#self propelled guns

[deutschland-im-krieg]

Heer (German army) Marder II self propelled guns drive through a village in Ukraine, 1943

[i-identify-tanks-in-posts]

Greetings Mutual, I was reading a comic and found this doodle:

I thought it was interesting, so I looked it up; and it's real

But it only has one barrel :( I agree with the artist, if two doesn't work, simply add more until it does

Though I am curious about your opinion on multi-gun tanks / SPA. Disappointed with the Kremlin's cowardice, Bronzeageprolapse

Oh-hoho, not so fast, my friend.

While you are correct that the final production model of the Koalitsyia had only one barrel, there were at least 2 prototypes that adopted the 2 barrel look seen above. As a matter of fact, I've covered them in an early post.

As far as tanks/SPGs with multiple cannons, I'm of two minds on the topic. On one hand, it's wildly impractical, and makes for overcomplicated, oversized, slow, and cramped vehicles, without much advantage over a well-trained crew and a single gun.

On the other hand, it's rad as fuck.

[carbone14]

Traversée du Dniepr d'un canon automoteur soviétique SU-152 – Bataille du Dniepr – Octobre 1943

[ricusa]

IKV 103 - 5 Kills Full Realistic Battle gameplay on War Thunder

[historyofguns]

The article "M42 Duster — From Fighting Jets to Battling Guerrillas" by Friedrich Seiltgen examines the history and application of the M42 "Duster" anti-aircraft gun within the U.S. military. Initially built between 1952 and 1960 for the U.S. Army and featuring a Continental six-cylinder gas engine, the M42 saw usage from the Korean War to the 1980s, proving effective in the Vietnam War against ground forces. While designed as an air defense system, its 40mm Bofors guns, capable of 240 rounds per minute, found new roles in convoy escort and perimeter defense roles during the Vietnam conflict, earning it the nickname "Fire Dragons" by the Viet Cong. The article notes mechanical issues with the M42, especially in Vietnam's challenging terrain, but highlights its overall combat effectiveness until its phased retirement in 1988.

[nayaesworld]

Mafioso

Mafia!Terry Richmond x Black!OC (Marina Evans)

Warnings: SMUT, fluff, 18+ CONTENT

Part Three

Summary: An apologetic Terry has grown tired of he and Marina’s time apart. He does what he can to win back her affections, but he’s only a true winner if she accepts.

__

TERRY

That burn. That burn that Terry had welcomed for a week straight now. The buildup of lactic acid in his bulky biceps propelled him forward into his workout as he lifted the weights up and down, Kendrick rapping lyrics of black empowerment into his ear. The gold beats thumped with bass against the sides of his head locking him in further. But Kendrick’s lyrics and the loud drum of his heart couldn’t beat out the irritation of his actions last week.

He didn’t regret beating the man, only how he’d spoken to Marina afterwards. She didn’t deserve the bite in his voice, that was reserved for the ones that had wronged and slandered him and she had done no such thing. Terry was embarrassed and apologetic, overcome with a need to be at her feet begging. He missed their time together, their conversations, her touch. He had thought over a million ways to approach her and apologize and had pissed himself off with the ideas. Marina was different from any woman he had ever courted, she deserved a well put together and thoughtful apology.

Workout concluded and his mind on a hot shower, he headed out of his home gym and headed to his bedroom. A loud thump in his kitchen stopped him in his tracks. He was home alone and he didn’t have any TVs on in that area of his house.Something wasn’t right.He quietly pulled open the reeded glass door to the left of him and entered the code to his gun safe before carefully picking up the tan Glock 19. He crept slowly to the front of his house, breathing even and smooth as he checked every corner in his passing.

“Boy put that gun down and come help your mother, why are you all wet and filthy?’He sighed heavily to himself before placing the gun down gently on the mantle of his fireplace.

He kissed her cheek and helped her carry in the groceries and cases of water. “ I thought you were mad at me?”

” I was scared and disappointed. I just want what’s best for you..but you’re a grown man and you have been for quite some time.” He pulled out a seat at his kitchen island for her, and sat next to her.

”I understand that mama but I want what’s best for her, and regardless of anything your approval does matter to me.” Terry popped the cap from a cold bottle of water and leaned into his mother‘s touch.

”And how are you so sure you can offer that?”

”Carmen liked that savagery.” She continued. “That means streak in you..she often pulled it out of you, that’s how much she enjoyed it.”

” She’s not Carmen mama, I said that already. She doesn’t enjoy savagery and violence..I know that now because I made the mistake of showing that side of me and now she won’t speak to me. I owe her an apology”

” You’re so sure this girl is right for you and yet these things displease her. I haven’t heard from you in days, how am I to be sure that this isn’t just another bad emotional attachment to another woman that’s controlling your emotions?”

Terry exhaled deeply and took his mothers hand into his. She was cautious, he understood that but she needed to put his relationship with Carmen out of her mind just as he did.

” You can trust that because I’m your son, and I learn from all my mistakes. I would never repeat them, you can trust that I would never bring another mindless and disrespectful woman around you again. And when I make things official between me and her I want you to enjoy and care for her just as much as I do.”

She nodded her head and pulled him into a hug. “ I always trust you to make the right decision. Now go shower so you can help with dinner.”

—

Marina

Marina’s Saturday was already proving to be relaxing and she had plans of self care and binge watching the first season of The Last of Us while filling her belly with a savory ten piece from Wingstop. First on her To-Do list was a hot oil treatment. She had enjoyed the quick ease of her silk press and loved the length even more, but her scalp cried for moisture and she missed her curls. She placed her hair into a claw clip and tied the strings to her robe tightly, face freshly washed she applied her Dead Sea mud mask evenly around her face.

She stared at her reflection in the mirror and giggled to herself. Terry would’ve wanted to do the mask with her if he was there, he always loved to stand by and watch her beauty routine whenever they were with each other. Marina missed Terry, for all the days she ignored his texts and calls, she had wanted to pick up the phone and tell him that she missed him but she was stubborn. She was pissed with him, and had gone over countless mini arguments with herself on what she'd tell him. How she wanted to grip his goatee tightly in her hand and make him swear off ever acting like that in front of her again. How she would let his intense puppy dog eyes suck her right back into his clutches, where she was fighting so hard to be freed from.

The ringing of her doorbell snapped her from her stupor. This was the quickest DoorDash had ever delivered to her and she was eager to get a break and eat. She swung open her front door and was greeted with the man that had troubled her thoughts for the last week, the man she had growing affections for. The dark denim jeans hugged his muscled thighs and the black sweater loose and slightly cropped as his stomach peeked through slightly. Her bag of food hung in his manicured hands and a black envelope was nestled under his arm.

“You look beautiful Mari.” She sighed and rolled her eyes before reaching for her food.

“I look a mess..but your car looks fine. No dents or scratches.” He handed her her food before stepping closer to her.

“Marina, trust me I get it..if I’d seen something like that I wouldn’t be able to let it go either.”

“So why should I? Terry, you don’t understand how I felt in that moment, how afraid I was.”

“Marina, I owe you an apology and so much more. I can’t erase what I did from your mind, I can only spend time making it up to you if you’ll let me.”

She sighed heavily before she widened her door and let him in. She placed her food on her dining table and sat down, eyes watching as he took a seat next to her. He slid the sleek black envelope her way, hazel eyes burning into her heated cheeks. This is how she got pulled into his trap,his hypnotic eyes and lush pink lips softened the hard exterior she wanted to keep up.

“What’s this an NDA?” He remained unmoved by her snarky remark, a thick arched brow lifting and resting before he motioned for her to open the envelope.

She rolled her eyes before peeling the envelope open. A check for ten thousand dollars stared back at her. Her fingers gripped the paper waiting for the numbers to disappear and scurry away from her. Her face frowned slightly before she spoke.

“I don’t want to be bought Terry.”

“I’m not trying to buy you, I’m just trying to cherish you. Let me invest in you, and take care of you.” Take care of her..that’s what he wanted? Marina had only ever been taken care of by herself and her mother, she didn’t know what it would be like to let a man do it.

“Terry, this is a lot of money to give to someone randomly.”

“It’s not random and neither are you.”

“Take care of me..what would that be like? What would it feel like?” She felt him moving closer and his hand on her shoulder snapped her from her mini daydreaming session.

“Let me show you, lead the way.”

__

Terry

The sleeves of his thick cashmere sweater were rolled up to his elbows as he took his time spreading the aloe water detangler through Marina’s coarse strands. He took his time saturating her hair before taking the brush from ends to root in her inky dark hair. She sat quietly in front of him in her vanity chair as he twisted the last section of hair up. She placed a clear shower cap over the detangled sections before turning on her steamer to increase the moisture.

The mud mask had hardened and faded in color on her face and enhanced the shine of her eyes. That striking brown shade that twisted and bent him to her will without her even knowing it. She met his eyes in the mirror once more before she spun around to face him.

“I forgive you Terry. And I’ll keep the money, it seems I do have a use for it..but I want you to promise me that you won’t ever put me in a situation like that again, I won’t forgive you again.”

Terry pulled her to him and circled his arms around her waist, and pulled her flush against his chest. The soft velvety fabric of her robe soft under his rough palm. His mind drifted to what might lie beneath it, how her soft bronze skin would be in his grasp. How touching her would elicit a heat similar to flames beneath his skin, he wanted to touch her—ached to, but he was on her time. What she wanted he would give her.

“I promise..no more of me showing my ass like that around you. You’re a lady, I shouldn’t have been quick to do what I did. Can I kiss you?”

The quick subject change confuses her before she nods her head and allows his lips to capture hers. Terry never believed in butterflies or fireworks behind a kiss, the shit had always sounded fairytale like for him to ever get behind—but he felt something when he kissed Marina. Felt how warm her breath was against his face. How the hand he had pressed against her chest vibrated with the quickened thud of her heart. His free palm cupped the bag of her head forcing her face closer to his. His own heart hammered against his chest and his mind raced a mile a minute. Marina was his. Nobody could come between and nobody could deny him, because if they did he’d simply kill them. Dead people couldn’t give opinions.

“Marina…be mine. Let’s not let any more time pass, I want you…and I want you to want me too. I’m so so sorry for what I did..I’ll spend however long I have to apologizing to you, I don't care.”

“I’m yours Terry. I know you’re a good man..I know you’re sorry. But I’m scared-“

“Scared of what? What people will say? They’re opinions don’t matter to me Marina..only yours. Is it the age gap that you’re afraid of..I never want you to feel like I’m in a position to control you or stake a claim over you.”

They’re age gap would be a big factor of course he couldn’t deny that, but she was grown and he wasn’t some slimy old guy looking to prey on young women. He was enamored with Marina and respected her above all else, doing something to tarnish her reputation and identity as a woman wasn’t what this was.

“It is..I’ve never dated anyone this much older than me. I don’t want people getting the wrong idea about me..thinking that I’m just some young girl that’s hanging around for money. Not that I’m judging those who do..but that’s not what we are, right?”

“I believe the word for that would be sugar baby..and last I checked we didn’t come to any agreement about that sweetheart. As long as I know why you’re with me, I could care less about the ‘they’ of this world. Only you. And me.”

She stood there face covered in a mud mask and her hair slowly reverting under her shower cap and she agreed with him. Beautiful and at peace is how he wanted her…always. He could take a chance on her and try to carve out a slice of heaven in the hell he called his life. But this was scary, he couldn’t control the fate of whatever relationship they would have. And she wasn’t the men he ordered around..this was different and it required a softness from him that he wasn’t familiar with, but he was selfish in that regard.

“Just let me take care of you. The rest I promise we’ll get through together.”

Shortly after their talk Marina disappeared into her bathroom to wash her hair and shower and Terry sat down on the plush chair in the corner of her room. Face scrunched in irritation at the countless messages and phone calls left on his phone. He hated when they did this shit, they had the tools to move and operate without him being present and they insisted on running every little thing through him.

“-Speak and make it quick. I’m busy.” He listened to his cousin Semaj prattle on about shit he already knew. He knew had to go to New York for business, he knew who he was going to meet, and he knew how long he had to be there.

-“You just sat on my phone for two minutes and told me shit I already knew..what part of emergencies only didn’t you get Semaj?”

-“Man T you know you getting up there in age. We gotta refresh your memory every now and then..we ain’t exactly spring chickens, well I am..can’t say the same about you.” He hated the smirk that landed on his face, his stupid ass cousin always found a way to play on his phone.

“-Bye Semaj. Do your part, I know my role.” He hung up the phone and let the scent of Marina's body wash fill his nose.

It smelled like a cafe full of sweet treats. He imagined sniffing her skin and letting the sweet scent infiltrate his thoughts..just like it was now. He didn’t know why he got up and started towards her bathroom door, the steam rolling through the crack of the door like clouds in the wind. She was nothing but a blurry silhouette behind the glass door of her shower, hands scrubbing against her body at a pace that hypnotized him. He didn’t feel bad about watching her..didn’t feel bad about the way his hand nudged the door open further. He walked closer letting the steam surround him, his eyes still trying to peer into the glass for just a moment..just to be consumed by what was behind it.

“Terry? Is everything okay?” Caught. But it was too late to turn back. And he had no plans to.

“I-I just want to watch you..if you want me to leave I’ll go, but I’m not denying my attraction to you.”

The water switched off and the glass door opened revealing her wet nude body. God was a woman; he was sure of that. How could he ever deny her anything when she looked like this..looked at him like this. The heft of her breast and the swell of her belly..it all called to him. The way the water ran down her body and pooled in between her thighs, getting caught on the short hairs of her vulva. His tongue tingled in his mouth and spit began to collect, he had plans to eat tonight.

“I don’t want you to leave..what if I want you to watch me..stay the night please. For me?” She didn’t have to ask him because he had no plans of leaving her home tonight.

A plush towel wrapped around her naked body shielded her perfect body from him. Her wet hand reaching towards him to cup his wrist, the water slowly trickling down the length of his arm as a chill ran up his back. She pulled him towards her room and threw the towel in a nearby hamper, busying herself with selecting a lotion. She bent at the waist slightly heavy ass cheeks jiggling with each step, and he felt his jeans tighten around his crotch area, greed would be his downfall one day.. when it came to her he wanted it all.

The option of her choosing was thick and rich and had notes of toasted macadamia and tonka bean. As if he needed another reason to want to eat her alive. He slid off his sweater and his top half was left covered by a black beater, dark intricate tattoos peeking from beneath the thin fabric. He didn’t want anything in his way when his hands finally were able to massage her supple skin.

“I don’t know where tonight is headed for us..but I trust you. I trust that you’ll make me feel good.”

“I’ll give you that and then some. Marina there are things I want to do to you..things that can never leave this room, but tonight I just wanna taste you.”

—

Marina

Hazel eyes stared up at her from his place on his knees in front of her. Big warm hands gripped and groped her while simultaneously smoothing the lotion into her damp skin. The hot kisses he placed to her inner thighs made her stomach shift with anxious anticipation, he was close..so close to where she actually needed his lips. Waiting any longer for his mouth to touch her would result in her combusting, she was so wound up. Everything around her coaxes her further and further into euphoria. The way her hair fluttered against her skin like feathers, the hungry sucking motions from Terrys lips on her, the way her nipples hardened.. she wanted him until the sun came up the next morning.

“Terry..I need you now. If we wait any longer..I don’t wanna cum like this. I want your mouth on me when I do.”

“Marina, I’m moving slowly for you..but if you ask me to speed things up I won’t hold back. Not when you’ve been the object of my desire for this long, you feel that? That’s how I get when I’m around you.”

He gripped her wrist gently and she felt the heavy bulge under her palm, the sheer size of it soliciting a gasp from her. She went a step further and popped the button, sinking her hands into the boxer briefs. A soft thatch of hair running over her skin softly as she finally gripped his length fully. Too many words to explain what she was feeling right now, so she only thought of one; power. And she’d never felt like she had it quite like she did now.

Being lifted and tossed on her bed did little to pull her from her thoughts. Sex with Terry would be freeing, she had been abstaining from it since her twenty-fourth birthday, but she knew she wasn’t ready for penetrative sex tonight. Mentally she just wasn’t ready..but she wanted too so damn bad, but she knew better than to push herself so she’d take what Terry gave her tonight and let it drag her into an orgasmic stupor.

“When’s the last time you had your pussy ate Marina?” His fingertips softly touching the apex of her thighs, smoothing over her skin.

She couldn’t even answer his question because she didn’t remember. The last time it had been done to her she was left unfulfilled and overly annoyed, it was so bad that she had pushed it to the furthest parts of her mind and simply try to forget about it. She knew that there were men out there that could do it well and hoped that Terry was one of them.

“I-I can’t remember..but I remember not enjoying it. He was rushing and didn’t stay where I wanted him to long enough.”

He grunted to himself before moving to kick off his jeans. His bulky body moving back up the bed to capture her lips. “Do I look like the type of man to play with pussy and leave it wanting more? Or will I take this pussy in my mouth like this and make you cum?”

His tongue licked a strip from her weeping hole to her engorged lips. Fingers softly opening her up like a flower before pressing open mouth kisses to her, the sensation almost feeling like a suction when he’d withdraw his mouth. The continuous sensation forcing her shaking legs closed around his head.

“Keep them open or I'll do it for you..let me eat in peace.” His slimy tongue knocked against her pulsing opening a few times before meeting with her clit that began to peek from beneath its hood. She knew if he suckled it for too long she’d cum, she was sensitive to clitoral stimulation and it always gave her quick explosive orgasms.

But he did it anyway and her hands were on his head quickly, pushing softly at his forehead as her eyes itched to roll into her head. A stinging smack to her right thigh shocked her hands away and she hated that she looked down to catch his eyes.

“You wanna keep this pussy away from me..stop it. You don’t know how good this shit is, I’m never not gonna eat you..not when I can watch you fall apart like this.”

“It just- it feels so good.. I don’t think I can handle it anymore.”

Soft kisses to her inner thigh did a lot to soothe her racing mind. She didn’t want to deny herself this but what came next? What was next after that feeling in her stomach kept building, she was scared of how good he could make her feel.

“Then let’s find out. I’ll only go as far as you want me too Marina, but I’m only getting started..just trust me.”

His words brought her some peace and she smirked to herself before he resumed coaxing forward more of that sticky clear liquid from her. She’d glanced down and let his handsome face turn her on more, there couldn’t be anything better to her right now than his handsome chiseled face doused in her essence. The same essence that was pouring from her like a faucet, everything turned her on now. The wet sounds of his tongue swirling around, the grip on her thighs where she hoped he’d leave bruises, her own moans; it was all a recipe for the orgasm she felt approaching.

And when her toes began to curl and her breast bounced with her quickened breaths, she found herself pulling him closer instead of pushing him away. He stayed on that spot, pressing that button over and over again until her hoarse screams filled her bedroom followed by the sweet aftermath. Her low dazed eyes watched him move up to hover over her, his mouth and goatee still dripping from her. Still drunk on lust she jerks him closet by his neck, tongue tasting herself before she slid her tongue into his mouth.

“What about you?” As satisfied and worn as she was, she still thought about him. His thickening bulge more apparent now than it was before.

“Don’t worry about me Mari, just rest now.”

The soft peck to her nose seals the deal as she drifts off into an almost too easy slumber.

—

Marina

She awakens the next morning to a full bladder and an empty house. It’s early noon now and she’s eager to shower and dig into a late hearty breakfast. Her loose limbs complete her hygiene routine with ease and she lotions her body before sliding into a brown lounge set.

Her phone dings from its place on her kitchen counter and she’s eager to read a message from Terry.

-Good morning Marina.I stepped out early to take care of some business.I have some things being sent to your house, please accept them. You’ll be accompanying me on a trip to New York. We spent enough time apart so I want you to enjoy this trip on my dime. I’ll call you later.

She hearted the message and replied before smiling to herself. There was no way in hell she was denying herself a vacation, no matter how long they’d be gone. She needed it, hell deserved it even and taking this trio with Terry only sweetened the deal. She wanted to be around him, spending time and learning his likes and dislikes. Her healthy curiosity for him bled into the obvious attraction she had for the man, a blind man could see how beautiful that man was and she was way past ignoring what she really wanted out of life.

Halfway through her late breakfast her doorbell went off. Her Ring app revealed a tall man dressed in a suit holding a few bags in his hands. She walked to the door and opened it, coming face to face with the man where she noticed a name tag; Stephano.

“Good afternoon noon Mam. Are you Ms.Marina Evans?” A slight Italian accent graces her ears before she nods her head.

“Ok great! I’ll just have you sign here..and here. Alrighty you have a good day mam!”

After signing the electronic pad she bids him farewell before taking in the five designer bags filled to the brim. Two of the bags are from Chanel and she gasped loudly at the purses before moving to pull the dresses from the bad next, the fabric feeling expensive and luxurious against her skin. The next two are shoe boxes that carry Christian Louboutin heels, her fingers tracing the red bottom of the Patent Leather Mules before the Sandale Du Desert 100MM Satin Heels caught her eyes and slowly became her favorite. How he had manned to shop for her and executed style so perfectly she did not know, maybe he took a peek into her closet or a look on her socials but he was spot on.

The mast bag smaller size grabbed her attention. A black square case with a small button on the front. Opening the case slowly, she let her hands come up to cover her mouth in surprise. The diamonds were staring back at her as she was almost scared to touch them. A 14K White Gold Chevron Eternity Necklace sparkled and shimmered against the natural light in her living room. She had never seen something so visibly expensive up close and personal before; and she owned it. She snatched her phone from its place on the floor to call Terry, but another ring to her doorbell cut her off.

This time she didn’t check her Ring app and instead opted for looking through her peephole. Her mother stood on the other side. And a slight feel of anxiety washed over her, her mother didn't know about Terry. It was still too soon to tell her now, but she knew any old answer would not suffice with her mother. She’d always expected the truth from Marina. And when she opened the door to greet her, she inwardly winced as her mothers eyes swept over the bags on the floor and landed on the diamonds on her couch.

“Marina..what is all this?” She wanted to lie, and wanted to so badly. But that’s not how she wanted to do this.

“They’re from a uh-a friend. A relatively new one, but a friend nonetheless.” She saw the look on her mothers face and knew what would be said next.

“What kind of friend is buying you designer clothes and bags—and are those diamonds?”

“Ma I’m grown, just trust me. This isn’t anything to worry about, you know me.”

That seemed to be enough for her for now and she moved on from it as Marina moved all the bags into her room. She talked with her mother and caught her up on recent work, her mother doing the same. They went out for lunch shortly after before they parted ways and Marina headed back home, but not before noticing her driveway being once again occupied by that X6

—

Terry

Terry left Marina’s house that morning satisfied in a way he hadn’t felt sexually in a while. He was no stranger to the act of pussy eating and had honed his skills years ago between the legs of another woman. But Marina… he spent the drive home sniffing his lip, her scent still trapped in his beard lightly wafting out as his ac pushed out cool air. It took everything in him to wash his beard in the shower as he scrubbed his body, his dick slowly rising amidst the steam of the shower. Just the thought of her, the smoothness of her inner lips..it was all embedded into his mind, scribbled on the front of his brain like a happy memory. Choking his dick to her was pleasure reincarnated, and he had to grip the shower wall a few times to save himself from almost slipping and busting his ass.

And when his nut swirled down the drain with the suds he stepped his spent body out of the shower to finish his hygiene routine. He spent the remainder of his morning shopping and picking out items to send to Marina’s home. A few luxury pieces that would tie together their time in New York. A mixer in Upper Manhattan was pulling him away for work, he hated these events most times. He had to socialize with a bunch of men he could care less about outside of making millions. But not showing wasn’t an option, it would look bad on his part and it would open doors for his position to be challenged. And that was never gonna happen. So he would go, show his face, and make possible new connections but anything beyond that they knew better to ask of him.

By eleven am he had cooked and prepared lunch for him and Marina and he was out the door heading back to her house. He wanted to talk more about New York in person. He sped safely throughout traffic and perked up when her neighborhood came into view. He grabbed the tupperware of warm food in his hand before stepping out and being greeted by Marina also pulling into her driveway. He was right on time.

Her black curls blew lightly in the wind and her eyes smiled behind her black frames, his arms opening as she came in for a hug. Her thick hair tickled his face as he kissed the top of her head rocking her lightly in his arms. Her arms stayed around his waist as they walked into her house.

“Missed me already Smiley?”

He sighed in content at the mention of his nickname, things felt back to normal between them and he would never let anything create a wedge between what they were building.

“I did and I wanted to chat with you about New York. Did you like your gifts?” He moved to place the food on her kitchen island before walking back into the living room to sit next to her.

“Liked doesn’t really cover how I felt about them..I can’t wait to wear everything and enjoy this time away with you. Thank you.”

He wasted no time running down the who,what,when, and where of their trip. He had a full blown itinerary planned for them outside of the mixer. She locked onto every word eager for next Friday to arrive so that the two of them could depart. An impromptu game of dress up had Marina clad in the items that Terry purchased for her, her body even more dangerous when it was draped in the finest. One too many twirls in front of Terry had his face currently back in between her legs as she yelped and purred. Her thighs met her chest as his tongue dipped into the tight confines of her ass next, he accompanied one great feeling with another and his middle finger slowly slid into her soaked pussy.His phone vibrated next to his head made him growl into his meal. Disturbing him while he had a face full of Marina was a death wish.

Semaj: Caught up with Scotty and you won’t believe the shit this nigga is talking. He’ll be at the warehouse, I want him to tell you this shit to your face

Terry read the message twice before locking his phone and tossing it to the other side of the couch. Work found him at the oddest times and he would make his way to the warehouse to see what that shit was about. But something deep down inside him told him he wouldn’t like the answers he got. So he lowered his head back between her legs and continued feasting, pussy was more important at the moment.

__

Taglist: @theereinawrites @ch33z3grits @bimbosnbutterflies2026 @kirayuki22 @kenshisluvrgirl @rawflwrs @ranikyani @blyffe @23jammy @keehendrixx @ovohanna24 @venusincleo @writingsbytee @simplyzeeka @saraiscollection @blowmymbackout @kimuzostar @playgurlxoxo @megamindsecretlair @keyaho @brattyfics @henneseyhoe @nahimjustfeelingit-writes

[rikosseen]

Gun Park x Reader: Apartment shenanigans

Gun’s eyebrow twitches as two disgustingly loud rats screech at each other. He watches you jump on the Sofa, broom in hand for defence, forgetting who exactly you were dealing with. Goo’s threatening smile forms on his face as he propels the broom to your leg so you’re thrown off balance. The blonde instead makes contact with the side of your stomach when you unsuspectingly crouch down.

“Oh shit-“

Smack

Gun and Goo begin bantering after the accidental hit. Punches are thrown, kicks are landed, and Goo sexually moans to stop Gun from a chokehold. Gun’s face scrunches up at this, and you cackle at Goo because he’s puffed up and red. He’s wheezing. From lack of air.

As tears fall down from laughing too much, a figure looms over you and instantaneously, your mouth is shut. It was Goo’s turn to laugh. You look up at Gun, and the man grabs you by the left leg, dragging you across the carpet. You scream profanities at him while Goo scrambles out of the bedroom to run away from Gun.

.

.

You try to fix your disheveled self, breathing heavily, throwing daggers at Gun here and there.

He scratches his elbow, his stupid, signature, smug look plastered on his face. The expression falls as you focus your attention on someone else. Goo’s witch cackle can still be heard from the living room, and your eyebrows knit together at the sound of him. Probably playing dress to impress. That cow-

“Is he better than me?” Gun looks down at you, the air suddenly thick. What?

You look at him, feeling a little startled.

“Goo?”

He slowly nods.

“Goo Kim?”

“Yes.”

“Goo-“

“For fuck’s sake, yes. Goo fucking Kim,” Gun rubs his temples while letting out an exasperated sigh.

“Why-?”

His face contorts, and he waves his hand nevermind. Silence settles between the two of you. A smile creeps onto your lips.

“You’re both fun-ish.” You pause. Are you jealous-“

“There’s no reason for me to be,” Gun deadpans. “I just don’t understand why you choose to entertain.” He shakes his head, walking out the room with a slam of the door.

.

.

Gun sits beside Goo as the two watch Venom. Well, Goo was snoring away. He gives the blonde a look. A scrutinising one, and mutters an I’m better to himself so that his ego is boosted. What’s so good about him anyway? Goo’s just rowdy, obnoxious, delirious, imbecilic and-

“You look like you’re in love,” you coo.

Gun side eyes you as you approach the living room.

“Excuse me?”

“Is that why you were jealous?” You press.

The man cocks his head to one side.

“Oh my god..” you feign shock. “You secretly like him, don’t you?! I knew it!”

The nonsense you’re spouting is so ridiculous and unfunny that Gun just stares, bewildered. Goo snorts awake as Gun stomps on him to get to you, and for the second time today, you’re cackling while running for your life.

A slight smile forms on Gun’s lips. He must be the imbecilic one.

[deutschland-im-krieg]

Wespe self-propelled howitzers from the 2nd Battalion of the Großdeutschland Artillery Regiment, moving towards the front line along a country road during Operation Citadel (Battle of Kursk), July 1943

[i-identify-tanks-in-posts]

Loooong boi

ISU-152, Soviet SPG, Chelyabinsk Kirovsk Plant, 1943-1959.

It's pretty much what it says on the tin, a 152mm Self-Propelled Gun built on the KV-1 chassis. It served for 12 years with the Soviets, then was spread across the Soviet allies for decades afterwards.

99% confidence.

Edit: it looks like I shouldn't have been so confident! Thanks to @the-history-chap , I've learned that I was, in fact, totally wrong about what this is at all!

This is apparently an ISU-125, a tested based in the ISU chassis for the 2A46 125mm gun.

Additionally, the piece of information I had said in the original post about the ISU-152 being based off of the KV-1 chassis was also incorrect, and in fact the KV-1 chassis was only used as a basis for the SU series of tanks.

Once again, thanks to @the-history-chap , and I'm sorry for my lack of diligence.

[katakaluptastrophy]

Continuing to think about the horror of what happens to John, and the horrors of love...

When Alecto has first been created, she says to him "I picked you to change, and this is how you repay me?" and "What have you done to me?"

They're heartbreaking questions she has every right to ask, but there's something awful and ironic about them too. Because John also might have asked "what have you done to me?"

It's easy to get distracted by the cartoonish awfulness of John's own narration: "talk about police abuse", "come on, love. Guys as careful as me don't have accidents," "love a working tram system." But all of these comments come after moments where John has unwittingly come into proximity with violent death, an experience he repeatedly likens to having drugs forcibly injected into him; an omniscient, dream-like, out of body experience that seems to propel him forward through his basest impulses. The first time this happens, he's brought back from "the verge of something insane" by being shaken violently by P-. Lines like these aren't revealing John's diabolical plotting. They're a man who would rather own atrocities as premeditated than admit that he was losing his grip.

The second is when he encounters the soul of the earth. His human mind makes contact with the incoherent, furious soul of a planet. In any other context, this would be straightforwardly Lovecraftian. And everything he describes after that is full of elipses, jumbled, and detached. His friends are shot by gun-toting cultists and he says it was like a dream.

Hearing the earth screaming, feeling his friends' deaths under his skin like a drug, he might well have asked "what have you done to me?"

Alecto said to him, "I picked you to change, and this is how you repay me?" But as everything collapses, John says:

"I thought you were going to take me, somehow. Purge me. Use me as an instrument. But you didn't say anything...I was babbling, Show me. Come on. I'm ready. You kept screaming and screaming..."

John has spent months becoming something terrifying, an entity with yellow eyes and uncanny powers. He's discovered that death has an overwhelming impact on him that he cannot fully control. Everyone was relying on him to do something. And he did so many things: well-meaning things and stupid things and things that were lashing out in rage and frustration. Hundreds of people have died because of him. His friends have died because of him. Surely, surely there was a point to this. Surely there was meaning. Surely whatever did this to him, made him into this, had a greater plan.

But there is no plan. There is no great revelation. He tries to hurt the earth, to provoke some kind of answer, but the screaming continues. And when P dies, the person who snapped him out of it the last time, John lets go and the whole world dies.

John is kneeling on the grass vomiting up dirt and tearing out his own ribs, saying "there was still too much of me that was just a human being...", trying to swallow the soul of the earth. And by the end, the one shred he has to hold onto is a memory of playing with a doll as a child. That, and his anger...

The earth tried to reach out in the only way it could, amidst its incoherent suffering. And John tried to use the abilities it gave him, but he was only human. Fallible and proud and angry.

She said, "I still love you." And the horror; the horror of love, the horror of this story, is that to begin with they did this to each other.

To be clear: I don't mean to diminish the awfulness or the very specific forms that John's violence against Alecto takes, and continues to take across the story. I don't mean to excuse his own self-mythologisation. I certainly don't think he's blameless for the decisions he made and the agenda he pursued. But if there's one thing that happens over and over again in TLT, it's that the horror of love is not a one-way street.

And I wonder, in light of what we now know about the permeability of the soul, quite where John ends and Alecto begins. And when that blurring began...

[captain-price-unofficially]

An obligingly stationary Soviet SU-85 self-propelled gun is blown up by a Goliath demolition vehicle

[buryustogether]

lilac - chapter 2

miguel o’hara x f!reader

summary: a pre-work visit to the bank goes horribly wrong.

wc: 4.7k

tags/warnings: unhappy relationship, gun violence, bank robbery, blood, scars, stripping, pole dancing, sexual fantasy, semi-public sex, praise

author’s note: yeah he got me fucked up

They called him Spiderman.

He appeared seemingly from thin air overnight - specifically, the night you’d stayed late at the school to watch Gabriella O’Hara until her father could pick her up. They were hailing him a vigilante, a hero, an aggressor. No one could quite seem to agree on just what he was other than supernatural. Like the multiple self-titled supervillains who had taken over your city without someone to stop them, he possessed abilities no regular human was capable of. Shooting webs from his wrists, climbing walls, moving and propelling himself at unimaginable speeds. He was something unimaginable.

People theorized, over the week since his city-wide premier on shaky cellphone footage and breaking news coverings that interrupted regular shows, that he had escaped from a cage in Alchemax. How else could they explain his powers? They couldn’t. Others said he was an alien. Some said he was a fake, said that the clips that captured him beating the absolute shit out of car thieves and back alley thugs and would-be kidnappers, were all photoshopped with a fancy computer and an advanced program.

Either way, no matter where he’d come from or what he was, whether he was a do-gooder or another villain searching for glory, no one could deny that what he did was incredible.

It was too bad some people were out to get him despite what he was doing for your city.

“He’s a menace!” shouted the anchor of the news show playing in the bank’s lobby. J. Jonah Jameson’s voice brought a migraine to the front of your head, one that wouldn’t go away with just simple ibuprofen. You tried to block him out as you waited in line for a teller, attempting to focus instead on the story your boyfriend was barking in your ear on your phone. Your attempt was unsuccessful. “He’s just another villain trying to have his five minutes of glory in the sun. He’ll burn out just like all the others; Doc Ock, Kraven, the Vulture… Please, people! Wake up and take a deep breath of reality! He’s not helping the citizens of New York - he’s getting in the way of our police!” He fixed the camera with a hard, stony stare that made you look away when you saw one of his eyes twitch. What in fuck did that dude put in his cereal every morning? “Spiderman is just another villain. Give him another week, and see where he ends up.”

You felt your lips tug down as you turned away from the television and moved up in line. What a sad, pathetic city you lived in, where someone attempted to use whatever powers they had to do good and got blasted for it instead of praise. God knew New York needed all the help it could get. With the highest crime rate in the country, who would turn their nose up at what little help was offered to them?

Dickwipes, that was who.

“Hello?” shouted the voice on the other end of the phone you held up to your face. You jumped slightly and pulled it from your ear, earning yourself a few strange looks from the other people in line. “Are you even listening to me?”

“Sorry, babe,” you exhaled into the speaker. Blocking out the television and the rest of the distractions in the bank, you upped the volume on your phone. “Just kind of busy at the moment. I’m in line at the bank, and then I’ve got to catch a taxi in this fucking traffic and haul ass to work before class starts, and -”

From his end, Ferris released one of those breathy sighs that he did when he wanted you to stop speaking so that he could talk what was on his mind. You knew the sound well - well enough to shut your mouth and swallow thick. “Could’ve just said it was a bad time,” he grunted, then made the noises of switching his phone to his other ear. You recognized the sounds of his deft fingers fiddling with his guitar strings. God, it seemed like he never put that fucking thing down. A part of you suspected that if your apartment was on fire, he would run to save his instrument before you. “Listen, I’ve got practice here in a while. I’ll let you get back to whatever’s so important.”

Ignoring the pang that resounded like a thunderclap through your ribcage, you nodded your head despite knowing he couldn’t see you. “Uhm, okay.” You hesitated, then added, “Oh, before you go to practice -” you heard him sniff - “could you put away the dishes in the sink? I started the cycle this morning before I left, so it should be -”

“Yeah,” he said quickly. “Bye.”

“Oh, okay, bye. Lo-” Before you could finish, you heard the familiar click of the other line being hung up. You stood still for a moment, feeling a little numb at your fingers, before slowly pulling your phone from your face and pressing that bright red button to hang up your end. Trying to keep your expression neutral, you stepped forward in line as it moved.

Maybe once upon a time, you and Ferris had been happy together. Maybe… satisfied was the right word. Settled. There to fill the void when you needed someone. Saying ‘I love you’ was never a column to lean upon in your relationship; it was only mumbled under breaths during sex and rare moments when both of you were in the mood to not be so completely alone. But that wasn’t often. He was too busy with his band, spending whatever money from his gigs that he received at whatever bars he trolled when he claimed he was cleaning up after shows. You were too busy teaching your kids during the day and teasing and smiling desperate souls at night, putting lousy paychecks and crumpled tips toward keeping your rent paid and food in the pantry.

The girls at The Menagerie asked you why you didn’t leave him, kick him out of your apartment and change the locks. You couldn’t ever come up with a good reason. Maybe it was because if you did, six months of your life would be down the drain. Maybe it was because if you did, you’d be more alone than you ever had in your life.

You didn’t have anyone besides Ferris. Your parents, shit - they were a lost cause. The girls at the club all had separate lives. And your kids at the school - you had to let them go every afternoon, walk out that door without a glance back.

If you let Ferris go, you would have no one.

Stuffing your phone back into your purse, you held your head high, refusing to let anyone else here see just how deep the cracks in your foundations were. At last, you were called up to the next available teller.

Your heels clicked and clacked along the polished tile floor, the bright yellow dress that you’d bought for yourself for a school spirit day swishing about your ankles. You felt like a sore thumb in this dull, brown-and-white building that was just aching to be updated. Old, vintage chandeliers hung from the high-arched ceilings, illuminating the golden bars the tellers sat behind. Benches with creaky leather occupied the center of the lobby, accented by matching chairs and little desks that bankers in starched collars met with clients at. It was all black and white, neutrals and dark tones.

Greeting the teller behind the gate with as bright a smile as you could muster, you opened your mouth to say hello. Yet just when you began to push the syllables past your lips, your world shattered like porcelain meeting concrete.

Sunlight like a torch in a dark tunnel flooded the bank as a small line of figures crowded into the bank. At first, no one paid them any mind. Then shots like the deafening cracks of fireworks right beside your ear sounded from sleek black rifles into the ceiling, and screams filled the echoey chambers of the building. You immediately dropped and covered your head, breath leaving your lungs like the air had been slammed from your chest by a sledgehammer. People cowered behind the cushions and desks, scrambling for cover as another round went through the roof.

“Everyone put your hands on your heads and take a seat on the ground,” came a booming voice from the figure at the head of the group. There were four of them, a small team who wore identical kabuki masks and black tactical gear fit to be seen on military personnel. “This is a robbery. Not a killing spree, not a kidnapping - a robbery. We ain’t looking to hurt anyone today, unless someone tries to be a hero. No sudden moves. You all follow directions, and you’ll be home in time for lunch.”

Unable to pull in a new breath, you slid to the ground and placed your hands on top of your head. You watched, eyes wide and fingers trembling slightly as the men began to make their rounds to the tellers, plopping wide, fat bags on the counters and demanding money from beneath the desks be placed inside. One took up a stance just beside you, forcefully shoving his bag to the man behind the bars and commanding him to pull out the stacked bills. The teller at once complied, dropping thousands of dollars as sweat began to bead at his temples.

Holy goddamn fucking shit. Holy fuck. You knew this city was dangerous - hell, you’d sit back night after night at home and watch on the news as cars were jacked and people were taken hostage. You’d just never thought it would happen to you; of all the millions of people in this city, you’d never thought it would be you. And yet here you were, hunkered down against a countertop as your bank was robbed with you at the throbbing heart of it all.

And you were all alone.

The man in the mask beside you took a glance down when your trembling brushed up against his leg, his head tilting slightly in a demented way that made his mask look haunted. You were suddenly reminded of your own mask that you wore for work, of the ones the other girls wore, and you were struck with the realization that, perhaps, you and he were not so different. You both wore masks to hide your faces, holding out your hands and moving to a particular kind of dance in order to snatch money right out of pockets without batting a damn eye.

Then again, when you danced, you didn’t hold an automatic rifle strapped to your shoulder.

“Give it to me,” said the man above you. You were barely able to understand his words through his mask.

Your heart skipped yet another few beats as you tried to register what he was saying. Give it to him? Give him what? “What?” you managed to say over the lead in your throat.

He nodded his head to the space beside you, and you whipped around. Your purse lay on its side next to your thigh. He wanted your purse; your wallet. Your money. Everything you had - which still wasn’t much. But you couldn’t give it up.

You looked back up at him while he switched his gaze between you and the teller, who was still busy filling the bag with cash. “No,” you said, and when he snapped his gaze to yours, you added, “please. I don’t have much, I don’t have anything compared to this place.”

The man in the mask turned away from the teller to grip his rifle tighter, tilting it slightly so that it was level with your leg curled up against your chest. “I’m not going to ask again, lady.”

Just as your hand began to scrabble for the purse laying beside you, knocking around a few papers and loose change that had fallen out, the man was struck in the face with a mass of white substance that clung to his mask. He cried out and dropped his rifle, hands flying up in an attempt to pull the stuff from his eye holes. You watched, frozen in place, as another masked man across the lobby was stuck to a countertop by his hand with another mass that appeared from seemingly nowhere.

Before anyone else could react, a dark, sinewy figure dropped from the arched ceilings overhead and kneeled on the tile just a few feet from where you huddled. When they stood up straight, your breath hitched in your throat. It was a man, donned head to toe in a blue and red suit that popped with color here in this bleak interior - like your yellow dress. His face was covered with a mask, the only indication of an expression beneath that surface retractable eye lenses that narrowed as he took a glance around the ceiling.

Spiderman exhaled a nearly inaudible huff. “Some things never change.”

From that moment, the bank was painted into a picture of chaos. The masked vigilante expelled a pair of webs from his wrist to slingshot himself across the lobby, landing a jaw-cracking blow to one of the robbers who tried to raise his rifle. The fourth, the last one still able to move, cracked off a number of shots that sent people scrambling and wailing out. The blue and red suit shot off tiny sparks as lead collided with its bulletproof material, nothing but pebbles against a mountain.

Spiderman huffed again, a breathy little chuckle this time. “Cute.”

In the next second, that fourth gunman was sent flying into a marble wall, sliding down onto his face to reveal the large crack his spine had put in its surface. The last two men were taken down quicker than you could have blinked. The second, his hand still stuck to the countertop, didn’t stand much of a chance when webs ripped his own rifle from his grasp and struck him across the forehead with a sickening crack. And the man who had demanded your purse - he’d only just gotten the white mass of sticky stuff off his mask before the vigilante slung across the room, grabbed him by his vest, and raised a gloved hand capped with three-inch long claws. “It’s impolite to threaten pretty ladies,” he growled in a voice that, for some reason, despite the situation, made your stomach churn a jolt of pleasure straight to your core. He swung the robber toward you where you sat on the ground, that clawed hand gripping his jaw to force him to keep your eyes. “Apologize - like a gentleman. And maybe I’ll think about letting you keep your trigger finger in one piece.”

By now, with the gunmen either unconscious or being held against their will, almost everyone else in the bank had gotten to their feet and bolted out the front doors. In the distance, sirens wailed and tires screeched. And yet you remained where you were, staring up at Spiderman as he tightened his grip on the man’s jaw. His claws drew tiny dots of blood along his skin. “We’re waiting,” he said in a breathy murmur.

The gunman inhaled a high-pitched, shaky breath and turned his eyes to you from behind his mask. “M’sorry,” he stuttered over his own terror.

The vigilante leaned closer, his eye lenses narrowing. “Sorry for what?”

“M’sorry for threatening you,” came the pathetic cry in response that almost made you pity him. Almost. “It - it won’t happen again, I swear.”

For a short moment, the two men stared at you. One was praying that you accepted the apology, prayed you were going to call off your savior in spandex. The other was waiting for your decision, waiting to see if you accepted such a sorry excuse for a ‘sorry.’ Swallowing the large lump in your throat, you wordlessly bobbed your head in a nod.

Spiderman hummed and turned his head so that his mouth would be close to the robber’s ear. “Seems the lady’s feeling generous today. Consider yourself lucky.”

He spun the man around with those claws of his, and the robber’s gloved hand reached out in a blind panic and grabbed onto the vigilante’s suit just where his neck met his broad shoulders. He dragged the spandex down accidentally as his head was slammed against the marble countertops, giving you perhaps a one second-long glimpse of dark, tan skin and a small scar across his collarbone. Then the man’s grip relaxed as he dropped to the floor and he released the material of the suit, allowing it to snap back into place.

You jumped slightly as the would-be robber collapsed in a heap of limbs and tactical gear beside you, your dress riding up on your thighs slightly from how you sat with your knees huddled to your chest. Before you could think to do much else in this mind-boggling moment, Spiderman was standing before you and offering a hand to help you to your feet. His claws had shrunk back into his glove - or, perhaps his own nails - and his upturned palm suddenly looked oh so inviting. It floored you in the most alluring, gut-clenching way how those very hands had just brought four men within an inch of their life, and yet now they were softer than empty promises just for you.

“You alright?” he asked as you took his hand and stood. “Sorry you had to get caught up in all this.”

He talked to you in such a casual way, like the pair of you had met before, that you could do nothing but stare and clutch your hands to your stomach as he scooped up the fallen items from your purse, dropped them back in, and handed your bag to you. Numbly, you accepted it.

“You’re safe to walk outside now,” he assured, towering over you like a damn stone column. Fuck, his voice was sexy. Low and tipped with a rolling accent. You wondered, in that moment, why it sounded so familiar. “The police should be arriving any time. They’ll just ask you a few questions and send you on your way.” As if he understood that you were frozen in place, he touched your back, turned you around, and urged you toward the front doors that were now flooded with red and blue lights from the squad cars outside. “Take care of yourself, alright?”

You had just barely mumbled a barely-audible ‘okay’ before he was gently guiding you out the doors, and then suddenly you were alone, facing down three dozen cops and a truckload of SWAT soldiers.

They asked you exactly what happened in that bank. They asked what you were doing there, what time the incident occurred, who in the hell could single handedly take down four aggressors with automatic rifles and bulletproof vests? They knew the answer, and so did you. But you told them anyway.

“It was Spiderman.”

And no matter how fucking hard you tried, how much you urged yourself to forget about them and focus on the here and now, you were unable to get that masked vigilante out of your head. You thought about him on the rest of the way to the school, because god knew there were far too few teachers in this city and you couldn’t have gotten a substitute even if you tried. You thought about him while your coworkers, the other teachers, all gathered around you in the breakroom and demanded answers and stories from your little incident that morning. You thought about him while you planned out your day with numb fingers and toes, and while you stood out front and welcomed kids in, and even when Miguel O’Hara appeared to drop off Gabriella safely at your side.

It took a few words out of his mouth, past those gorgeous full lips of his, a quirk of one of those thick brows, to finally bring you out of your stupor. “I’m sorry?” you said when you realized he had asked you a question. You felt your cheeks warm and your palms become sweaty as you begged his pardon.

To your relief, Miguel only smiled slightly and placed a hand on his jutted hip like he did. God, why did he have to do that? Draw attention to the perfect ratio of his body, a beautiful slope from his wide shoulders to his trimmed waist? “Just asking if you were alright,” he repeated himself, and you could have sworn his eyes flitted over you while he spoke. “Heard you were caught up in that robbery down on Fifth.”

“Oh… right.” You cleared your throat and watched as Gabriella spotted a few friends and dashed into the school to meet them, her backpack wagging behind her. “Yeah, I’m alright. Now that it’s over, I realize it didn’t even last that long. Maybe five minutes or so before… before Spiderman showed up.”

“Yeah?” He reached up his other hand to scratch at the underside of his chin, where the delicate skin of his throat was. Your eyes followed his movements like they were a magnet and you had no choice but to watch. Even if you did have a choice, you would have watched, anyway.

You nodded your head once, clasping your clipboard with your kids’ names on it to your thighs over your dress. A breeze blew over Washington Elementary, letting the yellow fabric dance and blow up to your knees. They were scuffed from kneeling on the hard tile floor this morning. “Mmm-hmm. He’s… not like I imagined him,” you admitted, then realized just what you were doing; talking to Miguel O’Hara, the main star in every single one of your late-night fantasies, about the man who had quite literally swooped in and saved your ass. “But, anyhow… No one got hurt. That’s what matters.”

The corners of Miguel’s lips quirked upward ever so slightly, showing off a tiny flash of his white teeth. It then occurred to you that you’d never seen him smile fully - only with a closed mouth. “Well,” he said, and lifted his hand an inch or two, almost like he was going to touch your arm, then stopped himself and lowered it back down. “I’m glad you’re safe.” There came a fraction of a second of tense, charged silence between the pair of you before he added, “Don’t know what we would do if something happened to Bri’s favorite teacher.”

Bri - you’d never heard him call her that before. It was always a full ‘Gabriella.’

Behind you, in the school, the bell rang, signaling the final five minutes before class started. You glanced over your shoulder, feeling your heart sink slightly at the realization that you would have to leave the conversation. “I’d better -” You allowed your sentence to fall away as a number of squad cars came rounding the corner across from the school, sirens wailing and tires squealing on the tarmac. Other vehicles on the road pulled over to let them pass as they blew through a red light; whatever was happening, it must have been serious. But wasn’t it always.

“Heh,” you chuckled gently as you began to turn back to Miguel. “Always something happening, ri-”

He was gone. Vanished, seemingly, into nothingness. No car to watch pull out of the lot, because he walked his daughter to school, and no trace of his hulking, towering form down the sidewalk outside the wrought iron gates that surrounded the building. He’d completely and totally disappeared.

Damn, you thought as you blinked a few times, gripping your clipboard, and entered the school. What an enigma he was.

That night at work, as you spun yourself around and around on the pole center stage in various twisted shapes and contortments, you found yourself divulging in yet another one of your little fantasies. You shut your eyes as you tensed your leg and gripped the pole to send yourself around in a tight, flashing circle that made the train - that your boss had specifically instructed you to wear while you were in the spotlight - flutter and whip like golden water pulled across a current.

You pictured Miguel seated in the leather chair closest to the stage, his chin propped on his forearms where they rested across the edge of your runway. You imagined the neon lights playing tricks and dirty, filthy, irresistable illusions in the gleam of his eyes, following your movements around and around because no matter how many times you did the same cheap trick, he would still watch it as if it were his first time seeing it. You thought of kneeling down in front of him even though it was against the rules to get too friendly with customers if they weren’t going to pay to see you up close, and of gently taking the point of his chin in between your fingers so that he was tilting his head up to look at you.

Fuck, you thought of him taking you on that fucking stage after the place was closed, hovering over you with your legs locked around his hips and your hands gripping the wrists pinned beside your head so tight your knuckles paled. You swore that, even in your little scenario, you could feel his breath fanning across your face as he leaned down to murmur in your ear through his huffs and lustful, breathy sighs.

“Such a good girl, takin’ it all f’me. Pretty girl, pretty baby. All mine. All mine.”

You opened your eyes and forced yourself to return to reality when you felt yourself being watched. Of course you were being watched - there were dozens upon dozens of eyes surrounding your stage, watching from behind the porcelain gaps in their animalistic masks. But there was another sensation of being stared at that didn’t quite fit in with the rest of them, one that sent a certain kind of shiver down your spine. Keeping in time with your routine and the music thrumming through the floorboards of the club, you peered deep into the wide atrium in search of whoever was fixing you with such a gaze.

You found it.

He was standing nearly in the shadows where the lights couldn’t reach him, arms crossed tight over his chest and stance firm so that everyone who looked at him knew to never even think of invading the space he’d claimed for himself. The man was tall and sinewy with muscle, but you had to squint to see his frame clearly through the dark and the dress jacket he wore. Over his face, the edges obscured by the slicked-back mess of dark hair atop his head, he wore the club’s one and only spider mask.

It was a specialty disguise, one that only the top rollers and highest bidders of the evening bribed their way to at the front room. It usually signified that whoever was behind the porcelain wanted attention, wanted drinks to come nonstop to their side tables, wanted every girl in the damn house on their lap and at their feet. And yet, this evening’s spider was nothing like that. He clung to the shadows, to the perimeter of the room, like he didn’t want anyone to know he was there. He took up no more space than necessary. He was practically a no one, despite the delicate, fractured-looking design he wore over his features.

And he was watching you dance like he was mesmerized, like if the doors were chained shut and the place was burning down around him, he’d be content to stay where he was and keep his eyes focused on your body.

When the man realized you had spotted him, that you were staring right back at him through the gaps of your monarch mask, he moved. You nearly wanted to cry out, to tell him to wait, that you weren’t done. But you couldn’t.

So instead you continued to dance, continued to watch him as he flowed through the other patrons toward the exit. Yet when he turned in just a particular way to avoid bumping into a server, you saw it; through the unbuttoned top pair of buttons of his dress shirt, you spotted it, you were able to catch a glimpse of a pale, raised scar running along his collarbone.

The very same you’d seen on Spiderman.

tags: @mooomeadows @twentysomethingwereyote @screamforyani @fangirlreice7 @axdjelx @ornamentalnecromancy @faust-pda @ilikethemoon28 @mrm-pachypoda @wadafrick

(strike through means your blog could not be tagged.)

[historyofguns]

The article titled "M42 Duster — From Fighting Jets to Battling Guerrillas" on The Armory Life website, authored by Friedrich Seiltgen, provides a detailed history of the M42 Duster, a light armored air defense system initially built for the U.S. Army between 1952 and 1960. Known for its effectiveness against ground forces during the Vietnam War, the M42 saw its first use in the Korean War and continued service through the 1980s. Initially developed from the M41 Walker Bulldog light tank, the Duster was equipped with a 500 horsepower engine, achieving speeds up to 45 mph. The article highlights the M42's role in Vietnam, where it excelled in providing security and convoy support, even earning the nickname "Fire Dragons" from the enemy. Despite its prowess, the Duster faced limitations due to its gasoline engine and issues with ammunition sensitivity. A total of 3,700 units were built, and by 1971, the U.S. Army began phasing out the Duster, transitioning its use to the National Guard, with the final units retiring in 1988. The article provides a comprehensive overview of the M42's specifications, deployment, and impact within military history.

[gotigersiguess]

So I've seen a couple of posts about the possibility of Will having a new love interest in season 5 and I have some opinions. I feel like people saying that Will can move on and fall in love with someone else don't take into account the simple fact that this is a TV show and not a real life situation. Will is a fictional character with a specific arc that should end in a more or less satisfying resolution. ST is not some gritty drama, it's a coming of age story with nostalgia and eldritch horror sprinkled in for some funsies. Every character should finish the story with lessons learned. So, what kind of resolution should we expect for a selfless queer boy who has to understand that he is deserving of love he so desperately wants? That he's not some mistake that should settle for less?

Also, that Chekhov's gun painting has to be addressed because it still didn't serve it's purpose in the story. It's a plot device. It's introduced for a reason.

So, here are our options:

The painting lie is revealed, the conflict that follows ends in Mike accepting him and Will moving on. No new romantic interest is introduced. Will is proven right. He is the only character without any romantic prospects for him in the main chunk of the story. Maybe a guy will wink at him in the epilogue. Why would we need to bury our gay if can just make him miserable (but not like all the way and overtly miserable). He has a future, see! He's fine! It's just a devastating real life lesson! That's what Stranger Things is about after all /s.

The painting lie ends the same way as in option 1. Will's coming of age arc ends in him moving on and falling in love with a random plot device character introduced at the start of the season. Somehow, among the horrors and monsters, Will has time to hook up with a random guy. They live happily every after. Rushed and badly written ending for one of the main protagonists, but I guess you tried? Could work if that plot device character was introduced very early on (like season 4) and given depth. Could also work if we resolved the painting situation in season 4. Otherwise, wild choice, but it's better then the first option.

The painting lie ends in Mike understanding and accepting Will while simultaneously propelling Mike's arc of self-acceptance. Climactic! Lot's of fun choices here. Then, follows the falling action. Characters grow, fun stuff. We finally reached the resolution of their arcs. This time it leads to Will being proven wrong. The person he loves and tries to let go off, reciprocates his feelings. Makes sense. Makes for a satisfying ending, happy one on the love-interest front. We've being through hell and can finally be together in the end. Love conquers all, yadda yadda.

I really don't see any other way this could go, honestly. Maybe some very clever and secret option 4.

Would option 3 happen? I sure hope so, otherwise I would question screenwriter's choices. Why put themselves in a mess if you don't want to resolve it in a satisfying way? There was no need for Will to be in love with Mike. Does it help Will's arc in any way? Sure, it ties in with his sexuality stuggles and helps him feel less like a mistake because loving Mike feels natural for him. But this also hinders his arc and creates a whole lot of problems if not resolved properly.

There's also a burning question of Mike's character arc and how much the choice of roping him into a love triangle helps in pushing him towards self-acceptance. Let's face it, Mike's resolution has to be him accepting himself and maturing. Whether it is his struggles with sexuality or his issues with pretending to be someone he's not because of his insecurities. How does Will's love tie into this? How does the painting tie into all of this? Would Mike finding out that someone loves him for who he is end in him...

1. Being with that person and coming to terms with his sexuality because of that

or

2. Understanding that he should be himself around his girlfriend, that he should be communicating his needs and listening to El's needs, that he should stop idolizing El and start seeing her as a real person and not some hero from his comic books.

The second option puts Will once again into position of a couples counselor for the straight main couple of the show. That's the highest level of friendzoning known to man (not to mention what a weird writing choice this is).

[slimybeth69]

Touch: Part 11

Chapter Summary: Din and yourself spend some time apart.

Series Rating: Explicit

warnings/tags: heavy angst, some self-deprecating speech (reader), cliffhanger, use of alcohol and being intoxicated, healthy but sad relationship talks, idiots in love, unreliable narration, moff gideon (peep the new header)

a/n: all mistakes are mine because I move too fast-- also thanks again to @immarocketman for letting me use some of their art for my header!! (reader finally knows what Mr. Djarin looks like). I still can 't believe how perfect if fits with the theme of my fic 🥹 and being lucky enough to use it <3)

Just one time it would be nice to wake up next to Din still asleep next to you. The ship is completely empty, not even R5 is here. It’s so quiet, eerily silent as you walk around, exploring rooms you’ve only ever looked at the door of. So many guns and other weapons you hadn’t ever seen before. You play with the darksaber for a while. 

You’re in the hull with more room to move around in. Okay. This is gonna be easy. You press the button with your left thumb and your whole left arm is propelled backwards but you hold on tight and force it back in front of you with a grunt. 

“Fuckin’ knock it off.” You growl at it, and for some reason, the propulsion lessens in the other direction and you’re able to wield it more easily. Not very easy, but easier. You left arm feels weird holding a saber. You don't normally hold anything in this hand unless your right one is helping. You do spin it around a couple times and take a couple slashes through the air with it though. It starts to fight you again like it did before. “Knock it the fuck off, my guy. ” You stare at it and instead of fighting you…it’s purring. “Oh…do you like that? You stupid swamp-rat?”

The handle of the grip starts to vibrate like it’s telling you yes. What the fuck? You turn it off and set it down on the floor. Nope. Not today. Maybe.

Okay, you pick it back up and turn it on and again, your left arm almost get ripped off. You just think about how much you hate the thing in your hand. It purrs again. “No fuckin’ way.” You whisper. “You really do gotta be mean to it.”  

With the lightsaber it was about respect and calmness. This was the opposite of a lightsaber so it’s about anger and chaos. It makes you laugh when your thoughts make the darksaber purr softly like it loves your bad thoughts and wants you to have more of them. You turn the saber off and put it back in the weapons room because you could have easily had more thoughts like that if you had held on to it. Kept working with it. It’s terrifying. 

Then a crazy idea comes to you. You run to the cockpit and press a button. 

With all the sun-shields down in the ship now, and no one can see in even if they try to, you look into your reflection in the helmet. You were told to wait but you don’t think you can. It’s too pretty, and you need to see what it’s like in there. You place it on top of your head as steadily as you can with one hand and then press it down slowly. It’s tight, you have to fight to get it down over your cheeks but once it’s on it fits like a glove. Din’s was way too big, you realize now. This is how a helmet should fit. You wish you could see yourself but it doesn’t matter. The heads-up display you’re looking into looks exactly like Din’s did. You can see fully almost completely around to the back of you. 

Din had explained how his helmet worked to you one night in the darkness of the ship. 

You press an unseen button on the left temple of the helmet and the HUD changes, “Infrared,” you whisper into the modulator. Hearing your own raspy voice through the static in your ears sends a shock through you. Now the display inside shows you an infrared picture of the inside of the ship. The only thing warm in the ship is where the engine is and that is only warm because it’s idling so the ship and you and Din and the child don’t freeze in the night. Din normally turns it off by now. You use your new helmet to go turn the engine off completely. 

Another tap of that hidden button and the screen goes black for a moment and then changes back to just the normal ship. You press the button on the dash now that shuts the engine of the ship off and sigh. 

You press the comms button and rasp his name but get no response. Shit.

Where is he? 

You have a much bigger problem right now.

You’re stuck in your helmet. You cannot lift it off your head with just one hand. It’s too tight. You start to panic, because what if Din comes back before you can figure out how to get it off? What if everyone sees and then The Armorer hates you? Ugh no this cannot be happening. 

“Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit.” Your modulated whisper echoes quietly thorough the ship. You’ve been trying for ten minutes. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.” You run around the ship in your helmet and nightgown like a fool. You look like a fool, such a fool. Why didn’t you just wait!? Din could have been here to see it and you could have had him help you get it off and now you’re going to get caught not following the rules. Being a brat. You could cry inside your helmet.

“Okay...” You’re panting. This is the last resort. Nothing else has worked. You have the heel of your left hand and the ball of your right foot inside the underside of the helmet and you’re sitting on the edge of the bed. “Okay. I can do this.” You rasp softly. You push as hard as you can and finally, the helmet slips off your head. You gasp as your hair falls into your face. “Okay. I can take it off.” Very satisfied with yourself. 

It’s dark again now. Dark as shit outside. You almost thought the sun visor was still down after you had put it back up. What the fuck!? Where was Din?! Where the hell was anyone? Not like you had gone to check. You hadn’t left the ship once today. Too sad. Too scared. You lay on the mat on the floor and sigh.

It’s been a thought pressing into your asshole all day. It’s painful and uncomfortable and you’d like it to go away but it persists. You can’t even speak it out into your brain, it's too painful. 

Does Din lie to you?

He clearly has no quarrels eating your candy. Or telling you that you are not maimed when he clearly thought you had been. There were more lies too. You could feel it. He lied about your doodles! He had already seen what was in your notebook when he asked what you were doing! Another lie! Where does it end? When do the lies end and the truth begins with Lyin’ Din Djarin. Would he be capable of lying about loving you? Is he capable of lying to you to touch you? Is that all you're here for? He loves you but apparently you’re just a friend.

Okay. A normal person might die for their friend right? If they cared for them deeply enough? Yes. You guess. Would a friend let their friend stick an Amban Stun Gun in both of their holes at the same time and then let the friend watch through their stupid night vision helmet? Hpmh.

You don’t think so.

Friends also don’t jerk off and come on their friends' bellies or fill them with their seed and tell them they want you to carry their helmeted babies! No! Friend’s don’t do that stuff. 

Fuck. 

So Din lies and now you don’t know if you trust him? Is that what’s happening in that broken, dumb brain? Yes. That’s exactly what’s happening.

You gasp in horror.

Did Din ever even come visit you in the temple like he said he did?

No one ever mentioned him coming to see you, or stopping by-- not Ahsoka or Luke. None of the younglings or other Jedi's!

The reasoning could be that Luke and Ahsoka were trying to keep you levelheaded with a clear mind and un-desiring heart.

Or it could be because that lying metal man never even came to see you like he said he did. How would you ever know without asking the Jedi's outright?

What The Armorer said yesterday in the cockpit rings in your head. Din Djarin hid you away.

That’s exactly what that lying sonofabitch did! Hid you away on the Crest, hid you away on some celibacy planet full of children and Jedi.

Din Djarin didnt' seem very reluctant to watch you walk into your new sexless home while he said goodbye to Grogu.

Old feelings of anger and new ones mix together inside of you. 

Nothing makes sense anymore...you’ve been alone too long. Alone with your thoughts for too long. Maybe. Or maybe this is good? Are you thinking clearly? You don’t know. You just know that one day you trusted Din with your whole life and now you’re questioning everything he’s ever told you.

Perfect. Beautiful.

Ugh. Those words make you feel sick because are you beautiful? You’re definitely not perfect.

You roll over onto your left side and just lay there with your eyes open until you hear the ramp drop down. You’ve had hours to stew in your newfound anger. It’s very justified.

He lies to you and now you don’t know what about. He admitted it himself-- he lies.

Din meets you in the hallway. You point at him with your index finger. Din stops in his tracks and holds the baby out to you. You take a step forward and Din takes a step back. 

“Put the green child down.” You growl at Din.

He just shakes his helmet from side to side dramatically.

“Put. Him. Down.”

Din goes to put the child down, but then snaps back up and holds Grogu in his elbow crook. He shakes his head no at you again.

“I would like to yell at you. Really yell because I don’t think I ever have before. I’m not doing it in front of the baby, so put him down.” You speak more calmly than you thought you would. You thought you would be yelling already.

“I will never put this child down.” Din rasps through the modulator just as calmly.

You press two fingers into the bridge of your nose where there is a small cut and bruise. It hurts but you don’t care.

“You’re–” Din starts then stops suddenly, he tilts his helmet to the side. “Annoyed with me?” 

The words fling you back into the past somehow, just like you flung through the air before you slammed into the rock in that bug-robots room and broke your back; it’s feeling much better now though. You’re sitting around the small fire, looking up at Din and you had no idea what was in store for you yet. He had just asked you the same question, if you were annoyed with him. Your response then was much more pleasant than what you say to him in the present. 

“Annoyed doesn’t even begin to cover it, you lying sonofabitch!" You point at him again. “Full of lies. I wanna know what else you lie to me about, but you know what?” You raise your eyebrows at him.

He shakes his helmet no slowly- almost like he doesn't want to answer you at all.

“I wouldn’t believe you!” Your brain doesn’t feel as foggy or as heavy as it did the other day, but oh man, you are just pissed off and you know why.

A real anger...with roots to it. You genuinely didn’t think Din could or would lie to you. You don’t know why. He was just a good honest man until he admitted he lied.

Told you to lie about the scars on your face. Like you’d lower yourself to his lying standards.

“I don’t lie?” Din sounds confused about where this is coming from. “Are you mad about the orange candies?”

You nod slowly and squint your eyes at him.

“I got you more. I was just on Nevarro.” Din pulls a bag from behind his back. Bigger than the first bag you got.

Sonofabitch. Why? You were just so mad at him, a good mad, a real mad and now he does this? You almost tell him to stop being cute but then you remember that you are mad! And not just about the orange treats.

“It’s not about the candies!” You exclaim.

Din tilts his head again. “You just said that it was about the candies.” He holds the bag out to you like you didn’t just watch him pull a giant sack of neon candy from behind his back. Like he’s a magician who performs at the casino when he’s done with his comedy sets! 

“You lied about my face!” You flick your eyebrows up at him once and point to your mechnosutures.

Din’s head rolls backward and he stares at the ceiling. “Did you want me to say it looked bad? It did. It looked bad. Are you happy? Did that feel nice?” His helmet snaps to you as you take several angry steps towards him.

He takes several steps back but bumps into the table behind him. 

“What else do you lie about, Djarin?” 

Din’s helmet is staring down at you. He has the child in one hand and the bag of candy in the other. 

“I don’t lie.” He sighs listlessly. “Why are you so upset? I thought our—” He looks down at the child in his arms and leans into you. “- talk last night made everything alright?”

“Oh, all the things you said to get me into bed and then also—” You glance at the child and then back to the helmet, “- get you in someplace else!? How very convenient that you had all those nice things to say suddenly. You couldn’t speak them to me before I was upset with you.” You cross your one good arm over your chest and take a step away and look down at the candy. 

Din finally puts the child down now and sets the candy on the table behind him.  “You think I lie? To you?” His helmet cocks to the side. “I don’t lie to you. Tease maybe. Poke fun at sometimes. I don’t lie to you.” 

“You admitted you did. You said it last night yourself. And then I wake up this morning and you’re not here. You didn’t even wake me to say goodbye or tell me where you were going.” You uncross your one arm and Din puts one gloved hand over his pressure point in his shoulder. “I don’t know why I feel these things. I don’t like being left behind. Makes my mind wander. It’s terrible.” 

Din rasps through the modulator, “It’s because you are a brat.”

You stare up at him, blinking.

“If you had left the ship and talked to my clan, been social with them at all, they would have told you where I went. They said you stayed here all day.”

"Well I--" You don't have a good reason for not going outside of the ship all day. Other than feeling sorry for yourself that Din had abandoned you once again. There isn't an excuse why you couldn't have gone to ask the Armorer or anyone else for that matter.

"A perfect opportunity for you to socialize-- potentially accrue friendships that are apparently so important to you, and I am the villain once again?" He sounds irritated with you more than anything now. He walks around you, leaving you to think about his kind gesture alone. "Brat," he mumbles under his breath through the voice modulator as he passes by.

You stay in your spot looking at the candies on the table and getting new scratches on your legs from Grogu who is trying to crawl up them with the razors on the ends of his fingers.

Are you still upset? Do you believe him?

You pick up Grogu and give him a small kiss on the forehead before you put him to bed in his little closet room.

The metal man does nice things, but he does them in such a strange way that it's hard to recognize them for what they are.

Din is on the floor in just his helmet and the blankets. He gasps in mock surprise, “The brat is here to sleep next to the liar?”

The words hurt, but you don't have anything to say because you do feel slightly foolish. All you had wanted to do was meet new people when you first started this gig. Din Djarin gave you a chance to do just that, and you stayed locked inside the ship all day.

“You tried on your helmet?” Din nods to it sitting on your bed.

You nod silently, wondering if he's going to be upset about that, too.

“Did you like it?” He asks apathetically, like he would rather talk about anything else.

“It got stuck. I had to use my foot to get it off.” You hold your right foot out in front of you and point to it with your left hand. “I was stuck for several minutes.” You don’t know why you’re telling him that. You had planned on never telling a single soul you got stuck in that thing.

Din chuckles, "I would have paid good credits to see that."

“Now you’re upset with me?” You ask, taking a step towards him. He shrugs.

Din turns his head to look at you. “I have every right to be upset with you if I want to be," he rasps. T

his makes your stomach flutter. But in a bad way. The worst way. You don’t know if Din has ever been upset with you unless it was for dying for two long minutes in the mines. Shit.

“I come back from helping High Magistrate Karga on Nevarro with my clan. You call me a liar and a sonofabitch .” Din shakes his helmet at you disappointingly. 

Ouch that fucking hurts. Din’s right. You are a brat. 

“I accepted that tract of land on Nevarro for us.” Din brings his hands under his helmet and rests it on them while he looks out of the window. 

Us. 

“You and Grogu?” You sink to your knees now and sit a couple feet behind him.

Din shakes his head still refusing to look at you again. “Brat," he rasps pointedly. “Of course not. I come home to try and tell you the good news and I get accused of lying about loving you before my boots are inside.” Din doesn’t look at you still.

Your heart is shattering in your chest. 

“I’m sorry," you whisper softly. You feel like a fool, as foolish as you felt earlier with your helmet stuck on your head. 

“Of course you are," Din sighs.

What does that mean? Why did he say it like that?

"You had a right to be upset yesterday--but not today. I did kiss you goodbye. I did not want to wake you because you are broken and healing. Was that so wrong of me?” 

No it wasn't, it's actually very sweet and thoughtful of him. Very thoughtful. Fool. You’re a fool and now you think you may be sick, and possibly your heart will come out with the little food you’ve eaten today. You inch yourself closer to him slowly on the floor. Din tilts his helmet a little backwards so you can see his face visor. 

“Are you upset because I said I don’t want you to swear the Creed?” Din respires softly into the modulator. “I wasn’t forbidding it. You are a free person to do as they wish. But why do you want it?” Din is still looking back at you as you inch now closer to him so you are right beside his helmet. 

“So that we can be together.” You whisper.

Din’s helmet stares at you. “Are we not together right now?” Din sounds worried and now you’re confused. 

“I…mean we’re physically together… right here and now. Yes.” You look around the room and back to Din. 

“Why would you have to swear the Creed for us to be together?” Din sounds just as confused as you are.

You blink at him. 

“Do–” The words you say next scare you because you’re afraid it’s going to scare him. “Don’t you have to marry another Mandalorian?” You look away because you are too afraid to see his reaction. You’re sure that when you look back he’s going to be gone. Back in the cave with his clan telling everyone how you’re crazy. Surely. But when you look back Din is sitting up. Yep just like you thought, getting ready to leave. 

“No. Why would you think that?” Din rasps, turning his body towards you.

He is naked under those blankets and you just got a peek when he turned and now you’re not thinking about anything else. You’re just staring at that little trail of hair under his belly button and you can’t even hold back the smirk you have on your face because he is perfect. Actually perfect. Din snaps his fingers at you. It makes you jump and you look up into his helmet. 

“What?” You’re smiling at yourself in his visor and he’s just looking at you. What does he want? You were enjoying yourself. You never get to look. It’s always dark when he’s not in beskar. You’ve seen him very few times without it. “What?” You ask again because he doesn’t say anything. 

“Why would you think that?” He rasps, unentertained with you. You’re confused. What were you guys talking about?

“Think what?” You say before you actually think about it because really, all you want to do is touch him and you have to stop yourself. Your eyes flick back down to his stomach and his little trail of hair and then back up to his helmet and then back down. Din covers himself with the blankets. “Hey, why’d you go and do that?” You look up into his helmet. 

“ Why… would I only be able to marry another Mandalorian?” Din is still covering himself with the blankets when you remember what you were talking about. You still don’t have an answer because you don’t know why you thought that. It…just made sense? You’re staring at yourself in his helmet when he snaps at you again with his fingers. 

“Would you stop doing that!” You exclaim quietly. “I’m not a small animal. You can speak to me!” You tap your index finger on the floor of the ship one time and hold it there between the two of you. Din taps his finger in a similar fashion on the floor next to yours but more times and rapidly as he rasps through the modulator quickly and annoyed. 

“I have been speaking to you! You don’t speak back. Say something—stop staring at me, and I will stop snapping at you.” 

“I don’t know why I make these things up in my head! You not being able to lie. Then you only lying to me. Why must a mandalorian marry within a clan. I was convinced you slept in your beskar for Makers sake! I don’t know. I just do it!” You start tapping your finger on the floor of the ship quickly like him. “I don’t know! Stop snapping your fingers at me!” 

Din does it. He just snaps his ungloved fingers right in your face and as soon as he’s done he crosses his arms over his chest and covers his pressure points with his hands.

You gasp. How dare he snap and then block himself?!

“I’m learning,” Din rasps softly, nodding slowly. “You think you are the only one whose brain tells them false truths?” Din shakes his head at you. “The things I told myself you were doing at that temple without me—I’d come to see you and Ahsoka wouldn’t even let me inside. Luke wouldn’t even answer my questions about you. They just said you were fine. When I asked if you’d like to come with me they said no—”

You gasp louder than you have ever gasped before in your whole life. 

“They did what!?” you almost shout. “They never told me you asked for me. I would have said yes .” You look all around the floor around you, thinking of ways you can hurt Luke and Ahsoka. How could they do that to you? Make that choice for you. Now you not receiving a gift at the temple makes sense. He didn’t think you wanted to come back to him

“Yes, so you’re not the only one who has untrue thoughts in your head. Did I accuse you of being with another, or not caring for me after two years of waiting for you as soon as you got off that return ship? No! I did not!” Din is very annoyed with you. You’ve never heard him talk that fast. 

You are a dumb brat. A real idiot. 

“I figured out the darksaber while you were on Nevarro!” You snap at him because you are unwilling to accept that you are in fact a giant dumb idiot brat. Din called it. You feel stupid. You try to change the subject. It works. 

“You did? You wielded it well in the mines. You wielded it well here on the ship.” Din’s head turns to the window for a moment and then snaps back to you. “We can talk about that later. Admit that you are wrong. Apologize to me. Because what you do is wrong. Accuse me? You say you love me. Love me so much. Yet you can’t speak to me. Can’t ask me simple questions that would ease your beautiful bruised brain. You want to yell at me. You want to call me names. I call you my little one and I get called sonofabitch. So loving . I don’t get a nice name from you.” Din lays back down on his pillows and his raspy sigh breaks your heart. 

You are a hotheaded…stupid…ungrateful brat. You accept it in your heart now. You try to move closer to him but he pulls his arm away. 

“I am upset with you now.” Din rasps. Your heart no longer exists. You reach for him but he pulls away again.

“Can I fix this right now…or should I go…to the cockpit for a while?” You’re not really sure what you’re saying, but maybe he just needs a minute to cool down. 

“Go look at buttons for a while if that’s what you wish to do. I don’t care where you go. I’ll come to you when I’m no longer upset.” 

It’s a struggle to get to your feet. You have been hunched for so long. You finally do though. You grab a blanket off your bed and your helmet and hold the tears back until you get out into the hallway and shut the door. The crying you're doing has no sound. You can’t breathe. It’s not coming to you when you try. This is worse. This is the worst feeling in the whole world because Din had never cast you away like this. He leaves. He walks away. It feels like it takes twenty years to get to the cockpit. Once the door there is shut, you can gasp. All the air in the cockpit is now in your lungs and you think you’re going to explode. 

The button to close the sun shields feels like it fights back against you when you press it. They close and you’re plunged into darkness. The helmet goes on like last time, with a struggle. But then you sit in the co-pilot's chair in the dark. Looking at everything through your night vision. Din still hasn’t seen you in your helmet. He might never want to.

The door to the cockpit opening jolts you almost out of the chair you fell asleep crying in. Your helmet is still on when Din walks in, wearing his black undergarments and his helmet.  Everything is still in night vision and you don’t know what time it is or how long you’ve been asleep. You know you cried for a long time. Din sit’s down in his chair silently after he shuts the door. He doesn’t even look at you. It feels like time has stopped. Somehow being able to see into the void makes the now soft constant static ticking in your ear less comforting. Din just stared forward like a droid. 

“Peli needs some help on Tatooine. She asked me if I knew anyone who could help her out for a while and I think you should go.” Din’s rasp sounds just like it does when you have your helmet off.

You start thinking of arguments of why you should stay and why you need to be here with him. You want to tell him that you’ll share the floor bed on this ship with him forever if that’s what he wanted. 

“Okay.” You don’t say any of those things, because if Din doesn’t want you here, what’s the point of being here? Grogu loves you. You love Grogu but he is not your child. As much as you wish he was, he is Din’s child. Din’s alone. R5 is your child though, whether Din likes it or not. 

“Not for long, two weeks possibly.” Din still hasn’t looked in your direction, you haven’t stopped looking in his direction. Things feel so different right now. “I have things to attend to. I’ll leave this ship and take the N-1.” So he has to come back for you. He can’t just leave you there. “I’ll be taking Grogu though.” 

You just nod in response because you know he can see your helmet nodding at him in his display. Even if he’s not looking in your direction. You think about swearing the Creed. You could just stay here. Walk the Way. This doesn’t feel like the Way though. None of this feels noble or honorable or brave. 

“I’m sorry.” You rasp to him in the dark. He nods in response. Still not looking at you. “I shouldn’t have called you mean things.” You whisper into your modulator. You could keep this thing on forever. If Din never wanted to kiss you again? You’re never taking this helmet off. 

“I’ll drop you at Peli’s in a couple hours. You should rest before we get there. One shoulder or not she’ll put you to work.” Din rasps. You also like this helmet because Din can’t see your tears. 

“Have you rested?” You ask softly. He shakes his head from side to side. “Would you like to come rest with me? It can be quiet and dark.” Din does nothing for a long time and then he stands and opens the door to the cockpit and walks out. You follow him into the bedroom. 

Din has his hands on the side of your helmet and is pulling it off for you. He sets it on your bed you think, it’s dark again. Then you lay down on the mats below your feet and wait for him. When he crawls in next to you can feel that he took his black undershirt off. When he lays down onto your chest and you wrap your hand around his neck and twist his hair in your finger he sighs. It makes you sigh. 

You keep your promise and stay quiet until you hear him snoring softly. You can feel it in his chest when he breathes too. Just a deep rumble. You keep twirling his hair in your fingers taking in this feeling because you wont be with him for two weeks and then who knows if he will want you to be around after that. Bo-Katan has been around more than normal. Maybe she did all this to get in between you two because she was jealous. You don’t know. You don’t seem to know anything. You make up lies. You’re the liar. You lie to yourself. 

Din’s arm suddenly flinches softly and then he tightens it around your waist and pulls you closer into him. 

“I love you. Death cannot part us. Mine forever.” You whisper it down into his ears and hope your words are delivered to him like gifts wrapped in bows as he dreams. If he dreams. Tired Din. Working so hard all the time. Barely rested. Cares for you deeply. Loves you. 

The night passes you and sleep avoids your eyes. Passes them right by and you just lay with your eyes open in the dark. You touched Din all night long. Across his strong, muscular back and you twirled his hair in your fingers until he stirred against your chest. It stays quiet in the ship as his breathing goes from soft rumbly snoring to his regular, soft breaths of air. His hair stays in your fingers until he’s pulling himself away from you. 

“I need you to show me how to use the darksaber.” Din whispers into the dark. You could cry again. No kiss or any sign of affection that he still meant those words he spoke to you so gently the other night. 

“Okay.” It takes everything in you to keep it together while you get dressed in real clothes. You put your boots on. You put your helmet on because you're ashamed of your selfish face and don’t want Din to see your selfish eyes. 

You grab the darksaber and your lightsaber from the weapons room and meet him in the hull. Din watches as you set both handles on the ground in front of him. 

“This one,” You point to the lightsaber with your foot. “You need to be able to control your mind. Have peace and serenity in your heart and mind. You don’t think when you hold the saber. It’s almost like the saber thinks for you. Leads you to what your heart really wants almost. It’s helping you during your fight.” You rasp. You pick it up in your left hand and let the plasma extend. “You love it. You care for your saber like it was an extension of your own arm.” You hold it out in front of you as it hums quietly. Din nods. You sheathe the plasma and clip the lightsaber to your waistband. 

The darksaber feels like one hundred of your lightsabers. 

“You don’t need any of that when it comes to this though.” You respire as you hold the handle of the darksaber out to him. He takes it within his gloved hand and grasps it gently. “You hate to hate it.” Din’s helmet snaps up to yours. Your helmet nods at him. “Turn it on and let all the bad inside of you flow through it. It feels and propels itself against your positivity. Away from your serenity.” Din looks back down at the saber and you take several large steps back as he presses the button. You can see him fighting back against it. 

“Fuck.” Din rasps as he has to wrap his left hand around the grip now, forcing it forward with his body weight. “Shit.” You see his hands slipping from the handle. 

“Din, be mad at it. Think about all the terrible things you could do with it.” You hold your hands at your side. It’s like he didn’t listen to a single word you said. The lightsaber on your belt feels cool in your hands as you unsheathe the plasma again. “C’mon. Think about how terrible it is and lift it over your head. Bring it down onto mine.” You hold your lightsaber up sideways above your head so you can block Din’s attempt to slice into the air. 

Din can’t lift the saber over his head. It’s fighting him too much. 

“Hard.” Din’s rasp is strained like he’s really fighting with it. 

“You’re not being angry enough. Let the saber feed off any anger inside you. The chaos, the bad. Let the saber take it from you.” You try to explain to Din over the buzzing of the sabers in your hands. Din hesitates for a second and then you watch as he brings the darksaber over his head and brings it down onto your plasma blade hard. It vibrates in your hand when he connects. 

You’re full of excitement for Din. It’s short lived as he retracts the white plasma back into the handle and clips it to his belt. 

“Thank you. Good job.” And then he leaves you in the hull and walks to the cockpit. 

Okay. This is terrible. The actual worst feeling in the whole world. 

“Good morning.” Grogu looks up at you through the crack in the door and presses himself into the wall. The helmet must be scaring him. “It’s just me. I just have a helmet on like your Dad.” You open the door completely but Grogu doesn’t move. “Do you not like it?” You show off your helmet to him and he shakes his head. “Why? Is it frightening to you?” The child nods as you bend at the knees to his level. “Don’t be frightened, young foundling. It’s just I. Your caretaker. Your bratty helmeted babysitter.” You whisper down to him through the modulator. 

Grogu hesitantly peels himself away from the wall and takes a step towards you. You extend your arm to him and he scrambles up it and to your shoulder where he inspects his own reflection in the side of your helmet. 

“A very handsome boy.” You rasp to him as you watch him look at himself. “Hey, listen to me.” You pull him down off your shoulder and hold him in the crook of your elbow as you make your way into your bedroom. You set the child down on the metal bedframe you no longer use. You sit down on the ground in front of him. “I have to go help Peli for a while.” Grogu gets so excited but you have to put your hand on one of his shoulders and calm him. “Just me. You’ll stay with your Dad while I’m gone.” Grogu looks up at you with big eyes and it makes your eyes water from behind your HUD. 

Grogu babbles sadly. 

“I know.” You try to hold back a sob. “I know. I’m gonna miss you too.” The tears well in your eyes and your nose burns for a moment while you hold it back. “A lot. I will. I’ll miss you but our friend Peli needs my help and I’m the only one who can do it.” You shrug your shoulders and say the words fast so you can get them out before you have to hold back a sob in front of the child. 

Grogu warbles sound downcast. 

“No, I’m not still mad about the scratches.” More fast spat out words because you’re crying behind the helmet but you don’t want to sound like you're crying. You tilt your helmet to the side when you look down at him now. “I love you very much. I always will. But I need to go for a while. And you ne–need to learn h-how to become a-a-a M-Mandalorian.” You stammer into the modulator. This is hard. “I love you.” You lean down and press the forehead of your helmet to his tiny little green head and sigh. “My good boy.” You whisper into the modulator. 

“What good is she to me with one shoulder and a helmet?” Peli looks at you, and you look back at her through the HUD. “Is she the same one who was here last time?” She leans down and looks at her reflection in the shiny beskar. “What’d ya do to her in the mines of Mand’alor? She mess that face up real bad? It’s ugly under there now? Shame. She was cute.” 

“She has a couple scratches.” Din rasps flatly. “She works hard. Is strong despite the shoulder.” Peli looks you up and down and you watch her through the display. “It’ll be good for her.” 

This makes you roll your eyes under the helmet. He’s not wrong though it’ll be good for your ungrateful ass and maybe you’ll actually learn something this time. What is the most frustrating about all of this is that Din is right. If you had just calmly sat down at the table after greeting him from being gone all day and thanked him for the candy and taken the child from him; you could have talked to him nicely and told him how you felt and he would have comforted you and made you feel reassured.

No. You went in yelling at him with your finger pointed. Calling him a sonofabitch for things you didn’t even know were true. Hurtful accusations that he manipulated you into allowing him to touch you when it was something you had been drawing in your notebook! For several days leading up to the first incident in the Crest! Din’s request was strange but it eventually gave you what you had been wanting so badly. Did it not!? To see the image of his lower stomach and the base of him! He does have a curly patch of dark pubic hair that rents space there! You had forgotten because you never saw that notebook again. 

“Alright. She’s gonna get put to work.” Peli gives you a big missing-one-tooth smile and you nod your head once at her slowly because you can’t smile back. She turns to Din now and sighs, rolling her eyes. “Okay. I’ll give you twenty percent off since she’s workin’ for free. Only ‘cause I gotta go find the part you need for that big honkin’ ship anyway.” 

Wait. Did Din just…trade your services here at Peli’s for discounted work on the ship? Sure seems like it. Who cares, maybe she can teach you something. 

“Two weeks seems like more than twenty percent.” Din rasps make you turn your helmet at him. Now he’s bargaining. Peli points an index finger and then looks at you; she looks back to Din and points her finger at his helmet.

“Fine. Forty but only ‘cause I like the kid.” Peli cradles him in her elbow. “You sure he can’t stay? I’ll throw in an extra ten percent if ya let him.” She wiggles her eyebrows up and down quickly at Din but frowns and rocks back on the heels of her foot when Din shakes his helmet from side to side.

“Kids gotta come with me this time.” Din rasps holding one gloved hand out to him. Grogu turns away from him and into Peli’s chest. Din tilts his head to the side because Grogu never does that. The child always goes to Dad Djarin. You gasp quietly enough but it registers in the modulator. Din’s helmet snaps at you and then back to the child. “Grogu, come on. We have to go.” 

Grogu shakes his head from side to side. He said no. You gasp again softly and take a step back in shock. Din’s helmet stays on Grogu but he points back at you with his free hands. 

“Stop making that sound.” Then he holds the hand that had been pointing behind him at you up to Grogu. “Okay, our visit with Peli is over. We need to go.” Din’s not messing around. Grogu pulls his ears into his head tightly and chomps with his little teeth at Din’s gloved hand. 

You make a very audible gasp. Your hand goes to your chest again, in shock, and Peli laughs loudly while Din’s hands fall to his sides. 

“See! Even he wants to stay with Peli!” She laughs again and holds the frowning child out to Din. Grogu is really frowning. His little ears are stiff against his head and his eyebrows are furrowed as Din takes him from Peli. As soon as the child is in Din’s hands he looks back at you, reaching for you with his little arms and now his eyes are sad and his ears are much less stiff. He’s whimpering. “Ohhh. He wants his mommy! Give ‘em to her, Mando! It’s sad!” Peli exclaims, pointing between you and the child now. 

Din turns and holds the child out to you. Grogu doesn’t wait for either of you to be close enough to exchange him, Grogu flings himself to you and wraps himself around your neck as tightly as he can with your helmet now. It knocks you back a couple of stumbled steps but you regain your balance. 

“Oh, it’ll be okay. I’ll see you soon, I promise.” You hold your one good hand up to his back to hold him to you even though you don’t need to, his grip is tight. “You have to go learn things with your dad. I’m going to miss you too.” You pat his back a couple of times. Grogu babbles quietly. He sounds different in your helmet. Raspier. Like Din. Everything rasps. Including you now too. “Shhhh. It’s gonna be alright.” You turn your back and start to walk back towards the ship. 

Din’s close behind you. 

Once inside the not-so-new ship– an X4 Gunship you just learned the name of it three minutes ago when Peli told you–Din never bothered to tell you but you had also never bothered to ask– Grogu would not let go of you. Din had his hand on his little waist and Grogu had his grip dug into your shoulders now. 

“Oohh my May-ker— stop pullin’ him! He’s got his lil’ razors in me again—Grogu! Knock it off!” Your knees buckle at the white hot pain searing into your flesh. “Grogu! Release! Drop it! Let me go!” You plead raspily with the child but he holds tight, whining and whimpering loudly. 

“Grogu. This is not funny.” Din’s modulated voice sounds serious. “I mean it. Let go of the blasted woman! Get your claws out of her!” Din’s not messing around. Grogu does not care. “I’m going to lift and you drop at the same time.” Din’s helmet peers around the side of Grogu’s head. You nod in confirmation because you cannot speak. 

Din lifts the child from off your chest and shoulders and at the same time, you bend your knees and drop to the floor and finally—relief of some sort as his lil’ fuckin’ knives come— get ripped out of your flesh. 

“You are a crikking little snot!” You exclaim from the floor. “You maim my face! You use me as a pin cushion! I am just a girl, Grogu! I feel pain! Just like you do! Oh my Maker! ” You bring one hand to your bad shoulder and sigh. It had just started to not ache dully all the time and he does this!

“I know you are going to miss her. We will only be gone for two or three weeks.” Din rasps. You have to fight everything inside of you telling to question him about this new, extra week he just mentioned for the first time. 

“I will miss you too.” You stand from the floor and pet his ears softly. “Don’t scratch or impale me anymore. I do not like it.” You scold him softly. “I love you dearly. Please be careful.” You press your helmeted forehead to his little green one. “Behave.” You rasp quietly. “Learn to Walk the Way.” You sigh into the modulator. 

“I will be back for you soon. There are just–” Din starts to rasp but you snap your helmet up at him. 

“Things to attend to. I understand.” You wish he would just leave if he’s going to leave you here for a month. “Time away will be good for me.” You lie. You lie to Din Djarin. But you wonder to yourself if it is in fact a lie. Will time with these new thoughts and feelings all alone be good for you? It’s all unknown now. R5 bleeps up at them sadly. You touch the top of his little domed head. 

“I’m glad you’re looking at it that way.” Din is short, turning his helmet to look at the wall now.

Nothing he has said makes you think that he actually wants to come back for you. 

“I’ll be thinking of you.” You rasp quietly, looking down at your feet. 

“And I you. I must go. I’ll send a call if I have time.” Din presses his helmet to yours very gently and very quickly before turning to enter the door that leads to the hangar. 

You waste no time going to Peli and asking what she needs help with. R5 follows you as she leads you to a giant room. Big. So big and so many shelves and a set of rolling stairs that go all the way to the top. 

“I need this—” She holds both her hands up and does a slow spin. “-cleaned and organized. My picker droids don’t do well on the stairs and the Jawas are too small.” 

You look around the room that is about the size of a cathedral. It has multiple shelves throughout and those shelves are covered with things! You don’t even know what most of those things are! 

“The picker droids and the Jawas will help with the organizing part. But you’ll need to clean, give everything a good wipe down. Make sure nothin’s too yucky .” Peli looks at you and nods. “You can be done when the sun goes down. You’ll start after we eat breakfast. I’ll feed you, I guess. But then you’re on your own. Don’t come knocking on my door looking for entertainment when it’s dark. I’ll be asleep.” 

“Okay. Thanks for letting me stay here.” Peli gives you a look of distaste. 

“Well Mando practically begged me, and he’s a friend so…Get to work!” She points at the shelves.

Begged. Begged Peli to let you stay. You don’t blame him, you had been a brat and were still healing so it’s not like you could be much used to him in whatever matters he has to attend to. Mando didn’t tell you. 

The rest of the evening is spent talking to R5. 

“Do you think this is too yucky?” You rasp to the droid; holding up a long cylindrical pipe covered in grease and rust and…hair or fur. The droid backs away, then bloops quickly in response. “Yeah, me too.” You say tossing it in a large bucket Peli had brought in. There are so many things. Old ship parts. New ship parts. Pieces of clothing. Helmets, shoulder pauldrons, shin guards of all kinds. There were podracer pieces! So many things. You organize it all into piles the best you can when Peli comes in and tells you that the work day is over. 

“Know of any good bars around here?” You ask, taking your helmet off for the first time with Peli’s help. 

“Didn’t think you guys could take these off.” She sighed, handing the helmet back to you after you fix your hair. 

“I’m not a Mandalorian. Just got the cool helmet.” You sigh at her and shrug your one good shoulder. 

“I see…” She looks you up and down, noticing the lightsaber on your hip. “Well…with that thing you could probably check out Mos Eisley. Not too far, you can walk. Just lil’ dangerous though. Be careful. I told Din I’d keep my eye out and you’re not going to blow me in for lying by gettin’ hurt more than you already are!” She exclaimed, pointing in the direction of the cantina. 

“What can I get for you?” The bartender smiled at you so sweetly. Even though you probably looked like you could cry and fall off your stool and die. 

“Can I please have a whiskey?” You sigh and set your bag down in your lap. She nods and grabs a bottle from behind her. 

“I have this! It’s a really nice Tevraki whiskey. A great year.” She explains as you nod mindlessly. You don’t care where it’s from or how old it is or who its’ mother could be. You just want to ease the pain in your heart and this is the only way you know how. 

“That’ll be eight credits.” She holds her hand out to you. Picking through your bag for the right amount, you hand them to her but not before stumbling across a loose piece of paper. From your notebook. 

How long has this been in here? You don’t really go through your bag often any more. You don’t need it much. You don’t remember this being in here the last time you looked inside though. When you unfold the wrinkled and soft paper in your hands and see the doodle inside it brings tears to your eyes. It’s a little doodle of the child you had done so so long ago. You don’t doodle much anymore. Lost the need for it very quickly when you stopped being bored all the time. 

You press the old piece of paper to your chest and drink the entire small glass of whiskey in front of you in one big gulp. It burns going down, you almost choke but you force it back, down deep into your belly where it’s still burning you. Is that lava!? Real life hot lava you just drank?! Why do people drink that!? You’ve never had it before, it was just something that you had heard people around you at the casino order! It was ordered so often that you assumed it had to be good and look at you now, assuming more things and now almost throwing up in the cantina. Like a fool. Assuming. Have you learned nothing? Stick to your fruity drinks that glow in the dark or that delicious mandalorian wine. 

“Would you like another?” The bartender notices your empty glass and you nod, too afraid to tell her you did not want another and would like something that glowed. Or tasted like sweet candy. She was already pouring more brown liquid into your glass. You pay her and stare at the shot in front of you. 

Brown. Who wants to drink things that are brown and taste like they came out of the engine of the X4 Gunship! And burn. You hold it in your hand like it might bite you as you bring it to your lips. You drink it so fast and it still burns. The previous drink did absolutely nothing to prepare your body for this one like you had been hoping. 

This time you almost spit it out. You almost reject it—but you make yourself swallow it. You are not going to throw up in this cantina. You are a grown woman and you already are on the verge of a mental breakdown. That would completely send you over the edge. Embarrassing yourself in front of all these people who are looking at you—

Why was everyone in this cantina staring right at you? You do a little look around the room and almost every single set of eyes or one eye or multiple sets of eyes on one face were looking at you. Some of them looked at you in awe, like they could not believe that you were actually sitting in front of them. Some of these faces and eyes looked at you with unease…distaste maybe. You couldn’t tell there were so many eyes your own two eyes were flashing between. 

You wish you had your helmet but you would have had to take it off to drink anyway. The hood of your robe goes up over your face because maybe…they’re just not used to seeing a small dala alone in their bar. Unarmored. Looking broken and fragile. Most of these people in the cantina looked like smugglers! Where had Peli sent you off to?!

“Do you want another?” The bartender was already pouring brown liquid in your glass again before you could respond that yes you did want more in your glass and in your belly because once that nasty brown shit got down there…it was kinda nice. You felt warm all over. Every inch of you was…loose. It was nice to not feel tense and angry and upset. 

You’ve been trying so hard to not think about Din, it’s only day one. You have so many days left of trying not to think about him. And he leaves you with no answers, nothing to know if you should be waiting for him or packing your things to get off the ship when he returns. You don’t know. Again, nothing makes sense and this all just hurts your heart too much. The doodle of Grogu is still pressed tightly to your chest with your right hand as your left takes the drink. You hand the bartender more credits and now…you can go home. 

Back to X4, not home. Your home would be on Nevarro with Din and the two little ones hopefully. Not this forsaken ship! You kick it when you get back to it. You stand right alongside the landing gear and give it a good ole whack with your foot and now that hurts too. Why are you such a fool? You limp into the ship and R5 bleep bloops at you happily. You lay down right on the floor inside the ship's entrance once the ramp is shut. 

“Do you still care for me, tiny droid child?” You turn your head to the droid who is rolling himself into your leg, bleeping over and over again. “I don’t want to get up. I’d like to die here. Honestly.” The droid increases his beeping and his rolling into your leg repeatedly. “Oh stop it. I’m not actually going to. I’m being dramatic. I like being dramatic. I like to complain and bitch and be an asshole to someone I love, apparently.” You exclaim exasperatedly. 

 “Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum.  Kyr'am Kelir kis'wa mhi.  Pal'vut ratiin. I love you. Death will part us. Mine always.” Din’s voice rings throughout the ship and you sit up so quickly it makes you lightheaded. 

“Din?” You look around but then he speaks again but it’s coming from the same room as you. You look around and it’s coming from R5. “Are you doing that? How are you doing that? Din?” You speak into the droid's dome but Din just keeps repeating it over and over again. It’s a recording. “You recorded us!?” You gasp at the droid who stops playing the recording and starts beeping again wildly and rolling away from you.

It’s a struggle to get to your feet but you stumble after him shouting obscenities at him for recording you like that. You fall asleep on your bed with R5 next to you playing that recording for you as you touch the top of his little head. 

“Do you think he still cares for me in that way?” You whisper to the flashing buttons in the dark.

He doesn’t respond to you this time.

The cantina isn’t too bad. You like whiskey now after your two long weeks. Peli said you did good when you showed her that you had finished that giant room. Your shoulder still hurts but you took the sling off. Now you must wait for Din to return, however long that will be. You feel a gloved hand on your shoulder and your stomach flutters. 

“I was just thinkin–” The glove on your shoulder is not the one of Din Djarin. Who is this strange glove that’s holding your shoulder this way?

“Hello little-loth. Aren’t you just lovely? The stories I hear of you do not do you justice.” A very calm and astute sounding voice from behind you says. It’s unmodulated. You turn and see a tall man with a dark complexion a black mustache and short, almost shaved black hair smiling at you kindly. There are nine storm-troopers standing behind him in all black. You sigh loudly. “I’m Moff Gideon. It’s a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance.” 

“Moff Gideon?” You do not know this man. You’ve never even heard his name. You look back at the bartender but she is nowhere to be seen. It feels like it’s just the eleven of you here in this cantina. 

“Oh…Did Din Djarin not tell you about me?” He cocks his head to the side and takes a seat alongside you at the bar. “He didn’t tell you about how I captured the small green child you cared for so many years ago? Even if it was only for a couple hours.” Moff Gideon is smiling at you, like he knows a secret that you do not and he’s about to tell you. 

“I still care for the child.” You say, turning your nose up at him because who even was he? Obviously Din got the child back. So who cares? “Why are you here? What stories have you heard about me?” You’re curious, that's for sure. What could this man in black want with you? Why is he talking to you?

“Oh, I’ve heard many stories. That you have your own lightsaber made of beskar.” He raises his eyebrows once and smirks. “That is very impressive of a woman of your stature. Especially one without the Force. Or any previous militia training.” He nods his head at you like he really is impressed. “I’ve heard stories of your beauty.” Gideon raises one glove and very tenderly traces the back of three fingers across the scars where your mechnosutures used to be. “Scarred. Still beautiful though. Now I hear you have your own helmet. And that you’ve mastered the darksaber.”  

Panic. You’re not sure why but pure panic fills your body because the only person that knows that is Din you’re pretty sure. Unless he told people. How did Moff Gideon hear of this?

“Not mastered. I think I figured it out though.” You try to stay as calm as you can because if you panic you don’t know what this caped man in armor will do to you. 

“So you know about the anger?” Gideon asks curiously. You nod in response. “Think of what you could do if you hated your opponent.” Your eyes go wide when you do think about it because that has never crossed your mind. You had only thought about the hatred for the thing in your hand. If the lightsaber guided you towards the good things you fought for… what would the darksaber guide you to,with angry, hate filled thoughts of murder and massacre? “Have you ever killed anyone, beautiful little loth-cat? He whispers the last part to you. It makes you shiver.

“No.” You say because you honestly didn’t even kill the bug down in mines. Din did after you passed out. Why is he asking you these questions? What’s it to him?

“Would you like to? I hear you’re very skilled. I could use…what is it that Din Djarin calls you?” He looks to the ceiling and then to his stormtroopers like they would help him. “Oh. I remember now. Hired help.” 

“That was before.” You whisper softly. The words make you want to throw up but that’s exactly what you had been at one time. Help that he hired. And this was so many years ago. He’s just trying to anger you. 

“So what are you to The Mandalorian?” Moff Gideon raises an eyebrow. “Because right now…he’s in the stars with Bo-Katan Kryze. Flying in her ship. Potentially sleeping in her bed—alongside her .” 

You actually feel like you’re going to throw up. It’s been a nagging thought in your brain. He did take the N-1 but there is no place to sleep there. That’s no place to house a child. 

“I don’t know,” you murmur, looking away from Gideon now. 

“I know what you could be…to me.” He sounds so pleased with himself. 

“Oh and what is that? More hired help?” You’re annoyed and wished he would go away. 

“You would definitely be helping me with something.”

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I'm sorry but I absolutely HATE short hair jinx

Her design was meant to be the opposite of Vi's, but with some subtle similarities to show their connection. Now she just has the same hair as Vi, complete with an outfit so similar to what Vi wore in prison. Her braids added so much to her character and uniqueness. They also added to cinematography, such as the way they hang limp and fall between her legs as she is running in the Enemy of my Enemy clip, giving the impression that she is weak, helpless, and scared, like a dog with its tail tucked between its legs.

And why does fishbones have a beard? And an underbite? Now he looks less like Silco 😕

Maybe the underbite and beard represents Warwick, so now she is making fishbones a mix of Silco and Vander, which makes zero sense considering her lol self and how she finally accepts Jinx and what Silco wants at the end of season 1. First they take away Silco, now they are taking away the nods to him.

Heros and villians arcane merch collection

Edit: I think she might be able to ride it, sitting on that saddle-like part and holding onto the handle of pow-pow, she can shoot her mini-gun and the fishbones side propels it? These seems kind of ridiculous