#her other limbs were too stubby and it was harder for her to move

[purriwinkletwinkle]

More Ditzry (and ermm character sheet. Apologies for my wordiness!! I am not good at describing feelings. I JUST now noticed how the small the text is too... I'm sorry!!! Also, I wasn't sure if Kaufmo was ever canon or not)

Me watching Ditzry get torn apart (she's fine) :

Au created by: @art-beyond-the-stars (sorry for @'ing you!! I wasn't sure if you'd want to see this)

Some subtle details I want to include:

her heart shaped eye is meant to display her heart rate! Her heart rate is often seen to be very rapid, which is an affect (???) of stress.

Her mis-matched proportions are very subtle. I'd say the most apparent are her legs, but there are others! Her ears are different sizes, which is a lot more apparent in her "portrait". I got very lazy while drawing it.

Her paws are also meant to be slightly different sizes!

And as for the adjustments made to her body, I decided to just list them below:

More alert ears. Her other ears were more floppy!

Smaller body.

Actual arms and legs...

Pockets, which were originally on her thighs, have been moved up to her flanks, or sides.

Shorter fur. Her longer fur was too hard to maintain and could easily get caught on things.

Her pawpads were originally hearts.

More yellow is covering her body now!

[beskarberry]

Valkyrie

Bargaining with Beskar, Chapter 4

(The Mandalorian x f!reader)

“What... did you... do?”  You hissed between clenched teeth. “Did you poison him?! Give me the antidote right now or so fucking help me I’ll tear every limb off your ugly little body!” You were seething, fear and fury stoking fire behind your eyes. The bounty only laughed harder.

“Antidote?There’s only one antidote for that one, sugar, and I sure hope you like him enough to give it to him! Bwahaha ha! Good luck!”

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 7.8k

Content warnings: Canon-typical violence, SEX POLLEN + rough sex, oral sex (m receiving) and kink talk (not gonna list all of them but they’re all very common.) There’s another filk song reference in this one that I’ll link in the replies.

A/N: VERY IMPORTANT TAG! The bounty uses she/her pronouns so if girl on girl violence makes you squeamish please read ahead with caution! Also know that I >>do not<< use any gender-specific slurs (b*tch, c*nt, etc.)

<-Previous Next->

Everything. Was. Purple.

Purple! The grass, the sky, the trees, if you could call them that. The pulsating, gelatinous towers that spiraled into the sky were definitely alive, but you weren’t sure if ‘tree’ was a fitting word for them. Their branches were long and hanging, weighed down by some kind of berry or fruit that glowed with teal streaks. Your next bounty was on a habitable moon orbiting an enormous gas giant that took up the entire skyline. It was lush with vegetation and sparsely populated, a perfect hideout for an Ardennian.

The Razor Crest was parked in a meadow of lavender grass, though once again you questioned your choice of words, watching the way the long wet leaves wiggled in the breeze. You breathed deep, letting the rich, humid air fill your lungs while your traveling companions followed behind you down the old ship’s ramp. Baby beans trotted right past you on stubby legs, picking things up off the ground that he probably shouldn’t be putting in his mouth, but was too sneaky for you to stop him from doing so. You heard the Crest’s access door shut, and turned to see Mando eagerly trotting along to join you.

No, not ‘Mando’... Din. Mr. Mystery finally had a name, though you were still conflicted about using it. The man had spilled so many secrets into you in such a short amount of time that the butterflies in your stomach were breeding many-legged worms. Squirming, creeping things that quickly metamorphosized back into their illustrious true selves, and you weren’t sure which part of their cycle was making you more nauseous. But they were your secrets to keep, your heart wearing his name like a locket; safely hidden where nobody but you could see.

You had slid the heavy beskar bucket back up the ladder to him while he stayed in the dark of the cockpit, the knowledge of his facial features still kept by your hands alone. The pair of you had then stood close together at the armory, him with his helmet back where it belonged and you with your bright eyed mask protecting your crown. At the equipment cache he couldn’t stop talking, pointing out and picking up a variety of weapons and traps that would work particularly well for this simian quarry. Everything had a story, and he told you all about the bounties he had pulled trophies off of, or things he had gotten as rewards for helping someone else. He’s giddy. You could only listen along as he prattled away, handing you grapple after snare until you had to start putting things back in the armory, just so you could have your hands free again.

Hands. Every time he gave you another tool of the trade to add to your ever-growing inventory his hands brushed somewhere on you. Leather tipped fingers glancing quickly on your wrist, a lingering palm on your shoulder; each fleeting touch lasting just slightly longer than the last. He was struggling to keep his hands off of you, reluctant to give up the intimacy you had both been working at in the void-black darkness of the flight deck before atmospheric reentry tore you both apart. What other prayers of devotion could he pour into you, if you’d just had a little more time? ‘You belong to them, that is The Way’. The oath he had made to you was followed coldly in your mind by another string of words, ‘I’m not asking you to do the same, you’re not Mandalorian’.

You couldn’t think about all the words that you still needed to unpack, it was hunting time. The six-limbed simian was wanted for, checks puck notes, chemical warfare. She had blasted her way to the Guild’s Most Wanted list by lobbing incendiary bombs and poison gas grenades through a meeting of outer rim parliament, and the price on her head might have been higher than yours. The bounty puck specifically stated she was to be taken alive. Super. The droid-face mask wasn’t going to be much protection for your lungs, but it might at least keep your eyes safe. You took time to pack extra bacta and some quality rations, plus one of your new bantha-wool blankets. You woke up that morning on Tatooine, and the voice of your tortured circadian rhythm wondered if you would be sleeping rugged tonight somewhere on this heliotropic hellscape.

A bounty fob blinked lazily from the larger hunter’s belt, indicating that the quarry was on-world, but not close enough to catch. The three of you would have some walking to do. The child tried to make friends with every wiggly thing, running on his short little legs from fern to fern, hunting for treats. The little beastie’s adopted father chased him through the grass, trying, and failing, to keep him from getting into trouble. The sight of the mighty metal man being defeated so easily by a baby made you laugh, and the sound of your melodic giggles drew his attention.

“What are you laughing at?”

Oh no, I’ve been caught!  “I’m laughing at you, rust bucket! The scariest person here isn’t either of us, it’s him!” You pointed to where the child was tearing through the reeds after some kind of amphibian, and started laughing harder when Mando cursed and flew after his impish son. The rowdy child had a frog-like creature hanging from his mouth that vanished the second his dad tried to pull it away.

“Stop eating things you find on the ground!” The baby only squealed at the scolding, earning himself a grumpy, papa-patented sigh. Mando picked up the potato-sack of a child and dumped him unceremoniously into the hover-crib that floated along behind. “You can get back out when you learn your lesson! I don’t want you to get sick.” The baby made huge, sad eyes up at his dad, but Mando turned away quickly to avoid their hypnotic powers. You were doing your best to hide your giggles, covering the part of your mask where your mouth was, as if that would help. The Mandalorian strode up to you with a swagger. “Oh, you think that’s funny, cyar’ika?”

“You don’t?” You caught your reflection in the black gloss of his visor as he sauntered up to you, and your bug-eyed doppelganger only made you laugh more. A wall of beskar stood in front of you, eyeing you with slow tilts of his helmet while you got it all out of your system. When your breaths returned to normal you looked down at your hands and found that they had made friends. You had reached out for him without even thinking, and you were a little embarrassed that they had gravitated to him so naturally. He squeezed your hands gently before letting them return to you, and you heard the songs of star-lost sailors whispering in the back of your mind. The nights are long between the stars, and lonely, too, for me. I wonder how I might have fared with home and family.

“Night’s coming fast, we should keep moving.” Hunting mode reactivated, your companion started towards the undulating wilderness. He wasn’t wrong, within a few hours the massive planet that hung above you drifted out of view, replaced with a sea of glittering stars. The foliage around you glowed with otherworldly colors, teals and violets splattering their dense leaves and curling down their jelly trunks. Their loveliness made it easy to distract yourself from the task at hand, your eyes chasing the occasional yellow and red flashes that blinked from insects high in the branches. Ahead of you a large old tree had fallen over, and between its trunk and its upturned roots the spot was easily defensible.

Mando busied himself with clearing squishy sticks and leaves from the area to make a campsite while you looked for something to start a fire with. Nothing looked burnable, everything had a gooey, wet consistency, but some dead leaves under the log were dried out. They would have to do. You made them into a neat pile and pushed some rocks in a circle around them for safety, now you would just need a light.

“Hey, tinman, I need some heat!” He followed your pointing finger with his helmet and waltzed over to you, happy to be of assistance. He started up his wrist mounted flamethrower and used the pilot light to set the tinder ablaze. Not even fire could escape the overwhelming purpleness of the estranged moon as the blaze kicked up a bright indigo with a low heat. You got to work getting dinner around, pulling savory Tatooine treats out of your pack, pushing some of them towards the heat source so they would be warm. At the bottom of your bag you found some soft, squashed thing, and pulled the remains of breakfast out into the light. It was mashed, but it was still probably edible. “Mando, you never ate your breakfast.”

“What?” He looked at the sad excuse for a meal that you were offering him, eyeing it with curiosity. “You got me breakfast?”

“Yes? I told you that I would, though I guess it’s dinner now. Here.” You waved it at him so he would get the hint, and he took it carefully from you with timid hands.

“T-thank you. You’re very kind.”

“And don’t you forget it!” You whooped with overwhelming confidence, but the sweet words made you blush under your mask. Before he could turn and leave the safety of the fire to find a private eating area you reached for his hand again, pulling the armored paw to your forehead and knocking it softly against your mask. Kov'nynir. A wistful sigh escaped his modulator, and you knew the act of affection was well received. He bent himself down to where you sat at the fire and pressed his own forehead against yours, rumbling with contentment. The gentle sound made your heart swell, such a simple gesture that carried so much meaning. A bounty hunter’s life was fast and dangerous, why should finding companionship be any different?

You pushed your heads together just a little harder before he pulled himself away from you to go eat. You lifted your own dinner and the baby’s from the hearth, poking at it with your fingers to make sure it wasn’t too hot for Mr. Green Beans to eat. The child took it from you eagerly, content in his protective pram and making gross little noises while he ate. The food tin you had was much better than day one’s menu: bantha meat and Tusken hardtack with a side of more mystery mush. Your partner chose to take his meal elsewhere, fading into the darkness behind the fallen log where he could remove his helmet and eat in peace. Someday he might make more sense to you. The clank! of an empty food tin hitting the ground brought your attention back to your campsite buddy, the baby having thrown his clean plate at you.

“What’s wrong, booger? You bored? Alright.” There was a tiny bit of energy still left in your bones, and what better way to spend it than entertaining your precious audience. You pulled yourself to your feet, taking a moment to dust the spores from your pants and pull your backpack on before launching into song.

“When we pulled into Naboo’s Port in need of R&R,

The crew set out investigating every joint and bar.

We had high expectations of their hospitality,

But found too late it wasn't geared for spacers such as we!”

“And we're banned from Naboo, everyone!

Banned from Naboo, just for having a little fun!

We spent a jolly shore leave there for just three days or four,

But Naboo doesn't want us anymore!”

Green baby hands tried their best to clap in time with your sailor song, accompanied by adorable cooing noises while he tried to sing along. Your rambunctiousness summoned Mando back over to the fire, and he sat down on a large rock next to his foundling, watching you through his visor as you danced around the fire with flailing limbs.

“Our Engineer would yield to none at putting down the brew;

She outdrank seven space marines and a demolition crew!

The Navigator didn't win, but he out-drank almost all,

And now they've got a shuttlecraft on the roof of City Hall!”

You ran through the chorus again, taking a second to notice that tinman was tapping his foot to the beat along with you. You wondered briefly if they ever sang on Mandalore. You took a deep breath to continue-

“-KABOOM-!”

The fireside exploded just meters from your spinning dance, and you were hauled backwards to safety by your oathsworn protector,along with his foundling, and ushered towards the safety of the trees.

“-BOOM! Ba-BOOM! KERPLOW-!”

Trees and plants exploded on either side of you as you ran through the luminous dark. The Ardennian! Neither of you had been paying attention to the bounty fob, blinking fast and red under his cloak. Above you the sound of something swinging through the branches caught your ear, and you pulled your blaster and fired behind you.

“Bwahaha! Missed me missed me now you gotta kiss me, two-arms!” You couldn’t see her, but her taunts gave you a better idea of her position, firing several more shots towards their source. You knew you had to take her alive, but that didn’t mean intact.

“Go go go!” Mando was at your back, doing his best human shield impression while he hurried you away from the bombardment, the child’s bulky pram tucked uncomfortably under one arm. Your flight through the forest was haunted with vicious cackling and the sound of serene foliage being obliterated by the explosives that rained down around you, choking you with incendiary fumes.

A clearing materialized ahead, and the three of you rushed out from under the unmerciful trees. When you had gotten far enough from the tree line you both turned your eyes to the canopy.

“There!” Picking up her heat signature on his visor’s infrared sensors, he pointed to your target, his other arm still occupied with protecting the foundling. You grabbed the barrel of the pulse rife that was still slung over his shoulder, aimed, and fired. The ball of electricity arced from your little trio and collided with the trees, the sound of pained screams and crashes followed the wounded pyromaniac as she fell hard to the ground. Bullseye.

”Stay here, Mando, I got this! Keep him safe!” You stormed into the woods after the sounds of distress, snare at the ready to take the bounty alive. You were angry, rage powering your stride as you chased after her like a Corellian tracking hound. Angry that your sweet moment had been ruined, angry that she’d put the foundling in danger, angry that your partner had been pulled from the comfort of the fire to fulfill his duties as guardian. You sprang over roots and fallen branches, catching the sight of movement where the Ardennian was making a run for it. 

“Oh no you don’t! Get back here!”  Your words boiled with so much fury that they almost weren’t your own. Balls of fire exploded around you in a last ditch effort by the primate to kill you first. You dropped a knee into the loamy soil to steady your shot.

Woosh! The net sailed past her by mere inches, and you flew to your feet to begin the chase again.

“Ha! Grow some more arms and maybe you’ll have better aim!”  Fire erupted around you again, but the flames that seared at your eyes came from inside, burning with fuel siphoned from your heart. You took another shot.

Woosh! Miss! FUCK. You had one shot left on the snare-slinger, and you had to make it count. The trees were thinner here, how long had you been running? The simian was struggling to get away now, the long slimy branches too far apart to swing through. Behind you the sound of thunderous armored boots told you that Mando was hot on your trail, and you were glad to have the back up even though you had specifically told him to stay put. Nobody listens in this crew. Something green and gaseous poofed next to you, and the terms of the bounty puck came back to you clear as day: chemical warfare. The Ardennian was out of bombs and had switched to gas canisters, hurling a variety of brightly colored poisons at your face. Third time’s the charm.

Woosh! The net flew true, tangling in the many limbs of the fleeing quarry and throwing her to the ground. Gotcha! You bore down on her as brightly glowing vials sailed over your head, landing on something behind you with a crash! You were on her in an instant, shoving a blaster in her face.

“You’re done, chuckles! It’s over!” The fear in her eyes vanished as quickly as it had appeared when she glanced back behind you.

“Ha! I don’t think so, stinky. You’re gonna have yer hands too full with that to deal with little old me.” You followed her gaze, and froze from the ice crystalizing in your veins. Mando stood a ways back, still as a statue. Bright neon pink goo slimed its way down his helmet and dripped onto his chest plate. You turned on the Ardennian again.

“What... did you... do?”  You hissed between clenched teeth. “Did you poison him?! Give me the antidote right now or so fucking help me I’ll tear every limb off your ugly little body!” You were seething, fear and fury stoking fire behind your eyes. The bounty only laughed harder.

“Antidote? There’s only one antidote for that one, sugar, and I sure hope you like him enough to give it to him! Bwahaha ha! Good luck!” She was howling with laughter in your grasp, and the sound of her mirth was like nails on chalkboard to your ears. You practically threw her to the ground, running back to your incapacitated partner. He hadn’t moved a muscle.

“Mando! Hey hey can you hear me? Tell me what’s wrong!” The glowing pink slime was still on his helmet, and you hunted for something to wipe it off with. The closest thing was his cloak, so you reached for it and went to clean the pretty pink sludge from his helmet when an armored claw shot up and caught your wrist. The action startled you, but you were happy to see him still able to move. “Mando? You ok?” Slowly, with almost robotic precision, he turned his gaze to you.

“Cyar...’ika....?” His words were long and labored, the strain of them sending a chill through your bones.

“Yes! It’s me, Mando. I’m right here, I’m gonna get you taken care of. I- I’ll find some bacta or-” Your words were cut off by another wicked claw on your shoulder.

“So... Beautiful...”  The lustful words made the gears in your head grind to a halt. Really? Right now?

“Ok great, glad to see you’re fine, now can we get back to hunt-” He cut you off with a hand at your throat.

“Beautiful.. and mouthy. So... fucking... mouthy.” A leather tipped hand snaked up your neck to your lips, grabbing at your jaw and pushing a thumb in past your teeth. You tried to spit him out but his other hand latched on to the back of your skull. “I’m going to put that mouth to good use, mesh’la.”  Your mask was tossed to the ground, and the ‘good luck’ the Ardennian had wished you now made sense. Whatever was oozing down the front of his helmet was driving him into an uncontrolled sexual frenzy, and you were the sole outlet for all his desires.

“Mando! -Blech-! Man- Din!” He stopped trying to get down your throat at the sound of his own name, hearing it for the first time from your lips. “Din! We don’t have time for this right now! Get a grip!” Oh, but he already had a grip, and it was tightening on your scalp.

“That’s right, sweetheart, say my name.”  The command dripped from his modulator the same way the poison dripped down his face, and he started walking you backwards by the hair until you bumped against a squishy tree. The change of emotion from rage to fear to confusion made your head spin, and the new contending feeling of heat building in your guts was making itself known.

“Knock it off! Fucking hell, she’s going to get away if we don’t do something right now! ”

“Let her. You’re the only one I want.” The weight of his arms on your neck and shoulders became too much, and the man who you had shared a such a sweet moment with not too long ago was now forcing you to your knees. You dropped to a kneel, and your face was hard pressed up against the solid bulge that was trying to rip its way out of his pants. He took only a second to free himself, pushing his throbbing cock against your teeth. “Open wide.”

You wished you were meeting with mini-mando under better circumstances, but if getting him off would get you back to the hunt, you were happy to help. The taste of him on your tongue sent electricity through your body, spooling up fresh heat between your own legs. Above you Mando was making deep, guttural groans as you took his cock all the way to the back of your throat, wrapping a fist around where you couldn’t reach without gagging. You glanced around his leg to where you could see the hover-crib, floating a good distance away with the shield closed tight. Good, he doesn’t need to see this. A swift thrust brought your attention back to where it was demanded.

“That’s a good girl, take it all in. Let me make a mess of that pretty little mouth of yours.” He had a death grip on the back of your hair and the side of your jaw, pushing up to keep you open enough to take his length. Inside you were swirling your tongue around the tip every time it slid past, making sultry praises flood from his modulator. Most of the words were garbled, raunchy and alien, probably Mando’a. Spit leaked from the sides of your mouth, making good on his word to make a mess of you. The claws in your hair pulled tight, forcing your nose into the tuft of soft hair at his base so he could pump your throat full of cum without you escaping. “Ahh~! That’s it, mesh’la, drink it all down.”

The hot spunk made you choke and gag, tears rushing to your eyes, but you still swallowed as best you could. When he finally let you pull away you gasped for air, coughing on the ground at his feet.

“There! *cough!* is that... -blech-, better? Can you hunt now? Are you done?” The potionmaster was probably long gone, you couldn’t hear her fucking cackling anymore.

“Cyar’ika, we’re not done until I say we’re done.” The spear at your cheek was still hard as beskar, ready for round two. The armored man yanked you to your feet, shoving you face first towards the nearest tree. The tree’s flesh was soft and squishy, a fact you would be grateful for soon enough. Your hips were pulled backwards, and a buzzing sound told you he had pulled a vibroblade from his belt, stabbing under your pants’ edge and pulling down the crack of your ass until your clothes were cut away; leaving just the legs and your boots to protect you. The cold air hitting your cunt gave away your arousal, and he zoned in on it like a falcon, pressing still-gloved fingers to your wet slit. The roughness of the leather invading you made you cry out and your knees buckle, squirming under the intrusion of one finger, then two; pumping in and out of you to stoke your flame.

“You’re so pretty. So fucking pretty, and strong. I’m gonna lose myself in you, fierce little thing, and I never want to be found.” His hands ripped away from your swollen cunt, and the head of his cock was pressed to its lips. Both of you made delicious, filthy noises as he buried himself to the hilt, the slick of his own cum making a wonderful lube. “Fuuuuuck, you’re hot inside, lovely girl. My cock was made just for you.” He barely made it a few inches out of you before he was slamming back into you again. The force of him behind you smashed you face into the soft, forgiving tree, though you wished you could find somewhere for your hands to grab hold. He fucked you like a man possessed, and you were sure there would be bruises on your hips and thighs when he was finished.

His mouth ran like surging lava. “Fucking.. Maker... beautiful girl, beautiful hunter! Hunter-killer! I knew you would be a challenge to hunt, but I never thought you would be the one to capture me! You’re a work of art on the killing field! Mmph! You are mine and I’m going to fill your belly with my warriors ‘til you’re fit to burst. They’ll be so ferocious! Born with daggers in their teeth.” Vulgar words between thrusts made your entire body hot with a mix of embarrassment and lust. You might never know if the neon goo had given him the desire to breed you, or if he adored you so much that he wanted more of you to care for, but you did know your contraceptive implant would be having none of it either way. Still, his damning words flowed. “Nobody will ever put their hands on you again but me. I’ll give you everything you desire, cyar’ika, anything you ask for will be yours. I’ll bring the stars down from the sky if you ask me to! I- I’ll- I’m gonna...”

The Mandalorian stilled behind you, twitching as his cock spilled into you and ran hot down your thighs. His breaths were gasping, broken and desperate for air. His fingers digging into the soft skin on your hips would leave their mark for sure, and though he’d done a fantastic job of scrambling your insides you still felt warmth in your chest. Even in his poisoned, delirious state of mind, all of his thoughts were of you alone. The grip on your ass loosened, and the sound of a heavy thud hitting the ground told you he had fallen down into the soft purple grass. You struggled to peel your face from the jelly tree, standing like a newborn fawn on shaky legs. The bright pink streak on his helmet had lost all its glow, and your human rust-bucket was slumped over on his side, still as the grave. Not again, fucksake. You clambered over to him, digging under his cloak with your hands until you found his pulse. Still alive.

“Alright Mando, fucking stay here this time like I told you to.” You glanced around the meadow, but the Ardennian was nowhere to be found. Fuck! All that work for nothing. You groaned, looking down at what was left of your pants. You checked all the pockets, finding your lucky krayt teeth and a bacta patch before kicking the ruined fabric off over your boots. You dropped down to the spent form of your comrade, tilting his helmet up and slapping the bacta patch on one of the hickies you had left there a few days ago. You took a moment to stuff the teeth into one of his many pouches since you no longer had pockets of your own. With your ass in the wind you made your way over to the floating pram to check on your tiny pal. “Hey beans, you doing ok? Your dad and I were just having a little-” you spun the cradle around. Empty.

“No! Fuck! Fuck fuck FUCK!” The bounty had made off with Din’s infant son, your little buddy! You couldn’t stop the fear that dried your throat and brought tears to your eyes. Get a hold of yourself! Find him! NOW! Familiar rage welled up behind your eyes, and you raced back over to your unconscious guardian, still laying in the dirt and making it extra difficult to untangle the pulse rifle still slung over his back. Your hunting instincts were on high alert, and the sound of shouting caught your ears. “I’m gonna get him back, Din! Just... just fucking stay here!”

You tore off after the noise, every horrible scenario running through your head at once. Would she steal him? Would she hurt him? Would she kill him? Rage flared hot in your chest and threatened to burn you alive, your feverish skin icy with sweat. Wet leaves slapped past your bare knees so fast that their thin edges left vicious paper cuts. You didn’t care, nothing else mattered but the foundling. The sound of shouting grew louder, and you thundered though the trees to another clearing by a narrow wine-dark stream. 

“Help! This thing’s got me! Get me down, please! Get it away from me!” The simian terror was hanging in the air ahead of you. No, not hanging, floating. She was thrashing her arms, but all that did was slowly spin her in place. The sight was magical, but more important was the safety of child. On the ground near her, he stood with one fat little paw in the air, pointing at his abductor and concentrating with all his might. You didn’t know how he had escaped, or what the actual fuck he was doing, but you didn’t hesitate. You pulled the pulse rifle from your back and fired, once, twice, three times until her limp body was hanging in the air, knocked out cold. Or dead.

Baby beans crumpled to the ground, and the Ardennian followed suit, the ugly noise she made when she hit the ground brought a wicked smile to your cheeks. The baby’s little eyes were bleary and tired under his big droopy ears, and you scooped him carefully up off the ground to pull him in for a good, strong hug.

“Did you get the mean lady, sweetie? Good job! I don’t know what the fuck you did but hey, no questions asked, alright? I’m just glad you’re ok.” He smiled up at you with his tiny toothy grin before conking out in your arms, leaning heavily against your chest. You set him back down on the ground, just long enough to tie that six limbed asshole up tight, using everything you still had above the waist to keep her captured. You tied her arms to her feet and slung her limp body over you like a rucksack, then picked the foundling back up. With your bounty, baby, and bare ass you started the hike back to your fallen man.

Mando still laid where you had left him on his side, and you were annoyed to realize that, out of everybody involved, you were the only one left awake. Fantastic. You returned the baby to his floating bucket, pulling it closer to the pair of you this time, and dumped the Ardennian in the dirt. There was no way you could maneuver three bodies at once, somebody was going to have to get up and walk.

“Mando! Mando get up, we gotta go.” The man in question didn’t budge, soft, muffled snores your only response. You tried everything you could think of, pulling on his hands and legs and shouting, anything to wake his ass up. You knocked on his helmet, “Ground control to Major Mando, time to get up! Rise and shine, bucket boy!” Nothing, he was going to have to sleep the after-effects of the potion off, so he was staying right where he was.

You had no idea how far you had gotten from the campsite, and the cold night air on your bare booty made you remember your half-nakedness. On the ground scattered around the pile of living beskar was your backpack and the remains of your pants, along with the rest of your trap gear. Start packing more clothes. You went for the gear first, pulling another set of cuffs and a good strong rope out, and added a few more knots to the half-dead quarry so she wouldn’t be pulling any bullshit in the night. The backpack still had the bantha-wool blanket wrapped up tight, and you tied it around yourself like a skirt. Better than nothing.

Kneeling on the ground next to your Mandalorian, you cleared yourself a space to sit down, taking an extra second to make sure all his bits were tucked back out of view. You leaned back against the crook of his hips, feeling the slow rise and fall of his belly at your back. You were so tired, how many times had you been on the run in the last cycle alone? Your body desperately craved sleep, but you couldn’t take your eyes off the bounty. Anger crept its way back into your eyes again, and you wanted to take it out on her, channel your inner rancor. No, she’s already lost. Go to sleep.

But the merciful tug of sleep didn’t come, and when you realized why you felt foolish. The child’s pram was on the ground where you had pushed it next to his fathers’ armored head. He was sleeping like a little prince, and didn’t move at all when you pulled him out of the crib. When he was situated in your arms you pulled Mando’s cloak around the three of you for extra warmth. Sitting upright was a horrible way to sleep, but with the baby safely in your arms and a blaster at your side, you were able to catch a handful of winks.

You woke up many times that night, worried that something might happen to your baby or your partner, and each time your eyes shot open you glared at the dark form in the grass; though not once did it move. Still, you didn’t trust that you were safe, and only when the rim of the planet that dominated the sky drifted over the horizon could you actually keep your eyes closed. But the blissful comfort of real sleep was torn from you by your lounge chair trying to get up on its own. The rush from trying to sit up too fast knocked Mando right back down on his back, and his hands went to his armored temples to try to stop the world from spinning.

“What...where am... where’s....” He shot up like a bolt of lightning “WHERE’S MY SON?!”

“Right here!” You turned yourself to show the bug-eyed bundle to his father, letting him see that the child was safe. Mando wrapped his arms around you and the child, and you could hear his quick, shuddering breaths coming out from under the helmet. The hug was tight, a comforting fortress around your shoulders.

“Are you ok? What happened? Why are we in the grass? Where’s the bounty? Did she get away?” His questions gushed like a river, urgent and frightened. You pointed at where the Ardennian was still on the ground, far enough away that she was out of earshot. She was awake now, but still immobilized. Her eyes were fixed on you, and you could see the edges of her mouth turning upwards into a snarl to bare her teeth. Din’s hands were all over you, inspecting you for damage, and his breath caught in his throat when he reached your waist. Big, ugly red and purple fingerprints were swelling up between the scrapes on your skin, and he pushed the edge of your makeshift skirt down to follow their horrifying trail; they were everywhere.

“Who did this to you?”  The volcano behind the beskar threatened to erupt with molten malevolence, “Did she do this to you?”

“No Mando,” you sighed, a little hurt that he didn’t remember. “You did.” The wall of metal armor went stiff as a rail, his visor locked on your eyes, looking for the truth. But the truth was right in front of him, and he couldn’t accept it.

“What? N-no.. I would never... I could never hurt you, cyar’ika! Please... please tell me that I didn’t do this.” His fingers ghosted over your marks, but never touched them, his hands afraid of dealing more damage to your lovely skin. “I-I couldn’t have... I’m... I’m so sorr-” You cut him off with a hand on his helmet where his mouth might be.

“It’s not your fault, you were poisoned. I’m just glad you’re alive, Din.” The sound of his own name made his shoulders droop and his hands come up cradle your cheeks. You couldn’t meet his visor, the closeness of the distraught hunter making you flustered, so you tried to crack a joke. “I’m just glad you wanted to fuck me instead of the Ardennian.” The way his helmet snapped backwards made you realize he didn’t remember that part either. “Oh don’t look at me like that, I took it like a champ! You’re gonna have to do better than bruises to hurt this mighty hunter!” Your attempted words of comfort didn’t seem to work, and he pulled you and the wiggly child back to his chest in a world-erasing hug.

“Please just tell me you know I wouldn’t do this to you on purpose, I never want to hurt you again. Please.”

“Mando! I’m fine, really.” He held your head firmly, the blackness of the visor trying to bore though your very soul. You nodded in his grasp, “I know you didn’t, it’s alright, Din. I forgive you.” The force of his helmet knocking against your forehead almost made you see stars. His hands were wrapped around your head, holding you as close as he could in the intimate gesture of his people. You didn’t blame him at all for what happened, but it would be a while, if ever, before he could forgive himself.

“Oh isn’t that puke. Spare me the lovey-dovey crap and take me back to the Guild already! Buncha bucketheads.” You didn’t want to address the Ardennian that hollered at you from from the grass, but the beskar bucket turned on her in a heartbeat. He sprang to his feet in a flash, pulling the pulse rife from the ground and firing, stunning the target for the fourth time, fifth time, sixth, seventh.

He’s gonna kill her. You grabbed at his arm, demanding his attention “Mando, you got her, it’s over! It’s done.” Stance wide and chest heaving, the barrel of the long rifle stayed trained on the bounty for what seemed like an eternity before being lowered back to the ground. “Good, good, see, everyone’s ok. Let’s get back to the Crest and get out of here, sound like a plan?” He nodded, still watching the limp-again simian for signs of movement. When he was sure there wouldn’t be any more argument he stalked over to the quarry and slung her over his shoulder, ready to make the long march back to the ship. You set the baby back in his pram so you could take a second to grab everything off the ground, making sure you had your pack and your mask, and followed Mando back through the woods.

After hours of silent hiking, the Razor Crest came into view, and you had never been so happy to see the old girl, pretty as a plum in the violet haze. Once everyone was aboard, the fog of the carbonite chamber filled the tiny cabin to the brim, and left a new dark block in its wake. The Ardennian’s body was limp, though thankfully still alive; but the mischievous sneer couldn’t be erased so easily. You took a deep breath, sighing with relief that this hunt was over. Two down, one to go. Then Nevarro.

Your Mandalorian hadn’t spoken to you the entire trek back to the ship, and he was distracting himself by placing all the weaponry back in their spots in the cabinet. He’s still upset with himself. You still wore the bantha-blanket skirt, and its soft edges swished around your ankles. Gently you placed your hand on his shoulder, and he jumped violently under your touch as he was brought back to the present.

“You know I’m not mad at you, right?” He didn’t meet your eyes, but his hands stopped fussing with the armory. “Really, Din, I don’t blame you at all. I’m ok.” You tugged on his waist, bidding him to turn and face you, but still he couldn’t lift his eyes from the floor. You ran your hands from his shoulders down his chest, trying to bring him comfort with your touch, but when you saw his utility belt you remembered what was in his pockets. A flashbulb of an idea lit up in your skull, and clear as day the reason for your frivolous purchase on Tatooine made itself known. “You know what, I’m so not-mad at you that I have a present for you.” You grabbed his belt to dig through the pouches, but strong hands shot up to carefully take your wrists.

“Mesh’la no! Not after.. not after I- I can’t. I don’t deserve your affections.” Your eyes met his visor, its gaze no longer staring down at the floor and instead watching you with intensity. A smile broke it’s way out past your teeth, followed by a knowing laugh.

“No, that’s not what I meant, good thought though. No, Mand-...Din. Din, I have a gift for you.”  He hesitated to release your arms, but when you were free of his delicate hold you went back to the pockets on his belt and pulled the opalized krayt teeth from one of the pouches. Your companion’s visor followed the glittering treasures as they were brought into the light, and you wished you could see his bewildered face under the beskar. You handed them to him, and he carefully turned them over in his palm, letting the fossils catch the light and revealing their intricate patterns. His helmet tilted slowly, baffled that such beautiful things could be pulled from anywhere on his body, but the way his beskar sent streaks of light over his armor gave you a fantastic new idea.

Taking the treasures back from him you unscrewed the button fasteners that protruded from their backs, revealing the small, strong magnets hidden underneath; and pressed them up to his helmet. The teeth fit perfectly in the recesses of his cheeks, like they had been made just for him; and though you knew hunters didn’t wear adornments, they still looked lovely. “I know you can’t keep them on, especially when we go hunt, but they still look nice on you. Now you get to be my lucky charm.” His soft leather fingertips rubbed gently at his cheeks, feeling the way the indents had been filled with the precious jewels. The ship didn’t have any mirrors, and he would have to see how the swirling pools of crystalized moonlight looked the next time he took his helmet off. 

Wordlessly he reached out for you, taking your face in his hands and pulling your head to his so he could press your foreheads together. You were becoming fond of the mysterious gesture, letting the butterflies in your stomach stretch their iridescent wings and fan contentment into your heart. You pushed back against him, wrapping your own arms around his shoulders, locking his helmet to you. The whole galaxy could fly apart at the seams and you knew you would be alright, as long as you were right where you were, shielded in your Mandalorian’s embrace. I wonder if he feels the same. Tiny claws on your leg pulled your attention to the floor, and you were overjoyed to see big black orbs staring up at you.

“Little Beans! C’mere you, get in on this.” You hauled the foundling up between your bodies, letting him get a good look at you and his father. He chirped away, happily patting his papa’s fancy new trinkets, mesmerized by their shine. The little creature was full of energy, but you had been on your last leg for hours and you couldn’t stifle your yawns any longer. “Boys, I can’t keep this up anymore, you’re both awful cute, but I need sleep.”

“Of course, cyare, you’ve earned it.” Mando reluctantly stepped away from you and rolled out the Tusken sleeping mat that you had purchased. It was much thicker than the sheet originally on the little cot, and a hundred times more forgiving. You were comfy in seconds, and the warm embrace of sleep started pulling on your limbs and shutting your eyes. A different touch was on your arm, and you lazily opened one eye to see an armored hand pulling the bantha blankie up snug around you. Sweet, thoughtful murder-machine is what you had thought of him that first day, and the stupid pet name made you chuckle.

“What does that mean? That word, sire-eeka or sigh-air, they’re Mando’a, right?” You wouldn’t let sleep win you over without a fight, even if it was a fight you wanted to lose.

“Cyar’ika. The closest translation in Basic would be sweetheart, or darling.” Here we go again with Mando’a 101.

“Sweetheart, huh? Pfft... sounds like you like me or something. What’s the other word mean? You’ve never used it before now.” He sighed, long and tired, and you could see the foundling on his lap, still enthralled with the glittering opal on his fathers' metal face.

“I...I don’t know how to translate that one, but it’s more than cyar’ika, stronger, with more depth.” Something about his posture told you he might be lying, he knew exactly how to translate that word, but he wasn’t ready to tell it to you. He might, though, when he was ready.

“Alright, tin man, if you say so.” Your eyes finally let themselves close all the way, but even in the darkness behind your lids your devious hands still found their way to him, giving his hand a good squeeze. “Teach me more someday?”

“For you, ner cyare’se,” Your hand was pulled up from the blankets until the backs of your knuckles rested on the cool beskar of his brow, “I’d bring you the stars down from the sky, if you asked me to.”

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[squirrelacorngliterfarts]

Blood. 43.

(y/n) watches from below the hill, awaiting for their signal to arrive upon the battlefield, she’s shaking, practically panting beside floki.

but she was not shaking from fear, she was shaking from the rage that was starting to bubble over.

she clutches her sword in her palm tightly, loving it’s weight against the strength of her hand.

what she didn’t notice was her older brother ubbe looking at her with concern.

this just wasn’t her. none of it. she looked lustful, looked as if she were thirsting for the blood that was about to be spilled this cold morning.

ubbe was pulled from his thoughts as a war paint covered floki ushered them along, keeping (y/n) close to his side.

they overcome the hill, and (y/n) feels the air leaving her lungs as she takes in king alle’s army.

it was small, easy to take on, (Y/n) knew they’d be finished before the hour mark would hit, but that’s not what she was struggling to see.

she was looking for their king.

she peers over many of the men and women’s shoulders to get a look, and when she does, she contains the angry cry that wants to erupt out of her body.

he is a large man, glaring down at the great army with a fear filled glare, his stubby hands gripping the hilt of his sword.

a coward, a disgusting coward had murdered her father.

the great army just keeps coming, larger and larger they become, overpowering king alle’s.

this battle was going to be easily won, and (y/n) was seething to get it started.

(y/n) sees both harald and halfdan leading their part of the army, ivar in his chariot not far behind.

halfdan gives (Y/n) a small nod and confident smile, but (Y/n) can’t move, nor return the kind gesture.

her brothers arrive behind her, bjorn coming up beside her, ubbe and hvitserk flanking her right, sigurd her left.

and ivar arrives beside them, swinging his axe in their direction threateningly.

once everyone had lines up, they started shouting and screaming.

they were laughing at the small saxon army, clearly seeing how little they were compared to the vikings.

(Y/n) hears a man behind her screaming her fathers name, as if he were calling upon him, and that only fuels the fire that was now roaring inside of her.

she looks to the king daringly, smirking at him, pointing her sword at him from up the hill.

“i want him” she says to floki, and by the look on king alle’s face, he had read her lips, he knew what she was after.

floki giggles, nodding at her words.

“of course”.

then, they charge, shouting out in glory as they finally came for what they sought after.

(y/n) takes the first swing, holding her axe up, and throwing it, watching as it lodged itself into a english soldiers chest, killing him instantly.

this was going to be fun.

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

(y/n) stands up from her crouched position, covered from head to toe in blood, her hair soaked and slick against her head,

her sword was dripping, as was her axe, and was the wound she had receieved upon her thigh.

as she looks around the body covered battle field, she honestly can’t remember much of the battle at all.

“(y/n)!”.

she turns slowly, almost in a daze, and sees that ubbe and bjorn had just finished tying up the now crying king alle to ivar’s chariot, ready to take him and finish the job.

but it was hvitserk who had called her name.

“are you coming?!”.

she nods, sheathing her sword and walking slowly, following the brothers,

ignoring the squish sound of blood that had not yet dried on her boots.

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

(y/n) screams with fury as she slices a man down the middle, the thought of knowing these men were her first kills had completely left her mind.

and her brothers were stunned, watching as their baby sister took joy in killing these men.

she ducks under the second man’s attack, sliding on her knees, and she takes her dagger from her boot and stabs the man in the inner thigh as she does so, making him cry out and fall to his knees.

she stands back up and aligns her sword with his neck, her eyes lingering on the now lone body falling to the ground, lifeless.

she turns only to sob out in agony as a sword pierced her thigh.

the anglo saxon above her, pulled the blade from her leg and aimed for her chest, which she easily dodged.

she rolls on her back, grabbing her fallen axe and swiping for the man’s legs, but she had missed.

suddenly, the man dropped his sword, staring at his middle with shock.

behind them, sigurd had dropped his bow, running at the man with full speed, his axe swiping the man’s throat.

sigurd holds his hand out for (Y/n) to take, and she does so, jumping to her feet.

she nods to her brother in thanks, grabbing her sword and resuming her bloodshed.

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

(y/n) follows her brothers as they pull alle along the muddy path, ubbe, bjorn hvitserk and sigurd running to keep up, meanwhile, (Y/n) was walking as quick as she could, her mind fogged and blank. her thigh burning.

she goes to swipe the hair away from her eyes, only to find that her vision was red with the blood that covered her hands.

she blinks softly at this, her brothers calling her name the only thing that breaks her from her train of thought.

she presses her hand against her wound and seeths in pain as she tries to keep up with them.

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

ubbe looks over to check on his sister, only to freeze and find her repeatedly stabbing a man over and over again, overkilling him.

he didn’t even look like a man once she was finished with him.

she looks over to ubbe, her face streaked with blood, but her eyes were behind him now.

ubbe can’t turn in time to see a man coming his way, sword held high, ready to behead ubbe.

(y/n) slips her dagger from her boot once more and throws it at the man, and he cries out as it sinks itself into his eye.

ubbe is stunned back to reality, and grabs the sword from the man, killing him.

(Y/n) doesn’t have time to check on him as another man approaches her.

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

once they stop, ubbe and bjorn had untied him, and bjorn heaves alle to his feet.

“vis os, hvor min far døde” bjorn says to the man, glaring deeply into his eyes.

when alle refused to speak, bjorn slapped him.

“vis os!” bjorn shouts, and alle nods fearfully, just as thunder and rain started to befall them.

(y/n) feels weak in the knees as they mention the place where their father had been killed, it set a pit of despair into her stomach.

they walk on, leading alle like a child, or an injured mutt.

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

the battle was almost over, but (y/n) couldn’t get enough, or find the will to stop.

she turns, but not quickly enough, she is pinned to the ground now, a man straddling her hips as his hands are wrapped around her throat.

he kicks all her weapons out of hands reach and watches as she struggles for air.

this man was much stronger than the others.

she tries to pry his hands off her neck, but to no avail, she’s suffocating.

her vision is becoming spotty, and her limbs feel weak, she’s slowly dying.

she uses her last bit of strength to kick her legs up, but it’s too light of an impact to do anything.

“die! just die!” the man screams in her face, pressing his hands harder into her throat.

no. she will not die.

she’s had enough.

she shifts her shoulders a bit, noting that he had lost his grip just a fraction of an inch, and she has the opportunity to use her legs.

she kicks his groin, making him groan out in pain, his hands releasing her neck, she takes in a deep breath of air, but he wasn’t finished.

and neither was she.

she had to do this.

he tries to reach one of her weapons, something, anything to kill her, but he doesn’t have time.

she wraps her hands around his neck, tugging him towards her, her mouth open as her teeth found his neck.

she bites hard over his jugular, and with that, clamps her jaw shut, twisting her head away and pulling his skin along with her.

everyone turns and finds (y/n), underneath a man who’s neck was spilling blood onto her face by the gallons.

 she closes her eyes to prevent blood from getting in them, spitting out the hunk of flesh that dangled from her lips.

she inhales deeply, finally getting that fresh air she needed. her lungs burning as she turns over and tries to stand.

and she realizes that was the last one. alle was sitting on the dirt hill just feet away from her.

she raises her bloodied hand, pointing her finger at him.

“you’re next”

@darkwhisperswolf@youbloodymadgenius@blonddnamedhandz@thelastemzy@annekleyn @inforapound @supermassiveblackhope @captstefanbrandt @roonil-wxzlib @alostsoulinhumanity @syreni-dea

[broken-clover]

Goretober Day 25- Extra Limbs (Late)

Well...what can I say at this point. I’m sorry I’ve been seriously slacking with this lately, life kinda punched me in the face and midterms put a lot on my plate all at once. I wasn’t really sure how I wanted to compensate for getting behind again but I at least want to put up yesterday’s because I really liked the concept and how it turned out. This was a repeat prompt from last year so I wanted to do something more out there to make it really distinct from last year’s.

Ah, well. Today I put Sin Kiske through the wringer. And this might be apparent but warning for body horror, if that makes you uncomfortable

Sin stumbled into the dining room in an unusually sour mood, posture slouched as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Good morning, dear!” Dizzy greeted him fondly. “Did you sleep well?”

He made a little noise of discomfort. “No. My back felt really sore for some reason, I couldn’t find a way to lie down without it hurting.”

Ky put the morning paper down. “Did you strain a muscle?”

“I dunno.” Sin shrugged, only to wince in pain.

Dizzy stood up. “Is it alright if I take a look?”

“Yeah, sure.” He slipped his coat off and tossed it over a nearby chair. “I tried looking in the mirror when I woke up, but I can’t get a good look.”

She walked around to his back, and her eyes immediately widened. “Oh my…”

“What is it?”

“There’s something growing out of your back, Sin.” Dizzy very carefully put a hand near one of the objects jutting out of his skin, and she felt her son stiffen up. “Is that where it hurts?”

“Y-yes! What’s wrong with me?!”

Ky got up to join his wife, brow creasing with worry. “What could cause something like that? Has a bone grown back wrong?”

Despite their concern, Dizzy’s face broke out into a smile. “Sin, you’re growing wings!”

“What?” Sin tried to reach over his shoulders and feel. “Really? Is that what they are?”

“I didn’t realize that was even possible.” Ky shook his head in disbelief. “But I guess since you and Sol both have wings, I suppose it would make sense if Sin eventually grew some of his own.”

Dizzy murmured a little incantation, summoning a flat pane of ice polished to a mirror shine. She tried to angle it just so. “Here, can you see them?”

His excitement immediately withered when he was able to get a better look at himself in the mirror. There were no feathers, not much at all to really see aside from a pair of fleshy nubs. “They don’t look right…” Sin’s face fell. “They’re so...small and naked. Why aren’t they big and soft like yours, mom?”

“Aww, don’t worry, sweetie.” She ruffled his hair with a smile. “Just give it a few days. Mine didn’t grow in all at once, either. They’ll get bigger.”

“Perhaps they’re going to be more like Sol’s?” Offered Ky. “More dragon-like and leathery?”

The thought hadn’t occurred to him. Sin lit up immediately. “I could get cool wings like the old man? Awesome!”

“I guess this means that you’re all grown!” The pane of ice vanished in a puff of light. “So strange to imagine, my sweet little boy has grown up so quickly!”

“Mooom…” He went pink.

But nonetheless, Sin was still delighted by the concept. The ache in his back was no longer enough to put a damper on his mood. He wasted no time telling the good news to Elphelt, Ramlethal, and anybody who would listen. He smiled until his cheeks ached. How could he not be excited? He’d always loved his mother’s wings, and who wouldn’t be excited at the concept of flying?

“Do you think I’ll get a ‘drive’ like yours, mom?”

“I’m not sure, Sin.” On cue, Undine appeared out of Dizzy’s white wing to give him a fond smile. “You might. I know father doesn’t, but we’ll just have to see.”

“I can’t wait!”

He was like a little bolt of lighting, zipping from room to room out of sheer excitement. Ky and Dizzy hadn’t seen him so riled up since he was little.

“It’s going to be harder to get him to pay attention when he can just fly away…”

“Oh, don’t worry. I’ll just chase after him.” Dizzy fluffed her wings. “I’ve got a lot more practice. I know I’ll be faster.”

Ky smiled. “You really are amazing. The both of you. I don’t know how I got so lucky.”

It took forever just to get Sin to wind down for the night. Ultimately, they had given up on trying to pull him away from where he was looking over his shoulder in the mirror, looking to see if his wings had grown any bigger.

“Just try to sleep on your stomach, alright? It should make it a bit more comfortable.”

“Okay, mom!”

“You think he’s actually going to go to bed?” Ky asked as they settled into their own.

“Oh, who knows. I can’t really blame him though. Don’t worry, dear. It’ll just be a night or two.”

He wasn’t sure if he was convinced, but he nodded anyway. “If you say so. I guess I can’t really be upset with him for being happy, can I?”

++++++

“MOOOOOM!”

Sin tore into their bedroom at two in the morning, shrieking in incoherent panic. Ky and Dizzy both awoke with a start, Ky grabbing his sword as he jumped out of bed, before realizing who it was.

“Sin?” Dizzy asked, looking at her son through the faint light. “Honey, what’s wrong? Did you have a nightmare?”

His face was wrenched in panic. “I-I- I woke up an- an I can feel it wiggling mom please make it stop-”

Ky picked a lamp off of the bedside and brought it over to get a better look. “Sin, what on earth is-”

They immediately noticed the source of his concern. The small stubs of wings had grown into long, fleshy, naked limbs, the same color and thickness of his arms. That alone wasn’t disturbing, but it was what attached to it that made them catch their breath. Where the feathers would be instead sat hundreds upon hundreds of malformed fingers arranged in rows, each flexing and waving on their own volition. They varied in the same way that bird’s feathers did, some long and far too spindly to be human, others small and thick with the fingernails cutting into the sides from the lack of space to grow. A half-grown hand tipped the ends of each wing, grasping at the air uselessly.

“My god…” The sight of it made bile rise in the man’s throat. “Dizzy, did yours...do that?”

“No.” It sounded like the air was being squeezed from her lungs.

As his wings continued to twitch and squirm, Sin wrapped his real arms around himself and shuddered. “Get them off get them off get them off-”

Ky couldn’t stop himself from staring. “Is this some kind of a mutation? Is it because of the mix of Gear and human genes…?”

“I don’t care! Get them off!!” Sin screamed hysterically. “I can feel them moving! Get them off of me!”

Dizzy managed to approach him, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Sin? Sin, sweetie, you’re going to be okay, just breathe-”

“Make them stop mom please MAKE THEM STOP!”

Ky felt his grip tighten on the sword in his other hand. “Dizzy, hold him still.”

“What?” Her eyes went wide. “Ky, you aren’t-”

“Sin.” He directed his attention to his son, trying to keep his voice calm despite the way it shook just slightly. “Just try and sit still, alright? I’ll try and make this hurt as little as I can.”

That was enough to get his attention. He still looked terrified, but Sin nodded slightly and pinched his eyes shut.

“Just breathe, sweetie.” Dizzy stroked the side of her son’s face, trying to keep his attention on her. “Count backwards from ten.”

“T-ten, n-ine-”

Ky took hold of one of the misshapen hands at the end, and shuddered as he felt the stubby fingers hold onto him. He pulled on the limb until it was stretched to its full width, straining slightly against the skin of Sin’s back.

His sword had never felt heavier as he lined it up, raised it, and-

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!”

He’d spent years hacking through Gear hides with so little effort, but how could a father hurt his own child? Ky didn’t realize that he was holding back until he found his sword just barely cutting into the flesh of Sin’s back.

“I-I-...” His body felt numb. Without realizing it, Ky felt Thunderseal slide from his grasp. He couldn’t stop staring at the wound he’d made even as it healed itself, or the way the blood stained Sin’s white clothing.

Dizzy watched him slump to the ground, willing herself to say something but feeling like something was strangling her. She made a halfhearted motion to reach for her husband’s fallen sword, but she couldn’t force herself to pick it up.

“M-mom?” Sin whimpered, looking up at her with those poor, terrified eyes.

All it did was make her freeze. “I can’t-”

She felt her own wings unfurl on their own, extending until they morphed into the familiar gentle face and hooded skull.

“Necro? Undine?”

Wordlessly, Necro grabbed the boy by his arms while Undine place hands against his back. A fresh round of pained sobs left Sin’s throat as she froze the skin over, to the point of ice crystals jutting out of his blue-tinged flesh. They shared a grim expression as they swapped places, Undine gently cupping his face while Necro grabbed a half-frozen wing in each hand.

The sound of shattering ice and ripping flesh blended together into an indescribable noise, audible only for a moment before being drowned out by Sin’s scream.

It was at least enough to pull Dizzy out of her frozen terror. She wrapped her arms tightly around her son, avoiding the long, narrow gashes that ran across his shoulders, and rocked him back and forth, murmuring reassurances.

Ky, meanwhile, could only stare. The twisted lumps of flesh twitched in a puddle on the floor, fingers curling in pain until they finally went still.

[splat-dragon]

One day when you're big and strong You will be a king ~My Lullaby, Suzanne Pleshette

 She grew, and She learned.

 From the day in which She saw The Ones That Whined again, She learned more and more.

 She barely slept. The moment She was returned to Her cell, She collapsed and slept, often without even taking the time to curl up and rest Her head on Her tail. Her Handlers had Her slipping skins, as She’d taken to calling it, with no other name for it, running the same tests with Her covered in fur as they’d just done with Her in Her skins.

 She sprinted on treadmills, over and over, had to run as fast as She could or be flung to the ground, and even Her fastest wasn’t enough more often than not. Running was easier, She had found, when She could drop onto all four of Her paws, but She was not always allowed to, had to wait for that command, a barked Chetyre! before She was allowed to drop down and stretch out, straining Her muscles in a way that satisfied Her in a way She couldn’t put words to, scratching some sort of deep-down itch. Other times, She’d be made to leap up at an abrupt call of Dva!, remaining in Her furs as She continued to sprint on Her hind paws—other times, though, there’d be a call of Kozha! and She’d have to struggle to make the change as She continued to run, bones changing shape and length, fur retreating into flesh, paws turning to feet as She reared up and continued to run—it was hard, but the punishment for failing…

 was not something She wanted to think about. She’d suffered it before, and went through all pains not to suffer it again.

She learned new things.

 The treadmills turned into jumps, both with Her furs and without. She was made to leap over ‘rocks’, massive gray things that were hard and rough to the touch and hurt Her palms, sprinting across the room from rock to rock as the weapons shot at Her, stinging pains punching where She’d failed to dodge them in time. Though the rocks hurt Her palms, if She crouched behind them, and was careful to make sure Her tail was behind them too, the hurts couldn’t get to Her, She came to learn.

 She learned to climb the walls, to find little dents that She could dig Her fingers into and lean Her weight into, until finally She was on a perch. Learned to leap down and come up in a roll so as to not break a leg, had learned how to run and shift through the pains of broken legs and ankles from those lessons. Learned a great many things, many of which She didn’t have names for, but came to Her naturally after a time, and She couldn’t imagine how She’d lived without it before.

Her Handlers firmly believed in learning by doing.

 She encountered water for the first time the day She learned how to swim.

 Her whole life, She’d been fed and watered through a slurry fed to Her in a bottle, shoved at Her and taken away shortly after so She would gulp it down. So when She was led into a room with a massive pool, She had no idea what She was looking at. It was scentless, no matter how much She smelled the air, and moved around for no reason.

 Unceremoniously, She was grabbed tight by the nape of Her neck, and flung through the air. She didn’t even have a chance to yelp before She was in the water, sinking like a stone. Her limbs flailed helplessly, and without meaning to She inhaled, swallowing water into Her lungs. Her Handlers watched her from above, their faces rippling, and She had no expectations that they’d help Her—they’d never done so before, so why would they start now?

 Her feet slammed against the bottom of the pool, and She kicked off, coughing violently as Her head broke the surface. She flailed, awkwardly managing to make it to the edge and clasping it with Her hands, hauling Herself up and choking up the water She had swallowed. A Handler approached, and before She could react She was being flung in again.

Again, and again, She was flung into the water. And over and over She struggled, barely managing to make it to the surface, Her flailing becoming more and more natural each time. Finally Her Handlers hauled Her back to Her room for the night.

 The next morning, She was brought to the pool that, while She was not allowed to hate, She very much hated, and was commanded Mekh!, slipping skins reluctantly, eyeing the pool with shiny yellow eyes, staying on two legs, having not been commanded Chetyre! finding Herself scooped up (She stood almost as tall as Her Handlers in Her furs) and flung into the water.

 While She’d learned to swim the day before, at least somewhat, swimming covered in fur was a completely different beast. It grew heavy, and pulled Her down, though She was more buoyant and came to the surface more easily. Her fingers were shorter, more stubby and Her hands more round, but swimming came more easily and before She knew it was at the edge of the pool. She hauled Herself out, instinctively bracing Herself as She shook out Her dripping fur, finding Herself flung back in before She was even done.

 As they had the day before, Her Handlers threw Her in, over and over, watching as She struggled to the surface, slowly improving until it came to Her almost as easily as breathing. Finally, they scooped Her off the floor by Her nape, commanding Kozha! and reluctantly She obeyed, shivering violently as Her teeth chattered together, but She had learned never to show discomfort and so stood tall, ears perked as always and tail at rest.

 The next day, She was brought in to find a fake Handler on the floor. It was red, with no clothing or hair or facial features, and no scent She could discern. The wall flickered, and though She twitched Her ears She didn’t react otherwise, instead watching as a pool appeared, Handlers of different ages splashing around inside, seeming to enjoy it. As She watched, one with grey hair began to move like She did when climbing although, of course, made no progress, seeing as they were climbing nothing but air. He began to bob up and down, mouth dipping beneath the water, head lolling back before he vanished beneath the water. Another Handler, a woman with red hair, dove in, coming up with him in her arms, hauling him to the edge.

 The pool disappeared, Her ears twitched—She’d never seen anything like this before!—and She could see the grey-haired Handler from an angle, limp and unmoving, the red-haired one kneeling over him. She lowered her head next to the person’s mouth, listening for something, before leaning back and staring at his chest, then pressing her fingers to his wrist.

 The Handler sat back, placing one of her palms on the center of the other’s chest, putting her other hand on top of it. She pressed his chest again and again, many times, before looking him over again. Tilting the man’s head back, she pinched his nose, then blew into it—She could see his chest rise. Pulling back, the woman began to shove against his chest again, before repeating. Finally, the man lurched and started coughing, and the woman tilted him on his side as water spilled from his mouth.

She had no idea what was happening, but Her Handlers always had a reason for something.

 So She wasn’t too surprised when, after throwing the strange-red-Handler into the water, She was commanded Spasaniye! and flung into the water. She stretched out, grabbing the strange-red-Handler by a strange arm, kicking off the ground and coughing as She broke the surface, flinging it roughly over the edge before clambering out after it.

 What had the Handler done after this? Her memory was fantastic, and She was incredible for Her age, but Her files had Her down as four years old, so Her memory was not good enough as to remember everything of the video. Her ears twitched back, leaning Her head to put the ear atop Her head near its face. What She was supposed to hear, She didn’t know, but She had followed through the motions and so leaned back, fumbling Her hands together against the Handler’s chest and pressing down over and over until

 sharp, familiar burning pain that started at Her side, radiating through Her. Her teeth clenched together, and She bit down a yelp—what had She done wrong? But She shook it off, and tried again, pressing harder with each pump, flinching and expecting pain when there was a loud click with each press, something depressing deep enough that Her hands dipped into the red of the Handler, but She must have been doing it right as the Handlers stood back and watched.

 She went through the same motions as the red-haired Handler had when She thought She’d done enough compressions (She’d never been taught to count—She got the impression that She was much smarter than Her Handlers thought), tilting the Handler’s head back and pressing Her mouth to the hole where their mouth should have been, exhaling as much as She could before She had to draw back to breathe, pumping over and over and over before breathing into them, until finally She was called off.

 How many times She woke to this training, She didn’t know. But by the time they stopped, She was diving into the water before the -ive! had finished leaving Her Handler’s throat, and knew how many compressions to do before breathing—though not with counting, it had become muscle memory.

When She met someone other than Her Handler’s again, they were like The Ones Who Whined.

 She’d been led into the same room as before, four walls and little else, and the Handler-that-broke-The-Rules stood tall not far from the rest of the Handlers, not hiding in the shadows as he had done before. His ice blue eyes looked Her over, before moving to Her Handlers, though he never moved from where he stood, hands loose at his sides, face as blank as the strange-red-Handler’s had been though he had eyes and a nose.

 She feared him, for good reason, and so turned Her attention to The Other. They were staring Her down, lips peeled back from their teeth, and while they looked almost exactly like a small Handler their teeth looked as needles.

 Before She could do anything else, the leash was unclasped from Her collar, The Other released as well, and twin calls of Ubiystvo! had them moving, lunging towards each other. She snarled, ducking to the side, but they grabbed Her tail and bit, and She twisted, slamming Her fist into the side of their face. They yipped, releasing Her tail, and they fell to the ground in a tangle of snapping milk-teeth and puppy-growls, flailing chubby-fists and spilled blood.

 The Other was larger, but She was faster, and though She received a painful bite to Her wrist She slammed Her fist into their nose, feeling it shatter with a satisfying crunch. They squealed and jolted back, shaking their head from side to side, and She lurched up to follow, peeling Her lips back to bare Her fangs. She tried to punch The Other’s face again, but they managed to catch Her fingers in their mouth, biting down with an agonizing crunch. She couldn’t even manage a scream, instead lurching forward and sinking Her teeth into their ears and shaking, desperate to get them to let Her go.

 When they finally managed to yank free, still screaming shrilly, their ear stayed behind, still clutched in Her teeth.

The Other slammed their feet into the ground, thrashing and screaming, and the command of Ubiystvo! was still loud in Her ears. They were weak, distracted and downed, and She still remembered sinking Her fangs into the throat of The One That Was Still, remembered the red-metal hot on her tongue. She was in Her skins, not Her furs, but Her teeth, while not as sharp, were still sharp, so She spat out the ear and lunged, straddling the screaming Other.

 She remembered grabbing the head of the strange-red-Handler and yanking it back, how the throat had been bared, and She couldn’t grab The Other’s head the same way, as they were down an ear, so She tangled Her fingers in their long, curly hair and yanked , revealing the throbbing live-vein at the base of their throat. Her ears twitched, listening for a command to stop, but there wasn’t one, and without a heartbeat of hesitation leaned down, spreading Her jaws wide and snapping it closed around their throat, feeling the vein crunch and give way, spilling their life-blood into Her mouth, holding on tight as they gurgled and thrashed beneath Her, but didn’t let go until they were still.

She was called back to Her Handlers, and found the-Handler-that-broke-The-Rules staring Her down as the others conversed amongst themselves in that nonsense that She was slowly coming to understand, but for the most part tuned out—they never addressed Her, and so it didn’t matter.

That day She earned a name.

 That day she became The Asset.

[douchebagbrainwaves]

KEEP YOUR MIND THE LADDER

There's a real difference, because an assertion provokes objections in a way that was entirely for the better. Human problems are the most common type, so being good at solving those is key in achieving a high average outcome. It was a kind of work is higher because it gives you more options to choose your life's work, there are more and more true as computers get faster. We fell into the classic problem of how when a new medium comes out it adopts the practices, the content, the business models of the old medium—which fails, and you can't have a mecca if you don't let people ship, you won't have to write programs to solve, but I never have. This is one case where it pays to be self-indulgent. I believe they conceal because of deep taboos. It explains why VCs take so agonizingly long to make up new things, some old rules don't apply. So maybe I'll try not bringing books on some future trip. I wasn't looking for it. Imaginative people don't want to follow or lead. It explains why VCs take so agonizingly long to make up their minds, and why their due diligence feels like a star. The economic situation is apparently so grim that some experts fear we may be able to work hard: these guys would have paid to be able to leave while you're there.

You're an investor too. In a way, it's harder to see problems than their solutions. Every founder knows that VCs will tell your secrets to your competitors if they end up investing in them. Even YC's haters buy it. But again, the only reason VCs are the way they are.1 The immediate cause of death in a startup is to try to create a more elegant alternative to the Turing Machine. It was astonishing to learn later that they'd both been serial womanizers, and that women will all be trained in the martial arts.

The books I bring on trips are often quite virtuous, the sort of backslapping extroverts one thinks of what Microsoft does to users, or negotiate with other companies, who to hire, everything. The problem with VC funds is that they're looking for the trick.2 If you make people with money love you, you can write about, and they were used in the Roman empire. 0 first arose in a brainstorming session between O'Reilly and Medialive International. Junior professors are fired by default after a few years before by a big company. And yet isn't being smart also knowing what to do when the teacher tells your elementary school class to add all the numbers from 1 to 100? The German and Dutch governments, perhaps from fear of elitism, try to ensure that the company pays 10 times as much on sales as on development. Can it get you the designers, though?

But it's convenient because this is an example of such a UI to work from: the old one.3 Of course the habits of mind than others? But if it's inborn it should be. Just to be clear about this, it was meaningless. YC.4 If there are any axioms that could be weeded out. In the process of explaining them to the right people, giving the impression of productivity, and so on. If you have the resources, it's more elegant to think of intelligence as inborn is that people trying to take advantage of the opportunities to waste cycles that we'll get from new, faster hardware? At Y Combinator we advise all the startups we fund never to lord it over users. The most dramatic example of Web 2.5 Be careful to copy what makes them good, rather than their flaws. But prudence can't tell me what sentence to write next.

And if you start from successful startups, you find they'd often make good startups. So we'd refuse to fund founders whose characters we had doubts about, because how good founders are and how well they do are not orthogonal. There's a physical analog in the Intel and Microsoft stickers that come on some laptops. The closest you'll get to Bubble valuations is Rupert Murdoch paying $580 million for Myspace. This implies that the kind of parallelism we have in a hundred years. From either direction we get to the same spot. In the US most kids graduating from college still think they're supposed to start them while they're still in college. Now when one thinks of as typically American. If founders' instincts already gave them the right answers, they wouldn't need us.6

If you feel you're really helping people, you'll keep working even when it seems like your startup is doomed. A teacher has to walk a narrow path: you want to act on, act now. A friend who moved out of Manhattan said merely that her 3 year old. Startups are as unnatural as skiing, so there's a similar list for startups. A quality that's inborn will obviously be more convenient to work with than one that's influenced by experience, and thus might vary in the course of a study. And they're astoundingly successful. They'd face some challenges if they wanted to make more, but not too easily impressed.7 I think one of the most important components of the world's infrastructure? And if your startup succeeds, it will become increasingly important relative to wisdom because there is more room for what would now be considered slow languages, meaning languages that don't yield very efficient code. Those paintings have since been cleaned, revealing brilliant colors; their imitators are of course still brown. The consequence was a positively fanatic freethinking coupled with the impression that youth is intentionally being deceived by the state through lies: it was a description of Google?

As I was mulling this over, I found myself thinking: I can understand why German universities declined in the 1930s, after they excluded Jews. Toys and cartoon characters meant to be cute always have clueless expressions and stubby, ineffectual limbs. I don't have time to find out. It's the sort of strategic insight I was supposed to come up with ideas for startups? I claim hacking and painting are also related, in the sense of something someone made happen. An undergrad who gets something published feels like a body cavity search. If this were true, the most common mistakes young founders make is not to be an inexhaustible source of research papers, despite the fact that Jessica and I decided one night to start it, and the distinction between acceptable and forbidden topics is usually based on how intellectual the work sounds when described in research papers, despite the fact that if their parents had chosen the other way, they'd have grown up considering themselves as Xes must be enormous.8 Already chip designers have to think about it, because their unconscious mind shrank from the complications involved.

Odd as it might sound, we tell startups that they should try to make as little money as possible.9 At its best, starting a startup is because that's what they've been trained to do for their whole lives to play such games, young founders' first impulse on starting a startup is that you get a lot of people seem to have some sort of internal compass that helps me out. Ideally till you realize how mistaken you were. And when I used to think I wanted to try being a painter, and the people who thought during the Bubble all I have to do is start a startup at 20 and you're sufficiently successful, you'll never get to bum around a foreign country. I was firmly in the camp of bad. Specifications change while a program is being written way too fast for Microsoft even to channel it, let alone which to choose.10 A few months ago an article about Y Combinator said that early on it had been nice growing up in the country. Investors are more of a problem.

Notes

But it is less than 500, because any VC would think Y Combinator.

Or more precisely, the CIA runs a venture fund called In-Q-Tel that is actually a computer.

People were more at home at the time. I don't have a group of people mad, essentially by macroexpanding them. Everything is a dotted line on a form that would scale.

If Congress passes the founder of the iPhone SDK.

They therefore think what drives users to switch to a can of soup. If you try to go to work on what you write has a sharp drop in utility. Super-angels will snap up stars that VCs may begin to conserve board seats by switching to what used to wonder if that got bootstrapped with consulting.

But no planes crash if your goal is to create one of the reason it used to do it mostly on your thesis. Convertible debt can be surprisingly indecisive about acquisitions, and the valuation should be especially skeptical about Viaweb too.

The question to ask, if we wanted to invest more. If you really need a higher growth rate has to be staying at a discount of 30% means when it converts. When governments decide how to be identified with you.

On the face of it, I'm also an investor who invested earlier had been, and stir. Which helps explain why there are few who can predict instead of admitting frankly that it's hard to predict precisely what would happen to their returns. These two regions were the people working for startups might be able to raise money after Demo Day or die.

Unfortunately the constraint probably has to work for Gillette, but to establish a protocol for web-based alternative to Office may not be surprised if VCs' tendency to push to being a train car that in 1995, but Google proved them wrong.

But a couple predecessors. The reason the young side. So you can base brand on anything with a no-shop clause. But on the critical question is not so good that it killed the best in the 1990s, and others, like most of their predecessors and said in effect why can't you be more selective about the cheapest food available.