#no-droids

[mandoloriancookie]

More randomness with mando.

Reader: Have you eaten snake?

Mando: I have on Arvala-7... snake has been a meal when other food was scarce.

Reader: is it good?

Mando: No, it's not. A warrior eats to survive.

Reader: Would you eat it again?

Mando: If I'm really, really hungry... or if I've lost a bet.

[basiclauren]

Let me hold your hand girl, sweet girl.

Debated on posting for awhile but… eff it. I found Rough Day back in like, May, and inspired me to create this piece… different hand holdings or whatever.

Anyways. Thank you for what you have created, @no-droids ❤️

[chefskiss-ficrecs]

yeah yeah tell me rough day is too mainstream all day but sometimes things that are mainstream…. Are good….

All chapters are NSFW and contain smut. 18+ only.

The Rough Day Series (Ongoing):

1. Rough Day || 2. Heaven in Hyperspace || 3. Negotiation Skills || 4. Rest || 5. Of Metal and Men || 6. A Show of Good Faith || 7. Rushed || 8. The Floor is Better || 9. Brown Eyes || 10. Just the Translator || 11. Promise Me (It’s Yours) || 12. Beginner’s Luck || 13. Kar’taylir || 14. Whenever You Want || 15. Out of a Trillion || 16. Ask Me Again Tomorrow || 17. Whispers of You || 18. Home

Related Works: 

I. Untitled Rough Day Backstory Drabble || II. The Mandalorian NSFW Alphabet

***

The Locked Door Series (Complete):

1. Why is the Girl Here? || 2. Dove

***

The Bet Series (Complete):

1. Mercy, Sabotage, and Dead Space || 2. Rumors, Freebies, and a Race for Last Place

***

Oneshots:

I. The Sun on Both Sides

***

Oneshots: 

I. The Secret

***

[chloesimaginationthings]

William Afton has top tier FNAF parenting skills

[queenjiru]

Oh Gonky you rascal 🔪✨

Inspired by @gayjedicoded

[crafftypenguin]

[engagemythrusters]

idea: GNK droid dressed up as a juice box

[ddeck]

jedi girl and her pink astromech

[ahhrenata]

💥

[galactic-hunter]

[fury161]

someones on sm33 maintenance duty

[mandoloriancookie]

More randomness with Mando.

Reader: Can you build a house like pa?

Mando: A cabin? Should be easy work for us.

Reader: No, just you. Ma didn't help.

Mando: It would be faster if we work together.

Reader: I'm not helping. That's man's work.

Mando: Fine, I'll build the house. But don't expect me to do any decorating. I'm a Mandalorian, not Martha Stewart.

I'm 7 episode in. Send help.

[wanderinginksplot]

I am a Clone Wars-era Star Wars fic writer. I've been staring at mando.org for literal years to find slang, fic titles, and nicknames. I once read every entry to make sure I knew all the options for some term or another.

How did I just realize that the Mandalorian word for droid is beskar'ad? Mandalorians literally call droids, "Iron-child".

That is the cutest thing I've ever heard.

[freakrenaissance]

My Tumblr wanderings have led me back to the og!! Fuuuuuuck, I forgot how much I love this fic! There goes the rest of my afternoon 😆

Rough Day (The Mandalorian x Reader)

Rated: Explicit

Word Count: 3.1K

Summary: When you woke up this morning, you didn’t really think it would be a “fixing Mando’s knife wound and then giving him a handjob” kind of day today but hey, who knew that agreeing to babysit a bounty hunter’s weird, green little child would be so full of surprises.

Warnings: Smut, language, handjobs (duh), dirty talk, Pedro Pascal (deserves his own warning), mentions of blood, spoilers for the Mandalorian.

Maker, why is this even a thing?

You don’t know his name.  You’ve never seen his face.  He barely says a word, doesn’t even move much unless he needs to.  If he didn’t have such an obvious complex about droids, you would’ve thought he could be one himself, quietly forged and hidden beneath gleaming beskar armor for an untold number of years.  You know practically nothing about him other than the few things you’ve heard about his culture—most likely either grossly exaggerated or just flat out nonsense.  Everything about him is an enigma, even down to the vaguely impersonal things, such as the technical name for his “poof gun” or what insane percentage of his body weight metal has to account for.

But that doesn’t stop you.  Nope, the fact that you’ve never even seen a strip of his skin doesn’t stop you from nursing a stupid, helpless crush on the quiet bounty hunter.  Stars, it’s ridiculous.  The modulated, low baritone, the intimidating way he carries himself, so stoic and dark and foreboding and tall—

He terrifies you.  You’re absolutely terrified of bothering him, of being too forward or inquisitive.  You sit in the cockpit with him for hours in dead silence, kid perched on your lap in the copilot’s seat to keep him from touching anything, hypnotized by the way his helmet subtly reflects the streaks of hyperspace as they race by and thinking about all the impossible things you want to know but can never ask about.  The last thing you want to do is accidentally test his patience, possibly get marooned on some backwater planet somewhere because you just couldn’t accept something so beautifully mysterious for what it is.

So you ultimately strive to be almost as quiet as he is, always helpful but never in the way.  You troubleshoot mechanical issues with the vessel when they make themselves known, take the baby in one of the secluded areas of the hull and play peekaboo for a bit when he gets too fussy, or just pick up a rag and start cleaning when there’s nothing else to occupy your time.  You sleep occasionally, curling up on the floor of the hull with a blanket to avoid taking up too much space, living out of your suitcase and making a generous ten percent of his commissions just by copiloting and keeping watch over the child while he works.  With the strict schedule he keeps, your pay is always handsome and consistent, even if it is all a bit boring.

Watching him wrestle his bounties into carbonite is admittedly the most exciting part for you, the rest of your days filled with nothing but the interior of the vessel as it either travels through hyperspace or sits stationary on a planet.  He always returns to you bruised and dirty, manhandling and shoving his bounties up the ramp and into the carbonite chamber one by one, not bothering with the fuel needed to collect payment until at least three or four have been retrieved.

You try not to constantly replay the incredibly vivid memory of one of them snarling something sexually obscene at you once and how quickly the bounty hunter whipped his fist out and broke his nose before freezing him.

“Isn’t… isn’t he still conscious in there?”  You remember asking, studying the disgustingly crooked angle of the man’s shattered silver nose, to which the Mandalorian shortly replied, “Yes,” before clambering into the cockpit and taking off.

Keep reading

[socvincjpeg]

Some concepts for a comic I’m planning from an AU of mine called metal to flesh!