Sea Shanty About A Crew Disappearing At Sea But As It’s Sung Fewer And Fewer People Are Singing Until

people who discover a fic and leave a comment on every chapter as they read it are the unsung heroes of our era. 

I'm so glad you're here!! Welcome!! I haven't mentioned my new Tumblr account on AO3 so I'm so glad you found me in the meantime!! I'm definitely dropping this story tomorrow, I just need to do a quick edit!

Work kicked my ass today, I've honestly looking forward to bed since 6 P.M but had enough energy to come on and say thank you for your support and I'm so excited for you to read this second part ❤️

Coming Soon

The heat and work have kicked my ass these past few days, but I'm hoping to drop my next fic either tonight or tomorrow! Friday at the absolute latest! Here's a sneak peek of the art for those who are interested!

be like me series masterlist

[slow-burn. eventual smut, 18+. MDNI.]

* indicates smut.

↬      ❝  your hands shove hard into his breastplate, fingers immediately aching at the impenetrable hardness of the armor. “just to be clear, I did not do this for you.” you spit coldly, glaring upwards against the glare of the sun. the Mandalorian normally stands more than a foot taller than you, but soon he’s so close that you see yourself in his visor, a menacing finger pointing down the bridge of your nose. at his words, your whole body trembles. "do not put your hands on me." his voice is threatening, deep, low. "ever." ❞

part i - salvation

part ii - gratitude

part iii - ka’ra

part iv - compromise *

part v -

part vi -

part vii -

send ask/message to be a part of the ‘be like me’ taglist.

My new meds make my skin throw a fit. It’s not terribly bad, just a few things here and there, but it’s bumming me out because I’ve never really had too many run-ins with acne.

My four-year-old sister, however, is under the impression that it’s just “3D freckles”, and that they look very, very pretty. She wants all of my freckles to “pop out”, especially the ones across my nose; they’re her favourite.

And it puts me in this weird position where I can’t say, “No, this is acne, and it’s bad,” because I don’t want to teach her that it’s a bad to have unclear skin, you know?

Because the more I think about interactions I have with children, the more I realise that children will consistently compliment “flaws” until they’ve been taught not to.

Like, a kid at the library, whose sister has vitiligo, saw my scars once and suggested that his sister and I should be cats for Halloween, since I have “tabby skin” and she has “calico skin”. “I can be a black cat,” he immediately added. “It’s not AS cool, but they’re the spookiest.”

When I started losing weight, my little brother immediately demanded that I gain it back, because I wasn’t as comfortable to cuddle with anymore.

And my other little sister always wants to wear her paint-stained clothes to school so that “everyone can tell [she’s] an artist”.

I don’t know. I guess talking to little kids just reminds me that all of this superficial shit we worry about really is 100% made up.

I've honestly been toying with the fact that I may be autistic for the last year or so but I refuse to get a diagnosis because of how ableist jobs can be regarding things like this. Unless you need medication or financial support, I agree with all of this. A few of my other health issues have backtracked my career and education when I was in my late teens/early 20s and that should never have happened. I needed the help and medications but it still was frustrating to have to decide when and if I was going to lie about them to employers when interviewing for jobs.

By the way. Before you rush to get a professional diagnosis for a Brain Thing you should really weigh your options. Like do you just want to "prove it" or will this actually give you access to treatment you can't have otherwise? Are the treatment options available worth having the government know you're neurodivergent? Because sometimes it's better to keep things off the record because unfortunately we still live in a very deeply ableist society and you might not want to have more real material oppression stacked against you than you have to

REBLOG IF ITS OKAY TO TALK TO YOU.

Please.

Its not as simple as Din should or should not be Mandalore. It's that there has been absoutely no consistency. Nothing previously set up has been paid off, plot lines are skipped over entierly, the tone of this season is drastically different episode to episode. And characterization is all over the place.

Nothing was explored in a meaningful manner especially things set up in season 2. Season 2 basically didnt happen according to the plot of season 3 beacuse none of what mattered there had consequences here.

Its not we wanted Din to rule blindly.

Its that the journey to get to this point has been extremely poor storytelling and lacks any kind of consistent characterization or thematic focus.

Din doesn't have to rule, but we have had absolutely no exploration of how he feels about that beyond the very end of season 2 and this episode.

If you enjoy the choices made, fine. But I and others are perfectly valid in our disappointment. I don't need a story to do exactly what I want to like it.

But I sure as hell need it to be consistent.

And this is a scattered inconsistent season.

Day 3: Back to Back (Anal)

Kinktober 2022 Masterlist

Set before season one.

Pairing: Din Djarin x M!Reader

Summary: Perhaps it was the drink, or the hypnotic haze of the club, but you could’ve scorn one moment you were standing before your acquaintance with benefits. So you weren’t sure how you ended up in the one-room bathroom in the back, but you weren’t complaining as the warrior wasted no time in bending you over the sink and yanking down your pants, his gloved finger swiping over the vibrator in your ass with a pleased hum.

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: unprotected sex, rough anal, the reader is AMAB and is implied to be a cis male but I don't use gendered pronouns so it should be safe for my trans and nonbinary friends out there with penises. Peni? Dicks.

Word Count: 1,509

You wouldn’t say you and The Mandalorian were friends, if anything you were acquaintances who knew one another extremely well physically, but not much else outside of that. Not friends, not strangers, just acquaintances with benefits. At least, that's the best way you could put your relationship with the warrior.

The Mandalorian only stopped on your planet once every few months whether it was for fuel, supplies, a quarry, or all the above. You had only met because you managed one of the two spaceports available for ships to dock in town, and he had become a semi-regular customer since. Only staying a few hours at a time, maybe the extremely rare night, but never longer than that. Yet you couldn’t complain. 

He paid on time and he paid well, he was a great father as far as you could tell with his green ward, and he was kind. It was just a bonus that The Mandalorian happened to like how you worked with your hands outside of his ship and now it’s become an expected routine for the warrior to warm your bed while his ship warms your port.

The Mandalorian was a good lay, the best you’ve ever had, probably. Not that you’d ever admit that out loud. But the metal man wasn’t there, hasn’t been for a few months, and you were horny now. And you’d be damned if you waited for the best dick in the galaxy to show up to get the job done.

That’s how you found yourself in one of the more seedy cantinas, dressed in tight pants and a see-through shirt that rubbed your nipples in a way that was borderline teasing you as much as it teased the men and women ogling you through the haze and flickering lights of the club’s darkened atmosphere. 

This wasn’t the place you took a date, no. This was the place you found a warm body to either take home or fuck in a dark corner and never speak to again. You had passed a few bodies shrouded in shadows when you first entered, anonymous silhouettes in different positions that barely alluded you to their species and assigned gender. Your cock twitched in your pants with anticipation at the barely audible moans that found their way above the deafening music.

With a drink in hand, you leaned against a door frame, keeping your body language open to those who sought a companion whether for the evening or just for an hour. You’d take either or. Your cock wept red and tender, made even more sensitive with the vibrating ring around your member. 

It pulsed as if dancing to the beat of the club, your balls hugged by the saddle that wrapped under your sack and was the anchor point for the small, vibrating dildo tucked into your ass to enhance your erection further and preparing you for any eager suitor. 

You felt the room shift despite nothing being visually out of sorts. Yet your skin prickled and the hairs on the back of your neck stood up; you tried to hide your smile in the sip you took from your cup. Glancing to your side was your long-awaited warrior, his armor mesmerizing in the ever-changing lights and fog machine as he loomed over you, hands clenching and unclenching. Even in the dim lighting, you could see the way his chest moved with eager breaths.

Perhaps it was the drink, or the hypnotic haze of the club, but one moment you were standing before The Mandalorian oozing with want, and the next you found yourself in the one-room bathroom in the back being bent over the sink. The warrior was not gentle as he yanked your pants down, his gloved finger swiping over the vibrator in your ass with a pleased hum. He tapped the base and you groaned from the way the dildo's beat briefly shifted in your ass. 

Mando must have been as pent up as you, he didn’t command you to beg or even prolong the need to scratch the itch you both had with teasing and foreplay. He gently took the vibrator and slipped it halfway out, then worked it back in, continuing until he built up a slick rhythm that didn’t offer any resistance.

Satisfied, he let the dildo hang between your legs by its connection to the cock ring, still pulsing against your thigh and wet. He didn’t make you wait, and you sighed in relief when he notched his penis at your entrance and pushed his thick cock into your ass, not stopping until his hips met yours. He let out a loud, long moan that made your cock even harder.

The Mandalorian wasted no time, slamming into you in the way you had been craving. Despite being muffled by the walls, the slap of his hips against yours matched the volume of the music that leaked into the bathroom. Your eyes squeezed shut, enjoying the feeling of being railed, knowing if you opened your eyes to gaze at the scene behind you you'd lose your load sooner than you wanted to. Your knuckles paled with how tightly you clung to the sink, unbashfully letting out breathy “AH-AH-AH”s with every hard thrust that caused the warrior's heavy balls to slap into your own.

The man's hands slid from your hips and to your ass without a hitch in his pace, and you felt him spread your cheeks. You bit your lip to hide your smile, not needing to look to see the way the man is gazing down where you were joined. He loved watching the way his dick slid so easily into your ass, the way your hole bloomed for him with every thrust, mesmerized by how well you could take his thick, long cock like a champ. 

AUTHOR'S NOTE

I honestly went back and forth between writing this for a reader with a vagina and a penis and opted for the latter, as you can see, because I recognize the lack of work explicitly made for those with peni-dicks and I want y'all to know that I see you and you deserve some hot smut just like everyone else. I got you.

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

every day on this website is just block bots, unwillingly learn more about a show i stopped watching 9 seasons in, and hope i one day have the time and motivation to actually post what i want