#whirlpool the fennec

[fireyartccoon]

random merfolk drawings I managed to scavenge from my sketchbooks while it’s (barely) still MerMay

The first two are from one of my favorite movies ‘Lu over the wall’, the one on the left was drawn without a reference, the other vice-versa, the rest are mostly from my Sonic prime AU, No place to be exact, and the last two are just random OCs, have a lovely day

[ray-fantasia]

something something Sonic Adventure 3 story idea

the kitsunami are an advanced sunken civilization underwater like Atlantis

the kitsunami shot a beam of energy through the sea and through angel island, breaking angel island into four pieces and shattering the master emerald, the emerald pieces sinking to the bottom of the sea (treasure hunting stages set up)

the kitsunami are the direct rivals to the echidna

the kitsunami all have multiple tails

tails was part of this ancient civilization before he (wasn't anymore, idk how yet), it explains why he's so smart and why he can swim

Kit the fennec was named after the forgotten tribe by Starline, who discovered the tribe a long time ago, in fact, starline's documentation of the tribe is how Eggman found it

the Tornado III, Subnautica, or the Whirlpool is the submarine upgrade to the tornado

(edut): I never mentioned that The dynamic between Tails and Knuckles is going to be the focus of their part of the game, and how they interact with eachother DIRECTLY CONTRADICTS the Kitsunami's legends of the echidna, showing how great Knuckles is as a guardian, and how great Tails is in comparison to the rest of the kitsunami

[handspunyarns]

You Were Marked: Day Thirty-Three point Seven-Five.

pairing: din djarin x plus size / reverse age gap / fem!O/C   

word count: 5K   

chapter summary: Din and Marathel fall asleep, then find they need to get closer. 

warnings:  angst, sexual language and situations, masturbation (male) English and Mando’a cursing   

***Please feel free to comment, kvetch, or otherwise speak your mind about my work. ***    

Read this chapter on Ao3   

You Were Marked: Masterlist    

You Were Marked: <- Previous Chapter 

Din very reluctantly released Marathel from his arms so that he could explain their fuel situation.  To give her credit Marathel didn’t bring up the fact that if he’d just accepted her offer to pay for the fuel, they wouldn’t be in this mess.  She was more concerned about the dangers of being fuel-less in outer space.   

“We’re not going to … blow up or anything, Marathel.  It’s just going to get very cold.  If you feel like you’re not getting enough air, I can get you on an oxygen line.”  Marathel’s expression told him that she was not convinced.  “If it comes down to it, we could run to Corsin.  It’s not a great place … actually, it’s a terrible place and I’d rather only go there as a last resort.” 

“What’s so terrible about it?” 

Din shrugged.  “It’s a shithole, as you would say.  A lot of in-and-out traffic, a lot of bad people going in and out.  Not a safe place at all.”  

“Is there nowhere else we can go? A better place?” 

“Corsin is, unfortunately, the best choice out of a whirlpool of suck that is called The Outer Rim.” 

“Is this Nevarro also part of this Outer Rim?” Din nodded. “I’m not sure how I feel about living in a whirlpool of suck, as you would say.”  Marathel suddenly chuckled.  “Listen to us.  We’re terrible influences for a young boy, the way we talk.  Are you sure, though …” 

“I am … pretty positive we’ll make it.  I’m not carrying a full load of bounties.  We’re on the light side for weight …” 

“… speak for yourself …” 

“The average bounty I deal with is much heavier than you, believe me.  It’s going to be okay, Marathel.  I just need you to tell me if you can’t breathe or if you’re too cold.  Let me worry about the ship.” 

“But what about Grogu?” 

“Grogu is fine with the cold.  He’s been barefoot in snow and ice …” 

“What is this snow?” 

Din coughed in surprise at another innocuous thing Marathel was unaware of.  “… Snow is ice that rains from the sky.”  

“You let Grogu run around barefoot in raining ice?!” 

“And he was fine!  Please, Marathel, just trust me.”  She sighed and nodded.  “You will want to keep your shoes on from now on.  In fact, did you get any different shoes?  Something you’d wear with socks?” 

Marathel nodded.  “Yes.  A pair of boots.” 

“Good.  You should wear those.  And put on as many layers as you can as you feel colder.”  Din chuckled, saying, “I guess you didn’t expect to wear all your new clothes at once, did you?”  Marathel shook her head and smiled wanly.  “I’m so sorry, Marathel.  The last thing I wanted was to make this trip more uncomfortable for you, after the hospital, and … everything.” 

“No, I’ll be fine.  I’ll manage.  You’ll take care of the ship, as you said.  But do you have time to help me with my holopad?  Fennec said she’d put something on there to help me learn how to read.” 

Din agreed, and they went up into the cockpit.  Din patiently explained what each icon meant, and how to bring up each program.  The programs Fennec had found were more like interactive games, Din noticed, with bright graphics, music, and sounds.  Din rooted around in a drawer and found a pair of earbuds she could wear instead of him having to hear the damn thing making so much noise.  It was a lot of new information for Marathel to take in, though, and she began to berate herself for not remembering everything he was showing her. 

“Marathel, you’ve never used a holopad before, and you haven’t learned how to read yet.  Don’t be so hard on yourself.  You didn’t learn how to make bread in one go, did you?” 

Marathel rolled her eyes.  “No, but at least I had the scratch I could follow.” 

“Scratch?  What’s that?” 

“We had markings on little clay tablets that told us how to make bread, or soap, or the best way to get blood out of the sheets.” 

Din tilted his helmet at her, then pulled out an empty logbook.  “Show me,” he said, handing her a pencil, and opening the logbook to the first page. 

“Well ...” Marathel made a series of marks.  Some he recognized as the directional marks for numbers she had shown him before, but the other marks were a series of lines, circles, and glyphs that looked vaguely familiar.  “This is how to make a crisp bread without leavening. This mark means flour; this mark is fat. These marks are about how hot the oven needs to be.” 

“Marathel, do you understand what this means?  You can read and write.  You just read and write in a different language.  If you learned this, you could learn Aurebesh.” 

Marathel’s eyes went wide with understanding.  “Really?  This is writing?”  She smiled, feeling a spark of pride in herself.  I’m not so stupid after all!  But then, reality set back in.  “But no one uses scratch outside the Hold.  And it’s not like scratch is ... oh, what’s the word ... letters.” 

“Well, no, it’s more like pictograms – pictures that mean words – and it's a bit primitive, yes.”  He gently squeezed her shoulder.  “But everyone must start somewhere.  You can keep that logbook, if you like.” 

“I can?”  Din nodded.  “Would you be willing to do something else for me?”  

“Of course.” 

“Would you please write your name?  I’d like to know what it looks like.”  Din took the logbook from her, turned to a fresh page and wrote his name carefully, in clear Aurebesh.  “That’s it?” 

“That’s ‘Din Djarin,’ yes.”  She took back the pencil and sketched a little series of glyphs.  “And what is that?” 

“That means ‘eats many breads.’”  They both chuckled at that, then she asked him to write Grogu’s name, then Fennec, Boba, Silnima, and Cobb.  He obliged.  Next to Grogu’s name she drew a cunning little caricature of his smiling face.  For Fennec, she made a glyph that she said meant ‘sharp’.  Boba’s symbol was the leaf from his family crest.  Silnima got the glyph for ‘sister’.  Cobb, however, didn’t get a glyph, but instead got a caricature of his smiling face.  Din wondered why he only got a glyph when Cobb got a portrait, when Marathel said, “Thank you.  Now I’ll be able to recognize names when we message each other ... if we message each other.” 

“I will keep in touch with you, yes.” 

She smiled again, giving Din that fizzy feeling once more.  She dropped her chin and said quietly, “I would like that very much, yes.”  Din felt himself blush under his helmet, and Marathel twisted a lock of hair around her finger.  “Um ... I think I will go below and look at the reading games.  May I keep Grogu with me?  He might like to play the reading games too and learn to read with me.” 

“I think that’s an excellent idea. Let me know if you get too cold.” 

“I will.  Thank you,” she said again.  As she got up, she squeezed his arm above his elbow and then left the cockpit.  Din watched her go and thought to himself about how shy and sweet she looked, twisting her hair like that. 

Once Marathel got below, she wondered to herself how Din knew she had taken off her shoes.  This confused her, because she had put them back on before she had left his quarters, after speaking to the doctors. 

Marathel sat on Din’s bedroll in the lower level of the Razor Crest, playing her now favorite reading game on the holopad. When she successfully typed in the correct word for the picture on the screen, the flower garden on the screen would grow new flowers. Then, when she created a simple sentence in Basic using the words she typed in, her garden would explode with enormous blossoms and fill with colorful flutterbye insects and hummerbuzzer birds. The game filled her with accomplishment, even if was meant for children. 

But she’d been playing the game for a few hours, and her eyes were itchy. Besides, she was also cold. She wished Din had just let her pay for the fuel on Canto; it was her fault they were there in the first place.  Foolish male pride, Marathel thought to herself as she put on her new jacket.  Typical man. He’d rather refuse a creature comfort than have me use my money on him. Well, it isn’t just himself he’s making uncomfortable! There is also Grogu to consider! She’d wrapped up Grogu in his new sweater and put the little booties on his feet. Keep your feet warm, and the rest of you will be warm, she told Grogu, before he went back up to sit with his Patu in the cockpit.  

She’d lived most of her life barefoot; that was the rule of Unmanarall. Women wore nothing on their feet, except for their presentation as whyn to their Elder.  Her feet had always been cold. She’d knitted hundreds of socks for the men, but only a few pairs for herself, all of which she’d given to Din.  That was back when she assumed he’d leave, and she’d die, and there was no point in leaving good socks in a basket. She’d been desperate to do things for Din back then, to thank this kind man who’d brought goodness into her life, a loving child she could pretend was her own, and a bit of joy to her unending lonely days.  

Never did she expect that she’d be heating up water for tea on a starship, flying through the heavens, to a new life that she didn’t know could exist.  

Marathel stirred the fragrant herbs into the hot water before carefully picking up all three cups in her hands, letting the heat conduct through the metal spirals wrapped around her injured fingers. Oh, that feels nice. She carried the cups to the cockpit, placing them on the cockpit floor before ascending the ladder. Din had heard her moving around and had gotten up to lend a hand as she climbed.  “I brought some more hot tea.” 

“You didn’t need to climb up here. Is the cold bothering your shoulder?”  

“My shoulder is fine,” said Marathel. It was sore, but she needed to stop babying it. Din put an arm around her shoulders to help her steady herself as she stepped off the ladder, a touch he let linger for an extra moment before she dipped down to grab the cups of tea. She straightened up to see him studying her. “What?”  

“New jacket?”  

“Yes.”  

He nodded. “It’s very nice.” He took two cups from her, and went back to his seat, where Grogu was dozing. “Not sure you needed something quite so elaborate for Nevarro, though.”  

“Dursi thought it would do.”  

“It’s a bit much. Nevarro rarely gets cold enough for such a warm jacket.”  

“Well, I like it. It’s very useful at the moment,” said Marathel, her tone slightly snippy.  

“I told you we have to conserve fuel,” said Din, his tone matching hers. He turned his back on her before she could respond. He picked up Grogu, who was wrapped in both of his favorite blankies from his pram.  

“Is Grogu warm enough?” asked Marathel.  

“He’s fine.”  

“He looks cold.”  

“He’s fine, Marathel. He’s sleeping. He’s wearing his sweater.”  

“What about you? Are you cold?”  

Din tilted his helmet. “Do I look cold?”  

“If you were, you wouldn’t admit it,” said Marathel, shrugging. Din drew his chin back. “And anyway, how would you make yourself warmer? It’s not like you can put a coat over your armor.”  

“I suppose I could put another layer under the flight suit. I wear thermals under here.”  

Marathel frowned, considering the idea. She got up close to Din, looking at his shoulders, then pinching the upper arm of his jacket to see if there was room underneath. She held his upper arms and physically turned him to look at his back, holding her forearm against his shoulder blades to measure his width. Din held his breath, discomfited by her touch. “I could knit you a sweater,” she finally said.  

“A … a sweater would be too bulky,” said Din, relieved that his voice didn’t betray how skittish he felt.  

“Not necessarily. Hmmm. Yes. I will knit you a sweater.” Marathel dropped her arm, and went back below, grabbing her cup as she went down.  

“Is that a threat or a promise?” called Din.  

“Both!” She disappeared, leaving Din wondering what the rules were about a woman knitting a sweater for a man, what it meant.  

Marathel, meanwhile, was smiling to herself. She wasn’t thinking about rules or meanings of knitting a sweater, because she didn’t care about such things. She wanted to knit Din a sweater — and she was going to knit that sweater. 

He didn’t love her, but that didn’t matter. 

She loved him.   

She was sure of that now.  She loved him as much as she loved Grogu, possibly even more so, because her feelings for Din were more complex and difficult to fathom.  But there was no point in sharing this information with him — he had to leave her behind on Nevarro.  He had to redeem himself in his Creed, regardless of how she felt about it, because if he didn’t, he would possibly resent her for it later, and she couldn’t live with that. 

Marathel sighed and finished her tea, feeling tired and so, so cold.  Din had insisted, in no uncertain terms, that she was to sleep on his bedroll if she wasn’t going to sleep up in the cockpit, where he believed it was warmer.  She didn’t think so but was willing to sleep on the bedroll instead of the cold metal floor, so she arranged her blankets, and then went back to the cockpit ladder.  “Din?” 

“Yes, ma’mwsh ha’laa?” 

She smiled.  “Would you be willing to let Grogu cwtch with me down here?  I won’t get to, not for too much longer ...”  He didn’t say anything, but appeared quickly above her, squatting to hand the sleeping Grogu down to her.  “Thank you, Din,” she said quietly. 

“You’re welcome.”  Their hands touched with the passing of the child from one to the other, and Din had that feeling of time standing still again.  He thought, Haar’chak.  I do love her.  Dahls or no Dahls, I kriffing love her.  What am I supposed to do?   Instead of belaboring that matter longer, he turned down the lights below so she could rest.  He felt he could use some shuteye himself — if for no other reason than to clear his mind a bit — so he closed the cockpit door to give her privacy if she needed to use the vac-tube later.  He put his feet up on the console, shifted himself into a more comfortable sitting position and waited for sleep to come. 

It took a while.  He’d had a few cups of tea to warm him up.  Eventually, though, he went into a deep enough sleep to dream.  And of course, he dreamed of her.   

He was afraid to dream of her, not knowing if his subconscious was going to bring him a nightmare or something pleasant, especially considering his state of mind regarding her and how she could remain in his life and still hold on to his Creed.  But dream of her he did. 

She was … it didn’t matter where, because all he could see was her lovely face, her silver hair, her liquid beskar eyes, her pink cheeks, her soft, full, lips, and she was right before him, and of course she was naked, as naked as he was in this dream, and he could feel the weight of her in his arms, her curves and skin and scars, and she pressed against him and kissed him like she had in the hotel room, wet and languid, and this time he didn’t push her away but received her lips on his and her tongue in his mouth, and he wilted against her amazing skin, soft and warm, and he could smell her in his dream, could smell her scent that was also soft and warm and like dried flower petals and leaves that tumbled down grassy hills on some faraway planet where they were alone and each other’s, and he could taste her in this dream as well, taste her tongue against his and then her lips and then her jaw, her throat warm and pulsing with each rapid heartbeat under her skin, her collarbone, her breastbone just catching her musky scent from under her heavy breasts, and he could feel her body heat emanating from under those beautiful breasts of hers on his fingers when he lifted her breast in his hand, caressing, molding it within his fingers before lowering his mouth and tongue to her peaked nipple, puckered and pebbly under his tongue, his tongue sensing each texture of her in this dream, and his skin feeling her warm hand sliding down his chest and stomach, finding his rigid, pulsing cock with her fingers, her bare fingers, her splints were gone, and her fingers gently wrapped around him and stroked, stroked his length, and her hand was warm, soft and warm, and her fingers found the beads of pre-cum at his tip, spreading his fluid over his head and his shaft, making it slick like her sweet pussy would be but she was so damaged there, so hurt, so fragile that he was scared to touch her there at all, but still, in his dream, he found the courage to reach, although she twisted her hips away, and even though her mouth was still on his as her tongue twisted in his mouth, he could hear her soft whisper this is all for you and her hand kept stroking, up, down with a slight twist, her thumb circling his very tip, sometimes dipping into his opening, sometimes dipping between his foreskin and his glans, and her hand was perfect, making all the perfect moves that he liked best, it was her hand, it was, not his own hand at all, because she was here with him because this a dream and it was real … 

Marathel woke up, feeling an urge for the vac tube.  The frequent need to tinkle was a definite drawback to trying to keep warm by drinking tea.  She ambled over to the vac tube, shivering, and was about to drop trou when she heard a quiet groan from behind the cockpit door.  Confused, she reached up to knock when she heard another soft groan that ended with him grunting Marathel. 

What the …? 

Another husky grunt.  Another quietly rasped Marathel. And again. And again. 

Is he …? 

None of the men on Unmanarall pleasured themselves. They didn’t need to.  There was always one cunt or another around.  Even if there were only the little girls around, not a single Brwyddr or Elder needed to use his own hand for that, not when there was a female’s mouth or hands or ass that could be filled with a cock! 

And then, it finally hit her.  He’s thinking of me! He’s pleasuring himself to thoughts of me! 

Marathel heard him grunting faster, and she knew that he was close.  If she knew nothing else in her miserable life, she knew when a man was about to spill.  She immediately went back to the bedroll and slipped back into the blankets as silently as possible.  Her heart pounded loudly in her ears as she tried to wrap her thoughts around what he was doing.   

The wretched whispers of the Dahls returned to her.  He’s a man.  Men need their release, that’s all.  He simply chose to think about you instead of some other cunt.  You’re just the most recent cunt … as far as you know.  And as soon as he gets rid of you, there will be a new cunt.  A cunt on every planet he goes to, how convenient is that?  And one of those cunts will take Grogu away from you and be his new Mama! 

No, you’re lying to me, furiously thought Marathel.  Liar! He promised me, vowed to me that I would always have Grogu.  Mandalorians do not lie! 

He’s a man before he’s a Mandalorian. And like any other man, it’s his right to fuck his way across this galaxy you just now learned about, you ignorant slut.  It’s what he deserves, right?  And he will rub it in your face, proudly show off the cunt he loves more than you, the cunt he likes to fuck better than you, the cunt who is smarter and prettier and younger ... 

No, that’s not true ... Marathel whimpered in her mind.  He may not love me anymore, but he wouldn’t treat me that way; he’s better than that! 

Yes, he is, the Dahls shrieked.  A man better than the best you could possibly deserve, you putrid set of holes!   Guess what?  He’s now questioning his Creed.  And you know why, right?  It’s all your fault, you sick, disease-spreading whore!  You’re destroying his soul, altering his thoughts, giving him doubts about what he holds most sacred.  You and your poisonous cunt!  Dragging a good man down to your stinking, shit-filled level! 

SHUT UP! She screamed silently, pulling at her hair to grant her the pain she needed to cope. Oh, her mind hurt her so much, and her cold hands hurt now, and her lungs hurt too, and it was now so hard to breathe!  As she caused herself the anguish she needed, Grogu whimpered in his sleep, reaching out with his little hand.  Marathel gasped, then began to cry at what she’d done: hurting Grogu instead of hurting herself. 

And you will kill that child with your corrupt poison.  The only good thing you have accomplished is being barren.  You would been a miserable failure of a mother, killing your own babes with your stupidity. You’re only capable of bringing torture and pain to that boy.  If you really love them, truly care for them, you will drive them away before you can destroy them, you infected cum bucket slut! 

Marathel squeezed her eyes tight and began to shove down the voices, using her mind to fold these thoughts, compartmentalize them, tuck them away, far away so she wouldn’t have to hear the voices saying such terrible things to her.  I’m not diseased! I’m not a slut!  Never would I hurt Grogu, or any child, no matter what! 

But before she could lock the voices away, one last spite-filled memory escaped, the memory of the baby boy’s head as it was crushed by a Dahl’s jaws.  Marathel, filled with shame and disgust, sobbed even harder, but now she couldn’t seem to get enough air to cry the way she needed!  “Hurt Mama,” quietly said Grogu, woken up by Marathel’s pain.  He reached out, murmuring, “Sleep, Mama.  Sleep.” And as his little hand touched her tear-stained cheek, Marathel felt everything within her mind and soul go very dark and very quiet, and she fell into a dreamless abyss.   

Grogu sighed. Grogu was sad.  Grogu didn’t know how to make Mama happy.  But Grogu could make Mama sleep.  Grogu hoped The Doctors could make Mama happy.  Grogu tried to look inside Mama’s head, but Mama’s head was a dark and scary place that was full of sad and angry and hurt.  The only time Mama’s head wasn’t full of sad and angry and hurt was when Mama and Patu were happy together.  But Mama and Patu kept yelling!  Mama and Patu kept being sad, angry, and hurt!  Be happy, Mama and Patu should! 

Din, meanwhile, completed his climax, and slowly came awake as it finally got through his brain that he’d been masturbating in his sleep, and now he had a … situation to clean up.  Haar’chak.  Seriously?  I’m doing this again, like a dipshit horny teenager?  Kriffing hell, I need to get my shit together.  He pulled out the last of the cloths he’d been routinely giving to Marathel and got himself taken care of, making a quick check to be sure he wasn’t leaving any evidence of his activity up here, in case Marathel or Grogu were awake or opened the cockpit door.  He dropped down to the lower level, adjusted his visor levels, and peeked in on Marathel. She was asleep, but Grogu was not.  The little boy was sitting next to her, stroking her cheek, and crying. 

His own issues immediately forgotten, Din chucked the soiled cloths in the laundry bin and went to one knee beside the boy.  “What is it, kid?  What’s wrong with Marathel?” 

“Mama sad,” whimpered Grogu.  He pointed at her head.  “Mama hurt.  Sad.  Ahn-gee.” 

“Angry?  Mama is angry in her head?”  Grogu nodded.  “Did you put her to sleep?”   

The boy nodded again.  “Sad.” 

Din sighed and got down on the floor, sitting cross-legged in the doorway of his tiny quarters.  “You got that right, kid.  What do you think I should do?” 

“Kush.” 

“Huh?” 

“Kush,” repeated Grogu.  He punctuated the word with wrapping his arms around himself tightly. 

“Oh, cwtch.  Yeah, that would be nice.  But I don’t want to frighten her.  Or upset her.”  He looked at her as she lay curled on her side.  “Dank ferrik, Grogu, I have been a real …” 

“Shih?” 

“Grogu …” 

“FUH!” 

“Can it, kid, I’m warning you.  No, I have been a very bad person to Marathel.  I haven’t been kind to her; I haven’t been respectful to her.  And I haven’t been a good man, a good Mandalorian ... or even a good Patu for you.  And part of the problem is this right here.”  Din pulled off his helmet in one hand, then placed it beside him.  “Hey, kid. Nice to meet you.  I’m Din Djarin.”  Din reached out and shook Grogu’s tiny hand.  “You and I haven’t had a serious chat in a long time.  Thirty-four days, at least.  And I’m sorry I let that happen.  I’ve let a … lot of things happen, lately. 

“Kid, there are a couple of things we’ve not talked about, not since it happened, and we need to talk about it now.  Grogu ... I ... How much do you understand, about how, and ... where ... Marathel was hurt? I need to know, because that will probably shape the back half of this conversation.  Can you ... will you tell me?”  Grogu immediately dropped his chin – whether it was in shame or embarrassment,  Din had no idea.  “Well, that tells me a lot.  Now ... here’s my next question ... Did you know that she did it, went into the Hold and suffered that ... that ... of her own free will?”  Grogu went up to Din’s knee and carefully pressed his little hands against him, then nodded.  “Did you know why she did that, son?”  At hearing Din say son, Grogu’s lip quivered, but he nodded again.  Din’s eyes filled with tears, and he said with a sob, “Then why don’t you hate me?” 

Grogu immediately leapt against Din’s chest, hugging the much larger man the best his little arms could. “Sad Patu sad,” he said quietly, as Din’s arms tightened around the little boy.  “Patu, Mama.  Patu Mama. Bah Daws hurt Patu!  Bah meh ... hurt Mama.” 

“I’m so sorry, son.  I’m so sorry I let it happen,” choked out Din.  “Forgive me, forgive me, please.  I didn’t convince her to leave, I didn’t drag her away, I didn’t take my helmet off for her.  It might have made a difference ... she might not have been brutallized like that. 

“Do you understand why I didn’t want you to try to heal her?  I didn’t want you to know.  I wish you didn’t know.  It makes me think you know way too much about ... what people will do to other people.  How people will hurt other people. It makes me so sad that you know about that.  And I am so sorry for not letting you heal her.  For making you think I was going to hurt her more when I got that vibro-blade out.  I hope ... someday you’ll forgive me. 

“I’ve really missed these chats of ours, buddy.  We used to do this a lot more often. Have we even done this since you’ve been back?  You and I were supposed to go straight to Manda’lor, remember?  I got you back, I was gonna get redemption for …” —Din gestured weakly at his face — “… well, exactly this right here.  Quick stop at Nevarro for supplies, but we ran into Karga, and he had an off-Guild bounty I would be crazy to refuse. And here she is.”  Din chuckled and patted her leg.  “Crazy is right, huh, kid?  Been nothing but crazy from the moment I saw her … well, that’s not true, she saw me first.  I wasn’t even paying attention, and she nearly hit me in the head with a rock.”  He chuckled again and rubbed his face.  “I explain why we’re there, and the first thing she does is feed us.  Then you, yes, you, you little goblin, you decide that we’re gonna stay there.  What was it, kid?  What was it about her that made you want to do that?  Yeah, sure, she’s a good cook, but you … you pointed at her as if to say, ‘Her.  She’s … she’s the one, old man.’”  Din frowned and looked at Grogu. “Am I right?” 

Grogu tilted his head and shrugged.  Then he jumped off Din’s lap and placed his little hand on Din’s hand on Marathel’s leg.  “Sad Patu.”  The boy pointed at Marathel.  “Sad Mama.”  Grogu clapped his hands together.  “Patu Mama, no sad. No hurt.  No ahn-gee.” 

Din shook his head.  “It’s not that simple, kid!  Maybe it seemed that way on Unmanarall,  because … well, it was that simple.  Me, her, you, no one to bother us, just living together, eating bread and eggs and slogging through mud and dancing in shallow water and …” — and the nights of the Dahls’ mating.  Her, naked and screaming, my dick deep inside her, me getting my brains fucked out in the most amazing way ... Haar’chak, I am losing my mind.  What the ... “Is it getting hard to breathe in here, kid?” Din put his helmet back on to check the oxygen level.   It was too low down here, even for him.  There must be a problem with that kriffing gauge too!  “Check Mama, kid, is she turning blue?” 

Grogu jumped over Marathel’s hip and pushed back the blanket from her face.  “Boo!” 

Great.  We both have hypoxia.  And it’s too cold down here too ... Kriffing hell, Marathel, I told you the cockpit would be warmer.  “Dammit, Marathel, you say I don’t do anything you tell me to; well, here’s the truth, ma’am, you don’t either,” mumbled Din as he pulled himself to a standing position, then proceeded to drag Marathel, bedroll and all, out into the main corridor.  “Furthermore, I can see on my helmet that your core temperature has dropped too low again.  Dank ferrik, woman, are you a lizard or a human?”  Oh, joy, I'm getting delirious from lack of oxygen.  “Kid, I’m probably gonna need your help in a minute, but right now I ... I need you to turn your back and close your eyes, because ... I gotta take Mama’s clothes off.” 

Future Days: Coming Soon

[bobathirstaccount]

Hard to Find Someone Like You

Boba x fem!reader, slow burn to smut, some romance, fair amount of plot, Post-Mando 2 Boba

You are a merc serving under Fennec at Fett’s Palace. It’s business as usual until a certain helmet starts tilting in your direction...

Translations (Mando’a)

mesh’la - beautiful

cyar’ika - sweetheart/ darling

TW: unprotected sex

***

CHAPTER FOUR

You had taken a fast shower and changed clothes, arriving to the cockpit just in time. Fett was already there. He took off without looking back at you. When you were in jump space, he turned in his chair to look at you.

“I’m going to meet a friend,” he explained.

“Okay,” you said, unsure how to respond. What did that have to do with you? The silence stretched. Eventually you decided to try speaking, “Why am I here?” You licked your lips nervously as he turned in his seat again, “I brought you for company. The trip is overnight.”

You blinked several times as he watched you. “Okay,” you said again, wondering why that was the only thing you could get out. You tried again, “I mean... sounds fun.”

You internally winced, but he seemed to accept that statement. He got out of his seat and walked past you, stopping to run his gloved hand through your hair. He then continued. Your head spun. You got up. Were you supposed to follow him? Did he want company now? You followed him to the mess. He calmly removed his helmet and set it aside. He grabbed a knife and a piece of fruit. Cutting into the fruit, he gestured at the food still on the counter. “Hungry?” The way he spoke it almost sounded like a command. You gulped. “No, I just ate.” He nodded.

You realized you were staring at him. You noted the scarring the Sarlacc had left on his brown skin. He was still handsome in a strange way. He met your gaze.

“My face isn’t a secret,” he said.

“I know.. I.. know, “ you ended, unsure.

“How are you mesh’la? Miss me?” You looked up at him. He had a wicked look on his face as his bit into a piece of the fruit.

“I know what that word means,” you blurted out.

“That is also not a secret.”

You blush, “Why though... call me that.”

He returned your gaze, “Because I find you mesh’la, cyar’ika.”

You glared despite yourself. He laughed gruffly. “Who is your translator? Your Twi’lek friend?”

You nodded.

“Well you will have to wait a while to learn what it means, then,” the edges of his mouth seemed to turn up.

“You could tell me?” You offered.

“Where’s the pleasure in that?” His dark eyes met yours. You gulped. He had finished the fruit. “We’ll be arriving soon. Behave yourself - no removal of body parts.”

You smiled at the comment on your brutality. “I’ll try.”

With that he left you alone.

***

Fett had left you aboard the Slave 1 upon landing. You sat idly in the observation room, wondering what he had in mind for later. Finally a droid met you at Slave 1’s ramp. “Master has sent me to escort you to the Great Fett’s suites. Come with me.”

You followed the droid wordlessly. On your way to your destination, you saw several humanoids with armor similar to Fett’s. Were these his people? You looked around in wonder. What was this place? You walked through the doorway the droid indicated, and the door slid shut.

The suites were a nice size; two rooms and a large bathroom suite. There was a whirlpool tub and a huge walk in shower. You decided to take advantage of the shower. You stripped and slipped inside, turning on the faucets. This was going to be nice.

***

You had fallen asleep in your towel on the king size bed. You woke with your hair partially wet still, not sure of the time. You wiggled out of the damp towel and walked around the room, stretching. You walked out onto the deck, admiring the night sky. You stretched again, enjoying the warm night air and feeling lazy.

“Lovely view.”

Surprised, you spun on your heel, hands still overhead.

Fett gave you an appraising tilt of his helmet, “Very lovely indeed.”

You smiled shyly, lowering your arms to your sides, “Hello, Fett.”

“Hello.” He took several large steps towards you, grabbing your waist possessively.

“How do you want me to keep you company?” You put your hands on his upper arms, staring at your reflection in his visor. He tilted his head slightly to the side, “Do you have any ideas?” You think about the crazy stories Ayy has told you and bite your lip, “Maybe.”

“Show me.” He slid his hands up to cup your bare breasts, making your breathing pick up a tick. You flipped through the catalog of your crazy Ayy stories memories and picked one at random.

Kissing his helmet, you trailed your hands down his body until you came to his belt. You undid his belt and pants. When you had his cock out you spit into your hand, and worked him until he was hard, using both hands on his shaft. You jumped into his arms, wrapping your legs around his hips. You impaled yourself on him, enjoying the pleasant way that he made you burn slightly as he stretched you. You started to fuck him, rolling your hips, getting the hang of the position. He put his hands under your ass to help steady you. You started to fuck him in earnest then, moaning and trying to make a show of your tits. They were bouncy, you guessed. He widened his stance and let you fuck him. You couldn’t tell what he thought about it.

“This is fun, mesh’la... I like it when you fuck me like this,” he grunted. You smiled at the praise. You leaned back a bit to change the angle and he groaned, squeezing your ass and looking down between the two of you to watch. You grabbed onto his cuirass and tried to increase the intensity of your fucking. He adjusted his hips slightly so you could fuck him more deeply. This drew a moan out of you, and you worked on stroking that one spot in yourself with his cock. You pussy started to clutch around his shaft. You chased your high while he held onto your ass and watched you.

“Cum on me, cyar’ika,” he purred. The rumble of his voice put you over the edge and you called out, surprised at the intensity of your orgasm. It rolled over your body in several waves, turning your limbs to jelly and your pussy into a spasming mess. Fett helped you continue as your eyes rolled back in your head and your grip loosened. He took over and pumped into you, making you yelp and him growl. Finally he let go of you and your feet dropped to the ground. He held you against his chest. The cool metal felt nice against your flushed skin. You sighed and wrapped your arms around his waist. He let you recover, then pulled away. “What about me, mesh’la?” You bit your lip and looked up at him, “What else do you want?”

“I want to see what else you know how to do.”

You flipped through your mental catalog again. You pushed him towards some patio furniture. He laid down on it, helmet looking up at you. You straddled him with your ass facing him. Looking over your shoulder, you sank down onto him agonizingly slowly. He balled his fists and moaned softly. You put your feet on the ground and leaned forward slightly, then started to bounce up and down on his cock. He grabbed your ass cheeks and groaned. You looked at his face. He was watching you fuck him, but looked up. You tried to give him a sexy look, then turned around. You started to slide your hands down his thighs towards his knees, lifting your pussy off his cock a little more as you continued. He moaned and held your hips in place, starting to pump up into you erratically. You guessed he was close. Trying to make an impression, you said, “Cum in me, Fett.” He did, almost as if on command, grunting and cock twitching deep in your pussy. You both paused for a moment, panting. Then you got off him, and laid down on one side of him. You curled up against him.

He grunted and sat up, putting himself away. You sat up and leaned against his shoulder, “Now what?” He turned his head to look at you, “You’re very.... affectionate.” You looked up at him, embarrassed. You started to sit up. “I didn’t say to stop,” his voice stopped you dead. You settled back down.

He looked up at the night sky and sighed. “I’m tired. Come sleep with me.” He stood up, pulling you with him.

[evykieran]

The portal from nowhere.

(Open roleplay starter)

A fizzling spark is heard and a white dot appears mid-air. The white crust outline grows rapidly larger revealing a whirlpool of purple, blue and white swirls spinning methodically in clockwise direction. The dimension gate gurgles with a sweeping roar similar to that of static buzzing. An inwards wind blows towards it, but quickly changes to a gust of particles blown outwards.

A woman, a hovering book and a Fennec fox come crashing through the middle of the portal. The portal beams in the moment of immersion. They land on the ground a few inches away. The gate behind them closes with an accompanying loud fizzle and burns out in the air above them.

The woman’s immensely dark brown hair is lavish and flowing at shoulder-length. Overall her face looks childish but aging.

She wears victorian-esque manly clothing. A wool bag is wrapped around her shoulders and filled to the brim with an assortment of items.

The Fennec fox is the size of a big cat with over average long ears. His figure is slim and flexible and seemingly standing on guard.

A book floats in the air, closely follows the woman. It shimmers with a bright blue hue. The hard case book’s spine reads: ‘Morsórátor Códex’ in golden letters. The front cover displays an angel holding a sword behind a broad and thick bone shield. Ethereal wings spread across the cover and glows with the same bluish hue. 

The woman carries with her a gnarly black staff in her right hand as she’s sprawled across the ground. From the crescents at the top hangs several raven feathers from strings of silk.

She stands up, her joints cracking from the uncomfortable landing. She dusts herself off quickly before exclaiming:

‘‘Bloodeh ‘ell! Whe’e the fohk am I?’‘ And peers around.

(Scenery and situation, up for interpretation by the replier)