#its a crack ship leave me alone ok let me have fun | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jangofctts · 4 years

Text

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

#happy SINday :)#pls accept some mando schlong #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #paz vizla x reader #paz vizsla x reader #paz vizla #paz vizsla #din djarin #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #star wars #sw #fanfic #my writing #reader insert

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reluctant-mandalore · 3 years

Note

may i request din finding out his s/o is a sith lord when they go to rescue grogu and later while cuddling have a “Tell me every terrible thing you’ve done and let me love you anyways” moment

Warnings: hurt/comfort, emotional hurt/comfort, cuddling, sith!reader, established relationship, playing with canon, kissing, not beta read.

Word Count: 3679

Pairing: Din Djarin x gn!Reader (also sith!Reader)

a/n: Hey anon!! Thank you so much for the request and sorry its taken so long for me to finish it! I hit a huge writing block with requests and decided to focus on other works. That combined with how busy school got, I fell super behind on fics. Anyway, the concept of sith!reader was really fun to explore and honestly it was something I wanted to explore long before I got this request. I might write a few other things for sith reader of y’all are interested. Otherwise I hope you all enjoy <3

Note: fic will be labeled as ‘secrets revealed’ on my masterlist and on ao3.

“Look at you darling! Switching sides must come really easily for you, hm?”

Moff Gideon’s words had echoed throughout the cockpit, his image flickering within the hologram that shined before the three of you currently stood there. A sharp pain of dread had bubbled within you at the weight of what he had said, unease finding itself littering within your thoughts as the meaning behind it had settled among you all. You knew eventually this would come up, but had you thought you would have more time before it did. Honestly you didn’t think it would be here so soon, otherwise you would have already prepared yourself for this discussion with the Mandalorian.

“What?”

“Oh you didn’t know Mando?” Moff Gideon had smirked, his smile the most sickening thing you had ever laid your sights on, “Your little friend there is a sith.”

The Mandalorian’s gaze had snapped to yours in an instant, confusion and concern held within its blistering depth. He didn’t know much in regards to the sith, but he had learned well enough about them in his time traveling with the child. He had heard the horrors of what they had done—the wars they had raged and slaughters they had committed—he knew that the sith weren’t good. In fact they were the exact opposite of good. The sith were dark and evil on all accounts.

“That… That’s not true.” He had said in disbelief, the idea of you being one of them seeming so unlikely to him. You had always been so sweet and kind, treating the child as if he was your own. Even caring for him and the Mandalorian as if you were family. You couldn’t be a sith. “He’s lying. Right cyar’ika?”

Unmistakable shame had consumed you at his words, and you had looked away from him at his pleading question. You couldn’t seem to form an answer, and honestly you didn’t know if you wanted to, especially not with how he was looking at you in the moment.

“Mando listen… I-”

“-And,” Gideon’s voice had cut you off, his enjoyment of your suffering in the situation clear in just his tone alone, “They’ve been working with me the entire time. Well. They were at least. Doesn’t seem like you’ll be bringing me the child anytime soon there, especially not when you’re playing house with a Mandalorian.”

At the imperial’s words, Din’s gaze had finally moved from yours and down to the child that was still held tightly in your arms. His fingers visibly twitching with the sudden need to snatch the little one from your grasp. His concern and worry was evident even with the helmet that shielded his expression from your view. The sight of which had only caused for your heart to crack with sadness at the mistrust he was sending your way.

“Well congratulations my dear sith lord on your happily ever after!” Gideon had said as he ended off his call with a laugh. The holopad shutting off soon after, and allowing for a deathly silence to fall over the room once more. The air of the small space now feeling tight, and almost suffocating, as you two stared at one another for what felt like an eternity.

The Mandalorian had approached you cautiously after some time. Every step he took calculated, and slower, the closer he got. He had soon nearly snatched the child from your grasp—almost as if touching you for even the slightest of seconds would have burned him—now shielding the little one away from your prying eyes, and whatever evil he must have thought you carried.

You couldn’t blame him of course. As you probably would have reacted in the same way if you were in his shoes, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt to see your beloved Mandalorian responding like this to the news. It hurt to see his mistrust in you.

“Din…”

“Let’s get out of here.” He had replied sternly, setting the child down in his own seat far away on the other side of the room, before motioning for you to take the other opposite one. “We need to get as far away from here as possible. Don’t want Gideon catching up.”

Another wave of pain had washed over you at his sudden coldness, causing your eyes to brim with tears, as you had nodded and followed the Mandalorian’s directions anyway. You didn’t have the heart to argue or even defend yourself at this time. Din was right after all, you three needed to leave the area as quickly as possible. The Imperial and his ship were surely close on your tail if he had felt the need to speak with you over the communicator.

The ride to the next planet was dreadfully quiet. Not even the child had cooed or chattered on the way there. Instead he had simply stared between you two with lowered ears and wide confused eyes. He had to have known something was going on, though it was unclear if he knew exactly what had been said and done.

Eventually the ship had landed flawlessly thanks to the Mandalorian’s piloting. Than a quick check of the area had made it apparent that you three had managed to escape the Empire’s hold once again.

You had watched as the Mandalorian fiddled with the control panel. He was making sure the ship was settled and secure just as he always did after landing, though this time you could see the unease in each of his movements. He hadn’t said a word to you yet, but you knew the two of you would have to talk about what happened sooner or later. Better now than never.

“Din I think we need to talk.”

“I’m putting the kid to bed.” He had stated simply, not even looking at you as he stood from his and made his way down to the hold with the child in toe, “It's way past his bedtime.”

You didn’t say anything in response to his words after he had left you alone in the cockpit. Instead you had chosen to move down into the hull and to your own cot silently, as you figured that you wouldn’t push him to talk tonight. Though of course, this reasoning of yours hadn’t stopped the feeling of guilt and despair settling firmly within your gut from the brisk interaction.

The sheets there were stiff and cold as you laid within them. Clearly they hadn’t been used in a long while, as you usually choose to share the sleeping quarters which belonged to the Mandalorian with him. Both of you had enjoyed the other's presence more than sleeping alone, and with your growing relationship, it just seemed normal for you two to begin sleeping in the same bed.

Tonight of course would be the first in a long time where you would be sleeping alone again.

From your cot you could take in the sight of Din rocking the child, as he tried to sooth the little one into resting. He had seemed to struggle with it tonight. The kid was far too restless to want to sleep any time soon—regardless of the long day he had just suffered through. You had watched the two of them for another moment, smiling sadly, before closing the curtain which had once provided you with privacy. Although tonight it had only felt like another wall between you and your family. Now existing only as a reminder of the details of your life you had hidden from them all this time.

Din had eventually managed to get the kid to lay down and sleep. A sigh of relief could be heard from the other side of the curtain that had separated your space from the surrounding area. More rustling and the clicking of metal could be heard shortly after. The sound of it making you realize that he was now getting himself ready for bed. You had figured he wouldn’t be coming to see you that night, but the confirmation had still felt icy to your heart, and you found yourself once again on the brink of crying.

That’s probably why the knock on the wall next to your cot was such a shock to you. It was Din’s usual way of asking for permission to enter your enclosed space. He was always kind and considerate, wanting to make sure that you were always comfortable regardless of whatever else had happened. Tonight seemed to be no different in this regard at least, and you took comfort in what little normality you could hold onto.

“You can come in.” You had answered quietly, propping yourself up as you watched him pull the curtain back to let himself in, forcing a smile at the sight of him entering. “Is the kid ok?”

The Mandalorian had already stripped himself down to his under clothes and helmet. The metal shield which still remained over his face was a clear sign that he had been feeling uncomfortable and uneasy in the moment. You two had been together for a long while now, and he had ended up showing you his face some months ago. It was still only a recent development in your blossoming relationship, and it was one you were sure you had just ruined for the man with your lies now unraveled.

No wonder he had chosen to keep it on this fateful night.

“He took longer to put down than usual.” He had said when your gaze had locked with his visor, though he had soon broken the contact all too quickly, looking away as he stood awkwardly before you. “He seems restless.”

“That’s surprising.” You had said, though your mind wondered if the child was so restless because he could tell his parents were currently at odds with one another. “You’d think after the long day he’s had he would be exhausted.”

The Mandalorian had only let out a grunt in reply, sitting himself next to you on the cot as another silence had fallen between you two. He had looked down to his hands, twiddling them nervously, as he tried to figure out what he wanted to say. He had looked up again briefly, as if he was trying to gage your expression, or even understand what you must have been thinking, but he had ended up lowering his sight again before finally deciding on what to say to you.

“So you’re a sith lord.”

The way he had gone straight to the point had almost made you feel surprised, but knowing him well, meant knowing that he was one to never beat around the bush. This was especially true when it came to important topics or situations, and even more so when they involved the child.

“Well no—I mean yes—but it's complicated and…” You had trailed off, looking away from him again as you tried to piece together exactly what you had wanted to tell him. Although you knew you had to tell him the truth regardless of how you felt and how much you wish you could just bury your past away from his sight. “Yes. At least at one point I was, not really sure if I count as one now.”

“Why?”

“I… I don’t know.” You had said, another wave of guilt washing over you at your words. Honestly you had felt unsure of what to say, or even how to explain it all to him. It wasn’t as if you had planned for your life to have gone that way. “Din I’m so sorry”

The Mandalorian had looked over at you, his own confession clear in just his voice alone, “Why are you apologizing?”

“I mean… I’ve done terrible things.”

“So have I.”

“No Din.” You choked out a sob, your lip trembling between each word that was spoken between you two, finding that you weren’t able to keep your tears in any longer. “I’ve actually done unspeakable things. I’m quite literally the worst of the worst.”

To your shock, his arms had moved to pull you into his chest, and you had found yourself cradled there as he hummed in a calming manor. “Tell me everything Cyar’ika.”

Those words from your love were the last ones to bring your already crumbling walls down. Your confession soon spilling out of you like the fiercest of storms. It seemed to have no end as you had rambled all your wrong doings to the man before you. All the way from how you had fallen, to the mission you had received from moff Gideon, and everything in between—there was nothing that wasn’t revealed by you to him in that moment.

Every confession had only brought more tears to flow from you, and as they piled higher you knew you had become closer to losing the man you loved. You had expected him to be disgusted and furious. You had assumed he would toss you aside and leave you to wallow in your disgrace. Any sane person would have, and you wouldn’t blame them.

The Mandalorian had done the opposite though, instead choosing to hold you close to him, as you talked and talked. Your whole life and terrible deeds being fed to him one by one. Even then he had never let go of you—even when hearing the worst things you had ever done—he had just kept you held tight in his arms while listening.

Eventually your words had died out, your confession of sins over as you now silently cried in his arms. His embrace had remained as a calming presence, and his shoulder had become a sturdy place for you to cry into, as you only broke down further into his arms. His hand had gently run soothingly circles along your spine—the same way that you had done for him on some of his worst nights—and his voice had been soft as he spoke reassurance to you in the most softest of tones.

“I’m sorry.” You had mumbled again into his chest. “Din I’m so sorry about everything.”

“Was what he said true? About the child and your mission.” Din had asked, whatever he was feeling now unreadable, as he had waited for your response.

You had only nodded in reply at first, burying your face farther into the crook of his neck, though you knew you did not deserve such a comfort. “It is. All of it. I was supposed to take him from you after earning your trust and then take him back to Moff Gideon—leaving you for dead.”

“Why didn’t you?”

Din’s question had made you pull back and look away. A wave of heat washing over you at the answer which danced at the tip of your tongue. He had waited patiently for your reply though, allowing you to take as much time as you needed to form your thoughts together properly.

“Because I fell in love with you. I love you so much Din.” You had whispered as you looked back to him. His grip on you only tightening at hearing those words leave your lips. “I fell in love with you and the child. You’re the most important things to me. I’ve never had a family before now, but you two… you both treated me as such without a second thought.”

A sound of the child crying had interrupted you both before Din could form a reply, and he had found himself letting go of you, so he could stand and go to sooth the little one. You had quickly stopped him though, looking up at him through pleading and tear stained eyes.

“I… can I? Please?”

Din had stared at you for a moment, and it felt as if you would combust on the spot if he didn’t answer soon. After a brief silence, he had moved his own hand to brush away the tears on your cheek. The feeling of his skin against yours a comfort that you had found yourself leaning into while also basking in the warmth it had brought.

“Of course cyar’ika.”

From his words, you had soon stood and quickly made your way to the child. Even sooner, you had scooped the crying infant into your arms, rocking him back and worth, as you did your best to soothe him. A quiet and soft hum leaving you as you calmed the little child wailing in your arms.

The Mandalorian had watched from the sidelines, his heart swelling and overflowing with his fondness at the sight of the two of you together. He had continued watching even after the child’s cries had subsided, his gaze never leaving you two, as you had tucked the little creature back into his bed. He had soon stood again from the cot after that, quietly removing the helmet he wore and setting it to the side, before making his way over to where you still stood watching over the resting child.

“I love you too cyar’ika.” He had whispered when his body pressed into yours, his breath ghosting over your ear, as he pressed a kiss to the exposed skin of your neck. The scuff on his chin tickling you and sending another flush of warmth to coarse through your form again.

A small gasp had left your lips at his sudden touch and a few stray tears had formed at the corner of your eyes once more. “Din I… are you sure?”

“Of course.”

“Even after everything I told you?” You had turned in his arms and felt your grip tighten along his own. Your eyes searching his for any doubt that they may have held, but instead only finding his undeniable love and fondness staring back at you within his brown hues. “Do you really still love me?”

“Yes cyar’ika. I still love you.” He had said, a small smile gracing his lips, as he nuzzled his nose against your own. “I never stopped.”

“But earlier...”

“I won’t lie, I was concerned and worried after hearing what Moff Gideon had said.” He had confessed, looking away almost shamefully, “I was scared that everything between us was a lie, and I feared that the child was in danger, or maybe had been for longer than I thought he was. I was afraid cyar’ika. I’m sorry.”

You had looked away again, another ping of guilt blossoming within your heart at the sadness you had heard in his voice, “I… Din I don’t know what to say honestly. Other than the fact that it's not you who should be apologizing.”

“Don’t be like that cyar’ika.” He had said gently, allowing himself to press another kiss to your forehead. “Now come on. It’s late, and you look exhausted.”

The Mandalorian had soon guided you to the cot again, and you had found yourself settled against his chest while wrapped tightly in his arms. Out of the corner of your eye, you could still see where the child slept soundly, and you had found yourself watching over him as you both laid there together in the darkness. The sound of the littles snores from the small creature, having brought a small smile to your face, before your mind had begun to wander back to earlier times.

“He knows.” You had said out of the blue, your tired voice causing the man’s eyes to flicker open and glance back down to you in his arms.

“Who?”

“The child.” You had replied, finally looking away from where the child slept, as you played and toyed anxiously with Din’s fingers that had intertwined themselves with yours. “He must have felt it through the force. He could always tell what I was, and could always sense the darkness within me. He’s always known.”

“Hm. Is that why he didn’t like you at first?” Din had teased, and you felt his lips smile against your skin where they had rested themselves earlier.

“Probably.” You had allowed yourself to chuckle at the thought. The little creature really hadn’t liked you at first, always throwing up a fit and glaring at you when he thought you had gotten too close to Din. “I don’t blame him, the sith and jedi aren’t exactly on good terms.”

“So I’ve heard.”

A smile played on your lips at his reply, and you snuggled yourself more into his chest at the feeling of his hand trailing along your back. The circles he drew causing small shivers and a wave of warmth to flow through you again. The gesture having relaxed you and allowed for your thoughts to teeter on the edge of sleep.

“I meant what I said you know? About everything.” You had mumbled with another yawn, as your eyes struggled to stay open, “I really do love you and Grogu.”

“I know, and we both love you as well.” Din had shushed you, allowing himself to kiss your forehead and mumble his own reassurance again. “Now get some sleep. We can talk more in the morning once you’ve rested, ok?”

You had nodded, resisting the tears that had tried to fall from your eyes again, as you had completely relaxed into his arms now. The need for sleep pulling you closer and closer to the dreamland you had so desired in the moment.

Din on the other hand had continued to draw shapes along your back, his eyes closed, as he murmured and hummed the sweetest of things into the kisses he left along your skin. Somewhere deep inside of your soul you had felt as if you didn’t deserve his kindness and love, but you had found yourself drowning within his affections anyway, clinging to his presence in a refusal to let it go.

The Mandalorian had no plans of letting you go anyway. He would hold you within his embrace and love you for as long as you allowed him to. Through the bad and the good—he’d be by your side even through the toughest of times. After all, you were a part of his little clan of three, and regardless of your past—he loved you like no other.

#the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #mando x reader #mando #din #din x reader #mandalorian #mandalorian x reader #sith!reader #gender neutral reader #my fics #requests #star wars #star wars fanfic #the mandaloran fanfic

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shyficwriter · 3 years

Text

You Laugh, You lose

Guardians of the Galaxy fanfic | Reader x Yondu, Kraglin, Peter

Summary: You're stuck on planet until morning when a part fails on Yondu's M-ship, so Peter suggests a game to pass the time.

Author’s Note: This is the fluffy/funny fic I promised to make up for the two angsty fics before it. Hope you like it! Also shoutout to @badjokesbyjeff where I got most of these jokes from.

Word Count: 3,100

One rule.

You laugh. You lose.

Ok, maybe there were a couple more rules than that, but that was the gist.

It was a game often played between you and Peter, and occasionally also with Yondu or Kraglin on long job travels to kill the boredom.

The goal? Make the other person laugh. If you succeed, you win. You fail, then the game continues until someone loses it and laughs. Winner gets bragging rights, loser usually has to buy a round of drinks for the rest.

The game had originally started out with the one rule, but over time a couple more rules had been added. One of these rules was that stuff like tickling was cheating. You'd think this would have been an obvious rule to start with, but when it was you losing the game to tickles, Peter didn't mind. Less competition, right? But once the tables were turned and he lost a round, then suddenly tickling was "major cheating" and "totally unfair!" So, naturally, now there was a "no touching" rule during the game.

Another rule that needed to be added later was that Yondu couldn't gibberish talk his way to a win. It just gave him too much of an unfair advantage over you and Kraglin, who would crack up very quickly upon being face to face with a deadpan Yondu talking to you in pure nonsense. Peter was the only one of you three not really effected by it, as he found it more annoying than anything else.

Of course, Yondu tried to use his status as captain to veto this rule, but after a vote of 3-1 against the gibberish, he finally relented, stating that, "Aw, fine! I don't need to do that to win anyway!"

However, this didn't stop him from slipping a little in from time to time, always claiming he "forgot."

Sure, Yondu. Sure.

That was pretty much the main rules. The rest were more just guidelines. Like, smiling was allowed, as it didn't count as laughing, but too sharp of an exhale out your nose while smiling could be considered a laugh. Stuff like that.

Today happened to be one of those days where a job had run long, or rather, the trip did.

The job actually went fairly smoothly, to Yondu's surprise. However, when it was all said and done and it was time to leave, the ship wouldn't start.

Luckily, Yondu knew a guy who could fix the problem (just something minor with the fuel intake, but at the same time not something that Yondu could fix without replacing a part he didn't have and certain tools he didn't bring with him.) Only problem was the guy couldn't get the part in until the morning.

So you were all stuck there. Until morning. On a patch of the planet that wasn't within reasonable walking distance of anything fun. Plus it was raining, so you were all more or less confined to the ship for the evening.

Great.

So that's why Peter proposed a game of You Laugh You Lose.

At first Yondu didn't want to, being grumpy about being stranded for the night over such a minor fix and all, but Kraglin managed to convince him in hopes it would lift his spirits.

Now, playing with four people was a little different than one on one. With two people you'd sit facing your opponent and take turns trying to make the other laugh. When starting with four you all sat around the table, each person taking a turn in attempts to get any of the other three to laugh. If someone cracks, regardless of who made them laugh, they're out, and can act as referees, or mildly help crack the others if they choose. Also, instead of the just first to lose owing everyone a round a drinks, all three losers would owe a round, pretty much ensuring the winner 3 free drinks the next time they went out.

Peter sat directly in front of you at the small table, with Yondu to your left and Kraglin sitting directly in front of him. The four of you took a second to fully compose yourselves, making your faces as expressionless as possible, and then Peter started.

He stared you dead in the eye. "Why do bees hum?" he asked, waiting a moment, more for comedic timing than an actual answer, as was how many of the jokes told in the game went. When no one spoke up he said, "Because they don't know the words."

You exhaled slowly through your nose and shook your head, the known sign for, "That the best you got?"

Kraglin's turn now. He took a different approach. He crossed his eyes and in a deadpan voice said, "Wanna hear a joke about a piece of paper?"

Yondu raised an eyebrow, but shook his head when Kraglin continued, "Never mind, it's tearable." Peter made the universal noise for having heard a bad joke.

Your turn. "What did the A'askavariian say after a bad night out?"

"What?" asked Kraglin.

"Wouldn't know. You should ask Peter."

Peter made a scandalized noise. "One time!"

You saw Yondu's mouth twitch, but he quickly recovered. Kraglin took a deep breath and exhaled to keep it together.

Yondu's turn. He told another joke at Peter's expense, and actually made himself crack a smile when Peter protested again. You and Kraglin fought back grins as Peter took his turn.

"What's Beethoven's favorite fruit?"

The three of you shake your heads, though in Yondu and Kraglin's case you were sure it was more because they didn't know who Beethoven was. This was then confirmed by Kraglin asking, "Who's that?"

Peter didn't answer the question, instead letting out a, "Ba-na-NA-NA!"

Peter said this so suddenly and loudly that even Yondu jerked his head back in startled surprise, as did Kraglin, but Kraglin also had to stop himself from barking out a startled laugh. You, however, had to try much harder to keep yourself from laughing. It wasn't even that good of a joke, but his delivery had you biting your tongue to keep it together. Yondu didn't get the joke, but assumed it likely would have been real funny on Terra as he watched you try to steady your breathing just as Kraglin took his turn.

"Ya know the difference between an oral and rectal thermometer? ... The taste."

That one received a collective groan and a look of disgust from you and Peter. Yondu looked almost impressed as he shook his head.

It was your turn again. "I once watched a documentary on how ships are kept together. It was... riveting." You wiggled your eyebrows on the punchline, but only received a mock-disappointed stare from the others at your awful pun.

Instead of a joke, Yondu decided on his next turn to tell a story. "One time we were on a job on Krylor," he began, "and a pretty lil' miss thing caught Peter's eye..."

Peter's eyes widened. He had a bad feeling about which story Yondu was about to tell. "Yondu, don't." he warned flatly.

Yondu only grinned and ignored him "He goes sauntering up to her, trying to be all smooth like.."

"Yondu, seriously." Peter warned again. Again, Yondu ignored him. By now you and Kraglin were already grinning from Peter's reaction alone.

"But the boy ain't watchin' where he's goin', he slips on an empty soda can and falls flat on his face right in front of her. But that's not the best part-"

"I will seriously kill you, ya blue dick!" Peter was getting so red and flustered you had to bite your tongue, as did Kraglin who's nostrils where flaring with the effort.

"It had rained that mornin', and he had been just unlucky enough to land on a puddle, and when he stood up it looked like he'd gone and done pissed himself. I don't think I need to say he didn't wind up gettin' the girl."

That broke Kraglin. He snorted a laugh and Yondu clapped his hands together, shouting, "Gotcha! Yer out!"

Kraglin groaned out a, "I don't know why those stories always get me!" but sat back grinning anyways as Peter buried his scarlet face in his hands whining, "So uncool!"

Peter composed himself and glared at Yondu. "Alright. What about that time you accidentally switched the intercom on while listening to that Brittany Spears music from Terra?"

Yondu just stared at him stonily, no hint of emotion, refusing to dignify the story with a response, although you almost thought you could see his face slightly darken. Kraglin, even though he was out, pretended to be very interested in the table and after an awkward beat you decided to take your turn, because there's no way you'd let yourself laugh at Yondu's music choices if you knew what was good for you.

"SO- Did you hear about the guy whose whole left side was cut off? He’s all right now." you say in an attempt to bring the game back to jokes lest you be the next one they decide to dredge up an embarrassing story about.

Yondu turned his attention to you. "Ya know, I think the toilet has anger issues," he said. You gave him a confused look and he continued, "Whenever I flush it, it completely loses its shit."

You fight a smile. Peter does the same despite himself still being cranky about Yondu's previous story. Kraglin, however, openly giggles at the joke.

Peter quickly steadies his breathing and says, "There were once two guys flying a ship in dead space. One turns to his buddy and says: 'Damn, I can’t find any milk for my coffee.' His friend replies: 'In space no one can, here use cream.'"

You raised an eyebrow in confusion momentarily before throwing your head back with a groan as you got the joke. "That's a terrible joke!" you say, allowing yourself to grin.

"But you wanna laugh, don't you?" Peter teased.

You playfully glare at him and take your turn instead of answering. "Which is heavier, 200 lbs of feathers, or 200 lbs of bricks?"

Now Yondu raised an eyebrow. "They'd weigh the same, kid."

You try not to grin as you shake your head. "Nah. It's the feathers, because you also have to carry the weight of what you did to those poor birds."

Yondu propped his elbow on the table and half-hid his grin behind his hand as he nodded his head in approval, before being mildly startled by the sound of a laugh escaping Peter's gritted teeth. Yondu joyfully slapped the table and pointed at Peter. "Yer out too, boy!"

"Aw, dammit!" Peter cried out, but he wasn't angry anymore. He followed Kraglin's lead and relaxed in his chair knowing he was now able to laugh freely at any corny jokes that came.

Yondu smirks at you. "And then there were two."

Crap. You had really been hoping you wouldn't need to square up against him alone. He was really good at this game, and rarely broke. You, however, always had to fight super hard against turning into a giggly little mess, and usually lost. There was just something about his ability to deliver the jokes with a completely deadpan or stern face that always broke you, but this time you were going to try your best to avoid that.

"I was kidnapped by mimes once." he said, "They did unspeakable things to me."

You inhaled deeply, and let it out slowly, shaking your head as you did so and giving a look that said 'Damn you.' "What’s the difference between an amateur thief and a professional thief?" you begin, continuing after a beat, "The amateur thief says, 'Give me all your money!' The professional thief says, 'Sign here please.'"

Yondu nodded his head thoughtfully. "That's actually pretty accurate. Not sure that's even a joke..." he grinned, almost taunting you at the inability to draw a laugh from him. His turn now. "Two burglars are robbin' a liquor store. One turns to the other an' asks, 'Is this whiskey?' The other replies, “Yeah, but not as wisky as wobbing a bank.” Of course, this last line was delivered with a clean slate of emotion, your weakness.

Fuck.

You had to turn your head away from him as you fought to keep your breathing in check, your lips pressed together, threatening to betray you.

"Ay Ay! No looking away you coward!" Peter laughed, prompting you to face him instead. You flipped him off, your grin finally splitting your face.

"There it is! Come on, you know ya wanna laugh." Yondu teased, grinning at how your nostrils flared when you turned back to glare at him. An unconvincing glare, but it was the best you could manage.

After a couple deep breaths with your hands balled into fists you thought you had calmed down enough to take your turn. "I yelled “COW!” at a woman on a bike once. She flipped me off and then ran straight into the cow..." You raised your hands and shrugged your shoulders in mock exasperation. "I tried!"

Peter laughed while Kraglin and Yondu just shared an amused glance.

"Ya know, I might've actually found that funny... if I knew what a cow was." Yondu taunted, grinning as your shoulders fell in realization.

That made Peter snort, probably for no other reason than he now just had a case of the giggles. But the look on your face was probably part of it. His snort in turn made you grin, his laughter contagious.

This gave Yondu an idea. Grinning evilly he reached over to poke Peter in the side, making the younger man jerk almost violently away with a giggle. Kraglin chuckled as Peter protested, "Hey! You know that's cheating!"

"Nah, you're out, boy. There ain't no rule that says I can't use it on someone that's outta the game." Yondu argued playfully, throwing a look at Kraglin who took the hint and poked Peter from the other side.

"Hey!" Peter whined, the pitiful sound making you cover your mouth to hide your widening grin.

Kraglin stood so he could tickle Peter properly, seeing your amusement at his predicament, and you clenched your jaw as streams of your friend's laughter mixed with uncharacteristically high pitched, "No!"s and "Please!"s poured from his mouth before he managed to escape Kraglin's grip and hop away from the table, clutching his sides and catching his breath. Just in time too, because you were worried that might've actually broken you if Peter hadn't stopped his girly ticklish squeals.

Yondu must've realized this too because he snapped his fingers in mock frustration, and conceded that it was your turn again. In truth he was glad Peter got away as well. The plan had almost backfired on him, nearly having made him laugh at the sight as well.

You had to restart your joke twice, each time having to stop yourself from accidentally laughing so you wouldn't lose. Eventually you finally got out, "Guy with a gun enters a bar... He cries out angrily: 'Who the fuck had sex with my wife?'... A voice was heard in the background, "You don’t have enough bullets mate!”

Yondu grinned, looking down at the table before nodding. "I like that one. It's good." However, he didn't laugh, just went straight into his next joke. "Nurse hands a man his newborn and says 'I’m sorry, but your wife didn’t make it.' He hands it back, saying, 'Well give me the one my wife made.'"

Your eyes went wide. "Yondu!" you scold. "That's terrible!"

"Don't give me that! I can see ya fighting not to laugh."

It was true. As much as the joke was bad, you couldn't help it. There's nothing that makes someone want to laugh more than knowing you can't laugh. Everything's funnier when you can't laugh. You roll your eyes and deliver your next joke. "Why couldn't the toilet paper cross the road? ... It got stuck in a crack."

Peter cracked up at that, moving to sit back down with a warning glance at Kraglin, who held up his hands as a sign that he wasn't going to tickle him again. Kraglin then shook his head with a wide grin as he watched Yondu run his tongue over his teeth and look down as he tried to suppress a smile.

Yondu inhaled. "Damn. Ya almost got me."

You grinned wide and bit your tongue. You almost got yourself.

"Ya wanna hear a joke 'bout construction?"

You let out a dramatic sigh. "You're gonna tell it anyway, might as well."

"I'm still workin' on it."

You smack your hand on your thigh and jerk your head to the side as your breath hitched. "Fuck you!" you say, a wide grin plastered to your face.

Now Peter and Kraglin were laughing at yours and Yondu's reactions more than anything else.

"Ya wanna tap out now? There's no shame if ya do." Yondu teased.

"Fuck you." you say again. "What did the plumber say to the singer?" You cursed yourself for not being able to come up with a better joke, but delivered the punch-line anyway. "Nice pipes."

Yondu didn't even crack a smile a that, not that you blamed him. He asked, "What's the difference between a good joke and a bad joke?"

"I don-"

"TIMING!" Yondu shouted so suddenly that you jerked back and a startled laugh finally broke free from your throat, and once it was out it was like a dam had collapsed- you couldn't hold back the torrent of giggles that had built up for so long.

"Dude! You can't just yell stuff out like that!" you scold, still giggling as you held a hand to your heart, "You scared me!"

"Made ya laugh though, that's what counts." he grinned. He stood up from the table and stretched. "Looks like I win." He ruffled your hair and you swatted him away playfully.

"One of these days I'll get you!" you say.

"Then why don't ya put your money where your mouth is," Kraglin laughed, Peter nodding with him, saying, "Yeah, you two face off again. Right now. Loser pays for everyone's drinks for the night next time we go out."

Still giggly you glance from Peter and Kraglin to a smug looking Yondu standing and grinning at you with his arms crossed.

With a giggly sigh you bow your head and concede. "I can't. I'm not ready."

Yondu lets out a chuckle and pulls you in to give you a noogie. "That's what I thought."

#gotg #gotg fanfiction #you laugh you lose #yondu fanfiction #yondu #peter quill #kraglin #x reader #starlord #reader is a ravager #yondu udonta #kraglin obfonteri #fluff #fluffy fanfiction #funny #jokes

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ohnopoe · 3 years

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Potential Breakup Song | Jack Daniels

Ship: Jack Daniels x Reader Summary: It’s your birthday, and all you want to do is have a few drinks with your boyfriend, but when he doesn’t show, your coworker, Jack, takes it upon himself to check on you Word Count: 2.2k+ Tagging: @the-purity-pen Author’s Note: Ok so this... idk how this happened tbh. BUT I’d kind of love to write more for these two, I have some slight ideas, but idk... so if you’d like to see something more please let me know!

Sitting there alone at the little booth you had claimed over an hour earlier certainly wasn’t how you had expected the evening to go. You had been happy, excited even, when you finally grabbed your coat to leave Statesmen for the day, readying yourself for a proper, fun night out with your boyfriend.

Sure, you’d had to remind him twice already to meet you at the little bar you liked that was not far from work, and sure maybe it would have been fun to invite some friends too, but this was your birthday, and even having a few drinks with your man seemed better than nothing.

But the day had seemed to drag on, as if it knew you were anticipating the well-needed break.

With every knock on the door, a part of you couldn’t help but hope for something, although you couldn’t quite tell what.

Would it have been nice if your coworkers had realised what day it was? Sure. But then, hiding it off facebook had been your decision, and you couldn’t truly blame them for not knowing when you were so careful about keeping things separate between work and home. But with each interruption to your work came a following disappointment. Reports were required, devices needed testing, and not one person seemed to have anything but more work to add to your pile.

Dread was dancing in your periphery, but you refused to give into it.

You had decided this. You had been the one to do that damn stupid idea and hide your information in some desperate plea that someone would remember you even without the irritating little notification Facebook offered. You couldn’t blame others for your own actions, no matter how much it hurt to feel so damned forgotten on your birthday of all things.

But, as you sat alone in the booth at your favourite bar, well, that dread sure was starting to egg away at you.

Another glance at your phone, a silent reminder of just how long you’d been waiting along with the lack of any explanation, only helped solidify your negativity. What if he wasn’t coming? What if he’d forgotten too?

The drink you’d been nursing for the better part of an hour sat before you, the ice had melted into the mix, making it weak and watery as you took a hesitant sip once more. If he wasn’t there by the time you finished, you’d leave. That’s what you’d said to yourself some thirty minutes ago when the drink had arrived. But even you could see you were drawing out the inevitable now, taking slow sips in the hopes of prolonging what little chance there was.

“Either that’s the worst damn drink you’ve ever had, or somethin’s on your mind,” a familiar voice almost cooed from above you, amusement tangling with something you couldn’t quite place as the silhouette of Agent Whiskey blocked out a good portion of the bar.

Offering a half hearted smile, you took a determined gulp of the drink in your hand, stubbornly meeting his gaze as you did so. There was always something about the agent that brought out a fierce competitive side in you, and maybe it was the sheer determination to not appear as pathetic as you felt, but you found yourself offering a smirk as you placed it down on the table without a word, silently challenging him.

“Alright, maybe not,” he offered a chuckle, lips pulling into a smile and drawing out that dimple that caught far too much attention.

“Something I can help you with, Whiskey?” and damn it, that didn’t come off half as harsh as you had hoped. Hell, it didn’t even come off sarcastic. The usual fire in your tone seemed lost, and you could only hope he didn’t hear the way your voice broke ever so slightly with the question.

You weren’t used to this. You’d kept your private life private for a reason, kept yourself away from the work functions and the celebratory drinks in the hopes of distancing yourself from the people you worked with for the most part, and now, having him in front of you out in the real world, when you were already so damn close to breaking… it wasn’t something you were quite prepared for.

“You looked like you could use some company,” he answered simply with a shrug, and if his eyes hadn’t blazed with that intensity you’d seen so often when he was in the field, you might just have believed he was as nonchalant as he attempted to appear.

But his statement brought another thought, more harrowing than the last, and you had to take another sip of your drink to wet your suddenly dry throat as it plagued you.

“How long have you been watching me?”

With a sigh, that playful smirk you’d seen so often slipped from his lips. With a quick point to the opposite side of the booth, he waited until you nodded your consent before slipping in with yet another sigh, but still he didn’t answer your question.

“Don’t see you around here often,” and it almost sounded like a line, were it not for the curious way his gaze took you in as he spoke.

Your shrug was an attempt at something casual, but you knew he was too damn good at reading people to fall for that. “Maybe it wasn’t my idea,” it was. “Maybe someone asked me here,” they didn’t.

But he seemed to read more from your words than you thought you had offered, his attention falling from you to the drink in your hand, before darting around the room and landing on the door.

“Well, he’s a damn fool to leave you waiting,” he huffed, and, while you still felt on edge being around the agent you worked with day in and day out, a small, albeit genuine, smile broke through your demeanour.

It was just a line, just a statement anyone would make upon hearing someone had potentially been stood up. Your mind was screaming at you to remember that it didn’t truly hold the weight you desperately wished it did. But your heart clung to those words.

Were you really this desperate for someone to actually care about you on your birthday that you were clinging to hollow words said out of propriety? Damn, maybe you were. Maybe Ginger had been right all along, you really should go out with her some time, maybe having some real friends at work wouldn’t be all that bad after all.

“Alright, what about this,” Jack broke your harrowing line of thought with that charming smile he had down pat. “I buy you a drink, we relax, have a good time… if he shows, he shows, and I’ll leave y’all to it, if not, well, hopefully I’m not the worst company.”

A laugh, the first you’d managed all day, escaped your lips as you shook your head at the cowboy’s poor attempt at humility.

“Why would you do that?” the question sounded meeker than you would have liked, and you had to glance away when his confused gaze met yours. But the bar was filled with distractions, even if it wasn’t particularly busy, and you quickly clung to them as you regained some sort of a backbone. “You know damn well half the bar is eyeing you off, you don’t need to waste your evening on me, Jack.”

If his breath caught at hearing your slip up, hearing you utter his name for the first time in far too long, well, he was damn good at hiding it behind that playful smirk. But there was still that shine to his gaze as he watched you so intently that you could feel it even as you focused on swirling the small remainders of your drink.

“And leave you to this lot?” he questioned playfully, raising a brow as he gestured around you both comically. “Honey, I know all too well what these types would do to a pretty lil thing like you, all alone.”

“You would know,” you scoffed a laugh, and, damn it, how was it so easy to relax around him? You’d known him for years, sure, but never personally, always keeping that carefully concocted professional appearance in place.

“Darlin’, are you implying something here?” there it was, that playful lilt to his tone that he always seemed to offer at just the right time, almost cracking your hard exterior more times that you’d care to admit.

“You forget, Whiskey,” you pause, giving him a pointed look that didn’t quite have its usual impact as your lips desperately struggled to hide that playful smile that wanted to break free. “I’ve been on the other end of the comms during far too many of your missions. I know all too well what you’re capable of.”

The smirk he gave in response held a twinge of danger, his eyes lighting up as he leant forwards just enough to capture your full attention. This was a side of Jack you had seen through his glasses many times, a side he hadn’t shown you since you shot him down cold at the very beginning of your working together, and it was a side that could thrill even the most cold hearted of individuals, you were sure.

“Oh, darlin’, you have no idea.”

Well, that certainly shouldn’t have affected you as much as it did.

You’d been working with Whiskey for years now, you knew all too well what he was like, how much he liked to flirt and mess around. You’d watched through his glasses camera on numerous occasions as he flirted his way into the beds of targets, each time rolling your eyes to yourself because you’d surely never fall for something so cheesy.

But then, you’d always been safely seeing things from his perspective, hadn’t you? You’d never seen that intense gaze he offered along with those words, never watched as his tongue darted out to wet those plush lips… damn, maybe you weren’t as strong as you had always thought.

“Babe, hey!” a puffed out breath came from beside you, drawing your attention away from the perfect cupid’s bow that was hidden behind that neatly trimmed moustache.

You almost jumped at the sound, turning quickly to see your boyfriend standing there, looking none too happy to see you sitting there with another man, and, despite the fact you’d been waiting for, was that two hours now?, you felt guilt creep in.

“Hey!” you offered the brightest smile you could, even if it felt somewhat off as you glanced between the two men.

They couldn’t have been more different if they tried. One, the epitome of the suave cowboy, the other in what he so affectionally labelled ‘prime casual fashion’, or, as you secretly called it, jumped up t-shirts that had no right to charge as much as they did. Jack was leaning back in the booth, exuding comfort and confidence, while your boyfriend stood there glancing between you and Jack with a tense jaw. In fact, the only similarity between the two seemed to be the intense fire that sat in their gazes as they eyed one another up.

Oh good, yet another display of stupid macho masculinity. With a roll of your eyes, you cleared your throat, quickly gaining the attention of the silently feuding men. “Jack, this is my boyfriend, Tim-”

“Timothy,” Tim interjected, standing up even straighter, as if the use of his full name would hold some form of power.

Closing your eyes to avoid rolling them once more as you watched him look down his nose at Whiskey, you ignored the interruption. “Tim,” you started once more, more than a hint of irritation in your tone at the fact the same man who had left you waiting for so long was now trying to play some kind of stupid game. “This is Jack, we work together.”

It seemed the two didn’t particularly care about introductions, or, for that matter, manners, as they continued to stare at one another in silence for a long moment.

“I’ll leave y’all to it,” Jack spoke suddenly, breaking the tense atmosphere with a nod as he moved far too smoothly out of the booth. How he always seemed to move with such elegance had often caused you to wonder. It didn’t seem to match the macho cowboy exterior he gave off, but worked so seamlessly when he was in a fight. It was a part of him, small and subtle, that had caught your attention more times than it ought.

Only when Tim sidled up next to you, pushing you further into the booth did your mind fall back to reality with a frown. Words were already falling out of his mouth, mentions of his day, of the clients he had dealt with, and not a word of apology for how late he was, and that same resignation you had felt earlier seemed to sweep over you once more.

“Happy birthday, Y/N,” Jack spoke softly, the words somehow a farewell. His smile was gentle as he met your surprised gaze.

And then, just as suddenly as he had appeared, he was gone, leaving the bar’s doors swaying after him as your boyfriend clambered for your attention.

#jack daniels #jack daniels x reader #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey #kingsman #My fic

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ordinaryschmuck · 3 years

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What I Thought About "Eda's Requiem" from The Owl House

Salutations, random people on the internet who certainly won’t read this! I am an Ordinary Schmuck. I write stories and reviews and draw comics and cartoons.

...

...HOW IS SEASON TWO SO GOOD?! WE'VE HAD SEVEN EPISODES SO FAR, AND EACH ONE OF THEM WAS A HIT!

Take "Eda's Requiem," for example. It's yet another episode where I have NOTHING bad to say about it! That's two weeks in a row where that happened! HOW DOES THIS HAPPEN?!

HOW!

...But anyways, "Eda's Requiem." It's another fantastic episode, and I'm about to dive into explaining how and why. Just keep in mind, it's gonna require spoilers to do so, so be wary of that as you keep reading.

Now, let's review, shall we?

WHAT I LIKED

Eda’s Checklist and Grom Photo: Within the first second, "Eda's Requiem" perfectly sets up Eda's central conflict in the episode. Despite spending years being on her own and looking after herself, she now has two kids that she's constantly caring over. Eda can try all she wants to say that she doesn't care, and I bet she has in the past. But given the hard work she's putting into getting King and Luz what they need and having a grom photo of the three of them together pinned in her mirror, it's pretty clear that those two knuckleheads wormed their way into her heart and are never getting out.

Eda’s Worried About King and Luz Leaving: And thus, that's precisely why something like this bothers her so much. Eda inadvertently adopted two rambunctious rapscallions (Yeah, I know. I'll get to it), so the idea of them not being around her anymore is going to be terrifying. That is a situation most parents, especially mothers, can identify with. It’s called empty nest syndrome and it proves just how much Eda loves Luz and King that she can't stand the thought of her babies leaving the nest. It's yet another well-made, wholesome, found-family moment that this series continues to excel at each week, making me extra excited for more like it to come...while also readying myself for heartbreak when one of them eventually does leave Eda.

Eda and Raine’s Music: Ok, I don't know the exact instruments that were played during this episode, but I also don't care because it was all (for lack of a better term) music to my ears. Every time Eda and Raine played resulted in melodies that are so beautiful and filled with so much emotion and feeling that I'm honestly tempted to listen to them again, multiple times, on repeat. Shows rarely do that for me, as background music doesn't always draw me in as much as lyrical songs do. Usually, it takes something so extraordinarily composed to give me the desire to listen again, and that's the case here. So huge congrats to Brad Breek for doing so. Seriously, the man's been killing it this season.

Eda’s Bard Magic Causing Things to Turn to Ash: This was assuredly a surprise side-effect of the curse. The fact that Eda can sort of do magic at all was its own shock. To then reveal that a specific type can do dangerous things to people and environments is...Well, it definitely brings up its own fair share of questions. Like, how can she do this? Will she do it again, one day? And are there other types of spells that can be negatively affected by Eda's curse? We don't get answers for any of these questions, and odds are, we never will. But that's alright with me. Because if a show makes me consider these many possibilities after a brief amount of time, it is a show that has to be doing something right. Even if I don't get the answers I want, the fact that it caused such a reaction makes me less willing to care.

Raine Whispers: Hey, would you look at that. Another fun, interesting, and compelling character added to the list of this shows' other fun, interesting, and compelling characters...how is this series so good at this!?

Joking aside, Raine's pretty good. I like Raine. They could have been this super serious leader who lost all their fun after years apart from Eda, but I'm glad that they're not. There are moments when Raine takes their job as leader of the BATs seriously, as one would, but I still prefer the fact that they kept a jovial nature despite how grim their situation is. It's an admirable trait to have, and it avoids the trope of making leader characters boring just because they're the ones who have to take things seriously.

Oh, and also, Raine's Disney's first non-binary character who has a stake in the plot. This is a tremendous deal, as you don't usually see that many non-binary characters in children's animation, let alone ones that hold importance to the story. So it's pretty cool for the writers to feature Raine, as it helps several kids feel as though they're finally seen and respected. And the fact that Disney of all companies gave the thumbs up is even more impressive. I hear people say that Dana Terrace should have pitched The Owl House to more progressive networks to avoid pushback, and while I absolutely see your point, I'll have to respectfully disagree. Disney is the largest entertainment industry of all time, so if you want to make LGBTQA+ representation normalized, you gotta stop making splashes and start making waves. Because if the same company that made three racist cats in the span of a few years manages to say that being gay is a-ok, then you know there's something wrong with you. Yes, Disney ended up screwing over the show anyway. But for that one moment, when kids felt pride after seeing a character like Raine, then, in the end, it's kind of worth it.

Also, if you're still having issues with more representation like this popping up in kids' shows, then allow me to redirect you to the complaint department.

...I made that post earlier today for this bit. YOU HAVE BETTER APPRECIATED IT!

Day of Unity is meant to be a Secret: At least, that's what I got when Raine stumbled over their own words. So if it's true, then I wonder why? Why does Belos want to keep the most critical change in the Boiling Isles a secret? Does he want to make it a surprise for his grateful subjects, or does he not want to spread worry and fear amongst the wild witches? It has to be something big if he doesn't want his followers to even say the words "Day of Unity." Whatever reason he has, we most likely won't know until the future. A future that I grow more and more afraid of each week.

Hooty Eating Echo Mouse: My heart sank in that brief moment when I thought that Hooty intensely screwed Luz over in getting back home. But looking back...it is pretty funny.

Just the suddenness of Hooty eating the poor creature that Luz desperately tried to earn its trust is priceless in how shocking it was. And also, Luz's expression.

That was the look of a young girl who immediately shoved her hand down an owl demon's throat the second the scene cut away. The Owl House may not always be a hit in the comedy department, but scenes like this prove that when it's funny, it is hilarious.

Luz and King Entering the Grand Prix: Not much to discuss here. It's just a cute subplot that adds frivolity to the intensity of what's going on through Eda and Raine's story. But I will say that I love how both stories occasionally interconnect with each other through the many moments of Eda being worried about King wanting to leave to find his father and avoiding any conversation about it. It helps both plotlines feel like they belong together, without being something like "Through the Looking Glass Ruins," whereas both stories could have been in their own episode. Which is neat.

How Bard Magic Works: I really love how this season is diving into how the other magic types work. More specifically, the ones that seem a little vague. I mean, stuff like healing, potions, and plants are easy to figure out, but what does it mean when a witch's talents are construction, beast keeping, and bard magic? We've been getting a lot of clearing up lately, with bard magic looking like a witch can control their environments and enemies through the power of music. Which is fair. Music is pretty powerful in the metaphorical sense, and I actually love that it's powerful in the literal sense when in the Boiling Isles.

The BATs: Not much to comment on these three either. The BATs have the potential to have an entertaining dynamic, but they do very little in this episode that I can't say much other than I hope they make a return in the future. But I will make this claim: Amber is my favorite. I'm sorry, but her screaming "You're not our mom!" to then go, "Bye, mommy Eda" is just too precious for me not to love.

I'm a simple man who falls for cute s**t. Leave me alone.

Raeda (RainexEda): Well, EdaxCamila, you were a fun crack ship while it lasted, but I'm afraid that this is now goodbye. The current canon has provided an incredibly adorable and believable relationship that I would be a monster not to support with my whole bi-heart. It's been real.

Ok, back in serious mode: I love these two together. Eda and Raine are grown-ups, and they still act all flustered near each other as if they were still Luz and Amity's age. It's definitive proof that you're never too old to get flustered near a crush, and seeing them interact adds a sense of wholesomeness when seeing them together as well as heartbreak when they're forced apart. Plus, we get confirmation that Eda's LGBTQA+! Whether she's bi, pan, or whatever, now that we know Eda can catch feelings for someone like Raine, it's yet another case that The Owl House is the most important series to the community. Because having the main character be queer is fantastic in its own right. But having the same apply to the motherly mentor figure? That's is an extra bit of normalization that anybody would be willing to appreciate.

Unique Guard Designs: Not many fans are going to appreciate this, primarily compared to everything else this episode does perfectly. For me, I actually like that you see a few Coven Guards looking differently from the others, as it helps make them less like clones and makes it seem like anybody of any body type could be a part of the coven.

Gus Looking Uninterested when Presenting Grand Prix with his Dad: I am positive that you didn't notice this (I didn't even notice it until someone else pointed it out), but there's something to dissect here. It hints that perhaps Gus isn't as interested in his father's field of work as one might think. If he did, he would look a lot less bored and much more excited to be helping Perry Porter present the race. It could just be the race itself, but judging from Gus' expression, it really seems like the kid would prefer to be anywhere but there. And why would he have that reaction to a race that his best friend is competing in? To me, this seems like an inkling of what Gus' relationship with Perry could be, which may not actually get time to shine, what with how little wiggle room the series has now (Thanks Disney). Regardless, it is interesting to notice, and it will certainly have fans thinking for a while.

Bump Being Smug of Luz Being in the Lead: That's it. Principal Bump looking smug as his human student is beating the students of his rivals is yet another moment that proves why Bump is easily the best cartoon principal.

Darius: First of all, this guy is f**king fabulous, and I love him. *Snaps*

Second, he is definitive proof that you do NOT want to f**k around with Coven Leaders. Lilith may have had her intimidating moments, but none of them compare to the guy who can turn himself into an abomination monster where only magic that hasn't existed before can take him down. It's genuinely scary to see Darius lose control, and I fear for the day when Luz inevitably ends up in his crosshairs.

With that said, Darius' still a ton of fun! He may be threatening, but he's just a flamboyant guy that hates the idea of getting his outfit the tiniest bit dirty. And I love that. I love that these Coven Heads have actual personalities instead of being generically evil. I consider it preferable to make villains entertaining rather than blatantly scary as I'll remember the personalities first and the villainous acts last.

Eberwolf: But this one's my favorite. I told you: I'm a simple man who gets easily swayed by cute s**t. And Eber? I mean, just look at her:

She's just a cute widdle rascal! I just want to pinch her cheeks, give her a belly rub, and--

...Eberwolf is not a cute widdle rascal. She is a strong, independent woman, and I will respect her as such from this moment forward...lest I feel her wrath.

That is all. Let's move on.

Eda and Raine Attempting a Final Performance: This was the best scene of the episode. It looked gorgeous, it shows the dedication Eda and Raine have for stopping Belos, and it says so much through so little. Go back and look at how Eda and Raine regard one another when performing Eda's requiem. Through their expressions and a few short words, you know they understand that if they complete the song/spell, they probably won't make it in the end. And yet, they don't care. They both know bad stuff will happen if Belos wins, so Eda and Raine put everything to the side, both their feelings for one another and the people they leave behind if it means putting an end to a tyrant. That level of dedication...Words can't fully describe how powerful that is.

Raine Sacrificing Themselves Instead: But in the end, Raine can't do it. Not when they know the life that Eda has and the people she'll be leaving behind. It's an extra bit of nobleness to the character seeing that Raine refuses to take away a woman from two kids who need her the most. A tad bit selfish, sure, knowing what Belos has planned. But when it comes to love, the romantic, familial, or platonic, the best decisions aren't always the logical ones.

Eda Crying: Luz crying tears me up, but seeing Eda cry is a whole different level of heartbreak. Like Lilith, Eda has her emotions locked up tight, with the closest she came to weeping were those two tears in "Young Blood, Old Souls." In "Eda's Requiem," she cries but almost quickly stops herself. As if she knows that doing so isn't going to save Raine. That is...even worse than seeing Luz break down after losing Eda. The fact that Eda refuses to give herself time to mourn losing someone she loved is tragic because crying is the most natural way of showing grief. Turning that off isn't healthy, and seeing her do it with little resistance is sad to me. It's sad to see a character I love can easily shut off all emotions despite how badly she may want to embrace them. It's one of those moments that, again, by doing so little, it shows so much.

“No one watches Crystal Balls anymore. It’s all about streaming.”: Oof. Even I felt that burn towards cable.

King’s Message: King's message was the pick-me-up I needed after the heart-wrenching sadness this episode put me through a few minutes ago. Seeing King say who he is and listing all the things he loves is nothing short of adorable. On top of that, I adore that Eda willingly recorded the whole thing. She may not want King to leave, but that doesn't mean she'll sabotage the one thing he wants. Especially not after Raine gave up everything so Eda could be with her kids. The opening scene may prove how much Eda cares about a rascal like King, but this heartwarmingly sweet moment reveals just how far she'll go to make him happy.

King’s Dad Reveal: ...ok, I'll be honest, I did not think we'd get that reveal this soon. Dumb of me to say, considering the number of times I've said that these writers don't waste time getting to the s**t, I know. But still, it's pretty cool knowing that King's dad is alive and well, added with the fact that we've got a fair idea of what he looks like. At this point, it's only a matter of time before we see him figure out where the Clawthorne residence is and witness the tear-jerking moments that will follow.

King Changing his Name to King Clawthorne: Not the official adoption I was expecting Eda to make...but DANG IT, is it still diabetes-inducing levels of sweetness!

Personally, I feel like the main reason why Eda breaks down this time is not only because she shouldn't be worried about King leaving her life, but also because Raine's sacrifice wasn't in vain. Her kids really do need Eda because no matter how far apart they'll be, she will always be a part of their life...dang it, I'm going to cry too!

What those Coven patches really do: Well...that was horrifying to see.

...Writers, if you kill off the best non-binary character in animation (it's a short list, I know), we are going to have PROBLEMS!

IN CONCLUSION

"Eda's Requiem" is--surprise surprise--another A+. The emotions hit hard, the representation hits harder, Raine is a fantastic addition to the cast, and it was all surprisingly cute at times. Season Two is currently on a hot streak, constantly winning with every episode that's come out so far. When a bad episode does eventually show up (IT'S GONNA HAPPEN!), I'll be sure to sing my requiem then. For now, I'm just gonna enjoy the ride.

#the owl house #the owl house season 2 #the owl house reviews #eda clawthorne #raine whispers #raeda #king of demons #toh darius #toh eberwolf #what i thought about

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hotchseyebrows · 3 years

Text

now i scan the sky for snow

a penelope garcia x emily prentiss fic

a/n: my very first fic!! woooooooooooo!! thank you for giving it a read and heres to many more :)))

written to fill the prompt "31 (quiet) + seeing your breath, a ship of your choice" from @derekmorqan (better late than never, eh jay?)

read it here on ao3!!

It's January in Boise and Penelope doesn't have any gloves. But her nails definitely match the monochrome purple look of the day, so can you really blame her?

word count: 1561

“Prentiss, when did Hotch go get the car?” Penelope’s voice is muffled from where she��s blowing hot air into her ungloved hands.

Emily glances at her phone. “It’s only been 2 minutes.” In a practiced dad move, Hotch decided to make the trek through the flurries of snow to the SUV alone, citing Penelope’s tall heels and the potential for black ice in the parking garage, leaving Emily and Penelope standing outside of their Boise hotel. Earlier, Emily and Hotch stayed behind with Penelope to help her pack up stray gear and cords from her set up in the local precinct while the others got a head start on cleaning up their hotel rooms. By the time the trio got back to the hotel themselves, Rossi had already started the drive to the airport with Reid, Morgan, and JJ, all of them happy to be heading home after a rough case.

Penelope makes a small huff before wrapping both of her arms around her stomach. The puff of air floats upward, creating a small cloud in between them before dissipating. “Why don’t you have gloves anyway, Garcia? It’s January and we’re in the middle of Idaho.”

Penelope crinkles her nose a little as she sticks her tongue out at Emily. “But my nails are so cute and gloves would cover them!” She’s right, her nails are a sparkly purple that coordinates well with the sparkly purple beanie on her head and the deep purple lipstick that Emily can’t stop staring at when she talks.

“You forgot them in your bat cave before we got on the jet, huh?”

The pink flush on Penelope’s cheeks from the cold turns much more scarlet. “I’m not used to winter prep for a go-bag, let alone maintaining a go-bag at all!”

Emily chuckles, privately memorizing the contrast of the rosy flush and her purple lips and how shiny her eyes are behind the large purple hexagon glasses. “Do you want to wait in the lobby?” Surprisingly, Penelope shakes her head even as she visibly shivers underneath her puffy coat.

“The snow is so pretty out here. And it’s so quiet, like there’s no one else in the world.” She tilts her head up, eyes closed for a moment as she sticks her tongue to catch some flurries. After a beat, her eyes open and she looks at Emily with joy dancing in her gaze. “Come on Emily, have fun with me.”

“I always have fun with you, Penelope,” she says too honestly. Penelope sees something in her face that makes her pause and they stand in silence. The snow falls gently and the puffs of their breath mingle in the space between them.

Emily tells herself she’s watching their breath and the snow simultaneously but her eyes remain fixed only on Penelope. Without giving it too much thought, she pulls off her gloves and hands them to her. “Your hands are still shaking,” she says in answer to the silent question in the tilt of Penelope’s head.

“But now you’ll be cold.”

Emily shrugs. But that isn’t good enough for Penelope, who hands back the left glove before pulling the right one on herself. “Penelope, I don’t need-”

“Oh no, I won’t hear it, we can share or you can have them both back.” It’s moments like this that make Emily’s heart skip a few beats. Penelope’s effortless kindness is currently a stubborn glint in her eyes and Emily knows better than to argue. She makes a small production out of acquiescing, pulling the glove on with a dramatic sigh. Penelope laughs, the sound bright and warm as it bounces through the cold quiet air. It’s the best sound in the world.

Emily can’t help but smile in response. Snow is lightly covering the puffy sleeves of Penelope’s coat and creating its own set of sparkles on the purple beanie. She uses the gloved hand to brush the shoulders clean. Penelope’s gaze on her face is a warm and tangible thing somehow, and suddenly her face feels incredibly hot. Her hand comes to a rest, lightly gripping her upper arm. “Um. Is your- is your other hand still cold?”

Penelope nods. Emily nods back, flexing her own ungloved hand. She extends it palm up towards Penelope. “For warmth,” Emily says, voice not as shaky as she feels all of a sudden.

Penelope blinks twice, before slipping her hand into Emily’s without a word. They both stare at their joined hands until Penelope twists her hand, interlocking their fingers. Emily’s whole arm crackles with a low flame, warmth billowing up the limb and spreading through her torso. In pursuit of that warmth, Emily takes a step closer. The only sound she can hear is the mixed sounds of their breathing. She glances down to watch the breath leave Penelope’s purple lips into the cold air and can’t tear her eyes away. Penelope’s fingers twitch and then tighten in Emily’s grip. Glancing up to take in her whole face, Emily is sucked in by the openness of her expression- the way the cold has made her glow, the way her eyes are gazing back into Emily’s with softness and hesitation all at once, the way the warmth of her exhales slightly fog up her glasses, the way snowflakes land on her eyelashes and her nose and her hair and the swell of her cheeks and slowly become beads of water- and opens her own mouth because she has to say something, right?

“Penelope, I-”

Just then, Hotch pulls up next to them. The hum of the engine is like a crack in the perfect stillness of the moment and Emily jumps back slightly from the surprise. Their hands, still entangled, drop out of his line of sight. Penelope circles her thumb on Emily’s skin once, twice, and then a third time before letting go. Emily shivers, but she knows this time it isn’t from the cold.

Hotch gets out of the car to help with the bags, and Emily manages to fully tear her attention away from Penelope. Pulling her phone out of her pocket, she sees it has been a little longer than she would have expected, even accounting for the car being on the 4th floor of the parking garage and the elevator being completely out of order.

“What took you so long, Hotch?” She’s half joking, mostly looking to listen to something over her own pounding heart. But he blushes in response, a similar color to Penelope’s pretty flush from slight embarrassment just minutes earlier. It makes her stop and really look at him. He’s limping the tiniest bit, and the back of his coat looks slightly damp. Emily bites her lip, debating if she should say something more. Penelope, however, has no such debate.

“Oh! Bossman! Did you fall?” She waddles over on her heels, careful not to slip herself. “Are you ok?”

He clears his throat before leaning down and picking up the two largest of their bags. “I’m fine.” The signature Hotch glare is back in full force, but she knows he’s a little embarrassed. His cheeks haven’t lost all of the red flush yet and he won’t quite meet their eyes. Instead, he stows the suitcases in the back of the SUV before grabbing two more.

They glance at each other, attempting to hide a smile. He notices, because of course he does, but that just sends them both into actual laughter. After a moment, he starts to laugh too. They all climb into the car, Emily holding the passenger seat door open for Penelope and offering a hand (that is very enthusiastically taken) to help her into the car. As he puts the car in drive and the laughter fully dies out, he says “I told you I was worried about black ice.”

It makes Penelope laugh all over again, but Emily just watches her from her seat behind Hotch. Her beanie is still firmly on her head and the remaining bits of snow all over her are melting in the heat from the car. Emily flexes her ungloved hand again, arm still feeling tingly. Penelope sees her do it in the rearview mirror, and blushes again. Their eyes meet, and they share soft secretive smiles. If Derek hasn’t saved Penelope a seat and if Spencer isn’t taking up the whole couch again, maybe I’ll try to discreetly sit next to her on the couch. Just in case her hands are still cold.

Penelope only breaks their stare when Hotch asks her something about some budget maneuvering for new computer nonsense. She responds to him with her signature enthusiasm, and Emily settles back into her seat, knowing this conversation will probably last until they get to the airport. She’s content to only half listen and instead enjoy watching Penelope be incredibly smart and passionate. She keeps glancing back at her in the rearview mirror, but Emily doesn’t mind that Penelope knows she’s staring. Her mind drifts off as she watches Penelope’s mouth move as she speaks. She thinks about how close she was doing something reckless. She’s still close to doing something reckless if she’s being completely honest. Somehow though, she doesn’t think she’s the only one. The snow is still falling, and it’s still the middle of winter in Idaho. Yet, Emily Prentiss has never felt so warm.

#penemily #penelope garcia #emily prentiss #cm #cj.txt #cm fic #cjs fic #aaron hotchner #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds

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t-ycho · 3 years

Text

Boxstep

The hum of dragonflies flitting above the river could even be heard above the cracks and rattles of far off gunfire from time to time; a nice little respite from the cacophony of rattling ether pipes.

Crow is revelling in the sounds of the river, feeling its calming effects wash over him as he sits on the riverbank, the late summer sun warming his skin. It was his one request for the end of this reconnaissance trip - to just stop and let his mind go quiet for a while.

But the best laid plans…

A few jarring notes float across the clearing, causing him to frown gently. He opens one eye to look to the small camp, trying to catch where the sound is coming from. He spots his companion, shaking out her cloak and humming along to her music.

Crow turns his head. "What are you listening to?"

"Just some classics."

He purses his lips and watches her as Andi begins to mouth the words. "It's a little…"

Her head snaps up to look directly at him. "A little what?"

"Repetitive."

Andi scoffs in mock disdain, moving to lay out both their freshly washed armour on the riverbank to dry. "You wouldn't know good music if it hit you upside the head."

Crow settles back, closing his eyes again, voice dripping with flat sarcasm. "I wouldn't, would I?"

"If you can't appreciate Blondie, we have nothing more to speak about." She shakes out one of Crow's gauntlets, purposely splashing him as best she can. His face screws up and slowly opens his eyes to squint at her.

"Blondie?"

"A band from before the Golden Age."

"How have they lasted?"

"I'm sure they're dead-"

"I meant the music's longevity."

"Oh." Andi slumps forward, pushing the strap of her vest back onto her shoulder. "I think they were rediscovered with the finding of the Arts cache about half a century ago on Venus."

Crow sits up. "They found this on Venus."

"As part of a late 20th century data cache." She grins at him. "Someone in the Golden Age clearly wanted to save these for posterity."

The reluctance in Crow's response to that makes Andi tip her head. "Do you not like my tunes?"

Crow distracts himself by rolling up his shirtsleeves, avoiding eye contact. "It's not what I'd pick myself…"

"Oh. Oh ok." She stands up, grin threatening to split her face. "Any requests?"

"I don't know any artists!"

"Well then." She begins to walk back over to the fire. "Do some research."

Crow grumbles and rolls to his feet, stretching.

"Good nap?"

Crow looks to his shoulder, spotting Glint having floated over to perch there. "I wasn't asleep."

"Weren't you?"

He shakes his head. The Ghost's shell contracts a little in thought. "Are you sure? You were like that for a very long time."

"I can assure you I wasn't asleep."

Andi calls over from her spot by the fire, tone playful. "So you could have helped me clean the Taken gunk off your armour."

Crow spins around. "You said you were fine when I offered to help."

She laughs. "Crow. I'm joking. I'm just glad you got to relax."

He sighs and wanders over to sit on an old crate. "Do you enjoy winding me up?"

"Only a little." Andi pauses, face falling. "Do you not like it? I'll stop if you want me to-"

"No no, I can take a little ribbing, don't worry."

Andi looks rather relieved and goes back to checking her cloak. The song changes on her little speaker pod and she frowns. "Oh no, not a dirge…" she looks around. "Tink?"

"Hmm?" Her little Ghost barely moves from his spot in a clump of grass.

Andi peers over. "Could you move the song on?"

"I could… I may not."

"Tink…"

The voice sounds annoyed from its comfy grassy nest. "Do I have to move?"

Andi frowns at him and is about to say something when Glint heads over to the speakers. "I can change it for you, Andi."

"Thank you, Glint. The one useful person here."

Crow looks up at her like a kicked puppy, while Tink just laughs and rolls over lazily. Andi blinks at Crow and smiles. "I'm kidding, hun."

At the utterance of the pet-name, Crow can feel his chest tighten warmly, corners of his mouth quirking. "I would help if you let me, you know."

"I know."

Glint has managed to move the song on, jolting back as the starting chords blare out from the little speakers. "Oh my goodness- that's- I'm turning that down a little…"

Crow peers around Andi. "Surprise you, Glint?"

"It was just- it was a little loud."

Andi goes over and pats Glint affectionately. "I'm sorry. But Cyndi Lauper is like that."

There's a little call from the grass tuft. "She shouts to have fun. Like all the girls she sings about."

Andi turns around and frowns. "I feel rather attacked."

Crow puts a hand to his mouth, coughing to hide a laugh. Andi puts her hands on her hips. "Look, you can't dance to things that don't bop! This is prime dancing music!"

"Why dance at all?"

Andi stares at him, looking horrified. "Blasphemer!"

Crow throws his hands out. "No matter how you try, you won't get me dancing."

The 80s synthpop beeps as Andi makes several noises of disdain, hands waving about before she rushes over to him."Bu- you- it's- it's tradition!" Crow hurriedly leans back but doesn't manage to avoid Andi grabbing his face. "It's in your heritage!"

Crow speaks through squished cheeks, eyes wide. "Heritage?"

"Yes. You have to dance! To celebrate and rub it in their faces." She starts laughing as she speaks, causing Crow to giggle.

"You may dance all you like, Andi. I'll just watch."

Andi pats his cheek lightly. "Oh no you won't." She gets up quickly and rushes over to her speakers, bringing up the small menu and flicks through it.

Crow's brow draws down and looks to Glint who flies over, mirroring the look as best he can.

Then a cry of success as Andi waves away the holographic menu and a much less energetic song begins to play. She turns on her heels slowly and grins at Crow before sashaying over.

Crow's confused expression drops as the realisation hits him. He shakes his head and waves a hand. "Oh, no. No-"

"This is starting simple! Slow dancing." She stops in front of him and holds a hand out. "Can't expect you to start with Riverdance."

Crow glances at her hand then back to her. "What's Riverdance-"

"Don't change the subject." She wiggles her fingers. Crow sighs, looking at the floor for a few moments before peering back at her.

"You won't leave me alone until I do, will you."

"Nope. Got a whole playlist of this."

Crow stands, rolling his shoulders and reluctantly takes her hand. Andi makes an excited noise, beaming. "Ok! Ok, it's simple. Very simple."

She pulls him to a slightly clearer spot and stands in front of him. "You hold my right hand with your left and your right hand-"

"- goes on your waist. I know." He gently holds her hand to the side with the movement of someone for which this wasn't novel.

Andi blinks. "How?"

"How do I know how to fly a ship?" Crow tips his head. "And how do I know that I'm supposed to bow before this?"

She just stares at him, not answering as she clears her throat and rests her left hand on his shoulder, noticing the small hesitance in Crow placing his hand on her waist.

And she suddenly feels her stomach drop. "We don't have to, it's not-"

"We're here now." Crow looks at her, almost reassuringly. "And there's no one around to embarrass myself in front of."

"Really, we don't. I was just joking-"

"Andi." He practically glares at her. "Teach me how to dance."

Andi's breath catches in her throat. "I only know a very basic version."

"Then tell me the basic version."

Andi nods minutely and looks at their feet. "So, uh… your left foot comes towards me as I go back-" she steps back with her right, Crow following precisely. "- and then you step to the right with your… right foot."

He does so, and preemptively brings his heels together. Andi looks down and laughs. "Sure you've not done this before?"

"I wouldn't know. I could have." He steps back with his right, waiting for Andi to follow. Andi returns her gaze to meet his.

He's smiling. "Left foot forward."

Andi steps forward.

He closes his heels. "And together."

She brings her heels together.

"And go again." Crow continues, Andi mirroring him, each step placed exactly as they end up dancing a rudimentary waltz.

Glint floats by the speakers, finding the slower music a little more pleasing to listen to. But as he watches the two lightbearers, he can't help but feel a little uneasy.

"How complicated will this be?"

Glint turns to look at Tink who has groggily floated up from his resting spot. "What do you mean?"

"You know exactly what I mean…"

Glint drops a little, shell drooping. "It's… yes. Yes I do."

Forward, side, together. Step, step, stop. Perfect synchronisation and placement as they retread their footsteps, barely apart.

It began to feel completely natural and familiar, as if they'd always danced together this way.

Andi laughs quietly. "I was supposed to be teaching you."

"It seems I already know the box-step."

"Is that what this is?"

"Mhmm." Crow adjusts where his hand is resting on her waist, sliding around to rest on the small of her back bringing them closer together. "But I have some bad news…"

She regrets suggesting this as Andi is very sure Crow can now feel her heart pound against his own ribcage through hers. "Why?"

"This music." He looks over her shoulder towards the speaker, mouth mere millimetres from her ear. "It's not the right time signature."

Andi blinks and stops, turning to look directly at him. "What?"

"A waltz, which this is, is in 3/4 time. The song is 4/4."

Andi feels her cheeks go bright red. "... Fuck."

"Hmm."

She looks down at them both, chests pressed together and finding that she wished he hadn't noticed the goddamn time signature. "... Well, that was a waltz, apparently."

He isn't stepping away. "Which I already knew," he pauses. "Apparently."

They stand in silence, not noticing how they have begun to sway to the rest of the song. Their joined hands slowly fall to rest between them as their eyes rove over each other's faces trying to find an explanation. An answer. A hint. Anything.

Eventually, it's Crow that speaks very softly. "I don't mind this one."

Slowly moving her hand into the well of his neck, Andi tears her gaze away from the patterns of light gently rippling over Crow's skin to their hands. "The dance or the song."

Crow runs his thumb carefully over her knuckles, keeping his eyes down. "Both."

He focuses on the motion, thumb moving back and forth across her pale skin, catching the smallest of callouses and scars.

Crow hates how much he feels he has to withhold, speaking with thinly veiled intent to mask such soul wrenching fear of doing or saying anything that could push her away. And all this... without knowing anything about the person she saw when he stepped forward at the shrine.

He never wants to see that look on Andi's face again.

Risking a glance, his golden eyes flick up as if to make sure she's still there despite feeling her against his skin.

Andi is just watching him, almost as if she's been stunned. He'd believe it if he couldn't feel her breathing, kept steady as if she's forcing calm on a tumultuous sea.

However long they stand in silence, it is nothing compared with the cacophony of apprehension that now hovered around them, both hoping the other would give them the answer to that 'something' they weren't aware they had asked.

Their foreheads meet, the hold on each other's hand tightening to pull closer, allowing their lips the lightest of touches.

It was enough.

Andi slides her hand to cup the back of his neck, gently brushing his lips with hers, still tentative as she waits for him to respond. As soon as he does, she feels the flutter in her chest explode, relief and tension in equal measure.

Letting go of her hand, Crow caresses her cheek in an act of controlled restraint, wishing he could immediately scoop her up and hold her as close as it was possible to be. But as if she could hear his thoughts, Andi wraps her arms around his neck, sighing into the kiss as she blocks the blaring thoughts that attempt to sabotage this moment.

The music had stopped a while ago, the sound returning to far off gunfire echoing around the valley, offset with the gentle hum of dragonflies.

#destiny 2 #The Crow #crow and the guardian #andi #thought I'd post this because fuck it #fic

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cranehusbands · 4 years

Text

evening glow

Crypto | Park Tae Joon/Pathfinder; unrequited crushes; canon compliant; apex rarepair week; 1791 words

a/n: honestly writing so much makes me feel like i’ve been posessed by the ghost of productivity. and at this point im not even gonna complain. day 4 of rarepair week!

cryptfinder was like... my original crypto ship, all the way back in season 3. idk why it got me so bad.. it just makes me really soft, i love the “someone will die” “of fun!” dynamic they have, and how crypto is like soft for only one (1) person and thats his robot. its cute

day 4 of @apex-rarepairweek, jealousy, is right here! enjoy!

likes < reblogs, any comments in the tags are appreciated

ao3 mirror in the reblogs!

Preview: Elliott was insecure, yes - he was the kind of man to trip over his own tongue and his whole thought would come crashing down with him - but he was intelligent, an efficient engineer and people person, an excellent businessman who knew what made people tick. He wasn’t a bad looking man either. He had a nice smile, the kind that lit up his whole face when it was genuine, the kind that made his eyes smile with him. And when he wasn’t wearing that god awful jumpsuit, he was almost attractive, well built and taken care of, putting a lot of effort into making Mirage as real as possible, though he was about as real as a gaudy, faux gold rip-off. But as Crypto watched the bar, where he was working pouring drinks, frantically guiding the much taller, clumsier robot, his eyes were not on Elliott.

With his coat pulled up to hide his face, and knuckles shaking from the grip on his glass, Crypto couldn’t tear his eyes away from the bar just in eyesight from his little corner seat even if he tried. They were supposed to be out here celebrating at the Paradise Lounge, with somewhat professional businessman Elliott kind enough to offer the champion squad free drinks (begrudgingly, to even him, which Crypto was incredibly smug about at the time, but almost thankful for now) after a great game that day. And sure, it was fantastic; a last-minute scan from Hack let them get the drop on the final squad, an EMP blast slowing them down just enough to catch them in the field of Anita’s Rolling Thunder barrage, while Pathfinder led the final assault and gunned the final guy down in his usual unnervingly cheerful way. He should have been happy about another win under his belt - it was enough to get people to stop asking questions about his skill, and sudden appearance in the games. But he wasn’t. He just kept staring at the bar.

Elliott wasn’t an idiot. He knew that, despite his own insistence. No, Mirage was an idiot, but Mirage also didn’t have anything to hide. Mirage was a one-note, total bumbling fool, who Crypto was sure would short-circuit if he thought about anyone but himself. But Elliott was not that. Elliott was insecure, yes - he was the kind of man to trip over his own tongue and his whole thought would come crashing down with him - but he was intelligent, an efficient engineer and people person, an excellent businessman who knew what made people tick. He wasn’t a bad looking man either. He had a nice smile, the kind that lit up his whole face when it was genuine, the kind that made his eyes smile with him. And when he wasn’t wearing that god awful jumpsuit, he was almost attractive, well built and taken care of, putting a lot of effort into making Mirage as real as possible, though he was about as real as a gaudy, faux gold rip-off. But as Crypto watched the bar, where he was working pouring drinks, frantically guiding the much taller, clumsier robot, his eyes were not on Elliott.

Now Pathfinder was an interesting case. A MRVN unit with slightly more awareness than the average one, though that was often misplaced. He was a lost soul, somehow finding his home in murder, where he made fast friends and fans alike, though that was never what he wanted. Still, he didn’t seem to mind, his demeanour never changing - he had that shrill ‘Hi, friends!’ drilled into the back of his head by now… but at least that was a hole to get all the fog out, when his own head was the worst place to be. He was almost thankful for it, in fact. He thought back to the game that day, the way Pathfinder looked over to him, the screen on his chest lit up with a warm, celebratory yellow, as he gave an excited wave, before his attention turned to Anita for a fistbump. He soon turned back, and offered Crypto the same, metallic fist… which he took, and returned the gesture, almost laughing at the way the robot seemed to rock back and forth in excitement. It was… cute, almost warm, not like his cold exterior… not like Crypto. Pathfinder was warm. Pathfinder was cute.

And Pathfinder was over there, sharing his warmth with everyone else.

Over the thumping bass of the music too loud to distinguish, he was almost sure he heard a gentle crack of glass, and even though he knew that he would never be strong enough to shatter it with one hand he still flinched with a start, checking his hand for any loose liquor that had spilt, before rubbing it against his coat. So maybe he was just a little jealous. Slightly. But was it because of the attention that the robot was receiving tonight, or was it because he could live so free, not bound by the bars of paranoia? It was absolutely insufferable. The hacker slowly held onto his glass again, taking a final drink and knocking his head back before placing it down quite harshly, enough to get a few heads to turn, before he shuffled out of the booth and stood to his feet, beginning to head towards the door.

“Hey, hey, Crypto, where you goin’?” From the bar, Elliott looked up, taking his eyes off of Pathfinder for the briefest of moments.

“Home. Thanks for the free drink, Witt.”

“At least stay for another one, c’mon. I’m teaching this bag of bolts how to- wait, Path, no! Ah, dammit- not on my pants, you stupid-”

“Sorry, friend, these glasses are so small in my hands it’s hard to see when it ends.” The robot placed the whiskey glass down on the bar, excess spilling onto the counter as Elliott tried to clean the rest of the alcohol off of his leg with the towel over his shoulder.

“It’s- OK, then don’t hold it, it’s fine.”

“But you-”

“I have tiny human hands! I can do that! You’re… clumsy, and that’s… it's fine.” He gently patted Pathfinder’s small face with a hand, before turning his attention back to Crypto, unable to see the way his fists were clenched in the pocket of his coat. “One more. On me? C’mon, new guy.”

He gritted his teeth. The bar was loud, too many people were here as it was, he had already pushed the limits of what he wanted from tonight. Crypto opened his mouth to say no again, but he caught Pathfinder’s eye, staring at him from just behind Elliott, glowing in his warmth and kindness. The hacker closed his eyes, and sighed, pulling up a stool and sitting down at the counter, ignoring the bartender’s successful fist pump only to himself. This wasn’t for his benefit, anyway.

After watching the trickster fumble a little more to try and help Pathfinder a little more, only resulting in more drinks spilling on himself and the floor, he was slid a hastily made glass of whiskey, before Elliott excused himself to go clean up in the bathroom - “keep the bar warm but don’t serve anyone, got it, Path?” he’d specifically instructed, to which Pathfinder seemed to ignore as he turned his attention to a couple of patrons trying to haggle drinks for free through flattery. It worked, bless his heart, as he managed to keep the pint glass steady under the nozzle, handing it to the woman who shot a flirty remark that flew right over his head.

He laughed from over his glass, taking a small drink, gagging at the aftertaste but doing his best to cover it by coughing and covering his hand with the side of a clenched fist, just as Pathfinder returned.

“Elliott knows so many great friends, I really like working here!”

“Ya, you… seem to fit right in.”

“Do you really think so?” He seemed to genuinely appreciate the comment, perking up a little bit. “Do you think I’d look nice in a bow tie and suit? Elliott has an image to maintain, after all - I wouldn’t want to ruin it for my very best friend.”

An image of tackiness and gaud, Crypto wanted to say, but he bit his tongue. “Do you even know how to tie one?”

“No!” The confirmation was said with such cheer that it almost made him smile a little. “Why, do you?”

He blinked. “...Ya.”

“Can you show me?” If the robot was anymore animated, he would have twinkles in his optic from his excitement.

Crypto looked away, practically burying his face into his coat. “I… maybe.”

“Promise?”

“...Mhm.”

Pathfinder was practically glowing again with excitement, clapping his hands together, enough for Crypto to glance back over and bask in the warmth for a moment.

His shoulders lost their tension, he physically relaxed, and as the robot rambled on, divulging way too much about himself and his goals, he found himself… interested, and intrigued, offering insight as a man who was looking for someone just as hard, hardly noticing as one by one people filtered out, the other Legends heading home until it was just the two of them, and Elliott, closing up the bar.

“You two good to get home?” He asked, twirling the keys to the Paradise lounge around his finger.

Crypto nodded, flinching a little as Pathfinder slapped a hand down on his shoulder.

“Crypto promised to share a taxi with me! I’m so excited!”

The trickster raised an eyebrow, a small smirk forming on his lips. “Oh yeah? Check you out, kid. Making friends. Wasn’t so hard to get that stick out of your ass, huh?”

“Ip dakchyeo.”

“Yeah, you too, buddy.”

The hacker zipped up his coat again and looked away, shoving his hands in his pockets and continued to wait at the door, for Elliott to usher the two of them out, and lock up, heading to his car and leaving the two of them, alone, in the glow of the streetlight and Pathfinder’s presence, as he quietly bounced in place.

“Are you not cold?” The robot asked, looking down.”

“Ah, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Mhm.”

Pathfinder blinked, before nodding to himself, taking off the warm scarf around his neck and tying it around Crypto’s, making the hacker flinch again.

“Wait, I said-”

“It’s OK, I don’t really need it.” He gently tied it, expertly creating a small bow from the side, where it practically drowned Crypto’s face. “It looks nice on you, friend!”

He swallowed, looking down at his feet, and mumbling a thank you, enough to satisfy the other legend to take his attention away. Once he did that, Crypto dared to bring up his hand, running his fingertips across the softest tartan he had felt in a long time, and the light smell of motor oil that lingered to the fabric.

The taxi soon arrived, and the two of them got in, Crypto silently cursing Elliott to himself for not offering them a ride. It certainly would have made things a little less awkward. Did he know too much? The look he gave him certainly seemed like a catch on. He wasn’t here to make friends. He knew he wasn’t. But the draw of some people, or robots, was almost too much for him to bear, it seemed, as Pathfinder talked his ear off for the entire journey, voice more like music than white noise as Crypto stared out of the window, assessing his thoughts in the night, the evening he realised that maybe, just maybe, he liked Pathfinder.

#apex legends #apex rarepair week #cryptfinder #crypto #pathfinder (apex legends)

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storytelers-arc · 3 years

Text

masterlist of plots

this is my *wink wink nudge nudge* post.

featuring: christopher pike, catherine morland, flynn carsen, prince eric, daisy johnson, clara stahlbaum, the prince

like this and i’ll yell at you

1. christopher pike

season 3 but with christopher pike pls. gimme all the threads.

is your muse a teenager/young adult who needs a mentor/dad?? look no further, because christopher pike is the dad (tm) and would like to adopt all of the children. please give me all of the plots where he nurture someone.

honestly, gimme some discovery muses and we can add a little plot in the middle of the season, let them discover planets and be a science vessel (for once!). pike does not understand everything that is going on (he is a humanities major surrounded by a bunch of stem majors) but he is excited and willing to learn

2. catherine morland.

OK BUT WHO IS FINALLY GOING TO LET ME WRITE AGAINST A VILLAIN THAT CATHERINE FALLS IN LOVE WITH??? BECAUSE YOU ALL KNOW THE WOULD. AND IT WOULD BE FUCKING HILARIOUS BECAUSE CATHERINE IS ALL DREAMER AND COMMON SENSE, SO SHE AT FIRST WOULD BE LIKE oh you are evil its sexy to then be like: but why, that’s such a bad idea. villain: that’s my masterplan! catherine: that’s stupid

people should 100% be friends with catherine because she is a sweetheart but also very stupid -- so, you know, she is fun.

3. flynn carsen.

i also need flynn to fall in love with a villain asap. thanks.

also gimme more heavily plotted threads of flynn saving the world, we can create a magical object, a villain (we can have npcs in the threads pls!!) and an objective. we can just... create our own tiny movie. please, give me a heavily plotted adventure with flynn!

flynn carsen is a genius. i need someone to kidnap him to use his brain to do some scary stuff. i just... he would be a mess in this situation and there is untapped chaos here.

4. prince eric.

we all know the arranged marriage plot. but it doesn’t fit eric... you know what fits.... TRAPPED INTO MARRIAGE PLOT! let’s plot something out, either a family member that’s scheming, someone catches our muses in a compromising (completely accidental) position!!

gimme a matey. a crew member in eric’s ship that he is friends with!!! give this boy some friends!!!

someone make a sibling oc/a sibling verse for eric because he has the most chaotic big brother energy ever. let these two kids, who were raised by servants, be close friends. maybe she is an adventurer like him. maybe she thinks she would be a better queen than him (she would probably!).

5. daisy johnson

anything set in season 7 because it’s my fav (it’s time travel, y’all know I’m weak for that) -- so yes, gimme historical figures daisy can meet, gimme historical plots, gimme daisy getting stuck in the past for two months and having to invent a life for herself (gimme do.usy)

DAISY JOHNSON IS THE LEADER OF THE SECRET WARRIORS, A GROUP OF INHUMANS WHO WORK WITH SHIELD. thanks, the show forgets that but i don’t. Now, let’s see -- what if we play around with that? Who wnats to meet baddass superhero Daisy, who leads a skilled team and cracks jokes at every opportunity?

6. clara stahlbaum.

the four realms are connected to the rest of the disney world. give me clara opening her borders again, her kingdom is a land of wonder and she can get to know the other royals!! i’d love if some of the princesses’s got close to her??? clara is always looking for positive female influence in her life!

someone from the real world who follows clara into the four realms? preferred family connections or close friends (would need to plot as clara is not very outgoing!).

descendants stuff for her! the four realms still exist with magic but its closed off from auradon. it was technically supposed to be permanently closed off and emptied, but that would not be possible and her mother refused to. on a show of good faith, she sent her children to auradon. gimme the friendships, the rivalries, the loves!

7. the prince (the beast from beauty and the beast)

platonic.

basically the same as the romantic plot 1 but instead of falling in love they become very good friends instead. and this other person can leave the castle so they bring the prince things from the real world -- news, letters from his mother, a shirt that smells like the sea!

gimme like an older sister relationship with him??? someone who constantly mocks him, who makes fun of him but would kill someone if they hurt him? someone the prince can lean on for comfort and love?

give me stuff set in an hp universe where the prince has a gang? not like a criminal gang more like a squad of other rich boys who are terrible but lovable??? also possible set in modern times... though a criminal gang... someone talk to me about it... oh wow...

a plot with a fellow royal where they are 100% platonic but pretend to not be so they can get their royal parent’s off their backs.

romantic.

when the castle is cursed, all humans who were staying there are frozen in place, unable to leave (basing this off the villenueve version). the prince is all alone, or so he thinks. for reasons (a magical pendant, fairy blood, magic) someone else is able to escape the curse. they are both very happy to have found each other, thinking they would be forced to live inside that castle all alone until the curse was broken. until they fall in love, but that’s not enough to break the curse, because their love doesn’t meet the requirements set forth by the curse (he could only be rude and slow, the woman had to come willingly to the castle thinking she would be devoured). so yeah, angst.

a prior engagement. the prince was engaged to a princess from another kingdom and they were very much in love (probably a secret engagement). when the curse is broken, the princess rushes to see the prince again and finds him engaged to belle (if she got married during this time???? more angst?). years have passed, their lives changed, but when they see each other, its like they are eighteen again and plotting a secret engagement.

when the curse is broken in the villenueve version, his mother at first complains that Belle is not of royal blood and therefore should not be allowed to marry him. the fairy then reveals that belle is the secret child of another kingdom. BUT WHAT IF SHE WASN’T??? this applies to belle and any other muse of no royal blood that could fit -- the prince is forced to marry a princess (after all, the kingdom’s heir disappeared for years, they need to show strength now), but he keeps his relationship with the woman who broke the curse???

#IF I LOVED YOU LESS / wishlist #part 1 of several probably

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comradekatara · 5 years

Text

the comics need to stop adding new convoluted plotpoints that dont make sense, and instead write a self-contained story with an A-plot, a B-plot, and a C-plot that all connect somehow. a quest narrative of sorts where they’re all split up and each on their own separate missions that force them to solve their internal conflicts, while also furthering the narrative thematically both in terms of the tensions established in the subplots and in the narrative thread running throughout. this is like, basic separate-but-together quest narrative 101, but. yknow.

here are some hypothetical suggestions for these subplots:

first option

A-plot: aang and azula are forced to work together in the heart of the swamp. azula feels shame as she is all alone with aang and must actually confront him, so she retaliates by being cruel to aang and insulting his intelligence. aang is never not nice to her, insistent that she’d like him if she got to know him––but that’s what she’s afraid of. the stress of the swamp causes her to nearly break down completely again, but she forces herself to persevere through it, snarky remarks as her coping mechanism. aang repeatedly saves her life from the swamp, which she finds she can neither outwit nor bend her way out of. instead, she must embrace the entropy, and through aang’s wisdom, she begins to find a sense of inner peace. she starts to admit that she has a lot to learn from him, though that still hurts to think about. they don’t leave as friends, exactly, but they’re getting there.

B-plot: sokka, katara, and zuko are sent to the north pole for [x plot device], where they are all forced to confront their pasts. though they are on a diplomatic mission, it doesn’t take much for them to all get sidetracked. katara grows furious when she sees that absolutely no progress has been made in regard to women’s rights, and she yells a lot, at yue’s dumb patriarchal dad, at pakku, and at sokka and zuko for trying to help (she doesn’t need their man opinions trying to speak over her!!!!!! zuko’s just like, “i literally didnt say anything.........”) and eventually she rallies the women of the tribe and basically incites an entire feminist movement. upon seeing yue’s dad again, sokka is forced to confront memories he tries his hardest to bury deep. now that he finally has time to breathe, he lets himself acknowledge his guilt complex when it comes to protecting people. and zuko is given a second chance to amend his “that’s rough buddy” into actual, genuine emotional support. meanwhile, the north pole is stirring bad memories for zuko, but for other reasons. he must confront his guilt over all the dumb shit he did when he was 16; he must acknowledge how this was a turning point in his life, when he teetered on the edge of life and death just to fulfill his goal of capturing the avatar; when he watched zhao die. he never had the opportunity to confront that properly. he gets to now, and katara and sokka are there with him. sidenote: i think their dynamic makes for an excellent trio by virtue of them all being a third wheel. anyway they get the macguffin that symbolically represents their emotional journey. no i dont know what said macguffin is what am i a writer (jk its probably a mirror)

C-plot: toph, suki, mai, and ty lee complete their side of the quest without breaking a sweat. the four of them? together? please. they’re unstoppable. but they soon realize this, and decide that if they’re going to be given the opportunity to hang out just the four of them, they’re going to do it right. so occasionally, from aang & azula’s internal-tension-filled plot, and sokka katara & zuko’s swelling emotions plot, we just see toph, suki, mai, & ty lee fucking shit up and having a blast. we don’t see everything that they get up to, though a lot is alluded to, and it sounds cool as hell. they conclude their adventure with the realization that maybe they’re too powerful, and they should be more responsible with that power. but then toph’s like ............nah, and they all shrug and nod.

second option

A-plot: sokka, toph, and azula are on a boat. why are they on a boat? idk. reasons. anyway, toph does not like boats, and she very loudly affirms this at least once a page. though not so secretly she feels a lot safer than she otherwise would because sokka is there. azula also doesn’t like that they’re on a boat. she feels trapped. and she knows that even though they likely won’t, sokka and toph could take her down at any time, regardless of the fact that toph is unsteady, she’s on a ship made of metal, and azula’s not going anywhere. sokka doesn’t have a problem with boats. he grew up using boats all the time. he’s built boats. but he also really wishes katara were here, because without her, unfortunately, the tides do control this ship. a bunch of pirates try to take control, and practically obliterate the rest of their crew, and they all have to use their own unique brand of ingenuity to save the others. azula comes to respect them even more, and they her. sokka and toph already respect each other a hell of a lot, but i guess they exceed maximum respect levels cause that’s how cool the other thinks they are (and they’d be right!) and they forge a genuine friendship with azula for the ages, which sokka was previously highly skeptical of, but.... she’s nice now. somewhat. she’s mellowed out a bit, even if she’s still incredibly high-strung and weird. but who is he to judge? ‘cause hey, at the end of the day, they make a great team.

B-plot: aang is given an important Mission, and he’s ready to go in alone. after all, katara is busy, sokka is busy, toph is busy, zuko is busy. but suki offers her services, and she and ty lee flank him on his Journey. aang realizes that even though suki’s a part of their group, he doesn’t really know her at all. so he decides he’s going to learn. he asks about her past, her upbringing, her plans for the future. he asks the same about ty lee. we see flashbacks to all three of their childhoods, and what motivated them to become who they are today. aang was just a carefree kid, and he shied away from any type of responsibility; now, he’s carrying the entire world on his shoulders. even though she looked exactly the same as all her sisters, or maybe because of it, ty lee always felt like an outsider in her family. it’s clear that underneath their picture-perfect facade of upper-middle class stability that her father insisted they project, there was a deep strain on all of them, and the cracks seeped through. ty lee always felt like it was her job to mediate, and she soon learned to manipulate people into being satisfied with what they had, instead of what they wanted. but one day, she realized, it wasn’t her job to be that person in an environment where she already felt alien, so she ran off to join the circus. only when azula resurfaced in her life did she have to adopt her facade again, out of survival. and suki was raised by wolves. (ok i’m kidding––or am i––but tbh her backstory deserves a post of its own so..) anyway, aang ends up learning a lot about two people he never made any prior attempts to befriend, and learns about himself along the way. go team!

C-plot: zuko is forced to act as a mediator between mai and katara, who both find the other teeth-grindingly offputting. zuko really just wants to focus on Doing The Thing because the fact that the Thing has not been Done is stressing him out. but mai and katara clearly have issues between them that are in need of solving, and zuko cares about them both very much, so it’s hard for him to see them snipe at each other all the time. especially because he keeps getting dragged further and further into their arguments, to the point where they’re basically just arguing over who has more of a claim to him. mai says they used to date, katara’s like, “yeah for 2 months and it sucked what’s your point,” and katara’s like “he jumped in front of lightning for me,” but mai’s just like “he would do that for a stray cat whats your point.” zuko’s just like “listen. i would die for both of you. but if you don’t shut up i’ll kill you myself.” ultimately, the Conflict is Resolved, and in the most climactic moment, katara saves mai’s life. mai is grateful, and has enough humility to acknowledge this. katara’s like, “of course. i’d do anything for my friends.” and they still don’t like each other but the animosity has quelled considerably. and then they realize that they may have absolutely nothing in common, but they can still bond over making fun of zuko. the whole way back they swap stories about him being a Fucking Nerd, and zuko’s just like, “i’ve made a huge mistake.”

third option

A-plot: aang, zuko, azula, and ty lee are somehow tasked with a Plot-Relevant Burden, and shit gets real. these four people have so much baggage among each other that while they all insist to put their feelings away for the sake of the mission, tension bubbles to the surface anyway, and zuko and azula all but get in a row. aang and ty lee bond over having to be the mediators, while also acknowledging the harm azula caused both of them. they all get trapped in a Magical Cave of Logic Puzzles (fuck it its a comic idk) that they must solve before they can pass. aang and azula are both isolated, but their monologue is external because of course they both talk to themselves. aang considers it a fun game, azula is determined to crush this cave just like she obliterates all her enemies. zuko and ty lee meanwhile, are trapped together, but neither of them have any idea what’s going on in this wack cave. they eventually talk through all their feelings, and reconcile in a way zuko never in a million years expected to with ty lee of all people. then she reveals she had the answer to the puzzle all along and just wanted to facilitate an honest conversation. zuko would be mad, but honestly he’s just impressed. they all return into the light of day again, and the sunlight feels cleansing.

B-plot: katara, toph, and suki soon realize that they make for a more awkward trio than they anticipated. at first katara had been very insistent that it was finally time for just the girls to go on an adventure together, but it becomes readily apparent that without sokka......they have nothing to talk about??? and they’re all like. fuck. is sokka really that important to the fabric of our friendgroup?? the answer is, of course he is, but it pisses them all off. they can be friends outside of sokka! as a matter of fact, fuck sokka! who needs him? not them, certainly. they’re the world’s most powerful waterbender, earthbender, and non-bending warrior respectively! what does sokka have? a sword? some maps??? so they may not have many things in common, but their sheer willpower & determination is shared among them in spades. they complete their Task with great competency, and they’re all like “FUCK YEAH.” sokka is very confused as to why all three of them tackle him in a hug next time they see him.

C-plot: no grand quest. no adventure. mai simply finds a bat hanging in the corner of her room, and happens to notice sokka walking by. she summons him into her room, where she points at the bat with disgust. sokka’s like, “you’ve got to be kidding me. it’s just a bat. i’d think you’d love bats.” and mai’s like “then u are mistaken.” so sokka sighs and says he’ll take care of it, opens the window, closes the door, and tries to coax the bat into the night air gently. unfortunately, sokka’s execution is less than poor. the bat flies at his face, at which he lets out a very dignified shriek, and the bat starts flying around the room like crazy. for some reason, it refuses to just go through the window. mai and sokka, both fearing for the bat’s safety as well as their own, take the only logical option and hide in her closet until the bat leaves. after a while, they can no longer hear its indomitable screeching, so they open the door to the closet just a crack, only to see that it had actually tired itself out to the point of exhaustion and seemed to have fallen directly onto her bed. mai’s like “ewwww i sleep there sokka get rid of it!!!!!!!!!” and sokka’s like, “i can’t just throw it out the window!! it’ll die???” and mai’s like “this is why we need an animal control department.” which gives sokka a great idea. he tells mai to stay put and mai’s just like “you mean alone????? with the bat??????” sokka runs back moments later with a stricken zuko. “mai, are you all right???” he pants desperately, to which mai rolls her eyes and is like “yeah bitch im fine.” zuko turns to sokka and glowers. “you said there was an emergency in mai’s room! i thought she’d been–– oh what’s that???” they introduce zuko to the batshit bat, which sokka has named Squeaky, and zuko immediately knows what to do, and soon later it flies through the open window without a care. sokka’s just like “man, you really should’ve asked zuko for help instead of me.” and mai’s just like, “well... you were there. and youre.. competent.” and sokka looks around at the mess squeaky made of mai’s room and he’s like “u sure of that???” and it suddenly hits them just how uncouth this entire affair was, especially considering that zuko was the one who came out looking most competent (which they both deeply resent). they vow never to speak of it again.

#so the last one is just a story about a bat #......and?#aang #azula #toph #sokka #suki #mai #ty lee #zuko #katara #cant tag this as AUs bc it's canon-compliant!#but i gotta tag it something............#comics that are better than gene yangs hack writing #:)#there we go :)#postwargaang

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 5 years

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Humans are Space Orcs, “Sunny”

Ok, so I am going to need you all’s help on this. I made Sunny having no idea she would become so explosively popular so quickly, so I only have long distance plans for her and not immediate ones. Please, please help me by commenting or messaging or getting a hold of me and telling me what you would like to see.

I really appreciate all the enthusiasm you guys have for this. It’s bee super fun for me :) Also keep it coming with any and all other ideas as well even if they aren’t related to Sunny.

The entire crew sat huddled on the bridge sandwiched together in various stages of shock, anger and confusion. Captain Vir sat in the Captain’s chair head in his hands looking exhausted and confused. Krill stood next to him unsure what to do.

“Captain, this is insane.” One of the crewmembers was saying, “How could you let it aboard this ship without asking us first.”

Another crewman stood from the other side of the ship, “What if she’s here for revenge captain, what if she kills you in your sleep. It could kill us all if it wanted, and we are just supposed to trust it.”

The first lieutenant stood up arms angrily crossed over his chest, “When has the Captain ever done anything contrary to our safety…. I’m sure he has his reasons.” He glanced over where Captain Vir sat hunched on his chair, “Right Captain?”

They sat in silence for a long time Krill nervously watching the human reactions. Despite being just as, or even more confused and afraid than the other humans around, he was also worried about the Captain.

That creature, standing in the hallway, had been the very creature that took the captain’s leg, and now it was demanding to be a part of the crew. He didn’t even know why the captain had allowed the creature to step aboard.

The silence dragged on for a long moment as the humans of the crew began to mutter quietly to themselves. Captain Vir lifted his head from his hands and sat up straight. The dark bags under his eyes signaled the mental exhaustion, his nails dug into the armrests of his chair, but otherwise he seemed composed, “HER name is Sunny, not it, and this isn’t a democracy, this is an autocracy, I am captain, and I make the rules. Additionally, if anyone has any reason to dislike these creatures, it’s me, considering she is the very creature that nearly ripped me in half.”

The room was silent, the humans were shocked.

“How many of you here were actually IN the war?”

One or two hands.

“That’s just my point, none of you were there, none of you know. All you know is what was told to you at the academy or in reports. Those of you that were there understand exactly what I am giving up to be able to do this. I ran at the front in the last line against the Drev. I was there when they surrendered. IF we held grudges against everyone we fought, than we would hate ourselves most of all. If I don’t give her a chance than what kind of person would I be.”

Another human stood from the other side of the room after a moment, “I….. I don’t know what to say captain…. But you must understand our hesitance.”

The man nodded, “More than you know, but she’s agreed that if she steps one foot out of line than she forfeits her life. If you want to make me make her sign a contract than I’ll do it, but somehow, I don’t think she’s lying. If none of you will be willing to, I can deal with her.”

Another member of the crew stood. Krill recognized them from his medical team, but understood he specialized mostly in psychological health, an area Krill was not familiar with, “Will you be able to handle that, Captain?”

He took a deep breath, “I let her in didn’t I? So we are about to find out… Let her in.”

One of the humans, standing by the door walked forward and pushed the door to the side with a hydraulic hiss. And there, kneeling on one knee, the massive creature sat, and to her side lay Waffles flat on her back paws in the air tail thumping spastically as Sunny gave her a belly rub.

The humans were very quiet.

The dog tilted its head back to see them, rolled over, and ran to the captain resting her head on his knee with a wagging tail.

The Drev sat back on her heels, and then stood. Both sets of arms dangling at her sides.

The captain took a deep breath and motioned her inwards.

Against the metal catwalk, her thick feet thudded ominously as she moved forward into the wary circle of humans.

“You see these people.” The captain asked gesturing around the room, “They don’t trust you, I don’t trust you. All of them want to know why you are here and why I should let you stay. Would you like to explain yourself?”

Sunny was silent for a long moment turning her head to look at the assembled humans before looking up at the captain, “I do not ask for trust simply an opportunity. You defeated me once and you could do it again, so I would be in the wrong to assume that I could make any attack against you crew.”

The room went silent again.

The dog seemed to be the only creature in the room that couldn’t sense the tension. She moved from the captain’s feet to the Drev tail wagging tongue lolling.

Eventually, the silence was broken.

The commander stood from her seat, “Sunny, that’s your name isn’t it?”

The Drev nodded.

“Do you sleep?”

Surprisingly, the Drev nodded again.

“Well we may as well get you settled in, my quarters have an extra room that you can have.” The other humans shifted in surprise turning to look at her in surprise.

Captain Vir seemed confused as well.

Krill was again surprised to see the humans hesitantly begin moving forward as curious as they were scared about their new companion. Additionally, sunny was surprisingly receptive to the humans she let them examine her armor and her strangely humanoid hands.

Captain Vir sat in his chair watching the entire exchange silently and thoughtfully.

They dragged her from the bridge eventually to show her around the ship.

***

Krill sat with the human in the darkness aboard the ship. The rest of the crew slept silently in their quarters. As Krill didn’t sleep, he had heart the human exit his quarters and walk into the deck. The thud of his metal foot contrasted with the soft pad of his other foot. They hadn’t really said anything joining each other in companionate silence as they made their way onto the observation deck.

With a quiet whirr, the captain released the blast shields. Outside, the ship’s hull slowly cracked open over the observation platform bathing the dark deck in the light of a million stars and a delicate light form the blue and purple nebulae. A distant spiral galaxy rotated silently in the vastness of space. He leaned himself back against the wall sliding to the floor with a soft rustle. Krill floated next to hi absently staring out at the stars as they spiraled past.

The thudding of the ship’s distant engines added a lulling monotony to the scene. The human’s eyes drifted towards closed head slowly lolling to the side, but then, a soft repeated thud, thud, just over the sound of the thundering engine. The human was the first to detect the noise and turned towards the hallway.

Krill turned faced with the light glittering over a metallic blue armor, a towering figure seven feet tall.

The human stiffened.

Was this it?

Were they going to die, was she here to take her revenge now that he was alone?

She stood over him a silent statue of horror backlit by the universe…. And then she shuffled off to the other side of the viewing window placing her back to the wall and sliding down in much the same way the captain had.

The human watched the Drev for a long moment as she leaned her head against the window eyes glittering with the reflection of the universe.

Krill was ready to get up and run, and didn’t notice the soft humming noise. It didn’t come from te human, but from the Drev.

The human was sitting up now watching her with narrowed eyes, but he hadn’t moved from his seat on the floor.

After a while. Krill noted the human begin softly and slowly rocking his head to an unknown beat eyes half closed light rolled into the window as they drifted slowly past a band of red mist, “Metallica, right?”

The Drev shrugged.

“Where did you learn that?” He asked quietly

She paused looking out towards the sky, “I heard one of your kind humming it as she died. It was towards the end of the war.”

“Oh,” There was silence.

“Once leaving my planet, I heard a human sing for the first time, and I remembered that song. They don’t have music on my planet, and I wanted to find it, but I never heard it again.”

A distant ice field reflected and winked at them from the darkness. The Drev began to hum again, at first the human simply listened, but after a while he began to hum softly along with her, filling in the parts that she missed or did incorrectly. Minutes after that he was singing quietly to the music, and now the Drev was listening as the darkness faded around them.

It didn’t occur to anyone that the Drev could copy the human beat.

No other species had been able to before.

#humans are space orcs #humans are weird #humans are space oddities #humans are space australians #earth is space australia #The Drev

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venenorita · 4 years

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HE MEGA RP PLOTTING SHEET / MEME.

First and foremost, recall that no one is perfect, we all have witnessed some plotting once which did not went too well, be it because of us or our partner. So here have this, which may help for future plotting. It’s a lot! Yes, but perhaps give your partners some insight? Anyway BOLD what fully applies, italicize if only somewhat.

Mun Name: Mercy Age: 27 Contact: IM, discord

Character(s) I rp: Bambi, Candice, Giselle, Loly, Tier, Emilou, Nanao, Hiyori, Kuukaku, Yoruichi, Ariugrette Tsetsara (OC), Tatsuki Arisawa, Kobu Merani (OC), Ajora Faengerhol (OC), Medusa Gorgon, Subida Roja (OC), Noriko Tsunayashiro (OC), (I’m gonna stop here for my own sanity @n@) Which muse(s) inspires you the most atm?(for MM): Bambi, Loly, Tier, and probably Noriko. Current Fandom(s): Bleach presently. Fandom(s) you have an AU for: Errr, none really? Not that come to mind at least. My language(s): English Themes I’m interested in for rp: Fantasy / Science fiction / Horror / Western / Romance / Thriller / Mystery / Dystopia / Adventure / Modern / Erotic / Crime / Mythology / Classic / History / Renaissance / Medieval / Ancient / War / Family / Politics / Religion / School / Adulthood / Childhood / Apocalyptic / Gods / Sport / Music / Science / Fights / Angst / Smut / Drama / etc. Themes/Genres you have an AU for:None Really dedicated to any particular genre or theme. Not that I’d be unwilling to make some. AUs are my jam.

Preferred Thread length: one-liner / 1 para / 2 para / 3+ / novella. Asks can be send by: Mutuals / Non-Mutuals / Personals / Anons. Can Asks be continued?: YES / NO only by Mutuals?: YES / NO. Preferred thread type: crack / casual nothing too deep / serious / deep as heck. Is realism / research important for you in certain themes?: YES / Depends / NO. Are you atm open for new plots?: YES / NO / DEPENDS. Do you handle your draft / ask - count well?: YES / NO / SOMEWHAT. How long do you usually take to reply?: 24h / 1 week / 2 weeks / 3+ / months / years. I’m okay with interacting: original characters / a relative of my character (an oc) / duplicates / my fandom / crossovers / multi-muses / self-inserts / people with no AU verse for my fandom / canon-divergent portrayals / au-versions (as main or only verse). Do you post more ic or occ?: IC / OOC. Are you selective with following others?: YES / NO / DEPENDS.

Best ways to approach you for rp/plotting: IM An IM will usually do the trick since I usually don’t go about giving my Discord in most cases. But yea, literally just send me an IM, preferably with an idea in mind. Alternatively if you’re particularly bold you can send an ask or a meme.

What expectations do you hold towards your plotting partner: . I dunno how to really word this one in particular. I usually don’t like overplotting, so be open to some flexibility. Frameworking is fine but I don’t wanna script stuff from the getgo. Also please work WITH me? If I’m the one throwing out ideas and all I’m getting is a simple ‘eh’ or ‘no’, or just in general if you’re not helping contribute. Like....I get being anxious but I need something to work with? Suggestions. Recommended alterations to my ideas? There’s nothing more absurd to deal with than someone who agrees to plot with you only to contribute nothing and just shoot stuff down.

When you notice the plotting is rather one-sided, what do you do?: I’ll try my best to work with it. Some people aren’t great with cranking out ideas, I get that. Heck sometimes I myself don’t feel like coming up with a lot of stuff. But at some point I’m gonna ask them to put in a little effort if we’re not getting anywhere.

How do you usually plot with others, do you give input or leave most work towards your partner?: I at the VERY least give input. Ask questions, things like that. I’ll generally come up with a few off the top ideas to try and get things rolling.

When a partner drops the thread, do you wish to know?: YES / NO / DEPENDS. - And why?: I wouldn’t mind a poke, but I know stuff can be complicated. Wether you’re busy, losing muse, or you just don’t know how to progress a scene? I’ve certainly had plenty of threads, enjoyable or otherwise, where I say to myself ‘.....I think this is fine here’. Or ‘I don’t know where I’m supposed to go from here’. So I don’t mind if you kinda let it slip into the night. Though a heads up is always appreciated. - What should your partner do when dropping a thread?: Kinda outlined up above. But MOST of all, don’t be AFRAID to let me know. I’ll understand

What could possibly lead you to drop a thread?: . Business, fatigue, lack of enthusiasm, not knowing how to progress. Or characters that clearly do not want to interact with my muse icly. I know some people really like playing these sorts of individuals, but like yea...uphill battles of that kind can really take it out of me. - Will you tell your partner?: YES / NO / DEPENDS.

Is communication in the rpc important to you? YES / NO. - And why?: As much as I don’t really require it, because well, I know people have a lot of followers and such, I do feel like a rapport while not required is definitely very constructive to interaction. And honestly, communication tends to help smooth out drama a bit. Which honestly is one of the only big negatives to this kinda community. - Are you okay with absolute honesty, even if it may means hearing something negative about you and/or portrayal?: Absolutely! I very much encourage people, off anon (though I understand if they prefer the metaphorical mask), to inform me of something they may not like about me or my muses. Even if it may hurt my feelings, I enjoy being able to address and explain things. Cuz it sure beats the hell out of people making assumptions. - Do you think you can handle such situation in a mature way? YES / NO.

Why do you rp again, is there a goal?: Enjoyment. This is a hobby, and I think some people take this a bit too seriously. I’m here to have fun, explore my muses, and that of those I interact with. Get messy, make mistakes, and for pete’s sake chill.

Wishlist, be it plots or scenarios: Nothing comes to mind speeeecifically... Honestly for most of my muses, just having someone who WANTS to interact with them is golden. Though I admit to being a bit of a ship goblin from time to time.

Themes I won’t ever rp / explore: Nothing outright disgusting or gratuitous. Torture, psychological trauma, ect is fine. That’s how things roll, and I don’t mind them being part of a scene. What I don’t get into is something that’s there for the sake of it. Am I ok with my character being tortured for information? Absolutely. Will I indulge in a thread that’s just some kind of weird torture porn? No. Don’t let it get out of hand. I won’t judge you because cmon, it’s rp. But I reserve the right to decline being a part of it.

What Type of Starters do you prefer / dislike, can’t work with?: Anything tbh. The only real awkward starters are like.....really specific shoehorning. Or like, an immediate conflict at my character’s detriment. I get having an unusual introduction. I’ve had people who start with shit like “WHAT ARE YOU DOING BREAKING INTO MY HOUSE?” Like cmon. Number one, even I don’t know why my character would break into your house, so they probably Didn’t. Please do not assume the worst and START things off on a bad foot.

What type of characters catch your interest the most?: Multifaceted. Not that I judge anyone for being more ...affixed on a particular aspect of their character. Some people are very keen on getting a certain type of rp. Some people just outright play a character who isn’t really shown to be anything other than one thing. But I enjoy exploration of a personality. And a personality, no mater how dull, stupid, or simple someone is, is NEVER monofaceted. I enjoy a muse that has something to dig for or explore emotionally.

What type of characters catch your interest the least?: Asocials. I’ve had some decent rp with them SOMEtimes? But like....there’s nothing more aggravating than trying to interact with a character who wants to be left alone and be isolated. Especially ones that are AGGRESSIVELY against it. Especially since I have to WORK to MAKE my character even want to interact with them.

What are your strong aspects as rp partner?: MY.......errr....en...thusiasm? I don’t actually know tbh. My malleability with my muses perhaps? Errr I like thinking about stuff. IF you ask me a question, I will do my best to answer it and explore the realm within that question. I dunno what you would exactly call that though... I am ...headcannony?

What are your weak aspects as rp partner?: I am flaky. Sometimes it’s cuz of real life getting hard. Sometimes it’s because I need a break from tumblr. Sometimes I just poof and forget about tumblr for like a while. But yea. I have a tendency to vanish, it’s something I’m working on but it’s something that happens.

Do you rp smut?: YES / NO. Do you prefer to go into detail?: YES / NO / DEPENDS. Are you okay with black curtain?: YES / NO. - When do you rp smut? More out of fun or character development?: It can go either way? Sometimes things develop that way because of specific characters. But I’m not gonna lie, sometimes its just for the heck of it. Sinday and all that. - Anything you would not want to rp there?: Interactions with Real life people as a muse. I respect people doing it. If people wanna rp as Miley Cyrus or whatever, more power to them. But leave me out of it, it just makes me uncomfortable. This also applies to a lesser degree with real life face claims? But I’ve learned to kinda make my peace with that one tbh.

Are ships important to you?: YES / NO. Would you say your blog is ship-focused?: YES / NO / Sometimes? Do you use read more?: YES / NO / SOMETIMES. Are you: Multi-Ship / Single-Ship / Dual-Ship — Multiverse / Singleverse. - What do you love to explore the most in your ships?: The Nuts and bolts. Sure the honeymoon phase is alright. And bunny-rabbiting has it’s fun times. But what I love most about a ship is finding out how they work as a dynamic. What do they argue about? How do they absolve issues? How do their world views mesh? - What is your smut tag?: nsfw

Are you okay with pre-established relationships?: YES / NO / Depends - And what kind of ones?: I like a good premise. Just a nice kickoff point, ya know? Soemthing to get past that first awkward phase if anything/

► SECTION ABOUT YOUR MUSE.

- What could possibly make your Muse interesting towards others, why should they rp with this particular character of yours now, what possible plots do they offer?: She’s a bitch. But a bitch for a reason? She’s an absolute piece of shit, but a complicated one. She will never EXPRESS appreciation or affection outside of just sexual indulgence. She won’t ever SHOW fluffy affection, or gratefulness to most people. But that doesn’t mean she doesn’t FEEL it. With Loly you will get to see a gal struggle with her own inability to trust or love people, while also trusting and loving people. Also ngl she kinda hot? I guess some people consider that a plus?

- With what type of Muses do you usually struggle to rp with?: I mentioned it before, but muses who aren’t interested in interacting. - With what type of Muses do they usually work well with?: Anyone willing to interact with her! Wether that’s to help her, harm her, or just witness the mental gymnastics this little centipede will go through to keep her mental restrictions intact.

- What interests your Muse(s) in general: Power, Indulgence, Being a rotten Bitch, maintaining the survival of Las Noches, Hot people, Strong People, anything that can benefit her in some way. - What do they desire, is their goal?: She wants to be able to escape her fear of her own kind. - What catches their interest first when meeting someone new?: Wether or not they are a threat to her survival, if they have something to offer her. - What do they value in a person?: Lack of Aggression, Visual Appeal, Power. - What themes do they like talking about?: Herself or someone else she is interested in. Her Race. The state of the world. - Which themes bore them?: Criticism of her, Anything about Aizen.

- Did they ever went through something traumatic?: Aizen’s Betrayal, Grimmjow’s assault on her, Yammy’s attempt to kill her. The Quincy Invasion. - What could possibly trigger them?: Grimmjow, Yammy, the subject of Aizen. - What could set them off, enrage them?: People trying to kill/maim her arbitrarily. - What could lead to an instant kill?: Aggressively trying to kill her, making it clear you have no intention to let her live peacefully again.

- Is there someone /-thing they hate?: Aizen. Orihime. Hueco Mundo. Being a Hollow/Arrancar. - Is there someone /-thing they love?: Menoly, People that try to help her.

Is your Muse easy to approach?: YES / NO / Kinda - Best ways to approach them?: It’s a little complicated. But if you’re persistent enough and you genuinely want a positive interaction with her, she will bitch about it but she will eventually soften up. Especially if she feels no reason to fear you. She absolutely won’t trust you at first and it’ll be an uphill battle, but its doable.

For Antagonists ehh.....just give her breathing room? Feel free to torment her but like....if you get real incessant about it, or outright try to kill her she will actively avoid you like the plague. And if you corner her she WILL try to kill you, and her venom means that no matter how strong you are, she MIGHT pull it off if you are careless. - Where are they usually to find?: Verse dependent, but tbh she could be found just about anywhere. She’s usually in Las Noches, ut she sneaks off to all kinds of places for some peace and quiet, or just to try and enjoy her generally unpleasant existence.

Something you may still want to point out about your muse?: Patience WILL pay off eventually? And she’s not a bitch 24/7. Sometimes she’s too tired/bored to be her usual bitchy self.

CONGRATS!!! You managed it, now tag your mutuals! ♥

Tagged by: Stolen from @pacifv Tagging: WOOF, this is a REALLY long one lol. So uhhh anyone who WANTS to do it?

#[Poisoned Anatomy]#[OutofExcuses]#[Dash Meme]

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