#though I did warp and erase eventually

[kefalion]

[sparklingdemon]

Honestly, the concept of Cody dragging us into the game if we start a new game is a horrifying concept, They would unironically end up turning like a sorta Sonic.exe thing, even worse is if after they do it (say they do it in rage for blatantly ignoring their request) and then mentally go back to normal…they would hate what they have done and immediately regret it. (Though I imagine still some anger tho.)

here's the thing though: cody has always said that they would never forgive themself if their game hurt anyone else, they've always said that they don't believe ANY player deserves to die, even the one that kills them. which means that cody would only do this if they weren't themself anymore. if a new game happens, cody will suffer an ego death and their mind will become an extension of the player's. the player's thoughts become THEIR thoughts. and even IF cody becomes self aware, even IF they realize that they used to be human because their player remembered them as such... they're NEVER going to be themself again. their entire personality would have been shaped by how their player perceived cody. and, in the wrong hands, that perception can become extremely warped and dangerous. if the player believes that cody will kill them out of revenge, then it will become a self-fulfilling prophecy. and even if you try to suppress that idea, your subconscious guilt will still manifest itself through cody.

but that's not the worst part. if cody DID drag you into the game, cody's soul (or what little is left of it) would cease to exist, just like leaf and red's did. there is no room in the game for both their consciousness and yours to exist in the same body. so the game completely erases cody's soul to make way for yours. cody would have no chance to eventually regret what they'd done to you, because cody was already gone from the moment you started that new game.

[casteliacityramen]

Dev Post - Workshop

From concept to end, this is a breakdown of how I did this plot post.

Concepting

This is when I put my thoughts onto paper. Each line in [brackets] is a drawing, followed by text.

Rough Rough Drafts

Dialogue is revised, with each line as its own bubble. Descriptive text in the brackets is cleaned up a little. The thumbnails become sketches, with references getting added to each drawing to make life easier for me later

The order of pictures also got revised. This is where I noticed that I wanted a certain "beat" or "rhythm" to my drawings. This is where two more thumbnails are added and the images are swapped

Sketch/Lining

This is where it gets time consuming--getting the right angles I want. This is where references photos get stretched or warped. This is also when I bust out sketchfab to find 3d models so I can find decent angles.

The "items in motion" was so difficult to me because I simply didn't get it. It took a lot of studying Hajime no Ippo and with some help by the mods of askdeoxys and light-of-unova (I don't feel like tagging them I don't think they'd be interested in this long write up lol). The end process involved duplicating the line layer, saving one in case I fuck up, and erasing/hatching the line layer in the direction of the movement.

A lot of the choreography advice was taken from here, which is a FANTASTIC write up of how to show someone getting punched. This entire page was re-done after reading and interpreting the timing.

This part was a challenge because I wanted to tackle two things I struggle with--fights and backgrounds. Eventually, I had to settle on a style, so i started with the outside shot to get a feel for what kind of colors I wanted to use for this post

Originally, I wanted to go with a yellow/black color contrast, but I couldn't get it to look right. So, I settled on a dark blue / dark blue background combo that matches the overall vibe I've had so far in the rest of my blog

Stuff like distant lights was a little challenging, but I found a brush and altered/stretched/cut items where it looked fine and moved on. I really liked the pinkish light spilling out from the ground, and it set the tone for the rest of the post.

God, even an angle like this was difficult, especially since perspective never feels right until you reach the "ah hah!" moment that's at the end of the process. There's a lot of little things like the direction of the steps and how it would look going down and make sure it didn't look like you were looking up.

ONE THING that I really liked to use throughout this process was a "stamp" brush so I can keep my character proportional, because I didn't want to have him look too tall or too short so I used a stamp brush.

It's hilarious.

After the backgrounds, the order of drawings that got finished next were in order of difficulty. This was when I decided on a lighting vibe.

These colors are striking on their own, but I thought it was a bit too stark of a contrast and it made my lines disappear, so I duplicated my lighting layer and Gaussian blurred the hell out of it and turned it into an "add" layer

Colors

I have this thing: I try to find a way to make it easier to do a monochrome post, but end up doubling/tripling my work process where it'd be easier if I used regular flats... I can't say that I don't like the end result. If anything, I love it. But man, was it time consuming.

Since the pink layer was duplicated, it was both my coloring and shadow layer, which was too time consuming. I think I'm going to be doing stuff like this sparingly, even though I really enjoy the lighting.

This took the longest amount of time, so long that I forgot to take meaningful screenshots throughout the process! Oops.

Final Touches

Small items like "wait, there's supposed to be a small crowd" were added last minute!

I decided to bump the light up to a harsh degree. Arguably, the one on the left is easier on the eyes, but I didn't want that. I wanted this to be up in your face. I wanted this to hurt.

Other edits include some sparks/electricity in the closeup with Aila's dad. I thought about extending his leg past the frame, especially it'd symbolically make sense because Aila's dad is literally pushing him down, but it looked awkward. I settled for a spark going over the border, instead.

For my favorite page, I added a background shot of some moving lights were added afterwards. I thought it'd be too jarring to move from locker room straight to the apartment.

It's also a fun throwback! I thought it'd be fitting to have him symbolically lower, yet again. This time, he really knows that he's staring at rock bottom. He's actively looking down, watching the shadow he casts gets swallowed up by what awaits him below.

This was a LOT OF FUN! But man, if I work on something for too long, I think to myself: "Is this too much? Am I pushing my characters too far down the misery hole?" And I'd start second guessing the entire post as I'm making it. I had to learn to take that voice and shove it in a locker.

I decided upon the "self harm" content warning because... well, it is. The imagery doesn't match what's typically shown in media, and a part of me thinks that the content warnings are overkill, especially since it's not explicit. I thought I'd play it safe.

However, it's also a meta way for me, the author, to tell you that this is Jack actively hurting himself. The act of purposely losing a fighting match is an act of self loathing and self destructive behavior.

I hope you found this interesting!

Time Spent from start to finish: 2 weeks Time spent working those 2 weeks: ~ 5 sessions, each varying from 2 to 5 hours

[derxwnakapsyla]

Derxwna's Insane Ramblings - The Hakurei God "Headcanon"

So, this is the "Headcanon" I've come up with in regards to the identity of the Hakurei God. It utilizes some of the concepts that have been brought up in Touhou media. Not a whole lot, but there is one key concept that I've latched onto as a sort of "crux" for this insane concept.

I will warn you now: this has holes in it. In no way is this a stable "theory". It's the product of coming up with how I wanted to handle certain aspects of Touhoumon Asteria's story to make it less... depressing. And also to avoid a specific trope that the old draft made. Anyway!

By the time this headcanon takes place, Maribel is experimenting with the abilities she showcased during Trojan Green Asteroid, and they have reached a point where she can more consciously manipulate boundaries. Renko and Maribel take frequent adventures through her use of these abilities. It isn't perfect though, and this is reflected as such on one adventure where Maribel ends up, albeit unintentionally, manipulating the boundaries between past and present, leaving both her and Renko stranded an indeterminate time in the past, long before modern era.

The two of them eventually come across a shrine, and are taken in by the head priest of said shrine. For free room and board, Renko and Maribel offer to assist around the shrine, lending aid where they can. While this is going on, Maribel continues to practice with her own powers.

Both Renko and Maribel are trained in the practice of being shrine maidens for the shrine they were living at, offering services in place of the head priest of the shrine. People took a shine toward Renko the most, as she was able to help them with her modern knowledge, which people of this era considered to be "miracles". In turn, the amount of faith they were pouring into Renko specifically began to change her from a normal human into an Arahitogami- a Living God.

Maribel's experimentations with her abilities also began to warp her from being a normal human. Traditionally, she would be referred to as a "Magician". But a human who becomes a magician is just one step removed from losing their humanity entirely and becoming something else- in her specific case, a Youkai.

(I think you're starting to see where this is all going.)

Both Renko and Maribel noticed that, while the head priest and their children were getting older, they themselves were not. They did not age any further, did not look any older. Time effectively stopped for the both of them. Both had transcended their humanity, in very different ways. Renko, becoming effectively the de-facto god of the shrine they were staying at, and Maribel, who separated herself from her humanity and became a Youkai with the ability to manipulate boundaries.

The two of them knew that there was no way their future-past selves could learn about this- they themselves didn't know after all. Using the newfound control of her powers, Maribel manipulated the boundary between the Known and Unknown to completely erase hers and Renko's name from history. In order to seal their fate, Maribel adopted a new name- Yukari Yakumo.

Eventually, the shrine the two of them stayed at was merged with another clan when the priests from one married into another family. A clan of powerful Youkai Hunters, with the surname "Hakurei". The shrine was then renamed to the Hakurei Shrine, with its patron, god, a girl flung far from her time, residing in the shadows. And a Youkai, someone who should be vehemently opposed to the concept of Youkai Hunters, acting as its guardian, offering to train its Priests and Priestesses.

BUT THATS JUST A THEORY

A GAME THEORY

THANKS FOR READING

[meowww-ffxiv]

From the DT questions thread, 12 and 14! While the game may generally push in one direction I'm curious how different characters felt about these things.

Thank you!! I can do for both the main WoLs, Meowdred and Liios.

Under the cut due to embargo.

Ask meme.

.

12. What was their opinion of the culture of recycling souls and the use of regulators? Did this change as the story progressed?

Meowdred's is answered here.

As for Liios, his initial knee-jerk reaction was like whoa... that's a little fucked up.

Upon thinking, though, Liios wasn't that put off but the whole soul recycling part. After all, the same process happened when you died a natural death. The aetherial sea washed away most of your memories and then you either floated around in the soup for a few millennia or get ejected back into the cycle of Live Die Know.

What bothered him most was the memory erasure part. How this entire thing seemed to be engineered to selectively erase memories so as to erase suffering.

Liios in particular had an intimate reaction to that, as someone whose own mind suppressed his trauma for decades just to survive. So on the one hand, he understood the survival aspect of it. On the other hand, the person he was today was almost entirely because of what he did for his younger brother.

His younger brother who, by all predictions, would likely die very young for a Viera.

Liios had lived in fear of that eventuality for ninety years, but now that he saw that some people could just...surgically remove someone from their memory so as to avoid the pain of their loss, that seemed fucked up to him. Wasn't it enough that Ptolemy would die? Why would Liios be okay with killing him twice by forgetting about him? And how were these people okay with it?

He meant that as a genuine question. And then he thought about it some more and concluded that a lot of Solution Nine and Alexandria's culture seemed to revolve around willful ignorance. Not to diss them on it or anything -- Liios saw the logical appeal of not grieving when it sounded like they were on the brink of extinction -- but he was also Sharlayan, so he deeply pitied them for their philosophy. For to be ignorant was to be small, and to be small was to be eaten.

On the practical side, Liios saw brewing danger if this "culture" was permitted to perpetuate itself in the Source, where most things were hunky-dory and power-hungry assholes like Zoraal Ja were actually dime-a-dozen. Sphene wasn't programmed explicitly to conquer other worlds, but how long before another Varis came along?

If you told someone that they could have a nigh undying army for the low low price of human sacrifice and souls-theft, what dickhead wouldn't?

Liios did feel a little bad when Alisaie and G'raha sought his moral opinion on the matter, and he couldn't really give them an answer even though he knew they weren't seeking to bolster their own but rather to compare. What morality was there to be rendered upon technology clearly developed to prevent extinction? All he really focused on was the technology itself, and who could use it or misuse it, because he was an engineer.

His second proposal, however, was that the sock-puppeting of souls like this could very well be used to assist in the curing of tempered individuals who were so warped that the treatment method developed by G'raha and Alisaie failed to achieve results. But he'd have to consult Begg Luq on it because they were an expert in souls, and not him.

14. How did they feel about the Endless?

Mordred understood the appeal. He had lost many people in his life, and though he knew what it was and where he was while walking through that cheerful mausoleum, Mordred couldn't help but wish to hear Haurchefant's voice calling out to him.

But no sweet illusion of the dead was worth the price of even one single mortal life unwillingly sacrificed. For the cost alone, Mordred had no issue walking right past the smiling faces and to the terminals. He was glad that Erenville could see his mother again and have that final encounter with her, though. Sometimes grief became easier to bear when you had some time to work through it with the person you're about to part from.

Halfway through, Mordred did turn to Theodore and ask him, "What do you think?"

"I think that it would kill me had I find you here, languishing as a hollow simulacrum of yourself while your soul is in some machine stored for usage, rather than drifting through the Underworld's currents waiting for your next reincarnation, your next adventure," Theodore answered.

"Would you like it here? I think you'd have liked it here. The gondolas are nice."

"Idleness is certainly nice," Theodore answered. "Yet to exist in a purgatory of comfortable idleness while knowing I am only a simulacrum... That is horrifying."

He really said it, huh. Mordred looked around himself. At this man-made haven. And the purgatory that it was.

Though they then decided they weren't the people to ask, really. Even if Mordred and Theodore dropped dead right now, they wouldn't say they'd died unfulfilled. As far as Mordred understood, lots of these people died to catastrophic and terrible deaths. Yeah, he'd understand them wanting something a little more.

Still, the cost. And so this parade must end.

As for Liios...

Liios had low as fuck empathy, honestly, so he was just like. Aight. As he was moving through the zones. He was glad to see his friends getting their closures, but he didn't feel any particular way about the Endless aside from, "I see the idea, but wouldn't it be nicer just to archive all of these memories and put them in a library somewhere?"

What idea it did give him, though, was whether or not he himself shouldn't create an Endless version -- of himself. Liios had mostly come to terms with the high possibility of himself dying young, by now. And he was just worried that he'd leave an unfinished mess in his wake. If his friends could have something of him to fall back on, wouldn't that be great?

He did...try to relate. He thought about what his mother would do -- Rhaya, the woman who adopted him in Sharlayan -- if she was here. Only to know instantly that she'd scoff at the idea and consider this hell. And he was of the same mind.

Slightly more uncomfortable was the realization that he and Cahciua were very much alike. Erenville even told Liios to his face. They could be siblings, the way they were endlessly inquisitive about everything. Rebellious, too.

[revisionsong]

The worst part was that every single one was brilliant. In one way or another, they were all singularly spectacular, and these were the lives I had to take. Well, you see, it has to be that way. You take the lives that tip the scales of time if you wish to have impact upon it. Those lives, those bits of weight that bent fortune, they had to be removed.

I was chosen at a young age for the job. I had a bit of fortune telling skill, but was no prophet. And thus my job wasn’t to tell the distant future. No, the work I was trained for was to protect the future. To make certain that sanctioned prophecies came true, and to subtly derail other prophecies that might interfere. And I was good at my job. Ruining prophecy was no easy thing, but the one thing I was good at seeing was the warp and weft of time. And though I didn’t know the specifics of a prophecy without asking one of our prophets, I could see which others affected those that needed to be protected. 

But over time, I noticed that what had once been a vibrant shrubbery of major prophecies had been pruned to a narrow sticklike version of itself. And, where once there had been numerous outcomes for our world, enough paths to still allow choice to matter, now only one remained. 

And I had no clue what that singular prophecy entailed. 

But it didn’t matter. It shouldn’t bother me. I was doing my job.

But the way people spoke, down the line of time, had changed, too. Gone was the rebellious streak in so many that made them defy fate and make their own. Those feelings that so often resulted in divergent prophecies. It seemed, somehow, removing the divergencies was having an effect on the people themselves. Willpower was fading. And I knew it wouldn’t be long until my own started to fade, as well, even within the Shrouded Time.I’d already seen it start to affect a couple of my coworkers. 

I didn’t want it. I did not wish to lose my free will, to never have had it, and some part of me rebelled at the feeling of creeping certitude that I had started feeling more and more about my work.

So once again, I set out to change time. Only I had to go further back on each trip than I had originally. And each time, I despaired that the Shrouded Time would not protect me, yet each time, it did. 

Changing a fate that’s already been changed is hard. It took all of my strength to do what I had to each time. To change every life further back than before, to make just the right hardship to push the person forward.. But it was working. The tree, people themselves, all were healing upon the fabric of time.But I knew, and I saw, the suffering some of those I saved caused. Again, I started thinking. Started debating.

If it was this easy for me, personally, to fix fate, how easy would it be to fix the world itself?

I was still unsure how I hadn’t been dismissed, how the Shrouded Time hadn’t thrown me out, stripped me of my protections. But it hadn’t, and I took full advantage of that, slipping back in time to change the fates of my coworkers so that I’d never been seen doing what I was, or that if I was, the coworker themself was so fundamentally altered in fate that they would support my goals. 

I wouldn’t see suffering.

And so I went back through. Every prophecy, every change I was allowed to see, I read up on. I changed time, again and again, killing only when necessary. Each death pained me, left me changed. And I would write their names down, so none would be forgotten.But slowly, I eliminated the evil I could from the world. And slowly, my coworkers supported me more and more, granted me greater and greater powers, though that one prophecy was still, no matter how I tried, never revealed to me.

For a time, there had once again been many great prophecies, many eventualities, but now, now we were back to one. But it didn’t matter. It was the right one. And it didn’t matter if people forgot free will. This was my will, my destiny. 

A throne made of time. Each name of those erased from time existing only within the notebook I kept was inscribed carefully, written into time and folded into a pocket where it could not escape. These pockets formed together into a throne of never was, so I would always remember what this victory, this world of safety, had cost.

So yes, hero. You are here. And the only solace I have is that we’ve both got blood on our hands. That, whatever happens here, the world will not be cursed with an innocent leader. Time will not be cursed with an ignorant king. For you see, I don’t know how this ends. The only prophecy I couldn’t read.

So. How many have you killed? How many have died to bring us to exactly this point? How many died for destiny to become irresistible? For fate to become set in stone? Tell me, how many did we, the both of us, destroy? All to kill free will. Not that we had any choice. 

“How many people have died to achieve this world domination of yours?” “769.” “…What?” “769 people died to achieve my plans. I counted them, and had each of their names etched on my throne so I never forget what my victory cost the world. Now tell me, how many have you killed to see me dead?”

[erica-cannot-draw]

Susan is cool.

One of the problems with summarizing Susan is she resides entirely in the parts of the story that were purely Lore in my head that were very light on actual plot, meaning she has a lot of different ideas (often contradictory) bouncing off each other. Susan is probably the character who evolved the most as I """"""refined"""""" the story over time, mostly to become more OP.

Concrete details about Susan are:

She is knowledgeable about spacetime manipulation. (depending on the iteration, this could be either Literal Magic or just knowing how to build warp drives and stuff.)

Susan is the other character to get in-universe misogynized at. She invented a bunch of plot-irrelevant stuff in her husband's (A's) name because something something Women Aren't Allowed To Science or some shit. Eventually she deliberately leaked the truth so she could be executed by black hole (Because Misogyny), because she needed a black hole for one final experiment. Everyone including A thought she died but she actually used the black hole to travel between universes. (Somehow this still tilts A and convinces him Susan is dead, even though his immediate next action is to build a ship that lets him travel between universes based on her notes.)

This is not really a one-off for her. She always has schemes going. In some early iterations, Susan was a secondary villain, but even when she's an ally to the protagonists she is still sinister and selfish.

In some tellings Susan is conventionally blind but can form an arbitrarily precise 3D map of her surroundings based on the gravity of nearby objects.

In the very first iteration, Jarravin shows up to the hive mind place, which is named something like "The Susan Snoor Olpelit Institute." He asks a character who physically cannot lie who Susan was, and gets the answer "the founder's dead wife." Before he said anything Susan was a total fabrication on the part of A, but by bullshitting he changed the past. This is funny, but very stupid.

I don't much like this drawing. The early drawings I did of my characters were basically horny-first, and they shaped how the characters looked in my mind going forward. So I ended up being torn between it not looking like her and being ludicrously asstastic for a relatively neutral image. You can see some erased former hip locations that were not good enough for me. I am beyond redemption.

[peppermintchaos]

interlude: 29 graveyard years ago

word count: 938

Ash worried sometimes.

Ash knew that both they and Green viewed the kid as a younger sibling of sorts. Even when they had first been found by the duo, they were willing to fight, ready to survive by any means necessary- but they were still a child. They had refused to speak for weeks on end, timid and struggling to adjust to an environment that was never meant to exist. But they grew older, and adapted to the Graveyard more and more.

The Graveyard warped things. Something about the seal- their sister had always been foolish. Too easily swayed by her emotions, easily overcome by despair, or joy, or jealousy. So the seal was wrong. Very, very wrong. Ash wasn’t sure how long it had taken for their innocent creatures to become hulking monsters, driven insane by fear and a thirst for blood, for violence. They, like Cinder, blamed the Primordial Void God. The Void monsters made them sad- a perfect reflection of everything they were trying to avoid when they had blessed the Void creatures. The kid wasn’t insane, wasn’t some horrifically warped monster, but they were… wrong.

It’s not like they weren’t happy for them. Proud, even- their little protege, the only other Void god. Still- they shouldn’t have had to become one, wouldn’t have if it weren’t for the sake of survival. Humans couldn’t take all the stress of the rampant void energy- most gods couldn’t either. That was the point of the Graveyard. Most other gods that had been banished here did eventually succumb. Green was a one in a million exception. The kid was an exception for surviving that fall, and now black stains were creeping up their fingers. Their pupils had begun to elongate, letting in more of the little light in the vast darkness, and their teeth were becoming sharper, animalistic. It was a striking look combined with their jagged facial scar, and the other scars that they had collected in the past 4 years. In another 4 years, another 5, another 8… Ash worried. They saw the way Peppermint laughed when they fought.

Green thought it was harmless. Fey tried to comfort Ash, saying that plenty of people enjoyed fighting. Fey themselves enjoyed a good battle. Even they looked concerned sometimes though, seeing someone so young covered in the blood of Void monsters, monsters they had learned to wipe out quickly. Sometimes, they complained- the big ones were too hard to find. Ash, when is a hard one to fight going to show up again? I want a challenge. That level of ambition would be admirable in any other context, but Ash worried, endlessly, that it would turn into bloodlust, that they would lose their little Void God to the Graveyard, that the plan Green and them had schemed up wouldn’t work.

The seal was growing weaker- it had started with that rift. It wouldn’t be weak enough to get the two gods out anytime soon, but the kid would go unnoticed by Cinder. Even if she did notice, based on the trajectory of Peppermint’s skills, they could defeat her (at least, in her current weakened state) one day. She must have been manually filtering Light energy this whole time, leaving her exhausted. One of these days, Ash would…

Well. They weren’t quite ready to think about that.

So instead, they worried about the glint in Peppermint’s eyes, the deadly precision of their water constructs, the way they reveled in carnage. When they used all their resources- a proper sword, their Affinity, and Void weapons, they were unstoppable. Sometimes, they worried that when they got out, they’d be treated as a monster, a weapon, a freak show. That the treatment would erase for good the scared, gentle child who had first fell into the Graveyard. The worst part is that they didn’t think the kid would mind being treated as a weapon- they were the kind that wanted to be helpful to the point of self-sacrifice. It was their tearful confession to feeling useless, feeling like they couldn’t save their sister that had made Ash understand why Cinder made those who had endured tragedy into gods. For a child to have suffered that much, and still only want to assist others- didn’t they deserve a boon? Now, though, Ash’s gift to them might have only made everything worse.

…

Sometimes, Ash felt guilty. Useless. They couldn’t save their sister, and look where it had gotten them. Two people that they cared about, they had only met because they had gotten sent down here, burdened with Ash’s curse. Ash worried that they weren’t, as people had put it before their banishment, the “Wise Primordial God.” Being stuck down here for so long- 16,500 years- made them feel like they were barely a god at all. They had been relying on Green’s constant Light output to help filter the Void energy, but the way it was so condensed made filtering all of it an impossible task. It made them tired constantly. They remembered how ashamed they had been, Green getting banished just for knowing of Ash, only to meet this supposed Primordial God as a shell of their formal self. They couldn’t save anyone.

One day, though, they would absolve themselves of guilt, and get all three of them out (and save their precious Void creatures.)

One day.

[entoman-created-by-the-tallgreys]

You probably wondering why in the fuck would God talk to you or give you anything probably cuz I'm the one shit talking motherfucking time because I crossed I've crossed his path in the Spirit Realm

Probably, Because God is on Omni Present

. . .

I'm not saying I'm special but there are times when I I'm just trying to go to bed and I suddenly see your feel of the presence of a higher being of God I guess and he'll let me know it's him every fucking time

Heaven is gone all the angels are dead Earth gone all the human souls and all the Reptilian Souls have been destroyed by God, along with other alien races that I don't know how to put a fucking name to them

Everything in this area was destroyed I know I'm being a broker record this point but the more I think about it and all I hear is God's definitely laughter is everything's destroyed

I don't know why God showed me these things cuz it's only going to probably happen long after I'm dead I guess I don't know if God's going to do this 100 years 50 years 10 years 25 years 10 fucking minutes after I die I have no fucking idea

I got no fucking clue when he's going to do it

I DON'T KNOW WHY HE HAS TO WAIT WHY IS HE WAITING IS HE JUST HIM FUCKING AROUND SOME MORE ?

God truly the deity that makes absolutely no fucking sense he's Random he's crazy and he has all the power in Existence

. . .

I have no idea what's going on, God doesn't destroy the universe God just destroys his Galaxy.

God is Not intending to destroy the universe there are multiple place in the university is going to attack other places going to bless and many other place he's just going to do enlighten but he's not out to destroy the universe not anywhere close he just wants this one little shithole destroyed this one probably universe that became a complete and absolute pile of fucking shit

What Doesn't Make any sense, is Why is He waiting ?

. . .

I have no fucking idea what God does or what's going on but he promised me I'm wasting my time turning around coming back cuz all I'll see is empty space I'm wasting my time trying to hunt down every human Spirit at the piece of shit we already have them at erased

👻 <- The body the soul and the psyche ( Mind ) destroyed, By God, wasn't even giving enough time to go to hell before it was destroyed it was a destroyed

And I want to see the flaming Twisted warped face and is the face of God is Not Lucifer it's not the devil it's God it's the real God it's the God no one will tell you about

And God couldn't be happier that everything here is dead

The only thing I'm saying back to God is, WHEN THE FUCK DID DO I GET TO GO BACK TO FAIRYLAND

Aka

Hive World

😡 - I really wish I had Dorothy's red shoes from The wizard of Oz I clicked those motherfuckers three times I don't even care if it would be gay I put those motherfucking things on and clicked them three God damn times and warped my ass back to fucking Hive world

😡 . . . All I give a shit about is going home that's all I care about that's all I give is shit about I don't want to go to heaven God or anyone reading this right now I don't want to go to heaven I want to go home the only place that's truly hell is anywhere is not my homeworld cuz I've learned that any place is not my home world is truly hell

AND, THAT'S NOT A METAPHOR !!!

Even though the hive world was extremely chaotic and dark it was still my homeworld everything just felt spiritual and right and there was nothing wrong I thought that I was truly at home and it God's creation I was super careful what I said and what I did about when I came to the deities and especially the all father known as God himself

I didn't want to offend to piss him off but after years in this fucking torment of this God damn Planet I couldn't care less by piss got off cuz I don't care for the fate of my soul

You suffer to the extent that I've gone through and you won't give a fuck what happens to you either eventually you can you can be tortured to the point where all pain basically feels like the same amount of Agony Everything is just Anguish

Just like being an actual hell where all the pain is the absolute greatest you can possibly suffer yet you suffer more and more and more it doesn't matter what you go through it's just more hell everywhere as hell except my whole world that I'll never know if I'll ever get to go back

Back on topic God does for some odd reason he's going to kill all his fucking angels I don't see I don't want to be a hard Stone person or a cold-hearted bastard I just don't care I'm sorry to be so fucking Selfish, I just don't care

All I give a shit about is going home I don't care if I look I don't care of these stupid fucking idiots of this planet look see me mentally ill I don't give a fuck who hates me I don't give a fuck up the CIA is tracking me I don't give a shit

FUCK THIS WORLD

I'm only telling you this is a fair one because I've actually been with God and God wants this planet to burn God wants everybody on this world to die I don't know what's keeping him I don't know why he's waiting God makes no logical sense God is a fucking psycho God Is Random as fuck God is the most alien thing in the universe that makes absolutely zero fucking sense

You know what I both do and do not give a shit I just want to go home that's all I care about I'm going to go to my bug world and be left to fuck alone and that's all I care about

But God wants his world to burn God wants this world to be destroyed as if the whole planet is a fucking ball of paper and God is a Nuclear Blast, Erasing it

God show in the world coming to an end in laughing maniacally as possible I'm just all my experience with deafening laughter definitely laughter from literally God unmistakably God white all over the place the white fire everywhere everyone dying everything coming to an end and the whole world being blown away like Ash

In a fucking Hurricane ?

. . .

Divine, Justice ?

. . .

Most, Likely

😡 - either way I don't give a shit what God does I don't care what you fucking does I have to obsessed on something that was just bare basic for me going to my own world I know I'm probably not going to get there in this fucking lifetime this cursed existence I'm only going to get there after I die if I can find the Soul's of my people

🧚🏻‍♂️ & 🧚🏻‍♀️ <- Insectoid's, Aka Fae

( Bug, Soul's )

And, or Human Insectoid Hybrid's !

[tiffyfoundsomething]

My First Barbie

I have an actual review! I haven’t done one of those in some time.

This would have been done months ago but the delivery date on the ones I’d ordered kept being pushed back and back and I finally cancelled the one that I was able to cancel and went and bought the doll in person at Target instead.

My First Barbie costs about $20 everywhere, including Amazon:  https://amzn.to/3xTsDVR

Amazon, however, apparently sold dolls they didn’t have and have kept pushing delivery dates back while stores like Walmart and Target have had these on the shelves the whole time.

I had hoped she’d be easy to remove from the packaging but she was pretty average. Some snips here, some tears and rips there (bubbles glued to the backing), 6 plastic tabs in the back of her head...

Why...

And she was free.

She does have some prominent seams on one arm and those little injection points that are common to soft-bodied dolls.

After having handled her a bit I think that she is not a skinny skeleton under a thick layer of vinyl like the 90′s click leg Barbies were, but instead a shell with a thin layer of vinyl over top.

@queenofsquids​ compared the feel of her “skin” to that of a fresh yet greasy pink eraser and I can’t think of any better way to put it.

She does feel greasy.

Her face isn’t particularly spotty. It does look like it was printed in dots, but they’re close together and looks pretty good.

She had a chunk of plastic in her hair, and it was both sparsely rooted and distressingly oily.

When I washed her hair it suddenly felt horrible. It’s very grippy and I couldn’t get my fingers through it. It also curled up funky in on spot where the hair is cut short.

A boil dunk did help.

Right now I’m waiting for it to dry again so I can see how it feels dry after being washed and then I’ll see about conditioning it.

EDIT:  I feels alright after drying, though still feels a bit oily. Might be Saran.

I can’t tell what fiber it is, all I can tell is that it feels very bad. It behaves like polypropylene in that it gets messy very easily with minimal touching, but it’s glossier than I’m used to poly being.

First brushing with the provided brush resulted in a little bit of hair loss. This is normal.

For me, so far, the feel of the “skin” and the hair were both sensory nightmares.

Luckily, I was warned.

I did eventually get fed up with the greasiness and washed her hair AND body. Her body feels nicer after being washed, and her hair felt oh so much worse, as I mentioned above.

Her articulation is ok, but not great. Her shoulders can move in and out and spin all around, and her head can turn but not look up nor down.

Knees don’t bend far, and neither do her elbows. Being a shell with a thin layer of vinyl would explain why her elbows and knees look so nice when bent.

She was already showing white stress lines in her joints when I deboxed her.

I didn’t see if she could do the splits because it didn’t cross my mind. I’m more concerned with how well a doll can sit.

She sits very well. Back straight and knees a bit apart or together. My doll is a little off-balance and warped, however, and tends to lean.

As others have mentioned, she’s rather hefty.

She was relatively easy to undress despite her skin being a bit grabby, because the dress is very loosely fit throughout including the shoulder straps. For whatever reason there was cardboard under her dress.

Since Mattel claims this doll is easy to dress, I also ordered an outfit that I felt would put that to the test:  A swimsuit.

Available here on Amazon:  https://amzn.to/3XY0yre

What’s the hardest thing to get on an old click-leg Barbie? Pants, tights/hose, and swimsuits.

It was ALMOST easy to remove until I discovered three of those tiny plastic tabs. I hate these things SO much.

Getting the swimsuit on wasn’t too difficult up until I got to her upper thigh, then I had to work a bit to get it the rest of the way on.

I also snagged it immediately with it’s own Velcro-like closure. I can see that frustrating kids... It frustrated me as a kid.

Her default booties were kind of difficult to get on her feet because her ankles and heels are a bit soft, but the sandals from the swimsuit pack were very easy to put on (I forgot to take a photo...). The sandals also stay on well. I did give her a good shake.

Her glasses can also survive a shake, but not the hat. The hat is a bit too small for her head.

The fit of the swimsuit is shapeless and boxy, and that’s alright. It does make it easier to get on and off and is still rather cute.

Perfect fit for G3 Monster High Lagoona, though. Her earrings are..... Somewhere around here.

Sooooooo in the name of science, and because it came up not too long ago, I gave her foot a gentle chomp to see what happened.

It’s a softer, bouncier texture than 90′s click legs, and there is no bitterant applied. I think it’s too soft to really encourage chewing, but I don’t think it would stop a child that was inclined to chew a doll’s feet, either.

A gentle chew did mark her foot easily, however, and a boiling didn’t undo the damage.

(That piece of her right foot was already missing.)

All in all, despite the sensory unhappiness brought on by the texture of her hair and skin, I rather like her.

As others had said, it may well be because the size she is now in my hands as an adult is similar to the size Barbie seemed then, when I was a child and it’s hitting a bit of nostalgia that I didn’t know was missing.

[bigskydreaming]

Compiling a Top Ten List of Things I Wish Non-Nightwing Fans Knew Weren’t True About Him (pre-Flashpoint and ten only because I’m using a panel example for each one and just linking to longer essay-proofs I’ve made on literally all of these lmao why am I like this).....I need one more though. Thoughts?

1) Dick didn’t hate Jason, treat him badly or ignore him when Jason was Robin

2) Dick’s iconic jerk moments towards Kory, Donna, Alfred and others in NTT #18-22 don’t actually say anything about his character because they exist as part of a narrative showing he was brainwashed, and no, it wasn’t a retcon

3) Dick and Kory’s breakup had EVERYTHING to do with Mirage, they were fighting about it literally the page before he proposed, and you can’t claim not being ready to get married was the problem unless you acknowledge Dick only wanted to get married to prove he loved Kory in the face of everyone doubting that because of Mirage

4) Your view of Dick’s feelings about Jason upon his eventual return, and him killing people, absolutely needs to factor in the fact that Dick once beat the Joker to death because he mocked Jason’s death to Dick, and no, Bruce reviving the Joker doesn’t change anything this says about Dick’s feelings here

5) What happened with Tarantula was not the de facto worst thing to happen to Dick at that time, it is just as significant if not MORE significant that Blockbuster targeted and killed everyone close to him in Bludhaven specifically BECAUSE of Dick himself, from his apartment building, Haly’s Circus, etc. In fact, given that Tarantula wasn’t the first time Dick was raped and the fact that even as it happened, Dick - who had already taken responsibility for her and her training - told her not to touch him not just because he didn’t want it, but because he was poison....its highly significant that his thoughts were focused on him being WHAT ruins everyone who touches him....including his own rapist. He saw himself as the common denominator, and I don’t think there’s anyway to divorce this from his first rape, which was also at the hands of someone he worked with in a superhero capacity. Finally, all of this was ultimately compounded by the destruction of Bludhaven itself, and that....really....can’t be stressed enough. As well as the fact that all of this took place at the exact same point in the comics as Tim’s losses of Stephanie, Conner and Jack Drake.

6) Dick was never Slade’s apprentice. Ever. As Renegade in the comics, he worked WITH Slade, as part of an attempt to infiltrate the Society of Super-villains, but the whole time he did so, he was at Slade’s request training his daughter Rose himself. He was never Slade’s subordinate or student. That just fundamentally didn’t happen. Furthermore, he outwitted Slade, in retaliation for Slade subverting his attempt to tell Clark he wasn’t really a traitor and making Clark actually believe he was.....and it was him outwitting Slade and getting Rose to turn on her father that led Slade to have the Society destroy Bludhaven as its example to the world, despite Slade having previously promised Dick that Bludhaven would be protected. You can’t unlink any of the links in this chain of events. Bludhaven was only destroyed BECAUSE Slade and Dick never once interacted as student and teacher, master and apprentice. It was a cat and mouse game where they both played both roles, knowingly, the entire time. As equals. As all their interactions between them have gone, going all the way back to their earliest encounters in the Judas Contract. Please stop erasing this aspect of their comic book dynamics just to warp it into something where Slade is a predator who hopelessly outmatches Dick, his chosen prey. Slade’s preoccupation with Dick isn’t because of his potential, its because Dick’s the one who keeps fucking up Slade’s plans AS HE ALREADY IS. Constantly reframing things so Dick is hopelessly at Slade’s mercy or desperately in need of Slade’s help or protection says nothing about their actual dynamic, it's just using them as interchangeable props in your preferred dynamic. Which I mean, you can do, its just. Know that isn’t actually them?

7) Dick didn’t fire Tim, kick him out of Wayne Manor or Gotham, ever think he was crazy, threaten to throw him into Arkham, refuse to believe him about Bruce’s death, pick Damian over him, or any of the dozen other rabbits people have pulled out of the top hat that is Red Robin in order to depict him as the absolute worst person to ever live and who should totally just go to Hell.

8) Dick is actually the ONLY one of the Batkids who has had the experience in Arkham that people like to say Jason has had and blame on Dick himself, as he went undercover for Bruce in Batman R.I.P. in a manner that necessitated allowing the Black Glove Society to capture him, hold him prisoner in Arkham for a week, straitjacketed and drugged up to the gills and about to be lobotomized when he was finally able to fight back and free himself. While Arkham was actually full of various Rogues, unlike the time Jason actually spent in Arkham, being bored, and subjected to nothing more than psychological evaluations that said he was fine, all because Dick wanted to PROTECT him in a way that he knew wouldn’t be possible if Jason was in Blackgate, after POLICE arrested him regardless of what Dick did or didn’t want.

9) Dick absolutely 100% WAS adopted by Bruce when he was an adult, he isn’t the only one who wasn’t adopted, just the one who wasn’t adopted before adulthood. I have major issues with HOW the adoption went down, and think it should have played out much differently and would love to see a million fix-it fics tackling the WAY it played out and doing it better, but it is just flat out, categorically untrue that it just didn’t happen at all. And to be fair, Dick Grayson stans are just as guilty as perpetuating this one in the name of angst, and personally, I think that is counter-productive and just enables the perpetuation of treating him/viewing him as something ‘other’ than one of Bruce’s kids himself.

10) I have a few ideas for the tenth, but nothing definitive, so.....thoughts? Any other major topics I’ve ranted on before that anyone thinks should make an appearance here or doesn’t get acknowledged enough, or perhaps a topic I haven’t covered yet? 

[haleigh-sloth]

What did you think of the way the redemption arcs were handled in Naruto? And do you think the bnha's redemption of their villians follow a similar path to how it played out in Naruto?

Well now that my initial reaction to the story has toned down, I can look at it a bit more clearly lol

At first I really liked Naruto's and Sasuke's storyline together, AND I STILL DO--BUT, there are some things in it that fell kinda flat to me at the end. My initial reaction was just "Omg they're friends again and they love each other again I'm so happy happy endings for everyone", but now I can actually see some stuff I didn't care for.

But really quick: honestly the only redemptions from Naruto I see being somewhat replicated in BNHA are Sasuke and Obito.

I did a really long explanation here on comparing those two to Shigaraki and Kurogiri, so I'm not gonna get super into it again (it's a lot of words lol).

BUT to answer your question yes I think those two arcs are big inspirations for the way Shigaraki's and, eventually Kurogiri's, arcs will play out.

Sasuke's arc, I mean I loved it and he's my favorite from Naruto. His arc had all the drama and pain and just, his arc was the heart of the story. But his character specifically was not exactly the best handled.

Basically I think what Horikoshi is doing with Shigaraki is a way way wayyyyy more improved version of Sasuke's arc:

Goes down a dark path due to trauma and manipulation

Gets worse and worse throughout the story, as in commits more crimes/atrocities/causes more pain to others/whatever

Develops through friends they made along the way, reminding readers of their humanity

Get even WORSE closer to the end

Being shown one final attempt of love and friendship/compassion and all that and finally breaking down those walls between the two opposing characters

Redeem themselves by reconciling/uniting with the protag and helping defeat the common enemy, therefore saving the rest of the cast the readers care about

I would say that Sasuke fell short on the "developing through friends" part, as I never really got the vibe that he was super invested in the wellbeing of "Snake"---> "Eagle". Whereas with Shigaraki, it's kind of just ingrained in his character that he cares about other people but can't healthily express it due to the Traumas™️.

I ALSO think that it was kind of dumb to have Sasuke reunite with team 7, defeat Kaguya, and then still double down and want to kill Naruto of all people because he made a last minute decision to take Naruto's dream from him. But more importantly, there HAD to be an open heart-to-heart between the two of them for the ending to land. I loved the final fight between the two of them, but I think it was out of order. Like...if it had happened before the fight against Kaguya, idk.

I see what Kishimoto was trying to do though. It's basically what Horikoshi is trying to do too (just better). You have someone who is drowning in their pain and has lost the ability to even ASK for help, and then you have someone who is willing to risk it all to get through all that pain and get to the core of that person and bring them back to the surface, because they care and love and feel all those things for people they aren't obligated to care about and love. It's a pretty feel-good story. Both of them are, but I think Shigaraki is just, ten times better written than Sasuke.

Kurogiri and Obito---> I don't have much to predict except I think things will get desperate and they'll need Kurogiri's warp maybe, but because of Shigaraki's hand thing possibly decaying everything in sight they'll have to leave Monoma to erase decay and Aizawa will make another attempt to get to Kurogiri's core. Which will eventually lead to Kurogiri helping Aizawa realize that the way heroes have been handling villains for generations is not going to help anything, and some changes need to be made. And I don't know how, but I'm assuming Kurogiri is going to die in the process of helping Shigaraki and Midoriya defeat AFO, like as a final act to make sure AFO disappears for good Kurogiri sacrifices himself or something. Basically a lot like Obito I think he'll end his arc saving everyone alongside the LOV and it'll be a bittersweet good bye (also that's what I think will happen with Twice too at the end).

And then, exactly in the same way Konoha pardoned Sasuke after he saved all of them, I really do think society in BNHA will look the other way from the LOV after they save everyone. I really expect this conversation to take place again between Aizawa and the LOV at the end:

as well as this one:

Aizawa's conversation with Aoyama is too perfect to not be repeated and used with the LOV. Walking alongside people who reach out to you....come on man. That's the LOV and the UA kids.

But anyway, aside from the other things throughout the story that were clearly an inspiration for a lot of stuff in BNHA, those two characters' arcs are the endings I expect to see basically taken right out of Naruto and put into BNHA lol.

[pyreo]

Loreposting about Abaddon

Abaddon doesn’t get a lot of attention. As a deposed god he doesn’t seem relevant to the Guild Wars timeline after Nightfall. But I keep thinking about him because Abaddon is probably the most influential character Tyria ever had.

Let’s just go over where he appears in-game if you start off in GW2. Everyone knows the six human gods. They’re in statues, temples, personal shrines everywhere. The base game story makes you detour through a sunken temple dedicated to Abaddon, while the Orrian temples to the other five gods are still intact on the surface. This is not by chance. It’s also nudging you to notice that there are no Orrian temples to Kormir, because she replaced Abaddon only two centuries ago. This is reflected again later on in Siren’s Landing on the other side of Orr, where the Five, and Abaddon, each have a personal reliquary, and Abaddon’s is central, connected to all the others, and still intact.

Building on that refresher on human divinity, in Path of Fire you visit the actual place Abaddon was defeated by the other Five gods and pushed into a side dimension to keep him out of the world.

And when you visit the archives of the Durmand Priory, they have an imposing Abaddon statue towering over the stairs. Other than being reflected in three major environments, he doesn’t have a role in the plot. BUT.

As Kormir explains to you, the weakness of the human gods is that their excess of power keeps fucking up the world. The Desolation, a map that covers only a part of the sulfur desert, is completely uninhabitable because Abaddon was destroyed there. This happened because Abaddon, who was actually the most powerful of the Six and the leader of the group, wanted humans to share in the gift of magic. He was the god of knowledge, after all. This proved disastrous and the other gods reduced and compartmentalised the magic, and Abaddon went on a whole attempt to overthrow them and become one, single god of all.

The destruction of Abaddon’s temples and relics was intentional. He was wiped from memory. The pantheon was called The Five until Nightfall, wherein the existence of Abaddon was revealed as he tried to drag himself back into the mortal plane. As a god his spheres of power were water and knowledge. Erasing knowledge of him was what made him powerless. (Interestingly, the Priory’s special collections contains the Scroll of the Five True Gods, an ancient record of what the human gods knew about the Elder Dragons, but one dragon is missing - the water dragon, who like Abaddon, has a damaged and erased history. The six Elder Dragons and six human gods have many respective connections.)

When he lived, Abaddon’s followers were the Margonites, who believed him the only real god and worshipped him exclusively, unlike other humans who revere all the Six together. They were rewarded with transformation into etheral beings with an extremely long lifespan, and were imprisoned in Abaddon’s Realm, the Realm of Torment, when he was forced out of Tyria. As the god of knowledge he had a realm to himself, and when fallen, his sphere inversed. Knowledge became madness, the theme his realm embodies. Temples were sunk, records destroyed, because to remove all knowledge of the god of knowledge made him powerless.

I can’t remember where, but it’s implied that by Nightfall comes around a thousand years after his banishment, Abaddon is finally able to claw his way back into Tyria because people are starting to remember him. There’s one side quest that sticks out in my memory called The Search for Enlightenment about a scholar stealing scriptures from an Elonian library which leads to a massive raid by Margonites. The scholar was ‘babbling’ about a forgotten god. Proximity to knowledge about Abaddon seems to bestow insanity, the connection between Abaddon in his inverted realm and his hold over anyone who knows he exists. Though the Five Gods tried, they didn’t erase everything (hell, Trahearne and Sayeh al' Rajihd give you a guided tour of an Abaddon temple). Over a thousand years, relics popped up and people began to remember The Five was once The Six. As they did his influence returned until he was able to attempt to merge the Realm of Torment with Tyria and become a single, all powerful god in the absence of the others.

But wait how does that make a forgotten god the most influential character in both games?

Well.

Guild Wars lore is nothing if not completely linked together. Every single thing has cause and effect, every event is a domino. The story is consistent from Prophecies to this day. So let’s start with the first GW1 chapter, Prophecies.

It all starts at the Citadel of Flame.

It was built into the volcano Hrangmer. The charr had been displaced, pushed out of Ascalon by the successful expansion of humankind. 450 years before GW2 the Flame Legion found this volcano and, inside, Titans. You know how Mordremoth’s minions are Mordrem, Zhaitan’s minions are Risen, etc? Titans are Abaddon minions, left behind and hidden after his defeat. They change their appearance to suit their environment. In a jungle they’re vegetative, in mountains they’re made of ice, in the Realm of Torment they’re twisted constructs of flesh, in a volcano, they’re fire. The Flame Legion brings the Titans back to the charr, charr worship them, and in exchange, get immense fire powers. Flame Legion completely takes over charr society and makes it a theistic, misogynist nightmare with the Shamans at the top.

Abaddon has just restructured charr society.

Using their overpowered fire magic indirectly from a human god, charr, ironically, rally against the humans and nuke Ascalon to pieces. The few survivors escape to Kryta. Charr are now pretty much unstoppable and invade all the way to Orr. Vizier Khilbron used a powerful stolen scroll to repel the charr with magic, and it completely destroys Orr, collapsing the island into the ocean.

Abaddon has just wiped out two nations of the humans who used to worship him, with Orr as the final goal - to tear down the resplendent city of the Gods who betrayed him. This is referenced, if you know what you’re looking for, in GW2. You can scale the Vizier’s Tower, where he read the scroll that sank all of Orr, and on the wall...

A mural to the lost god, a testament to power that, a thousand years later, one who was expunged from history had a faithful likeness depicted.

Ascalon’s a burning hole and Orr is underwater. Now what? Those Ascalonian survivors in Kryta find the place is controlled by White Mantle. The White Mantle are committing mass murder via bloodstone sacrifice (bloodstones being the power curb the gods introduced after imbuing humans with magic) in order to halt the prophecy of a Chosen One opening the Door of Komalie. Vizier Khilbron turns up, shaking out some mysteriously wet boots don’t worry about that, and leads you against these genocidal cultists. Which, whoops, does lead to the Door of Komalie being opened - and it’s a doorway into Abbadon’s Realm of Torment, out of which Titans power through. This was the apocalypse planned for Kryta. Unlike the first two, this one is thwarted by the player. Kryta lives on. Vizier Khilbron is the final boss and turns out to have been a lich.

That’s 3 of the 5 human nations. What about Cantha and Elona?

GW: Factions is the Canthan chapter in which Shiro Tagachi, the emperor’s bodyguard, continually visits a fortune teller until she inflicts such paranoia on his mindset that he believes he needs to kill the emperor in self-defense. His defeat causes the Jade Wind that creates the Jade Sea. As a spirit, Shiro then engulfs Cantha in a plague that warps people into tumorous mutants. The fortune teller turns out to be an Abaddon minion whose task was the eventual destruction of Cantha. This one also is foiled by the player.

GW: Nightfall is the culmination chapter. Abaddon is now powerful enough, well known enough, to breach Tyria and try to come back. His agent is Varesh Ossa, who slowly transforms into a Margonite over the course of the game. The player confronts the breach between planes and finally enters the Realm of Torment, meeting the shades of Abaddon’s servants that came before, the lich form of Vizier Khilbron, and the spirit of Shiro Tagachi, before facing Abaddon himself.

And that’s the end of it. In Guild Wars magic cannot be created or destroyed, only transferred, so another god ascends in Abaddon’s place. They are once again The Six.

It’s Abaddon that ruined half the Elonian desert, Abaddon whose sinking of Orr gave Zhaitan the perfect mass grave to necromance, Abaddon who froze the Cantha sea into solid jade, and Abaddon whose final death and eruption of magic started waking Primordus, leading to the norn, dwarf and asuran alliance to stop it in 1078 AE-- introducing the norn and asura to the rest of Tyria, and making the dwarves extinct, cutting their entire race’s existence short. If it wasn’t for Abaddon, the charr wouldn’t have been taken over by their magic-toting shaman caste, only to come to their senses and rebel and ostracize the Flame Legion afterward. Hell, the current Flame Legion Imperators STILL style their horns in an homage to Abaddon, and probably don’t even remember why! To a human god, gone for over a thousand years, who used their race as pawns in a revenge attempt at wiping out every nation the humans had built!

And even after being thoroughly and completely destroyed, his magic STILL haunts Tyria enough for his statues to punish you for not showing the proper respect.

[no-droids]

Rushed

Part Seven of the Rough Day Series

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 6.9K haha NICE

Warnings: SMUT, mildly jealous Mando, penetrative sex, slight degradation, slight edging, cumplay whoopsies

A/N:  Listen I was planning for there to be a soft moment at the end of this where they talk about some personal shit but then the smut went too fuckin hard and I couldn’t make it fit so it’ll happen next time no worries

***

The first thing you see when you blink your eyes open is… green.  Green, and sideways.  Three little fingers, grabby as usual, clutched onto a strand of your hair and tugging.

Gigantic, pitch black eyes blink slowly at you as you focus your vision, lifting your head just slightly from where it’s resting on a balled-up, makeshift pillow.  The baby coos at you, a musical and happy sound, tugging your hair once more as you take in your surroundings.

The cot you’re laying on is pulled out of the hull just partially, just enough to bathe your legs and the lower half of your torso in light while the upper half is still in the confined within the tight space inside the wall, but that still doesn’t explain how the kid got in here with you.  How did he climb—?

Something—a hand—comes down to thump over your ankle, not too hard but not really overly concerned about it either.  “We’re here,” grunts a modulated voice, interrupting your adorable little alarm clock.

Ah.  That’s how.

You immediately reach out and scoop the baby up into your arms just because you can, turning him around and holding his back to your chest as you cuddle him on the bed.  “Okay,” you sigh dreamily, kissing his wrinkly, hairy yet somehow also completely bald little head and gently smushing your cheek into it.

You settle back down with the kid for another few hours of rest, only a hand thumps down on your ankle again.  “Come on,” Mando’s voice drawls through multiple layers of metal.  “Let’s go.  Karga is waiting on us.”

Your eyebrows pull together, just as your little, little spoon starts to wiggle in your arms.  “What?  Who’s us?”

“Us,” he repeats shortly, pulling the bed the rest of the way out of the wall by your ankle but slowing it to a gentle halt right before it can reach the end of the tracks.  “Now hurry it up.  And stop smothering him.”

You groan and sit up in the brightly lit hull, blinking around at the… remarkably tidy ship.  

It wasn’t like this before.  Where’s all the clutter?  The first aid kits strewn about?  The excess pieces of gauze and tape on the floor?  The… the blood on the walls?

Your eyes fall to the corner near the hatch almost immediately, the sight of… The Incident.  Only you find it completely spotless, not a single thing out of place.  Come to think of it, you don’t think you’ve actually ever seen the hull cleaner than it is now, even when you’ve spent literal days working at it.

There should be blood there.  There was a pool of blood there.  Wasn’t there?  There was a pool of blood right there, right in that little space between the—

“Hey.”  Your jaw is caught in a gentle grip and pulled left just a little, and you suddenly come face to face with a metallic visor.  His helmet is nothing but sharp angles and your own warped reflection staring blankly back at you, but his hold is steady and his voice is soft through the modulator.  “Us.  You, me, and the kid.  Right?”

You blink at him, suddenly reminded of the child held in your arms.  And then you nod slowly at him, hearing the baby gurgle softly near your chest as he looks up at Mando.

“I’m not leaving you today,” he tells you, moving his hand up to cradle the side of your face.  “But I also have to meet up with Karga.  It won’t take long.”  He jerks his helmet to gesture over at the open hatch, before looking back at you and brushing a thumb across your cheekbone.  “So let’s go.  Okay?”

You nod once more.  “Okay.”  But then you remember the blood all over your hands and clothing.  “No, wait, Mando—I have to change clothes—”

“No, you don’t,” he interrupts.  “Come on.”

“Yes, I do,” you protest, gathering the child in one arm and bringing the other up to show him.  “Look, I still have blood all ov—”

A black, long sleeve tunic.  Baggy, clean, and worn.  Not what you passed out in.  Not actually your shirt, you don’t think.  There’s not even gauze covering your arm anymore.  The blood’s been wiped away and the wound marring the inside of your forearm completely healed overnight.

“Hey, look at me,” he says once more, bringing his other hand up to hold your face completely still in front of him.  The baby makes grabby hands up towards him, but Mando just stretches your neck and makes you lift your chin to keep your attention focused on him.  “I let you sleep for as long as I could.  But we have to get moving now.”

You nod, trying to figure out how you feel.  Grateful, you suppose?  That he did as much as he could to erase what happened yesterday?  If he asked, you probably wouldn’t want to talk about it, so… so what’s the problem?

Nothing.  Nothing is a problem.

***

Alright, so maybe you… get it.

You get it now, why E-Bacta is just as sought after as spice.  You can still feel traces of the partial dose lingering in your bloodstream even now, even while trailing behind Mando and his equally reflective spherical shield as you three make your way into the crowded cantina.

You feel… physically, you feel spectacular.  Glowing.  Radiant and awake.  Not so much high anymore, but almost like the Maker hit a reset button on your entire body.  You’re incredibly well-rested, no aches or pains, absolutely nothing to suggest something major happened last night.  You know you should at least have some trouble walking, but you don’t.  Fuck, even your skin feels clearer and healthier than ever before.

If you hadn’t killed someone yesterday, you might even have a spring in your step.

You’re… you just have to stop thinking about it, you tell yourself.  You’re being stupid and childish.  You killed one fucking person in self-defense.  Mando disintegrates people.  He’s taken out more people with fucking doors than that, of course he’s not going to openly acknowledge it unless you bring it up yourself.

You’re so lost in your thoughts, you almost don’t respond when a booming voice calls your name over the chatter and music.  It’s… it’s almost a bit startling to be recognized first when you’re standing next to someone like the Mandalorian, and you immediately whip around as a warm, equally as loud, “Mando!” soon follows it.

A hand is clapped down on top of your shoulder, Greef Karga beaming at you both as he mirrors his other hand on Mando’s pauldron.  “And baby!”  He adds brightly, catching sight of the little green monster hovering next to you.  “Hey, baby!”

“We don’t have much time,” your companion immediately informs him.

“Oh, of course not!”  He turns his head to look down at you with a wide, almost secret smile.  “Always down to business, isn’t he.  Never one to dally with small talk.  Come, join me!”

You casually trail a few steps behind everyone, feeling just slightly out of place in the dusty cantina even with the forward acknowledgement from Mando’s guild contact.  You’ve met him once or twice, never for very long.  It’s... unexpected, the sudden attention.

Mando unclips his rifle and leans it against the table before taking a seat, and then you slip into the booth next to him, huddling your arms inwards a bit and trying to take up as little space as possible.  Greef gestures for a round of drinks from one of the rusty droids prattling around the bar as the bounty hunter beside you eventually presents three pucks to him.

“I seem to remember you leaving with four of those, last time you were here,” he remarks, visibly surprised.  You don’t know why, but you immediately stiffen, even though Mando doesn’t move a muscle in response.

“The last one wasn’t worth the effort,” he eventually grunts.  You keep your head tilted down just slightly and Greef’s attention is subsequently captured by the droid as it approaches the head of the table, taking three shots of glowing blue liquid from its circular tray and then waving it away.  He places one of the glasses down in front of you.

“I like the days Mando decides to collect,” he says to you, holding up the other two shots of alcohol in both hands.  “The droids are stupid, they always bring over an extra drink.”  He winks at you, tipping one of them in your direction.  “My gain.”

He downs the drink, and you blink down at the one meant for you.  It would be impolite to refuse it, right?  But you don’t really... really feel like drinking right now, especially considering you woke up probably not an hour ago.

“Come on!”  Greef eventually gestures, before downing the other shot of glowing liquor.  “Don’t tell me you’re as much of a stick in the mud as this one is.”

Your hand comes out for the shot glass without thinking.  Mando is completely silent next to you as you tip your head back and drink the entire thing in one gulp, the liquid burning as it slides down your throat.  The man sitting across from you smiles, before digging his hands around in his pockets for payment.

A palm quietly settles on your knee under the table.

“As promised,” Greef exchanges a sizable portion of credits for the pucks.  “Someone is already collecting the carbonite plaques from your vessel as we speak.”

Mando nods his understanding, but doesn’t say anything in return.  Neither do you.

“So.”  Greef slowly settles back in the booth, looking between the two of you.  “This is new.”

“The next job, Karga,” the bounty hunter next to you reminds him shortly.

“Is he this pushy all the time?”  Greef turns and asks you, pointedly ignoring Mando.  “This rushed?  Or is it just because he doesn’t like me?”

“No,” you answer on instinct, and when neither one of them say anything, you eventually flush a brilliant shade of red and realize they’re waiting for you to elaborate.  “He’s not… al-always rushed.”

Greef blinks at you a few times, and then he quite suddenly barks out a laugh, loud and abrupt enough to make you jump.  While chuckling, he pushes four new tracking fobs across the table.

“I was only going to give you three of these, since that’s all you came back with,” Karga says, gesturing for another round of drinks with a lazy twirl of his finger.  “But I like her.  More than you, Mando.  So I’ll forgive you this once, but try not to make it a habit.”

“And you’ll get two extra drinks this time as a token of appreciation.”  Mando slides his hand down to cup your knee and give it a gentle squeeze.  “We’re leaving.”

“Of course you are,” Greef huffs, watching you both scoot out of the booth and gather your things.  “It’s already been five whole minutes since you first sat down.  Far too much socializing for one day.”

“Thank you for the drink,” you tell him politely.  “It was very nice seeing you again.”

“Likewise!”  He projects, widening his arms and beaming up at you.  “If you ever get tired of him, you are always more than welcome here on Nevarro.  You’re far nicer to look at than anyone else in this sector.”

Mando’s palm rests low on your back, his voice quiet through the modulator and partially lost in the chatter of the crowd.  “Let’s go, sweet girl.”

Greef waves three fingers at the kid in his metal sphere.  “Bye, baby!”

Mando doesn’t let go of you.  Not when you turn around and start walking away, not when you leave the cantina, not when you’re making your way through the busy Nevarro marketplace afterwards.

“That was rude,” you eventually turn your head and tell him under your breath, not at all used to him walking side by side with you like this.  You usually always trail slightly behind the both of them, but his arm on your lower back keeps your strides aligned with his.

“I know,” he agrees lowly, guiding you through the crowded public square, the kid hovering in his shield next to you and blinking up at all the excitement going on around him.  “He was being too bold.”

“I mean us, Mando,” you correct.  “We were rude.  He was being friendly.”

“Karga doesn’t have friends,” he responds lowly.  “He has business associates that tolerate him because of his connections and position in the guild.  You were already nicer to him than most of his contacts ever are.”

You don’t say anything back to him.  How long ago was it that you were likewise nothing more than a business associate Mando tolerated?  Less than a few weeks, maybe?

And yet, it’s only when you reach the ship that he finally lets go of you.

***

You love the kid.  Honestly.  You’d die for him.

But sometimes.  Sometimes you just want to… step on him.

Okay, no—you shouldn’t say that.  He might choke you in your sleep with his insane fucking demon powers if he hears that.  No, it’s just… it’s like he feeds off the energy around him sometimes.  Which is great, especially when you’re exhausted and his naps tend to align with yours.  Canto Bight was a different situation considering you were in such an incredibly crowded area, but in hyperspace?  The kid only has you and Mando around to take his cues from.

Which means, if you’re buzzing with energy and just waiting for him to fall asleep, guess what?  Guess who suddenly gets a second, or third, or fourth wind?

It’s never ending.  The moment you think he’s about to pass out, he bounces back with even more energy than before.  Sure, he’s cute and all, but that shit only lasts so long.  It’s a facade meant to deceive everyone and it’s all just a clever, systematic fucking ploy.  After all, if you needed someone else to feed you and protect you and take care of you for the first fifty plus years of your life, evolution would make you adorable as fuck, too.

Hours.  Maybe even a full day or so before the little shithead finally decides to close his eyes for longer than a few seconds.  Mando so graciously left you alone to babysit him while he shut himself away in the cockpit and navigated to the nearest quarry destination, and the baby was such a handful from the second you stepped back on the ship, you didn’t even catch where you’re headed to.

Not to mention all the cleaning Mando did earlier today leaves you with little to nothing else to do to occupy your time besides supervise the little terror.  And of course, the entire time, all you can think about is Mando’s hand on your thigh under the table.  The way his voice sounded calling you an endearment in public.  

How he felt railing into you last night.  How you wish you could still feel it now.

You close the kid’s shield and stow him safely in the pitiful little cot you slept on almost the exact second he falls asleep.  You don’t waste any time.  You’re immediately climbing up into the cockpit to seek out your armored companion.

Mando is sitting with his back to you in the pilot’s seat when you open the door and quickly shut it behind you.  You lower yourself into the copilot’s chair on his flank, completely silent.

He doesn’t move.  Neither do you.

Time passes differently in hyperspace.  It’s almost like everything somehow drags and blurs simultaneously.  Over the handful of months you’ve been partnered together, you’ve probably spent a little less than half that time in hyperspace with Mando, and excluding these past few weeks dedicated to locating this last set of quarry, it’s hard to recall any one singular instance from the hundreds of hours you must’ve spent with him in this exact setting.  Hyperspace, silence, and this damn cockpit.

Except—except this time, everything is different.  This time, you’re hyper aware of every second that passes as you sit behind him, not moving a muscle.  Your eyes are glued to the headrest behind his helmet, your jaw clenched and your nerves buzzing at the proximity between the two of you.  Though the ship is deafeningly silent, the energy burning inside you almost makes it feel like it’s too loud in here.

Mando can feel the tension.  You can tell, because it’s steadily continuing to rise.  If you were just left to simmer by yourself, you probably would’ve just plateaued at some point.  As it is, he almost acts like an amplifier, reflecting the anticipation in the air as much as he is the starlight overhead.

You’re feeding off each other like always.  But unlike all the times before, this time, you’re the initiator.  

This time, you want to fuck.  

His chair slowly turns around to face you.

And then you both just look at each other for awhile in perfect silence, like Mando absolutely fucking knows it.  Like he knows exactly how much you fucking want him again, and he’s dragging it out.  Savoring the way you’re perched on the edge of the seat, staring at him and waiting for him to make the first move.

“If there’s something you want from me,” he eventually tells you, shattering the quiet with his modulated voice.  “All you have to do is say so.”

Fuck, he has no idea.  You want more than something, you want everything from him.  Anything he’s willing to give.

Instead of answering him, though, you quietly stand up and take a few steps closer to him.  Mando doesn’t move a single muscle as you slowly hook your thumbs around the waistband of your pants and begin pushing them down your thighs.  He just watches you silently as he sits back in the pilot’s chair, likely taking note of the way you consider taking your shirt off for a second as well but then ultimately decide against it.

You probably would’ve taken it off if it was actually your shirt, but something tells you he likes you in his clothes.  After all, he could’ve dressed you in your own clothes last night, but he didn’t.  He knows where you keep your go-bag, he knows how easy it would’ve been to dig through it for a clean shirt.  But he didn’t.

So, with nothing but your undies and his dark tunic draped over you, you carefully brace a hand on his pauldron and lift your leg to settle yourself down on his lap, situating yourself between him and the flight console and straddling the hard beskar on his thighs.

“There is something,” you eventually admit, dragging your palms along the unarmored curves of his sides.  “Something I want from you.”

“It’s yours,” he says immediately, both of his hands coming down to settle on your thighs.  “Tell me.”

Fuck, the unhesitating conviction almost throws you for a second.  The way he’s looking at you through the helmet, so fucking sincere.  You bite your lip and consider him for a moment, his body physically barricaded from you as much as he always is but never looking or sounding so open before.

“Will you take this off?”  You eventually whisper, pressing a gentle kiss to the beskar shielding his face.  “I want to kiss you.”

“It’s—it’s too bright in here,” he tells you, sounding a little out of breath underneath it.  “You’ll be able to s—”

“I won’t open my eyes,” you promise, kissing the front of his visor once more.  “You can put it back on right after if you want, I just—I need to kiss you.  Please.”

His fingers tighten on your thighs, and your own reflection is the last thing you see before you’re slowly and purposefully squeezing your eyes shut in front of him.  You carefully let your fingers drift up on his chest plate, over the rigid lines of his collar bones, before finally bumping into the hard metal at the base of his helmet.

His hands immediately lift to cradle yours, quick enough to imply it’s entirely instinctual.  While his hold isn’t painful, it’s strong enough to keep you still.

So, you wait.  Patiently, with your eyes closed, hoping he trusts you enough to give this to you.  When he doesn’t pull your hands down, you press a soft kiss the beskar again, and then slowly begin pulling the helmet up.

“Wait,” he murmurs.  Wait.  Not a stop, not a get away from me, not a don’t even think about it.  Just a… wait.

You pause and don’t move.  With the way you’re wrapped around him like this, the tips of your toes barely rest on the ground, but you can still feel the floor of the cockpit start to circle underneath you.  Mando’s thighs shift underneath you as he slowly rotates the pilot seat all the way backwards, keeping his hands anchored to yours as you continue to hold onto the bottom of his helmet.

It takes you a second to realize what he’s doing.  Most of the light source in here comes from the stars streaking across the observation transparisteel, but it’s concentrated at the front of the ship where all the glowing buttons also happen to be.  He’s silhouetting his face as much as he can by facing the ladder to the dark hull.

It’s pointless, you immediately recognize, so you readily let him have it.  You know well and good that if you slip and open your eyes for even a split-second once he lets you take his helmet off, the cockpit is too bright to keep Mando hidden regardless of what direction he faces.

These are high stakes.  But the prize is far too appealing to pass up.

So you kiss the cold beskar again and slowly begin pulling the helmet up once more.  And this time, he lets you.  This time, he holds the backs of your hands and lets you keep kissing the metal as you gradually lift it up, your crotch still pressed tightly to his even though there’s now much more open space behind you to utilize now.  Your lips touch the hard edge of the helmet and you dip your chin to follow it downwards, and then suddenly you’re touching something soft and giving, something that instantly parts and licks into your mouth before you’ve even removed its shield halfway.

Heat burns through you and you moan in relief at finally getting what you wanted.  You completely forget your task as soon as his tongue is in your mouth, but Mando’s hands around yours help you guide the helmet off completely, before carelessly tossing it to the side as he kisses you.  He’s grabbing hold of your jaw and fitting his mouth perfectly to yours before you even hear the beskar clang against the metal floor.

You keep your eyes shut tight as you immediately relax into his body, making a soft noise and melting into him.

Fuck, this is worth it.  This.  This, right fucking here, this is worth everything.  Sitting on this forsaken ship and waiting on him for days or even weeks to come back, never seeing his face, always having this damn beskar separating him from you—it’s all fucking worth it when he kisses you like this.  When he makes a low sound in his throat and moves his mouth against yours like he was just fucking made for it, wraps one of his arms around your lower back and presses you tight against him while the other holds your jaw open.

You can feel yourself get wetter the longer he drags it out, every second he spends slowly biting your bottom lip and tasting you is another dark spark of arousal between your legs.  It’s lazy and hot and so, so good, you nearly whimper into his mouth and push your hips down on top of him.

The navcomp beeps a few times, the autopilot function signaling an upcoming drop from hyperspace.  Apparently your destination was much closer than you expected.

“Shit,” he huffs, breaking away from you.  “Shit—we were supposed to get bacta on Nevarro, I—shit.  I forgot.  You… y-you distracted me.”

“Tell you what,” you bury your face into his neck and reach your hand down between you two, wiggling it into his pants.  “We’ll just promise each other real hard not to get stabbed until we can get more.”

“That’s not—” his breathing stutters when you grab onto his cock and downright purr into the crook of his neck when you find him rock hard and throbbing, “that’s—n-not funny.  You’re lucky I even had that shot to give you.  Wouldn’t—wouldn’t have woken up nearly as happy as you did this morning if I didn’t.”

“How much of that would’ve been from the vibroblade though?”  You pull him out of his pants and moan hot air into the fabric covering his throat.  “Bacta on my arm wouldn’t have helped me walk any straighter, would it?”

Mando gets a single syllable out in response before you’re hooking your panties to the side and moving your hips forward, engulfing the hard underside of him between your slick, swollen lips.

His entire body jerks at the blazing heat of you, and he grits a curse when you gradually begin to move back and forth along the thick length of him.

“I don’t want you to do that next time,” you whisper, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.  Your hips drag against his as you slide his cock through your drenched slit, pressing a gentle kiss to his neck.  “Don’t do that.”

“You’re—you’re right, I’m—” Mando gasps, tilting his head to give you more room and hands coming down to clamp tight over your hips, “fuck, I’m—I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have been so rough w-with y—”

“No,” you breathe into the crook of his neck, grinding your pussy against his throbbing cock.  “The shot.  Don’t do that.  Bacta kits only,” you gasp, tightening your hold around him as your clit drags over his thick erection.  “From now on, that’s all I get.”

“Fuck, come on,” he contests, slowly tipping his head back.  “It wasn’t that bad.  You barely felt it.”

“I know,” you whine, rolling your hips along his body.  “That was the worst part.”

“You—” Mando cuts himself off abruptly with a growl, his grip turning to steel on your hips.  “You… you wanted…?”

“I wanted to hurt today,” you moan, trying not to bite down on his neck with how fucking good it feels to rub your cunt along his cock like this.  “I wanted to feel you when I walked.  When I sat down in that cantina booth next to you.”

His fingers dig into your hips so hard, you’re forced to immediately stop gliding your slick pussy over him.  The navcomp beeps once more, this time rapidly.  Ten seconds until hyperspace drop.

One of your hands moves to clamp down over his shoulder while the other threads through the thick locks at the back of his head.  You pull your hips up and tilt them just a bit, just enough to position the tip of his cock at your entrance.  And then you bite his neck and slowly start to sink down on him.

Mando grits out your name, just as the navcomp beeps reach a crescendo.

The Razorcrest is thrown out of hyperspace with a giant lurch in g-force that practically shoves your cunt the rest of the way down his thick cock and then further, pressing him up so far up inside you with such a chaotic shift in gravity that Mando actually chokes next to your ear.  You’re surprised you can hear him at all, considering the blast of white noise at the rapid intrusion and the way you sob through your teeth as they dig into the thick muscles wrapped around his neck.

Fuck, he hits so fucking different from this angle.  He stretches you and fills you spectacularly, forces you to yield to him while you breathe heavy through your nose, wondering how dark of a bruise he’ll have on his neck from your bite.

Mando fucking likes it, though.  You can tell.  From the way his hand immediately comes up to tangle in your hair and hold your face in the crook of his neck while you gradually begin to pull your hips up, clamp down around him as hard as you can and slowly drag his thick cock out of your pussy, you can tell he fucking likes this.  He likes feeling your teeth in his neck while you start to fuck yourself onto him, riding his cock so steady and unhurried in the pilot’s seat of his ship.

“Fuck,” he nearly spits, his hand squeezes your thigh hard enough to leave a mark.  “Is this—is this what you n-needed, sweet girl?  Hm?  Just a little—little attention?”

You whimper, wondering how it feels so fucking amazing like this.  How the head of his cock is pushed up tight against your g-spot, spreading wildfire in your lower belly and seeping through your pelvis and into your upper thighs.  Fuck, you grind the head of his cock slow and hard against it and try not to dig your nails into his arms where your fingers are clutching tight to the dark fabric.

“Needed—Needed you to touch me in that cantina,” you whisper, already half out of your mind with the aching bliss, saying whatever the fuck comes into your head first and not thinking anything past it.  “Needed you to… to put your hand down my pants while you talked to Karga—”

“Shit,” he snarls, his hips jerking up into yours almost unintentionally with the sentiment.  “Shit—I—”

“I would’ve let you,” you moan, starting to move as best you can with his thrusts.  The positioning doesn’t allow for him to do much besides roll his hips in short, stunted movements, but it’s just enough to let you slowly build your pleasure until it’s simmering and burning through you.  “Do you think he would’ve still flirted with me if he knew you had two of your fingers inside me under that table?”

“Shut up,” he snaps, but it’s way too breathless and worked up to be anything close to threatening.  “Maker, you have to—have to sh-shut up or I won’t last—”

You can hear how fucking wet you are.  Your pussy is nearly drowning him now, slick and hot and drenched as you roll your hips up and down on top of him.  “Does that turn you on?”  You murmur, breathing hot air onto his neck and riding his cock slow and steady.

“Fuck—you’re—” Mando growls, tugging a fistful of your hair and fucking up into you as best he can in this position.  “You’re asking if it… if it t-turns me on to hear you s-say—say you wanna cum all over my fucking hand while I talk b-business with someone?  You f-fucking kidding… kidding me?”

Your cunt starts to tighten around him.  Fuck, the power trip you’re experiencing from being on top of him is starting to go to your head.  You feel brash.  Reckless and bold.  It translates to a quicker, harder pace, your hips starting to shove down onto him at the apex of his thrust upwards and hitting a spot inside you that flashes lightning down your spine.

“Fuck, I used to—used to th-think about it,” you gasp, your eyes squeezed shut and just trying to breathe through it.  “Some—sometimes.  Used to get off thinking about it.  Used to think about you and touch myself and make myself cum on the floor of your fucking ship, Din.”

Fuck, the sound he makes is one you’ve only heard once.  The time he had a jagged knife wound on his back.  An agonizingly tight, ragged gasp of a sound, the one he only makes when he’s in incredible pain and trying to hide it.  The blast of heat from it nearly sears through you and suddenly everything is pulling up hot and tight, settling low and locking your hips in position as you start to grind down hard on him—

Fuck, you’re almost there—you’re almost there, you’re almost there, you’re almost—

But then suddenly you’re being lifted up, and you nearly sob into his neck and desperately claw at him when his cock falls out of you with the jostle.  But then you’re being carried backwards and your back is slamming down into the floor, and he’s shoving his arms under your legs and positioning your hips up over his thighs.  For a split second, your eyes nearly come open with the chaotic shift in position.  But as if he knew exactly what would happen, Mando claps his hand over your eyes and braces himself on the floor by your head with the other hand, and then—

And then he starts fucking you.

Actually, no, because that word isn’t nearly good enough right now.  One of the very few occasions where a word as universal as “fuck” just doesn’t quite seem to cover it.  It would be better to say he shoves back into you and starts shattering your entire galaxy to pieces on the floor of the cockpit, making you scream his name—his real name—as he starts jackhammering his hips against yours, hand held tight over your eyes and legs braced over his broad shoulders.

It’s fucking debilitating.  It’s absolute madness, snatching your body up and wringing it dry of any last traces of your sanity.  The adjustment to his angle and speed is like a nuclear detonation inside you, and it launches you higher than you thought you could go.  You just dig your nails into his arms and sob brokenly for him at the ceiling, letting his hips collide roughly with yours as he fucks you down hard into the floor.

His mouth is at your neck as he grits the words darkly against your throat.  “Fuck, you need to learn how to be quiet when I fucking tell you to, understand?”

“I’m—” you gasp, eyes screwed up so tight behind his fingers that you don’t even notice the tear slipping out.  “I’m s-sorry—”

“Fuck—shut up,” he growls once more.  Stars, he’s hard and throbbing and he’s shredding up against raw heaven inside you, and you can barely hear him over the sound of your crying, so fucking close to the edge and begging for him.  “Maker,” he snarls, bringing his elbow down next to your head and shifting his weight so he can reach down in between your legs, “if you want it that fucking bad, I’ll f-fucking do it.  I’ll rub your pr-pretty little clit in the middle of that fucking cantina next time just like this.  Make you cum right in front of him, show him that you’re fucking mine—”

You feel like you can’t even breathe anymore.  “He—he didn’t w-want to fuck me—”

“Everyone in that d-dirty piece of shit bar wanted to fuck you, you s-sweet little thing,” he grits, rubbing tight circles over your clit and pounding directly into your g-spot with such precision and force, your eyes roll back under his hand and your spine suddenly goes rigid.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, Din,” you whisper, your voice frantic and rushed and breathless as you claw aimlessly down his chest plate.  Everything pulls up sharp and burning and you’re already starting to bear down on him, starting to slowly squeeze his cock and tighten down hard in preparation for it.  “I’m gonna fucking cum—”

“Fuck, yes—” he gasps, “—fuck, let me f-feel you cum—let me feel this fucking cunt g-get wet, little girl, let m—”

He keeps talking, but you don’t hear him.  Everything is suddenly drowned out by the roaring of blood rushing through your ears, your body locking down so fucking tight around him that you wouldn’t be able to see anymore, even if his hand wasn’t clamped down hard over your eyes.

Din keeps fucking you as your orgasm slams through you with such force that your voice cracks, the blaze of white hot bliss ripping you apart.  He rubs your clit and holds you down and makes you take his cock the entire time, forcing you even higher through the explosive pleasure and muttering filth about how fucking gorgeous you are when you cum on him, how he wants to make you cum again but he can’t hold it back—

You’re saying something.  Repeating it, over and over again breathlessly in time with his ruthless thrusts, pleading and gasping it through shuddering tears.

Din—Din—Din—Din—Din—

“Shit, I’m gonna cum,” he groans, stuttering to a halt inside you.  You can feel him swollen and throbbing hard inside you now that he’s still.  “Can I—can I c-cum—o-on your—”

“Yes,” you gasp, not needing anything else.  “Please.”  He can cum wherever the fuck he wants to and you’ll beg for it all the same.

So he abruptly pulls out of you and drops your legs down from his shoulders, letting them sprawl out on the floor and shake as he clambers over your body.  His breathing is ragged and you can hear him jerking himself off already as he continues to climb over you.

“Fuck,” he nearly wheezes, “fuck, don’t open your eyes, sweet girl, don’t open your pretty f-fucking eyes, I’m gonna—” and then his hand is coming off your face and tangling in your hair to hold you still, “—fuck, you’re—you’re so f-fucking p-pretty, baby, m’gonna c-cum all over your pretty fucking f-f-face, I—”  His breath catches, and the only sound that can be heard besides his hand jerking himself off over you is a hoarse, tight, “open your m-mouth—o-open your fuck—ing—”

His body jolts with pleasure above you and a moan tears from his throat as you immediately do as you’re told.  And then he’s cumming, spurting thick ropes of his warmth all over your face and parted lips and gasping out curses and his satisfaction with you.  Fuck, you feel him paint your cheeks and mouth with it, feel him shudder and hear him growl your name as he lets go.

When Din’s body finally stops shaking and he slows down his hand around his cock to squeeze the last bit of it out of him, you wait a few seconds before asking.

“Do you want me to eat it or do you want me to keep it on my face like this?”  You whisper, eyes still obediently shut.

“Fuck,” he pants from above you, trying to catch his breath.  Metal clangs next to your head as he braces himself against the floor.  “F-Fuck—eat it.”

You immediately bring your hand up to gather the sticky warmth from your cheeks on your fingers and dip them in your mouth.  He watches you the entire time, even though you can’t see him.  He watches you eat his cum off your own face, your eyes closed and content to just lay here and clean yourself off as he catches his breath.

Suddenly his tongue is hot and wet as it slides under your jaw, gathering a bit that you missed and then attaching his lips to yours and pushing it into your mouth.  You hum under him and tangle your fingers into his hair, feeling him move back a bit to stretch his legs and settle himself down on top of you.

You break away from him and turn your face just in time to feel all the oxygen rush out of your lungs the second he plops down on you.

“Maker, you are so fucking heavy,” you say, trying to conserve as much air as possible while speaking because he’s making it so fucking hard to breathe like this.

“Tell me about it,” he sighs, nibbling at your collarbone and sounding completely undisturbed by your predicament.  “It wasn’t so bad when I was younger, but now my back is always just fucking killing me.”

“Fuck, get off,” you grab his pauldrons and try and shove him off you, your eyes clenching tight with the effort.  He eventually rolls off you, but it’s very obviously because he eventually decides to take pity on you and do it himself.  “I don’t even know what fucking sector we’re in but I’m pretty sure we’re gonna be dropping into an atmosphere real quick now.”

“Fuck,” Mando grunts, just as the navcomp starts beeping rapidly.  “Fuck, I can’t—can’t get up.”

“You can’t get up?”  You bite out, draping an elbow over your eyes so you won’t have to worry about accidentally opening them.  “Put your fucking helmet on and fly the ship before it crashes.”

He grumbles under his breath and eventually drags himself off of the floor, and the only thing you’re able to catch as he stumbles into the pilot seat and swivels around to face the console is “Karga” and “I was pushy.”

“Can I open my eyes now?”  You ask after a moment, feeling the thrusters kick in and hearing the beeping abruptly cut off.  The sound of metal scrapes across the floor before he answers you.

“No,” he eventually says, but the voice is modulated and run through a familiar filter.  “Keep laying there with your legs open like that.”

You would’ve snarked back at him if the last part of his response was nearly as sarcastic as the first part.  He almost sounds… vaguely serious.  “What are y—”

“Don’t move,” he tells you, and you still can’t fucking gauge the tone of his voice, especially now that it’s coming through fucking beskar.  “It’s the first quarry and the kid is still passed out.  I’ll land somewhere and… we can keep going.  Just for… just for a little bit before I leave.”

He… is he serious?  He wants to… keep going?  What does that even fucking mean?  He just made himself cum all over your face, what the fuck does he mean by “keep going”??

All you can do is lay there on the floor, waiting to find out.  After all, you stand by what you said earlier.

Mando isn’t always rushed.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Re-requesting for 404 ENA angst with happy ending! (ENA begging for Y/N to be saved from sacrifice deletion but at the last second they saved themselves. Also the world was turned back to normal despite they weren't deleted.)

As the days in Ena's world passed, things just seemed to be getting worse and worse.

First the sky glitching, next the residents becoming aggressive...and now your two dear friends were becoming corrupted by the virus that plagued this realm.

The problem?

That virus, whether or not you and Ena wanted to accept it as truth, was you. You and your mere existence as the only human was the reason everything was falling apart. The more time you spent here, the faster the world would eventually crumble into nothing.

And soon everyone you know and love will go down with it....unless you stopped it.

You knew exactly how, and the residents of this place knew it, too, as they've attacked you again and again in an effort to "delete" you.

But so far all attempts were thwarted by a frantic Ena, who managed to save you at every turn...even when you insisted that sacrificing yourself was the only way to revert the the world to normal.

Despite her constantly-shifting forms, she refused to let you be erased. Though you knew she was only going to cause herself more suffering in the long run.

As much as she tried denying it, all of her suffering is because of you.

..........

As the rain rock storm turned into a tornado-like entity, you raced outside to witness it, hoping to get close enough to be swept in and-

"[Y/N]! D-D-Don't do it!!!"

Hearing warped sobs from behind, you turned around to see Ena stumbling about, stuck in her sad form as she sniffled. She tried to reach you, but it was in vain as the wind and incoming rain rocks kept pushing her back.

"I have to, Ena. This world..i-it doesn't want me here. It wants me out! Why can't you understand that?!!" You shouted over all the noise. "Please..let me go. You'll find someone else to love, I promise!"

"I-It will neva happen!!!" She wailed, her static tears dripping down her cheeks and flying away. "I want only you! N-No one has..has made me as happy as you did..not Moony..not Shepawd..only you!!!"

You just shook your head, grabbing one of the rocks that fell beside you and raising it up. It ached your heart to see her horrified expression, as she realized what you intended to do.

But what choice did you have?

She couldn't intervene. Not this time.

"Please..stay away, don't make me hurt the one I love anymore than I already have." Tears pricked your own eyes as a popup screen appeared before you, offering a single option:

Delete

Ena was scared to step any closer, but at the same time she didn't want to see you disappear. In her frustration and confusion over what to do, she just collapsed to her knees and sobbed.

You sighed and dropped the rock, seeing that she's given up hope of saving you.

But through your blurry vision, you thought you saw a second option, just barely visible on the popup:

M3RG3 W1TH W0R(D

"Merge with..huh? Is this..?" Curious as you were, your gut told you it was another trick of some kind. Though this option seemed a lot more appealing than Delete.

So you selected it instead, and suddenly the world around you dissolved into pixels that crumbled away. Even Ena herself did despite your attempts to run to her.

Then you felt yourself falling...falling...falling...

Into nothingness.

You didn't know what you had done. But if this was the end of you or this world then...you decided to accept your fate.

You just closed your eyes and prayed you made the right choice...

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"[Y/n]...? [Y/n]! Wake up, sleepyhead! Auction Day is here!"

"Hmm..?" Opening your eyes, you were stunned to see Ena standing over you, smiling. But even better...her eyes were back to normal and she wasn't glitching anymore!

You sat up and went to rub your eyes, though you noticed the texture of your body wasn't humanlike at all. It seemed as if you were a character in a video game.

And that could only mean one thing..

"I'm...I'm alive? I'm alive!!"

With a grin, you practically jumped up and hugged Ena tightly, happiness swelling up inside of you.

For a moment she was startled, though after realizing you remembered everything, she just hugged you back, shifting to her sad form as she whimpered.

"I-I was gonna pwetend that i-it didn't happen...that I didn't...a-almost lose you.." As she started crying, you pulled away and cupped her face, thumbing away the tears gently. "What..did you do diffewently?"

"I guess I had the option to merge with this world," you chuckled. "Kinda strange that it basically told me to "assimilate or die" but..honestly I'd rather assimilate if it means I get to stay with you. Sorry about nearly throwing that rock at you, by the way.."

Although you felt extremely awkward about threatening her back then, Ena didn't seem to care now. "It's okay.." She was just relieved to be in your arms again and not a dangerous entity.

The auction could wait. You were back and now lived in her world permanently, and that's all that mattered to her.

She couldn't wait to tell everyone the good news.

[nothorses]

Idk if this pertains to the convo, but I really dont like how men's insecurity and actual problems can be all swept under as "cringy MRAs" or them being "incels." Im a trans guy and I remember talking to some friends on how my sense of self feels so low that I have trouble seeing myself in any relationship (romatic or platonic) with any gender because I feel so ugly and they all called me an incel, which was?? I def feel more insecure about talking about me feelings cause of suff like that yknow

That is just... extremely gross. I’m sorry.

And I know what you mean, tbh! There’s this cycle that sort of goes, like:

A group of shitty men create a genuinely shitty subculture founded on misogyny

This group is rightfully criticized

Rightful criticism becomes “trendy” and the very real arguments are warped into broad, meaningless nonsense

The meaningless nonsense is so broad that it’s eventually applied to all men doing literally any action, or feeling any emotion, that could be conceivably fit into that definition

Marginalized men are silenced & our problems erased, and every man who gives a shit about women is made to feel shamed and lesser-than, for normal human emotions and benign interactions

“Incel” was originally a term for a subculture of straight men who felt so much rage by the fact that women wouldn’t give them the attention they felt entitled to that they said and did dangerously, violently misogynistic things. This was rightfully criticized.

Over time it’s become “trendy” to criticize, though, and has gone from just that group of men to “any man who feels entitled to women but can’t get a date”, to “any man who can’t get a date and is upset about it”, to “any man who struggles with dating, period.” 

And that hurts marginalized men far, far more than any of the original targets. Not to mention that shaming & mocking men who struggle to “get a girlfriend” or whatever is directly perpetuating regular-ass misogyny, and the idea that a man’s success is measured by how many women he can “win”. Which is the exact form of misogyny that spawned Incel culture in the first place.

Also, y’know, you deserve to express feelings in peace. I relate to what you’re talking about a lot; I have a long history of developing feelings for people, starting to pursue them, and then immediately shutting it all down when I’m confronted with the reality of being in a relationship. Valuing myself enough to be an equal in a relationship? Trusting that someone else actually likes me for me? That they’ll continue to feel that way, and I’m not manipulating them or lying to them? Seeing myself as someone worthy of love, period? Lol, couldn’t be me!

Being trans is a big part of it, and it’s through working on my self-acceptance as a trans man that I’ve been able to resolve some of that. My feelings are steadier now, and I can identify and redirect my anxieties when they crop up.

I hope you find some space to get there, too. And I’m sorry your friends are like that; I hope you find some better support systems.