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#and listen to me. the secret third category is that there is no third category. Both of these categories are racist

marisferasiop · 11 months

Text

FUSE

Ao3 link

PART 2

Rating: Explicit

Archive Warning: Plot with Smut

Categories: F/M, M/M, Poly

Fandoms: The Mandalorian (TV), Prospect (2018)

Relationships: Din Djarin/Reader; Ezra (Prospect 2018)/Reader; Din Djarin/Ezra (Prospect 2018)/Reader

Characters: Din Djarin, Reader, Ezra (Prospect 2018), Grogu | Baby Yoda, Cee (Prospect 2018)

Additional Tags: Sex Pollen, Marathon Sex, Anal Sex, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Kissing, Boys Kissing, Din Djarin Removes the Helmet, but only in the dark, Force-Sensitive Reader, Ezra loses the arm, no y/n, Hurt/Comfort, Domestic Fluff, oh no we got feelings in our sex pollen smut, Everyone in star wars is bi til it's proven otherwise, Ezra is definitely a mouthy bottom, Switch Din Djarin

Summary:

Din and reader are working as a Guild crew living on the Crest (and quietly pining for one another). Din picks up a bounty on a harvester dodging creditors who had fronted funds for prospecting work and finds a surprise: someone who looks exactly like him. While on the way to drop him to the client, the three of you are accidentally dosed with a pollinating spice strain meant for cold blooded biologies! Now you three have to ah- "get it out of your systems" somehow!

"Take the bunk, iisa. I’ll kip here,” he says, dragging Grogu off the panel and into his lap.

“Alright,” you say, not surprised, and head down the ladder. Mando’s bunk is narrow and not particularly comfy, but it sure beats the durasteel floor or being upright in the cockpit. He makes sure you have a stark two-thirds split of the usage of it, only using the other third because you prod him when he gets sore shoulders or a crick in his neck when he doesn't. You curl up on your side on the thin bedroll and next thing you know, the Crest is juddering to a stop outside of the hyperlane over a small, verdant green moon.

“I shouldn’t be gone more than a day. The mark is purported to be a charlatan, but not much of a slippery catch, despite the long chase. He doesn't even have a ship,” Mando says, a while later, hesitating on the ramp. "Just keeps managing to sweet talk his way into rides, but sounds like he got stuck here." He checks that the fob is still beeping and tucks it into his belt.

“Ah, a chatty one. A favorite trait of yours; I am familiar.”

Mando snorts and passes Grogu to you. “More encouragement to drag him back and slab him so we don't have to listen,” he says. The kid sends you a flare of annoyance and squirms to get down, so you kneel and set him down, and he immediately goes back to Mando’s shins, bashing them with his little claws.

"I can't take you, kid. The air is toxic."

But Grogu simply leapt into his pram and popped the bubble shield you had engineered, staring up at his buir in defiance. You stifle a laugh and Mando sighs, resigned and continues to equip his standard weapons.

“I’ll check the ship and do maintenance as needed. Comm me if you need backup,” you say needlessly. He’s never needed your field skills yet, but that’s because he usually takes the kid. You're glad when he takes the kid. Knowing he has some kind of backup is a relief with how often Mando manages to get his ass kicked. And Grogu hates being left behind, typically showing such feelings like now.

The reputation you’d racked up on Nevarro as a force-sensitive, retired, Rebel Alliance sharpshooter- cum- mechanic had done little for you in the way of an easy life, but when you’d fixed Mando’s junker of a gunship after a nasty crash, and talked to his kid like some Ahsoka lady they'd met, he’d hired you on his crew and you’d had an enjoyable time since (even if you wished the idiot would notice how hard you have been holdinf a torch for him for cycles).

But it did no good to pine after a Mandalorian, you knew. Especially one as adhered to the Old Ways as Mando appeared to be. You’d met others in your time, as a child when they weren’t so secretive, and later, in the galactic war. And later still, when there was a covert beneath the city everyone pretended to ignore, and their beroya was out working, another would surface now and again to find work or socialize. Sometimes you’d hire them on for a day to move product, or assit with a fix, or break old machines down for parts.

You’d taken two different ones to bed, even, on various holdovers. They never removed their helmets, but you’d enjoyed the ah- rides, nonetheless.

Not this one, though. He had to be either the most dense (or simply the least interested) Mandalorian in the galaxy. Which really did so much for your self-esteem.

So after Mando departs with the kid in his pram floating along, his amban glinting across his back, you turn off the ship's air scrubber and seal your helmet and head outside to check the landing gear. The Crest was balanced on a patch of thick moss, its feet embedded in the soil below. You tutted at the soft surface and carried on inspecting for damage.

That evening, you rehydrate a sachet of soup, attach it to your suit's feed hose, and sit on a fallen log a few meters from the ship, grateful for the susurrus of nature. The forest moon is rich with fauna and life, desite the dust in the air that makes it unbreathable for humans. You wonder for the thousandth time how Mando is doing on his hunt, and decide to go back inside for a brief nap, keeping your comm unit close.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*********~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Din is– surprised. Bounties don't often actually surprise him, but finding his quarry to be a lame-armed and barely- breathing man who looks and sounds uncannily like Din himself, hitched to a young woman by a length of tie-down belting strung between their suit loops in the middle of a dense forest has to land somewhere on his chart of weirdest discoveries. The fact that the young girl is aiming a strange blaster at Din and standing half-over the collapsed bounty is another tally on the list.

“Ezra May?” Din asks, leveling his amban rifle at the girl, seeing as she's the one with the weapon. The man sags against a tree and struggles to catch his breath in lieu of answering. He raises his his left hand and lists to the side a bit, which pulls on the girl and nearly knocks her down.

“I am indeed, my… shiny friend. I suspect that makes you a bounty hunter?”

Din faces the red- flashing fob at him and pockets it again. The man glances downward and cocks his head, looking curiously at the floating pram and little green kid in it. “Curious.” The heaviness of his labored breathing fogs the glass dome of his helmet.

“I am only here for you. The mark said nothing about another. Who is this?” Din waves the pronged end of his rifle at the girl, who eyes him with a feral glint. He keeps the rifle trained on her after a second thought spared for her shaking hands, but he straightens his finger off the trigger. He can shock her if need be.

“That is Cee. I stumbled upon her and her father's campsite and somewhat contributed to the death of the man after a bit of-- misunderstanding. I have found myself indebted to her, as she has attempted to save my life,” he shrugs his right arm with some pained effort and gasps to regain his breath, having been winded by simply shifting the injured limb. “But I am dwindling fast. My wound- it festers. The dust has gotten in the suit from the second injury," he waves to his chest with his left hand. "I suggest, Mandalorian, if you want that full bounty you’ve undoubtedly worked so hard for- you’ll help.”

Din watches the man’s chest hitch again and thick blood drools from the wound in his breastbone, causing the labored breathing. He motions for the girl to drop the strange blaster and she does, begrudgingly, after May murmurs to her that the Mandalorian has disintegration rounds in his bandolier and likely also loaded in that rifle.

He's not wrong.

“Can you walk?”

“I can, boss. But it’s slow going. My lungs are blocking up with infection from the wounds I have sustained. It is worse now with the new injury from our most recent aggressors,” he gestures at his chest again and wheezes a weak cough.

“Untie yourself,” Din motions to Cee, who glances at May and does so with a huff. “Go to that tree and sit.” He cuffs her behind her back to the tree, sitting propped against it, and goes back for the bounty. The man is in a badly damaged flight suit riddled with taped-over blaster holes and a vibroblade stab to his chest, from which the blood is leaking. His right arm hangs completely limp and the sleeve around it is soaked dark with blood, tied round with a tight makeshift tourniquet just under the shoulder.

Din slaps a tracking cuff on May’s ankle and sets about investigating the wounds since the suit is punctured anyway. He has a deep gash circling his whole bicep, nearly down to the bone the whole way 'round, that is blackened at the edges and still sluggishly bleeding, but has obviously cost him a lot of blood, and has indeed started to turn gangrenous with rot. “What happened?”

May chuckles and then coughs, his chest stuttering with the effort. “Another bounty hunter caught up to me in The Green, before I ran into Cee. And the fauna here… is far less forgivin’. Even if the aurelac diggin' is well worth its weight in credits. He shot me in the arm and I went down in a gorge of vegetation. Some of the dust, it released– and got in my suit through the hole, and thus into my wound. I tried to scrape out the black rot, but botched the excision. I went chasin’ radio signals looking for aid, and stumbled onto Cee and her father’s campsite, and simply pulled faster than the dearly departed Damon when I requested aid and he suggested at the end of a rail gun that I fuck off-” he chokes off a gasp and clenches his teeth when Mando flushes his chest wound with his flask.

Din works silently, zipping off the ruined suit sleeve at the shoulder joint for better access. He glances back at the pram. Grogu has floated a bit closer and is gurgling curiously. “No,” he says to the little outstretched claw, wagging a yellow-tipped finger at him. “Don’t waste your strength on a bounty. We’ll get paid either way.”

No small part of Din wonders if Grogu is wanting to heal Ezra May because Grogu is the only being in the galaxies who knows what Din looks like, and is staring at a face he most likely recognizes and might even be confused by. Hells, Din is confused by what he's seeing. Is the man related to him, somehow? Either way, Grogu's power shouldn't be used on a quarry of all things.

May frowns and flicks his dark eyes between them, endlessly curious or suspicious, one. His breathing has leveled out, at least.

“It is deeply infected. I’m going to have to amputate your arm if you want to live,” Din sighs, standing and pulling the saber from his belt.

“That…is a bold conclusion,” May huffs indignantly, trying to straighten his lean against the tree. He doesn't quite manage to make it.

“It’s gangrenous and still open. You’ll bleed out or die of the infection before I can get you to a Core planet, or a bacta tank.” He activates the saber and turns to Grogu. “Can you help? Just make sure he doesn't bleed out? No extra healing.” The child nods and turns his luminous eyes back to the man on the ground.

May frowns again. “Is your child a healer?”

“He is none of your concern. Leave this here.” Din lifts the bounty's dead arm, laying it outstretched and utterly limp on a fallen log beside May so he can slice clean downward. “The blade will cauterize. He will make sure you don’t bleed out. I’ll finish cleaning and covering the stump when we're back to my ship. You will behave, or I'll let you bleed out and take the lesser bounty, and leave her tied to that tree.” Din points at the girl and waits until May nods.

“I will do my level best to acquiesce.”

“Good,” Din grunts, and brings the blade down.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*********~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Dank farrik,” you curse, the top half of you in an exposed panel that is sending sparks out as you weld a loose wire clip back into place.

“Problem, iisa?” Says a familiar vocoder, and you smack your helmet on the panel frame trying to straighten back out of the hull. You snort at the timing of the nickname, if nothing else, rubbing the back of your head. Fuse- you grip the soldering tool more firmly in your hand and pull fully out of the hull.

“Mando! Glad you’re back. No, just cleaning up my emergency job from last time. Find your– oh,” you say, pausing when you see the body on a travois dragging behind the pram. There's a girl tied by the binders to Din’s belt as well. He has an extra (oddly shaped) blaster tucked in his belt and the kid seems a bit groggy but is happy to see you.

“That him? And a stowaway?”

“The girl is with him, he asked me not to leave her here. Promised good behavior for it, before he passed out.” You can read from the tip of his head and his body language that he's saying see what a nice guy I am? It makes you huff a laugh.

“How’s your field medic training?”

“I was on Hoth, nerfherder. You know it’s fine. I’ve patched your clumsy ass up more than once. What happened? You shoot him?”

“Found him like this,” Din waves at the travois and unlatches it from the pram, letting Grogu float inside. The girl scoffs at him and kneels by the unconscious man. “Well. Mostly.”

“He’s missing an arm and burning up!” you say, prodding the man's body and feeling. You check his pulse where the gasket of his suit meets glove; he’s alive, at least.

“His wound was septic. We’re days from a Core planet. I had to remove it.”

“You used the saber?!”

Mando shrugs. “It cauterized it.”

“Maker, the brashness of men will kill us all,” you grouse under your breath, and stalk into the ship to make a pallet on the floor. “Drag him in!”

Din does, sitting the girl near the ladder with her wrist cuffed to a rung. “Don’t imagine he’s going far, but leave that tracker on in case. If he loses the leg trying to get rid of it, he really won’t get far.”

You snort a laugh, used to Mando’s dry (and vaguely morbid) sense of humor, and get to work. The wound is large but indeed thoroughly cauterized. You clean and coat it in bacta gel and wrap it firmly, setting a hardening casting wrap over it for good measure and binding it to his ribs over the dressings on his chest wound. Finally, you set up a hemopak and dig out a bag of IV fluids and hang them off a racking hook in the hull. By the time you're piercing his vein in his remaining elbow, the man is stirring with a reedy groan and squirming away from your touch.

“Easy, mate,” you say quietly. He blinks awake and focuses on you after a moment. “Stay down or you’ll earn a better scar than this. Assuming you live to scar over,” you bite the end of the med tape in your teeth and tear it, smoothing the end down.

“My word, I was not aware I'd have such… stunning company on my final journey to certain death,” the bounty says, still surely delirious. You hear the leather of Mando’s glove creak as his hand tightens over the hilt of his blaster, and snort at Din more than the comment. The man’s impossibly deep eyes soften at your smile, flicking all over your face and hands as you work on his wounds.

“Easy, pretty boy, you silver-tongued devil,” you lean in and stage whisper. “You gotta wait til the big guy goes upstairs for that kinda chat.” You give him a ribald wink and pull away at the man’s baffled smile, organizing the medkit before looking up at Mando. “You gonna freeze ‘im?”

“I probably should. Him passing out after I cut the arm off was the only silence I think I've had in the last two days.”

You gasp in mock offense. “You’ve been gone less than one day!”

Mando tips his helmet at you as if to say: point.

You roll your eyes and huff. “Dick. If you do, his arm won’t heal right. Assuming he stays alive after the client gets him and it gets a chance to heal.”

“Assuming.”

“Any idea what they have planned?” you ask as you stow the medkit away and start digging out dinner. You can feel May’s dark eyes following you closely, watching your interactions. You're pretty sure he’s delirious from blood loss and pain, but you can't deny he’s a stunning specimen of a man to look at, even half dead and coated in sweat and muck.

“No, no questions asked. He is wanted for slipping on investment debts for prospecting though, so maybe they’ll put him to work til he drops. Although now I can’t imagine he’ll earn much, one handed with a rotten chest. You’ll mind him, then, iisa?”

You sigh the sigh of the deeply put-upon and nod, passing out food around the hold. “Here kid. Eat up.” You hand the girl a ration bar and flask of water, which she tears into greedily, before seeing to Grogu with a cup of rehydrated bone broth. Mando watches you for a moment before retreating up to the cockpit with his own ration bar. You leave him to it so he can take off his helmet.

“Can you sit up?” You kneel and ask the bounty, and he manages to get up to his remaining elbow and lean heavily on the hull while you rehydrate and heat another soup sachet. While it heats, you knock back your own cup and work on padding out his pallet on the floor.

Grogu stands next to the man’s boot and coos curiously at him, pushing you some errant thoughts and feelings. One makes you pause as he focuses on the bounty’s face and weighs it heavily against something guarded from you, limned in shadow even in his mind. You back away from the thread of thoughts, half sure it’s Din’s face for some reason, and go back to the task at hand.

“Here’s this,” you make sure Ezra is propped to a proper sit, back against the wall, before you pass down two painkillers and, once he’s tossed them in his mouth, a flask of water to wash them down.

“Dinnertime.”

The man allows you to tip the metal cup to his mouth and he swallows down the soup, humming at the spreading warmth. “Thank you, gem.”

You huff a laugh at the nickname and instead of retorting to what is surely a slip of the tongue in the man’s inebriated state, you provide your name. You watch his eyes soften as he accepts the gift for what it is.

“Ah. The sun shines on a dead man. My name… is Ezra, and that little bird that got lashed to my sinkin’ ship is called Cee,” he sighs, sipping more of the soup as you tip it into him. He brings his left hand up, curling his fingers very lightly around your wrist.

“My dear. I know I don't have a single bargaining chip to use as the gallows loom near. But. If I can beg something of you? Do not drag that poor girl into my mess. Convince your man to leave her on Coruscant. She can go to school, make somethin’ of herself. She doesn't deserve to see what happens next, or live through it. Or die, if they decide to extend to her the same fate. Cee is innocent in this. All she has done is try to help with my injury and tried to escape this damnable moon.”

You glance at the girl and meet her flat, steady gaze for a long moment. Grogu gurgles, and you glance at him, appreciating the sense of truth he pushes at you. You nod after a long moment of silence between you and the Child, tipping the rest of the soup into Ezra’s mouth. “I’ll talk to Mando. lay back down and rest. Those pain tablets should knock you out soon. I’m sure your rugged good looks can only improve with some beauty sleep,” you wink at him, pulling a chuckle from his chest.

”My word, gemstone. You are a wonder.”

You get up and clean and put everything away and scoop the kid up, checking the binder on the girl and putting one on Ezra’s remaining wrist for good measure, keeping them on opposite ends of the hold.

“You decent?” You call up the ladder, smiling at Mando’s snort and crackly yes as he replaces the helmet. You climb up and set Grogu in his seat, taking the third and meeting the flat expression of the T-visor when Mando turns.

“May begs that we take the girl to Coruscant and leave her at the Academy. He says he stumbled upon her in the Green and killed her father, and took her on as a mutual source for survival before he was injured. Mando.” You lean forward with your elbows on your knees. “If that is true, and the kid says it is- we can’t take her back to Canto Bight. She’ll be traded off as chattel, at best. Kept in a pleasure house more likely. She’s young, hon. We consign a life and get payment, but we save the other? What’s one more stop?”

Mando looks at you for a long moment and glances to the kid, who jabbers at him. “He agrees with me, by the way,” you translate. Mando shakes his head and turns back to the panel, plugging in new coordinates.

“If you want.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*********~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The drop off is significantly more emotional than you or Mando had anticipated.

You had spent the last few days in hyperspace listening to these two pickups talk and talk and talk, about everything and nothing. And now she was wide- eyed and clinging to Ezra’s lone hand, knowing she’d probably never see or speak to him again. She had explained over the days how no one ever talked to her, or how they always put her thoughts and feelings down, so she had learned to be quiet and how to appear thoughtless, even with her mind whirling. But Ezra had always engaged her verbally and probed her thoughts and gave her equalizing jobs to do and met her expectations with his own, rather than treating her like a starry-eyed mooncalf or a burden.

Ezra, on the other hand, didn't seem to give a shit if he was listened to at all - he just couldn't stand silence. It grated on him; so he filled it. He liked conversation and thrived on engagement from the audience; he could never get enough. He absorbed everything Cee had to say and conversated with her amiably or arguably enough. He talked with you when you were in the hold with them, but to be fair the man would talk to a wall if given the opportunity and enough isolation.

Your untrained Force senses are nowhere near as strong as Grogu’s, and you wonder what he is picking up as the girl rushes across the hold to Ezra the second you take off her binder. Mando stands on the ramp with the Child, waiting while Cee lingers and drags out her goodbyes. You can feel the anxiety and stress on her like deadweight.

“I don't want to leave you with them. We can- we’ll pay him off. You can stay with me. We’ll find a place, find some work–”

“As much as I would love to linger, and live long enough to read all the stunning stories you will assuredly write and put out into the universe, I don't think this Mando is the type to be paid off, Cee. And it would require credits we do not have at our disposal. Now go on, girl.” He nudges her away with his forehead, patting the back of her hand on his chest. “Take my chain code- I won’t be needin’ it. Clear out my accounts ‘fore I'm gone, rent you a little place. Go to school. Be a writer. Do everything we talked about. Go on,” he nudges her again with his knee when she doesn't move, her hand tight on his.

“I want one of your comm codes,” Cee says, standing on the top of the ramp, wiping furiously at her damp face and glaring at you and Mando. “You’ll comm me when you're dropping him to your– to whoever’s paying you to do this.”

You glance at Mando and huff at his approving head tilt, offering one of your various recycled comm links. Grogu babbles from Mando’s elbow at her as she leaves the ship, pushing a sad greyness toward you. “I know sprout. She’ll be okay. She’s tough.”

“That she is,” Ezra sighs from the floor, his head not far from your hip. He blinks up at you with one of the sardonic, sad little smiles you’ve come accustomed to in the last few days. You curl your hand into a loose fist to resist the urge to card your fingers through his hair in a consoling gesture.

“Need any shopping done?” Mando calls from the ramp, and you are quick to hand over your growing mental list of parts, soldering strip, replacements for the medkit, food, and water filters. And your favorite snack, if he has time.

“I’m going to find a travel station and run this guy through a wash cycle, he stinks,” you nudge Ezra’s knee with a boot and he gasps in mock offense, making himself cough for it but still grinning. You roll your eyes and start loading a bag. “Bring him back a change of clothes? He’s like… Exactly your size. Maybe a bit leaner. It’s weird.”

Mando hesitates almost imperceptibly before he nods and trods off with the kid tucked in his elbow and the girl, Cee, trailing after him. He intends to take her to the Academy grounds and then head for one of the many markets in the huge city.

You finish packing your bag and grab your coinpurse, intending to return quickly and grab a nap while the boys are gone. Assuming Ezra doesn't talk your ear off. Maybe you’ll dose him up and knock him out after you wash him down.

“Thank you, gem. I am in your debt. For as much good as that does anyone,” the man says, teetering even with his back against the hull where you left him while you gathered supplies.

“It doesn't do anyone any good, considering you're effectively broke and on the way to forfeit your life over your outstanding debts to the wrong people on a gambling planet,” you deadpan, hooking an arm behind his back and pulling him upright. He hisses when the motion pulls on his wounds in his chest, but the bacta patch prevents it from re-opening. “But at least your girl is safe.”

He hums in reply and nods, as somber as you’ve seen him yet.

“Careful. Swing your legs– there you go.” You get him ready to stand and kneel, putting your shoulder under his remaining arm, and get him up to his knees, then his feet in stages. Lots of pulling and grunting and swearing later, Ezra leans against the hull, panting, his short curls stuck to his head under a fresh sheen of sweat.

“Now I have soap and whatnot in my bag, and a change of clothes. Some of Mando’s old loungewear, which will be too baggy on you, but it’ll cover your bits until he comes back with something. I got mouth cleanser and all… deodorant. Can you wash up one-handed?” you ask as you stuff a clean rag into your pouch and flip it closed.

“To be honest, gem. I have not had the pleasure of a water bath since this injury happened,” he shrugs his stump and coughs lightly, still dislodging the dust from his lungs. “And surely not since your boss cut if off. So I do not know. But I'll make the best effort, naturally.”

“I’ll help. The showers are communal, and I trust enough that you understand how to keep that hand to yourself unless you want another appendage missing. Or to end up in carbonite.”

Ezra’s brow locks down in a scowl and he straightens his shoulders. “Of course. I am not in the habit of abusing my position, or women, gem. Despite what you must presume of a bounty, on principle.”

“Mmmmhm,” you hum noncommittally. “Come on,” you drag his arm over your shoulders again and fix your hand around his ribs, and start walking. The tracker on his ankle beeps low and steady, echoing in time with your wristcomm as you leave the ship. You trudge down the ramp and close it, locking the Crest up, and make your way down to the end of the line of docking bays to the traveler service station.

Thankfully the place is none too busy, being midday. There are a family of bluish Ortolan clumped together in one corner and a few straggler smugglers or merchant longhaul cargo pilots keeping to themselves along the rows of showerheads in the wall. There are thin flimsiplast dividers between the showerheads that come up to about chest-height but the back ends are open to the room. You push Ezra into one and help him strip off the flightsuit and his ratty-thin smalls.

“Kriff this suit stinks,” you scrunch up your face and drop the bundle into a nearby sonic clothing compartment to have the dirt and stench of infection and dried sweat buzzed from it. After a brief hesitation, you stuff your own clothes in as well. "How long were you in the green with your injuries?"

“I wandered for a day with my arm injury before I found Cee and her father. And she and I wandered another four before the other bounty hunter found us. And another full day before Mando found us. I do apologize for the smell, at least. Though I imagine you understand why it's so bad, considering your thorough care of me thus far in our odyssey.” Ezra tips his face up into the cool spray while it warms and sighs in relief, deeply appreciating both the pressure and refreshing cleansing after miring in his own stink for weeks. He watches you soap up a rag and drag it up his arm, scrubbing just enough to tingle and really get the dirt and sweat off.

“I do. Arm up,” you tap his elbow with the soapy rag and wash him down clinically, curling your lathered knuckles into the hair under his left armpit and carefully doing the same to the right, avoiding his arm wound, then spreading soap over his face and neck, curling into his scraggly beard and up behind his ears and then down across his too- lean torso. You hand him the rag to scrub over his own half-hard (and unfortunately impressive, you note) genitals before you instruct him to turn under the spray and do the same treatment down his back and legs.

Ezra talks the entire time, endlessly distracted with whatever tall tale crosses his mind and very pleased to have a listening ear to natter into. Right now he's animatedly detailing a yarn about massacring an infestation of channel rats, of all things. If the incessant chatter helps prevent him from getting any more hard under your hands, you're fine with it, you decide with an amused quirk of lips.

Ezra is certainly attractive as hell, but you're not just going to fuck a bounty in a service shower. Part of you can't ignore the abrupt thought that if he’d come up to you in a cantina, you definitely would have dragged him to an inn or ship as soon as you could. He is stupidly cute, with that charming wide, squinty, toothy smile and big, dark brown eyes and that wild tuft of white hair at his temple. Even the tiny, soft roll of his belly had been a surprising delight to find with how malnourished and lean the rest of him was. You definitely enjoy the tenor of his voice, remarkably similar to Mando’s, but unmodulated and thick as syrup with that twangy accent. You interject with little encouraging noises every now and then, spurring him on, even if you're hardly absorbing his story.

Soon enough you're scrubbing the shampoo bar through his hair, scratching your nails firmly into his scalp to get all the sweat and grime out. He practically dissolves under your hands, humming in deep appreciation until you push him back under the stream to rinse. Finally, you peel back the dressing on his missing arm to carefully wash the huge wound cap to prepare for redressing it.

“Stay there and let the water run on your stump for a few minutes, flush it clean. I'm going over here to wash, and then we’ll head back.” You hand him a capful of mouth cleanser and he knocks it back, gargling thoroughly and spitting.

Ezra watches you slip under the flimsiplast divider and turn your own water on. He leans against the wall under the showerhead and lets it flow down his shoulder and off the end of his stump, stinging only slightly as it washes out the scabbing wound and softens it. He has a single passing thought of making a run for it that dissolves down the grate in the floor as quickly as it had been formed; the debilitating combination of injuries and a rotten chest and you have very nearly declawed him. He thinks loosely about the imposing (but hardly unwelcome) image of the Mandalorian, too; tough and hardened but clearly not cruel; quite reasonable and fair, in fact, if his handling of Ezra’s request for Cee is any indication of his character. He even has a child. Ezra shakes his head to clear his swirling thoughts and watches you, keeping his eyes politely on your face even though he's quite tall enough to see all of you over the divider. Nevermind that you were just in here with him, bare and wet while you washed him over. He couldn't help plumping a bit down below due to proximity and general passive interest, but he steadfastly ignores it.

“Are you and our beskar-clad mutual ah- entangled?” He asks, genuinely curious.

You snort and scrub the rag over your body. “I’m not exactly sure Mando is interested in anyone like that. I suspect he had a questionable fling right before he met me in Mos Eisley, some half-feral desert Marshal in the Dune Sea, but I think it left him a little broken-hearted. He hasn't ever acted interested. And he’s my boss, maybe that's why, doesn't want to cross that line.” You shrug. “I mostly mind the kid and do maintenance on the ship and lend a second gun on bigger or tough bounties.”

“And he found you as a mechanic?”

“Yeah, I was working a recovery job for his friend, came in with a rickety heap of a M-111 I'd bartered with some Jawas for and he bought like half the parts off it immediately, had me and Peli knock his own Crest back into shape. And then asked me if I was interested in staying on as a crewmate, and I was, mostly to get off Tatooine. I’d actually first seen him on Nevarro when his covert was there, and he was working as a beroya for the Guild when Karga was running it. I left Nevarro after Karga started shaping it up and the Core started flavoring it too much. And then he found me on Tatooine; rest is history.”

“Beroya?” Ezra tests the word on his tongue and frowns. It's unfamiliar, and he so loves words.

You huff a laugh. “That’s his people’s word for bounty hunter.”

“Hmm. And the little green fella?”

You huff again, eyebrows dancing. “Long story short: Mando’s a bit of a collector, mate. Lost things, loners, the broken and the damned. He tends to save them, sort of despite himself, and then just keeps going, finding others. Gave me a job when I was considering spacing myself off the next public travel barge.... He saved the kid when the Imps wanted to experiment on him. Saved an old merc from a forced labor camp, saved a former drop trooper from her own hand... He flies in to save the day all the damn time. The list goes on.”

“Imps? You're friendly with these folks?”

“Kriff, no. Not intentionally. Way I understood it, the kid was a bounty. Mando couldn't bring himself kill him, so he turned him over warm for a substantial reward, and the guilt ate at him til he broke back in the compound and took the kid back, killed half of Nevarro on the way back out. Been running ever since.”

Ezra’s mouth turns down as he mulls the news over.

“Anyway. Just mind your manners and you won't end up slabbed.”

“I surely will, gem. Being thawed from that process is hell itself; I am unfortunately acquainted with the burning in one’s sinuses for days after. Nothing tastes right for weeks. I'll keep to myself until we must part ways.”

“Good. He doesn't mess around when me or the kid are involved; I'm sure it’s been impressed upon you by now that you’ll end up worse off than this if you even try,” you nod at his stump and shut your water off, ignoring the bounty’s frown.

Ezra watches your form just a little indulgently as you turn away and dry off, appreciating the glide of fine bones under your smooth skin, the soft curves and more toned muscles. He shuts his own water off and starts drying off, managing a patting motion over most of himself, though reaching his legs is giving him trouble.

You dress quickly and come back under the divider to finish his right side, carefully patting the scabbing end of his stump before stepping away for the single set of loose lounge clothes Mando keeps (even though he has never worn them near you).

“Sit and get your feet in,” you instruct, kneeling and holding each leghole open for him to slip his feet in. Ezra sits on the bench and does so, tipping to his left as he balances his weight with his hand planted on the seat.

“I do miss being– symmetrical,” he hisses, carefully maneuvering his stiff right shoulder as you stretch the neck and armhole of a tee shirt over his head and arms.

Despite yourself, you laugh at his complaint. His dark eyes flick up to you and a small smile ticks up one side of his face. “Alright, let's walk back and let this dry a bit, and I'll redress it once it does. Don’t let it touch anything,” you say, spraying the whole raw end of his stump with bacta and wincing at a sharp mental jab of empathic pain when he screws his face up from the sting.

“If you ah- have any of those tablets you have given me since the first day, gem, that would be… Just creamy,” he stammers through gritted teeth, getting back to his feet. “I believe the wash down was simply sinful, but I must admit my wounds are giving me some real grief for it, now.”

“They’re back on the ship. Let me get our clothes out of the sonic and we can go back. I’ll dose you up and feed you, you can sleep it off.”

Ezra nods and watches with his dark eyes as you empty the sonic clothes compartment into your shoulder bag and return, putting everything you brought to rights and shouldering the bag before holding a hand out to drag him upright.

When you make it back to the ship, it's still empty. Din hasn’t commed, so you assume he’s still out shopping, or trying to leave the loquacious and generally nerdy and strange Cee (who has warmed up just enough to be both demanding and overtly chatty) at the Academy. You stifle a laugh at the image of Din trying to deal with her, certain that Ezra won’t appreciate it while he mourns her loss. Even if he is not her father, they were clearly bonded from trauma and circumstance, if nothing else.

When you're safely inside the ship, you leave Ezra at his pallet on the floor and fetch down the painkillers.

“Damn, I only have one tablet left. Let me comm Mando so he can pick up more at the market.” You hand Ezra the tablet and dart up the ladder to do just that, waiting for an affirmative return before you go back down. You jump down the last few rings to find that Ezra has dry swallowed the tablet and managed to flop mostly into his bedding.

“I do appreciate your care of me, gem. Even if I am not meant to live beyond the next few days, you have given me a decent sendoff.”

You hum and start putting things away. “Canto Bight is always moving, and at the moment it's a long way off, so you can estimate it to be more like, eh… nearly a standard week?” You shed your outer layer and start rehydrating a sachet of bone broth for him, already keen on the way he’s listing from the exercise and mounting pain levels. He’ll fall right to sleep after getting a full, warm belly, you’re sure.

“Gemstone, could you be bothered to hand me the satchel I came on this fine vessel with? If you are out of painkillers, I have something to tie me over until our armored friend returns with a more performative narcotic.”

You frown at him and lift the bag, eyeing his outstretched hand. “What does it look like?”

“Kevva, woman. You just showered with me. I am not interested in harming you in the least, not that I imagine I could in my state. But if you insist, it would be a small, thumb-sized, off-white bottle. White lid.” You find it quickly and shake it, hearing tiny caplets plink against the sides. You don't recognize the swirly script the label is written in.

“What are these?”

“They are painkillers from an old field kit from Cee’s father’s drop ship. They are well past expired, but if it’s all I have, I will manage until our reflective leader returns.”

You roll your eyes and shake out a few pills into your palm, offering them. The dosage had long since worn off the label. Ezra takes them all and chews them up before you can snatch any back. “You better not have just OD’d, asshole,” you grit, handing him the cup of broth.

“I know it’s equivalent to asking a mountain to bow down, but do endeavor to trust me just enough to know I would not end my life before my time is due, gem. I said they are expired, I have only taken extra to ensure some semblance of relief for this incredible ache,” he shifts his stiff right shoulder and his whole face screws up with pain, body rigid with it.

“Let me-” you start, and move behind the pillow behind his head and shoulders. He is unconcerned but watches you with those fathomless dark eyes, curious. You lay your hands on either side of his neck and squeeze.

“If Mando shows up, you’re dealing with the fallout,” you say, massaging rhythmically. Ezra clenches his jaw on a sigh and rounds his shoulders out, seeking more.

“Understood, friend. Oh. I am– endlessly grateful.”

You find a tight whorl of muscle quickly, just under the right shoulderblade near his spine. You set to working your thumb into it, coaxing it back into shape, and eventually it releases, along with the tension you feel in his aura. The pained groan Ezra can't quite stifle is positively sinful, which nearly makes you laugh. He turns his head with a sardonic smile at your stifled snort.

“To be honest, gemstone. That spot has pained me more than the wound itself since I was injured. Your friend spared me much of the site pain when he cauterized the wound with his laser- blade. But that muscle, from carrying myself somewhat tilted, has only gotten worse. I find myself in your debt yet again.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just behave til the next port and we’ll call it even.”

“Now I must riposte, my dear. I have behaved quite admirably in your care, have I not?”

You chuckle, nodding. “You have, though you are also healing and no doubt getting an itching fever from being consigned, injured, to the hold of a ship in space with little leg room and now one less ear to babble incessantly into. I’m asking that you continue to behave, then.”

“Incessantly!”

“Ezra, you know full damn well that you could say half as many words in Basic and get your point across! You like the sound of your own voice!”

“Listen here, little bird, I wouldn't natter on so much if you didn't like how similar I sound to your tin man!” He grins quick when he sees you flush, caught.

“You do sound oddly like him. Not as uh-”

“That is a bedroom voice,” Ezra interrupts, breaking into a grin at your blush. “I thought the same thing when he leveled his rifle at me in the Green. He cannot be doing that on purpose all the time. It has to be the vocoder, something not wired right in his bucket.”

You laugh, which makes Ezra smile again, softer this time. “Have you truly never seen him?” you shake your head and his eyebrows lift. “Not even by accident?”

“He’s very careful. It’s important to him, his beliefs. I don't think he's taken it off without knowing I'm gone or dead asleep since he hired me. Maybe even before, with his kid. But I know the kid has seen him.” You wink, wiggling your eyebrows as if sharing juicy details. Ezra huffs a laugh and lays back in his netting.

“How do you know? Do you speak his language?”

“Grogu has the Force. I am Force sensitive, but untrained. He sends me thoughts and feelings now and again, and I translate, to a degree, for Mando. Though the guy’s getting good at understanding the kid’s coos and gurgles and body language by now; I don't have to do much. I know Mando’s name, because of that, but I believe it was an accident, a passing thought- and Mando has never told me it, so I won’t use it. Or share it!” You hold up a finger to stem off the next question just as the man’s mouth opens. He grins quick again, as if mysteriously proud of you for some reason, and you continue.

“Anyway. Grogu will tap his chin now and then, just under the lip of the helmet, and there is sort of a longing around the gesture, but he gets an image in his head- a memory- but he clears it or drops a wall between us before a face can form. I can only assume it's because of me.”

Ezra bites his lips and is quiet for a long moment. “I was going to ask about your powers,” Ezra defends himself, playing up his sulk, but his eyelids are growing heavy. He yawns hugely and you grin. Got him.

“Not much to tell. I’m like more of a– palpable empath than a Jedi. Go to sleep.” With his grumble of assent, you take his empty soup cup back and rinse it before dropping into the bunk across the hold, watching the comm link and waiting for Din to come back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*********~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Din returns to the ship a few hours after he left it, bereft of one child and holding that much more tightly to his own. He remembers well what it feels like (what it felt like) to give his own child away after too- short a time with him, because he thought Grogu going with the Jedi would lead to a better life for him. Grogu had been quiet as a womp rat since they left Cee at the Academy and the complete silence was grating on Din’s nerves.

He had received your comm for painkillers as he was leaving the market, so he doubled back and retrieved what you asked for at the first stall he saw with med supplies. By the time he’s scaling the ramp into the Crest, he’s ready for a meal and a nap before they take off again. The dock fees are paid up for the full day, after all.

He enters to find the bounty snoring hard on his pallet and that you are lightly asleep in Din’s own bunk. He stops and watches you for a long moment until Grogu gurgles excitedly at the sight of you and you stir.

You inhale sharply and roll over at the sound, blinking and sitting up by the time he seals and locks it. Grogu squirms and gets down, toddling off into the hold.

“Nice shopping trip?” You ask, taking some of the supplies and beginning to stow it.

“Not bad. I intend to nap for a bit and then we’ll head out, take him to Canto Bight?” He tips the helmet at the man snoozing on the floor and you nod. “Here’s those painkillers, iisa.”

“Ah, thanks.” You shake one out and dry swallow it, wincing at a pull in your lower back, and pull down the medkit to stow them and start putting everything else away, closing panels and hanging larger items in cargo netting. “Go on and nap, I know you pulled an all-nighter.”

“You can keep the bunk,” Din says, shifting his weight. Grogu yawns in the crook of his arm and droops over it, ready for his own tiny hammock. “Two of those please?”

You snort and grin at him, passing two tablets over. He never takes meds; he must be really going through it. “Yeah, point. I had a nap. Go on, take that bucket off and shut the door, get some rest. I’ll knock at the door when the docking timer goes.”

“Alright,” Din sighs and bumps his shoulder fondly against yours before crawling into the bunk. Just before the door slides shut he hears Ezra stir. You hear him, too, and take the clothes he got for Ezra and lay them in a folded pile on a low shelf near the nest.

“Gem, is our Mando back with those meds?”

“He is. Is your expired experiment not cutting it?”

Ezra huffs a pained laugh and shakes his head. “It is not, I'm afraid. May I pilfer some of those?” He tips his forehead at the bottle in your hand and you come over, shaking one out.

“You already had one, and it's only been half an hour. So you can wait for it to wear off, or you can have one, now. I'm not boxing your kidneys over expired meds and some site pain."

In answer, he reaches up and accepts the single tablet, swallowing it dry. “I am not eager to see how this feels with nothing in my system, gem.” He shifts his right shoulder and winces, hard. “Thank you.”

“Don't have much of a pain tolerance, do you?”

Ezra huffs a laugh and nods dreamily, still mostly asleep despite the chatter. “Never thought much of it before I sustained this injury. It seems I do not.”

There is enough room on the bundle of blankets for two, so you drop to a knee beside Ezra’s hip. “Shove over a bit,” you murmur, tapping his side with your knuckles, and he does, shimmying toward the wall. You glance back at the hatch to Din’s bunk and see it closed, and you can hear the kid already snoring from within.

You slip down and lay on your back beside the bounty, who is laying still but not quite tense. “Forgive me for not trying too hard to avoid you, whatsoever, gem. We did wash up together, after all. and I am a bit of a cuddler, truth be told.”

“Hush, dummy. He hears you, you’re gonna end up in carbonite.”

“Is he so possessive of you?”

You snort at the mental image. “Not how I'd put it. Overprotective, maybe. He has a loyalty streak a parsec wide, not that it ever does him much good. Mando gets his ass kicked on about half the jobs he does.”

Ezra chuffs a soft laugh and straightens on his back, uncomfortable with his unbalanced weight on his side. The move pulls on the still- sealing wound in his sternum and he hisses quietly.

“Just go back to sleep. The alarm will go off in six hours and we’ll leave for Canto Bight.”

“Well, gem. I can't think of a better way to spend my final hours than laying here peacefully with you. Maybe if our shiny friend joined us- sans the shiny, for the sake of comfort- it could be a real party.” Ezra yawns hugely and settles, falling asleep quickly as the fresh tablet hits his bloodstream.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*********~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You stir awake to the sound of the bunk door sliding open, maybe an hour later. “Hmm? Mando?” You whisper and pop your head up, feeling sweaty and wildly overheated in the blanket nest. Ezra has curled against your side on the pallet but he’s not got an arm to drape over you; you're not even touching all that much. The heat can’t be from him. Not all of it.

Weird.

You sit up and see that Din is wriggling out of the bunk silently and very carefully, struggling to avoid disturbing Grogu snoozing hard in his little hammock. He slaps the door controls to shut it as soon as he is out.

“Osik!” Din gasps, falling to a knee. “Ii– iisa.”

You can feel the panic in him even as it's edging into his voice and jump up, rushing the few feet across the hold to him. “Mando! What’s wrong?” you hiss in a whisper.

“So– so hot. What’s- is it hot in here to you?” he shakes his head when you nod, watching the sweat roll down your temple and chin to soak into the collar of your flightsuit. "Okay."

“I am feeling it too, though I do not think it’s the temperature in the hold, Mando,” Ezra grits, struggling up to an elbow. “Did we all ingest something similar? Or were we exposed? Something is perhaps having a – biological response with each of us?”

You wipe at the sweat beading on your brow and try to think, which is easier said than done. Your thoughts are snarled tight and your blood is thrumming under your skin, pooling in your belly and thighs.

“We... Oh! We each took a painkiller. Or two,” you say, turning to Mando, who is on his hands and knees and panting under his helmet. He already seems far worse off than you or Ezra.

“Dank farrik. Soup. And – the tablets.”

“We've been having the same soup sachets for a week. That can't be it. What in Kevva’s name was in those tablets?”

You turn to Ezra and blink slowly. “Let me get them,” you fumble for the medkit and bring it down, digging for the white cylinder tube. “It’s just the usual standard medkit bottle- see? It says– oh. Uh, Mando? Where did you get these?”

Ezra reaches out his hand and you pass the shaker to him. It does look exactly like a standard over- the- counter Core painkiller bottle for a standard field medkit- but apparently recycled by spice runners and handed off by mistake in the busy market. The label reads Spiced Honey in Aurebesh and Huttese, though the script is faded. He squints and reads off the rest.

“‘Pollination Aid for Insectoid, Reptilian, Amphibious, and other cold-blooded sentient beings. Not recommended for mammalian biologies. For consenting adult use only; do not take more than one tablet in a standard cycle day. Common side effects in warm- blooded mammalian biologies include heightened basal temperature, undue sweating, erections lasting longer than four hours, hypersensitivity, amorous behavior, increased self-lubrication, and full loss of inhibition in varying degrees of strength. Do not combine with other intoxicants’. Well. We’re fucked, perhaps quite literally,” Ezra drops the shaker into the nest of blankets and curses under his breath, glancing at Mando mindlessly kicking off his boots and then to you.

“Gem, I know you have taken one as well, but I highly recommend you freeze me and lock yourself in the cockpit or the bunk before Mando loses his grip. He took two. And even with one arm and in a good bit of pain I find myself unlikely to hold back if this settles in further. I have no desire to harm you, especially against your will. I don't imagine he does either, but we may not be in control much longer.”

Your eyes are hazy, glassy, breath catching in your chest as you frown, deciphering Ezra’s words while the rest of your vision blurs. Your body heat feels doubled- tripled with both of the men’s suffering assaulting your heightened Force senses. Din is already sloughing his gambeson and flightsuit, leaving the armor attached to the connection points at shoulders and thighs, his breathing labored. Soon he is down to his compression bottoms and a ratty-soft liner shirt and the helmet, the neck stretched wide. You stare at his flushed bronze skin and the beginning of a thatch of chest hair peeking out of the neckline and lick your dry lips, abruptly very eager for a taste of the salt of him.

Both of them.

“Iisa, please. I don’t– what the fuck,” Din groans desperately, dropping his helmeted forehead to the durasteel floor. He’s got both arms crossed around his stomach, heaving deep breaths as if all the air being circulated by the scrubber is not enough.

“Mando, I suggest you come over here and slake that particular thirst with me, unless your partner is willing. You can take me if you like; I must admit the desire is mutual, and I do not mind being the passive party, especially considering neither my balance nor dexterity is what it once was.”

Din is already crawling across the space to the pallet, gripping Ezra’s ankle and tugging desperately until the other man is dragged to the edge of the nest of blankets. He mantles over Ezra and pauses, tips the helmet back and up to face you, still kneeling nearby. “Go up and lock yourself in the cockpit, or join us, cyar. I can't guarantee you won’t be– touched if you stay- my control is– slipping.”

“I want to stay. I want to watch you. I want to- touch you. Both,” you add, your hands shaking as you run them thoughtlessly over your body. Your nerves light up at every press, even over your clothes. Suddenly it’s far too hot and, like Mando, you start tearing at your flight suit and smalls.

You cup your tits and warmth pools low in your belly, rising to a rolling boil as you watch Din whine low and demanding as he drags Ezra’s bottoms off, too impatient to shuck the man’s boots so his loose pants get caught. They have a quick struggle which ends in the bounty with one boot off and leg freed, and his pants twisted around the other ankle. With a frustrated growl, Mando shoves Ezra's shirt up to his armpits. May wriggles the top off, tugging one-handedly at Mando’s liner shirt until he drops his head forward and the stretched neckline slides easily over the helmet. He throws the garment to the side and takes one of Mando’s hands, bringing it up to his face.

“Yes. Get them wet,” he demands. Din drives three fingers past Ezra’s loquacious lips to wet them on his tongue. He draws them back a moment later, thoroughly soaked, to wrap a slicked fist around both their cocks. Ezra’s head falls back to the bedding with a thunk, a strangled groan squeezing out of him.

The bounty’s single hand can’t stay still, he roves it over his own chest down to where his legs are spread around Mando’s thickly muscled hips and then up, catching on a peaked brown smudge of nipple. He pinches it with a twist and grins quick at the rough sound it earns. Din growls at the tease and ruts his hips forward, gripping a bit tighter if the noise that punches out of them both is any indication.

Din wants very badly to rub his bare face against the man’s chest- your chest- any skin. It feels like every instinct he has is to bury his face in skin. It is incredibly frustrating to be unable to, but he has just enough coherence to keep his helmet on, for now. He hopes idly that you’ll have the wherewithal to slap the lights off if he tries to remove his helmet. He drops his forehead to Ezra’s sternum, avoiding the weal of pink scar tissue that has healed up nicely under the bacta patch, and whines low and plaintive. The drag of his fist and wet and heat on his cock is not enough.

“I don't know if I have slick,” he grits out, lifting the visor to face the bounty below him. Ezra blinks slow at him, frowning slightly before it clicks.

“I may have some in my satchel. Gem, where did you set it?” He turns to face you, legs snapping shut around Din’s hips as the Mandalorian squeezes them tighter and ruts harder.

You whimper, a hand in your smalls and flightsuit shucked to your waist. Both men snap their attention to you at the sound and slow in their rutting. Din reaches his other hand out and makes grabby hands at you, seemingly past the capability of words.

“Gem, get the slick, then take off that suit and come sit on my face,” Ezra growls, rutting up against Din anew until the man plants a fist by his head and drives down, deeper and harder.

"Maker, yes, iisa. Do that," Din says.

You dump Ezra's bag on the floor and find the vial easily enough. You then squirm the rest of the way out of your suit and crawl over, eager and desperate for the press of skin on yours. Your own skin feels too tight, flushed and overheated.

“I want to–” you start, gasping when you reach them and Din pushes your face down to Ezra’s lips, coaxing you both into a desperate kiss that is mostly tongue and teeth and not much skill. Ezra clings to you with his hand, his belly flexing with the force of Mando's jarring thrusts from below.

“Come here, precious thing. Bring your leg over. There you go. Come down to me- I can’t quite–” he drags your hips down with a yank and your mound crashes into his mouth. The vial of slick skitters off toward the shelves, unneeded for now.

He growls into you, the vibration lighting up your entire body and you throw your head back, nails sliding on his chest, narrowly avoiding the bacta patch at the base of his sternum. You're kneeling over Ezra's head, facing Mando, struggling to keep your knees planted under the assault that is Ezra laving broad strokes through your folds and sucking on your clit in turns. His arm is an iron band just above your ass, keeping you planted on him. His nails are pressed into your opposite hip, a tiny bite of pain to accentuate all the swirling pleasure. Sweat beads on your skin, blood thrumming with need and lust and desire.

Ezra's tongue winds you up tighter and tighter, his hand alternately squeezing your cheek roughly before drifting round to cup and knead your breast. He thumbs your peak before he slides across to the other with a low hum of satisfaction into your core. You push your chest into his palm and, when he brings his hand back to pull you back down to his mouth, you tip forward and curl your tongue around the perfectly twinned tips of their cocks peeking out of Din’s fist. Din makes a choked noise and pushes his own cockhead at your lips, throwing his head back when you suckle them both at the same time. As a reward, Ezra flattens his tongue against you and encourages your hips to start grinding on his face.

“Bring yourself to completion on my tongue, gem. I want to drink from your fountain before our friend truly loses himself. I believe watching you come on my face will be the tipping point.”

You do exactly as you are told, planting both hands on Ezra’s chest and riding his face until you shatter. As you shiver through the come down, you abruptly want them both, desperately. You wildly consider fitting them both inside, somehow. But before the thought accumulates steam, Din is wracked with a wave of lust a good deal stronger than you or Ezra are feeling. He did take two tablets, after all.

Din makes a low, desperate sound and reaches for you. “Cyar. Please, can I?”

“Din. Please, yes. Come, come here,” you slip and use his name, but he barely notices, only enough to tip his head briefly in confusion as you drag him away from wedging between Ezra’s thighs and urge him behind you. “Give me your cock. I need it! I feel so empty,” you complain, grinding back against him when he kneels behind you, over Ezra’s crown.

“Mando, let me get you good and wet for our gem. Put that in my mouth before you spear into them,” he laves over you once more and tips his head back, catching the head of Din’s cock as it throbs downward, making the Mandalorian shudder at the sudden warmth and wet.

“Ours?” Din murmurs distractedly before it dissolves into a heady groan at whatever Ezra does with his tongue. He thrusts forward into the man’s throat and Ezra soaks his cock, thick spit clinging to the tip as Din pulls away and notches the head at your weeping entrance. "Iisa. Ours."

You bend forward and drop your mouth over Ezra’s turgid length just as Din pushes inside you to the hilt, his fat cock stretching you beautifully. You both groan at the stretch and tight squeeze, respectively. Din pushes his forehead into the dip between your shoulder blades and grinds his hips forward, staying sheathed deep.

“Oh! Oh, gem, my dear, your mouth– please!” Ezra paws at you desperately when you lift off to gasp, but you take him back in eagerly when he tugs on your shoulder. His stomach tenses to hardness when he lifts his head up, lapping at your apex while the rest of you is stretched tight around Din’s girth. His tongue traces where you are joined and Din makes a low sound that is barely human. Ezra’s hand can’t be still- he roams it over you and Din each, finally squeezing the Mandalorian’s muscular ass and encouraging him to thrust a bit more energetically, which drags your clit over the bounty’s tongue with each push.

“Oh, fffffuck,” Mando grits when you clench around him at Ezra’s additional stimulation, milking his cock with a rhythmic squeeze. He pulls out slowly, snapping his hips back in and pounding against that deep spot, high up by your cervix. It makes your eyes roll back, your jaw slack around Ezra's girth as you suck in a breath, and you feel the abrupt urge to pee and clench that much tighter, which just makes Din do it again.

Ezra’s tongue drags upward down Mando’s shaft and over his tightening balls, sucking one fuzzed globe into his mouth before Din pulls back and repeats the thrust, tilting this time to hammer repeatedly into that same spot. Ezra’s hand slides from around your hips to your belly, pressing up between your hipbones with the backs of his knuckles, pushing your deepest spot down until you're sure to shower him with your cum if Din keeps up the punishing strokes. He returns to sucking your clit, kneading the bud carefully between his tongue and teeth.

“Boss, I do believe our gem deserves to be filled with your seed. Pump this gorgeous pussy full, so I can clean it up,” he demands, urging Din on. His thrusts become more brutal, his hands gripping your hips turning to a bruising strength, and you love it.

“Yes- yes, Mando! Fill me up. I need your cum,” you gasp, thrusting your hips back on him. He growls beneath the helmet, the sound coming out flat and that much more grating for it.

You can feel your orgasm building low and insistent in your belly, the swelling heat and pressure of it blooming outward into every extremity. Ezra flattens his tongue against your clit, giving you something to grind against when Din knocks your hips forward. You suck weakly at the cock in your mouth, using your hand to move over what you can’t manage in the moment, more applying tongue and wetness and heat than anything akin to actual talent but Ezra seems to be loving it. His hand presses up on your belly again just when Din nails you deep and holds your head down on Ezra’s dick, and you– break.

Your cunt grips tight around where Din is buried deep, all the way to the hilt, grinding in firmly and giving you something substantial to milk. A gush of your juices flows into Ezra’s mouth as you choke on his cock, your whole body clenching and releasing in a full-body orgasm that steals the last wisps of your breath.

With a chest-deep groan, Din’s head falls forward again with an unforgiving thump of helmet against your shoulder. He grinds deep, coming with a ragged gasp as your insides milk an orgasm out of him that seems to last forever. He absolutely floods your channel, his movements making it gush out with every thrust and grind.

Ezra pops his hips upward, sucking greedily on your soaked folds, lapping your combined come, and dragging his tongue hungrily up the hard rib on the underside Din’s cock. Gasping and still rock hard, the Mandalorian pulls out of you and buries his soaked and still- hard length between Ezra's lips instead.

When he pulls out, Ezra picks up a low chant, murmuring depraved things about the taste of your perfect pussy, the salt of Mando’s come, your heat and wetness and deliciously slick insides. He buries his tongue in your channel, sucking more come out. The bounty thrusts up into your throat once- twice, and Din finally lets you pull away enough to breathe just as Ezra floods your mouth.

“Ffffuck,” Ezra cries out, turning his face into your thigh as he shakes through his orgasm, clinging to your body collapsed onto his. “It has- oh! Been a long time since I received such attentions, gem- forgive my abrupt– fffffff! Finish!”

You barely have time to swallow before Mando is already dragging at your hips again, rutting up along the cleft between your cheeks despite your still-pulsing cunt. He’s still rock hard and stifling a petulant groan. You pull away and he whines but lets go, only to turn his demanding hands on Ezra.

“Let a man breathe, Mando,” the man gripes, swatting uselessly at the hands grabbing him.

“I’m sorry. It’s– maybe you should freeze me,” Mando says to you, and you scoff.

“Not a chance,” you pant, and flop to the side off of Ezra’s chest.

He keeps his hand braced on Din’s ribs, asking for a moment to recover. “Would an intercrural rut suffice while I catch my breath, tin man?”

Din simply growls at the nickname and crawls back down over the other man, rolling them to their left sides and spooning up behind him. You watch, enraptured and overheated, noting with curiosity how very similar their bodies are. The mushroomed tip of Mando’s unceasing erection peeks in and out of the clench of Ezra’s thighs, made slippery by the slick you left on Mando’s cock. Din’s fingers claw at Ezra's chest and belly, holding him almost too-tightly. You feel the ghost of that grip on your hips and groan, feeling yourself leak afresh at the memory.

“Iisa, please. Are you alright? Did we–?” Din presses his forehead against the knot of Ezra’s right shoulderblade, growling at his loss of words. He can’t focus. Luckily, you and Ezra are more clear minded, if no less under the influence of extreme arousal.

“I’m fine, Mando. Just need a breather. Not everyone has highly- trained stamina and endurance,” you chuckle, rolling back toward the men. Ezra lays on his left side, hooking his ankles together to tighten the squeeze. Mando seems to appreciate it; his hips stutter forward sharply.

“I can’t- I don't think I can come like this. It’s not enough. I need– inside something. Friction isn't– enough,” he grits out, hands wandering down Ezra’s torso to drag his top leg back and up over his hip.

“Easy, boss. You can't go jammin’ that weapon in there without some prep, and something to ease the way. How about you come up here and abuse my mouth again, and we’ll see to the other, after, if you are still in need? Our gem and I seem to be faring better with the foggy mind. Perhaps another orgasm or two will help you?”

You prop against the adjacent wall of the hull and watch in abject fascination and want as Din crawls over Ezra, shoves him to his back, plants his knees in the man’s armpits, and feeds him his cock.

“Maker,” you sigh, a hand drifting thoughtlessly to cup your throbbing cunt. The tease of the touch is enough to make your legs shiver shut around your hand.

Ezra, for his part, takes Mando’s cock down his throat skillfully and a little greedily. He talks - filthy things- when Din slides out too far. It makes Mando growl and thrust deeper when he goes back in, which makes Ezra grin around his girth like he's won something.

“What I wouldn't give to set my mouth on every inch of you, you gorgeous thing,” he says before being choked on the fat tip nudging past his tonsils. You watch as the bounty simply rolls his head side to side to make it fit better, even deeper. Mando whines and shakes his head, already desperate for a kiss and struggling to recall why his damned helmet is still on. “I bet you are pretty, aren’t you?” Ezra drags his hand up Din’s torso, thumbing his nipples, tweaking one meanly.

“Tight body, pretty cock- why wouldn't your face match? It’s quite a sin and sacrifice to keep that mouth all to yourself, don't you think? Though at least you are willing to share this,” he tongues the throbbing head of Din’s prick bobbing against his lips, sucking the head methodically, working the tip of his tongue into the slit and grinning with Mando whines and shivers at the focused stimulation.

“Iisa,” he pants, gripping Ezra's wrist as his hand slides down his belly. He pins the man’s arm to the floor above May's head and thrusts deep and slow a few times, relishing how deeply Ezra takes it in his throat without struggle, though tears are brimming in the corners of his eyes. Din catches his breath when he slides all the way out and holds himself there, balances on his knees and one fist, the other hand still pinning Ezra's.

Your eyes are locked on the way Ezra breathes like a fighting bull up at him, nostrils flared, brow furrowed, fingers curled around the back of Din’s hand, jaw stretched wide around his girth. Your own fingers are absently strumming your seam, gently stimulating yourself back toward desperation. Din calls your name and your eyes flick up to meet the impassive visor, in stark contrast from the rest of his body language, broadcasting his need.

“The lights,” Mando prompts, and your breath punches out of your chest. He's going to take it off.

Belatedly, you reach up and slap the lights off. The only glow is from various controls dotted around panels in the hull, red and blue and a dim, grimy white that gives off the impression of shadows only- no details in the bleached space, only black form over an indistinct background. You hear the helmet grate across the floor and the wet sound of a mouth on something before Ezra (you think- they sound so similar) groans low and needy.

You crawl back to the pallet and find the men where they were, only now Din is bent double and plundering Ezra’s mouth with his tongue instead of his cock.

“Boss, I strongly– urge you to give our gem the gift of your mouth while you can. Let me attend to the fires down below,” he pants between kisses. You reach out to card your fingers through his hair and can feel that Din still has him fully pinned. In the next breath, Mando has you swept up to his chest with both arms around your back and he licks into your mouth, groaning into you as Ezra swallows him again, a pioneering finger tracing over his hole from behind.

“Cyar,” Din breathes against your lips. “Sit on his dick, while I fuck his mouth.” He grins against your lips when Ezra groans in disbelief beneath him and you scramble to obey, giddy off the high of feeling Din smile against your mouth, rather than hearing it through the vocoder. Din dismounts Ezra’s chest and turns, pinning his arm again, under a shin this time, and feeding the bounty his balls while he strokes himself. He hears you slick Ezra with your cunt by sandwiching it between your seam and his belly and rutting along the length before you position yourself over him.

You grip Ezra in your hand and can already tell the difference, even in the dark. Ezra’s cock is a bit leaner than Din's, though they are remarkably similar in both look and form. Each the full length from your fingertips to the heel of your palm, both uncut and a ruddy brownish-pink and flushed at the tip, framed with a thatch of tidy, dark curls and nicely bundled balls. Mando was perhaps a bit girthier, but then so was he compared to Ezra’s malnourished and ill frame.

When you line up and drag your dripping cunt over his length, you can feel Ezra’s whole body vibrate with a groan that is echoed when Din pulls back. He feeds Ezra his cock just as you sink down on the man’s length, ripping a desperate sound from his throat which vibrates around Mando’s root. Din can feel the forearm pinned under him scrabbling for something to hold onto. He adjusts and drags the hand up, holding it against his own chest as he tips his hips down. You grind forward, settling Ezra deep inside you.

“Come here, iisa. Give me your mouth,” you gasp at the softness of Din’s voice, unmodulated and hopelessly endearing. Your mouth meets his, cautious but desperate. He encourages you to o0en your lips, so he can tease your tongue with his own. It's not skilled, of course- how could he be? But the kiss goes from exploratory to hungry in seconds. Din licks into you, a low growl rumbling in his chest as Ezra swallows around him. He works his hand from Din’s grasp and grips your hip, rutting up into you and sucking desperately at the length on his tongue.

“Make him come,” Din demands, breathy and demanding, and you nearly swoon. Your core tightens impossibly when Ezra thumbs your clit, winding tighter until it snaps and your stomach unspools in clenching and releasing spasms. Your limbs feel heavy, legs no longer wanting to work as you try to lift and drop again. Under your hands, Ezra's belly is taut with tension, his hips working against your weight for a few more thrusts to meet his own end now that you have been sated.

Ezra clamps a hand on your hip and whines around Din, the onslaught of sensation almost too much before he simply- snaps. You feel him pulse and spill inside you, painting your insides that are already slick from Din’s come moments before, and you drop your weight, seating him deep, overwhelmed and incredibly tired. Mando is not anywhere near finished, though. The thought occurs that he might fuck you both unconscious before his stamina and the spice wears off.

“Kriff,” you groan, sliding forward off Ezra’s cock, your gushing-slick passage leaking all over his soft, lean belly. The man sucks harder at the length in his mouth and Din moans- the sound heady and desperate without the flattening of the vocoder- and spills on his tongue.

“Oh kriff is– is right, iisa.” Din flops bonelessly to the side, facing up but with his head by Ezra’s hip. You are still straddling Ezra's waist, but you list to the side as Din tugs you down between them

“You know my name,” he says quietly, brushing the hair off your sweaty face with soft, callused fingertips. You snort and duck your head.

“Yeah, ah- I think the kid thought it by accident once when our connection was open. I think it was an accident anyway. He makes sure I can't see your face in his memories, but that one slipped through, I guess.”

“I don't mind.” He pushes your foreheads together and you sigh, relaxing.

Ezra simply lays there and enjoys the afterglow, his face buoyed on your chest. The worst of the spice is out of your and his system, and the pain is creeping back into the wound and the knot of his shoulder. He speaks up:

“How are you faring, boss? Has the spice run its course through you, or are you still in the throes?”

Mando hesitates for a moment. “I am still painfully hard, though not as– inebriated as I was. I can- maybe make do,” he starts to pull away but you and Ezra tug at him.

“I said you could fuck me and I meant it,” Ezra chuckles, and the wind punches out of Din’s chest.

“I– yes. Please,” he asks.

“Well then. Did we find that slick, gem?” Ezra is already levering up to his elbow, letting Din paw at his hips til they are both on their knees. You pat around the floor, corner to corner, in search of the slick in the dark.

“Can you balance like this?” Mando checks in, pushing the bounty forward. He holds Ezra ‘round the ribs and supports his weight with ease, showing his strength. Ezra drops to his forearm with a grunt and wriggles, testing his weight and balance, before nodding.

“Yes. Just go slow, to start. I’m neither as turgid nor as numb to oversensitivity as you at the moment, boss. And I have already come twice under your and your partner’s skilled attentions, which I have not done in one sitting in a terribly long time.”

You crawl forward and pass off the vial of slick, accepting a searching, heated kiss as Din cups your face and drags you closer on your knees. “Lay under him, iisa. Meshurok,” he teases, calling you as Ezra does, in his own tongue. “Let him bury his face in these,” his hands drop and cup your breasts, kneading playfully. You huff and press another kiss to Din’s precious mouth before ducking to do as he says.

“Well hello there, gem. I can’t see you, of course, but I can tell by the firming of this beautiful cheek against mine you are feeling quite ebullient.” Ezra nuzzles your face, tucking his nose under your ear, and gasps at something Mando does from behind. You feel his hips lift and push back, and a low groan pushes out of him into the soft skin of your throat.

“Come here,” you say, gripping his sweat-damp hair and turning his face up to your own for a sweet kiss. “I’ll hold you- just relax, pretty boy,” you coo, carding your hand through his sweaty hair. You tug at the blonde patch until he exhales hard and melts against your whole front.

“I don't think that particular label has ever been granted to my generally- undesirable person,” Ezra mumbles, gasping quietly again when Mando adds a second finger. "But I can't deny I do enjoy it coming from-- you."

“You must not have met many folk with eyes, then,” Mando quips, scissoring his fingers before Ezra can retort, though the one-two combo punches a breathy laugh out of him. Even if Ezra looks an uncanny amount like Mando, himself, he can compliment the man without it feeling too much like narcissism. For as much as they look alike, they are quite different.

“I agree,” you murmur into Ezra's soft hairline. The gentleness of you both gets to him, quicker than anything else has. Gets under his skin and into his heart.

“That I can – Oh! Oh shit, oh shit-” he pants, rocking back on Mando’s fingers now, hardening against your thigh, despite feeling like he couldn't possibly. He ducks his head to your breasts, nuzzling and then slipping his mouth over the soft swell of one, panting at what Mando’s doing from behind, gripping at you while trying to balance his weight. You push your chest up into his face, encouraging him to change to the other breast, sucking your nipple into the heat of his mouth. You arch into the stimulation and can’t help but tighten your knees around his ribs.

Din feels animalistic. As bad as any time he's been separated from the kid in a battle, but different. He wants to rut, fuck, come, mark– rub his scent and grip bruises into flesh. He ruts his painfully hard cock against a spare curve of flank and curves his hand upside down, his palm at the top of Ezra’s cleft and fingers still curled inside, draping his weight all along the man’s spine. He nuzzles his nose and mouth against the back of Ezra's head, into his dark, short curls. The man smells like your soap and antiperspirant, and the flame of desire in Din’s chest blows wide into a bonfire of pure lust. He rubs his face all over the back of Ezra’s neck and shoulders, reaching under him for you, palming a breast, stretching forward and sandwiching the man between you for a kiss.

“Mando,” you sigh, scritching at the scruff under his chin. You unerringly find the sparse spot on the left side and press a kiss to it. Ezra growls a little between you, feeling somewhat neglected, and turns his head into the right side, finding the matching spot there and dropping a wet smear of a kiss on it.

Din presses back up to his knees and withdraws his fingers, pushes back in with three, bares his teeth at the stretch around his knuckles. Ezra makes a desperate sound and ruts back on him, his voice muffled by burying his face back in your chest.

“I could expire here and now, and consider myself surprisingly lucky, even imprisoned as a bounty and missing my dominant arm. Between you two is heaven itself. Mando,” he cries out at the firm curl of fingertips over his prostate. “Get in me or do that harder, you are driving me to distraction, gentle-man-!” He demands, only to be cut off with a wheeze as Din fixes his slicked cockhead at Ezra’s softened entrance and pushes just inside.

Slowly, inexorably, Din presses onward until his hips are flush with Ezra's rump, all of him inside and suddenly wildly overheated. He waits, still, until Ezra tips his hips up in invitation before moving back and then returning with a much more sharp thrust.

“Oh– stars, just like that,” Ezra chokes, nuzzling into your breasts again, licking slow over one curve to find the tip and latch on. He can’t keep his balance and paw at you or reach for his cock, but he enjoys the assault of sensations for now. Mando is so deep inside, stretching him nearly to the point of burn but not quite. Despite the spice clouding his frontal lobe, Din did a good job stretching him to ease the way. Each pass over his prostate causes a jolt of nerves that light up his whole belly and down his legs. His shoulder pain is long forgotten. There is only your soft skin beneath him and Mando’s hardness inside him and raw strength behind him.

Mando sets a firm, rhythmic pace that has his hips slapping hard into Ezra’s spare ass as he drives forward, but he knows Ezra is not getting the stimulation he needs. It takes several minutes to convince himself, what with the drugs in his veins telling him otherwise. Eventually Din slows to a halt and pulls out. He chuckles at the disgruntled noise from above and flops to his back.

“Come here, May,” he grabs a lean thigh and hauls the man over in a show of strength, nearly dumping Ezra onto his face before he can steady himself.

“Kevva waits, you could have just said come ride me instead of yankin', boss! I can barely fuckin’ balance as it is.” Ezra grouses. He gets his knees under himself and adjusts his weight, surprised to find plenty of room for movement under his thighs with how broad Mando appears in all his armor.

“Sit,” Din demands, pulling on the man’s hips. Ezra quirks a grin in the dark and resists, planting a hand square on Din's heaving chest.

“Gem, you hear that? He’s losing those pretty manners of his,” Ezra huffs a delighted laugh when Din growls a please at him. He reaches behind himself, clumsy with his off hand, and lines that fat cock back up along his well-slicked crease.

“Yes, please,” Mando groans and his hips jolt upward as Ezra slides down his length, impaling himself in a smooth glide.

“Mando, this magnificent- turgid- specimen could cure ailments, I swear to the Maker. Every- spot- stimulated so perfectly. Oh!” Ezra pants as he grinds forward and back experimentally, his belly jumping under Din’s hand at the consistent torment on his swollen gland. Din fists his cock and Ezra growls: “Gem come here, gorgeous gemstone. Come here and join us.”

You have been watching their shadows move together since they rolled and adjusted, cupping between your legs where the flesh is hot and swollen, wet with the dregs of the spice in your system. You roll to your side and then up to your knees, dipping over Din’s face for a thorough kiss before following his hands, letting him push your face up to Ezra’s. The bounty cups his hand around the back or your neck and hauls you up, his hips rolling insistently against the length he's impaled on.

“Kiss me, sweet thing. I need– nngh!” Ezra shivers around a particularly brutal thrust against his prostate and kisses you like you’re his last meal. You're both growing tired, the spice waning from your systems, but the buzz for one more orgasm is just there under your skin. You let him lick into you, taking over with your own hand where he is fucking forward into his fist and then back against Mando.

“Yes, your hand- so soft- thank you, gem!” He plants his palm on Din’s heaving chest again for balance and works the cock in his ass, lifting and dropping, grinding and rutting. Mando makes some truly impressive sounds before pawing at you.

“Come here, iisa. Turn. Across- now sit. Now fuck him,” he hooks his thumbs around your hip bones and pushes you down, facing him and straddling his belly, in front of Ezra. He grabs Ezra's cock and guides it into you, making you both gasp.

“Oh– Kevva! I will not last in this state, Mando! Gem- your pussy is as perfect a fit as I could hope for. So wet- warm! Ngh!” Ezra, bless him, reaches forward and strums your clit messily with three fingers, working you up where you are already dripping and panting between them.

Mando grips your hips, wishing he could see, but he will take the trade gladly if tasting you both- kissing, licking, sucking- is in the cards. He realizes belatedly that he has not got his mouth on either of you yet. If you all survive this round and don’t tap out, he decides he will.

You howl as you come hard on Ezra's cock, collapsing forward into Din while you catch your breath behind his palm (he’s clapped it across your mouth to avoid you waking the kid). He scoops you close and pins you to him with his arms wrapped around your back, sucking your lower lip between his teeth, holding you still for Ezra to fuck into and ride Mando’s cock until they both explode.

“Oh shit- oh shit, oh shit ohshitohshit–” Ezra grits his teeth and his ass clamps down, sitting down as hard as he can on Din’s hips to get him deep, milk his balls empty while Ezra paints the swollen, hot edges of your cunt with the last weak dregs of his come. The last of the spice fizzles out and the ache bleeds back in with nothing to stymie it.

You each fall to a side of Din, starfished in the floor and chests heaving. Every bit of each of you is wet and sticky and exhausted. Din whines in the dark, a small movement catching in the dim glow of the lit buttons.

“I’m still fucking hard,” he complains, sounding more offended than anything. “Dank farrik. This is ridiculous!"

You can't help but laugh at the complaint. You pop your head up, confused by Ezra's silence. Is he asleep? You suppose it’s not entirely out of the question; you feel awfully close to sleep yourself. But then he speaks:

“Boss, I am not sure either of us has the stamina to go again, but if you can be patient a short while, I believe I can manage for you to use me to find your end, if nothing else.”

He hums in contentment when Mando glides a hand up his belly and chest, scritching fondly in the scruff under his chin. Din catches himself being so casual and forward and curses internally, forcing his hand to drop. He must really be out of it. Not only fucking a bounty but dragging you into it just because he didn't actually look at the bottle of meds he'd bought. The self- doubt creeps in, lingering like a thick cold slab on his chest until you curl a leg between his own and slide your whole front against his left side.

“Ezra. Get over here.” You grouse sleepily, reaching across to curl your fingers around his wrist, laying on his own chest, and pull at him til he rolls to his side and snuggles in close.

Your warmth and gentleness dissolves that slab on Din's chest as thoroughly as the kid does. He's come to rely on it, which feels dangerous.

Soon, Din notices that you have stopped moving and your breathing has evened out. He huffs quietly in vague amusement, warring with the concern he feels over the perpetual throbbing in his cock. The mental fog has dissipated, but he’s still horny as fuck and rock hard to prove it.

“Does the sonic on this vessel fit two?” Ezra stirs and interrupts his thoughts. Din blinks and turns his head to the other man, running a hand possessively down his side. His skin is starting to crawl again with heat and need, already. He feels like it will never be out of his system. "Not really."

“Nested together as we will no doubt be, we could probably manage. Your partner took such thorough care of me at the service station, and I hate for those efforts to remain reversed due to these -- sticky circumstances. A clean- up would not go amiss. I can feel your seed leakin’ outta my ass already, though you are assuredly about to plant more.”

“Shut up,” Din grouses, rolling them, making Ezra snort. He lays on Ezra, belly to belly and knees on either side of the man’s narrow hips. He leans heavy over the bounty and mouths over his collarbones, pressing his teeth into the knotted muscle of Ezra’s damaged shoulder. “Can I have you again?” he asks into the other man’s mouth, breathy and heated.

“Ah, you found your tongue and your manners again, Mando.” He chuckles with Din bites down on his lip with a growl. “Yes, and let it drain the last of this accursed spice from your system. You have spilled so much under its spell. I don’t think I can manage to come again, but you are welcome to try. At least until the oversensitivity assails me.”

Rather than responding, Din licks into his mouth, opening his jaw wide with a thumb pressed to his chin. The kiss is heated and exploratory, stealing Ezra’s breath away handily. He wriggles under the weight of the Mandalorian, worming his hand between them to grasp the man’s cock and give him a firm circle to thrust into.

Abruptly, Din grips Ezra by the elbow and hauls him over to his belly, caging the man with his own forearm braced on the ground beneath Ezra’s good shoulder, his stump against the ground and his face and upper chest mashed into the blankets. He is thoroughly pinned, especially once Mando plants his huge palm on the side of Ezra’s head, fingers tangling in his hair to keep his face pinned to the side. If he even possibly could at this stage, Ezra wagers he’d be a hair’s breadth from coming again.

Din spits on his fingers and wipes the wetness over the head of his dick, smears it across Ezra’s hole, and presses in. Ezra whines but grits his teeth, knowing that if he can get over the first painful rush of frayed nerves, it will turn sweet again. Thankfully, Mando is tiring out after four rounds in what must have been scarcely more than an hour or so. The prospector feels the first twinge of something good, low in his belly, and tips his hips up against Mando's snapping thrusts. His cock hangs heavy and not quite half-hard, thoroughly spent between his thighs. Din has a fistful of hair in one hand and a death grip on Ezra's hip with the other, keeping him pinned with his only arm rendered useless. All he can do is take it, and that unlocked a particular kink the bounty had been secreting away for a long while.

Too soon, Ezra gasps and his hips turn down with a sharp pain. “Too much,” he chokes, and thankfully Din has the wherewithal to withdraw gently and let him go. Ezra pants into the bedding, spooling back out from how tightly he’d clamped up from the rush of pain. “Apologies,” he says, and accepts the pat to the back of his thigh with only a little chagrin.

“Stop apologizing.”

At Ezra's sharp complaint, you had stirred with a deep breath, stretching on the pallet beside them. “Oh,” you sigh, enjoying the shapes of them moving against one another in the dark. “Mando, Ezra is too sore. Come here,” you yawn, scooting closer to them. You see Din pause, pulling away from the bounty and reaching for you.

“Thank you, gem. I am indeed weary, and the pain is inching back in with the spice on its way out. Forgive me, Mando.”

“Nothing to forgive,” Din murmurs, and latches his mouth onto your seam. He tastes himself and Ezra, you at the edges. It's intoxicating. You squirm under his attention but spear your fingers into his hair and he leans into it with a whine. He craves the softness as much as the spice is making him crave the roughness. Once you're sopping again and your juice is running down his chin, he pushes himself up to mantle over you, hooking your knees around his narrow hips.

You run your hands up from his waist, curving over firm muscles and soft skin, the puckering of scars here and there. You wind his sweaty curls around your fingers and tug, eliciting a groan. He shakes his head, finding everything at once- his head being touched along with all the skin contact, his own flesh crawling with need and the sweat pouring off him- overbearing.

You release him and let your hands travel again. His rump is small but fits blessedly in your palms, and the feel of your fingers closing over his ass urges him on. Din hums against your mouth and slides the length of his cock through your folds, a tease, smearing the wetness gathered there. He notches his head at your entrance and slides in.

Din drops down over you, elbows planted by your head, your thighs spread by his hips, knees and calves hooked over his ass. You reach up and run a hand up the side of his neck, over an ear, dragging him down for a searching kiss. He growls into your mouth, needy and tiring out, unable to purge those tablets from his system just yet.

“I want you to come on my cock,” he says, panting into your open mouth. You grin against him, exhausted and unsure if your body can enmven manage another orgasm. “Felt so good earlier. Again,” he demands, pushing up to slide a hand between you, flatten his thumb on your clit.

“Mando, I'm not sure I can. I’m so tired,” you whine even as you feel your core clench around him at the added stimulation.

“You can. What else do you need? I’ll give you anything, iisa. Tell me,” Din implores, bending his neck to lick down your throat. He nips at a collarbone, recalling dimly that you had thoroughly enjoyed Ezra’s mouth on your tits earlier. He ducks his head and noses, laves over a plush mound until he finds the peak of your nipple and sucks it into his mouth.

“Oh! Both- the other–!” You cry out, back arching as he hits that spot deep inside your cunt and sucks just right on your nipple.

Instead of switching, Din grips Ezra by the upper arm and hauls him over to his belly beside you. You drop a hand to reach for him too, and your hands bump when Din fists a hand in the man’s hair and drags him into place latch onto your other breast, all without pausing in the suckling of the one between his own lips. Ezra catches on quickly and, after a quick peck to your mouth he obeys Din’s demanding grip.

You sob out at the feel of it, two strong mouths sucking, nipping, and laving over your sensitive breasts while Din pummels away at your cervix, thumbing your clit, stretching your abused pussy on his cock and taking what he needs.

You feel a tightening, an impossible new winding-up in your core that seems to take all the muscles in your limbs with it. Din brushes your clit with his fingers again and you shatter, screaming behind your teeth, your face buried behind your palms to keep quiet because of the kid. Ezra mouths his way up your neck and claims your lips again, capturing your noises, letting Din drop his face into your sternum while he finds his end in your impossibly clenching insides. You’ve turned into a limp doll, boneless with exhaustion and at least four orgasms- damn, you lost count.

“Maker,” you pant, struggling to catch your breath with the weight of Din’s collapsed heft on your chest. “We’re disgusting. Dammit, Mando, I just washed him!” you snark, making the Mandalorian giggle into your skin. You crack up at the sound, struggling to laugh quietly as you feed off his suddenly effervescent joy. He rolls to his back between you and Ezra, the lot of you sweaty, sated, bone-tired and delirious.

“I’m not sure we can go to the service station just yet, iisa. I’m still –”

“Hard as a pike?” Ezra interjects, dropping his hand between Mando’s legs, earning a gasp. “Go to sleep, man. The lust seems to be over, even if your biology hasn't caught on quite yet.”

You all lay there a few moments more before Din’s soft snores are echoed by Ezra’s. You snort at them and roll to your knees, keen on a thorough wipe-down and a nap if the kid will stay down.

But of course, as all kids are prone to do, he wakes the minute you finish yanking Din’s bottoms back on. You’d wiped him and Ezra down with a damp cloth and slung the new bottoms on the bounty’s lower half, but Mando’s compression leggings were a squeeze for him, even when he wasn't passed out and deadweight.

Sighing, you scoop the kid up out of his hammock and take him up the ladder with a snack, leaving the lights off and Din’s helmet beside his shoulder on the pallet.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*********~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I still have your arm,” Din says, apropos of nothing. He is checking the star chart as the Crest exits Coruscant’s atmosphere.

“Excuse me?” Ezra whips his head around to stare at the back of Din's helmet.

“Your arm. I slabbed it when we came back. You were unconscious.” Din sets the course and turns to find Grogu in the bounty’s lap with a tiny claw fisted in his tunic, staring up at him curiously. Ezra has his remaining arm hooked around the kid, making sure he doesn't fall off his perch on the man’s thigh.

“Why?”

Mando shrugs. “In case you died. Easy proof of destruction. But now… I'm thinking I might drop you somewhere else for a few days. Go to Canto Bight, turn in the arm, collect the lesser bounty. Pick you back up.” he pauses and the flat face of the helmet stares back at Ezra for a long moment, waiting on a response. He tips it to the side. "If you're interested."

Ezra, understandably, is flabbergasted. “Why?”

“Iisa likes you. The kid likes you,” Mando tips his forehead down at Grogu gurgling up at him. Ezra’s eyebrows shoot up and he stares down at the child. “Despite the fact that you never shut up, I like you. If you're not interested, I can cut you loose and still get the bounty.”

“No I– I appreciate the sentiment, Mando, I do. You’ll forgive my wariness, considering the circumstances. I am not accustomed to men wanting to keep me around for anything more than manual labor or to warm a bed, and even then only for a short venture. If I understand you- you are meaning for a while?”

“Until you want to leave,” Mando shrugs. “Same as any of us.”

Ezra chews his lip and his brow threads together. “And what does this life look like? A one-armed former prospector with little in the way of domestic skills, and a sharpshooting force-sensitive mechanic, and a force-wielding xeno child, and a bounty hunting Mandalorian living on a small gunship together with one bunk?”

To his great amusement, Mando actually snorts at him and ducks his head. Ezra grins and waits. “Exactly that. We make port most days, stretch our legs. When we’re in the stars, we stay above lightspeed and head to the next job. I’ve got- friends- all over, especially in the Outer Rim. Finding places to lay low for a few days isn’t a hardship.”

Ezra nods and thinks of you. They’d woken and Din had put on his helmet and tugged on his thin liner shirt and helped Ezra into his own tunic. After, they had discovered you dead asleep in the cockpit with the kid playing with his ball in your lap. Mando had scooped you up, limp as a ragdoll, and you'd remained sound asleep as he had lugged you down the ladder and into his bunk.

Ezra thinks he would very much enjoy more chances to wake up like that. Or in a tangle of all of you.

“Where will you leave me?”

“It’s a bit of a back track but you have two options. I can hide you with my covert on Glavis, or leave you with a friend on Tatooine. To be honest, I'd rather leave you on Tatooine. Harder for other hunters to find you in the Dune Sea, and environmentally safer for you. My covert is currently under the ring world, and footing is dangerous even with two arms for balance.”

“And you will come back?”

“Yes. I will leave iisa and the Child with you, if you like. My trip to collect the bounty from Canto Bight won’t take long.”

“Mercy, man. You’re offerin’ me a whole new life. I can’t simply accept that it’s just because you three like me.”

“Would you rather take your chances with your pissed- off investors?”

Ezra scowls at him. Din grins behind his visor. “Don't toy with my heart, Mando. You know I would not. It’s just going to take some accepting.”

“Well. We’ll be at Freetown in two days. Think on it. If you decide not to stay with us, I'm sure the Marshal can put you to work in his town somehow."

"And what? You would schedule conjugal visits?"

Mando snorts and turns back to his charts, setting coordinates for Tatooine. "If iisa wanted. If that's your intent I'd rather not leave you in Freetown, though. It might be a bit awkward for me to negotiate frequent visits."

"Ah, your lost love in the desert?"

He bites his lips against a knowing grin when he sees Mando's shoulders flatten with tension, but is surprised to get a response. "Something like that."

"Well then. A few days to stretch our legs and a pickup would suffice. And I'll let you know if it stops being sufficient. Do we have an accord, boss?"

Din turns around and eyes the hand Ezra has outstretched. After a beat, he takes it.

"Deal."

____________________ end _____________________

Comment, heart, rb if you enjoyed!

Head on over to my ao3 for more!

#din djarin #the mandalorian #ezra (prospect)#prospect movie #prospect 2018 #ezra/reader #din djarin/reader #ezra/din djarin/reader #sex pollen #sex pollen fic #marathon sex #smut #everyone is bi in SW #also on ao3 #ao3 writer

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97-liners · 8 months

Note

do you have any 2nd or 3rd gen gg songs you think everyone should listen to? or what are some of your faves?

this is such a hard question lmao, because i grew up on second and third gen kpop. if any followers have recs, feel free to drop them as well.

for me, of course there's the big or moderately popular groups (kara, 2ne1, f(x), snsd, wonder girls, apink, girls day, sistar, miss a, brown eyed girls, 4minute, aoa, after school, t-ara, secret, etc etc)

in terms of groups that might be considered more obscure:

all of 9muses' discography, in particular glue, drama, and dolls (they were not that obscure but they didn't get a single win before disbanding so they still count as flops)

evol - get up, we are a bit different (ngl they were the original girl crush concept, like girl groups were not making music like this back then! they were totally ahead of their times)

stellar - sting, vibrato (they were totally exploited by their company and sold using sex appeal, but their music was great. they deserved all the success, but NOT under that management)

spica - you don't love me (the original vocal group. if you like m*mamoo, consider listening to spica instead)

fiestar - one more, you're pitiful

rainbow - A, black swan, cha cha (rainbow blaxx)

hello venus - wigglewiggle, stickysticky, i'm ill

dal shabet - be ambitious, joker

ladies code - hate you (they're regrettably known more for the deaths of rise and eunbi than for their music, but they really did make some bops)

kiss&cry - domino game (queens.... debuted w/ this incredible song and then disbanded immediately </3)

laboum - what about you (literally one of my favorite songs of all time)

secret - shy boy (I KNOW they were fairly successful and got a triple crown w/ this song but kpoppies these days don't know them???/)

BESTie - i need you

and this isn't even getting into any of the third gen proper girl groups i loved and lost 😭 (clc, pristin, wjsn, lovelyz), OR the discographies of any of the groups i listed in the big or moderately successful category above, but I think those songs would just be easier to find if you just look up collections of 2nd or 3rd gen girl group music.

other groups i remember but never rlly got into: glam (problematic but made some fun songs), tiny-g, sunnyhill, rania (dr feel good is still iconic), berrygood

tagging @neonunau because i feel like you'd appreciate the nostalgia hit lol

#anon #ask

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apocalypticavolition · 3 months

Text

Let's (re)Read The Great Hunt! Chapter 34: The Wheel Weaves

What's in the box? Some people already know and some people don't. As a general rule, if you're in the "don't" category and you hate spoilers, you shouldn't keep reading. If you only know cause you're reading The Great Hunt or you've seen season 2 of the show but you don't want spoilers past that point, you also shouldn't keep reading. I spoil everything.

This chapter begins with the Wheel icon because big things are happening, like assassinations and discovery of the Horn.

He had meant the choices to be a private comment on their stupidity, never dreaming any of them might listen, much less be intrigued. Intrigued in a way. They had demanded more of the same, but they had laughed in the wrong places, at the wrong things. They had laughed at him, too, apparently thinking he would not notice, or else that a full purse stuffed in his pocket would heal any wounds.

Another sign of how divorced the nobility in this country is from the commonfolk and by extension reality. They have two very different storytelling cultures and little overlap on anything. And yet Thom's bitterness about this has a hint of hypocrisy - he complains they thought he wouldn't notice their mockery even as he had thought they wouldn't notice his.

He was still not sure what he had intended to say. Rand was gone with his friends, and the Aes Sedai. It left a feeling of something not done.

The important thing is that you tried, and of course that now you can be extra angry at yourself for what happened because you delayed.

She rolled limply onto her back, staring up at him, glazed eyes open wide above the gash across her throat. The side of the bed that had been hidden by her body was dark and sodden.

I mean, what is there to say? Girl had great potential as a person and as a character and all that matters, to the point where she certainly stops getting mentioned after only a book or two, is that she spurs Thom to act now.

“The Game? I’m not mixed up in Daes Dae’mar! Who would want to kill me for the Great Game?”

Thom's protestations ring even more hollow. Where Rand's naivety is excusable, Thom's speaks only to how out of practice he is. Dude met with someone everyone thought was a lord, is performing for other lords, and thinks he's out of the Game? He basically chose to keep playing.

And there has been a woman, a lady, I have seen more than once while asking after him.

Lanfear meanwhile is so contemptuous of the Third Agers that she doesn't even care to disguise herself properly among them, I guess. I'm surprised she doesn't just spy herself though.

“If you mean Barthanes, you’re too late. Everybody’s talking about it already. He is dead. His servants found him this morning, torn to pieces in his bedchamber. The only way they knew it was him was his head stuck on a spike over the fireplace.”

Forget who killed Asmodean, who the heck killed Barthanes? It probably wasn't Galldrian; killing a random is one thing but having his rival brutally eviscerated is another. It couldn't have been Fain, he was already gone. Ishamael or Lanfear might have done it by way of the gholam, but what would piss either of them off enough? The Horn going to Toman Head is hardly Barthanes' mistake and doesn't really interfere with Lanfear's desired outcomes at all. Plus if they did use the gholam, what did it get up to all this time between now and its first appearance?

“These aren’t Barthanes’s men, Thom. At least, that one isn’t.” She nodded toward the fat man. “It’s the worst kept secret in Cairhien that he works for House Riatin. For Galldrian.”

This vaguely points at Galldrian being responsible for Barthanes' death as well I suppose, but like I said the method seems entirely out of character.

“Perhaps you had better think about leaving, too. It looks as if someone is firing the granaries.”

I'm also going to rule out the rioters as an unlikely suspect on the grounds that Barthanes' death is probably the inciting incident for them, not the first, implausbly well-hidden step. But seriously. Who did it?

*considers Verin for a moment*

Nah. She's the least suspicious person alive.

The pack horse bearing his precious burden bumped his leg, and he kicked it in the ribs without looking; the animal snorted and jerked back to the end of the lead he had tied to his saddle.

So obviously the part that immediately follows this about how Fain fed the horse's previous owner to the Trollocs is way, way eviler, but let's just appreciate exactly how dedicated to unpleasantness Fain has become.

Men gathered more information on the invaders, as if they actually believed they would eventually do something with what they knew, but they sometimes tried to hold back. Women, by and large, seemed interested in going on with their lives whoever their rulers were, yet they noted details men did not, and they talked more quickly once they stopped screaming.

I kind of don't buy this? Random women from every village are being taken away and never seen again. I'm not a woman myself but I don't think it's a stretch to say that such actions would put most women on edge for fear of the Seanchan coming back and taking more tribute, since they don't know about the damane selection process yet.

The people hurried about their business with eyes down, bowing whenever soldiers passed, but the Seanchan paid them no mind. It all seemed peaceful on the surface, despite the armored Seanchan in the streets and the ships in the harbor, but Fain could sense the tension underneath. He always did well where men were tense and afraid.

1) I'm very sad that this element of the occupation disappears in later books it rings a lot truer; everyone should be afraid.

2) Is Fain saying thinking this in the sense of looking back over his career as a Darkfriend and how he always did better scaring them with peddler's tales, or is this the sum total of his evil reflecting on Aridhol, the Ways, and more? Both?

Women went in and out of a house across the street, women linked by silver leashes, but he ignored them. He knew about damane from the villagers. They might be of some use later, but not now.

Seriously: what use can Fain be imagining for damane, considering his current power set?

He was always confident, but never more than where lords feared an assassin’s knife from their own followers.

This is definitely more all of the evil within Fain than his own experiences, as we have no reason to think he was ever an assassin in his backstory.

“I have seen chests such as this, chests from the Age of Legends,” the High Lord said, “though none so fine. They are meant to be opened only by those who know the pattern, but I—ah!”

Major points to Turak who easily sidesteps Fain's plans entirely by accident. As much as I loathe the Seanchan, I despise Fain more.

Still holding the Horn and the dagger, Turak looked at the cabinet, then away. He said nothing, but the other Seanchan snapped quick orders, and in moments men in plain woolen robes appeared through a door behind the screens bearing another small table.

For all the shit I've given the Cairhienien nobility, I suppose I also need to offer them some credit for at least not expecting their servants to interpret their every facial gesture. Rich people on every continent desperately need to get over themselves.

Fain could stand it no longer. He reached for the dagger.

Fain isn't anywhere near as slick as he thinks he is, considering he went about thirty seconds without trying to nab his precious. Fucking Gollum does better about this stuff bro, learn from him.

“I am to sound it.” Turak’s tone was flat. “And break the White Tower. Again, why? You claim to obey, await, and serve, but this is a land of oath-breakers. Why do you give your land to me? Do you have some private quarrel with these . . . women?”

And again, we see that Fain's schemes immediately crash and burn when given the briefest exposure to people who know what schemes are. He's just like all these nobles in his own twisted way: he's gotten so used to having the Darkfriends jump when he says jump (or die) that he doesn't understand why no one else will willingly be his puppets.

Turak was silent so long that Fain began to wonder if he needed further convincing; he was ready with more, as much as was required.

Pro-tip for those of you who find themselves in situations where you need to lie: less is actually much better than more. We can thus conclude that Fain isn't even good at lying, despite the fact that he's spent his whole career as a liar!

“But, High Lord,” Fain protested, “you must—” He found himself lying on his side, his head ringing. Only when his eyes cleared did he see the man with the pale braid rubbing his knuckles and realize what had happened. “Some words,” the fellow said softly, “are never used to the High Lord.” Fain decided how the man was going to die.

I myself am rooting for neither of these fellows, both so awful in their own right. And note again how the Seanchan veneer of civility disappears at a moment's notice without warning. There's no way a populace can happily adopt the Seanchan customs as a whole, not without rebellion after rebellion breaking out.

He had not even known of the existence of an Empress until Turak mentioned her, but access to a ruler again . . . that opened new paths, new plans. Access to a ruler with the might of the Seanchan beneath her and the Horn of Valere in her hands. Much better than making this Turak a Great King.

It's funny that he thinks this is an option for him, when his best case scenario is that he ends up doing exactly what Semirhage will do and thus completely destroys his advantage and his worst case scenario is that Semirhage shows up and starts experimenting with an absolutely fascinating case study.

If I kept the Horn of Valere, all between myself and the throne would think I meant to be first hereafter, and while the Empress, of course, wishes that we contend with one another so that the strongest and most cunning will follow her, she currently favors her second daughter, and she would not look well on any threat to Tuon.

I'm sure that name won't be relevant later!

“The Empress’s Listeners may be anywhere,” Turak continued. “They may be anyone. Huan was born and raised in the House of Aladon, and his family for eleven generations before him, yet even he could be a Listener.”

Secret police: a surefire sign that your civilization is doing just great for itself and won't collapse under its own bloodlust in fifty years or less.

At the Court of the Nine Moons, in Seandar, one such as you could be given to the Seekers for a shift of your eye, for a misspoken word, for a whim. Are you still eager?

I'm sure that Nine Moons thing won't come up again anytime soon either.

And again we see more evidence that the only reason the Empire is holding itself up is its consistent expansionary policies that consistently deliver it new victims to burn through. If the Empire's borders were ever truly stable it would collapse immediately under the tyranny of Seandar.

A young man, but vile in the Shadow beyond belief, with a lying, devious tongue. In many places he has claimed to be many things, but always the Trollocs come when he is there, High Lord. Always the Trollocs come . . . and kill.

Fain is not even a good Aes Sedai liar, since Caemlyn is still doing just great for itself at the moment, as are a variety of the places he passed on the road to it.

Fain let the grimacing Huan pull him out of the room, hardly even listening to the snarled lecture on what would happen if he ever again failed to leave Lord Turak’s presence when given permission to do so.

Considering that Fain was allegedly giving good information about a coming threat, this seems like another really shitty policy on the part of the Seanchan. The illusion of order that is easily cleared away by chaos.

Sadly, the illusion of time is less easily cleared away and ours is up because the chapter is done. Next time: Steddings!

#let's read #wheel of time #wot #robert jordan #wheel of time spoilers #wot spoilers #thom merrilin #dena #zera #padan fain #turak aladon #huan

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honeyglz · 1 year

Text

"Tell me a secret"

A/N - Back at it already woo!! She/Her pronouns (though I will be trying to branch out in the future) . Its just a little drabble but ye also literally bare minimum proof reading done for this.

Pairing - Bakugou x Reader

P2- Take it to the grave

Warning- Mentions of death, injuries and blood as well as general violence. (Pls lmk if I missed any)

song rec - Atlantis by seafret and somewhere only we know (idk sry)

Category- Angst, enemies to ???

-♡-

Smoke smothered the air, her breath heavy in her lungs. Her vision blured as tears ran down her face, her mind wandering. Her back pressed against the jagged concrete pillar, legs giving out as she slumped to the floor. A dry cough escaped her, crimson painting her mouth. Her hand found her cracked phone as her bloodied finger slipped across her screen eyes drifting to his contact. She clicked on it and listened as his voice rang in her ear piece.

"What do you want?" Annoyance laced Bakugou's voice as it rang through her ear, loud and clear.

She chuckled before coughing, blood dripping from her mouth. She didn't bother to say much the words slipping from her before she could hold them.

"Tell me a secret."

The request was small, her voice even more so. Bakugous eyes turned to the screen, confused at such a random call and demand.

Silence rang through as he huffed, "Why are you calling me nitwit?- Your supposed to be on patrol"

Her smile faded at his scolding, instead she changed the subject. "I miss UA... remember our first year?"

A grunt came through the phone as he stiffened at her tone. "Where are you L/N?"

"I remember when we first met. You called me an extra and I called you a dumbass" tears ran freely down her cheeks as she reminisced.

"Where the fuck are you L/N?" His stood up from his seat grabbing his coat before he caught sight of the news.

A downtown villian attack. Your patrol route.

Bakugou's blood ran cold as he rushed out the door phone still in hand. "L/N !? Where are you!"

A cough came from the phone as she bought the phone to her shoulder, hands resting at her side as her breath came out labored. "Katsuki, let me ask you something."

He ran as fast as his legs would take before he froze. His body shook at the sight of the city in ruins, the damage was spread too far for him to find you in time. You would die. You were going to die. And you'd be gone. Forever. Your voice snapped him out of his trace as you repeated your request.

"Katsuki. Please." Your voice was so weak. You felt so weak.

"What?... What is it?" His voice shrank as his eyes frantically looked around for any sign of you.

"In our third year I wanted to ask you something. It was our last day and I stopped you but I never told you." You felt your heart ache in your chest, your body slowly shutting off.

"Yea I remember.. what about it?" He flipped debris, you were no where to be seen.

"If I had asked you out that day.... would you have said yes?" It was selfish of you to ask, but death granted only one request. You didn't want to leave without knowing.

His breath caught as he felt tears begin to build. "You wanted to know a secret right?"

You hummed as you closed your eyes, the light around you fading in and out.

"My secret is I would have said yes."

You smiled up to the sky as you felt your mind rest. "Ain't that something huh?" And like clockwork the world went dark, the last thing you heard was his voice. Begging you to let him take you out. To wake up.

...

BREAKING NEWS

"Pro hero H/N pronounced dead after villian attack this morning. Though our medical team has yet to find her body sources concluded her remains were destroyed in the battle. More details coming soon-"

The TV shut off as the remote hit the floor, Y/N's body illuminated by the glow of the screen. Straps and chains decorating her skin as a gloved hand stroked her cheek.

"What do you say dove? Shall we give them a real show?"

-♡-

A/N - WOOO ANGST YEAAA. Lmk if yall want me to do a part 2 cause yea :D.

NAH I FORGOT TO TAG THID HOLD ON

#bakugou x reader #bakugou angst #mha angst #Mha #bakugou x y/n #bakugou katsuki x reader #bnha bakugo katsuki #Angst #angst #Honeyglz

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sterek-ao3feed-archive · 2 months

Text

Secret Boyfriend

https://archiveofourown.org/works/54031234 by Underworld765 Stiles is in the FBI, trying to clear Derek's name from being a fugitive. ---- Stiles immediately exited and called Derek. He was surprised when Derek had picked up before the third ring. “Hey there sourwolf!” Stiles smiled. “What do you want?” “Listen, where are you?” “In my loft… why? You aren’t back are you?” His voice got more anxious, did Derek want Stiles to return? “Not a big guy yet, why? Do you miss me?” “No.” Derek gruffly said. It didn’t sound too believable to Stiles. “If you say so.” Stiles then paused, “Are you alone?” “Yes,” Stiles could hear Derek shifting, he was probably in bed but it’s the middle of the day. Stiles checked his watch, it was 2 am in Beacon Hills. “Oh my god,” Stiles cried, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know it was 2am. Shit sorry, I can call back. But you’re also awake right now- wait why are you awake? Are the nightmares back? Cause I-” “Stiles! Stiles! Stop,” Derek stopped Stiles mid sentence. “Just, tell me what you’re calling me at 2am for.” Words: 2921, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: Teen Wolf (TV) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: M/M Characters: FBI - Character, Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale, Noah Stilinski, Sheriff Stilinski (Teen Wolf), Kate Argent, Peter Hale Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale & Stiles Stilinski Additional Tags: Fluff, late night phone call, FBI Intern Stiles Stilinski, Case solving, fugative derek, Murderer Peter Hale, Start of Relationship, First Kiss read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/54031234

#Sterek #Stiles Stilinski/Derek Hale #Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski #IFTTT #ao3feed #ao3feed Sterek #fanfic

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mermaidsirennikita · 8 months

Note

got any historical romance novels that have kinky subjects (ie spanking/praise kinks)? 👀

Boy do I

The thing about historicals is that there aren't as many true erotic romances in the subgenre, imo. But the category is growing! And many books that are not erotic still have great sex scenes and kink.

Scarlett Peckham is good on this front, for real. Books with kink in mind--

The Duke I Tempted. Hero is a submissive duke who seeks emotional and sexual release through being dommed by women. He even has a particular house where he sees a pro dominatrix. He and the heroine end up in a marriage of convenience, and he's ashamed of his kink, so he keeps it from her initially. It's honestly so good, and extremely hot, and does a good job with exploring submission from an emotional perspective as well as a hot one.

The Earl I Ruined. Heroine spreads a rumor that the hero likes being spanked, when in reality he was a professional dom at one point in his life (he is an earl, but times were rough). He really enjoys it, and the heroine ends up being a bit of a brat. It's definitely softdom, she's so innocent, but the book explains it explicitly and has some unique features for HR (he makes her masturbate with an apple, he shows her his dildos, he sorta rides her face at one point). There's spanking and praise for sure.

The Lord I Left. I was less into this, but tbh I need to reread. Hero is a virginal minister who ends up on a journey with a dominatrix in training. Has a lot of him spontaneously coming, which I always find delightful in books.

The Rakess. Much lighter on kink, but I thought I'd mention it because a) it's a virago heroine and a soft widower single dad hero who FUCKS b) she uses a butt plug on him during and he loves it which you rarely see in HR

Grace Callaway books usually feature some allusion to kink at least, though it's often kinda soft like "he enjoys dominating her in bed and there might light bondage". Still very clear and presented in a positive light. Some of the more "oh these people are KINKY" books include:

Olivia and the Masked Duke. Heroine and hero have known each other since she was a child so she's like a little sister to him (she's 18 and he's 30). Heroine accidentally spies on the hero spanking his lover and is SO awakened and sets out to seduce him, which horrifies him as he's friends with her DAD. These two are VERY clearly in a D/s dynamic, she calls him "sir" in bed, there's a lot of brat taming vibes. He does bend her over his knee at one point.

Pippa and the Prince of Secrets. Both hero and heroine (especially hero) are very clearly into exhibitionism. They use a sex swing at one point and she has him get her off in a crowded room of strangers while everyone watches them and masturbates. Lol.

Fiona and the Enigmatic Earl. These two mostly just fuck hard, but there's definitely implications with them roleplaying and her purposefully doing some bratty stuff to get him going. They also fuck it OUT in a room, knowing a third person is watching them through a peephole.

M is for Marquess. Grace loves a "my dead wife told me I was going to hell for liking to toss a girl about" plot, and this is THAT. The hero is a dominant and his dead wife super didn't like that, and the heroine has asthma so he's always like "my god I shall break her" and she's like "uh, YEAH, I sure hope YOU DO". I think he has a routine with her and maaaay also do Historical Romance Troubled Light Bondage.

The Duke Who Knew Too Much. Heroine walks in on the hero doing some LIGHT CNC with his mistress, and so when the mistress dies mysteriously she's like "NAY, HE KILLED HER" and then he has to take her to his kink club and go "okay listen I am just KINKY".

The Duke Gets Even by Joanna Shupe. Lockwood really gets off on giving and receiving pain; Nellie is happily into it. Not heavy, but they both tend to bite and scratch each other and draw blood during sex, he likes leaving bruises on her and she likes having them. The Bride Goes Rogue has some light brat/brat tamer stuff too.

Scandalous Passions by Nicola Davidson. FFM medieval, one heroine is a domme former king's mistress, the hero is a submissive warrior, and the other heroine is submissive as well. There's a lot of femdom in this one, and the older heroine is very clear about what they're doing.

In Which Matilda Halifax Learns the Value of Restraint by Alexandra Vasti (free on her website!). The hero is explicitly dominant, heroine is explicitly submissive in a really lovely way, like she NEEDS this to be happy and it's discussed by multiple people. He finds out she's been drawing pornographic sketches of him that ended up being published, and he shows up like "how do you know I'm kinky and how do you know about my ass tattoo???" Spanking, praise, bondage.

The Chasing of Eleanor Vane by Sierra Simone. I need to reread this, but I'm pretty sure there's D/s with a big age gap (and she's engaged to marry his nephew). It's Sierra Simone, so like. Kink is inherent. I can't remember if this has spanking or not but I feel like it does...?

The Last Crimes of Peregrine Hind by Sierra Simone. One hero kidnaps the other; they proceed to discover a mutual love of bondage.

The Conquering of Tate the Pious by Sierra Simone. F/f, features a villainous heroine. The convent is kinda... generally orgiastic and exhibitionist...? But the heroines specifically do some fun object insertion with D/s vibes.

Duke for Hire by Nicola Davidson. Heroine hires the sex worker duke to deflower hero. I believe they use some toys, nothing major, but for historical again it's much appreciated.

Seven Sinful Nights by Nicola Davidson. The heroine becomes the hero's temporary mistress and the have a D/s dynamic going. He's very doting despite honestly being kind of a scary guy, does shit like having her sit on his knee while he feeds her. Which is the dream.

Shadowheart by Laura Kinsale. Medieval. Hero and heroine have a D/s dynamic in the bedroom, and he's the submissive. She lightly doms him a few times, and at one point role plays with him as a captive and her as his conquering queen with him like, suspended from the ceiling. She belts him. There's a breeding implication because in their roleplay she needs him to sire sons. I'll be real, this shit was PEAK. One of my favorite sexual dynamics in a book ever. The first sex scene is noncon, though--it's on the softer side with a forced consummation angle, but heads up. They do discover the dynamic during the encounter as she bites him until he bleeds and realizes she liked that part, and he like. Comes immediately.

A Rake's Rules for Seduction by Eva Leigh. Light switchiness. He doms her, she doms him, he gets tied up and cropped. Very service-driven hero (and he does eat ass, truly conquering new worlds for historical romance heroes).

Forbidden by Elizabeth Lowell. If you wanna see how some old schools did it, the BIG MAJOR sex scene is for sure D/s on the femdom side in undertone--he refuses to touch her but submits to her touching him and taking control.

Joss and The Countess by S.M. LaViolette. Reading this and loving it. The kink isn't super intense yet, but Joss is very clearly dominant in bed and aware of it. He likes ordering his partners around.

My Dirty Duke by Joanna Shupe. Not SUPER kinky, but the heroine is 18 and the hero is her dad's 40-something friend. He takes nudes of her, in a way that somehow feels kinky because of the way it's done. Very dom vibes, much praise, if they were in 2023 she'd call him daddy.

Lady Viper and The Bastard by Eva Leigh. 40-something hero and heroine do some light age play with a roleplay moment where they pretend she's a young virgin and he's her creepy dancing master.

#romance novel blogging #book recs #may be forgetting some and i have a lot to read

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santmat · 9 hours

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Mystic Hymn of Sant Tulsi Sahib: Dil ka Hujra Saf Kar - Light and Sound on The Path

“The original copy of ‘Ghat Ramayana’ written by Saint Tulsi Saheb kept in a glass case in the ashram of Saint Tulsi Saheb in Hathras, Uttar Pradesh.”

हाथरस, उत्तर प्रदेश में संत तुलसी साहब के आश्रम में शीशे के पिटक में रखी उन्हीं द्वारा रचित ‘घट रामायण’ की मूल प्रति (चित्र सौजन्य: पूज्य सत्य प्रकाश बाबा)

(Photo Courtesy of Pujya Satya Prakash Baba [and Pravesh K. Singh])

Sant Tulsi Sahib of Hathras had some Sufi or Muslim disciples. Sometimes he composed hymns for them, the most well-known of these being a hymn addressing Sheikh Taqi. The one below seems to be in this category. It was published in Ajaib’s Grace magazine, May-June 2003.

Param Sant Tulsi Sahib of Hathras, India:

Chorus:

Dil ka hujra (1) saf kar, jana ke ane ke liye,

Dhyan gairo ka utha uske bithane ke liye.

Translation:

Cleanse the chamber of your heart, so that the Beloved may enter,

Remove all the foreign impressions, so that He can take His seat there.

Verse:

Chashme dil se dekh yaha jo jo tamashe ho rahe,

Dilsita kya kya hai tere dil satane ke liye.

Translation:

See with the heart's eye the astonishing spectacle of this world,

Oh heart -- ravishing scenes appear there to entice you.

Ek dil lakho tamnna us pai aur zyada havis,

Phir thikana hai kaha uske tikane ke liye?

One heart, with many desires, and always the lust for more,

Where is there any place for the Lord to come and reside?

Nakali mandir masjido me jae sade aphosa hai,

Kudarati masjid ka sakin dukh uthone ke liye.

It is a great pity that, going in the false [imitation] temples and mosques,

The indweller of the true mosque [the human body] is made to suffer.

Kudarati kabe ki tu maharab me sun gaur se,

A rahi dhur se sada tere bulane ke liye.

We should listen with attention in the prayer niche of the true Kaaba, (2)

The Sound is coming from the Court of the Lord and is calling you.

Kyo bhatkata phir raha tu e talashe yar me,

Rasta shah rag me hai dilvar pai jane ke liye.

Why are you wandering around lost in search of the Beloved?

The way to reach the charming one lies through the shah rag (3)

Murshade kamil se mil sidak aur saburi se taki.

Jo tujhe dega faham shah rag ke pane ke liye.

O devotee, meet the Perfect Master with sincerity and patience.

He will give you the secret to find the shah rag.

Goshe batin ho kushada jo kare kuch din amal.

La ilaha allahu akbar pai jane ke liye.

If you do the practice for a few days, the inner way will open before you.

It is the path to reach Allah, the One God, the Most High.

Yah sada Tulsi ki hai amil amal kar dhyan de.

Kun kuran me hai likha allahu akbar ke liye.

This is the call of Tulsi: O practitioner, do the practice with concentration.

The kun [Shabd] described in the Koran, will take you to Allah, the Most High.

______

NOTES:

______

(1) A hujra is a small room for solitary meditation attached to a mosque.

(2) The Kaaba is the most holy place of Muslim pilgrimage in Mecca and the maharab or prayer niche indicates the direction facing the Kaaba in a mosque. The maharab or prayer niche of the true Kaaba is the third eye on the human forehead above and between the two eyes, alternatively called the Shiv netra or tisra til.

(3) The shah rag or "royal vein" is the central, subtle vein on the forehead that leads to Trikuti. It is also called sukhman nari.

#sufi #mystics #mystic poetry #sants #india #tulsi sahib #satsang #sant mat #spirituality #spiritual life #meditation

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heatwavering · 9 months

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when-harry-met-sally-ification of hangster is genius!!!! i would love to hear more about that if you don't mind sharing!

also - what's on your bradley bradshaw playlist? what's genre do you associate w/ him the most?

oh god. oh you don’t even know man. hangster being harry met sally (1989) is one of those things that only makes sense in my head or with a lot of background context, because if i were to just come out and say “rooster is like sally because he’s a chronic perfectionist and an emotional powder keg that lets everything pile up until the last moment (plus his mom is meg ryan), and hangman’s like harry because he’s an cynical asshole who’s actually gooey on the inside and doesn’t speak before he thinks and chooses to push peoples buttons and yearns more than he lets on” to someone who’s only seen both movies in passing, i’m going to get a lot of blank stares and nervous laughter. "isn't that every romcom couple ever?" yes. but i mean--

BAR. FOR BAR. I have wayyy more examples and comparisons but my computer explodes every time I try to add a picture or god forbid a gif. mostly, the "we've met before and it went terrible both times, but the third time we met it stuck and we managed to finally find equal footing and fall in love," is sooooo special to me. and since when harry met sally is an 80s movie (derogatory) and people bog down on the "men and women can't be friends" thing it gets a lot of flack, but by the end of the movie the whole dynamic shifts and becomes more like "why are we putting such big expectations on a relationship when I just love you. plain and simple. no wishy-washy philosophy applies because we've outgrown it and now know each other as equals." (plus that whole first "idea" is brought up by a cynical twenty-something who changes his entire worldview by the end of the movie bc he's fallen in love. why stick to your guns about an idea that's outdated when (a) people are too complicated to fall into your boxes and (b) uhhh who cares. you're in love. I always thought the change in harry's character is supposed to reverse his previous claim in the beginning of the movie and make fun of it for being kind of elementary. but maybe I'm thinking too hard about it.) I'm definitely glossing over some plot points and nuance and whatever but again, this dynamic is something that came directly out of my mind and basically only applies to how I've sandcastled hangster into what I want to see. plus I watched WHMS at like nine years old and it might've had some debilitating side effects. enjoy with an entire pile of salt.

about music now. I'm one of those people that is the ugly kind of pretentious about character playlists (his ass would NOT listen to hayloft by mother mother, shit like that) but also spends net zero time actually building a playlist that follows a timeline or theme. so I just sort everything into two separate playlists/categories: songs that [insert character] would listen to "canonically" and songs [insert character] is aligned with in my own opinion. sometimes there's overlap!!! and sometimes I'm forcing myself to decide if Bradley listens to third eye blind or is the kind of guy who makes fun of people who listen to third eye blind. I still can't decide. I wasn't alive when he was in high school. and you know you're up a creek without a paddle when American Pie (1999) becomes reliable historical material. anyway here's the best way I can describe the difference in the two:

Bradley's own playlist: teenage boy from SoCal in the late 90s early 2000s. in my mind he was always kinda quiet in school and did partake in band so he could play the piano (yes, in jazz band. if I hear a Whiplash joke I'm airing the room out) and spent a lot of time listening to anything and everything that wasn't uhhh Britney Spears adjacent. but lots of blink-182, foo fighters, Pearl Jam, nirvana. probably some early Coldplay. maybe some of The Killers when he got to college, and Radiohead but in secret and when Maverick wouldn't bully him for listening to so much "sad ass (unspoken: gay) music." and of course he's Goose's son, soooo: Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers, Jim Croce, Billy Joel, Allman Brother's Band, Hall & Oates, CCR, Eagles, etc. From Maverick (and Ice): U2, Pearl Jam, The Cars, more dad yacht rock, maybe Metallica (??) depends on if you think Maverick would ever mess around with something hair metal adjacent. of course he prays at the alter of Bruce Springsteen like his fathers before him. and his mom filled in everything else: Fleetwood Mac, Elton John, Paul Simon, Wham! (George Michael being outed....hoo boy. #1 topic NOT discussed at the Bradshaw-Mitchell-Kazansky dinner table.), George Strait, Hootie & The Blowfish, miscellaneous female country music from the 90s like Faith Hill and Shania Twain. Alison Krauss & Union Station! Alanis Morissette! The Goo Goo Dolls? now I'm just listing things but you get the picture.

my playlist about Bradley: anything about hating your dad or your hometown with lyrics that apply. see photo below and you'll get the vibe.

[also, that ONE specific photo of miles teller in project x is the photo that sailed a thousand fics. i love that photo. i wrote this entire fucking fic around that photo. it’s so bradley nicolas bradshaw to me.]

but overall my biggest examples of songs that apply to him (for me) are Little Giant by Roo Panes, Release by Pearl Jam, and The Long Way Around by the Chicks. Seventeen by Sharon Van Etten bc of how it makes me feel about Maverick and him (sick in the head.) souvenir by boygenius. faith by bon iver. Hot & Heavy by Lucy Dacus and The Steps by HAIM for hangster vibes. too much Taylor Swift and Maggie Rogers that I don't know how to explain without having a published fic. I have a ton more and I want to pick like 10 songs from each section and go into heavier detail, but I should probably put something out before I dig myself a hole pffft.

#writing #top gun #bradley rooster bradshaw #writing all of this instead of packing for school uuuuhhh #on the bright side i’ve been writing much that usual #and no promises but there’s something cooking. it’s not related to any of this but i wrote about 8k for a one shot and have not stopped #never back down never WHAT?#it’s…sad. very sad. maybe too sad. but when is icemav not

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alittlebitoftruthcan · 1 year

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‘Beloved master, am I wasting energy by looking to occultism as a way to explore inner space?’ Mark, occultism is for stupid people. God is not hidden; God is very much manifested. He is all over the place: singing in the birds, flowering in the flowers. He is green in the trees, red in the roses. He is breathing in you. He is talking through me and listening through you right this very moment. But you don’t want to see the obvious. Man has a very pathological interest in the occult. Occult means that which is hidden. Man wants to be interested in the hidden—and there is nothing hidden! As far as God is concerned nothing is hidden. Just open your eyes and he is standing before you. Be silent and you will hear the still, small voice within yourself. Why go into occultism to explore inner space? Why not go directly into inner space? Occultism is so much nonsense, and there is no end to it because it is all invention. It is religious fiction. Just as there is science fiction, occultism is religious fiction. If you love fictions, it is perfectly okay. But then don’t think that by reading science fiction you are studying science. And don’t believe in science fiction, and don’t act out of that belief; otherwise you will end up in a madhouse. Occultism is exactly like science fiction. People love fiction; there is nothing wrong in it, but you should know that it is fiction. Enjoy, but don’t take it seriously. In Buddha’s time there were eight great masters. Mahavira is well-known—he was the last enlightened master of the tradition of the Jainas. He used to say there are three hells. One of his disciples became a renegade, betrayed him, declared himself to be a master, and he started talking about seven hells. He used to say to people, ‘Mahavira does not know much; he knows only about three hells and I know about seven.’ And naturally people were impressed. Mahavira talks only of three hells and he talks about seven! One great master was Sanjay Belattiputta, another contemporary of Buddha. He must have been a man something like me—nonserious. He started talking about seven hundred hells. He said, ‘What is this Gosalak talking about?—only seven? There are seven hundred, and there are seven hundred heavens too.’ He was joking, but people were very interested. This seems to be the right man, who has gone so deep into occultism. Once a follower of Radhaswami, a small sect which is confined to an area near Agra, came to see me. I was in Agra. He was some kind of a priest, and he said, ‘Do you know?—our master has said there are fourteen planes of existence.’ I said, ‘Just fourteen?’ He said, ‘What do you mean, ‘Just fourteen’? Are there more?’ I said, ‘Certainly.’ He said, ‘But our master has said there are only fourteen. Mohammed has reached only up to the third,’ he said—he had brought a map—‘Kabir and Nanak have reached up to the fifth. And Mahavira and Buddha up to the seventh,’ and so on, so forth. But there has never been another who has reached up to the fourteenth except his so-called master. I said, ‘I know your master. I have seen him struggling in the fourteenth. He is trying hard, but he cannot get out of it. I know it because I exist at the fifteenth. There are fifteen planes of existence.’ He said, ‘But you are the first man…’ And he was much impressed. When he was leaving he touched my feet and he said, ‘You have revealed a new secret.’ I said, ‘Don’t be foolish. I was just joking! There are only two categories of people: the people who are not aware and the people who are aware. The people who are aware have no hierarchy that one is more aware than the other, that somebody is at the fifth, somebody at the seventh, somebody at the ninth, somebody at the fourteenth. There is no higher and lower in awareness. Awareness is simply awareness.’ But he was not much interested in that. He was more interested in my being on the fifteenth plane. People are interested in religious fictions. Mark, don’t waste your time in occultism, unless you are interested in novels, fictions. Then it is okay, then there is no problem… The lecturer on the occult was warming to his subject of supernatural manifestations. ‘Ah, my friends,’ he exclaimed, a look of dedicated zeal animating his face. ‘If you could but be made to believe! If only the world would cease its scoffing and come to realize that visitations from the Mystic Shore happen all the time.’ The lecturer searched the faces in his audience to find those sympathetic souls who agreed with his philosophy. ‘I have told you about my own experiences,’ he continued, ‘but surely one of you has also had direct communication with a departed spirit. If there is any such person here in this audience who has been in touch with a ghost, I would appreciate it if he or she would stand up.’ From her seat in the front row, Mrs. Faigel Frume got to her feet. ‘Me,’ she said loudly. ‘Such a experience I had you would not believe.’ ‘This is very gratifying,’ said the delighted speaker when the applause died down. ‘Behold, a volunteer witness; one who is a total stranger to me, arises to give her testimony. My dear lady, do I understand you to say that you have been in touch with a ghost?’ ‘In touch with him?’ echoed Mrs. Frume. ‘Better even than that. When I was a little girl in Russia one of them butted me till I was black and blue.’ ‘A ghost BUTTED you?’ ‘A GHOST, you said? Gosh! I thought you said a GOAT!’ Don’t waste your time in ghosts and goats. If you want to explore inner space, explore inner space. How does occultism come in? That’s a way of escaping from inner space, not exploring it. That’s a way of keeping yourself engaged in sheer nonsense! And theosophy, particularly in this age, has released so much nonsense: hundreds of books and all kinds of foolish things. People are so gullible that they are ready to believe anything. Man today exists in a kind of vacuum. Old religions have died or are almost dying. Either they have died or they are on the deathbed; hence new creeds are cropping up everywhere, and all the new creeds need new fictions to allure you. I cannot give you any occult fiction. I am not interested in anything esoteric. I am a very down-to-earth man. I am simply stating the facts. I don’t want to decorate them. I don’t want to create illusions in your mind; I don’t want to create projections in your mind. My effort here is to help you to go beyond the mind and all your occultism and esotericism, theology, anthroposophy—and there are so many schools. You can create your own; there is no need to believe in anybody else’s, you can create your own. All that you need is a pencil and paper; you can just go on writing your own fiction. That will be far more enlightening. At least it will be something creative. Then give your copy to somebody, and you will find a few believers. Then you will know how people go on believing in any kind of thing. J. Krishnamurti was brought up by theosophists. He was fed, spoon-fed with all kinds of occultism. He became so fed up that when the theosophists were going to declare him to be the world teacher… The day they had gathered from all over the world—six thousand leading theosophists—when they asked Krishnamurti to declare, he stood up and said, ‘I dissolve this organization. I am nobody’s teacher. I am finished with it all, and I don’t want to say anything more!’ They were shocked, but as far as I see it, it is a logical conclusion. For years he was taught all kinds of nonsense by all kinds of stupid people. He was getting fed up with the whole thing. But old ladies, and particularly retired old people, were very interested. They were the majority of the theosophists—retired people and old ladies who now had nothing else to do—and they would gather and talk nonsense about ghosts and about Tibetan masters who come flying in the air, and about letters that Master K.H… Now nobody knows who this K.H. is. His full name is Koot Humi. That too, nobody knows what it means. The less you understand, the better. Koot Humi—in short K.H.—used to write letters, until finally it was found that those letters were written by Blavatsky herself. A servant used to hide on the roof—just think, just on the roof of Buddha Hall!—and there was a small hole from where, when the theosophists would be sitting with closed eyes waiting for Koot Humi, he would drop a letter. Now, people are so foolish… Just ordinary paper—they could have seen what brand it was, in what factory it had been made—ordinary ink, and the handwriting was Blavatsky’s. Then the letter would be read, and those letters were collected, and they were great treasures. But in the High Court there was a case against one of the great theosophists, Leadbeater. He was a colleague of Annie Besant, and he was suspected of homosexuality. Just a dirty old man, that’s all! So there was a case in the High Court against him, and in that case his servant confessed that he was the man who used to hide on the roof. He went and showed the hole and the place where he used to hide, and everything was discovered. Still, people go on reading those letters believing that Koot Humi wrote them. When people WANT to believe, when they are feeling empty, some belief is needed. They cling to anything, they don’t listen… they don’t listen to their own heart. They just need belief; so anybody is ready to supply it. Wherever there is demand there is supply. People need fictions, so there are other people—clever, cunning people—who go on supplying fictions. In a Catholic school, little Hans was asked to give an example of a dependent clause. ‘Our cat has a litter of ten kittens,’ he replied, ‘all of which are good Catholics.’ ‘That’s excellent,’ said the teacher. ‘You have a good grasp on grammar as well as on our religion.’ The following week the bishop visited the school and the teacher called on Hans. ‘Our cat has a litter of ten kittens,’ said Hans, ‘all of which are good sannyasins.’ ‘That is not what you said a week ago!’ snapped the teacher. ‘Yes,’ replied Hans, ‘but my kittens’ eyes are open now.’ Be a little alert, be a little watchful. There are deceiving people all around; you can be easily deceived. Morrissey, the ventriloquist, was on his way down to a bar for a drink when a big shaggy dog fell in at his side. They went in, the ventriloquist ordered a scotch, and for a laugh he looked at the dog and said, ‘Well, are you having the usual?’ ‘No, thanks, I have had enough this morning,’ said the dog. The barman was flabbergasted. He offered fifty dollars for the animal. ‘No, sir!’ said Morrissey. ‘I have had him since he was a pup.’ ‘I’ll make it a hundred dollars!’ said the bartender. Morrissey shook his head. When the offer went to five hundred dollars the ventriloquist grabbed the money and headed for the door. ‘Alright,’ he added, ‘take good care of him.’ And with a last look at the dog, ‘Farewell, old pal!’ he exclaimed. ‘Old pal, my foot!’ said the dog. ‘After what you have just done I will never speak to another human being as long as I live!’ Be aware of the cunning people, they are all around. Don’t be exploited. Long enough humanity has been exploited by the cunning and the clever; it is time to put a full stop to it. Be a little more mature. If you want to explore inner space, meditate. Listen to what Buddha says: Quieten the mind, reflect, watch, and all darkness will disappear on its own accord, and you will be full of light.

Osho (The Dhammapada: The Way of the Buddha, Vol. 10)

#osho #esoteric #occultism #ghosts #levels #hierarchy #theosophy #gullible #exploitation #stupid #fiction #jiddu krishnamurti #jokes #god #lbotca

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redisaid · 2 years

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Sylvaina Poll #2 Results

The spam subsides, for now, and my delicious suffering begins. Poll #2 is now closed.

If you missed the results of the first poll, check them out here!

For poll #2, we got 127 responses, and everyone voted in all the multiple choice categories. Nice!

Our winning scenario, pulling away at the end, is Mid-BFA!

The summary I gave for this one is:

“The terrifying truth was that Lord Admiral Jaina Proudmoore always knew who her soulmate was. The problem she faces now is that she’s pretty sure that woman hasn’t had a soul in over a decade, and they now stand against one another as enemies. So why has she started to feel a connection over that age old bond again?”

I did enjoy your write-ins, so thanks for submitting those. I’m still going to go with the popular choice, but might incorporate some things if I can.

Also you guys do realize that this means we now have a fifth major trope in the fic: Exes Getting Back Together...

You are all very mean to poor Jaina, by the way. You’re making the secret meeting place be the Ruins of Theramore!

Again thank you for the write-ins! Cape Cod AU anon, I want to read this, so you should write it!

Only this third option was never a contest. Our winner for what soulmate marks do once soulmates connect is that...They Glow!

However, Shiny/Metallic gang, I have your back. The chosen scenario is going to give me some opportunities, which I still have to think about. Also I’m biased because I liked this option, so we’ll work it in too.

I also already had plans to incorporate a couple of ideas from the write-ins, so you guys are in for a treat too.

I’ve already listened to a ton of your song suggestions. Thank you so much for including those! I won’t mention all of them, but here’s some that were highlights:

I love this song, but we’re gonna use the OTHER moon song from the Crane Wives, along with a bunch of non-moon songs.

I was not prepared for 00′s pop country. Thank you making me spit out my water at this one.

Somehow I had no awareness of this song, became utterly obsessed with it, and then looked it up to see if meant what I thought it did, and was delighted to be correct. Thank you for that journey, whoever you are.

So, you’re probably wondering why I asked for moon songs. Well, our fic will be called: Beneath the Blue Moon

And I now have a lot of work to do!

Thank you again for everyone who participated in the polls. Watch this space for the first two chapters of this fic to come out, and then I’ll be offering some additional polls to ask for help again!

#sylvaina #community choice #and now we'll add the fic title tag of:#beneath the blue moon #geez this scenario is hard but i'm already really into it #now i gotta write oh no

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womanofwords · 10 months

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Character Reputation Helpline: Tobey McCallister

Operator: Character Reputation Helpline: how can I help you? Tobey McCallister: Hi, I'm calling to see if there's anything I can do about the villain status I have. I personally think that it's unfair, given my age. Operator: We get that complaint a lot. What's your name? Tobey McCallister: My full name is Theodore McCallister the Third, but I go by Tobey McCallister. Operator: And what fandom are you in? Tobey McCallister: The WordGirl fandom. What a wonderful fandom it is! Everyone agreeing with me about how WordGirl is amazing! Operator: OK, you're doing great. And because you mentioned your age, how old are you? Tobey McCallister: Ten years old. Operator: Thank you. Please hold while I get your file. Until then, here's some soothing jazz music for you to listen to. Narrator: One minute of jazz later . . . Operator: Tobey McCallister, are you with me? Tobey McCallister: Yes. Operator: After reading your file, I can confidently say that you fit the category of a villain. Tobey McCallister: WHAT?! BUT I TOLD YOU THAT I'M A TEN YEAR OLD BOY! Operator: A ten year old boy with dangerous robots that were built for destruction. Tobey McCallister: I DID IT FOR LOVE! I WANTED HER TO NOTICE ME! I SHOULD AT LEAST BE CONSIDERED A LOVE INTEREST! Operator: I'm very sorry to tell you this, but you can only be considered a love interest if the love is reciprocated. Tobey McCallister: WHAT?! (sniffles and muffled sobs can be heard from the other end of the call) Operator: I'm so sorry to have to tell you this, sir. Tobey McCallister: It's OK. I guess I will have to try a different way to win the love of WordGirl. Operator: That's a nice resolution to make. Tobey McCallister: Like finding out her secret identity and wooing her that way! Operator: Oh, honey . . .

#wordgirl #tobey mcallister iii #character reputation helpline #he's just a little guy #he has no clue

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allamericansbitch · 2 years

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I couldn’t stay up unril five in the morning bestie, i missed it, what’s going on, why is everyone talking about glitter gel pen lyrics, help

taylor was honored with the songwriter of the decade award at the NSAI last night and in her speech she said, in her mind, she has three genres of lyrics she writes. Here's the quote:

I have never talked about this publicly before. because it’s dorky, but I have in my mind, secretly established genre category for lyrics I write. Three of them, to be exact. They are affectionately titled quill lyrics, fountain pen lyrics, and glitter gel pen lyrics. I know this sounds confusing but I’ll try to explain it. I came up with these categories based on what writing tool I imagined having in my hand when I scribbled it down. Figuratively - I don’t actually have a quill anymore. I broke it once when I was mad. I categorize certain songs of mine in the 'quill’ style if the words and phrasings are antiquated. If I was inspired to write it after reading Charlotte Brontë, or after watching a movie where everyone is wearing poet shirts and corsets. If my lyrics sound like a letter written by Emily Dickinson’s great-grandmother while sewing a lace curtain, that, to me, is writing in the quill genre. I will now give you an example of one of my songs I would categorize as quill: 'How’s one to know I’d meet you where the spirit meets the bones in a faith-forgotten land? In from the snow, your touch brought forth an incandescent glow, tarnished but so grand.’ Moving on to lyricism category number two: fountain pen style. I’d say most of my lyrics fall into this category. Fountain pen style means a modern storyline or references with a poetic twist—taking a common phrase and flipping its meaning. Basically trying to paint a vivid picture of a situation down to the chipped paint on the doorframe and the incense dust on the vinyl shelf, placing yourself and whoever is listening right there in the room where it all happened: the love, the loss, everything. The songs I categorize in this style sound like confessions scribbled and sealed in an envelope that are too brutally honest to ever send. For example, 'cause there we are again in the middle of the night, we’re dancing round the kitchen in the refrigerator light, down the stairs, I was there, I remember it all too well. And there we are again when nobody had to know, you kept me like a secret, but I kept you like an oath, Sacred prayer and we’d swear to remember it all too well’ The third category is called glitter gel pen, and it lives up to its name in every way. These lyrics are frivolous, carefree, bouncy, syncopated perfectly to the beat. Glitter gel pen lyrics don’t care if you don’t take them seriously because they don’t take themselves seriously. Glitter gel pen lyrics are the drunk girl at the party who tells you that you look like an angel in the bathroom. It is what we need every once in awhile in these fraught times in which we live. For example, 'my ex man brought his new girlfriend, he’s like oh my god, but I’m just gonna shake, and to the fella over there with the hella good hair, won’t you come on over baby and we can shake, shake, shake?’

#answered #death-and-the-lady13

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everysongineverykey · 2 years

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Prove it! Sing it right now without checking.

WOAH! if it isn't a LIGHT-NER! HEY H-H-HEY HEY! LOOKS LIKE YOU'RE all alone on a late night? ALL YOUR FRIENDS, Abandoned you for the slime YOU ARE? SALES, GONE DOWN THE [[drain! drain!]]? LIVING IN A GODD*MN GARBAGE CAN?? NYAHAHAHAHA! FRIEND, EITHER YOU'RE CLOSING YOUR EYES TO [Savings!] YOU DO NOT WISH TO ACKNOWLEDGE, OR YOU ARE NOT AWARE OF THE CALIBRE OF [Discounts!] INDICATED BY THE PRESENCE OF A [HeartShapedObject] IN YOUR COMMUNITY!

HEY, KID, LOOK AT YOU! RIGHT TIME! RIGHT PLACE! RIIIIPE FOR THE PICKING!RIGHT MONEY IN YOUR POCKET YOU'RE SO LUCKY VERY LUCKY OH SO VERY VERY LUCKY THAT YOU GET TO BE INVESTING IN THIS VERY SPECIAL PRODUCT FROM EVERYBODY'S FAVORITE numberoneratedsalesman! CIRCA1997 MIGHTY PROUD TO SAY IT! MIIIGHTY PROUD TO SAY IT YES I'M MIGHTYPROUDTOSAYIT YES SIR!

DON'TCHA WANNA HAVE A LITTLE FUN LITTLE SPONGE LITTLE SOMETHING TO PLUCK YOU FROM THE GLUM HUMDRUM LIVE COMFORTABLY (CAPITAL AT RISK) YUM YUM! LISTEN UP FORTHEOFFERONLYCOMESJUSTONCE HEY CHUM! I CAN SEE YOU'RE HAVING VIOLENT THOUGHTS BUT DON'TCHA WANNA WANNA BE A BE A BIG SHOT! INQUIRE TODAY WHILE THE SECRET'S IN STOCK! ALL YA GOTTA DO IS [[Hyperlink Blocked]]...

I used to be nothing but the e-mail guy, now i'm the [[IT BURNS! OW! STOP! STOP! HELP ME! IT BURNS!]] guy! NYAHAHAHAHA We've got never bettered bargains we've got deals you won't believe we can tell you what you want before you realize what you need if you'll pardon us the jargon here's our Darkner guarantee we take cash or card or credit but we'll take your heart for free...

ARE YOU FEELING DOWN? HAVE YOU LOST CONTROL? IS YOUR LIFE A MESS? DO YOUR FRIENDS DESPISE YOU? WELL HERE'S one weird trick discovered by a mom! and i'm sure NUMBER FIVE WILL SURPRISE YOU! ALL YOU'VE EVER DREAMED OF, SHINING, GLISTENING, GOTTA BUCKLE UP, GRAB LIFE BY THE [Silly Strings!] YOU CAN HAVE IT YOU CAN HAVE IT SAY THE WORD IT'S YOURS- NYAHAHA! i wasn't listening :]

see it says just here right here last year on the third of the fourth at five-oh-six you searchedcatpicsonline well that's just fine! ~Moist Delicious Cookies~ little tippy tap kitty catalyst now we have a list and we'll guess what every habit is:

wanna buy a cat flap, cat food, catchup, catamaran you'll be categorically catatonic at the catalogue of categories i have at my hands [A cavalcade of all your favorite brands!] AN ADVERTISM SCHISM CATACLYSM [Cash on demand!] YOU'D BETTER CANCEL YOUR PLANS! CASH FOR THE CRACKERS AND THE PICKLES AND THE FLYPAPER WANNA BUY A CAT PLUSH PLUSH TOY TOY BOX BOX WINE WHY WON'T MIKE JUST CALL ME BACK-GAMMON HAMANDEGGS EGG CHAIR CHAIR BED BED BATH BATH SPONGE SPONGE WHO HATES HIS FOURDOLLARNINETYNINE LIFE-BOAT BOAT SHOE SHOE STRING STRING BEAN BEAN BAG BAGPIPE PIPE BOMB BOMBER JACKET JACKDAW DOORSTOP STOP NO PLEASE DON'T TAKE MY FURNITURE- STOPWATCH WATCHDOG DOG COLLAR COLORADO ADDERAL ADS ARE ALL SEEPING PING PONG PONCHOS CHOKE CHAINS CHAINSAWS SWORDFISH SHISH-KEBAB BOBCAT- DO YOU WANT A CAT OR NOT???

WELL YOU WANNA BE A BIG SHOT DON'T YOU? DON'T YOU WANNA BE THE NEXTBIGTHING! YOU CAN DO IT YES IT'S TRUE IT'S REALLY TRUE THERE'S NOTHING TO IT I CAN PROVE IT HEAR THE REGISTERS RING! RING RING RING RING RING RING RING RING RING-

YOU'RE KIDDING. IT'S FOR YOU.

Wanna know a secret...?

[[Hyperlink Blocked]]

YOU TOO CAN HAVE A Communion! WITH NYAYAHAHAAA! SOON I'LL EVEN SURPASS THAT DAMNED [[ClownAroundTown!]]

We've got never bettered bargains we've got deals you won't believe we can tell you what you want before you realize what you need if you'll pardon us the jargon here's our Darkner guarantee we take cash or card or credit but we'll take your heart for freeeee-

HOLY CUNGADERO THERE YOU FUNKY LITTLE WORM YOU SEEM UNAWARE OF ALL THE MONEY YOU COULD EARN IF YOU WANNA GET THE GOLD WELL THERE IS STUFF YOU GOTTA LEARN MILK THE HUMANS OF THEIR KINDNESS THEN THERE'S BUTTER TO BE CHURNED, YOU WANT. IT. NEED. IT. DON'T. YOU. SEE? BUUUT IF YA WANNA MAKE YOUR SCREEN GREEN, YOU'RE GONNA NEED MY KROMER KEY-

AND WE GOT TROUBLE, MY FRIEND WHADDAYA TALK RIGHT HERE IN CYBER CITY! SEE I USED TO BE A [Top-notch!] [Big Shot!] BEST DEALS! BEST WHEELS! BEST [Best prices in the tri-state area!] BUT YOU CAN GET IT BACK! NYAHAHA YES YOU CAN! ALL YA GOTTA DO IS FOLLOW THROUGH MY [[Twelve-step plan!]] BIGGER, BIGGER, BETTER LIKE THE TELEPHONE WAS TELLING MEYOU GOTTA KNOW THE TERRITORY! SPEND A HAND, LEND A GRAND-

WHO'S GONNA PATRONIZE AN ITTY BITTY TWO-BY-FOUR KINDA STORE ANYMORE? GOTTA GO! GOTTA GET! GOTTA GET ON AND GO! MAKE A DEAL! [[Big deal!]] [[High score!]] OUR STORE IS CLOSINGHOT TIP DROP SHIPPING FOUR THREE TWO ONE NOT SKIPPING OFFERS WIRED INTO YOUR INBOX SWING BY THE GIFT SHOP THINK OF THE [[Big shot!]] ALL THIS AND MORE, CLICK [[Hyperlink Blocked]]

...can anyone hear me? help...

...mike...

...mike?

hahah!

[[INSURANCE!]] KNOW THAT I'M THE BESTINPOLICY! HONESTLY! DO YA WANNA END IN POVERTY? BUDDY I'M THE ONE TO HELP INVEST IT PROPERLY! I'M HERE TO TALK ABOUT EXTENDED WARRANTY!!! IT'S A SUPER BUMPER LIQUIDATOR LAST CHANCE FIRST DAY HALF PRICE FIRE SALE LIKE NEVER BEFORE! WHEN IT'S THERE TO EXPLORE! WHEN YOU STEP IN THE DOOR THE VERY MODEL OF A MODERN MAJOR GENERAL STORE-

ButTheFactIsEverybody'sGottaHaveItGottaHaveItThosWhoHaveItReallyHaveItIfYouHaven'tWellYou'veHadItCouldn'tHackItNowTheHaven'tsHaven'tHadItAndTheHavesAreVeryGladIt'sJustTheHaven'tsThatAreLackingWhatThey'reHaving! NOW THE ADS HAVE GOT THE TRAFFIC AND WE'VE GRABBED YOUR DEMOGRAPHIC SO YOU'RE PACKING UP YOUR BASKET CAUSE YOUR DAD HAS GOTTA HAVE IT (He'll be sad if you don't wrap it with a tag! It'll be tragic!) SO YOU'RE MANICALLY GRABBING AT THE SHELVES AMID THE PANIC, SEEMS THAT EVERYBODY HAS IT, MAN, YOU REALLY GOTTA HAVE IT, SO YOU GET IT, YOU'RE ECSTATIC, BUT A CRACKLE IN THE STATIC AND THE IT IS OUT OF FASHION, JUST A FAD, A PIECE OF PLASTIC, SO YOU TRASH IT AND YOU GET BACK IN YOUR CAR CAUSE YOU DON'T HAVE IT AndTheFactIsEverybody'sGottaHaveItGottaHaveItThosWhoHaveItReallyHaveItIfYouHaven'tWellYou'veHadItCouldn'tHackItNowTheHaven'tsHaven'tHadItAndTheHavesAreVeryGladIt's, HOCHI MAMA, WHAT A MOUTHFUL!

IN THE ENCYCLOPEDIA OF Being afraid! THERE AIN'T NOTHING TO BE SCARED OF TIL THERE'S FEES TO BE PAID! THERE'S DEALS TO BE MADE WITH [[Seasonal Savings!]] REGIONAL RATINGS ARE LETHALLY FADING, SCREAMING AND RAVING, CEASELESS APPRAISING- Neat little plate with a needless engraving! LEGALLY GREY BUT SWEET WITH THE PHRASING, FEET IN THE GRAVE BUT GLEEFULLY TRADING!

FEEDING THE CRAVINGS, EAT, LITTLE PLAYTHING- Deals so good I'll $!#& myself! FEEDING THE CRAVINGS, EAT, LITTLE PLAYTHING- DOWN TO THE CRACKER BARREL, PICKLE BARREL, MILK PAN FEEDING THE CRAVINGS, EAT, LITTLE PLAYTHING- I can feel that Smooth Taste already! FEEDING THE CRAVINGS, EAT, LITTLE PLAYTHING...

[[Hyperlink Blocked]]

#drops dead #i realize you have only my word that i did not check while typing that. but this took me like a good ten to twenty minutes.#i would not lie to you

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nire-the-mithridatist · 1 year

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do the entire ao3 wrapped i wanna see everything !!!

...fine, since you asked and because I love you. I'm putting it under the cut tho.

How many words have you written this year? more or less 75k. ao3 counts the whole fic word count even though only a few chapters are from this year, so i'm approximating from how much of the priest!fic i wrote this year on lesserfeelings + all my fresh stuff on nire.

How many works did you publish this year? new ones? 12 individual works and 5 ficlets in my vincenzo ficlet collection.

What work are you most proud of (regardless of kudos/hits)? i carry your heart with me (i carry it in my heart) is my darling, my beloved, my blood sweat and tears. i rewrote about one-thirds of it from present tense to past tense. i spent hours ruminating whether i would split it into five acts or just lump it all up (i did split it, but it remains a oneshot). it's not my most popular fic by far but i am most proud of it.

What work of yours has the most hits? that would be a map of every blade at currently 14,549 hits.

What work of yours got more feedback than you expected? answered here. (it's my twiyor fuck or die)

Favorite title you used answered here. (also the fuck or die fic)

If you use song lyrics, which artist’s songs did you pull from the most? rather than song lyrics, i used quotes from the poem underbelly by nicole homer for the title of two fics (and all the chapters in one of those two).

Pairing you wrote the most for this year? twilight (loid forger) and yor forger. gotta love me a pair of canonical fake marrieds with secret identities.

Favorite pairing you wrote for this year? same answer as above!

What work was the quickest to write? answered here.

What work took you the longest to write? finishing the vincenzo priest!fic took me more than half a year, so. definitely that one.

How many WIP’s do you have in your docs for next year? just the one that i know for sure. wait, maybe two. idk.

What’s your longest work of the year? priest!fic was 24k, but about 40% of it was from last year. so... it would be a map of every blade at around 15k.

What’s your shortest work of the year? come (my half of our cy/mh duology) is at 383 words!

What WIP are you taking into next year with you? my sxf pacific rim au.

What’s your most common “Additional Tags” tag? not beta read. heheheh

Your favorite character to write this year? answered here. (it's loid forger)

The character that gave you the most trouble writing this year? yuri forger, because i don't... really... like him... and it's hard to write him in a way that fits the tone of my fics and not caricature-ish.

What’s one pairing you want to explore next year? definitely staying with twiyor! i love me my fake married blorbos

Which work of yours have you reread the most? i carry your heart with me (i carry it in my heart) like just during editing alone... it's also super self-indulgent so... yeah

How many kudos in total did you get this year? UMMMMM. gonna approximate again because some of these kudos i got last year, but ao3 counts them as this year because i finished the fic this year. around 5,700, i think. 5,258 i got on nire and approximately 400-500 on lesserfeelings.

Which work has the most comments? priest!fic, but since part of that was last year, a map of every blade at 145 comment threads.

Did you do any collaborative works this year? yeah fam! you and i wrote a twofer earlier this year!

Did you write any gifts this year? yes but i haven't posted it!

Did you receive any gifts this year? yup! and i treasure them dearly <3

What’s your most common category? F/M.

What do you listen to while writing? answered here. (nothing, except when i need music)

Favorite work you wrote this year? there's one fic i have yet to post because it's for an event, and also: i carry your heart with me (i carry it in my heart) for the same reasons as answer #3, also it's just super-indulgent to my niche interests.

Favorite line/passage you wrote this year? from i carry your heart with me (i carry it in my heart):

In the end, they decided on a plain ring for Vincenzo to wear on his finger and a delicate band with diamonds all around (“It’s called an eternity band,” Cha Young said, breathless even as a voice in his head) for her to wear on a chain around his neck. The size of the second ring didn’t really matter, but he bought one that she could’ve worn anyway. It was so small. Her hands had been so delicate, and—just like that, with that one small recollection—he mourned her all over again.

“You really should stop doing that,” she said. “It feels like… like rain inside the house.”

Sorry, he thought rather than said. They were still at the store, hence the indoor voice; he was holding the diamond-paved ring for her inspection. It’s just that I would’ve married you.

“We’re living together and you bought us rings. What else would you call that, if not marriage?”

30. Biggest surprise while writing this year? answered here and here!

ao3 wrapped asks

#ask game

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micamicster · 2 years

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Okay, Dean Winchester, Castiel, and Bruce Springsteen, go 👀

This readmore is going to be less of a courtesy for a long post and more of barrier protection between the rest of the dash and the toxic waste simmering beneath <3

So the very meta answer to this is that Bruce Springsteen is a glaring absence on the supernatural soundtrack, despite the soundtrack being consistently a high point of the show and contributing a lot to the show's americana muscle-car aesthetic. Which you would think Bruce Springsteen would be a part of! But the way I've always seen it, Bruce is a much more complex interrogation of american masculinity than supernatural is interested in being. So you've probably heard me say that supernatural would be Good if bruce was on the soundtrack and reflexively if bruce was on the soundtrack supernatural would be a completely different show (secret good supernatural in my head). But it's not about that, it's about characters, so...

Dean: Just like bruce's absence is significant on the show soundtrack, bruce is significantly absent from dean's own music collection. Bruce makes him vaguely uncomfortable in ways that repression boy hasn't and won't analyze. If dean for real ever listened to one bruce springsteen song even once it would crack him like an egg hurled at a passing car so he simply doesn't

Sam: Enjoys him. Brings up the bruce/clarence kissing once to Dean as a sort of experiment to see how dean reacts. Dean reacts by getting super fucking weird and jumpy about it and turning up the music (Prove It All Night) incredibly loud to drown sam out and sam is forced to chalk that up as another inconclusive result to the "is my brother gay or homophobic" question.

Cas: Only likes two categories of music, Music Dean Likes (because dean likes it) and pop girlies (because he's gay im serious this is canon character trait of castiel). If music does'nt fall into those two catagories it is placed in a third catagory known as Unimportant

Linking to my springsteenatural playlist so that you see the full extent of what I'm working with here (brainworms)

#bestie. what have you done.#supernatural rewatch #the way that spn + bruce springsteen unlocks 99% of my disorders...#springsteenatural #like look <- i even have a whole tag for it #what the fuck

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