#sorry for taking so long to reply im on mobile and its not easy :^)

[svankmajerbaby]

hii ❣️ 1, 2 and 3 for the movies ask game?

helloooo, thank u for the ask <3

1. what is your current favorite film?

oof, tough question..... my usual favorite movie is either alice 1988 or the fall 2005 at any given time. the wolf house is up there too but i havent watched it nearly enough times. i think alice rn but only bc i havent watched the fall in a long while. i should probably rewatch......

2. what was your favorite film as a child?

monsters inc!!! i got it super memorized, fron the music to the dialogues, i loved the latinamerican dub and tbh its still just my favorite pixar movie even if i know its not the best of theirs. barbie nutcracker and atlantis are close seconds, i remember rewatching them about a hundred times. i also think even earlier on, so about when i was 3 or 4,i had a dinosaur phase? so i watched the matt damon disney dinosaur movie a lot. and also manuelita, bc ive always loved maria elena walsh <3

(i had vhs of a bunch of the 90s and 2000s disney movies so theres that of course. but i also had shrek on vhs which my dad loved so i also have good memories of that one :)

3. whats a film you absolutely despise, and why?

i try not to hate movies bc apart from all the effort ppl put into them i also know that any movie must be someones favorite movie, and tbh most of the time there is always sth to love about a movie no matter how bad it is...... but going over my letterboxd my last low-rated movie was the mulan remake. im usually too charitable towards disney remakes bc i dont care about the source material too much and i just want to be entertained and dazzled by high value production design for a while but the mulan remake was just. Dull. even the aladdin remake could halfheartedly hold my attention a bit more. mulan was boring and unfortunately for it i actually have some nostalgia towards the original. so it was just a disappointment

[mandalorewhore]

Common Ground

Part 2 of Hunter  (formerly Hunter and Prey)

gif by @themandaloriandaily​

Rating: Explicit Content Warnings: SMUT, Oral Sex (fem recieving), Cock Warming, Descriptions of violence/blood , Edging (maybe?), Dirty talk, Praise kink, Size kink, Big Dick Mando, Blindfolded Sex Words: 11.7k AO3 LINK

Summary: Reader and Mando land on Nevarro to meet with Karga

A/N: im sorry to niceguy!Karga in season 2

This would be less awkward if you knew how to talk to the man. 

The awkwardness is probably one-sided though you doubt he’s brooding over what the two of you did last night in this cockpit. You’re not a blushing virgin afraid to talk about sex, but it would be nice if you actually knew  something you both had in common, since you’re going to be spending a lot of time together. The extent of your conversations have been about sex, mechanics, and killing people. That’s pretty fitting for the two of you, you suppose. He is… Officially? your bounty hunting partner now.

However, he’s very comfortable in silence, so much so that it seems to be a central part of his character, much like the armor strapped to his body. Is being reserved a part of the Mandalorian creed too, or does he just prefer it? Does he want to talk about how you sucked his dick mere hours after abandoning your jobs as mercenaries? What is he thinking about right now? You could probably ask him all this, you know. Your internal argument is boiling over like a forgotten pot as you ruminate in the passenger seat of the Crest’s cockpit.

    You woke up in his arms a few hours ago, curled up in the pilot seat together, your face feeling a bit grimey due to  not scrubbing it clean after he gave you that facial. Feeling cozy in the quiet moments that follow waking, you snuggled in closer to his warmth, still only separated by the thin layer of his undershirt. You started when his palm squeezed your shoulder, his way of letting you know he was already awake. 

There’s an unspoken feeling about the way he fell asleep in your presence. You may work together now, but you’re still virtual strangers and Mando is a professional. You doubt he’ll pass out in front of you again. 

Slumped in your seat, you mull over every second that passed between the two of you. Meanwhile, he’s just sitting there like a lump of metal. Unaffected. Impassive. If you didn’t have first-hand proof of the deliciously warm skin he hides, you would’ve passed him off  as a droid. 

Actually when you think about it… when it comes to conversation topics, maybe metal is the place to start. As in, the ship that is now your impromptu home for the foreseeable future. You’ve gleaned that the Crest is like home to the Mandalorian and, come to think of it, he seemingly opted to sleep on his little cot down in the ship’s hull instead of taking up a bunk back on the space station. If he were anyone else, the gesture would’ve been ostentatious. It gave the impression that he was ready to leave at any moment. 

But no one wants to confront a Mandalorian.

Bringing up the Crest is probably a safe option and you’re knowledgeable about ships. You can hold your ground when it comes to the technicalities of mechanics. Plus, you can be charming when you want to be; on merc jobs you weren’t put into the femme fatal role for no reason.  Although you’ve casually lured men to their death, you’re more nervous to chat with Mando. But you’re determined to try. Try to be appealing...

    “I’m curious… Once I have some credits saved up, would you be interested in adding mods to the Razor Crest? I haven’t gotten a good look yet, but I’m floating some ideas around.” You bite your lip automatically out of apprehension, but hoping it comes across as playful. You’re not out of line or anything; it's been hours since you last exchanged any words so it's not like you’ve been chatting his ear off. Still, you worry that you sound extra loud to someone who’s spent so long in stillness. 

“That may be useful. What were you thinking?” Mando’s response comes only a second later, and even though he faces the cockpit’s transparisteel windows as he speaks, you’re giddy at his swiftness to respond. 

    “Well, I would love to touch her up a little. There are some issues with the hyper-drive and coms that could be fixed pretty easy. As for modifying, I saw that you installed a mobile carbonite-freezing chamber for bounties?” He nods to affirm your guess. “I could move that ‘round to utilize the space for storage and better suit two people living here. Either install a bed that can swing down or-”

    “Separate beds are unnecessary. We can sleep in shifts or share the bunk.”

    “O-oh. Sound’s good.” You gulp, feeling a little warm. The implication makes you sweat even if he shot down your idea. “Well, upgrading the deflector shields would be a good idea. Protect her better, plus efficient heat dispersal during atmospheric flight would let us jump into hyperspace faster. If we need to run or just want to fuck off somewhere.”

    “Hm. That is a good idea. She’s fast but there's always room for improvement.” He accentuates his response by patting the console lightly, and something about the way his hand lingers gently on the surface reminds you of a parent touseling their child’s hair. A smile stretches across your face, finally relaxing a little after being so tense all morning. For someone that you thought was so serious, he sometimes reveals a sentimental side to his personality. It makes you want to ask him more, to know more about him and how he thinks, but you’re so nervous about asking him anything even slightly personal, anything that has to do with his preferences or opinions. Your short exchange about his ship went pretty smoothly you think, maybe you can ask him more, you’ll just stay on the topic of starships. That should be fine. 

    “Do you have a dream ship?” You blurt, sounding a little less casual than you were trying for. Oops. 

    He takes longer to respond this time, seemingly thinking the question over. “No. Maybe when I was younger. I have the Crest now, there isn’t a need to plan for another ship.” 

    There's that seriousness again, the way he responds to you makes you think that he has never had to answer hypothetical questions before. It makes perfect sense, the average person doesn’t go around asking tall, intimidating Mandolorians about their hobbies. What a Gonk Droid. I’m jealous he can get away with talking like that. Still, you do want to continue this conversation if only to hear his voice. “Nothin’ about planning Mando, just a little make-believe. Personally, I like an A-Wing, the RZ-1 variant is classic even if the 2 is flashier. X-Wings are neat too, minus the pigs flying them.” 

    A weird huff passes through his voice filter and he finally turns to face you. You’re caught off guard by the sudden eye-visor contact, so it’s a second later when you process what that noise was, and the realization makes you positively giddy. “Oh shit, did I make a Mandolorian laugh? Am I on Spice?” 

    “That’s funny- pigs don’t deserve the nice Starfighters.” He laughs again, clearer this time while warmth feelings bloom within you at his reaction. It’s so unbelievable to you that he’s here laughing at something you said. You never once heard a reaction like that from him before now. “Those fast ships are impressive and great for combat, but I need a bigger space… a YV-929 would suit my needs.”

    “Of course it would, there’s like 1000 guns on that blocky thing. Plus the Empire banned it and you like to break rules.” The ship he named is virtually the same build as the Razor Crest, just with more guns, which is amusing to you. 

Creature of habit, you think, finding yourself leaning subtly closer to his body with every exchange. You don’t think you’re imagining him doing the same.

    “16. Could add more though.” He murmurs and something in his voice makes you think that he isn’t being entirely humorous. 

Maker, he is probably mapping out all the baster mods he could stick on that bulky freighter. You’re still amused by his very literal sense of things. You settle back in your seat to observe the hyperspace light streaking across the cockpit, a comfortable silence falling over the cockpit.

As you sit there and ruminate, the topic of weapons brings forth a vague memory in your mind. 

Someone once told you that Mandalorians aren’t considered great fighters due only to reputation and rumor. Most people are aware that armor and weaponry is part of the Mandalorian culture, but fewer are aware that such items have religious significance, going much deeper than a learned skill. Mandalorians are revered as great warriors not just because of their physical training, but because fighting and waging battle is a form of prayer. 

Despite finding rumors about Mandalorians to be generally exaggerated, you feel this one may be true.

 You’re curious but afraid to ask him to elaborate. The fact that neither of you exchanged more than a few words when you worked together is proof of his preferred privacy. Even though you’re pretty sure he wouldn’t mind giving you some sort of explanation about his culture, you decide to avoid any personal questions. 

Plus you really don’t want to come across as asking about his helmet.

    You break the silence shyly, trying to smoothly bring up a different topic. “Down in the hull… I haven’t explored much of your ship, I don’t want to come across as snooping. But I’m wondering, what sort of manpower have you got stored here?” 

“I installed an armory. Do you want to see it?” 

Fuck yes you want to check it out, his personal collection must be a wet dream.

“Yes, I’d love to!” You reply excitedly. The weapons Mando carried were always fascinating. You especially admired that rifle he slung across his back. You’ve never seen it in action but you heard it evaporated its targets. The two spokes at the end made you wonder how it shot. There has to be different settings on the gun, it would be impractical to evaporate all your targets especially if you need to bring back bounties, dead or alive. The bullets he slung across his chest must be paired with the rifle based on their size and shape when you compare them to the rifle chamber. What sort of charge do they contain to completely disintegrate its victims?

You’re tapping your fingers on your bottom lip, calculating how the rifle might function when his leg brushes past you. Glancing up in surprise, you realize he’s already headed to the cockpit ladder, twisting his upper body as he turns his helmet to look back at you.

“Come on.” You’re unable to read his face but something in his body language makes you think he’s amused by you. Flushing red, you scramble upright from the leather seat to follow him down to his armory. He slides first down the ladder, not bothering to use the rungs. Being unfamiliar with the area you opt to carefully descend one portion at a time, unaware of the view you’re giving Mando. By the time you reach the bottom, he’s diverted his gaze. 

Tall body moving to a panel on the wall, he punches in a four-digit code, prompting a smooth metal cabinet on the opposite wall to slide open with a hiss. You shake your head at this. The man has a tiny metal cot but he installed a hydraulic system for his weapons cabinet. But when you look closer at the exhibit your jaw falls open.

Oh my… Now that’s sexy.

The two side doors hang open to reveal a space in the middle filled with large blasters. His mid-sized guns are stacked horizontally above each other while the longer rifles lay vertically to the right of the center display. The doors contain smaller handguns of varying design and purpose. Each weapon is unique, there is not a single inch of wasted space given to any blaster if it doesn’t have distinct properties. Eyes locked on the arsenal, you scoot forward and make grabby hands at the cabinet. 

��Oo, they’re beautiful! Can I- May I see?” You are immediately drawn to a cylindrical pistol mounted at the very top of the stack, the gun’s sight a smooth metal and grip warm brown. Despite its deadly properties, it is a fucking gun, something about it looks soft to the touch. You’re finding more and more that you enjoy the juxtaposition of lethality and softness. 

Even though you’ve made no specification on which gun you want to hold, Mando reaches out and selects the very gun you’re attracted to and hands it to you. I should stare less, it's like he can read my mind. Despite resolving to do so the thought is fuzzy, unimportant when you’re so excited about handling one of the prettiest pistols you’ve ever seen. Mando watches you from a few feet away. 

“Good choice. I usually conceal-carry that blaster since it’s small on me, looks like the perfect size for you though.” Mando’s compliment has you grinning up at him, feeling giddy and full of light, but you’re quickly drawn back to look at the gun. Turning the weapon over in your hands you admire the polished metal, the texture making a satisfying noise as you run your fingers on its silky surface. The weight is perfectly balanced as you aim it at the wall, lining up the sight with a seam in the metal paneling. 

“You can carry it from now on.” 

What? It’s a good thing you know your trigger safety otherwise you would’ve pulled the trigger in shock, probably ricocheting the blast into your head. The giddy energy drains from you, replaced by apprehension and confusion. Why is he giving me so much shit? 

Of course you’re thankful. You’re incredibly thankful to be on the Razor Crest at all; however you can’t help feeling as if you owe Mando on a level where you’re incapable of repaying him. He didn’t have to take you with him when he dropped Ran’s crew, he didn’t have to indulge your sexual fantasies, he didn’t have to comfort you, didn’t have to partner with you, and he doesn’t need to give you this blaster. It is certainly a collectible, a rarity. A Mandalorian wouldn’t have it on hand if it were some run of the mill E-11 handed out to every Stormtrooper in the Empire. 

But what can you even say to him? It would be incredibly awkward if you refused him right now. Your mind races.

Best focus on the easy stuff. As long as he doesn’t drop me off on some wasteland I’ll be fine. That blaster is too pretty to decline so with your willfulness broken by aesthetic pleasure, you holster the gun on your hip, opposite the blaster you already carry. 

“Thank you. I’ll put it to good use.” You try to inject as much gratefulness into your voice as possible, even though you still feel odd about taking it.

“Yes, you will. Get ready and come back to the cockpit, we’ll be on Nevarro in a hour.”

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

 You’re used to men like Greef Karga but that doesn’t mean they’ll stop being annoying.

The way he speaks like he’s owed something from you just because you’re listening, the way it’s clear that every decision he makes is in self-interest, the way he eyes the women around him, yourself included. He isn’t outright dismissive like some men; such as the guard placed behind him only having eyes for your partner; but you can tell he either doesn’t take you seriously or he is more concerned about how he can sexualize you. 

He definitely isn’t treating Mando as a joke. Annoying.

          But, it’s not all bad. You got a kick out of how a hush came over the dusty cantina when the Mandalorian entered. He had been walking behind you which, with a little imagination, gave the effect that they were all reacting to your presence instead. Even though in reality, no one had ever reacted to you that way unless they were leering. You like how they fear him. It's a turn-on. 

You wish they would fear you like that.

          Someone says your name, startling you out of your thoughts. You realize that everyone at the table is looking at you expectantly but you didn’t hear the question at all. Kriff, you need to show yourself up more. Mando’s reputation is practically handing you the job but you still need to sell your skills to get anything decent out of Karga. He’s so stingy with the quarry's, even with Mando despite how he kissed the Mandalorian’s ass when greeting him. You figure that Mando didn’t take on bounties often, which put his skills in high demand.

          “Uhh, sorry. A bit distracted. Can you repeat the question, please?” You reply, accentuating the please with a bat of your lashes while looking Karga full in the face. If he’s going to objectify you, you may as well play into it. Smiling, he leans forward and pushes a glass of Spotchka into your hands, lingering a little longer than necessary when your fingers meet.

          “I asked if you wanted a drink. Take it, I can see you need one.” He winks at you while you stare indignantly, wondering what he means by that. It’s not like you’re sweating bullets in here. You’ve been here countless times on countless planets. Seedy cantinas with seedier people. Hopefully, he’s just flirting and doesn’t think you’re nervous. Maybe the flirting is backfiring.

You grip the glass and wet your mouth with the drink, enjoying the burn for a moment. Mando tilts his helmet at the way you accept Karga’s drink, seemingly looking sideways at you. Narrowing your eyes at him, you drink again and turn back to Karga.

          “Thank you, the Spotchka here is lovely.” It’s average, but flattery can’t hurt. Karga laughs robustly at this.

          “It’s no Alderaan wine, but it’ll do.” He drains his glass then pours himself another, filling it to the brim before turning to your partner. “So, Mando! Word travels fast around here. I take it you’re a full-time guild member now! I’m not surprised, always took you for the loner type. In fact, I already updated your status to full-time before you landed.” Karga waits for a response from Mando but the man sits silently at your side. Unbothered, Karga continues, “But, I am surprised you stayed that long with Ran in the first place. Must be the pretty ladies he keeps around.”

          The comment makes you cringe but you still smile brightly back at him since what he is inferring is clear. Can he just register you already?

          “Not alone. She’s with me.” Mando’s reply is short and flat, with no reaction to how you’re attempting to work Karga’s attention, nor at the revelation that Mando’s departure from mercenary work has apparently spread across the sector. 

          Karga’s smile twists into a smirk as he glances between you and Mando, looking at both of you as if he wants to fit your bodies together like a puzzle. “Well, well, well Mando. Didn’t think you were the type. Is she a bed warmer?”

          Your grip tightens on the glass. What the fuck is he implying? You’re rising in your seat, about to let loose on Karga when a gloved hand settles on your shoulder and pulls you down. Excuse me? Do I have to go off on everyone here? Why the fu-

          “She’s my hunting partner, my equal. Don’t insult us again.” Oh okay, you don’t know why he stopped you and he still doesn’t sound all that offended, but at least he’s defending you. 

Not wanting to be spoken for, you add on, “I’m prepared with my information so that you can register me in the Bounty Hunters Guild. Pull up your holo, I’m done with the small talk.” Your back is rod-straight in the cantina booth, trying to look down at the Guild leader even if he’s seated higher than you. “Also, your Spotchka is shit.”

          Karga’s is unphased at your reactions, even rolling his eyes. He replies bluntly, “If you’re going to join my guild then you need to prove to me that I’m not wasting my pucks on you. Don’t rely on the Mandalorian’s reputation. If you aren't out of some brothel then you were a mercenary, were you not?”

At first, the audacity of Karga has you fuming, ready to stand again despite whatever Mando wants. However, as you’re looking out of the corner of your eye at the crowd you realize that the bodies filling the cantina are no longer milling around quite as naturally. It's subtle, to an untrained ear and eye not much has changed. The chatter around you remains at a consistent volume and no one is blatantly staring. But your senses are sharp enough to tell that everyone in this room is On Greef Karga’s side. If a fight broke out you’d likely lose, even with Mando being worth ten men and the shiny new blaster strapped to your hip. 

Also, your prospects with the guild would be fucked if you fought everyone right now, which is the whole reason you’re here. You have to play nice and it infuriates you… But you still need the job. 

Taking a deep breath to quiet your anger you look to your left away from Karga, only to be startled by Mando’s visor locked directly on you. Sharing a look, one that you can only guess the meaning behind, you find the patience to calm down. You turn back to Karga, locking eyes steadily.

“Sorry for insulting your drinks, that was petty of me. But I am not sorry about how you implied that Mando would keep some poor sex slave around, nor am I sorry for reacting that way. I’d like to start over… If you’ll accept my apology, I’ll accept yours.” You can’t help letting some stubbornness slip into your words. If he’s supposed to be your boss then you aren’t going to keep up a pretense of respect after that. Not without an apology. 

You’ve never given much thought to how you look to other people, how you affect the crowd when you enter a room. It’s not that you don’t think you’re pretty. Being assigned roles by Ran that allowed you to dress up and distract targets was a direct affirmation of how you looked, even if they were creeps. But when you walked into this place, the only heads that turned were for the Mandalorian. You've never had the experience of being scary to other people. You’re always having to prove yourself and show everyone that you’re someone who can handle what’s handed to them, an equal to every other hard character in the galaxy’s Outer Rim... it’s tiresome. 

Karga is looking at you again, a little differently this time. 

    “I respect you for being blunt. Do accept my apology.” He sounds sincere enough so you nod, lips drawn tight. Heavy metal suddenly settles on your knee, Mando’s vambrace is laying across the soft flesh on your upper thigh. He squeezes, oh stars. Now you’re feeling flushed for other reasons than anger. 

    “Do I get an apology?” Mando asks Karga quietly, voice frustratingly mild just like the other two times he’s spoken up in this booth. The other man grins at Mando, more jolly than he should be considering who he insulted. 

    “My apologies, Mando! Do stay with the guild, your skills are irreplaceable! I’m afraid my jokes can go too far.`` His response is light and humorous but no one is fooled by the tone. A Mandalorian is far too valuable to lose. 

    After a few seconds pass between the two men you clear your throat, annoyed by everyone dancing around each other while you’re still not signed up to hunt bounties. It’s your only purpose here but whatever. Karga directs his smile at you, pulling his holo from behind him out of his guard’s hand.

    “I haven’t forgotten about you, sweetheart. Now, I’m going to put your basic details in… Do you happen to be registered elsewhere, such as under an Identichip?” You shake your head; you always worked behind a moniker. “Great! That makes this easy for me. Simply provide a name, real or not, and I’ll set up a chain code so quarries are tied to your data.” 

    You provide your name while Karga fiddles around on the device. It’s unclear if it is really that complicated to work the thing or if he is just stalling. This feels a little too easy so far. Didn’t he make a huge fuss about proving yourself? You decide to ask outright, wanting to bring it up instead of waiting around for him to finish.

    “I thought I needed to prove myself to you. Aren’t you worried about wasting pucks?” You were trying to tease but the bite in your voice can’t be helped. You worry you might’ve gone too far when Karga looks up at you with open annoyance.

    “Do you want to go out back and shoot a few bottles down? Seems childish to me.” He huffs out a short breath and returns to his holo. “I know that you worked with Ran’s crew on mercenary missions which grants you some cred. You can tell me what your specialties were on such jobs and it might convince me to give you the mid-level pucks instead of entry.”

    This is unfair, everyone knows it, he’s the one who told you to prove yourself and now he’s making you feel stupid for reminding him. He’s the one who was so concerned about wasting his precious pucks. But now that you’re here… you might actually be able to talk Karga into giving you a better quarry. Taking a deep breath, you start to list your qualifications.

    “On mercenary jobs, I usually took a stealth role due to my stature. For certain missions, I would dress to infiltrate a group, sometimes carrying hidden weapons but mostly I would conceal poison in my jewelry, skin powder, or anything similar. I’m a great shot and am knowledgeable about starships. When I first started I had to work my way up the ranks, the lowest being mechanics. Within a year I managed to go from handywoman to assassin... There’s more if you want to hear, although I can’t directly prove anything.” You wish you could actually show all these skills to him instead of just telling him. Karga is right, shooting down dusty bottles like some sort of carnival game would be pretty useless, but at least it would feel more substantial than this. 

You’re about to open your mouth and tell Karga more when you’re interrupted by Mando, and he finally sounds emotive, no longer inscrutable in tone. “This is all true. I haven’t worked closely with her on every job but I noticed her when I did. Her stealth was critical to our success during hits. She often worked on my starship. The Crest always came out in better shape once she looked at it.” You’re not sure what emotion is in his voice but whatever it is, it reminds you that his hand is still resting on your knee under the table.

Trying not to smile too widely, you bring your hand down on top of the one on your leg, giving it a pat of thanks. Karga’s eyes follow your movement but thankfully he stays silent, leaning back with a pensive look.

“Alright, this is all very interesting. Tell you what, and don’t take this as an insult, you can either have two entry-level pucks or one mid-tier. It all adds up to the same amount of credits, however, the mid-tier quarries will boost your rank… Mid also comes with a time constraint.” 

There’s always a catch with this man you think, a little displeased, but at the same time, you understand that he can’t maintain his business if all pucks were given away in good faith. Mid-tier seems like the best deal, and you aren’t just here for the money. Presumably, this will be your job for a while so you may as well aim ambitiously. 

“What are the last known coordinates of the mid-tier bounties?” You ask him, trying to sound like you’ve not already decided to take it. 

“One for Corellia and one for Mimban. Neighboring planets.” You grimace, recognizing the names. How lovely, you get to choose between two shitholes. Karga is correct, the planets are right next to each other, so at least you don’t have to worry about fuel. Corellia is more dangerous but the planet is explored thoroughly when compared to Mimban and you’ve already been to Corellia once.

“I’ll take the Corellian bounty, thank you.” Karga slides the puck across the table with an unpleasant scrape before drawing out three more, stacking them in front of the Mandalorian one by one.

“Two are bail jumpers but the credits for each are decent. I also threw in one S level criminal, let's see how you do with that one now that you’re dedicated to my wonderful guild.” Karga grins at Mando so widely that it is almost a grimace. Well, he didn’t have to beg for the good pucks. Yeesh… Mando’s arm lifts from your knee and he gathers the pucks wordlessly.

Mando moves to leave, rising quickly from the booth and leaving you scrambling behind him, slipping your puck in the pocket on your pants.  He’s at the door by the time you remember to say goodbye to Karga. Not wanting to be rude even if you don’t really like him, you turn and wave. “Um, bye! Take care.” 

He waves back. “You as well, girl.” 

A powerful hand grips your forearm and pulls you none too gently to the doors and out into the acrid, volcanic air.

----------------   

    It would be nice if the man who called you his equal an hour ago would tell you his plans. Instead, he had placed a small bag of credits in your palm and told you to go get some food and wait. You couldn’t find it in yourself to snap at him since you were starving, the last time you ate was probably several days ago, before Cantonica. Your hunger might explain the snippiness you’ve felt all day, actually.

    Having finished your meal of dubious-looking soup, you get up to explore a bit before heading back to the ship. The settlement is small and you think it may be the only town on the planet or at least the only one in the area. The land around you is flat enough to see for miles. It’s impressive that Mando disappeared considering the lack of terrain to hide behind. He must be in the city somewhere. 

    As you wander through the busy main strip, peering at different vendors and booths, you start to feel dejected. Mando defended you, spoke up for you, and even backed up your claims so that you’d look better in front of Karga. Then he just… disappeared. Somewhere. No communication. That's fine.

    It’s a little worrisome, the speed at which you’ve become attached to the man. You’ve been together for less than three days, and you already feel weird being alone. You know that you’re being unfair to yourself right now, it's not abnormal to feel lost on a foreign planet plus you literally just lost everything you’ve worked for as a mercenary. But in the end...

    Being here, alone and penniless, reminds you of home, the one you had as a child. It’s something you try to forget about. 

    Swallowing the memories away into that off-limits area within yourself, you decide to leave the bustling road and wander down a dingy alley. Probably not the smartest move but you do have two blasters on your hip. The sounds of the crowd fade in the background as you wander farther and farther down the twisting path. 

    It’s almost funny how quickly things go south. 

Mere minutes later, you find yourself backed up into a wall with two Rodians aiming their blasters at you, your huddled form reflected in their massive, black eyes. One of them jabs your arm with his gun saying something in that grating, echoey voice that most Rodians speak with. You get that they’re both aiming deadly weapons at you but you’re honestly just irritated. 

    “I don’t have credits on me fellas, you can search me but you won't find shit.” They must understand Basic because one of them pins you to the wall while the other pats your body down, searching for anything valuable. Pulling the empty credit pouch from your belt and throwing it to the ground, he twists you to face the wall, grabbing at one of your blasters. The rare one that Mando just gave you. You start to panic now, the positioning of your bodies making you nervous as you realize how vulnerable you are, fearful that they aren’t just looking for something to steal. Kicking backward at the Rodian pinning your arms, you start to struggle against them, trying hard to wiggle free and pull your other blaster.

    You must’ve connected with a kneecap because you hear a sickening crunch at the same time the Rodian howls, falling to the ground. His companion makes a furious sound then lashes out at your face, fingertips just barely connecting with your cheek as you duck slightly too late. Your face stings and feels wet, his gloves seem to have sharp points on the ends. You pray that they aren’t spiked with poison. 

    The injured member is still preoccupied with his hyperextended knee, granting you just enough time to pull the other blaster from your hip before he joins his partner and turns on you. You throw yourself to the ground, aiming at the same time and squeezing the trigger right before you hit the earth. The shot connects with the Rodian who swung at you and he falls to the ground, shriek cut short. Twisting to your side so you can attempt an evasive roll, you attempt to line the sight up with the chest of your living assailant but your shoulder connects with debris on the ground, jerking it out of your smooth movement. 

The blast misses by a few inches. 

The pain from whatever you landed on shoots to your fingertips, numbing them. Noticing your distraction, he hurls his body at you thankfully unable to jump accurately due to the injury you gave him. Despite that, he lands on your legs and starts to drag you toward him, abandoning his blaster in his rage while dirt billows around your struggling bodies.

    You’re terrified, fear making you clumsy as you handle your blaster. You don’t want to die being strangled by some alien in this dirty alley but the numbness in your fingers has you moving slower than usual, hand heavy as you try to aim again. Sucking in a deep breath you scream, hoping that someone on the busy strip will hear you. But no one is coming for you and there is no time to wait. Panicked, you fire in the direction of the Rodian, not taking care to calculate possible ricochet points in the area. A shot connects, his heavy body falling on your hips, dead.

    Fingers still numb, you hurtle upwards and try to wipe the dust out of your eyes to look at the bodies. The first Rodian you shot is a few feet away, slumped against the wall you were pinned to, blaster marks littering the brick surface from your panicked shots. Disgusted, you shove the dead body off of your legs and stand up.

 As you analyze the second alien you realize something doesn’t add up here. 

Somehow the blaster shot that killed him seems to be on the back of his head. How is that possible? Did I manage to reflect it off something and hit him from behind? You’re approaching the body to look for other possible causes of death when a large shadow leaps from the rooftop, landing heavily in a cloud of dust. You curse and aim your blaster at his head, pulling the trigger before you realize who it is.

He’s lucky his helmet is pure Beskar.

“Mando! What the fuck, I could’ve killed you!” Stomach feeling like it’s full of rocks, you march up to the man and slam a fist into his chest plate, hard. Looking up into his visor you feel a flash of misguided anger, lifting your fist to pound on his armor again. “Where the fuck were you anyway?!”

A large hand flashes up to catch your wrist before it can connect with his chest. He looks at you darkly. “Do you always hit people to thank them?” he asks, while his other hand reholsters the silver blaster back onto your hip.

“What do you mean, you-” The pieces connect in your mind, the impossible blaster shot in the back of the head of the Rodian and Mando’s positioning on the roof. 

He saved your ass. Again. 

You already realize your anger is misdirected, he didn’t do anything to warrant it. But the adrenaline and fear paired with your entire experience on Nevarro have wound you up to the point of lashing out. You shouldn’t be mad at him, and you should definitely apologize for almost killing him. Also, you should be thanking him for saving you even though you probably would’ve survived the mugging anyway. That criminal was unarmed at the end there. 

But you don’t care. You weirdly want to argue with him, to try and break that cool attitude he’s been maintaining nearly all day.

“I could’ve gotten him easily. If I didn’t hurt my arm he would’ve been dead before you arrived, also you didn’t answer my fucking question. I thought I was your equal, Mando.” You mock his earlier phrasing from the cantina, hoping he’ll snap and say something back. But he doesn’t.

Instead, he does something so strange that all the turbulent emotions you’ve been harboring fly out of your body in one instant.

Bringing up one glove to cover your eyes, he holds the hand you punched him with at the bottom edge of his helmet, pushing it up with your clasped fingers. There is a quiet hiss and you can feel the weight of metal digging into your knuckles as the Beskar lifts. Your fingers meet with soft lips, coarse facial hair brushing your skin as he presses a kiss on the blossoming bruises there. Heat rushes to your cheeks and you suddenly can’t remember what you were yelling about. 

It’s odd. You’ve seen the most intimate parts of him but only now, having felt his lips, do you truly recognize how rawly human he is. 

Too soon- he draws away, the helmet settles back on his head. You step back blinking as the light hits your eyes, cradling your hand to your chest like it's been hurt. Which you guess it has. You can’t really feel it. 

Unable to meet his gaze you stare at his boots, “You’re weird and I don’t understand you.” Your words sound embarrassingly breathless.

    He chuckles quietly. “Good.” And after a beat of silence- “Do I get an apology?” 

Annoyed at how he mirrored you throwing his words back at him, you look up glaring, but you’re unable to put any actual heat into your halfhearted expression. You’re still thinking about how soft his lips felt plus, you actually feel bad for lashing out at him.

“Yes, um, I’m sorry Mando, I was only mad because I was scared. I actually could’ve killed you, and those guys almost killed me- or worse.” You shrug, eyes round as you look at the violent scene in the alley. “Plus Karga is an asshole and you disappeared, telling me to wait around like a kid. I was in a bad mood.”

“Yeah.” He offers shortly. Is he gonna say more or- “Karga is an asshole.”

“...Is that all you’re going to address.”

“You’re a good shot. You could’ve killed these muggers without me, I just didn’t want you hurt.” He smoothes away a strand of hair from your cheek, tucking it behind your ear before gripping your chin, twisting your head to look at the scratches the Rodian left. “Pretty girl.”

Flushing red again while frozen in his grip, you stand there with him as he examines your face. His gaze is piercing, and you don’t know what he’s staring at. It doesn’t take this long to examine a face. You think he’s just looking at you.

“Let’s get back to the ship, that scratch needs some Bacta gel.” He drops his arm abruptly causing you to sway at the loss of an anchor. Hand flashing out to grip his bicep, you regain your balance before starting to pull him along, heading to the street. 

----------------   

The walk back to the Crest is short.

 You don’t know your way around this city but shipyards are easy enough to find. You recognize the signs pointing it out after your time spent as a mechanic, streets gradually widening to form into a flat strip of land for the vessels, heavy machinery appearing here and there. As you walk, you oddly find yourself getting dizzy, steps starting to drag as you realize you may have injured yourself in the struggle. You can’t recall if you hit your head or if anyone hurt you aside from the gash on your cheek, which has begun to throb. Did you knock your head on the alley wall? 

The Mandalorian grunts behind you when you trip, quickly overtaking your pace to throw your arm over his elbow, then walking at your side and subtly holding you steady. The Razor Crest rises into view over the horizon, so you speed up, relieved. You want to sit down so badly that you even try to jog but Mando holds you back. His helmet ducks down next to your ear.

“Don’t overexert yourself. I want to make sure that scratch isn’t poisoned.” He murmurs, voice overwhelmingly low. Your stomach twists with desire and surprise at the tone of it, he sounds like he’s flirting with you. 

“Does danger turn you on or something?” You blurt, wondering if there is a pattern to the man's desires. He did let you suck him off right after yesterday's conflict and now he seems to be coming onto you after an attempted mugging. Is this a Mandalorian thing? Weirdo. He doesn’t answer you, but the ship is right there so you break away and march up to the lowering ramp. 

You pause in the middle of the hull noticing some changes. The small cot seems to be upgraded, a patterned blanket is folded at the end and there is even a pillow. That sorry excuse of a fresher is more orderly too, shower hose hung from the ceiling like an actual, well, shower. There’s a sliding metal door for privacy installed on the entrance now too. The previously barren hull has a touch of coziness now, not enough to get in the way of efficiency, but everything is just a little more livable. It is unlikely that he did this just because you live with him now but the gesture is still thoughtful.

“Is this what you were doing?” You ask excitedly, walking across the room to sit on the end of the cot. 

“Not the entire time.” He answers vaguely, fiddling with his vambrace to close the ramp and flick the lights on. You just sigh in response, laying back against the bed, the thin mattress has a soft squish that cradles your sore body. Eyes sliding shut you take in the lovely sensation for a few moments. A shadow covers the light behind your eyelids. You open them to peek at the end of the bed, already feeling a blush hot on your cheeks.

Mando is standing there, towering over you with his legs just brushing your dangling lower half. He leans over your frame, arm reaching over you like he’s going to prop himself on top of your body. Your heart pounds as he comes close enough to settle his hand next to your head, helmet hovering right above your forehead. The visor tilts down to look at you frozen underneath him, heat pooling in your lower belly. An almost inaudible hum comes through the voice filter sounding like the beginning of a word as if he were about to say something but decided against it. 

You find your voice, asking him in a trembling whisper. ‘Wha-what? Did you say something?”

He makes that low noise again, replying, “Those scratches need Bacta,” before he gently shoves his hand under your shoulder and pulls, sitting you upright at the end of the cot. 

Your eyes are round, lips pursed in confusion. Honestly, you forgot all about that. 

“O-Oh yeah…” You manage to stutter out as Mando backs up from the opening, making his way to the storage shelves to rummage around. He comes back to the cot with a tin box, undoing the clasps to fish out a tube of gel and gauze. The imagery of medical equipment reminds you of the throbbing on your cheek, which is now accompanied by a throbbing in your cunt. Very conflicting feelings.

“There’s no discoloration or swelling, you’re likely not poisoned.” He starts wiping at your jaw with a wet fabric that smells of chemicals, cleaning off the rust-colored blood that dried there. “How are you feeling?”

“Ummm, fine pretty much.” His gentle motions make it hard to think, the swiping over your skin is so gentle that you’re zoning out. That is until he reaches the actual wound, which stings harshly from whatever liquid is saturating the fabric. You flinch, “Ouch! Well, it hurts now.”

“That means it's working.” Mando picks up the gel and dabs it on your cheek which helps to soothe the sting. “You say you feel fine yet you were stumbling around a minute ago. Are you sure you’re alright?” 

His question is sweet but you don’t like how he points out your loss of balance. It both concerns you and is slightly embarrassing. Are you alright? You aren't sure, the stumbling could’ve been from a number of things, exhaustion, blood loss, or any other affliction. You feel worried now, grabbing at Mando’s free arm and locking eyes with the visor.

“I-I’m not sure… I’m kinda freaked out, is it possible that a toxin could have a delayed-release? What if I kneel over while we’re in hyperspace?” You finish the sentence a little high-pitched, unable to hide the worry in your voice. The Mandalorian circles your wrist with his fingers, bringing your hand to rest on top of your leg and placing his palm over it. His thumb rubs soothingly over your knuckles. 

“I don’t think you’re in any danger. I’ll take a blood sample for testing then we can stay on Nevarro for an hour, just in case.” You make a sad noise when he removes his hand from yours, but he’s already sifting through the box of medical supplies, probably to find something to test your blood with. Pulling out a tube he turns to you and holds your hand again, which makes you smile until you realize the tube contains a needlepoint to prick your finger with. Oh yuck, you hate needles. A life spent surrounded by danger and that tiny jab still makes you nervous. Breaking out into a cold sweat, you look away as Mando jabs your pointer finger; he must’ve noticed your reaction because his thumb starts up that soothing pattern again. 

“You’re a trained mercenary who is scared of needles?” His tone isn’t mocking, he seems to be trying to distract you. You just stick your tongue out at him instead of verbally responding, worried that your voice will shake. For some reason, Mando freezes at this, one arm halfway to the metal box, the tube of your blood in hand. It is so odd of him that you instantly take note of the reaction, wondering what you did. After a second he starts jerkily moving again, laying a small strip of paper down and dripping your blood on it. He pointedly keeps his gaze on the paper, refusing to face you even when you poke at him. 

‘What? I can’t stick my tongue out at you?” You prod him again trying to provoke a response. You gasp when his hand flashes up and stops your finger in its path, his thick fingers wrapped around your wrist just like when you punched him in the alley.

“Not,” he punctuates the word by dragging your hand down his waist, “When it reminds me of my cock down your throat.”

Your clit throbs again, slickness starting to gather between your legs. “Ummm… sorry?” You reply dumbly, throat going dry when he presses your palm into his growing bulge with a groan. 

His helmet glances at the strip of paper again. “Results are normal. We should still stay on the planet for an hour, just in case… How will we fill the time?”

You don’t know how to respond. Any former thoughts you had in your mind have flown away, leaving you blank. Staring at Mando, your mind races to form a decent response, but you must’ve hesitated for too long because he rolls his hips into your hand, fully hard now. 

Whining, you lean toward him reaching out your free hand to wrap around his neck, but he moves away from your touch leaving you flushed on the cot. His helmet looks you up and down, contemplating something.

“Are you feeling alright?” He asks for the second time, voice an octave lower than before. He picks up the roll of gauze, unused at this point, and holds it halfway lifted in the air in front of you. You aren’t sure what he is going to use it for, you assumed to dress the wound but from the way he is holding it, he must have other ideas. He would’ve already patched you up if this were just about the fabric’s typical function.

“I’m feeling fine. The gel is working.” It’s the truth. You can’t feel your cheek throbbing anymore. The Bacta in your bloodstream has a calming effect as well, soothing your anxiety from before. You feel good even, clear-minded and thrumming with energy. You can’t imagine what he is planning but you know you want him so badly it hurts. Your heart quickens.

“Mando…” You breathe, the way you say his name is both a question and a prompt. He answers by unrolling a strip of gauze and holding it out in front of your face. The breathing through his modulator is audible now, pants heavy with desire. 

“I cant- I can’t go slowly, if I fuck you right now. I want to try something else.” You nod fervently, completely ready for whatever he is thinking of doing to you however, you’re admittedly confused when he starts wrapping the gauze around your head and over your eyes. Mando unrolls several layers of gauze, a decently thick strip obstructing your vision to the point where little light penetrates the fabric. His voice startles you when you hear it right by your ear, asking, “Is this okay?”

You’re still wordless, nodding in response again. Mando hums and parts your legs with his hips, pulling you to his body and grinding against you. You mewl into the empty space in front of you and fling your arms out to find him, suddenly needing to feel as much of him as you can reach. 

Hands connecting with his shoulders, you pull him down hard as if you were going to kiss him. The helmet bumps you in the face instead. 

“Oops..” You murmur, embarrassed. Admittedly, you forgot all about the armor barrier between your bodies. Mando huffs softly and bumps you again, gently as to not hurt you with the heavy metal. 

“Wanna guess my idea? “ He asks, sliding down your body, his fingers trailing over every inch of you, touching you as if to replace him kissing down your body. He reaches your hips and pauses there. You can’t see anything but you’re guessing he is staring at you, the thin leggings don’t leave much to the imagination. A finger presses onto your clothed slit, running up and down the length of your pussy to gather the wetness there. You can feel yourself soaking through your clothing, Mando’s fingertip is gliding wetly along your folds as if you were unclothed. You arch into his touch, needing more from him; the overwhelming sensation has you falling back onto the cot, laying there with your legs parted and the Mandalorian still between your legs.

The world feels like it’s spinning for a multitude of reasons, first and foremost being the desire you feel for the man crouched before you. Other, more complex thoughts on the situation swirl in your mind, paralyzing you with their intensity. You honestly didn’t think he would want you sexually again, especially not so soon. It just didn’t make sense for your idea of the Mandalorian, the image you carry of him as a person, all based on your time together even if much of that time was spent living separate lives. He flirted and inferred to sex a few times today, plus there was that kiss he lay on your bruised knuckles earlier. He defended you, backed up your claims, and spoke of respecting you and your skills. He’s done so much for you today, but you’re still blindsided as you sit here before him, unseeing in more ways than one. Most of all... you can’t stop thinking about that kiss.

Seconds after you physically attacked him and he offers you a kiss. It was the absolute last outcome you expected from your efforts to taunt him, you wonder if he’s even allowed to do that considering his vow to never show his face. You knew he was actively sexual just from your awful experiences on the mercenary station, although you never gave much thought to that drive. It didn’t need much thought, in your opinion. He is a man after all. Face bared or hidden away from the galaxy he still has needs, even if he is devoted to a religion that you can barely fathom the depths of. Your wants and needs seem minuscule next to the enigma of the Mandalorian. 

This all seems unimportant when his fingers hook in the waistband of your leggings and pull. You whimper and lift your hips, trying desperately to speed up the process and bare yourself to him. The blasters you carry are still attached to your waist but you don’t try to remove them. Sex and guns pair together perfectly for the man.

Cool air hits your pussy at the same moment he moans low in his throat. “Fuck, look at you. Beautiful.” 

That reminds you, “Can’t look, can I? N-not like this…” You still weren’t sure about the gauze blindfold he secured over your eyes, your only idea so far is that he must be into this sort of thing. Not that you’re complaining. The temporary loss of sight has heightened every other sense you have, especially touch and sound. You’re certain you’ll remember every word of this encounter for the rest of your life. He’s complimented you several times over the past few days. Pretty. Beautiful. You’ll never forget that. 

“Still haven’t guessed?” The Mandalorian rumbles at your thigh, pulling your pants off your ankles and spreading your legs as wide as the cot doorway will allow. A short growl rips from his throat, his touch leaving your thighs much to your dismay as he fumbles with something. There is a heavy thud that you can't make sense of, he had to have set something large on the ground to make that noise but you don’t know what- oh. Oh, stars I can feel his breath. 

He took his helmet off. For you. The pieces are falling in place quickly but you can’t react to it- you can’t even breathe, every implication of his gesture setting your world ablaze. Your heart is pounding, arms stretched out from the tension you hold in your limbs, you need an anchor, anything-

There's a hot puff of air on your clit and gloveless fingers digging into your thighs. He must’ve removed those too.

It’s like you’ve been sucked into a stasis chamber, the buzz of your cerebral cortex halting all efforts to process what’s happening, enveloped in a place so quiet that you feel fucking crazy. The anticipation is killing you, you’re going to die here and that’s alright, that’s fine, you’d love to die here, in fact- wait where is he? His face is somewhere near your aching center, you know this because you can feel each breath he exhales ghosting over your pussy, the muscles in your hips want to squirm and seek him out but you can’t. Not with all this atmospheric pressure gathering, the weighted air pressing harder and harder down on you and you know you’re about to break. But you’re terrified you’ll disrupt the spell that keeps you both frozen here, still and aching with pleasure. You’re gathering the courage to make the first move when Mando finally breaks the silence.

“From now on,” you interrupt him with a gasp at how different he sounds without the voice filter, the tone is so much fuller and warm, but he then continues unperturbed, “This is fucking mine.”

Your yelp echos off the walls when his hot, skillful tongue liiicks up your slit, flicking at the very top of its path off of your clit. 

Fuck this feels so good, this feels so good, how does it feel like this, so fucking amazing? He barely even talks, how is he so dexterous with his tongue? Tortured noises fall out of your throat as Mando licks through your folds, trying to taste everything his mouth can possibly reach. He rolls his tongue repeatedly over your clit making you tense up and shake from the overwhelming sensation. There's a sound in the hull, you can barely discern the source of it at first but you suddenly realize it coming from your own mouth, a filthy mantra falling from your tongue.

Mando-Mando-Mando-Don’t stop- Please dont-Mando

He stops.

“Hey! What-” Your hands fly down and flounder around finding soft locks of hair and immediately latching on for dear life. Impatiently tugging at his scalp, you try to scoot down and find his talented tongue, your clit feeling cold and achy without his touch. But he’s so strong, a solid pillar of immovable stone and you can’t budge him at all, his only reaction being a deep growl when you yank a little too hard on his head. You must’ve pissed him off because one hand is suddenly on your heat, cupping your pussy with his palm but leaving a gap between your bodies, torturing you with the lack of friction. You whine pathetically at this game. 

“Mando-fuck- why… pleeeaaase.” His touch leaves you entirely and you’re more desperate than ever, writhing to the point where you almost slide off the thin mattress onto the floor. Your inner thighs connect with broad hips again, this time without the barrier of your leggings between you. When your cunt presses into his crotch you realize you can feel more than the cloth of his dark pants, he must’ve pulled his cock out because you can feel his skin, the skin of his cock brushing over you plus just a patch of it from where the hem of his pants is pulled under his balls. A ragged sound tears from both of you when his thick length parts your lips, grinding against your clit.

“I-I thought you weren’t, I mean you said-” 

“I’m not g-going to fuck you-” he gasps out, voice breaking despite the clear determination in his response, “not yet. I want you to use me and make yourself-fuck- cum. Fuck yourself on me.”

You’re speechless, there are absolutely no words in any of the Galaxy’s countless languages, known or unknown, that can succinctly express just how fucking turned on his suggestion makes you. Is this his way of giving back to you after you made him cum the night before? You don’t know, fuck- you don’t care either. Fuck whatever complex you had about owing him, you deserve this and you want it more than you’ve ever wanted anything in your fucking life. 

His broad body is propped over yours, cock grinding into you over and over again as he rolls his hips and groans out, “Well? You want it like this, pretty girl? Or do you-” 

You interrupt him by reaching between your legs and finding his cock, pushing it down your lips to your aching hole. He sucks in a sharp breath and everything is frozen in that quiet place again, just for a split second, before you press his length into your body, sinking down to the hilt. 

A broken sound comes out of you, your throat so tight that your vocal cords can’t rub together to produce anything louder than a squeak. However, the Mandalorian is not without his words, a string of curses tumbling from him in that gorgeous, rough voice. Fuck, holy fuck, you wish you could hear him speak like that for the rest of time, his real voice without the modulator hits you straight in the gut. He called you beautiful yet he doesn’t realize the power of his beauty has completely destroyed you. You’ll do anything for him, for that voice. When he claimed your pussy as his you realized that there was never a point in time where it didn’t belong to him. The Mandalorian moves mountains with his claims. 

He is like a mountain himself, completely stilling his body the second you let him inside you. You clench down on his thick length and drag yourself off of him, leaving only the swollen head inside your hole. You’re burning up, a sweat breaking out over your entire body as you try to take his cock. He’s so thick inside you, stars you can't control your fluttering lower muscles that pulse from the strain. The saliva and slickness helped him slide inside initially but now you’re clenched around him painfully tight as you try and adjust to his size. He lays so still for you, still muttering curses at the feeling of you, yet patient as you work yourself on his cock. But at some point, you can’t help letting out a little wail when you fuck yourself on him, the debilitating mix of pain and pleasure is fucking overwhelming and he can tell you’re struggling.

Mando settles lower on your body, elbows next to your head and armored torso brushing against your upper half, the ridges on his cuirass catching your nipples through your shirt. The movement slightly ruts his hips, an inch of his cock entering you accidentally. You swear and freeze at the sensation, face screwing up-it’s so good but you hurt just slightly. His mouth must be close to your face because you can feel his breath on your skin when he starts whispering filthy encouragement. 

“You’re doing so fucking good for me, taking my cock- fuck you’re so tight, how are you so tight- Maker that has to hurt, you can do it baby, keep-keep trying.” The elbow to your right lifts off the thin mattress, his hand caressing down your body, over your breasts, down your side, gentle trails from his fingertips ghosting over your skin and sending tingles all over. This helps to relax your muscles a little, you feel the walls of your cunt loosen just enough to relieve the uncomfortable ache. Wetness gathers around his cock from his encouragement, as you slide with more ease along him grinding yourself up and down on his solid cock.

It is fucking indescribable, a nearly out of body experience fucking yourself on him, every time you bottom out the thick head presses into a spot that sends flashes of white behind your eyelids. You can't even moan right now, the only noises you manage are shuddering gasps and whines as you feel yourself rise higher and higher. The peak is right there, you can feel it, you’re right fucking there-

“M-Mando, I’m gonna-gonna-fuck, I’m going-I-” You’re frantic, unable to string together the words 

The hand exploring your body diverts its path, reaching between your legs to rub strong circles around your clit.

He’s saying something to you but you can’t understand him, a rush of blood in your ears drowns out all other senses, the only thing you can feel is your blinding climax and the thick cock in your body. You’re clamped down tight on him as the sensation rips through you, building you up and destroying you over and over again. You can’t comprehend how he has the control to just hold himself there, you feel like you’re being wrung dry with how tightly you clench around him with each pulse of your orgasm. Eventually, the white noise fades from your ears and sensation returns to the rest of you, limbs tingling as you stretch the taut muscles.

Mando is trembling above you, arms shaking from the effort of propping himself up for so long. A soft noise leaves you and you wrap your arms around him, trying to soothe the tightness in his muscles like he did for you but the armor gets in your way. He makes a low noise in his throat when you skim over his side, finally allowing himself to rest when he lays on top of you, one arm still holding his full weight back so as to not crush you. You reach an arm under his shirt trying to feel more of his skin, but the padding and metal still attached to his body prevent you from moving more than a few inches.

This time, you’re first to break the silence, “What did-what were you saying?” you ask, not wanting to miss anything he says to you in his real, unfiltered voice. He doesn’t say or do anything at first, his hesitation lasting long enough that you resign yourself to never knowing. But then he lifts his head from where it lays next to yours and you feel the sharp tip of his nose brush your good cheek, over the bridge of your nose to the other side, then press closer into you as his lips meet yours. 

His kiss is so gentle that you forget he’s still hard inside you. All you can think about is the heat of his mouth crushing against yours, pressure held back enough so that he doesn’t dig into your injured cheek but filled with a promise of the energy he holds in his powerful body. You fucking hate those Rodians more than ever because you would give anything for him to kiss you with his full strength right now, holding back nothing. 

But soon -too soon, he draws back from your mouth and pulls his cock out of you. You blush at the obscene noise your wetness makes as he curses and wrenches the last inch away from your pussy, leaving you empty.

‘Come back to me…” You whisper desperately, reaching out for him.

“Fuck I can’t- I don’t want to hurt you.” Mando spits out, sounding wrecked, “I want to so fucking bad but I-”

You try pleading with him, wanting him to feel just as much blinding pleasure as you did from the way your bodies fit so perfectly together. “You won’t hurt me I swear, I can take it-you said I could.” 

He groans in a tortured, painful way, hesitating for a moment and you think you might’ve just convinced him to come back and fuck you- but the hand that eventually touches you isn’t anywhere near your pussy. He’s wrapping the gauze from your eyes, pulling it from your head to press into your cheek. You blink as your eyes adjust to the yellow light of the Crests hull, the usually dull fluorescents are piercing. Still, your vision is not quite blurry enough to hide the gleam of the polished Beskar sitting back on Mandos’s head. You swallow your disappointment at losing the pure tone of his voice to that damn modulator. 

“I can't,” he says softly, “you’re bleeding again. It was too rough.” 

You can’t argue with him. You feel a bit weak and dizzy which is not just from your powerful orgasm. Sleeping in the cockpit didn’t grant you the most restful night; you’re exhausted, slipping away even as he speaks. 

“I’m sleepy...” You mumble, your speech very simple when you’re this exhausted. Mando makes a low noise, indiscernible in tone now that it is passing through the voice filter. You hate that thing for stealing away the depth of his voice even as it fades with your consciousness. 

“Sleep now… I’ll pilot the ship while you rest. Sleep…”

And so you do.

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

     It’s many hours later. The ship hurtles through hyperspace as you stand and examine your cheek in the tiny mirror of the fresher, basked in yellow light. The wound isn't very deep but it’s long, stretching from the high point of your cheekbone halfway down to your jaw. You grimace at the sight. That will definitely leave a scar...

    The Mandalorian is moving quickly behind you in the ship's hull, arranging the carbonite freezing slabs in a way that you can’t make sense of but don’t really care about. You’re too preoccupied with your reflection to consider it. Mando takes note of this. 

    “Warrior marks.” He tells you, walking across the length of the ship to lean against the doorway of the small fresher. “Wear them proudly, burc’ya.”

Wear them proudly. 

And so you do.

[authorkimberlygrey]

Chapter 3 Excerpt

No art post this week, sorry, but to make up for it, here’s a bit of chapter 3!

They search through thickets and treacherous mud pits, several times they lose the trail entirely and have to go back to where they lost it in the hopes of picking it up again. Thankfully the traitor is wounded and has left many signs of his passing.

By mid-day the rain has grown heavier and distant flashes of lighting have started appearing above them. Grace pulls her boot out of a deep puddle and slips immediately into the next one.

Hope stops to haul her out, but both of them freeze when Faith motions sharply. He holds his hand low, fingers clenched into a fist as he crouches against a tree trunk.

Stay low, stay together.

He glances to them and makes another sign.

Enemy.

Grace feels herself stiffen and she feels as though even the blood in her veins has frozen. Hope curses under her breath and signs back.

How many? Positions?

Faith slowly peeks around the tree and then pulls back.

Six. Ahead, and to the left.

Liberty appears beside them so quickly and silently that Grace flinches. Her eyes are hard and her teeth are clenched. Amity is just behind her, creeping up to join Faith watching the Black-Wings.

Amity moves past Faith, keeping low to the ground, only moving when the wind shakes the foliage to cover him. Grace quickly looses sight of him and she holds her breath, hoping that he will return.

A minute later he does.

Objective. He signs grimly. Center position.

They have found the traitor, but he is in the middle of a Black-Wing patrol. Her heart pounds against her ribs.

Point position. Amity signs. Wind Weaver.

Grace thinks her heart stops altogether. Having a Wind Weaver on their side is a great advantage, but getting caught between two of them in a fight could spell disaster.

Hold position. Liberty signs immediately. She creeps forward to join Faith and Amity. They watch silently for a moment, and then she signals Hope and Grace forward. Grace feels as though the rustle of every leaf she touches is as loud as thunder. Somehow though, the Black-Wings are still oblivious when she peeks around the tree to see them.

They are gathered in loose formation around the traitor. His white feathers stick out like a beacon as a Black-Wing healer winds a bandage around his side. They are speaking in low tones, too far away for Grace to hear even without the rain and thunder.

Grace squints at the traitor's wings. Oddly enough, she feels somewhat disappointed. She had thought that his wings would turn black when he switched sides. Maybe it is a more gradual change.

The leader of the Black-Wing force is easy to pick out. He stands beside the healer, watching the forest around them as though he is waiting for something. Another patrol? His hair is blood red, cut close to his skull and plastered down by the rain.

On his armor, there is a round medallion, and though she is too far away to see what is engraved on it, she knows that it is a pattern of swirling lines. The mark of a Wind Weaver.  

She feels her skin crawl as she turns away from the Black-Wings to see what Liberty's orders are. It feels wrong on every level to turn her back on them, even if they don't know she's there.

We should strike now. Amity insists. He touches the quiver of arrows at his side. I could take out the traitor first.

No. Liberty signs with a firm shake of her head for emphasis.  

This is our only chance. Faith signs. They could vanish into their city the moment we look away.

Its too dangerous. Liberty insists.

Amity starts to sign a response, but gives up and instead hisses. “War is dangerous. This is our mission. We have to do it.”  

Liberty looks at him for a long, quiet moment. Indecision flashes across her face, then acceptance, and finally determination. “It isn't my mission.” She replies.

And then she springs away from them. Grace twists to follow her automatically, half rising before her mind catches up. Liberty didn't order them to attack, she just leaped for the Black-Wings. Was she sacrificing herself? Was this some sort of strategy that Grace didn't know about?

Liberty lands among the Black-Wings and doesn't draw her blade. Instead, she shouts “To arms!” and turns to face the rest of her flight. The Black-Wings draw their blades, but they don't raise them against Liberty. “They're in the brush over there,” Liberty says and as if they're following her orders, the Black-Wings charge.

No. Not 'as if ' they are following her orders. Liberty is ordering the Black-Wings. Liberty is a Black-Wing. Liberty has betrayed them.

For a split second, Grace is frozen, staring at Liberty where she stands unharmed beside the Black-Wing Wind Weaver. Between her flight and the healer. Then her eyes slip to the Black-Wing patrol that is charging through the underbrush, weapons drawn.

“Move!” Faith barks, hauling Grace to her feet and all but throwing her behind him as he draws his sword. Grace trips but catches herself. She whirls to face the Black-Wings and flicks her wrist. Her talons unsheathe and her wings flare instinctively.

The Black-Wings don't pause, the first one catches Faith's sword against his own. The second meets Hope's. Amity leaps before the third and fourth soldiers, blades flashing in the low light. Grace stands before the fifth.

His blade is drawn, it seems to glow with blood lust and malice as she stares at it. She has never sparred with real weapons. Wooden ones, yes, blunted ones, many times. Never real sharpened blades though.

This is nothing like sparring.

[Ascendant is my upcoming christian fantasy novel about Guardian angels. My WIP page for desktop users is Here you can read the first chapter Here

and the post for mobile users is Here and you can read the first chapter on Wattpad Here Summary:

For hundreds of years, war has raged across the realm of Guardian Angels. White-Wing against Black-Wing. Grace is the Saboteur, daughter of the White-Wing Spy Master, destined to end the war once and for all. But all of that is snatched away when she is captured by the Black-Wings. Trapped in their secret city, Grace finds herself questioning everything she’s ever been told. About her enemies, and about herself. ] Tag List: @wingedcatwblr @angelwriteblr @elaynab-writing@nightskywriter@panticwritten@boothewriter@ill-write-when-im-dead@ceejay-silvertongue  @emberris@itwasanalaskanbookworm @ragethegemini @boothewriter @hazeywrites  @chargeofastar@kainablue@mezvii@inexorableblob

[tendercoretroglodyke]

I genuinely don't know if "read more" cuts actually work on mobile these days, but if not im so sorry mobile users--skip this or filter out #personal or #long post

I just went and read through some of my personal posts from the past like 8 years on this blog and I have some thoughts:

I really used to use this site wayyyy more for venting my anxieties and talking about my depression to keep myself from hurting myself, and to just organize my thoughts when I was overwhelmed and rationalize when my RSD was getting the better of me and looking back, I think it helped a lot (hence why I felt like doing this little reflection)

obviously it's not as helpful as therapy wouldve been, but it's like venting in a journal. except a journal where you could open it up to write a new entry without having to see your cringy last entry right next to it, which is nice

mostly I never expected ppl to read them (and if I thought about how many strangers potentially did read them I'd probably be pretty embarrassed) but it was always nice to get a note or two in comfort, even if I never replied to them

other thoughts:

I.... Kinda miss school?? Which is wild to say after reading all these posts about how anxious school made me, but I remember the glorious feeling of thinking I did horribly on something and getting like an A- in the end. I keep telling myself I'll get that old feeling and the support of structure and daily friends when I start grad school but honestly I think grad school is gonna be pretty different...

I def dont miss how depressed and awkward I was in high school but I miss having a solid group of friends at school I could joke around with AND a group of friends online I could talk to about personal stuff, fandom stuff, and gay stuff. genuinely they got me through high school... im sad we all drifted apart

that said, most of my high school friends still live in the area (one even sold me my spiderman ticket this morning!) so I could totally make plans w them...but then theyd remind me of my ex/exbff and that wound isnt quite healed enough for that yet (god forbid they actually try inviting her to the meetup)

reading these old sad, anxious posts about how stressed I am in the moment or how worried I am about the future (esp right before I graduated college and was worried about this exact point in my life, out of school, between jobs, future uncertain) I wanna go back and hug myself?? tell myself its gonna be ok??

like yeah rn I'm experiencing that limbo feeling of living at home w an unstructured life and no solid plans for the future that I knew was gonna happen after I graduated, but now I feel sturdier, like I know I can take it and come back on top. cos I've been thru shit like this before, yknow??

I've felt lonely and directionless so many times before!! and looking back on it, some of the best periods of my life came right after those times, when I decided I needed to get my shit together

Sure, I'm not graduating top of my class with a Master's and a career as a prestigious zoologist firmly ahead of me, but I'll get there. No rush. It's enough to just have a good friend and know I have plenty of opportunities ahead of me, even if my path to success isnt very obvious or direct or easy

Kudos to you if anyone's actually read this far. I definitely don't expect anyone to. Sorry if you got sucked into this shit lol but if you have that makes you an honorary best friend, bc only my best friends know this much about me

Congrats, new bestie!

This got away from me as usual, but believe it or not I DID edit this down lmao

[gogoakechi]

@glowing-gravity im on mobile so i cant post your reply and i forget a lot of the details but Basically

one of the biggest flaws with persona 5s storytelling is the complete neglect to show the consequences of trauma and changes of heart Within the story. like sure characters such as yusuke and ryuji have obvious trauma but once their problems have reached its Cinematic Conclusion they are just not expanded upon whatsoever. and the same goes for those who have a change of heart. not to mention theyre just shipped off to jail (or killed) as if theres NOTHING to learn from whats its like to grieve your own actions. its all from the perspective of "its always the opposing party doing something wrong, not us". the story just ends up being vengeance smut rather than. yknow. actually changing people for the better and seeing the results of your justice in a fundamental sense?????

and thats where kamoshida comes in. theres a few reasons why i picked him, but its mostly because of how personal he already is with the thieves. hes not just some fucking rando bad guy, they spent a good amount of time and effort on his character and relationships. he would already KNOW who the phantom thieves were. and so would most everyone else at school. and with the change of heart i think hed have a very sincere investment in the kids hed formerly been intimately abusing. also just for the fact hes the first palace so hes best set up for the role id like to give him......

Team Dad. like i said before, hed be the only adult that knows who the phantom thieves are. maybe after a palace or two he comes back outta prison like "hey kids Um. So. yeah im really sorry about all that and ive been going to therapy and shit and you dont have to forgive me but, if im ever gonna make peace with myself, i just thought id say i want to help you in any way i can." because the shame is immense and he needs to make it up to them as best he can. its the destruction and struggling of his pride that leads him to kinda plead for the chance to make it better for them. if i remember correctly, he had said he planned to kill himself to atone for his cruelty, and then readily accepted anns demand to turn himself in, and that to me shows a strong will to right his wrongs whatever it takes.

hes also kinda just trying to rebuild himself after everything that happened but its extremely difficult when the change was so sudden. he remembers who he was only a day ago. someone he could never bear to be now, but the thing about a change of heart is that Desires are stolen, not necessarily character. so hes struggling to reconcile who he is fundamentally with his complete reset of morals, and to figure that out hes called to act.

but yeah he (nervously) offers to help the thieves with anything they need, considering hes a whole adult and theyre all children, but this also includes moral support straight from his New Fangled Heart. he also helps them avoid getting caught, stages coverups, and makes up for a lot of the dumb things they only got away with because this is a video game. the phantom thieves get an adult they can talk to and kamoshida finds purpose in his life again

and overtime we watch kamoshida work through his own guilt and grief and find love in himself again. p5 took the easy route by making the bad guys just Stop Existing after they quit being bad, and i really think that did a great disservice to the message of the game. there IS no afterwards in persona 5. theres only conflict and resolution existing in a vacuum. and through that it can instead give the message that bad people will always deserve shit even long after theyve stopped being bad. that who they were and what theyve done will continue to define them. im especially looking at this from a first person perspective of "i think im a bad guy, ive done bad things, i guess ill just punish myself and nothing else that would actually make this mean anything". it NEEDS to incorporate the message that bad people can become good and i think kamoshidas the perfect candidate. he was practically set up for this.

besides i am just so fucking stupid for the Asshole Learns To Love trope. also sorry if this doesnt make sense im falling asleep

kamoshida redemption au keeping me up at night

[bytedown]

==> Tell the truth

flippinoptimist hi i imight naut reply to big talky posts for a bit cause a friend showed up an im givin him weird confusion pie but im still here im just distracted unless you beep at me!

flippinoptimist wait i see the thing now!

bytedown

Oh! Alright, didnt mean ta be spotty, and you've not missed much, I got called away for a bit, an I'm not mobile

flippinoptimist i do that too sometides!  i get distracted easy but i try to remember to come back evventually hope it was for fun stuff

bytedown I try ta take fun where I can :)

flippinoptimist lol youre good at naut specifyin shit optimisms super great though, i think its important to findin all the secret cool endings when weird shit goes down

bytedown ..is it too terrible obvious I'm doin that?

flippinoptimist most people are kinda dumb so idk, but the clever ones that come from places where theres secret cops that blend into social groups and then arrest everybody w/ the wrong opinions are probably gonna notice or the ones from places where the wrong opinions get dudes killed in general youre p laid back an careful

bytedown LOL I aint a cop thats for damned sure

flippinoptimist lol sweet cause thats naut too popular a lotta places

bytedown Sounds like some real bad places, is that common?

flippinoptimist yeah p much i dont see it on dudes w/ green eyes often but life sure is sometimes most places have some p harsh lifestyles for whoevers on the bottom

bytedown Now that I'm real familiar with, though I'm thinkin my bottoms a bit different from th' one you're thinkin of

flippinoptimist

bytedown Gonna have ta quit the internet now, laughin too much

flippinoptimist B) i mean i bet shits different it always kinda is, but im curious what your deal is aint a lotta trolls that know much about magic, an the smart dudes that know how to naut spill their private shit all over are usually worth noticin you have no idea how many dudes home coordinates i get from offerin to send free pizzas no strings attached

bytedown Now thats a wee bit reckless of them

flippinoptimist right i mean i dont do anythin w/ it but i like collectin coords just to see if i can

bytedown ya realize the irony of sweet talkin me into givin up my secrets by complimentin my ability to keep them?

flippinoptimist its terrible! im cool w/ whatever im just curious B)

bytedown I can see you're curious, an thats a bit dangerous for me, I didn' break th' nanny restrictions on this thing ta be shut up so soon

flippinoptimist im naut a big fan of shuttin anybody up

bytedown ya could just be sayin that ta be honest

bytedown I don't much know anyone around here enough ta judge whos safe and who isnt

flippinoptimist you got a point there.  for what its worth, though its only a side gig, im an occasional space pirate, an i grew up scroungin shit and sayin w/e i felt like, and fuck what the system thought about it youll get more trust online from the ones smart enough to notice what youre doin, if you pick details that you are willin to share -- real or fake -- and stick to em or dont mind sayin that you dont know who to trust, that works too thatll probably get you a lotta concern an friendly ears to be honest

bytedown ...

flippinoptimist aight, ill stop bein pokey, but i like talkin in general what kinda stuff is low risk enough to chat about?

bytedown I'm just tryina think

flippinoptimist like, non-identifyin kk ill bug my friend whose visitin some

bytedown I don't even know, cause theres details that're gonna not fit, I'm already havin that trouble what I'm worryin about is you know the folks I dont want things gettin back to

flippinoptimist i got that feelin, yeah

bytedown I live on prosperity, I supposed thats safe enough ta tell ya and explains some stuff

flippinoptimist sorry for steppin all up in your shit, i didn mean to, i just notice things yeah it explains most a the bits that dont fit an the parts you aint used to.

bytedown if I'm gettin caught I oughta know about it, so I can fix shit

flippinoptimist is w/e's wrong w/ your bottom

somethin the dudes in charge could fix p easy?

bytedown you're weirdly fuckin charmin pretty sure they aint gonna care about my problems

flippinoptimist thanks, i like to think its my good side.  you seem neat too.

flippinoptimist ...yeah, if youre gettin caught, youll know about it before i say anythin.  im not promisin i wont yet, i dont know if you mean anybody harm, but like, youve been chattin in good faith so im gonna chat back in good faith have you heard about like, hemism yet? as a concept

bytedown I can fake that I know what that is real easy

flippinoptimist i mean, thats prob close enough for most shit, but like theres colors of trolls that, in most universes, get hatched slaves.  theres colors of trolls that, in most universes, get culled the second they peek outta the egg

bytedown Damn

flippinoptimist they hatched wrong, they get fucked.  an then theres colors a trolls that get the nice shiny pretty end of things. and theres dudes that rebel against the nice pretty shiny end of things and sometimes they win, and take over the universes they make and thats who sparks is.  he hatched into a not-people caste. and now his life is not like that anymore.

bytedown Dont tell him about me

flippinoptimist and like he spends a lotta his time an energy tryin to make things right for dudes in other universes... if you aint hurtin anybody i wont, but its kinda odd news to hear theres nasty shit goin down over there

bytedown fuckin here look

Thats me.

flippinoptimist oh dude your wings are kinda like mine

flippinoptimist yeah there sure is a lotta people bein pissy about fae in prosperity, i can see how youd be tweaked.  nice job photoshoppin your avatar

bytedown Some of the castle folk are kind enough, but he aint one of them.

flippinoptimist he gets p mad about stolen kids

bytedown A pixie has never stolen a child I'll guarantee you that.

flippinoptimist fuckin lol

flippinoptimist yeah thatd take some practice and effort an a clever series of hammocks an slings an shit theyre called slings when they aint like secured to a wall, right?

bytedown Slings are for huntin, I think

flippinoptimist theyre the same shape but you would probably want a different word for the throwin kind from the carryin kind when theres a baby in it

bytedown dependin on the type

flippinoptimist that is one a those cases where you do naut halfass the distinctions

bytedown lol

flippinoptimist as long as you aint like actively plannin stuff thatd hurt my dudes, i dont got a reason to tattle on anythin grats on gettin to the cross-dimensional internet on your own, that aint the easiest thing i think theyd be proud and interested to meet you if they knew you did, but, your call

bytedown He swats at us, did you know? and yells a fuckin lot

flippinoptimist

me in danger mode w wingles

bytedown blue eyes'll probably be mad about me stealin and retrofittin shit thats for proper people your wings're lovely, you're a very handsome lad

flippinoptimist i kinda want to tell him naut to do that shit since youre peopley enough to hack shit

bytedown I dont want him knowin about me

flippinoptimist yeah, aight. you mind me takin a coincidental interest in pixie shit that has nothin to do w/ anybody i may or may naut have met online? cause, he needs to be nice to dudes

bytedown Ya think he'll actually listen ta that?

flippinoptimist yeah

bytedown I caint stop ya from anything ya wanna do

flippinoptimist i mean like its super important to be good an im surprisingly attentive to that kinda deal, but when Grenades R Us starts tellin a dude to be more responsible w/ his shit a surprising number of dudes listen but like.  this is your shit and i dont got a right to meddle if you tell me to step off so if you tell me to go i dont say another word about it, and youre just a dude on the internet from a world a lot like prosperity

bytedown I don't wanna seem like I don't want some help, cause him not actin like a dick

bytedown 'd be nice

flippinoptimist not Not permission is p much all id need, i kind of go hunting when i find out someones been a douche

bytedown His partner likes us well enough, an set up a lil trade station. even if he doesn't seem ta believe we're literate.

flippinoptimist anybody like, talked to them about this? i mean i know that shits harder than it sounds when dudes are big and unpredictable

bytedown theres a wee bitty bit of a problem with talkin ta big folks An that has ta do with hearin range

flippinoptimist welp an illusions an shit dont cut it / arent an option im guessin

bytedown There was a real kind man who liked ta bake bread who was at the castle for a while, and he'd listen even though it was hard

bytedown Most've th' things I know how to do are for hidin, not for bein more noticable

flippinoptimist spooner?  human guy, hung out w sparks a lot?

bytedown yes!

flippinoptimist he was a guest a sparks, probably went back to his hive universe or somethin

bytedown It was a sad time for us all when he left

flippinoptimist lemme try an remember his blog

flippinoptimist hes been idle a while but you never know sometimes dudes come back after months a quiet http://cosmorobottips.tumblr.com/

bytedown ! Wonderful

flippinoptimist p much all the udes that have ever been through the castle have a blog or a trollian or both

bytedown Do Newsight and Suntouch?

flippinoptimist i know who would know and i dont mind askin quietly!

bytedown They're good people

flippinoptimist yeah.. i dont know em as much but i know one of newsights alternate selves a little bit he runs the teashop

bytedown They have milk and honey there (: We clean sometimes

bytedown You'd be surprised how many people will pay food for some cleaning

flippinoptimist theres a lusus in my hive that does the opposite of cleanin he likes rollin in dead things and fillin containers with sticks and leaves

bytedown That sounds like a bit of an adventure in not gettin sick from somethin

flippinoptimist i grew up outside, im good at naut gettin sick

bytedown Whats our definition of outside tday?

flippinoptimist i had a breather mask and a mud tent, an i swam down under trees on streams or into the sea shallows an burrowed into silt an slept there an came out when it was time to wake up most people do not think to look there

bytedown I lived in a tree hollow we cleared of deadwood, before I came to th' city

flippinoptimist an when you get good at it you can wiggle loose and un-mud w/o gettin much on you i lived in a big tree for a couple perigees...

bytedown how'd ya like th' tree?

flippinoptimist it was okay i think i like water or like, low-down skulky kinda lairs better

bytedown It'd gunk up my wings somethin fierce, I'm not a nixie

flippinoptimist they dont got a retracty deflatey mode?

flippinoptimist -- flippinoptimist has shared three contacts -- in order, those are newsight, suntouch, and twoblade the guy who is technically the city's diplomat right now

bytedown I'm afraid they're always out I'm grateful for th' contacts, you're a real chum

flippinoptimist that sounds inconvenient as shit and i mean, it seems like if im gonna give you kind of a scare an see straight through the cover story, its nice if i can like be cool too

bytedown terribly kind've ya

flippinoptimist B)!

flippinoptimist this one time, i decided to stop bein a dick, and its kinda stuck! im p happy about that, its been workin out for me

bytedown Seems ta be workin pretty well for ya!

flippinoptimist yeah!

bytedown Is there anythin you're needin ta know before you go pesterin someone out of the blue about beins he hates?

flippinoptimist has anyone Actually gotten hurt from him swattin, or just close calls?

bytedown We're fair fast, I don't think hes actually caught any of us

flippinoptimist good

bytedown if he'd actually hit one of us someone would've bit him

flippinoptimist yeah..an hed be kinda freaked out once he realised

bytedown Once he realized what?

flippinoptimist that hed been physically threatenin dudes w/o thinkin aboat it an did harm w/o realisin

bytedown Are you sure we're talkin about the same guy?

flippinoptimist cause like, "fuck off get outta my shit", sure, but "you have touched the coffeemaker pay in pain", naut so much yeah he gets yelly but hes nice once you get past that

bytedown The rules aren't always the same for us as proper people

flippinoptimist see that right there is the part that will make him tweak and decide to treat you exactly like regular people

bytedown What, because he found out I can type?

flippinoptimist hes a huge nerd, its a lot easier to notice smart people especially ones that are good at the same things that interest the nerd in question

bytedown :/ We're all fair smart, mate. Just too small for anyone ta notice

flippinoptimist yeah but as soon as someone does all bets are off and it is super fuckin easy to notice someone online where words are all there is

bytedown Th' elves know what we are an who and they could give less of a damn unless they need us ta do fine embroidery

flippinoptimist okay but like, also, fuck them

bytedown they like us for messengers too and th' like mostly

flippinoptimist have you heard a disruptive innovation

bytedown Cant say I have?

flippinoptimist like, search it real quick

flippinoptimist like its when a new thing gets made or learned, and it changes Everythin an fuckin Everybody has to move their shit around to adapt to the new way things are

bytedown sounds like an interestin concept

flippinoptimist usually its better tech -- "oh we have a cheap fast way to do this now, guess we'll stop payin hundreds of dudes to do it the slow way and theyll have to figure out new life plans" or science or shit -- "oops, everyone lives like twice as long as they dd before, we are gonna need a shitton new housing"

bytedown New types of magics do that sometimes

flippinoptimist ill bet!  sometimes like social movements or big political shit can do it too but.. thats basically what my deal is, or a bit part of where im tryin to aim what im about

bytedown You enjoy doin things that disrupt other things?

flippinoptimist yeah, kinda.  if it makes room for more possibilities than it tears down

flippinoptimist life is growth and change.  i got saddled with a destiny that makes me super good at bein smart and breakin shit.  sooo.... im gonna do it this way instead a the mean way.

bytedown They do say th' castle folk are gods

flippinoptimist theres a lotta arguin aboat that online sometides but yeah basically.  im kind of a half-formed young one that fucked up along the way, so i still gotta figure out a lot. i still dunno how the fuck prayer is supposed to work.  i will figure that one out though like i cant just Hear things.  i gotta figure out how to use magic to enable that

bytedown This's a lot ta think about, an I'm gettin real tired, its a wee bit late

flippinoptimist yeah i didnt mean to mess up your night or make it weird welcome to the outside internet

bytedown its a bit relievin not ta try ta pretend ta be a troll for a bit thank ya for th' welcome

flippinoptimist you might as well say youre a troll from one a the villages or somethin, they dont got good records from out there an prosperity is definitely v weird compared to other universes

bytedown I ah, cant lie

flippinoptimist oh, dang ... did you come from outside the city?

bytedown aye, I did

flippinoptimist somethin we could broadly describe as a rural home?

bytedown Ha, aye

bytedown I'll just say I'm from outside th' city

flippinoptimist then you wont get caught quite so easy w/ all the troll culture junk

bytedown Rest well, friend, and it was pleasant talkin to you

flippinoptimist im glad, you too dude!  good luck w/ your computery bits, if you ever wanna trade for junk hit me up most dudes online cannot get into prosperity even if they try, cause theres a like, lock on the universe to keep gross guys out.  it takes a password to get through.  im one of the dudes who can get in tho oh uh, bye, have a good one!

bytedown I'll remember that, though I doubt you could visit me, good night to you

flippinoptimist ill trust you on that one