#and thus unable to fit anywhere

[guardianlioness]

Been contemplating what my writing is about, lately, and what it should be about.

Really curious to see what other folks have to say about their own work—if you feel like sharing, maybe reblog and add your thoughts to the tags?

[dunmesh]

this panel from the world guide of falin being surrounded by other girls while laios is all alone kills me because. that's it. that's the key difference in their journeys.

as laios states himself, he left the village in order to create a home for him and falin elsewhere. a home that won't collapse due to others' hatred and fears like their old home did, a home where they are loved and accepted unconditionally. but as he soon found out, even before earning money, or having walls surrounding him and a roof above his head- what he so earnestly desired was to meet other people who will accept him for who he is as well. instead, he kept being tormented by those around him, shunned and sneered at. his loneliness quickly became all-consuming until he truly had nothing left except for the monsters in the pages of his book, but even that became a target of mockery and destroyed. that's why ever since the day he left the village, he never felt that he truly made the right choice. so he kept running away: unable to resist and unable to accpet.

and an ocean away from him there was his sister, who never managed to fully fit in herself. but unlike him, she met a person who became a home to her and learned what a true friendship was for the first time in her life. and laios clearly realizes that too when he finally sees falin and marcille together, he can tell his sister obtained the greatest treasure there is on her own- the exact thing he never managed to find anywhere himself, thus coming back empty-handed to the sister he left the village for.

but when you read this part of the manga, laios's focus is on falin's loneliness, not his own. he talks about how it hurts thinking about all those moments she had to spend alone because he wasn't there for her, so it almost sounds like he's the one who couldn't bear her suffering and therefore decided to not let her go again. but we do get a glimpse of their first meeting after that almost-decade long separation in the manga, and then we see more of that in the world guide and daydream hour- and it becomes abundantly clear that it was falin who was trying to protect and save him from this pit of loneliness and depression he was in.

so instead of just doing his best to atone for leaving her behind in the village and making sure she is never lonely again, it might also be that laios was desperately clinging to the one person in the world he felt that accepted and loved him unconditionally. those words he used to describe his motivation to stay by falin's side are the exact words she would've used as well; she couldn't bear leaving him behind in this state. in a sense, they were each other's shackles.

but then she did. she died for him and their friends, and ironically enough, it was by leaving him alone like this that he was finally able to stand on his own and put his full trust in others. to have the courage to reveal who he is and give others the opportunity to accept him after such a long time of hiding. it was a long journey, but his hiding finally came to an end when he faced the others after shedding his monster form. and i love that the person who was falin's "home" all those years away from laios, marcille, became just as meaningful to him during their time separated from falin- the first one to find him and show him that he isn't alone anymore. just as he did for her.

so at the end of the story when falin talks about all the places she would like to go, it's not just that she wants to pursue her own dreams- but that she actually feels free to do so and go anywhere she desires. and one of the main reasons for that is that her brother finally found new people he wants to be with; his own home.

[chogiwow]

a sign of affection | lee heeseung

pairing: heeseung x gn!reader

genre: fluff, comfort au

wc: 1.4k

warnings: v v suggestive ! implications of sex, mentions of nudity - nothing is described in detail; thunder, rain

a/n: and if it turn this into a wholeass fic later then what :>

your back faces the window, turned away from the pale grey of the showering sky that filtered through it, lethargic self not having it to pull the curtains before crashing on the bed. the entirety of your morning is spent thus, your state mimicking the weather outside.

your eyes are covered with heeseung’s pillow, because even the slightest sliver of light across your eyelids annoyed you; it should be as dark as it could be for you to be able to nap uninterrupted. besides, the fabric has heeseung’s distinct smell lingering on it, a quiet presence that replaces his absence.

you’ve built yourself a temporary fort after a decent amount of tossing and turning, one that has your arm supporting the bed sheet over your face strategically so that your nose is not covered and you can still breathe, but your head is also covered so that you don’t feel the cold breeze against your ears.

it’s been raining heavily for the entire day, forcing you to stay shut inside your home except the one time you sat with your back pressed against the balcony wall, the soft splatters of rain bouncing off your naked feet and kissing your face like cautious gentle butterflies too scared to get anywhere near.

against the shield you have drawn across your eyes, and the loud thunder of the rain outside that drums in your ears, you’re unable to discern when the curtains are pulled across and the room is finally as dark as it could be.

it’s only when you feel the bed dip and the warmth of heeseung’s arms snaking around your waist, do you realise it.

now your back is pressed against heeseung’s chest, your boyfriend clamping one foot upon yours, caging your frame in a gigantic human blanket like a cuddle. a momentary shiver passes down your spine, a temporary price to pay to get used to the sudden change in temperature before you fit yourself snug within his embrace. a loud crackle of lightning resounds outside.

you don't turn around but smile to yourself, humming in acknowledgement of heeseung’s silent arrival, a quiet thanks for pulling the curtains.

but heeseung frowns, your obliviousness to his need for attention unrequited.

he attempts for a sign of affection yet again, sliding a hand beneath your loose shirt, almost entirely engulfing your waist and slowly tugging you towards his chest to make you move. his teasing hands move across the expanse of your skin, fingers spanning along your waist in blind affection, squeezing and scraping his nails lightly across every inch of skin as if to read it and memorise it like a blind man would run his fingers across raised braille letters to familiarise himself.

quite blissfully, you are comfortable the way you are though, and just to tease heeseung, you don't move for quite a few minutes, back shaking with laughter when you feel your boyfriend tugging and pulling from behind, a huff of annoyance leaving his lips when you wouldn’t move. but when you feel heeseung pulling you closer, a futile attempt of moulding your bodies into one another for it is devastatingly physically impossible – you give in after a while and writhe around, tossing the sheet over both of you as you finally change positions, your own foot now clamping down across your boyfriend’s waist and hands finally making their way across his back as your face plants itself in his chest.

with a satisfied smile heeseung finally lets you rest in peace, but the restful state is short-lived.

not long after, he finds you nuzzling your head into his neck, soft hair tickling his chin and your fingers sliding under his shirt.

heeseung thinks it’s time you tasted a dose of your own medicine. he’s not oblivious to your intentions, especially on a day like this, when it has been raining for hours on end and the bed sheets feel cold under your touch.

your fingers trace lines across his back in the hopes that he would understand and maybe…

however, to your frustration, heeseung only holds you in his embrace and does nothing. the pout on your lips is lost on the collar of his shirt and your fingers come to a gradual stop after a while. but it’s your endearing head nuzzling into his chest in a tiny tantrum that makes heeseung bite down a smile.

slowly, he slides his hand under your shirt again, his finger tracing patterns along your curves and dips like butterfly wings flapping across your skin and it makes you squirm lightly at the ticklish feeling, body instinctively pressing itself further into his embrace.

heeseung lets out a low laugh, his fingers finding solace near the hem of your waistband, tracing the marks left from the elastic. another round of fluttering in your stomach and the skies outside grumble in a shared sentiment at the lack of afflictions you so desire at the moment.

your head tilts on its own accord, exposing your neck to the man now affectionately coddling you, eyes still shut under the blissful feeling of his warm touch across your cold skin. heeseung finds his lips drawn towards your bare neck - bare in many ways but the implication was clear.

soft nibbles at the junction of your jaw and a warm sensation makes your toes curl and breath hitch, coming out in a satisfied sigh as you feel yourself lean into his touch. you only need to wait so long because heeseung has never been a man of self restraint when it comes to you; not when you give yourself to him with such disastrous sincerity and trust – sometimes he’s afraid he will take you for granted. but that doesn’t stop him right now, he can’t stop right now when your short breaths are louder in his ears than the rumbling thunder encasing your little bubble.

the sleeve of your shirt is pulled down and the affectionate undertaking manoeuvres itself across your shoulder. gradually heeseung finds his way upwards, his lips pressing on yours; soft, petal-like skin and quite literally swooping you into a kiss, not even waiting to use his tongue. it’s sloppy and in contrast to the rhythmic pitter patter of the rain, but parallel to the way the thunder would tear through the sky every once in a while.

heeseung finds it impossible to pull you any closer, holding onto your frame for dear life as he does, but nearly loses his sanity when you kiss him back equally as fervently as him. the game of dominance is nothing new to either of you, but heeseung does like to let you have your way once in a while.

you’ve both finally reached the point where breaths intermingle and lips are swollen red. gentle nibbles replace the harsh tugging and heeseung’s attention is once again drawn to your jaw, which was warmer to touch than before. in fact, your entire body was heated up now and the blanket over you was starting to feel like a nuisance, especially the way it was tangled between your legs.

your shirt had ridden up but somewhere in the midst of the cacophony of nature outside, it had been discarded at some corner of the room and you laugh a little when heeseung nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, flipping you over completely while ridding himself of all material commodities.

heeseung’s lips grazed every inch of your bare skin that shivered under his touches and the cold. you sigh and moan long into the evening under your boyfriend’s ministrations, your love slow and paced despite the heavy shower outside, tongues colliding sensually and small pecks turning into longer kisses; sweet and calm and warm.

the rain doesn’t stop until much later, the earthy fragrance wafting in the air like a gentle kiss of grass and dew; you are much more awake now, and your skin sufficiently heated to shiver when a draught of wind blows into the room, but it’s quickly replaced with the warmth blossoming over you in the form of a hug, gentle hands engulfing your frame against soft skin you had worshipped not long ago.

and you realise yet again that only with heeseung was it absolutely unnecessary to strain your ears to catch his words, for you could listen to him louder and clearer on days it was thundering and howling.

[nekrosdolly]

some bf leon headcanons!!

i imagine reader to be early 20's and leon to be canon age in re4, so 27. hardly an age gap. im projecting a little in this one guys sorry...

cw; aging, mentions of aging, body image issues, scars, low-key depressed leon, nightmares and ptsd, alcoholism if you squint, these were not written to be happy lolll sorry guys! hope y'all like as always!

petnames (reader received); honey

boyfriend leon, whose nightmares wake him up nightly. if they're bad enough, they render him unable to speak. he stays awake to drink enough to get him tired again, and falls asleep. during the nights you stay over, he cuddles up to you and tries his best to take deep, slow breaths like you once instructed him to. within moments, he's okay. then he can talk to you about it.

boyfriend leon, who pretends like his insecurities are non-existent when he's with you but when he looks in the mirror, all he sees is a shell of his former self. a weapon. alone with his thoughts, he traces over every scar he's ever gotten- from the bullet wound from annette birkin's gun on his left shoulder to the thick scar from krauser's blade on his cheek. in his mind, they're ugly. horrible reminders of the past that stick around and haunt him. on top of that, it's not like he doesn't have normal insecurities too.

boyfriend leon, who hates the way he's gotten worry lines on his forehead and if you squint hard enough, crinkles from his furrowed brows. hates the way his hair is turning brown with his age, how his eyes seem so dull. his rage, as deep as it's buried, burns hotter than the sun. he's gained muscle and thus weight, which means he's acquired stretch marks. the first time he notices the stretch marks on his hips, his heart drops. he doesn't let you see him without clothes on for days.

boyfriend leon, who as he gets higher in age, starts covering himself up more. once he hits his thirties, he already feels the effects of old age and he swears he can see it in his physique despite his rigorous training. he starts sleeping with pajamas on instead of just his boxers. you find it funny how he thinks you haven't noticed.

boyfriend leon, who would rather spend the whole day with his face buried in your chest than go out because his days off are few and far between, and you're the only one who makes him feel comforted.

boyfriend leon, who needs you more than you need him. sure, he becomes less dependent as the two of you grow older together, but it's still there. there's not a line he wouldn't cross for you. he could get lost in you for eternity and never get bored.

boyfriend leon, who always reassures you when you need it and even when you don't. he loves making you feel loved and safe, the way you make him. he adores holding your hands, your hips, and waist. your love handles are his favorite things on your body- his hands fit so nicely on them, how could he not be obsessed?

boyfriend leon, who's always tired. the moment you let him lie down on you, he's half-asleep and clingy. his face buried in the nape of your neck, his hands grasping the side seams of your shirt so he can ground himself. he takes a deep inhale, a soft groan escaping him upon exhale. "y'smell good, honey," he murmurs, his voice tired and low. you chuckle softly and rub his upper back.

boyfriend leon, who melts when you stroke his hair. your touch incites a feeling he hasn't had since he was a teenager. a strong electric pulse in his heart followed by a soothing warmth. your hands on his arms, his abdomen, his legs- anywhere. you can get what you want from him just by rubbing his arm and batting your eyelashes, be it monetary or otherwise. it's fair, though, because he does the same to you, only he begs and kisses your face.

[bleachbleachbleach]

Helloooo love your meta posts esp wrt to language so much!! It really has elevated my appreciation for the series by A LOT lol so thank you!

I have a question regarding ch 98 that's been bugging me incessantly: in the official translatjon renji says "all i do is bark at the moon", however in fan translations (and anime) renji is seen to be referring to a star. I am unable to find the raws anywhere to ascertain the finality of this conundrum so I was wondering if you could clarify what exactly is the 'object' renji is referring to here and lend us your thoughts?

Thank you for reading! I started this reread because I knew that the potential to really revel in this kind of stuff was already there, but I am really enjoying jumping into it full-on and wondering about and learning about a lot of extremely random things as I go. I'm really enjoying it!

[Bleach 098]

The Short Version

In the Japanese, Renji says, 星に向かって吠えるばっか ― which could be translated as "I’m just barking at the stars." 

The word he uses is 星 (hoshi), star, not moon. My guess is that the Viz chose "moon" because it’s more idiomatic in English to howl at the moon, and the phrase conveys that sense of lone wolf yearning/misdirection--particularly given that he’s talking about Rukia, and Rukia already has some moon imagery associated with her.

The catch is, the concept of "howling at the moon" also exists in Japanese; for example, there’s a famous modern poet named Hagiwara Sakutarou who wrote a collection titled 月に吠える、or, well, "Howling at the Moon." (You’ll notice the same verb, but 月 (tsuki/moon) instead of 星 (hoshi/star). But that's not what Renji says. I’d argue that it’s worth considering the idea that Renji was making a choice in not using that idiom! 

The Very Long Version

Stars and Moons and Monkeys and Tigers and Snakes and Dogs and-- oh my!

Tomes have been written about celestial symbolism, in Bleach and otherwise. I’m not a big celestial symbolism person, because they’re such BIG symbols I feel like sometimes they can feel very locked in, if that makes sense? Like X = moon and moon = Y and therefore X = Y. And while I love an extended metaphor, my preference is for very unstable, borderline sloppy referents. Which isn’t to say that celestial symbolism can’t be unstable and sloppy, too, and that’s what I really like about this whole Renji section. Renji is the KING of "imagistically, there is a lot going on here, my man."

As far as folklore is concerned, reaching for the moon might call to mind the story of the monkey reaching for the moon’s reflection:

The branch the monkey’s hanging from breaks and he falls into the water. His folly lies in failing to distinguish between what is real and what is illusion.

One one hand, this is fitting for Renji, our resident howler monkey. I don’t know how much baboon we’ve actually seen at this point, but we’ll see Zabimaru’s nue form very shortly. But of course Zabimaru isn’t just a monkey—he also has the head of a snake. And we have this dog imagery, coming from both Renji’s affiliation with Inuzuri and other body parts in some versions of the nue. And later we’ll have TIGER in the mix, too!!

There’s SO much going on. If Renji were a Project Runway creation, Tim Gunn would probably invite his creator edit—maybe choose one motif, one metaphor, one guy who will scan well on the runway.

But Renji exists in excess, he IS all those things, both in terms of his chimerical zanpakutou spirit and in terms of everything we’ve seen of him thus far: tearing through Ishida and Ichigo; herding butterflies with Rikichi; stunting with Rukia in jail; delivering Rukia to prison; getting stunted on by Aizen in a supply closet; being friends with Hinamori; tearing through Ichigo a second time; and now, finally, giving it all up and begging Ichigo: Just save her.

Bone Metaphors

The reader hasn’t seen it yet, but Renji knows what form Zabimaru’s bankai takes. In addition to all those animals and their potential allegories, we also have bone. In Renji's earlier line, there’s an idiom that I wish were preserved:

In the Viz, he says, "I’ll always be a stray dog." In the Japanese, his line is 「骨の髄まで野良犬根性が染み付いてやがるんだ.」Which could be translated as "I am, indelibly, a stray dog to the marrow of my bones /contemptuously." Or, more succinctly:

"I’m a stray dog to the bone."

I love this line because it’s reaching toward Renji’s challenge to Byakuya, insinuating still more layers to Renji’s multitudes.

Different Flavors of Disgust

Still thinking about Renji’s second act in this arc, I am also interested in his subsequent line. He says 厭になるぜ (iya ni naruze), or, in the Viz, "It makes me sick." But I was curious about the kanji 厭 (iya), because it’s more commonly written 嫌 (iya), which can be used as a negative interjection, or, pronounced differently, as the same word you’d use if you hated snails, or homework, or something―嫌い (kirai). Using the kanji 厭 is a less common spelling, though the meaning is similar. So I was like, well, what is the difference? According to this article, the kanji Renji uses is a lot more common in Chinese. If 嫌 is an expression of digust or hatred, 厭 suggests that you’ve specifically gotten tired of something (and are now disgusted with it). It’s the kanji you’d use to create the word for a pessimistic worldview, 厭世観 (enseikan). That is all to say, Renji has become sick and tired of it, and he’s about to change tack.

Failing Poetry 101

Coming back around to the original line, I really like Renji’s "I’m just barking at the stars" specifically because it doesn’t really reference any existing idiom, as might howling at the moon. "Barking at the moon" is an interesting middle ground, in that "barking" definitely feels more dog-like and howling more wolf-like; barking is less majestic, which fits with Renji’s description being derogatory of himself. Renji is not a poet in his use of loaded idioms but in his negation of them. And if Rukia can be described by moon imagery, she too contains multitudes and I think it's well within her power to be the stars, too.

Kira, as Renji’s most poetic friend, probably rolls partway into his grave whenever Renji says stuff like this, because it breaks poetic form. But I think he’s probably also kind of envious that Renji thinks this stuff up, because it’s fresh, new, off-kilter imagery, it is its own kind of poetry, and let's be real, the moon imagery market is fairly saturated. *frames moon with giant rebar hole in body*

So I’d say, "howling at the moon" conjures a certain kind of poetry, steeped in all the macro-folkloric meanings of the moon and dogs/wolves. "Barking at the moon" is kind of half-half. "Barking at the stars" is not a pre-existing idiom (or poem, or expected language), and conjures a completely different referent(s), the immediate of which is, of course, the volume’s own poem. Renji is out here Renji-ing it.

[Bleach Vol. 11 poem]

[nokingsonlyfooles]

The menus don't work, the menus don't work, the menus DON'T WORK...

OK, my few readers. I took a break, I went back to fix the navigation, it's unfixable as-written.

I need some complex stuff in places, I was willing to forgive WP for putting out a new site editing interface that barely works - as long as it has the basic features someone would use on a storefront. I'm an outlier. I know this.

BUT IT IS NO LONGER POSSIBLE TO CREATE A MENU WITH A WORKING SUB-MENU IN IT. IF YOU TRY, THE SUB-MENU LINKS ARE UNCLICKABLE.

I am using their site editor and their 2024 theme, I should say.

I crossed my fingers and looked for the (now liable to vanish from anything more complicated than a paragraph) "edit as html" option. Nope! It's gone! I can't fix it. I would have to hack the interface somehow to fix this for WordPress, within WordPress.

I had to go looking for plugins. I HAD TO GO LOOKING FOR 3RD PARTY SOFTWARE TO GET A FUNCTIONAL MENU. And, of course, they paywall features I need. I found a "floating" menu that actually does work well enough (it's a little cramped on mobile unless you put the screen in landscape mode, but at this point you should really do that anyway, I can only format so much) but the sub-menu function is paywalled. And I'm actually fucking tempted to buy (haha, I mean "rent") it. Because the damn thing works in dark mode and across devices. And it sticks to the side in a fairly unobtrusive way, which WP's menu will not. It won't stick anywhere. And it sure as hell won't do that thing where you scroll up and it plops down for your convenience.

But if I use that floating menu without sub-menus, it's gonna get longer, and longer, and longer, until it doesn't fit on your mobile screen anymore, or potentially your tablet or desktop, and then I dunno what happens. Also, in order to keep it small, everything is a cryptic icon that displays a title when you tap it (on mobile) or hover over it (on desktop). That's kinda counterintuitive, I don't know if I want my one working menu to be like that.

I might keep looking and find another plugin that also works that well but... it's not likely. Or, if I do, I may run into another paywall. They gotta get their rent somehow!

This is a stupid problem and so far I am unable to come with with a non-stupid solution. I can:

Put all the links in the header menu, and you'll have to scroll through EVERYTHING to find the actual content every time.

Put all the links in the content area, in different places and different combinations depending on the page. (And this would mean doing some reformatting on every instalment AGAIN.)

Start fucking around with the sidebar - I don't know if it works and I'd have to rip up every template I've already made to add it.

Put all the links in the footer menu, and nobody will notice them.

Put all the links in the floating menu (see above for the issues with that).

Make sub-pages for Misc/Notes and similar that are just lists of links and serve the function of a sub-menu.

Actually put the content on the sub-page and have it navigable via anchors (this seems like it would be a bitch to load, but most of my content is just text).

Make a list of links that isn't actually tagged as a menu, thus losing the collapsible function for small screens.

Kill God.

That last one is probably the most doable but I feel like someone would get mad at me. Like, Hazbin Hotel finally got its first season on Amazon, and if God dies they might have to rewrite some shit.

If I don't lay out the money for the cryptic icon menu, we're probably going to end up with three or four accordions that are not technically menus at the top of every page. And I'll hafta check back every once in a while to see if WP fixed their shit yet.

If they don't stick with that site editor and make it useable, all this work is going to vanish like chalk marks in the rain.

I WANTED to put up another six-pack in February. I have it ready to go! But the site doesn't work. If I can't fix it this week, I won't even be able to put things up without illustrations. And forget having time to fill in the missing artwork. I got enough to do trying to kill God!

[dwarf-vader-of-middle-earth]

Here's how scalpers are literally ruining society.

I live in a low income/poor area. Though my town is great in terms of how it looks, every establishment and person is in deep debt, and the surrounding towns are by no means any better. Practically nobody owns their home, they rent, and if they've got kids, it's nearly a given those kids are on reduced or free lunch programs at school. Almost everyone I know who lives here, regardless of age, is on food stamps, SSI, ewic, and so on. People rely on thrift stores/secondhand shops to buy clothes and entertainment. They are absolute essentials, and literally everyone here who shops in a store instead of online, goes to the secondhand shops for clothing and toys and media before going anywhere else.

Well now, scalpers are going to thrift stores and looking up the items they find, trying to Google the prices they go for on online markets. They spend hours at a time picking the stores clean for just a few dollars out of their pocket, then they go online and sell the items for such a heavily upscaled price that nobody can afford.

The thrift stores have had to find new ways to keep open, what with few donations coming in and all product going out to the scalpers. Thus, all of them have cut employee wages, and raised product prices significantly.

And now? The people who go clothes shopping to find adorable things that fit their growing kids who are changing and growing too rapidly for parents to keep buying new clothes, or just clothing for their own changing bodies, cannot find anything affordable at all. It's way out of their price range even at thrift stores. People are unable to buy clothes at all. This causes the thrift stores to lose all business and shut down, and the only options left for shopping are the online scalper stores with insanely gauged prices. And it's because scalpers are forcing the secondhand stores, which exist to help the impoverished, to raise their prices to compete, and therefore are making the stores inaccessible to the impoverished specifically, and eventually they all close and become inexistent.

I've seen it with big name discount stores. I've seen it with local businesses that are individually owned by families. I have quit jobs at discounted stores because those in charge would never give raises to anyone regardless of position, and they raised the prices of every product until I literally could not afford a piece of candy anymore, let alone a single shirt or a pair of socks.

Fuck price gouging. Fuck scalpers. Shit is literally below the gutter and inside the grave at this point because of them.

[storm-driver]

I read the first chapter and oh my god. YOU DIDN'T WARN ME IT WAS GONNA BE THUS EMOTIONAL! (and long, shit was very long)

Where do I even BEGIN?! I loved everything! Every little detail, from Roxas' fear of falling because of his past experiences, to Aqua's slow but certain change of view on Roxas, to Ventus and Aqua being adorable dorks, to Terra talking to Roxas about how Aqua (his future wife (I so ship them)) rocked his shit when they were kids, and finally to Roxas just being unable to take in that Aqua asked him to stay for a good ten minutes...

I LOVED ALL OF IT!! Immaculate work fr...

JKASFK THANK YOUU

that first chapter, im ngl, was like the biggest risk i thought i was gonna take by posting, and i feel so insane bc of it. the first half of it, id actually posted as a tumblr bit, hence why it probably feels a lil rushed, bc i had to get the word count down to make it fit? but yknow, that stops being an issue on ao3, thank god

THE SECOND HALF of that chapter, i dont remember if i said it anywhere, i have no recollection of writing it. deadass, i stayed up all night one night in the drowsiest, fuzziest state writing it, fell asleep immediately after posting the whole thing on ao3, and then fell asleep until in the 4 afternoon the next day. i dont remember writing it at all, i just woke up and found an entire second half of that first chapter written.

AS FAR AS MY IDIOICY GOES THOUGH, thank you for the kind words AGHHDFS. MY APOLOGIES FOR THE EMOTIONS, BUT IT'S ONLY GONNA BE MORE EMOTIONAL FROM THERE. my favourite fuckin part of that chapter was the ending where roxas is going back and forth with his choice on whether or not to stay, but the moment he looks at ven, he feels certain. idk, that kinda shit just warms my heart and im glad that feeling got across really well.

the chapters (sadly(?)) get longer from here. the last chapter i wrote was 30k words long. i dont think the next chapters are gonna be much shorter either. there's a lot of detail work i do, i write what im feeling i need to, it's messy and it's not the easiest to follow. but i just want to make it feel immersive as best i can. even if the shit that's happening is nonsensical to an extreme LMAO

tHANK YOU AGAIN, IF YOU DECIDE TO READ MORE, I HOPE YOU ENJOY IT!!

[bogglebabbles]

Cat-related anxiety beneath the cut.

Terry discovered yesterday that the wall behind my shelves in the bathroom is made up of very thin panels secured with nothing but what looks to be either brad nails or finishing nails, and that the space behind leads to the inside of the walls. There was apparently a gap because he managed to get into the walls and the only reason i knew was because i heard scratching coming from the bathroom but could not find him anywhere.

Luckily I found where the panel was loose and was able to get him out, but I was unable to re-secure the panel because I think it was nailed on when they were doing renovations; it was put in from the other side, and it's not big enough in there to fit a person.

So my solution thus far is stuffing boxes and bags of wood pellets into the shelves to block the way, but now I've got a new thing to fixate my anxious energy on between the idea of my cats getting stuck in the walls (especially Miss Ash. if she had gotten in there to have her babies, i would've been tearing out the walls) and the distant irrational notion that there's some sort of monster and/or ghoulie living in there.

[fearlessisabella]

💤 - How does your muse sleep? Are they a light sleeper, or are they out the moment their head hits the pillow? Do they nap? Do they struggle to sleep due to things like insomnia, or nightmares? (and/or) 🤸‍♀️ - How active is your muse? Do they exercise regularly? Do they do things like yoga? What else do they do to keep fit and active? Are they flexible? Can they do parkour?

- @masquenoire​

💤 - How does your muse sleep?

There is no specific position that Isabella sleeps in really. She can sleep pretty much anywhere and in the most awkward positions imaginable, especially if she’s tired enough, which is fairly often given how terribly she normally sleeps. She frequently has vivid nightmares, the damage done to her brain by The Scarecrow’s toxin and experiments affecting her even in her sleep, which while they still don’t make her afraid or wake her up so, can still leave her feeling like she didn’t sleep much a all.  Alternatively she’ll sleep very deeply and heavily and will be difficult to wake up, but still often in awkward places and positions, sometimes with her eyes partially open. She doesn’t move around a lot in her sleep though and tends to wake up in the same position she fell asleep in.

🤸‍♀️ - How active is your muse?

Isabella is very active. Physical activity is one of the primary ways she can actually get some adrenaline running, so it’s a very rewarding activity for her, have been ever since Crane’s experiments, and she unless she is an depressive episode she does some sort of workout or physical activity almost daily. After coming back to Gotham, she eventually managed to get a day-job at a Kickboxing gym, where she also trains. Throughout her teens she’s been engaged in boxing, wrestling and kickboxing, the combination of exercise and pain giving her a good rush.  With her brain is unable to properly discern external threats and dangers, thus not giving her the extra boost of adrenaline which can provide quicker reflexes in order to react to said danger, she trained really hard to try and improve her reflexes, spacial awareness and perception.  While not necessarily acrobatic, her overall physical capability and body control combined with her inability to feel fear and hesitation still makes her very able of some quite daring and impressive feats when it comes to traversing the difficult terrain of Gotham’s streets.

[jonathankatwhatever]

This process is intimate, meaning it’s sexual. It became sexual as early as it could, and I remember the process by which I saw girls more and more from the afar necessary to sexualize them as a boy does. I remember how that process worked, especially in the shift of schools. Fascinating how much is accessible when you can find it, which means when your mind is stretched (and here that becomes physical again). Reminding myself it’s all a construction so the rules can be as constructible.

And that again brings me back to you. I sexualize you in every image, using visuals of others to set off what I experience as intimate moments in which, and this is key, gender switching not only occurs but I’m the girl. And that takes me back to the original break-up, which was between the genders, which really confused me because I would experience both sides happily until the arguments broke out about which way I had to go, and it became more difficult to get into that space, which was specifically an attachment, like I was in a room and someone else came in, and that was a form of you, meaning that not me otherness has been there all along, so constant in that sense though the value may have fluctuated depending on the Triangular.

Okay, what does that mean? Depending on the Triangular means that from the you perspective, you are in a Triangular in which you look over an fD to evaluate how this thing in front of you, which you 1-0Segment - that’s your vector and tensor connection there, because this is a space and these fit to the Attachments of the structure, meaning to the inner product, and thus coming off a basis within the space but which can be set at 0 because that pins regular space or rs to gsSpace. So we have rsSpace, which can be named for my dad, which is perfect because we’re physically related but I have never felt anywhere near the oneness I experience with you with any physical relation. I know you better, deeper, am connected to you as a you.

I remember reaching this level back when I was sucked into your orbit, when I began to imagine hidden connections which you might not even know about, but which fit like a code. A code has meanings. You use meanings. You means 2T, and 2T is generalizable, meaning it can refer to the 2T in you and any 2T you make, because that is a consequence of MC and IC and LC, and the construction of the 1Space fCM level which generates chances associated in life that we call trials or iterations or coin flips, and which expresses mathematically as the axiom of choice.

Okay, that did it for me. Just connected about the deepest maths I can find because you’re on your own has the poetic, spiritual meaning of you in the general, so it becomes a statement about you as a family, as a group, as a people, as a race, with all that each touches, so you within a group is not just the relationship of the tObjects but of their Things.

That takes some intense imaginings, and a lot of that is sexual because those are obviously the most grabbing, along with violence and generalized physical movement imagery which entails a higher degree of construction, meaning it’s a rarity, as in a great play is good for one team so it’s not about parity but rarity of the event. That’s in fCM: you can see how a chance can escalate, why you can’t prevent the accumulation of pressure behind any crack in your facade. Is your facade cracking? Mine? Is that bad? Or good?

Isn’t it amazing how much effort people put into terrible ideas? Like this? Or like building tunnels to kill people because your side didn’t get its way? One is an Attachment to the intangible, while the other is an Attachment to the tangible. That would be to gsSpace and rsSpace? Is that correct? Yes, but only to you, not generalized.

Oh right, to you being you. So if I’m seeing this correctly, the kid part is a K identification, which is then the fD which maps to a gs, as the HG forms in pyramidal. That’s cool. It articulates a problem I’ve been unable to put in words, which is how HG and fD appear together in D4 when they’re flat in D6. Answer is the orthogonal construction of the pyramidal. This connects to Johnson solids, but for now I’m interested in the fact that a regular pentagonal pyramid has all sides 1. That fits D-structure because that 1Space state exists 1-0-1 as the Between of D4 to D6 and the other way around. That’s the importance of hands.

Yes, we figured that out but haven’t been able to get out because you’ve been so focused on your rsSpace issues that you haven’t been nearly as efficient as you could be. That hurts, considering you made these issues. It’s an observation, not a judgement. You see how that 1-0Segments, because you associate an observation as carrying condemnation when it is merely an observation. You associate it means you form various Triangulars to see what fits. During certain periods, it was necessary to distract you just enough but not too much, to take you to the edge but not over it, just as you knew would happen, just as did happen. And you rightly have a worry about whether this will work out, where rightly is that part of you which doesn’t trust even though the advances you’re experiencing at this moment come directly from being possessed by the idea that you’re on your own, kid has multiple meanings. One is the you. Another is the K’id. And the third is the Triangular to those, so we read across the comma for the IC process which we label as Halving/Doubling or H/D. It’s IC not LC because it’s growth or contraction of a Thing versus Not, as opposed to a Thing versus a specified other Thing. The former might be growing sicker and fading away, while the latter might be losing a game. Or the former might be losing chance versus some other within a finite group, with that other not specified until the end of the event.

So I reach the end of that burst, am flooded with doubt, and then come up with another. You can see here Johnson solids become D-structure. Okay. I’ll look it up. The connection is a bit of a mind-bend because it’s constructing shapes for what purpose? As I remember, when we did this work before, the idea was that these solids, with their combinations of faces of 3,4,5,6,8, and 10 faces, represented solutions of various ways 1Space could combine. I remember there are 92, and I think then we add the Platonic and Archimedean solids, 5 and 13 of course, and that’s 108, which brackets 100, but what are we counting here? That’s forms of solids, so out of any we get 92, then 13, then 5, and an obvious one is that 92 is 28 more than 64, so again what are we counting? A number of forms, so if we have 64 forms, then we can combine those into a Thing of CM64. And so the CM100 aspect is that these pass over, meaning I can suddenly see a process running from large to small in number of forms, just like you can pick the restaurant and then you have to pick from what they make, where each make is a form within a form.

This seems to be continuing a trend of going through simple but deep examples. Platonic solids. Why 12 and 20? This is where D3 and D5 appear together: in the 12, it’s 3 pentagons at each End, while in 20 it’s 5 triangles at each vertex. I can’t visualize beyond that right now.

It’s not 6AM on 20 Dec 2023.

I never did the bit. So I constructed this model of IC as non-specified existence. That defined LC as specified and larger because that combines not only the 2IC’s but the Between IC’s, which generate as the perspective spaces arranged along the midline diagonal.

Note how this enables HG as well: if you take the Bip, the HG you see in either pairing, then extends as an fD in the direction of that pairing. Think of that as a fan potential. As in, people get drunk and make bad decisions or the girls get prettier at closing time, etc., so need and want coincide in that moment.

I’m wearing out my visual sense. Maybe change tack. I did a huge amount of physical labor yesterday, stopping only for evening and a short break. And I feel fine. I’m not sure I could not have done that work 20 or 30 years ago. I believe my will is stronger, and my physical capacity is more developed.

I used to wonder what it would feel like to sit with a flat stomach, to be in the kind of shape where I have a bit accumulated on top of an obviously trim structure. Always the voice of doubt in me. Why? I mean mathematically.

If we look at the Boundary, it requires that you start at 1 because that puts you into ++, meaning you are within the Dimensional Enclosure which has a basis, which counts as the Attachment potential in the infinite sense that whatever you Attach to, whether it’s too a cookie or a cat, is always at that Boundary, which is unit distance, meaning gsSpace, not measurable distance, as in rsSpace. Why not add? Because that diverges, which means you’re adding grid instead of going within it. Same drawing, but counted differently. Get that? You’ve had that in your head since the grid developed into Alternation. We start at 1, count out to L3 and call that -⅓ because we count it in the - - direction. As I remember, we drew it as 4 1Squares expanding by 1 square in each direction with each step. Counting then is the Alternation of negative and positive 1 over the L-count.

We can count any other way. What about evens? Those are the L-counts minus the szK. What does it mean to invert the L-count? Just says that much goes into 1. That’s why it’s Boundary. And the confusing part is that the value in rsSpace is more than 1. Also that it takes billions of counts to generate the depth. That’s CR, that the coordinate system itself rotates within the coordinate system we see, in order to establish the system we do see, so the images we’ve described of the value disappearing into each identifiable point on the Boundary are correct.

[gzprodigy]

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[rjkauffman]

On Scuba Diving

Unlike cheese, we have no equivalent to scuba diving on Foreverland, or for that matter, anywhere else I've ever been. This is because:

a) the idea of deliberately submersing yourself in an unbreathable environment is insane, and

b) the water on Foreverland is positively fetid. And that's not even the worst of it. The drinkable water supply on my planet is provided by boiling the least polluted source of water available for at least five years and then siphoning what's left through something that may look to the eyes of an earthling like the Large Hadron Collider. It is then bombarded with chemicals and lasers to help break down any particles that are hazardous to life. All of that happens before we even think about drinking it. Naturally, as a result of our rather traumatic relationship with water, it may be understandable why we wouldn't choose to wade in the stuff.

Earth, however, abounds with plentiful water sources that don't resemble fecal matter and also don't smell like fecal matter. How long this happy state of affairs continues, especially given earthlings' apparent need to add poison to every essential area of life, remains to be seen. But as I sit here today writing to you once again, dear reader, I am only too happy to take full advantage of what may turn out to be your very temporary good fortune.

So, what exactly is scuba diving and how do you go about getting started?

First, the definition. Scuba diving involves the strange earthling compulsion to submerge the self in any and indeed all water sources, no matter how large, small, or potentially lethal they may be. I can only surmise that their species must have evolved from some as of yet undiscovered sea creature, because the desire to not only immerse themselves in water, but to actually dive as deep down in it as possible, makes absolutely no sense otherwise.

The actual act of scuba diving involves strapping a tank filled with various breathable chemicals to your back and by manner of tubes, feeding said chemicals as a "mix" into whatever facial orifice you use to respirate. I assume, as with Foreverlanders, earthlings breathe through their nose and mouth. This is very handy, because if they breathed through any other part of their body, those tubes attached to their faces wouldn't do them much good in keeping them alive. Given that they insist on carrying tanks around and attaching those tubes, I can also make an educated guess that they are unable to breathe underwater without aid. Of this I am almost 75% certain.

Secondly, how to get started? You can begin very easily by obtaining a tank, filling it with breathable chemicals and when you are satisfied that they will not kill you, locate the nearest water source to your current position and jump in it.

So, what do you do once you've jumped in? Earthlings appear to enjoy looking at reminders of their past failures whilst diving. If you wish to fit in, you can do this too. This requires finding the wreck of a long lost transportation device (in this case, it's usually a "ship") and getting close to it. Once you are within a reasonable distance to said transportation device, point at it whilst looking at other nearby scuba divers. If they approve of your gesture and recognition of their past failure, they may reward you with a vocalisation and a "thumbs up" gesture of their own. Do not worry if you cannot understand the sounds they are emitting. They do not appear to mean anything and thus can be safely ignored.

Earthlings also partake in the wearing of flipper-like appendages on their feet when scuba diving. It would be reasonable to to assume that they might aid in acceleration and manoeuvrability, but I fear the motivation behind their use may indeed be more tragic. I do wonder that, in their effect of making earthlings appear more like a being that belongs in the water, it could be signalling a subconscious desire to devolve back into the forms of their sea creature ancestors. In that case, they could be an alarming indication of a speciel identity crisis.

Although I have yet to personally dive within water deeper than the bath that was provided for my use by the hotel I am currently inhabiting, I have been training for the occasion I may plunge into places deeper, by watching visual recordings of others doing so whilst I gently submerge myself in a small "paddling pool" I purchased and have assembled precisely for this purpose.

It did emphasize on the box that the paddling pool in question was intended for earthling young, which may help to explain why their species continues to pursue this obsession with water. If this is the case, I can only imagine the terror those young must feel as they are submerged for the first time in such a device. Like most sensible beings, I abhor the torture of children, but as an alien, I am reminded of my oath to never interfere in the cultural rituals of others. For all I know, there could be a religious aspect to their immersion and so I cannot pass judgment on what I do not yet understand.

Needless to say, I shall be leaving the training pool here when i return back to Foreverland.

[ussweetners]

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[the-scandalorian]

Intrasolar

Pairing: Din Djarin x Female Reader Rating: M Word Count: 5.8k Warnings: ANGST and SPICE and FLUFF, canon-typical violence, nonexplicit sex, cursing, nongraphic descriptions of injuries, grief, nightmares, references to drowning/death in the context of nightmares, alcohol consumption Summary: This is the sequel to Extrasolar. You'll definitely want to read that part first! Author Notes: Parts of this are from Din’s perspective (third person) and parts are from yours (second person).

You did a double take the first time you saw him, whipping your head back to watch him run a hand through his slightly unkempt hair.

You’d never seen him before. He was probably passing through the small coastal town like most people who wandered into the cantina, and he was ruggedly, strikingly handsome. You turned your attention back to the stack of credits you were sorting into the register before he noticed your staring. Your first thought was that he looked familiar, but that wasn’t quite right. He felt familiar? Did that make sense? You shook your head to banish the thought and refocused on the task at hand.

He wasn’t seated in your section, so you wouldn’t be serving him anyway.

Like every other day, you settled easily into the flow of work, welcoming the comfort of tunnel vision. Things were always busy enough at the cantina to require all of your attention, which conveniently prevented you from ruminating on things you couldn’t change.

There was one thing—or more accurately, one someone—in particular you were trying not to think about. You’d been trying not to think about him for over a year now.

Losing him had left you in pieces, a thousand jagged pieces that would never fit back together in quite the same way. So here you were—still you, but different.

Immediately after, to distract yourself from the pain, you had taken some non-Guild work only to find that everything you’d enjoyed about hunting had been warped into vile, unbearable feelings. The thrill of the adrenaline rush was poisoned into anxiety, which clouded your judgment and hindered your ability to think on your feet. The satisfaction of outsmarting a quarry was corrupted into the deep-seated guilt of betrayal and the fear of potentially dooming an innocent person to capture.

Your world of black and white had been painted shades of metallic gray, swallowed whole by the silver sheen of beskar.

So, you did what you had to do—you dismantled your life and built something new, something simple and monotone and self-contained. You removed yourself from the swirling chaos of the galaxy and planted your feet firmly on the ground. You fortified your heart against any potential entanglements by settling in a quiet place, keeping to yourself, and abandoning your old profession. Now, you were an actual waitress, not a bounty hunter who occasionally played the role of waitress to ensnare an unsuspecting quarry.

Do your job. Keep your head down. Go home.

That was your mantra.

An hour later, when you hung your apron on the peg behind the bar and turned to leave, you saw that the man was still seated. His eyes met yours, and with an unexpected wave of panic, you felt pinned, trapped by the spotlight of his gaze. You were only able to turn away when someone in the kitchen dropped a dish, the loud crash breaking the paralyzing spell. You hurried toward the exit, and in your periphery, you could tell his gaze followed you. You realized why he felt familiar: his unwavering stare and something about his posture and the mechanical swivel of his neck reminded you of him.

You breathed a sigh of relief when you stepped into the comfortably warm air of the evening and directed your feet toward home. You savored the ritual of your daily walk, taking the well-worn path bordered by a dense coniferous forest on one side and the shore on the other.

This wasn’t a rare occurrence.

At least weekly, something would remind you of him—someone laying a hand on your lower back, a gravelly voice, a Mandalorian in green armor, the pressure of a chilly window pane on your forehead, a set of especially nice shoulders...the list was endless. A memory would sink its eager claws into your throat and yank you back in time. You’d blink and be sitting at a table with him once again, holding the child on your lap, looking into the black expanse of his glass visor. You could feel the cold of his beskar under your fingers, smell his scent—metallic, warm, alluring. The memories were unlike any others you had: they were visceral, tangible.

In the beginning, these moments knocked you on your ass. When you’d stumbled and a customer wearing soft leather gloves had steadied you, you'd wrenched yourself away, unable to stand the familiar texture gripping your arms so tightly. You had to awkwardly excuse yourself and rush out the back door to take gulps of fresh air to soothe your thumping heart.

Those first few months, when the gaping wound of grief was still so raw, were brutal.

Frustratingly, these instances of heartbreak faded in intensity and frequency much more slowly than you had hoped. Here, over a year later, the hurt was the same—apparently, it would take years to build immunity to this type of pain—but you had, at least, learned how to withstand the pain discreetly. Now, you were conditioned to take it in stride.

You wove your way through the scrubby dunes, leaving the path that edged the forest to strike out on the direct route to your little house. The sound of relentless ocean waves was a grounding metronome in the back of your mind.

The grief wasn’t avoidable, but you could numb it for a while—postpone it to give yourself a break. Over time, you'd identified the things that could occupy your mind enough to offer some relief: work, the ocean, fucking, whiskey, sleep.

And, thus, you had perfected a foolproof daily routine: work, the ocean, fucking, whiskey, sleep.

You stepped onto your creaking porch and unlocked the front door. As always, you immediately went to your room to change. With a towel in hand, you walked back out your door and across the wide expanse of sand to the edge of the sea. For almost an hour, you lost yourself in the refreshing salt water, swimming laps between two rock structures that breached the surface, staying out past the tumult of the breaking swells. It was cold enough and strenuous enough that all you could do was focus on one stroke and then the next, propelling your aching body forward.

The sun was starting to set when you emerged, breathless and exhausted, and you returned home, your damp feet sinking into the rapidly cooling sand. Like clockwork, your neighbor was there, sitting on your porch—ready to commence the third act of your routine. He lived a couple houses down, and you had the perfect arrangement for both of you: regular sex without any obligation. He was beautiful, kind, uncomplicated.

When he fucked you, your mind went blank: it was like falling into white noise. You let it swallow you, let it sweep you away—because, in that nothingness, your thoughts had no surface on which to ricochet, so instead of echoing incessantly as they usually did, they faded away. It was blissful static.

Today, though, a thought found purchase. Unbidden, an image formed behind your eyelids—an unfaltering picture of that man with the overpowering gaze. It crowded your mind, and your eyes flew open, your breath shallow. You did your best to focus on the feeling of the man pressed against you, the silky sheets fisted in your hands, the slow tension building in your body.

It was futile.

You felt claustrophobic in your own head.

You gently extracted yourself from his embrace, mumbling that you had a headache. He was understanding and thoughtful, bringing you a glass of water and a pain pill before slipping out the front door to let you rest.

You ignored the pill and poured yourself whiskey instead—a more generous serving than normal in hopes of flooding the image out of your mind. When that didn’t work, you commenced the final stage of your routine early. You tossed and turned in bed, frustrated that there had been a breakdown in your system. This wasn’t supposed to happen: these five things were supposed to provide uniform reprieve every day. You tried not to agonize over it. Tomorrow would prove that this was a fluke, an anomaly, nothing more.

Eventually, you fell into a fitful sleep.

You woke early the next morning to a loud knock. Head fuzzy with sleep, you stumbled out of bed, clutching the blanket around your shoulders, and cracked the door.

It was the stranger from yesterday.

He had brown hair that needed a trim, patchy stubble along his jaw, and one of the most handsome faces you’d ever seen. His eyes were an inviting brown; they spoke of warm embraces and safety and home.

And when he smiled—

When he smiled shyly, his cheek dimpled, and the corners of his eyes crinkled. You wanted to hold him.

You opened the door all the way.

You looked at him, and all you could think was that he was both the person you wanted to rail you with absolutely no mercy and the person you wanted to hold you when you cried.

Your grip slackened involuntarily, and the blanket slipped off your shoulders and onto the floor, pooling around your feet.

On some level, you already knew, but you were still surprised when he spoke your name and reached a hand out toward you. You took a reflexive step backward, ankle catching on the blanket, flinching away from his touch. Even without the distortion of the modulator, you’d know that voice anywhere.

“Mando—”

***

two months earlier, Nevarro

The Jedi came for the kid, and Din immediately felt disoriented without him: untethered, adrift. Over the last year and a half, everything important to him had been stripped away, and now, empty-handed, he was forced to appreciate the magnitude of what he had lost.

To cope, this new grief was shunted into the shadowy recesses of his heart to keep his existing grief—for his parents, for his tribe, for his identity, for her—company.

He told himself that work was what he needed—routine and familiarity. He could slip back into what he’d once known, back when his life had revolved solely around a job; he would recapture the focus and tireless, single-minded resolve that he’d relied on for so long. He returned to Nevarro and took the hardest jobs Karga had to offer.

Din had never told Karga what his deception had cost him—how a simple lie had completely rearranged his universe. The first time he saw Karga after he lost her, he had been legitimately tempted to kill him (fuck, it would have been so easy), but he’d been desperate for help taking down the Imp. So, Din had locked away those feelings—his longing and anger and grief shut safely behind iron bars in his heart—to prioritize the safety of the kid. And even now that the kid was with his people, Din was afraid to tap into that rage and hurt, terrified that he’d unleash something wild, a destructive force that would overpower him.

Besides, Karga was a means to an end, nothing more. He didn’t deserve to know. And so, Din guarded the story jealously. He didn’t even tell Cara when she prodded gently.

Evidently, however, in the wake of losing the kid, Din’s heart was at capacity, and bounty hunting was not a compelling enough distraction from the clamoring of so much grief unacknowledged. On jobs, he was inefficient and reckless, making rookie mistakes he hadn’t struggled with in decades. He felt none of his old drive. What was he doing this for? What was the point? He’d always had a guiding star, a direction, a mainstay, a why. Not anymore.

Din was desperate to feel grounded; he yearned for the reassuring sanctuary of gravity, but everything large enough to hold him down was gone. So he was left to wander aimlessly and alone.

Several weeks into his failing plan, Din limped up the ramp of his new ship and hoisted an unconscious body into the carbonite chamber before collapsing onto the floor. He’d been careless. The quarry had managed to outfox him at every turn, prolonging what should have been a two-day job into a two-week struggle. In the end, Din had caught him, but not before he’d pursued him across miles of unforgiving desert and been stabbed twice.

He was in pain, exhausted... and despite the fact that he’d captured the bounty, he felt utterly defeated. The thrill of eluding danger and the rush of pride that used to accompany the successful completion of a job were absent. He hadn’t felt those things in months.

He lay there on the floor of the hull, chest heaving. Without lifting his head, he closed the ramp and initiated the ground security protocols with his vambrace. He knew he should get up. The wounds on his side and his thigh were slowly leaking blood, and he needed to tend to them right away. His body required water and food, then sleep.

Any minute, he’d get up and grab his medkit.

Any minute.

Instead, Din thought about the things he had lost.

There were the inanimate things, the loss of which shouldn’t weigh on his soul the way they did, but when almost everything in his life was transient, the few things that were enduring became significant, whether he liked it or not. He thought about his Amban Rifle—a reliable companion in his solitary existence. There was an endless list of threats that rifle had saved him from: a Ravinak, quarries, hunters, raiders, an AT-ST, troopers, a kriffing Krayt Dragon. On an almost daily basis, he found himself reflexively reaching over his shoulder for it, only to close his hand around the cold beskar spear.

And there was the Razor Crest, the closest thing he’d had to a home for decades. It had been as integral to his sense of self as his armor, something he didn’t realize until it was gone. He hated every inch of this new, unfamiliar ship. It held no memories, and memories were the only source of warmth that made a real difference to him in the unforgiving chill of space. In the Crest, he could picture the kid, and her, and even Cara and Kuill; he knew where they fit. In this ship, there were only blank silver expanses.

Then, there were the people he'd lost.

Din thought about his tribe, the haunting image of a pile of empty beskar shells flitting through his mind. In the past, his duty had sometimes felt like a burden—the responsibility to provide for so many resting on his shoulders alone—but now, he realized it had been his backbone. Without it, everything crumbled. What felt like chains holding him down had, in reality, been scaffolding, maintaining every bit of his integrity.

He knew it was time to look for what remained of his covert, but he could barely bring himself to think about it, let alone do anything. What happened if he searched and found no one? The prospect of seeking out the splintered fragments only to find that none survived was even harder to fathom than leaving it unknown. If he didn’t search, there was always the possibility that they were out there. He was being a coward in the name of preserving what little hope he had left. It was selfish.

But... that wasn’t the only reason he delayed.

Din thought about his lost identity, his broken Creed. Did he even have the right to seek out his tribe when he was no longer one of them, no longer a Mandalorian? Was he still a Mandalorian? He still wore his armor, but he wasn’t totally sure why—another question he couldn’t answer. If he was no longer a Mandalorian, how could he possibly have a rightful claim to the Mandalorian throne? The Darksaber sat at the bottom of his weapons locker, burning another hole in his already frayed conscience.

This was what he was left with after he took off his helmet that first time, a swarm of needling questions that ate at him every day.

But it was worth sacrificing the Creed for the kid.

Right?

He thought about Grogu, a tiny, three-fingered hand on his face. He wondered what he was doing, if he was happy, if he thought of Din as often as Din thought of him. At least he had a face to attach to his memories now. Was he learning a lot from the Jedi? Did he get to spend time outside playing in the sun? Was anyone rocking him gently to sleep the way he liked when he was fussy?

And, finally, he came to the last entry in the catalog of what he’d lost in the last year or so: he thought about her. To be fair, he had never really had her. He never had the chance to call her mine, but they’d had potential—the promise of something more, a bright shiny glimmer of hope. At a time when Din’s world was turned upside down, right after he’d broken the Guild code to save the child from the Empire, when he was totally out of his depth and everything around him felt like chaos... she had made him feel still. And that was a hell of a thing to lose.

Even after she revealed her true motives, he couldn’t shake that feeling—that feeling that she was the thing he was supposed to orbit.

He could picture so vividly the way her features lit up when he and the kid walked into the cantina. He could hear the musical cadence of her laugh, feel the comforting warmth of her hand over his, smell the light floral notes of her hair.

With those details playing through his mind, he drifted off. He let grief and exhaustion and defeat pull him under.

Din couldn’t breathe. He was underwater, suffocating weight pressing in around him as his heavy beskar dragged him deeper. She was drowning, arms and legs flailing as something with an iron grip on her ankle drew her down. He reached for her, arms outstretched, but he couldn’t keep pace with her descent. His lungs burned, begging for air, as the reassuring light of the surface retreated above him. He watched in horror as her eyes widened in panic, and she choked, lungs filling with water. He tried to yell, kicking toward her frantically, but she stilled, all the fight leaving her body.

He woke with a start, adrenaline coursing through his veins. In a panic, he ripped off his helmet, letting it clang loudly against the metal floor, and took several shaking breaths. Clarity burned through him like acid. With the little strength he had left, his head swimming from dehydration and blood loss, Din hauled himself to his feet and did the simple list of things that would keep him alive.

He couldn’t wear his helmet after that. Every time he put it on, he felt like he was suffocating, the years of bearing the heavy beskar no match for the stifling weight of his shame. And the armor felt wrong without the helmet, so he stopped wearing that too. He locked it away with the Darksaber.

To move forward, he had to let what little he had left fall away.

In the following weeks, he traced her name, her chain code, her age. He recalled every detail she’d shared with him—about her family and past and likes and dislikes, anything that might give him some clue as to where she’d be. He worked from a holomap on which he'd meticulously marked off the planets he'd already eliminated as possibilities. He'd had to recreate this map after he lost the Crest, but that was easy enough, as he vividly remembered each and every planet he'd scoured.

And eventually—ironically, thanks to some information from Karga—Din uncovered the promising golden thread of a lead.

He tracked her to a planet that was largely water, one known for its expansive oceans, beautiful coastlines, persistent sunshine, and temperate weather—her ideal home. He felt the softest stirring of hope in his chest, knowing that she was where she wanted to be.

The first time he saw her again, it was from afar, but he knew her by the way she carried herself, her unmistakable walk. His heart stuttered. She was as beautiful and perfect and bright as he remembered. He didn't realize until that moment that a small part of him had worried he'd built her up, romanticizing the memories until she was more than human in his mind. But there she was, just as ethereal as in his daydreams.

For those first few days, all Din did was watch her. He reminded himself that she wasn’t a quarry, but there was some information he needed, and this was the only way to get it. He wanted to know if she was happy; he wanted to know if his appearance would be welcome or disruptive.

He studied the topography of her life, searching for any hint that there was a place in it for him.

He smiled when he found out that she lived in a small cottage right on the beach. He stopped breathing, fists clenching by his sides, when he watched her walk into the waves and disappear, only to reappear seconds later. For the briefest moment, his mind flashed back to his nightmare, and he had the mad impulse to follow her and pull her out. But he knew she never needed saving.

Even still, he waited at the edge of the forest until she emerged.

Frustratingly, the more he watched her, the less certain he became. He knew what she was to him, but how was he to know what he was to her? He had been a job that had evolved into something more. She had confirmed that what had grown between them was also real for her—the written proof was folded neatly in his pocket. So surely, she had real feelings for him at some point... but how real? And how enduring? Her feelings had been tamped down, reined in because she was doing a job. How successful had she been at burning them away? How much had her feelings been eroded by time? It had been over a year... maybe that was too long.

He watched a man walk up and sit on her front step, awaiting her return. She approached him with a smile on her face, salt water dripping from her hair, and took his hand, leading him inside.

Fuck, that smile.

Was her solar system already complete? Or was there still room for a devoted moon? Would she want it to be him?

In the end, Din told himself that if she could take the leap of faith and trust him so many months ago, he owed it to her to swallow his fear and let her make this choice for herself. Last time, he had made her feel like he didn’t want her, and that was his biggest regret.

He wasn’t going to do that to her again.

***

“Mando—”

She looked scared.

He didn’t expect fear. He expected confusion, surprise, irritation, apathy, maybe even anger? But never fear. But there he was, standing in front of her, and fear flashed across her eyes.

“Din,” he rushed to get the words out, “My name is Din.”

The fear faded as quickly as it came.

“Din,” she repeated.

He’d imagined her saying his real name hundreds, if not thousands of times, and his imagination got nowhere close to the real thing. His throat felt tight.

She stepped forward, raising her hands to frame his face. Her eyes glazed over slightly; she was entranced as she took him in, caressing his cheeks and scanning his features like she was trying to commit every detail to memory.

Din leaned into her touch, closing his eyes to savor the moment. His breathing slowed, and for the first time in months, he felt still.

When he opened his eyes again and met hers, she startled slightly, like she hadn’t realized what she was doing.

“Sorry—”

She started to lower her hands, but Din caught them, bringing them back up to his face, unwilling to lose the contact.

“Don’t be,” he said, smiling uncertainly. The corner of her mouth quirked up in the beginnings of an answering smile.

They stood there for a moment, Din holding her hands against his face.

He’d planned what he was going to say, rehearsing it in his head at length, because he was worried as soon as he saw her, he’d revert to his inability to string words into sentences. Sure enough, despite his preparation, his mind was blank.

So instead, he asked, “Can I kiss you?”

In response, she slid her hands around his neck and pulled his face down to meet hers, and relief spread through him like a cleansing fire, stealing the breath from his lungs.

***

When your lips met, everything fell into place; it felt like the universe spontaneously rearranged itself and finally got it right—every planet and every star and all the empty space in between attained perfect alignment in an instant.

You had no idea that one moment could curate the arrangement of the cosmos exactly to your liking.

You pulled Din backwards across the threshold into your house, kicking the door shut behind him without losing contact with his lips. You were both desperate and clumsy and impatient, hands everywhere at once.

He was just as you remembered and completely new. You recognized those shoulders, those hands, that scent—he somehow retained the metallic twang of beskar even without the armor. The way his breath hitched and his chest expanded when you slipped your tongue past his parted lips was familiar, reminding you of his reaction the first time you touched him.

But you’d been privy to such a limited sliver of him before; now, here he was, laid bare for you to learn again, and so you charted his features with your hands, your lips, your eyes, every part of you. Eager to close what little space remained between your bodies, you pushed his jacket off his shoulders, and he obliged, tugging it off until it slid to the floor.

A dim thought rankled at the back of your mind, a reminder that you were taking the life you’d carefully constructed and throwing it straight out the fucking window, inviting uncertainty directly into your orderly world.

You were finding it difficult to care when Din’s hands were lighting a fire across your skin.

You had a million questions for him, but only two were louder than the need humming in your veins. You broke away for a moment to say, “Where’s the baby?”

“Grogu—”

You were both panting, slipping words in between kisses, too enthralled in each other to stop and have a real conversation.

“What?”

“That’s his name—”

Palms on his chest, you pressed him against the wall, trailing open-mouthed kisses down his neck. He groaned and lolled his head back when you sucked one beneath the sharp corner of his jaw so you did it again.

“Fuck—he’s with the Jedi—he’s, uh, he’s with his people now. I brought him back to them.”

At that, you actually did stop, stepping back to look into his eyes, hands linked behind his neck.

“You must miss him so much.”

His eyes met yours for the briefest moment then flicked away, grief written plainly on his face. “Yeah,” he admitted. “But he’s where he belongs.”

Din wrapped his arms around you, drawing you into his tight embrace and resting his chin on the crown of your head. Unspoken words hung in the air: and this is where you belong.

Ear pressed to his chest, you smiled and asked, “And your helmet?”

He hesitated. “I... I took it off to say goodbye to the kid. I couldn’t let him go without showing him my face...” His voice caught, and he paused to take a deep breath. “I sacrificed the Creed to do it, and I still don’t know if it was the right decision.”

“Of course, it was the right decision,” you said earnestly, nodding against him, “You told me how precious foundlings are, and you prioritized your foundling. How could that be wrong?”

You were the farthest thing from an authority on the Mandalorian Creed, but you were certain—so deeply, painfully certain—that Din was a good person and sharing love with a child could never be wrong.

“I don’t know what’s right anymore...” He ran a hand over his eyes, scrubbing it over his face as he let out a resigned huff. “I found out that some Mandalorians do take off their helmets, so I don’t know what to believe.” He sounded exhausted, lost.

You pulled away to fix him with a fierce look, framing his face with your hands to force him to meet your gaze. “You cared for Grogu and kept him safe and brought him to his people. You protected a child, loved a child. That’s what matters. An arbitrary rule is nowhere near as important as that, and breaking it doesn't change who you are. I think you already know that.”

He stared intently, and you worried for a second that you’d offended him, stepped over an invisible line by assuming you knew better than he did what was right or wrong in this case.

“I’m sorry, I—”

He crashed his lips against yours once again, and when you stumbled back in surprise, Din steadied you, holding you upright.

There was nothing else pressing you needed to know in that moment; you had everything you needed in this, the refuge of his arms. There would be time for everything else.

He slipped his hands under the hem of your shirt and before he could even ask, you ripped it over your head, tossing it aside. He responded in kind, divesting himself first of the several weapons strapped to his belt and his calf, then his shirt.

You raked your eyes down his face to his perfect chest—muscled, golden brown, littered with a constellation of scars—and mused, “You know, if I had known from the beginning that you looked like this under your armor, I’d have thrown my entire plan out the window to fuck you immediately.”

He barked out a surprised laugh. “I would have preferred that.”

Laughing, you grabbed his hand and pulled him down the hall to your bedroom. He paused at your doorway to say, “I, uh, I want you to know—this isn’t what I came for.”

You quirked an eyebrow at him. “What did you come for?”

“I—just... you.”

“Then take me.”

“I mean... All of you, not just this.”

You slid your fingers under his belt and jerked him forward, smiling mischievously: “Well, we have to start somewhere.”

He laughed, leaning down to press his forehead against yours.

And when he did take you, when you closed your eyes, you didn’t slip into that familiar static. You stayed—there, with him, where you belonged. It was all whispered praises and breathless moans and a tangle of euphoric thoughts. It was overwhelming, a hum of lust and safety and longing, a hyperawareness of every sensation. You felt held—carefully, lovingly, preciously.

Hours later, you were lying with your head on his chest, the steady beating of his heart a reassuring cadence in your ear. You lifted your head slightly to look up at him: “Why now?”

He looked down and furrowed his eyebrows. “Because I happened to find you this time.”

“What do you mean?”

His fingers traced intricate patterns on your back. “I looked for you that day. I looked for you for a couple weeks after, and I would have found you if I’d had more time... but then I was quested with finding the kid’s people, so I had to stop. But whenever I was near a temperate planet with an ocean and had some time, I stopped to look for leads. And then when the Jedi came for the kid, I, uh, was lost for a bit... I tried to work to distract myself from everything but I couldn't. So... I had time again. I had to find you.”

He said it so unsentimentally. He put his devotion into words like it wasn’t a declaration of love—he recounted it like a simple fact.

You sat up and swung a leg over his hips, pressing your lips against his once again. He straightened, running his hands down your back and crushing you against his chest. The tempo of your breath kicked back up in tandem.

It was a relief that you were both on the same page: you had over a year of touch to make up for, and you were shameless in your pursuit of that goal.

You mumbled against his mouth, breathless: “That day—the day I left... I thought you hated me.”

Din leaned back, brow wrinkled in genuine confusion. “I could never hate you.”

“You said the person you were falling for didn’t exist.”

“You let us go. You proved me wrong.”

“Oh.”

“Even if you hadn’t, I wouldn’t have hated you. You thought you were doing the right thing. I shouldn't have said that... I didn't meant it. I was hurt. And drugged.”

“Oh.”

You shook your head, laughed. What could you do but laugh? It didn’t matter anymore. Why mourn what little time you had lost when you had what you needed stretched out infinitely before you?

It tasted like hope, this feeling—to be able to look forward once again, to broaden your horizon back to the endless possibility it once promised. Finally, you’d be able to move freely, unencumbered by the need to maintain safeguards around your heart. You could venture out into the galaxy knowing wherever you went with him, you'd never be lost.

Smiling, you asked: “So, what now?”

He looked down and clasped your hand, lacing his fingers between yours. When his eyes met yours again, there was so much uncertainty there, so much unease, you almost had to look away.

Fuck. The bright light in your chest faltered like the wavering of an unsteady flame.

“I—There’s something I need to do. A few things, actually... things I’ve been avoiding, but I know I can do them now. I’m sorry, I'll have to go, but I needed to find you first,” he stopped, then rushed to add, “but I know you like it here. I wouldn’t ask you to leave—to come with me. No, but I’ll come back. Of course, I’ll come back to you. I’ll always come back to you, for as long as you want me.”

The light in your chest expanded, filling every inch of you with warmth. You smiled at him, placing a reassuring hand over his thumping heart, and leaned down to press your forehead to his.

You closed your eyes. “I want you to ask.”

He let out a relieved sigh, holding you closer. “Will you come with me?”

You kissed a word into his lips: yes.

***

Tagging those who expressed interest in a sequel to Extrasolar: @disgruntledspacedad @thirstworldproblemss @dincrypt @beskarhearts @goldielocks2004 @elinedjarin @speakerforthedead0 @thosewickedlovelies @theawkwardpedestrian

Everything tag list: @spideysimpossiblegirl

I hope I didn't miss anyone! I'm sorry if I did!

[salemwritesxx]

𝓪 𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓻𝓻𝔂 𝓷𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽.

𝕂𝔸𝕄𝔸𝔻𝕆 𝕋𝔸ℕ𝕁𝕀ℝ𝕆

     ⇴ x male reader [under 5‘0“, merman hashira]      ⇴ all characters are depicted as [18]+

↳ summary/request: Part 2 of this.

↣ rating: explicit, 18+ ↣ warnings: smut, monster sex, merman x human, double dicks, double penetration

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

Rushing down, Tanjiro met you at the usual isolated little area where you had shared your first kiss. Now, months later, it was still your secret place to meet – not that he or you really hid the fact that you started dating. But it was nice knowing no one would interrupt you or find you there.

“[your.name]?”, he called for you, your name echoing in the silent night that was only disturbed by the sound of ocean waves.

“Jiro? You’re already here?”, a head poked through the surface of the water. As you smiled at him, Kamado also couldn’t help but smile back.

“Mh. I came back as soon as I reported everything.”

“Wait I’ll come out then-“

“No.”, he surprised you a little, though the smile on his lips didn’t falter, “I’ll come in, [your.name]!”

Thus, you watched as he slipped off his haori, letting it fall onto the ground, before his uniform followed, one piece after another. Tanjiro was not shy anymore like a few months ago. Instead, even though he had scars from battles, he confidently took off everything until he was completely naked.

And you just look at him in awe – he was so pretty. You loved him so much.

“Ah, it’s cold.”, Tanjiro giggled and gasp at the same time when he swiftly jumped into the cool ocean water.

“That’s why I told you I’d come out.”, you laughed and your arms opened immediately, inviting him. And certainly, you didn’t have to say anything as he swam the last few feet to get to you, strong arms wrapped around your neck in an instant.

“Nhn.”, he shook his head and leaned in, softly kissing your lips, “[Your.name]… I wanna go all the way today.”

His sudden request surprised you, though before you could say anything, his ruby eyes met your own [eye.color] ones – he was determined. Even though he looked so confident, you still breathed a mere, “Are you really…?”

“Yes.”, Tanjiro whispered back and cuddled his head against yours. His naked body was pressed against your own and his legs wrapped around your fishtail.

“Then, I won’t hold back, my love.”, you smiled at last.

Those words alone made his heart jump in his chest, only for Tanjiro to softly whine when you buried your hand in his hair to pull him close. Your lips collided and his arms tightened around your neck, knowing, even though you were still smaller in your merman form than him, you would hold him up and not let him drown – well, only drown in the sweet bliss and pleasure.

--

“Ah-“, a choked moan escaped his lips, only to bite it in order to not get too loud as your fingers were stirring up his insides; penetrating that sweet spot of his while he was barely able to keep it together, hanging onto you in the water and trying to touch you as well.

You two did have sex before in your merman form, but today was special, because today, he finally wanted to be fucked by both of your cocks. Tanjiro had been longing for it for quite some time after all.

“[Your.name]!”, whining your name, his glazed, ruby eyes were half open as he looked at you. Though closing them instinctively when you came closer to kiss him, his heart made three flips just from such sweet gestures.

“Ahnh mhnnghH!”, Tanjiro couldn’t stop moaning against your lips, not when you entered a third finger to spread his ass. Your own cocks were excitingly throbbing and twitching against the palm of his calloused hand as he wanted to touch and stimulate you as well.

Your tongues were playfully fighting, muffling his moans like that, while his hand was holding onto your shoulder, the other wrapped around one of your dicks. His own cock was leaking so much precum already, everything getting washed away by the ocean waves and yet, your body kept him from floating anywhere, strongly pressed against you.

“[Your.name]…”, whimpering against your lips, Tanjiro pulled back at last, gasping softly and drool dripping from his lips.

“You’re so cute, Tanjiro.”, you smiled gently, but the gleaming in your [eye.color] eyes told him everything. You were just as aroused as him and it made him so unbelievably happy.

“AHN!”, and then, he couldn’t muffle his aroused moan when all three digits of yours were thrusted inside fully. With shaking legs and shivering hands, he grip you even tighter, your own low moan vibrating in your chest as he pumped your cock harder.

“[Y-your.n-name], I… I am ready. Please.”, his lips brushed against your own, “Do it. L-love me.”

“Being this cute must be seriously prohibited!”, you thought while smashing your lips on his, his desperate moan and the way he held on were just so arousing, you could barely hold back.

Pulling out your fingers, Tanjiro moaned into the kiss once more, before you gently pushed his hand away from one of your weirdly curved, inhuman cocks. Instead, you placed his arm around your shoulder, breathing a mere “Hold on, Darling.” while your hand slipped down to his ass once more.

Massaging his cheeks with both hands, you spread them and pulled him closer, a lustful hiss escaping your lips against your lovers, Kamado only whining and kissing you deeper in response. Thrusting lightly, you rubbed both of your cocks between his ass, the long, twisted tips brushing against his twitching hole seriously driving him crazy - you were such a tease.

But then, you used your hand to adjust your cocks and in the end, pressing them both against his hole, you started to push, his ass opening up almost immediately, sucking you in eagerly. Once both of your cockheads were in, Tanjiro’s ragged breathing calmed down a bit, yet he knew, there was something much thicker waiting for him.

“Tanjiro. Tell me if it’s too much.”, you mumbled against his lips, kissing them over and over again and he returned every little one of them.

“Mhmm”, an approved, high-pitched whine was all he could do.

Your movements were slow as you eased into his tight ass, spreading him more and more as he was pushed down onto your cocks. He was moaning and grunting, especially when you started playing with his own dick, jolts of pleasure mixed with discomfort made it much easier to take both of your cocks at once.

As you pushed his ass down, the base of your curved, twisted cocks got thicker with more bumps, making Tanjiro gasp in delight as the little nubs brushed against his twitching insides. His hole was tightening and sucking you in more. And at last, he was pressed fully against your scaly skin.

“God…. your such a Good Boy, aren’t you, Tanjiro?”, your inhuman purr was intense and all he could do was nod and hiccup your name.

Staying connected like this for a second, Kamado adjusted to the thickness and lengths of your dicks more easily than you thought, and before you knew it, he softly tried to sway his hips, making you hiss. He wanted to be fucked – now.

So, you granted him his wish.

“Hold on tight!”, was the last thing you grumbled deeply, before your hips started moving, immediately sending Tanjiro flying.

Due to your very special form changing ability, you easily moved underwater, thus slamming your cocks into him without the water disturbing your movements or strength.

“AHNH! AHHhh NHHH [Your.name]! [YOUR.NAME]!”, he didn’t care to hold back his voice anymore, moaning loudly and freely into the night. He always enjoyed making love, but being fucked by both of your cocks at once was a new level of ecstasy he didn’t know he could reach.

Tears of pleasure were dripping down his cheeks and his cock was throbbing in your pumping hand, never letting him even breathe for a second as you drilled your dicks into him relentlessly. Tanjiro’s legs were shaking and he knew, if it wasn’t for you holding him, he would probably drown with how utterly unable he was to think one straight, coherent thought.

“AH I- I- Ah- Love yOU!”, Tanjiro sobbed. Every time, he still thought he was dreaming. Being together with you, was like a dream.

And even though, it had been months since your confession, he still was so lucky and happy that it almost hurt.

“I love you, too, Jiro!”, your own grunted answer made his heart flip.

The friction of your cocks rubbing together, and from being engulfed by his hot, tight ass was almost too much to handle for you. God, he just felt so fucking amazing. How his body melted against your own so perfectly and even though the ocean water was pretty cold, Tanjiro himself was burning up.

“D-Darling, I’m… close…”, pressing those words out between gritted teeth was the only thing you could do before another moan spilled from your lips, feeling almost too overwhelmingly good. Now, that Tanjiro could fit both of your dicks at once, it truly was almost too much.

“[Y-Your.name]- AHn! M-me… Me too… Hnnn-!”, stuttering your name, he threw his head back at last when you started teasing his sensitive cockhead with your thumb.

One last time, your free hand grabbed his ass, your nails digging into his flesh as you pressed him against your body. Your tail was thrashing in the water as you raggedly started shoving your cocks into his ass. His hole being so sloppy and wet due to all the precum you were leaking.

“Ah, AH! Ughhnh-!”, Tanjiro couldn’t hold back his moans, his legs were shaking due to being penetrated so vigorously and your hand playing with his dick. All he could do was lean his forehead against your own and let the burning sensation in his abdomen take over.

And once that happened, it was over.

His cock was throbbing and bouncing in your hand from the strong orgasm sweeping through his body. Squirting cum into the ocean, his body spasming from the intense feeling while his mouth was hanging open as he tried to desperately gasp for breath – though getting interrupted by his pleasurable cries and sobs.

As Tanjiro was tightening so much around your cocks, it was almost unbearable for you. Grabbing him tightly and following him with your own release. Your deep, delightful moans and little grunts mixed with his own aroused sounds. Dicks vividly throbbing and moving, you filled him up with your cum. His ass overflowing almost immediately and releasing your seed back into the ocean, even though you had stuffed him full with your cocks.

“Ahn- d-don’t… pull out… yet…”, Tanjiro barely stammered as he buried his face at your shoulder to calm down. You just purred and nodded while also showering his face and the side of his head with kisses. Using your tail, you slowly swam back to the shores, since you had drifted off quite a lot.

Kamado just enjoyed those sweet gestures since his body was limp anyways from being fucked too good. Though, when you reached the little isolated beach again, you pulled yourself and him out of the water, just so it was barely reaching your hips.

Looking down your body from the corner of his eyes, he watched as your fishtail transformed back into human legs. And with that, a soft moan and grunt escaped his lips as your cocks slipped out (to transform back as well); releasing all that cum that you had stuffed him with, having it drip down over his balls and into the water.

“I love you.”, you said in a hushed voice while kissing his forehead. Tanjiro just smiling as he cuddled against your smaller body, his legs tangled with yours and his hand also reaching for your own.

“I love you too, [your.name]! I love you… so much…”, he tiredly mumbled back, before taking your hand and squeezing it softly.

Thankfully, it was a warm summer night, thus you could both savor the moment a little longer, laying together in the warm sand and caressing each other.

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@salemwritesxx || do not repost, edit, modify or translate my works

⇻ salem.talks: like I promised, the spicy part! also thanks to some nice encouragement and ideas, I tried to “personalize” my posts without using banners and just some different fonts and symbols and general new stuff. so far, I like it :)