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folkloreguk · 4 years

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Mirror, Mirror (m)

A/N: I will never ever determine which body type the reader has, but I want every single one of you to know that it’s okay to feel empowered by the way your nude body looks, you’re absolutely beautiful and no size is a limit to how sexy you can be!!! You go queens!

words: ~5.4 (I’m sorry idk how to write short things anymore asdfgh)

genre: smut, optional bias (male) x reader (female), kinda fwb??, sexting

[H/N means “his name”]

There’s no feeling quite like the one of trying on your new clothes that just arrived in the mail and loving how they looked. Especially when said clothes were lingerie and you felt like you could conquer the world, even when you were just standing in front of your mirror at 7 pm after you had just stuffed your stomach with lasagna. And what better way to enjoy your happiness than to share it with your best friend?

In fact, you had two best friends. One, a girl who you could trust with your life, and two, a boy who knew all your deepest secrets. One of the central differences between the two was that you would never think about asking the former about his opinion on your new lingerie. You almost laughed at the mere thought while you went through your contacts list and selected your friend’s name and clicked ‘send’. “It’s new. How do I look?” you typed and sent quickly, before throwing your phone onto you bed. You were feeling sexy, but for the rest of the evening there was only one way you wanted to feel: Comfortable. So, you changed into your pajamas instead.

You wondered what she would say about your photo. Sending almost-nudes to your friend might have seemed odd, but for the two of you, it was a completely normal occurrence. You loved making sure you both felt beautiful and confident by complimenting each other. Happily, you walked back to your room after you had picked up some snacks in the kitchen. You grabbed your phone as you plopped down on your bed. While you stuffed a handful of crisps into your mouth, you unlocked your phone to check your messages. You had expected a text from your best girl friend, but instead you had received one from H/N, your best boy friend. Pure horror consumed you when you clicked on the chat and saw your almost-nude there. Sent at 7:01 pm. Seen at 7:05 pm. And worst of all, he had replied before you could have clarified the mistake.

H/N: Idk where this came from but…you’re hot

You: SORRY THIS WASN’T MEANT FOR YOU

H/N: Okay that kinda offends me…you have a bf and didn’t tell me???

You: NO OMG THIS IS SO EMBARRASSING HELP…it was for GF/N just for fun!!!

H/N: Ohhh…in that case…

You watched the dots signaling that he was still writing while you were still wondering how you would ever look at him without getting embarrassed from now on. It wasn’t like the two of you never talked about sex. In fact, he knew a lot about what you liked and didn’t like in the bedroom. Not because he had witnessed it. But thanks to multiple sleep overs with late-night conversations, when your lips became a little loose, you had discussed more sexual topics than you had ever dreamt of. Your cheeks were still feeling hot when you received another text.

H/N: How do I look?

Without missing a beat, he had attached a photo of him. Shirtless. His hair was disheveled, as if he had just removed his shirt, which he probably had. His sweatpants hung low on his hips as he stood in front of a mirror. He had tilted his head a little, showing off his jawline while he gazed at the camera with hooded eyes. You felt more embarrassed with every second you kept staring at his body.

H/N: OMG sorry this wasn’t for you!!!!!

Now you could only laugh at his stupid message.

You: Stop making fun of me!!

H/N: I’m trying to make you feel better!! Do I not get a compliment?

You: Thanks and you look great…can we please NEVER bring this up in the future?

H/N: Sure if that’s what you want…but if you ever need someone to rate your underwear again you know where to find me

~~~

And he really kept his promise. The next time you hung out, he was joking about everything but your little accident. You were thankful. But not mentioning the memory didn’t automatically delete it from your brain. And that’s where your newest problem begun.

You had never really looked at him in a sexual way before – sure, you thought he was handsome – but after than one damned picture he had sent you, you seemed to see him in a completely different light. There were no romantic feelings involved. But something felt profusely wrong about the way you thought about sex when he reached for a glass on the highest kitchen shelf and a small part of his abs was revealed. Or the way you instinctively licked your lips when you watched him stretch his neck in front of you. Or how your head spun when he lifted his shirt to wipe away his sweat when you worked out together.

One day was particularly bad. He had asked you to go to the public pool together, and being his best friend, of course you had said yes. As expected, he made you laugh until you were crying, scream when he playfully wrestled you in the water and giggle when he chased you on the water slide. And yet, you couldn’t help but notice his body. You almost felt bad, but then again, it wasn’t like you adored his character any less. You simply had some added adoration for another part of him. What were you supposed to do when he looked this good acting out a comic character while you played charades in the water? You might have been laughing on the outside, but you could barely tear your eyes off his neck and chest. Lately, you realized, the amount of thoughts you spent on wanting to kiss him had become problematic to you.

When you returned home at night, you couldn’t deny feeling sexually frustrated. Not wanting to give in to the inappropriate thoughts about your best friend, you turned on a tv show to distract yourself. But before you knew it, you were spending more time looking at your phone than at the tv screen. At first you browsed social media, but somehow you mustn’t have payed enough attention to your unconscious mind. You had miraculously landed on his Instagram, and when that didn’t entertain you anymore, you found yourself going back to your text messages with him. When you started at the shirtless picture he had sent you, you regretted not deleting it and forgetting about it right away. You wondered if he could ever feel the same way about you. You didn’t need any romantic feelings from him, in fact, you had no interest in a relationship at the moment. But you had never wanted someone this bad before and it was driving you crazy. So, before you could have stopped yourself, you were typing a message to him.

You: what r u doing??

H/N: do you miss me already?

H/N: ok do you really wanna know?

You: shut up you usually message me first!! and yes I do

H/N: I was about to jack off but you interrupted me

You almost choked on nothing when you read his message. Pretending you didn’t care, you replied quickly.

You: oh no am I killing the mood?

H/N: I didn’t say that

You: ????

H/N: don’t take this the wrong way but if you ever thought about sending me nudes again now would be the time

You: are u crazy?? are you actually asking me for nudes rn

H/N: it was worth a try ok let’s go back to being best friends who would never hook up

If you were freaking out about his previous messages, this one made you lose your mind completely. What was he saying? As confused as you were, you were also equally as sexually frustrated as he seemed to be. So, without a second thought, you chose the latest underwear picture you had taken and sent it to H/N.

You: that’s the most you’ll get…I won’t send complete nudes

You stared at the three dots indicating that he was writing a message. It felt like five minutes had passed when he finally replied.

H/N: fuck you’re so hot

And then he sent another shirtless picture. His bulge was prominent against his pants and the sight of it didn’t exactly help you with the pent-up frustration inside of you. But maybe it didn’t need to, because apparently, he felt the same way about you. You wanted to tell him about it. But there was no way you would be sexting your best friend at 11 pm, horny and frustrated. You knew you’d regret it and you’d only end up being embarrassed the next day. With no idea what to send him instead, you opted for simply waiting to see if he would say something. But he didn’t. Whilst waiting, you looked at his picture again. His jawline, his shoulders, his abs…and his boner straining against his sweatpants. For a moment you wondered if he was thinking about you too. Was he imagining it was you who was touching him when his hand wrapped around his cock? The more you let your thoughts run free, the worse your frustration became. And before you knew it, your hand was between your legs.

~~~

The next day you went about your duties, trying hard to pretend the previous day had been nothing but a fever dream. Luckily, you weren’t going to see him for another few days, so you could already practice an explanation of why sending nudes to each other had been a crazy idea. You worried about whether you could ever be the same around him after what had happened. But no matter how hard you tried to come up with a good reason why you should never even mention it again, you couldn’t. You were best friends who found each other hot. So what? Things could be worse. By nighttime, you had changed your mind. You were in the process of getting ready for sleeping, when your phone vibrated on your nightstand. His name lit up the screen.

H/N: you up?

You: not for long…whats up

H/N: I’m sorry for what I said yesterday about us not hooking up and so on…I was tipsy and you know my loose lips when I’m drunk

You: there’s nothing you need to apologize for

H/N: I was being weird and creepy…you’re my best friend

You: and you’re mine…that doesn’t stop me from finding you attractive

H/N: so I didn’t creep you out asking you for nudes?

You: I sent them to you, didn’t I… so what do u think

H/N: btw…thanks for that

You: likewise

…

H/N: so you’d do it again?

You: you’re not drunk now are you?

H/N: no just horny

You: dude I was about to go to sleep

If this had been a random guy you were occasionally talking to, you would have declined the request right away. You were tired and didn’t exactly feel too confident in your physical state. Nonetheless, you walked over to your mirror, pulled your shirt up until your bare breasts were almost exposed, and snapped a picture. Maybe it was the fact that you knew he’d return the favor and send you something back, or the immense trust you had in him. Posing in different ways, you took a few more pictures before you jumped back onto your bed. Impulsively, you chose the pictures you liked best and sent them to your best friend.

You: the things I do for you

H/N: fuck you look so good

You: have you always thought like that about me?

H/N: have I always found you hot?

You: yeah

H/N: I mean I never not found you hot

You: thanks I guess??

H/N: maybe we should have done this way earlier

You: agreed

Your eyes widened when he sent you a picture. He was still in his underwear, but his hand was wrapped around his visibly hard member outlined by the dark fabric. You had wanted to sleep, but somehow after looking at the photo for a little too long, you were wide awake. Leaning against the headboard of the bed, you let your head imagine whatever came to your mind. Never before had you noticed how much you liked his hands. Or maybe it was a temporary thing, now that you were already thinking inappropriate thoughts. You imagined it was his fingers softly touching the inside of your thigh, squeezing your breasts and playing with your nipples. The first time you moaned his name quietly, your cheeks heated up. But the more you thought of him, and the more you allowed yourself to wish it was him between your thighs, the more natural his name sounded between your whimpers.

And the two of you didn’t stop there. You might haven’t had time to hang out with him for another week or so, but you were texting each other more than ever before. Almost every night, you sent pictures to each other. With every passing day and every time you came thinking about his body on top of yours, you became more comfortable. Your messages to each other turned dirtier with every day and every picture was a little riskier than the previous one. By the way you cried out his name every night, your neighbors must have thought you had gotten a new boyfriend. One that was exceptionally good in bed, by the sounds of it.

Now it was exactly one week and a day after you had first sent him a picture of you. You had just stepped out of the shower and had a towel wrapped around your body as you entered your bedroom.

One could’ve thought you were going to be less horny, the more time you spent texting him about your inappropriate thoughts. It should have gotten less exciting at some point, shouldn’t it? To you, it was the complete opposite. He was all your thought about at night. So when you noticed your phone on your bed, you couldn’t stop your urge. You grabbed it, unlocked it and went straight to your messages with him.

You: please tell me you’re alone

H/N: yeah I am…do u need something?

Even though his text might have sounded innocent to anyone else, considering what you had done for each other all week long, you instantly got excited.

You: I have a present for you but since you’re not here I’ll unwrap it for you

H/N: I love presents

You had taken multiple photos. Starting from your with a towel covered body, you had slowly revealed more skin to him, until you had dropped the fabric completely. In the last picture you were covering your nipples with one hand across your chest, making sure your slightly parted lips were in the frame as well. After you had pressed ‘send’, you got comfortable on your bedsheets, not so patiently waiting for his reply. You hadn’t been able to get him off your mind while you had been showering. Now you didn’t even need to touch yourself to know how dripping wet you already were.

H/N: this is what you do to me

You were surprised when you saw his message. He had attached a video. Up to that day, it had only been photos you had sent to each other. So, when you clicked the ‘play’ button, you almost felt nervous. But the nervousness changed into something wholly different within the first two seconds of the video. His hand was down his pants, clearly stroking himself. He wasn’t speaking, but even the simple sound of his breathing behind the camera made your head spin.

H/N: do you want more?

You: I wish you were actually here

A blink of an eye after you had sent the message, instant regret hit you. Had you crossed a line? There had never been serious talk of the two of you actually hooking up, although you surely had thought about it more than you wanted to admit.

H/N: me too

You sighed in relief. So he wasn’t thinking you were going too far.

H/N: but its late and we’ve got work tomorrow

You barely had time to even think about a reply. The sole fact that he was seriously considering coming over or letting you drive to his place right now only justified the saying “People want what they can’t get”.

You: you’re right…this will have to do

…

H/N: let me know if you need more

But you already had your hand between your legs, his name on the brink of falling off your lips.

The next day, you were surprisingly focused on your work. Of course, you thought of him. He was your best friend, after all. Who would you have been if you didn’t wonder what he was up to or if you didn’t wish he was having a nice day? But that was about it. No dirty thoughts, no random sexual frustration at 2 in the afternoon. That was, until your phone vibrated in your pockets and you opened his message.

H/N: wanna hang out at my place tonight?

It was finally Friday. After over a week of not seeing him, you didn’t just want to meet him because you wanted him sexually. You missed his silly jokes and the way he made you feel careless after a stressful day. So, needless to say, you agreed.

You weren’t sure what was going to happen. Were you just going to hang out, the way friends do? Were you even going to mention your texts to each other? Your nerves were going mad when you drove to his place in the evening. It was a weird feeling to have about your best friend, you had to admit. But then again, you had every right to after the past week.

When he opened the door for you, you didn’t feel half as awkward as you thought you would. His hug felt the way it always did, and his room still was like a second home to you.

“Do you wanna order take out?” he asked.

“What’s in your fridge?” you returned the question.

“If I’d have to guess I’d say two eggs, half a bottle of soda and some yogurt,” he said. You laughed, already pulling up an app to order some food.

“Take out it is,” you grinned, falling onto your stomach on his bed. He followed your example. His shoulder was touching yours while you tried hard to focus on scrolling through the different offers of meals. But your look was drawn to his hands too close to yours and from one moment to the other, your mind was flooded with sinful pictures. You thought of him here, in this very bed, jerking off to the thought of you. Taking pictures of himself so you could do the same. Too many times you had imagined your face buried in his pillows, letting him hear the way you had been crying his name all week long, being able to make him cum with your own body and feeling his lips on your skin. Was he thinking the same things right now? Was he also struggling to focus on the simplest tasks?

“You’ve been looking at that chicken for a while now. Are you gonna order it or not?” he asked, making fun of you. How were you going to sit here, waiting and then calmly eating your dinner as if nothing was different? When you didn’t reply, he grabbed your hands along with your phone, making you look at him. You couldn’t instantly read his expression. All you knew is that in six years of friendship, he had never once looked at you this way. Inevitably, your eyes went to his lips and back to his eyes.

“Aren’t we going to mention this whole nudes-sending situation at all?” he suddenly asked, grinning cheekily. “What? You’re thinking about it too, aren’t you?”

You swallowed thickly. “Thinking about what, exactly?”

“How badly I wanted you last night,” he said. His face was close to yours. If you only bent forward slightly, you could kiss him.

“As in…now you don’t want me anymore?” you asked. He chuckled.

“Do you really think I didn’t want to push you against the closest wall and make out with you the second you stepped into my house today?” he asked.

“Then why didn’t you?” you asked, smirking and inching your lips closer to his. “Because I would have loved that.”

Instead of answering you, he finally leaned in to connect your lips. Within the first seconds you were moaning, and his tongue was on yours. You abandoned your phone on his sheets, swinging one leg over his waist to straddle him. He groaned into your mouth when you pushed your hips against his, your crotch rubbing over his bulge. Judging by the way you both reacted, neither of you had plans to take this slow.

His hands wandered over your sides and to your ass, squeezing it a little. You only moaned again, your fingers getting busy with his button up shirt. Teasingly, he bit your lip while he pushed your shirt higher, goosebumps rising on the skin he touched. His breathing became heavier when you let your hands roam his chest, pushing the fabric of his open shirt to the side eagerly. When you rolled your hips over his bulge again, you felt his erection more prominently than before, making you smile to yourself. For a moment you pulled away and pulled your shirt over your head.

“I’ve wanted to touch you for so long,” he confessed, watching as you discarded your bra onto the floor.

“Me too,” you agreed. He had sat up as well, and you helped him remove his shirt eagerly. “I’ve been wondering what your hands feel like.”

At your words, he pulled you back on top of him, playing with your breasts softly. You reacted, leaning over him, so he could take one of your nipples into his mouth. You whimpered at the way his tongue pressed against your sensitive skin. He gave the same attention to the other side, his breath leaving behind a cold sensation where he had kissed you.

Then, you bent to his level again, lips meeting in a needy kiss. You let his tongue lead yours for a while. Meanwhile, your hands sneaked to the waistband of his sweatpants. He hissed into your mouth as you grabbed his length through his pants, palming him through the fabric.

“Are you still into biting?” you asked, referring to a late-night talk you had had in the past. He smirked, nodding. Softly, at first, you nibbled on his neck, occasionally licking and kissing him. You got the exact reaction you had expected when you bit him, not to harshly, but probably leaving a purple mark nonetheless. He moaned and threw his head back, only exposing more of his neck to you. As time went on, you made your way down his chest and his stomach, settling between his legs. As much as you enjoyed hearing his moans and attempts to make you hurry, you were just as impatient, if not worse.

In one go, you pulled down his pants and underwear. He lifted his hips so you could fully take the clothing off his legs. Your mouth watered at the sight of him below you.

“If you had told me two weeks ago, I would be sucking your dick today, I would have called you a clown,” you chuckled.

“Look how the tables have turned,” he said, laughing with you. But his expression hardened the moment your hand wrapped around his length. You stroked him a few times, before lowering your head. Your tongue licked a stripe up the side of his shaft, until you opened your lips just enough to take his tip into your mouth. He cursed under his breath when you batted your eyelashes at him.

“Fuck, don’t look at me like that,” he said.

“Why? Don’t you like it?” you asked, your hand continuously touching him.

“I like it maybe a little too much,” he said, only making you grin. His expression read pleasure, his brows furrowed and his lips hung slightly agape.

“There’s no such thing as liking something too much,” you said. Purposely, you watched his face when you wrapped your mouth around his cock, tongue pressing flat against the tip. Steadily, you bobbed your head, your hand covering the rest of his length. His thighs were flexing under your hands and his stomach was rising and falling in an uneven rhythm. He propped himself up on his forearms, watching you intently.

“This feels so much better when you do it,” he said, followed by a groan when his cock touched the back of your throat for a moment. Your hand was covered in your saliva by now, eyes tearing up a little bit, but you blinked the tears away quickly. Every time you pulled away a little, you made sure to swirl your tongue around the tip. Right away, you had noticed the way he hissed at that specific action. Again, he cursed under his breath and you made eye contact once more. His lips looked pink from where he had been biting them and his cheeks were slightly flushed a rosy color.

“Oh my god-,“ he moaned. “I’m so fucking close.”

You bobbed your head faster now. After another few seconds you pulled away, replacing your mouth with your hand. The muscles on his stomach were tense and he had his hands balled to tight fists next to his body. You enjoyed his moans for a while longer, before you could feel him twitch in your hands. When he reached his high, he let his body fall back, his arms no longer able to hold himself up to watch you. The evidence of his pleasure spilled onto his abs and you slowly let your hand come to a rest. One of his hands was swung over his forehead as he breathed heavily. When you looked up at him again, he still seemed exhausted but was grinning from ear to ear.

“Give me a second and I’ll return the favor,” he said, sitting up. At his words you realized once more how much you wanted him. Quickly, he cleaned himself up. As you rolled over to lay on your back next to his sitting figure, you yawned briskly, getting comfy in his sheets.

“You’re bored? If you want we can also just watch a movie, or if you feel like-,“ he said with raised eyebrows.

“Ha. Ha. Ha.” You sarcastically laughed, rolling your eyes at him. “I’m open for whatever. Right after you’ve made me cum on this mattress.”

“Alright,” he chuckled, turning so he hovered over you. “I think we can arrange that.”

He went straight to kissing your stomach and hips, while he unzipped your pants for you. His kisses tickled you a little, but the sensation was quickly forgotten by how close his hand was to where you wanted him most. In order to let him take off your pants, you lifted your hips a little. When he had thrown your pants aside, he couldn’t hide the cocky grin on his face at the sight of your underwear.

“This looks familiar…where have I seen these before?” he asked innocently, placing his hand on the material. You flinched a little when his fingers hovered over your center. It was a fleeting touch, but the lack of attention had made you needier than you would have thought.

“Imagine I hadn’t accidentally sent you that first picture,” you said.

“I don’t even want to imagine that,” he said, his dramatic tone making you laugh a little. Abruptly, your laugh turned into a whimper when he pressed one of his fingers against your covered clit.

“I get that you’re in no rush anymore, but I’m not gonna lie, I am,” you said, wriggling against his hand. He chuckled again but seemed to obey your request. His hand slid into the hem of your underwear, fingers instantly coated in your juices. In response, you only hummed contently when he curled his digits against your clit. Within seconds you relaxed into his touch. You put one of your arms under your head and closed your eyes for a while. Now and then, he teased your core by almost pushing his fingers inside of you, but then not doing so. As frustrating as it was, you couldn’t help but moan at the feeling. With skill, he rolled your clit between his digits. His free hand pulled on your underwear slightly, but not quite enough for it to come off. You whined at his teasing, looking into his eyes with a pleading gaze. He watched your expression for a while, probably enjoying the fact that he finally had the real you underneath him, instead of having to stare at some photos on his cellphone. So he finally obliged, making you feel empty when he pulled his hand out of your soaked panties, but simultaneously thankful.

“You have no idea how many times I imagined doing this within the last week,” he said. Then, he lowered his head and took your clit into his mouth. You had only opened your mouth to reply, but the words seemed to be deleted from your brain before they had time to come out, replaced by empty curse words. He didn’t waste any time in taking it slow, but you couldn’t have minded less. When he inserted to of his digits into you, your toes curled in pleasure and relief. With the way you whimpered desperately whenever he curled them against your walls, he had found your sweet spot in almost no time.

For more than a week you had been imagining, demanding for his touch, so deeply that now you could barely think straight when you finally got what you wanted. His tongue could do so much better than your own fingers could ever satisfy you. It was the unpredictability that made this so much more enticing than when you touched yourself. Would he slow down for a while, giving your breathing time to calm down, only to suck on your swollen clit feverishly out of nowhere? Would he curl his fingers inside of you almost painfully slowly, or would he almost pull them out completely, only to slide them right back into your core, until your vision felt so blurry you had to close your eyes? The more you thought about how good he made you feel, the quicker you felt your orgasm approach. One of his hands softly stroked over your belly, a strong contrast to the way your insides seemed to tie themselves into a tight knot that took up all your attention.

“Oh my god- please don’t stop,” you only moaned. Of course he didn’t. He only hummed against your center, only adding to how incredible you felt. As much as you loved watching him between your legs, there was no force that could have kept your eyes from shutting anymore. Your back arched off the sheets and your hands tightened in pleasure when the familiar feeling washed over your mind. You whimpered and struggled hard to keep your legs from closing around his head. For a few seconds you were blinded by the bliss, until your sensitivity began to set in. You softly pushed his head with your fingers in his hair, and he slowed down and drew back.

It took you a while to come down and until your breathing had regained its normality. Your eyelids fluttered open, while he plopped down next to you. He swung one of his arms around your waist, an action he had done multiple times in the past – only now neither of you was wearing clothes.

“That was amazing,” you said. “And here I thought I’d forever regret sending you that photo.”

He chuckled. “Agreed. So, what do you say? Are we able to focus on what to order for takeout now?”

You nodded and laughed, hoping this instance wouldn’t be the last time this happened between you two.

2K notes · View notes

userdjarin · 3 years

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dusky visor (ii)

the mandalorian x f reader | ao3

↞ pt.1 | masterlist | pt.3 ↠

series rating: explicit

summary: mando had always worked alone. and then he found someone to trust.

dinner, a haircut, and existential dread.

series warnings: domestic fluff, light angst, hurt/comfort, smut, porn with plot, ofc touch-starved din, is it obvious i’m writing for a universe idrk

chapter warnings: mainly domestic fluff and yearning, minor fear + action/violence, and then smut :-) fingering, thoughts about cum eating

wc: 10.3k

a/n: sorry it took so long!! bc jesus christ this chapter is nearly 2x longer than i intended it to be asdfgh

“Huu?”

An innocent murmur brings your peer over to the child in the copilot seat behind you. He’s trained forward, eyes on something next to you. His tiny fingers outstretch from tiny arms in front of him, extending to where his eager gaze couldn’t reach. You follow his ogle to understand exactly why his syllable had carried more of a sweeter tune than usual.

A small sigh falls from your lips as you straighten up from your bend over the flight console. “No, you womp rat. You know that’s not a toy.”

“Huu.” His gently sulking tone is awfully convincing. His wee digits still wave readily for the metal knob of the lever on the board.

You turn back to the nav comp before his big eyes glisten at you and help his cause. “Don’t huu me. Mando will get mad. He’ll be back any minute now.” You focus on setting the coordinates for takeoff, so you don’t hear another coo that’ll all too easily crumble your poise.

But you do.

And it works.

You grumble in complaint. Not entirely at the child, but more so at how easily you falter. An exhale of defeat billows from your nose as you begrudgingly unscrew the spherical handle from its pole. But your tenor softens just as you meet the sunshine in the squished face that giggles at his prize. “Just until Mando gets back, okay, my sweet?”

You tell yourself that the happy babble he responds with is his agreeing promise. Regardless, the honey in his pitch reminds you how winding and trying the road is to saying “no” to the kid. You figure you’re safe for a little while longer anyway – Mando is occupied with storing away the provisions and supplies the two of you managed to find here on Sanctuary. Turning back to the console, you confirm that the navigation is set for takeoff.

You never thought you’d thank the Maker for making Sorgan so peaceful, so quiet… so boring. Because it cultured you a wandering and curious mind that kept your nose buried in readings that painted pictures of the galaxy – or at least, the shell of it – that your eyes couldn’t see for themselves. It had taught you enough so that you weren’t a complete stranger to some of the controls of the flight board when you stood in front of it for the first time. Watching Mando steer the Crest for the last month as you sit in the copilot’s seat has familiarized you enough to know how to ready the coordinates before Mando comes to take the ship off.

The Mandalorian had taken you on as a hire of sorts. He might’ve felt bad for being any kind of constituent in the loss of your job, but he must’ve also recognized the demand in taking care of a child if he was willing to break his streak of working in solitude. You’d like to think you’ve proven yourself to be worth the employ too, keeping an eye on the kid and keeping him entertained while Mando does maintenance on the Crest, on his armory, or acquiring munitions. And you’re good at it too. Though, he hadn’t set the bar too high himself, being a man that’s nearly as unsolvable and rigid as his beskar.

The three of you have otherwise been laying low the last month, hopping from planet to planet, finding whatever supplies and provisions you guys can gather, doing whatever repairs and housekeeping that were necessary, and staying at each place for no more than a week at a time. He’s kept himself from looking for work, just for a little while longer to keep his profile covert after the unwelcomed encounter on Sorgan.

Today, Mando chose Sanctuary as the place to stay for the next few days, maybe even a week if Guild-free conditions allow it. You’re both now preparing to cruise to a more remote place on the planet to set up camp, after having docked near a marketplace where you found some food to last the next little while. You even managed to find a decent enough sleeping bag at one of the street vendors as well. And thank the Maker for it too – the scraggly travel blanket and pillow you brought along from home can only do so much to cushion the unforgiving iron that is the floor of the hull every night.

Actually, on your first night on the Razor Crest, Mando handed over his bunk to be your dedicated sleeping quarters. He didn’t ask, he didn’t offer – he asserted that the cot would be yours to sleep on. The authority in that raven baritone alone might as well had taken you by the shoulders and thrown you in there itself.

But—fucking stars—in that bunk, you existed immeasurably far from sleep. How could you rest, when nothing could’ve possibly prepared you for the inundation that came with being wholly swathed in his scent? That dense beskar of his had so far only allowed you to acquaint with a fleeting ghost of his musk. But in his bunk, where he must have slept armour-less night in and night out, you were suddenly intimate with the complexity of it that dyes the sheets – the rich earthiness softened by a quiet sweetness.

You felt like an intruder. Mando is covered from head to toe so that no one can know even an inch of his skin. Mando speaks with a distance so that no one can know even his name. So then, to be completely entangled in this private detail about him felt like a crime.

His scent was delectable, though, you quickly realized in a pause to your self-chastising. To say that it was intoxicating was being prudent. Having known him only by the characteristic tempo of his vernacular had already barraged your imaginings with the strong, arresting features that might’ve matched the low, dusky tones of his voice. So for your limbs to be sinking deep into the decadent quality of his fragrance then, your mind got ambitious in wondering how bared these sheets have seen him. It flourished a summer in your chest, so thrashing that it climbed the heat to your ears until your temples quietly yet tirelessly drummed along to it. To your detriment, the fever didn’t just climb. It trickled down until you felt an exacting tug between your thighs.

Fuck, is that how easily set off you are? Merely by the residuals of his musk alone? No, you convinced yourself, you just needed to pee. And stars, did you need some kriffing air too.

As soon as you opened the door of the bunk, you wanted to gasp in the cool, unscented air of the hull like a prayer to an anxious sinner. The tranquil drone of hyperspace was already doing wonders for the swelter in your thoughts.

You climbed down carefully in the darkness, beginning your short and straight tread to the fresher. But the dim, scattering glow of the hull’s buttons and controls were nowhere near sufficient enough to warn you of the body on the floor. In front of the ladder leading up to the cockpit, you tripped over a sort of obstruction at the level of your ankle – blanketed, as you felt the brush of wool against your toes.

And the unmodulated mmrrph that responded had you thoroughly stiff after bracing onto the wall to catch yourself. Your gawk that was sloping down from your stumble scarcely made out the silhouette-shaped hills under a fleecy sheet, lying just a step away from your feet. And it confirmed exactly what you were dreading. Your eyes had only traced along the covered length of an arm when coursing panic tore you away before you could reach the shoulder, straightening you right up and nestling your face up on the wall, so hastily that it was a hair’s breadth away from a panging collision.

Mando was right there. Sleeping on the floor. Without his helmet. Of course, Mando was sleeping on the floor unarmoured. Where else and how else would he be sleeping?

“I—I didn’t—didn’t see anything!” you gasped. Truthfully so, as his blanket had thankfully concealed everything his beskar hadn’t in that moment. But your entire figure felt the gravity of guilt for hearing even an element of his raw, unfiltered voice, no matter how incoherent. You’re sure that it in itself wasn’t… illegal, but it sure felt like a close relative to betrayal.

A sorry excuse of an apology tumbled from your lips, the fluster dimming its volume to a pale whisper. Even though your back was already turned to him and the shadows of the unlit hull were inaccessible anyway, you still clamped a sweaty palm over your eyes and gracelessly hurried back to the safety of the closed bunk.

Perceiving the intimacy of his scent had already felt like a trespass. But then to have nearly seen his skin… and to have nearly seen his face… Maker! You nearly saw his face! You truly felt like a felon then.

The following day, you insisted on giving his bunk back and taking the floor of the hull for yourself instead. You left little room for him to disagree, inciting a false need to get up and pee often in the middle of the night, and convincing him to yield unless he wanted more close call run-ins like the night before. You also conveniently left out your certainty about a lack of sleep on a cot that was so saturated by his rivetingly sweet smell.

Your sleep had seen a significant improvement since that first restless, shame-ridden night. Tonight will probably see yet another advance, now that you have a proper sleeping bag to cover any exposed toes and pad the growing ache on your lower back.

“Closing the ramp,” Mando comes on over your commlink as the groans and hisses of the Crest vibrates the panels under your feet. “Heading up now.”

“Copy. Nav is set,” you mirror his stagnant tone and feed it into the device on your wrist, smothering the wide eyes and hurried hands – that snatches the metal knob back from the kid – from colouring your voice enough to rouse suspicion.

You quickly twist the sphere back on its handle before scooping the kid up and replacing him with yourself in the copilot’s seat. The cockpit door slides open for Mando’s entry just as you’re settling the child onto your lap and quieting his sad mewls with gentle rubs to the back of his head.

“It’s not a toy, you know.”

His unprompted claim startles you and pauses your hands from buckling you and the kid to the seat. Mando stops behind the pilot’s chair, the tilt of his helmet already trained in on the offending lever. Maker, how could he tell right away?

“What are you talking about?” you feign innocence with a volume dim enough to eclipse any quality of deceit that might peek through.

“It’s not screwed on properly.” Mando takes his seat before he reaches to fix the slanted metal knob on its pole.

“Huh, that’s weird.” You apparently decide your charade is still a safe place.

“You gave it to him.”

“That’s a wild accusation, Mando.”

A sigh sieves through his modulator before he’s flipping switches and pushing buttons on the console that rumbles the ship to life. “Hard to say no to those bright eyes.”

His admission reads like he sympathizes with your passivity towards the child, having also been on the receiving end of the persuasive coos that could melt nerves of steel, to which he wouldn’t meet with much more resistance than you had.

You laugh, silent, as it only falls as breaths from your nose. But Mando doesn’t need the turn of his helmet to translate the characteristic pace of your amusement.

And then he is quiet as he steers the ship in a coast just below the planet’s atmosphere. He is usually quiet when he flies, and you’ve always been comfortable with it, always known reservation to be a faithful quality of his character ever since you served him as a visitor on Sorgan. And he is most familiar when he is flying – this is his home, his element, and you feel the most ease and security in its vicinity.

This is your favourite part.

Not only because you’ve only seen one sky your entire life, so it all comes to you with incalculable awe – the varying hues in every new atmosphere, the perpetual intergalactic stretches that are beyond it, and the arching space-time clouds that hug the ship when in a hyperjump. But the wordlessness of flying is a perfect canvas for the three of you to just exist with each other. It’s where you’re given ample opportunities to learn some of the muted language in his subtle gestures, in the way he carries himself, and where you’d like to think he’s done the same with you.

You hear him most when in the quiet too. Not that Mando rushes to fill the silence or anything, since he exists as a foreigner to the fear of awkward vacuums, unlike everyone else. But these were comfortable times to explain the situation of the unintended father-son pair, who started as a bounty and a bounty hunter, who now have not only the Guild but also Imps out for their necks. Mando had been a foundling too, he shared.

Even as a battle-hardened, enigmatic man of a few words, it was becoming easier and easier for you to foster a deeper perspective into his empathy. And your heart swells at the privilege to do so.

---

You draw in a gust of crisp, salty air to fill your lungs, almost gluttonously as you’re thrilled by the unfamiliar quality of it. The sounds of lazy waves collapsing onto shore were so engulfing, you could all too easily get lost in its rhythm that blurs the margins between where you ended and the environment started. None of the mild rivers and murky swamps from home could’ve ever prepared you for these entrancing oceans.

Mando had docked the Razor Crest in some woods that neighboured a rocky beach. The three of you have since started a campfire to cook supper on an area of the stone islands that scatter the upper shore. Mando had an iron grate of sorts to lay over the fire for you to place down the fish you bought from the market earlier. It roasts in the middle now, with you and the little toad on your lap sitting against a fallen log across from Mando, who rests against a gentle hill of boulders.

The rising aroma of charring fish teases you of hearty luxury in comparison to the meals of dried meats, dried fruits, and bread that had been routine to space travelling. Sanctuary's vast oceans boast of a lavish fish fauna too, so your tongue waters in anticipation of the juicy tenderness that must live up to such reputation.

Mando takes one of the cooked fish by its skewer and hands it to you. You bring it close to your mouth to blow at the steam that billows from it, a knuckle of your other hand tracing the length of the kid’s ear as a request for patience when he eagerly babbles and grasps for it. You feel the silent and still fix of Mando’s helmet on you as you break off small flakes from the roast and trail it to the kid’s mouth. A bigger chunk is brought to your own lips next, and you sigh in bliss at the fragrant warmth that spreads across your tongue.

You meet what you imagine is Mando’s gaze behind the opaque visor. “What about you?” you’re only loud enough to just barely surpass the vibrant snaps of the flames in between the two of you. You ask because he’s moved the grate off the fire before the fish burns but has failed to take one for himself, unmoving in his seat while you and the child are thoroughly enjoying the feast. Of course, you don’t expect him to take off his helmet and eat it in front of the two of you. Though, you had imagined he would take one and move to the other side of the boulders, where he could have it outside the scope of your view.

“Later,” a low rumble of static delivers his modest, almost drowsy response. “It’s…” the black band traversing the chrome on his face breaks from you and dips to the dances in the fire, “…warm here.”

The once delicious flecks of meat in your mouth suddenly loses some of the colour in its taste when you can’t help but blame yourself a bit.

Since the addition of an extra body on the Crest, Mando has had to eat quickly and in the retreats of unoccupied space on the ship. Normally, you imagine he would just close the kid’s pod with the kid in it for him to briefly slip off his helmet and take his meal. But since you’ve been around, he rarely eats at the same time as you, usually when you and the kid are occupied or sleeping. And when he does, he succinctly leaves to the cockpit if you’re in the hull, or to his bunk if you’re in the cockpit, and momentarily takes his meal there.

But now, you feel the waste in letting the crispy skin of the grilled fish cool to a sog if he’s going to eat it later while you sleep, especially since this is one of the nicer meals he’s been able to get his hands on in a while. And feeling the warm and soothing hues of the campfire that kisses your face, you wonder if his helmet allows him to feel some of it too, from what isn’t reflected off of the encasing steel. Certainly, he’s hindered from taking in the full of the lightly salted breeze that can grow a consoling lull in his mind like it’s presently doing in yours.

You want him to feel all the pleasures you do now – listening to the lively ocean after the last month of reverberating steel walls, sitting in front of real flames instead of the Crest’s declining heat generator, and enjoying the fresh rotisserie rather than stale, dehydrated protein. You want him to take off his helmet and feel it all as it happens now.

The spread of your palm finds the kid’s back, bringing him and holding him close to your chest to warn him of a shift in your seat. The dusk of Mando’s visor follows your motions as you climb to your feet, turn, step over the trunk, and dip back down to sit on the other side of it. You face the ocean now with your back turned to him.

“What’s this about?” Mando finally asks when your movements expire, and you resume feeding the child the last few bits on the skewer rather than recognizably demonstrating your intentions.

“You should eat the fish you cooked, Mando. Before it gets cold,” your voice leaves you only loud enough to breach him without the turn of your head.

There is a little more lag than usual between each of his words when he replies, “That’s not necessary.”

He meets your offer with resistance, but you suspect that you’re correctly reading the question and the reluctance underlying it. You won’t urge him on any further, but you’ll remind him that there’s reliability behind your bid. “I promise I won’t look. I’ll make sure the kid won’t either.”

There’s enough pause for you to set aside the cleaned brochette before swiping the pad of your thumb at the little one’s mouth for crumbs. And then, your ears could’ve tangibly perked at the sound of a considering exhale channeling through a modulator.

“Th… Thank you,” is the last of the quiet, gravelly cadence you’ll hear before a soft thunk lands his helmet on the stone he’s sitting on. A gentle scraping on the iron grate tells you he’s retrieved a speared fish for himself too.

And then a searing rouge dawns on your face. Of course, you meant your offer but—stars, he took it. He took your offer. Which you assume takes a whole lot of trust, because one look over your shoulder and his entire devotion to his Creed evaporates. Not that you’d let that idea exist for long in your thoughts. Not that you could even begin to execute it even if you wanted to, with the way this vibrant drumming in your chest is thoroughly robbing movement from your limbs.

You don’t know a single defining feature of his, not a single inch of skin, or what the raw of his speech sounds like without the filter. But he sits behind you now, face bared for the open air and the back of your head.

So then, you’re thinking.

What set of eyes, nose, lips could possibly live up to match the rich timbre of his voice? And his hair – is it straight, wavy, long, short? Does he even have hair? If not on his head, then on his face? Mando hasn’t demonstrated himself to be one who takes long in the fresher, so does that mean he’s growth some stubble? Maybe even a beard? And his skin – what kind of tone, freckles, moles, scars ornament it?

Not that any of it matters or that you’ll ever come to acquaint with any of it. Not that any of it would even change how clumsy the pace of your heartbeat still gets every time he’s near.

The child has no idea the gravity of the situation or the magnitude of your fluster – his full belly is drawing him deeper and deeper into an unbothered drowsiness. His head nestles against your inner thigh perfectly as he makes a bed of your lap.

And everything is good. Mando’s trust for you, your loyalty to him, and both of your guys’ favourite kid – all existing together right here and right now, calm and attuned. And you’re convinced this is home.

---

“Dank farrik.” A frustrated breath tumbles from your lips.

Is that straight? You sweep all of your hair back to drape past your shoulders. Not quite.

Snip.

Oh! Almost!

Snip. Snip.

Never mind. That made it worse.

“Fuck,” the low, harsh groan hardly makes it past the strict grit of your teeth, and so sits on your tongue heavy and bitter. You slam the pair of scissors down on the brim of the sink, the metal curves of the tool crushing against your rigid fingers on impact.

What a terrible idea you’ve allowed yourself to carry out for too long.

Your hair had grown a little longer than what is comfortable during your last month on the Crest. And when you’re spending most of your days on a ship with a shower situation that’s nowhere close to ideal, you figure shorter hair would be easier to deal with. You’re no stranger to cutting your own hair, but normally, you’d have a more accommodating mirror that wasn’t slightly bigger than just the frame of your head like the one you’re using in the fresher now. You’ve made decent work so far with the front of your hair. It’s the back of your hair that’s currently humbling your premature pride. And you don’t have a friend that’s a hut away to help you keep it even like you would’ve back home.

You look to the kid, watching you in the open fresher from his pram that hovers a few strides away. He blinks at you curiously.

Yeah, right.

Then you look to Mando standing next to him, visor seemingly also in a curious fix on you.

Oh. How long has he been standing there? You look away immediately, back to your reflection of wide eyes and rose cheeks, telling of how embarrassed you are to have been a flustered spectacle in front of him. You hope that the meet of your gaze had been fleeting enough for the desperation in your irises to elude him. But to your detriment, nothing about you ever escapes Mando.

“Do you need a hand?” he finally asks, seeing that you weren’t going to.

The question shocks you. “What?” you reply like you don’t even know the language he used. You had never anticipated such an… intimate offer to endure past the limits of your mind, so for it to fabricate and then exist in the air between the two of you now was disarming to say the least.

“I mean,” a step brings him closer, “I can help. If you want.”

What does that even mean? What does that even look like? How would it even go about?

“You—what?”

A sigh. “You know, I’ve cut my own hair almost my entire life. I’m the only one that can.”

Lagging in your processing function, you’re more caught up on the exempted thought of him having a long mane for hair.

“Why do you think I even have a mirror in the fresher anyway?”

Right. He keeps his helmet on all the time otherwise.

You make a sound that’s more nervous than it is a chuckle at the thought of him existing that close to you, touching your hair, brushing your neck. Maker, you’re being embarrassing and even the preteen version of you could recognize that. So, you self-soothe with a jest that hadn’t sounded as poor in your head as it does when it leaves your mouth.

“Can’t say that means you’re good at haircuts though, Mando, if no one else can see it for themselves other than you.”

You’re anxious to correct yourself – that you’re not saying others should see it.

“Sorry—I don’t mean…”

But you’re too daunted by the shame and your voice goes extinct. Even you aren’t sure what had you meant by it.

Mando thankfully doesn’t seem to be hung up on it, because he approaches until he’s by you. His hand gestures to the scissors nestled between your palm and the sink. “May I?” he requests with a simplicity that doesn’t stray, like he doesn’t know he just set your whole existence ablaze with two modest syllables.

You’re crippled by a sheepishness when you nod and pass it to him. “I didn’t mean—I mean, it’s not like I don’t trust—”

“No,” the leather of his glove squeezes around the metal when he palms the tool, “you’re right. You have no way of knowing if I can do a decent job or not.”

Was that—?

Was that a tease?

His modulated voice had been almost just as monochromatic as habit, but there was a certain slight bite to his words that convince you he just made a light jeer at you. In good humor, like he’s trying to take a bit of the edge off you.

And you tell him it works when an amused grin replaces the nervous twist on your lips.

Your head is turned on your shoulders, watching him with curiosity as to how he’ll maneuver as he grips the scissors snug in the cave of his hand. But then you’re immediately straightening forward when you learn he’s only holding the clippers so tight to free up his fingers that’ll pinch and glide off the glove of his other hand.

Of course, he’ll work better with nimbler hands without the gloves. You had only caught a glimpse of his wrist, and unsure if that was allowed, you had turned around before you knew any more of him. Even if it was not not allowed, it felt unwelcomed—or at least, you weren’t welcoming it in case it was unwelcomed.

And yet the image stains your mind, leaving no thread of thought untouched. A short-lived glance alone had shared with you the golden hues of his skin that must wrap him from head to toe. The same shade of tan that’s running the length of your hair now as he flattens a section between his two fingers. The same sandy tones that are just scarcely skimming the nape of your neck—

Maker. You’ve just felt the bare of his skin.

You feel stupid for scandalizing such a transient and marginal graze. But the pulses that course through you from limb to limb has you gripping the sink brim in front of you, and you only hope the language of it is much more subtle than the one currently playing in your mind.

Fucking stars, the lack of a tender touch and sincere connection the last month – besides with the kid, who very much may only show you affection because you feed and bathe him – has you foolishly feeling like a celibate fondling a tit for the first time.

Mando lands a clasp on your shoulder to tell you he’s done. Lightly, but with your rickety figure, it nearly knocks you down to your knees.

“You did most of the work yourself. I just cleaned it up.”

You’re a little taken, as the thrash of your indecent thoughts must’ve drowned out the snipping that was taking small fractions off your hair, so you hadn’t even fully registered that he started let alone finished. But you’re thanking the Maker for an end before the fever swathing you could surpass an irreparable point.

“Are you satisfied?” he asks with the kriffing husk in his voice that you so wish was an immodest invitation.

Fully? Not quite. But of course, he’s only asking about your hair and not the unattended ache in the pit of your stomach.

You wait for him to retrieve his pair of gloves from their sling on the sink’s edge, listening for the squeeze of the leather as he slides them on before you’re twisting your chest to him. Keeping your head turned towards the mirror, you sweep your hair back to regard his work.

“Yeah, you—no, yeah, it looks great!” you grin as you admire the fresh movement of it in the reflection when you run your hand through its foreign length. You wonder just how well he grooms his own hair if he could be this impressive with yours.

Your glance arches back to him, and a thrill threatens to invade you once more when you meet his beskar that stands not even an arm’s length away, now that you know the tones and hues that exists under it. His ebony visor reveals nothing, yet you’re so sure a minute flex of your face could reveal so much to him. So, you’re careful and polished when you carve out the words, “Thanks, Mando,” and the smile that accompanies it.

---

“If you’re looking for work, have a seat, my friend.”

Both you and Mando pull your sights away from the droid bartender and redirect to a corner of the cantina. A young man puts a face to the voice as he leans back in a booth with his boots propped up on the table. A smug air surrounds him when he introduces himself as Toro Calican, both his words and his body speaking like he’s a fellow seasoned hunter himself.

But you aren’t convinced. And it isn’t even because he is young, or that his boots lack the grime to validate the expert attitude, or that the rest of his gear looks unweathered and rather too pristine – like a little boy impatient to sport his brand-new scout uniform for the first time in front of peers. But after having thoroughly acquainted yourself with Mando’s presence for the last couple months, distinguishing between who’s overcompensating and who’s got nothing to prove is coming easy to you now.

Mando glances at you with a minimal nod of his helmet. You reply with your own slight dip of the head, understanding that he means to say he’ll still be near and keeping an eye on you and the kid in this dimly lit cantina with its hardened patrons, all reading like a violent outbreak couldn’t have been too out of the ordinary. And then he departs from you at the bar to assess the Calican fellow’s proposition.

The three of you find yourselves in a cantina in Mos Eisley on the planet Tatooine, after docking the Crest in a hangar at the spaceport. Mando is here to look for work, but had found no help from the droid bartender, aside from the glasses of blue liquid and plate of mystery meat it serves you and the child. You’re not too hungry for anything you can’t exactly identify, but the little green chaos in the hovering pod next to you isn’t daunted, nor will he be slackened by any means of chewing. As Mando approaches the young bounty hunter, you’re tearing the meat up into pieces to encourage the tiny bugger to slow down.

Calican presents a bounty puck on the table and announces the name Fennec Shand that’s associated with it. The title doesn’t come familiar to you, but the way Mando says, "I know the name," doesn't sound too inviting. You don’t hear most of whatever else they’re saying in the far corner of the cantina, but you manage to vaguely capture something along the lines of "elite mercenary" and "top crime syndicates". Words that sit an unpleasant weight on your chest. Words that apparently don’t sit too well on Mando’s tongue either, because he begins to turn and leave the conversation. Maker, this bounty must be impossible if even the hardened Mandalorian is turning it down.

Calican shoots up from his seat, abandoning the prideful approach for a manner that’s more desperate instead. "This is my first job!" he shouts, confirming your – and probably Mando’s – suspicions.

You don't catch the rest of Calican’s plea or Mando’s deciding response, but the rookie must’ve offered a handsome compensation because his face soon erupts into a winning beam before Mando’s resuming back to you.

“He offered me all of the credits for the job,” Mando explains to you on the walk back to the hangar, after paying the droid for the meal and giving Calican a rendezvous. “He needs this one job to get him into the Guild.

“I don’t know, this…” you pause to swallow the char that scales the back of your throat when recollecting all of the intimidating labels that Fennec Shand has been associated with so far. You disguise the recess in your words with the action of plucking the child up from his pram once the three of you climbed the ramp of the Crest. “…this sounds dangerous, Mando.”

“So you’ve little faith in me,” he deadpans, his beskar unmoving as the visor zeroes down on you.

A fluster pulls your figure taut. “No—no! That—that’s not—”

A gentle rest of his gloved hand on your shoulder interrupts your turmoil to remind you that he isn’t stranger to a joke. “I’ll be fine. She’s near – shouldn’t take more than a few days.”

His tenor softens a degree that nearly makes you forget what you’re even apprehensive about. The hold he lays on your frame is warm enough to convince you it’s where he belongs.

“Stay here with the kid. Use the e-comm if you need me.”

You swallow and nod, trying to remind yourself that this is what he does, this is his job. And that there’s a reason why there is almost always either fear or awe in the eyes of everyone he passes.

Mando leaves with Toro Calican when he arrives at the hangar half an hour later, as planned.

---

The sounds of swift footsteps crushing against the sandy dirt nears the entry of the hangar.

“He’s here. Get up.”

You scowl in protest, but you’re given an incentive to do as ordered when the unforgiving and rigid end of a blaster’s barrel presses to the blade of your shoulder. You follow suit to ensure that the gun stays pointed at you and not at the child he claims in his arm.

The rookie hunter must’ve somehow found out the Mandalorian and the child were a target of the Guild, with a much more lavish reward, because he had arrived at the spaceport without Mando or a bounty. Calican had masqueraded his unaccompanied state with the lie that the beskar hunter was much better at wrangling the bounty, and must’ve been just right around the corner himself. It was only to get him close enough to corner you and the kid in the Crest before pulling a gun.

He walks you halfway down the Crest’s ramp at blaster-point now as he holds the child. "Took you long enough, Mando.”

You hate that these very unideal circumstances are serving as an endorsement for the rookie’s patronizing tone. Mando stands at the bottom of the ramp, armed with a blaster poised on Calican, but it’s unserviceable when he uses you and the child to build a shield in front of him.

You meet Mando’s unrevealing visor, while he likely sees all of you – the wavering limbs even in a still stand, the dread that silently plagues your face, and the red that unfurls across your cheek. You had earned it earlier in the initial wrestle with the rookie. You were unyielding in handing over the kid to him, and he responded with a swing of his shooter across your face. But that was not before you’ve marked him yourself in your wrangle with him. He’s now marred with raw bands across his temple that matches the shape of your nails.

"Drop your blaster and raise 'em," Calican demands.

Watching Mando surrender and let his gun fall to the sand tightens your throat with the threat to suffocate. You grimace when the barrel of the rookie’s gun thrusts into your back and shoves you forward, before he barks at you to cuff the Mandalorian. The aim of his firearm trains in on Mando now and you feel the cave of your stomach bottom out to an unventured depth in grief. You’re gripping the iron restraints in the hook of your fingers until it pales with fear and disdain while you stumble down the incline. A defeated apology plays in your feeble eyes that momentarily meets the black intersecting his helmet before you’re rounding him.

Calican goes on an egotistical, self-esteeming, celebratory monologue about his triumph over one of a revered status as a Mandalorian. But you're not hearing any of it because Mando, with his hands crossed behind his head, faces his palm towards you to show the flash charge nestled in it. This reserved hunter of a few words yet of a certain commanding force defends that exact reputation, when a mere wordless gesture of his promptly eviscerates all of your fright.

While you mime the action of cuffing him, a quick glance to your left reveals to you the crates that you'll hide behind when his flare goes off. And when he swipes his thumb over the device, you read it as your cue to shut your eyes and duck towards those very crates. You hear the squeal in its fire. And then a howl from the blitzed and blinded rookie. Blaster shots. And then a thud.

You can’t even wait for the dust to settle before your eyes pop open and you’re straightening up behind the wooden boxes, because you’ve been reminded that defeat is one of the few things the battle-hardened Mandalorian is unfamiliar with. And because you’re frantic in looking for the child.

Mando’s blaster fire had thrown Calican’s now limp body off the side of the ramp. But the child previously in his arm isn’t seen within its proximity.

“Stay back,” Mando instructs you to wait for him to check that the rookie’s lifeless condition isn’t feigned before you come any closer.

You can’t find the patience to regard it. “The—the kid!” you breathlessly cry as you clamber past him with the desperate hope of finding the child unscathed. And when you do behind the adjacent crates, where he must’ve crawled away to safety after his own tumble from his captor's clutch, you plunge to your knees in relief and gather him into your arms. “Hey, you little bugger,” your words quiver from the residual fretfulness and fall from lips that snivel with reprieve. Faintly scraping the pads of your fingers in a trail from ear to ear behind his head both calms him and dusts the sand off him. He babbles something with a healthy tone and bright eyes, and it comes to you like your favourite song. “You’re okay, my sweet. You’re okay,” you coo to reassure not only him but yourself too.

Mando takes a sack of credits from Calican’s vest, claiming what was promised to him in their transaction that would’ve been useless for a corpse to keep anyway. Holding the child closely in the safety of your chest, you’re glancing at the unmoving figure. A sensation of surrealness makes you feel disassociated from your own bones, and you agree that you’ll never get used to seeing a dead body, whereas your teammate has likely effected many casualties himself. Your glimpse on the rookie lingers, almost like you’re waiting for him to move, while Mando bends down in front of you and relieves your arms of the child.

He makes sure the kid is okay before he’s drawing your stare back to him, hooking a single finger under your chin and raising it to meet him. You of course don’t find his eyes behind the black band, but it’s almost like you feel the heat of his gaze inspecting the bruise marking your cheek.

Your limbs act on their own when they bring your palm to overlap his wrist by your face. “I’m fine,” you promise.

And then it rushes you. It inundates you – the gratitude that you are fine now when a few breaths ago, your blood was running cold with loss and finality. Because Mando would never let you exist in that place of dread for too long. Twice in the last couple months alone, Mando has saved both your life and the child’s. And now more than ever, you know that you wholly trust Mando with your existence.

He’s crouched close in front of you, and you can’t help but feel a request for the broad of his chest that exists mere inches from your face. The erupting thankfulness makes you desperate for a connection too. You move his hand aside only enough to lean forward until your forehead flattens on his pauldron. Your skin meets hard beskar, but you feel an overwhelming swath of warmth, security, fidelity.

“S-sorry I, I know this isn’t—I shouldn’t—but…” the frail words fall from your lips as a sigh, “…pl-please—just for a—just for a second.” You realize you haven’t let go of his wrist yet. In fact, you squeeze tighter. And he lets you. “Ha-had a lot of blasters pointed at me lately,” you reason your brash motion with a short-winded chuckle that pokes fun at your own unfortune.

“—safe.”

You don’t catch the first part of Mando’s response because his palm moves to the valley between your neck and shoulder, and you nearly accept it as an invitation to melt even further into him.

“—back to the ship. Come.” Even the distortion of his modulator couldn’t evade the gentle lull in his cadence.

---

The door of the cockpit glides open for Mando’s entry. “The kid is asleep.”

You nod, “That’s good.” He must hold no stress or inhibition then if he can soundly find slumber.

After steering the Crest off of Tatooine until autopilot could take over, Mando left to take the kid to his bunk where he could rest.

“The spaceport’s pit droids will take care of the body,” Mando lets you know so you don’t have to ask. Because you did want to ask – leaving the fate of the cadaver open-ended as the ship flew off felt unfinished.

You nod again.

“Are you,” he takes a stride to abbreviate the distance between him and the copilot’s seat you occupy, “alright?” His curled finger travels until it drifts by the purple on your cheekbone, but he doesn’t touch.

“Yes, thank you,” you’re soft in your tenor like you’re soft in your scale to meet his visor, not fully reaching destination because you’re still embarrassed from practically throwing yourself onto him earlier.

His helmet dips in your peripheral like a nod before he takes his seat in the pilot’s chair. And then he’s quiet. And you think he’s quiet because… well, he’s always quiet. You’re comfortable with that. But right now, he’s quiet because he’s meticulously trying to carve out the right words to say.

“I’m sorry,” is what finally breaks the silence and tenses you in your seat. “I’ve put you in danger. More than once.” His helmet is turned on his shoulder so that you can only regard its side profile, but you still register the full colour of the laden guilt in his tone.

“Mando, I know what I signed up for when I agreed to work for you.”

“And that might’ve been my mistake. Taking you on when I knew the risks.”

You don’t like what he’s implying and it brings you to your feet. “I feel—the child and I feel nothing but safe around you, Mando,” you insist, a little less than gracefully, before he could suggest redirecting the flight path to Sorgan. “You,” your hand shies and decides on finding the shoulder rest of his chair rather than finding him, “keep us safe.”

You’ve found a kind of home in these two. And you don’t want to be anywhere they aren’t.

Your clasp flinches away when his chair rotates until he faces you and the beskar on his knees grazes the front of your thighs. A shock invades you when you realize how near he is, like the distance separating the two of you could be fictional. But he doesn’t retreat from it.

“You’re…” he sighs, delivering as a neat string of static from a voice filter that could hardly render something so low and soft. A breath hitches in your throat when his two palms claim both sides of your hips and he leans forward until the crown of his helmet scarcely burrows the soft spot under your chest. “You’re so… good to us.”

You thoughtlessly latch onto his shoulders to recover balance when his added weight on you with those fucking arresting words puts a buckle in your knees. “Mando, you—” Each breath comes to you like you might not get another. “—You’re the one wh-who takes care of us.” You’re hardly audible even to the air with the quakes that consume you whole.

“Sorry, I…” he starts like he’s wants to excuse his actions, but his speech dies quick when he doesn’t find a forgivable reason to finish with.

You feel how tense he is under your fingers. And it comes as familiar to you, because it’s the same tension you wear when your yearning summits around him. His hands start to leave your hips, but you grab them and keep them pinned there.

“Touch me.”

It leaves you like the ghost of a gasp. You’ve taken a risk, but your greed for intimacy refuses to be ignored any longer.

Mando stills for the lifetime of a heartbeat before his helmet departs from your abdomen for him to look up at you. You’re shivering, but you deny the urge to break away from the visor so that the need in your eyes could assist you in your plea. “Touch me, Mando,” you repeat, volume still dim, but you know he heard the vibrant appetite in your voice because his hold on you tautens.

You hope it’s inspiration he needs, so keeping your palms overlapping his, you lead them in a slow scale up your body. Maker, your craving had been peaking so painfully that just the inexplicit sensation of his warmth climbing your sides even over several layers of clothing between the two of you nearly has you whining.

Then, Mando slides out from under your grip and leaves your figure. A panicked regret starts its bleed throughout your body at the rejection. But just as quick it was to start, it’s quick in its extinction when you learn it was for him to take off his gloves. And then you’re almost foolishly smiling in anticipation. You’re taking in the full image this time, singeing the shape, the curves, the hills, the golden hues of his hands into every wall of your mind.

He finds your hips again, but this time the tips of his fingers dig under the hem of your shirt. And then he holds there for a moment, the glass of his visor staying on you like he’s checking for your permission. You swallow and nod, a soft smile on your lips to speak about your delight.

When the stretch of his hands skim onto your skin, the bare, hot feel of him against you caps your airway. A fever courses you when you feel the savouring in his unhurried, measured pace, and the subtle hunger in how tightly he holds while he’s gliding up.

When he finally arrives at the swell of your breasts, the flat of his palm is impatient to take all of it. A low, gratified hum vibrates from his modulator. “F-fuck, you’re—soft. You’re so soft.”

Stars, he’s just as needy as you are. The broken mewl that rolls off your tongue when the pads of his thumbs are indelicate in their roll over your pebbling nipples heightens his greed. So then he’s uncareful in the way his arms tear out from under your shirt, only to clasp onto the back of your thighs to reel you into him. You’ve never seen him move with so little method. He plants your knees on either side of his hips on the seat, crashing your chest into him and not allowing a single moment of distance to exist between the two of you. His insatiable hands curl into the full of your ass.

“—Been wanting this. Been wanting to touch you for so long.” A harsh exhale drones from him, and you’re almost hysterical with the desire to feel those heavy wisps of breath paint your skin. “Wanted to touch you when I cut your hair. Almost—almost did too.”

The pit of your stomach pulls hot and tight. “Sh-sh-show me then.” Your voice comes fragmented, but you demonstrate just how much you want it when you push down the waistband of your pants until it pools on top of his thighs.

A throaty groan rumbles long and low from his helmet when his fingers dive between your legs to catch the generous saturation teased on the fabric of your panties. “Maker, this is how you feel?”

Mando has certainly led people on to believe he’s quieter than he really is with how expressive he’s being now. For you. And it makes you giddy with delight. “Not the first time either,” you sigh when you want so desperately to be stuffed by those very digits tracing the shape of you over the last layer of clothing that separates.

“Fuck, all this time—”

“I’m here now.” A strangled rasp pries from your throat when you grip his wrist to hold his hand where it is so you can griiiiind into his fingers. “I’m not going anywhere. You can’t get rid of me.” You’re taking advantage of the circumstances to implore him to never suggest the idea of sending you home ever again.

Mando is impatient as he tears your panties down your hips. He hisses when his bare skin can finally touch your own bareness that’s sopping for him, and he glosses the full length of his fingers with it. “Don’t want to—Maker, I don’t want to. Couldn’t even think about it.”

You’re bearing down on him at the delicious contact, your temple crashing onto the top of his helmet. His digits completely flatten across your cunt and begins rolling. He’s kneading your clit with the most delectable pressure and consistency that paints stars on the back of your eyelids. You’re coiling at the enthralling soreness that wrings you of the lewdest of noises that he gets to hear the full of right by his sheathed face.

“Sh-shit, you were always so quiet. And now…”

You’re frail against the gruff in his voice, and because two of his fingers are working their way into you. You have nothing to respond with except the clumsily assembled whines when he decadently arcs inside of you. He starts pumping into you at a deliberate pace, and he doesn’t waver in following the innate rolling of your hips either. Every one of your breaths come out choked when you feel the indecent amount of wetness that’s dribbled onto his palm every time it slaps against your clit during every plunge into you. You’re edging closer and closer to a ferocious undoing with every indulgent curl.

“Fuck,” you moan feverishly, “fuck, fuck, fu—Mando, I’m—”

He sees it in the wrench of your jaw, the cavernous knit between your brows, the tensing in your limbs. So, his touch retreats, and he earns himself an anxious cry emptying from the full cavity of your chest when he’s no longer satiating the pulsing in your cunt.

“Not yet—not like this. I want you to—” he brokenly grunts before he’s rising from his seat, standing you up with him. You’re leaning heavily into his strong guidance in anticipation because the violent aches between your thighs cripples you from firm movement.

Mando turns you and jostles you forward into the flight board. You grab onto the console’s ledge to salvage your balance before you stumble into any buttons or controls that’ll lurch the ship out of its calculated path. And then he moulds himself against your back, the top of his helmet dropping onto your shoulder blade as he hangs his head. And he’s fucking panting.

“Can I please—please…”

His hips press to your bare ass for you to feel what he means. The very hard and throbbing thing he means.

You pant in agreement, the thought of him finally filling you with everything he has to offer whelms you with a quivering thrill. With seething impatience, you push back into him, wagging your hips in a staging for him. The starved growl he responds with from behind shakes you with exhilaration. He burrows his nails into the roundness of your thighs while lining up your hips. But then his rush expires. He’s still huffing and puffing with desire but he holds the both of you still.

“What’s wrong?” you don’t mean for the words to fall as whiny as they did. But you’re fucking throbbing.

He replies with a thorough swipe of your cunt by the tips of two fingers. “Keep your eyes forward. Don’t look back. Understand?”

The command in his baritone encourages you to nod, though you have yet to catch yourself up on what that means. He explains for you when he breaches your peripheral, and you marginally follow the movement to find that he sets his helmet down beside you on the board. And then paralysis colonizes your figure.

He tells you exactly why he did such a seemingly heedless move when you hear him push his two fingers tainted with your slickness into his mouth and close his lips around it. “Maker,” he sighs with a gravelly indulgence in his tone. Unmodulated. And the full, dark, rich timbre sets your heart on an erratic tempo like it no longer finds home in your chest.

You’re left with no time to come down from your barraged haze when you realize he’s already loosened his belt and took his cock out the waistband of his pants, because he’s propping its head against your folds now. You feel the indulgent burn of his tireless stare, intently watching as he saturates himself with your shameless wetness before tapping himself on your swollen bead to see you desperately twitch in response.

Your leg lightly kicks up in a plea. “Mando, I need it now, please. Please—” your shoulders bow lower in submission as you back your hips right up against him, “—please, please, please, I want it so bad, please.”

His cock stills at the very margins of your entrance. “Easy, you sweet thing.” A slow, thorough, savouring lunge into you reels the neediest of whines from the both of you. “You—sweet, p-pretty th—” he’s cut short by the rasping groan that heaves from his chest. His breathing stammers as he fills you to the hilt.

You’re choked by the bliss of feeling his size forcing you to stretch with the sheathing. Your limbs want to thrash when he starts a steady rock. And apparently, the pleasure was good enough that your body didn’t wait for your permission, because a swing of your hand to land elsewhere on the dash and messes with whichever control that causes the console to blare your mistake aloud. And then you’re tensing for completely different reasons when an unwelcoming alarm starts beeping.

But Mando doesn’t falter – his thrusts, his panting doesn’t stray even when he reaches and flips a switch that soothes both you and the alert, like nothing happened. Because right now, he cares for nothing else other than the tightening and pulsing wrap around his cock.

“S-so pretty—” he murmurs, hungry, greedy, nothing short of ravenous, “—how you’re taking me so well, precious girl.” His armoured arm braces across your chest and brings you back up flushed against him. Then, he rests his head in the crook of your neck as he loses himself in the heavying of his lunges that pound into you.

A feverish moan departs from you. Fucking stars, you feel the tickle of his locks of hair against your neck. You feel the scratching of his stubble on your skin. As if you weren’t already fucking rapturous with how he’s fucking you, the trust in bearing his face near you, the commitment in refusing to let space exist between the two of you is enough to tip you over the edge.

You plummet into climax without warning. Your panting escalates into a shameless moan, escaping the barricade set up by your teeth that crashes down on your bottom lip. He clings onto you to steady you in taking the relentlessness of his thrusts, but he holds tight like he doesn’t want you running away. As if you would ever, with the way he’s stealing from you every lustful noise you might have stored for him. You’re begging with the peak of your need into each stroke that feeds your high.

“Fu—uck, I’m, I’m c-close,” he follows with a hiss, his volume breaking and his hips falling into a rhythm that starts getting messy.

“I-inside, Mando. Please, inside m-me,” you squeak, his insistent hammering robbing you of firm speech. “I want—feel your c-cum inside—” Your hand reaches back and squeezes the fabric over his thigh like it’ll keep him from pulling away.

Mando doesn’t leave but somehow leans even deeper into your frame, and it’s to circle his hand around your hips to wedge between your thighs. He urges you towards another orgasm too, rubbing you heatedly and quickly. And it’s working. The untiring shapes he’s got up against your throbbing clit, the untiring prod he’s got up against your pulsing walls – it’s all becoming too much. Euphoria slams down on you and you see hot, white hazes against the black drop of your shut eyes. Your lips know how to speak nothing but indulgent profanities.

One last sharp lunge has Mando’s entirety claimed by an unyielding shudder against you as climax thunders through him. He is gasping for a breath as he spills himself into you. The low groan of your name gets caught in his throat as he gently rocks to drain every last drop of himself inside of you. And it’s deliciously hot inside of you.

You both writhe it out until you’re rid of your highs, but Mando doesn’t waste before he’s reaching for his helmet to slide back into. You’re in a foolish amount of awe and gladness that he trusted to bare himself vulnerable to you and that you wouldn’t take a peek. But you’re wishing – and you feel a little selfish for it – to know his presence just a little longer without the voice filter or the layer of beskar that separates the tickle of his facial hair from kissing your skin.

You must’ve been frozen for too long in your stance that’s still taut with recovery from a thorough orgasm after withstanding what seemed like a touch drought, because you flinch back to realization when Mando pulls up your pants for you. You mutter an embarrassed thanks, but you feel stupid, like a child. And the feeling stays when you’re appalled you even considered stopping him, because feeling the hot threads of him inside you threatening to drip down your folds, you’re stricken by the craving to taste him.

You bet his taste is decadent, delectable, divine, and it would drape your tongue thickly, warmly. You’d be disgusted with yourself if every spot in your consciousness wasn’t already wholly spoiled with your tenacious desire for him.

Later, you think to yourself, when you’ve both retreated to the privacy of sleep. Later, when it collects on your panties and you can steal a quick swipe of your finger to your mouth.

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plutoswrath · 3 years

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i’m jealous of your big heart when it comes to animals lmao. i’m arachnophobic and it can be so annoying to have sometimes. i haven’t been able to tie it back to astrology, as much as i would like to. i asked because i was wondering if there was a clear indicator based off certain placements like how 6th house rules animals, 6th is ruled by mercury so i jumbled them even though i probs shouldn’t have lol. and with venus it ties to personal taste so i wondered if it could indicate a liking towards a certain animal. i have sag and sag venus in 6th and embarrassingly enough, i was obsessed with horses. like i came out of the womb adoring them. as soon as i learned to talk i was a walking horse encyclopedia. my obsession died down. i’m not a horse girl, i swear on my life.

i agree with you about the cancer loving animals. animals are babies and momma cancer loves to nurture the babies. i feel like cancers are the most likely to hate the “are you a dog or cat person” question. they’d get offended because how dare someone assume their heart isn’t big enough for both. more than both, really. throw a turtle in there. a rabbit even. cancer asc peeps usually have a shit ton of animals. it’s probably the sag/abundance in the 6th. or they either own a horse or Great Dane. but this is off topic because i forgot i had a follow up question.

if you could tie an animal or a couple animals to each sign that you think best represents that sign? or just seems like one they’d like? some are so easy and others just leave me blank. my arachnophobia thinks scorpio’s deserve better than scorpions but my terror blinds me. but i was looking up the symbolism behind animals and tying them to signs. so far, i’ve concluded that while horses should go with sag, their highly intuitive and empathetic animals. their behavior is like a mirror so if you’re nervous, they are too. so pisces or cancer actually seems to be a better fit. and to stay on topic of cancer with animals, i always tie wolves and dogs in general to cancer. the wolves are tied to the moon and familial dynamics and also i think they’re a great symbolic opposition to leo and how leos tend to resemble cats. sun and moon, dog and cat, night and day, that sort of thing. i realized i’ve rambled but i’m looking forward to your opinion because i’m so lost on what other signs would have. it’s been a year old question in my brain and it’s time for help from the master.

I'm sorry to hear that, I'm had a friend once who was arachnophobic and having phobias like these is really no fun, I can't imagine what it feels like really having them. And omg don't feel bad for liking horses when you were a child, literally so many children, especially young girls, like horses simply because people decided horses where a 'teenage girls only' thing somehow?? (and I will have to dig deeper into this at a point because here where I come from the horse girl thing is soooo painfully real and I want to understand the phenomena). And if I'm not mistake, arachnophobia (like most types of phobias), stem from some kind of trauma right? I absolutely don't try to get to personal but if we look at phobias in that way, maybe it's good to also include looking at planets/asteroids that point to trauma or aspects that can represent/indicate traumatic experiences in that sense! And I agree wholeheartedly to the 'dog or cat' question, I don't get offended by it but I hate this question in general because every animal deserves my love and empathy adfghj and yes, mother feelings definitely play into this haha! I think cancers enjoy (to an extent) having that occasional (or constant) outlet for their nurturing side and the bound you have to animals is also very intuitive and requires a lot of patience and getting educated as well as being observant and reading between the lines somehow and all that dedication paired with emotional knowledge just really speaks to water signs in general (and animals don't judge openly with words, just your energy asdfgh) Uhh, I like the question regarding the animals and I agree with your takes on it so far!! I think one animal can not represent all the core traits of a sign alltogether, but I'll try my best here! and psdfghj no need to call me master because I'm literally so far from anything close to that but thank you so much still, I feel honored really!!

The Signs as Animals:

Disclaimer: some of them are inspired by my ‘the Wild Unknown Animal Spirit’ tarot deck.

Aries: House cat. I know, I always thought cats actually link pretty well to Aries! Cats are just the perfect mixture of intelligen and curious, reserved, stubborn, aggressive, senstive as well as playful/impulsive! They are quick to learn and not afraid to face off against any other, bigger animals, but also can live pretty well together with other pets in the house, as long as they don‘t bother them too much. Especially when it comes to intimacy/pda they are very picky, but forceful when demand it. Seem flexible and unbothered at first but actually have the firmest boundaries when it comes to their personal freedom. Will let you believe they need you but give it a few weeks and the neighbor has better treats than you and gone they are asdfgh, but it's actually a harmful stereotype to believe that cats don't need you because they can become extremely fond of you and grow very attached.

Taurus: Elk. Based on the interpretation of my tarot deck. The elk represents earth energy, it is grounded, is established in itself and knows their core values and acts according to them. They show consistency, coherence and care. Dedicated to who they love and what they care for. Can become narrow minded due to knowing what's best, based on their perception of what's right and necessary, which can effect their ego negatively. Very Taurus for me. Gemini: Dragonfly. I refer to the interpretation of the Dragonfly based on my tarot deck. The dragonfly represents the mind: everchanging, quick, fascinating, a reflection of the world inside us and aroudn us. As the dragonfly is very quick (refering to Mercury's fast and nervous energy) the dragonfly also calles for paying attention to what quality our mind has and to become mindful, because on first glance things always appear different tahn on first glance (Mercury floats between detail-oriented and paying attenetion and being too fast, impatient). The dragonfly is joy and magic, as well as impatience, restlessness and being unable to concentrate. Cancer: Killer Whales (but also whales in general)! I thought especially about Killer Whales, because I once watched a documentary on them and they went in depth about how they have different cultures and different languages even (if I remember correctly) in their familys. Cancer often gets associated with the home life, but I think I wanted to look at it from another perspective, as in how does family 'become' family and how do those family roots develope, what do they consist of, how do we define family and what holds it together (and especially: how do our roots shape our own emotional patterns and nature in life?). I think the mystery of the Killer Whales but the whole complexity that lies behind the fascination of how these animals function and also how deeply affected Killer Whales are by their emotions/when they are absent from their kin, just opens up another big question of family dynamics and how we relate to one another and how principles we always condoned to human beings now apply to animals too. I think the whole part about the Killer Whales relation to emotions and their family's cultures just really made me link them to Cancer. Leo: Otter. I refer o the meaning of teh Otter based on my tarot deck. The Otter resembles the energy of the inner child: it's pure bliss, playfulness, they love to live and live for life itself, and out of this eagerness to enjoy life comes also a contentment and completeness towards life itself. To reconnect with otter energy, it is advised to step into settings of celebration, or total creative self expression and from the outside looking 'unproductive/selfish' indulgence. But actually, this energy is what makes life so enjoyable in the first place.

Virgo: Octopus. Highly intelligent beings that can quickly adapt and take the initiative. Self sufficient by nature, they aren't aggressive unless provoked, they like to mind their business unless they get curious (then they cling heavy onto you because you are their new object of interest). They can change color if it's needed (Virgo is a mutuable sign and can blend in perfectly in social occasions/new situations) and tbh the inking part about octopus just reminds me of the fact that most Virgos have a really quirky side to them you only get to see when you annoy them long enough (aka you are a long term friend). Libra: Gazelle. I refer to the meaning of ten Gazelle based on my tarot deck. The gazelle combines the creation of beauty and harmony, creativity and hyper awareness of it's surroundings, very affected of the imbalances in it's environment, but in it's try to remain this beauty around them, they tend to forget their achievments and stay in the present with their thoughts, as they constantly wheigh out the 'what if's'. A very perceptive animal in the tarot deck and this attribute is equally it's strong suit and downfall. Scorpio: Tiger. I refer here to the meaning of the Tiger based on my tarot deck. Waits in stillness and darkness to reconnect to their own inner power. Healing in isolation with the help of the lunar forces, waiting to regenerate. The Tiger energy shows itself in being passionate, sensual and stepping into ones own power, recognizing ones strength. For me, this is very Scorpio (Moon) for me. When the Tiger in unbalanced, it becomes overstimulated and acts according to this hyperawareness. Sagittarius: Zebra. I refer here to the meaning of the Zebra based on my tarot deck. The Zebra stands for an open mind, visionary and eccentric, new thinking, as well as being young at heart and expansion. I personally connect horses with passion and drive, because they are truly powerhouses. Based on the meaning of my tarit deck, the Zebra also is sociable, at least people find themselves drawn to the energy of the Zebra because it triggers their desire to learn, and I think this is something very beautiful Sagittarius symbolizes when they come into your life: be prepared to broaden your horizon for more.

Capricorn: Camel. I refer to the meaning of the Camel based on my tarot deck. Camels here represent absolute dependence on self and being able to find the answer to problems in oneself. This self reliance and capability reminds me of capricorns, the camel is finding the 'cool' aka water inside of them and Capricorn is traditionally also symbolized as the sea-goat (which I seriously think should really be considered when anaylzing this archetype) and Capricorns have (imo at least) a rich emotional life, but it's just deeply locked within. The Camel represents showing responsibility for their own actions, regulating the self and circumstances around them as best as they can, which makes sense for Capricorns, ruled by Saturn they usually are confronted with task in their life. If the Camel energy is out of balance, it shows a lack of vitality, with Capricorn representing the senior age in life makes sense, especially since Capricorns can tend to feel very old (exhausted)- Aquarius: Platypus- and no, I’m not using the Platypus because ‚wow all Aquarius are so weird like straight up aliens 🤪🤪’ I think the platypus is a good representation because it makes us question what we’ve known so far about animals and Aquarius too is a sign that introduces us to new ideas and perspectives all in the favor of progress and considering alternatives, leaving the status quo. Pisces: Raven/Crow. I name these two in particular because as far as I know it’s only the ravens that have been documented intimating people’s voices and tones, but crows are definitely more known for their bright mind. For me people often forget Pisces mutable nature and how quick witted they actually are. These birds are hyper intelligent and their observational skills are truly amazing. In my Wild Uknown Animal Spirit deck, the crow is an animal carrying 3rd eye energy. Here, the view is clear, the crow is moving through different dimensions and sees what other’s cant. For and the emotional depth (void) Pisces is conencted to it just seem to make sense.

#i swear i will be more active the next days #replies #anonymous #astrology #zodiac #the signs as #the signs as animals

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lee-scribbles-and-doodles · 3 years

Text

Episode 4 reaction

Sam and Max using the roach to prank the commisioner 😄😄😄 (Date Goals)

"Demonic possession is the gift that keeps on giving"

We're fighting the president? Is this the golem Abe Lincoln intro episode?

It is, I wasn't paying attention to the episode title or image I just hit play as soon as the game booted up

"Get the keys" Lol of course the only thing Max cares about is his gun

Can we talk about how much of a bop the intro is. I wasn't paying it much attention previously but it's real nice

Asdfgh how did Max's boxing glove get on the white house lawn?

Lol why is Jimmy allowed in the white house

"Doggy daddy, this is lose canon. Requesting permission to pants this goon."

"Ah, emotional violence. Good plan!"

I like Superball :)

"I'd like you to smell these two handkerchiefs and tell me which smells more like clauroform."

"I want to write down a reminder to smother you with a pillow in your sleep."

"I'll drive!" "Not while I'm alive." "Exactly."

"That fox is totally checking you out. Go for it Sam!"

Lol. Sybil is a dating service now.

"Ever feel lonely, Max?" "No, I have the voices to keep me company."

Sybil's surprised that Sam and Max want to get dates. I'm 100% sure she ships them.

Lol, she really diagnosed them with "mlm who should be dating."

Lol, she agrees with Max that being a volcano God is better than being a matchmaker.

Mr. Spatula apparently went crazy because of Sam's blood???

"I still don't trust him, Sam. He's tasted your blood."

They're keeping Leonard in the closet!?

Oh, Hugh Bliss. At least he's better than the soda poppers. (I think it says something that peepers creeps me out more than the obvious cult leader).

It's cute that Max is so into the prismatology nonsense.

Bosco is Russian now

Max breaking the fourth wall and staring directly into my soul was slightly creepy

Asdfgh HOW does he have a satellite defence system?

His truth serum is just whiskey or something, right?

Max why would you use someone's toothbrush to clean out your ears????

"I could donate my body to science again, but the guys at the lab seemed pretty spooked last time."

"It's okay Max, I've been paying them out of your retirement fund."

"Federal pudding embargo"

"--Anybody need their nuts cracked" "heehee"

Lol, I got kicked out for trying to enter the war room.

Whizzer is a governor?

Also SHIT I have to deal with the soda poppers again

Chuckles roasting Sam and Max has me dying

"Your codependency sickens me."

Max trying to give Chuckles puppy dog eyes

Sam doesn't know who George Washington is

"Foolish chief executive! Does he not fear us?"

"Just the funnies." "You mean the obituaries, Max." "Potato, patato."

Whizzer is addicted to soda?

"Pop heads"

Sorry Whizzer, we got to get rid of you, drink your soda gdi

"I don't have a conscience, Sam. What's your excuse?"

Oh, I get rid of Chuckles by sending Whizzer to the war room

Oh so we're just killing the president, huh? Good thing he was a puppet (apparently)

"Sam did it!"

Love Chuckles

Oh golem Lincoln is the Lincoln memorial!

The commissioner is omnipotent

Oh, Max gets to add president to his career list!

Superball: "Solid Oak. Good Doors. Strong doors."

"I was on TV" (Yeah my mans, you sure was)

I'm pretty sure I can give sybil Lincoln's flyer... yup!

Oh, no. Do I have to set baby girl up for disaster.

Oh Sybil honey I'm sorry

No baby girl don't cry

Max's happy run to the desk 😭😭😭

And Sam's fond look 💖

Max immediately lording his power, ofc

At least I get to make it up to sybil by giving her enough money to go on a nice vacation.

Bosco honey, please get some new hot dogs

I knew the truth syrum was alcohol.

Hehe funny Easter egg joke go vrr

I'm giving the alcohol to Whizzer. He seems like the most logical choice

Wow little man can not hold his beer

Yeah, alcohol is the best truth serum

Omg they’re actually starting a war

Superball is singing???

What is happening!?

Sam has the most wtf expression ever, Max is just staring ahead

Ok this is a bop

Superball is a really good singer

Omg it just keeps going

At least Superball is having a good time

"Well." "Let's not do that again."

Secretary Superball of Mysterious Gassy Emissions/Secretary of Meats and Cheeses

"A vacation? Permission to weep openly sir." "Granted, and encouraged."

What to do in time of war. 1. Select Target. 2. Press Fire.

Imma blow up EVERYTHING

Asdfg KRYPTON!?

"This will teach them to put me in the Phantom Zone!"

Oh, Bosco IS being watched

Good way to test out his defense system... It works! Good thing cause that would've totally killed him.

Ok I got the Beacon

"I like to think I transcend genre conventions Sam."

"Lincoln smash!"

Max (lounging on table): Shouldn't we revel a little bit?"

"We broke two presidents in one afternoon!"

"Sam, you're my best friend." 🥺🥺🥺

I love these two.

#sam and max #freelance husbands #sam and max freelance police #sam & max #sam & max freelance police #sybil pandemik #bosco #agent superball

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nisrinafm · 3 years

Text

greetings bubs ! the way i’m posting this late because i spent most of my time staring instead of writing asdj . i’m gi , and wow ? i am so excited to be here . i hate to say it , i hope i don’t sound ridiculous , but rich kids plots own me . i’ll be bringing you the complex but loving nisrina , and if you’d like to know more about her just keep on reading .

❝ UPCOMING SINGER NISRINA VASQUEZ SPOTTED IN A SCREAMING MATCH WITH AN UNKNOWN NUMBER WHO COULD IT BE ? ❞

only five minutes ‘till midnight , and we just spotted nisrina vasquez , known for a single diamond hanging between collar bones , painted fingers , & the eagerness to lose herself in the moment , at club nouvea , ringing in the new year ! the twenty one year old is usually known for their job as a musician , but tonight , they’re just another reveler in the crowd . when they wrote down their new year’s resolution , they wished to find forgiveness not for her mother , but for herself , release her first album , & break it to her father that she does not want to take over his hotels . funny enough , they had also mentioned how they hoped to forget about the time that they REDACTED . for what it’s worth , i truly hope they can put the old year past them .

full name. nisrina lluvia vasquez .

gender , pronouns. cis woman , she and her .

date of birth. august seventh , nineteen ninety nine .

age. twenty one .

zodiac sign. leo .

hometown. las vegas , nevada .

current living place. new york .

orientation. bisexual , biromantic .

languages. english & spanish ( fluent ) , italian ( conversational ) .

tattoos , piercings. asdfgh .

occupation. musician .

voiceclaim. sabrina claudio .

had nisrina been the answer to a couple that longed for a family ? no , not even close . she was a solution . the product of desperation that panicked at the discussion of divorce and a future lost of riches : for the vasquez’s , marriage was not fabricated to contain genuineness , but to benefit both parties while providing a stable front to the media . what was expected from one another was not love , it was to withhold the agreement that landed two bodies muttering the words , “ i do , “ . a child ? was never spoken of , nor wanted . getting pregnant was a hidden trick of manipulation , silent words of leave me and your unborn child now and see what happens .

nisrina was a pawn in her mother’s selfish games , an accessory placed in matching outfits and paraded around . motherhood ? it was everything sabine has ever dreamed of . so much that the minute the door closed , the minute the camera’s clicked off , nisrina was placed in whoever’s hands were the closest and dismissed . such a loving mother , right ?

so where’s nisrina’s father in all of this ? the hotel tycoon was the complete opposite from his cold hearted wife . aloof and stern melting into a surprising pool of pure tenderness for his child . he might have been angry at getting stuck in sabine’s trap , but that anger never looked at his daughter ; while ezequiel never dreamed of fatherhood , he embraced it . it taking all of one second of staring down at his daughter’s face to understand that she was now his sun .

growing up in the presence of someone who’s honest about their lack of desire to be a parent , was not something nisrina could stay ignorant to for too long . her innocence normalizing it until she was old enough to perceive the world around her . after that , it became something that was sitting right in front of her face . it was in the books she read , the movies she watched , and in the feeling she got as she surveyed her friends mother’s who looked down at them with tenderness spilling from their hues .

nisrina , she clung to the good in those around her ; no matter how many times those people proved themselves to be anything but deserving of her love . and with her mother ? she tried . again and again , nisrina would reach out for sabine . cry for her affection , plead for an ounce of interest . she could offer gentle smiles , present her achievements , even tried acting out in hopes that it would earn just the slightest reaction .. but nothing ever worked , in fact it seemed to just drive sabine away . until eventually , nisrina was pushed into the arms of a nanny and sabine was on a plane to whatever country would get her the farthest from her daughter .

ezequiel smothered nisrina , went to the extreme lengths to get her anything and everything she could ever want . he wanted to fill the hole that sabine engraved in her , swore that if nisrina would let him , he’d love her enough for the both of them .

with sabine always mia , and her father never staying too long in one place for work , nisrina would be pulled from public school , and enrolling in private studies . giving her the opportunity to learn without being present in a school setting , and allowing her father to bring her along with him . nisrina would go from an empty house with staff members to her father and his hotel staff . not the biggest difference , but to have her father always one room away made her feel less lonely .

during these years , she would only speak to her mother less then three times a year .. but at that point ? she was long over begging her for affection . the media would brand her as a daddy’s girl , the future face of the vasquez hotel chains . her life could consist of penthouses , ruling the hotel kitchen , running aimlessly around hallways , singing in the dinning hall , and finding family in the strangest of places . her father would expand from las vegas , to new york , to the caribbeans , and eventually to italy .

before her eighteenth birthday , her father would divorce sabine officially . putting all of his assets in his daughters name . this would cause chaos in the media , and land sabine on their front steps in false tears and apologizes that meant absolutely nothing to either of them . two year later , sabine would remarry and final ties would be cut forever .

where is nisrina now ? nisrina is located in the beautiful city of new york , in hopes of gaining peace and mind to construct her first album since being signed a year ago . she is still an absolute daddy’s girl and has an insanely close relationship with him . constantly on the mission of bettering herself , and moving on from old wounds .

* CONNECTIONS .

YOU’RE MY BABY , EVEN WHEN YOU LEAVE ME .

that one ex that she cannot let go of , their hold on her too great . it’s something she refuses to admit , is embarrassed at how much she loves them , how she keeps coming back .

I DON’T NEED A MAN , SHE’S MY OTHER HALF , WE GOT SOMETHING NOT A LOT OF OTHERS HAVE .

their relationship has surpassed besties , their souls were made for each other . they’re each other’s person , can speak without communication , bicker like sisters , and are willing to hold each other’s secrets to the grave . a package deal to the end . it’s a forever thing .

JUST CAUSE I FUCK YOU , DON’T MEAN I TRUST YOU ; I DON’T .

a complex relationship of something more but it never crossing that line . these two can share a bed and even affectionate touches but communication , trust , and commitment are not in the books .

THE NIGHT IS DARK BUT THE MOON IS BRIGHT , WE’RE STARING AT THIS SUMMER NIGHT ; TAN SKIN LOOKS DAMN GOOD IN WHITE , STRIPING DOWN BY THE HOLLYWOOD SIGN

her girls , the definition that family is not always blood . from spontaneous girl trips , to clogging each other’s feed , this group of friends are known for their closeness . you either hate them or you love them , but regardless they’re always going to ride for one another .

OTHER

confidants , ex friends , close friends , flings , hookups , rivals , people she just bumps heads with , on and off friendships , will they wont they , literally anything !!! give me drama , angst , and cute friendships .

#nouveau.intro #the way i had wrote headcanons and deleted them all #asdj love that #still working on her pinterest !!!#cant wait to write with all of you

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librarygf · 4 years

Note

I got into Shameless during s10 and I've never actually watched all of s7-9 yet. Is season 8 worth watching my first time through, or should I just skip it? I'm pretty much only watching for gallavich, but I like having more context than just their individual scenes or Ian's individual scenes when Mickey's not there. I hope this ask is not annoying but I trust your opinion/advice. Thank you!!

well you definitely won’t find me recommending s8 asdfghj. most of the storylines truly are bad, even fiona’s, but as always lip’s has some moments, and ian’s has a few too (they’re really not top level either though). if you really are interested, i’d recommend either watching the whole season but skipping through to watch those or, if you can’t be bothered, watching from 8x01-8x03 for ian’s monica grief (and maybe 8x07 bc it’s a pretty good lip episode). but you could also just watch the recap in the first s9 episode and let that be enough asdfgh bc it really is not good

#em answers #long answer to a simple question lol but these are some options

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mazojo · 2 years

Text

Spring 2022 Anime Opinions

As always ranking the anime I watched this season based on my opinions don’t take it personally thx xoxo

Bubble

Honestly as I was writing this I completely forgot I had watched this till doing the tier list so thats that. Its not like offensive or anything but its not a very fun movie, I cant really remember anything about it ASDFGH It had cool visuals I think? Like the little mermaid but boring sorry ;w;

Kunoichi Tsubaki no Mune no Uchi

I dont… I dont know about the one peeps asdfghj it seems wrong what I am watching, like its trying to appease to some sort of loli thing and it makes me very uncomfortable. I dont like that they just hate on man for (???) reason and that it seems more like a bait than anything. Some cute character dynamics but not enough to save it for me.

Aharen-san wa Hakarenai

this show is SO boring ASDFGHJ I am so sorry if you like it but like,,,, I really wanted to like it but,,,,, its just sO slow nothing happens nothing goes on no character stands out the animation is average at best… It gives ‘go girl give us nothing’ energy. Its like Komi san but without its two likable characters so its just boring as I have nothing to look forward to.

Komi-san wa, Comyushou desu. 2nd Season

speaking of komi san ASDFGHJ I tend to not speak about this show here because I dont want an influx of hardcore Stans coming to attack but komi san is just…. An average show imo :// I dont like when shows romanticize in a way social anxiety and introversion because its something I deal with and the way they uwu about it makes me :/// iffy. Also Yamai may be toeing the line of my most hated fictional character ever. Every time she comes on screen I audibly supreme a groan, I hate everything she says I hate how she sexualizes Komi I hate that her whole character trait is being the “psychotic lesbian” so straight white boys can make fun of on twitter, I hate it. To be fair I hate almost all the characters here, they are almost all cringey and just, not real people whatsoever. The only characters savable are Tadano, Najimi and Onemine, the rest are trash. I dont like this show I am sorry ;w;

Otome Game Sekai wa Mob ni Kibishii Sekai desu

This show goes from being extremely boring to extremely mid, no in between asdfgh I like when Angelica and Olivia are being girlfriends and…. Thats about it. I think the princes are all boring, Leon has its moments here and there and its just very random lmao. I think the concept in itself has more potential than the actual delivery but hey I mean I am still watching it so thats that.

Dance Dance Danseur

AA PLEASE DONT HATE ME BECAUSE I REALLY REALLY REALLY WANTED TO LIKE AND LOVE THIS SHOW AND,,,,, I dont hate it, its just not for me ;w; I like the message but I am not gonna lie familia, I find Ballet extremely boring :( And this is no shade to anyone who enjoys it but I’ve never been a dancer myself so its just very hard for me to connect with whats happening. I guess its like someone who doesn’t like or enjoys art watched Blue period, they will most likely be bored half the time. And I don’t mean it in a way that you cant connect with something you haven’t experienced because I like learning about new things and stuff but asdfgh idk man most of the episodes are just kind of boring to me :( and the characters aren’t strong enough to keep me interested but I do think the message is cool so points for it ^^

Kawaii dake ja Nai Shikimori-san

This show is cute, in a boring way but still cute. Like,,,, nothing happens ASDFGHJ But I think the dynamic is adorable so I can forgive it. I normally like ships and dynamics that have a bit more banter and this one is pretty tame and easy but I mean its an alright watch, there are some good moments here and there.

Love all play

This show is like a rollercoaster because one week I think its amazing, poetic, a master piece, and then the next its cliche and nothing happens SKSKSKKS So I am not sure where to rank it. I think it started off not as my favorite and then I got to know the team and I thought their dynamic was really fun and then it died down again so I mean yeah, very okay-ish sports anime, nothing much more to say lol.

Gunjou no Fanfare

I dont know if I like or hate this show ASDFGHJ I have a love-hate thing with this because I don’t like horses so like whenever it dwells into horse territory (which is like, the main theme of the show) it kinda loses me but then some of the characters (shoutout to Hayato, Sakuraba and Aki truly the only ones ever) are interesting but then they go back to the uninteresting parts and idk ASDFG I do think the whole idol struggle with Yuu was nice and innovative but then by ep 7 it was lowkey resolved so like ?? Idk, watch it for Hayato I guess clink clink

Summertime Render

This show also goes up and down for me too lmaoo, because I went into it and I loved it, proceeded to read the manga in like a week and because of it my enjoyment greatly decreased ASDFGHJK I dont know how to delve into this without spoilers but the pacing of the show is,,,, weird. Weird in the sense that it leaves you kind of questioning things and tbh theres barely any character development to anyone. The animation is pretty tho and I really enjoy the eeriness to it but I think I went in with higher expectations than I should have rip

Kakkou no Iinazuke

This is a trainwreck, but I like train wrecks so I can cant somehow stop watching and I am flabbergasted each week more by it. As the good Latina I am, I’ve watched my fair share of telenovelas and this is the most telenovela esque trope ever but in anime format it makes it somehow 10 times more ridiculous. Tell me that the concept of being switched at birth only to be reunited years later by fate and THEN arranged a MARRIAGE (!!!!) by your parents with your switched person because they wanted to unite the families or something isn’t the most INSANE thing ever ASDFGHJ HOW DO YOU GET FROM POINT A TO B HELLO??? But hey I like mess so I mean I am all for it clink clink. The only thing I hate is the sister thing, I hope she is not a serious love interested because like I get she ain’t his biological sister but,,,,,,, my dudes she grew up as her SIBLING how do you go from that to crush like byE.

Tomodachi Game

You know, I know that y’all like shitting on tomodachi game but its one of my favorite mangas so therefore I love it ASDFGHJ. The thing with tomodachi game (and I commented it in a previous note) is that an anime adaption is very difficult to do well because of the way its a snowball effect sort of story (idk how to explain it without getting into spoilers). JUST READ THE MANGA OKAY AND IF YOU WATCH IT DO IT FOR KEI THE MANGA IS SO GOOD. Be careful with the triggers tho, read them before watching or reading, it delves into some very dark topics.

Koi wa Sekai Seifuku no Ato de

Koiseka is the ugliest romcom ever but I forgive it because its also the dumbest romcom ever SKKSKS I love enemies to lovers and secret dating so all the tropes are taken into account and I appreciate the flavor. I hate the animation but they are all so cute and its very dumb and the plot isn’t anything to really write home about but its cute so give it a go if you want a chill romance where you don’t have to think much other than the red power ranger likes villain.

Rikei ga Koi ni Ochita no de Shoumei shitemita. Heart

Rikekoi is in a weird spot for me because there have been things I liked and disliked from this season but just because I love the concept of STEM people being completely awful at flirting it goes up skskks. People are liking this season more than the last but idk, I think I got to differ because I rEALLY liked season 1 ;w; not saying s2 is bad its just… The pacing seems a bit off and the plot seems to go around in circles at some points where it shouldn’t imo. Not enough Ibarada and Inukai either so //sad noises

Paripi Koumei

This was supposed to be my gag show of the season but I gotta admit when I am wrong and this one really surprised me ngl. It’s like,,,,, crack,,,, but taken seriously,,,, but it somewhat works?? I think I would love it more if I was more into the music industry but it still slaps and the characters are very cute, I love Kabe, Eiko and Nanami and the latter two should kiss. Defo give it a watch ^^

Ao Ashi

I am a weak bitch for sports anime and this wasn’t the exception and Ao Ashi did nOT disappoint everyone cheer. I don’t now if its because I actually understand football or what but I love this show, I am reading the manga and I am already like on chapter 140 lmaoo. The animation is great, the characters too, I enjoy the pacing and plot, although it seems a bit draggy at first its very good give it a go. Do it for Kuroda, Koi, Togashi and Otomo truly the only men ever.

Tiger & Bunny 2

The following ones are all very ties to number one spot because they make me happy and are my comfort shows so I will ramble. Tiger and bunny is a show I discovered like, a month ago, and it consumed me completely asdfgh. I love superhero societies done well (not like ehemm other shows) and I think tiger and bunny nails it. The realism behind the struggles of actually building a hero corporation are shown and the characters on this show are SO good. There is not a single character from the main cast that is unlikeable imo and the way it follows each of their stories and struggles makes for interesting dynamics and storytellings. The ships are also top tier, we got no other choice but to Stan everyone go watch this and give Kotetsu some love he needs it.

Kaguya-sama wa Kokurasetai: Ultra Romantic

I don’t think I have much to say regarding love is war other than it slaps, it always had slapped and it will, as a matter of fact, continue to slap. The comedy on this show is AMAZINg and the dynamics are hilarious. The arc that is coming up is very good and yeah,,, I honestly don’t know why not many people talk about Love is War on Tumblr but its really good lol go consume good romance media.

Heroine Tarumono! Kiraware Heroine to Naisho no Oshigoto

shoutout to like, the other 3 people who watch, enjoy and digest this show with me because I am ngl, its becoming a comfort show ASDFGHJK ITS SO GOOD OKAY I LIKE IDOL SHOWS YES. Is it technically better produced than love is war or had a more well built story than tiger and bunny? No, probably no, not really. Do I enjoy it and it makes me happy every single week I look forward to it? You bet it does! Herotaru is just a very idol show but I love the character dynamics and I love Hiyori my queen my everything and the silly little idol boys with their silly little enemies to lovers routine they are the entire circus and-….. I think its neat okay? Okay, now everyone reading this needs to go watch Herotaru, do it for Hiyori best girl.

Spy x Family

omg can you say epIC proportions !!! I think everyone and their mothers has heard of spy x family at this point so I won’t ramble about how good it is but !!! So good !!! The storytelling is great and they’ve adapted the manga fantastically imo. I love Anya and the kids (Damian my soN) as well as the adult story line with Yor and Loid so yeah !!! Probs gonna be best anime of the year we got no choice but to ascend !

#i still HATe tumblr doesn’t let me add 10 pics for the gifs but whatever I like to be ✨ aesthetic ✨ so I’ll add the ones I can lol #spoilers btw AMSKSSK BUt yeah my thots #great lineup tho! normally I despise a show but most of them are pretty good ngl #anime #long post #anime spring 2022 #anime recommendation #i ain’t tagging them all only the top SKSKSK #spy x family #herotaru #love is war #tiger and bunny

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mar-bluu · 4 years

Note

Hi hello!! Elmer for the character hcs thingy :)

sklahsldfk okee dokee!!

2-4 songs that are probably on their iPod: asdfgh okay so i kind of made a playlist but to pick a few from there, Better Together- Jack Johnson, Life Could Be a Dream- The Stanford Mendicants, Wannabe- Spice Girls, and Wake Me up Before You Go-Go- Wham!

the one place they sometimes end up falling asleep — where they’re not supposed to: There’s this one big oak tree in a local park where Elmer goes to relax or play around with some of his friends like Romeo, Albert, Blink and Mush, and Buttons, but if he goes by himself he always ends up crashing by the tree. whether it’s under the shade of the leaves, or on one of the lower, flat branches he can lay on :)

the game they’d destroy everyone else at: Honestly? Mario Kart, as cliche as it is, but he can kick ANYONE’S ass at it! He's only ever lost once, and that was to Crutchie, his protege. Elmer was very proud and gracious loser (and it definitely knocked him down a peg, which they could all laugh at)

the emoticon they’d use most often: 🌻🌻 sunflower emoji baby! yes i’m bringing it back to the sunflower hcs >:3 🌻🌻 what they act like when they haven’t had enough sleep: it depends, a lot of the time he’s very s p a c e y like extremely s p a c e y . Someone’ll try to get his attention maybe seven or eight times before Elmer shows even the slightest response. he also likes to wander. like he’ll be standing there and his brains just ‘okay time to go now’ and his legs start carrying him away while Elmer doesn’t even know what’s happening. so he has to be watched very closely!! especially after the time he almost walked straight into a busy street. he’s also a stage 5 clinger. MUST be being touched/held/carried at all times, which is also a good way to keep an eye on him

their preferred hot beverage on really cold nights. or mornings. or whenever: He’s a big tea drinker, but has a soft spot for hot chocolate (especially Davey’s, it just tastes better for some reason). for an all round drink creaming soda is his go to (the kirks one, not like spider drinks)

how they like to comfort/care for themselves when they’re in a slump: goes on walks/trips to the park with the oak tree! the fresh air helps clear his head :3 he also paints or asks someone (usually Buttons) to paint his nails, he can focus on the colours rather than whatever’s stressing him

what they wanted to be when they grew up: my boi wanted to be a marine biologist (yes im projecting, let me have this) ever since he was little he’s been a BIG fan of the water and everything that lives there, especially dolphins and seahorses! he got to swim with dolphins for his 10th birthday and it’s one of his favourite memories

their favorite kind of weather: he’s a big fan of thunderstorms and the weather leading up to the storm. the yellowy-grey sky, the strong winds and tension in the air?? he LIVES for that stuff!

thoughts on their singing voice (decent? terrible? soprano? alto?): Elmer’s a pretty decent singer! he doesn’t think so, but he’s wrong. he’s an alto, and likes singing in the shower or when he’s doing activities that take up a lot of focus. he also sings when he’s scared.

how/what they like to draw or doodle: Sunflowers babyyyy!!! yeahhh i’m bringing it back again! it’s usually in the corners or edges of paper whenever he’s lost in thought or just plain bored. in school, he’d draw on the back of his physics exams, doodles of sunflowers and bees and butterflies, and sometimes dolphins and other sea creatures :3

Thanks dude! :)) Send me a character and i’ll give you these super cool headcanons!

#asks!#jae writes kinda #hc fuel #elmer kasprzak #newsies #cutesiewoojin #:))

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derelict-heirs · 4 years

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finally... horny rights Unleashed.... A, D, K, N, S, Y for Ilya, Amelia & Grey

its TIME for some horny rights, i’ve been contained for too long. responses are still a touch tame, gotta warm up these muscles a little! // help me inaugerate this blog with some horny rights!

A - Alone time (how do they get off when they’re all by themselves? do they watch porn, is it all in their imagination, do they jerk off, do they use toys?)

Ilya — Ilya I’d have to say has quite a solid imagination, he’d be fine on his lonesome with just his hands, though he probably isn’t afraid to dabble with toys if he’s in a Mood. In any modern au he probably also wouldn’t be afraid to give Maeve a call while he’s at it.

Amelia — I’m gonna say Amelia would not be a fan of porn, because for her sex is a bit more of an intimacy thing for her and watching others wouldn’t do much for her in the long run. She’d get herself along best with her hands, always has.

Greyson — Thottison himself over here has the range. For a modern au, he’d watch porn, but in the og setting he’d get on just fine by himself and his hands and plenty of raunchy thoughts about someone he’d rather be sharing the night with. Sometimes hands just ain’t enough tho, a man’s gotta have an arsenal on hand for a good night ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

D - Dominance (do they prefer to dominate, or be dominated? do they have experience as a Dom? Do they have a Dom that they trust already? What kind of things do they enjoy as/with their Dominant partner?)

Ilya — Ilya is more dominate just in the sense he likes to be the one in control and making sure his partner is enjoying themselves, that being said it’s properly a major turn on for him to be dominated. As the dominant partner, he likes to draw out the night as much as possible by any means necessary; extended foreplay, orgasm denial, multiple rounds, etc. Being dominated, Ilya probably enjoys being told what to do most.

Amelia — Amelia probably wouldn’t be one for being dominated/dominating others in this sense. Sex has strong emotional ties for her and its again that intimacy thing for her, and she already feels very vulnerable during those moments. Adding dominance to it might be a bit much for her unless there’s some serious discussions before/after.

Greyson — Greyson can turn it on in an instant to dominate someone else and set the right tone, but the man truly enjoys being dominated most. Restraints and orgasm denial would do it for him in those situations. Not having that control for once with someone he trusts is a good release, no pun intended lol.

K - Kissing (what parts of their body do they like having kissed? what parts of their partner do they enjoy kissing? do they like leaving marks / having marks left on them?)

Ilya — Tabby’s recent posting mentioned inner wrists and look, a bitch never thought of it before but its true. His inner wrists and shoulders are places where a kiss would make him shiver. Depending on his partner he’d switch up where he kisses, but he’d be consistent with behind the ear issues. He definitely enjoys leaving a mark and being marked.

Amelia — Neck, wrists, thighs, and waist for places Amelia enjoys being kissed, some nice tender spots for all kinds of situations. She’d enjoy kissing her partner’s lip, neck, and naval most. As for being marked, she probably doesn’t mind being marked but it’d fluster her after the fact.

Greyson — Like above, Greyson enjoys leaving a mark but he enjoys being marked the most. Hips, waist, thighs, wrists, hands, and throat for areas he likes being kissed, and he’d enjoy leaving a mark just about anywhere else on his partner.

N - Not yet (orgasm delay? orgasm denial? do they tell their partner not to touch themselves for a certain amount of time or under certain circumstances? do they delay or deny other things like bathroom usage or food? do they need to beg first? do they like being denied / delayed?)

Ilya — Ilya enjoys being denied in some circumstances, in others he gets impatient but still enjoys that thrill all the same. Denying a partner’s orgasm is bread and butter for him just in amping up the tension. A classic move would be pinning his partner’s wrists and just teasing them with from kisses or breath play until they begged or asked him nicely.

Amelia — She’s probably not experienced in denying orgasms herself, but having it done to her is a Lot. With her partner, she wouldn’t be afraid to beg for them to keep going.

Greyson — He’s definitely experienced in denying orgasms, purely by virtue of the fact he likes to put his partner through the wringer and make the night last. It’s less about telling his partners not to touch themselves and more refraining them from doing so as he teases them through foreplay or dirty talk, and he enjoys much the same on the receiving end.

S - Sleepy sex (do they give oral to wake their partner up? do they like receiving oral to wake up? do they like fucking their partner awake? being fucked awake? how about being fucked to sleep at night? do they have lazy morning sex?)

Ilya — I don’t think Ilya could do lazy morning sex, because there’s nothing Lazy about him at all. If he’s not giving it 110% then he doesn’t feel like he’s doing his partner justice. He probably wouldn’t be giving oral without knowing his partner was stirring and there’s been a little hushed talk about a little special something to help them wake up, Ilya’s all about making sure his partner’s feel comfortable.

Amelia — Amelia would have to be riding a very specific high from the night before to give her partner oral to wake them up, and only if she knew for certain they would be comfortable with that. Lazy morning sex that’s more cuddling and kissing throughout is definitely up her alley.

Greyson — He definitely enjoys some lazy morning sex, though more often than not it would lead to a more intense second round, probably in the shower after at that while the mood is still fresh. He’d definitely enjoy being fucked awake by a partner, no better way to start the day with a bit of vitamin-D after all!

Y - Yes, Master (what kinds of names are used during sex? do they like being called master / mistress, daddy, etc…? what names do they call their partner?)

Ilya — If the mood is right… I can’t say Ilya wouldn’t mind being called daddy / master. He’s the true resident dilf and a thot by nature, by law I must allow it.

Amelia — Amelia would be all about the romantic pet names, love and dear and sweetheart, etc.

Greyson — Maeve is literally the only person who I think could get away with called Greyson daddy in bed, or would want to probably asdfgh and on that note, Maeve is likely the only person Greyson would enjoy being called daddy by. Beyond that, romantic pet names absolutely do it for him in bed, and being called Greyson over Grey would have him in shambles.

#verse; witcher #verse; witcher au #oc; ilya #oc; amelia #oc; greyson #oc asks #thewildmother

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dragimal · 4 years

Text

Longform Audio Creepypasta Recs

hey TMA fandom! as a new TMA listener but looooongtime creepypasta fan, I find it rly cool that ppl who aren’t into horror are getting into TMA! I’m hoping this will help bring fresh blood (hah) to the horror fandom, so if you’ve realized that you rather like audio horror but don’t know what else to look into, I’m here to recommend my favorite longform creepypasta narrations!

this is far from an exhaustive list of long creepypastas, but I just want to introduce some of the stories I consider to be the best of the genre. and while I’m just reccing longform in this post, there are plenty of short one-shots I could rec if anyone wants to ask me abt a specific theme/Entity or even a specific ep of TMA (there are several MAG eps that brought me straight back to a specific creepypasta or two, lmao)

also, I’ll just be linking to MrCreepyPasta’s narrations b/c I’m heavily biased so I mostly listen to him, but there are plenty of other great narrators out there like CreepsMcPasta, CreepypastaJr, etc. (most of their names are variations on a theme asdfgh). and if u just want the text version of any of these, every video I link has a link in its own description back to the original text posting of the story

THAT outta the way, here are my recs! I’ll try to remember all the trigger warnings I can, but keep in mind I tend to be p hardy to most horror content, so there may be some things that slip past simply b/c they don’t register to me. also it’s been a minute since I’ve listened to some of these, so some have updated or I may have just forgotten some aspects. I’ll also update this if ppl find it useful and I find more good long pastas~

Penpal (2.5 hrs, complete)

op recounts some of their odd experiences as a child, all of which stem from an elementary school project involving a pen pal. as he recalls these experiences, a horrifying picture of his past begins to emerge...

easily my favorite pasta of all time-- and that’s saying something, considering there are some damn good recs here. it’s one of the first I read so long ago, and few have come close to what this one made me feel. op does an incredible job of capturing the nostalgia and childhood wanderlust of youth, and the last few lines of each chunk of the story hit like a goddamned truck-- esp "Friends”, I cry like a baby every time, it just.... hits something tender in me...

TW: stalking of children, subsequent kidnapping and child abuse at the end (and while it’s not necessarily *confirmed*, heavy implications of child sexual abuse, for that last bit). implied cat death. some graphic description of the victim of a hit-and-run

Search and Rescue Woods (~5 hrs, ongoing?)

op recalls several of the strange and disturbing experiences (their own and quoted from coworkers) of working search-and-rescue for an unnamed national forest in the US

y’know that feeling u get when u see photos lawn chairs just sitting at the bottom of the ocean? even if there’s a perfectly good explanation for why they’re there, it’s still haunting b/c it feels wrong to see them there, in that context? that’s basically this entire assortment of stories-- the obvious example being the stairs, of course, but even a lot of the human elements feel so out of place and wrong. if you’re a fan of Spiral-type horror w/ a hard edge of Stranger, this is the story for u

TW: generally clinical but graphic descriptions of mutilated bodies. use of the r-slur against an nd individual (it’s during a story that the main character is quoting from a different one-off character, so it thankfully only happens the one time..). child death, in certain stories. some wild animal death

Borrasca (2.5 hrs, complete)

Sam moves to a small mountain town with his family after his father’s job relocates them. he hears some spooky legends about the town, but doesn’t think much of them... that is, until his sister disappears. as Sam and his friends dig deeper into the town’s history to find any clues to his sister’s disappearance, they begin to realize there’s something deeply deeply wrong with their quaint little home

I’ve always loved horror that’s ‘mundane’ enough to be done by regular humans, but vague enough that it could actually be supernatural, under the right circumstances-- and this is one of those mysteries that keeps u guessing until the VERY end. my mind felt like that Pepe Silvia corkboard meme the first time I listened to this, I was losin’ it. this is also prolly one of my favorite examples of MCP’s talent as a narrator, b/c he adds in his own subtle foreshadowing with his voicework, and it blows my mind every time I listen to it again

also worth mentioning there’s a (3.5 hr) sequel! since the horror/mystery is basically done after the first one, the sequel is mostly suspense/thriller and character closure. if ur just here for the horror/mystery and the gut-punch of that first ending, then the sequel isn’t necessary. but if you want more closure for our dear sweet cast who deserve so much better, then by all means!

TW: the ending involves heavy sexual abuse (involving underage girls, no less), part of which is graphic. like I know I joke abt having to take breaks after reading emotionally exhausting stories, but I genuinely had to take a couple days of recovery after this one-- and that’s from someone who’s p hardy to all kinds of graphic content. do NOT take this warning lightly if this is a sensitive topic for you

Tales From the Gas Station (10 hrs for free, otherwise ongoing)

Jack works at a gas station at the edge of a middle-of-nowhere town. Strange things happen at the gas station-- bipedal deer stopping by for a drink, dark gods leaving vague messages, fingers growing from the ground out back, sudden lawn gnome appearances-- All just a part of the daily grind, right?

so if I wanna be totally fair, this is more a rec for Night Vale fans than anything (tho the TMA/WTNV overlap seems to be p significant). the comedic, nonchalant tone taken towards everything supernatural and horrific is p much 1:1 WTNV. I’ve genuinely cried laughing at some of the fuckshit that happens, esp anything involving Jerry. not to say that GST doesn’t have its heavy-horror moments, but the frequency is more comparable to Night Vale’s approach-- dark comedy definitely takes center stage, here. tho this also varies by the POV-- the “Finding Vanessa” arcs are told from the perspective of a more serious character, so the heavy parts are far more frequent and hit a lot harder

as for the time estimate, here’s where it gets a littleee bit complicated. the first version was put out for free, and read for free by MCP (among a few other narrators). this came out in several different parts, and the one video I linked above has compiled *most* of volume 1, but not the Halloween story, featured here. HOWEVER, the author has taken a second go at v1 and beyond, which is currently ongoing and available to buy as books or audiobooks ALSO narrated by MCP!

as for deciding which version to listen to, I’ll just try to describe the differences here. the first version was written entirely via Jack’s online forum posts, which were subject to more direct reader interaction and Jack’s scatterbrain. thus, the first version leaves a LOT more details up to reader interpretation/theorizing, straight up doesn’t have or explain certain plot arcs yet, and is very disorganized in terms of timeline all due to Jack’s canon memory issues. this all, personally, made it v fun and silly to follow, but I’m aware that’s not for everyone. the second version is written from a more standard first person narrative from Jack’s perspective. while Jack’s memory issues still make him an unreliable narrator (often *upsettingly* so in this version), the actual narrative is far more organized, complete, and easy to follow. the fun thing is that the first version can still be considered canon material to the second version, as Jack references making those very forum posts within the second version narrative. so, personally, I consider the second version to be the core cohesive story, while the first version is supplemental, fun material that provides more context for a few of the strange bits that happen in the story (like Jack’s ‘secret admirer’ makes more sense if u’ve listened to the first version). either way, the second version is the only way the story is going to continue (as far as I’m aware), so if you’re ONLY going to listen to one version of the story, listen to the second version

TW: for the first version, there are some uncomfortable jokes/implications at certain points-- associating villains/assholes with fatness and/or personality disorders is unfortunately a running theme, and a few off-color jokes are made abt some of Jack’s conditions (general mental health and his brief use of crutches). there’s also a point at which it’s implied that a specific one-off arc is a ploy to rape Jack, tho nothing actually comes of it beyond awkward scheming (but just in case, that story is specifically “Death at the Gas Station” at the very end of that long compilation, if u wanna skip it). for the second version, I believe the author was made aware of these issues and either straight-up removed or fixed most of them in some way. there’s just one point where an intentionally-questionable character uses the g*psy slur, and a few points where a regular commenter on Jack’s forum posts has w*ndigo in their username

in terms of gore for either one, uhhh maybe some descriptions of injuries? body horror? this one’s a lot harder to call for me, b/c the comedy softens the blow on a lot of the horror

Accounts From a Lonely Broadcast Station (5 hrs, ongoing)

Evelyn is the new voice of a small mountain town’s local radio station. her job is to take calls, play music (ALWAYS play the music), and broadcast emergency warnings whenever the fog rolls in from the surrounding forest. pretty standard stuff. she tries to make the most of it-- if only that damn crow with human eyes would stop watching her...

this one’s similar to Gas Station Tales with its heavy reliance on dark humor, but it takes itself a bit more seriously, with a more even split b/t genuine horror and comedy. also MCP brings in wonderful extra voice talent w/ this one, I RLY love Evelyn's va ;w;

TW: graphic descriptions of mutilation and body horror

My Friend Has Been Living in an Alternate Reality (4 hrs, complete)

op’s eccentric friend, Clint, turns up on op’s doorstep unannounced after several years missing. Clint vanishes again just as abruptly, leaving op with a journal detailing a horrifying, dangerous journey that’s almost too bizarre to believe, yet...

so this one’s more like an action/thriller with horror garnish, tbh-- very exciting and suspenseful! I love the weird, apocalyptic world Clint describes in his journals, and the societies that have cropped up around these hostile circumstances

TW: graphic descriptions of mutilation/injury

My Name is Lily Madwhip (~8 hrs, ongoing)

Lily Madwhip sees things before they happen. they’re usually horrible things like deaths and injuries that she wishes she could prevent but often can’t. at least her best friend-- an angel possessing one of Lily’s dolls-- is around to provide advice

this one’s from the perspective of a little girl, and it leans into dark humor enough to soften at least some of the more traumatic moments. Lily’s young enough that she’s somewhat removed from the full gravity of the deaths around her, but the fact that it’s happening so frequently at all seems to be warping her perspective towards death to be more... casual? is that the right word? it’s just a rly interesting perspective to see for horror. also we’ve got another rly great guest va here for Lily~

TW: brief descriptions of injury, but they’re not graphic. frequent animal death.

The Showers (2.75 hrs, complete)

op recounts a scary story he heard from a teacher back in high school about a vague location and a terrifying encounter. he later ventures to find this location to see the truth for himself, but is it worth it?

this one’s a classic-- I think it was of the first creepypasta I listened to? not this version, but I wouldn’t be able to tell u which narrator it was at the time. I won’t say that this one’s the most unique story out there, but something abt it has always stuck with me?.... idk, I think the premise rly hooks me

TW: oh god it’s been a while, but I don’t remember anything particularly triggering? maybe body horror?

#creepypasta #creepypastas #the magnus archives #tma #shut up ashley #blease give creepypasta a chance I need more horror friends /wretched crying emoji/#also I would've recced 1999 but I JUST found out abt all the controversy over someone reposting and pasting in parts from other stories #I totally understand why op wouldn't want the story narrated anymore shit sucks

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