#x. jarek

[ash-shark]

Shitty post (mostly Black Dragon)

[lilyoffandoms]

Jarek x Trey

It’s the beige love affair he clearly has going on with his clothing for me lol

I feel like I managed to capture them slightly younger still not quite college age young but eh at this point it’s close enough for me haha

My Art Ish Thing Tag (Choices Edition): @storyofmychoices @aallotarenunelma @twinkleallnight @dutifullynuttywitch @loreofyore @peonierose @trappedinfanfiction

[between-the-matches-verse]

Deadceptmageddon Incorrect Quotes #4

*Liu Kang dies in a game with ships*

Kung Lao: This ship is no longer a ship of love, it's a ship of vengeance, a gavel of justice against all that is wrong in the world, showing no mercy, as no mercy was shown to us.

Kung Lao: The spark of love will now fuel the fires of destructive glory as I wage my war across the world with righteous fury.

Johnny Cage: Legend has it that Liu Kang still haunts the ship, stealing my fucking drinks.

Liu Kang: Of course I do.

-----

Jade: I'd roast you, but my mom says you can't burn trash.

Jade: *slow-mo walks out of the room*

-----

Frost: I am an expert at identifying birds.

Sub-Zero: Okay, what about those ones flying over there?

Frost: Yeah, they're all birds.

-----

Tanya: Welcome to Fucking Applebees, do you want apples or bees?

Jarek: Bees?

Tanya: HE HAS SELECTED THE BEES!

Jarek: Wait-

*Kai approaches, shaking a jar of bees menacingly*

-----

Cyrax: Look at me straight in the eyes and tell me the truth, Sektor!

Sektor: You can’t expect me to look into your eyes and be straight.

-----

Kung Lao: If you water water, it grows.

Nightwolf: ...What.

Sub-Zero: He's got a point.

[izzystrawhat]

Wish we saw Poe interact with both Kaz and Jarek during the finale episode of Star Wars Resistance. But on the other hand I’m happy they reunited (although off-screen) after the final battle at the end of SW: RoS.

[oboedreamz]

Anyone else hoping to see some more cameos from Star Wars Resistance?! 💫

[locitapurplepink]

Kaz and Yeager on "A Quick Salvage Run"

[amanita-muscaria-things]

"You dwell not only in my every waking thought, but also in my dreams."

[novelistwriter]

A New Pantheon

DP x DC Prompt

JLD had caught wind of a new Pantheon of God's in the magical community of the world. They had done some digging and learned of the names of these new Gods and their Godly domains.

Phantom, the God king of the Pantheon, his domain is over the stars and Death. Additionally, they have learned that this God is also the Ghost King.

Alsie (Jazz), the Goddess of Judgment and the older sister to Phantom.

Phantasm (Dani), the younger sister of Phantom and the Goddess of Freedom.

Aethon (Dan), someone who is as close to Phantom as a family, but weirdly not considered part of his family like Phantasm and Alsie. He is the God of Vengeance.

Akil (Tucker), a friend of Phantom and the God of Intelligence.

Sylvia (Sam), another friend of Phantom and Goddess of Nature. She also has a connection to Overgrowth, a powerful Ancient of the Infinite Realms.

Amitai (Wes), another friend of Phantom, and the God of Truth.

Jarek (Dash), the God of Strength, and someone who wasn't fully on the side of Phantom from what they could find.

Aurelia (Paulina), Goddess of Beauty. Like with Jarek, she wasn't always on the side of Phantom fully.

That new Pantheon of God's is already in their world, and each God and Goddess has already amassed some believers in the entire planet.

[oboedreamz]

Season 3 of Resistance anyone?? I can dream. 😩��

Hype’s here to save the day! Venisa? Long time no see. 

[stardustrebels]

Fathoms Beyond- Chapter 2: Tetherline Protocol

Pairing: Din Djarin x f!reader Rating: 18+ / MDNI WC: 5.8k Series Masterlist | Blog Masterlist Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

A/N: This is a follow-on fic from Fathoms Between (my Din x f!reader angsty WTTS entry). While you don’t need to read that before you read this, it’ll make some things in this chapter a lot clearer if you do. I’m very much enjoying spending time with my tin can man again, even if I do plan on being incredibly mean to him over the next few chapters. But he deserves it.

I’m blown away with the response and all the kind words I’ve received about the one shot and chapter one of this story. To everyone who liked, commented, messaged and reblogged, thank you so, so much. You have no idea how much it means to me that people are here and reading what I write <3

As always, feedback, comments and reblogs are always welcomed and appreciated! :)

Tags/ Warnings: Angst, tension, slow burn, hurt/comfort, post-season 2 (The Mandalorian), canon-divergent, razor crest never gets destroyed but Din does have the Darksaber. Mention of trauma responses, mild language, found family, toxic relationships, undertones of manipulative behaviour, betrayal, trust issues, emotional damage, emotional trauma, unwanted manhandling, attempted abduction (sort of), brief violence, depictions of injury and self-administered medical treatment (syringe/ injection). A bit of a trauma lasagne. No use of y/n, minimal physical descriptions of reader— she has hair that she can braid. 

Taglist: @djarins-cyare , @i-say-choco-you-say-ice-cream If you’d like to be added to or removed from this taglist, please let me know!

Dividers by: @saradika-graphics

You were sure that there was someone there, hiding just beyond where you could see. 

Your heart was beating so fast you could feel it fluttering against the base of your throat. You took controlled, shallow breaths, but didn’t dare move otherwise. 

You narrowed your eyes against the dark toward the thin strip of forest left growing beyond the perimeter— the trees were a mass of black-barked knots, branches reaching toward the sky like gnarled, bony fingers. They curled against the haze as dusk ticked through to night. One of the boughs creaked and your stomach sank. 

Your fingers tightened around the blaster, other hand tensed by your side in an attempt to keep from trembling. You couldn’t bring yourself to call out, and if it were Jarek, you’re sure he would have shown himself before now. 

A sharp squeak snapped through the silence, then a clatter, like a loose stone being knocked free. Breath held, you raised your blaster, pointing it toward the source of the sound, despite the shadows blending in to a fast-fading horizon. 

You tensed, ready to shoot, only to catch sight of the twitchy nose of a giant root rat, its long whiskers and tail only just visible through the murk. It gave another squeak and darted off behind a mound of rubble, scurrying back to its burrow somewhere in the wasteland between you and the forest.

Your heart thudded against your ribcage, knocking a shaky exhale from your lungs. It was almost a laugh, but there was no mirth behind it. You waited another couple of moments before re-holstering the blaster, shaking your arms out to try and dispel some of the adrenaline. Your eyes didn’t leave the horizon as you backed up, taking measured, steady steps back to the crate you’d been sitting on before, internally urging Jarek to hurry up as you pocketed the comlink and sat back down. You rubbed your palms over your thighs, trying to expel some of the nervous energy that was starting to bubble over under your skin. You let out another breath. Slower this time. 

And like it always did when you had too much time to think and nothing to do with your hands, your mind wandered. To Lothal. 

Even the sky had felt heavy back then, the weight of abandonment hovering over you all the time;   

a constant clawing anger, strangling you from the inside and making every breath difficult. You’d carried that weight in silence, day after day, and let it harden in to resolve. You tried not to think about the man who abandoned you; the Mandalorian. You’d told yourself then that you’d never utter his name again. You’d clearly meant nothing to him, and now he was nothing to you. 

You had spent your first few months on the new planet simply going through the motions: salvage, sleep, repeat. You paid little attention to anything you weren’t stripping or fixing, and you used your voice so infrequently that the others on your team assumed you couldn’t speak.

You preferred it that way, no one bothered to try and befriend you. Except Jarek. 

The first time he approached you, he held a busted power distributor in one hand and a sealed ration box in the other. He sat cross-legged opposite you like one would if they were trying to gain the trust of an angry, injured massiff, and offered you both without a word. You eyed him with suspicion, then the parts, then the food, before accepting them in silence after he flashed you a strained, but hopeful, smile. You’d wanted to smack it clean off his face.

“I saw how fast you repaired those starpath units the other day for the boss,” he said after you’d turned the tech over in your hand a couple of times. “Figure you might be able to fix this mess before my hair goes grey. Well, greyer.” 

You didn’t answer, but you pried open the distributor anyway. Half a standard hour later, it sparked to life again, and he gave a low whistle like you’d just beaten a record you hadn’t been aware of. 

After that, he started dropping things off with you regularly after your shifts. Power cells. Circuit boards and half-gutted droid processors. Always with the flash of a lazy smile and some quick whip, sometimes with some rehydrated food if he thought you might have forgotten to eat. 

The day he turned up with a pouch full of extra credits for you, you spoke back to him for the first time: a tiny, hoarse thank you as you awkwardly took the pouch and stared down at it, brow furrowed. It had only taken a week after that for him to pull a full conversation out of you. 

He asked about mundane things— your favourites— drinks, snacks, comforts and tools. ‘You’ve gotta know who you’re working with’, he’d said to you. He encouraged you to ask him his favourites too. Not long after that, the things that you’d mentioned as favourites began being dropped off with the tech. When you asked where he was getting them from, he only shrugged and tapped the end of his nose with a knowing smile. 

You began actually looking forward to seeing him, waiting anxiously for sight of his bearded face rounding the corner, eagerly anticipating the newest surprise and tech-fixing challenge.

You started staying up late, making unnecessary modifications, just so items would be worth more— more credits for Jarek meant more credits for you. The late nights were worth it; you felt useful again. Needed. The work was cathartic, and each bit of tech you made work chipped another piece of your anger and grief away. Little by little, you started to feel more like your old self. It was an added benefit that you were making more credits than you ever had been before.

It became a new routine, a rhythm that kept you steady. Occupied. Distracted. Salvage during the day, then spend long, late nights cross-legged on a repurposed crate in a dim corner of the repair bay, fingertips and overalls stained with carbon and coolant. Jarek would show up after every shift with armfuls of tech and a grin like he’d just won a chronometer. 

Every so often, when he could tell you were getting frustrated, he’d suggest racing the speeder bikes he said he won in a game of sabacc. He always let you win the races, even though he never admitted it.

Over time, the tech became more elaborate and increasingly expensive— far surpassing what was available in the leftovers of the salvage yards. You never asked where the parts came from, and Jarek never offered to tell you. He never hovered, either. Never second-guessed your work. He trusted you implicitly and you grew to trust him. He never gave you a reason not to. 

“You’re too sharp to waste away on this dusty rock, Starshine,” he’d said one night, twirling a scomp link he’d lifted from your workbench between his fingers. “We could make something of ourselves out there, y’know, you and me. Find some really rich folks to sell to, make some riches of our own.” 

You’d shrugged noncommittally at that. You weren’t sure you wanted to travel again; it hadn’t ended well the last time. But Jarek didn’t drop it. He spoke about it so often that he convinced you, and before long you were spending your free time fixing up a ship he’d procured, and grinning like an idiot when he would spend evenings watching you work, suggesting planets and making far-fetched plans for you both in systems you’d never even heard of. 

The ship wasn’t sleek or fast, but she flew.  Sturdy enough to keep pressure, light enough to pass for civilian transport. You learned her quirks fast and within a couple of months, with Jarek’s insistence, you’d left Lothal together in the hopes of finding something better. 

He taught you how to fly, cracking jokes about quick getaways and close calls the entire time. But beneath the wisecracks, his lessons were sharp, deliberate and focussed. He taught you more than the basics— how to feel drift and weight, how to listen for the pitch of a misfire before it turned dangerous. The nuance of it surprised you; how much he cared about the details, how passionate he was. 

Navigation came next. Then slicing transponders. Then falsifying logs. One thing bled in to the next, each skill framed as survival. As freedom. 

“People out there, they take what they can,” he told you. “You’ve gotta learn how to keep what’s yours. You hear me, Starshine?” 

You did, but he said it a lot anyway to make sure you never forgot.

It wasn’t like the interplanetary travelling you’d done previously, it overwrote your entire experience of it in the best way. While before had been filled with long stretches of silence and little to fill the vast emptiness of space, with Jarek there was noise. Various genres of music buzzed low through the speakers as stars streaked past and when it didn’t he would sing loudly, crack jokes, beat you at sabacc and tell you stories.

It was the kind of noise that trickled through and filled the cracks of the broken thing that sat heavy in your chest, and made the past easier to forget. You started to enjoy the chaos that matched the noise: you never stayed long in one system, rarely docked in regulated ports and made more than a few speedy exits. 

You learned how to tuck credits, hide them behind so many levels of protection even banking droids couldn’t get a read on the amount. Jarek suggested that you started a joint savings chip, handed you one and taught you how to encrypt it.

He taught you how to secure a deal in half a dozen languages and how to pocket items without anyone noticing. How to spot fakes and sell them as real, how to find value in anything. “Everything’s worth something to someone, Starshine, you just gotta find the right buyer.”

You’d never seen someone move through life with such ease. Jarek could be whoever he needed to be— shifting through personalities, sometimes from one room to the next, with a confidence and charm that no one ever thought to question. Somehow, you slipped in right behind him, as if his aura of belonging extended to you by association. 

You saw sights travelling with Jarek that you couldn’t have imagined: crystal dunes that sang in the wind, cities that spanned entire hemispheres. Layers of golden spires and hovering sky-lanes, where the rich never touched the ground. Perfumed storms in private sky domes— where warm winds and floral rain were programmed to each guest’s emotional state. You bathed in Twi’lek healing springs carved in to cliffs on Ryloth, dined beneath gravity- warped skies that rippled like water, and stood on glass balconies above gas giants painted in perpetual pastel light reflected off rainbow coloured clouds. 

On every stop along the way— backwater outposts, palatial auction houses and everything in between, there were whispered deals over untouched drinks and encrypted data pads. A few more credits, a little more risk. You didn’t care; you’d never felt more alive. 

He called you his partner to clients and meant it. You were a team, both unsure what you’d do without the other. It was comforting to know that you mattered as much as he did to the whole operation. 

When you took control of the ship solo for the first time and made the split-second decision to slip out of atmo and skim the edge of a no-fly zone just to throw off a security scan, he clapped you on the back and grinned at you so wide it made your chest feel like it was about to burst. 

“I knew you could do it, kid,” he’d said, beaming down at you like a proud father— Prouder of you than your own father had ever been. It was easy to love him after that. He wasn’t blood but he might as well have been. He’d handed you tools for a life worth living and said build. And you’d grasped them with both hands and done exactly that. 

Jarek hadn’t meant for Vath to be permanent. It was a stopover— one more planet to grab supplies and swap out a couple of parts for the ship. The port was small but active enough to sustain a steady flow of credits, credits burning a hole in the pockets of people who didn’t ask too many questions. You didn’t even unpack your kit that first week, certain you’d be off again as soon as Jarek heard about the next big payout. 

It turned out Jarek knew a couple of people on Vath. People who owed him a few favours and more than a few credits, and offered him loyalty in lieu of money. It didn’t take long before Jarek had planted roots. 

He didn’t call it a gang; said that was vulgar. You were all part of his crew. A few familiar faces from past runs and a couple of toughs he pulled in with charm and carefully constructed promises. He expanded the operation you’d both had for the last few cycles, selling tech to buyers from far-flung places. At some point Jarek started organising runs and assigning jobs. You were assigned a backup getaway a couple of times, watching the horizon, ready to bolt if things got messy. They never did. After the first few deals, you figured they’d all be identical and you began holding back, spending more time in the workshop you’d built for yourself out of old ships, hidden away on the junkyard on the other side of the port.

The others started to listen to him— really listen. Each of them saw the spark within him that had won you over. His passion, charm and natural leadership. His easy wit, the quiet confidence that you were sure was infectious. They learned, as you had, that with Jarek around, you felt untouchable. 

Lately Jarek had felt a little too untouchable. To you, at least. It had been increasingly difficult to pin him down recently and for the first time since you’d met him, you were unsure of your place in his world. He was more calculating and less confiding. The crew had grown and the jobs had gotten riskier, and you weren’t sure when he had stopped needing you. 

“Starshine!” 

The sound of his voice knocked you from your reverie with a jolt. You jumped off the crate at the name and spun around until you spotted him. Jarek weaved through the scattered piles of scrap like something was snapping at his heels. When he reached you his breaths were sharp, like he’d just stopped running. 

You straightened, old instincts kicking in, causing uneasiness to creep up from the base of your spine.

“Did you initiate the protocol?” He said as he reached you, eyes darting between you and the mouth of the hangar. “Tell me you set the fail safe.” 

You blinked. “Yeah, I did. I messaged you. I— Jarek, what’s going on?”

He was already moving past you, hands fidgeting around nothing, fingertips tapping together frantically. He took a couple of steps before doubling back, stumbling as he approached you again. 

“The credits,” he said, voice low and urgent, “Do you have them?”

You hesitated. “Jarek, what’s—”

“The credits, Starshine.” 

You balked at his tone, and slipped your hand in to the pouch clipped at your belt to pull the credit chip free. He snatched it out of your hand before you could blink, devoid of any of his usual grace, before he shoved it deep in to his jacket pocket and glanced back at the open hangar. He then bent down to pick up your pack and you reached out to take it from him, but he didn’t hand it to you. 

Instead, his other hand landed on your arm. “Let’s go.” 

You flinched at the contact. “What? No, wait— Jarek, what the kriff is going on?”

He didn’t answer, he only tugged harder. You dug your heels in. Something wasn’t right, this wasn’t like him.

“Hey. Stop.”

The grip on your arm tightened. It wasn’t painful, not yet. That didn’t make it any less worrying.

“Jarek, please, you’re scaring me.” You said, your voice coming out higher than you’d intended. 

He stopped and turned toward you so abruptly it made you jump. For a second you thought he might explain why he was acting this way, but he only shook his head and muttered something under his breath that you didn’t catch. His eyes darted from yours to the perimeter, frantic and panicked. You almost couldn’t believe that this was actually the man you knew. 

“Talk to me. Please?” You begged, squirming slightly under his touch, trying to loosen it enough to step away from him. 

Jarek’s mouth opened, but whatever words he was about to say were swallowed by fresh panic. He jerked your arm again, trying to pull you toward the ship. You wrenched yourself back, boots scraping against the floor, kicking up dust and grit from the metal underfoot, aimlessly trying to get purchase to lurch yourself away from him, but he was too strong. You stumbled forward with a cry.

A voice from behind you cut clean through the static of your fear. 

“Let her go.” 

Jarek froze, and so did you. 

You recognised that voice. 

The air left your lungs and the blood left your face all at once. You turned as best you could against Jarek’s grip and the noise that left your throat was little more than a squeak. 

A figure stepped out from the shadows beyond the mouth of the hangar, reflections from the flickering overhead lights hitting off them in staccato bursts. It made your vision swim, but you didn’t need to focus to know who it was. The armour glinted as much as the helmet, upgraded since the last time you’d laid eyes on it but there was no mistaking. It was him. 

The Mandalorian.

Standing in front of you like a loaded weapon— silent, sure and absolutely deadly. 

The blood in your veins froze so fast that it hurt. Your mouth went dry as you took him in: blaster drawn and stance tense. Suddenly all of Jarek’s panic, his forcefulness and his eagerness to leave made sense. If this was who had been chasing him, he was right to be scared. 

His grip on your arm let up just enough for you to ease out of it. You took an unsteady step forward and raised your hands, palms flat against the air, heartbeat battering against your chest so hard you were sure it could echo off the durasteel around you. 

“Don’t,” you said, voice tight. “Nobody needs to do anything. Just wait.”

Mando didn’t move, but his next words came through the helmet, flat and steady. 

“He isn’t who you think he is.”

You had longed to hear his voice again— silently pleaded for it in moments of weakness— but now that it was a reality, it scraped against every raw nerve you had left. It hollowed you out, sent your heart stuttering on a shallow breath. Fury bubbled under your skin, mingling with bitterness and a grief you thought was long-buried. 

You set your jaw, a veil of defiance falling over every other emotion. 

“Please, you don’t know him.”

His visor tilted, just slightly. “I know enough.”

There was a shuffle and a sharp inhale from behind you. Jarek was clearly weighing up how fast he could run. The Mandalorian’s arm tensed again, blaster trained over your shoulder, no doubt right between Jarek’s eyes. His posture said he was done talking to you, and he straightened up before he spoke again, the words reverberating through the silence, sharp as a vibroblade. 

“I can bring you in warm, or I can bring y—”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence.”

Your voice cracked like a whip, and the indignation behind it surprised you. It seemed to surprise the Mandalorian too, enough for him to look at you again. It was the tiniest movement; a tilt of his helmet that suggested his eyes were on you, but you caught it, and you stared right back at him. 

The only thing more palpable than your defiance was your anger. Every feeling toward this man that you never thought you would see again broke free. Emotions that you’d forced yourself not to feel, that you’d shoved deep down, stomped on until they were nothing. Pain that hurt long after the wound had scabbed and the scar was faint swelled within you; a fresh wave of unparalleled rage. 

He didn’t look away, and for a moment, you thought he could feel it. Mused that your outrage was so strong that it rolled off you in waves and across the floor. That it seeped through the gaps in the beskar and in to his skin. That he could feel what you had felt when he’d left you alone, bleeding in a med bay on a strange planet. You hoped he choked on it. 

His free hand balled in to a fist by his side and you blinked, darting your eyes down to it and back to his visor, heart stopping with the realisation that he was assessing whether you might be a threat to him. His hesitation suggested he’d never considered it before. 

In that moment you were certainly angry enough to entertain the possibility that you could be. If he thought he could reappear after all this time, only to capture your friend and tear through the shaky peace you’d forged out of the wreckage of your life— a life that he’d already ruined once before— he was sorely mistaken. 

Before you could voice any of this, Jarek snapped. 

Your arms were wrenched back, his forearm pinning them hard behind you. You twisted and fought, but froze the second cold metal pressed against your temple— his blaster.

“Stand down, Mandalorian!” He shouted, voice taut with panic. “Let me go and I won’t shoot her!”

Your whole body locked and a low, ringing hum began in your ears. The air vanished from your lungs. You couldn’t tell if your heart was still beating. 

The Mandalorian didn’t move. 

His blaster stayed steady and you knew he must have been calculating. Looking for a clean shot. Waiting for one. 

You sucked in a breath— a jagged, shallow sob.

“Don’t move,” Jarek hissed. “I mean it.”  

His voice was alien and warped and the edge in it chilled you. The pressure of the blaster against your skin kept you perfectly still, despite your rising panic. You blinked fast, facing the realisation that you might be about to die, and that Jarek was the one who’d pull the trigger.

The crack of a blaster shot tore through the hangar. 

You flinched violently, eyes squeezing shut against the flash and the noise. Jarek jerked and his whole body tensed behind you. You felt his pulse stutter. His grip faltered. 

The blaster lifted from your temple, swinging away toward something else. 

Your eyes snapped open. 

The Mandalorian had pivoted, firing toward the hangar’s edge; at a shadow just beyond the light. Blaster fire lit the space in harsh bursts, casting everything in sharp, strobing contrast. 

You glanced sideways, catching Jarek’s face just in time. He looked wild—every bit of the cornered animal he was. His eyes were blown wide and his face was taut with terror. When his gaze locked with yours, you flinched. His expression twisted and he bared his teeth around ragged breaths; desperation etched in to every inch of him. 

You didn’t dare look away. 

He was assessing. You saw it in real time as his gaze flitted between you, the ship and the Mandalorian. The options were playing out behind his eyes and his grip shifted. 

Then, something in his face changed. 

There was a flicker of pain. A fleeting sadness that was foreign on his features. It chilled you more than the panic. 

“Jarek—” you tried, but it was lost to the chaos around you. 

He shoved you. Hard. 

The force of it tore your breath away and you stumbled forward, legs tangling, arms flailing for balance. And then, just before the fall: a shot. A flash in your peripheral. And pain. 

White-hot agony sliced across your back and a scream tore from your throat, raw and burning. 

By the time your head cracked against the metal beneath you, the world had already blinked out. 

The pain was what brought you back. It bloomed across your ribs, like spiny hands curling around your lungs, forcing you to the present in slow, ragged heaves. 

The hangar floor was unforgiving, jagged in places, cracked and pitted from age or impact. You shifted slightly and winced. A hiss escaped you, small and involuntary, as you tried to peel your face away from the floor. The motion dragged another sting across your cheek, like tiny blades had been embedded in to the skin just below your eye. Your breath came in ugly, uneven gasps as your lungs worked for every scrap of air. 

You groaned and tried to roll onto your side when hands found you. Gloved. Familiar. You flinched and pulled away before they could settle, rolling all the way over and welcoming the jolt of pain that followed. It gave you something to focus on to stay conscious.

“Don’t,” you snapped, voice hoarse and cracking, like wind through a broken bellow. “Don’t touch me.” 

A pause, then a modulated breath. You felt him hesitate. 

“It’s me,” he said. 

“I know,” you spat. “Don’t touch me.”  

Mando hovered above you, his helmet catching the faltering overhead lights, the reflections blown and blurred through your unfocussed eyes, making him look like a metal-clad ghost. 

He didn’t reach for you again, he only crouched there, hands stilled, watching. 

You dragged your arm up, fumbling with your jacket until you could lift it by the hem and check the armourweave hidden beneath. It was hot around the bolt impact, scorched and blistering your side, but it had held up. 

It hurt like hell to breathe, but you were whole. 

Mando exhaled. His relief was so palpable it was almost offensive.

“I thought you were dead” he said quietly.

“Learned my lesson last time,” you muttered, voice low and full of venom. 

Your limbs shook as you pushed yourself upright. You noticed hands twitching out of the corner of your eye, as if it pained him not to help you. Good. 

The ache in your chest flared with every movement, but you made it to your feet after a solid few minutes of struggle and scanned around the hangar, pressing your forearm against your ribs to try to make it easier to breathe. 

The ship was gone. There was no sign of Jarek or the mysterious other shooter. Only your pack remained, slumped on the floor where it had been tossed aside in favour of a blaster. 

“Jarek’s gone?” You rasped. Mando didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. 

You swallowed hard and set your mouth in to a thin, grim line. 

Rage surged within you again, a fresh hurt building on the foundations of your earlier anger, eclipsing the aches and stings all over your body. The betrayal landed with a heat and sank through every pore, in to your veins and pulsed around your body like lava. Your eyes burned but no tears came. You could taste copper around the grit inside your mouth, tiny pieces crackling against your molars as you clenched your jaw. 

You staggered toward your pack. Pain shot through every joint, radiating through your bones with every step, but you didn’t stop. You made it halfway before your knees buckled. You caught yourself on a crate and bit back the wave of nausea that washed over you.

“Hey, take it easy,” The Mandalorian said, rising behind you.

You ignored him, forcing the last few steps. He followed. Of course he did. You bent, lifted the pack with a stifled groan, and turned back to the crate.

You hauled the pack on to it and unclasped the buckle. The motion pulled a fresh groan from your chest, and your vision swam briefly with black spots. Each movement sent jolts of pain through you, like you were wading through a pool of tiny broken shards of glass. Still, you didn’t stop. You dug through it until you found the medkit you’d packed earlier. 

You pulled a bacta shot out and assembled it, pausing to catch your breath before pulling up your jacket and layers beneath and pressing the syringe to your waist. The icy burn of the liquid sank like frostbite through your muscles. 

The relief wouldn’t be instant, but it would numb the pain enough to let you think. You slumped down to the floor against the crate, limbs trembling. Your body screamed for rest, but you shoved your exhaustion aside. You forced your eyes to stay open, watching as Mando came to stand in front of you. 

“There’s another bounty hunter chasing Jarek,” he said. “I didn’t get a good look at them. They shot at him but he escaped with the ship. They bolted after he was gone and—”

“He’s got my credits.” You cut over him, as if you hadn’t really been listening. The realisation hit you with a jolt. Jarek had pocketed your credit chip before he’d tried to drag you on to the ship.

“He’s got all of my credits.” 

Every single payment you’d ever gotten from him, everything you’d earned since you’d been travelling together, you’d stored well over half of it on that chip. It was the ‘joint’ savings chip, sure, but you’d never seen Jarek transfer anything on to it. There were a lot of credits in that account.

Maybe this was the desperate swing of a man backed in to a corner. You wanted to believe that. But the longer you sat with the alternative, the worse it felt and the truer it became. 

The rage came creeping back, slow and raw, shaking its way up through your bones. You curled your fingers in to fists. 

He’d used you. 

It was clear now— he’d always planned to cast you aside. This bounty, this sudden upheaval was just a blip in his plan that had sped things up. 

You scoffed, and even the breath felt bitter on your tongue. 

It was a betrayal right out of those drama holovids you always mocked— melodramatic and obvious. And still, you’d walked right in to it.

There might have been signs. 

There were signs. 

But you’d been blind to them. Too wrapped up in the thrill of it all, in the illusion of freedom. You’d believed everything he told you. He’d fed you pretty promises like rope and you’d tied them around your own neck. 

The truth settled in your chest, colder than the bacta coursing through your bloodstream. You were nothing to him. Just a tool. A pawn. A means to an end. 

You’d considered him family. You’d trusted him. You’d loved him. 

Your mind ticked through every moment his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. You’d told yourself he was just tired. Every. Damn. Time. 

The air thickened. Your chest rose and fell, breaths shallow through stabbing tightness. 

You wanted to scream, to hit something— him, anyone. Instead, you swallowed the bitterness. It burned, hot as embers. When it settled deep in your chest, buried under everything else you’d felt in the last few hours, the embers sparked and a slow fire caught. 

You’d make him regret it. 

You glanced at Mando, still standing stock still in front of you. 

“Is there a puck?” You asked in a clipped tone. Your voice only shook only a little.

Mando nodded. You took a breath, sharp and dry.

“Can I see it?” 

He handed it over and you activated it, the image flickering once before settling. Jarek’s face stared back at you, flat and grainy, the bounty data floating beside it.

You stared at him. At the familiar lines of his face and the scruff of his beard, streaked with less silver than you were used to. The scar under his right eye looked fresher, but his smug grin was the same one he always wore— the ghost of a smile you used to trust. 

You chewed the inside of your cheek, breathing easier now as the bacta took hold. It quieted the pain of bruises and breaks under your skin, but something deep within you still stung, radiating out from your heart like poison. It was a hurt that no amount of bacta would ever be able to heal. You stared at the image of Jarek’s face for a long time as it flickered in front of yours. Mando hovered just beyond it, hands resting on his waist and leg cocked out to one side. His concerned stance, you mused, recognising it even after all this time. 

Thoughts spun through your mind, options and half-baked plans racing a mile a minute over and over, each one flicking a new expression across your features as your teeth wore away at your bottom lip.

You looked up, finally meeting the expressionless visor, brows furrowed with a set determination.

“I assume there’s a fob, too?” 

Mando reached in to his belt again and pulled it free. The red light flashed in slow blinks, fading with distance. You nodded once, decision made. 

You pushed to your feet, leaning on the crate and slung your pack over one shoulder. The bacta had done its job for now; you could administer more later. It hadn’t worked miracles, but at least you were upright. 

“Wait,” Mando said, stepping forward. “You need to rest. Or at least let the bacta take effect before you move out.” 

“It has. I’m fine,” you said. “And we’re moving out together.” 

He tilted his helmet. “We are?”

“You want your bounty, don’t you?” You snapped, eyes flashing. “Jarek tried to kill me because I’m the only one who knows where he’s going next. We follow the Tetherline knots and we catch him. I get my credits back, and you get to make sure that bastard never screws over anyone else again.” 

He was quiet for a beat. Then another. Still as stone as he considered you. 

Finally, he gave a tiny nod and when he spoke, his tone matched yours, laced with determination. 

“Okay,”

You adjusted the pack and ignored the pain that crawled over your ribs as you did, before glancing once more at the puck, turning it off and slipping it in to the pouch on your belt. 

Swallowing a grunt, you took the comlink out from your pocket to drop it where Jarek had left 

you for dead. If, for whatever reason, he checked your location, it would show you hadn’t moved. 

Let him think you were rotting on a crusty hangar floor. That’s what he had wanted anyway.

You walked out of the hangar without a backwards glance, the Mandalorian following behind. 

Just like old times. 

You held back a scoff at the thought that history didn’t just repeat— it rhymed like poetry. 

Next Chapter

[huariqueje]

Night Storm - Jarek Puczel , 2023.

Polish, b. 1965 -

Oil on canvas , 70 x 100 cm. 27.6 x 39.4 in.

[feyreswaterybowels]

Shadows Dance🐦‍⬛ (#4)

Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel is losing his shit. He tries to keep it together for Sarah but he needs (Y/N) back—needs her far away from Jarek.

Warnings: Reference to implied sexual assault. Implied sexual assault that led to pregnancy. Referenced forced miscarriages.

Word Count: 1.5k

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 ↓

“Here,” Feyre says gently, sitting a warm cup of tea in front of Sarah. Gazing at the small child asleep against her chest, thumb tucked in his mouth.

She reached forward with shaking hands grabbing the cup. “Thank you,” Sarah breaths in a shaky voice before taking a sip.

“Sarah, dear, we need to ask you some questions,” Rhys begins but Feyre cuts in.

“Maybe we should give her a minute to settle,” She offers but her mate shakes his head.

“No. Every minute we waste is a minute she’s alone with Jarek.” Feyre nods in understanding, she knew very little of this Jarek male but it didn’t take much to figure out he wasn’t a good guy.

“Can I lay him down somewhere first,” Sarah asks, voice breaking and raspy. Rhys' shoulders lose a bit of rigidness, eyes softening as he looks at the girl he loved so much and nods.

“I’ll take the child,” Mor steps forward. “He can lay in (Y/N) and Azriel’s room.” She shoots a look towards the shadowsinger, who doesn’t respond but doesn’t protest either. Sarah nods, letting Mor take the boy, leaving the room and ascending the stairs.

“I don’t know where to begin,” Sarah says, shrinking in on herself. She was finally back with her family and it was wrong, it was all wrong.

“Just start at the beginning,” Feyre offers gently as Mor joins the room again. Sarah meets her eye and sniffs.

“Okay, um, well, I met Jarek two months before my birthday

The Day Court was absolutely stunning. Sarah parts from her sister heading out the back of the large mansion, admiring the beautifully crafted architecture. Intricate designs laced with gold. I reached out to touch a particular pillar that had swirling designs all the way to the top.

“Beautiful isn’t it?” A voice asked. Sarah turned, blushing at the sight of the male next to her.

“Indeed,” She nods, drawing her hand back to herself, taking a sip from the glass in her hands. Some sparkling juice Rhys has slipped into her hand.

“I’ve never seen you around here before, are you traveling from Night Court?” He asked, Sarah looked over at him and offered a small nod.

“I am, this is my first time visiting Day Court,” She nodded, watching as he took a drink from his own glass—sure it was the faerie wine the rest of the people were drinking. “I’m here with my family. The High Lord is my uncle.”

“What is your name, dear?” He asks, offering his hand. “I’m Jarek of the Autumn Court, formerly Night Court. I wasn’t aware Rhysand had a niece.”

“Oh!” She gasps, offering her hand. “I’m Sarah. Rhys isn’t my uncle by blood. I was raised by my sister (Y/N) and her mate who are close with him.”

“Ah, I see,” He nods, a charming smile pulling at his lip, before offering his arm. “Well, you allow me the honor of showing you around?”

Sarah’s cheeks heated, nodding at the handsome male, looping her arm through his. “I would enjoy that.”

“That is how we met. After that we seemed to run into each other quite often. I didn’t think much of it,” Sarah tells the story, sadness and regret laced in every word. “He told me we should keep quiet about seeing one another since I was younger, but that on my birthday he would be willing to meet my family—meet all of you. A-and he convinced me to sneak out and meet him before the dinner. He kissed me for the first time, I’ve never been able to fully remember anything after that and he wouldn’t tell me either. Just that I woke up at his house days later.”

Everyone in the room was angry. Seething. Not at Sarah but at Jarek for taking advantage of her in her young innocence. Azriel’s shadows were a brewing storm around him as he listened to what his girl said.

“Did he—did he hurt you?” Azriel asks, a painful lump in his throat simply at the thought.

Sarah’s gaze drifted towards the stairs Mor at went up with her child before looking down. She didn’t have to say it for everyone to know what she meant with that look. He had forced himself on her and the result was pregnancy.

“It wasn’t the first time,” She whispers, “it happened a lot, usually his healer—who was also a prisoner—would make a tonic to rid the aftermath.”

Her voice broke, eyes welling with tears, Azriel was at her side in an instant, wrapping her in a strong embrace.

“With Elias,” She continued after they pulled away, “it was too late to take the tonic. I escaped two years ago but I had no clue where I was going. I didn’t even know where I was because he never allowed me outside. His men found me, brought me back. By the time I realized I was carrying a child it was too late.”

“Sweetheart,” Rhy’s breathed emphatically—trying to keep the thoughts of what had happened to himself under the mountain at bay. Knowing this sweet girl had gone through something similar hurt.

“I’m so sorry that happened to you,” Feyre speaks, reaching out to grab Sarah’s hand, glancing at her mate, feeling his emotions through their bond.

“Sarah, dear, when you got out, where were you?” Cassian asked, arms folded across his heaving chest.

“It was hard to tell, it was dark and we were in the mountains but I—I’m pretty sure it was the Autumn court,” She says, looking around when everyone remained silent and stone faced. “What is it?”

“It’s just that the Beron is still over the lands there. He isn’t exactly our biggest fan. We could have…trouble gaining access to his lands,” Rhys explains gently, watching the girls eyes water.

“This is all my fault.” Her voice crack into a sob. Azriel grab her face shaking his head.

“No. It is no one's fault but his. I promise you, we will get (Y/N), back,” He says standing. “We’ll get her back or I’ll destroy all of Prythian trying.”

════════════════════════

Azriel stands at the window of his destroyed bedroom in the house of winds. Arms crossed, jaw clenched, fists sore and snarling quietly to himself, shadows storming around him, whispering to him.

He doesn’t look back when the door opens but he knows who it is.

“Az,” It’s soft, of course she’d be the one to come check on him. “Are you okay?”

He nearly scoffs. If it was anyone other than Mor he may have. Is he okay? Was he supposed to be okay knowing his love, his mate, was stolen away and at the mercy of a man that probably wanted her dead?

“Sorry, dumb question,” she said, coming to a stop next to him.

Azriel glances at her but doesn’t say anything.

“We’re gonna get her back—”

“Yes, and what pain will she have suffered by the time she is back?” Azriel bites, bitterness and hatred lacing every word.

Mor sighs, leaning against the windowsill. “What happened in here?”

Azriel snarls to himself as he remembers what sent him into his rage that left the bedroom in absolute shambles. His fists clench, he wants to his something.

“I can’t feel her.”

“What-”

“(Y/N). I can’t feel our bond. Obviously it wasn’t broken but it’s not there either.”

“Oh, Az…”

It’s silent. They stand there together, the stars of the night sky twinkling in the vast darkness of the sky.

“We spoke a bit more with Sarah,” Mor starts, and Az tenses—anything she says could send him into another fit of rage. “We know there’s wards placed on the home that’s probably what’s blocking the bond.”

It’s not the right thing to say. Azriel hisses, tearing himself from the window, pacing back and forth not caring about the debris being crushed under his boots.

“Az-”

“I can’t do this. I need to go find her. I need to be out there and Rhys has ordered me to this room. To our room. And I-I can’t,” He bites, still pacing. “When she leaves it’s different. It’s her choice. I know I’ll see her again. But this? He could kill her. He could force himself on her just like he did with—fuck.”

“You need to get your shit together, Azriel,” Mor snaps, Azriel looks up at her shocked. Opens his mouth to snap back but she holds her hand up silencing him. “Rhys ordered you here because he knows you aren’t in your right mind right now. (Y/N) needs you. She needs you strong and out there doing your job to find any and all information to find her. She is waiting for you—for us and you’re sitting here having a melt down.”

Azriel stares at her. Mouth ajar eyes wide. Fuck. Fuck, he’s so stupid. How could he be so selfish? So self absorbed? His girl was out there, out there alone with his and he was brooding in his room.

“Are you ready?” Mor breathes, looking at expectantly, arms cross and brow raised.

“Yeah. Yeah I’m ready.”

[goodbuttaken]

shiz and giggles list jmen, která reálně mají/nedávno měli lidé v česku

(part 1, domácké verze common masculine jmen; per 2016, kdy je KdeJsme naposled mohlo sbírat)

Dva obecné trendy: 1) jména se i oficiálně zdrobňovala před 70 lety i dnes, akorát často jinak [musí být pro ty rodiče dycky šok, když zjistí, že Sváťa a spol. rostou lol] 2) kolem roku 2011 nějaký zlý zákon/byrokrat extrémně zredukoval množství originálních jmen českobčanů; k čemuž se ještě dostaneme

Honza (7 lidí, současné) x Jeník (4 lidi, ale nejmladší r. 1947)

Kája (9; od konce socialismu jen 1)

Míra (7), ofc spousta Mirků, ale i 1 Fynn Mirek (Kaplice)

Mára (6)

Marty (7), Dave (5, obě ofc recent), Da Vit (ex 2011)

Frantíšek (4), Franta (1)

Miky (10), Mickey (6), ale i Mikuláš Miky (1, Brno)

Jarek (4), Jára (1) a taky pouhý jeden Jarda (r. 2004)

Slavek (2), Slávek (206, stále populární) a králové všech: Slávek Miroslav (1 v Hořovicích) a Stanislav Slávek (Teplice)

Ríša (6, od r. 1962 nikdo nový)

Jirka (29, ale od r. 1973 pouze jeden), Jiřík (častější! 55), Jiřik (3, sever Čech), Jirik (1, tipl bych remigrant), Jiříček (1), Renzo Jirka (1)

Rosťa (1, r./přejmenovaný 2015), Rostik (Ostrava)

Toník, Tonda, Tonček (byli každý jen jeden, oba 2011 vymazaní či vymřelí)

Jožka (12, vesměs staří), Peppino (2), Pepino (byl 1)

Vojta (brutálně trendy; do r. 2005 jich bylo pár, o 10 let později už 565, wtf?!)

Kuba (17, mírně trendy) X žádný Kubík

Sváťa (jen 1, r. 2016)

NE Standa (velmi mě překvapilo) a od r. 2015 ani Vašek

Fred (15), Fréd (1), Freddie (2), Fredy (7), Fredi (2), Freddi (1), ex Freddy

Ondra (další velký trend 21. století, per 2016 jich bylo už 112), Ondráš (6)

Broňa (13)

Olda (4)

Čenda (1), Čeňa (1)

Tom (25, celkem stálice), Tom Tomas (1)

Láďa (3, samí staří), Laďa (totéž)

Luďa (od r. 1971 nikdo, ale do té doby jich stihli zplodit 27!)

Ráďa (1, r. 2016), Raďa (r. 1933)

Žeňa (17, od r. 1961 pouze 1 nový) + Ženja (1), Ženka (1), Žeňka (1), Žennja (1)

Kosťa (3 staří)

Pája (1)

Zdenda Nicholas (1)

Closing remark: jakkoli mi přijde úžasný se takhle ofiko jmenovat, o tom, co tihle lidi zažívají na úřadech atp., by se asi dala napsat kniha. ("Já jsem Olda." - "Aha, takže Oldřich..." [byrokraticky, pohoršeně] "Ne, Olda. Opravdu O-l-d-a." [s katatonickou rezignací])

[indigosuvi]

Past‚ Present‚ & Future Character List

If the fandom or character does well, it will make a comeback and will be added to my permanent write list. More info here | Simple Version

* indicates a new fandom. | ☆ indicates a fandom I discontinued. | characters in bold are characters I discontinued. | no indicator is a current fandom I write for & have no intentions to discontinue.

* Ahiru No Sora - Chiaki, Fuwa, Kaname, Kenji, Momoharu, Shinichi, Tokina, Tokiwa, Yakuma, and Yukinara.

* Black Butler - Claude, Grelle, Sebastian, Undertaker, William (added to the list!)

Bleach - Äs Nödt, Byakuya Kuchiki, Gin Ichimaru, Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez, Isshin Kurosaki, Izuru Kira, Jūshirō Ukitake, Kenpachi Zaraki, Kensei Muguruma, Kisuke Urahara, Mayuri Kurotsuchi, Nnoitra Gilga, Renji Abarai, Shinji Hirako, Shūhei Hisagi, Shunsui Kyōraku, Sōsuke Aizen, Szayelaporro Granz, Ulquiorra Cifer, Uryu Ishida, Yasutora Sado, Yumichika Ayasegawa.

☆ Call Of Duty: Modern Warfare 2 - Alejandro, Alex, John, Johnny, König, Phillip, Rodolfo, Simon. *Kyle

Chronicles of Ancient Darkness - Aki, Arrin, Asrif, Bale, Boar Clan Mage, Chelko, Dark, Detlan, Fin-Kedinn, Gaup, Hord, Iakim, Inuktiluk, Juksakai, Krukoslik, Kujai, Kyo, Maheegun, Narrander (The Walker), Orvo, Poi, Raut, Sialot, Tenris, Thiazzi, Thull, Tiu, Tseid, Yolun.

Devil May Cry - Dante, Nero, V, and Vergil.

Final Fantasy - Angeal Hewley, Cloud Strife, Genesis Rhapsodos, Gladiolus Amicitia, Ignis Scientia, Kadaj, Loz, Noctis Lucis Caelum, Prompto Argentum, Reno Sinclair, Rufus Shinra, Sephiroth, Vincent Valentine, Yazoo, Zack Fair.

* Food Wars! - Akira Hayama, Eishi Tsukasa, Isami Aldini, Satoshi Isshiki, Takumi Aldini, Terunori Kuga.

Grand Theft Auto V - Ron Jakowski, Trevor Philips, and Wade Hebert.

Gone - Albert Hillsborough, Alex Mayle, Antoine, Caine Soren, Charles "Orc" Merriman, Drake Merwin, Edilio Escobar, Elwood Booker, Hunter Lefkowitz, Lance, Tony "Cookie" Gilder, Toto, Turk, Tyler "Bug", Paint, Panda, Quinn Gaither, Roger, Zil Sperry.

Haikyuu - Atsumu Miya, Daichi Sawamura, Eita Semi, Kei Tsukishima, Keiji Akaashi, Keishin Ukai, Kenma Kozume, Kōshi Sugawara, Kōtarō Bokuto, Lev Haiba, Osamu Miya, Rintarō Suna, Ryūnosuke Tanaka, Satori Tendō, Shinsuke Kita, Tadashi Yamaguchi, Tetsurō Kuroo, Tobio Kageyama, Tōru Oikawa, Wakatoshi Ushijima, Yū Nishinoya.

☆ Halloween 1978 - Michael Myers

Hellboy - Abraham Sapien and Nuada Silverlance.

Hetalia Axis Powers - America, Australia, Austria, Bulgaria, Canada, China, Cuba, Denmark, England, Finland, France, Germany, Greece, Hong Kong, Italy, Japan, Korea, Kugelmugel, Ladonia, Lithuania, Luxembourg, Molossia, Netherlands, New Zealand, Norway, Poland, Prussia, Romania, Russia, Seborga, South Italy, Spain, Sweden, Switzerland, Turkey, Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus.

House of Wax - Bo, Lester, and Vincent. 

* Hunger Games - Darrius, Finnick Odair, Gale Hawthorne, Haymitch

* Hunter x Hunter - Chrollo, Hisoka, Illumi

* Jujutsu Kaisen - Choso, Geto, Nanami Kento.

Kuroko No Basket - Atsushi Murasakibara, Chihiro Mayuzumi, Daiki Aomine, Kazunari Takao, Kiyoshi Miyaji, Makoto Hanamiya, Reo Mibuchi, Shinji Koganei, Shintarō Midorima, Shoichi Imayoshi, Taiga Kagami, Tatsuya Himuro, Teppei Kiyoshi, Wei Liu.

Mortal Kombat - Baraka, Bi-Han, Dairou, Erron Black, Fujin, Hanzo Hasashi, Havik, Hotaru, Hsu Hao, Jarek, Johnny Cage, Kabal, Kano, Kenshi, Kobra, Kuai Liang, Kung Lao, Kurtis Stryker, Mavado, Quan Chi, Rain, Reiko, Shang Tsung, Shao Kahn, Taven, Tomas Vrbada. Onaga, Reptile, Goro, Kintaro.

— All Mortal Kombat characters will be written from MK 11 and the past. I will not be writing for the new game. — Smut for animals is *not* allowed

My Hero Academia - Dabi, Denki Kaminari, Eijiro Kirishima, Fumikage Tokoyami, Hanta Sero, Hitoshi Shinso, Hizashi Yamada, Izuku Midoriya, Kai Chisaki, Katsuki Bakugo, Keigo Takami, Mashirao Ojiro, Mezo Shoji, Mirio Togata, Neito Monoma, Shota Aizawa, Shoto Todoroki, Tamaki Amajiki, Tenya Iida, Tomura Shigaraki.

Naruto - Asuma Sarutobi, Deidara, Gaara, Genma Shiranui, Hashirama Senju, Hidan, Iruka Umino, Itachi Uchiha, Jiraiya, Kabuto Yakushi, Kakashi Hatake, Kakuzu, Kankurō, Kisame Hoshigaki, Kushimaru Kuriarare, Madara Uchiha, Might Guy, Minato Namikaze, Nagato (Pain), Neji Hyūga, Obito Uchiha, Orochimaru, Rock Lee, Sai, Sasori, Shikamaru Nara, Tobi, Tobirama Senju, Yamato, Zetsu.

☆ Nightmare on Elm - Freddy Krueger

* Shatter Me - Brendan, Winston.

Texas Chainsaw Massacre - Alfredo Sawyer, Edward "Tex" Saywer, Robert "Chop Top" Sawyer, and Nubbins Sawyer.

☆ The Boy - Brahms Heelshire

Tokyo Ghoul - Kishou Arima, Nimura Furuta, Renji Yomo, Uta. 

Tokyo Revengers - Chifuyu Matsuno, Keisuke Baji, Ken "Draken' Ryuguji, Manjiro "Mikey" Sano, Mitsuya Takashi, Nahoya "Smiley" Kawata, Ran Haitani, Shuji Hanma, Souya "Angry" Kawata.

* Yuri On Ice - Chris, Otabek, Viktor, Yuri P.

[starwarspilotstournament]

As I begin work on making the bracket for the Star Wars Pilots Tournament, there are unfortunately many characters that will not make it into the showdown. These characters were submitted very late in the game and/or only got one submission each, so they are sadly not eligible.

So, ladies, gentlemen, and all other associations of being, I invite you to join me in raising a glass to those pilots who simply did not qualify.

Dak Ralter (The Empire Strikes Back)

Submitted propaganda: Look he's not really piloting and also he dies in his only scene but I love him

2. Col "Fake Wedge" Takbright (A New Hope)

Submitted propaganda: Totally would have kicked ass in the Battle of Yavin if he had been there

3. Thane Kyrell (Lost Stars)

Submitted propaganda: An ex-Imperial who defected and fought in the Rebellion, including the battle of Hoth, Endor and Jakku. He’s also in a very beautiful romance story with his childhood friend and Imperial pilot Ciena Ree 

4. Oddball (Clone Wars/Revenge of the Sith)

Submitted propaganda: none :(

5. Greez Dritus (Jedi Fallen Order/Survivor)

Submitted propaganda: none :(

6. Jarek Yeager (Star Wars Resistance)

Submitted propaganda: Rebellion pilot who fought in the Battle of Jakku! Became a racer after the Empire fell but quit after his brother cheating in a race led to an explosion that killed his family. Moved to an out of the way fueling station and decided to run a mechanic's shop instead of piloting. He's drawn back into flying by Kaz when the First Order rises, and becomes a squadron leader/teacher for the next generation of pilots.

7. Venisa Doza (Star Wars Resistance)

Submitted propaganda: Badass Rebellion pilot who convinced her future husband to defect from the Empire! When the First Order started to rise she immediately joined the Resistance to fight them. Awesome pilot and really good at convincing Imperials/First Order people to defect.

8. Mara Jade Skywalker (Thrawn trilogy)

Submitted propaganda: none :(

9. Ooryl Qrygg (Rogue Squadron)

Submitted propaganda: Ooryl is unique in what his contributions mean to his people. There are very few Gand in the Lore but Ooryl qualifies for Rogue Squadron, the best pilots of the New Republic. He also arcs to earn the right to use "I" pronouns, which is extended only to Gand who are famous enough to be known to literally every Gand that exists. 

10. Garik "Face" Loran (X Wing - Wraith Squadron)

Submitted propaganda: none :(

11. Myn Donos (Wraith Squadron)

Submitted propaganda: Pulled off a nearly impossible rescue (ultimately failed as the other pilot was unconscious and unable to aid) and was the only surviving member of [???]

12. Wes Janson (Rogue Squadron + Wraith Squadron)

Submitted propaganda: none :(

13. Derek "Hobbie" Klivian (Rogue Squadron + Wraith Squadron)

Submitted propaganda: none :(

14. Nawara Ven (Rogue Squadron)

Submitted propaganda: none :(

15. Temmin "Snap" Wexley (Sequel trilogy and Aftermath trilogy)

Submitted propaganda: none :(

16. Kazuda Xiono (Star Wars Resistance)

Submitted propaganda: Resistance pilot who joins the Resistance because he wants to make a difference against the First Order and the New Republic isn't doing anything. Very good combat pilot and much more graceful in the air than he is on the ground. 

17. Torra Doza (Star Wars Resistance)

Submitted propaganda: 15 year old racing pilot! Learned how to fly from her mom. Super good at flying and clearly has a lot of fun flying also.

18. Hype Fazon (Star Wars Resistance)

Submitted propaganda: Super good race pilot who has to adjust to being a combat pilot when the First Order rises. Has a tendency to run from things that frighten him at first (the First Order, added responsibility, growth) but always comes back at the end. Also is delightfully cocky about his piloting skills.

19. Isabella Garcia-Shapiro / "Pilot Isabella" (Phineas and Ferb/Star Wars crossover)

Submitted propaganda: Okay so she’s the Han Solo of the episode despite Han also being in that, but also I just think this is the funniest technically legal submission I could do I’m not a Star Wars fan <3

20. that one ufuck (???)

Submitted propaganda: hhrrhhhghgngnhghghggngnghg i hve no fucking clue what any of this means im delirious right now im not even a star wars fan either

Believe me, y'all, I am as upset as you are over some of these not making it in. However, I made the rules and I would just be a hypocrite if I didn't follow them.

BUT stay tuned for the actual bracket with the 32 characters who DID make it in!

[locitapurplepink]

@aintinacage 's Gif Posts

There are few gifs that I reblogged from one of her former sideblogs that she already erased.

1. Kanan & Hera- Stand by You

2. Kanan & Ezra-Look Through Your Eyes

3. Kaz & Yeager- True Colors