#but it's like. it's about the eroticism of the machine. and it turns out it's also about the beauty of the flesh

[scorndotexe]

i've got so many character concepts swimming around in my head that i'll never do anything with and do you know how much it pains me to have a knight, subject of devotion gone, as they lose themself to disease, turning into nothing but meat within armor, slowly dying. and not having any story ideas for this concept.

[mothgirlpanties]

I've seen yall talking about the eroticism of the machine and I think it's time for my two cents;

A printer, is not a brat. She is a good girl. She is trying her best. Sometimes (most of the time), her best isn't enough.

You send a document to print. She looks at you, embarrassed. Something is wrong with the drum unit, the tiny display reads. So you pop open her plastic casing and pull out the drum unit.

Nothing appears wrong with it.

You blow off a few specks of dust, carefully slip it back into place, and close the casing once more. She beeps happily, the pages begin to run through her, and you both carry on with your work.

That's how it happened the first dozen times, anyways.

Now, it looks more like this:

You send a document to print. She turns to you, face as red as her indicator lights. You sigh and pop open her casing, not even bothering to read the display.

You jiggle her drum unit roughly; you already know nothing is wrong with it. She makes a breathless little noise and reaches out, putting a hand on your shoulder to steady herself.

Every move you make is practiced, in a rough and careless way. You handle her with exactly enough force not to break her.

She was built for this, anyways. The entire point of her design was easy access, easy service. She was built for your hands to root around in, because everyone knew this was always going to happen.

And of course it's not her fault. But this is the third time in as many hours and if things take much longer you'll miss your next break.

You judge her drum unit has had enough jostling for the time being, and unceremoniously slam her casing shut again.

You keep your hand on it as you look up at her; it's not quite a threat, and if her heavy breathing and wide eyes are any indication, she took it as a promise.

After a long moment, her indicators return to green. The pages begin to run through her, and you both carry on with your work.

But you both know you'll be elbow deep in her a few more times before the day is done

[anothermonikan]

I've seen some people expressing concern over being objectum being like, tumblr trendy, and how people are going abandon it and be weird about it when it's not cool or whatever, and I do get it, I've seen some 'ironic eroticism of the machine' posts that have icked me. But also. I think being Objectum is just. more common than is publicly perceived. I also don't think there's any inherent harm with someone identifying in a way that later turns out to not work for them

[plaindangan]

Kinktober - Day 10

Kinktober - Day 10

Fucking Machine

"Gyahahahaha!! So M-ass-ki!! You ready to get the fucking of your lifetime? To enter a world of eroticism that your puny brain would never be able to recover from! I wonder how Kaito is gonna handle seeing you so utterly br-!"

"Do you want to die? If not, then just shut up and turn on the machine." snapped Maki, instantly having the inventor cower in fear. Maki's orphanage was in a bit of a dire situation and needed some extra funding and her other 'work' was not in need of people that needed 'erasing' as of yet. So her hands were tied for what work she could do that paid immensely and was readily available.

Which is why she was currently stuck in Miu's lab, buck naked, strapped by her wrists to a metal bed and her own bubble butt propped up in the air. Miu, grabbing a visor hooked up to a computer that had a pod nearby, placed it over Maki's eyes before working on the computer.

"As you know, you will be testing out my new Sexbot 6900. Designed to give people both the mind numbing climax and a personal intimacy that they really want in life, but are too chicken shit to go out and get some properly~ The visor scans your brainwaves for what you are truly looking for and out pops a nice SB made just in your tastes." With the brain scan complete, Miu took off the visor and the machine got to work. It had to be about five minutes before the pod opened and out popped-!!

"Oooh, Kaito~ Heh, I always knew you were a bitch in heat for h-"

"Finish that sentence and a foot is going up your ass." "Hhhhheeey, how about we move on to the physical portion. Oi, SB Up on the bed, will you." She ordered and the Kaito replica obeyed. Maki knew it was fake. She was right there when it made. But, this presence behind her, it had to be Kaito's! Something re-affirmed when she felt a pair of sturdy, yet steady, hands reach and grab her by the ass. Slowly, massaging her fit, thick, butt with a kind of tenderness and firmness that only Kaito could bring to her. Yet, at the moment, couldn't express just how she felt for.

"A-ahhhhh~"

"Eh? I didn't tell it to do that....but hey~ That'd be a welcome surprise to buyers! And looks like someone is getting a bit moist already~" Maki would tell Miu to shut up, but given that the inventor could see everything back there, she couldn't really refute her.

"Anywho, enough stalling! SB! Lube function! Get your cock all nice and wet." Producing fluid from it's fingers, the bot quickly and efficiently got itself all lubed up. While Maki couldn't see, Miu could witness a nice, throbbing, six inch member becoming completely erect and even licking her lips.

"Damn~ He may be a moron, but I suppose even guys like him know how to get it up nice and good~"

"Miu..."

"O-okay, okay!! We'll be seeing how SB does in bed. Remember to enjoy it as best as you can!! You don't even have to worry about getting knocked up as this SB only has artificial cum inside!! So you can get as many creampies as possible~"

"...J-just start the trial, already..."

"SB 6900! Intercourse mode! Mild Mode!" Before Maki knew it, she had felt the Kaito replica grab her by the hips, before gently inserting itself into her. A moan came from her lips as the bot began to send wave after wave of pleasure with each thrust to her.

"Liking it so far, huh? Well, let's see how we try when it goes up a notch! SB 6900! Hard Mode!!"

"H-haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!" Before Maki knew it, what was once rhythmic, paceful thrusting, suddenly sped up into what felt like a jackhammer pounding away at her pussy. Non-stop energy that she was quickly losing her wits too. Would...would the real Kaito be just as rough with her, if she requested it~ By now, she was even beginning to drool as her mind became foggier and foggier~

"That's it~ Just enjoy it like a good naughty bitch you are...speaking of which! Hey, SB, ramp things up to 'Bitchbreaker' mode!~" B-bitchbreaker mode?! What?! Maki couldn't see it...but could feel it. Somehow, this Kaito's dick had somehow double in both both length and width, its dick stretching her extremely.

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh!!! O-Oh, my fucking Goddddd! AHHH! Grabbing her by the twintails (something she actually loved, but was too shy to admit to anyone), Maki was bent backward enough to get a look at the bot responsible. It...he had his face. His confident, boyish, stupid, grin and gaze that reminded her of the guy she loved (maybe, after this, she could probably confess to him). It was something that finally broke Maki. Any form of hesitance to this treatment faded and a wide grin came on the usually surly assassin's face.

"F-f-fucking go at it you space idiot~"

PLAPPLAPLAPLPLAPLAPLAP!!!

The machine plowed Maki's ass like no tomorrow, and without any need for breaks or to catch itself, Maki was left at the mercy of a pounding with no end in sight. Complete with all the hair yanks and ass smacking and squeezing as she desired. Until two bright red handprints seemed utterly permanent on her chubby ass.

It was a treatment that Maki wouldn't change in the world~ This was a unique euphoria that couldn't be replicated and when she finally orgasmed (which caused the Kaito bot to flow a load so massive that it just about filled her up five time times over) the only thing left for Maki to do was just about pass out. Completely satisfied in a cream filled heaven~

But what about Miu? Well...

"Fuckin' come here!! Reset, pronto~" With a wild grin, and naked from head to toe (pussy wet as ever from pleasuring herself), Miu had taken the Kaito-bot and tossed it back in the pod. In seconds, what took its place was a blank slate that lacked any trace of the 'Kaito' from before. Taking Maki off the bed, she shoved the visor onto herself.

"As if I'm not trying it out from that show!! I can't wait to make a Nekomaru! And a Gonta! Can't forget K1-B0! What about some femboys t-!!"

"Ahem."

"...Huh?" Standing in front of her was a stern Maki, arms folded and, while clearly exhausted, still had enough energy to glare down at Miu.

"..."

"....O-okay, and maybe after giving you your payment, first."

"Exactly."

Business still took priority after all. Even if pleasure had its fun for just this one occasion~

[watching-pictures-move]

Movie Review | Fast Company (Cronenberg, 1979)

From a David Cronenberg auteurist perspective, Fast Company offers something of a challenge. On the surface, it seems totally out of place in his filmography. So many of his movies are cold and weird and scary and maybe a little sexy. But a B-movie racing drama? Where nobody turns into a car? Or attempts coitus with one? That ain't right, I tell ya what. But apparently Cronenberg holds a great amount of affection for this, as he's a bit of a car lover in real life, and I think that shows on screen. The cars in this movie, weird looking things referred to as "funny cars" that stand up on their hind wheels and run on a mixture of nitro and methanol, are shot lovingly, the camera turning its gaze to every little mechanical part so we can almost reach out and touch them. And when they start burning rubber, we're often inside with the driver, knocked about by the vibrations. But this isn't the eroticism of Kenneth Anger's Kustom Kar Kommandos. Cronenberg's love for these machines feels totally guileless and unironic, surprisingly absent of the kinkier dimensions of his better known work.

But most jarring compared to his other films is the amount of warmth present. Cronenberg doesn't just like his cars, he likes his characters too, relishing the chemistry between the drivers and crewmembers. Some of the actors, like William Smith, Nicholas Campbell*, Judy Foster** and Cedric Smith, bring a nice level of texture to their performances, so it feels more like a hangout piece than the B-movie thrills I was led to expect. Although said thrills are still there, through the regular occurrence of fiery accidents and a salacious scene involving two female hitchhikers. (The latter scene offers a certain amount of tension as a character puts down a lit doobie and opens an oil can while in a moving vehicle, which seems like a disaster waiting to happen.) And the movie benefits from the lower budget, the fact that all the tracks seems to be set on sparsely populated fields (shot attractively by Mark Irwin, the first of several fruitful collaborations) helps the characters stand taller, heightening the drama.

And there is an antagonistic figure with the presence of a subtly sleazy and very good John Saxon, as the manipulative money man from the titular oil company who makes sure these characters know their place. While I have no interest in racing, I've always liked the aesthetics of racing uniforms, with their clean primary colours and bold logos, but I suppose if you have enough of those logos on you, they might have a greater hold on you than you'd like to admit, and this movie, while not exactly anticapitalist agitprop, is aware of that tension.

*I'd known Campbell from his role on Da Vinci's Inquest, which was a constant presence on TV as I was growing up even if I may never have watched any single episode all the way through. What I'm getting at is that I'm used to seeing him look kind of old, and that age suits him, and that he looks kind of weird here, possibly because of the clashing shapes of his face and his hair.

**Apparently the Finnish home video release claimed that Jodie Foster was in the movie. As far as I'm aware, there is no relation.

[adamwatchesmovies]

From Beyond (1986)

From Beyond is a backup/substitute movie. In tone, it’s similar to Re-Animator. The nauseating special effects will remind you of The Thing. The mix of bizarre eroticism and horror is akin to that of Hellraiser. There are many others you can compare it to but you get the idea. The thing is, you would never recommend this 1986 film by Stuart Gordon over any of those but if you’ve seen them so many times you’ve memorized all the best parts and you want something like them but not them, this is the movie for you.

Dr. Edward Pretorious (Ted Sorel) has developed the Resonator, a machine that allows humans to see the unseen creatures that live inside our space but outside of our realm. Unfortunately, the machine also allows them to see us. Pretorious is attacked and killed by a creature from this realm and his assistant, Dr. Crawford Tillinghast (Jeffrey Combs) is accused of his murder. His claims of invisible monsters make everyone think he’s crazy, except for Dr. Katherine McMichaels (Barbara Crampton) isn’t so sure.

The best thing about “From Beyond” is that it knows exactly what sort of movie it is. Writer/director Stuart Gordon (who wrote the screenplay with Brian Yuzna and Dennis Paoli) has no delusions about who is watching and what they want to see. He knows this isn’t some deep tale about the human condition. This is a sleazy, campy horror comedy. It grosses you out. It loses its mind. It doesn’t quite hold up logistically. None of that matters. There’s a lot of gore, plenty of nudity and kink, tasteless depictions of mental health, outlandish characters, and it’s all the better for it. Science runs amok, Eyeballs get sucked out of people’s heads, brains enlarge until they crack through skulls, and you get all sorts of phallic and uncomfortable-looking beasts sliming all over Barbara Crampton. From Beyond knows that you could probably tell this story with a straight face but that it would be all too easy to try, fail, and become the subject of ridicule. Instead, it beats the audience to the punch by making fun of itself - which is not the same as attempting to make a movie that’s “so bad it’s good” on purpose.

The most memorable aspect of this film are the terrific special effects. The primary monster goes through all sorts of transformations/shapes and it’s made extra discomfiting by this running theme of a quasi-masochistic obsession that develops in anyone exposed to the Resonator. It’s funny, and a bit unsettling too despite never being adequately explored. It feels like there’s a scene with Pretorious missing, the one extra point needed to make this more than a weird addition. There's the beginning of an idea present. What kind of horror might emerge from someone who can only get it up by inflicting pain, or from an overly stimulated part of the brain that draws us to danger even though logic says we should stay away?

The performances aren’t bad, but they’re not great either. It would’ve been nice if they were just the teensiest bit better. The story would’ve benefited either from holding onto its mystery for longer or finding a way to avoid the machine being turned on and off over and over. I don’t know if we necessarily need a remake, however. As-is, From Beyond looks great and you just know a new adaptation of the H.P. Lovecraft story just wouldn’t be the same in terms of tone or humor. What we need are other movies influenced by this one, or that push some aspects of it a little further. Thankfully, there are plenty.

It’s difficult to imagine someone calling From Beyond their favorite movie. Not because of the uncomfortable horror elements (I’m pretty sure one of the genre’s objectives is to make you uneasy). Because it doesn't do anything better than everybody else. This doesn’t mean it’s bad. It means this is a film that’s comfortable with holding onto its silver medal. There’s nothing wrong with that. One thing’s for sure; it’s memorable and has a certain undiscernable quality that’ll get you coming back to it. (March 4, 2022)

[mandalorewhore]

Hunter (formerly Hunter and Prey)

Cis-Female Reader Insert/ Din Djarin

Gif by @themandaloriandaily

Thank u to @cptnbvcks, @whenimaunicorn, and of course @no-droids for the inspiration and your superior writing skills, whenever i was stuck on a portion i would reread all of u guy’s works and feel inspired again

Rating: Explicit Content Warnings: Exhibitionism, Oral Sex, Rough Oral Sex, Breath Play, Deep Throating, Masturbation, Pining, Depictions Of Violence, Canon-Typical Violence Words: 11k AO3 LINK

Summary: AU where Din Djarin stays with the mercenary group owned by Ranzar Malk. Takes place a few years before Din is contracted for Grogu's bounty. You're a merc trying to make a name for yourself in the group when circumstances end up having you run away with Din. You become his hunting partner in order to support yourself but you cant help falling in love with him, even as trained killers chase you across the galaxy.

FULL FIC:

As a mercenary, you wouldn’t consider yourself an overly sensitive person. 

Maker knows you wouldn’t have lasted a week in the job if you couldn’t handle your emotions. Although you don’t consider yourself entirely void of empathy, having a sense of detachment is useful when your waking hours are spent committing crimes throughout the galaxy.

          So why the fuck are you so jealous right now?

          The obscene moans and harsh slapping that echoes throughout the hangar shouldn’t inspire a larger reaction than disgust as you dutifully continue to repair the blaster marks on one of the rogue-class starfighters. Luckily, it seems that most of your immediate associates have ran off into the deeper areas of the bay to toll your last mission.

Excluding three members, you guess.

          Thank the fucking Maker Migs isn’t here You think bitterly, willing the sparks to fly higher and machine rumble louder as you carefully manipulate your buffing laser on the metal surface. His snarky attitude certainly wouldn’t lessen your misery as you try to drown out the sounds of sex. Raunchy words hiss, bouncing off the metal walls, before finding your feet and slithering up your limbs with a foulness that chokes you. Controlling the hot spinning laser seems to stoke your inner seething more than it distracts you. 

“Mando! Stars, keep-fuck- keep doing that,” you hear Xi’an echoing. Fucking Xi’an. She knows what she’s doing to you. The cruel Twi’lek is far too observant to not know that she is practically comm-station broadcasting her sexual exploits to the entire crew, and with that sheer volume, might as well the entire galaxy. You truly wouldn’t care about her sex life if it wasn’t blatantly obvious that Xi’an was doing this to mock you. You know this is meant for your ears only, a repeat of every other time you’ve found yourself stuck with this chore.  

Even if she wasn’t directly rubbing the fact that she was fucking the Mandalorian in your face, you don’t doubt that she would find a way to taunt your nonexistent sex life just for the fun of it. Another salacious moan echoes in the bay causing you to cringe and slightly jerk the repair tool in frustration.

Fuck, why did it have to be Mando? Aren’t there enough people on this kriffing space station to warm her bed? And how is he being so quiet right now? After a second you remember that’s a stupid question, considering he is probably the quietest person you’ve ever met.

His reservation serves to intimidate your targets, all the while unintentionally stoking that warmth in your belly when you are near him. His all-encompassing presence when he enters a room strikes fear in the hearts of the opposition, meanwhile, you are secretly pressing your thighs together in desire, enjoying the spectacle?.

 You’ve found yourself reveling in the few jobs where Ran’s strategy has you in a decoy-role, weaponizing your feminine charm to lull your target into a false sense of power. The muscle composing of Burg and Mando make quick work of those men once they're thoroughly wrapped up in your wiles. Despite being placed together for jobs on several occasions you’ve never actually had a real conversation with him. 

You’re too scared to talk to him, a near-silent man covered head to toe in Beskar, but you make money killing people and robbing gangs every week. It would be funnier if that purple freak wasn’t so vile. You don’t even know how to casually approach him.. Nice job killing those guys while I manipulated them into trying to fuck me! I’m pretty good with a gun, too. Maker, it’s so ridiculous that you don’t even bother with trying to figure it out. Other fantasies are easier to picture, such as the thought of him strolling across the room to slot himself in-between your spread legs, directing that intensity into your willing, aching body.

  This infuriating crush is why you suppose that your envy wouldn’t be as biting if you caught some sort of noise from the man during these displays of exhibitionism. It would give you something to repeat in your mind while you stow away in the late hours of the night seeking your own release. You guess the inability to hear him is proof of how far Xi’an is pushing her volume. It’s all just to piss you off. 

“Uhg, how miserable..” You mutter to yourself, allowing a little moment of self-indulgent angst. Typically, you wouldn’t allow yourself to wallow like a petulant teen seeing as you’re a literal fucking criminal. 

I’m supposed to be a hardass, dammit you think, spirits low as repairs wrap up far too swiftly. You swear you’ll buff right through every layer in the ship if you keep procrastinating on finishing your job and wandering into the tucked away fresher for a shower. Wandering past….them.

Wherever they are choosing to fuck can’t be that far considering the slap of skin on skin is already fucking loud enough. The sounds seem to be emanating from a vent not too high up the wall, you deduce it connects to one of the bunk rooms not too far from the landing pad you’re working next to. It really is fucking loud with all these metal surfaces to echo off of. Making your way to your small bunk might cause you to go deaf and if the last thing you ever hear is Xi’an wailing as she rubs in the fact that you aren’t fucking Mando, well, you might just take this spinning laser to your head. Unfortunately, at this point, the exterior of the gunship couldn’t possibly get more pristine.

Sighing in defeat, you push up from your crouching position on the metal floor and start to assemble your tools for clean-up while the sounds of Twi’lek pleasure predictably pick up  in volume.

“Fuck, fuck-Ah I’m close, I-I’m going to-“ A literal howl pierces the air as your gut twists with discomfort. Fuck, this is so awkward... and like, weird? Does he consent to this? Does he like that we can hear it? Maker.. Pushing that thought out of your mind you start to jog to your goal of the darkened hall that leads to the station fresher, still so wrapped up in jealousy that you almost miss the rough modulated growl accompanying the scream.

 O-oh.

Oh shit. Was that Mando….Moaning?

The swirling jealousy is suddenly overtaken by a- stars- painful heat, so debilitating that you stumble and almost double over with an intensity that shoots through your groin. Okay well, now you feel like an actual pervert. This display of eroticism was engineered by Xi’an to make you uncomfortable, not so painfully turned on that it’s dizzying. You vaguely register a growing slickness between your legs as you hurry along the cold hallway, desperate to drench yourself in icy water and pretend to forget the sound of Mando moaning.

Shit, Maker, was he cumming? Was that what he sounds like when-- no stopstopnope. Don’t think about that. Your inner monologue is running amuck as you desperately try to block it out. This feels kinda gross, as if you’re a greasy peeping tom spying on Mando’s private endeavors even though this whole situation was shoved in your face to make you ache in countless, longing ways.

That deep growl repeats in your mind as you hum nonsensically under your breath, tapping your skull as if you can knock the sound out of your consciousness despite being well aware that you will go to your fucking grave with every detail. The top of your inner thighs is so embarrassingly slick that you have to resist waddling along the corridor to the showers. Just as you are about to round the first corner, one of the side bunker doors slides halfway opens with a whoosh. The smirking Twi’lek saunters out like the loth-cat who got the cream.

I suppose she did get the cream... Your split-second of sour mirth is further spoiled as Xi’an slides the rest of the door open revealing the gleam of silver beskar and red steel as the ever still Mandalorian adjusting his…thigh armor. You spy a large vent at the junction between wall and ceiling, confirming your earlier suspicions that she chose this location on purpose. Quickly glancing between Mando and Xi’an, your face uncontrollably floods with fire when her giggles pierce the air. You register his helmet tilting toward you right as Xi’an’s tongue slowly extends to liiiick her fingers, any curiosity at his gesture burning away in revulsion.

What does she get out of making everyone uncomfortable? You think to yourself, wanting to squirm away from the obscenity but resolving to hold your ground.

“Xi’an,” You greet the two shortly, hands linked behind your back. “Mando.”  He nods.

“Sorry,” Xi’an offers in a voice devoid of guilt. “Were we being too loud? I would never want to distract you from your… projects.” Her taunting smile curls so widely that it is almost disturbing. “What would the team do without our junior mechanic!”

Her cackle rings through the suddenly freezing hall as you spin on your heel and try to not look like you’re fleeing. Red is tinting the edges of your vision from her insult while tears threaten to flood your eyes out of embarrassment.

You need to get to that shower quickly.

    ----------------

  As the tepid shower rains down on your flushed body, you childishly wonder if you should run away. Or rather, if you could run away considering you technically don’t own any of the ships currently residing in the hangar bay. Although you technically have free reign to pilot most of the spaceships available, that freedom entirely applies to transportation between merc assignments . The thought of running away from your current acquaintances on a stolen ship is not appealing. In fact, the only crew member owning a personal vessel happens to be Mando, his Razer Crest gunship was often subject to your mechanic skills.

Mando, who always offered a genuine “Thank you.” after you’d spend hours touching up the vessel’s damage procured from the rare missions he lent its flight to. Mando, the person who you are presently trying to not think about while naked and still trembling with emotion.

Your sillier fantasies would sometimes involve stealing away in his gunship, hand pressed over his chest and leg thrown across his lower body like a romance novel while he skillfully pilots the ship away. Kriff, you felt like a soft girl whenever you run this scenario through your mind, so cliché and campy that you cringe at yourself. Thus, this particular dive into your consciousness was reserved for special moments such as lying in bed after a strenuous job, or after long days spent working through that junkyard of hangar bay trying to strong-arm your way into earning worth in the company. Private moments where you are finally comfortable letting your guard down to drift aimlessly throughout maladaptive daydreams.

Not so soft fantasies exist in your mind as well. Once again that modulated groan springs to the forefront of your mind causing your clit to throb softly. The conflicting feelings of embarrassment, rage, and painful arousal serves to create an energizing cocktail that goes straight to your pussy.

‘Fuck it,” You whisper breathily to yourself, “Nows as good a time as ever..” your fingers are trailing down your stomach as you say the words out loud. You adjust the water to be slightly warmer and sigh as the comfortable heat compliments your tickling fingers. If only you could replace your hands with the significantly larger leather-clad ones of a certain bounty hunter. The thought spikes your arousal as you lightly brush against your mound, choosing to tease yourself as images flash through your mind. The armor-clad Mandalorian gripping the back of your neck to you press facedown on the floor of his ship and take his cock. Or your legs spread wide across his hips, crushing your pussy on his groin while he’s seated in the pilot seat of his ship.

Your fingers dip slightly into your slick hole then drag up to your clit causing you to bite your free palm and hold back a moan. Eyelids heavy, you give in to the fantasies and begin to earnestly rub at your clit.

“Mmf Maker, f-fuck..”, you whine into your hand at the thought of him breaking your pussy open. You just know he fucks hard -- it’s a given that the crazy Twi’lek would be one for rougher sexual affairs. Someone who spends nearly every moment of life feeling nothing but the weight of fabric and beskar on their skin must be so fucking touch starved. You bet the opportunities he’s had to feel a tight cunt wrapped around his length would completely overwhelm his restraint. Muffled moans begin to fill the fresher as your fingers speed up between your legs, head hanging forward into the metal wall and water dripping off your brows.

Your eyes flutter shut as you pull your hand from your lips to tug at your hardened nipple, other hand still between your legs, imagining a dark visor being trained on your soaking wet, writhing body. The image sends a shooting pleasure up your spine as you spin around and press your back to the wall. Imagining his dark form watching you from the other side of the gathering steam, you open your thighs and spread your labia apart, sighing at the wet sound it makes. “Like what you see, hunter..?” you whisper into the empty room wishing he would find you in this shower.

Removing your fingers from your nipple you reach down to your crotch and greedily fill yourself with two fingers, pumping in and out as your other hand works at your swollen clit. The volume of your now unmuffled pleasure is likely overheard by anyone on this section of the station, but you can't find it in yourself to give a shit. If Xi’an can screech out her orgasms at any given opportunity to fuck with you then let them hear.

Let him hear.

Your imagination runs rampant at the notion that he could hunt down your gasps and take care of you himself, causing you to gasp louder. S-shit people can hear you, you just won't say his name out loud, it's fine, it's f-fine- The thought of him discovering you here is so hot that it's blinding, and suddenly your orgasm is rushing up to crush you entirely.

Your lower half is locked tight then suddenly your knees buckle and you’re cumming hard. Your choked gasps cutting through the steamy shower like blaster fire as you peak higher, uncontrollably calling out for the Mandalorian while white-hot pleasure wrings you dry. Let him hear you crying for him as you gush around your fingers, convulsing in bliss.

     In the shuddering aftershocks, you don’t hear the uncharacteristically loud padding of leather boots retreating away from the fresher door.

    ------------------------------------------

    You’re good at your job. You wouldn’t be doing it if you truly couldn’t handle the ordeal of being a mercenary. The whole point of the job is to take care of the dirty work, so those far disconnected wouldn’t have to dwell on their choices too hard. You’re used to not asking questions, motivated by credits and reputation alone. But in moments like these, a job going this awry… well, you just feel like pure shit. This hit was way too easy and far too filthy even for your career mostly consisting of professional filth. It was so glaringly obvious that even if your associate’s numbers were sliced in half, you would still sweep the ground with your winnings.

And what meager earnings they are.

The crew’s assignment this round was to hit a casino shipment just outside the outer rim planet of Cantonica. Due to the Razer Crest’s ability to fly under the radar of both Imperial and New republic records, Ran rudely allotted that Mando should allow his ship’s use for crew transport. You’re surprised he agreed at all, but perhaps the prospect of gain motivated him. His motivations are rarely clear to you. You’re guessing the price of a wealthy city’s supply sounded frankly too tempting for everyone involved; Ran was practically salivating over the drawing board for this particular errand. One would imagine a hull stacked to the top with credits and the finest luxuries for Canto Blight’s flashy tourists. It is Catonica’s main attraction after all.

But once the team’s resident crime droid, Zero, breached the cargo ship's record, the whole team is  informed that the cargo-freighter ship only contains “organics”.

Slaves.

          In the end, Migs remarked that there may still be something of worth to obtain from this job, and thus the plan morphed into an robbery on the surface once the cargo landed at its isolated dock. You reluctantly agreed to continue while Mando shortly nodded, both of you last to assent on this change in direction.

----------------   

Some hours later you’re crouching in a derelict warehouse while the lessening blaster fire showers spark like fireworks across your corneas. The fighting between your crew and the dockyard guards has almost died down at this point and you take the moment to catch your breath behind a large stack of cargo boxes.

          “Holy stars,” you gasp out, head falling between your knees as a wave of guilt consumes you momentarily. This job fucking blows. It’s so much easier robbing Imps and gangs because they are inherently bad fucking people. Robbing a group of slaves is the lowest point you think you have ever hit in your life. This is so wrong, this is so so wrong, they don’t even have ownership of their own lives and here your crew of fucking mercenaries swoops in with a vengeance over being cheated out of something that we didn’t own in the first place.

The last straw was when you witnessed a young bedraggled woman fearfully tossing the Twi’lek sibling, Qin, a small wooden necklace, the last possession from her life before slavery. You ended up turning tail and running deeper into the dock while Qin needlessly hissed at her just to enjoy her terror. You’re sure he’ll just toss the thing after the job is over.

“I never would’ve agreed to this…” You breathe out shakily to the empty air, hollowness swallowing your ability to compartmentalize your humanity from the nature of this work. You are still fighting the impulse to give in to that deep pit of sorrow when a large shadow makes you start and grip your blaster before relaxing in recognition at the chrome gleam.

          “Oh, hey, Mando,” Smiling tightly in his presence as he approaches silently, his helmet tilted down at your crouched form. His gaze makes you straighten up quickly, realizing that you probably shouldn’t look so stricken in front of your crime associate. Gotta look tough, can’t let people think you’re too soft for this work. Man, didn’t he help start the company? That thought motivates you further to stand up and face him head-on.

 “Not what we expected huh? Certainly no Canto luxury here..” you quietly murmur to his cheek groove.

If you looked directly where his eyes might be he would likely catch the sparkle of moisture threatening to pool at your bottom lashes.

          “No,” he breathes shortly through the modulator. “Not this.” Something in his voice inspires the bravery to glance at his T-shaped visor. Compared to his usual tone of speech he almost sounds …stricken right now. Distraught by this display of debauchery your crewmates have shown the slaves and few people manning the dock. It's not noticeable unless you’ve been around him enough to read him on some level but deep down you know he feels the same way. You try to recall him taking part in the violent takeover and realize he was barely present for the ordeal. Aside from the initial violence that broke out during landing he hardly did anything and was noticeably absent once the slaves were targeted. In the back of your mind, you pray that he won't be reprimanded for the lack of effort. The thought is ridiculous but you’re scared anyway.

Stars, this is all too much, your head is swirling with grief and stress as your heart rate picks up and suddenly you are so desperate for humanity, for empathy  that you lose your filter and-

          “Couldn’t stomach it either?” You blurt out to him, desperately hoping he understands and will not judge your deep sorrow for the enslaved people affected by this brutal takedown. Your mind catches up in panic half a second later when Mando doesn’t immediately respond. Did you just seek sensitivity from the Mandalorian? Fuck. Wait. That sounded like an insult too. Fuck um-

“Ah, um I-I mean. I just mean I don’t remember you firing on anyone helpless and I um- I didn’t either, I didn’t fire my blaster at all to be honest I-Fuck- I hid. They’re just slaves not Imps, Mando. The guards were taken out in seconds and-” You hiccup and stutter as tears gather at the edges of your eyes and begin to fall. You feel so overwhelmed with anxiety and guilt that all of a sudden you forgot about his open show of emotion.

Pull it together, don't do this in front of the Mandalorian. He is the very picture of a stoic, hardened mercenary and now you’re kriffing crying in front of him? It briefly registers that this is the first time you’ve ever spoken one on one with him, the both of you were almost always alone or with members of Ran’s party during time off. You internally curse your existence for thinking you could tearfully word vomit in front of a fucking bounty hunter and get comforted by him. Your knowledge of Mandalorians is limited, despite knowing one, yet you think the point of his whole creed about giving up your identity and giving yourself to war. Why the fuck did you cry in front of a damn Manodlorian? You’re just starting to unfreeze from your panic-stricken muscles to dab at your cheeks when a gloved hand swiftly brushes just below your eye to catch a tear.

          ‘This wouldn’t have happened if that Droid could do his job,” You glance up at him in shock at his biting tone juxtaposed with the gentle gesture, but he’s already turning away, voice rotating with his visor. “The worst is over now that the shooting stopped. Let’s round up the others.”

          He pauses with his back turned and you take that moment to compose yourself. You’ve only shed a few tears so your eyes can’t be that red.

“O-okay.. .” You reply, trying to inject your usual backbone into the tone of your response before moving to follow him around the piled boxes and regroup. Staring into your warped reflection in the back of his helmet you try to find the words to thank him but they get lost in the ghosts of today.

          Your mind is still swirling but the clouds of despair have mostly cleared away. You know you don’t have time to dwell on your short interaction yet your mind is fully absorbed in his every move, both present and past. Coming from anyone else his reaction would seem shitty and dismissive but coming from Mando... well, you're honestly shocked. Those two sentences were fairly long for someone usually so silent. And what about his reaction to the way this job has gone? Him brushing away your tears?

You are gazing down at your feet deep in thought when you suddenly bonk into the back of Mandos broad back, wacking your forehead on the base of his helmet.

          “Oww.” You groan lightly, rubbing your forehead and stepping to the right of his body, “Why’d you stop so sudde-'' It is then when you notice the muffled whimpering coming from the clearing in front of the both of you. A crimson pool of blood laps at the Mandalorian’s boots, its kiss staining the leather a deep black.

Now you are truly sickened, bile rising in your throat as a ragged gasp leaves your mouth.

          “Why…? How can you..”

          “Xi’an!”

          Your choked whisper leaves your lips at the same moment the Mandalorian fucking barks the Twi’leks name.

A crumpled form adjacent to her body is the source of the whimpering and bloodshed, their contorted limbs looking less than human as muscles strain against metal binders. Xi’an’s triangular blades are dripping in her grip as she spins on her toes like a dancer and flounces childishly in the direction of your frozen form. Tearing your gaze away from the shell of a human you meet her eyes with open hostility. She stops several yards away from you.

          ‘Aha! So good to see you two. Isn’t this job sooo disappointing?” She calls out to the two of you casually. When no one responds her body deflates as she twists her knee inward and clutches one arm peevishly. Performative. “What? No hello? I could’ve died today!” She cackles at the notion.

          Mando is a statue at your side. You can feel the rage radiate in waves off his body like a heater and you wonder what's going to happen if Xi’an pushes this further. Your heightened stress from moments before is vibrating throughout your nervous system, compelling you to step forward and speak up.

          “Xi’an… this-this is completely unnecessary. The only thing required to complete our hit was taking out guards! What the fuc- and they were clearly incapacitated by you before you decided to take your blade to their skin!” Okay, that came out a little shakier than intended, but it feels like a disservice to hide your revulsion for her actions with the victim lying right there. “You could’ve just hit em’ in the skull with a blaster shot if you needed them out of your way!”

          “Guards? Oh, I already took them out. This-” Xi’an punctuates the word a kick into the person’s stomach causing them to groan weakly, “Well, this is just an Organic as Zero would put it.” Organic? Fucking- You jump slightly and glance to your left when the Mandorlorian makes a shocked exclamation at her words. Maker, you’re so sickened you forgot he was with you.

“You mean a Slave? From the shipment?” He hisses the question through his teeth. You can’t see his face but you can hear the tension in his jaw, his body still a ridged form at your side. Xi’an pokes her tongue out and runs it lightly over the pointed edge of her teeth while she considers her response. She seems to be measuring her response to Mando with a little more care than she bothered with while speaking to you. You’re guessing that she cares far more about his perception of her than your personal attitude regarding the Twi’lek. Wouldn’t want to piss off her fuck buddy.

“Answer me!” He snaps when her response takes a millisecond too long. Your purple associate sighs, exasperated now.

“Yes a slave,” she hisses, drawing out the word in contempt, “Really I’m doing him a favor. From the looks of him, he was picked up on Tatooine. I doubt he even had a family to mourn him back on that shitty dustball of a planet-” Her eyes suddenly bulge as she clamps her mouth shut, gaze fixed on the armored man betraying a twinkle of... fear?

Slowly, you turn to him. The pit in your stomach is somehow weighing heavier than ever when you take in his body language. If you thought he was emanating white-hot rage before Xi’an’s response then you don’t even have words for how he holds himself now. You take a half step back in trepidation as the air around you seems to warp around the Mandalorian’s gravitational pull.

“A foundling?” His tone is unexpectedly quiet for someone who is manipulating the very atmosphere of this desert planet. Time seems to freeze. Shadows are ebbing at the edge of your vision and your head feels like it is going to pop in the pressure. You want to do something, anything, to relieve the pressing wall closing in on the three of you, to somehow end this interaction so that you can crawl in on yourself and bury the ghosts in the back of your mind. Fuck, your mouth is so dry, heart palpitating with a painful squeeze. Shit, fuck, what do you do? What did he mean by that question and why is Xi’an freaking out? You’re still fixated on the gleam of his helmet, rushing to find appropriate words when-

A flash of red explodes in your peripheral-vision, sparks seeming to fly 20 feet in the air. The words die in your throat in shock.

Did he? Did he shoot her? You barely saw him move yet as your mind races to catch up on this turn of events, you realize his blaster is drawn low on his hip, while the rest of him hasn't shifted an inch. The pressure cooker disappears in a sweeping wave of silence.

You swallow and turn awkwardly back to Xi’an. Oh.

He shot the slave.

Xi’an is just as stiff as you, her arms slightly raised as if she instinctively tried to ward off the blaster fire before realizing its trajectory. You are still processing his actions when a gloved hand wraps around your wrist and pulls you swiftly as he runs from the scene, tossing a flash bomb behind the both of you.

Without question, you run with him.

  ----------------

  “Hey!” Within minutes your chest is burning from keeping up with Mando’s relentless pace. You’re fit from your job but he's twice as big as you and probably more than twice as fast. You get the feeling that he's moving slower than usual so you aren’t left behind. Struggling to control your breathing, you attempt to make sense of the jumbled thoughts by wheezing out, “M-Mando what are we doing?”

“Running.”

“Okay, fucking obviously!”

“To the Crest.” He clarifies just as shortly. Okay. Okay, once you reach his ship maybe you’ll get more answers. Right now, both of your priorities align with getting the fuck away from Xi’an before her vision returns and she comes after the both of you. But you can’t yet push some of the recent events to the side.

“You shot him.” You mean to phrase it like a question but it comes out more accusatory than intended with how breathless you are. “The slave you shot-“

“I ended his suffering.”

Oh. That makes sense, even if it makes your chest contract in duress you recognize his killing the slave came from a place of empathy. What exactly did he say right before drawing his blaster, something about… foundlings? You don’t know the term exactly but contextually you can guess it means orphan or alone. Fuck, this is so bad. Just what are you going to tell everyone? He may not have directed his shot at the Twi’lek but he temporarily blinded her. That still counts as an attack on a member of the team. Your chest is burning unbearably now so you slap at Mando’s vambrance to signal your need for a break. He drags you gasping around a corner into the shadowy edge of the warehouse.

“Listen, hey, look at me.” His large hand reaches out to gently grip the side of your face, warm against your skin and smelling sharply of blaster residue. Looking into his visor you realize your cheeks are damp again as hysterical hiccups threaten to make themselves known. “We are going to run. You don’t have to come with me of course but I unintentionally put you in the position of being complicit by attacking Xi’an. That-that wasn’t the plan… but I was leaving the company anyway”

His chest suddenly deflates as he rids it of air.

You realize you were holding your breath at the same time as him as you gasp out, before rubbing at your cheeks and asking dumbly, “Y-you were… leaving the company? Is Ran pissed?”

Stupid question. Of course, he’d be pissed at losing the one Mandalorian in the group. Mandos' presence gave him cred. 

“Ran doesn’t know.”

“Ran doesn’t… what? When was this happening then?”

Mando’s visor turns away from your gaze and looks off into the middle distance. His gloved hand on your face is still gripping gently to lock you in place. “Today. That’s the only reason why I agreed to let him use the Crest for this job.”

He shakes his helmet slightly and turns back to your face, the metal covering his face becoming your main focal point while the room spins. You can't see his features, and never would, yet you feel as if you are looking directly into his eyes. Your body has impeccable timing when you feel your cheeks heat blushing.

However, your senses return in an instant when a familiar piercing howl echoes off the walls. The glove drops and he is gripping your shoulders,

“Can you run again?”

Adrenaline springs your limbs into action as you spin around, catching his wrist and pulling, roles reversed as you lead him in the direction of his ship.

Dust is billowing from below whenever your feet meet the ground. The steps sound like thunder in your ears as paranoia begins to worm its way into the forefront of your senses, every corner, every shadow, every blindspot could be hiding one of your former partners. Xi’an is an excellent assassin; time and time again her main skill has proven to be stealth, targets dropping dead expectedly. The Crest isn’t very far thankfully. It sits right on the back of the targeted freighter since Zero requires physical contact to hack the other ship systems for paths. Oooohh shit you forgot about the droid- 

“Mando, Zero’s in there.” You puff out shortly in between breaths. 

“Fuck that droid. I’ll take care of him, just back me up.” You both slide around a corner as he responds, bringing the two ships into your field of view. You are facing the rear end of the larger vessel, thankfully leaving the coast clear as far as you can tell. Mando’s helmet scans the area then nods, indicating the go-ahead with his fingers before running ahead of you. You follow him, casting fervent glances behind you for any signs of life. You reach the ship a millisecond after he does, his vambrance held high to lower the rear ramp. As the ramp begins to lower he grips your shoulders and spins you around dizzily.

“Stay right outside here. The second I enter the crest I’m dropping the Droid. I’ll call you once it’s safe.” You gulp quickly and nod in assent right before he leaps into the opening of the ship.

Seconds pass. 

Your nerves are plucking way more than they normally would.. You never particularly liked Zero, but the sudden turn of taking out your ex-allies is making you high strung and nervous. Zero’s voice cuts through the silence, making you jump.

“Mandolarian, you are back early. Were the prospects plentiful despite being Organics?”

“No.” You twitch when a shot echoes in the hull followed by the clash of metal on metal.

 The Mandalorian sharply calls your name springing you into action. You enter the ship immediately spying Zero’s body under the cockpit ladder, blaster wound still smoking with red-hot metal ringing the edges. Your eyes linger a little on the droid’s body, slightly leery at the death of someone who was your backup only hours ago, then you sigh and duck to get a handle on under his shoulders, dragging him to toss out the open entryway. 

Grunting with effort you direct your voice at the cockpit, “Tossing the droid! Take off when read- Shit.”

One of the droid's hip joints gets stuck on a portion of the hull wall, preventing you from moving his corpse. Something wizzes above you at the exact moment you duck down to adjust the body, right where the back of your head was a second ago. One of Xi’an’s triangle blades ricochets off the wall and slides across the floor, stopping right under your nose. Oh f-

“Fuck! Fly, fly, she's here Mando!” You lurch to the floor as the thrusters kick in, twisting your head to try and get eyes on the clearing. Through the rapidly closing ramp, you see a flash of purple skin, but before you have time to react the Crest door snaps shut. Heart thudding at what feels like a million beats per second, you try to get your bearings on the floor. Twisting sideways you suddenly find yourself face to face with Zero’s corpse, revulsion whipping through you like lightning as you scramble backward on your hands and feet.

    You can’t do this right now. 

    The last thing you want is to seem weak and needy in front of the man who just selflessly saved your life, for reasons still unknown, but you can’t do this right now. A creature of habit, you fold your neck between your legs, the same reaction you had to the violence on Cantonica. A minute, you just need a minute, a minute and then this horrible drone will go away, and you can deal with this, you’re a fucking mercenary…  the blackness swarming at the edges of your sight overtakes you all at once and you slide limply to the floor.

  ------------------------------------------

  You aren’t sure how much time has passed once you rouse. At your request, Mando tosses Zero's body before kicking into hyperdrive right about 120,000 feet in the air. You stare at its flight path until the speck disappears in the taupe shithole that is Cantonica. Feeling shaky as your adrenaline finally dips, you decide that the Crest could do with a once over before the long journey. 

After performing a quick analysis on the Crests systems it’s determined that the two of you are lucky this hunk of metal can fly. Hyperdrive operating at 67% capacity, weak communication signal if it even works half the time, plus more damage than you can currently process. If there weren’t five million different stressors weighing on you, your mechanic brain would probably explode at the current state of Mando’s ship. He probably should’ve taken it to you, or anyone else handy with tools if he wanted it to be in proper form for departure, but it makes sense that he didn’t want to draw too much attention. Hopefully, his pilot skills will compensate for the Crest’s sorry state. 

 To be fair, the whole blow-up-your-coworker-and-run-for-your-life aspect didn’t seem to be in Mando’s original plan. 

“So… where are we going?” You’re on the floor in the cockpit, back facing the passenger chair while the Mandalorian is seated pilot. After crawling under the console for a while you couldn’t bother to lift your aching muscles on the chair, resigning to scoot on your butt over to the closest object that could support you. As a result, you end up craning your neck to look up at him, his back straight in the chair. 

“My original plan was to head to Nevarro to take on a few quarries. I’m still with the guild and Karga doesn’t give a shit whether I’m running with Ran or going in alone.” You bite your lip anxiously. Oh yeah, you kinda forgot your presence threw wrench in his plan. He notices and tilts the helmet sideways at you, “You’re not in the way. I’m not concerned about you joining me, someone of your skillset is helpful to have around. I’ll introduce you to Karga so you can get on your feet.”

The compliment lifts your spirits enough to make you playful, poking at his boot with your toe, “Gee, glad I’m useful enough to keep around. All I have is my blaster and the clothes on my back, so if you drop me, I’d be  pretty fucked.” 

You giggle quietly but you know it’s the truth. All of your possessions are back on the space station, but you didn’t own too many personal artifacts, aside from some clothes and weapons. The only thing of use would’ve been your credits. You worry again at the realization, dipping your head before continuing to speak,

“Shit Mando, I don’t have any money on me. It was all back in my bunk, I don’t know how I’ll help pay for things around here unless Karga decides I can take on a quarry right away. Even then I’ll have to bring it back before I ever have a lick to my name.”

“You can make it back. I’ll split the profit from jobs that you assist me on. Cut depends on how useful you are and once you prove yourself, Karga will give you the decent pucks.” He swivels the chair and faces you, knees slightly spread as he leans forward in the chair, “Deal?”

You swallow and nod your head, mind blanking at how your head is level with the bend in his hips. You don’t think he's trying to come across as suggestive but the effect, intentional or not, invites a flutter of desire in your tummy. The Mandalorian leans back on his leather backing and sighs, the sound gentle despite the modulator warping his natural tone,

“You aren’t in my way. I swear it. If I had more time before leaving I would’ve asked you to join me anyway, you're good with your hands and always had more… compassion? Than anyone else in the company. I admire that quality.” That makes you straighten back up to meet his visor. He sounds nearly shy.

“O-oh…” You never even thought he noticed you aside from when you touched up the Razor Crest. The compliment sends warmth throughout your body, as languid as sex pollen in the near feverish effect. You don’t know how to respond at all, you’re feeling disjointed, like you may reveal too much if you don't change the subject soon. You wish you could be snappier but you’re exhausted. Maybe try for a joke?

“I g-guess you value girls good with their hands, huh. H-haha?”

Silence. Hm. 

That was the absolute worst thing you could’ve come up with. 

It didn’t meet even a single one of your simple ass goals, which entail the following:

Thank him.

Change the subject.

Not reveal how much his words make you want him to rail you.

    Wow, what the fuck- kill me. He hasn’t moved an inch, much less reacted to your shitty joke. The positioning of your bodies that you found so hot ten seconds prior is now a place you’d try anything to escape from. It’s almost comical how his height advantage serves to emphasize the disappointment in the small room. He hasn’t responded so you’re guessing he won’t bother to try. Heavy silence suffocates you to the point of desperation, you need to fill it with something right now or you swear you’ll die. 

    “I-I jus-t mean like- Well you had certain- ah- habits, you’d adhere to in your free time. Li-like um, I mean you didn’t hide much. Kinda obvious if you- listen, uh, I didn’t mean t-to say that I-I was joking around-”

“Get to the point.”

“I-” Your tummy fills with heat at his command. “Umm..” You wipe your hands on your thighs and glance down from his voice. The hours of on and off adrenaline must be majorly messing with your head. It’s kinda weird that you want him this badly after everything that went down today. Wasn’t your most recent concern something about avoiding death at the hands of a bitch you hate most in the galaxy? To be honest you can’t recall. 

The proximity of his groin is suddenly at the forefront of your mind. Again.

He slowly tilts his helmet to look at you, arms bending to settle in a relaxed position on the armrests. You are extremely aware of how you’re blatantly staring at him but your mind is slow to come up with a valid response, blankness written in the reflection on his visor. His position on the chair is mountainous, looming over your body in a way that boxes you in between the passenger seat and the Crest console. You feel like a prey animal... In a sexy way? Maybe?

Although, when he leans back into his seat, helmet still trained on your face, you are unsure if you’re actually pissing him off or not.

“Say what you mean.” 

Okay, the sexy is mixing a little with anxiety. 

“Ah- Um well, I just mean like. It’s not like you hid it from me- everyone else too. In the company. Ran’s company? ‘Cause, I- We… always overheard you and Xi’a- Her…” Fuck, your mouth is so dry that last part came out like a squeak. “I’m sorry, I’m rambling again um, I kinda thought you were doing it on purpose. With Xi’an. Making me hear when you’d...fuck her.” Cheeks blazing, you duck your head back down, which doesn’t help at all since you’re just face to face with his crotch once more. 

    “You say ‘always’...” Mando’s inflection is lost somewhere between statement and question, his tone confusing enough that you end up lifting your head from its bowed position below him. 

“Y-yes?”

“As in this was a common position you found yourself in? Did you overhear me multiple times?” Now he poses not one but two questions for you, neither of which you feel brave enough to answer steadily. You can’t deflect further at this point so you answer him with a sigh.

“No, I only heard you once. Xi’an always wanted me to hear her though. It was gross.” Mortified, you gather your legs under your body to stand up from the floor. You think the hyperdrive issue is fixed well enough to hold until Nevarro. When your hand reaches for the edge of the armrest to pull yourself up it is abruptly enveloped in warm leather. Half crouched, your arm jerks back a little in surprise at his touch. 

“I wasn’t asking about myself specifically. And I wouldn’t force you to participate in her games, had I known.”

Maker strike my ass down. Can humans die from embarrassment? You wish it were possible if it got you out of this conversation. He’s correct, he didn’t specify whether you had heard his moaning. If you weren’t nursing these stupid feelings for Mando you never would’ve given away the fact that you memorized every tantalizing second of what you overheard. Not only is this embarrassing, but you don’t want him to think you’re a sicko who wanted to eavesdrop in the first place. The clarification about his awareness of Xi'an's timing is comforting but not enough to erase what you already admitted to him. You somehow feel sweaty and bone-dry at the same time, a flush spreading over your face.

“I’m so sorry.”

“I heard you too.”

You both speak at the same second, and a beat passes before either of you process what the other said. He- what? What is he talking about? Are we having two totally different conversations right now? When did you ever fuck someone on that space station anyway… unless he means… in the fresher…

This time he is the one who breaks the silence, “You’re sorry for… overhearing me?” 

“Y-yes, I really, really, don’t want you to think I’m a creep or anything. Anything I heard was involuntary, I swear. Xi’an w-wanted to make me… Um…” You trail off shyly, sitting down again. His hand is still over yours.

“Get to the point.” His voice is filled with heat now, so low and compelling that you’d tell him anything just to keep it that way. You whisper your response, lifting your eyes to his dark visor wishing you could meet his gaze.

“She wanted to make me jealous. Over you.”

“Mm… You wanted me instead?”

“Maker, yes.”

The climate between you and the Mandalorian made a 180. Nerves dissolving like honey in tea, all at once being taken over by a hum of sexual tension while his fingers caress a warm pattern over your knuckles. Exhilaration builds within you, though in the back of your mind you are calculating the possible motives behind his advance. 

You know sometimes, after a particularly rough day, people are compelled to relieve their pent-up stress through intimacy. There’s a reason why the market of sex work thrives under wartime, terror existing constantly in a fighter’s life must be paired with the softer, inner-most comforts of knowing another living being, or they’d go mad with sorrow. Brothels made a lot of money during the last stages of the Empire’s rule from both Imps, Rebels, and neutral parties alike.

It’s not out of the ordinary for you to seek each other out right now, yet can’t help but dream that this might mean more. 

The Mandalorian’s hand currently encasing yours flips your wrist to trace the lines of your palm. Sighing you tilt your head to the side, a curtain of hair cascading across your features. His free hand reaches out to brush the strands away before he gently grips your jaw, hand large enough to press his thumb on the front of your chin while his fingers wrap lightly under your ear. 

“I heard you too, pretty girl. You called out for me in the fresher… just what were you doing in there? Describe it- please.” He speaks with such allure that you break under his voice, pressing your cheek to his palm.

    “I-I thought of you watching me while I touched my pussy. I was so wet thinking about how I want you to feel me after being under all your armor, Stars, even the wind can’t touch you Mando. I thought about how you must crave the feeling of something so soft… can I show you how soft I am?” Your free hand raises to rest gently on his knee, fingertips hesitating at the edge of his thigh piece. He is still fully suited for battle, explosives strapped to one boot and rifle across his shoulders. 

You wish so badly to help him unwind, you would never disrespect him by trying to remove his armor, but you want to help him move past the experience that was Cantonica. Mando continues to stare at you for several tense seconds before melting into your touch.

“H-helmet stays on.” He breathes out shakily, a slight tremor running through his legs as your fingers lightly explore the fabric under the edge of the piece of metal. “But the rest… the rest can come off.” 

He’s already moving to undo the magnetic connectors holding his cuirass in place so you scramble to follow his movements. The rust-colored armor on his body has complex enough attachments that you don’t really know where to begin. Your hands clamber around, mostly following his deft movements. Slowly a man of flesh and blood is revealed, and as his impenetrable exterior melts away you find the true shape of him. 

The armor serves to add a few inches of bulk on his features, enhanced proportions making out a dramatic silhouette designed to be spotted from miles away. Without it his body is still so powerful, built hard as stone and broad, hard angles melding enticingly with a hidden softness. Not hidden- you realize -it compliments him completely. The pieces fall away and you’re left with the unexplored bareness of him. He is human and warm, evidence of this betrayed in rare moments where his hands travel lightly up your arms while you work at his pauldrons, brushing through your hair here and there before finally returning to your jaw to hover in front of your lips. 

“Off.” He instructs shortly, brushing the seam of his thumb over your bottom lip. Your mouth falls open to explore him with your tongue, tasting salt, blaster residue, and a hint of the heat he holds in his body. Satisfied, you bite down gently on the glove ridge, watching as he pulls off the leather encasing his hand and drinking in the sight of golden skin as it is revealed to you inch by inch. All you’ve seen of him is one bare hand and somehow it is the sexiest thing you’ve ever laid your eyes on. Flames lick your body, spreading from your white-hot core, energy gathering with such impassioned motions that at any second now it will burst from your skin, a reaction so immense that you could birth another galaxy.

You want to taste his skin too.

“Fuck baby-” You take his middle finger down to the knuckle, emboldened by his slurred reaction, noises startling to babble out of the bounty hunter as his stoicism falls apart under your tongue. Humming around the digit, you start to bob your head gently, eyes locked on his impassive visor while filthy, filtered noises drift through the beskar. It’s like there is no barrier at all between you, the air thrumming with a longing so great that you feel one with the man crumbling before you. If you're not careful you will fall with him. 

“Mando, Plea-se,” You stutter around him, voice shaking more than intended. “I want to f-feel more of you, let me touch you, please-” You squawk, mouth empty when he suddenly rips off the other glove, tossing it behind him before reaching down his torso to pull the hem of his trousers south. You gulp in trepidation, unable to tear your eyes away as enticing dark hair displays itself, leading to the base of his cock. He pauses, but you’re so caught up in discovering him that you don’t notice the tonal shift.

“Before I show you this-” dark words enunciated by palming his cock through the fabric, “I need to know where to put it.” 

What kind of question is that? You’re honestly bewildered, mind blank before you realize that the options are overwhelming. In his own way, he is asking you to verbalize consent, which is very much appreciated. You want him in your pussy, to work his way deep in your body and in turn, discover just how human you are... yet… You feel oddly unprepared. It’s not that you don't think you can take him, in fact you can't recall ever being this wet in your life. It’s just… after today… you want to help him unwind but you’re still not fully there. You still want to please him, but you’re not ready to let him know you that way, not until you come back to yourself. 

So in that case…

“I want you in my mouth, hunter.” 

Mando growls then grabs your wrist, guiding it over the edge of fabric and onto his throbbing length. He shudders while you process the feeling of him. He is thick, the width of his cock so wide that your middle finger and thumb are straining to meet each other. You release him from his pants then try to pull at the hem to wiggle them down his thighs. He obliges and lifts his hips so that you can reveal more delicious olive skin, but he makes no move to assist you with his hands. You get the feeling that he is drinking in your efforts to touch him, the sensation of your jerky movements giving away how much you want him. 

You kiss and nibble at every possible moment, one hand drifting lightly over the length of him, twirling at the base dusted with short, dark hairs, cupping his balls then moving back up, your mouth traveling to meet your fingers. Hissing, his hand flashes up to meet the back of your head, fingers tangling in strands to tug tightly on your scalp. With a light moan, you tongue along the side of him, teasing hot air more than actually licking him. 

“Look at me- fuck - pretty thing, s-so fucking willing for me, I want to see you take my cock as far as you can, s-show me how much you can handle-” He pulls harder at your hair, dragging you roughly enough to control your neck, back up from where you were sucking at his hip to the head of his dick. “Are you going to show me yourself before or after I gag you on it?”

Fuck, you never realized how tantalizing submitting to another person could be, not until that came out of his mouth, rough enough to clip through the modulator. You elect to show him what you can handle. Leaning forward to meet the swollen tip, you part your plush lips and kiss at the drop of precum gathered there, before relaxing your jaw to take him halfway. He groans and nearly doubles over at the sudden sensation, holding you there for a second before you draw back up to spread your saliva more thoroughly. Lips rewet, you sink back down on him, gliding smoothly as you pull his cock deep within your mouth, drinking in his breathy groans.

“Maker, yes … that’s it, fuck-” You attempt to sink even further down on the Mandalorian’s impressive length, but stop short a few inches from his base, blunt head pressing in your throat. “-so good, s-so good for me baby, you look perfect like this.”

He’s so far back inside you that you can’t access your vocal cords to produce any noise at all, otherwise you’d be whining at his praise. Your hands are free to assist you at any time, you could circumvent his daunting length if you wanted help. But you want to impress him. Besides, your palms are warm on his torso, traveling under his shirt to feel the ropes of muscle there. You don’t want to remove them. 

You surface to the tip, taking a deep breath in preparation before ducking to take him as deep as you can manage. He watches you, entranced at the sight of a face so lovingly strained to please him. Your gag reflex spasms but you will it away, determined to fully engulf his cock at least once even if you find you’re unable to handle more. The noises rising from your throat are brutal and raw as you choke around him, his helmet blurring when tears fill your eyes. You bob a little then almost give up when the urge to retreat floods your senses but then he starts talking again- so filthy that you can’t stop yet.

“You’re trying so fucking hard, fuck, I love seeing you wrapped around my cock, Maker, you feel so fucking good, I can’t imagine how your little pussy must feel, you’re so warm, so, fu-fuck, tight…” The stream of filth serves as your motivation to bob for as long as possible on his length, throat stretched obscenely around him. You realize hazily that there are tears streaming from your eyes, but the urge to pull off is lost in dizziness as the oxygen in your lungs depletes. You keep going and going, your high at its peak as you recognize that your body is starting to fade in black. You should pull off and breathe, one quick breath is all you need, but the way he’s filling you is more addicting than the purest Spice. He notices when you start to slump into his lap and pulls you up gasping for air. 

Nearly fainting never felt so good.

“Shit, are you alright?” You nod and rest your cheek on his thigh, face turned on its side to meet his visor as he spins little circles in your vision. A soothing hand brushes against your cheekbone, tracing a gentle pattern on its height. “You were doing so good for me baby. No need to hurt yourself.” Mando’s voice is still breathless, offering you tenderness through a cloud of stimuli.

“I’m okay- I’m… I just need to catch m-my breath.” You’re still heaving unevenly but you want him so bad, you want him to finish for you, your wants translating into weak pawing at his dick trying to give him more sensation. He catches your wrist with an airy laugh and guides your uncoordinated movements to better stroke him. The sound fills you with light.

“Pretty thing, I know you want me. Try to not die on my dick before I’ve had the chance to feel your cunt.” His hand leaves yours on his length and reaches over your ass to cup the apex of your thighs through your pants. You jerk up and almost crack the crown of your head open on the chin of his beskar but his other palm is pressed between your shoulder blades, keeping you bent over in his lap. A garbled noise tears from you when his index and ring finger spread on either side of your outer lips, allowing his middle finger space to travel up and down your seam, so wet that you can feel the slickness gathering through two layers of fabric onto the tip of his finger.

“Ah, Fuck! Mando, I-I- wait please, please, wait-” He draws his hand up away from your wet center, reaching your asscheek before you yelp and snatch his forearm to stop him from retreating farther. “I s-still wanna, I wanna make you come. You first, before-before me.”

“Baby, you’re… fuck okay. Can I still touch you?” Mando caresses your hip at the fold where it meets your thigh. 

“Later, let me d-do this, please.” He allows you to lift his arm from your spine and rest it on the crown of your head as you move forward and try to meet his cock again. Pulling his thighs to the edge of the chair, you settle back on your knees and stroking him one-handed while he hums low in his throat. You wrap your lips around the swollen head, sucking and swirling your tongue before taking him deeper, this time using a palm to stroke the last few inches instead of opening your throat. Starting up a rhythm of bopping and stroking his velvety length that pulls incredible noises out of the Mandalorian, each one going straight to your swollen clit. 

Coming up for air you start to jerk him off faster with your slick hand, meeting the T of his visor with your heated gaze, hoping that you are finding his eyes. He must enjoy the sight of you jerking him off because his moans start to tighten, hips thrusting into your palm. 

“K-keep fucking doing that, good girl, fuck I-I’m close, where-where do you want it, baby?” You respond by settling low near his thighs, putting his cock above you with your tongue sticking out, wetting the tip while your wrist moves faster. Somehow he’s harder than ever and-

Mando curses through his teeth as his cock convulses, warm spurts of cum painting your tongue, cheeks, and nose bridge, rivers of him flowing down your chin and dribbling on the swell of your chest. He grips the back of your head tight enough to hurt, then rips one hand down to stroke himself, smearing the mess across your features. 

The fingers on your scalp loosen then graciously begin rubbing at the base of your neck to soothe the soreness on your head. One of your eyelids is sealed shut due to a rope of his cum crossing from nose to eyebrow, the other eye unfocused, hazy with pleasure as you listen to him come down from his peak. A low noise rises from your throat as he massages your scalp, feeling tingly all over as blood flows back to the area.

“T-Thank you… that was great, I-“ he breaks off when you start to gather his cum off your skin, licking it off your fingers while studying his visor through your lashes. “Hey, let me…” 

He surprises you by wiping at your face with his cape, still hanging off the arm of the pilot chair from when you detached it. You giggle, “Is there a way to wash that on here? I can’t even tell if that hole in the wall includes a shower.” 

“There’s enough to work with.” 

You laugh louder at that, “That’s encouraging. I hope there’s ‘enough to work with’ so that I don’t meet Karga covered in cum.” Pausing to consider your current position, you add, “Actually, that might help my case.” 

Face wiped mostly clean, you're able to open both eyes now, taking in his posture. A jolt shoots through you when you realize he’s holding himself differently for some reason, he looks almost predatory but maybe that’s just the effect of Beskar’s harsh angles... Nope, he’s leaning forward now, caging you in again.  

“You want to look sexy for Karga?” Gulping, you try to figure out the best response but he continues before your slow-ass mind can catch up, “You’re right, that might help you get better pucks. But I don’t know if I want my hunting partner to be introduced that way. I still need to return the favor…” 

He lifts your body with ease, pulling you sideways onto his lap. Mando’s warm hand slides along the bend in your knee, slow and sensual on your body. He caresses you aimlessly, relaxed in the afterglow of cumming so hard. You’re still tightly wound, energy balled in your body as his movements serve to wind you up even more. But he’s not moving any faster so you relax into his broad chest, enjoying the feeling of his bare skin. 

Time blurs with your senses. His touch pulls you to a place right out of your daydreams, where everything is draped in velveteen and silk. You’ve honestly forgotten his original goal in the first place, and as his arm begins to drag on its path, it seems like he has too. The stroking on your arm has lowered your arousal to a simmer, leaving you content to stay laying across his lap, the glow of hyperspace streaking over your bodies. All at once, you realize he’s no longer moving over your body, his chest rising and falling deeply against your shoulder. 

He’s asleep. Surprise registers sleepily somewhere in your exhausted mind, the realization behind layers of warm fuzz. Didn’t even think he slept. 

There’s a full day of travel until you reach Nevarro. Snuggling closer into the warm crook of his neck to resolve to live in this dream for as long as possible. Who knows what tomorrow will bring.

[notmuchtoconceal]

I did not actively think about the piece you had me edit today while out hiking with Jesse. However, when back home, I was browsing Tumblr and once again thinking “maybe it’s mentally unhealthy to be following so many of these blogs that do nothing but re/post pictures of attractive, fit men” and suddenly it came to me a connection with the “jockbait” in your story, the mention of his seeming unattainability, the way he draws the protagonist in and leads to his abduction and corruption, the way the jock is both real and unreal: unreal in that his seduction of the protagonist is faked, unreal in that his entire above-ground personality is a ruse to get others to let their guard down by exploiting their preconceptions and desires, but real beneath the surface, a real person made to suffer in particular ways, ways that he also is made to enjoy through the exploitation of his own limbic system and psychological programming.

Beneath the surface lies horror, but also a deeper level of eroticism. Eros and thanatos, normally, but here the suffering is a different expression of life: To feel pain is to reaffirm one’s state as a living being. I suppose it depends on what exactly is happening in the other room. There is a melding of animal and machine, both for the former in the sense that Homo sapiens is a species of animal, and also that these captured men are degraded to the level of merely their bodies, bound to an intense and immediate reward/punishment system that, as mentioned, exploits their limbic system. Their senses are employed, overstimulated, deprived. No time is left to think, to rationalize, to vocalize in an intelligible manner.

In sum, I think the piece is a reflection of the tension between ego and shadow. There’s surface appearance (with its reflections on placement in the social order, as well as the hint of trouble therein), then there is the repressed reality underground, full of that which is both unpleasant (pain, industrial smells), pleasurable (genital stimulation), and both (dirty jockstraps).

bro, this story i'm having @flyoverkushtaka rewrite sounds hot af. maybe i should repost the original in anticipation of the revised version, because, um, the craft of writing means so much to me?

bro, i say shit like most of the smut on tumblr is too pathological to enjoy, and the only thing worth eroticizing is the direct achievement of gnosis through self-knowledge -- but also, um, "boyfriend stuff" in this context was literally just me calling lil bro a stupid faggot on cam and flexing for an hour/hour and a half until i eventually caved and remembered how much i cherish and adore the lil dumbass?

didn't even remember it was valentine's until today. guess lil bro and i each independently came to the unspoken conclusion that we didn't need to indulge in a fake holiday designed to exploit your feelings of loneliness and obligation to make you buy glittery cardstock and tissue-wrapped poison.

(not that you should feel less, of course -- if you had been moved by the receipt of such a gift. the intentions of your loved ones matter, as do your reciprocal feelings of affection. you simply oughtn't feel less for not participating in the corporate harvest rite if you don't place a value on such things. the coercion of the custom is real and your right to choose paramount.)

anyway, don't let other people's bad taste regulate your sex life. there are better ways to turn on your partner with ostentatious displays, like showing off what a good boy he is to strangers on the internet.

[sophi-s]

College rant

The following post contains a lot of swear words and is the product of my summer session suffering. You've been warned.

Okay, so I am goddamn pissed and I need to spill the bucket of bile that has been gathering inside of me and festering for days now.

To give a little background, I will say that I have those two professors in my college and they suck.

One is a woman well past her retirement age who decided to stay anyway, because why the fuck not, and make us poor students miserable for shits and giggles. Taking notes on her lectures is almost impossible, she's such a bore when she talks and there's something so ominous about her.. Every time someone does something wrong you can just feel the rage emanating from this seemingly calm person as she proceeds to correct your literature interpretation to her own specific taste, all the while saying that she's "horrified and has no idea how we're going to pass the exam". Way to go, gurl, just kill the motivation straight away, why don't you.

Also, the subject of her lectures is definitely not in my taste. I don't want to judge, but old Croatian literature is.. weird. It keeps talking about romances, stereotypically beautiful women and eroticism (some of you may have an idea how bloody awkward I feel discussing these things with people I know only through computer, I feel wrong talking about it with anyone tbh). I don't like it, I don't get it and my professor doesn't give two shits about it. Instead, she decided to make my exam difficult by constantly interrupting me and being an ass in general (I failed because of that >:[).

My poetry professor on the other hand just.. won't accept the work I did FOUR times already and he says there's still something wrong with it but what? Haha, go figure out on your own and if you can't then sorry, I take that as your resignation. Like, what the fuck dude??? Just be helpful for once this year!

On top of all that and my Croatian (3) and Latin (1) exams (thankfully these went good), I had to pass THREE spoken exams (my nemesis) and failed every single one of them. I'm losing my fucking mind over here, why the hell can't I just write this stupid shit and be done with it, I can't SPEAK to people, I cannot memorize all that crap! I'm abysmal! What do they think I am, a machine that can just absorb the tonnes of information that I won't even make use of in my life?! Who tf, is eloquence???? I haven't met her!!

I'm very, very very skeptical about the whole thing, it may turn out I'll get kicked out and staying positive is extremely difficult, I just want to give up only thinking about having to talk with that sodding woman. I think it's time to get a job maybe, I don't know. I'll work in some cheap shop or something, and when we finally move house I'm gonna babysit my nieces and help my younger brother with a snake he plans on buying. If this jackass of a man doesn't accept my FIFTH attempt, I'm fucking quitting and I'm not even joking. I'm going to make a sad Bloodborne comic because I can and for no other reason. I haven't drawn in ages and right now I need to focus on something different because if I don't I'm going to go insane.

In conclusion? FUCK THAT, I'm off to destroy something, maybe play Darksiders again just to kick Abaddon's arse cuz I like this bossfight and for some reason I like to torture myself with Apocalyptic difficulty. I hope you people are having a better time than I am. Sophia out. Peace!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

keep her in your pocket

For @roses-and-absinthe​ as requested.

Warnings: noncon/dubcon elements (intercourse, slavery)

This is dark!Steve Rogers and dark!Bucky Barnes x nonhuman!Reader and explicit. 18+ only.

Summary: Reader is a nonhuman brought to earth by traffickers and auctioned off to the dystopian community of men seeking to augment biological issues of infertility.

Note: Okay, so I finished this one shot on a whim because I wrote the first half a while back but it’s my first fic about a nonhuman reader so hopefully you enjoy it. Leave some feedback, like and reblog if you can <3

This was not a good sign. After so long in the cells, you knew your release was not truly freedom. The ship had stilled, the hum of the motors no longer droned in your head, the air was stifling. The captain and his greasy raiders walked the line of bars and unlocked each door one by one. Whispers; nervous, fearful, naively excited, filled the air. 

You crossed your arms and kept to the back of your cell. You had lost count of the time long ago. You barely bothered at all to think of it. What were you waiting for but your next jailer? You knew the insignia better than most. You had been warned most of your life to avoid it. Traders of the flesh.

You were foolish. You knew that now. You blamed yourself, not those immoral hoarders of coin. You should never have believed the blue-skinned harlot. You should’ve listened to your mother’s voice in the back of your head. No point in dwelling on it now.

When your door clicked and fell open, you stared at the man with the long face. Several other raiders waited outside, prisoners cuffed to a single chain led by the one with the eye patch. You were yanked out of the cell and your hands cuffed along with the others. You kept your chin up as you followed the train of merchandise.

The raiders kept pace with the prisoners, hands on weapons in case of resistance. It was laughable. You were half-starved and sleep-deprived. You hadn’t seen natural light in so long that the glowing tubes along the walls gave you a headache. You squinted and huffed. You shuffled along with the rest, the raiders’ voices shushing those who dared to speak.

The hull of the ship opened and you were led down the steep stairs into the unnatural sunlight. It was much harsher than that of your planet. Hot and unyielding. Waves of smokey heat rose from the ground and geometric buildings loomed over you like giants. There windows were black but glared down as they reflected the searing yellow rays from above.

The sun seared your bare arms as you emerged. Your tattered dress dragged around your sandals and the chain clinked in time with your steps. A crowd watched the motley line of prisoners as you were led to a platform. 

Several men in black stood at the head of the horde; the elite. Those who could afford such wares. The rest were the commoners who delighted in the suffering of those few lower than them. You noticed that most of them were male, or at least, looked to be. 

They looked like your people but less colourful. Their skin ranged the spectrum of beiges, tans, and browns. Your own people were more rosy; from the whitest pinks to the deepest reds. Your own skin was an eastern hue, a warm magenta resilient to the heat.

You were stopped at the end of the platform and the captain began his spiel. At the last auction, you had been spared a bid. There had been twice as many prisoners then. You kept your eyes above the crowd as you listened. The woman beside you wept; her odd antennae drooped along her forehead.

They began at the other end of the line. You dug your toe into the stage as you waited. You grasped your skirts and prayed that you were unclaimed once more. The cells were miserable but a familiar suffering was preferable to the unknown.

So far, none had been purchased as they stepped forward. The captain’s voice betrayed his irritation as he got to the middle of the queue. The men in their black suits shook their heads and looked at each other. The squat yellow woman retreated and the next stepped forward. 

You dared to look at the group of bidders. They muttered to each other, their disappointment obvious. Another glance behind them and you frowned. Why were there so few women here? Your chest twisted as the cuff tugged at your wrist. The antennaed woman stepped forward, her six-fingered hands clasped together.

Your jaw tensed as the men shrugged. They weren’t interested. Perhaps you were just as pathetic as you felt. You gulped and looked into the crowd. Your eyes were caught by a pair of blue ones and you flinched. The man squinted above his dark beard and you glanced at the next. He tilted his head and ran his hand over his golden hair. He elbowed the other and they turned and whispered to each other.

The woman beside you stepped back and the raider at your other shoulder shoved you forward. You stumbled and clung to the chain as you righted yourself. The captain hadn’t even posed the first bid before a hand rose. You blinked. The man with the golden hair signaled his interest with two fingers in the air. 

The captain offered a second bid and the man with the dark beard flicked his fingers. Your heart hammered as you peeked over at the other women. They stared at their feet. The captain continued the battle; each man countered the other in turn. They nodded as the price grew steeper and steeper.

The man with the beard raised a single finger to signal a pause. He leaned over to the man with the golden hair and they spoke again. The other men watched indifferently. Their own interest was lost as they had found no wares worth their money. The man with the beard smirked and waved to the captain. He called out double his last bid. The other looked just as content and did not offer a counter.

“Sold!”

🌆

Your cuffs were unhooked from the chain but you remained bound. You were led from the platform and away from hordes who watched. The rest were dragged back to the ship. You didn’t know whether to pity or envy them as your fate dangled before you. You were aware of the purpose for your purchase but it did not assure you.

You were led into the tallest of the hideous building. So lifeless and blinding. You were numb to the rush around you; the people dispersing as the entertainment had proven less than fulfilling. Your sandals clapped against the marble loudly and you entered a sterile elevator with your handlers; plain grey suits, polished shoes, vacant expressions.

Finally, a room among the highest floors, built of the same frigid metal. Attached was a shower with heads along the wall. You were undressed without a word and you allowed it. You were preparing for a life of it; however short or long that would be. Of an unloving hand; a utilitarian touch; guided by lust, by greed. The steam was the only warmth hidden in the icy tower.

When you emerged in the thin towel they allowed you, another man awaited you. A white jacket over his suit as the others waited wordlessly behind him. He was the first to look directly at you. The first to speak.

“I would have you lay down, though if it does prove problematic, these men can assist you.” It was a threat veiled as a request. 

You shook your head and went to the cushioned chaise before him. It was stiff leather and entirely uncomfortable. You clung to the towel around you and the man moved your legs. He planted your feet on the bench so that they were bent fully. He examined you, his hands on your thighs. 

Then he stood and pulled a device from his pocket. He hovered it over you from head to toe. He looked at the square screen on its face and nodded. “Viable.” He stated. You watched him retreat to the door. He turned to the other men. “Continue on.”

You were offered a plain white dress. It was pale against your lustrous skin, still glowing from the hot water. You didn’t shy before the men. This wasn’t a place for modesty; for shame. Those had been stolen from you alongside your freedom.

You were taken from the room without delay. This planet, this building, it was all forged in efficiency. You were but another cog in the machine. You didn’t need them to speak to you to know that. It was plain in the barren walls and the imbalanced crowds. The lack of females betrayed a fertility crisis. The manner of its men spoke of desperation. And your presence was an attempt at a solution.

The next room was bigger, hospitable even. There was a large round bed against the far wall, draped in black silk. A red chaise just a few feet from it, a couple armchairs positioned around a low glass table, a carpet of plush rose. Comically romantic given the situation; a poorly simulated eroticism. You looked around and exhaled.

There were two other doors; one to the left and one to the right. The one upon your left opened almost as soon as the one behind you closed. You watched the familiar man enter. His blue eyes sparkled above his dark beard. He was not alone. The man with the golden hair followed him. The latter surprised you given he had ceded to the former.

“Gorgeous, isn’t she?” The first one said as he strode around you. The other closed the door and remained not far from it. “I’ve never seen skin like that.”

“And what did the doctor say?” The other asked.

“Healthy. Viable.” The dark-haired man replied as he rounded you. “Promising.”

“He didn’t say so much to me,” You interjected.

The man with the beard stopped before you and neared until there was barely inches between you. “And she can understand us.”

“Unfortunately.” You countered and he smirked.

“Amusing,” He remarked. “But while I might have paid in part for the use of your mouth, I didn’t pay for defiance.”

You glared up at him and clamped your lips shut to keep from another retort. Remember the ship, the cell; what your sharp words had earned you there. It could be worse here. You weren’t eager to find out.

“As your new masters, we do expect a degree of co-operation though we will not shy away from enforcing our will.” He said as his lips curved slightly. “You can call us “sir”, though my friend here is a captain, he might prefer that.”

You stared at him. His blue eyes did not waver. “Sir.” You uttered through your tight throat.

“Very good,” His lips curved entirely and he backed away from you. “There’s little pretense to be had here. I doubt I need to explain to you what we intend.”

You looked between them. The golden-haired man, the captain, watched quietly with arms crossed. You shook your head.

“We made a deal of our own, if you’re curious,” The bearded-man continued. “We figured, since we share almost everything else, we might share you. To ensure our investment was not in vain.”

“Bucky, stop playing with her,” The other man spoke up at last. “Christ, I’m fucking… you know it’s been a while.”

“As long as it’s been for me, Steve.” The dark-haired one, Bucky, replied. “A couple minutes will barely make a difference.”

The captain, known as Steve, sighed. Bucky stepped around you and came up behind you. He bent and grabbed the hem of your dress. He lifted it past your knees, your pelvis, your torso, and you raised your arms stiffly as he freed you from the cotton entirely. You stood before them naked and stared at the wall.

“I might have the first go,” Bucky slapped your ass and you winced. “Seeing as I paid.”

“Half. As I did.” Steve asserted. “But go on. As you said, a couple minutes, maybe seconds with you, won’t make a difference.”

Bucky scoffed as he pressed himself to your back. His hands glided along your hips and sides and he cupped your tits. He purred into your hair from behind. “On the bed. And get that ass up.”

You gritted your teeth and stepped towards the bed if only to escape his touch. You knew it wouldn’t be a lengthy reprieve as you edge around the chaise and neared the end of the bed. You climbed up on the round mattress and a groan rose from behind you. 

You looked at Steve from the corner of your eye as he remained by the door. He watched you intently. You heard movement behind you. You closed your eyes and hung your head as you leaned forward on your hands. 

“That’s it.” Bucky coaxed as you listened to the rustle of fabric. 

The subtle clink of metal and leather as he unbuckled his belt. You tensed and sank your fingers into the silken sheets. Then his footsteps brushed over the soft rug and you braced yourself. The air was cool on your skin and goosebumps rose as the mattress dipped behind you. 

You flinched as the large, warm hands closed around your ankles and brushed upward; over your calves and thighs, along your ass as he kneaded it. Your nostrils flared as he moved between your legs and pressed himself to you. You felt a prod alongside his hands. You silently cursed as your body responded against your will.

His fingers slipped down as his other hand gripped your hip. He felt between your folds and found your clit nestled there. He rubbed you until you twitched. He chuckled and brought his fingers back to your entrance. You were embarrassed as he spread your arousal. He shoved a finger inside and you gasped.

He pulled in and out several times. You unintentionally squeezed his hand between your thighs as he let it slip down. He grasped himself and pressed his tip against you. He pushed inside just a little and you tried to move away. He kept you in place as his grip tightened on your hip. He forced you back and sank deeper.

He bent over you with one hand beside yours on the mattress. His beard tickled your cheek as he plunged to his limit. You bit your lip and grunted. 

“Keep fighting it and it will get worse.” He warned. You turned your face away from him and he let go of your hip to grab your chin instead. He forced your head back as he thrust into you. “It’s alright. You don’t have to like it, your body will do the work, huh? You don’t have to want the life but it will grow if you like it or not.”

You closed your eyes as he forced a finger into your mouth. He rutted against you with heady breaths. You sensed movement alongside the bed but you couldn’t look. The shadow loomed on the other side of your eyelids. Bucky sped up and you grasped at the silk.

“Mmmm,” He hummed as he drew his finger from your mouth. 

He slipped his hand around to the back of your neck and shoved your head down to the mattress. You whimpered as he pounded into you harder and harder. His pelvis clapped loudly against you and sent a pang up your spine. His grunts filled your head and made your blood boil.

You felt another hand; soft and warm, around yours as it clawed at the silk sheets. You opened your eyes and found the other man, Steve, knelt at the side of the bed. He watched you calmly as your body was jolted into the mattress. He seemed entirely unbothered by his companion’s presence behind you.

It was harder to breathe. Your walls could not resist the natural friction, the instinctual ripple as it thrummed within you. Your eyes rolled back as you bit down on the moan that threatened as you came. Steve slipped his fingers past yours and you squeezed his hand. You reached back with your other to bat away the one that held you down. 

Bucky caught your arm and twisted around behind you. You yelped and it only seemed to encourage him. He plunged into you over and over. His grunts grew louder and longer. He slammed into you so hard your legs collapsed beneath you and he hammered you into the bed.

Steve’s hand remained on yours as Bucky came inside you. The slick warmth was repulsive as it filled you. His hand slipped from your neck as he released your arm and you turned to hide your face in the mattress. He eased himself to a halt and lingered inside of you as he sighed loudly.

“She’s tight.” He slapped your ass as he pulled out. “If not a little resistant.” The bed jostled beneath him as he backed off of it. “Your little nice act isn’t gonna work with her.”

Steve’s hand left yours and you felt a tickle along your scalp. You were frightened by the whisper in your ear. “Hey, catch your breath.” His fingers crawled down your neck and along your shoulders. “Then, turn over. I’d like to see that pretty face.”

His touch sent a shiver through you. You brought your hands up to cover your face. The trickle between your legs sickened you. You took a few deep breaths and nodded to yourself. There was no way out; you’d accepted that back on the ship in your dingy cell. You knew how it would be but it didn’t make it any easier. Better it was over with.

You pushed yourself over onto your back and Steve’s hand brushed over your chest as you did. He was barely bothered by the accident as he watched you. He touched your cheek and traced the line of your jaw and then your lips. He smiled and slowly drew away.

He stood and began to undress. He glanced across the room and you followed his gaze. Bucky sat on the chaise, knees apart, his cock soft but twitching as he looked back at you. You tore your eyes away and focused on the ceiling. The rush of fabric piling on the floor was the only sound besides your breath and the incessant beating of your heart.

The mattress shifted and you felt warm flesh against yours as Steve pressed himself to your side. He cradled your cheek and kissed you but you turned away. “Come on.” He purred. “It doesn’t have to be like that.”

“It is like that.” You insisted.

He said nothing else and laid a trail of kisses along your cheek and down your neck as he leaned into you. He smelled like sweat and the smoke of the foreign city. He cupped your breast and kissed the top of it, nibbled along the skin, and swirled his finger around your nipple. It was a false sort of affection but it stirred something within you.

And then he lifted himself over you. His warmth enshrined you. His hand explored you blindly as he kept his face nestled in your chest. You were still tender as he dragged his fingers along your pelvis and you fought to keep still. He pushed his knees between yours and slowly nudged your legs apart.

He was gentler but still insistent. His fingers dipped between your folds and he toyed with your clit as you squirmed. He let two fingers slip inside and he lifted his head to watch your face crinkle. You pushed on his shoulders as he smeared your cum and Bucky’s along your thigh.

He took himself in his hand and you felt him against you. You tried to wriggle away from him but it only caused you to brush against his tip. He rubbed it up and down your cunt and angled himself inside. You held your breath as he filled you. Though he slid in easier than Bucky you still found yourself strained by his size. You bared your teeth and dug your nails into his shoulders.

He moved slowly at first. He didn’t look away as he rocked his hips against you. He reached to grab your leg and bent it against him. The artificial intimacy was worse than the act itself. You found it hard to resist his make-belief as your flesh responded without thought. You gulped at the air and turned your face away from him.

He let go of your leg but it hooked around his as it slipped down. He took your chin and turned your head straight. He pressed his nose to yours as he breathed in tandem with you and the motion of his body. Your eyes widened as you felt the climax building slowly. He smiled and hummed.

“I wanna see it,” He whispered. “I wanna see you cum.”

You hissed and slapped your hands against him helplessly. You couldn’t stymie the rise or the sudden peak and it escaped your lips in a squeak. Your back arched as you pressed yourself to him and your lashes fluttered in sheer ecstasy. He kissed you again and this time you couldn’t turn away.

His body melded to yours as he moved against you. His rhythm almost lulled you as the bed rocked in time. Your vision blurred and at last his hand fell from your chin. You closed your eyes as he panted in your ear and you felt the tension within him. A sudden release and he growled like a wild animal into your neck. His heat seeped into you and he stilled atop you.

He stayed like that as his breath petered out. He brushed his fingers along your temple and kissed your cheek softly. He jerked into you harshly as you heard a slap and he lifted his head to look at the shadow that loomed behind him. Bucky smirked and threatened another slap with a raised hand.

“Come on, lover boy,” He gloated as he dropped his hand to his cock. “Sentiment isn’t gonna knock her up.”

[untitledtallgeesepodcast]

[TRANSCRIPT] EPISODE 12: SPACE IS (STILL) THE PLACE

Kat  0:03  

Hello and welcome to Untitled Tallgeese Podcast, a podcast where Kap, which is me, Mallory, Caitlin, and Cathy all get together and watch Gundam Wing and talk about Gundam Wing. This is episode 15, where we'll be covering episodes 23 and 24. 

Kat  0:20  

So I'm going to start off with an episode summary of Episode 23: Duo God of Death Once Again. We open with Sally Po salvaging Wing Zero from the bottom of the ocean with a band of rebels. In space, a now recovered Duo is hanging out, shit-talking OZ without even wearing a disguise, and that gets him noticed by newly-minted OZ soldier Hilde Schbeiker, who tells him to enlist. Instead, he steals a mobile suit, prompting a space battle with Hilde. During their own psychic hot pink moment, Duo realizes they're both fighting for the peace of the colonies! So he saves her from becoming collateral damage, and his capture conveniently gets him a ride to the moon. Duo is so hot that Hilde defects and helps him break into his target, the Lunar Base. Duo again allows himself to get the shit beat out of him and captured -- this time strategically -- and is thrown into the brig with Heero and Wufei, who are immediately jerks. He tells them the doctors have begun building a new Deathscythe and Shenlong. Lady Une makes Trowa listen to her monologue about Treize-sama and we fade out. 

Kat  0:21  

Episode 24: The Gundam They Called Zero starts with a mysterious Gundam attacking an OZ resource satellite, piloted by a traumatized Quatre, who then sets his sights on an actual colony. Lady Une orders Trowa and Heero out with the Mercurius and Veyeate, ignoring Chief Engineer Tsuberov's argument to use the mobile dolls. But with Une distracted, Tsuberov overrides her and orders the air to be cut off to the cells holding the pilots and the doctors, leaving them to die... slowly. Trowa is amped as hell to hang out with Quatre and get the band back together, but Heero is more cautious. Trowa loses half a suit in the ensuing battle and learns that Quatre may not be the ally he thought; he's decided the only way to stop war in outer space is to destroy the colonies themselves and Quatre and Heero prepare to face off as the episode ends.

Mallory  2:03  

Yeah, these episodes were really fun.

Kat  2:06  

They were really fun and I think they were really straightforward. There's, I don't know, there's like just everything was happening not symbolically. 

Caitlin  2:14  

Yeah, I love these episodes because they, they contain the entire spectrum of like, Duo eroticism. So 

Mallory  2:21  

[laughter] All right! 

Caitlin  2:24  

you have Duo being like cool, for a second, to Hilde. He's got the glasses, he like tries to break into the volunteer group or whatever, the soldiers. He does, he does get some like blows in and then he gets beaten up a bunch? You have cool Duo who we love and then you have beaten up Duo, who we also love. His voice is just so sexy to me throughout this entire thing. Sorry to like, confess my desires here but Duo is really like, working it. 

Cathy  2:56  

To add on to this in Episode 24 you get moe, cheerful-even-while-dying-but-also-resenting-his-death Duo. And then there's the little bit of like, almost flirtatious but also kind of serious fighting with Heero over who gets to go out of the jail cell and him calling Heero 01, which is a lot of fun. And you know, you get all the little pairings like Trowa beats up Duo so you get your 2x3 and then Wufei is stuck with Duo after Heero leaves you get your 2x5. Heero and Duo are the two that interact once Duo gets caught so you get your 1x2, like you got, you, there's everything.

Kat  3:37  

And you get a new female love interest with Hilde.

Caitlin  3:40  

Yeah, Duo gets a girlfriend at last he gets his own like mini. He gets mini Noin, as as we call Hilde.

Cathy  3:46  

I really had forgotten how much she is like Noin until I rewatched these episodes, like she seems like a younger Noin, including sort of her naivete, and obviously that she's part of OZ. She has the same kind of, you know, I know what's right, and I know what my morals are, and I know what my values are, and I know what my mission is, that Noin had when we were first introduced to her at the Victoria Training Base. And then of course, that gets turned on its head by a man the same way that she does with Zechs. 

Caitlin  4:19  

Mmhmm.

Cathy  4:20  

And then she sort of abandons that original kind of mission statement to seek her own meaning, which is also adjacent to the man's meaning, [laughs] but in a in a fun way.

Caitlin  4:32  

And I will say that, in terms of like convincing speeches about politics we see in the show, Duo's points to her do make a little bit more sense than the average one.

Cathy  4:44  

Yeah. And I I was trying to pay attention to the narration we got at the beginning, and I think this is consistent with the last two, but it felt more poignant here, where they were saying, you know, we're at this point where the Gundam pilots are trying to find a reason to exist in this changing world. And I thought that was a really great way of explaining, you know what Duo is doing and why I feel like that's so inspiring to Hilde, such that she essentially does a pivot and becomes a free agent in terms of how she is thinking about who she's fighting for. Because, you know, if you think about Duo and the other pilots at this point, the scientists who they've been getting missions from are captured. So it's been radio silent for months and months and months. Their Gundams are gone, they really have never been particularly good about organization or trying to get to a central mission, or if they even know what that central mission is. So they're working so hard and being so bad at it in terms of like, like doing to the best of their ability, something. And I really do think that that speech he gives like, there are some truths that he finds self evident. And it's just really hard for him to understand, like how to get there. And he is like, you can always feel him struggling with that while he talks to Hilde. And so I did find that really moving and really human.

Kat  6:04  

When he says, "You remind me of me when I was sent back to earth and decided to fight for the colonies alone," which was really poignant, but also kind of funny and brings up a common complaint, which is I have no idea how much time has passed between things. Sort of like, was that how many months ago was that? When you say months and months and months, they've had time to build all these mobile suits. So and it does appear that OZ now has a pretty good infrastructure on the ground. Hilde's part of like, the OZ Student Volunteer Corps, who I don't think they should be handing mobile suits off to, that seems not like the best way. [laugh]

Caitlin  6:42  

But you know, in the logic of this universe that 15 year old are the best piloting mobile suits so [laughs]

Mallory  6:48  

Right, you know, why not give a hot headed teenager awash with hormones and rage a mobile suit?

Kat  6:56  

I do think Hilde fulfills a really good role that we've been talking about in past podcasts about how we really don't see the colonists' perspective. And it gets very direct with that when she goes, "this is outer space's decision." Like nobody bullied us into arming ourselves and militarizing, we had to make the decision ourselves.

Mallory  7:16  

Yeah, we did it for our own protection. She says we weren't going to just sit back and let them take over. She feels. I think. like OZ is giving her some sort of agency in this like feeling of powerlessness that we've kind of talked about and how the colonies feel powerless and insecure, and so if they feel insecure, they want to be armed. 

Kat  7:38  

There's this phrase she uses, and she says the colonies have "a history of humiliation," that I thought was really interesting and a kind of a perspective that we haven't seen so directly before. 

Cathy  7:49  

Yes. And also the scientists at the very beginning, remember, I think it's Dr. J who says, basically, well, OZ is treating all the new space colonies just like, and I have in quotes, "old world colonies to be plundered." They were talking about the history of the colonies and how they've been treated and I think in Episode 23, you kind of get that whole spectrum of it, right? You get they're just being exploited. Well, they feel like they need to assert themselves by getting armaments. But no, actually, according to Duo, this is all just hogwash and propaganda. And, you know, this is like this whole spectrum of reasons and thoughts about why this sudden militarization is happening and who's really behind it and who it actually is serving.

Kat  8:29  

I'm gonna pick up a thread there when you said propaganda, because something we haven't mentioned, was Zech - er Milliardo Peacecraft inexplicably just hanging out in another conference room with a bunch of old colony dudes in suits. And they mentioned that the engineers or the, the Gundam doctors have been killed, and he thinks, oh, that's the kind of falsehood that could really do a lot of damage. Like he's already noticing that the OZ machine is running.

Mallory  8:54  

Right, it was a line that struck me because it's frankly, kind of a terrifying lie in the age of things like Qanon and sort of foreign misinformation campaigns that we are seeing on Twitter and Facebook. 

Caitlin  9:07  

Zechs pointing out the dangers of fake news?! 

Mallory  9:11  

Yeah, unmitigated rumor. And I don't know, I think as a journalist it just really strikes me that in a children's TV show there's this like, warning like, "Be careful of lies that you are being told by adults." We only really see, we see news but we only, really only see Une or OZ representatives speaking. We don't really see like, like an independent journalist standing with a microphone or whatever, which tells you where like news and what news is going out and the spin that is being put on that. Like when Une assassinated Septum early on, and she comes out and she's like, Oh, it was the work of those dirty Gundams, right?

Caitlin  9:53  

Right. We do know, so one of the, one of the notable like news sequences that we have seen recently is the OZ theatre of destroying Deathscythe, right? We see that they do it. And then we see Duo reacting to it?  So we know that like part of their like news cycle right now in the colonies at least is like expelling this, like the Gundams as terrorists,

Cathy  10:17  

I almost feel like, because all the players have, or are connected to the military or Romefeller or OZ or Alliance, and the reactions we see about these news documents, be they press releases or broadcasts, are from those players, it feels less like some sort of point about propaganda, or fake news. It feels like to me that OZ released that information to the colonies for a reason, even though there might be backlash from the colony, the individual colonists, but it really was about trying to get colony leadership to agree to the OZ takeover.

Caitlin  11:01  

Yeah, you think, you think it's about the people who are making decisions, not about trying to control public opinion? 

Cathy  11:08  

Yeah, exactly. Yeah.

Caitlin  11:10  

I think that might be true. Like, to a certain extent, that is what they're doing. But we also do see that public opinion has shifted, and that there is a real, a real effect to this. That's what, that's sort of what the point of Hilde is, to know that there are people in the colonies who have changed their perspective on how to fight, that they've joined up with the OZ Volunteer Corps.

Mallory  11:33  

Exactly. And sort of it shows the hold that OZ already has, and the sort of foundation that OZ has already built within the colonies, in that they already have, you know, like Kat was saying earlier, they already have a Student Corps. You know, like that these structures kind of pop up really quickly.

Caitlin  11:51  

The ease with which these structures arose, speaks to the, the things for which the colonies are usually used? Like they're already sort of like primed for manufacturer. They're primed for like the sort of intense sort of governmental control because you need somebody inside each of these colonies managing each moment. There's something about them that lends them very quickly towards this militarization process.

Mallory  12:18  

Right, like it's easy to trade one dictator for another one.

Kat  12:21  

Because the structure of the colonies is already so not necessarily militaristic, but -

Caitlin  12:27  

- authoritarian, maybe? 

Kat  12:28  

Yeah. 

Caitlin  12:29  

Just, just because like in order to keep a colony running, you have to have sort of an unquestioning -

Mallory  12:34  

- like a really strong hierarchy 

Caitlin  12:36  

Right, because if somebody starts questioning their orders, you could destroy the colony.

Kat  12:41  

When Quatre is, puts his actual Gundam inside the colony and is like, "colonies don't need things like this!" about a ferris wheel -

Mallory  12:49  

Right, or a playground.

Kat  12:50  

I feel like that's sort of underscores that that idea of like, colonies for one thing versus another thing, like the way people view the utility of colonies.

Cathy  12:59  

Yeah, and one thing to remember is that most of the population that are on the colonies are technicians and workers. So it's already built in, I think, to their history.

Caitlin  13:11  

So one thing that came to mind for me was that we know the colonies are mostly laborers, and mostly people who are working very hard to stay alive in this very precarious space. But they need that entertainment, they need that fun in order to actually do their jobs. Whereas like Quatre's model, besides destroying the entire colonies, has been is now to reject anything to do with that, like, glorious joy of life. Like he's now like, switched entirely to being like, No, we only need war, we only need destruction, we only need work. I think it's also very poignant, because like he must have grown up in the colonies, he must have gone to places like that.

Mallory  13:53  

But it felt out of character from the few, the previous episodes where he spends a lot of time saying like, but we were good to them. We we gave all these resources, we help people live and we wanted them to be happy and all of that, like we shared our resources and our wealth. And now he's like, Oh, they don't need these, like small pleasures! A Ferris wheel? Get out of here.

Caitlin  14:15  

Right. I think that's, I think that's exactly why this is the form his psychosis has taken. It's because he has this idea that his family really helped the colonists and like made their lives better. And now now that he's entered his like, crazy mode, which I love, that he's like, No, we don't need to help them. We all, I don't care about them anymore.

Cathy  14:35  

I love that scene where he rampages through the colonies and Caitlin knows that we had just finished watching Shin Godzilla. And 

Kat  14:44  

Oh!

Mallory  14:44  

Mmm.

Cathy  14:45  

- and this scene was extremely Godzilla-esque, right like, it really shows the sheer power and horror of how large the Gundams are and what they can do when you just want to be recklessly brutal and recklessly violent on anything and it is really, it's really interesting the kind of like care they take with this scene. Everything's quiet, there's no people, you just see this Gundam like, crushing things slowly, like destroying them, because Quatre wants to destroy them. And it's really good.

Caitlin  15:21  

You get really good shots of the colony's slope because like, those the colonies are curved and this is one of the distinctive things that makes you know that they're in a colony is that you can see like the city like rising up behind you because it's, it's circular or it's a loop. And so you get this sort of like extremely enclosed space that like because the colonies are shaped the way they are, it, it feels like they're, they're both spacious and claustrophobic. And so that that giant Gundam being there really interrupts the space. It really like, disrupts the perspective. 

Kat  15:42  

The animation overall, was I think, better. It like, it seems like slowly the budget is increasing, or... Everybody looked great enough.

Caitlin  16:04  

It's Episode 24ish. So they're, this is like the season finale. Sort of.

Kat  16:10  

Oh, true.

Mallory  16:11  

Right. So they're pulling out all the stops.

Caitlin  16:12  

Yeah, so they've saved money for this.

Cathy  16:15  

I think a really fun thing about Episode 24, especially the animation, is I think how carefully they construct it. Like you start off with this frame of what you slowly realize is a colony outpost, and it looks like this hideous floating horror thing with like tubes coming out of it and it's like vaguely alien and vaguely tentacled. And then this menacing shadow comes and you know, you can tell immediately that it's Wing Gundam. But because you don't see into the cockpit like you almost always do when a Gundam appears on screen, you don't know who's in it, and it feels very supernatural? like a vengeful ghost? And then it destroys this outpost. You spend that whole time as the audience thinking, Who is it? Who is it, it can't be Heero, you know, it's not Heero. And then that wonderful shot of Quatre, the utter silence as he breathes, and then they slowly reveal his eye. Like, that... Not only was the animation amazing, but just like this cinematic quality of that opening sequence. It just felt like a slasher film. It was so good,

Caitlin  17:22  

So good.

Mallory  17:23  

The pacing of that scene is so good. Like, I had really no idea what to expect. So when you see like the shuttle approaching, and then the music starts and it transforms into a Gundam and you're like, Oh my god, this is so cool! I'm 31 years old and this is still so cool to me! This would have blown my mind.

Caitlin  17:45  

Did you know about like the Quatre-goes-crazy plot.

Mallory  17:48  

I did know that Quatre has a turn but I didn't know that he goes crazy.

Kat  17:53  

We managed to not spoil it this entire time.

Caitlin  17:56  

That's really exciting.

Mallory  17:57  

Look, I thought he was dying of space tuberculosis, so. 

Cathy  17:59  

He could, he could still be dying of space tuberculous

Caitlin  18:03  

I have convinced several people that that is canon. [laughter]

Mallory  18:08  

So basically, we're just making up our own canon.

Caitlin  18:12  

Yes, as we do in fanfiction as well. I do remember like, there being like a genre of fanfic that sort of talked about Quatre's like, crazy phase. But then a lot of the like basic, 3x4 stuff would, would sort of gloss over it. [laughs] Just because it's a little bit too dark to deal with, for your happy flute playing romances.

Mallory  18:36  

I started reading one and just, I was like, Oh, no, this is too dark. I don't, this isn't the Quatre that I want, shoo. Not my Quatre. So I avoided those.

Caitlin  18:46  

And it's too bad because there's a lot of good three times for evidence sort of in these episodes where you have like, yeah, Trowa's the one who really believes in Quatre. He's the one who says, "Oh, if it's Quatre, we're we're gonna to be okay. He's an ally. He's, you know, my boyfriend from the, from the desert." [laughter]

Mallory  19:04  

Like, he just, he spends the whole first part of the episode just wanting to get to Quatre. Like, "I'm ready to go meet my space boyfriend."

Kat  19:12  

"It has to be Quatre and he's going to be on our side, and he's going to help us defeat OZ and everything is going to be great!"

Mallory  19:18  

And Heero has to be like "Oh, hold on. He just -- D-didn't you just see him destroy a colony? Like he might not be the dude you know. It's been a while since you play violins with him."

Caitlin  19:29  

What's funny to me is that we know, the audience, we know that Quatre has gone crazy because of, probably because of what we saw with his dad and his sister and all of that. We sort of remember that. But nobody else has any has any awareness of that. Like did it not play on like, the news or on like the radio or anything, that this major like colony financer was killed in like a horrific terrorist incident where he self-destructed a colony or a satellite? Like nobody else knows.

Unknown Speaker  19:58  

As it turns out his son is one of the five major terrorists that we consider the number one threat to the colony safety? 

Caitlin  20:05  

Yeah, it's like, it's like everything that happened in that situation is totally separate from the rest of the colonies. Right now. 

Mallory  20:11  

Right. But if OZ doesn't want people to know about it, then OZ just simply won't tell people about it. And so nobody would know.

Unknown Speaker  20:19  

I think that Une would know and then maybe Trowa would know, right?

Mallory  20:24  

Maybe Une is keeping it close 

Kat  20:26  

True.

Mallory  20:26  

to the chest.

Caitlin  20:28  

And so Zayeed Winner's sacrifice was all for nothing, which is what we thought when it happened.

Mallory  20:35  

Completely unnoticed. 

Caitlin  20:37  

Yeah, nobody even knows.

Mallory  20:39  

I had a question about a shot on screen where you see the.. each Gundam pilot matched with their engineer. 

Cathy  20:48  

Yes!

Mallory  20:48  

And I couldn't tell, is that an OZ record? Is that just the show reminding me that Quatre is the only one of these four that is unaccounted for? Like I really couldn't tell. 

Cathy  21:01  

I think it's an OZ record, and what is really also funny about it is, I don't understand why they would know... I guess they matched each of the scientists to the Gundam they developed so that's how they're perfectly in number order? But it was, it was really interesting. It was another one of those moments that felt vaguely like horror-esque. You know, like when you're trying to find the killer and you go through and you like, find a yearbook or group picture and all the pictures have been slashed, and you leave just one.

Mallory  21:28  

Oh my god yes!

Cathy  21:28  

 And that one is Quatre. [laughter] And like that's how I felt about that scene. [laughter]

Unknown Speaker  21:32  

Oh my god, he's even like sent in the like specs for Sandrock, so he could put a little signature on it.

Caitlin  21:40  

Yeah, it's clearly him. I don't think he's trying to cover that. 

Cathy  21:44  

No, no, no, he's not.

Caitlin  21:45  

But they don't, they don't even know who he is. They don't know who the pilot of 04 is. Like that's the point, they don't have his picture.

Kat  21:52  

They didn't realize that it was the Maguanac Corps.

Cathy  21:55  

But I don't think they have a picture of Quatre... Which is kind of weird because I feel like shouldn't the son of the Winner family have a record somewhere?

Caitlin  22:04  

I think they don't know that it's him. I think they don't know it's the son of the Winner family. Otherwise, they'd have the picture. He's the most prominent person out of the pilots. [laughter] He's the only one who had who would have existing photographs. 

Kat  22:15  

Well, you think somebody would have noticed Trowa Barton saying his name is Trowa Barton right since that family tree...

Mallory  22:21  

Speaking of Trowa Barton though, I do want to talk about how he's the MVP of these episodes, because he's the only one doing anything of sort of strategic usefulness? 

Kat  22:32  

Okay, Duo tried 

Mallory  22:33  

Well Duo tries, yes.

Caitlin  22:35  

Wufei tries! 

Mallory  22:36  

Okay,

Caitlin  22:37  

I know that everybody is a Trowa fan. But let's, let's stop with the Trowa exceptionalism. 

Mallory  22:44  

Wow

Caitlin  22:44  

Everybody is doing their best

Mallory  22:46  

Trowa is in a spot where he like, he's in a high ranking spot in OZ, he is so trusted by Une that he gets Heero to be allowed to pilot the Mercurius because Trowa's going to be controlling him. And he's feeding the engineers information and like finding things out. 

Caitlin  23:03  

He's just lucked into that spot. And he's doing the best he can. Anyone would do the same in his position,

Mallory  23:09  

But like, nobody else did that though.

Caitlin  23:12  

Duo tried. [laughs]

Mallory  23:15  

Well, very, unsuccessfully. Very stylishly, but unsuccessfully.

Unknown Speaker  23:19  

Wufei's big plan was to get captured. [laughter]

Cathy  23:23  

It worked! 

Caitlin  23:25  

Waitwaitwait, I think the capturing is an actual plan, like I feel like Wufei's received a mission from somebody. I was assuming that the scientists are still sending out missions to get them to all get captured, so they can give, give them their Gundams back,

Cathy  23:39  

I think Wu Fei

Kat  23:41  

No, Wufei got captured because he wanted to be taken to a place where he could destroy Treize.

Caitlin  23:46  

I think that's just what he thinks, like he still had a mission, right? He was he was given some instructions. 

Kat  23:52  

I thought he was working on his own and sort of like, "Oh, well, this seems like a strategic place that I should be."

Cathy  23:57  

I agree with Mallory, and that's why he's going around because remember, he attacks the Barge during Lady Une's weird thing.

Caitlin  24:03  

Duo had a mission too, right? Duo it was given some instructions at some point. 

Cathy  24:08  

When?

Caitlin  24:08  

I feel like Duo at least in these episodes, there was some line about how you're, Heero says to him something like, "Oh, you you tried to complete your mission."

Cathy  24:18  

I think it was metaphorical. Like I think Heero means, "Oh, you came here with an objective. And you didn't meet it." 

Kat  24:23  

Agree.

Cathy  24:24  

Yeah. And I always thought that was kind of funny, because I wasn't sure if he was being ironic, or if he was seriously asking this question. Like, I was wondering if it was like, "Well, clearly, you're here."

Caitlin  24:33  

Wait, I definitely thought that somebody was manipulating them to get captured. Like I thought that that was, this was a plan.

Cathy  24:38  

My understanding was that they're all there because they know that the lunar base is like a big manufacturing center and core for OZ. 

Kat  24:45  

For mobile dolls, yeah.

Caitlin  24:46  

Right. No, I mean, like there's, so there's their choices. And they're there to blow up the lunar base in their minds, but they've received instructions about that from somebody and the real goal of those instructions was to get them in the same place so they could get back with their Gundam. 

Kat  25:02  

No. 

Mallory  25:03  

No. 

Cathy  25:03  

I disagree. 

Caitlin  25:04  

Okay, then they just really lucked into that. 

Cathy  25:05  

Yeah. 

Cathy  25:06  

I was assinging them much more strategic planning

Kat  25:08  

'cause I don't even think there was like a full lunar base when Wufei got captured. He was literally just like, "Where might Treize be? This is a good try." But I think they're all independent actors who all... like Duo was there to destroy the base. I think Heero was there to kill the scientists. 

Cathy  25:24  

Yeah. 

Kat  25:24  

So they couldn't be forced into working for OZ.

Mallory  25:26  

Exactly

Kat  25:26  

He sort of assumed that's what Duo was trying to do. But Duo was just there to bomb the base. 

Mallory  25:31  

Right? And so his joke is, to him it's funny, like, "Oh, you came to do this too and you failed?" 

Cathy  25:37  

Yes exactly! [laughter]

Mallory  25:39  

And Duo's like, "I don't know what the hell you're talking about."

Cathy  25:41  

Well I thought it was really funny but I wasn't sure cuz he delivered the line so deadpan. Like, there was like no, there was like no joke emotions. Like it was just like, "you botched your mission. You tried to kill them. And you didn't." I was like, are you? Is this funny?

Kat  25:55  

He's making a lot of like those jokes when Wufei's like, "Oh, do you think they're gonna let us test out the suits?" and he's like, "maybe as the target." [laughter]

Cathy  26:03  

Oh god that's true, he's actually really funny. 

Kat  26:05  

The mysteries and vagaries of Heero Yuy.

Cathy  26:07  

I really thought that I would have a better grasp on his character as like a 32 year old person but I'm watching this [laughs] and I'm still like, I feel like Duo in a fanfic like, "is he joking? Is he serious? Does he like me?"

Cathy  26:18  

[laughter] Like that's how I feel about Heero in these two episodes.

Mallory  26:21  

"What does that smirk mean? 

Caitlin  26:24  

Wait, I had one more Quatre point, which was that his voice actress who is Orikasa Ai was really crushing it these episodes.

Cathy  26:32  

Yes! 

Mallory  26:33  

Yeah!

Caitlin  26:34  

This sort of like dead cheerful baby voice? He sounds really innocent and pure. But also, like he's about to kill a bunch of people.

Cathy  26:42  

Yes. And especially there is a line where he says, "Oh, you're afraid of dying, aren't you?" Which was so chilling.

Mallory  26:52  

I do want to talk about this because last episode, I brought up that there's a lot of talk of the noble sacrifice. And I feel like in these episodes, there's just, it is hammered over and over and over, you have to be willing to die for your mission. You shouldn't be afraid of dying, or why the hell are you fighting? It just seems like there's just this constant sort of theme of being willing to lay down your life for "the mission," you know, at the back of my mind, like, what are we teaching kids that you should be willing to die for your work and your job? [laughter]

Kat  27:31  

Like, bringing some feelings to this episode.

Mallory  27:34  

Like maybe I'm projecting here, but 

Caitlin  27:35  

Do you mean like Japanese children watching the show or like the kids in Gundam?

Mallory  27:40  

No I mean, like, in general, what is the message that this show is sending to kids? You know, because I talk a lot about how I think I would have related to Heero being like, "oh, I've messed up now I'm going to die." But like, that isn't really healthy. I guess I'm I'm just wrestling with this as the show goes on because I keep noticing it over and over the idea of the noble sacrifice and how that is like something that you should be willing to do if you are passionate enough, or you feel enough for your cause. 

Kat  28:14  

It's also very tied into the idea of being like a noble warrior, which keeps coming up, it's like, to me, those two things are very intertwined. And when we hear like Heero going, like, "space is crazy, I'll just keep fighting and believing in myself." It's not that he will believe in himself, he will keep fighting.

Caitlin  28:34  

I think that it's trying to show that this is the attitude you develop in war. That fostering these beliefs in young child soldiers is bad, and ultimately leads to a society that just perpetuates war because it's the only thing that the people involved can understand. And that ultimately, the goal of the show is to find a way out of that thing. That's the common Gundam universe theme is this, like, how the war machine like perpetuates itself and creates like this situation where you can never escape like an eternal war. I think it draws a lot on currents of like Japanese pacifism, and the idea of like, going against the Japanese militaristic approach of like, you must sacrifice everything for the country, for Japan. In order to like be a true citizen, you have to give up everything. Because that's very much like the military propaganda that was fed to the citizens during World War II and that feeds into the creation of the original Gundam and gets sort of like complicated, watered down in some ways, but also sort of like typified? :ike turned into a such like a, like a rote recitation of a theme in later versions of Gundam  that it's not always fully articulated. So I think Gundam Wing is sort of in between those where it's like, it's dealing with that like sacrificial concept. I think it wants to say, "No, there's a better way." But we haven't yet gotten to the point where it's like, "there is a better way."

Cathy  30:15  

The term that I keep coming back to is like the Japanese concept of junjou, which is like sort of pure-hearted, like a pseudo naive kind of feeling. A lot of child characters in this show are just so pure-hearted, that they don't have any way out, to what Caitlin was saying, other than just throwing their bodies and their lives into it? Like they're given no mechanisms to have any other agency or express their feelings or be able to achieve the goals that they want. And they're so pure of heart that they get essentially taken advantage of, and warped into thinking that the only way into it is to sacrifice their bodies. And I think like Hilde is a great example of this here and I think that's also why Duo says to her, "that you remind me a lot of when I first came down to earth," because when he first came down to earth, the only thing he felt like he had was his ability to pilot this Gundam and sacrifice him and his Gundam to serve the cause of why he dropped as part of Operation Meteor, and Hilde is the same way, you know, she feels like the only way that she can solve solve the issue with the colonies is essentially to throw herself into this war machine and give her whole life to it because what else does she have

Kat  31:25  

When Hilde at the end defects, but then says the same thing like, "I am ready to die for my cause," she still has this enthusiasm and has decided that there could be a different path but that different path is still just fighting? which I like. I mean, I like that it's it's complicated and thorny

Cathy  31:41  

To me, I don't really know if the die or not dying is good or bad. Like I don't know if the show is actually trying to comment on that at all. It's almost just like a shorthand to what you're saying Caitlin earlier ,to demonstrate that they really care about pacifism. Like that's really what this whole "I'm willing to die for my cause" thing is trying to say. 

Caitlin  31:58  

No, I think this is a really good point. Like a lot of it is like the show performing these sort of like typical archetypes, these typical themes in a way that the fans will recognize.

Kat  32:11  

So I did want to talk about 2x5, only because we've been talking about 2x5 this whole time 

Caitlin  32:17  

Yes 

Kat  32:17  

And this the first time they've really gotten to hang out.

Caitlin  32:19  

There's very little interaction you guys. I feel like I live in like a desert where I am just fantasizing 2x5, like did I hallucinate the whole thing? 

Mallory  32:29  

Yeah, it, was it a mirage? 

Cathy  32:30  

I had that exact same feeling, and then I remembered that this bit actually continues on and we are actually thinking of stuff that happens in Episode 25, so

Caitlin  32:39  

Yeah

Cathy  32:40  

there's for next time.

Caitlin  32:42  

Let's rehearse the 2x5 section that we got, which is Duo and Wufei are trapped in a cell together, while Heero and Trowa are going to do things, like, that's a fic!

Mallory  32:53  

As they're running out of air! 

Caitlin  32:55  

Yes! 

Mallory  32:55  

And Duo is complaining and panicking and Wufei is just like, "I need to shut you up and the only way to shut you up is to kiss you." That's what happened after the cutscene. 

Cathy  33:04  

Yeah, that's actually what happened [crosstalk, laughter]

Cathy  33:05  

That happened in the episode. 

Caitlin  33:06  

I remember that.

Kat  33:07  

Yeah, you're actually psychic. Wow.

Caitlin  33:11  

It's just good. They're, they're a good pairing because Wufei's kind of an ass

Kat  33:16  

Well Duo looked amazing. And it was really nice to see them hang out. His braid: great. Getting beat to shit: great. 

Caitlin  33:24  

Duo's voice actor Seki Toshihiko: really great these episodes, very charming [crosstalk]

Caitlin  33:25  

Wufei's voice actor's also very good I think and I think that he's underrated. Ishino Ryuzou, I think.

Cathy  33:33  

I think he's amazing, because you can tell, he's radiating in every single second of his lines, "Shut up Duo," but never actually says it. 

Caitlin  33:45  

And then I also found out that Midorikawa Hikaru who plays Heero had originally auditioned for Wufei. 

Cathy  33:52  

Oh that's interesting.

Caitlin  33:53  

Which I think would have been maybe a misfit. He auditioned for both Wufei and for Heero, but he didn't think that he'd get the lead role.

Kat  34:01  

I think we're now at the point where it's time to pivot. 

Caitlin  34:04  

Yes 

Kat  34:05  

to this podcast's fandom artifact. So Quatre flipping out and blowing stuff up. And then sort of dealing/not dealing with his trauma in the middle of space makes its way into Toonami promo, which was haunting me until Cathy came through and knew exactly which one I was talking about, so. You've heard us talk about the Toonami promos and commercials before on the podcast so I'm gonna kinda split this up into one, there's the pre-airing, like two and a half minute trailer:

Toonami Promo  34:40  

[rocket engine noises, space noises] In the distant future, mankind has reached the stars, but the galaxy is troubled. 

Kat  34:48  

[the commercial is still playing quietly, you can hear yelling and more narration] Which was like so popular that Bandai took it to use to promote it in Japan. And they were like, so happy with how like the Toonami people created the promos for it that they were like, yeah, you can run some other Gundam too. 

Toonami Promo  35:02  

[The sound of a Gundam laser weapon] Narrator: Battles are waged with mobile suits, the key to military dominance. [the commercial fades but is still playing quietly, you can hear muffled narration and sound effects]

Kat  35:14  

People have managed to remaster a lot of the Toonami bunkers and stuff because anime nostalgia cannot be beaten.

Caitlin  35:14  

That's what runs this podcast.

Kat  35:24  

[the beginning of another promo begins, quietly underneath] It's 100% true. But the promo that I was thinking about was not the long promo, but it was called "Spaces is the Place."

Toonami Promo  35:25  

[lo-fi beats begin, with a guitar riff] Narrator: Human beings leave Earth. 

Toonami Promo  35:27  

Quatre: To outer space, every one of us! [fades but contious to play, the music audible]

Kat  35:29  

And it's of part of a series of promos that Toonami did that sort of combined shots from different shows, to kind of create themes.

Toonami Promo  35:30  

Women's voice: It'll be, it'll be dangerous 

Toonami Promo  35:30  

Lady Une: Commence operation! 

Toonami Promo  35:31  

Man's voice: We'll commence operation in six seconds [?]

Kat  35:32  

But Cathy, you have some good thoughts on it so I want you to talk about Space is the Place.

Cathy  35:46  

[promo continues to play -- battle noises and yelling over more low-fi music] Well, so this should really go in the canon of anime music videos. I don't think we talked about it enough. I really wish we knew who edited it, because it's just this perfect pairing of all these disparate stories to like form this one coherence, really cool narrative that manages to say something without ever saying anything. [laughs]

Cathy  36:08  

And they have that moment with Quatre breathing.

Toonami Promo  36:19  

[Quatre panting heavily, a low thrum the only other sound]

Cathy  36:20  

And I have never forgotten it.

Caitlin  36:21  

[low music continues with long chords played by brass instruments, then speaking] What ,what it's basically like, what this reads to me as is like they have like, it's, the characters are essentially Gundam characters, and they fleshed out the Gundam Wing world with all these other like space shots. So it's addressing our complaint that we don't get enough space colony [laughs] in Gundam Wing, like it's like an it's like an alternate universe vid where they've like created more of a, of a world around a particular set of characters.

Mallory  36:51  

Yeah, I mean, I like them because, you know, as a kid watching Toonami, but not really ever catching those shows, because that's just not where I was, like, I saw those promos a lot. And they told me exactly what I needed to know, but actually didn't tell me anything about the show at all. 

Caitlin  37:08  

Yes!

Mallory  37:09  

Like absolutely nothing. But it left me with a really good impression of what Gundam Wing was like.

Caitlin  37:15  

One of the things that is like, kind of a kind of an issue in, like Media Studies, film studies, like trying to analyze film or anime or TV shows as texts is that when you analyze them in isolation from their viewing contexts, you lose a lot of what was going on in terms of their interpretation. So like, I mean, with film, obviously, you can talk about the audience and going into theater and the theatrical space. But with TV, you especially lose this sort of programming flow is like the like, the concept that's often brought up. It's like this idea that you have programs moving into each other. With Toonami, you have a block of programming, so there's all this marketing around the block. You lose the commercials. So it's very hard to sort of like, analyze a show in isolation, which is why I'm glad we talk about things like Toonami's Space is the Place because it's part of it's part of the context of how we were watching it, and how we watch TV, TV back then.

Cathy  38:16  

And for those of you who didn't watch the Toonami block, you know, the host of Toonami was, [sigh] it was either an alien or 

Caitlin  38:23  

TOM

Cathy  38:23  

TOM, I don't know what TOM

Cathy  38:25  

He was a robot.

Cathy  38:25  

was a robot or an alien or something like that. And 

Kat  38:28  

He was a robot, he lived in a space station. 

Cathy  38:29  

Yes. And so that's the other thing about Space is the Place is that it wasn't just about the shows that were on Toonami, in a way it was discussing 

Caitlin  38:38  

Yeah

Cathy  38:38  

the whole meta universe of Toonami. And the story behind Toonami. I mean, rather famously in around 2000, they had an invader of the total immersion event come in and kill TOM. 

Caitlin  38:52  

Yes!

Cathy  38:52  

And so we had a new host TOM II, so this whole idea of like Space is the Place, going into space, discovering these new things, you know, that that was speaking to the cohesiveness of that whole Toonami universe that we were living in as we watched it if you caught that block while it was broadcasting on TV. so when I watched this, you know, I'm not only seeing Gundam Wing, I am seeing all these other series and that host and his voice and the animation at that time.

Kat  39:23  

Shout out to the voice of TOM who is Steven Blum who is a great American voice actor 

Mallory  39:29  

Yes, 

Kat  39:29  

Spike Spiegel.

Caitlin  39:30  

Always been great. These extra programming touches like Tom, like the space station, like these music videos. They not only were they like, absorbing us in a world that we continue to want to see to keep us watching. But it also always signaled to me that there were like, fans behind the construction? Like at the very least sci fi fans, if not explicitly just anime fans.

Kat  39:56  

There's a good interview on IGN that came out this year with Jason DeMarco, who is, he's currently the Senior Vice President and creative director for Adult Swim. But at the time, he was working for Toonami and he was the one who wrote and cut the trailer before Gundam Wing aired. And he wanted to create like a cinematic film trailer, like, kind of elevate it from what they were doing to something that was really like epic. And he's definitely a giant robot anime fan. I will also link this interview, but I think it's really interesting to see kind of the fans that were working in the background, he talks about how you have to get fansubs at conventions and stuff. So you know, he's, he's got that sort of similar anime background. He also talks a little bit about how they had to edit Gundam Wing for the daytime block and how the unedited version was sort of the prequel to the Adult Swim block. [quiet midi music of "Just Communication" beginning to play] So Toonami itself changed a lot about the whole environment of animation and how that's played on television, I think in America. [midi drum break as the volume increases.

Transcribed by https://otter.ai

[ihyperfixatedtoohard]

We had an AI write fanfiction for us.

TW: Bodily functions (Ie: expelling a certain thing from your ass), referring to Geralt somewhat femininely I guess???, Sexual content, Jaskier is referred to as Geralt's grandmother... so suede incest????? WAIT! I JUST WENT BACK AND READ IT AND JASKIER IS ACTUALLY RELATED TO HIM! HE'S HIS AUNT AND GRANDMA!

The Witcher : The Secret of the pillow

by Serenity Darkmoon Raven

A/N: All my story's take place in a alternate reality where the characters act this way.

---

A little Later, White Wolf was taking a shit.

He was having trouble though.

It felt like days passed and still no sign of release.

"Help..Errrr... ahhhh! Christ! when is this epic poo gonna pass!?" The Butcher of Blavikan exclaimed, His face wincing with effort.

He made every effort in his little boy body to expel this demon thing from his womanly back side.

Just as The Butcher of Blavikan was going in for another push..

Without warning the bathroom door suddenly burst open unexpectedly. Ahhhh!

"Well hello...White Wolf" a seductive noise whispered from the doorway.

A shadowy person stood leaning against the door frame. His deep, sensual voice which The Witcher knew immediately. His mind began racing and a nervous sweat began pouring from his face and groinal area.

"The Human... is that you? wha- what are you still doing awake...?"

He appeared in nothing but a towel, seemingly ready to take a steamy shower.

However He couldn't with Geralt of Rivia near by....they were like family now.The Human was like His grandma.

Any sane person would never allow their own grandma to see them in the nude. Right? RIGHT!!?! SHIT!"

"Oh I felt dirty from masturbating all day...ya ever feel dirty Geralt of Rivia?"

"Y-Yes, I mean NO! NO! NO! Never" Geralt of Rivia shrieked, He became so immensely worked up he cleaned his colon clear of the demon feces that had been clogging it. His voice also cracked like he was 13 again, but in comparison to the loud flatulence he just unleashed, who cares? The Bard heard though, and giggled like a adorable baby girl laugh. It sent tingles all up The Butcher of Blavikan's spine.

"Oh you've always been the shy one in the family, The Butcher of Blavikan..."

Geralt was not shy, at all. He defeated The Wild Hunt and blew up Her evil machines for Christ's sake! and now he suddenly found himself speechless. Was He going to see his metaphorical grandma literally naked? Little did he know, that was merely a choclate source on the banana split of love that was to come.

"..the shy and excitable one." said The Bardling finishing the sentence with a sly smile.

"Wh-what the..." and before White Wolf could send the third word out of His mouth..

..The Bard's towel dropped to the floor,setting his swingy bits free into the mist of the shower.

Geralt of Rivia noticed everything on him instantly. His soft butt,his magically gravity-defying middle leg and the tiny thingy colored birth mark on his butt, which made Him feel funny...as He had one there too.

Still, the sight of his near perfect body caused White Wolf's penis to become very hard. It stood erect and proud, pointing straight towards the mighty heavens.

"hehe oh my Geralt of Rivia...you're more impressive than I thought."

"uh... ye-yeah, th-thaaanks Jaskier, you're cute too." THIS IS SO WRONG! It raced through his head at lightning speed. But the beautiful, wet, soapy body that stood before him spoke otherwise. Him shapely body was everything Geralt of Rivia could want in something to wank to. Yet did family like relationship matter?..

...

...

NAAAAAH!!

But just as The Butcher of Blavikan was commiting. Commiting to a path that they couldn't go back from.

Geralt burst into the toilet!

"What are you too upto?"

"Err..nothing" said Geralt as he causally slipped his pants back on.

The Bard, who The Witcher didnt notice, picked up his towel and backed out slowly.

"Really?"

"I was just having a shit...see?" Geralt of Rivia gestured to his shit.

"Oh, thats a shit all right! One hell of a shit!

Ok, if your done we better go"

So White Wolf put his other pants on and left. He had a serious case of blue balls, but at least his anus didnt feel so bad now.

As he walked out The Human whispered one word. A word fall of hope.

"Later"

The Witcher Giggled.

Fortunately, their traveling companion was as oblivious as ever, and didn't notice.

---

A long long time ago, the legendary Ciri was forged....

Jaskier winked at The Butcher of Blavikan when no one else was looking.

"Later" he mouthed at him silently so no one could hear.

---

This is a story about how Jaskier, and Triss all first met. It takes place in Rivia Highschool before all the events, incidents and happenings happened..

In this story is a jock, Geralt of Rivia is a dork and Yennefer is the school pet.

We join our bros as they first check their school timetables.

"Who are you guys anyway?"

"Yo yo yo I am " said , pretending to be cool.

"Yo yo yo I am The Wild Hunt" said The Wild Hunt, who was actually really cool!

"Our next class is next" said The Raven haired Witch.

"I noticed. We should go together." said Geralt of Rivia.

So they did.

When they got to class they went in and went to their chairs.

The chairs were hard and made from wood. Probably hard wood.

They sat down on their chairs (different ones).

At that moment The Wild Hunt came into the class room.

"omg! look its The Wild Hunt " said Yennefer.

"Welcome class" said the teacher.The teacher was sexy, btw. All the teachers were sexy.

"Your first class, ever, is design and technology. So open your books to page 86 and start learning."

Geralt started learning intensely. His mind was filled with Design And Technology.

was actually trying to learn stuff, but failing because they sucked hard.

The Wild Hunt looked like they were studying, but Geralt knew they was clearly just faking it. Probably cheating. Yes, her was cheating at learning.

"Stop cheating!" said Geralt

"Screw you!" said The Wild Hunt

Teacher turned around sexily.

"Who said that?"

"Geralt and The Wild Hunt did!" said , who was keen to grass people up. Because sucks.

"This is my final warning you two!" said Teacher.

Geralt went back to his business studies book to continue learning.

The Wild Hunt, however, had other evil plans.

From her desk she got out a plastic straw. She winked evily at The Witcher....

....and then blew a rolled up bit of paper at the teacher!

"ahh!" said the Teacher.

"Ok, thats it! The Wild Hunt and The Butcher of Blavikan goto the principles office right now!"

"but..."

"Now"

The Wild Hunt cackled as she went out the room. Geralt of Rivia followed depressively.

"Its not fair, you did it"

"life's not fair you pipsqueak"

After a unpleasant walk, they arrived at the principles principle office.

---

Later, The Witcher and The Bardling were alone again.

"Its Later" said The Bard, pulling Geralt of Rivia towards the bathroom.

"But what about the others?"

"I'll just tell them you are helping me shower. They wont suspect a thing"

"True. They are all idiots"

Then, suddenly, The Bard was naked. White Wolf wondered how He did that. He must have been nearly naked this whole time!

The shower turned on...

..The Witcher was already.

Jaskier lathered up good and fine. The soap dripped off His body at a seductively slow pace. Geralt could not contain the powerful urge of excitement that raced through His veins.

The alluring look of his nudie comrade became too much for him to fathom and his erect penis launched a mighty wad of semen directly onto Geralt of Rivia's eye.

There The Witcher sat, His pink panties pulled quickly down at his ankles, on a toilet full of poop with His bodly fluids on full display, eyes bulging from His face.

The Bard giggled as Geralt of Rivia's dignity shriveled and died, but Geralt of Rivia had always enjoyed that delightful snicker, even after He found out He was His own flesh and blood.

"Well...wh-what do we do now?" The Witcher said, desperately trying to sound suave.

"It. We do it."

"it?"

"yes. it"

"we do it?"

"yes"

"oh"

...and with that The Human jumped on The Butcher of Blavikan. What little remained of their clothes plopped of quickly. Some fell in the toilet.

"um... lets g-get you outta my toil-dreams and into my bed." White Wolf stuttered, desperately trying to be slick, yet he knew it was hopeless to be suave on the shitter.

The Human hopped gleefully out of the shower, the soap continued pouring from His shapely body.Geralt of Rivia stood up from the toilet, His naughty bits proudly waving about and His pants still down around His ankles. He hurried to chase His shapely body down.

He fell in the door way, tripping over His pants. He pulled His face up from the floor and gazed at The Bard, DANCING ON THE KITCHEN TABLE

The night wreaked of eroticisms...and White Wolf could see that it was going to be a all you can eat porkfest.

And it was!

The Bard was soon ridding Geralt like a pogo stick.

"Poke me! DEEPER! DEEPER! GODDAMNIT!"

"Oh God I'm going to hell!" Geralt of Rivia screamed.

Geralt still had his Hawaiian shirt on and The Human was dripping soapy water all over the bed.

His perky penis swung around, like a happy child on a moon bounce. UP UP DOWN DOWN LEFT RIGHT LEFT RIGHT!, Geralt of Rivia liked it. It was a big, beautiful thing that ached to be sucked on.

Geralt especially liked that from this angle He could not see the awkward birth mark on His ass cheek. Which was a relief. White Wolf wanted to be hard and strong where it counts for the person He had always thought of as His aunty.

"Oh Geralt!" He breathed heavily, deep and cavernous "is what we're doing wrong!?!?"

"OH GOD YES!!" He yelled back at His naked aunty.

"GOOD! YES! YES! YES! YES AUNTY!!!" The Bard screamed.

When it was over they cleaned themselves, the room and the nearby hut down.

It took awhile - fortunately they finished before any of their friends got back. So their little secret was safe...for now.

---

"Sit down" said the Principle.

They did so. Geralt wondered what would happen. There was plenty of witness's to what The Wild Hunt did. But would they dare tell?

"So, The Wild Hunt, I heard you did something rather naughty to Teacher"

"yes sir"

The Butcher of Blavikan breathed a sigh of relief. Good! The principle knows! The Wild Hunt must be going to get expelled! Wait...why did she admit it though?

"I had too Sir. You see.....Teacher was a spy!"

Geralt of Rivia and the Principle looked shocked.

"what?"

"yes sir, a spy"

The principle couldn't punish The Wild Hunt if he did that too a spy. That makes him a school hero! And no one could prove Teacher wasn't a spy!

"Ok The Wild Hunt you can go. "

Noooo! thought Geralt. She got away with it!

"You, The Witcher,however will have to have some detections. You have no excuse for what you did!"

Geralt was depressed. He lost this round it seems. But he knew for future reference that The Wild Hunt was evil. He knew they would fight again, and next time he would have to win!

-The Start

[gaycrouton]

Could you write some hot msr porn with mulder seeing scully masturbate through a window, then comes over and fucks her hard?

Thank you for the prompt!!! Huge thanks to @admiralty-xfd for the beta

Mulder needed to tell her. He had to tell her. But in this moment he felt inexplicably frozen. His feet were lead, his legs heavy, the only perceivable movement in his entire body was the blood starting to pulse through his veins and his eyes frantically absorbing the sight in front of him, unsure which point to land on.

Scully must not have noticed the curtains were paper thin or that there were no blinds on the motel windows. Of course she wouldn't have noticed, from her perspective she wouldn't have seen anything different - the illumination of her room creating a one way mirror against the blackness of the night outside.

He, on the other hand, could see everything. Scully's body on the bed, the flickering of the television, the way her clothes were haphazardly strewn about the room. His first thought had been concern; Scully was a private woman, and the fact he could see her plain as day through the motel curtains meant any passerby could.

But then he really saw her and his thoughts were reduced to monosyllabic utterances: Fuck. Hot. Naked. Scully. Masturbating.

Mulder felt arousal swell up in him with a startling force. The crinkly wrapper of the candy bar he'd gone out to get from the vending machine was now slippery in his palm. To be honest, he felt a little faint. This all felt like one of his fantasies being played out in front of his eyes - his own home movie. Only this time window panes replaced the sides of his television box.

He took one furtive glance around him to make sure he was alone in the parking lot, relieved to see it appeared that all the other patrons were asleep. At least that's what he hoped. As much as he didn't want anyone watching Scully in a moment of private, self-indulgent gratification, he also didn't want anyone seeing him do exactly that.

The gravel beneath his feet shifted under his weight and the sound was deafening against the stillness of the night. His head shot back to the sole beacon of light, sure Scully would be looking in his direction, her vantage point the complete, opaque opposite of his own. But she wasn't. Her chest was heaving as she seemed to sink even deeper into the motel blankets - fingers moving deftly in between her bent legs.

Mulder had seen her no less than twenty minutes ago. Twenty minutes ago when she'd feigned a yawn and told him she was exhausted. "I just want to get to the motel and go straight to bed."

It was a sentiment she'd repeated for the last hour of the car ride. However, before, he'd just assumed she said it to cut the tension from their conversation about childhood crushes which had somehow managed to take a dirtier route than originally intended. She'd seemed antsy after that, fidgety even, but he assumed she was tired. Now he wasn't so sure.

He watched as her back arched off the mattress, pushing her body weight into her hand while the other reached up to grab her left breast. Scully's mouth dropped open in what he assumed was a silent cry as she tweaked and pinched her nipple.

He didn't realize he was starting to rub himself through his dress pants until he felt his cock twitch against his palm. His instincts told him to stop, that being added to the sex offender registy for public masturbation was the last thing his reputation needed, but he couldn't help but idly squeeze his shaft as he watched her fingers move from her sex to her mouth and then back down.

Fuck.

Suddenly she stilled and lifted herself on her elbow, careening her body so it was more visible to him while she appeared to listen for a noise coming from the other side of the wall. Where he should technically be.

The moment of stillness continued as she panted, presumably waiting to make sure he wasn't awake. She had no idea just how awake he was. From her new angle he could see her entire lithe frame, from the way her breasts hung on her chest to the thatch of trimmed hair on her mons to the way her fingers glistened against the illumination of the motel lamps.

Her face was flushed with arousal and her hair was askew from lolling her head back and forth against her pillow. Scully seemed to decide the noise was a fluke as she eased herself back down on the bed, her hair fanning out on the pillow underneath her head. Her legs, seeming longer than possible for her diminutive height, bent so that the soles of her feet were planted on the bed as she continued her ministrations. She bit her lip as her brow started to furrow and he knew she was falling back into her rhythm, steady waves of pleasure pulsing through her body evidenced by the tightening of her abdominal muscles. The hand not between her legs started absently touching her collarbone, fingering the flesh like it was velvet.

The pose reminded him instantly of a baroque painting and the framing of the window helped set the scene. What would she be named? "The Pleasure of Woman"? "Venus in Ecstasy?" Every time she moved, he couldn't help but think that he'd never seen her as beautiful as she was then. He wasn't sure what it was about the situation that was making him so impossibly hard: if it was the pure eroticism of seeing a woman pleasure herself as she would in private, or if it was seeing Scully doing this while she was under the assumption he was in the next room. Undoubtedly it was a mixture of both. He watched as she tilted her head back against the pillow, writhing under her movements.

He shouldn't be watching this.

The thought that had been floating around in his head since he stumbled across her came back in full force after realizing just how close she was. Or-how close she looked like she was. His stance hadn't changed in the past five minutes; he had to tell her. The thought that some stranger might walk past her window and watch her while she was changing or doing something like this made his stomach turn. He realized he was being a hypocrite, but he wanted to blame part of it on being shell-shocked. It wasn't every day something like this happened. But while he knew watching her in a moment of intimacy was bad, watching her come felt like more of a monumental trespass.

As he walked to her door on unsteady legs, he took off his coat and draped it over his arm, trying in vain to cover his erection. Mulder paused while at the doorstep, feeling another wave of arousal rush through him as he heard a few soft, barely suppressed whimpers come from the other side of the door. If he hadn't gone out to get a candy bar, he was sure he never would have suspected the sounds were coming from Scully. They sounded high pitched, desperate, and full of unbridled lust - almost as if her body couldn't contain them.

Raising a sweaty hand, he knocked on the door and heard a soft, breathy 'fuck' come from the other side before hearing her call out, "Just a minute!" Mulder stood stock still, staring intently at the thick coat of paint coating the door. He was struck by the thought of seeing her this up close. He wasn't sure if he'd ever seen Scully aroused before. Maybe he had. He hadn't realized she was getting turned on by their conversation earlier, so who knew what else he had missed. But what he did know was that in a few moments, he'd be less than a foot away from a Scully who was on the brink of orgasm.

She whipped open the door after unlocking the deadbolt, and if he hadn't just seen the little show in the window, he'd assume she was sick. There was a sheet of sweat coating her brow, her cheeks were flushed red, and her breath was coming out in shallow pants. He wondered, if he hadn't been looking for it, if he would have noticed the way she was desperately wiping one of her hands on the back of her loosely tied robe.

"What is it Mulder?" she asked, trying hard to suppress her panting, swallowing thickly while trying to appear unbothered.

"I saw you," he murmured lowly, locking eyes with her.

Her mouth dropped open as if to respond, but she was at a loss for words. "W-what?" she stammered.

"Look," he instructed, leaning forward into her personal space and pointing towards the window. He could smell a mixture of sweat and sex on her person, the perfume she'd put on earlier in the day exaggerated from the heat of her body.

She didn't look immediately. Instead, she gasped almost inaudibly and kept her eyes on him as he got closer. When she met his eyes, she followed his finger and he watched as realization dawned in her gaze. "Oh my god," she whispered in horror.

"I just wanted to let you know. I-uh," he paused, unsure how to continue without making her feel bad or making himself look like a pervert. "I didn't mean to see or violate your privacy. I just thought you'd want to know," he explained, still not taking his eyes off her. Her blush looked even darker than before, and he knew she was embarrassed.

"I-I'm sorry," she mumbled, looking down at her feet.

"Hey," he prompted, letting his hand fall to his side even though his fingers burned to touch her cheek. He wanted her to see in his eyes how much she shouldn't be sorry.

Mulder waited for a moment, but Scully didn't look up. "You shouldn't apologize. We all do it."

She looked up at him through heavy lashes with a small frown tugging on her lips. "While that may be true, usually one's partner doesn't get a front row seat to it," she murmured.

"Are you mad?" he asked without thinking, prompted by the directness of her words.

"No, I'm embarrassed, Mulder," she proclaimed, raising her voice and meeting his eye. Her focus was glassy and her cheeks were still pink. All the emotions she was feeling barely contained within her small frame. "You just saw me masturbating! Why were you even out there?"

"I was getting a candy bar," he explained. In his rush to answer her, he thoughtlessly raised his arm to show her the candy bar in question, not realizing he exposed his still obvious hard on.

He didn't realize until she didn't respond, then following her gaze to see what she was focused on. Mulder dropped his arm back down, his coat fruitlessly covering his lower half. The movement caused Scully's gaze to flicker back towards his and he immediately noticed there was a shift from embarrassment to curiosity in their depths. "How long were you out there?" she asked measuredly.

"To be honest, I was distracted. Maybe five seconds, maybe ten minutes. I wasn't keeping track," he responded. "I'm sorry," he added in response to her silence.

She just looked at him curiously. He couldn't what she was thinking, but he could tell her mind was racing a mile a minute. Her gaze went from his face to his chest to the parking lot behind him. Then, without warning, she took a step towards him, threw her arms around his neck and kissed him.

Mulder's body lurched towards hers, instinctively seeking out her warmth. His arms wrapped around her middle, pulling her to him while his erection pressed into her belly. Without her heels she felt so tiny in his arms, his neck had to crane down to meet her eager lips and he felt like he barely had to open his arms to encase her fully.

His tongue slid against hers with nervous eagerness while her fingernails scraped against the nape of his neck, sending shivers down his spine. She felt like a radiator in his arms and he couldn't believe this was happening. The wind blew behind him and he remembered they were on the threshold of her motel room, so he picked her up from her middle and walked the remaining few feet into her room, kicking the door shut with his foot.

Scully laughed huskily into his mouth before wrapping her legs around his hips, clinging to him while sucking on his bottom lip. He knew if he went deeper into the room, they'd be on display for any person walking around, so he instead pivoted his body around and walked forward so that her back was against the door, keeping them secure in the little anteroom. This position allowed for his erection to grind into her arousal, now exposed from the loosening of the sash around her waist.

He moaned as she squirmed against him, and she took the opportunity to pull back and look at his face. She was panting again, her eyes roaming his expression and drinking in the signs of arousal he'd just enjoyed seeing on her. He swallowed thickly and moved so that his hands were beneath her thighs, helping support her weight more. "While I'm thrilled at this turn of events, I still want to say I'm sorry for watching," he apologized.

She shifted herself on his hips, rubbing herself against him in the effort while she licked her lips. "It's okay. It's you," she whispered, brushing back some of his hair that had fallen in front of his eyes. He was still digesting her words when she smiled at him and recaptured his lips with her own.

He returned the kiss fervently, bucking into her a few times as he enjoyed the silken sensation of her tongue against his own. Then, he slowly lowered them to the floor, so that she was standing while he kneeled in front of her. He grabbed the sash of her robe and tugged on it so that the flaps fell on either side of her body, revealing her flushed skin to him. He looked up at her to make sure he wasn't over stepping and was glad to see she was biting her lip, looking down at him in complete anticipation of what was to come.

What he wanted to come most of all was her, so he grabbed the back of one of her legs and encouraged her to throw it over his shoulder so that her sex was completly revealed to him. Her folds opened with a slick sound as she glistened in eager desire. Mulder exhaled against her and couldn't help but smile as he watched and felt her whole body shiver, goosebumps rising on her flesh. He heard her ragged breathing pick up before he leaned forward and pressed his mouth to her.

It sounded like all the breath was stolen from her lungs as she gasped and thrust against him. He accepted her eagerly, opening his mouth and running the length of his tongue over her slit, plunging it inside her before coming up to circle her clit. "M-Mulder," she whined, sinking a little against the door as if to gain more pressure against his mouth.

He reached up, cupping her ass with his free hand in an attempt to stabilize her as she grabbed his hair. "Ohmygodohmygod," she rambled as he ran his tongue back and forth against her clit with pointed attention. He knew she was close from earlier, and he could tell that was still true as her muscles twitched and quivered under his hands. He felt her arousal spreading down his cheeks and on to his chin while he thrust his tongue into her.

Resuming his attention back up to her clit, he kept up a steady pace for a while as he listened to her breath start to crescendo. He looked up and was pleasantly surprised to see she had been watching him, a look a pure rapture on her face. He squeezed her ass with his hand and pressed her impossibly closer to his face, grinding his tongue against her. He watched as her jaw dropped open and her eyes rolled back, her hips spasmodically undulating against his mouth. "Muldermuldermuldermulder," she chanted while she came, riding out the orgasm as he continued his ministrations. He only stopped when she eased herself up on her shaky leg and put a hand on his shoulder.

He looked up at her and smiled at her goofy, sated grin. With a shaky hand, she pushed against his shoulder so that he fell back onto his butt in between her legs. "You're so beautiful," he praised, his eyes greedily roaming the exposed expanse of her body.

With a smile, she pushed her shoulders back so the robe fell down her arms so she could shuck it off, leaving her completely bare in front of him. The erection that had been throbbing since this all started felt like it was threatening to tear through his pants. She fell down onto her knees, straddling his lower thighs as she looked down in between them.

Mulder followed her gaze and saw there was a wet spot on his front, presumably left by their earlier union. She made quick work of undoing his belt and fly while he unbuttoned his shirt. He was throwing his undershirt off when he felt her dainty hand grab his length. "Fuck," he gasped, bucking his hips, and inadvertenly her, upwards.

She exhaled a breathy laugh at his reaction and gently squeezed him again. He grabbed her body and pulled her closer to him so he could place another deep kiss to her lips. Scully wrapped her arms around his neck and returned his kiss in kind, pressing her breasts against his chest with purposeful intent.

Of all the ways he'd pictured this moment, it hadn't been in the alcove of a motel doorway. He wished he could take her to the bed, make it better for her. But from the way she was moaning and squirming in his lap, she didn't seem to mind.

With one hand around her back and the other grabbing her ass, he lifted her slightly so he could put her on her back, grabbing their discarded clothes so he could quickly put the small barrier between the cold tile and her delicate skin. He kept his forearm under her head for cushion and adjusted until he was in between her legs, looming over her.

Her hair fanned over his arm as she looked up at him with a content, excited smirk. He could feel her body heat radiating against his skin and he couldn't believe this was really Scully in his arms. "Is this okay?" he asked, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. This was all so sudden, yet the oddness of it all felt so right.

She smiled at him and nodded, "I want you." It was direct. What would happen after was a mystery right now, but they were too deep to go back now. They'd come this far, they might as well go all the way and figure it out later. He knew they would.

He smiled down at her and kissed her sweetly on the lips. A kiss that he hoped conveyed that this wasn't just necessarily a heat of the moment thing for him. She kissed back before breaking away to smatter another series of kisses across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. Then she raised her legs up and shifted her weight, arching her pelvis up against him.

He reached his free hand between them and grabbed himself, gathering some of her wetness before aligning their sexes. "Let me know if you need me to slow down," he rasped as he started easing forward, spreading her apart around his cock while resisting the urge to plunge himself all the way in.

She gasped and was clearly having to use all her strength to keep her eyes open so they could share this moment. The moment where they were finally together. Scully felt incredible and he felt a shiver of pleasure wash over his body in waves as he continued plunging into her inch by inch. He paused once or twice when he felt her body tense up or when he saw her brow furrow in discomfort, but after kissing her for a while, she'd press her heel into his lower back to encourage him.

They continued like that until his balls were pressed against the flesh of her ass, his cock completely sheathed inside her. He bowed his head into the crook of her neck, breathing heavily as he enjoyed the equisite torture of being inside her and unable to move. He stayed like that, kissing her shoulder until she started rocking gently underneath him.

He raised himself up and saw her biting her lip as she moved one leg down from his hips, bending it and placing it firmly on the floor so she could help thrust against him. Feeling confident now, he pulled out so that his tip was almost out of her before plunging all the way back in.

"Oh my god!" she moaned, her head falling back as her back arched.

He did that a few more times before finding a vigorous pace they both seemed to like. Mulder tried to make sure his pubic bone was angled in a way that would brush against her clit with every thrust and, by the way her brows her furrowing and her nails were scoring his back, she seemed to enjoy it.

Mulder raised his free hand and started palming her breasts, reveling in the weight of them in his hands and the way they'd bounce when he released them. He shifted himself higher on his knees so that he was almost kneeling again, allowing him to plunge deeper inside of her than he was able to before. "S-Scully," he groaned, her name sounding like a prayer on his lips.

"I-I wanna be on top," she moaned, squirming against him.

With an eager smile, he leaned away from her and fell onto his back. His cock fell out of her only for a moment and he hissed as his sensitive, wet skin was robbed of her warmth and the cool air of the room hit him. But she was quick to straddle him and reach between them, aligning them once more before impaling herself back down onto him.

From this vantage point, he could see all of her. Every muscle in her body as she raised herself up and down, riding him like her life depended on it. His sure felt like it did. Every cell in his body felt like it was on fire for her, anticipating her next move. He probably could have come a long time ago, but he was determined to make her come once again before succumbing to pleasure. He started meeting her thrust for thrust at the same time he began reaching for her clit. It was hard to maintain hold because of her movements, but after a moment he was able to find a groove to place his hand so that he could circle her clit while she ground herself against him.

She started to make those little breathy, panting noises and he suspected she was close. "You feel so good," she groaned, taking a little extra time on that downward thrust to feel him plunge all the way inside her.

"I've wanted this for so long," he admitted, watching her bottom lip as she sucked it into her mouth.

Scully released it as she cried out when he thrust into her in rapid succession and he could feel her body starting to lose some of its dexterity. Then, he felt her hand join his as they both touched her while her other hand went up to cup her breast.

"That's it, Scully," he praised while feeling the telltale tightening of his balls.

Luckily for him, he angled his hips to hit her just right and she cried out his name, her inner walls clamping down around him like a vice as he came. He kept burying himself inside her, thrusting upwards to help them both ride out their orgasms, not caring how their joined orgasms started leaking out of her and pooling in between them with each thrust.

Eventually, like last time, Scully grabbed his hand with her own and he knew she was too oversensitized for his touch. He eased up the movement of his hips too until they came to a resting halt. The only sound in the room now was that of their mingled heavy breathing. Scully looked down at him with sated eyes, smiling at him before falling down onto his body and nuzzling herself against him. He wrapped his arms around her and rubbed one of his hands up and down her back soothingly, enjoying the feeling of having his own Scully-blanket covering him.

They stayed like that for quite a while, neither of them saying anything until Mulder eventually spoke up. "I was actually trying to convince myself to lay off the candy bars. I'm so glad I didn't," he joked lamely.

He knew it wasn't his best, but he was concerned when she didn't say anything at all. "Scully?" he prompted, leaning away to look at her. He felt his heart tighten when he saw she'd fallen asleep on top of him.

With as much ease as he could, he got up while carrying her, and walked them over to the bed, turning off the lamp as he passed. For a moment he considered going back to his own room, not wanting to push her too far by overstaying his welcome. But a tiny hand grabbing at his own told him this was a welcome change.

He slid under the motel comforter with her as they lay facing each other. Her eyelids barely cracked open, only revealing enough of her eyes to allow her to find his hand and grab it again with her own, bringing it close to her bare chest so she could hug it against herself.

Doing her one better, he shifted on his hip so that he was almost flush to her, entangling their legs while he wrapped his other arm around her and pulled her closer to him. "G'night, Muller," her sleepy voice mumbled against his chest.

"Good night, Scully," he whispered back, watching the moonlight stream from behind the curtains and illuminate her once again.

[killingeveperspectives]

Perspective: Can redeeming Villanelle make her character less iconic?

Have you ever heard of the Codex Gigas? Also known as ‘The Devil’s bible’, it is the largest illuminated manuscript in the world according to Wikipedia. It is told that a monk made a pact with the Devil himself and feverishly wrote the entire book in one night! As an acknowledgment to his partner he drew his monstrous figure in one of the pages. Said page looks different from the others, as if touched by some malignant magic. Today we know the reason for it: the page suffered the most deterioration for being the most exposed. For centuries people could not get enough of this character: The Devil. Indeed, we have codified ways to save ourselves from the metaphorical Devil – ourselves. We invented sins and crimes to tame something deeply primal within us. Freud called it id, the origin of all that which makes us tick: impulses, instinct, drives, libido. It reckons only two things: pleasure and satisfaction. If we could strip ourselves from all inhibition there would be impulse and sensation. It would be brutal ecstasy. But what would be of the world if all 7 billion of us would uncompromisingly seek to satisfy our impulses? Hell, so we don’t.

But through art we can glimpse at what this liberation would feel like. Some sort of existential voyeurism. Aristotle would call it catharsis, but what does he know? This is how some of the most remarkable characters were born, they mesmerize us by being their id – unapologetically, terrifyingly, charmingly – like the Devil himself. Characters like Hannibal Lecter, The Joker, Alex DeLarge; they are larger than life, unbind, amoral and extremely bright (and all male). Like Hannibal brilliantly put it in Silence of the Lambs: “Nothing happened to me, officer Starling, I happened” or like the perverted childlike Alex explain in A Clockwork Orange: “What I do I do because I like to do”. As simple as that. Pure satisfaction of impulse because they feel like it. When we, uneased by what they represent, want explanations or justifications, The Joker toys with us, always giving us a different version of his tragic background, as if he knew we want to give him an excuse and, in good joker fashion, he makes a huge joke out of it. They take it very seriously to explain to us what went wrong with them, because it doesn’t really matter.

While the id makes us organic, whole creatures, many attributes of it have been culturally dissociated from womanhood. The violent, self-preserving and egoistic impulses were replaced with nurturing, self-sacrifice and compassion – not surprisingly the only impulse afforded to women is motherhood (or sexual desire for the satisfaction of another). Therefore, women cannot fully materialize their humanity. These raging impulses feel alien to womanhood, something imposed on to them by circumstance so severe that it warps the nature of the female itself. Aggressive women are sad and broken, or vengeful, or mad, or sexualized – these are the portrayals we have been conditioned to expect from fiction. When compared to their male counterparts, even mild violence in a female character almost immediately requires an explanation: how someone betrayed them, or abused them, or they were conditioned into it. Rage and aggression are never theirs to own, it is always extrinsically sourced.

On a superficial level, the character of Villanelle doesn’t seem so unique. Immediately one could think of Nikita in La femme Nikita, who was a drug junkie teen, rescued and transformed into a cold-blooded femme-fatale assassin by the shadowy government group “The Centre” after they faked her death to break her from prison (Uncannily similar?). Or the movie Anna by the same writer, where a Russian girl accepts a KGB offer to be trained into an assassin in order to escape her abusive homelife. Or Marvel’s black widow who is also a Russian spy, apparently brainwashed by USSR to become an assassin. Other female assassins include The bride in Kill Bill who set off into a revenge killing spree after being brutally assaulted and left for dead, and other movies I vaguely remember about abused women becoming assassins to seek revenge, or shallow sexy female assassins with no purpose for existing other than being the sexy female assassin. However, all these characters were made into assassins by external factors. Villanelle is set apart from the typical femme-fatale assassin trope by owning her own joy of killing, by the rejection of the broken female narrative and the rejection of the objectifying male gaze. In order to unmistakably ground these traits alienated from women – violence, disregard, cruelty, indifference, sadism, risk-taking – in her nature, the character was written as a primary psychopath. Being an assassin fits her natural talents, not the other way around    

Villanelle could occupy a very special place among a roster of remarkable fictional characters like the ones mentioned earlier. She is the female embodiment of absolute, remorseless indulgence and rage, representing the unashamed satisfaction of women’s impulses, for her own enjoyment alone, with style and wit – A truly magnetic character and fresh perspective. In psychopathic Villanelle, women are allowed to reclaim these violent impulses, which is oddly empowering and humanizing. Give us that. Brilliantly, the cathartic element is mirrored by Eve herself. Eve too sees her unfulfilled and alienated impulses incarnated in Villanelle, which in turn sparks Eve’s exploration of her own identity. Ultimately Villanelle’s seduction to embrace impulse despite its danger is at the core of their electric attraction and conflict.

Thus, by retconning Villanelle in Season 3, the character no longer represents the provoking embodiment of female drive, managing to become an elevated female assassin trope, at best. The challenging take on womanhood, instead plays into all of the expectations. Villanelle is no longer a female true to her nature that gets a kick from being an assassin; but a troubled girl, tortured into becoming a killing machine by a past of abuse. A broken woman who rejects the violence instilled into her once she finds healing. Interestingly, it is not that she merely chooses not to kill but she is unable to carry on the act, signifying the deeper alienation of the violent impulse from her own self – the same impulse that once made her so iconic. This lack of impetus to kill is but a symptom of the decreased character’s libido in general: fewer shopping sprees, less savory eating, less unpretentious playfulness, less color, less eroticism, less aggression, less danger. Unfortunately, it also means the weakening of her dynamic with Eve. Villanelle is being tamed, and its well… not her best take.

We, the audience, perceive this lack of vitality oozing into the entire show, but once you shift what Villanelle represents this is inevitable. Villanelle becomes mundane, and it brings the nostalgia of the force of nature she once was. It leaves a similar taste as the brutal transformation of Alex from despicable nihilistic hedonist into a model citizen in A clockwork orange: a conflicted perverted sadness at the loss of Alex’s authenticity despite him turning into a “better” human being – ingeniously, his redemption was to gain his despicable impulses back. 

The initial character design of Villanelle was something unique and authentic. However, In the process of redeeming her, she might become a new iteration of a trope explored several times that simply reflect the current space of female characters and lack conceptual originality. Yet, there is still room for the recuperation of Villanelle’s transgressive power: a subversive redemption. By incorporating the impulsive indulgence and violence back into the character, Villanelle’s arc can be taken somewhere new, complex and truly special. A remarkable character we can’t get enough of – like the Devil herself.

[dangerouscommiesubversive]

banjou at a gym with the other build characters

Ok, I shit you not, my dear, I have been thinking about this prompt all goddamn day, and I’m grateful to you, because it’s giving me the chance to go back to a fic idea I wrote about half of two months ago and then abandoned. The original thing was inspired by Dorian Electra’s track “Man To Man,” which is a very beautiful song about the inherent eroticism of beating the ever-loving tar out of your bro as a viable alternative to a confession of love. This story is...not that, but bits of its genesis remain.

Surprisingly, it’s Kazumi’s idea first, pacing like a trapped cat in the lab until finally Sento asks what his problem is and he says, “Look, I’m going fucking crazy with all this waiting, can we do something? I saw a gym a few streets over, do you think it has a pool or something?”

Banjou perks up, and Gentoku says, “It’s worth checking, at least,” and Misora and Sawa both agree that swimming could be nice, and Sento is dubious but finally acknowledges that at the very least he needs to go outside for a bit.

The gym was busy only a week ago, a popular spot for the city’s few professional sports players and occasional wealthy fitness enthusiasts, but now that almost everyone’s evacuated it’s a ghost town. They didn’t even have to break the lock to get in; whoever was last here left it open--maybe it was an oversight, but it’s just as likely that they didn’t care.  The place is untouched, anyway, equipment dusty but in pristine working condition, the water still running, the refrigerators in the little shop still humming along as they preserve a variably-absurd selection of sports drinks.

Unfortunately, there’s no pool, but there are heavy bags, and the tension visibly goes out of Banjou’s shoulders when he sees them. “I’m gonna...” he gestures at them vaguely. “It’s been. So long since I actually got to punch something in a normal way.” He steals a package of hand-wraps from the shop, strips off his shirt, and in moments he’s off in his own little world, methodically beating down whatever opponent his chosen heavy bag embodies.

After a minute of staring at this, Misora and Sawa grab a bag of pretzels, find a bench to sit on, and settle down to watch him.

“I have no idea what I’m supposed to be doing here,” Sento says to the air.

“You could also watch Banjou punch things.” Misora offers him the bag. “It’s not like you don’t spend enough time staring at him as it is.”

Sento turns bright red, makes an indignant noise, and then sits down next to her and takes a handful of pretzels.

Gentoku wanders around the room for a few minutes, looking at the various machines, and then grabs another two packages of hand-wraps from the shop and throws one to Kazumi. “Hey, Potato. Fight me?”

“I have no idea what I’m supposed to do with these things, Beardy.” Kazumi waves the package at him. “Also, since when do you box?”

“I was in the judo club in high school until the meetings started interfering with Model UN. And I boxed a bit in college. You don’t know how to wrap your hands?”

“No, who does that? I mean except him, he’s like. A professional. Me and the boys used to fight for fun, but we never used these things.”

Banjou stops dead and turns a disbelieving stare at him. “What kind of fighting were you doing?”

Kazumi shrugs. “You know. Boxing. Clear out a space in the barn, get some whiskey, fight until everyone’s either bored, unconscious, or too drunk to stand up.”

“You used to fight bare-knuckle in a barn?”

“It’s moments like this when I remember that I’m surrounded by city people.”

“I don’t know if this makes me respect you more or less.”

“Yeah, that’s part of my appeal.” Kazumi’s already pulling off his coat and shirt. “Nobody can make up their damn mind about me.”

“This is much more fun than I was expecting,” Sawa says to nobody as Gentoku and Kazumi start circling each other. “I mean, no pool, but I think this is better.”

For the next ten minutes or so nobody really talks. Banjou beats up the heavy bag. Gentoku and Kazumi feint at each other and land very few actual hits. Misora and Sawa watch them, passing the bag of pretzels back and forth and occasional murmuring to each other. Sento also watches and has some pretzels, but then he pulls a piece of the Hassyar out of his coat pocket and settles in to repair it.

The silence is finally broken when his precision screwdriver clatters to the floor and rolls away. “Fucking--”

Banjou steps away from the heavy bag, grabs the screwdriver, and brings it back over, crouching down to hold the piece steady while Sento screws the panel back on. “This shit’s tiny, how do you do this without getting a headache?”

“I don’t, I always have a headache. And my hands cramp up.”

“Maybe you need wraps.” Banjou takes the piece and the screwdriver from Sento and sets them aside on the bench before taking one of Sento’s hands in both of his. “Here, one of my instructors taught me this for dealing with arthritis stuff, it’s really good for--” and stops. “Sento, when did you break your finger?”

Sento frowns. “What? I didn’t break my finger.”

“Don’t bullshit me, this finger was broken. And not set right. It wasn’t, like, a big break, but it was definitely broken.” Banjou frowns down at Sento’s hand. “So was this one. And this one might have--lemme see the other one.” He grabs Sento’s other hand over Sento’s irritated protest. “I’m seeing...at least two breaks here, and none of them healed right.” Beat. “Sento, make a fist.”

“Why?”

“Just do it, asshole, I need to see something.”

Sento scowls and curls his right hand into a fist.

Banjou looks at it closely, and his eyebrows draw down. “Who taught you how to punch? Isurugi must have--he just put you in the suit but didn’t teach you how to hit someone?” At Sento’s flinch, “Look, don’t answer that, just. I mean at least your thumb is outside your fist? That’s something? Because otherwise you would have broken your thumb and you would definitely have noticed that. Have you just been breaking your fingers all this time and ignoring it? Didn’t you care that they hurt?” As he’s talking, his hands are busy, adjusting the curl of Sento’s fingers, the position of his thumb.

Sento sounds more weary than anything when he says, “All of me hurts, Banjou. I don’t know why my hands should be any different.”

Everyone is already turning politely away as Banjou goes a bit red in the face and says, quietly, “Well, I care that your hands hurt.” Then, louder, “Come on, stand up, I’m going to show you how to punch.”

“Can’t I just watch you three and figure it out?” Sento isn’t actually fighting as Banjou pulls him to his feet. “I have things I could be working on.”

“No, you can’t just watch me, you have to feel how it works. And you definitely can’t watch them, because they have terrible goddamn form,” said loudly over his shoulder in the direction of Kazumi and Gentoku, who pause in the middle of trading headlocks to flip him off. “And also when’s the next time I’m gonna get to be the one who knows something you don’t know?”

“You’re never going to let me forget this, are you.” Sento pulls off his sweater. His mouth has a familiar twitch at the corners, as if he’s trying desperately to suppress a smile.

“Hell no, I’m gonna be riding this high for at least a week.” Banjou grins at him. “Come on, smart guy. Punch me.”

[notbecauseofvictories]

I’m starting my first “real” job after graduate school tomorrow, and am freaking out at the idea that I’ll have to work every day for the rest of my life.. how do you deal with that?

I love theater. The only reason I wasn’t a Theater Kid is because it required a level of personal grooming and interpersonal drama I was not ready to sustain. (I barely held it together for the knock-down drag-out pit orchestra fight of 2009, and that was small potatoes—mostly a thinly-veiled argument between two 17yos about secondary education and class, with the orchestra director’s son as an unfortunate casualty.)

Nevertheless, I always loved a set-up where I could fake being someone else for a certain sustained period of time. The singing was just a fantastic bonus.

So, when I tell you that I go to work every morning and Put On A Show, I want you to understand what I mean. I show up to work every morning, and cheerfully turn on Work Sarah!!! who has three exclamation points and endless discussions about weather, The Bachelor (my office’s drug of choice) and events happening currently in our locale. She’s not really that different from my self, but she is always hyper-sincere. She is wide-eyed, very very new despite being here a year, and gently asks after her colleagues’ children, relatives, and weekends. “Oh my gosh, that sounds so wonderful,” she exclaims about foreign vacations, family get-togethers, and sleepy weekends spent at home doing chores.

“Ugh, Mondays,” she laughs in a certain sort of way, tossing her hair back as she uses the office coffee maker, again, for the third time in the last two hours.

“Oh, hump days,” she then similarly laughs on Wednesdays, tossing her hair back in a practiced, smiling way.

“Thank god, Fridays,” she laughs, brittle-y. Her hair is brittle too, by then, since she hasn’t gone without a shower in a few days.

And then she goes home to her apartment, where she meets with her actual friends who know her and sleep in her bed sometimes and don’t mind she’s foul goblin who talks to much about the weird eroticism of the Catholic Church, Star Wars, and the emotional toil of being a young attorney.

......which is to say.

I love my work, I do. It is the saving grace of my job, the fact that the work—irrespective of the various people involved in it—is fantastic. But the idea that work is where it begins and ends, is all and everything is…a mistake. That is a road unto ruin. The important thing is that, as you embark on your New Post-Graduate Life, you understand that what you are embarking on is a part of that. In the absence of homework, papers, publication expectations, TA positions….you have a freedom you haven’t experienced in a while. You have the freedom to shape a life. Not just work, but life.

I think the idea that real life doesn’t start until after a certain level of degree has been accomplished, until you get a job, can be comforting—you’re not a real adult until then, so it’s all right, you’re still a Gen [xyzkd10383] or Millennial adrift. You’re trying to figure out where you fit, so aimlessness and uncertainty is expected. On a certain level it is. But at the same time, the idea that you have to figure it out can be a clarion call. What are you doing? How are you faring? What happens now, what happens here? Can you have a life? Can you build one, from what you’re left with in absence of the stereotypical American dream? What now?

I love photography and volunteer work, bullying myself into doing things for those communities I think deserve my support. I like baking and cooking for people I know (family, friends, coworkers.) I like taking long walks, and occasionally renting a car and just driving. These are things I’ve only discovered about myself in the last year, when I was ostensibly working a full-time 8-to-5 job.

If the cost of that is pretending to be warm and pleasant at the coffee machine on a Tuesday morning, then so be it.