din’s fingers steadily pumping and curling inside you send you hurling into that dazzling white-hot pleasure.     

Throwing your head back, you cry out—a jumbled mess of their names or just nonsense— pleasure crackling out from your core and all the way down your legs. Your cunt tightens like a vice around Din’s digits, your legs twitching as your high dips into prickly overstimulation. You whine, and swat at Paz’s hand, Din pulling out his own fingers a moment later and wiping your wetness on the inside of your thigh. 

Your head rests in the crook of Paz’s shoulder as your breath fans across the side of his helmet, fogging up the metal where the blue paint is chipped and scraped away. The shirt he wears smells a bit like sweat but the underlying scent of him is comforting—worn leather and something crisp, like fresh laundry. You don’t mean for the words to slip out—

You know better than that, but everything feels muddled and silly and, and, and—

“I wish I could kiss you.”  

It’s like dousing ice cold water on a pile of smoldering coals. A silence, petrifying and like the inhale before jumping off a cliff and into a rocky sea, ensues. Stupid, stupid, stupid—  

Paz shatters the fragile suspense with a rich laugh that burns away all the icy worry making itself a home in your ribcage. He moves his arm up, his fingers gripping your jaw to fix your gaze onto the other Mandalorian. “You want his mouth on you too?”  

You whimper and nod, but it isn’t enough. 

“Use your voice vaar’ika,” Paz hums, pressing the crown of his helmet against your cheek. “Tell us want you want.” 

“I-fuck—” Paz’s fingertips sneak up your torso, rough callous catching deliciously on your skin. “I wan’t your mouth on me. B-both of you.” 

Paz chuckles and releases his hold on your chin. “You’ll have to be blindfolded, sweet girl.”

Din scoffs, a harsh crackle through the vocoder. “Like she’d want to see your face anyway.”

“Please,” you mewl, turning your head to curl into Paz’s neck. It’s not ideal, but it’s a sacrifice you’re willing to make. “I don’t care. I need—“

“Patience, little one,” Paz purrs, rubbing up and down your bare sides in a soothing manner. All it does is stoke the flames. “You’ll get what you want.” 

Paz shifts, reaching for your abandoned shirt and stars—

You can feel his cock, firmer then tempered durasteel and poking into your lower back. Oh, hell—these men are going to ruin you. 

You’re nudged forward, your vision going dark once your shirt is securely tied around your head. The knot traps a few hairs that pull sharp against your scalp but the measly pain is worth it. Oh so worth it.  

“Is it too tight?” You hear Din ask, concern lacing his gravely vocals. 

You wave your hand in dismissal. “S’fine.”

“Cant see anything either, right?” 

You squirm, your patience spreading thin. “Din, please.”

“Fine.” There’s no bite to his tone and under different circumstances you’d have more composure. Acknowledge that they’re putting their religion, their whole being into your hands—a fragile trust that could so easily be shattered. 

Your ears pick up their subtle movements, their helmets landing onto the thin mat with soft thunks. With bated breath you wait for them to jump into action, seize every spare moment to taste your skin and breathe the same air. But—

“You need a haircut, vod.”

“And you need to shave.” Retorts Din with bitter indignation. 

“It’s hardly even stubble.” He chortles. You giggle and twist away as he scrapes his prickly cheek up and down your neck. “Besides—she likes it.” 

There’s another lull, and with the blindfold everything is amplified—the quick and quiet breathing of Din on your right and the slide of fabric against skin as Paz shifts. Your attention is captured by Din’s bare palm, warm and calloused like weathered leather left out in the afternoon sun. He caresses the outside of your thigh in smooth, longing strokes, enraptured by the softness of your skin. You whimper and let your leg fall open, exposing more of your thigh for his curious exploration. 

The sudden touch on your cheek is jarring. You know Paz is there—it’s not an easy thing to forget the solid chest you’re leaning against but it’s hard to focus. Difficult to settle on one thought before it slips away like grains of sand between a clenched fist. Paz’s touch is heavier than Din’s, ambitious and greedy but…mindful. Even as his fingers spread along your jaw and drag you into a deep, mouthwatering kiss. It’s…stars—   

There’s nothing that can describe this. No word that could ever hold a candle up to the way his lips, plush and soft, move against yours. His nose brushes against your cheek as he tilts his head and deepens the kiss, his warm tongue sliding against the seam of your bottom lip. 

You whine and bury your hand into his hair as Paz groans, a low rumble in his throat. You wonder what color it is, but carding your fingers through the curls atop his head suffices for now.

Your curiosity is abruptly ended as Din’s hand snakes around your forearm. You’re forcibly yanked away, only to be met with another pair of lips. Din murmurs an apology at the sting of his teeth bumping into your upper lip, but the pain is hardly the first thing on your mind. 

Din’s kiss is devouring—  

Scalding and bright—the galaxy, a thousand suns, all there ever will be and all that ever was. The way his lips move against yours is a devastatingly sharp contrast to the steady, syrupy sweet kiss Paz offers. Desperate and eager to surround you in his own arms—steal away any lingering thought and replace it with him. Din Djarin—  

You gasp as Din’s teeth nibble and pull on your bottom lip, only a moment before he surges closer, wrapping his hand around your jaw to hold it open as he licks deep into your mouth. Breaking for air, Din tangles his fingers into your hair at the base of your neck and yanks, baring the column of your throat. His travels down, the tender kisses morphing into teasing nips and lingering sucks that’ll turn into tender bruises in the morning. 

Din hovers over your breasts, his heated breath and cooling saliva the catalyst to the goosebumps that rush over your skin. He lightly tugs on your nipple using his teeth, then plants a sweet kiss over your sternum.   

“Can I taste you?” Din murmurs, his lips ghosting over your flesh. “Maker—wanna put my mouth on you.” 

“Din—“ A different set of lips latching onto the juncture of your neck and hijacks your train of thought. Wipes your mind clean until Paz is the sole thing you can consciously focus on. 

Paz laves his tongue over the shell of your ear and urges you to lean back against him once more. Your nose scrapes against his stubble as you tuck your head into the crook of his neck, his hips lazily rolling his hardened cock into your backside. 

“Or…” Paz rumbles, capturing your hand and interlacing your fingers with his. You marvel at the sheer size of his palm—astounded still when he leads his and your hands to palm his cock. “I could give you this. Fuck your pretty little cunt until you’re screaming for me.”

It’s a punch to the gut. Why the fuck do you have to choose? You squirm as Din points his tongue over your nipple then sucks it into his mouth. 

Working through the fog in your head, the answer is clearer than fucking crystal. Because who in their right mind would turn down a Mandalorian’s request to eat you out? Not you, that’s for sure. “Din—want your mouth.”

Din huffs in triumph and slips between your legs that part to accommodate his broad shoulders, leaving no patch of bare skin untouched and worshiped. You shiver as his tongue circles around your bellybutton then retreats. Din settles his head beside your knee and mouths a kiss there.  

You whine his name and buck your hips, heart beating wildly in your ears. The teasing is unbearable and, stars—if he doesn’t start now— 

He nibbles on the inside of your thigh, laving his warm tongue over each mark he leaves behind, buffering the sting of his teeth. Din snake his hands under your ass, hooking your knees over his shoulders as he heaves your cunt closer to his mouth. Din’s thumbs part your soaking pussy, his breath hot fanning over your cunt. His tongue his scalding—like liquid velvet as he dips the tip of his tongue from the base of your slit all the way up to your clit. 

Din sucks on the little bundle of nerves, rolling his tongue until you’re crying out, molten pleasure zipping through you. He grunts as your fingers tangle into his hair—fuck. Fuck, you need more.   

Arching into his mouth, all thoughts are obliterated; nothing but the warmth of his tongue, and his lips, devouring you as if he were a man seconds from death and you’re his saving grace. That frenzied desperation lingers on the edges of his movements like he’s afraid you’ll fade into smoke—but you’re not going anywhere. Not even a million credits could convince you to push Din’s head away. 

He sinks two fingers into your clenching hole and curls his fingers, stroking and curling his fingertips to make you sing. Zeros in on that little spot that causes the involuntary twitches of your leg and wrenches embarrassing, high pitched mewls that fill the room. You’re careening towards your high, the sensitivity of your last orgasm amping up the influx of pleasure. 

“Shit—Din. Close—I’m so close,” you gasp, pulling his hair tight enough that you know it must hurt. He makes no sign that it does, just groans and buries his tongue into your dripping hole, licking alongside his fingers that shovel more of your wetness into his mouth. 

Your release unfurls through your body like sticky molasses—smoldering embers that seep into each limb until they’re heavier than lead. Fuck—it’s so hard to think and at this rate your brain is as good as gone.   

You pay only a fraction of attention to Din as he kisses his way back up your body and lands a final one over your lips. His thumb grazes over your chin, his gravelly words of praise cutting through some of that foggy haze, how good you were, how fucking delicious you tasted when you came on his tongue. You taste your own arousal on his mouth as he noses your cheek and captures your lips in another kiss.           

“Are you done?” Paz asks dryly, much too barbed to be thrown your way. You groan when Paz jostles your limp body as he hoists you back into his lap.

“Just starting, actually,” Din quips. “Why don’t you hand her back over? I’ve got some more things I wanna try.” 

Paz scoffs and secures a heavy arm around your middle. “Greed will get you nowhere.” 

“Neither will your arrogance.” 

“Shut up—both of you,” you interrupt. Your voice is raw and choppy but it does the job. “Just fuck me already.”

For now their little spat is sidelined—it’s not worth ripping off that bandage of a temporary truce. There’s a chaste moment of quiet, like they’re considering tearing into each other’s throats instead, but with a touch to Paz’s thigh the standoff fizzles out. 

“We need to work on your manners,” Paz suggests, curling his large, calloused hand around your neck in a loose hold. “I believe it’s please fuck me.” 

Maybe if you weren’t practically a pile of brainless goo, you’d argue. See how far you can push—though this time you fold. “Please fuck me. P-please—I need it.” 

Seemingly satisfied with your answer; Paz wedges a hand between your bodies to grip his cock and run the tip through your folds, soaked from you own wetness and Din’s saliva. The head of his member nudges at your entrance, and wether it’s his size or the fact you can’t see anything—you panic. 

Your hand shoots out, nails harpooning into the meat of his forearm. “W-wait—you’re too b-big.”  

Paz freezes and moves you up his lap and presses a kiss over you hairline. “We can stop. Just say—“

“N-no, I’m fine,” you assure, planting an apologetic peck on his stubbled jaw. Stopping is the last thing you want to do—it was just…overwhelming. A sensory overload testing the very fringes of your being. “Go slow?”

You feel his head bob in compliance as he moves you back to where you’re hovering over his cock. You relax this time, not as many alarm bells clanging through your head as your cunt flutters around the fat tip and then that glorious, first thick inch. Paz’s thumb bumps over your throbbing clit, coaxing your pussy to take him further. 

“Yeah, that’s it vaar’ika,” he grunts, his breath fanning over your neck in quick pants. “Taking my cock so fucking well. So nice and pretty.”

Your pussy flutters, fresh waves of arousal hot and burning.You nearly keel over when Paz starts shallowly rocking his hips, easing your body the rest of the way down his length until the back of your thighs touch his. Maker—how the hell is he all the way inside? You can feel him in your fucking guts—         

“See?” Paz purrs. He sucks a bruise into the meat of your shoulder and pushes his palm against your lower stomach, making the fit even tighter. “Fits fucking perfect.”

The noise your cunt makes pulling out and the debauched moan that filters through his vocal chords is obscene. If anyone where to walk by, well—it’s certainly not training that’s going on, for the better lack of words. 

Paz holds true to his word—keeps his pace limited to deep, languid thrusts that brush up against something that makes your whole body shake—like strumming a golden chord molded to a musician’s fingers. Fuck—he’s doing all the work too. Lifting you by the swell of your hips and pulling you down onto his cock with a rough buck of his hips. 

Abruptly, he slows to a gentle rocking—quick to lock you in place as you thrash and roll your hips. “Paz—n-no. Keep going. You n-need to—“

Paz silences your please with a wet, open mouthed kiss. “Our friend looks lonely. Why don’t you use that pretty mouth and suck his cock?” 

Din. 

You hear the man curse in Mando’a, probably some stab at Paz—

But with a pat to your outer thigh, you don’t need any more prompting—you’d give up your left hand to get a chance to suck him off. With the help of Paz, you’re eased onto your hands and knees, shocks of white-hot pleasure zipping through your core at the change of angle. Like this Paz is seated deeper inside, stabbing into each spot that makes you sing.    

Fuck—your arms are shaking—only able to hold yourself up for half a click and then you’re sinking face first into the floor, ass in the air as he fucks into you. Paz clicks his tongue and wraps his arm around your front, pulling you back up from your slumped position. 

“I told you to suck his cock, girl. Not take a nap.” Paz accentuates his words with heavy, well measured thrusts—the kind of force you know will leave your whole lower half throbbing and sore in the aftermath. 

You whine as Paz grabs a hold of your jaw, digging into the tender joints until your mouth falls open. “Good. Keep it like that.” 

Paz’s hand falls away, replaced by a softer touch. The pads of Din’s fingers hook under your chin, guiding and tempting you nearer to what rests between his legs, hot and heavy and large.       

You feel the tip of his cock, flushed and pulsing, rest on your bottom lip. You lap up the beads of sticky precum with kitten licks that morph into suckling the entire head. Din grunts out your name and tangles his hand into your hair as you tongue at the ridged frenulum. He never forces you to swallow down more of him—lets you cradle the first few inches in the wet warmth of your mouth and languidly roll the pad of your tongue around him. 

You want to take him deeper, let Din fuck your throat raw, but your jaw already aches. Your lips are pulled tight around his shaft, drool dribbling down your chin and landing on the mat below. You’re not sure if you could take more of him without the danger of your teeth catching or dislocating your jaw. So you manage like this—hollowing out your cheeks and and using the momentum of Paz’s thrusts to pleasure Din.          

It’s frustrating—it must be each time you let his cock slip out of your mouth to breathe or the fact Din isn’t able to fucking fit his cock into your mouth. Annoying that you aren’t able to think properly to help him out a bit ore when that said brain is being fucked straight outta you, put through the wringer and then body slammed onto duracrete. 

Din cups your cheek, strokes over your skin with his thumb and maneuvers himself out of your mouth. You whine and lean into his palm, his touch addictive like smoldering coals in the dead of winter.    

“You want me there instead of him?” Din purrs, using the tips of his index and middle fingers to tilt your chin and drag you into an open mouthed kiss. “Fuck you like you deserve.” 

The profane imagery of Din between your legs instead makes you clench tight. It only takes a couple seconds and a few more feverish kisses before you’re nodding to his request. Paz mutters a swear, hesitates, and reluctantly pulls out, leaving your cunt empty and aching with need. 

Din, however, is speedy—quick to hoard you to himself and yank your legs over his hips so that you’re draped on his lap. He jumps straight to the point, no fancy maneuver or drawn out teasing—just grabs the base of his cock, slides the flushed tip between your folds and sinks into your cunt. Even after your pussy had been stretched and molded around Paz’s length, you struggle to take Din’s entire cock into your aching center. It’s easier than Paz but, Maker—not by much. 

You whine, harpooning your fingernails into his shoulder once he bottoms out. Din snarls a curse and latches his teeth onto the juncture between your neck and shoulder, prickly pain shooting directly to your belly. “Fucking tight. H-how—fuck.”

There’s no time to adjust before Din sets a pace, harsh and desperate—his hands digging into the flesh of your ass for better leverage. Each roll of his hips borders erratic, taking his pleasure without thought—intent on reaching his own end before it could be yanked out from under him. Din’s staggered exhales below your ear are interlaced with subdued moans that start low in his ribcage then dip into a higher, airy pitch. A delicate sound you’ll guard closer to your chest than any secret you possess for the rest of your life—precious and yours. 

Din turns his head to steal a kiss. “You feel fuck—fucking good. Wanna feel you cum around me. S-squeezed so fucking hard around my fingers—“

You choke out a groan and feel your arousal begin to drip down your thighs—hear the thrusts of his cock into your cunt become shamefully wetter. Heat sizzles down each vertebrae in your spine, burning up each and every cell with the brilliance of a wildfire. Stars, this is gonna destroy you.      

Din’s hand sneaks between your bodies and rubs tight, little circles over you swollen clit. There’s no build up to your orgasm—just a blinding surge of blistering warmth that knocks you off your feet and steals away all the air left in your lungs. Your nails dig into Din’s back as you shake and grapple for a foothold in your own consciousness—the steady warmth of his body a much needed anchor for the madness that threatens to drown you.  

“Good girl,” Din praises, pace faltering from just how tight your pussy squeezes and flutters around his cock. “S-such a fucking good girl for me.”     

Regaining some semblance of control, you realize he’s still fucking going—still rock solid and throbbing, fucking you through the aftershocks of your release. Your arousal turns sharp, like rough cotton over a fresh sunburn as it dips into overstimulation. It’s not unpleasant but Din has to slow his hips to a delicate roll for you to recover.            

In the time it takes to inhale, a different calloused hand kneads into your lower back then smoothes up your spine. A second later you feel the scrape of Paz’s stubble prick along your exposed shoulder as his tongue drags along your sweat dampened skin—all the way up the curve of your neck and ending at the shell of your ear. 

You’re not sure if it’s intentional, but as Paz crowds closer the tip of his cock pokes at your other hole. With a surprised mewl, you tense and shy away—but he follows, molds his chest against your back to sandwhich you in. The hand gripping your bicep jumps to your neck and pulls your head against his shoulder. 

Two of Paz’s fingers dip down the curve of your ass and brush along the puckered skin—far less jarring this time. “Do you want to be fucked here too?” 

Maker—

You’re gonna fucking explode.  

Stuffed to the brim already, it’s hard to imagine Paz cramming himself in along with Din. A little red light blares in some corner of your mind but it’s quickly soothed as Paz plants soft kisses over your cheek and jaw. You trust him—there’s no reason to think he’ll hurt you or push you to the point of pain.

You catch his mouth with a kiss and rock your hips back. “Y-yeah, ok. I trust you.” 

You feel his smile curl against your cheek. “Don’t worry vaar’ika—I’ll take care of you.”

Paz strokes your bottom lip with his thumb and kisses the crown of your hairline as you sink into him. With his ring and middle finger, he pushes past the seam of your lips. “Suck.”

You obey, sealing your lips around his two digits and coating them in your saliva. Paz pulls them out with a pop and moves them between your legs, and with the added wetness dripping from your cunt, the first finger is easy enough. The second and third have you gasping as he scissors them and stretches your tight hole wider. You claw your nails into Din’s shirt—and he’s no better—Din’s own hands are clamping around your hips, struggling to keep still and biting back moans each time your cunt constricts. 

Your hips begins to meet the thrusts of Paz’s fingers as your body familiarizes the feel of him there. It’s a deep thrill that rushes up through your spinal cord—much different from anything you’ve felt before. 

“You like this, don’t you?” Paz goads, chuckling when you whine as he extracts his fingers. “I think you’re ready to take my cock, yeah?”

You shudder and nod, your voice no more than a squeak as it pilfers out. Paz strokes the top of your head and tips you forward into Din’s eager arms as Paz slicks up his length in a mix of precum and your dripping arousal. He touches the swell of you ass in warning, lines himself up with your hole and wedges the tip of his cock inside of you.     

Involuntary tears dampen your makeshift blindfold as Paz buries himself deeper, his rumbling tone urging you to relax—relax even though your mind is drowning in an ocean of arousal and swirling emotions you have no hope to pin down and analyze. It’s for the best—thankful as Paz bottoms out that it wrenches you back to a feasible reality you’re able to manage.

“Shit—I-I’m gonna die—“ You sob, writhing at just how full you are. But there’s nowhere to fucking go—     

“Easy,” Din breathes, and you wonder if he’s said it to keep his own head on his shoulders. “Easy.”

Din’s gravelly rasp cuts through the fog in your head, and stars—you sound like you’re fucking dying. Your wheezy breaths and lightheadedness would certainly suggest that—but no…no, you’re fine. Better than fine.     

A rush so acute and devastating launches up your spine as Din’s patience cracks. He experimentally rolls his hips and that’s the end of it. You’re swallowed up in that riptide you fought so hard to avoid—fuck. You won’t be the same after this. How can you?  

You can feel them both, separated by a thin wall as they sprint towards their own highs. You’re never once left empty—Din reaches the end of you as Paz pulls out and while there’s not exactly any finesse involves it’s the best fucking thing you’ve felt in your entire life. There’s no bickering—no teasing and you’re struck with an idea that makes you clench tight around both of them. You wouldn’t mind if this was the way they decided to settle scores or finally see eye to eye.   

This time you can’t discern your high—just a constant overflow of ecstasy and dazzling arousal like an imploding supernova. You cry their names—sob and shake in their hold with such fervor that Paz traps you tighter between them to keep you still.  

“Fuck—you get so fucking tight,” Paz growls, blunt nails digging into your hips. “And so fucking wet.”

His fingers touch the inside of your thigh and stars—he’s right. “I get to fuck your cunt next time—see how much you’ll drip for me.” 

Even if the blindfold were off—there’d be nothing to see but a white wash of nothing. Blinded by pleasure and bursting at the seems. 

Jealous, Din steals your breath away with a kiss, licking and nipping at your swollen lips until you whine his name. His jagged pants fan across your chin—chapped lips and patchy facial hair tickling across your bottom lip as you breath the same air. 

Din whispers your name like a prayer, his fingers clutching tight around your thighs as his pace starts to flounder to choppy jerks. “Shit. I-I’m close—“

Your fingers twist into his hair. “Yeah—ok baby. Let go.”

Din’s teeth sink into the base of your throat and cums. His seed coats your insides—hot and copious and fucking shit—if there’s a next time you want him to cum in your mouth.      

You don’t get time to relish Din’s stuttered gasps of your name, laced with praise and a show of a tender and bleeding heart before Paz is gathering up your hair in a tight fist and jerking your head up. “You—you want me to cum too? Say it.” 

Without a breath of hesitation you beg for it, cry and arch into him. It does the trick—

Paz is loud—shouts a thunderous roar and buries his cock deep into your hole. Din is still recovering from the aftershocks of his release when Paz pulls out after what seems like ages pumping you full. His cock no longer there to plug you up, his cum begins to dribble out and mix with the mess between your legs. Your legs shake and you wobble--crying out as Din slips out, your body dreadfully empty and aching.     

You're lowered to the mat by Din and if you weren't still trying to formulate words, you'd thank them. Lips dart over your cheeks and hairline, and for once nothing needs to be said. It’s nice...the radiating warmth from their bodies and the simmering flush through you body is something you could get used to. But you’re no stranger to the shifting tides of the future. 

You shrug it off.    

Your eyes are heavy and with one of them stroking your hair and the other your thigh, you drift to sleep. Later—later all unspoken things and disastrous words can be dealt with tomorrow. You must be dreaming when it’s said--careless and bold, but the words nestle into your heart and sprouts with fear. 

“You love her, don't you?” 

translation:

vaar’ika--pipsqueak 

or’dinni--dumbass idiot 

vod--brother/comrade 

tag list: 

@bobafctts​ @djxrxn​ @teaofpeach​ @corrupt-fvcker​ @nelba​ @datmando​ @ben-is-a-hoe​ @dreams-like-clockwork​ @aerynwrites​ @auty-ren​ @huliabitch​ @anxiety-riddled-mando​ @phoenixhalliwell​ @trippedmetaldetector​ 

[sopordeficiency]

nah i dont think he's evil harry potter??? that was just a visual joke mostly. if anything i guess he's like, draco malfoy cause of the racism. also i havent watched the movies in years or ever read the books so maybe that has something to do with this, but i dont really relate to eridan to HP at all.

Like, he's more of an analogue to hipster culture? He tries to be so special, he thinks he's sooo special, he's a warmomgering 13 year old. he's my funny little guy, also, someone pLEASE get him so character development.

I guess as a character i like him more because i can give him a path to walk on that isnt canon, you know? its free range for imagining what couldve been and as a fan that's fun.

going back to his personality and stuff, he's pathetic, like a wet sopping cat that scratches and bites. but like, every kid has done something cringe worthy when it comes to dealing with relationships with others. personally i sucked at it so bad in school that i became an introvert lmao. i guess i relate to him in some way?? idk im thinking this up as i go.

he's just SO lonely, even when he has a relationship to speak of, he's still lonely, no one has ever taken him seriously. thats kinda hard to go through, so he lashes out and does all of these exorbitant things to get attention. it's pretty easy to follow once you notice all he ever wanted was recognition. which, like, as kids trying to prove themselves is super normal. he's desperate to BE someone. everything about him is a theatre he puts up.

there was a truth he was supposed to find but the way the story had to play out didnt have that factor in it, so he stayed his ugly self and was never given the option to change. i think a lot about (vriska) and how she changed so much and was (possibly) molded into this new self, that she liked better, she was happy for once, but she also lost herself (maybe????). then i think about those spare eridans we see being happy when theyve died and been doomed (god tier eridan with feferi, eridan with shrek dad). i think one found himself and the other lost himself.

hmmm, i guess thats it? i like what they did with his gender non-comformity down the line, even though i didnt get it at first, for this character, but ill take what i can get (im nb).

i guess he's just fun to think about! what even is his authentic self anyway?? he was always putting up a show and putting up a mask that he felt is what people needed to see of him. i dont think we caught much of what the actual eridan is like. a nerdy kid who still wishes so much that magic was real, he's into history, he likes to roleplay, he's into ships and nautical war tactics, he didnt want to lose his only friend so he lied and went into a relationship that didnt take his actual feelings into account (i mean theyre meant to be pale anyway). he can never speak up about how he truly feels, he needs to be what people think him to be, or what he thinks he needs to be. he's so tired, dude. keeping up that drama is exhausting.

i guess, even if he did want to exterminate all landwellers, whatever that meant, im sure he knew it was an impossible thing anyway. or maybe he kept telling himself he might be able to pull it off? but the troll empire needs it working class anyway. the only reason he didn't do it was because 1) he was busy feeding feferi's lusus, 2) it would hurt feferi's feelings.

alright yeah i think thats all i had to say, i just like to look at him also, he's got a cape! how silly! very aesthetic or whatever the kids say today

So... Eridan fans. I have a question!

What even is there to like about this guy? Is it just that he's an evil Harry Potter analogue and that's an interesting twist on an archetype you already love? Because I never read a Potter book or saw the moives and I figure that's a large part of why I didn't see the appeal.