#half life gunship

[deku-pipe-link]

My decision to draw more human characters freed me to be more willing and comfortable doing other art things that I don't usually do.

[cybron2166]

who be up surfin they gunship

btw image itself was not made by me

[redeyeswatcher]

took these pics on the bus mb if they r ass

some barneys and benreys cause they r silly and i live them. also tiny gordons🙏

also i love the creature designs so much i need to draw more they make me insane. i like 2 think striders before the combine had crawdad like faces, idk their carapace reminds me of one

[the-sauce-engine]

apparently in the episode two beta you would've had to fight at least one gunship during the white forest strider battle. yeah. and a bunch of combine soldiers too.

[court-jobi]

We Have Time

Pairing: Din Djarin x reader

Words: 4,661

Rating: Teen/Mature (spicy second half) 18+ to be safe, my lovelies

A/N: the helmet comes off, separation anxiety, comfort comfort comfort, oral (fem receiving), hand-holding spicy times, my love language is Mando'a, Mandalorian partnerships are top tier, Soft!Din Djarin

Summary: Your heart is torn in two, where your past life and the one you're living in now come to a crossroads and you need to make a decision. Temporary as it is, the stakes feel higher than ever. You're asked to take part in an incredibly lucrative job-- one that'll bring home the biggest paycheck of your life-- at the expense of six weeks of your time, and away from your life partner for the first time in a year.

Now that you have a home, something to lose... something to miss.

But if there is one man who can make you feel like the only creature in the galaxy he would drop anything for, who would support you and your brilliant mind, who would encourage you to the edge of Wild Space and back-- it is your riduur, Din Djarin.

And your Mandalorian is top knotch at keeping his promises and pleasures to you; will give them to you in equal measure:

--in the light of day, and in bed if you ask...

Read on AO3

"That was quick. Back already?"

You'd stopped under the repulsor grille of the Razor Crest, shuffled about until he wheeled himself out from the underside of the ramp. The moment he saw your face, he sat to attention on his knees. 

"--Cyar'ika?"

"He offered me the job."

"Thirty-five…" He repeated, stunned, "thousand credits?"

"--A week;" Dead serious. "Thirty-five, a week."

Din swayed a moment, elbows to his knees; presently, reevaluating all his life choices. “I sure got into the wrong business, didn’t I.”

“Not to brag or anything,” you gave a dazzling smirk his way, “but your girl is a badass when it comes to making the big bucks~”

"What kind of freighters are these?"

"Really kriffing big ones." You gave a smirk, "This is an investment that's gonna take boss-man to the next level of bacta distribution."

"Damn right. It has to be."

How could you not become a mogul with twenty of these freighters in your fleet?

"How long do they need a mech there?" Din asked next.

"Corbyn said the initial contract request outlined work for 4 weeks.." you tweaked the timeline, "-maybe a more realistic five, depending on the speed of things. If they have to order more parts than expected, it could add a couple day’s labor in the meantime. That's not too uncommon."

Din's helmet bobbed around amazed- the tone flowing through his helmet to show he was impressed, 

"That's a hell of a job. You handle things like that?"

"I've done it before. You fill 'other duties as assigned' to kill time while deliveries show up. Things that need the human touch, y’know? Not droid repairs or anything. He's probably got plenty of odd projects I can wrap for him in the shipyard. Speeders, junkers, old gunships he likes to restore and lease out."

Comically, Din looked around to the Razor Crest- his own old girl  that could use a 'bit of work'.

"If I'd known you could handle fleet tech," he rose to his feet to join you, "I'd have given you the bigger bunkroom from the start. Experience like yours deserves better perks than just any ride-along mechanic. No wonder he wants to lock you in."

"C'mon, don't be dramatic~" You laughed. "I don’t need fuss. I might be in demand right now, but m'not that impressive."

"You are impressive.” Din pressed, “I'm not shocked at all."

His confidence in you never failed to make you beam… though it carried weight this time around. The biggest paycheck of your life is on the chopping block in front of you.

The Mandalorian wrenched the tool against the base of his palm. All teasing aside, the stakes were setting in; you can tell by where he looks off now. He asked the biggest factor:

"...And the start date?"

"Well:" you bit the bullet with a gnaw of your teeth against your cheek, "end of this week." 

Din nodded. Brief. Accepting.

"Think you'll be ready in that quick of a turnaround?" 

You froze– that assumption was a mega leap. You hadn't even gotten that far.

"He– didn't really give me a chance to ask what I'd need to wrap up; he went to catch someone else before they left the hangar. But good grief, Din," you crossed your arms and furrowed your brows to confusion, "I wouldn't have given him an answer even if he asked– I'd never just do something like this without telling you!"

He seemed to straighten at that. Surprised for some reason, that you would think this way when it was all obvious to you.

You caught yourself– no sense in unpacking that to death. Next question.

"How did you leave things then?"

"Said he'd check back in the morning for my decision either way. He recognized the ship, knows where to find me.." you gestured lightly beside you, the booster you stood beneath. 

The tense proposition buzzed around your head. This job looks on flimsi to be the makings of a good deal, a strong as hellfire tick on your winstreak, and one you wouldn't have blinked at six months ago. 

But you knew what that would require: leaving. Both your Mandalorian and the Child. Your beloved boys that roped you in and made you their family.

It's funny, the last time you took a job like the old days, things went completely wrong from the start and ended before it ever got off the ground:

It was only a short time after you'd met, but sparks had already begun to fly between you and this Mandalorian; you'd worked so perfectly together so far. In tandem, each other's missing piece. And what's more, you found yourself enjoying the company, knowing you didn't have to go it alone anymore. That was so refreshing– and unheard of. Like the oddest pairing of hard to soft, a sun-warmed kitten to cold humanized steel, you were drawn into each other's orbit to thrive better than you might have alone. This was a partnership, truly. And you saw a solo job as a way to contribute, pull your weight. 

So you agreed to one that came your way one day, and called it an easy win- he'd drop you off, pick you up, same time next week. You'd felt a little funny leaving him, even then. In this time together, you knew you’d surely miss his company, but denied yourself any true separation anxiety: it’s not like it was earned. How could it be? You'd just met. 

But you'd parted. Gone your separate ways with a rendezvous plan already in the forefront of your mind as you went to meet your ride– 

–when an explosion along the tram you were set to board sent a crowd hurtling towards you. If you hadn’t said a long goodbye like you did, if you’d stalled just two minutes less… you'd have been on that train. 

It was pronounced a cylinder misalignment, diagnostic fluke or something like that– and not intentional. But you didn’t know that at the time. A sudden burst of fuel setting the entire transport dock ablaze had you shook.

You'd turned tail to run straight back towards where the Mando had left you– only to hear your name being shouted from a clouded receiver, encased in a beskar helmet, somehow rising loud and strong over the swarm of panic-ridden pedestrians… 

He was running to you, too. 

Didn't bother making other arrangements for the job call in all the chaos, after that. But given that little scare, you both decided to just cut the losses and try again next time the opportunity presented itself. Bad luck, eh? Next time, for sure.

…That was eight months ago. You ruled out any solo jobs, and so did he.

If only for a short tenure, the op; and this time wasn't unheard of or impossible.. But not only were you rusty, but the timing was horrible. And long.

Din set his tool down, finally rising to come up to you.

“We can talk it through all you like…" he posed to you, "But you’ll need to listen to your gut in the end. What do you think?"

You looked back wildly. He was leaving this huge decision up to you?? Did he seriously think you'd blindly accept?

"What do I think?" You started defensive, then… stopped. 

Considered, and easing up, you sighed. 

You eyed the split in the exhaust somewhere over Din's head, the one on its last leg. 

"I think... it would be enough to fix her." You scanned the Razor Crest, her makeshift patches along the outer shell of the thruster. "-And then some. I know money isn't everything, but.. It's a shit-ton of money, babe. It's... doable." you laughed nervously, thankful Din finally joined your side as you explained the pros.

Doable was an understatement. This was more than agreeable, at this paygrade. You'd be a dikut to turn down even half that price. 

After he brushed them off a bit, his hands came up to hold your cheeks; visor trained on you, unreadable. But you knew better. He was assessing, looking for the hesitation, the test of any doubts.

"You could stop taking pucks for a while," with a small smile, you caught his wrists in return "Skyborn knows you deserve a break. You can rest up for once..."

He made a little sound, stroking your cheek in a gentle show of thanks. You were considering you both in this, which broke you more to think about going separate ways for a while.

You ran through the logistics, too– the loose ends.

"And– I figured you'd be off to find that Jedi anyway, and I know how you get about worlds I haven't been to before. This would be an easy one. Just your average, smoggy, Corellian garage.You've seen one? Then picture it, filled with bubba Rhodians and Keshiris, and that's the home away from home." You joked gently.

There were plenty of benefits to this arrangement and Din nodded curtly to acknowledge them, but a gentle shake of his head showed he was still pondering some things, unseen..   You really wished you'd told him all this inside, where you could read his reaction better. 

The quiet from him was beginning to make you doubt your good reasoning at all. 

"Please say something?" You begged softly.

Only one thing came to mind- by the way he was likely running through the script of his whenever he thought of you, you had a good idea what he’d say. 

His aliit. His creed. Your safety, above all else.

"This Corbyn... Do you trust him?"

It was a loaded question. Trust was rare for him, yet you earned his. But Din couldn't be responsible for you while in the care of someone else, which clearly had him on edge about all this. He’d surely wanna meet the guy before you shipped out. While that thought seemed parental, you understood it- and would expect no less from the man who valued you like the finest of beskar ingots.

You braved a little smile.

"I do. He's a good guy. Bites off more than he can chew but--- but it's the same setup as I did back when he hired me for the baby stuff,” you squeezed his wrists, “It would be safe.”

A careful thumb came to your temple, brushing the beskar steel adorning you. Pushed your hair back in a stylish fashion, it did– but in reality was your beautiful proposal gift. Then Din traced the skin just below it, raking through your hair. The touch ached.

"I didn't think this would ever happen. Didn’t know he docked this far out for fueling anyway,” you absently studied you Mandalorian’s thick cowl from your spot here at chest level. “I haven't had a way to contact Wid in forever. Hell, I know I used to do this all the time before, but… It's just different now.” you sunk into him. Your gut deflated, sadder the more you spoke. “And if all goes well at the next stop, well… the kiddo will be gone too."

That still made you sick to think about. Your voice was catching and you hated it.

"It's just a lot think about, leaving you right now. I don't know what my gut thinks about it." 

Fortunately, he soothed you like no other: at the first sound of distress, he’d slid a steadying hand down to your waist and pulled you close to accept his touch. His forehead met yours.

"Mhi solus tome, mesh’la, bal dar'tome" He spoke softly. "We vow these words for this exact circumstance." 

It meant so much more to you now: one when together, and apart.

"My kind, we grow up with buirkan. Our carers have no formal roles. They are buir. They both share the load, they both meet the needs of their ad, their tribe. That’s what partnership is; I… I ask what you want to do, because I know no other way.” 

Din caressed down to your chin, taking in your fully torn expression. 

“I trust your judgment here, mesh’la. I leave this one to you; you know this kind of work better than I do. If you're comfortable.. and -only- if you're comfortable, and you -want- to do this, you have my support. Always."

You wanted to break at this trust, crush and crumble at his bouying nature. He was handing you the reins as equals, despite the hushed strain he said the words. He could say all the right things, but by no means did he not feel. You knew it wasn't easy– not even for him.

Up the repaired ramp, you caught sight of the child peeking out from the ship’s open door. He called in that funny little chirp– trying to sing again.

You smiled, despite the lurching feeling in your chest shaking you. "Hi, buddy."

He waved and watched his own steps as he hurried down the ramp.

You met his short arms just a step out of Din's hold, and brought the child up to you. He seemed to know something was wrong, because his ears fell back the moment his settled at your chest level where he'd reached up for your face. You shut your eyes at the touch.

"This won't be a forever goodbye." Din soothed you, “You know that, right?” 

Din must be forgetting how poor the reception on Corellia is.

You chimed back, knowing the truth for yourself. "Gotta prepare myself as if it is, though."

"We don't know what we'll find there." Din set a hand to your low back again, unable to keep from you for too long. "The Jedi may not even be in Calodan. We could be back before you know it; and we'd wait here until your work term is done."

The optimistic thought did sound better and helped you swallow. 

"That's fair. Stranger things have happened."

Your Mandalorian. Sweet, sweet Din. Under the hum of the air reserves cycling outside the ship, he cupped the back of your head and leaned against your temple. 

"I know you're torn. But you don't need to worry about us in this. We’re behind whatever you decide."

The child looked to his buir. He reached a bit to his shoulder strap for Din, so you passed him over. That helmet of his hid a lot– but not tone. He clearly didn't like the thought of this either; having to explain to the kid why you’d be gone by the time he wakes up in the morning in a few days. 

So he treated it like any other trip. 

"How bout it, pal," he spoke with a quirk of the helmet to the Child, "Would you be ok with a solo trip for a while? Just like old times."

The munchkin cooed at this, fingers raking over the notches. He seemed happy, if he understood at all. Good thing he’s young, you thought. A peaceful hope, at the very least.

It gave you a happy comfort– for now.

The real churning would hit you when you gave Corbyn your answer. When he gave you the gameplan for the rest of the team he’s hiring, and when he got to meet your very intimidating Mandalorian husband– who he profusely sucked up to when he observed how protective he seemed of you. 

When that last night came and you tucked in the kiddo and realized you'd be packing up for your first real time away from your Mandalorian: your husband. 

…for the first time in over a year.

The Mandalorian brought you to bed in the most tender, gentlest way he ever had that night. In complete darkness, the way he did before he'd shown his face: where your senses would be sharpened and you'd feel everything he did, and take your time doing it. 

Maybe it was a comfort for himself too, out of an old habit to shield himself while next to bare that you didn't seem to mind. Through little noises: elated, pleasurable, heartfelt, tickled sighs and begs, he always found his way across you.

–But he heard the difference between a gasp and a cry. 

At the second you inhale sharply in a clear watery sniff he stopped giving kisses down your ribcage. Where he'd been massaging you with careful, trigger steady hands tucked under your sweater, Din climbed back onto his knees and shifted up to cradle your face with those same warm palms.

"Hey.. I'm right here. What's wrong?" Din asked gently.

You process by his tone that he'd halted altogether–

Hands clawed for his arms to come back around you,

"Nono no, don't stop!"

He thumbed beside your eyes, meeting wetness.

 "Riduur.."

"I'm fine, jus-- just keep going, please." your snivels did little to convince him you were okay. Desperate for him as always, but not out of pure lust anymore.

Above you -practically blind- the Mandalorian tensed. Worried for your heart above all else. Testing light, brushing fingers along your neck and onto your chest, he strove to feel past your flushed, quivering shield. To soothe your skin, but also check your heart rate.

He avoided the suspicious edge in his chest with a calm, doting voice,

"We have time, cyar'ika."

"No, we don’t!-- I--"

There it was.

A kiss graced your crown to still you, then a longer one over your lips. He leaned his forehead to yours, calming you with strokes through your hair until you gathered your true thoughts. Naturally, he'd wait as long as he needed to let you continue, but he didn't need to wait long to hear your whisper. 

"Tell me again this is a good idea…"

Tell me I need to go through with it, or else I'll talk myself out.

You felt lips trailing lower in soft presses, taking all your piqued attention while they went on the hunt for a sweet spot. Din’s unfiltered voice made you shiver with each bit he’d speak against the column of your neck… down and up again.

He whispered, beyond tenderness and into reverence, 

"This isn't going to be forever.” A kiss to your cheek briefly, “You're going to do a great job and you're coming through for a friend. Won’t just help you, but millions in the galaxy who will benefit from the work you’re doing. This is something big, and you're being rewarded for it. This is a good thing." 

You heard the smile in his voice and thanked Ashla -once again- for the Grace given to you to have a man like this in your arms. 

"You're brilliant, riduur.” Din sang your praises, “You're giving up so much. But I'm really proud of you... This isn't too big for us."

You nodded, getting a grip and gaining a controlling breath.

“It’s not too big for us.”

“That’s right.”

"I'm gonna miss this." You touched his cheek, craving this proximity while you had it. 

He leaned into it and kissed the palm when it slid into reach.

"I'm right here."

He is here, and the words warm you through, sending a heat wave that buzzes around your spine when you let yourself believe it.  He's right here, and he is all yours. Would be, too, even if you were jumps away in the stars. 

You were one when together, and you would be one when apart. 

The latter would be tested soon, but that creed? You'd take both truths with you as your own. 

He's right here. 

And he proved it. 

Din's tongue made a few kitten licks as he kissed your wrist next; then down, and down, until he merged both your fingers and pressed where you joined into the space above your head. His order, to stay there, while his left yours to send sparks down your arm on the underside, to tease. 

"You know," Din's adoring tone dripped with doting interest while he resumed mapping out your body.   "Just like with 'love', there's not really one word to say 'im sorry' among our people."

"You can't– say– just 'sorry'?" Your voice still sounded wet at its edges, but your chest clipped with interest. "What do you say when you kriff up, then?"

Din laughed with a rasp, but answered, 

"Depends how big you kriff up. Something small, that's nothing. You'd let it go. No harm done."

–Then Din's hands made a parallel move behind your knees, pulling and pinning them up with a sudden fierceness. 

Talking about a tangent: he’s talking about apologizing, but for what… He'd done nothing wrong, you thought. But you let him speak; he's enlightening you. Surely to distract, but by chik it's working. 

From where he sat, he was fully between your legs and about to bow over you.

"But when I need forgiveness, true forgiveness–" 

You hummed for his answer.

"Ni ceta," Din kissed your sternum. The lips dragged downward in a slow crawl, then nearly growled from the deepest part of him: " 'I kneel.' "

You gasped when his tongue swiped up your core. Every end of your body sang out its pleasure at the touch– his tasting you while on his knees. The heat made you keen. Your sweater didn't stay on for long once he started. 

You shucked out of the rest of your nightclothes as easily as you could, then let your arms fall lax above your head again. He wasn't checking that you were holding onto anything, but you minded where he last left them. When you ground up, he pressed you down. When you moaned, he copied you- right onto your clit. And when you sighed his name, those expert hands massaged you within every inch of his reach. 

By all means, you should be on your knees for him for as good as he felt, how he was treating you… falling only just short of worshipping you without words. 

Your drop was coming, coming, coming, and you were about to completely fall apart by that tongue of his. You told him so, with a quiver to your voice and hands shooting down to stroke along his head between your thighs. 

"Din– Din, Din honey…"

He purred into you with a few rounding nudges of his head. 

"Yes, m'angel," he whispered in the space between you, between his kisses, "Lemme kneel for you. Lemme send you off right t'night– straight to the stars, cyar'ika."

The telltale sign was your quick breaths and baby whimpers, so Din doubled down and tamped his arms down on your waist– until you came, hard.

You cried out of complete pleasure now, your sobs turning into pitiful begs with a dazed smile that betrayed any tear at the edge of your eyes. You tried to push Din's head away entirely, but he didn't let up until he heard the actual words, 

"Please!! Please, n-no more, baby–"

You minded your volume only for the sake of the kiddo outside the door; you didn't want him thinking you were in pain and taking it on himself to investigate (like last time). 

Released and limber, you panted as your adoring husband simply took a hand to your core and rubbed it slow and steady to quivering calmness. He licked his own lips with a satisfied sigh in cleaning himself up. 

"There she is." Din's praises returned, "There's my happy Love…"

"You're–" you wheezed, "youh-what’dya do wrong… that y’needed forgiveness?..”

He nuzzled into your neck, pleasure and prayers coating each of his kisses: to cover you with his love before you go.

“I’m a selfish man,” Din craved the warmth he found there, “Tempted to devour you where you stood, watching you run through those schematics with your boss today… Had to hold myself back by a rancor’s leash. Can only hope-” he nibbled at your ear, “-that this is enough to atone for this covet’s heart.”

Pride flooded you, invigorating. Filling you even more than his words usually did.

“Well fuck,” you sighed again, “You’re forgiven…" 

Din's hands petted you, while he dropped kisses up your body this time, starting to settle. Before he got too far, you halted his ascent by his shoulders, 

"But… you don't hafta leave your knees yet.."

With a warm smile you know would be there, you could only feel in the dark how Din’s loving laugh came with its teasing caress to bless you. To wish you only good memories, good thoughts, the things he promised to give you in droves. The love you so much deserved and what he was all too passionate to give you as he knelt between your legs filled you completely, the tale of which came through his tender reach: pulling your thighs back to him– one hanging clear up to his shoulder.  

Delicious scratches made by his fingers skirted down that leg. ‘Want’ screamed its way through touch. Touch that you would miss so badly… touch you would crave when you laid down alo-

"Liser ni ceta, ner mesh’la? Cin vehtin, gedet'yu gar se ner riduur ru’kir?”

Din’s words sent you shivering– of course, you had no clue what half of those meant. And he knew that. Cheeky. 

But it worked, you know. It always did pull you from your misery– curiosity for this man and everything about him. 

“You’re tryna kill me with that mouth, aren’t you?” you chuckled. “Take my heart right outta my chest before I can even think?”

Din kissed your ankle while he teased the soft, supple core where you were about to join– the ‘last chance’ moment he always gave you. Encased in darkness, your sign of ‘yes’ in lieu of a nod was a wiggle to ‘get a move on’. 

“Have that already, I think. Just as you have mine,” Din slid home and relished your sigh at the intrusion. His own groan sent his breaths reeling at the new closeness.

“Really not fair I–  (ahhh) can only catch l-like– two words outta that..”

Din ground up into you. He’s not really setting a pace yet– just getting comfortable and giving you time.

“You know me. I prefer to show you what I mean anyway, Angel-Eyes.”

God those pet names… You’ll miss them as if you’re missing a limb. How will you manage..-

“Gotta remind you of what’s waiting for you when you come home to me,” Din broke you from your thoughts, “...N’... have something to remember you by.”

Relaxing around him, your eyes fluttered shut. Home– that sounded heavenly. And if you had more of this– a lifetime of it, even– well that sounded worth it to you. 

And that little comment told you everything: he’s going to miss you, too.

You moaned lightly, reaching for his shoulder to pull him down. So, he released your leg to make room, and gave you a full, searing  kiss once he laid flat. Even if your positions were reversed, he couldn’t meld with you any closer. 

“S’this ok?” he whispered.

You whimpered your ‘yes’– a happy one, now. Full. 

So you didn’t bother asking what that string of Mando’a meant– but gave your best guess.

“Then– f’you’re asking to make it last… so I can’t forget…” you begged with hands locking onto his, “then yes. Please, riduur–”

Heart thundering wildly in your chest, you caved when Din leaned in and started kissing your neck so deeply, and so strongly, that you knew you’d have no trouble remembering him for the next several weeks. 

Surely it would pass quickly- life had a way of doing that. All was going to work out. 

He would be here for you– together and apart.

He only broke off from the dampened skin of your neck to bow into the curve of your shoulder– before throwing his entire self into your loving embrace from the power of his hips. He kneels there, just long enough to hear you:

“Make this last for me.”

[a-wa-c]

Finished Half Life 2.

10/10 no notes, what the fuck happened to games man?

Like, hey here's an enemy that is annoying, now you get to use them as an army. HAVE FUN.

Hey, here's the Gravity Gun that you've had for basically the entire game, in the final act it can just straight up kill a bitch-ass-Combine soldier for the final chapter of the game. HAVE FUN.

We pit you against a Gunship or a Strider, but please have as many guided missiles as you like to kick the shit out of them. HAVE FUN.

Like seriously, if anyone has a better perspective on this than me, please tell me why I feel that games these days don't have section where you just have fun. The battle is the fun, not worrying about your ammo.

[featheredcritter]

I just love how the synths are portrayed in half life, it really displays how these things, despite being turned into war machines, are very much still animals, just extremely aggressive and brainwashed ones. From how the gunships roar in anger if you hit them or how the hunters literally move around like any other predatory animal, being curious and cautious, to how the strider was portrayed in hla. The way It shakes itself up after being reactivated, the way it tries to destroy the enviroment around you to get to you and the way it walks over you and gets a little startled when It spots you beneath it. The whole goddamn dog and strider fight. I like It a lot.

I can see units working with them as if they were any other living creature, they're more like animal handlers rather than engineers.

[wizardofrozz]

Setting the Mood

Anakin Skywalker x Jedi!Reader (GN), Fives, Jesse, and Rex

Word Count: ~1.3k

Warnings: sexual situations and swearing (I think that’s all)

Read on AO3

It had been weeks since you last saw Anakin. The war pulled you to what felt like the other side of the galaxy but now, watching the Resolute fill your viewport, you were ready to vibrate out of your seat. You’d been called in to assist the 501st on the Outer Rim and you may have been a little too enthusiastic about excepting. Just the thought of getting to finally see Anakin again was staggering.

And he didn’t disappoint.

The hangar was bustling with half-armored clones tinkering with gunships in preparation for the next battle. You could barely climb out of your starfighter before Anakin swept you off your feet with a soft, slightly hysterical, laugh. His presence in the Force blazed with joy, nearly overwhelming you yet it was a sensation you had missed more than you realized.

         “You’re here,” Anakin giggled, burying his face against your neck.

         “Ani,” you whispered after finally opening your eyes to find a few troopers watching the display. None of them looked surprised, maybe a bit smug, but they’d obviously expected the reunion. Jesse caught your eye, shooting you an exaggerated wink that sent Fives into a laughing fit he just barely smothered.

Anakin finally set you on your feet again, but his hands lingered on your arms, keeping you close. His smile was blinding, love and relief shining in his bright blue eyes, making your heart swell. You returned his smile, wanting to reach out and touch his face, to feel the warmth of his skin under your fingers. A reminder that he was alive, that you weren’t just dreaming in your bunk lightyears away. Then, movement over Anakin’s shoulder caught your eye.

         “Come on,” Anakin urged softly, tugging you along. He rushed you past his men loitering nearby, not even sparing them a glance as he pulled you out of the hangar a little faster than your legs could carry you.

         “Ani!” you laughed, jogging to catch up. “What’s the rush, love?” Anakin didn’t answer, glancing over his shoulder to shoot you a mischievous smile. You rolled your eyes but let him drag you along, waving at the confused troopers you passed in the Star Destroyer’s hallways. A surprised squawk fell from your lips when Anakin stopped suddenly, yanking you into a dark supply closet. Anakin was kissing you before the door was completely shut, your head still spinning from the sudden whirlwind of movement.

You could barely keep up, doing your best to meet his urgent lips, hands searching for purchase against his dark robes. The air was knocked from your lungs when your back hit the wall, your lips parting to allow Anakin access. He was all-consuming, his Force signature threatening to burn you from the inside out as he tore at your robes, desperate to feel any skin he could.

         “Missed you, sweetheart,” Anakin panted again your lips. He made a soft triumphant sound when he finally got your robes open, warm flesh, and cool metal smoothing across your ribs.

         “I’m here, love, I’m here,” you gasped, pressing your forehead against his. Anakin let out a quiet, relieved whimper, dipping his head to kiss and nip along the angle of your jaw. You leaned your head back, giving him more room to work, and let your eyes fall shut, your chest heaving. The skin under his lips tingled, the drag of his tongue sending a chill down your spine, and you sank into the sensation, letting yourself get lost in the feeling of the man you loved.

That’s when you heard it.

With a soft crackle, the loudspeakers that filled the ship came to life and you blinked at the ceiling. Unless you were losing your mind, you swore a barely muffled laugh filtered through the speaker before the music started playing. Anakin paused, puffs of air brushing against your skin as he listened, slowly lifting his head. You rolled your lips into your mouth when you recognized the familiar cantina song that Anakin had shown you. He’d heard it frequently as a boy on Tatooine and grumbled, shaking his head.

         “Ignore it,” you chuckled, cupping his face to pull him in for another kiss. Anakin slowly melted into the kiss, the upbeat music fading into the background again. With nimble fingers you untied his robes, pushing them off his shoulders without breaking the kiss, dragging your nails across his exposed chest. Anakin moaned into your mouth, pressing you harder into the wall, fingers brushing against the top of your leggings.

The deafening cry of a trumpet made you jump, just barely refraining from headbutting Anakin.

         “Is that…is that fucking Taps?” Anakin mumbled in disbelief, blinking at you. You tried, you really did, but you couldn’t contain your loud snort, immediately slapping a hand over your mouth. Anakin scowled at you, his eyes narrowing despite the tiny flicker of amusement in his dark gaze. “This isn’t funny.”

         “It kinda is,” you argued around giggles. Anakin huffed, rolling his eyes but you didn’t miss the determination that flashed across his face. Your yelp morphed into a quiet moan when he went for your neck again, his teeth scraping against your suddenly thundering pulse. As ridiculous as the background music was, you easily got lost in Anakin’s warm skin and hungry mouth. A high-pitched, surprised moan was muffled against your shoulder when you reached down to squeeze the obvious bulge straining against his pants.

         “Need you,” Anakin whispered, sliding a hand under your legs, squeezing the swell of your ass.

         “Anything you want, dear,” you replied with a smirk, squeezing his cock again before releasing him. Despite the haze of desire clouding your mind and Anakin’s hands working to pull your leggings down, you realized the song changed again. This time it was a softer tune that you felt you should recognize, it was familiar in a way you couldn’t quite grasp. Anakin caught your lips in another searing kiss just as the first words floated through the room.

You’ve got a friend in me. You’ve got a friend in me.

         “Are you kidding me!” Anakin shouted, taking a step away from you. Uncontrollable laughter fell from your lips, folding you in half with the force of it. If you were with anyone else, you’d probably be embarrassed about being basically naked, laughing your ass off in a tiny supply closet. You choked on a laugh, tears blurring Anakin’s shape moving around the small space until his face came into view again. He looked disgruntled but the corner of his mouth was twitching as he fought a smile. You were a cackling mess as the song from a youngling movie played and you were determined to find out who was behind the prank.

Anakin gently replaced your leggings, losing the battle against smiling as you continued to giggle. When you were both fully dressed again, Anakin pressed a feather-light kiss to the corner of your mouth and opened the door. Just as you stepped out of the closet a door halfway down the hall opened and two familiar troopers were shoved out, desperately trying to contain their laughter. Rex appeared behind them, massaging the bridge of his nose. Your partner’s expression darkened again but only you could tell he was only half serious, faint amusement lingering around him in the Force.

         “Fives. Jesse.” Anakin’s voice was low, creeping toward dangerous, and it immediately caught the two troopers’ attention.

         “I’d run if I were you,” Rex sighed, flickering his eyes toward you. Fives and Jesse’s laughter echoed through the halls, muffling Anakin’s shouting as he chased them out of sight. You moved to Rex’s side, glancing up at the captain just as his mask started to crack.

         “I can’t even be mad,” you snorted, chewing on your bottom lip to hold back a smile.

         “General Skywalker is,” Rex countered, raising a brow.

         “Oh yeah,” you drawled, meeting Rex’s eyes.

         “I hope Fives and Jesse know that they don’t have a friend in me.” Your chest jumped a few times in an attempt to hold your amusement in, but you and Rex broke at the same time. Howling laughter filled the hallway, Rex leaning into you as he held his side and you tried to muffle your matching amusement into his shoulder, but it was no use.

You and Rex were still recovering when Anakin returned sometime later, shaking his head, and dragging you toward his quarters. He’d get some unhindered alone time with you if it killed him.

A/N: I saw a post about the worst songs to have sex to and somehow this happened lmao. I decided on the Cantina Band song, Taps, and You've Got a Friend in Me (Toy Story) because I thought they were some of the funniest ones on the playlist 😂

Taglist: @jellydodger​ 

[prinnamon]

one time i googled "half-life ships" and the only results were about vehicles. and like yeah they're right, Combine Gunship is way more important than what i was originally looking for tbh

[yoditorian]

Lacuna - The Rewrite - Part 2

din/gn!reader

i split the original chapter into two upon rewriting, which is why the second half is missing

original part 2//series masterlist//main masterlist

word count: 3.1k // warnings: some swears, too many italics, that's literally it tho, still 18+ no babies

“-wiped out, no one survived.”

“Well, someone did.”

They’re arguing, still. And you’ve been delivered five meals since being directed into the small office for questioning. So it’s been at least a day, almost two. Probably. The voices in the hall fade, they must be off to discuss your situation with someone who might be able to make the decision. They’ve already searched you and your pack - already confirmed you’re not a spy for the Empire - so what’s the hold up?

You don’t hear a set of footsteps approaching the door, too wrapped up in your own anxieties about what might happen if they don’t let you in. Which is probably why you jump half a foot in your chair when the door slides open. It reveals a woman, dark hair and sharp features, deep green flight suit tied at her waist. She’s pretty, although she’s clearly not sure what to make of you just yet as she eyes the binders at your wrists.

“What do you do?” She asks, arms folded as she leans against the doorframe. You don’t answer straight away, not sure if it might be some kind of test, but at least she doesn’t look overly annoyed that she has to repeat her question to get an answer.

“Pilot, mechanic, fucking janitor - whatever, honestly.” 

“Triple threat,” Her voice is even, but she’s fighting a smile that gives her away immediately. Not a test, then. “What kind of experience you got?”

Shara has to admit that the rumours of a surviving member of the Corellian spy ring had piqued her interest. Jet fuel runs in the blood there, it’s a safe bet that whoever the generals had spent the better part of forty eight hours grilling has more than enough experience to hop straight into a starfighter. And with heavy losses in recent months, pilots are something the Rebellion is desperately short on. 

So she isn’t shocked when you start listing every planetside transport, every planet hopper, cargo freighter, gunship, and starfighter you’ve ever worked on or flown. The list is extensive, impressive honestly. It dwarfs the experience of many of her colleagues, and Shara can’t help the thrum of excitement in her veins. Not only are you an experienced pilot, but you’re a mechanic - a scrapper, the rebels need more scrappers. Too many politicians, too many people who are far too used to having every resource in the galaxy at their disposal. It’s a glimmer of hope, she realises, in a night becoming all too dark for anyone’s liking.

“So, you can fly anything?” Shara asks, no longer hiding the wide grin on her face.

“Anything.”

You’ll fit right in, she decides - there and then.

And you do, you slot in like you’ve lived your whole life orbiting Yavin.

They drill you like there’s no tomorrow, you’ve got the deep muscle aches to prove it but it’s thrilling. Your back hurts and it’s everything you ever wanted it to be. Where the Corellian spy ring was all sneaking and secrets, the Rebel base on Yavin IV is a full scale production. Every daylight hour is spent running the same manoeuvres in the main four fighters - before you know it, you could fly any one of them with your eyes closed. Despite the pain and the exhaustion and the repetitive nature of the training, you love it. But you’ve got your eyes on the prize.

A coveted position in one of the primary starfighter squadrons has conveniently opened up, its previous placeholder reassigned, and you’re not the only one who’s sure that the fourth bunk in Green Squadron’s barracks has your name on it.

“I know I don’t see you coming for my track time.” Shara Bey’s voice is loud and clear over the buzz of the hangar, and you can’t keep the smile off your face despite the ache deep in your bones.

“Maybe I am, are you finally gonna do something about it?”

Shara launches herself at you the moment you set your datapad down, a boisterous laugh echoing off the ships. You’re steadily climbing the ranks in training, the years of experience already under your belt make you more confident in the cockpit than the other new recruits and you’re not afraid to pull a stunt or two. A flawless dead drop recovery had earned more than a few nods of approval from some of the qualified pilots. Although the Commander overseeing the recruit training made it clear that it was definitely what landed you with patrol maintenance duty on top of your usual drills in the first place.

“I talked to Draven.” She says, and your stomach flips. You’re leaps and bounds ahead of the other recruits, for sure, but nobody seems to want to sign off on your training. There’s always something about required hours or simulation times or more drills. You’re starting to get the feeling that, while you’ve got enough support from your would-be colleagues, no one in command wants you in the air at all.

“I told you I would!”

“I know, I know. But look, if I ask it’s more like an endorsement.”

“Shara-” You’re talking over one another, but not missing a single word. It’s a talent that leaves the commanding officers astounded more often than not.

“He said he’d think about it, which in command language means no-” 

“Tell me there’s a but.”

“But,” She grins widely, “He told me if you get this next info grab done, he’ll put in a good word with my commanders. And my commanders know I’m not going in the air unless you’re at my nine o’clock.”

Shara’s been far more welcoming than just about everyone since the moment she’d rocked up to your interrogation room and asked about your experience. And, over the moon to find you wandering around the halls and out of the binders, she’d spent the whole of your first night curled up in your bunk in the recruit barracks - recounting every little bit of drama she could think of. By the morning, you know who was dating who, who wasn’t happy about it, which crews were rivals, and which held the fastest course runs. Hers, obviously . 

You weren’t as forthcoming with your own journey, only mentioning that you’d run with some rebels for a while on your home planet, made a few detours along the way - she didn’t seem too surprised, and you wondered how much of that she knew already. Ran’s voice, still, in the back of your mind reminding you that everybody has an agenda . But her eyes were so open, so kind, you’ve yet to see that slip. Shara Bey might be the first genuinely good person you’ve ever met.

“And Kes’s crew is due to swing by tomorrow, in case you’ve changed your mind.” She winks, although she already knows you well enough to know you won’t take her up on the offer.

It had come up that first night, somewhere along the way, when she’d started lamenting about the pitiful state of the dating pool. Not something she had to worry about anymore, thank God, but a nightmare nowadays if you were after anyone who didn’t have history with someone in their own crew. She was happy to get her boyfriend to set you up with one of his friends - Pathfinders, never on base long enough to establish a history with anyone, fine enough to pass the time, and strong enough to manhandle you a little. If that’s what you’re into. 

You’d still been a little wary of sharing too many details about your history, something about how you weren’t interested muttered in the dark over the quiet breathing of the other new recruits. You could only tell her that you didn’t expect to see him again. He’d gone home, you didn’t even know where home was. She’d understood, with an arm around your shoulders and an attentive ear if you ever wanted to share more, although she made it clear that the offer of a muscular pair of emotionally unattached Pathfinder arms was always open.

It’s close to a year since you got scooped up by their spies for asking about the Rebellion, but Shara’s never failed to make it seem like much longer. Like you’ve been best friends, sharing lunches and secrets on the landing pad in the shade of her A-Wing for your whole lives. Even now, she’s looking at you like she knows you - backwards, forwards, sideways, inside out. Truth be told, she kind of does. It’s a closeness you’re sure you’ve never had with anyone, and you know you wouldn’t give it up for anything.

“Someone came here last week having never left his planet before and they put him on the training roster. You’ve logged more flight time than any recruit I’ve ever seen and we didn’t even have to teach you in the first place. I know you’re Draven’s golden child, but he can’t keep you on the ground forever, kid.”

“You can’t call me ‘kid’, I’m older than you.” You laugh, shoving her shoulder with your own.

“You’re ruining the moment.” She winks, pressing a kiss to your temple before she waves at a commander calling her name and makes her way to her ship.

The datapad beeps a reminder from its resting place on your tool trolley, you need to pack for your intel grab. It shouldn’t be a long trip, Draven had assured you, a simple in and out: information in exchange for protection and transport to the base. Protection and transport optional. He makes the hard decisions, you’ve learned during your time running the smaller missions for intelligence. The more important runs get given to rebels like Cassian Andor and the group of mercs you’d seen filing into the command room a few days ago. It was an odd combination, seeing people like that somewhere like this, and you know you shouldn’t have stared but you couldn’t help yourself. Weapons strapped to every empty space on each body, armour and clothes on a number of species from all across the galaxy. One of them had looked jarringly like you, although you hadn’t really gotten a good look at their face before they’d disappeared.

Just this mission, and you’d be in the air next week. Hopefully. It’s enough to get your feet moving towards the barracks to pack.

You only need the basics, a change of clothes and some medkit refills. Just in case. Except there’s still an empty space when you zip it shut, sitting heavy between your neatly folded shirts and the top of the bag, and you keep looking at your blanket. It gets cold in hyperspace, a voice in the back of your mind pipes up, and you decide that’s good enough reason as any to fold it in alongside your supplies. It smells solidly of the clean soap of your bedsheets, his scent - Din’s scent, a mix of metal and warmth - had faded before you even plucked up the courage to go looking for the Rebellion, all those months ago. You still hold it to your nose for a moment, just to check, before it too gets folded and laid in the top of your pack.

Now you’re ready.

Din isn’t overly fond of Nevarro. It’s not an unbearable heat, the dry plains are to thank for that, but he’s not a fan of days where the wind picks up and carries the sulphur of the lava fields under the lip of his helmet. The covert welcomed him back, more or less with open arms - though he’s not sure if their ever-dwindling numbers might have had anything to do with the warm reception. He hadn’t let them go without a cut of his pay for every job he’d done for Ran, always sending something back to the foundlings, so at least he hadn’t totally abandoned them. The Armourer decided he should be their beroya , their bounty hunter, and within days he found himself tracking a quarry in a system he’d never heard of. It was easy, really, to take the skills he’d garnered all his life and apply them to this. Paz had laughed with the familiarity of an old friend and told him that if a skinny thing like Din was their beroya , they were all fucked. So at least no one was openly angry that he’d left them.

The guild rep slides a puck across the table, metal scraping against the stone, and the blue hologram flickers. The human man staring back at him is unassuming, but the notes suggest otherwise. A former senator’s assistant, with strong connections to both the Empire and the Rebellion. Din nods, flicking the puck off and tucking it into his pocket without another word.

His loyalty is to the covert, to the Mandalorians. It always has been and it always will be. This is the way. But one mention of the Rebellion has his mind surging back to thoughts of you. Everything in his life seems to. Every time he sets foot on the Crest all he can see is you, bent double with your head in an access panel and a greasy rag tucked into the back of your pants. He’d see the sun and remember how you always used to turn your face to it, just for a moment, whenever the team ran jobs planetside. You’d never told him where you came from, but Ran had let bits and pieces slip over the years. In the looming shadow of the Razor Crest, Din wonders if you ever made it off the station. If you decided to drop everything and find the rebellion, the way you said you would when you were half asleep on his chest, your mind fucked out and hazy. He hopes you did.

The tracking fob brings him to a semi populated planet, somewhere near the border of the Unknown Regions. Vast swathes of land and water are completely uncolonised, left to nature, only a few cities dotted here and there over the whole planet. The bounty is evidently in possession of some brains, having chosen a mid-sized city to get lost in, and Din is almost disappointed that he knows it won’t take long. Wishes he’d picked a different puck, a little further away. Just to keep his mind occupied and out of more dangerous territories.

He stays vigilant, but pays no mind to the beeping of the fob on his belt. He can steal a moment, he thinks, to take in the area. To live the life of some extravagant explorer in his mind while he does a little recon, the life he might have led before it was cruelly snatched away in seconds on Aq Vetina. The last thing he expects to see when he walks into that crumbling little cantina is you.

Din spins on his heel and is out of the door almost as soon as he enters, slipping down the alley to the side of the building to catch his breath. He’s fairly sure you don’t notice - but his mind is reeling, echoes of the vows he swore as a child and the Armourer’s words swirl in his ears.

His loyalty is to the covert. His loyalty is to the covert. His loyalty is to the covert. 

But he only sees you. The way you always had time for him back on the station, how you told the others where they could shove it but always gave him a smile. You went above and beyond to help him without complaint when he asked, only ever got snippy with him when someone else had pissed you off first. He still remembers the way you felt in his hands, how you sounded, how you tasted. He still thinks about it on quiet nights, more often than he should. This is not the place to remember, there’ll be time for that later, although his body needs another minute to be completely convinced.

All he feels is guilt, once the blood comes back up to his brain. Guilt over the covert, over his vows and his creed and his people. But what’s more convincing is the guilt he has over you. Over how he just walked away, left you sleeping, and took the ship you’d spent months working on. Even if you were the one who told him to take it. You’re beautiful, still. Of course you are, you always have been to him. 

You notice when he walks in this time.

The sunlight streaming in from a window catches on the glass of his visor and your heart jumps into your throat. You don’t know if he’s spotted you yet, as he takes a seat at a table by the door angled away from you. Logically, you’d say it could be any Mandalorian. But you spent countless hours studying the way he moves, you had to know his gait to know if walking around a corner would get you killed or not. It almost had on more than one occasion. You could recognise his footsteps anywhere.

The untrained eye would think him relaxed, as relaxed as a man in head to toe armour can be, but you know better. There’s a tension in his shoulders, the same he used to get when Xi’an made another move on him with that grating giggle or Qin handled a blaster too roughly. His hand sits on his thigh, fingers splayed, ready to find the smooth contours of his blaster at any moment. Ever the soldier, never quite at ease. Apart from the last time you thought you’d ever see him, it seemed.

He leaves before you’re even done with your drink, sitting there for barely five minutes when he throws a couple of credits on the table for a drink he didn’t buy and stalks out. You sigh and down the rest of your drink, hoping it’ll quell the nausea rising in your stomach. It doesn’t, but you follow him out all the same.

You’re sure you were right behind him, weaving through the slowly emptying streets as the sun sets and the chill of the night begins to settle in, but now he’s nowhere to be found. Until you feel a set of eyes land heavily on your shoulders. You turn, slowly, and catch a glimpse of where he ducked into a narrow alley. The city’s full of them, but you’re certain he hadn’t been there when you passed it.

A long moment passes when you’re swallowed by the shadow of the buildings towering either side of you, a moment where he just watches you. You can’t deny you’re watching him too, carefully surveying his armour for new nicks and scrapes. There’s more than you’d like to admit to caring about.

“What are you doing here?” He breaks the silence, the tension, first. You shrug. 

“Working, what are you doing here?”

Din holds a small round disk in his palm, arm stretching out towards you as the holo flickers to life and you’re faced with your contact for the intel drop.

“Working.”

Fuck.

And that’s when a really, really bad idea starts to take shape.

i don't have access to my old taglist forms anymore so feel free to message or drop me an ask if you want to be tagged in future :)

[oonajaeadira]

WINKTOBER DAY 3: Anal (Din Djarin)

Din Djarin is soft. Raise your hand if you agree.

What is the term the counselors and healers call uptight people on your world….oh yes, ”anal keeping”--“anal” for short–that’s Din, anal.

This gun goes here, this crate is only for munitions, this cargo net is full even if it looks half-empty, this isn’t a toy, this isn’t the day we have bone broth, this helmet stays on, this is the way.

And once every cycle he’s down in the hold of the Crest with you, his silent, sulking, hulk of a form taking up the space as he slowly and meticulously cleans each weapon in his locker, one after the other, whether he’s used it or not.

His presence is unnerving, and so you begin to talk, telling him stories while you work on the ship’s wiring–terribly dull stories of your care-free childhood, your loving parents, your prosperous village, the boring, safe, idyllic life you had before getting off that rock and flying away with a Mandalorian who just wanted his ancient heap of a gunship to keep flying.

But before long, you notice that the more you speak, the longer it takes for him to clean his weapons.

And after that...you learn to see beyond the scowl of the visor to the melancholy beneath, recognize his voice not as irritated but battling something like shyness, his need to keep the tools of his trade clean not so great as the draw to be here, to be confided in, to let his heart be lightened by someone’s laughter and, ultimately, to be near the one gentle person in this lonely galaxy that doesn’t seem to be frightened or intimidated by him....someone that has so many interesting stories to tell....

---

WINKTOBER 2022 MASTERLIST

[marlonbrandto]

THE MAYNOS GAMBIT | 4

The interior of the vault is massive! As the Hammerhead and battlesuit escort glide down to the surface of the vault, Aun’Shar stares out the viewport to see what looks like the surface of another planet spanning all the way to a new horizon. D’tano squints at the onboard computer, “this cavern goes on for at least as far as the Hammerhead’s scanners, could cover the whole planet.” Aun’Shar marvels at the fast approaching ground, dotted with old dilapidated skyscrapers and crumbling statues, “a planet within a a planet, the Calamity Equation could be anywhere!” The door of the gunship hisses open.

1. The statues in the distance crack and come to life, four Nemesis Dreadknights flourish their swords. Ancient gears clatter against each other as the Grey Knights resume their watch, rushing the Cadre

2. A hail of psionically propelled shells pepper the Hammerhead from a distance. Then suddenly lightning arcs through the cloud of dust the gunfire created. Pieces of the gunship explode off it’s chassis, and it’s engines darken, gravity causes it to slam into the gravel beneath it . Everyone jolts into action, the new Ghostkeel pilot charges the nearest dreadknight, restraining the manipulator arms. The Crimson Order fires a volley at another, ion smokes from holes in a Grey Knight bedecked in archaic heraldry as his whole suit teeters over, kicking up a churning cloud of dust with the impact.

3. Walking through the wall of a building emerges another colossus, lightning flashes from the pilot, detonating two of the Crimson Order’s battlesuits. Commander Novastorm overcharges his weapons, diverting all the power in the thrusters into the mounted rifles energy output. All that’s left of the Dreadknight’s operator is a hole in the middle of the suit, which crumbles to the ground.

4. The Dreadknight in the center breaks free of the ghostkeels grasp and swings his arm cannon towards Commander Novastorm, recklessly carving a trench into the backdrop with the hot beam of light screaming out of it. Novastorm rockets into the air just in time to dodge the laser, but is unable to avoid the portal suddenly ripped into the folds of reality above him. Unable to adjust his course due to the lack of power in his thrusters, all the commander can do is pull the emergency eject lever. As he is flung out of the battlesuit’s chassis he watches the rift pull it closer, the suit caving in on itself as it’s enveloped by the impossible phenomenon. The Grey Knight then swipes with his Nemesis Greatsword at the Ghostkeel, who flickers out of existence as the stealth drone projecting the hologram crashes to the ground. The real Ghostkeel fires his Cyclic Ion Raker at the Dreadknight, destroying its Psi-Cannon before getting sheared in half by its greatsword.

5. The dreadknight turns towards the stealth suits and begins chanting endlessly about purification as purple flame bursts from him, swallowing and vaporizing stealth team Obscuro

6. D’tano had taken cover in the second floor of a nearby building, only to realize the rest of his fireteam didn’t follow him. Stray bullets burst through the dilapidated wall as the Fireblade takes aim with his pulse rifle, lining up a shot with the dreadknights’ pilot. Before he can properly get a shot, his wrist mounted tacpad beeps in alarm, the Ethereal Aun’Shar’s vitals are dropping! Grimacing at the exposed enemy, he swings his pulse rifle to the floor of the building and fires a few bursts of energy, damaging it enough for the section he stands on to crumble to ground level. Falling into the ruin, D’tano manages to land on his feet as he rushes into the open to support the ethereal.

——————————————————————————

Lighting and hellfire screams over Bo’ran (Commander Novastorm) as he stumbles towards the burning hulk that was once their gunship. A Crisis suit of the Crimson Order, Shas’Vre Nyk’thos of sub-team Crimson Dawn (judging by the markings on its side), rockets by Bo’ran, charging headlong into the raging goliath of a bygone era. Bo’rans’ legs ache from the impact of his ejection system as he breaks into a sprint, but is flung towards the Hammerheads wreckage as Nyk’thos’s suit erupts in a brilliant explosion. Ears ringing, Bo’ran smacks into the hull of the gunship. He wipes the soot from his eyes and rolls off the fusillade, the impact of hitting the ground sends a sharp pain through his ribs. He manages to push him self off the ground, taking stock of the situation around him. Drones whizz around in a panic, intercepting incoming fire. A handful of Fire warriors attempt to establish a firing line before a white hot laser vaporizes two of them instantly. And behind the smoldering wreck is Fireblade D’tano dragging the limp ethereal — Aun…. Char? We never got a proper introduction, Bo’ran muses to himself as he limps in their direction either way, what’s left of his honor guard will not last long against this foe, and I’ve learned the best chances of survival are always right next to an ethereal.

Screams echo across the landscape punctuated by thunderous lightning and wailing laserbeams as Bo’ran grabs hold of the ethereal and helps pull him away from the conflict. A bolt has punctured the ethereals’ chestplate, and as Bo’ran takes a closer look, he sees in place of a wound is a churning rift of psychedelic colors. The ethereal seems insensate, mumbling something about statues.

“He needs more than a doctor!” He shouts as the hammerheads chassis suffers one final explosion, shattering.

“He needs to get out of here first!” Grunts D’tano as a shower of bullets whizz by them and thud into the dirt.

“The only true way out is up, we’re stuck in this hell!” Bo’ran catches a glimpse of a battlesuit in the distance, through all the dust, the familiar glow of plasma flashing towards a large menacing silhouette.

“An elevator. In the building. Found it when we landed!” D’tano forces out between strained pulls. Bo’ran focuses on this new objective.

Almost there! Another explosion lights up the dust cloud in the distance

A few more steps! The screaming in the distance has stopped.

One more push! A hulking figure emerges from the dust, raising its sword, then slices downwards, creating a black rift in front of it. D’tano drops the ethereal and grabs the crank handle of the door, furiously spinning it.

“Inside!!” D’tano wrests the door open, while another rift roars a few meters away from the trio and out steps the hulking dreadknight, but by the time the foul contraption scans the area the Tau had all but vanished.

——————————————————————————

AUTHORS NOTE: I love writing the narrative of my 40K games, but sometimes you suffer a crushing defeat at the hands of a Grey Knights player who brought 4 Dreadknights to a 1000 point game. It was a hard game to play, since it felt like right after the first turn I barely even had a chance at winning, but I hope it at least made an interesting story! After all, if the protagonists of a story never lose, victory doesn’t taste as sweet. I appreciate all the likes I’ve been getting so far and hope you all continue to enjoy The Maynos Gambit!

[space-battle-royal]

Bracket Time!

I'll post the polls in groups of four to avoid spamming (and a potential shadow ban, apparently). Competitors under the cut.

TARDIS (Doctor Who) vs. The Minerva (Umbrella Academy) vs. Divine Beast Van Medoh (The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild)

Warp Star (Kirby) vs. Hera (Wolf 395)

The Starship Aurora (The Mechanisms) vs. The Aurora (Subnautica)

Darla (She Ra) vs. Starblaster (The Adventure Zone) vs. 36 Kars on Mars (Jorge Joestar)

Comet Observatory (Super Mario Galaxy) vs. M-Bot (Skyward) vs. Octobot King L3Gs (Splatoon)

Bebop (Cowboy Bebop) vs. ISV Venture Star (Avatar) vs. Serenity (Firefly)

Elon Musk's car (real life) vs. The Skeld (Among Us)

X-Wing (Star Wars) vs. Spaceball One (Spaceballs)

Death Egg (Sonic the Hedgehog) vs. Invincible II (In Space With Markiplier) vs. Arwing (Star Fox)

The Rampion (The Lunar Chronicles) vs. Samus's Gunship (Metroid) vs. Lunar Whale (Final Fantasy IV)

U.S.S. Discovery (Star Trek) vs. The Traveler (Destiny) vs. Lost Light (Transformers)

Ship of the Imagination (Cosmos) vs. ART (The Murderbot Diaries) vs. The Massive (Invader Zim)

Rayquaza (Pokemon) vs. The Imperious Condescension' Ship (Homestuck) vs. Justice of Toren (Imperial Radch (Ancillary Justice))

Millennium Falcon (Star Wars) vs. Battle School (Ender's Game) vs. The Wayfarer (A Long Way to a Small Angry Planet)

Starship Tipton (Sweet Life on Deck) vs. Sputnik 1 (real life) vs. Space Cruiser (Rick and Morty)

Discovery One (2001: A Space Odyssey) vs. The Heart of Gold (The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy) vs. Bip (Charlie and the Great Glass Elevator)

Rocket (Young Einsteins) vs. S.S. Dolphin (Pikmin) vs. AI (Star Twinkle Precure)

U.S.S Enterprise (Star Trek) vs. The Skullship (Wander Over Yonder)

Please don't complain about seeding, I barely know more than half of these sources but I did my best. May the best ship win.

[zeydaan-isabella]

Phazon Echoes - Zeydaan

Story by Metroid711 - Seeing their transformation abilities at work in Smash. Samus recommends Zeydaan/Isabella for a highly classified mission. Recreating the conditions to make dark samus in order to combat a NEW phazon threat. It's good they're used to this kind of thing.

Space … an ever expansive, never ending darkened void that was filled with billions upon billions of stars. And mixed in with these stars, several light years away from each other are planets. The Milky Way galaxy is one of these, neighbor to the Tetra Galaxy. These two astronomical wonders were inhabited by a multitude of species and creatures across dozens of planets and civilizations, and most of them would fall under the caring watchful eye of the Galactic Federation. A special government who’s main duty was to keep the peace between the races that inhabited the many worlds, and to prevent the strength of those who may pose a threat to that peace. For about half a decade, the Galactic Federation had to deal with the threat that almost tore the very galaxy apart, Phazon. This extraterrestrial radiation would be used and abused by a number of villainous parties that almost led to the extinction of all life in the galaxy, until their top bounty hunter put a stop to it and its vassal. However, a new threat has begun to reveal itself, returning in the form of Phazon once more. Phazon’s origin had come from the planet it was named after, Phaaze. The planet had been destroyed, but since that occurred, almost 3 years later, Federation members have detected another planet naturally producing the radiation. The scientists have theorized it may be some sort of planetoid like Pluto, albeit still just as toxic as the original planet. They have named it Phaaze Minor, but it has presented an issue that cannot be fixed the same way it was before. Since her last mission, Samus Aran has become far more susceptible to radiation on account of her Metroid DNA mutating to a full body transformation. While she can switch between the two, this factor has made it impossible for her to attempt the destruction of Phaaze Minor. Because of this, Federation leaders have enlisted the help of an independent research group known as the Hawkmoths. One of their members has the unique ability to adapt their form to specific situations, including physical attributes. They have been transported to the Federation research facility closest to Phaaze Minor to begin Phazon mutation adaptation testing, with the overall project being titled Operation Aquamarine. All of this information was what Zeydaan would be reading over. Ever since they were shipped out for this operation, they had gotten into the habit of looking over the federation researcher’s notes. It was helpful as, well, despite being told what would be happening, they didn’t wish to have any details left out. The ship they were currently resting in was piloted by a few select Federation soldiers that were similarly acting as the Fae-Wolf’s body guards. A knock on their room’s door and after Zey opened it, one of the suited men would be standing there. “We will be docking at the research station in 10 minutes, please be prepared to board.” As serious as the guard’s tone was, Zey knew they had the best intentions. Intergalactic governments like this tended to get a bad rep simply for stereotypes. After a bit of shaking and some clicks, the guards would open door for the fae-wolf as they stepped out with them. The station was impressive to say the least. There were large ship docks for medical vessels, military gunships for protection, even a couple small scouter ships probably used to examine the planet a good couple light years away. Zey would walk alongside the bodyguard group of guards as they would lead them through the shipping area and through a series of hallways and doors with scientists, doctors, and other workers walking past. Several would give them glances; some stared the whole way. Heck Zey remembered one of them even smiling and applauding for them, which felt … weird. Zey was led to an enclosed room, although it was by no means decrepit. It had a comfy bed, a computer table, some shelves with reading, its own bathroom, even a mini fridge. They weren’t surprised by this however, as it was one of the requirements their Hawk Moth friends put forward. Zey wasn’t to be treated as a test animal or lab rat like most experiments, they were to be given good and comfy treatment and kept healthy throughout the process. Only during the metamorphosis itself was Zey meant to be kept in quarantine, but they understood that part. “You will remain in here until the head scientist comes to pick you up for test screening, please refrain from wandering around the station. We will not stop you, but I doubt the good doctor would wish to play hide and seek with this galaxy’s only hope.” The soldier had a bit of a snarky attitude which caused a twinge of annoyance to spark through Zey, but they would roll their eyes and nod in response. The guard would nod back before the door closed behind them. Zey would have relaxed in that room for a couple hours. They were tempted to leave despite warnings but honestly it was probably best to get this done and over with, and that meant no issues caused for the others. It was going to be a long enough process after all, as they would sit on the bed and stared out the reinforced glass window. It was the swirling, gorgeous vast expanse of space Zey would be met with, something they honestly could never get used to with how pretty it was. However, besides this, far off in the distance was the cause of this whole fiasco. From here it was no bigger than a dot, but the glowing blue blot on the spatial sky would pierce it like some kind of stain. Zey knew they were outside its range of radiative influence but even then, they could feel just how wrong something like that should exist. While they were glad to be of service, getting mixed up in a material with such a legacy of destruction and corrosion behind it made them nervous. It wouldn’t be much long after this when there was a knock at the door, as it would open to reveal a stereotype that seemed to reign true still. Of course the head scientist was the sketchiest looking person they had ever seen. Stumpy and shorter, bald with small round glasses and tiny rat like eyes sitting behind them. He had a big somewhat concerning grin with a couple missing teeth. “I’m glad you could get here so quickly, this is … truly a special situation~” despite the fact he was talking about a planet comprised of one of the most volatile substances in the galaxy, that didn’t sound like the best tone of voice to take. He would gesture them to follow, and so they would, without really questioning much. The less they asked questions and thought about this, the more annoying it’d end up being. This guy probably wanted to use Phazon for his own means in some way, although while Zey didn’t know what, it didn’t matter to them. He would babble on about the importance of all this and his research and how this would be for the good of the whole galaxy. Zey would be led into the main lab, assumedly where they would be a majority of the time once this all started. “The process is quite simple! ~ Every day for five hours, on the hour, you will be exposed the Phazon samples we extracted from the newly discovered planetoid. Your special … abilities … will cause your body to adapt and mutate with the substance, far faster and differently than most would. I’m only slightly fluent in how your powers work, so I will trust you will be able to handle any attempts of the radiation trying to corrupt you mentally. Once we have deemed you fully adapted to the substance, we will inject you with the DNA of the Bounty Hunter Samus Aran. We had a few of her samples on file before her … recently completed mission. Once your metamorphosis is completed, we will send you to the planet to place the means of destroying it. Do you understand all this?” Zey didn’t even want to know how this all worked, but they would nod as the scientist would cackle a little and clap his hands. “Splendid! ~ I truly am looking forward to how this will go ~” Zey would step into a changing room to slip into something similar to the zero suit Samus wore. It was tight, but it was meant to be that way so it would stretch and adapt to the mutations same as Zey’s body would. They knew they’d have no trouble with the mutations, this isn’t something they haven’t dealt with entirely before, but their main concern was the Phazon’s infamously known effects it has on people’s minds. Samus’ bounty hunter party got driven completely insane to the point of trying to murder her, and Zey didn’t want to end up becoming the enemy because of all this. “You may step into the chamber when ready to begin the first dosages ~” Zey would step out, the purple colored zero suit shifting with their movements as they stepped inside the chamber. It was fairly well built, if anything. Having to deal with Phazon for a good decade or so allowed security measures to be made to deal with the radiation. The walls were comprised of a special alloy embedded glass with the corners and roof made entirely of the same allow. This material supposedly was taken from the remains of Samus’ old suits back when she was investigating the Phazon on Aether and Tallon IV. Once Zey gave the okay, the scientists would be messing around on some of the computers, and with the press of a button a square hole in the floor would open up. It would raise a platform in which sitting upon it would be a large 2 foot tall cannister of the pulsating, bright blue substance. Phazon, pure corrosive Phazon that has nearly caused the destruction of the galaxy three times over and yet it still somehow continues to exist. It was a plague; it should not exist, and it shouldn’t continue to exist. And knowing this was why Zey took the job in the first place, because if they didn’t it would cause more problems. Either in the hands of the Space Pirates, or probable scumbags like the scientist. “Beginning test 1 of the Phazon dosage … now!” and the front of the cannister would slide open, and instantly Zey had to take a step back as the waves of radiative energy blasted throughout their very being. It was like the waves of the ocean knocking them back over and over in a rhythm of cacophony. It felt wrong, but it was for the better of the future as they would grit their teeth and grunt. Already they began to feel their abilities going into effect, albeit small to start. The major mutations wouldn’t come until much later, with this time they felt their fingers began to crack and extend, shifting as their claws got slightly longer. They would gasp and arch their back as it would crack and creak, making them hunch only slightly as the muscles would expand slightly. That was something they were aware of Phazon being capable of, boosting and mutating the physical capabilities of creatures at the cost of their minds. This process of being pounded with the radiation would go on for what felt like forever, but it was only in fact about 30 or so minutes. Once it was done, Zey collapsed against the glass wall, panting and breathing heavily as the cannister would shut. They had 30 minutes to relax before the next dosage, but doing this five times a day was going to get exhausting. And they hadn’t even begun to feel the mental effects yet, as the scientist would turn the intercom on inside the chamber. “When today’s tests are done, you will be given a physical examination to see what sort of mutations your form has gone through for future research purposes.” That didn’t bode well, but they were too tired to care as they were trying to catch their breath. Zey would feel the second test ripple throughout their body, and by the end of the 5 tests they really began to feel the effects. Their muscles had expanded slightly, with their fur a little stretched across their frame. It was the basic physical implements Phazon was known for as they felt their strength being far better than it was. Although there were sensations that were more alien, with their claws and fingers having extended a bit longer, and their back felt somewhat hunched with more of the muscle bunching up there. Despite all this, Zey still looked relatively normal, but this only meant they hadn’t fully adapted to the body. The cannister would lower into the ground, and after a few minutes they were let out and taken to their room. A benefit of Phazon at least: unless it was directly pure, it couldn’t influence anybody. It wasn’t like normal radiation and being around Zey was toxic. Instead, what made Phazon so dangerous was how psychotic it would make those who’s minds it destroyed. Speaking of which, as Zey lay in the bed with a little less comfort from before, they felt a slight headache induced twinge of pain. And for but a moment there was a flash … of something in their vision. Nothing they could remember; it was there and gone faster than they could fully recognize it. But they realized it was a hallucination, something in the corner of their room, before it was gone instantly. This wouldn’t be the last they’d probably see of these, and they know they’d get much worse. The many who had succumbed to this alien radiation usually had hallucinogenic symptoms, hence why a majority of them tended to go insane simply from being unable to understand what was real. The next day would come quickly, especially since Zey could barely sleep. They were having the strangest dreams … they weren’t mutated yet, but they were walking around the testing facility. Everything was dark and murky, and space outside had been replaced by what felt like a dark desolate black and blue void. Glowing blue tendrils had snaked up the walls and ceiling and everything looked deformed and decayed; like nobody had been there. They would call out to get no response, wandering the empty abandoned facility. But it didn’t feel like wandering, it was like with every step in their dream they were approaching something important further and further inside the facility. However before they could go deeper to see what it was, they would wake up. Their muscles throbbing a little from their body not being entirely used to it all, as they would sit up. There would be a knock at their door and the guards opened it to allow Zey to proceed back to the testing chamber. Today was particularly stressful because the head scientist and his team was upping the dosage. That was the plan, taking in more each day, allowing Zey’s absorption abilities to adapt to more of it. Eventually the plan was to physically assimilate piece of the substance into them. The zero suit that was covering their slightly enlarged form would begin to stretch further as the larger cannister would be opened, releasing twice the amount of radiation into the fae-wolf. The effects were a little more grotesque this time, with their slightly elongated fingers starting to stretch and crack further. They had been shifting from a light and dark grey set of paws into enormous wicked gangly claws that only an alpha beast would use. The radiation was doing its job and increasing Zey’s physical capabilities, including evolving the latent animal traits they had. Each finger would crack sharply, the stretching fingernails that had been hardening and blackening would start to glow a bluish color on the ends of the sharpened tips. They couldn’t help but wince a tad, especially as the skin and fur over their arms began to slough, with the arms elongating. Their small hunch would become more prominent as their head lurched forward, back cracking as the fur was starting to fall off slightly in clumps to reveal the joints of their spine had hardened and protruded out their enlarged swelling back into natural armor-like spines. They had a feeling their fur would start to go, as this was much like normal radiation in a way. The enormous gangly claws had already been shed of all fur, with their creaking and elongating arms losing the grey fluffy substance in slight clumps. They winced a tad from the deformation of their regular body structure, but in the end it was worth it. And at the very least its not like their final form would be keeping them. Their tail was slumping a bit, with their spine restructuring they felt the nerves becoming numb in that extra limb. It didn’t fall off or anything, but Zey imagined it wouldn’t last the next day. Especially as their legs would tremble a tad. With how their body was restructuring it almost felt like they were losing their humanoid stance and taking a more digitigrade one. Eventually the day would be over, and the pounding in their head had increased. And as they were hobbling back to their room, they could’ve sworn they saw that same figure watching them from down the hall … around the corner. They were still too far away to make out, but Zey figured the hallucinations would get more vivid as this went on. More of a reason to keep getting sleep and not falling into the corruption like so many had before. The dream that night was more of the same. They woke up in the same place of the facility, back to normal, everything swallowed up by corruption. However, this time Zey practically heard a voice whispering, although they couldn’t make out any words. They were drawn deeper into the mental space catacombs, getting a little deeper this time. The veiny blue vines would have glowing pustules of Phazon across them, almost like it got worse the deeper they went. However like before, they would reach a certain point and then wake up. Zey could’ve sworn the direction they were going in the dream was to the main testing labs. Speaking of which, day three back in the large radiation proof chamber and this was the time for the scientists to expose Zey to pure uncontained Phazon. The mix of goo and crystallized blue plasma would be raised up on the pedestal, with it pulsating and glowing as Zey had to take a step back from the shocking sensations of it. This time it was worse, they felt their entire skeletal structure reshaping, falling forward as their back piled up with muscle. Fur falling away to reveal blackened smooth almost hard skin underneath, with their tail shuddering and detaching. It flopped against the metallic floor and disintegrated, as Zey gasped out with their legs creaking and shifting. Their knees bent as their paws would sharpen and stretch into similarly blue tipped black gangly claws. Their stance was more befitting of an animal in a way, with their chest having expanded further out. Most of their fur on their torso had shed, with only small patches remaining attached to the pitch-black skin. Although Zey felt an urge, just a small one. But this urge was enough to make them lurch forward and dig their claws into the pure Phazon, being a bit ahead of schedule as they felt the need to absorb more of it. It would suck up into them as the glowing blue substance would begin to flow through their veins. That of which would begin to glow a similar blue as they started to thicken and throb, moving up their enormous longer blackened arms. Thick glowing blue veins that pulsated across their body as their neck strained, Zey clenching their eyes shut as they felt their voice gargle into a growl. The whispers were growing louder, pushing them to further this, but they shook their head. They asked for this, they weren’t going to let it take over, although a bit of mutation could be fun at least. Their head looked so off, sitting on their hunched forward blackened neck, with their head having barely any changes, more than likely that would be the focus of tomorrow. Their body size was five times what it was before, with their veins bulging and blue. Their furless skin like a thick blackened hide, with sharpened wicked curved blue tipped claws and an enormous muscular spiked hunch of a back. They would lumber out, winking at the scientist who looked almost disappointed. Zey could only gather he was wondering why the corruption hadn’t broke their mind yet. Zey had been through a lot of situations like this, so they knew how to fight these sort of attacks. They were taken to a different room this time, with it being much larger than their former. Their bed was replaced with a large hanging hammock fit for their grotesque mutated body. Although they didn’t mind it, going to lay down into it with a creak. The hallucinations had increased as well, with a black and blue figure standing in the corner and getting closer. Zey recognized it as the end goal of this whole experiment, a hazy phantom of the Phazon fueled doppelganger of Samus Aran. The cause of all the trouble in the past, and it seems she was trying to use Zey as her own new host. However as she held her hand out, all Zey would do was smirk and turn over not giving her the time of day. Zey had another of the same dream they had been having, however they would finally make it to the decrepit door of the labs. It would open to reveal the testing chamber, a large glowing blue pod undulating inside like a cocoon. It would crack open as the wolf stepped in, and crawling out would be none other than Dark Samus herself. She would let out a soft, echoing hiss and reached out to them. “Join me … and we can rule the galaxy far better than they ever could.” Her voice was like poison, like every word could melt through solid stone. But Zey would approach her, staring at her outstretched hand, and the fae-wolf simply shook their head. “Sorry, but you had that chance, and you lost it already. And this time, I’m gonna make sure you stay gone” They placed their hand on her visored face, and with a small gasp and a flash of blue light, everything around Zey in the dream dissipated into a bluish dust. This was Dark Samus’ last remains. Despite the displays and showmanship, she was just a ghost. Zey woke up the next morning, feeling more at home with their enormous monstrous mutated form. And they were ready to complete the first phase of all this, before preparing to borrow the form of the one who had been trying to puppet this for their own gain. Zey would squeeze inside the chamber, as the last globules of Phazon rose up. The scientists watched in curiosity as Zey lifted them up … and bit down into them. They would munch and slurp them down like large gummy candies, with them not even really having much of a taste if not more of a texture. As they swallowed they felt their face cracking and shifting, their skull elongating as their black and red streaked hair began to fall off in clumps. Their front teeth sharpened into long sabretooth like tusks, with the rest of their wolf canines getting more deadlier. The only way to describe what was happening was that it felt like their skull was pushing out of their old head. The furry skin parted like paper to reveal a skeletal black material underneath. It was like their hide of the rest of the body, but like they had a pitch black animal skull for its shape. No hair, with their eyes almost blinking away into blue goo to reveal empty black crevices filled with glowing blue dots. But what made the changes more prominent would be how the Phazon moved across the rest of their enormous body. Different parts of them would bulge and splurge out into enormous tumors. This was pretty common for Phazon mutations, with a majority of them having radioactive growths like this. Usually it was a sign that their forms had over mutated, but in this case it was good. Zey felt an extra large one push out one of their skeletal eyeholes and the top of their head, with it obscuring half their vision. Honestly given the fact they felt entirely fine, this was pretty dang cool getting all grotesque and monstery. But that was it, all the Phazon left. Their giant overly mutated form had been completed, ripe for the final phase to prepare them in their mission for Phaaze Minor. Before they left the testing chamber they were given a single injection to their larger spine. According to the scientists, it was some of Samus Aran’s DNA from before her last mission. Once this was done, Zey returned to their room, although escorted by hazmat wearing guards, who they actually struck up nice conversation with. It was a little hard to talk with such a gnarly jaw, especially not having lips or a tongue. But Zey managed, and as they stepped in the room, they would get a look at themselves in the full body mirror on the wall. They looked scary as hell, which was exactly the intentions. This night they were not supposed to sleep, to allow the metamorphosis to happen and for their reactions to better be recorded by the camera in the top corner of the room. It only took a couple hours, with them feeling sharp pinches across their skeletal structure again. While it had expanded all this time, it was once again compressing and shrinking down. Their black mutated skin was beginning to lighten and even grow more … transparent. The lighter in color it got, the more they could actually see the effects of the transformation happening in real time. Their animalistic shapes were becoming more human-like, if not glowing and shaped like nerves. They felt one of their enormous claws start to compress and round out, fingers becoming useless as they would fuse into some sort of living carapace. An indent was forming in the middle of the stump like growth as their other clawed hand was compressing into smaller sharpened fingers. What was the weirdest part was their head, as the glossy see through blue skin was swallowing up their skull, as if performing the reverse of the previous mutations. Their maw would shrink back and close up to form no mouth at all, with the blackened texture becoming a bright blue, and their eyeholes becoming a set of pure piercing yellow eyes. Their face looked ghastly, like an abnormal artistic drawing of an alien or a human. They recognized this as Dark Samus incomplete form, with it being an in between state of her original Metroid Prime look and how she was in the end. Although this wasn’t too last long, thank goodness. Zey didn’t know how they felt having all their internal organic parts on display. As their shoulders bulged and enlarged, filling with Phazon, the thin see through skin layer started to harden and solidify. Zey felt their vision growing brighter, a light blue tint taking it over as their alien-like head would begin to fuse with the thin outer layer of skin. If all the mutations were weird, nothing compared to feeling their facial features flatten and extend into a visor in their places. Their claw like feet would smooth over into solid, yet almost breathable boots. Their fingerless arm had taken the form of the familiar weaponry Samus was known for, and their head was a fully visored black and blue helmet. Every part of them felt alive, like they were breathing and feeling out of every organic piece of armor they called their form. They felt the Phazon flowing through them, powering them, allowing Zey to float up, light as air. All this power felt amazing, and it was genuinely a spectacle to experience such a bizarre yet original metamorphosis. It wouldn’t be permanent, but they could at least enjoy it as long as they could. After getting a feel for their new body, they would float out of the room, only to see surprisingly that the head scientist was being dragged down the hall kicking and screaming by some of the federation soldiers. “YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND, THIS IS FOR THE GOOD OF THE GALAXY! YOU ARE DESTROYING EVOLUTION!!” He would scream out, seems they … or well Zey supposed she was female now given the circumstances, had their suspicions proven right. Zey would float up to a couple of soldiers who would salute her, as they stepped aside to reveal Samus herself walking up to the newly created darkened twin. She would look Zey up and down and let out a small chuckle, “and here I thought I’d had seen the last of this look. ~” One of the soldiers would let out a soft gasp, almost in shock that the silent and stoic bounty hunter even could speak. She would put her armored hand on Zey’s larger shoulder, going to pat it with a small nod of admiration. “At least its in the hands of someone who will use it for the right reasons.” Zey would nod back, a little flushed at that compliment, watching her walk past as the new Phazon conglomerate floated up to the window to stare at the corrupt planet off in the distance. Samus would have stared down at her hand as she was out of sight of Zey, wanting to make sure of something. She mentally noted the fact no Phazon had been leftover on her hand, letting out a soft chuckle. She was confident this would go well now, and that such power was controlled by someone worthy of it. One of the guards would stop behind her, bowing slightly before he spoke: “A ship is ready for you ma’am, are you prepared for the mission?” Zey turned around, giving him an emotionless look due to the visor face, and she felt a swelling of excitement in her chest. Yes, she was ready for anything.

[words-are-fireproof]

Red Ribbons - (Din Djarin x f!reader)

Summary: After seeing his face, you and the Mandalorian end up in a snowy town with the kid and red ribbon.

Rating: T, just to be safe

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: I don't celebrate the holidays but I started this as part of @toomanystoriessolittletime's December challenge and I finally finished it so...here you go! As always, my work is unedited. Whoops. And, also, as always, I can't write short stuff to save my life. Double whoops.

This is a sequel, of sorts, to Haalur but I don't think you'll have had to read that one to understand this one. Still gonna link that one, though.

[Masterlist] || [Part One]

-----

The minute he saw you, he had two questions–one, why was the kid wrapped in a bow; two, why were you wearing almost the same bow in your hair?

Holidays weren’t exactly something that he understood. The Outer Rim had festivals to honor gods and different tribes had different celebrations for harvests and the like, but you’d come from a place that chose to exchange gifts at the end of every year to encourage an uptick in morale. The morale sustained your culture through the long, harsh winters, and often the gifts were practical in nature. You’d explained it a few times, but he still didn’t understand the significance or why you couldn’t just exchange gifts all year long. If they were practical gifts, wouldn’t they be better suited to give at any time instead of the end of the year?

He never argued, though. He just nodded and went on, tending to the repairs of a newly rebuilt gunship that Peli Motto had found when he’d complained about the lack of space on the N-1. He knew of only one holiday on Tatooine–Boonta Eve–but he never celebrated it, and he made it a point to not be on the planet when the celebration happened. Mandalorians and celebrations weren’t exactly good bedfellows. However, he didn’t exactly mind. He also was careful to avoid most places during Life Day celebrations. What could he say? He wasn’t big on celebrations.

But he still was curious about why Grogu looked pleased as punch in a bright red bow and why you looked far too cheerful for a normal day on an almost deserted planet. Thankfully it wasn’t too deserted. You still managed to procure a rather nice room in town, framed by a big window that opened to a panorama of a snowy forest. He didn’t think he’d ever seen that much snow that wasn’t mostly ice, but you weren’t complaining and, strangely enough, neither was Grogu.

The little bog goblin toddled around the warm, enclosed landing pad. Only a sliver of cold air filtered to them through a small crack between the overhead bay doors. It barely ruffled the bow around his little neck. Mando couldn’t believe he was keeping the bow on. Sometimes changes in his routine threw the little tyke off. Most of the time, he went with the flow with small squeals of excitement that filled the Mandalorian’s chest with happiness, a strange and foreign feeling even now. He’s sure what he felt squeezing underneath his sternum– as he fiddled with a bolt cutter–was that ever elusive emotion. He couldn’t be so sure.

“Where did you get that?” He asked, crouching down to see under the chassis of his ship and to be more on Grogu’s level.

The kid pointed in your direction. His breath hitched, the sound crackling through his modulator. You didn’t hear it, but the kid glanced over him, his head tilted curiously.

You’d found a stash of wooly sweaters Mando had recently filched from a bounty. You were surprised they fit, but you were grateful, especially when his ship required emergency maintenance in the snowiest planet possible. The red ribbon had been acquired from the inn owner. Something about being easy to see in the snow. Maybe. You couldn’t understand half of what the woman–or you assumed it was a woman–said. She spoke in a language you didn’t understand. At least you had him to procure the room.

You took it upon yourself to do your hair in the room, curling it delicately in long ringlets one lock of hair at a time. When you’d finished, you pulled on one of the sweaters, a deep maroon one that brought out your eyes. You ignored the way it itched and clung to your body. You never wore form fitting stuff. You preferred loose clothing, and you rarely wore colors, preferring the browns and tans that you usually wore on Tatooine. And you were fairly certain he’d never seen you with your hair down like this, which might explain why the ‘t’ of his visor was trained on you, head tilted, Grogu making little squeaks of confusion at the change in you. But, as soon as you smiled, he came toddling over to you happily, asking silently to be picked up and you obliged. You settle the little green bean on your hip as you regard Mando closely.

The ‘t’ of his helmet was still trained on you. You couldn’t be sure what he was thinking. Ever since that night on Tatooine when he asked you to take off his helmet, he’d been different. You enjoyed that night, and you made sure to tell him, especially when he took you to bed without his armor and held you in his broad frame like you were the best thing to ever happen to him. Maybe you were. You weren’t about to argue with him, not as he held you like that. But after that night, after he’d flown away, he seemed to grow distant, intent on not touching you, intent on doing other things and not giving you the time of day.

It hurt, but you weren’t so easily swayed in your affections and you’d like to think that he wasn’t either, whatever those affections might be.

“What’s the occasion?” His voice came through the modulator, quiet and uncertain.

“I thought I’d dress up for you.”

His helmet tilted to the side. “Why?”

“Why not?”

He stood slowly, his entire frame raising smoothly, even with the heavy beskar on. “You’ve never done it before.”

“It’s too hot to dress up on Tatooine.”

He snorted. “I noticed.”

You shifted Grogu onto your other hip as he played with a ringlet of your hair. “And maybe I wanted to entice you away from your ship.”

The kid cooed and looked between the two of you, dark eyes catching the dim light of the landing bay, his little fist curled into your hair.

He shifted on his feet, his helmet straightening as he peered at you. “You don’t want to get out of here?”

You shook your head as you said, “Why would I have had you get us a room if I wanted to leave?”

That seemed to flummox him. He didn’t have an answer for that. He just stared at you and his kid. He hated to admit it, but Grogu liked you as much as he liked him. The two of you weren’t attached like he was to Mando, but you knew he missed you when you were gone. Mando would tell you when he inevitably came back for a visit, Tatooine in his veins, calling like a siren’s song, pulling him in.

“You…like the snow?”

You shrugged elaborately. “I’ve never really been in snow like this. It’s nice.”

“The kid and I’ve mostly just seen ice planets. Haven’t we, little guy?”

Grogu cooed and continued to look between the two of you intently, like he could feel the shift in the two of you, like he knew something had happened while he was gone. You couldn’t be sure if he registered the time apart from Mando. You were sure he had, though. When the two of them came staggering back to your door after the fight with the rancor and the Pykes, you’d tended his wounds while Grogu remained attached to Mando’s hip. The kid’s eyes were trained on you as you stitched Mando up, having been out of bacta spray and other modern medical miracles. You prefered the old fashioned way. You’d been raised that way. That’s when Mando told you about the little green guy. Fully told you. He didn’t skirt around it like he had before. He’d told you the kid was actually fifty. You barely believed it, but when he told you about Grogu’s life before, the memories he’d suppressed, the power he had… a lot of things suddenly made sense.

“Ice planets can be pretty, too.”

Mando snorted softly and shook his head. “Not when you’re getting chased by ice spiders.”

You make a face, a shudder sliding down your spine. “Oh, god, no thank you.”

“I think Grogu made them mad.”

You lifted an eyebrow and peered at the kid. “Did you eat some of them?” The kid giggled and babbled which gave you all the confirmation you needed. “Of course, you did.”

Silence flowed between the two of you for a moment longer than it should’ve. Your eyes trained on him and you wished he would take off his helmet. You longed to see his deep, soulful eyes again. You wanted to drown in his gaze. Maybe you even wanted to drown in him but then you thought about the fact that the kid was there with him this time and there was no one to watch him but the two of you.

“You really want to stick around?”

You nodded. “You should see the room you got,” you said by way of answering him. “It’s beautiful.”

He heaved a heavy sigh, turning to survey the raggedy gunship. “I’ll get a pack together.”

“No need,” you sing songed happily. “I grabbed what you needed already. Same with the kid. It’s in the room.”

He turned back to face you. Once again, the ‘t’ of his helmet trained on you, but you couldn’t be sure what the Mandalorian was thinking. You wished you could see his face. You pushed that thought away. You couldn’t get attached. Not like that. It was inevitable that he’d leave you again, and this time, maybe he’d leave you for good. You pushed that thought aside. You wouldn’t let him do that.

“Come on, then,” his voice sounded different through the modulator. You couldn’t put your finger on it, but you followed him regardless, Grogu still settled on your hip.

The chill of the air cut through your desert acclimated body. It settled deep in your bones despite the cozy sweater you wore. You wondered how he could possibly be warm but then you remembered he often wore many layers under that beskar. You selfishly hoped he would take off some of those layers just in case anything happened. You didn’t relish the idea of the cold metal brushing against your bare skin.

When you finally made it back to the inn and to your room, your curls were all over the place thanks to the wind. Snow clung to Grogu’s little face and without even thinking, you took care of him first, making sure he was all clean and dry and changed into warmer clothes. But you made sure to re-tie the ribbon around his collar. He started to make a fit when he thought you weren’t going to give it back to him.

Mando watched the two of you closely through his visor. A strange feeling percolated in his chest. It wasn’t the normal happiness he usually felt when he saw the two of you. It tightened under his sternum. His heart pounded under the wide breastplate of his armor. What was this feeling that seemed to fill him up with pain and warmth all at once? He didn’t understand it. He wasn’t even sure if he liked it.

He cleared his throat softly. “He likes that bow.”

“I know. It surprised me.” Your gaze settled on him as you sat him down in his pram. Almost immediately, the little bog goblin settled down into his blankets, yawned, then began to doze, his little snores filling the ensuing silence.

You shifted on your feet, unsure of what to do now, unsure of what you could get away with, unsure if you even wanted to get away with something. It was your turn to clear your throat, stepping away from Grogu to let him sleep as you ran your fingers through your knotted curls. You winced with discomfort when you found a particularly big knot, but before you could do anything about it, you felt his large, strong hands brush away your small, slender ones as he picked almost timidly at the tangle. You still couldn’t believe you’d forgotten to pack a brush from home.

“It’s your turn to feel different, you know?” His smooth voice slid down her spine like molten lava, warming her from the inside out.

“I do?” You could almost feel him nod behind you.

“You’re uncertain.”

A wild laugh strains its way out of your chest and throat. “Uncertain?”

His hands and fingers pause in your hair. “Yes.”

Here you thought you’d done such a good job hiding it. “I’m not uncertain.”

His fingers continue their work on the knot, gently teasing it apart. “Are you afraid I'll be upset if you are?”

“No,” you answered far too quickly.

The truth was, you weren’t scared of him being upset. Uncertainties happen all the time. You both know they happen. You both know that being upset at uncertainties was the quick way to arguments and little resentments that would tear the two of you apart. You didn’t want that, and you imagined he didn’t either.

“Don’t lie to me, mesh’la.”

“I’m not,” you answer honestly.

“Then why–”

You cut him off quickly with a finished question of your own. “Why did you show me your face and then disappear for months?”

You swear you can hear him swallow thickly behind you, his fingers pausing again in your hair before they fall away completely.

“I had to see the kid, remember?”

“Yeah, but when you came back…” You still remember the exact time he came back. Down to the very minute, the noise of the N-1 was far different than the Razor Crest as it settled in the landing pad.

“I was hurt. Maybe that had something to do with it.”

You shake your head. “You and I both know that’s not the truth.”

This time, you did hear as he sighed and stood to get away from you. At least that’s what you reckoned in your mind. He was getting away from you because he really didn’t want to be close to you anymore.

“I shouldn’t have done what I did.”

“Show me your face?” You snap bitterly.

“Let you in.”

Your brief flare of anger deflates. “You regret letting me in?”

“I regret not letting you in sooner.”

You blinked in confusion as you turned to face him. “I don’t–”

“You’re great with the kid. You’re great with me. You make me feel…special, cyare.”

You breathed in a shaky breath, unable to look at him. Instead, you focus on the snowy expanse out the window as big, fat, fluffy flakes begin to fall from the grey-blue sky. Special? You made him feel special? What did that mean? Beyond the pet name in Mando’a, beyond the fact that you took care of the kid rather well when you were allowed to be around him, beyond all that–what exactly did it mean? What did he mean? Special? How special? Less like a killer? More like a man? Your mind reeled. You didn’t even know why it did. You just wanted it to stop.

“Then, why–”

“It scared me.”

That you understood. You finally turned to face him, gazing into the darkened expanse of his helmet.

“I won’t tell anybody.”

He shook his head. “I don’t care about that.”

“But your Creed…” you found yourself foundering again, much like you had so many months ago.

“I broke my Creed a long time ago.” He tilted his head in the direction of the pram. “For him.”

Your gaze fell to the pram with a soft smile. For some reason, that didn’t surprise you. Of course he’d do that for Grogu. The little tyke was worth it, and you knew the attachment you both had to each other transcended everything else, even whatever attachment they both had for you.

With a soft hitch of his breath, he gently removed his helmet, setting it down on the bed to fully tune his gaze to you. You tried to hide the happiness as it bubbled inside of you, but it broke across your face in a wide smile and a bright pink blush. You ducked your head against it, but his fingers quickly settled on your chin, tilting your head back up to face him.

“It scared me,” he continued, “because I’ve never felt like this before. Not with anyone. Not like this.”

The blush deepened as you chewed on your bottom lip. He brushed his thumb over your upper lip gently, your teeth yielding and releasing before his mouth slotted gently and briefly against yours. A happy little shriek from Grogu made you both jump away from each other. You laughed as you watched him clap excitedly.

“I think he’s happy about this new development.”

He chuckled, his turn to turn pink, the tops of his ears a deeper color than his cheeks. “I think you might be right about that.”

You shake your head, leaning in to steal another kiss, properly this time, tongues tangling together as you deepen the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck to tug him closer. But you immediately frown and pull back, shivering at the chill coming from his beskar.

“You going to take this all off and get comfortable?”

He turned to survey the plush bed, adorned with sheets as white as the snow outside the window. “Maybe. Are you going to join me?”

You grinned, eyes shining as you slowly began to undress, peeling off the sweater you put on just for him until all you wore were your bra and underwear.

“Can I see your wrist?”

He still hadn’t taken off his flight suit or his beskar, too enthralled with watching you get ready for bed. You chuckled as he quickly took off the arm armor, letting it fall on the floor with a heavy thud before he divested himself of his heavy woolen flight suit. The scratchy material found its way to the floor as well. It was only then that he offered you his wrist readily. You wound the red ribbon around his wrist and tied it in a pretty bow to match the one around Grogu’s neck.

“There you go. Both my boys are my Life Day presents.”

He wrinkled his nose. “I don’t celebrate Life Day.”

You shrugged. “Neither do I. But I do love having the both of you around.”

He fell quiet for a long moment before he murmured, “We love having you around, too.”

And you knew as soon as he spoke those words that he meant more by it than what he said. You let it fill you up and give you light and warmth, especially as you both tumble into bed, the snow falling heavily as Grogu hides in his pram, seeming to know exactly what’s about to happen.