#Kreis 5

[decembermidnight]

Bad Attitude

Summary: While on patrol duty, you chase a suspect starship but end up crashing on a freezing planet. Its pilot, a Mandalorian, rescues you, but he doesn't like your attitude towards him and makes sure you understand who is in charge.

Pairing: Din Djarin x f!reader

Word count: 6.1k

Warnings: smut, 18+ mdni, teasing, dom!din, brat!reader, brat tamer!din, Din is really an asshole here lol, improper use of the darksaber, lots of dirty talk, oral (m receiving), breath play, choking, fingering, unprotected sex, exhibitionism, degradation kink, praise kink, creampie

A/N: Loosely based on The Passenger episode and super canon divergent. I just had fun having nasty thoughts! Reblogs and comments are always welcome!! Hope you enjoy it!

Divider: @saradika-graphics

Masterlist - Read on Ao3

You… You really did have to follow that ship on this forsaken planet, didn't you?

You couldn't just listen to your partner Carson for once when he warned you to let it go.

Chasing that Razor Crest despite the bad weather on Maldo Kreis was not the smartest idea. Not smart at all, in fact. 

You were only supposed to ask the pilot why his ship was in the proximity of that prison, Bothan-5, when that officer was killed, but he ran away as soon as he heard that name. You immediately started recklessly chasing that old piece of junk in the hostile atmosphere of this awful, unwelcoming planet, and next thing you know your Starfighter crashed, compromising the integrity of the hatch, you’re cut off from your partner and you’ll likely freeze to death before he can come rescue you. Could it get any worse?

It turns out it can.

Just when you switch the radio off, resigned to accept the unavoidable fate, your eyes seem to catch something dark in the snowstorm. At first you assume it’s just your mind playing tricks on you, but when you take a better look, you see it - there’s a dark figure approaching your ship. It must be him - the Razor Crest pilot. As he gets closer, you notice he’s wearing armour, a Mandalorian armour, and you’ve heard the stories about those deadly warriors. You probably made him angry with your insistent pursuit and now he might be killing you so as not to leave witnesses.

You are so fucked. This is the worst day of your life, and also the last.

He lifts the damaged hatch of your ship and looks at you, exposing you to the freezing air of the blizzard. You stare back at him - his broad figure completely towers over yours, but you try not to look intimidated by him.

"Razor Crest, is that you?" you say in a secure tone, wanting to appear tough.

"Yeah." the modulated voice answers as you feel his dark visor lingering on your figure.

"Came here to finish the job?" you try to sneakily grab your blaster in a desperate attempt to defend your life, determined not to die without fighting, or at least, not without trying. 

"Not if you don't try anything stupid like that. Put it down." says in an authoritative tone, his right hand instinctively goes on the holster of his blaster. You quickly realise this is not the moment for heroism if you want to survive. 

"Don't give me orders. I'm a New Republic officer." you reply firmly.

He scoffs and shakes his head in disdain.

"Dear officer, take a good look around. This frozen tomb doesn't look like New Republic territory to me." he goads you "Now quit it and let's go to my ship."

"Who says I want to come with you?"

"Come on, I’m freezing my ass off, for fuck’s sake." he loses no time in ripping your seatbelt and life support system off your body before grabbing you and carrying you over on his shoulder.

"Put me down! You're so rude!" you protest and try to kick him, but he blocks your legs in the tight grasp of his free arm, immobilising you.

"So far I've been more kind than you deserve. If you keep acting like that, I'll show you how rude I can be." his grip is firm and strong as he gives a warning squeeze to your thigh.

You do not want to admit it, but you feel a thrill of excitement at that - he doesn’t care about the fact that you're a law enforcer, he’s treating you like the scum he’s used to. He probably wants to trade your life for his freedom with Carson later - you’re his hostage now.

When you reach his ship, he finally puts you down. You take off your helmet and look at the Mandalorian that so unceremoniously saved you from certain death earlier.

You realise how much taller than you he is, his armour making him even broader than what he already is. Your eyes can't help lingering on his body in wonder at how strong he must be, how the shiny beskar perfectly completes his thick masculine figure, only adding to his already imposing stance, perfectly concealing his body, making him massive and statuesque. His suit is tight around the arms, you can see the outline of his thick, strong biceps. If only he wasn’t a criminal, if only you weren’t a New Republic officer, if only he wasn’t a complete cunt…

"You done?" a low, baritonal voice interrupts your dirty thoughts.

"Excuse me?" you raise a brow.

"I asked if you're done checking me out."

“What?! I wasn’t-” you lie and you both know it. You do not feel so cold anymore, your cheeks feel hot all of a sudden.

“Yeah. Sure.” the asshole teases as he rests against the wall of his ship, looking at you with crossed arms.

“You hurt?” he then asks.

“No, I’m fine.”

"Good. Let's go up to the cockpit, then. It's warmer up there." 

He climbs up the ladder and when the door closes behind him, you take a deep breath, trying to collect yourself, and follow him. 

When you get in the small room, you find him sitting in the pilot chair facing the windshield with crossed arms and legs spread wide. You settle on his side, standing with crossed arms and gaze fixed on his body. He’s as still and silent as a statue, unreadable under that helmet - is he really relaxed as he wants you to think, or is he carefully studying you? 

"Don't look at me that way." says without moving a muscle.

"How?"

"Same way you've been looking at me since we got on the ship."

"What are you implying?"

"Don't act like you don't know." he turns towards you and stands up, making you imperceptibly startle. He looks imposing and menacing, his helmet slightly tilted observing you.

"You don't trust me one bit, do you?" he scoffs and shakes his head.

"You assaulted that prison and killed that poor man. He was a New Republic officer, just like me. Why should I trust you?”

“Because I didn’t do it.”

“Why should I believe you?”

“What will you do when you find out I was right all along?” the way he doesn’t lose his cool is fascinating, to a degree.

"You’re not. If you were innocent, you wouldn’t have run away and we wouldn't be here now."

He tilts his helmet to the side once again as he looks at you. His gaze and his confidence make you feel hot and uncomfortable at the same time - you wouldn’t want to give out the undeniable way his stoic charm is affecting you, but you hate the way he's been treating you.

"Yeah, we wouldn't be here." he lets out in an allusive tone as he walks one single step forward while you take one back, ending up against the wall. He's so damn tall and broad and… and you're getting so wet. 

You look into his dark visor, feeling his gaze lingering on your body. You can feel the tension, the atmosphere in the cockpit becoming unbearable. It's getting hard to breathe, heat radiating from both of your bodies as you never stop looking at each other. While his sight is unreadable, yours is unmistakably libidinous, your heart pounding in your chest and your pussy throbbing with need, but you're both too proud to surrender first.

"I guess not. You coward." you let out in a far too flirtatious way as you look at him with shameless lust.

"What did you just call me?!" he rasps, sounding so provocative. 

"Coward. That's what you are. Running away from me when I was chasing you and taking me hostage when I was so vulnerable.”

“Shut up.”

“So big and tough in your shiny armour, but you run away as soon as you see a New Republic patrol. I should have just shot you when I had the chance. At least I wouldn’t be sharing this ship with a coward.”

“I said shut up.” 

“What now, Mandalorian? What do you plan to do now that you've kidnapped me? Are you gonna prove me wrong?" you’re wondering if you got too far when he gets dangerously close to you, his menacing figure towering over yours as he grips a handful of your hair, forcing your gaze into his dark visor.

"Do I have to stick my cock in your mouth to make you shut up?"

A flame of lust instantly traverses your body. You feel your blood boiling, making you feel hot and flustered, reason and common sense leaving you at the mercy of a primal, carnal instinct.

"I bet you don't have the balls to do it." you goad him with a smirk on your face.

Oh, you shouldn't have said that, yet you did, and what's worse is that you don't regret it. 

You look at him with shameless desire clouding your eyes, internally cursing at the helmet that can't and won't let you see his reaction to your provocation, waiting for his next move.

You keep your lustful gaze locked on his visor as his hand swiftly unfastens his belt and the zip of his pants. His grip on your hair tightens even more as he pushes you on your knees, immediately sticking his hard, thick cock in your mouth and fuck, the sound he makes. It's worth crashing on a desolated planet and being scolded afterwards. It's guttural and desperate, astonished at how good your poisonous mouth feels when you take him in and your tongue gently swirls around his tip, instead of spitting mean words at him. You keep eye contact as you let the shaft slide in your mouth and coat it generously in your saliva, his head tilted back as he lets out breathy sighs of pleasure.

"You. You need to learn how to fucking behave. Shut up when I tell you to. You have to stop taunting me. Fuck. Is this what you wanted?" 

He takes your head away from his cock to let you answer.

“You’re not as much of a coward as I thought you were.” you tease.

“You are still talking?!” exclaims as he pushes your head towards his cock once again, staying still as he uses your mouth for his pleasure, violently forcing all of his length down your throat. When he rips you away from it, you gasp for breath.

"You look so good like this. On your knees, choking on my cock, finally shutting the fuck up like a good girl." he growls, pleased.

Just as you want more of it, your mouth going towards it once again, his grip on your hair turns to steel and stops you there. You look up to him from your kneeled position and see him shaking his head.

“Why? Are you close already?” you taunt him as he tucks his cock back in his pants.

"Oh, it will take you way more than that to make me come, officer." says as he makes you stand up.

“Bet you want me to prove you wrong so badly. Bet you want to come in my m-” you stop mid sentence as he starts to unzip your flight suit while he pushes you towards the control panel of his ship, making you sit on it and trapping you there with his beskar body, your legs instinctively spread open for him to fit between them.

“Yeah? Go on. What were you saying?” he goads you as his hand slips inside of the thin pants you're wearing under the suit, teasing your clit from outside your underwear.

“I-I was s-saying that - that-” you gasp when his hand finds its way into your panties and reaches your slit.

"Ooh, what do we have here?" exclaims in taunting wonder. His beskar helmet is only a few centimetres distant from your face "Acting all cocky and arrogant before, but damn, feel how wet you are. Bet no one ever made you this wet, officer. Stars, you're dripping for me. All of this just from sucking my cock?" says in a husky voice as two of his thick, gloved fingers slide inside of you.

You grit your teeth in a desperate attempt to hide the way this is making you feel, not wanting to give him satisfaction, but your body is slowly surrendering to him and betraying you, your cunt involuntarily clamping around his fingers, revealing how his words are, in fact, effective on you.

"Oh, I bet you feel so good and you sound so sweet when you moan for me. Feel how hot and tight you are." he keeps teasing you. 

Resisting him is getting near impossible. By now he knows how badly you want it.

"Listen to what we’re gonna do now. You're gonna come on my fingers like a good girl and then I'll fuck you until your partner comes to rescue you."

You can't help it anymore and let out a moan at how sensual his voice sounds as he says those things to you, at the thought of getting fucked by him, all while his fingers keep sliding inside and outside of you, making your cunt spasm around them.

"Oh, I knew it. Damn, such a sweet girl." he rasps as he takes his fingers out.

"What the fuck?!" you snap at him when he does, making him chuckle at your reaction.

"Hey, calm down officer." he teases your lips with his gloved fingers soaked in your arousal. 

You instinctively suck the leather and taste yourself on his fingers, licking them sensually as you look at him in the visor. He hums in pleasure seeing that and goes on playing with your mouth, entranced by the way your tongue swirls around them, until he takes them out and presses his middle finger on your bottom lip.

"Bite." he simply orders and you obey, taking the hem of his glove between your teeth to let his hand slip out of the glove. It's huge compared to yours, callous and veiny and masculine. You hum as it starts trailing down your body and feel the warm trail it leaves on the delicate skin of your neck as he caresses it, your own hands holding tight to the commands of the ship, propping you up to offer yourself to his touch. You can feel his eyes looking at your body from behind the dark visor as his hand slips in your flight suit once again, groping your breast from outside your shirt, his thumb playing with one of your hardened nipples, your back arched and chest puffed out to make it look fuller. You moan loudly when he slides his fingers in your panties and back inside of you. 

"Stars - so fucking wet. I bet your cunt is so beautiful. Spread your legs for me. You're making me so fucking hard." he keeps up the pace and also starts to rub your clit with his thumb, making the pleasure you’re feeling unable to hide and you surrender to him, panting heavily as your eyes cross and roll in delight.

"Really? Eyes rolling, officer?" he taunts you.

"F-fuck y-you-" you rasp with half closed eyes, your sentence gets interrupted as he hooks his fingers, touching something devastating inside of you, making him scoff when he sees the way you squeeze your eyes shut and arch your back, your mouth wide open to let out obscene moans.

"What? Do you want me to stop?" he provokes you.

"Don't you fucking dare." you manage to let out in a barely audible sigh.

He immediately grabs your neck, not liking the way you undermine his authority.

"Careful now, officer." he growls.

You moan back in response at how much you like this - being put back into place, the Mandlaorian reminding you who is in control. You hold tight to his sides, digging your nails in his flight suit as he just pushes you further against the control panel with his body.

You’re a panting mess and you feel so close, so damn close to your orgasm. You beg he won’t stop as you wrap your legs around him. He feels by the irregular, ragged way you're breathing and the way your muscles go rigid around him that you're close.

"What? Coming already?” he chuckles “I will let you just because I want to fuck you so badly. Now come, my dear officer. Come for me."

You pant straight into his helmet when you hear him calling you like that, fogging it where his mouth would be. His hand pushes you over the edge and you moan loudly as he makes you come around his fingers, your hands holding tight to his neck, bringing him down towards you. Your back arches, chest rubbing against his armour and you roll your head back until it hits the transparisteel of the windshield behind you. Your nails scratch him hard and your legs’ grip becomes even tighter, his upper body now trapped in your grasp.

He grabs your chin with his other hand and forces you to look at him in the visor.

"Yes - yes, yes. Like this. Good girl." he growls between his teeth, looking at you as you struggle to keep your gaze on him, your eyes wanting to roll up in pleasure.

He lets you ride your high, never stopping those astounding moves of his hand, making you feel so satisfied, but so guilty and humiliated at the same time.

As the orgasm gradually fades out, your grip on his body loosens.

He takes out his hand right in front of your eyes and, Maker, it's soaking wet, glistening in your arousal. You’re both embarrassed and aroused when you see how wet and yielding you got for him as soon as he started touching you. 

"Damn, officer. How am I going to-"

You don't even let him finish, you've taken his hand in yours and start sucking his fingers. He lets out a satisfied hum when you do that. You clean them thoroughly, sensually massaging his digits with your tongue, humming as you hear him cursing between his teeth in a foreign language.

Once he’s satisfied, he takes them out of your avid mouth.

"Now strip for me, officer. I bet you look so hot under that uniform."

"Forget it." you tease him.

"Too bad you didn't obey me when I asked so nicely."

In an instant his hands start ripping the flight suit off your body as you're kicking out of your boots at the same time. It's rushed, brutal and wild, the both of you completely taken over by lust. His hands linger on your sides, giving you goosebumps and making you sigh when he lifts the thermal shirt off your body and you hold on tight to the panel when he hooks his fingers in the hem of your pants and pulls everything down and away from your body, leaving you completely naked in front of him.

“You look… Good without your uniform on, officer.” he is pleased looking at your naked body. “Wonder if I could say the same about you, Mandalorian.” “You’ll have to use your imagination."

“Are you even a real Mandalorian? Maybe you stole this armour, or maybe you bought it off some Jawas.” you mock him.

"Come here and I’ll show you." he simply says as he sits back on his chair, legs spread wide and a visible bulge in his pants.

Just as you get close to him, he takes out one of his weapons, a strange sword without a blade, and begins to trace your nipple with the hilt. You start to breathe heavily and you can feel your nipple getting harder by the second, your eyes carefully following his movements as he descends ever so slowly, teasing you, trailing your stomach and then your lower belly, stopping right in front of your cunt, driving you crazy, your legs spreading for him, begging for some friction. He softly brushes your lips, carefully avoiding your clit to tease you further, until he finally touches it. The sudden contact of the hilt with your sensitive clit makes you shudder and let out a whimper.

"Don't. Move." he orders as he continues to touch you with that weapon, rubbing it against your clit, producing obscene, wet sounds at the contact. You try to stay as still as you can as he plays with that dangerous weapon so close to your most delicate spot. You beg he'd go faster, you wish you could ride it and come all over it, as pathetic as it sounds, but no, he doesn't want that. He wants to take his time to tease you, getting you nice and wet as he plays with you like you're his toy.

He stands up, towering over you.

"Stick your tongue out."

You immediately do and he starts to trace your mouth with the hilt.

"This is the Darksaber. Whoever wields it can rule all of Mandalore, and you're licking it after I've used it to give you pleasure. Feel how wet you’ve made it. How does that make you feel?"

“Like you should sit down on that chair and take out that cock. Touch yourself while I lick your Darksaber clean, Mandalorian.”

He grunts as you push him back on his chair. He immediately unzips his pants to take his throbbing cock out as you keep licking his weapon clean, pleased at the sight of his erection in his hand.

"Touch yourself for me, Mando" you order him as you trace your tongue on the hilt.

"Enough of that." he grabs you by the hair and pushes you on your knees, forcing you to suck his cock. In a swift movement he grabs the Darksaber with his two hands, using it as leverage to keep your head down, forcing his entire cock into your throat, making you startle at the sudden lack of air.

"You don't get to give me orders." he growls before freeing you from his grasp to let you breathe. You gasp for air and look at him, panting.

Maker, he's so dangerous. He could kill you in one second if he wanted to, and you've never, never been wetter than this, playing this dangerous, twisted game with a deadly warrior.

He gives you a few seconds to breathe and then he's back at it, using his weapon to make you choke on his cock.

"Do you understand? I can do whatever I want to you." he releases you once again. There are tears in the corner of your eyes but that doesn't stop him from doing that one more time.

"You're so fucking pretty, but you also need someone to tame you. You've found the right man. Is that what you were looking for, officer? Someone to tame that bad temper?" he says and releases you one more time. You gasp for air as one tear sheds down your cheek.

"Come here. I'll fuck that bad attitude out of you." he orders as he puts the Darksaber away.

This. This is what you've always been craving, what you always wanted.

You slowly rise from the cold floor, your hands on his thighs as you can't stop looking at each other with longing desire. You straddle him, shaking in anticipation as you sink on his body guided by his hands on your hips, letting his cock slowly slide inside of you. The both of you moan as his cock splits you open for him, making him feel how hot and welcoming you are. You both let out a long, satisfied sigh, his voice is dark and sensual and you spasm around his throbbing cock, heavily aroused to finally have him inside of you.

“Mando, let me see if you're only good with words now."

“Din. I want to hear you screaming my name when I’ll make you come on my cock, officer.”

“You’re pretty confident in your abilities, Mandalorian.”

“Your mouth might say otherwise, but your body agrees with me.” he's so arrogant and full of himself, his confidence is making you wet.

“It does” you concede “you feel good, Din.” you purr in his neck, and he grunts when he hears how sweet your voice can be as you whisper his name while you have his cock buried inside of you. You start riding him slowly, looking at him in the visor as you feel every ridge and vein of his cock, enjoying every single moment of it, letting him almost slip out, only to let him back inside of you. He lets out sighs of satisfaction that drive you insane and only want to make you increase your rhythm but no, not yet, you want to make him pay for the way he's been treating you.

“If I had known my cock would have been enough to tame your bad temper, I’d have fucked you earlier.”

“What about yours, Din? What should I do about you being an asshole to me?” you say as you pull him out of you, making him grunt.

“Fuck. Put it back in.” 

“Not so fast. I want you to behave. Beg for it.” 

“You know I could just take you anytime I want, right?” “I do. But where would the fun be?”

He hums in pleasure as you take his drenched cock in your hand and start to slowly stroke it right in front of your cunt, moaning in his neck just to get him even more aroused.

“Fuck. You’re good at this.” he whimpers.

You start to slide it between your folds, the both of you moaning in arousal.

“Dank Farrik, d-do you want me to die?” he growls, subjugated by your teasing. “I want you to behave.” you whisper in a heady groan as you keep rolling your hips and rubbing your pussy on his cock. “F-fuck. I want to be inside of you so badly.”

“Say it.”

He sighs and pauses, taking a good look at the tip of his cock teasing your entrance.

“Please.” 

“Please what?” you ask, biting your lip in pleasure.

“Please put my cock back inside of you, officer.” there's a hint of annoyance in his voice when he surrenders and sees your satisfied smirk.

“Good.” you whisper gasping against his helmet as you slowly slide his cock deep back inside of you. 

That’s the moment when he digs his fingers in your hips and starts jackhammering you, making you scream as he said he would, your hands clawing on his shoulders.

“Who do you think you are? Do you think you can taunt me? I’m a Mandalorian. A bounty hunter. Bet you’ve never been fucked so good, officer. I’m gonna give you this cock so hard, you’ll never forget about me. You’ll be touching yourself thinking about me for the rest of your life. Thinking about the Mandalorian Din Djarin who fucked your brains out on Maldo Kreis.”

The way he's fucking hard and rough into you as he says those things in an angry, husky voice is pleasurably devastating and addicting, having you moan frantically as your body is held still by his strong hands.

"Oh, fuck, Din, don't stop. Don't stop!" you let out in a desperate cry.

"Do you want to come on my cock, officer? Let me hear it. I want to hear you beg for it."

"Please, please Din, make me come on your cock." you drawl, subjugated by lust.

"Mmm - you sound so hot when you beg for me. Keep going and I won't stop."

"Please! I've never been fucked like this, Din." your heart is racing, your breathing is getting laboured and feel the orgasm approaching “I'm so close, Din, so fucking close. Please, don’t stop."

"Come, officer. Keep riding my cock and come on it. I want to hear you scream my name." 

"Oh, Din!" you scream his name as the overwhelming force of the orgasm washes over you, a white blaze of bliss making you lose control, uncontrollably spasming and sensually moaning as he doesn't stop giving it to you, groaning in pleasure when he feels how tight and wet you get around him when you come on his dick.

"That's it. That's my good girl." he grunts as he lets you ride your orgasm.

His rhythm slows down as you come back from your high, his hands still firmly on your hips, guiding you, making you slowly grind your pussy against his cock, the cockpit full of your pants.

"Ready for round two, officer?"

He doesn’t even wait for your response, your mind still fogged by the astonishing orgasm he just gave you.

He gets up from the chair and in a second he turns you around, your body slammed against the control panel and the windshield, your wrists held up high by his hand. Your legs are shaking and you can't really seem to stand on your feet properly.

You couldn't possibly be ready for him slamming his dick inside of you all at once, so hard that air leaves your lungs in an exhale. You'd curse at him, but you can't articulate words as he is fucking you so violently, his strong hand on your hip keeping you still. If you thought he was fucking you hard earlier, it's nothing compared to now - feeling all the power of his body giving it to you wild and raw is pleasurably devastating. You couldn't possibly have imagined that what he gave you earlier was merely foreplay for him, just a little tease before making sure you knew who is really in charge and how hard he can fuck you. He was just letting you have a small taste of what would happen after, wanting you to get ready for him, nice and wet and stretched open for his thick cock to split you in half. He grabs a fistful of your hair and you feel his helmet close to your ear.

"What? You're out of breath already? I'm just getting started, officer." he slides it out almost completely and slams it back in so hard you roll your eyes in pleasure.

"Look at you. Loving this dick so much you're rolling your eyes. Gonna fuck you so hard, you'll learn how to fucking behave." 

You can't do anything besides taking his cock and letting out choked moans.

"Still regret being stuck here with me? Tell me. Do you still think I'm a coward?" he growls in between thrusts.

You can barely drawl a moan in response and he chuckles.

"Yeah, I don't think so. You can't even speak." he mocks you as he pounds into you harder and harder, devastating you, reducing you to a pathetic, moaning mess.

"Who knows if the snow storm has stopped and your partner is looking for you. What if he sees you getting fucked like this?"

You know it's wrong, but the thought turns you on so much that you clench around him, and he feels it.

"Oh, you'd like it? Officer, what do we have here? A little whore?" you hear his dark chuckle as he grips your throat with his hand, bringing you closer to him - the hot, naked skin of your back against his cold beskar armour as he never stops railing you. 

Getting called like that in other circumstances, by any other person in the galaxy, would have caused you to shoot them immediately, but now, oh, did that turn you on.

"You like being called that way, don't you? Whore." he whispers softly in your ear, and it drives you insane despite how much you're trying to hide it. He feels your body getting rigid, the vibrations of your throat choking a moan, the way you bite your lip trying not to let one sound out, and you can bet he's loving every second of it. 

His other hand starts to rub your clit and that's when you fucking lose it - your mouth opens wide and lets out a loud groan of pleasure.

"Tell me you're my whore and I'll give you the best orgasm of your life."

You hesitate - his request is so degrading, but you want it at the same time. He can sense your indecisiveness and stops drawing circles on your clit and starts going around it, carefully avoiding it.

"N-no. Don't stop. It's unfair!" you whimper.

"Say it."

You try to relieve the ache between your legs by bringing a hand there, but he is quick to stop you and block your wrist behind your back, immobilising you as if you were one of his bounties, getting you even more aroused, so much, in fact, that you let out another groan.

"Don't make me handcuff you." he growls sensually and you immediately picture him fighting criminals every day, used to manhandling thugs and being a badass and you get even more aroused at the thought, and decide to give him whatever he wants.

You mumble those words, barely audible, ashamed but at the same time yielding, desperately and pathetically wanting him to give you what you so achingly crave, in a way that only he can provide. A need that you never even realised existed before he brought you into the highest dimension of pleasure.

"What? I didn't hear you."

"I am your whore." you whisper, annihilated.

"Good girl. Say it again. Louder this time."

"I am your whore, Din! Please, please make me come like this!" you surrender to him completely, defeated by your very body refusing to let this slip away.

"That's my girl. You asked so nicely, I'm gonna give it to you." you hear the satisfaction in his voice as he immediately starts to rub your clit again, driving you close to the edge in no time, your cunt getting tighter in anticipation.

“Shit, I want to come inside of you. I'm so fucking close, officer. You’re gonna patrol the outer rim, flying your Starfighter while my cum drips down your beautiful cunt. You’re gonna feel that and you will think of me the entire time.” he rasps in your ear as you feel his body pushing you further into the transparisteel and then over the edge, making you come screaming his name once again rolling your eyes over your lids, desperately begging him to come inside of you.

His groans get louder and louder as he comes. You feel his is cock pulsing and twitching, thrusting into you, wanting to go as deep as it can go, filling you with his hot release as you clamp erratically around him.

Both of your bodies are spent as you come back from your high, the sound of your laboured breathing fills the cockpit.

"Hey" he pants "keep it inside now. I don't want to see a single drop going to waste. Are we clear?"

You nod and he slips out of you slowly as you obey his order, keeping his release inside of you as you get dressed, feeling it drip between your legs as he walks you back to your ship.

Carson is already there - he has fixed the minor damages your X-wing had sustained when you crashed in the snow, confident in the fact that you found shelter somewhere and that you’re safe and will be back soon.

What he did not expect is for you to show up with the Mandalorian by your side, though.

"Can I have a few words with you?" he asks with a raised brow.

You nod and walk a few steps away from Din, going behind your ship to have some privacy.

"He saved my life." you regretfully admit before he even has a chance to speak, expecting a scolding.

"Listen. I run the tabs on the Razor Crest. It seems like your new friend has an arrest warrant on him for the abduction of a prisoner." he pauses briefly and lets out a sigh "But he has also captured three wanted culprits and tried to save the Lieutenant's life."

"I'd say we let him go this time. I really don't want to file a report about what happened. I hate doing that."

"Is that so?" he asks sarcastically.

"These are trying times, come on."

Carson raises his brow once again, looking at you and then at the armoured menace standing a few steps away from him.

“Fine.” he shrugs, not wanting to dig deeper with regards to your change of mind towards the Mandalorian, then gets back to his ship.

You jump in your X-wing, but before closing the hatch and taking off, you address Din one more time.

"We're even now, Din Djarin. See you next time, and don't get caught."

[fragmicheinfach111]

Das ist meine erste Geschichte. Jemand meinte ich solle es doch mal versuchen.

Manchmal werden Träume wahr

Teil 1

Endlich war ich da. Ich habe heute im Restaurant länger gearbeitet weil der Boss mich darum gebeten hatte. Eine Kellnerin war ausgefallen und so bin ich eingesprungen. 3 Stunden mehr sind nicht viel aber für einen Studenten zählt jeder Cent. Und mit Trinkgeld gibt's heute 70 Euro mehr. Aber egal es ist Sommer heiß und noch hell,was bedeutet ab an den See. Seit Wochen kam ich jetzt hierher, es war eine kleine versteckte Stelle die anscheinend keiner kannte. Ich mochte sie weil ich hier allein und ungestört war. Und ich keine Badehose brauchte. Ich zog mich gerade aus als eine mir bekannte Stimme sagte " spät dran heute?".

Ich kannte diese Stimme. Aber das könnte nicht sein. Ich drehte mich um und sah im Wasser den Kopf von Frau Schmidt. Sie war meine Sport und Geschichtslehrerin in der 5 bis 12 Klasse gewesen.

Das ich nackt war hatte ich vor Schreck vergessen. Sie nicht, ungeniert musterte sie meinen Körper. " Ich sagte Du bist spät dran heute. Sonnst schwimmst Du doch 2 Stunden früher." " Woher wissen sie das?" "Weil ich dich beobachtet habe die letzten Wochen. Ich wohne auf der anderen Seite und schwimme immer um diese Zeit meine Bahn hin und zurück." " Aber das müssen 400 m eine Strecke sein." "Stimmt. Und jetzt Ruhe ich mich 10 Minuten aus bevor es zurück geht." Sagte sie und kam aus dem Wasser. Ganz langsam. Als erstes sah ich ihre Wundervollen Brüste mindestens D Körpchen und gepierct in den Nippeln.Kugeln rechts und links mit einer Stange in der Mitte die durch einen Kreis ging der leicht gebogen war so daß er sich an die Brust anschmiegte. Dann kam ihr Bauch aus dem Wasser. Ein leichtes Sixpack ( ich sagte ja Sportlehrerin) mit einem Bauchnabelpiercing. 2 kleine Kugeln oben und unten mit einer Stange die durch eine größere schwarze Kugel in der Mitte ging und den Bauchnabel ausfüllte. Und was für eine Überraschung als sie ganz aus dem Wasser kam war sie auch nackt. Ihre Pussy war natürlich auch gepierct. Kurz oberhalb ihrer Schamlippen sah ich ich eine kleine Kugel. Außerdem glaube ich 2 weitere Kugeln in jeder ihrer Schamlippen gesehen zu haben. So blieb sie 2 Meter vor mir stehen.

Der Anblick war der Wahnsinn. Ich gebe zu das ich schon öfters mir vorgestellt habe wie sie aussieht während ich mir einen runtergeholt habe. Aber die Wirklichkeit war um Längen besser. Da stand eine leibhaftige Amazone vor mir.Ich muss wohl nicht erwähnen das ich einen Ständer bekam. Ihr entging es nicht. Sie starte direkt darauf. Schnell hielt ich meine Hände vor meinen Ständer um mich zu bedecken. " Nimm die Hände weg" kam es nur von Frau Schmidt. Ich sollte wohl erwähnen das sie den Spitznamen "Domina" von uns in der Schule erhalten hat. Ihr Wort war Befehl und keiner wagte es ihr zu wiedersprechen.

Wie von selbst gingen meine Hände nach unten. " Geht doch kleiner"( klein? Ich war 1.79m sie 1.80m. ich 19 sie 39) Sie musterte mich vielleicht 20 Sekunden dann kam sie näher. Als Sie noch einen halben Meter von mir entfernt war, spürte ich wie ihre rechte Hand meinen Penis umschloss und sie ihn langsam wichste.

"Das will ich schon lange tun kleiner. Schon seit ich dich das erste mal hier nackt gesehen habe. Du hast mich aber nicht bemerkt. " "Lange tun? Ich verstehe nicht sie sind doch meine Lehrerin. Das dürfen wir nicht!" " Falsch. Ich war deine Lehrerin. Ich bin seit 2 Monaten nicht mehr deine Lehrerin." Sagte sie mit einem Lächeln auf den Lippen. Oh Gott Sie hatte Recht. Das hier war nicht mehr verboten.

Ihr Lächeln wurde immer breiter und dann ging sie ging sie in die Knie. Mein Schwanz war nur Zentimeter von ihrem Mund entfernt und sie wichste ihn weiter und sah mit einem gemeinen Grinsen zu mir rauf. " Du weißt was jetzt passiert! Sag Stop und ich gehe!" Mal ehrlich wär hätte da Stop gesagt? Ich blieb stumm. "Guter Junge." Und dann berührte ihre Zunge meine Eichel. Leckte sie, umkreiste sie und leckte weiter. Wow das war besser als ich je gedacht habe. Und es ging gerade erst los. Jetzt um stülpte ihr ganzer Mund meinen Penis und sie bewegte ihn vor und zurück erst langsam dann immer schneller werdend. Dabei kamen ihre Lippen meinem Bauch immer näher und näher. Bis meine gesamten 19 cm in ihr waren. Ihre Hände hatte sie inzwischen auf meine Pobacken gelegt und benutzte sie als Unterstützung. Immer schneller wurde sie. Ich glaube sie wollte das ich in ihr komme. Es war so geil. Automatisch legte ich meine Hände auf ihren Kopf um sie zu ficken. FEHLER GROẞER FEHLER. Auf einmal passierten 3 Dinge auf gleichzeitig. Zuerst hörte sie auf sich zu bewegen dann gruben sich ihre Fingernägel in meine Pobacken und ich spürte ihre Zähne an meinem Schwanz.

Und wieder gingen meine Hände wie von selbst nach unten. Sofort setzte Frau Schmidt ihren Mundfick fort. Ich schwöre sie hat mich gefickt nicht ich sie. Und wieder wurde sie schneller. Aber ich wollte noch nicht kommen. Wollte nicht das Frau Schmidt aufhört mich zu ficken. Ich spürte wie der Höhepunkt immer näher kam. Ich weiss nicht wie lange sie mich gefickt hat 1 Minute 10,20,30 keine Ahnung. Dann war es soweit ich verlor den Kampf ein gewaltiger Orgasmus überkam mich, und ich spritze ihr in den Rachen. Sie hatte gemerkt das es so weit war und hatte mit ihren Lippen an meinem Bauch gestoppt damit kein Tropfen daneben ging. Als mein zucken aufhörte ging ihr Kopf langsam zurück aber ihre Lippen blieben um meine Eichel geschlossen und mit ihre Zunge liebkoste sie diese weiter. Nach 2 Minuten hörte sie auf und stand wieder auf. " Du hast länger durchgehalten als ich dachte Kleiner. Gut gemacht." Jetzt war ich derjenige der lächelte. Frau Schmidt hatte mich gelobt. Das kam nie vor. " Mir viel auf das ihre Hand meinen Penis immer noch umfasste und er schon wieder steif war. "Willst Du mehr? " Sie kam näher. Ganz nah. "Willst Du mehr Kleiner? "

"Ja " sagte ich leise. " Bitte ich will mehr." "Gut. " Sieh lies meinen Schwanz los und ging 2 Schritte zurück. " Ich wohne Bahnhofstraße 7 . Mit dem Rad einmal um den See kannst Du in 1 Stunde da sein. Brauchst Du länger bleibt die Tür zu. Sie hob ihr Rechtes Handgelenk und betätigte an ihrer Uhr einen Knopf. "Der Countdown läuft." Sagte sie mit einem Lächeln drehte sich um und ging ins Wasser um zu ihrer Wohnung zurück zu schwimmen. Ich konnte ihr nur verdutzt nachschauen.

Wenn ihr wissen wollt wie es weiter geht dann sagt es mir. Ich hoffe es hat euch gefallen.

[lalalaugenbrot]

waagerecht [1] der 11 senkr. wacht, damit Adam keine macht [6] ohne Obligo, Abk. [9] Verdeckter Ermittler, Abk. [10] Kosewort [12] beinahe, annähernd [14] der der über die von Bäumen dominierte Fläche waltet, abgekürzt – insb. für den hypothetischen Fall, in dem man ihm einen Brief schicken wollte [15] Fahrgastunternehmen, das Adam bei seiner Rückkehr nach Saarbrücken nicht nutzt [17] Multifunktionsraum zum Abstellen von Fahrzeugen, zur sportlichen Ertüchtigung und zum Lagern von 20 senkr. [21] Mitbewohnerin eines wichtigen Nebencharakters des 3. Falls [22] eine, deren Liebe nicht käuflich ist – aber nur die Vokale [23] menschliche Eigenschaft, die überwältigend sein kann [24] Kfz-Kennzeichen Offenbach [26] Kfz-Kennzeichen Ludwigsburg [28] Die einzigen, die _ auf die Nase fallen, versuchen _ etwas. [...]

senkrecht [1] Kfz-Kennzeichen Dessau-Roßlau [2] Mordkommission, Abk. [3] elementarer Namensbestandteil einer Saarbrücker Textil- und Tuchfirma [4] steht sowohl buchstäblich als auch handlungsmäßig am Anfang jeder Episode [5] am Ende ist grenzenloser Hass doch ganz _ [6] „Ja, nein. _ Mann, Leo“ [7] wäre im entscheidenden Moment noch etwas mehr Zeit geblieben, hätte die Beschreibung auf Roland zugetroffen [8] der allerletzte, hinterste, entlegenste Punkt von etwas, z.B. der Welt [9] soll das 20 senkr. weglegen [10] unerheblich (verstärkt) [11] beliebtes Motiv für Heimtextilien; Kosewort für beste Freunde mit Beschützerinstinkt [13] mag 37 senkr. (Pl.) nicht [16] Beschäftigte in einem öffentlich-rechtlichen Dienst- und Treueverhältnis [18] Kfz-Kennzeichen Reichenbach [19] Kfz-Kennzeichen Kreis Borken/ Ahaus [20] keine Waffe, nur manchmal eben doch [21] Tatsachen und Umstände des zu bearbeitenden/klärenden; das wie sich die Sache verhält, Abk. [25] Sohn eines geschäftstüchtigen Büchsenmachers [27] „[2x _] Bullshit“ [...]

Tja, liebe Rätselmäuse – ihr seht richtig. Ich habe ein "kleines" 🥲 Spatort-Kreuzworträtsel erstellt. Da Tumblr mich aber nicht mehr als 4000 Zeichen posten lässt und weil ich vielleicht die Dimensionen dieses Rätsels etwas unterschätzt habe und weil man es ja hier auch sowieso nicht ausfüllen kann, findet ihr hier unten diverse Möglichkeiten / Layouts, um das Rätsel bzw. die Fragen herunterzuladen:

>>>hier<<< gibt es diverse Ausführungen und Download-Möglichkeiten (PDFs, PNGs & auch die Fragen als TXT) (sollte der Link mal nicht mehr funktionieren, sagt mir einfach kurz Bescheid!)

für Eilige ganz einfach als Bild, einmal als Kombiversion und einmal (mit etwas größerer Schrift) nur die Fragen zum obigen Bild

Disclaimer: Ich habe noch nie ein Kreuzworträtsel erstellt und eigentlich hat es auch nur mit 10-15 Fragen auf xwords angefangen, aber dann ist es irgendwie ein bisschen eskaliert...?? Also sorry für die kleine Schrift, upsi! Und ohne Kfz-Kennzeichen und franzöische Wörter (aber Saarland, hey!) etc. ging es einfach nicht – und ich bin mir nicht sicher, ob es nicht stellenweise ein bisschen zu einfach ist vielleicht? Naja, aber jedenfalls. Ich finde, fandombezogene Kreuzworträtsel sind irgendwie eine Marktlücke, insbesondere wenn man tumblrs alternde Userbase berücksichtigt... Also: legt das Strickzeug weg, holt die Lupe raus, dreht den Musikantenstadl auf und dann viel Vergnügen mit dem großen Rätselspaß! ✍🏼

>> teilweise bzw. die Basis erstellt via xwords-generator.de

[a-neverending-story]

This Blog runs on a queue.

Cora Sophie Marren aka Lilianne Moira; Das Schaben des Feuersteins ertönte, bevor das vertraute Knistern des Feuers die Luft erfüllte. So viele Flammen, wie Lily in ihrem Leben bereits gesehen hatte und doch war jede von ihnen einzigartig. Wie eine Schneeflocke, die binnen Sekunden alles vernichten konnte, was einen jemals ausgemacht hatte. Ihre braunen Augen wurden erhellt von dem rot-orange der Flamme und fasziniert drehte Lily ihr Feuerzeug, bevor sie die Flamme schlussendlich an das Ende ihrer Zigarette hielt. Ein tiefer Atemzug entfachte das Papier und den Tabak, während der Rauch in ihre Lungen stieg. Das Feuerzeug wanderte zurück in ihre Tasche, der Rauch aus ihren Lungen wurde gegen die glühende Spitze der Zigarette gepustet und ließ das Feuer am Papier entlang tanzen. Es war wunderschön. Eine letzte Zigarette gab sie sich noch. Was das wohl waren? 5 Minuten? 10? Jedenfalls nicht mehr. Ihr Blick richtete sich auf die abgetretenen Doc Martens, welche auf der Sitzfläche der Bank standen. Lilys Hintern ruhte derweil auf der Rückenlehne.  Warum normal auf einem Stuhl sitzen? Das war so langweilig und Lily hatte sich lang genug in ihrem Leben langweilig gefühlt. Sie war etwas besonderes. Selbst, wenn dies das einzig Positive war, das Lily über sich selbst sagen konnte. Zumindest für den Moment. Erneut fand der Filter den Platz zurück an ihren Lippen, ein weiterer tiefer Atemzug, der die Stille der Nacht mit leisem Knistern erfüllte. Das Nikotin fand über ihre Lungen den Weg direkt in ihre Blutbahn. Ein leichtes Kribbeln stellte sich unter ihrer Haut ein, welches sich in ihrem gesamten Körper ausbreitete. So lebendig hatte sie sich lange nicht gefühlt. Es war, als würde sie erwachen. Erwachen aus einem Traum, der plötzlich Realität wurde. 

Der letzte Zug an der Zigarette wurde getätigt, dann schnippte Lily sie davon und sprang von der Bank. Ihre Finger griffen nach dem schwarzen Rucksack, den sie sich nur über eine Schulter warf. Ihre Boots hinterließen Spuren im Gras, die man bald schon nicht mehr sehen würde. Immerhin nahm das Knistern hinter ihr eine Lautstärke an, welches Musik in ihren Ohren war. Dennoch steckte sie sich die Kopfhörer in die Ohren und übertönte das verheißungsvolle Knistern mit den Bässen von Wicked Game. 

Ein Grinsen zierte ihre Lippen, als sie sich dem Feenkreis aus Pilzen näherte. Mit einem Augenaufschlag waren ihre Augen nicht länger braun, sie waren blau und Lily kostete es in vollen Zügen aus, als sie den ersten Schritt über den Kreis hinweg setzte. 

Sie war frei. Zum allerersten Mal in ihrem Leben fühlte sie sich wahrhaftig lebendig und frei. Da konnten selbst die Frauen nichts dran ändern, welche ihr folgten wie ein unheilvoller Schatten.

promo © | 21+ - MDNI!, crossover and multiverse-friendly, Smalltalk Deeptalk+Plotts, low activity, currently OPEN for Plotting.

TW and more | CARRD | Something to read

[lesbian-honey-lemon]

top ten smartest characters in BH6, my ranking:

1- Hiro Hamada. Of course he’s at the top, lol. Not only did he outsmart Obake, he also came up with everyone’s hero gear, coded Baymax’s other chips besides Tadashi’s, made a working energy amplifier (that didn’t immediately explode) in like two days with only Krei’s failed prototype to go off of, and HE IS IN SFIT AT 14. Of course he’s the smartest. Also he’s made other robots completely on his own like the microbots and Mini-Mac. He also comes up with most of the battle plans for BH6, and helped cure Liv Amara alongside Karmi.

2- Obake/ Bob Aken. First off, he was also in SFIT as a teen. My headcanon was that he started attending at 16, and Karmi’s like a week younger than him (so she’s technically still the 2nd youngest person to ever go to SFIT). Also!! He was the FIRST to make an energy amplifier, with absolutely nothing to go off of. His was the first, and honestly I wouldn’t be surprised if Krei’s amplifier was based off of Obake’s amplifier. Yes the amplifier exploded immediately but he was still the first. And of course, as an adult, he made a shit ton of advanced tech. He made Trina, the most advanced AI in the whole BH6-verse (even better than Baymax because she’s basically indistinguishable from a human and can make her own decisions outside of her original purpose), he made an underwater base, a bunch of other robots, and was able to follow Shimamoto’s clues to rebuild the star machine. Also he managed to play Hiro and the rest of BH6 like a damn violin and would have succeeded if it wasn’t for Globby.

3- Honey Lemon. Honey Lemon is a goddamn genius and I will die on this hill. Her chem-purse has the INDIVIDUAL ELEMENTS. So in battle, she has to legitimately think up and type in a chemical formula to make the compound to use. So she’s gotta have some MAJOR chemistry skill, an excellent memory, and wicked fast reaction time. She also found a way to cure Globby. Also let’s not forget that time she made a literal amnesia serum in like two minutes for Hiro to give to Karmi when she thought that Karmi was onto them. Also, she did uncover Lenore Shimamoto’s secret life as a scientist alongside Wasabi, and Lenore hid that shit really well.

4- Tadashi. Honestly, Tadashi and Honey Lemon are almost tied for third, but Honey Lemon’s a little smarter. He probably got into SFIT early too, cause he couldn’t have been that old. He was probably in at like 17 and died at 20. Also, he made Baymax, one of the most advanced AIs to ever exist, plus the actual robot is rlly advanced too. So just for building Baymax, he can have this spot, because of how advanced Baymax is. Although running into a burning building was kind of a dumb move.

5- Karmi. Karmi’s actually pretty gifted and you all are unnecessarily hating on this poor girl. She’s 16 and at SFIT, and while my headcanon is that she only got in a week younger than the third youngest student, she’s still the second youngest to ever go to SFIT. She also was able to observe BH6 close enough to write moves that could actually work with their gear, which allowed them to escape Momakase and save Karmi herself. Also, she’s made some epic tech. She made the patches to subdue Oreo Knox, which Di Amara later used for her own evil work. She also did that project with the electric currents in the roses, which probably has some pretty interesting uses. She also got chosen to be Di’s intern, and although she got manipulated big time, I can’t say I blame her or say she’s any less smart for literally being mutated and tortured by a woman she thought was her friend and mentor. Also, Hiro would have never gotten the nanobots to work and cure Liv Amara without Karmi’s help and insight. She also made that glove in Season 3 to beat Hardlight. In short, Karmi is way smarter than the fandom gives her credit for.

6- Gogo. Gogo’s actually quite smart and she’s come up with some interesting things. Her maglev tech is really advanced and gives her an extra edge in battle. She also was the first to catch onto the fact that Karmi had a point with her fanfic and was the first to start using Karmi’s ideas to drive up the wall to chase Momakase. She also came up with that train thing we saw her with the model of in CtC pt 1, which I assume is her midterm project. The world can always use more high-speed rail so she’s quite smart in my book for that. She also of course worked with Hiro to make that awesome bike she chased Mr Sparkles with in S2. Plus she’s in SFIT, which is a really challenging environment on its own so she’d have to be really smart to get in.

7- Wasabi. Wasabi and Gogo are like, exactly tied for 6th. They’re both on the same level of smart, but I like Gogo more so she gets 6ths (no hate to Wasabi fans, I like him too). Wasabi, of course, has his plasma blades, which are literally second to nothing but graphene. He can cut through nearly anything with his tech. He also worked with Hiro to build that space junk disposal device in S1, and helped Honey Lemon uncover the very well-guarded secrets of Lenore Shimamoto’s life as a scientist.

8- Wendy Wower. Wendy, although a minor character, has shown herself to be pretty damn smart. She wrote the thesis that Trevor Trengrove stole, which was the basis for Tadashi’s work. Without Wendy’s thesis, Tadashi would have never made Baymax. So, though she never gained the recognition she deserved for her intelligence, she’s still hella smart. Plus, she did manage to make a name for herself as a beloved educator and inspiration for kids to get into science, and that’s kind of hard to do if you’re not already really smart when it comes to science.

9- Lenore Shimamoto. Lenore Shimamoto is really smart, although her invention failed. She built the star machine, which caused the Great Catastrophe. But, she intended it to be an infinite energy device. So, like a very early interpretation of the energy amplifier. She also built a secret lab and hid all evidence of the star machine so well that it took over a hundred years to find. And honestly, if the only person who could crack your secret was literally the second smartest person in the whole show (Obake), you hid that secret pretty well. She also built and ran a whole art institute, it takes smarts to run such a big university.

10- Professor Granville. Honestly I was stuck on who to put here, but I think she deserves this spot. She’s an accomplished professor, knowledgeable about her subjects, and was obviously smart enough to mentor Hiro, Karmi, and Obake. If she wasn’t smart, they wouldn’t have latched onto her as much as they did. She also fixed Baymax that one time in S2 and went to rescue their asses all on her own, built the robot spider SFIT security system, and has some pretty good deduction skills in order to find out where Momakase was going to steal from next.

You can also put Professor Callaghan here at 10th for similar reasons, being an accomplished professor, writing many papers on robotics and inspiring Hiro’s microbots, and coming up with the plan to kill Krei. But, his plan got foiled by Hiro, and Hiro was an inexperienced superhero at this time, so it’s not like with Obake where Hiro was a seasoned superhero who had a fair shot at stopping his plans. Hiro and Obake were evenly matched. So if Inexperienced Hiro could beat Callaghan, that means Callaghan’s not quite as smart.

[vocaliveparty]

Kimagure Mercy - Design, Effects, and Extra Notes

Design

This was our Racing Queen design contest winner, Designed by LittleVIC ! I did have to adjust the design slightly around the waist / hip area so youtube wouldn't get mad. But if you decide to draw one of them, please credit Vic for it !

The racing piko design winner was always planned to go with kimagure mercy, but I'm glad Vic's ended up fitting it so well !

Effects

The majority of the effects were done by Kreifish, but I'll talk about the ones that I did!

The silhouettes at the beginning were my work. This is a view of them from a downward angle. They're a flat plane with a changing texture ! The original intention was to have the colors based off whatever the design's main colors were. Since Vic's were rainbow colored, I ended up playing into that. (Krei made them glow a lot more in the final cut.)

The ringing sound effect is a 3D opject that shakes with an expression. It was hard to resist not making SOMETHING for that part, since it was such an obvious sound effect and hand movement.

The pinup board to display screen effect was also my brain child. I achieved it by creating one pmx that had all the art placed around him so it would mostly fill up the screen. I saved that pmx, and used it to make a new x file. If you make the texture "screen.bmp" on a flat plane as an x file, it'll become a screen for mmd's screen capture mode ! pretty neat, yeah?

Anyway, These were suppose to sort of tie in with the silhouettes. Sassy poses popping in + sassy pictures popping in. Even though it's a song about someone playing with the singer's heart, I sorta wanted this vibe of like.. "we've broken up, but look at how hot I am. You're missing out, idiot."

And finally, the smoke at the end is just to transition through sound cues. The heart really IS behind him, but ironically they're never on screen at the same time slkdjfsdlf

Extra Notes

Like I said during the live, This was a song I wanted to include in the first concert. I went with sweet devil mostly because the only motion for kimagure mercy at the time was the moka one for 5 characters.

[abwwia]

Julie Wilhelmine Hagen-Schwarz (Nationality Baltic German: 1824–1902), Self-portrait (before 1870) Estonian: „Autoportree (õlgkübaraga)“ Oil on Canvas: 46 cm (18.1 in) x 40.5 cm (15.9 in)

Julie Wilhelmine Hagen-Schwarz (27 October [O.S. 5] 1824 – 20 October [O.S. 7] 1902) was a Baltic German painter, primarily of portraits. Born while her parents were on a painting excursion in Klein-Wrangelshof manor, Klein-Wrangelshof, Kreis Wolmar, Governorate of Livonia, Russian Empire (in present-day Mazbrenguļi, Kocēni Municipality, Latvia) Died in 1902 (aged 77) Dorpat, Kreis Dorpat, Governorate of Livonia, Russian Empire (present-day Tartu, Tartu County, Estonia) via Wikipedia

[piecebread]

So many memories…

{————————————————————————————————}

First panel:

5 year old krey: Momma! What’s that?

Mother: that’s a crow my dear..

Second panel:

10 year old Krey:…… mommy and daddy will wake up..right?

Third panel:

15 year old krey: look. Nuke stop being a brat, it’s already night. We have to head back home. And no we’re not going to the café.

Fourth panel:

25 year old Krey:……… *writing stuff on the paper,in the dark*

Fifth panel:

35 year old Krey: you’ll pay for what you did to my parents, 25 years ago..

{————————————————————————————————}

OK so here’s the lore for Krey:

shes from the lost temple faction, since shes a professional hitwoman. Tho she’s only known as a hitwoman in the criminal world. Most people/phighters don’t know that she’s a dangerous hitwoman. Including banhammer.

she and zuka are old friends, the two have had ups and downs, lots of arguments and such with eachother not being the best terms with each other tho the two are nemesis’s, they have each others backs, and secrets

Zuka was also the one who saved her when she was 25, and brought her to the hospital to be treated when she left the blackrock faction, in her scientist lab coat, also with her right eye having a severe burn scar that looks like a star, and her eye very irritated and red, where she had to have her right eye removed due to how severe the burn was.

In the past, when subspace ripped medkits eye out, and which made medkit leave blackrock and to join the lost temple faction. then four months later, subspace, would burn krey’s right eye with a flammable liquid that he made, and used Krey as a test-subject for it, giving it a star-like burn scar, tho it was severe, it lead her to leave, go to a hospital, and have her right eye being removed.

when both medkit and Krey left subspace, and black rock, moving to lost temple, Krey had started doing some hitwomen business, while doing so, on her fifth day of doing the job, she had wounded her left arm, by one of the targets she was supposed to kill, by a gun tho she killed the target, and had gotten her share of money, tho she fainted due to the blood loss and was at the hospital once again, to get her left arm removed because of the bullet that struck the bone of where her shoulder joint was, which needed to be removed. And that meant her losing an arm. once she got discharged from the hospital after a few weeks, and went to a close friend of hers to get a prosthetic arm, with claws to replace her left arm and hand.

A not so phun phact: due to Krey seeing the dead bodies of her parents, Krey thought they where asleep and playing a prank, hoping they would wake up. Since she’s a child she started to cry, like any child would. In the morning, Krey would be covered in her parents blood, (as she let the maids know what happened) not allowing her younger brother nuke, to go downstairs. As the maids of the mansion had already called the police, but the police couldn’t find who did it. And so Krey promised to herself to give her parents revenge. As the two siblings would be taken in by their grandparents, who would take care of the siblings and mansion, until they died.

Phacts about krey: as Krey got older, when she was 35, she and Vinestaff would meet by a phighting match, which led to Krey talking to Vinestaff about her trauma and vent to. Once Krey got used to Vinestaff ofcourse. Vinestaff would comfort krey, and trying to act as a caring friend, and helping her get through her trauma along with helping with her mental health. Krey and Vinestaff would become very close together almost like best friends.

More phacts a about krey: when Krey was growing up, she had a lot of friends back then. But when her parents died, her life did a complete 180, where most of her friends would move somewhere else, hang out with other friends and forgetting about her etc... so Krey would lose a lot of friends in her life. The only person she trusted was her younger brother nuke.. tho Krey didn’t vent to nuke and didn’t tell him what happened when their parents died. She only told nuke that their parents have went somewhere else and are being taken care of by their grandparents. Keeping nuke in the dark.

More phacts about Krey: krey would find the killer who killed her parents, all her hard work paid off. As when she left the blackrock faction and moving to the lost temple faction, where she would start doing hitwoman business, she would hunt down the killer, using other criminals to direct her to the killer. Whilst killing innocent people to maintain her business and have bux.

How Krey got into hitwoman business after moving to the lost temple faction, was that, when Krey was young, her grandfather (the grandparents who where taking care of the siblings) taught her how to fight along with killing. Just to protect nuke. (Since the grandfather used to be a hit man)

if your gonna ask Krey to kill someone, she’ll charge you 5k-10k bux.

Krey loves hard Caramel candy

Nuke left krey when he was 17, when Krey was with the blackrock faction

(she moved to the blackrock faction even tho she was from lost temple)

Bruh my anatomy sucks

(Krey is now my main oc/ phighting sona)

[bereft-of-frogs]

the station | chapter 5

Post-Fallen Order: After months of halfhearted attempts, the Haxion Brood finally gets the jump on the Mantis crew. They drag their prisoners back to Sorc Tormo’s new venture, a half-constructed station in a remote asteroid belt, where he has a proposition for them: Greez’s debts, erased, as long as the crew helps him track down a troublesome old friend.

With hostages, visceral threats of violence, and a former-Imperial staffer consultant pulling the strings, it seems the Brood has the upper hand. But there is one narrow way through: the crew just has to trust each other and hope that the bluff can be called.

chapter 5: seeking

The Flight Deck Bar & Refueling Station is, like Daiyu itself, not the best and not the worst. It’s not as clean and shining as some of the wealthier establishments, but at least the tables are wiped down and there are only a few suspicious puddles on the floor. It’s the middle of the workday so the barroom’s almost empty, just a few solitary drinkers at the counter and a table of grease-stained engineers wolfing down their lunches in the corner. A chime sounds over the door when they open it. “Be right with you,” the Twi’lek bartender calls, cleaning glasses with his back to the door. “You want another one, Skerr? I can tap another keg, but I’m sure the husband’s looking for—” He freezes when he turns and catches sight of Greez. “Ah, kriff.” “Hey, Krey,” Greez says. “How’s it going?” Eyes wide, Krey says, “I don’t know anything.” “We haven’t asked anything,” Cere says calmly. The search starts slow, but at least Greez and Cere get more information about what Sha-Vur has been up to. The hostages make their ill-advised move.

[ link to ao3 ]

In which I pretend that's how tracking communications in space works, because I can. XP I think this is the shortest chapter by a bit! I kept reaching the end in edits and being like 'oh what do you mean, this isn't a 6-8k monster?' I liked where I ended it though ;-)

Enjoy!

[ chapter 1 ] [ chapter 2 ] [ chapter 3 ] [ chapter 4 ]

[animationadventures]

On a Hunger Games kick right now and rewatching the Big Hero 6 series.

Now I'm creating lore for a Big Hero 6 Hunger Games.

Hiro and the gang live in District 3, the technology District and one of the two most intellectual beside District 5. Tadashi and his friends have successfully avoided being reaped during the six years they're eligible.

Tadashi, Wasabi, Gogo, and Honey Lemon work in their canon fields of study, but Tadashi can't build Baymax because the Capitol wouldn't want a healthcare robot improving the lives of the Districts.

Fred's dad is the mayor, and since he's not as smart as his friends, he is instead being trained to take over as mayor someday. As a parallel to his encyclopedic knowledge about superheroes in canon, he is a Hunger Games expert.

Cass still serves food in the District, looking after Tadashi and Hiro after an industrial accident took their parents when Hiro was 3.

When Hiro is 14, his name is drawn and Tadashi is ineligible to volunteer at this point otherwise he would do it in a heartbeat.

So Hiro is sent into the 54th Games along with Karmi, and he has Krei for a mentor, as a reference to Krei knowing how to survive in the woods from the series, while Karmi has Abigail.

As a parallel to Amara mutating the villains of the series in season two, she is the developer of muttations for the Games.

While Hiro tries to survive in the arena, Tadashi, Cass, and the gang can only watch from home and try to gather money to help Krei send gifts.

Hiro's strongest asset is his brain, so he has to rely on tricks to win instead of physical strength. And he doesn't have outside help like Lucy Gray got from Snow.

Those are the pieces I have so far, but I don't have the whole puzzle yet.

[nkn0va]

Introduction, Rules, and Masterlist

REQUESTS ARE CURRENTLY CLOSED FOR WRITING

OC INBOX IS ALWAYS OPEN! You can find the bio for my OCs here and I'm always up to be tagged in any OC things!

Masterlist and in progress works when multiple pile up at once can be found here (Last updated October 28, 2024, 12:29 p.m MST)

(For the birthday event I held, you can find all the posts via the #nova birthday bash tag.)

Join the Discord here!

Greetings, you all may call me Mod Nova, thank you for stopping by my humble corner here in the infinite vastness of the internet.

I'm an introverted, mildly socially awkward young adult aspiring to make it in the music/voice acting industry. I have way too many hyperfixations for my own good and my ADHD makes me rely on music to do literally anything. Budding competitive fighting game, Pokemon, and first person shooter player. Drummer since 2 years old and wanting to learn guitar as well. I have zero idea what the hell I'm doing. Might as well write some HCs and shit while I'm here. Some rules first tho.

-Posts that aren't requests will be tagged with #nova's ramblings. If you don't wish to see any of that feel free to block the tag.

-No NSFW. I am 18+ and I can read NSFW just fine but I'm not too comfortable or confident in writing it. NSFW talk in general is allowed though. Posts will be tagged appropriately, feel free to block tag as needed.

-Maximum of four characters per request. There can be exceptions for certain groups like Phantom Thief girls, Licht Kreis members, Remix Heart Team, and whatnot, just as long as the group isn't THAT big.

-As I am a guy I will be writing for male audiences. Women are of course more than welcome here but this is primarily for my fellow guys who can't seem to find any male reader stuff. I know how it feels. I will write for gender neutral readers however for the sake of inclusivity. Do specify whether you want a male reader or gender neutral in your request.

-As a straight guy I will only be writing for women. Apologies but I don't think of guys like that.

-In general, just don't request any weird/creepy stuff. Use your common sense.

-Please try to be specific in your requests so I have more to work with. Don't wanna write something you didn't intend for me to do and disappoint.

-While NSFW content isn't up for request, general sensitive content is allowed, like angst-related topics and generally heavy stuff.

-Please practice patience with me. This is just something I'm doing for fun. I will work to get requests out as fast as possible but once I eventually start working again...any day now, they'll have to slow down.

Now for the fandoms, I suppose. I will write for:

Blazblue

Under Night In-Birth

Persona 3, 4 (Golden), and 5 (Royal) + Persona 4 Arena and Persona 5 Strikers

Pokemon

Titanfall

Hollow Knight

Helltaker (Except for Zdrada. I tried. Sorry.)

Of course if you don't wanna request anything and just talk about whatever feel free to do so. I have no idea why you would but I'm open.

Banners in post are not made by me. Credit goes to @uponawhitehorse13 for the Blazblue/Under Night In Birth banners and @genshingorlsrevengeance for the Persona banners.

[burnwater13]

Concept art by Nick Gindraux of the Armorer at the forge within the Mandalorian Covert on Nevarro. Image from The Mandalorian, Season 1, Episode 3, The Sin.

Note: This is part two of the story. Part one was posted yesterday (October 5, 2024).

Din Djarin knew you couldn’t die from embarrassment. He’d been in worse situations than this one. Grogu complaining that Mandalorians didn’t tell scary stories wasn’t really a patch on some of things that had happened to him as a youngling or when he was first training as part of the Mandalorian Fighting Corps. But, on the other hand, Grogu telling the story of that mess on Maldo Kreis was a horror story, for Djarin. He’d made so many mistakes. He’d been so frustrated and the kid, his apprentice, his son, was telling everyone about it as if it was an episode of Diggle and Daggle. 

He brought Grogu to the ship and gave him more frozen froglets than he normally ate in two days just to tire him out, with the hope that he would fall asleep. He didn’t really need the rest of that story shared with anyone.

“Din Djarin.”

Dank Farrik. The Armorer.

“Yes.”

“Bring Din Grogu back when he has completed his sleep cycle. His story has intrigued the assembled. They wish to hear move of his adventure. Rest assured, they know he has embellished it for their entertainment. It is like the stories from long ago.”

“This is the Way.”

“This is the Way.”

Dank Farrik! Now he had no choice. They would hear the rest of it and Djarin just hoped that embarrassment didn’t cause any other maladies. He hated it when his face burned and his stomach was in knots. He wasn’t in love and he shouldn’t feel like he was.

The next day, bright and early, in the hope that his fellow Mandalorians would be too tired to show up and sleep in, Din Djarin brought Grogu back to the great hall. Grogu was delighted and did a sort of dance. Djarin should have expected that but his face began to burn. The hall was packed with people and they were all waiting for Grogu to continue ‘The Tale of The Giant Ice Spiders of Maldo Kreis’. Womp rats!

Grogu picked up the story right where he left off. Having an audience seemed to inspire him…

Grogu didn’t despair. He’d been in tougher spots. The frog lady, Niebla, was very much not having it. She was annoyed, angry, disappointed, ticked off, and frustrated. Fortunately, she was only feeling those emotions towards the Mandalorian. Grogu was off the hook because he hadn’t been the pilot and she hadn’t noticed that she had fewer eggs to manage than when she first boarded the Razor Crest. That would come later.

Grogu was pretty sure that the Mandalorian was convinced that they wouldn’t survive and was just doing the few things he could do to at least pretend that they could. None of that mattered. What mattered was that a mother-to-be frog lady wanted to be an actual mother and no Mandalorian was just going to be all despair and bad vibes and stay in charge of the mission. Niebla read Din Djarin the whole riot act and then started on the insurrection act and ended with the ‘all of your ancestors and the whole of Mandalore would be ashamed of you’ act. It was as impressive as it was decisive. The Mandalorian grumbled and then collected his tools and began to repair the Razor Crest. 

Grogu would have loved to help the Mandalorian. He would have. Honest. Jedi’s honor. But… he and his friend Ian hadn’t really paid attention in the class about starship repairs, preferring to read ahead and learn all about starship navigation and piloting skills. Grogu didn’t even know the difference between a spanner and an ionization decoupler. He was pretty certain there was a difference, but he really couldn’t tell you much more than one was red and the other was blue and he didn’t actually know which was which. 

Because of that he remained on the ship. Ostensibly he was there to keep an eye on Niebla. In reality he was far more interested in the eggs. She had taken to counting the eggs, over and over again and he’d realized that he couldn’t risk grabbing another one as a snack. He also realized that watching her count them was pretty dull fair and he was certain that he had a couple of episodes of Diggle and Daggle, the Fish that fish, on the portable comp that he’ acquired from the Armorer, and thought some humor would make a nice break from all the pathos his two companions had been exuding. 

So there he was, in the privy, watching Diggle and Daggle, (the lighting was better there) and he heard a thunk, a clunk, and grump. Uff. It was probably the Mandalorian looking for tools and not finding them. Grogu didn’t want to get caught up in that sort of never ending game of ‘No, not that one’. He’d played that enough at the Jedi Temple, helping Ian fix the access panel to the starship they hadn’t learned how to repair. 

He continued to watch Diggle and Daggle and when it was over he realized that he was hungry. Not just a little hungry. Very, very hungry. That meant he needed to ask the Mandalorian to make a rations pack for him to pick at. Dang.

So Grogu had trudged outside, in the cold, in the snow, in the ice, and began to look for the Mandalorian. The first thing he noticed was not the tall, armor covered human. Nope. He noticed some very interesting footprints. Very interesting. He thought he should tell the Mandalorian about them, considering they originated at the ship and went off in a direction that was dark and kind of creepy.

The Mandalorian was not having it. He wanted Grogu to help him fix the ship! What the heck did Grogu know about ship repair? Nothing! Absolutely nothing. He turned around and walked back to where he’d first seen the footprints… did frogs have feet? Were they called something else? Any way, that’s what he did, feeling colder and more annoyed than ever. 

To his surprise and relief, the Mandalorian actually followed him and finally looked at the prints Grogu had identified. Good. Now the wayward frog lady was his problem and not Grogu’s. Grogu was about to go back into the ship, if you could still call the Razor Crest a ship instead of the more accurate ‘dwelling’, and find something to eat. Maybe some of the eggs had been hidden by snow and debris when they crash… ah, suffered that hard landing. 

But no. Din Djarin decided, for reasons that Grogu would never understand, to pick him up and bring him along, as the human followed the tracks in the snow into the dark, dank, dripping cold of the cavern’s maze like paths and crevices. Grogu realized that he should have kept that information to himself if he wanted to have a quiet meal of warmed up ‘whatever rations really were’. Dank Farrik.

A dull blue light coated the icy walls and ground with a kind of eerie quality that made Grogu wish that he had a lightsaber. He rarely cared about not having the Jedi’s ubiquitous weapon, but now it really felt like it would have been better than just trusting the light that squeezed through the fractures and cracks in the ice crust that hid them from the New Republic pilots. A lightsaber would do just what it’s name said it would do. It would provide light and he could use it to defend himself against whatever was in the cave. Sure the Mandalorian could do that too, but sometimes you needed to protect yourself and this felt like one of those moments. 

It wasn’t that there was gore or some other telltales of horrible creatures inhabiting the ice cavern. Far from it. Other than the blue lighting, the snow and ice were pristine. Untouched. But there were still obvious paths. Hollows. Access ways. Something had made them. They didn’t look natural and they sure as heck didn’t feel natural. Of course that might have been the Mandalorian’s beskar armor. It was all frosted over from the cold and it just made Grogu feel colder. 

Grogu was about to advise the Mandalorian to turn back when they turned a corner and found their passenger. Niebla was in a pool of water, just soaking in it. How could she do that?! Why weren’t her mouth plates chattering? It didn’t make any sense. The Mandalorian didn’t seem worried at all and that’s when Grogu noticed the water vapor condensation whirls floating above the surface of the pool. He began to giggle. 

Niebla had found the fog that indicated a dramatic temperature shift. He wondered if she could smell the fog or feel the heat… something had drawn her to that place. At least he hoped it was something simple like being sensitive to the subtle shifts in humidity and temperature. He hated to think that something like a strange and scary, hungry critter had drawn them to that place to feast upon them. 

“Okay. The kid needs some food. I’ll bring him back this afternoon to finish the story. Feel free to go back to your work. This is the Way.”

Din Djarin heard a chorus of ‘This is the Way’ respond to him and he scooped Grogu up and took him out of that hall faster than they had left Nevarro after discovering that Moff Gideon hadn’t died when the Mandalorian forced the Imp’s TIE fighter to crash. There was no reason to pause or hesitate or look back. Grogu’s story telling had them mesmerized and for the first time Din Djarin wondered if his son was using the Force to help him tell the tale. It seemed likely. Womp rats.

[a-neverending-story]

This Blog runs on a queue.

Cora Sophie Marren aka Lilianne Moira; a walking disaster ☾ ─── ⋆ ❝I have licked the fire and danced in the ashes of every bridge I ever burned. I fear no hell from you.❞  Das Schaben des Feuersteins ertönte, bevor das vertraute Knistern des Feuers die Luft erfüllte. So viele Flammen, wie Lily in ihrem Leben bereits gesehen hatte und doch war jede von ihnen einzigartig. Wie eine Schneeflocke, die binnen Sekunden alles vernichten konnte, was einen jemals ausgemacht hatte. Ihre braunen Augen wurden erhellt von dem rot-orange der Flamme und fasziniert drehte Lily ihr Feuerzeug, bevor sie die Flamme schlussendlich an das Ende ihrer Zigarette hielt. Ein tiefer Atemzug entfachte das Papier und den Tabak, während der Rauch in ihre Lungen stieg. Das Feuerzeug wanderte zurück in ihre Tasche, der Rauch aus ihren Lungen wurde gegen die glühende Spitze der Zigarette gepustet und ließ das Feuer am Papier entlang tanzen. Es war wunderschön. Eine letzte Zigarette gab sie sich noch. Was das wohl waren? 5 Minuten? 10? Jedenfalls nicht mehr. Ihr Blick richtete sich auf die abgetretenen Doc Martens, welche auf der Sitzfläche der Bank standen. Lilys Hintern ruhte derweil auf der Rückenlehne.  Warum normal auf einem Stuhl sitzen? Das war so langweilig und Lily hatte sich lang genug in ihrem Leben langweilig gefühlt. Sie war etwas besonderes. Selbst, wenn dies das einzig Positive war, das Lily über sich selbst sagen konnte. Zumindest für den Moment. Erneut fand der Filter den Platz zurück an ihren Lippen, ein weiterer tiefer Atemzug, der die Stille der Nacht mit leisem Knistern erfüllte. Das Nikotin fand über ihre Lungenden Weg direkt in ihre Blutbahn. Ein leichtes Kribbeln stellte sich unter ihrer Haut ein, welches sich in ihrem gesamten Körper ausbreitete. So lebendig hatte sie sich lange nicht gefühlt. Es war, als würde sie erwachen. Erwachen aus einem Traum, der plötzlich Realität wurde. 

Der letzte Zug an der Zigarette wurde getätigt, dann schnippte Lily sie davon und sprang von der Bank. Ihre Finger griffen nach dem schwarzen Rucksack, den sie sich nur über eine Schulter warf. Ihre Boots hinterließen Spuren im Gras, die man bald schon nicht mehr sehen würde. Immerhin nahm das Knistern hinter ihr eine Lautstärke an, welches Musik in ihren Ohren war. Dennoch steckte sie sich die Kopfhörer in die Ohren und übertönte das verheißungsvolle Knistern mit den Bässen von Wicked Game. 

Ein Grinsen zierte ihre Lippen, als sie sich dem Feenkreis aus Pilzen näherte. Mit einem Augenaufschlag waren ihre Augen nicht länger braun, sie waren blau und Lily kostete es in vollen Zügen aus, als sie den ersten Schritt über den Kreis hinweg setzte. 

Sie war frei. Zum allerersten Mal in ihrem Leben fühlte sie sich wahrhaftig lebendig und frei. Da konnten selbst die Frauen nichts dran ändern, welche ihr folgten wie ein unheilvoller Schatten.

promo © | 21+ - MDNI!, crossover and multiverse-friendly, Smalltalk Deeptalk+Plotts, low activity atm, currently OPEN for Plotting. TW and more. , CARRD

[fetznerdeathrecords]

Morguiliath - Night on Bald Mountain

Raw Black Metal from Montpellier, France

"Night on Bald Mountain" is MORGUILIATH's fourth album. The topics covered in Rats' dark and suffocating music are Satanism, Hatred, Misanthropy, Disgust. 10 tracks / 63 minutes of dark and suffocating black Metal is waiting for you.

1. Beginning of Cthulhu 06:41 2. Black Messiah 07:12 3. Der brennende Kreis 05:09 4. Elisabetta Destroyed Me 03:39 5. Ende meiner welt 04:43 6. Night on Bald Mountain 09:01 7. One Last Goodbye for Us 05:18 8. Suicide 04:59 9. Ultimate Betrayal 06:28 10. White Witch 09:38

Release date: October 15th, 2024 via @remparts.productions

[fabiansteinhauer]

História e teoria de uma lei inconstante e polar

1.

In der zweiten Sitzung der Vorlesung in Recife gehen wir auf die Anregungen ein, die vom Werk unserer hochgeschätzten Kollegin Cornelia Vismann für eine Geschichte und Theorie unbeständigen und polaren Rechts ausgehen. Auf dichte, diskutierbare Sätze gebracht kann man ein paar dieser Anregungen gleich angeben: Immer dann, wenn das Recht anfängt, dann fängt auch etwas anders als Recht an. Dann passiert mit dem Recht auch etwas. Man kann das Recht von seinen graphischen und choreographischen Techniken her denken, das heißt auch: von Linienzügen her und dem, wie sie lesen, schreiben, denken und zählen lassen, wie sie schätzen lassen, wie sie trennen, assoziieren und Austausch manövrieren

Vismann ist nicht Kittlerkreis, sie heißt Cornelia und ist einzigartig. Ich bin auf das Buch zu den Akten aufmerksam geworden, sagen wir so: das hat mich so umgehauen, weil ich zu einem Zeitpunkt, als mir Kittler nur Gegenstand von ein paar Schlag- und Stichworten war, die in den Kreisen von Luhmannfans kursierten, wie der Witz, den Luhmann gemacht haben soll, der mit Babylon, dem Pferd und dem Reiter. Das heißt, dass ich zunächst nicht auf die Idee gekommen bin, Vismann als Statistin 'weiter und dominanter Kreise um Kittler' zu sehen. In dem Aktenbuch bietet sie fünf Anfänge an, um über Linien nachzdenken: (1) Die Schreibstunden der Nambikwara, die Wellenlinien der tropischer Verwaltung staatenloser Sozietäten, (2) die Linien in den Graphiken (vor allem den Tabellen und Listen) römischer, auch privater oder civiler Verwaltungscodices, dort nicht direkt mit dem Corpus Iuris verbunden, also nicht mit dem, was Gesetz sein soll, sondern mit der notitia dignitatum, damit auch mit dem Material, das der notitia dignitatum ähnlicher ist als dem Corpus Iuris, das ist der Kalender des Filocalus, (3) dem pomerium, der mit einem Ochsen, einer Kuh und auf Rat und Angabe der Wahrsager umgepflügte, tragende und trachtende Linie, die Städte gründen oder ihren Kreis vorschieben sollten, (4) die Linie, mit der die Erstausgabe von Kafkas kurzen Text Vor dem Gesetz vom Rest der Zeitschrift unterschieden wird, (5) die Cancellierung, die auch Tuch, Textil und Raster ist. In dem späten und letzten Text zu diesem Thema (Kulturtechnik und Souveränität) spricht sie nur das dritte Beispiel an, aus vielen Gründen wohl, aber bestimmt nicht, weil die anderen ihr unwichtig geworden werden.

2.

Verzerrungen und Verstellungen sind dann besonders ärgerlich, wenn sie klein sind. Große Verzerrungen sind abwegig und stören nicht. Kleine Verzerrungen kommen dem Original äußert nahe, betouchen es - und es gibt keine Berührung, nur ein Betouchen. Ärgerlich ist das auch, weil die kleine Verstellung leicht zu ändern wäre. Ärgerlich ist darum das verzerrte Bild, das die Kollegen von Vismann zeichnen, die nun eindimensional das dritte Beispiel herausgreifen, um zu plausibilisieren, warum Vismann eindimensional oder einseitig wäre. Schon das dritte Beispiel ist alles andere als einseitig. Genau dieses Beispiel, ihre Ausführungen zu der 'vorgeschobenen Linie' (Mommsen) und damit einer doppelsinnig kreisenden Linie ist der Grund dafür, dass ich 2000, als das Buch über die Akten erschien, Vismann in der Nähe der bildwissenschaftlichen und kunsthistorischen Arbeiten der späten sechziger und frühen siebziger Jahre sah, also in Nähe der Arbeiten von Leuten wie Heiner Mühlmann (der immer wieder auf das pomerium eingeht, um den Verhäkelungen zwischen Recht und Ästhetik in den italienischen Stadtstaaten der Renaissancen nachzugehen). Ich sah sie in Nähe zu Michel Baxandalls Arbeiten zur Rhetorik, Handel und Mathematik und in Nähe zu Horst Bredekamps Arbeiten zum Bilderstreit.

Das Politische ist insoweit nicht das, als das es ein Staatsrechtslehrer darstellen würde, der mit dem Gespenst von Bilderflut oder Gesetzesflut und Sorge vor zuviel Staat kommt. Das Politische ist in dem Bezug zu den Linienzügen Vismanns unverkürzt gesagt: Gewimmel in der Stadt (z.b. Rom) und auf dem Land (z.B. Amazonien), das formatiert und sortiert, händel- und handelbar sein will, damit Höfe und Höflichkeiten, Behausungen, Häuslichkeiten, Privates, (Un-)Sichtbarkeiten, Kreuzungen, Dreh - und Angelpunkte, Pläne und Risse, Protokolle und Akten ein-, aus-, ab- und anrichten lässt. Zu kompliziert? Merken sie sich eins: es gibt darin nichts erstes, das Politische ist nicht vor dem Privaten da, das Private nicht vor dem Politischen - und sind beide mal da, ist nichts gleichzeitig da.

Das Politische ist mit den Anregungen, die Vismann gibt polis, polos, polus, polite, polar, police, polizid, Polaroid, polyvalent, polemisch, polemousophisch. Es ist verdreht und dreht weiter, es ist verkehrt und verkehrt weiter. Es ist das, was wie ein Kosmograph auf Achse ist, (Zeit und Raum) misst, etwas lanciert und balanciert und was von mir aus auch 'kontrafaktisch stabilisiert', denn der Stab kann auch Achse und Lanze sein (wie in B. Lanz). Das Politische ist geballt und bolisch. Um so ärgerlicher, dass Staatsrechtslehrer ("Kennst Du einen, kennst Du einen"; Anna Katharina Mangold), nicht das, was sie an der Deutung Vismanns mit Leichtigkeit in fünf Minuten ändern können, auch nicht auf Einwände hin ändern oder umstellen. Sie bleiben dabei und positionieren sich gegen die Kollegin, schmeißen noch einen fahles Lob drauf, die Frau sei trotz allem unheimlich fruchtbar und hilfreich gewesen. Ich könnte schreien, wenn es mir nicht so weh tun würde, weil nicht nur die bezaubernd sprühende, nimmermüd gesellige Cornelia Vismann getroffen wird, sondern die Lehre, für die ich mich mit Aufwand, Passion und Zuneigung qualifiziert habe, dann peinlich da steht. Lieber blasen Staatsrechtslehrer ihre Autorität aus, wie das Thomas Mann in Doktor Faustus mit Worten von Theodor Wiesengrund Adorno beschrieben hat, statt sich witzig-wendig, ironisch zu geben oder Ironien auch nur nachzugehen. Das ist wie lange klar: Ich stehe in fundamentaler Opposition zu Positionen der deutschen Staatsrechtslehre. Möge es einmal zu einer Verhandlung kommen. An mir soll es nicht scheitern. An das MPI sind im Rahmen meiner Projekte alle großherzlich eingeladen, die sich nicht über uns lustig machen und Gerüchte verbreiten, wir würden demnächst unseren Job verlieren (Achtung, Medienprofis, wir lesen manchmal Ihre Mails mit, nicht nur, wenn Sie uns mal wieder irrtümlich in CC setzen!). Die sich über uns lustig machen oder solche Gerüchte verbreiten, die sind jetzt leicht kleinherziger aber in der unlöschbaren Hoffnung auf endlose Wiedervergrößerung der Herzen eingeladen. Das Politische ist mit Leichtheit als dasjenige betrachtbar, was juridische Kulturtechniken leisten, nämlich auf widerständige und insistierende Weise Rechte wahrzunehmen und '(aus)zuüben', zu instituieren (wie Vismann sagt) und zu restituieren (wie Warburg einmal sagt).

3.

Die Vorlesung in Recife will in ihrem zweiten Teil zu Vismann Brasilien nicht mit Quatsch belästigen, tut das aber intensiv, um deutlich machen, dass das Brasilien nicht der einzige Ort ist, an dem unbeständig polares Recht auftaucht. Westlich im westlichen Sinne ist eben nicht nur westlich. Ich bin einst in Recife deswegen aufgetaucht, weil ich fundamental in Opposition zur deutschen Staatsrechtslehre stehe, mein Forschungsprogramm schon im Staat nicht publizieren kann (sei keine Rechtswissenschaft, sondern Kulturwissenschaft) - und das alles nicht an neuen Entwicklungen liegt, sondern an der Kanzleikultur, deren leichte Poetin Vismann war. Ich schaue mir das gerne vom Außen her an. Würde das Privatrecht kein Interesse an meiner Forschung haben, hätte ich auch heute keinen Job in der Forschung in Deutschland. Auch auf Anregung von Privatdozentin Vismann bin ich Privatdozent geblieben. Anpassung gibt es ohnehin nicht, das Wort ist eine Ausrede. Die Auseinandersetzungen zwischen Vismann und der deutschen Staatsrechtslehre, die bis heute anhalten sind nicht abzuschaffen, wozu auch? Von Ernst Hartwig Kantorowicz kann man u.a. eins lernen: Was nicht hier stattfindet, findet da statt. Was nicht jetzt stattfindet, findet dann statt. Was auf den Lehrstühlen deutscher Staatsrechtslehre nicht möglich ist, ist am MPI möglich. Weiter aber lohnt es sich, über die Unbeständigkeit und die Polariät in historischer und theoretischer Perspektive nachzudenken - und nicht gleich auf Schmittsche Figuren.

[naipan]

[…] Palästinensische Schule

Die antisemitische Mobilisierung lässt sich nicht hinreichend mit der Spezifik des zeitgenössischen Studiums erklären. Eine entscheidende Rolle spielt bei diesen Aufwallungen der Islam, in dessen Dienst der hochschulpolitische Aktivismus gegen Israel objektiv steht. Der politische Islam nutzt den arabisch-israelischen Konflikt zur Agitation von Moslems im Westen; woke Westler sind als nützliche Idioten willkommen. Auf dem Westend-Campus der Goethe Universität residiert der Hamas-Unterstützerkreis Ende Mai knapp eine Woche lang auf dem Campus, neben dem dort platzierten Adorno-Denkmal. Da das Szene-Idol Judith Buttler von der Stadt Frankfurt bereits den Adorno-Preis verliehen bekommen hat, würde es nicht überraschen, wenn in einem der kommenden Jahre das Palästinakollektiv die Trophäe überreicht bekommt. Sie fremdeln allerdings mit Adorno. Auf einem im Camp aufgestellten Plakat hat man die »Frankfurter« durch die »Palästinensische Schule« ersetzt. Man sollte nicht allzu sehr am Begriff »Frankfurter Schule« hängen, zumal die heutigen Vertreter der Kritischen Theorie mit ihrem Versuch, den muffigen linken Aktivismus wiederzubeleben und ihm das traditionsreiche Theorieetikett zu verpassen, wenig zur Entzauberung der zeitgenössischen Regression beizutragen haben. Dass das letzte Mal, als die Arbeit der »Frankfurter Schule« durchkreuzt und ersetzt wurde, es die Gestapo war, die im Juli 1933 das Institut für Sozialforschung wegen »staatsfeindlicher Bestrebungen« schließen ließ und noch die letzten ihrer – vielfach jüdischen – Mitarbeiter ins Exil getrieben hat, sollte allerdings bekannt sein.

Wenn es heute so etwas wie eine palästinensische Schule gibt, dann ist es die des Judenhasses. Als Provokation gilt ihren Eleven die Kritische Theorie schon deswegen, weil deren Begründer die Kritik des Antisemitismus ins Zentrum ihrer Arbeit stellten. Zur Austreibung der bösen Geister wurden auf dem Frankfurter Westend-Campus orientalische Gruppentänze aufgeführt, dazu dieselben bescheuerten Parolen wie zuvor in den USA: Apartheid, Genozid, From the River to the Sea. Für die politische Bildung in Sachen antimuslimischer Rassismus sorgte etwa der Referent Mohammed Naved Johari, der nach den Anschlägen auf Charlie Hebdo klagte: »Viele der Karikaturen, welche Charlie Hebdo zeichnete, unterscheiden sich in nichts zu dem, was im Nationalsozialismus in Bezug auf, oder besser gesagt gegen Juden gezeichnet wurde.«[5]

In einer aktuellen Befragung von mehrheitlich weiblichen Studenten der islamischen Theologie und muslimischen Religionspädagogik, also künftige Islamlehrer, geben 47% der Befragten an, dass sie das Existenzrecht Israels ablehnen. Knapp 40% sind der Auffassung, Juden hätten »zu viel Macht und Einfluss in der Welt«.[6] Sie treffen auf Schüler, die jetzt schon auf den Koran schwören. So ergab eine nicht-repräsentative Studie des Kriminologischen Forschungsinstituts Niedersachsen (KFN), dass 45,8% der befragten Muslime der Aussage zustimmen, ein islamischer Gottesstaat sei die beste Staatsform.[7]

Auch im Kreis des Frankfurter Protestcamps sind stramm sitzende Kopftücher in hoher Zahl zu sehen. Kaum verwunderlich, denn seit Jahren ist in Frankfurt ein massiver Anstieg von Kopftüchern im Stadtbild zu beobachten, insbesondere bei jungen Frauen, auch an der Universität. Sie repräsentieren das Wiedererstarken des orthodoxen Alltagsislam in der jüngeren Generation der Einwanderer, die ihr Unbehagen gegenüber dem Westen durch demonstrativen Stolz auf Herkunft und Tradition kompensieren. In seinem Buch Sex, Djihad und Despotie analysiert Thomas Maul das Kopftuch als genuin politisches Dominanzgehabe zwecks narzisstischer Selbsterhöhung. »Zugleich erhebt das Kopftuch seine keuschen Trägerinnen zumindest dort, wo kein staatlich durchgesetzter Schleierzwang herrscht, über jene Frauen, denen die (religiöse) Stärke und Kraft angesprochen wird, sich für die Verschleierung und die damit einhergehenden Entbehrungen zu entscheiden[…]