#totally not inspired my someone else's good formatting | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

powerfultenderness · 1 year

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I posted 4,278 times in 2022

That's 2,561 more posts than 2021!

562 posts created (13%)

3,716 posts reblogged (87%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@just-an-adventurer

@appleblonde18

@chemmerson

@tealcat001

@captain-icicle

I tagged 1,778 of my posts in 2022

#freddie stroma - 222 posts

#vigilante - 173 posts

#adrian chase - 166 posts

#when i cant write or sleep - 141 posts

#i make mediocre gifs - 124 posts

#adrian chase x reader - 99 posts

#vigilante x reader - 97 posts

#freddie stroma is too powerful - 82 posts

#time after time - 75 posts

#fic rec - 63 posts

Longest Tag: 128 characters

#i'd just waddle around being cute and getting free food from suckers until i was sleepy then take a nap and do it all over again

My Top Posts in 2022:

Armwrestling

Rated: Mature

Pairing: Reader(F)/Vigilante

Summary: There has to be a way to determine who the second strongest member of the team is!

Warnings: Just some smooching

Word Count: 2650

A/N: 💪

[Masterlist]

[Line Divider]

See the full post

263 notes - Posted July 27, 2022

Dare

Rated: T+

Pairing: gn!Reader/Adrian Chase

Summary: Inspired by [this post ]: “What would you do if your fave was dared to kiss the prettiest person in the room and without missing a beat they came to you?”

Warnings: Some smooching.

Word Count: 2553

A/N: Big shout out and thanks to @pretendfan for helping bounce ideas around and for encouraging me after I got critically hit with impostor syndrome while writing this. ❤

[Masterlist]

[Line Divider]

See the full post

277 notes - Posted August 28, 2022

He's totally NOT my pretend boyfriend.

Notes: typed this up on my phone during lunch. Will fix formatting when I get home. Fake dating with Adrian Chase/Vigilante.

Word count: 576

[Part 2]

Adrian walked into the office, slightly confused as to where everyone else was. You were the only one in, and you were on the phone. You were hunched over, pinching your nose with one hand, and heaved out a heavy sigh. "No, mom. I don't want to meet your neighbor's son."

Yea, even he could tell this was not a phone call to interrupt, so he sat down and started to clean one of his guns. "Because. Because I already have a boyfriend…no I'm not lying to you!" Adrian raised a brow, he'd thought the two of you got along really well and he never heard you mention a boyfriend in all the times the two of you hung out. "Yes it is serious! I've just, we've, just been so busy with work that I haven't had time to tell you." He felt himself frowning and did his best to keep up his neutral face. Chris knew, and maybe Adebayo knew, that Adrian might have had a little bit of a tiny crush on you. "Yes, we work together. He's a freelancer though." Well now he was just confused! You were dating someone at work? There were only four men on the team: him, Chris, John and Murn. But a freelancer? Murn and John were definitely with the government. Which left him and Chris. Were you…? Were you dating Chris? He lost his concentration on his weapon and one of the springs jumped out of his hands. He cursed and crawled on the floor to look for the missing small piece. "You good, bruh?" You whispered to him, holding the phone away from your ear. He could faintly hear your mother's voice on the other end. Adrian pushed his glasses up and gave you a thumbs up and a nod. You stared at him skeptically for a moment but were drawn back to your personal drama. "He's great, mom." You sighed with a roll of your eyes. "Uh, what's he like? He's uhm, really sweet. And funny. And cute." He found his missing piece and turned back to the desk, glad to have an excuse not to watch you rhapsodize about his best friend. "What's his name? You want to know his name?...Of course he has a name. His name is, uh, his name is Adrian!" Adrian spun around so quickly he was certain he gave himself whiplash. "Me?!" He pointed at himself, big eyes blinking rapidly as he tried to process what he just heard. You shook your head and waved a hand at him, "don't worry about it." You whispered. He was still staring at you when panic filled your face. Your eyebrows shot up as your eyes widened, your mouth dropped and you snapped a hand over your mouth to muffle a squeak. "Whatdoyoumeanyou'regonnabehereFriday?!...ahem, no, no, mom. It's too soon to introduce him to my family, it'll scare him away!...yea…yea I did say it was serious…" You started tapping your foot from sudden nervous energy as you continued to listen to your mom. "Yea. OK. We'll, we'll meet you Friday. Bye bye, love you too." You hung up and let out a silent scream. "Ooh fuck! Fuckfuckfuckfuck!" You jumped up and started pacing, shaking your hands and repeating yourself over and over. You didn't stop until Adrian called your name. You sucked in a breath and tried your best to smile sweetly. "Adriannnn. Uhm, can I ask you a favor?"

302 notes - Posted March 29, 2022

Uh-oh

Summary: As the unmasked Vigilante tied you up with gauze, you came to the shocking and rather embarrassing realization that it’s not fear that you’re feeling, but arousal. You try to keep your voice down, hoping your coworkers don’t notice you discovering a new kink.

Pairing: Reader/Vigilante

Warnings: Kink discovery (is that a thing?)

Word Count: 903

[Masterlist][Ao3]

As the unmasked Vigilante tied you up with gauze, you came to the shocking and rather embarrassing realization that it’s not fear that you’re feeling, but arousal. As if sensing the intensity of your stare, he pauses and looks up at you.

“Is this ok?”

This maniac was just contemplating killing you and your coworkers but was now worried about whether he was tying your restraints too tightly? It was..sweet, in a way…maybe? Oh boy.

You gulped, “You should probably…tie them tighter…”

His brows scrunch up in confusion behind those wire framed glasses you’re not sure if you like or not, they fit him well, oddly enough, but you’d rather there be no barrier in front of those pretty green eyes.

“I mean, if you don’t want me getting out too soon.”

You try to keep your voice down, hoping your coworkers don’t notice you discovering a new kink.

“Oh! Right!” He responds and tightens one of the makeshift ropes around your ankle, causing you to bite back an excited squeak.

Uh-oh. This was…not good.

You’d been working so many hours lately, that you hadn’t had time to go grocery shopping. Yesterday you resorted to a dinner of peanut butter and jelly on a spoon. The bread aisle was definitely where you were going to start when you finally got around to shopping.

So it was that you found yourself freaking out at a diner as you looked at the busboy in the back before ducking your head behind a menu and repeating the action several times.

“You’re a fucking busboy!” “Oh, great! Now we definitely have to kill them, because you’re giving away stuff about my secret identity!”

Yea, that was definitely him. As if you could ever forget the man that’s been haunting your thoughts for weeks now.

When the waitress arrives you order the first thing you see, not really interested in eating anymore.

“Hey, uhm. Do you know his deal?” You ask her, trying to be subtle with a toss of your head in his direction. “Does he have like, a girlfriend? Or boyfriend maybe?”

She raises a brow at you, “Who Adrian?” Aw, what a nice name.

Then she smiles. “I don’t know. Why, someone have a little crush?”

“Yeaaa, I’m just trying to decide if I should try to talk to him orrr…” You let out an embarrassed laugh.

“I’ll send him over to refill your water.” She says with a wink before walking away to put your order in.

You’ve never slurped down water faster.

A few minutes later you bury your face in your hands, wondering just what the hell you were thinking! You should have turned around and walked right out the second you noticed him! What did you even want him to do? Tie you up again? Well…yes. But then what? Actually, your mind could conjure up a few ideas of wh-

“Hi there! Refill?”

A cheery voice startles you from your thoughts, causing you to jump slightly in your seat.

See the full post

413 notes - Posted March 26, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Proof

Summary: When a stranger claiming to be your ex not-quite boyfriend breaks into your home, you have no choice to ask for proof of who he is. “You heard me. I mean, I’ve never seen his face, but I’ve seen him without a shirt plenty of times. Now. Take. It. Off.”

Rated: Mature

Pairing: gn!Reader/Vigilante

Warnings: Sexual situations. Partial nudity (on Vigilante’s part). Slight dub con.

Word Count: 3565

A/N: It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I’m sorry if it’s too much.

[Masterlist]

Adrian couldn’t think straight. His mind addled from too much alcohol and too many thoughts, emotions he wasn’t even sure what to do with. The night had been going well enough. He was just hanging out with his bff and talking about the best sex he’d ever had when Chris stopped him and asked one little question.

“Then why did you break up?”

Why? Why? Because he was the Vigilante! He couldn’t be in a relationship. His enemies could find out. He could endanger you. And that was the last thing he ever wanted! Therefore, it made sense to break up!

And then Chris asked one more question and it sent him spiraling: Did he still think about you? Of course he did! He thought about you often. He thought about you every time he saw that commercial you always danced and hummed to! He thought about you every time he brought home food from Fennel Fields.

“Dude.” You laughed one night after he set another to-go bag on your table. “You either work there, or you know someone who does!” “No I don’t!”

He even still thought about you when he jacked off.

And then Chris didn’t believe that he was the one to break up with you! But he was! Sort of. You’d given him an ultimatum: He either reveal his secret identity and commit fully to the relationship, or leave. And he left and. Well, actually. He often went back to your place. But it was just to check up on you! To make sure you were safe! And those questionably recent pictures of you on his phone weren’t creepy! He just missed you!

He missed you.

Next thing he knew, he found himself stumbling around your front yard as he looked for the false rock that hid your spare house key. Back when you were, well dating wasn’t the right word, back when you were together, he’d told you to move the key to a less obvious hiding spot, but you never did. And sure enough on his third try, he found the hollow rock with a key taped to the underside.

Out of habit he never quite lost, he slipped off his shoes and set them neatly in place on the shoe rack in the entryway. He didn’t need to flip on any lights as memory led him down the hall to the master bedroom. He wasn’t surprised when the door started to squeak and he pushed past it quickly, knowing that slowly opening the door would just draw out the sound. You always said you’d oil that hinge later. It looked like later never came.

Everything felt so familiar, the plush carpeting cushioning his feet, the low drone of the box fan in the corner of the room, and the comforting scent of your favorite candle fairly recently blown out. Even, or perhaps especially, heartwarming and familiar was the sight of you sleeping to one side of the bed, like even after nearly a year you were still leaving a spot for him. He took a moment to appreciate you, the filtering moonlight seeping through the window his only light and yet he could still see every detail of you, everything he missed. And it was all too much.

Without thinking, he climbed into bed with you, just like he used to, and wrapped an arm around you, just like he used to.

You stirred awake, shifting slightly at the unexpected weight and warmth that enveloped you. “Hmm? Vigi-” He smiled, hearing you say his name again after so long, “laAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!”

You screamed and jumped out of bed, landing with an ungraceful thud as you’d been caught up in the blankets. You were still screaming as you flailed around and fumbled to pull yourself up by the nightstand. You managed to turn on the bedside lamp as he heard the pull of the wooden drawer on the nightstand.

“Hey! Hey! Hey!” He was trying to get your attention, to calm you down, but you turned back to the bed holding a handgun in both hands pointed directly at him. He froze.

“WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?! GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!”

He tried to calm you down again, this time by calling your name gently but sternly, and slowly got off of the bed. “HOW DO YOU KNOW MY NAME?!”

You took a couple of steps back from the bed, putting some distance between you and him, which now that it was happening, he realized it made sense for you to think of him as a stranger.

“I’m warning you! I know the Vigilante and he will kill you if I tell him to!”

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522 notes - Posted April 11, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #this year i had a one track mind #it's basically all vig and/or freddie

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onlyseokmins · 5 months

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hiii how do you start a blog??? i reallyyyy wanna post my writing but idk how to start.... like formatting a blog making a pinned doing a layout idk what im doing😭 sorry if this is random for me to ask

Hey there! ❤️ Not too random to ask someone who's constantly setting up new blogs for fun and rarely using them 😭 ✋🏼 now take this all w/ a grain of salt but fr feel free to drop by/share your stories w/ me when you post them and come back if you need more help!!

So let me try to hit the points you addressed!

Formatting a blog:

Definitely have a profile picture! This is your "face" on Tumblr ~

Headers are a ton of fun. You can basically do whatever you want with them - hide, stretch, use your profile picture, or create something of your own (I would not suggest taking someone's gif or something they created unless you have permission 🙏) If you want something fancy, feel free to ask someone (but check their guidelines first ofc)

I would suggest enabling a custom theme under your blog settings if you want to format the web browser/desktop version of your blog (https://[url].tumblr.com is different from the "dashboard/mobile" view found on https://tumblr.com/[url]). This can only be done in the web browser/desktop version of blog settings (and can be important for your description later)

^ Confusing, I know! If you have more questions lmk, it's sort of not necessary but it's fun for me to customize 😂

You can find lots of tumblr themes to customize from the tumblr store or if you'd like you can get codes here too.

Making a pinned:

You can make any post a pinned post but only one can be pinned at a time.

Cheat: I have a habit of editing old posts that have 0 notes and/or one of my first posts and using it as I like 💀

Pinned posts can obviously contain whatever you want! Songs, funny quote, or a more detailed intro post - and can be changed any time!

Layout of your blog:

This is where creativity comes in lol! Try not to copy someone else if you can, totally cool if you're inspired but I've def seen a lot of people mimic others and it's just 😔

For example, ig you could say my layout/theme is based off a "streamer" concept lol. Some people keep it simple, some people just do whatever. Good news is you can always change it at your preference!

Honestly it doesn't matter how simple or fancy it is, I think as long as it's easy to navigate, you can do whatever.

Things I suggest to have somewhere on your blog:

Masterlist: a list of links to all your stories

Guidelines: don't be afraid to refer people to these!!

Intro: can be basic but be sure to tell a bit about yourself so ppl can interact with you

^ these can be linked in your description (code example below) and/or a pinned post

Tag navigation: (optional) much better than tumblr's featured tags option imho but if you use a specific tag for certain content/posts, make use of that!

Okay so tumblr is a hellsite but it has a TON of features and things you can do with it if you want. You do need to know some html coding but thankfully it's pretty straightforward and there are a lot of resources out there. I think html is still only editable on web browser/desktop version of tumblr. So you're best bet is to hit the edit theme button below (back to what we talked abt before 😂)

I'm horrible at tutorials btw. And helping people 💀 but fr I love setting up blogs so pls feel free to hmu more! I'm looking forward to another writer in the community! ❤️

#Hope that helps a bit (?) 😭#Best of luck!#Nonny 🎭#ez.inbox

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kleooo14 · 10 months

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My Literary Works

“Broken Trust”

“Some of the most poisonous people come disguised as family” by Dhar Mann. In this day and age, I believe that you should trust no one but yourself. You should be able to help yourself to conquer any obstacles alone as early as now. At least that’s what life taught me. Because even those people who are closest to you can be the ones who’ll break your heart deeply.

My father was my first heartbreak. At four years old, I experienced the betrayal of my father. I witnessed all the fighting, shouting and maltreatment that my parents did. I also watched my mother cry every night waiting for my father to come home. We even got to the point where we went to the mistress’ house to confront her about the issue. Every night, I hear my dad saying unreasonable things to my mom even though he’s at fault just to justify his actions. But at that time, the four year old me couldn’t grasp what’s really happening. All I knew was that we’re not okay at that time.

But as I grew older, I came to realize the situation that we had. I became a “man hater” and developed deep trust issues to anyone, especially men. My mother may have forgiven my dad but as for me, it’s like I cut ties with him. I totally shut him off because my childhood was totally damaged because of him. As a result, I don’t trust anyone easily and I don’t know how to forgive someone, especially when it comes to breaking my trust. It may seem wrong, but that’s how deep the pain had cost me.

Today, I learned to trust myself and no one else. I became independent with a stronger mindset. And I’m still in the process of healing and I’m looking forward to being able to forgive someone willingly. Even though it hurts, I don’t regret anything cause I believe I experienced that for a good reason.

“The Immerse Beauty of Coron”

Palawan island is known for its tropical scenery and island hopping. Coron Island, a wedge-shaped limestone island located at the northern part of Palawan, is one of the most popular tourist destinations in the Philippines and is among the most biologically diverse areas in Southern Asia. The heavenly paradise is well-known for world-class World War II era wreck diving because of the series of impressive wrecks for diving and snorkeling. There are 12 sunken wartime at the bottom of the ocean as a result of an explosion. Amazing limestone formations can be seen at Coron, which is also home to numerous crystal-clear jade-green lakes and immaculate white beaches. It offers a variety of attractions and activities for tourists to enjoy.

First and foremost is the Kayangan Lake. It is renowned for its freshwater lake with crystal-clear water and underwater rock formations. You can currently see down to a 10-meter depth due to the water's exceptional clarity. The "Blue Lagoon" lake in the Philippines is known as one of the cleanest lakes in Asia. Even visitors claim that simply taking in the lake's surroundings and gazing at them would leave you feeling in wonder.

Next is the Twin Lagoon, these two magnificent lagoons are in the most scenic position you can imagine, and they are great for swimming. This spectacular place consisted of two bodies of water divided by breathtaking limestone cliffs. The location astounds visitors with its untainted beauty and makes them question if this paradise is genuine. With its breathtaking scenery and unmatched natural beauty, it exhibits the area's most remarkable geological characteristics and is therefore a rewarding expedition.

Coron, Palawan is definitely one of the marvelous treasures of the Philippines one must visit. For it not only flaunts the beauty of our country but also shows how we Filipinos truly care about preserving our beloved nature.

The Life of Rizal

Jose Rizal's life and works are recounted through a series of non-linear flashbacks that reflect on various aspects of his life as a writer, propagandist, lover, friend, brother, doctor, and the man who inspired a revolution. This movie was directed by Marilou Diaz-Abaya.

“What matters is death if one dies for what one loves, for native land and cherished ones?” This is the quotation that is featured in the film. For his nation, which he cherished most, Rizal gave his life. This film demonstrates how Rizal gave up the people and things he loved in order to free his country and fellow citizens from the widespread servitude of the Spanish people at the time. I was on the verge of tears during the movie due to the events depicted. Because of their skin tone (kayumanggi), cultural heritage, and physical characteristics, Filipinos often become slaves. They do not receive the equality they seek. No matter what, Filipinos are on par with any other race. Rizal was deeply touched by this and did everything in his power, even if it meant risking his life.

Jose Protacio Rizal Mercado Y Alonzo Realonda is a significant figure in Philippine history and a national symbol who appears in all of our history textbooks. He was short and not particularly attractive physically, but he was more than that. We remember him as the person who dated numerous women. There is a man with fortitude and bravery hidden behind that small frame of his. Two of the most significant literary works that help to define us as a country—Noli Me Tangere and El Filibusterismo—were both written by the same person.

In the movie, I could actually see how my fellow countrymen were mistreated, held as slaves, and tortured verbally as well as physically. I'm pleased that Rizal has had such a lasting influence on Andres Bonifacio and other Filipinos, both then and now. I really urge all Filipinos to see this film, especially young individuals like me. Because freedom wasn't always a given; it had to be battled for, and Filipinos lost their lives in the process, it will teach kids to cherish life in general. For that and other Filipino heroes, I am grateful to Rizal. I think of those who gave their lives so we might have our independence every time I see the Philippine flag.

The Social Problem of Teenage Pregnancy in the Philippines

Teenage pregnancy is a worldwide problem, but it is more prevalent in impoverished and marginalized communities. Many girls feel strong pressure to get married young and have children while they are still children. Pregnancy- and childbirth-related complications are the top cause of death for young women between the ages of 15 and 19 worldwide. They are more likely to experience significant health risks and difficulties because of their undeveloped bodies. Teenagers frequently resort to illicit abortions, putting their health at risk in nations like the Philippines where it is illegal or taboo.

Teenage pregnancy affects 6% of young Filipinas. As estimated, there are nearly 20,000 teenagers who get pregnant every year. And to aggravate the situation, children who have not even entered their teenage years give birth to almost 40 babies each year. As a result, the Philippines has the second highest rate of teenage moms in Southeast Asia, based on the Philippine Statistical Authority's 2019 report.

Due to their higher likelihood of dropping out of school and their anticipated unemployment, this social issue may have negative social and economic effects on these young females. Furthermore, because children are more likely to experience poor dietary and educational outcomes, this negative outcome may also affect their offspring. This would consequently result in additional societal problems like poverty and starvation that affect not only those particular people but our nation as a whole.

Inadequate sex education and a shortage of birth control options are two factors in the high percentage of teenage pregnancies. Due to the fact that some females are unaware that engaging in sex entails accepting complete responsibility for producing children. To address the following issue, legislators have introduced legislation to provide access to contraceptives and support sex education in an effort to combat the rise in adolescent pregnancies that has resulted.

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notthatjohndoe · 2 years

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Intro

The best feeling in the world is torturing some son of a bitch who thought they could get away with anything.

It’s not the most popular opinion I have in my mind, but it’s definitely the one I think about the most. I have other hobbies too. I don’t have to do this because of some mental illness-caused voice in my head saying, “Hey you worthless piece of shit, you haven’t done your daily murder for today. You know what that means: HEADACHE AND NAUSEA FOR YOU.” I do this because someone has to.

It is incredibly hypocritical for the government to say to us citizens that we cannot kill one another, but they totally can if twelve people agree to it. So, I take that matter into my own hands. I have chosen my own personal council of twelve experts in various fields, who I believe are the smartest people on the planet, and every week or so, we agree on killing some fuckhead who is a burden to society. I don’t kill the person because it’s the worst thing they can experience, that’s why I torture them beforehand. I kill the person so that everyone else doesn’t have to deal with them anymore.

Now the reason I’m writing this is not for fame or notoriety. If that was the case, my name would be on every page written so big that if you saw it you would think to yourself, “Woah that name’s written pretty big.” I don’t like to brag, but my simile game is pretty killer. Get it, killer? Anyways, the sole purpose for me writing this, is because it’s fun. I mean you read it earlier: I kill people. For my job. It’s incredibly exhausting. So to balance it out, I engage in many hobbies. And because I will never have enough, I decided to also pick up writing. When I was figuring out what I wanted to write, I remembered the advice that Stephen King probably gave to someone: Write what you think you know, because what you know is what you know, and the audience will know if you’re not writing what you know, so just write what you know, because that’s good. So, I will be creating various literary works about, and inspired by, my professional endeavors. I’m gonna try a couple different formats to really push myself as a writer, and so that you don’t get bored. And yes, sometimes it may get a little personal. How about you deal with it? Please. I need an audience.

Before we get into the meat and potatoes of everything, there’s a couple things I want to mention. First, I would like to address the opening line. I really wanted to grab your attention because that’s what everyone says to do at the beginning of a writing piece. So, if it was a bit too aggressive for you, I apologize. Although if it was too aggressive, you probably wouldn’t even know I apologized because you would’ve stopped reading by now. I’m not entirely sure why I’m writing this into the introduction, but it’s what my heart is telling me to do. Second, I am a budding writer, so if you have any comments on my work, make sure they are nice and constructive. I am not at a good place mentally, considering I kill people for a living. I really do want your feedback, but I’m not lying when I say that I am fragile. Lastly, I apologize for using the second person. I have been told it’s a lazy writing device. I do not plan on using it in my future works, but I felt it was appropriate for this.

Without further ado, please enjoy the anthology of: If There Was A God, I Wouldn’t Have To Do What I Do.

#If There Was A God I Wouldn't Have To Do What I Do #Death #Murder #Justice #New Writer #Writer #Writing #Blog

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gluttonygirls · 3 years

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Patchouli just learned that she can’t even stand up on stream anymore, even if she turns off the camera. The creaking from her chair as she rises still makes chat go nuts.

#ic #also I might try tabbing at the start of stuff to make it more readable #totally not inspired my someone else's good formatting

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sitp-recs · 3 years

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(Perfect artwork for Modern Love, by @cambiodipolvere)

Today is the day of one of my favorite people! And I totally resent @tackytigerfic and Starry for almost sharing the same birthday, god the STRESS 😂 Tacky is my first and closest fandom friend. We clicked together so fast and easy that sometimes it feels like I’ve known her all my life, like we’re two dog moms living in the same neighborhood who happen to read fic in their free time. Despite our conflicting time zones and crazy schedules we manage to chat every other day, tagging and sending each other all kinds of stuff, coming together to cry scream about a brilliant fic we’ve just read or shaking our heads in embarrassment at every other unnecessary bullshit post. Tacky’s bright and wise energy uplifts my spirit even on my moody days, and makes me grateful for her friendship and for this fandom life. Okay so this got long and I had to put the rest under the cut:

It’s such a lovely and precious thing, to have someone with whom you can share every single thought that crosses your mind, your scariest, most embarrassing, petty or disturbing idea, without fear of being shamed or judged by it. I trust Tacky with all my heart to hear me out, share a joke or a piece of advice, even on the (rare) occasions when we don’t get the same perspective - that doesn’t happen often when it comes to Drarry, as we are taste twins!

Tacky my darling, you’re such a good person, and such an incredible friend. Thank you for introducing me to this lovely community, for being my safe haven and your unique self, with so many qualities I admire and feel inspired by: kind, witty, earnest, wise, and so very human. I love your humour and empathy, and your chill yet no-nonsense personality; I love your talent and how articulated you are; I love your passion for Drarry, and how you let this emotion inform the way you navigate the fandom and create for it. And god, but you’ve been creating some of the most beautiful content I’ve seen in these recent years! I’m permanently in awe of your ability to write Drarry in any shape, format or length, transforming even the most ordinary moment into an extraordinary and meaningful piece of character or relationship development. You know how you mentioned yesterday that some authors change the way you feel about a ship in a deep, definitive way? Well, you are that author for me. Your works made me fall in love with M-rated contemplative romance, and also allowed me to fall in love with Harry in a way I never thought it was possible before.

Some people - myself included - got to know you through the fun and intriguing A Lick and a Promise, others through the atmospheric and sensitive Modern Love, others through your contemplative and heartbreaking short form. Each story has its merits and purpose, and all of them share a Tacky trademark: the heartkick factor! Your talent has no limits and goes across different genres and tropes, that you explore with a bold twist full of personality and heart. And even more impressive is your consistency at always raising the bar - every new fic of yours becomes an instant fave and makes me think “wow I thought Tacky couldn’t get better yet here we are”. Seeing how your writing evolves as you find your narrative voice is a beautiful and humbling experience, I feel so lucky!

I’m really grateful for being active in the fandom at this moment in time, because that allows me to read and engage with your brilliant work, and to have you as a dear friend. I can’t wait to see what comes out of your beautiful brain next. It was an impossible job choosing a single fic to rec today, so I decided to do a belated Tacky reclist! Naturally these are my personal and biased must-reads, and I urge everyone to go check these beauties right now. Feel free to include your own favorites too, and don’t forget to leave them some appreciation.

Happy happy birthday my darling Tacky! This fandom life wouldn’t be the same without you. I hope you have the amazing day you deserve!

Between the Power Lines (2020, M, 3.2k)

The road trip fic you didn’t know you needed. I got utterly immersed in the heartbreaking quietness of this, feeling like a witness to an ordinary yet poignant love story. Such tender intimacy, such character development, such lovely American aesthetics with barely any dialogue. This is, IMO, the fic that reveals Tacky’s triumph in storytelling.

Even the Night (2020, M, 3.4k)

This fic has a surreal atmosphere, those Midsummer vibes unbelievably sexy and intoxicating linked to the sensorial experience of fumbling together in the night. Masterclass in tension building, a silky and languid dream-like affair.

Aim for my Heart (2021, M, 3.4k) - Harry/Draco/Ron

One of the most sensitive and stunning portraits I’ve ever seen of a poly/triad relationship, this fic packs so much character and longing! It’s a privilege to watch Ron and Draco’s tentative dynamics through the smitten eyes of the one person that loves them like no one else: Harry.

The Long Fall (2021, M, 3.6k)

I can’t even write about this tender domesticity without getting a lump in my throat. Best opening scene I’ve read in years, and a refreshing way to approach both mpreg and parenthood, painfully honest and lovely. This became an immediate comfort read for me, and it’s probably one of the fics I revisit the most.

Mortal Frame (2021, M, 6.6k)

This thrilling, fast-paced spy story left me breathless since the first paragraph, gods what an immersive ride! I’m so here for Drarry on the run, sharp and urgent with danger but mellowed by the silent trust and tender intimacy only Tacky can master. Major bonus points for the brilliant take on the Horcrux hunt plot line!

Last Offices (2020, M, 6.7k)

Oh, this fic 💔 I tend to avoid MCD but there’s something so deeply fascinating about body washing rituals that I caught myself mesmerized by this. I just couldn’t put it down, so emotionally compromised I felt. There’s a sort of strange comfort in the heartbreak of doing one last act of service out of devotion to someone. This fic inspired so many difficult but lovely feelings in me, and one of them was hope. Only Tacky could possibly achieve that!

Our Little Life (2020, M, 7.2k)

Inventive and singular, this story hit me straight on the solar plexus and left me speechless as I saw the (clever, magical and bittersweet) plot unravel. Such a fabulous take on alternate universes and all the angst potential behind it. Come and bask in the yearning melancholia of a short yet intricate and perfectly executed plot.

And One to Play (2019, E, 21k)

What a fun and delightful fic, I can’t have enough of pining Harry losing all sense of propriety when faced with a hot, competent and pragmatic Draco. This has fab dynamics, unhinged protectiveness, even more unhinged attraction between two idiots who can’t keep their hands off each other. A must-read for any Auror partners fan!

A Lick and a Promise (2019, E, 55k)

Hot, BAMF Professors carefully balancing a fuck buddies situation while solving a Hogwarts mystery, do we need anything else? I certainly do not. This fic is so fun and intriguing and immersive, with amazing supportive cast and a delicious get together feat secret shagging and oblivious pining. Love it!

Modern Love (2020, E, 61k)

My favorite read of 2020, this fic is a love letter to Drarry and will always hold a piece of my soul. Sensitive, wistful, tenderly aching and so very romantic, this is a Muggle Draco triumph with a superb Harry, exquisite slow burn and a side of suds comfort. I promise it will be impossible to listen to Bowie again without thinking of this love story.

Bonus: five stunning drabbles!

Something in the Way (2021, T, 119 words)

“Up,” he said, and Draco, sick with love, raised his arms above his head and allowed Potter to slide the jumper on him, big hands stroking it flat over Draco’s stomach until they both shivered.

Stir-Up Sunday (2020, M, 300 words)

“I want you always,” he said, tugging again on the fine curling length of it. “Is it okay to say that?”

Whalebone Arch (2021, M, 722 words)

“Are you still not talking to me?” Draco steered Harry towards the crisps. “Do I have to suck you off in the loo to cheer you up?”

Semiplume (2021, T, 923 words)

“Did you know,” Harry murmured, and he put his arms around Draco, fearless. “I’d be your mate. If you needed a mate, I mean.”

Relic Radiation (2021, M, 927 words)

“You’ll kill me,” Harry said, and Draco turned his face towards the darkened sky, lunar pale, his profile some stupid unearthly thing—a flaring blazar, a supernova—in the light from the kitchen window.

#drarry fic rec #Drarry reclist #happy birthday Tacky!#fave

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loki-zen · 2 years

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So, given you're first-reading Homestuck now, in 2021... What's it like, aesthetically? Does it feel familiar somehow, because it's been very influential? Or does it feel fresh and bold, like it did when it was coming out? (Or, I should say, fresh and bold as an extension of the way Problem Sleuth was. Also, you DID read Problem Sleuth first... Right?) What's it LIKE to read Homestuck for the first time in 2021?

Both. It feels both fresh and bold and familiar, and perhaps the former in more substantive ways than the latter?

I did read Problem Sleuth, albeit some time ago. I think as you suggest having some idea of at least the concept behind PS is necessary context as it’s that format Homestuck is riffing on. (Interestingly, coming to it well after the fact, I’m aware that there was at some point some element of audience input Problem Sleuth style, or at least the ambiguous appearance thereof - but I don’t know they stopped pretending that that was a thing, other than that it’s I think fairly early.)

But like, at no point did ‘Problem Sleuth style audience participation webcomic’ become like, a genre.

So even from the start, what you’re looking at is a webcomic based on a subversion of a format established in a single webcomic, which is itself an homage to a kind of video game. That remains pretty unique! As does ‘a story in which much of the action takes place inside a video game’, both in general and especially like.. not as an excuse to have a Narnia that doesn’t really matter, an ephemeral realm to hero’s journey in in let’s say a kid’s movie, probably written by someone who at least affects not to play a lot of video games. Instead you’ve got a setting whose logic and world building is clearly heavily video game inspired, but treated seriously as a setting and designed for narrative fiction (which distinguishes it from eg a tie-in novel, which I find invariably hit problems stemming from the source material not being designed for the format).

It felt familiar only really inasmuch as Douglas Adams or Terry Pratchett (or if you’re a normie, idk, Friends?) will feel ‘familiar’ to anyone from circles that have incorporated their distinctive idioms into their idea of what being witty sounds like. I think I am pretty good at totally blanking out stuff about fandoms I’m not in that I come across too so that probably helps.

But like. Nah, it’s still structurally incredibly novel. Who else is doing that shit?

And not just structurally even! It may be 2021, but I’d still struggle to name anything with an even number of male and female characters! It’s also rare to see something not pink-ghettoed with that many interesting and distinct and important female characters, or something where the narrative seems not to especially favour boy-girl romances over Not That that isn’t like specifically Gay Fiction.

This is kinda ramble bc not 100% on what’s meant by ‘aesthetic’ but yeah

If you meant visually then.. idk I probably don’t read enough webcomics. It’s visually very good I think. One of the ways in which it’s a lot better crafted than you’d think / than it is in other ways is in incorporating a lot of Cute Tricks for visual storytelling this complex.

Like, Jack’s not the only one who likes trophies - Hussite makes an active habit of getting characters visually altered by their escapades in ways that later helps you keep track of what the fuck is going on. (Eg Gamzee’s facial scarring tells us that a given iteration of him that might pop up, oh idk anywhere, has some sort of chronological continuity back to killing Nepeta and by extension the whole Murderstuck debacle.)

However as soon as it gets into animations, I think they look good but the visual storytelling becomes kinda shitty, in my view. I watched it with someone who seems to be able to follow the events in them, but hell, I can usually follow them if I go back and watch them after I know what is meant to be happening in them. They’re way too quick, and what’s happening is often too high concept to unambiguously depict visually.

As to what it’s like, overall…

I think definitely different than reading it at the time.

I think there’s a lot of stuff in Act 6 that’s way more forgivable when you know you can freely click next all the way to the end. Act 6 kinda benefits from being binged really, so as to enable one to fly past the cruft.

There are definitely times when I feel like I’m interacting with a piece of Actual Important Art Maybe, something scholars will wank about in decades to come, and times when I feel like I’ve poured way too much time and attention into a shitty vanity project webcomic. Maybe both those feelings are true.

I feel like the tantrum he throws in Act 6 might play differently to me as a writer and ex (Terribly Modern) theatre type idk. it’s relatable in ways that might help the god tier death clock of content consumption stop with the needle on ‘charming’ rather than ‘wanky’ for me personally.

#stuckhome syndrome #spoilers #charming is equivalent to heroic and wanky equivalent to just #obviously #I notice the autocorrect to Hussite in retrospect but imma leave it

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retvenkos · 3 years

Text

“this place feels like home”

A/N: someone mentioned it, so here i am

WHAT THE HOGWARTS COMMON ROOMS LOOK LIKE, IN MY CLEARLY SUPERIOR OPINION...

gryffindor common room

i’m no interior decorator, and i’m betting godric gryffindor wasn’t either, so it looks like a glorified man cave

lots of designated areas for just hanging out, a huge, central fireplace, lots of open places perfect for pulling your wand on someone to duel, but very cluttered in other areas where you are meant to be close for house bonding!

secondly, there are a total of like, 4 desks you can use to work on, and they’re pushed to the walls, the chairs constantly stolen for something or another.

the main focus of the gryffindor common room is the couches and chairs

there’s a recliner that some muggle-born student brought in, and when they first kicked it out the purebloods went absolutely feral

they don’t know how it works, but they love it

there are so many radios... gryffindor has the best sound system for any kind of party. the other houses have to use charms to get the sound evenly distributed, but gryffindors just use their like, 10 different radios

there are a lot of spare pillows and blankets, but they don’t exactly have a place to go - they’re usually just thrown on the back of the couches or cast to the floor.

sometimes the 1st years will play “the ground is lava” and it’s vvv sweet

the ceiling has constellations mapped onto it, and they’re actually accurate. using your wand, you can “shift” the sky and it’s a really effective way to get your astronomy homework done

harry didn’t notice it because he’s as observant as a doorknob

the most chaotic thing about the gryffindor common room is the fact that there are real swords and battle axes on the wall, all of which belonged to godric gryffindor himself

students will 100% try to use them as jokes, but they can never manage to actually grab them? their hands just go right through them like they aren’t real

but if you approach them with nothing but wonder and reverence, when you reach out, you can most definitely feel them, and they are real

i really just want someone to have picked up a battle axe during the battle at hogwarts, now

there are a couple of portraits that give life advice, but most of them are #tired and leave their portraits to go visit others because the common room can get so crazy

the amount of animals this common room has,,,, i sure do hope you’re not allergic

there are lizards, rats, toads, cats, tarantulas...

if you’re afraid of any of them, tell your classmates when you’re still a first or second year and the whole of gryffindor tower will rally behind you to make the other person put their animal in their dormitory

there always seems to be leftover food from a party, so you’re well fed.

and if you’re from another house, this is the easiest house to steal food from.

oh, and the carpet (because YEAH, someone put in carpet with some kind of magic) does not match the furnishings at all.

minimalists cry at the sight of this common room

slytherin common room

first of all!!!! this common room has a glass ceiling because someone else came up with this idea and it is legendary

they mentioned the merfolk help with classes! they know sign language! i am very here for it.

then,,, there is an entire section of the common room that is dedicated to games - checkers, chess, poker, solitaire, even some muggle board games

it’s how they foster community. friendly competition is everything to slytherins and slytherins can actually do friendly competition, unlike ravenclaws

at lot of purebloods are still trying to win risk. it confuses them so much.

there’s probably a cat or two in this common room

they actually get along fairly well with the owls, but every so often snape has to come in and stop then from attacking each other and it would be hilarious if he weren’t so intimidating

there’s a lot more space in this common room, or maybe it’s just set up as to give the illusion of more space. either way, the slytherins are more spread out.

they don’t like breathing on each other

the gothic aesthetic does exist, but it’s not all gloomy because some intelligent slytherin’s know that’s bad for mental health.

they probably have a fourth of the room (maybe in a corner) that’s a little more lighted and cozy, with the most supportive portraits in that area

the slytherin common room has bean bags

this was a later addition, ofc, seeing as there is no way in hell salazar slytherin would ever allow that to happen

but everyone loves them a whole lot. 1st years always beeline for them

and slytherin was a good interior decorator, so we have the perfect ratio of portraits to wall space and the amount of lamps is actually palatable.

and there might be a dramatic hamlet skull on a table or two, but they’re not real - just decor. sometimes slytherin’s use them for pranks.

there’s actually a fair bit of communal property, too? like, there’s a lot of blankets, a bookshelf, and a table that always has food on it because the dungeons are hella far away from the kitchens and many slytherins like a good midnight snack

the slytherins actually talk more to ghosts than the other houses - ghosts like to hang out in the dungeons, and the amount of ghost jokes that the slytherins know is incredible

a group of hufflepuffs swear they once heard professor binns laugh at a ghost joke one of the slytherin’s retold

the snake iconography of this room is so high - it would honestly be a little unnerving if everyone wasn’t just used to it.

there’s probably a game going around where someone will conjure up an extra snake decoration and every week the first and second years are trying to find out which one it is

sometimes a very tired 5th year will give you a hint

there’s not a space that’s specifically designated for studying, but you can often find space in a few different places.

the desks are always being used for games, like i mentioned above, but someone had introduced the idea of lap desks and slytherins love that so much.

ravenclaw common room

this is the most minimalist of the common rooms in decor and style, but there’s so much happening at all times that it never looks bare

and a fair few ravenclaws are BIG about organization, so this is one of the more compartmentalized common rooms

it’s also formatted this way because the studious ravenclaw has threatened the musically inclined ravenclaw, saying that they will not hesitate to sabotage the other’s saxophone if they ever hear careless whisper while trying to study for n.e.w.t.s again.

also, i just want to say that ravenclaw house is probably one of the most diverse houses because creativity is so broad, and that combined with their individualistic streak means that community is a little less strong in this house, but there’s a place for everyone

i have no doubt that someone has enchanted the common room to expand on the inside, so it has much more room than say gryffindor common room or hufflepuff common room.

they’re also big about making boundaries - there’s probably actual walls and doors between different areas.

like, one for studying, one for art (like drawing and painting), one for music, etc.

also, you would think this is a quiet common room but you would be wrong.

the quiet ones are slytherin and hufflepuff. gryffindor and ravenclaw are both p chaotic.

except for the quiet room, which is as silent as they come. if you need quiet inspiration, you go there. it’s also the study room, though, so when you’re struck with inspiration, you have to keep quiet.

now, ravenclaws like to keep what is theirs, but they do have some communal property, mostly in the form of books and materials like typewriters and art supplies (although some people are very territorial about their brushes. it’s a toss up.)

there’s a floor to ceiling window that can actually be opened up - kind of like doors. the ravenclaws have it instead of the gryffindors because they have self control and won’t jump out the window without a sure plan of survival.

there’s also statues and busts! rowena ravenclaw was decent at interior design, and she loved sculpture - maybe she had a sculptor lover at one point? who knows? there’s just a lot of busts in ravenclaw tower

no doubt they’re enchanted to give advice or tbh just to gossip. i imagine there’s a lot of gossip in ravenclaw tower

the walls are painted in some places. it’s a rule that you don’t paint over other people’s art, but the paint is also enchanted so that if you look closely, you can see the name of who has painted what, and ravenclaws are too proud to do idiotic things like drawing crude doodles on the walls.

the only person to ever paint on the ceiling is luna lovegood, and she was commissioned to do so after her time at hogwarts.

there’s also a chalkboard wall for when you’re studying and need to write things down to think. beware, though, because your work can and will be erased.

you can also write on the large window i talked about! muggle students have brought dry erase markers and they are much needed.

oh, and ravenclaws have a lot of owl access - they owls like to stop at ravenclaw tower for treats and whatnot, and ravenclaws definitely use this to their advantage. they have priority for mail service and it’s a win tbh.

hufflepuff common room

now helga hufflepuff was no interior decorator either, but she was a homemaker, so we all know that this common room is the most home-like of the bunch

first of all, there are potted plants everywhere. hufflepuffs are known to be good at herbology, and that tradition means there are a whole lot of life in this common room

there’s also a curious amount of sunlight, too, despite being in the basement. i’m not exactly sure how it’s done, but the common room has actual sunlight - it’s important for the plants.

i also imagine there’s one wall that is a long mirror. you can use it for whatever you like, introspection, self affirmations, or reflecting light or whatever, but helga thought it was important to always be aware of yourself.

muggle students have brought sticky notes and now the mirror if full of them - little reminders, little motivations, fun quotes, jokes, etc.

there’s also a lot of couches and desks. the desks are usually very cluttered, but you can always find space for your stuff, somehow. and the couches are the softest at hogwarts, gryffindors have been trying to steal them for years.

also, the marauders were incredibly presumptuous, thinking they had found all of the secret passageways in the castle - there are at least 3 secret passages that only hufflepuffs know about and it’s one of the best kept secrets at hogwarts. they all connect to the common room.

and as initiation, on their first night as hufflepuffs, first years traverse secret passageways in the dark trying to figure out where they lead, all of them having to work together to figure out the lumos spell for some light.

and one of those passageways leads to the kitchens. it’s how they get the best food for parties. hufflepuffs often put in requests for what they want at breakfast or dinner.

this is also the warmest common room. i’m not exactly sure how it’s done, but the common room is never cold - maybe a little chilly, but not cold enough that you need a sweater.

the flooring is carpet, but parts of it are hard wood - it’s clear it used to be carpet, but was stained beyond repair from a broken pot or two.

there is toad supremacy in the hufflepuff common room. there’s probably one or two toads that don’t have real owners but are treated as the house pets.

there’s also a few paintings - all of them are smaller because there’s so much going on in this common room already, the walls have to be mellow to account for everything else, but there’s a couple and all of them like to tell jokes and give really good advice.

two of the newer (and favorite) additions include cedric diggory and tonks. they both get along quite well, although tonks is more mischievous and cedric is more down to earth.

cedric will often tell you how to charm a professor, if you ask, and he might give answers to homework questions to favorite students.

similar to gryffindor common room, there’s a lot of cozy areas that encourage students to chat with each other and spend time together.

but similar to slytherin, there is a lot of games about - they involve less strategy and more fun (like hide and go seek or charades) - but games is a bonding strategy that hufflepuffs utilize.

AND FLUFF ENSUES.

-- taglist: @musicallisto, @theletterhart, @locke-writes, @randomfandomimagine, @brokenandheadoverheels, @timeofmadness, @writerdream22, @lotsoffandomrecs, @neelia-thedaughtherof-athena, @coffee--writes, @lenalxvegood, @cooloaflandhero, @swanimagines, @noesapphic, @amortensie // message me if you want to be added!

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beskarberry · 3 years

Text

Silver and Steel

Bargaining with Beskar, Chapter 2 (The Mandalorian x f!reader)

It was then you noticed the open wall next to you. The steel panel was slid open to reveal a vault packed corner to corner with more firepower than you had ever seen in one place. Your eyes roamed from blaster to rifle to flamethrower, noticing that not all of them were made for five fingered hands. This wasn't just an armory, it was a trophy case.

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 7.5k

Content warnings: ALOT. Descriptions of violence (a little spicier than canon) blood mention, near death experiences, hurt/COMFORT, fluff, smut exhaustion sex, top!reader.

A/N: I hope y’all enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it but yeah PLEASE READ THOSE CONTENT WARNINGS!! It all works out ok in the end! Also good chunks of this was inspired by a particular filk song called Call the Navigator which I’ll link in the replies so the external link doesn’t ef up my post.

<-Previous Next->

"Med pack... junk....junk....spotchka?....is that all you've got?"

You were bent over a deep supply crate, your legs barely touching the ground while you dug through what you had hoped would be the food stock. There were several banged up tins of rations and a handful of miscellaneous junk, but nothing that looked real food. You were clean and dry after your shower, but the energy that had been spent in this very supply room just an hour or so earlier had to be replenished. "Where’s the rest of it?"

The silence coming from the cockpit was expected, but still frustrating. With a huff you grabbed two food tins and made your way through the old ship towards the ladder. At the top though a small antechamber you found your new comrade seated in the pilot chair, fussing with the buttons on the console. On either side and slightly behind his chair were two other passenger seats, though the one on his left was missing a good deal of padding. The cockpit was poorly lit save for the lighted console and the dusty starlight overhead. Though you were in the air, you could tell you were still on Tatooine. Hooray. Why are we still here? The great Dune Sea stretched out on all sides, sparsely dotted with sand people villages, but you couldn’t see any of the large space ports such as Mos Eisley or Mos Espa. In the ships’ darkness you couldn't tell what the lumpy thing was in the other chair, probably blankets or laundry. You went to toss it off the seat when a pair of huge black orbs peeped out from the heap of fabric.

"The fuck is THAT?!" You rocketed backwards, dropping the food tins in the process. The bug eyed creature made a soft cooing noise and lifted the rest of the blanket off itself, allowing two gigantic green ears to pop into view. It didn't look like a threat, in fact it looked kinda cute, but you knew it could still be dangerous. A pair of stubby three-fingered hands made grabby motions at you, the little creature giggling at your bewildered face. " Where'd you find this thing, is it some kind of pet?"

"He's not a pet." Finished fiddling with the console, Mando turned in his chair to readjust the blanket that had slumped off of the small beastie. It squealed happily and wiggled in its comfy cocoon before noticing the food tins that were still on the floor. He pointed the tiniest claw at them and chirped at you, demanding to be fed. "You'd better give him one of those before he gets mad."

It took you a moment to process what he said before scooping one of the tins off the floor, peeling back the lid and placing the dish in the seat next to the little thing. He greedily scooped the mystery mash into his tiny toothy mouth, gibbering between bites. You picked the remaining tin off the floor and leaned against the door frame, watching it happily chow down.

"If it's not a pet then what is it?"

"He's my..." the Mandalorian paused, fishing for the right words to say, "...he is my child."

That was not at all the answer you expected, if he had said emotional support gremlin you would have been less confused. The baby was still making a mess of his dinner, almost dropping his plate before Mando snatched it and set it carefully back in his lap. You had seen first hand that there was a human under all that metal plating, and your tired brain fizzled trying to make the connection between the two very different beings. Mando could tell by your puzzled face that he had some explaining to do.

He told you the tale of how he had been charged to bring the baby in as a high credit bounty, but after he used the reward to get new armor he went back and stole the child away from its captors. He talked about the Mandalorian concept of a 'foundling' and that he himself was one too. At some point you had popped your food tin open and started eating, though you were so captivated by his story that you couldn't remember doing so. When he'd finished you set your empty dish on the busted chair and gently held your hand out for the child to grab with one mush covered paw, who babbled excitedly at his new friend.

Behind you his parental guardian was rigid, ready to take you out if you made one wrong move against his precious cargo. Though he had been the one to steal you away and forgo freezing you in carbonite he still didn’t exactly trust you, your reputation as a hunter-killer was what had driven your bounty so high. He knew you were disarmed, but what else could you be capable of? However, you weren't paying mama-hen Mando any mind. Instead you let the baby play with your hand a bit before he returned to his food. You decided that the only place left to sit was on the floor. Squished into the tiny space between the passenger and pilot seats was cramped, but it gave you a fantastic view out the rounded transperisteel window into the vastness of the night sky.

“Your story sounds awful familiar.” You turned your attention to the metal clad man, watching him fidget with the steering controls. “You abandoned a guild reward for anothers wellbeing, like I did. Someone that didn’t deserve to be dragged back in cuffs. Is that why you picked up the puck on me? Some kind of kindred spirit something or other?”

“We’re nothing alike.” He was watching out the window, focused on flying the ship to unknown destinations, but he was bouncing the leg farthest away from you. So when the cogwheels turn in your head, the machine moves somewhere else. If you hadn’t experienced his human body first hand you could have easily convinced yourself he was a droid.

“Now that’s not true. You told the guild to get fucked because your moral compass was pointing the other way. I didn't just let that quarry go y'know? It was more than that. There was... there was someone she had to get back to. And the New Republic was just gonna lock her ass up and for what? It wasn't right." You remembered that Togruta woman, pointing a blaster at you with tears in her eyes and her belly swollen with a child that did not belong to the man she was being forced to marry. A few thousand credits weren’t worth another child being made an orphan, and you gave her your ship to escape in while you led hunters on a wild-bantha chase away from her. You knew it drove the guild insane but you wouldn’t have it any other way. A tiny green foot poked itself out from under the blankets by your head, bringing you out of your reverie. On reflex you tucked it back into the safety of his blankies.

Though you thankfully didn’t remember much of your early childhood, you knew you had come from Corellia. You didn’t know if you had parents or siblings, but there had been many other young street urchins in your alley behind the shipyard, and all you had then were each other. You never planned on having any kids yourself, but they were still something to be protected. At all costs, if necessary. “I’m guessing this little dude is happy with that decision.”

Mando had begun to take the ship closer to the ground, it was almost totally dark outside but you could see on the radar there was a large mountainous formation up ahead. Carefully, he landed the beat up craft on a sturdy outcropping of rocks, kicking up whirlwinds of dust and sand. Far out over the sand you could see a collection of lumpy looking ruins that were slowly succumbing to the march of the dunes. You guessed this was where your quarry was hiding out.

The baby was starting to get sleepy, his huge eyes disappearing slowly as the weight of his eyelids became too much. His little head rolled forward, threatening to toss him off his seat. Your big mean bounty hunter heart couldn’t take it, so you scrambled to your feet and scooped the baby up in your arms, sitting down in his seat to get him situated in your lap. He fussed and squirmed a bit, but you had learned a no-fail trick from the Corellian ship builders that would often help to sneak orphaned children onto their ships and off that skughole of a planet towards a better life. Many years ago they had done the same for you.

“Oh, I have sailed the midnight sea from Hoth to Arvala-5.

Seen the Cloudshape Falls of Alderaan, met rocks that were alive.

But soon I came to realize as world to world I roamed,

That nowhere in the galaxy could really be my home.”

The songs you knew were often sang by whole crews of starship sailors, loud enough to shake their durasteel walls, but you dropped your voice low and soft to turn the star-shanty into a lullaby. The baby was watching you with glittering eyes, he had stopped his wiggling and curled up tightly against your chest.

“So call the navigator, set the course and go!

We've stars and planets to explore, my wild heart tells me so.

Beneath the metal decking I can hear the engine sigh

And all I need is a mighty ship and a staaaa-aarr to guide her by”

A tiny yawn betrayed his wondrous eyes, and he gave up and closed them shut, rubbing his little hands on his face. You lowered your voice to almost a whisper.

“I've seen a million beauties and I've known a million fears,

And life is what I've found between the laughter and the tears.

Still I will sail the last frontier through worlds both tame and wild,

And marvel at their strangeness with the wonder of a child”

Soft snores were your only applause, the baby having drifted off mid stanza. You hummed a few more lines of the song to be sure he was asleep. The cockpit was as dark as the surrounding sky, but the glint of silver caught your attention. Starlight reflected off the beskar plates in a way that made the black of his visor seem darker than the heart of a collapsed star, and just as deadly. The Mandalorian was watching you intently, completely motionless.

The precious moment with the baby had made you very forgetful of the dangerous situation you were actually in. You had been captured, you were this man’s prisoner and yet here you were all cozy in the chair with his adopted son in your lap. You glared back at him, matching his fierce gaze when the little green bundle moved to get more comfortable, one tiny hand catching claws in the top you were wearing; a tunic that did not belong to you.

“Here, you take him then.” Your voice was hushed so as not to wake the child, and you raised him up gently to try and unhook him from your shirt. Immediately there were two gloved hands coming to lift the baby off of your lap. He was a monolith of leather and metal, but the way he pulled his son in close was so gentle that all the ferocity of his profession dissipated like mist. Mando carefully tucked the blanket under the sleeping little baby and wrapped him up tight before slowly turning away from you and the flight deck to head down the ladder in total silence, leaving you alone in the dark.

You watched him go, the top of his shiny silver head disappearing into the floor. Without the sounds of life in the cockpit the quiet of the night weighed heavy on your ears. He still hadn’t told you why he had kept you out of the carbonite, all you had done was let him use you as his personal play-thing... and maybe murder off some of his bounty hunting competition, but that wasn’t much to go off of. You had done worse for much less. Put your skills to better use, that’s what he had said. Absently you toyed with the end of your sleeve, no, not your sleeve. His sleeve.

That was another thing, what reason did he have to show you hospitality when his first interaction with you had been so violent? Binding you and marching your ass through the desert after he had fucking shot you. Your escape plan had almost worked, ha! All you would’ve had to do is tire him out and run but that had backfired entirely. The apex of your thighs still thrummed with sensation, warm and blissful. Though you’d had lovers in the past you usually didn’t still feel them so deeply afterwards. The smell of the fresher soap still clung to your body and clothes. Clutching at the collar of your sweater you pulled it to your face and breathed deep, letting the heady scent of it fill your lungs.

“Let’s go. We have work to do.” The modulated voice coming from the ladder startled you from your guilty indulgence and sprang you to your feet, but the source of the voice was already back down the ladder. You sheepishly followed suit.

“You plan on telling me what we’re up to exactly?” Down below the Mandalorian was loading himself with ammunition, each and every slot on his many bandoliers was packed to the brim with charges. His pulse rifle was slung over one shoulder, clanking up against a new piece of equipment you hadn’t seen before. Some kind of jet pack maybe.

“I have two bounties to catch on Tatooine. One of them conveniently fell into a sarlacc pit. The other one's hiding out down there." A bounty fob blinked red in his hand; quick flashes indicated that the target was close by. “If you help me with this, you’re off the hook. I’ll tell Karga you’re dead and the guild will stop sending hunters after you. But-” He turned to face you, he was holding your beat-up old back pack by one ratty leather strap. "If for one second I think you'll turn against me, I'll take the half credits for your corpse."

"You're one to talk!" You hissed, storming up to the gunslinger with the ferocity of a lothcat. "You kidnapped me! I didn't ask to be here."

The man in question didn't budge under your verbal assault. "Do we have a deal or not?"

He forced your backpack into your arms to accentuate his point. You ripped it from his grasp and stormed to the other side of the cabin. Everything was still inside; a pack of bacta patches, a few mementos, three busted tracking fobs and some blaster charges. Speaking of blaster-

"Where’s my gun, Mando?" Your question was answered when you turned back to face him. He was holding it by its barrel, extending the grip towards you. You met his visor with contempt, but took the old blaster from him carefully as not to cause a misfire. It would be nice to not be on the run from a guild you had pledged your loyal services to for so many years, that now wanted you delivered back to them in carbonite; and you knew that Karga would trust his favorite hunter. The life of a moisture farmer wasn’t what you dreamed of when you escaped Corellia. Fuck that. "Yeah, it's a deal. One hunt and I'm gone."

If he didn't want you to ogle his wares he should have closed the panel, but instead he joined you at the wall, picking up some extra plasma cartridges and a vibroblade with a curved handle, which he pushed into your hands. "Will that be enough?"

Either you trust me or you don't, pick a side, tin can. You didn't answer him right away, opting to pull a chest holster and another couple of blasters down from the wall. You cinched the holsters tight and tucked a blaster in on either side, slung a disruptor over your back and stuffed the knife in your boot. Once you had everything in place you stuck your fists on your hips like a superhero with a confidant nod. "Yeah, that should be good."

Mando was watching you with intensity, his visor going over each of your weapon choices. He tugged on your holsters’ cross straps to make sure they were secured. You rolled your eyes at him, "I know how to dress myself, sir."

No answer. Typical. He stopped fussing with your straps and turned back to the wall, selecting a heavy multi-ammo bandolier. He stepped closer to you, wrapping both arms around your waist to fit the belt in place on your hips. You tried to convince yourself that it was the cool beskar of his chest plate pressed up against you that sent a shiver down your spine. The physical contact was over as quickly as it had been initiated, and then he was back in the vault fishing out the tiny silver explosives that fit neatly into the circular latches on either side of your belt, handing them to you without a word. Finished with his selection he pressed a few buttons on his vambrace, one to slide the armory shut and another to summon an egg-shaped hover crib to float to his side. Inside its shell the child was sound asleep, a heart-melting smile on his tiny little face. As adorable as he was, you furrowed your brow in confusion.

“Is he coming too?”

“Where I go, he goes.” Mando said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. He strode back to the supply crate you had been digging through earlier and packed a handful of rations into a bag for the journey through the dunes. Cool desert air gusted into the stuffy cabin as the access ramp fell open, and the three of you headed out into the darkness of Tatooine.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your dreams were hazy and feverish, shots of blaster fire flickered through the fog from unknown assailants. The smell of blood and blast plasma strong in your nose even while unconscious. You saw the sneering face of a Twi’lek twist in agony and purple blood painted his face before he winked out of existence, replaced in your mindscape with bloody hands. Your hands. Then there was cold beskar on your cheek and strong arms hauling you from the carnage. Harsh wind in your ears and the ground spiraling away beneath you. The howling wind so loud you couldn't hear the questions being barked in your face. Pain, the smell of burning skin, then nothing. You felt objects moving frantically nearby, and something soft and green was pressing into your ribs. Your eyes, heavy as they were, fluttered open to see two huge black orbs staring up from your side where bright red blood was staining the sheets under you. Is that ... my blood?

“Hey green bean...what’cha up to?” Your voice was hoarse and weak, scratching its way out reluctantly past chapped lips. Talking made your head pound, you reached up to cradle your aching skull when two leather tipped hands caught yours and held them steady.

“Easy... Don’t move too much. Please.” Your hands were gently set back down at your sides, shooting pain up your arms. A large black and silver body was hunched beside you, frantically sticking bacta patches to your skin.

“Mand...do? What…what happened?” Your voice was barely a whisper, so faint the recycled air of the cabin threatened to whisk it away.

“You got the bastard, but that fucking Twi' managed to get a shot off in your gut point blank before he went down. You shouldn't have survived that but you did.” Is that a compliment? He was wrapping a long gauze bandage around your arm, fixing the bacta patches in place so they could do their thing. It hurt, but not as much as you thought it should have. Down by your side the child had rolled into you face first, passed out cold next to an emergency cauterizer. Mando nodded at his sleeping son, “And if it wasn’t for him, you’d be dead for sure.”

The baby? How is he involved with this? Thoughts echoed loudly in your skull, and you decided that thinky time was over. The little guy had the right idea, you should sleep now, embrace the comfort of the dark behind your eyes, let it swallow you whole.

“Hey hey hey! Not yet. Stay with me, ok? You need to drink something. Here.” An armored hand slid under your head, urging you to sit up just enough to take a drink out of the metal canteen pressed against your lips. “You need to stay awake, just for a little while.” Cool water graced your dry mouth and dripped onto your chin. Embarrassed by your mess you tried to wipe the droplets away but once again your arms were halted in place. A rough piece of fabric dabbed at your face.

“I’m not a baby, Mando. I can take care of myself.” The creeping sting of blast-burn that still scalded your skin told you that might not be true. The bacta was just starting to seep into your bloodstream, but it would take some time to work its magic.

“I know that. I was with you down there in the fray. A rancor would have been less terrifying to face than you. But right now I need you to hold still.”

Another compliment? Or was that sarcasm? You’re losing your edge, tin man. You tried to roll your eyes but the effort made your head spin; you glanced around the cabin, trying to avoid meeting the visor that was pinning you to the cot. Strewn about the floor of the ship was what was left of your holsters and weapons, splattered with red and purple blood. You couldn’t be sure, but it looked like one belt had been blasted to smithereens, torn strips of leather the only indication it had been there at all. Farther away you saw a dark block in the carbonite freezer. The Twi’lek from your nightmare was frozen solid, though from his limp posture you guessed he had stopped moving long before he was put in the chamber. One of his long lekku had been cut clean off, and even in carbonite you could see the wound was fresh. Something long and curved stuck victoriously out of the center of his chest. Your vibroblade, lodged to the hilt in his sternum.

Mando was still kneeling on the floor by your side, and though you couldn’t see his face his hunched shoulders gave you the feeling that he was distraught. He still had your head resting in his palm, his thumb absently toying with your hair. Maybe it was the bacta running through your system that made you start to feel warm and gooey on the inside, but the sensation of his hand on your scalp felt... nice. Nice to be touched in a way that wasn't just for survival. Though you had already felt his hands on your body this was something else entirely. Sincere. Maybe it was just the first time somebody near you wasn't trying to kill or capture you. You foolish girl, you've already been captured. Are you so lonely that a gentle touch makes you melt? Maybe it's you that's losing your edge.

"You should have left me for dead, cashed in on that half credit reward."

"That is not The Way." His mantra was rehearsed, spoken as easily as he drew breath, but you could hear the exhaustion in his voice.

“Well... thank you for not letting me bleed out.” You could see the top of the baby's green little noggin still curled up against your side, though the part of your ribs he was leaning on didn’t have a single mark. You looked for the blast wound that Mando was supposedly talking about, but aside from a handful of plasma burns your skin was smooth and healthy; the pool of dried blood under you was the only indication anything had been there at all. What kind of mando magic is that? And what did he mean about the child? Your first thought was how disappointed you were there wouldn’t be a good scar. Your second was realizing your top was missing. Shreds of it were still on your shoulders, but the front had been ripped off completely to get to your vanished wounds. Mando seemed like he didn’t even care, he had been so focused on patching you up that the idea of modesty was thrown out the window, but you couldn’t help teasing him. “There’s not a scratch on me, Mando. You just wanted me topless, didn’t you?”

His thumb on your scalp froze, his visor going from your face to your chest with rapid snaps. Without letting your head drop he used his other hand to tear his cloak from his back and throw it over you and the sleeping baby. “Better?”

Party pooper. “Yes, thank you.” Why is he being so nice? He must have ulterior motives, right? Why keep me alive if not to cash in on that bounty? You decided to push his buttons some more. “This bed sucks. Is this why you're so crotchety? Because you sleep on this Maker-forsaken thing? It’s making my back hurt.”

The cot you were on was spartan at best, more of a cloth covered bucket than a bed. It was recessed into the wall opposite of the armory, bits of machinery and droid parts hanging over the space above you. There wasn’t much of a gap between your head and the durasteel plating of the ship’s hull. Your teasing was rewarded with a long, tired sigh. The hand that cushioned your head moved down to your shoulders, pushing on you so that you sat up straight. You scooped the baby off of your side and into your arms, trying to ignore the dried blood from your wounds that stained the sheets before swaddling the sleeping bean in his father’s cloak. The metal man rose from the floor, letting go of you just long enough to remove his cross-belts and unlatch his chest plate, setting them on the floor with a dull thunk. He squished himself between the wall and your back, his dorsal plate scraping loudly without its cape. He scooched one armored leg around you until it was between your hip and the wall on your side, pulling you into his lap and turning his whole body into a pillow, letting your torso rest on his. He was used to the sharp metal bed frame, but that didn’t mean you should be subjected to it.

“Is this ok?”

You could only nod, your cheeks flushing red with a mix of emotions. It was more than ok, his formidable body was warm and comfortable. His arms wrapped around your waist, helping to support not only you but also his foundling. The spice of him was strong now with him on your back, worn leather and metal and that damn fresher soap that was making a fool out of you. Underneath his steady breathing the sound of something rhythmic caught your attention, it was quick and faint, but unmistakably the sound of his heartbeat. His heart is racing. Listen to that engine purr.

Behind you a man with a name you may never know watched your chest slowly rise and fall with each breath, not with lust but something unfamiliar though not unwelcome. He could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears, whether from the ordeal of keeping you alive or the fact that you were in his arms again he couldn't be sure. He sighed, trying to convince himself to calm down, but the deep breath he took only flooded his senses with the essence of you, threatening to melt the beskar off his head with the heat rushing to his face. He couldn't help the way his fingers traced over your skin, careful not to undo any of the bacta patches. He jumped slightly when your hands found his, but the weight of the child still in your arms made it difficult to reach your fingers. The glove you were touching was suddenly empty, and a bare hand snaked out from under the cloak that kept you modest. With the press of a button the child’s pram floated its way over to you from the supply crates. The baby’s adopted father carefully lifted the sleeping creature off your lap and into his hover crib, another button press on the vambrace and the shield door slid closed.

His hand returned to the safety of the cloak, pulling the other glove off before finding your fingers again. His skin was so warm you couldn't help but imagine his hands somewhere more intimate. Evil, evil bacta... Maybe you wouldn't have to.

"I should thank you properly." It was impossible to hide the tiredness of your voice, but he was close enough you only needed to whisper. His grasp tightened around you, your once plush pillow was now a rigid wall of muscle.

"You should go to sleep." the sound of his baritone words so close to your ear made your skin prickle. Too late for that. Slowly you guided his hand down your belly until your tangled hands bumped into your belt line. A low growl rumbled out of the modulator. “Cyar'ika... you need to rest."

The alien term of endearment made you hum, but you ignored his words of warning and pushed his hand under the tough fabric till his fingertips found your heat, both of you gasping softly at first contact. His free hand fumbled with your button, and after some difficulty you undid it for him along with the zipper. With space to work, with his wrist moved freely, lazily rolling a calloused fingertip against your clit; remembering his lesson from the first time he experienced your body, his touch was light as a feather.

There wasn’t much you could do for him in the position you were in, so you leaned back against him and relaxed, letting him enjoy you at his own pace. The bottom of his helmet was pressed into the crook of your neck, and though it was sharp you could feel something warm and soft underneath it. So there is a real man under there. Scruffy stubble brushed at your skin and sent goosebumps down your chest. Under the beskar his eyes followed the prickling trail that lead under the tattered cloak you still wore to your breasts, watching the way the fabric pointed where your nipples grew hard for him. His other hand couldn’t resist finding its way to your pert peaks, rolling them between his fingers in that way he knew flushed you with heat. Soft gasps rewarded his ears as he worked at your breast and clit, rubbing them in tandem. Your hips rolled into one hand and your back arched into the other, urging him to help you build your climax. He obliged, adding a second finger to pinch your clit softly between strong digits until you fell apart around him.

The pressure that was building behind you and pressing into your spine told you that if you wanted more from him you would have to give him a better angle. You started to get up, but the hands on your sensitive spots held you in place.

“What about your injuries? I don’t want to hurt you.” What injuries? There’s nothing left! His voice was filled with sincerity, a far cry from your first encounter. You didn’t answer him, instead you found each of his hands and squeezed them with a hum, asking him to trust that the bacta had set in and made you comfortable enough to move from your impromptu med bay. He slid his fingers out from your burning core, dragging the wetness from your cunt over your skin until his palms were on your back, helping to push you up off of him. The teeny tiny bed frame made it difficult to spin yourself around until you were facing him, and even more difficult to kick your pants off as you passed over top of him, but he never took his hands away from you to keep you steady until you were seated in his lap.

Straddling his waist you rolled your hips over where his cock was hidden from you, making him shudder under your legs. His arms glided from your knees to your hips, languidly making their way up your sides and past your breasts to the last remaining tatters of the black knit sweater he had allowed you to wear. Hooking a thumb under its ruined edges, he slid it up over your arms and cast it away into the darkness of the ship. His hands went right back to working at your breasts, massaging them like dough in time with your grinding hips. You took a moment to admire how he looked underneath you, his remaining armor glinting in the hazy ship light as his hands searched for every sensitive inch of your chest. You knew from legend that his helmet could never be removed in front of you, but you’d never heard anything about the rest of his clothes. Where his chest plate had been was a strappy flak jacket dotted with magnetic fasteners. Your hands went slowly to the first clasp, and the hands that were so indulged in you froze, his body stiff between your legs.

“Is this ok?” The irony of you repeating his question from earlier back to him made your lips turn in a sly smile.

“Y-yes.” His voice was nearly imperceptible, and you realized that he was shaking. You looked to his visor, watching him nod in consent before you continued. He dropped his hands to your hips, pulling down on your thighs and rutting up into you while you busied yourself with the complicated under armor until it fell away at his sides, revealing a pair of suspenders and an identical black knit tunic as the one that had been shredded off of you. You didn’t have the energy to peel every article of clothing off of him, so this would have to do. Without his cloak bunched around his shoulders you were able to see the flesh of his throat, so warm and inviting that you wanted to sink your teeth into it.

You bent down to nibble at the exposed skin, and the filthy moan that rattled out of the helmet sent shivers down your spine. The taste of him was exquisite, better than you could have imagined under all that fabric and leather. The overwhelming cocktail of his scent straight from the source made you bold. You kissed your way around the edge of his helmet where the metal met his skin until you found his pulse point and made good on your desires. His body convulsed when you bit down, sucking at the tender skin until you left blooming marks that would be there for days.

“Cyar'ika... Please...“ There was that word again, you didn’t know what it meant but the way he breathed it like a prayer felt like warm honey in your belly. Releasing his tormented neck you ran your hands down his broad chest until your thumbs bumped the leather suspenders that lead you down to his waist line where you were able to tug the edge of his shirt free, giving you a delicious window of his tummy; well-muscled and dusted with dark brown hair.

“What’s wrong, tin man? Nobody ever touch you like this before?” He was still shaking while you ran your hands under the edge of his shirt and through the soft treasure trail of fuzz from the top of his belt line to the bottom of his ribs. He couldn’t answer you, his breath caught in his throat at the sensation of your hands on his skin, but you were starting to put the pieces of his puzzle together. No, probably not.

You decided not to torture him any longer. The fabric of his pants was nearly stretched to capacity and wet with your slick. You had to stretch one leg out onto the floor to get enough of a footing to lift yourself high enough off him that you could free him from the canvas prison. His cock nearly burst out of its confines, and your face flushed red at the sight of him standing proudly at attention, twitching in your hands with a flood of shimmering precum made just for you.

His chest was heaving, ragged breaths forcing their way out of his modulator before you’d even taken his length. You used your hips to notch him at your entrance and his grip on your thighs clenched like a steel trap. Slowly you lowered yourself onto him, letting him fill you until you were stretched wide. Your eyes met his visor, though from the way it was tilted you knew he was watching himself disappear into you. His arms wrapped tightly under your ass as he thrust into you hard enough that he lifted you off the cot, quickly scooting both your bodies down the bed until he was flat on his back. You tried to stay upright, but his pounding soon had your head spinning until you were falling forward into his chest, digging your arms around his shoulders in a way you were becoming familiar with. Your hands found their way to the back of his helmet to where his hair line started, sneaking a few fingers under the metal edge to tangle in his curls. The Mandalorian’s hands were on your waist, holding you in place while he rocketed up into you, filling the ships cabin with the sound of wet slaps. His thick cock hit different from this angle, grinding up against the sweet spot deep inside you with each rut until you started seeing stars behind your eyes. He could feel you building up around him and he quickened his pace until you were gasping his name.

“M-mando! I... I’m gonna....” Your muscles coiled with heat until you burst, your sweet cunt fluttering around his still pumping cock until he went cascading over the edge of ecstasy with you, his helmet vibrating with a guttural roar. His feverish body shook, giving you a few short thrusts to milk the cum from his cock until it spilled out from where he was lost inside you.

His shaky arms held onto you so tightly, as if you would blast away into space if he let go. The endorphins flooding his head made him want to pour his heart out and tell you everything, bare himself in body and soul for the first time in his life. He wanted to tell you how nice you had looked in his clothes, how the loose knit fabric draped over your breasts was a work of art; even more so when you were standing before him armed to the teeth in his hunting trophies. How seeing you slice that fucking Twi’lek to ribbons was more graceful than any ballet. The sight of the bloody hole that had been burned into your side had made his skin crawl. Mando wasn’t ready to explain the child’s healing powers, he barely understood them himself; but if it wasn’t for the baby he would have been burying your corpse instead of tending your wounds. Instead of experiencing your living body like he was now.

His heart fluttered at the thought of his foundling healing you with his baby sorcerer magic, his tiny green paws pushed on your side where the blood was spilling from your wound. The thought of you dying for his bounty made him sick, but pride flushed the sensation away when he thought back to that first day with you up in the flight deck. How when his baby boy was restless that you acted, not with malice but with tenderness and care. He'd never wanted to rip his helmet off faster in all his days than when you sang his son a lullaby, the sweet tune of it filtering through his sensory equipment, and he longed to hear it as it was meant to be. In that moment he had been entranced, but the fierce glare of his visor had made you feel threatened. He didn't want that. He wanted to make you feel safe. The same way you had made his child feel, the same way you made him feel now. Like the galaxy itself couldn’t tear you from him.

But the ugly truth was that soon it would all end when you both went your separate ways. All the feelings he wanted to confess to you died in his mouth, leaving a bitter taste that brought him back to reality. You still straddled his waist, and though the blood had long since left his cock it still sat neatly in your heat, letting him feel your gentle heartbeat around him. Carefully he pulled himself free from the apex of your thighs and rolled you both sideways onto the unforgiving cot, letting gravity shuffle you down until you were nestled in the crook of his arm. He couldn’t help brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, meeting your half lidded eyes with his own behind the visor.

“I don’t think I can get to the fresher this time.” Your voice was barely a whisper, and the edges of sleep crept unbidden to your eyes; the traumatic activities of the day finally winning over your endurance. “You’re probably going to have to burn these sheets.”

Mando hummed with indifference, though for you he would burn all of Tatooine down if you asked. All the lovely thoughts that had danced through his mind came rolling through again, haloed in the warm light of afterglow. Only one made its way past his lips, sneaking out of the helmets’ modulator like a prayer.

“How does the song end?”

“Mmm?” You were so close to sleep, so cozy and full of cum that you knew would be a fun mess for morning-you to clean up. You wracked your brain trying to remember what the hell he was talking about. The star-shanty? “Why, do you need a lullaby too?”

“N-no. Just curious. When you leave, my foundling might ask me about it.” Liar. The calloused hand gliding up and down your spine brought the original contract you made with him ringing through your skull. One hunt and I’m gone.

“Leave? I’m not going anywhere until I see you tell Karga face to face that I’m rotting in a sarlacc pit. No take-backs. That old dog will probably dance when he hears he won’t have to part with his credits and I want to catch it on holo-corder.”

The rumbling sigh deep in his chest sounded more like an engine powering down than a mortal man, and it told you more than words ever could. The arm you had around his chest was met with strong fingers that intertwined with your own. He doesn’t want me to go. Who are you, Mandalorian?

“Tell me anyway? Please?” His arms tightened like a fortress around you. His words were distant, echoing out from somewhere in dreamland instead of right by your ear. Alright you big softie, if you’re going to beg me. You sighed heavily against him, trying to recall the songs of your distant past.

“The nights are long between the stars, and lonely too for me,

I wonder how I might have fared with home and family.

But the bonds of friendship I have formed will last my lifetime through,

Security is not for me, my dreams are all of you.”

The same soft snores that had been your original encore with the baby now ghosted in your ear, muffled by the mysterious beskar helmet but still unmistakable. Like father like son.

The weight of his arms around you was like nothing you had ever felt in your years on the run. You had traveled so far and met so many living beings but not once had you let another share your bed while you slept. You could get used to this. The thought was the last you had before sleep overtook you, your body slumping against his while you dreamed of silver and steel.

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mythologymondays · 4 years

Text

It’s that time again, the time where we all gleefully sit down on the nearest mound and regale ourselves with totally normal Welsh tales of magical women and horses and enchanted bags, because that’s just how the Mabinogion is. Fun sources and FACTS beneath the cut, as always.

Press J on your keyboard if you hate stories about Medieval etiquette, liminality, and magic mounds.

The Prince and the Horse Girl: a temporally disconnected romance for the ages

So, the last we heard of Pwyll, he had successfully cockblocked himself into becoming best friends with Arawn, the Lord of the Underworld, which sounds like a pretty average Friday night in Cardiff, let me tell you. Anyway, Pwyll at this point is just kind of riding high on the fame that being best pals with Arawn brings, and he’s showing his friendship bracelet to everyone he meets and saying stuff like “yeah, it’s great to have the Lord of the Underworld Arawn-ed whenever I need him,” and everyone just sort of rolls their eyes good-naturedly and thinks about death.

One day, Pwyll is at his court at Arbeth, which is one of his most important courts. There’s a huge feast in front of him and all of his courtly pals are there, just chewing the fat. Pwyll tears off the leg of another whole roast pig, probably his eighth of the session, and he’s about to bite into it when he realises that everyone sat around the table is staring at him, so he puts down the pig leg really gingerly and says, “do I have hog spleen around my mouth or something?” and one of his courtly crew, who doesn’t get a name in the original text and so will henceforth be known as Brad, says, “no, my lord, but you do have practically an entire herd of pigs in your stomach, so maybe it’s time for a walk?”

Pwyll blinks at him and he’s like, “I don’t really see why I would want to go for a walk in the yucky outside when I could be sitting here and savouring delicious morsels of tenderly roasted flesh,” and Brad shrugs and says, “well, I read an article about nutrition in this scientific journal last week, and apparently it’s not actually that good for you to just eat constantly and never go outside ever,” and Pwyll is like, “no, but it’s super fun,” and Brad sighs and he’s like, “look, I wasn’t going to tell you this, just in case you got too excited, but there’s actually a mound outside,” and then Pwyll’s eyes go as wide as dinner plates and he cries, “a mound? Seriously? You’re not just fucking with me to get me to go outside?” and Brad is like, “no, there’s seriously a genuine, 100% organic mound outside, and it’s only a short walk away,” and so Pwyll pushes his chair out from under the table and he’s all, “lead the way, pal, I can’t believe you didn’t tell me sooner that there was a fucking rad mound outside, you know how much I love mounds.”

So, they all traipse outside on horseback, and lo and behold, Brad wasn’t lying. There really is an absolutely incredible mound outside, all earthy and hilly, and… look. I’ll level with you. It’s hard to get excited about a mound, but Pwyll manages it. I have no idea how. God knows I’ve tried. But anyway, he leads his merry band of lads up to the top of the mound, and they’re all about to sit down when Brad puts out a hand and stops Pwyll from doing so. Pwyll is like, “dude, stop crushing my vibe, I’m about to become sedentary on this sediment,” and Brad just shakes his head and he’s like, “bro, I need to tell you something about the mound, because I may have undersold it.”

Pwyll is obviously in complete disbelief at this point, just like, “mate, there’s no way you undersold it. It can’t get any cooler than this. It just can’t. Have you seen it?” and Brad is like, “yes, it’s a really interesting geological formation, and the topography also makes it look a bit like a butt, which is obviously super rad, but I didn’t tell you that it’s also a magic mound, because if a nobleman sits on it, one of two things will happen: either he’ll see something absolutely fantastic, like the original The Mummy film starring Brendan Fraser or a cool dog, or he’ll get maimed and mortally wounded. It’s 50/50, to be honest with you.”

Pwyll just blinks at him, and he’s like, “dude, those are two very different things, but you know, I really can’t pass up the opportunity to see a cool dog,” and Brad says, “I need you to know that the dog was just a random example, I make no canine promises here, I can’t stress that enough,” and Pwyll just shrugs and scoffs, “whatever, dude. Anyway, if I do get totally maimed, I’ve got my posse here, and you’ll do first aid on me, won’t you?” and Brad just sort of nods nervously, because they haven’t even invented antiseptic in Medieval Wales and all their bandages are just, like, old socks drenched in ale, and they don’t have St John Ambulance to teach them all first aid because there isn’t even a J in the Welsh alphabet, and then Pwyll grits his teeth and sits down.

Almost immediately, this brilliant white horse just zooms past them, and Pwyll is like, “oh, that’s fucking sick, my dudes! I thought a dog would be cool, but a horse? Are you kidding me? It doesn’t get much better than this! Equestrian displays are my jam!” and then Brad rolls his eyes and he’s like, “my lord, did you not notice that there was a phenomenally sexy and almost certainly magic lady in gold riding that horse?” and Pwyll is like, “honestly, no, I was kind of distracted by the fetlocks, but now you come to mention it, she’s pretty attractive, I guess. Hey, do you think I could catch up with her and ask her where she got her cool horse?”

So he gets back on his horse and he tries to catch up with the lady, but even though Pwyll’s horse was sold to him as being the fastest ride on four legs, he can’t even come close to her. He walks back to his lads, his metaphorical tail between his actual legs, and he’s like, “dudes, we’re going to formulate a plan tonight,” and then a random guy in the posse is like, “oh cool, I brought Sharpies,” and they go back to Arbeth Court and spend literally all night just drawing diagrams and equations on a tapestry of England, because that’s probably the best use for it.

The next day, they put their plan in action. Pwyll gets his youngest, fittest lad, plops him on his biggest, muscliest horse, the one that’s like an equine version of that man in Game of Thrones who keeps breaking weightlifting records and is almost definitely earmarked to play Atlas in some big budget Greek myth film, and sends him after the lady. But still, no matter how fast they ride, she’s always one step ahead of them. At one point, they almost catch up with her, but when Pwyll reaches out to stroke her silky blonde hair in a totally normal and cool way, she pulls forward again and he just fucking eats dust. It’s humiliating.

And this goes on for three days, because princes don’t have, like, hobbies in Medieval Wales, or apparently any princely duties that would make galavanting after a magic horse woman for half a week kind of inconvenient for the general populace, and gradually, Pwyll’s men all bow out one by one, probably because they’ve all developed an absolutely stonking case of piles from being on horseback for three days solid, and then Pwyll is alone in his romantic and also literal pursuit.

Exhausted, starving and probably desperate for the loo at this point, Pwyll throws his head back and howls, “what the fuck is going on on this day? I’ve tried everything! I’m absolutely stumped. I don’t know what to do about this. I’ve considered it from every possible angle. I chased her, and that didn’t work. I got my wingman to chase her, and that didn’t work. Those are my only two options in the entire world. I just don’t know what else I can do. It’s completely fucking futile, I wish I’d just seen a dog instead,” and then a flash of inspiration comes to him, and he just calls out to the woman, “erm, could you maybe just, like, stop?” and, like a miracle, she does.

When he catches up to her, she glares at him, and says, “I’ve literally been waiting three whole days for you to just ask me to stop, why did it take you so long?” and Pwyll is like, “I sort of thought that it was implied, to be honest with you, what with all the chasing and me crying loudly about my unending solitude and the futility of love,” and she shrugs and says, “well, if we’re to be marred, we really have to work on our communication,” and Pwyll is like, “wait, what, who said anything about marriage?” and she just rolls her eyes, like, “look, I’m a sexy Medieval maiden and you’re a prince with some land and gendered expectations, so of course we’re going to get married,” and he’s like, “well, if we marry, that means I get to ride your horse whenever I want, right?” and she nods, like, “yes, that’s definitely the primary appeal of marriage.”

But just as he’s about to get down on one knee, she looks at him again, and says, “I should just tell you something super quick, in the name of true love and Medieval marriage etiquette,” and he’s like, “what, your name?” and she says, “no, not that, although it’s Rhiannon, but mostly I’m thinking of the fact that you actually have to wait a whole year to propose to me, because I’m almost engaged to someone else, who I hate, and I need to sort that all out first.”

Pwyll frowns and says, “hang on, is this going to be another one of those weird magic things where I have to wait a whole year and then conveniently murder someone in a previously determined location?” and she’s like, “what the fuck, no, there’s not going to be any murder at all, just a lavish engagement feast and some nuptials and probably some awkward standing around with the in-laws to-be,” and he’s like, “so why do we have to wait a year?” and she just waves her arms around and says, “temporally disconnected Otherworld shit, my love, I don’t make the rules. Just come to the court of Hyfaidd Hen in exactly a year, and we’ll do the whole ball and chain thing. It’ll be great.”

So he agrees, because of course he does, and the next thing he knows, it’s a year later, and he goes to Hyfaidd Hen and Rhiannon’s there in this beautiful McQueen wedding dress, looking all Kate Middleton but without the colonial royal associations, and there’s an absolutely exquisite feast laid out, with a whole array of delicious Medieval food, like unseasoned meat pies and room-temperature ale that looks like piss, and Pwyll just thinks to himself how cool it all is, but he also secretly harbours a lingering regret for the previous year, where he was forced after a blunder of etiquette to kill a random man in a duel, and although he feels bad about it, a part of him longs for the decadent adventures of his bachelorhood, when murder was more than just a six letter word.

They’re all just kind of milling about on the dancefloor, listening to the bards spit some absolute club classics like Y Gododdin by Aneurin, which really gets the toes tapping, when this random dude with a chiseled jawline and a playful glint in his eye comes up to Pwyll and extends his hand for Pwyll to shake. Pwyll, who is completely head over heels for manners and etiquette, shakes the man’s hand, and says, “hello, new friend! What can I do for you?” and Rhiannon elbows him in the side, and hisses, “be careful, fiancé dearest, don’t let him tangle you up in a web of etiquette from which there is no escape,” and Pwyll waves her off, saying, “my sweet darling, I am a prince of Wales; manners are my middle name,” and he turns back to the man.

The man grins at him, and he says, “I’ve come to ask a favour of you, Pwyll, prince of Wales,” and Pwyll, still enamoured by this man’s manners, is struck by an overwhelming desire to just do whatever this perfectly polite man wants, so he spreads his arms wide in a benevolent gesture, conveniently using it as an excuse to set down his glass of lukewarm piss ale on a nearby shelf, and says, “literally anything you want, my friend, I’ll give you!” and then the stranger’s grin turns into a smirk and he says, “by your word?” and Pwyll is like, “fuck yeah, man, by all of my words, as God and all these noble guests are my witness!” and the stranger is like, “sick bro, I want to marry Rhiannon, and I also want your wedding feast.”

And Pwyll has no idea what to say to that, because he just promised this man anything he wanted, so he decides that maybe silence is his best bet here, and the man grins at him, and stalks off, knowing that there’s literally nothing that Pwyll can do now except reconsider all of his life choices up to this point.

When the man has left, Rhiannon groans, “you phenomenal dick, that man was Gwawl and he’s the complete bag of dicks that my parents tried to marry me off to, and you just got me affianced to him!” and Pwyll just grits his teeth and hisses, “well, dear, you might have told me that before I told him I’d do whatever he wanted,” and Rhiannon sighs and says, “you’re right, but look, we can work through this. Here’s the plan. Firstly, we’ll tell him that he can’t have the feast, because it’s not yours to give, but mine, and we’ll prepare him an equal feast instead. Then, we’ll tell him that he can marry me a year from today, but here’s the thing - on the day of the wedding, you’ll secretly turn up in disguise with a very tiny magic bag and you’ll ask him, very reasonably, for just enough food to fill the bag. He’ll obviously say yes, because even he can’t turn down something that reasonable, but the bag will be enchanted to never be filled, so you’ll just take all the food, until he asks you how he can help you fill the bag, and you tell him that a fine nobleman has to step on it to seal it, and then he’ll step on it, and then you jump on him and pull the bag over his head and tie him up in the bag and hang it from a rafter, and then you’ll blow your hunting horn to summon your posse of lads and you’ll all beat him to a bloody, pulpy death in the bag.”

Pwyll just blinks at her, and says, “sweetheart, love of my life, light of my existence, did you perchance dream up that oddly specific plan a while ago, because if not, then your imagination terrifies me,” and this small, maniacal grin plays on her lips, and she says, “darling, you know how you asked me last year if you’d have to wait a whole year and then conveniently murder someone in a previously determined location, and I told you no?” and he’s like, “yes, I do remember that,” and she says, “well, ask me again,” and so he says, “babe, do I have to wait a whole year and then conveniently murder someone in a previously determined location?” and she’s like, “yes, sweetheart, but I’ve got it in the bag,” and then they high five each other and do a vengeful murder jig for like ten minutes.

And of course, a year later, they do it all over again, this time with a tiny enchanted bag and a goddamn point to prove, but that’s a story for another time.

My other retellings can be found here, and my Mythology Mondays Facebook page is here. My book is here. Yay.

I’m going to level with you: I typed out a whole bunch of super cool academic stuff and then my turdwallet of a laptop crashed and deleted all of it, and I honestly want to perish very slightly at the prospect of typing it all out again, but in a nutshell:

Some people think that Rhiannon was a horse goddess who was undeified by the Christian dudes who wrote down the pagan Welsh myths all those years later. While the Christian dudes did almost certainly sanitise the source material, we just don’t have any real proof of what they left out. The main argument for Rhiannon being a horse goddess is that she’s a woman and there was, erm, a horse. Not the most compelling argument. Some people also think she may be a cognate to the Gallic horse goddess, Epona, but this is basically extrapolated from the fact that they’re both female and somehow linked to horses, which I don’t think would fly in a court of law.

If you’re wondering why Pwyll didn’t just tell Gwawl to fuck off, it’s because he’s bound, as a nobleman, by a very strict code of honour and morals. By giving Gwawl his word, even before he knew what he was agreeing to, Pwyll made a binding promise. If he goes back on his word, Gwawl is well within his rights to challenge the fuck out of him.

Welsh myth and the Otherworld is super interesting. The Otherworld was generally believed to only be accessible at certain times and via certain places, called ‘liminal spaces’, such as bogs, bodies of water, and caves. Liminal spaces are essentially a sort of sacred space which exists in the in between, where the boundaries between worlds are porous and can be crossed, provided certain ritual conditions are met. The mound in this particular narrative is likely a portal to the Otherworld, which explains why Pwyll was able to access the magical realm of Rhiannon through it. The Otherworld, although not explicitly an Underworld, does have links with death and the afterlife, as do mounds, so that strengthens the connection. Bet you never knew mounds were so fucking cool.

Primary sources:

Davies, Sioned (2007) The Mabinogion, New York: Oxford University Press

Secondary sources:

Goldwasser, Michele (1994) What Drives the Mabinogi? Proceedings of the Harvard Celtic Colloquium, 14, 49-57

Linkletter, Michael (2001) Magical Realism and the “Mabinogi”: an Exercise in Methodology, Proceedings of the Harvard Celtic Colloquium, 21, 51-63

Wachsler, Arthur (1975) The Elaborate Ruse: A Motif of Deception in Early Celtic Historical Variants of the Journey to the Other World, Journal of the Folklore Institute, 12(1) 29-46

#mythology mondays #celtic myth #welsh myth #pwyll #rhiannon #mythology #mabinogi #mabinogion

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