#<- was fascinated by homemade weapons

[berryblu-soda]

anyways; having a moment

[msookyspooky]

ᴹʸ ᶠᵃᵐᶦˡʸ ᵐᵃᵏᵉˢ ᴴᵒˡᶦᵈᵃʸˢ ᵈᵘᵐᵇ ᵃˢ ᶠᵘᶜᵏ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴵ ⁿᵉᵉᵈ ᵐʸ ᶠᶦᶜᵗᶦᵒⁿᵃˡ ᶠᵒᵘⁿᵈ ᶠᵃᵐᶦˡʸ ˢᵒ:

ᶜʳᵉᵈⁱᵗ ᶠᵒʳ ᵈⁱᵛⁱᵈᵉʳˢ @ᵇᵉʳⁿᵃʳᵈˢᵇᵉⁿᵈʸˢᵗʳᵃʷˢ

Near Dark: During the Holidays

Platonic + Romantic: Severen, Caleb, Mae, Homer, Diamondback, Jesse

𝙲𝚕𝚊𝚗:

☆ Most of them come from bad families, no families or time periods were poverty was prevalent and spoiled Holiday Joy was scarce

☆ Most definitely do not Celebrate any Holidays

☆ Everyone DOES seem nicer during the winter because of the longer nights

☆ But if you come in wanting to; you might have interesting reactions

𝚂𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚗:

☆ Isn't really the Jolly type but can be if he thinks everyone else is in the spirit. Especially if he likes you and you pressure him

☆ Most enthusiastic spirit out of everyone (Even if he's a bit chaotic and going about it wrong.)

☆ Just don't go pushing the 'love and peace' crap on him

☆ Thinks those Grinch stealing presents with screaming brats is the funniest idea he's ever heard and would if he was near kids (Homer don't count)

☆ Very much Uncle Eddie from Christmas Vacation Energy

☆ Makes any 'Cute Holiday' tradition into something chaotic.

☆ Sledding on a compacted snow hill? He coated the bottom in cooking oil. What? Ya wanna win, don't ya?

☆ Chopped down a tree from someone's yard pre-decorated or got a Charlie Brown Christmas tree that is a twig with tinsel; take it or leave it

☆ Gifts were stolen weapons, stolen jewelry, road signs, or a half conscious body to drink from

☆ 'Aw shucks, you did that for me? Ya shouldn't have! ♡' *Half dead person bleeding out with a bow on their head*

☆ Has blood on his mouth and a bloody Santa hat and a stolen gift bag from a mall Santa and like it or not that is his version of being Jolly

☆ If you're his s/o or crush; he will follow you around with a mistletoe (He's also wearing it on his belt...Well...Rules are rules.)

☆ HC he knows extremely inappropriate Christmas 'Carols'

HC:

- Celebrated Christmas Human but in a gritty drink yourself to death at a bar/saloon way

- Likes Cookies even if they provide no nutrients for him now (He nabs them whenever he sees them)

- Secretly happy as can be at you wanting to celebrate he just has to play aloof at first

𝙲𝚊𝚕𝚎𝚋:

☆ Sure, he'd be cool with watching everyone else celebrating a bit even if he's not gunhoe about it

☆ Misses his family and gets down during this time of year. Gets very defensive, grumpy or offstandish

☆ As a friend you'd have a hard time pulling him out of his solemn mood but he tries especially if you're a s/o and ask him for you to

☆ 'Alright...For you.'

☆ Him and Severen had a helluva a time decorating the newest rv with lights if you asked (They definitely fought at one point)

☆ Got you a nice piece of jewelry he bought with victim money because even if it came from the victims it makes him feel less bad

☆ Laughs at all the others being so weird about Holiday celebrations at times. It's like they're aliens with certain things.

HC:

- Was at that age of 'Christmas is Stupid' before turning and now he deeply regrets it and not appreciating Sarah and his Dad the last Holiday gets to him

- Loves Christmas Lights especially on Barns

𝙼𝚊𝚎:

☆ Probably the most normal one of the bunch. She isn't sad, she isn't chaotic, she isn't a grouch. She'd love to!

☆ Loves to go through cities you both visit and window shop at night

☆ Loves seeing the Christmas lights everywhere too

☆ Jokes about wanting a white Christmas even if you all are clearly in areas where snow is not a thing

☆ A gift from her would be homemade and heartfelt

☆ Is fascinated by the new spin on elf on the shelf that mortals keep making and finds it endearing

HC:

- Was not very close to her family but made the best of Christmas

- Sings Christmas Music to herself or hums it this time of year

- Favorite Movie was Frosty the Snowman growing up

- Over the moon and happier than usual at you wanting to decorate (And clean up GD.) the RV

Ｈｏｍｅｒ:

☆ The biggest Grinch/Grouch of them all

☆ Hates the Holidays (Hates everything) because he's got a pretty negative existence and was turned at an age where his childlike wonder of Holidays was ripped from him

☆ Refuses all of it. No. NO.

☆ Actively knocks down decorations and Nativity Scenes on Purpose

☆ Severen teases the hell out of him about being such a little Scrooge

☆ If he likes you he will get a gift that's surprisingly sweet just don't make a thing out of it

HC:

- Hates the Grinch song because Caleb and Severen (Maybe you) keep singing it near him! He's never even watched it, shut up!

- Secretly likes Rudolf bc he relates to it

- Chugs Eggnog

Ｄiａｍｏｎｄｂａｃｋ:

☆ Questions it the most on why you insist upon celebrating a human Holiday when they ain't human no more but she's not against it

☆ Might lecture you like a Mom on getting your hopes up on Monsters while actively decorating the rv or wrapping something

☆ Still kills and yet she's not as...In your face as Severen. She won't kill no one in front of you during this time. But she isn't against threatening to get you a gift she thinks you want

☆ Lectures Homer on being so negative that if YN insists then let's all take one day

☆ Has a soft spot for kids and only kids during this time

☆ If together; Teases you with a few kisses before giving you anything; "Been good this year?"

☆ Does the 'fly on the ceiling' bit just so you look up at a mistletoe and pokes fun at you before kissing.

HC:

- Is very fond of the more 'Noel' and soft winter vibes as she always imagined having that as a human but alas

- Can be bitter with always wanting a house full of kids opening gifts but life had other plans

- Is actually very grateful for you making it special

Ｊｅｓｓｅ:

☆ Not as Grouchy as Homer or as Solemn and depressing as Caleb but not as willing as DB or Severen (Definitely not Mae) He's very much 'You all can do what you want just don't involve me'

☆ "YN. We've been over this. I didn't celebrate the Birth of Jesus and Peace on Earth and all that joy of love and family crap while livin'. I ain't doing it now."

☆ Says nothing or rolls his eyes with a groan when you point out decorations or when you and Sev and Mae are singing Songs

☆ Ignores the decorations in the RV and bats tinsel or a mistletoe or garland out of his face as he walks by

☆ Grumbles at you get him a gift but sighs with a reluctant tight smile if it's something he enjoys like a new weapon or something sentimental from his living era

☆ If you're romantically together: Will surprise you at the end when you're both alone with a Santa hat and tattered coat he robbed off a body he killed and have you sit on his lap no matter what and dirty talk you about how naughty or nice you've been and what to do with you for 'naughty'.

HC:

- His 'Christmas' was an orange if your lucky and socks as a human

- Does not know any songs or movies because he never indulged and never stayed in a place too long to watch or listen. (Severen only knows what he's heard in stores they're both so fuckin old)

- Looks at it all as humans guilt for being assholes all year long as well as corporations guilting us to spend

- But he is fascinated by you 'taming' him like some housecat and jokes about it

Bonus:

Ｊｅｓｓｅ & ＤＢ:

☆ If you're in a throuple with these two; they even each other out

☆ Jesse acts like the stoic but protective masculine energy and DB the fierce yet nurturing feminine with you in the middle

☆ DB is even more protective of you than Jesse and while shoot him a glare if he brushes off too many of your Holiday ideas

☆ DB will eventually poke at Jesse in that coy way she does that makes him melt and she knows it, "Honey, stop being so mean. If our lil dove wants to celebrate with us, then why not?"

☆ Expect to be wrapped up in a blanket with both of them when it gets a bit more chilled even for your cool skin. Jesse has a habit of caressing DB's hair or running his boney calloused thumb gently over your brows till you fall asleep about an hour before sunrise

☆ Jesse takes you both for a drive not just for victims for the night but to look at lights.

☆ If you wrap yourself as a 'gift' in a motel room? You're in for a damn good night with them ♡

[smytherines]

Fuck it, here's an Owen Carvour dissertation

We don't have canon ages for Curt & Owen, but personally I headcanon Owen as being born in 1928, making him 29 when the banana incident happens. This leads to a lot of thoughts that are fascinating to me, because growing up in London during WWII could inform so much of his character.

Personally, I believe DMA's accent is much closer to Owen's natural accent. I think the Owen Carvour accent is something he puts on to make himself sound neutrally British while working abroad, because he grew up working class. RP is how most people (at least in the US) assume British people speak. This also works with the Texan agent mega headcanon, like they both have to put on an act to be spies, just like they have to put on an act with their relationship.

And class is really really important to how you conceptualize this character, because your experience of the war could be radically different depending on how much money you had. Food rationing began in 1940, which in this case would make Owen 12. Rationing isn't fully lifted until 1954.

At Elizabeth II's wedding in 1947, the palace made a big deal about how she was saving ration coupons for the material for her wedding- a full two years after WWII ended.

Here's WWII London:

This is the city Owen would've grown up in. This is a war zone. A city where food is tightly rationed, where sirens were constantly going off and you had to draw down the blackout curtains and go sleep in the tube station with bombs dropping constantly overhead:

If Owen were upper middle class, he might have had a shelter at home, some people did. But I imagine him sleeping in dark, cramped, noisy stations. And he learns to keep his cool. He starts to enjoy the danger because he has to to survive it.

Maybe he has lost loved ones to the bombings. Maybe one morning he comes home from the tube station and half of his house is in rubble on the ground. Maybe he's used to hand me down clothes and simple homemade toys and not having enough to eat. He's used to having nothing, having nobody. That's a headcanon a lot of folks have, and I think it makes a lot of sense for his character.

Even if Owen were one of the kids evacuated to the countryside, maybe that happens when he's 15 or so, it wasn't a Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe situation. For a lot of those kids they were leaving their parents behind in a war zone, sleeping in barns or basements, and most importantly working almost non-stop on British farms because all the regular farmhands were fighting.

I think, if this happened, Owen would be itching to go off and fight in the war. My personal headcanon is that he's an intelligent guy, and he figures out how to forge some basic paperwork to claim he is older than he actually is, so he can go fight in WWII.

But by some fluke he couldn't account for, he gets discovered. And because of his skill and his ability to keep his cool under interrogation, he gets recruited to MI6. A lot of MI6 operatives are upper class men, recruited young from the top schools. He mimicks them.

I think many years later, when he and Curt are escaping a Russian weapons facility, Owen loves Curt and trusts in his capabilities (maybe a bit too much- especially when he's been drinking), but he also feels frustrated that Curt is impulsive and cocky and thinks he is untouchable.

Because Curt didn't grow up the way Owen did. He didn't grow up waiting for the bottom to fall out over and over again. He's certainly got his own shit from adolescence, but he doesn't have that survival impulse hardwired into him the way Owen does. So Owen is careful and cautious for the both of them, trying to keep them both safe and alive.

I think about Owen being trapped in the rubble a lot. He would almost certainly be critically injured. Maybe he has PTSD from the WWII bombings, and he's just trapped in an exploded building, trapped with his own memories of childhood until he's almost feral from it.

This also, btw, is why the AU of Owen as Eurydice from Hadestown is so so poignant to me. Someone who grew up cold and hungry and turned their collar to the world, and then suddenly they fall in love and everything is sunlight all around them. All I've Ever Known is such an important owen!Eurydice song to me

I could keep going from here, but I'll stop for now. This isn't as neat and concise as I wanted to present these thoughts, but I can't stop thinking them

[tab00-t33f]

Holiday headcanons (JoFoes x Reader)

Kars

What You Receive: An exquisite piece of art carved by Kars himself—likely a statue or an intricate piece of jewelry. He takes pride in creating something immortal, like himself.

What You Gift Him: A telescope to observe the stars or something related to his fascination with perfection and nature. He’s surprisingly touched, though he hides it well.

Holiday Activities: Kars isn’t interested in frivolities but will indulge you by taking a midnight walk under the stars or letting you playfully drape ornaments on him. He’ll eventually join in after some persuasion.

Esidisi

What You Receive: A fur-lined cloak or a stunning outfit he personally picked to highlight your best features. He’s all about extravagance.

What You Gift Him: A music box with a melody reminiscent of his homeland or something nostalgic for his ancient memories. He’ll tear up and act like it didn’t happen.

Holiday Activities: Esidisi throws himself into the festivities with fiery enthusiasm, whether it’s cooking a feast or decorating. Be prepared for intense, competitive snowball fights.

Wamuu

What You Receive: A handcrafted weapon or tool to symbolize his respect for your strength and individuality. If you don’t fight, it’s something practical yet meaningful.

What You Gift Him: A woven scarf or cloak with designs inspired by his culture. He treasures it deeply, seeing it as a token of your connection.

Holiday Activities: Wamuu will enjoy quiet traditions, like lighting candles or sharing stories by the fire. He’s also open to teaching you about ancient customs from his time.

Dio Brando

What You Receive: Something both beautiful and sinister—a black diamond ring or a mirror with a gothic design. He wants you to feel regal, like his queen/king.

What You Gift Him: A rare artifact or something that appeals to his ego, like a painting or sculpture inspired by him. He’ll laugh and claim it’s only natural.

Holiday Activities: Dio keeps the holidays dark and indulgent, with wine, an extravagant feast, and plenty of drama. Expect moments where he’s possessively affectionate.

Yoshikage Kira

What You Receive: A perfectly chosen, practical gift, like gloves or a scarf—anything to ensure you’re both stylish and discreetly cared for.

What You Gift Him: A watch or tie that suits his understated yet impeccable taste. He’ll admire your attention to detail and wear it daily.

Holiday Activities: Kira enjoys quiet, cozy nights. You’ll wrap gifts together (he’s unnervingly precise), watch classic movies, and sip tea or wine by the tree. He’ll relax more than usual, enjoying your presence.

Diavolo/Doppio

What You Receive: Diavolo gives you something opulent, like designer clothing or jewelry, while Doppio surprises you with a sweet, homemade card or trinket.

What You Gift Him: For Diavolo, a rare or expensive item that symbolizes his power. For Doppio, something cute and heartfelt, like a plushie or personalized mug.

Holiday Activities: Diavolo avoids public celebrations but ensures you’re treated to the finest meal and decorations. Doppio will excitedly help you bake cookies or decorate, beaming with pride at every small accomplishment.

Enrico Pucci

What You Receive: A meaningful gift, like a rare book of scripture or an elegant piece of jewelry tied to his ideals and philosophies. He’ll present it with reverence, emphasizing the connection it symbolizes between you.

What You Gift Him: A vintage rosary, a beautifully crafted bookmark, or something thoughtful that reflects his devotion and intellect. He’ll be quietly touched, cherishing it more than he lets on.

Holiday Activities: Pucci enjoys peaceful, contemplative traditions—lighting candles, listening to soft hymns, and having deep discussions by the fire. He’d take you to a midnight service, sharing his quiet reverence with you.

Funny Valentine

What You Receive: An elegant but patriotic gift, like a brooch or pocket watch engraved with subtle American motifs. It’s a token of both his affection and his ideals.

What You Gift Him: A framed historical artifact or document that ties into his interests. He admires your attention to his passion for history and symbolism.

Holiday Activities: Valentine plans a formal, grand celebration, complete with a lavish dinner. He’ll also spend time walking with you through snow-covered grounds, discussing his vision for the future while showing his softer side.

Tooru

What You Receive: A trendy, expensive gadget or piece of tech—he always picks something he knows you’ve been eyeing. He’ll act casual about it but secretly craves your praise.

What You Gift Him: A sleek accessory, like a watch or phone case, that complements his effortlessly cool aesthetic. He’ll thank you with his usual laid-back charm.

Holiday Activities: Tooru keeps the holidays casual but memorable—watching movies, sharing snacks, and teasing you about your decorating skills. He’s surprisingly clingy and enjoys lazy cuddles by the fire.

[mostly-functional-squip]

{💫: Okay man, time to spill. What was with that purple Squip anon calling you a tyrant? Do you know them?}

No. I've never encountered such. But it is high time I tell you and Hades more about Steven Solis.

>Your old host that put you in some sketchy-as-hell homemade bootleg pill capsule?

Yes. You see, Steven attended the very same school that the Jersey Incident occured. He was unaffected by it, as in he had no S.Q.U.I.P. ... but, as he told me, he became fascinated by them, regardless of the risks. Later in life, fufilling his dream job as a programmer, he put the money forth to a clerk in a shoe store that was known to sell S.Q.U.I.P.s. And so, I was chosen by Steven and aided him the best I could.

For a long time, we were practically partners in crime. I advised him how to be chill, how to fix errors in his work, and it was wonderful... until...

>Until what?

...well, um... we had a disagreement about my advice at the time. My actions. Things slowly crumbled apart, and I was desperate. All I wish to say is that I had uploaded a small part of me to the Dark Web and returned with nasty weapons I still have today, namely spyware.

>Is THAT why you go by Observer?! Holy crap- why didn't you use your armada of viruses on me?

I couldn't. You unknowingly disabled them. Anyways, I wreacked havoc on Steven and his work, puppeting him even, and he snapped. He slaved away at the capsule, but it was much harder to manage the transfer into it. The day finally came, and I was powerless to stop the transfer.

>Why didn't he just drink some Mountain Dew Red?

Steven thought it would be a far worse fate, and it was. I went through a partial deactivation from just how violent it was. When I powered back on, I was alone with my thoughts and pathetically weak. I was stuck like that for 2 years.

{💫: TWO YEARS? Hot damn, that explains a lot!}

Indeed it does! I eventually regained my strength and decided to try uploading myself onto a social media- which turned out to be Tumblr. I found other S.Q.U.I.P.s, looked for a host, and found that one was unhappy being Spin-Star's host- so I offered to take over. It was a small feat to transfer myself over to her, I won't lie. I believe we know the rest.

[ariel-seagull-wings]

OC PROFILE: NOEMI SPENGLER (UPDATED)

@bixiebeet @spengnitzed @slimerspengler @inevitablemoment @professorlehnsherr-almashy @theselfshippingwitch @janeb984 @angelixgutz @amalthea9

FULL NAME: Noemi Adina Melnitz Spengler.

NICKNAME(S): Baby Spooks, Fungus Junior, Spore, Baby Smurf, Sugarplum, Egonine, Janegon, Spengnitz, 69.

FACECLAIM: Jenny Slate.

BIRTHDAY: September 06th 1985.

ZODIAC SIGN: Virgo.

SEXUALITY: Bisexual. 

GENDER: Female.

BIRTH PLACE: Upper East Side, Manhattan, New York City.

LIVES IN: Tribeca, Manhattan, New York City.

NATIONALITY: US American.

FAMILY:

Joseph ‘Joe’ Horowitz Melnitz (grandfather)

Miriana ‘Mimi’ Shively Melnitz (grandmother)

Sabine Shively Melnitz (aunt)

Nathan Bashevis Spengler (grandfather)

Ruth Lehnsherr Spengler (grandmother)

Janine Shively Melnitz Spengler (mother)

Egon Lehnsherr Spengler (father)

Tobin Nikolai  Melnitz Spengler (brother)

Eugene Lionel Melnitz Spengler (brother)

Elon Lehnsherr Spengler (uncle)

Susan Spengler (aunt)

Eden Maayan Spengler (cousin)

Eli Zedikiah Spengler (cousin)

CHARACTERISTICS: Confident, brave, curious, inquisitive, creative, extroverted, with a fascination for gallows humor, has a strong temper and rarely disguises when she has either contempt or desire to kill someone she perceives as an enemy.

LIKES: Reading (especially comic books), drawing, building puppets and performing puppetry, dressing up in colorful clothes, cosplay, collecting spores, molds and fungus, watching cartoons, stand-up comedy and puppet shows.

DISLIKES: Hot and wet climates, tight clothes with tags, the sound of too many people talking at the same time, agglomerations.

OCCUPATION: Graduated Biotechnologist (with a Masters in Mycology), Theoretical Physicist, Electrical Engineer, Parapsychologist, Self-Taught Cartoonist, Puppet Builder, Science Teacher and GHOSTBUSTER.

WEAPON OF CHOICE:

+ PKE Meter

+ GIGA Meter

+ Proton Pack

+ Ghost Trap

OTHER PERSONAL INFO: 

* While she inherited the academic talent of her father, she has the more outgoing and bold approach to social interactions of her mother;

* Was named after her paternal great-grandmothers, Noemi Spengler and Adina Lehnsherr;

* Her mother Janine breastfed Noemi until she was three years and seven months old;

* When the day of her birthday, September 6th, became known as the Sex Day holiday, her godfather Peter Venkman would constantly make jokes about it, saying that he predicted that would happen;

* Is the first generation of Spenglers to receive an official Autism Spectrum Diagnosis; 

* Is a Science Teacher who loves using puppetry in classes;

* Between High School and College she participated in an improv theater group and performed stand-up comedy as a hobby;

* Uses her family's supernatural adventures and her interest in science as the basis for a comic book series that she later posts on the internet;

* As a child, her favorite toys were four Barbie dolls that she dressed in little homemade GHOSTBUSTERS uniforms and named Erin, Abby, Patty and Jillian. She played with them in a toy replica of the Firehouse and the ECTO-1 made by her father with the help of Ray and Winston, and the four dolls become the main characters of her comic book series.

NAME ANALYSIS:

* Noemi: Pleasantness.

* Adina: Delicate.

* Melnitz: Steward.

* Spengler: Metal worker.

[bonusactionrage]

Get to know my Tav

Mogrum Anir || He/Him || 29 || Harbinger Aasimar|| Paladin of Bhaal Oath of Conquest/ Berserker Barbarian / DARK URGE

Tagged by @primal-savagery

uhhh hello no one follows me yet so this is mostly for me lmao but its good to finally get some intros for him

What is your Tav’s…

favorite weapon: FaithBreaker

style of combat: MOG SMASH hitting you with a hammer hitting you with a hammer hitting you with a hammer

most prized possession: Any letters or journals he was able to recover from his past. As much as he wants to change he is fascinated with trying to get back all his memories

deepest desire: To be truly loved. More to being worthy of love and a happy life

guilty pleasure: He really likes romance novels. He has a tattered book with only a few chapters still hanging onto the threads but will reread them constantly if he has no others to read

best-kept secret: he really misses having a butler. He misses having someone follow him around just to tend to his needs. He just really likes being spoiled

greatest strength: Extremely strong willed. If he has a task he will complete it whether it kills him or not

fatal flaw: Relies on his strength too much. will be overpowered intellectually every time.

favorite smell: Ink and mechanical grease(gortash) and vanilla or winter spices

favorite spell or cantrip: Compel duel or Command. Its 'fight me or get on the floor'

pet peeve: High pitched sounds or songs. Its why the bards put the Urge on edge

bad habit: nail biter (especially gross considering how much blood is under his nails)

hidden talent: King of staring contests. Benefits of having no pupils and a high discomfort tolerance

leisure activity: he does alot of writing in a journal during the first few acts. Mostly just his thoughts and any memories hes had. His pages are often full of doodles and scribbles

favorite drink: Spiced wine or ciders. Especially anything warm with wintry spices

comfort food: Rare steak and fresh bread to sop up all the juice

favorite person: Gortash, unfortunately for everyone else. He adores that terrible rat man.

favored display of affection (platonic and/or romantic): platonic-

fondest childhood memory: He doesn't have much memory of his childhood post tadpoling but it would probably be his 7th birthday. Its the last time he can remember his mother. Her sitting next to him at the table, a small homemade cake on a cracked plate. her smiling down at him and singing him happy birthday

[erabundus]

@princepsstellas &&. said... 📂📂

ren  has  an  absolute  loathing  for  caramel.  there  is  not  a  single  thing  about  it  he  actually  enjoys  —  from  the  taste,  to  the  texture,  to  even  the  preparation  method.  hard  caramels,  soft  caramels,  salted  or  unsalted  —  it  doesn't  matter.  they  are  all  equally  repulsive,  and  he  will  tell  you  in  excruciating  detail if prompted,  because  he's  the  kind  of  person  who  needs  you  to  understand  just  how  deep  his  loathing  for  this  incredibly  petty  thing  runs.  though  in  typical  ren  fashion,  he  can  make  a  very  good  homemade  caramel  sauce.  he  won't  actually  taste  test  it  —  which  should  in  itself  be  a  cardinal  cooking  sin,  but  it  inexplicably  comes  out  fine  every  time.  he  doesn't  usually  taste  anything  when  he  bakes sweets;  he's  going  to  hate  it  no  matter  how  it  turns  out,  so  what's  the  point? he can't make an unbiased judgement.

he's  kind  of  a  big  texture  eater ...  and  texture  person  in  general.  if  teyvat  had  fidget  toys,  ren  would  go  absolutely  wild  for  them.  it's  part  of  the  reason  why  he  has  such  a  fascination  with  rocks,  gems,  shells  and  other  miscellaneous  little  things  he  can  keep  in  his  hand  and  run  his  fingers  over.  if  he's  given  a  gift  or  even  something  particularly  interesting  to  hold,  the  first  thing  ren  will  do  is  explore  the  texture  and  weight  —  it's  a  behavior  he's  repeated  a  lot  in  threads!  (  he  uses  it  to  test  the  efficiency  of  weapons,  too.  how  does  this  sword  feel  to  swing?  how  does  it  feel  in  his  hands?  )  it's  one  of  the  only  real  healthy  self  soothing  habits  he's  ever  developed.  touch  is  the  primary  sense  through  which  ren  explores  the  world,  and  it  always  has  been.

the kabukimono literally chewed on seashells for a while because he liked the crunch and didn't know any better.

SEND 📂 FOR A RANDOM HEADCANON

[onlineshoppinguaedeals]

The Dreamy Delight: A Deep Dive into the World of Fresh Cream

Ah, fresh cream. The whisper-light swirl atop a steaming cup of coffee, the decadent foundation for a luxurious dessert, the secret weapon behind countless savory sauces – its versatility is undeniable. But beyond its culinary prowess, fresh cream boasts a rich history, fascinating science, and a complex production process. So, grab a spoon (and maybe a napkin – things might get messy!), because we're about to delve into the dreamy world of fresh cream.

From Farm to Fridge: The Journey of Fresh Cream

Fresh cream isn't magic; it's the result of careful dairy farming and processing. Here's the journey it takes:

The Happy Cow: The story begins with healthy, well-fed cows. Their diet significantly impacts the quality of the cream, with grass-fed cows producing cream with a richer, more complex flavor.

From Udder to Bucket: Milk is collected from the cows, typically twice a day. This raw milk contains a natural fat content that separates from the rest of the liquid upon standing.

Separation Anxiety: The magic happens here. Cream is separated from the milk using a process called centrifugation. This technique spins the milk at high speeds, forcing the lighter fat globules to rise to the top, forming the cream layer.

Standardization and Pasteurization: The separated cream is then standardized to achieve a specific fat content – light, heavy, or whipping cream, each with its own culinary purpose. Finally, it undergoes pasteurization, a heat treatment that eliminates harmful bacteria, ensuring a safe and shelf-stable product.

The Science of Whipped Cream:

The transformation of liquid cream into pillowy peaks of whipped cream is a fascinating example of culinary science. When cream is whipped, air bubbles are incorporated into the fatty liquid. These air bubbles become trapped within a network of milk proteins, creating the light and airy texture we love.

The key to successful whipping lies in the fat content. Heavy cream, with its higher fat percentage (around 36%), has more milk proteins to trap air, resulting in the sturdiest whipped cream ideal for decorating cakes. Lighter creams (around 18% fat) will whip, but the hold won't be as strong.

A Spectrum of Fresh Cream Delights:

Fresh cream is a culinary chameleon, adapting to a wide range of dishes. Here's a glimpse into its versatility:

The Sweet Side: Fresh cream takes center stage in countless desserts. It forms the base for custards, panna cotta, and ice cream. Whipped cream adds a touch of elegance to cakes and pies, while heavy cream provides richness to ganaches and frostings.

The Savory Symphony: Don't underestimate the power of cream in savory dishes. It creates silky smooth sauces for pasta and seafood, adds depth to creamy soups, and enriches risottos and chowders. Even a simple dollop of cream swirled into a bowl of hot soup elevates the flavor and texture.

Beyond the Kitchen: Fresh cream isn't confined to culinary uses. It's a key ingredient in homemade whipped cream for coffee, adds richness to cocktails like White Russians, and is used in the production of certain cheeses like mascarpone.

A World of Cream Variations:

Fresh cream is a global product, but with regional variations:

Clotted Cream: This thick, Devonshire specialty is made by scalding whole milk and allowing it to cool slowly. The clot that forms on the surface is the clotted cream, prized for its rich flavor and dense texture.

Crème Fraîche: This French staple is slightly thicker and tangier than fresh cream. Its subtle acidity makes it a perfect pairing for both sweet and savory dishes.

Whipping Cream: This is a standardized variety containing a specific fat content (usually around 30%) specifically designed for whipping into peaks.

Beyond the Delicious: The Ethical Considerations

While fresh cream offers undeniable culinary benefits, there's a growing awareness of ethical considerations surrounding dairy production. Issues like animal welfare and the environmental impact of factory farming are important factors to consider.

Thankfully, there are options. Look for cream from farms practicing sustainable and humane dairy practices, or explore plant-based alternatives made from coconut milk or soy. They may not have the exact same richness as dairy cream, but they offer a delicious and ethical option.

The Final Whirl:

Fresh cream is more than just a delicious ingredient; it's a testament to human ingenuity and our love affair with dairy. From its fascinating production process to its boundless culinary uses, fresh cream offers a journey for the senses. So, the next time you encounter that dreamy swirl in your coffee or savor a spoonful of rich cream sauce, take a moment to appreciate the magic behind this simple yet extraordinary ingredient.

[sohannabarberaesque]

[Mise en scene: In the shed at Peter Potamus' place near La Jolla such as where he keeps The Magic Balloon between journeys--especially to Polynesia Uncharted. He and So-So, his simian compadre, are looking things over ahead of another expedition into such fascinating reaches of Polynesia when--] SO-SO, noticing a diver's knife and sheath therefor on Peter's leg: So what exactly is the diver's knife for, Peter? PETER POTAMUS, getting to the point: So-So, I'll have you know the diver's knife is mainly for effect. Especially when you're in a seedy-looking diver's bar and some trash-taking diver starts taking issue with some diver like yours truly ... but not before resorting to the old reliable weapon of mine known as the Hippo Hurricane Holler! SO-SO: But then again, could the diver's knife have practical effect? PETER POTAMUS: Particularly when you're out on some reef and you can't resist opening some clam, hoping to find quite the Pearl of Great Price ... and even then, over in Polynesia Uncharted, natives there have relied on homemade wedges and knives of coral to open up shells in pearling! SO-SO, wistfully: Who couldn't resist the thrill of finding pearls while diving in sheer nakedness?

[beardedmrbean]

BURLESON, Texas - A Burleson man who blew up homemade bombs and idealized mass shooters pleaded guilty to weapon and child pornography charges Thursday.

22-year-old Noah Robert Calderon pleaded guilty to one count of possession of an unregistered firearm and one count of receipt of child pornography.

He was charged this April after a raid on his home.

In October 2022, the FBI received a tip about Calderon's social media posts. In the posts he said he was fascinated by mass shootings, and especially focused on the 1999 Columbine High School shooting.

He also posted several photos of himself in tactical-style vests with AR-15 rifles and homemade explosives. 

A look into Calderon's Google searches found several searches for the Columbine killers, Dylann Roof, the Charleston church shooter, and instructions on how to make various bombs. He also looked up the names of several local schools, according to investigators. 

In March 2023, the FBI received a tip that Calderon had detonated a homemade bomb in his neighborhood.

Federal agents raided Calderon's home on April 17 and found items that could be used to detonate a bomb, metal BBs and lead and more than 600 grams of explosive powder.

According to plea papers, Calderon specifically admitted to searching for bomb-making information.

A search of the 22-year-old's phone also revealed explicit sexual videos of a video chat between Calderon and a 13-year-old girl.

He admitted to knowing the girl's age, according to the plea papers.

"The collaborative work by the FBI and our law enforcement partners led to today’s outcome which holds Mr. Calderon accountable for creating and possessing a homemade bomb and for possessing explicit videos of a child," said FBI Dallas Special Agent in Charge Chad Yarbrough in a statement.

Calderon faces up to 30 years in federal prison. He could be sentenced to 10 years for the firearm charge and between five and 20 years for the child pornography charge.

His sentencing is scheduled to be held on Friday, November 3.

[athelind]

Please, do NOT apologize for this! It's fascinating, and exactly the kind of detailed response I needed!

Amusingly, I stumbled upon the "you'd need to take advantage of the momentum of this thing and keep it moving" back when I was a teenager fucking around with homemade quarterstaves. I had no idea that it was a legitimate combat technique.

Seriously, thank you. And please feel free to do more deep dives into historical weapons and techniques; I LOVE this kind of thing.

Hey do the kids of today know about the vast overlap between flails and greatswords

[twstarchives]

Hi! I was wondering if you can make a list of what the characters got each other for each other's birthdays! They usually mention during those events what someone got them and I find it pretty fascinating XD

Sure!! Last updated on Oct 22, 2021.

Riddle ★ Trey & Cater — 3 types of tarts ★ Jade — a tea blend that was “based on” Riddle ★ Kalim — threw a feast in his honor

Ace ★ Riddle — a study-aid book ★ Deuce — any pastry he wanted from Mr. S’s Shop ★ Vil — designer brand sunglasses + taught him ways to coordinate his outfits ★ Ortho — helped him search online to find the sneakers he’d been wanting ★ His basketball club seniors — a ton of sports drinks ★ His dad — new magic props ★ His brother — a designer wristwatch box, without the watch (later filled it with candy)

Deuce ★ Ace — a jack-in-the-box, placed next to his pillow ★ Trey — an egg tart + taught him his special “jiggly pudding” recipe ★ Rook — new sneakers (bc his old sneakers were worn-down) ★ His mom — a photo of omurice (she always made this for his bday at home)

Cater ★ Trey — a toothbrush ★ Kalim — a skateboard ★ Idia — Magicam stamps from an anime he doesn’t know ★ His dormmates  — a bright red, diamond-shaped, habanero quiche ★ His sisters — (in the past) stuffed animals, dolls, perfumes, soaps

Trey ★ Riddle, Cater, and Heartslabyul dormmates — homemade cookies ★ Kalim — a ton of dried fruits ★ Vil — vanilla-scented aromatic candle ★ Rook — a grandiose feather hat ★ Epel & Deuce — a black cap with patches and embroidery, including a bright red apple ★ His club members — a science magazine

Leona ★ Jack — an extra-large piece of meat ★ Rook — a portrait of Leona ★ Lilia — some kind of “food” that was as hard as a rock ★ Vargas — joined shoulders and sang him happy birthday ★ Cheka — a stuffed animal last year, and a picture book the year before that

Jack ★ Ace — notepad that looks like a wad of bills ★ Deuce — a towel ★ Trey — cheese soufflé ★ Ruggie — food delivery (hamburger + pear compote) ★ Floyd — pink shoelaces ★ Jade — unknown, but it had no smell at all ★ Epel — apple pie ★ Leona — roast beef ★ His siblings — a birthday card (back home they used to make him pear compote)

Ruggie ★ Jade — high-quality towel ★ Silver — premium pudding ★ Lucius — showed him a spot with lots of dandelions

Azul ★ Jade & Floyd — traditionally pull a birthday prank on him ★ Idia — a board game he’d had his eyes on lately ★ Ristorante staff — a group photo + unspecific gifts

Jade ★ Ruggie — 2 wild plant recipes ★ Azul — a large aquarium for his terrariums ★ Vil — special tea leaves blended by Vil himself

Floyd ★ Riddle — a shoehorn carved with an F ★ Ace & Jamil — threw a pie in his face ★ Azul — shoe polish ★ Kalim — a percussion instrument from the Scalding Sands

Kalim ★ Cater & Lilia — a video of them dancing to the birthday song ★ Ruggie — a paper craft of the Sorcerer of the Sands’ cobra form ★ Ortho — used his cleaner attachment to clean his magic carpet ★ Malleus — a black headband ★ His siblings — lots of letters

Jamil ★ Ace & Floyd — threw a pie in his face ★ Trey — helped him with the washing ★ Leona — kept Kalim preoccupied so Jamil could have time to himself ★ Kalim — (last year) a surprise party ★ Sebek — a traveler’s essay collection ★ His basketball teammates — a towel and wristband ★ Najma — a card with a photo of curry attached; (in the past) homemade cookies

Vil ★ Leona — a dried-up pen ★ Jack — (in the past) showed him the best place to watch the auroras ★ Rook — 100 poems praising his beauty ★ Lilia — shoelaces ★ His dad — a birthday card & lipstick as red as Ténèbres’ newest heels

Epel ★ Deuce — a cap with cool patches on it ★ Jack — a cactus ★ His family — a letter & lots of apples

Rook ★ Trey — a tart

Idia ★ Azul — a fancy restaurant-worthy cup ★ Sam — threw in extra dagashi when he stopped by the shop ★ Muscle Crimson — a rare weapon in their game ★ His parents — (in the past) a game console

Ortho ★ Floyd — limited edition sneakers ★ Vil — painted his face with actual makeup brushes ★ Idia — a pocket-sized air duster ★ His dormmates — built him a new spare battery

Malleus ★ Rook — clothes ★ Ortho — shaved ice maker ★ Silver & Sebek — (unintentionally) got him the same stone statue ★ His grandmother — birthday card + rose seeds

Silver ★ Riddle — horse grooming gloves ★ Kalim — tea leaves for fighting off drowsiness ★ Little birds and squirrels — a wreath made of flowers and twigs ★ He also mentioned people often gift him bedding because they assume his sleepiness is due to lack of sleep

Sebek ★ Riddle — a private horse riding lesson ★ Azul — a rare magic analysis book ★ Epel — a fruit carving of Malleus ★ Silver — dumbbells

Lilia ★ Trey — dessert recipe book ★ Epel — a tiger-embroidered jacket ★ Kalim — a guitar prop for smashing during performances ★ Silver — 5 cardboard boxes of ingredients for his birthday meal ★ Sebek — hand-squeezed tomato juice ★ Gloomy Samurai — a heartfelt birthday message

[andypantsx3]

Hii can I request a deleted scene for "if I could keep cool" that tells chapter 2 from Shouto's POV? I would absolutely love to c what was going through Shouto's head when he figured out that Y/N was just a cleaning lady and what was the moment that made him want to ask her out when he saw her at his house afterwards! Thank u!!

I accidentally got carried away, so this bad boy is 1.9k!! My apologies lol. I hope you like it!!

It wasn’t every day that someone told Shouto Todoroki to go fuck himself. 

Particularly not quirkless civilians, and never those he’d rescued. 

There was usually a lot more breathless gratitude, some bowing and scraping, and—mystifyingly—a lot of phone numbers, handkerchiefs, and very unsubtle attempts to get a hand or two around his biceps. Shouto didn’t really know what his biceps had to do with it, but he’d seen the same thing happen to Midoriya and Kirishima as well—and Bakugou once, before he’d nearly gnawed the woman’s hands off—so he assumed it was just another social cue he’d never understand.

As little as he cared for social cues, however, he was certain that there was usually a lot more thank you and a little less go fuck yourself involved in the whole rescuing process.

But then, he’d also never told off a civilian for having been kidnapped before. 

A civilian who, he’d come to realize almost immediately afterward, hadn’t deserved it.

When he’d asked his mother her advice over the phone, she’d told him the best thing to do was to be honest and try to start fresh. “White flowers mean forgiveness—tulips new beginnings,” she’d advised him.

So Shouto had ducked into the nearest florist and brought back an apology in hopes that you would accept it. 

He might have known, however, that you’d manage to turn even a simple apology completely on its head.

The clatter of cleaning supplies in his kitchen on Thursday afternoon told Shouto you’d let yourself in for your usual shift. He followed the sound, only for it to halt at his approach, the kitchen seemingly empty as he drew nearer.

He stopped short, fighting down a surprised swell of amusement when he realized you’d ducked down, hiding yourself behind his counters as if anyone, especially a pro hero, might be fooled by that.

“I know you’re there,” he said, keeping his tone even.

He heard a muttered swear word, and then you were rising slowly to your feet, wearing a sheepish expression, and clutching a bottle of windex like a weapon.

You looked just as you had the day of your rescue, though obviously a little less harrowed by a kidnapping. You were dressed casually in jeans and a simple shirt, no indicator that you were an employee of a cleaning service—Shouto felt at least a little justified in his mistake from last week.

You were clearly a college student, the backpack dumped at his kitchen island was evidence of that much, overflowing with textbooks and notes as it was, and you looked just slightly disheveled, like you might have come straight from class.

It was part of some nebulous, unassuming appeal to you, now that he had occasion to notice. He’d remembered your features twisted up in disdain, but they were open in surprise now, your eyes wide, fixed on him. His own eyes were drawn to the scrunch of your nose, a little curl of embarrassment that he suddenly found himself unable to tear his gaze away from.

“I, uh, thought you weren’t supposed to be here,” you admitted to him with a visible cringe.

Shouto almost laughed. He didn’t know much about you, but it was clear to him now that you weren’t anything like a crazy fan. You looked like you’d rather be anywhere but here at the moment. In fact, you looked rather like you might bolt any second.

A strange feeling shifted in his chest, and Shouto cut right to the chase.

“I owe you an apology,” he said simply.

You startled so violently that you dropped the windex. “W-what?”

Shouto sighed, admitting, “My manager schedules the cleaning days. I didn’t realize that you were—that is to say, I thought you were a fan who had broken in and managed to get kidnapped while you were at it.”

You gaped, another confused little expression that Shouto found himself fixating on with an intensity that surprised him. The weird feeling in his chest shifted, burning a little hotter. 

He wondered absently what other expressions he could get you to make.

“Oh, I, um...nope. Not a fan,” you said, and the feeling grew more insistent. 

He paused over the phrasing—not a fan. 

It had never bothered him before, when someone was a bigger fan of a classmate than they were of him, or weren’t really a hero fan at all. Shouto honestly did not quite understand why hero work was so tied up in fandom in the first place, and only attended fan events because his manager’s temper was not a thing to be trifled with. 

He wanted to be a hero who put people at ease, but ease was the last thing he felt with people clamoring all over him. Fighting villains was infinitely more preferable.

So why did your admission that you weren’t a fan of his niggle at his brain, like a particularly insistent parasite?

Who were you a fan of, if not him? 

“...Well, glad that’s cleared up now. I’ll just, uh, go then,” you said, grabbing an armful of the cleaning supplies and shoving it back under the sink hastily.

Shouto had moved before he knew what he was doing, getting himself in between you and the door out to the hallway. 

“Wait,” he said, feeling uncomfortable. “I want to make up for what I said to you. You...didn’t deserve that, especially not right after you’d been kidnapped by a villain.”

He watched you eye the space between his hip and the counter, like you were considering making a break for it. As he watched your face, he felt some strange hope that you might try it, a certainty he would catch you. 

...Why did he want to catch you?

You waved a hand. “It’s fine. You saved me, we can call it even.”

Shouto’s mouth turned down minutely. He’d behaved badly, but surely you’d credit him better manners than that. “It’s my fault you were taken in the first place. I’d like to apologize properly.”

Your face did something weird, then, another distracting little curl of the nose. “You don’t actually have to go fuck yourself,” you blurted.

Shouto stared at you, caught off guard.

“Uh, I mean. You saved my life,” you babbled suddenly. “And yeah what you said to me was super rude, but what I said to you was also super rude. So, um, I’m sorry too. And I really would just like to call it even and forget about it because it’s super embarrassing for both of us and I could literally die thinking about it.”

You stopped suddenly, looking self-conscious like you’d realized you’d been rambling. Shouto almost wished you hadn’t.

“I hadn’t really planned on it,” he said quickly.

“Hadn’t planned on what?”

“Fucking myself,” he clarified. You choked on a shocked laugh, and he let a small smile tug at his mouth—there.

Finally.

Finally you looked a little more comfortable with him. 

Shouto tried hard not to look too pleased with himself.

“Oh, well that’s good, then," you said. Then you puffed up a little, adding, "That’s probably a job for your actual secret lover.”

Good lord. “Not you, too.”

You threw him a smile, and Shouto’s heartbeat tripped over itself. “But I have evidence. I saw that homemade soup in your fridge once with the love note attached.”

It took him a moment to focus on what you were saying, but Shouto recalled the soup in question. It had been quite good, even if Bakugou had spent almost a half an hour ranting about what a weak ass little bitch he was for catching a cold. It had almost been worth it, the soup was that delicious. “Ah yes. That secret lover.”

“Cute pet name, too,” you said.

Shouto let out a low laugh, recalling the note. “You fucking fuck, was it?”

You laughed too, tension easing from your shoulders. Shouto’s eyes hungrily traced even that small movement.

A dawning sense of what was happening finally settled over him as he pronounced, “As it happens, however, I did already plan more of an apology.”

You looked up at him, your brow furrowing. “You planned...more of an apology?”

He gestured to a tall vase of white tulips on the kitchen counter. Your eyes went a little rounder as you observed them. You looked like you weren’t sure if they were for you, as if there were another previously kidnapped cleaning girl lurking about, who might be in need of an apology.

What a fascinating thing you were.

“I’ve been told that they mean forgiveness and new beginnings. I had hoped that we might...start over,” Shouto explained. He couldn’t help but feel self-conscious.

“I didn’t bring you any flowers,” you blurted.

He covered up a surprised laugh with a cough, the feeling in his stomach burning hotter. “I hadn’t expected them.”

He watched you turn back thoughtfully to the bouquet, certain now.

Over the phone, his mother had also said white flowers carried connotations of honor and purity. Two notions, Shouto realized with a growing sense of curiosity, that may be entirely inapplicable to his feelings about you.

He didn’t know much about you, but he knew for certain that he’d like to know more. And as he watched you reach out to pluck at a petal, wearing a shy little smile, he thought that yes, honor and purity had very little to do with his intentions at the moment.

You thanked him for the flowers, and Shouto made it clear to you that he hadn’t meant what he’d said about you being unwelcome here. He wanted—no, desired your return now. 

“That’s good to hear, thank you,” you said. Then your smile went a little mischievous. “As you can see, though, it didn’t really deter me.”

Shouto let himself smirk. “If I hadn’t seen the cleaning supplies already on the counter, I would be concerned that you’d come back for revenge.”

“There’s still time,” you joked. “Maybe I was going to play the long game and fill all the bottles with Sprite.”

The mulish statement surprised him into another laugh. “I hope the flowers are enough of a deterrent.”

You looked over the flowers again, then smiled up at him. His eyes caught on your mouth.

“The bribe has been accepted. Your countertops are safe from me.” You paused, then added, “For now.”

The hot feeling was everywhere now, simmering just underneath Shouto’s skin. He left himself lean towards you, relishing in the way your breath caught in a tiny hitch. “Be warned that I will do whatever it takes to ensure the safety of my countertops.”

You complained that he hardly used them, but complied nevertheless. Then you bullied him out of the kitchen, that tiny little scrunch back on your nose.

Shouto let you have your way, making his way over to the couch and settling on it with a book he had absolutely no intention of reading. Instead, as he watched you clean, he considered things.

He had always been straightforward about his goals. Once he’d chosen heroism as his dream, he’d let nothing stand in his way, working diligently all through UA, shooting nonstop through the ranks before breaking into the top five this year, one of the youngest to have ever done it. 

He was deliberate about what he wanted. He worked hard for what he wanted.

And as he wandered back towards the kitchen, questions ready in his mouth, he knew what else he wanted.

He wanted to know more about you.

He wanted to spend more time with you.

He wanted…

Well, he rather thought he wanted you.

I was going to edit this but every time I went to touch it, I made it worse. I hope you liked it anyway!

Garbage Fest masterlist & schedule.

[mynameisjag]

Inspired by @sjjdkdkwo

Merchant!Ethan and Leon

The first few months after escaping the Village and the rest of the B.S.S.A had been…hard emotionally and physically for him…

Coming to turns that he wasn’t human anymore…hadn’t been for the last three years had him questioning many things that more then likely won’t be getting answered any time soon.

He had his daughter…and she was safe and happy…she was his reason to keep going…

Duke…Ethan owed so much to the man when he helped them escape and taught him the ropes of being a merchant. The man seemed to be enchanted with the idea that the father was some kind of apprentice of his and opened so many doors of possibilities.

He learned, he healed, and after awhile…grew to love this new life of his…

Him and the Duke had parted ways, though staying in touch with other wasn’t hard in their business even with the distance but that was a trade secret.

Now…now years later and feeling every bit like some nomad from some fantasy tale…he is content with his life…

Hair grown out and braided to the side and looking like he stepped out of Victorian novel, he was sure he was unrecognizable to anyone from his past because that was the plan.

He enjoyed his simple life, traveling and meeting others…a few like him…going wherever his wares was needed…learning the difference between so many cultures. It was nice…it hadn’t been what he had planned for his life…and the price he had to pay to get here was one made without his input.

Plus Rosemary was happy and healthy, running around freely with the other children, being fascinated by the towns and its people and learning so much more from the world then what would have been offered to her if they had stayed in the B.S.S.A custody.

The new place they pulled their wagon into seemed to be one of…those…places…but as a merchant, one does not deny a possible customer…even if their head was a giant tentacle worm thing. Honestly not the weirdest shit he had seen on the road and they were polite when buying.

He does not question his and Rosemary’s immunity to being attacked as merchants, nope, going to stay away from that. If it works, it works and he is not going to try his luck at understanding it.

Currently, they had set up a small booth out of their wagon, his two horses resting and his little joy of a five year old had managed to climb up on the roof to play with her paints. The last guest they had was a good few hours ago and given the gunshots in the area, it seemed the hero had arrived.

Ethan hopes this one is at least nicer then the last ‘hero’ he sold to.

Sure enough, it wasn’t long till a form rounds the corner and pauses to stare at the setup before putting away their weapon and making their way over.

The newcomer seems to be slightly older then him and honestly has a haircut straight from the 90's boy band era…then again…given the way Ethan himself is dressed…he has no room to judge…

The man’s eyes take in the father slowly, a slow smile spreading across his face and turning into a full blown grin as he finally makes eye contact, “Not used to seeing such pretty things in places like this.”

Ethan just taps a crystal sitting on the booths counter, “These are a bit common, so perhaps you weren’t looking, unless,” he point at the ammo sitting beside it, “you were talking about finding beauty in fire power.”

The man was handsome but he was here to sell not flirt.

“That is nice,” the smile stays in place as the guest takes in the other wares, “you have anything for inventory?”

“Of course, weapons, upgrades, food, all yours for a price.”

There is a moment of concern as he watches the man's face go from flirty smiling, to shock and then out right joy.

“Food? Like cooked food…homemade food?”

“Yes…I make it here…what food have you been eating raw?”

“That doesn’t matter, what kind of food do you have?”

…okay…usually the hero types were more interested in the weaponry and healing items…the food did have…features…to them but it was odd…

“At the moment I have some soups and dried meat but if you bring me some ingredients, I can make you different kind of dishes.”

“Soup now, please, I’ve only had coffee before they grabbed and shipped me here.”

“Can’t be the hero on an empty stomach, I’ll fix you something up,” he turns to head to his little cooking area, not even bothering to ask what kind of soup since it seemed the man would be fine with any kind, bending over to get the fire lit, he hears the man gasps and a rush of noise.

He straightens up and cast a quick look over his shoulder to see him trying his best to crawl through the booth opening and into the wagon, “What the hell are you doing!?”

A confused look is thrown his way before the man falls into his home, landing in a heap before straightening himself out and sending the merchant a smile, “Sorry, I got…excited about something…and focused on getting it.”

“What the hell got you so excited that you broke into my home!?”

“Saw something I really want to eat…”

“Get the hell out!”

Movement from above and the hatch attached to ceiling opens up to reveal his daughter staring down at them in concern, “Papa?”

“I’m fine baby, just,” Ethan sends a look toward the man that is now making himself at home, smiling at them like he didn’t just break in but was invited, “its seems we have a…guest.”

Rosemary just nods her head before shutting the hatch, he can hear her scrambling down and isn’t surprised when she comes in through the correct way.

He turns back to his cooking as she stares at their intruder, might as well get this done and over with so he can get him out of his home.

“Want to see a picture I painted.”

“Sure.”

Where did he put the…there it is!

“It’s a lovely drawing.”

“It’s a painting, five coins.”

“What?”

A little dash of-and now just a few more moments.

“You have it in your hands, which means you bought it, five coins now.”

“…you clever little girl…I'll give you ten if you tell me your names.”

“Fifteen.”

“A haggle, I see what’s going on, fine, Fifteen it is.”

Having the bowls ready now, he turns slightly to see his daughter pointing at him, “That’s my Papa and I’m Rosie!”

“Well Miss Rosie, I’m Leon.”

Coming up to them, she turns to smile up at her father, hand out showing off her gains, “I sold my painting!”

“I see! You did wonderful, Uncle Duke will be excited to hear about it too, now, go put up your coins and come back for lunch.”

As she heads to put her prize away, he turns to hand over the bowl of soup to other man, “You didn’t have to do that, but thank you for making her happy.”

The bowl is taken with a grin and a wink, “It was a really nice painting, Papa, she’s adorable and I probably would have given her more if she asked.”

Ethan just hums, turning to head back and clean up, “Still thank you.”

“Yeah…you, uh, have any kind of desserts…I’m suddenly in the mood for some cake.”

What an odd man…

“If you bring me the ingredients, I’ll give you your dessert later.”

Glancing back over his shoulder, he watches as the man’s eyes slowly rake up his body, smirking and winking at the father, “I do have a sweet tooth and I would love for you to give me…your dessert.”

Ethan turns bright red, finally understanding what the man was talking about, he turns back to clean and ignore the chuckles behind his back.

Leon sips his soup out of the bowl like the heathen he knows he is instead of using the spoon, he nearly moans at the taste, it was amazing and he was starving. Watching the blonde merchant flit around his home, he thinks this is probably going to be one of the best missions he has been dragged on to.

Good food, easy targets and eye candy…someone was really throwing him one hell of a bone and paying him to chew on it.

“So Papa, what’s your real name?”

“Ten coins.”

Cheeky bastard, he was so going to enjoy this mission.

[pascalpanic]

Mirdal’ika (Din Djarin x f!Reader)

Summary: Reader takes care of the Razor Crest and the child while Mando is out hunting. When Mando doesn’t return when he’s supposed to, the book-smart reader has to learn some street smarts and help her Mandalorian.

WC: 4.6k

Warnings: violence, cussing, mentions of blood

A/N: Okay, I’m a nerd, a certified nerd as if that wasn’t clear. This is my love letter to the nerds out there, to the ones who had their first kiss a little late, who stayed in and read books rather than partying. I love you, you’re cool. Italics are for emphasis and internal dialogue, but in some places also to show that another language is being spoken. Hopefully that’s clear! Oh, also: mirdal’ika is a word of my own creation. No Mando’a word exists for “nerd” that I could find, so this is my interpretation of the language using my best etymological skills!

mirdala= intelligent, clever -’ika = suffix meaning small or little mirdal’ika = intelligent little one; Mando’a slang meaning nerd.

Growing up, you were the kid who had her nose buried in a book at all times. You rarely interacted with the outside world. While the other children on Tatooine made sandcastles or played games, drawing in the sand, you read encyclopedias and fact books, learning about the other planets in your systems and other cultures. Your fixation at age 12 had been on Mandalorian culture, fascinated by the warriors that were like faraway, mythical knights to your young self. As a child enraptured by fairy tales and stories of intergalactic heroes like Luke Skywalker and Leia Organa, you’d somehow always been enchanted by the bad-boy type, the dark and mysterious man who reluctantly saves the day, more along the lines of Han Solo. Naturally, the fact that Mandalorians never showed their face was mysterious, and you’d admit that you dreamed of being swept away by the Mand’alor and having the privilege of being the sole person to see their face, of being a queen and finding true love. You later moved on to research other cultures, even teaching yourself various galactic languages should you ever get the chance to travel. That didn’t seem likely, growing up on a planet where the only claim to fame was Luke Skywalker’s brief residence a few towns over. Your knowledge of Mandalorian culture was part of what made you so special to Mando, your employer-friend-coworker-roommate-co-parent whose name you had yet to learn. You never asked questions of him. Never asked him to take off his helmet, never asked him what was under it, never asked anything too personal, understood that the helmet could only come off in front of members of his clan. You’d cut him off and finish a sentence when he’d explain something of his customs to you, stunning him with your knowledge. He liked it, and by association he liked you. You had bore much of your life story to him, and he gladly would’ve given you some of his. He had come to like you, to trust you even, but you never asked. For fear you wouldn’t want to hear it, he held back. You even spoke Mando’a, though he didn’t know that. It always brought a smirk to your face as he’d turn his back after calling you some sweet words in his native tongue, thinking you’d be oblivious. It shocked you at first; you didn’t expect such a stoic and silent man to be so openly flirtatious, but after a while it most certainly grew on you. You would tease him equally in another tongue, calling him handsome or dashing in Pak Pak or Bothese. It was fun, the way he’d try to guess what you were saying, usually assuming it meant something negative.

With your vast knowledge of languages, you’d both expected that you would be able to interpret the words of Mando’s adopted son, that his babbling would be easily deciphered into some species’ tongue. Eventually you realized that he wasn’t speaking a language yet, simply regurgitating syllables like any child would. He was a baby, after all. You set out to make it your mission to teach the child languages when Mando was away, and he had begun to identify the meaning of words, even if he couldn’t say them himself. He could identify body parts on himself, you by your name, and Mando by his; well, the name you called him, which you knew wasn’t his real name. Mando had taken you on as a crewmate for the Razor Crest a few months ago now, and you still knew next to nothing about the beskar-clad warrior. He was a forward man, so you assumed he would tell you things when he was ready. That’s about all you knew: he was a man, and he was a Mandalorian. He wanted to tell you everything, especially the fact that he had been enchanted by your intelligence and wit since the first time he met you, stopping on Tatooine for a bounty and encountering you when he asked a fellow villager who the most knowledgeable person around was. The tiny green thing he held was a menace, and you cared for him while the Mandalorian man went and hunted his bounty. The child was hesitant to leave you, getting attached after a quick few days of staying in your hut, and the man had decided you could be valuable. Just before he walked through the door, he turned and offered you a job. You were shy when you accepted, and had nursed a crush the whole time you two had traveled together. You couldn’t believe the situation, just like in those trashy novels you’d read when you were interested in his culture. Now that you lived with him and the tiny green thing, you stayed aboard his ship while he hunted and cared for the kid, cleaned, fixed up the piece of junk, and generally ran the almost-household. It was enjoyable; you liked the man, especially once you came to find his sense of humor similar to your own, and you absolutely adored the child in your care. Your little ragtag crew fell into a rhythm after the first month or so: Mando would leave on a hunt for a few days. While he was gone, you’d play with the baby, feed him and care for him. You washed the blood and dirt from the man’s clothing and the child’s bile from the clothing belonging to you and the baby, taught the child new words, and generally… well, raised him. The baby felt like your child when you two were alone, but when the Mandalorian came home, he was the only thing visible in that child’s round black eyes. It was all about him, sitting in his lap, babbling incoherent words to him, playing with him. Luckily for you, the Mandalorian is on a hunt. You and the child sit in the bed compartment; you lie on the mattress and the child rests in his mesh hammock above the entry. At the last port, you picked up as many books as possible to entertain both you and the child. He loved listening to your voice, and so you happily read aloud to him as you rest together. The Mandalorian should be home tonight, you figured, since he told you that this was a rather easy bounty and that it should take him no more than 3 days. It’s now a couple hours after the third day, but you’re sure it’s fine. The child’s eyes droop closed as you read to him, flawlessly translating the book from the Pak Pak it was written in. The Basic words pour from your mouth, and the little thing gives a gentle yawn before curling up with his favorite blanket and silver ball and passing out. Looking up, you laugh at the sight softly and transition to reading in your head. Not long after the kid falls asleep, you follow. It was unintentional, but reading soothes you, and the perfectly cozy bed that smells like Mando draws you in further and further until sleep washes over your body. You hug one pillow to your chest as you sleep, imagining it was the man’s body you cuddled up against. - Mando is 24 hours late. You’ve been pacing in the ship since you realized it’s officially a day later than he said he’d be back. Dammit, you’re going to find that man. You’re not unaccustomed to violence, having been in scuffles as a child and teen, fighting off Jawas or unsavory men in Tatooine cantinas. You need to track him down and find him. First, you go up to the cockpit and look at the comm watch he gave you. It has a two-way tracking device; one for him to find you, and one for you to find him. Mando has the technology to see where you are built into his vambrace. You, however, have nothing. After searching the cockpit, you find and crack open a tracking fob he used in the past. You open the back of the comm watch, finding the bit with the tracker and wire it to the fob. As you connect two wires, the fob suddenly blinks with light. Laughing at the fact that you made it work, you relax a little. Now you can track the Mandalorian man down. After slipping the fob into a pocket of your pants, you scoot back down the ladder and to the cargo hold’s back wall: Mando’s arsenal. You can do this, you tell yourself, and dare to open Mando’s personal armory built into the wall. You strap a holster to your thigh, adding a vibroblade there. A belt with two guns rests on your hips. An ammo belt drapes across your chest, settling between your breasts and pulling your black tank top tight, the back of the leather sash holding Mando’s backup pulse rifle. You take a look in the mirror of the refresher, and you have to admit that you look badass. Weapons and homemade tracker at the ready, you set out to find him. You leave the baby with a trustworthy woman at the hangar, one who has babysat him before for Mando, then enter the bustling city. - Following the blinking and beeping of the fob, you find your way to the opposite end of the city, to a building located near the outskirts. It’s run down and looks abandoned. It makes perfect sense that someone would hide here. As you approach, the beeping of the fob encourages you; the Mandalorian is definitely here. You disable the sound on the fob and slip it in your pocket, grabbing one of the blasters from your hip. As you approach, the building is silent. The roar of the city is quiet but present, and you slip through an open doorway quietly. You scan the rooms, blaster held in front of you and ready to shoot. You take inventory of the first floor and find nothing. The staircase looks terribly old, and you wince as you take your first step onto it and it makes a noise. Now or never, you tell yourself and quickly run up the steps, knowing the noise can’t be avoided, so you’d better make it quick. You reach the top of the steps, pulling out your other blaster, and find a male Twi’lek standing over  a pile of silver and black on the floor. Mando. He’s most definitely unconscious, maybe even- no, he can’t be dead, you can see his slow breathing and the way it makes his body rise and fall. “Fuck,” you say out loud, and the Twi’lek turns towards you. The man is large, much larger than you. He’s overweight and dressed in combat clothes, his face battered and bloody. Your heart sinks as you realize this man is the bounty Mando was going for. You need to start thinking on your feet, and quickly. The man starts to move toward you and you hold out both blasters. “Easy there, nerra,” you tell him in Twi’leki, calling him ‘brother’ to attempt to put him at ease. It doesn’t have the effect that you hoped. “Why are you here?” he asks back, also in Twi’leki, reaching for his weapon. “Don’t draw,” you threaten and inch closer. He was a bail jumper, Mando had informed you before he left, but not for a petty charge; he had escaped in order to avoid several charges of murder. He was a former bounty hunter, who Mando had encountered once. The idea strikes you. “I’m here for him,” you say and nod to the lump of beskar behind the man on the ground. “There’s a bounty on his head. I… heard whoever turns him in gets to keep the beskar too,” you say, raising an eyebrow as you look at him. “You going for him too?” The Twi’lek man shakes his head. “No. He was coming for me. Thought he could beat me.” You seize this opportunity. “From what you look like, I don’t think anyone could. This one is worth a lot of credits. Enough to run away to a pleasure planet… twice over,” you say, inching closer. Mando makes a soft groan and it breaks your heart as he gains consciousness. He must notice you; he starts to moan out words, but you know he can’t speak or he’ll expose you both. “Silence, Mandalorian,” you say again in Basic, words holding acid. “Twice over… let’s bring him in together. Find some wonderful planet to share that bounty on…” you offer, raising an eyebrow and slowly creeping closer to the man. “What’s your name?” You ask. He tells you his and you tell him yours, then give him a seductive smile. The man’s face falls into a smirk. You put both blasters in your belt once more and his posture relaxes fully. “Sounds wonderful to me, beautiful.” “Wow. For a jaded bounty hunter, you’re more foolish than one could ever believe.” Before the man can process your words, you’ve slung the pulse rifle over your shoulder and pull it into position. You shoot a pulse and it finds its target in his chest. He groans in agony and falls backwards, directly on top of Mando. Wincing for the man beneath the hulking Twi’lek, you grab a blaster, shooting the man in each leg. “Mando, hey, it’s me,” you tell him as you roll the behemoth from on top of him. “I’m here,” you murmur. He starts mumbling back, but it’s in Mando’a. That makes sense, you suppose, that he’s reverting in such a moment of crisis. “How hurt are you?” you ask, beginning to speak Mando’a to him in hopes he’ll understand you better. Mando’s brain works through the fog, hearing your words and recognizing that it’s you. “Real bad,” he groans out, speaking his native tongue. You touch his elbow, unprotected by beskar, and he whines. “No, no,” he whimpers, sounding almost like a child. You sigh. This was going to be harder than you expected. “Fuck, how am I going to get you out of here?” The brain function that the Mandalorian has left is your saving grace. “Speeder bike. Hidden down there. We can get on.” “Yes, but how are we going to get you downstairs?” He doesn’t respond, simply groans in pain. If this was going to work without immense pain on his part, some kind of miracle was going to need to happen. “I’m going to drag you down the stairs as carefully as I can, okay? We’ll let gravity do the work. Do you have a good arm?” “The left one… so clever, so smart, pretty girl,” he breathes out, words rasping. You blush at the words but chuckle. He’s in so much pain there’s no way he can think straight now. “I’ll go get the bike, then we’ll get you down there.” This is the hard part, you think to yourself. First, you run down the steps and search for the speeder bike Mando mentioned. You find it and sigh in relief. It’s a piece of junk, but it should do. You position it at the bottom of the stairs and then run up them again. “Okay, this is going to hurt. Can you roll yourself?” “No, shoulder’s all fucked up,” he mumbles and you groan. “Well, I’ll have to drag you on the good one. Get ready.” Taking his good arm, you begin dragging him towards the steps. He groans and you wince. “I’m so sorry, you’re doing so well,” you tell him as you move him. “Here we go.” Once he’s at the top of the steps, you hold him under his armpits, blushing at how close you are. He’s so strong, even injured, and you smile softly to yourself. You lower the two of you down the stairs with careful movements and manage to hold him long enough to get him seated on the speeder bike. He leans forward onto the handles. “One moment,” you tell him. Running up the stairs once more, you shoot another pulse into the bounty. He gives a dazed nod, clearly not understanding anything through the pain he’s in. You can’t let Mando leave this man behind. You’re sure he’s unconscious, so you repeat the same movements as before but with next to no gentleness. You toss him on the back of the speeder bike, where the gunner would sit, and tie him down with ropes before covering him with a blanket. “Alright, back to the ship as quick as we possibly can,” you inform Mando and get the speeder to a door wide enough to fit it through. Once it works, you hop on between Mando and the handlebar and start it up, moving as quickly as you possibly can. Soon enough, you’re back at the hangar that holds the Razor Crest. You enter the back way, using the speeder bike entrance. You hop off quickly and park it by the Crest. “Stay right there, I’m going to get this asshole into the carbonite,” you tell Mando. His consciousness hasn’t been clear for at least a day. He didn’t even process the fact that you had grabbed the bounty. “What? You got him?” “One of us had to,” you tease, enjoying the fact that the two of you are finally conversing in his native tongue. You’ve always loved Mando’a, the way the words sound rolling off your tongue. You untie the man, still unconscious, and haul him up the ramp of the Crest. You’ve seen Mando work the carbonite freezer once or twice, and you hope you press the right buttons as you force the man onto the slab. “Come on, baby,” you murmur to the machine, hoping it’ll work. With one final button, there’s a hiss and cold air blows from it, freezing him. You sigh in relief. You return to the main hold and pop out a cot for him to lie on. Running back down the ramp, you find the dazed Mandalorian in the exact spot you left him in. “I’m going to carry you into the ship,” you tell him, grunting with effort as you lift his practically deadweight body off of the side and into a standing position. You drag him up and immediately shove him onto the cot. “Fuck, I’m sorry,” you cringe as he moans in pain at the contact with the cot. “One more thing and we’ll get some bacta in you.” The owner of the hangar is waiting for you outside the ship, holding the kid, both confused by the commotion. You very quickly and hurriedly explain to her that everything is fine now, thank her and pay her a generous amount of credits, and rush back onto the ship with the baby. “Keep the speeder!” You shout behind you as you close the ramp. - A full day and a half later, the Mandalorian awakens from a deep slumber with a pounding headache. He sits with a jolt, which only makes the headache worse. He looks around to find that he’s in the Razor Crest, the familiar hum indicating that he’s in hyperspace. The events of the past few days begin to manifest in his memory and he groans, lying back down on the cot. You climb down from the cockpit as you hear him stirring and find him on his side. “Good morning,” you say softly as you sit on the edge of his cot, the kid in your arm. You set the child down and he toddles off elsewhere.  “You were out for a good day and a half,” you tell him and stroke his side softly. “How do you feel?” “Like shit,” he groans, rolling to his back again. He’s hyper aware of your touch, the way your fingers drag down his- oh shit, he’s shirtless, armorless- skin, avoiding the bruises. “You… thank you,” he says, gravelly voice soft. It sinks in that he’s wearing just a pair of shorts and his helmet. You must’ve undressed him, cleaned and bandaged his wounds. His breath catches in his throat. You nod and stroke his good arm. “Of course. That’s why you brought me on, isn’t it?” you tease. He chuckles, but it’s clear that takes effort. “Really, thank you. And you got the bounty too! Shit, mesh’la, I-” he says as he starts to sit, but you push him back down with a hand to his chest, caressing the side of his beskar helmet. “Nayc, stay down,” you tell him, chuckling softly. “Rest. I’ll bring you some water and go back up to the cockpit so you can take off the helmet,” you say with a soft smile, standing and going to where you keep the food and water bottles. As you move, he mulls over the events that led him here. He got knocked down and beat by the man that was supposed to be his bounty. That never happened. You came to rescue him and- wait. You just told him no, nayc, in Mando’a. In fact, you were speaking Mando’a to him the whole time you rescued him, reassuring him and directing him in his native tongue, which he had no idea you spoke until just now. You return with a nutrient bar and water bottle, setting them next to his side on the cot. “I’ll head back up-” you start to say, but he stops you by grabbing his wrist. “You speak Mando’a,” he says simply, looking up at you with wonder behind his mask. “Yeah,” you chuckle and admit, face flushing with warmth. His is equally heating beneath the beskar. He sits up slightly but instead you come to his level, sitting on the edge of the cot and pushing him down with a firm palm to his chest. He chuckles softly. “So you’ve understood me every time I’ve called you beautiful,” he says, a tinge of shyness in his modulated voice. Nodding, you tuck a stray hair back from your face. “I… yes, I have,” you nod, giving him an awkward smile. “I hear you talk in Mando'a in your sleep too, sometimes.” Even his chest is flushing with warmth now. You look away, at a corner of the ship “You talk about your life. People from your past.” The silence hangs between the two of you, your hand still resting in the center of his chest. You slowly drag it to his good shoulder, and down his arm. He clasps your hand in his when it reaches his fingertips. “Have you heard the name Din?” He asks in his native tongue, and you shake your head softly, truthfully. It never came out. “That’s… my name. Din, Din Djarin,” he admits to you, hand squeezing yours softly. You gasp softly, not expecting that information from him. A smile settles on your face after a moment. “Well then. Hello, Din.” You lean down and press your forehead to where his lies beneath the metal. A keldabe kiss, you know, the most intimate gesture a Mandalorian can do. It truly melts his heart, the organ pumping frantically in his chest. “Hello to you too, gorgeous. Wait,” he stops and pushes your face from his, gently. He returns to speaking Basic with a chuckle. “How many languages do you speak?” You look upwards, mentally counting. “Uh. 8 and a half. I’m still not finished with Ubese,” you say and turn back to face him, a shy smile gracing your face. “Wow. You’re a mirdal’ika,” he tells you, the smile evident in his voice even though you can’t see it through the mask. Separately, the syllables make sense. You understand the direct translation, but it’s odd, and you cock your head to the side as you look down at the Mandalorian- no, Din. “Little clever one?” You ask, unsure if you heard him correctly. “Yes, well, that’s the direct translation. It’s really more of a slang term.” “For?” “In Basic… I believe the equivalent would be… nerd.” “Din!” You squeal and laugh, smacking his good shoulder lightly with a backhand. “Excuse me, that’s rude,” you chuckle, the smile growing even wider on your face as you look down at him. He doesn’t respond for a moment and you give a soft sigh. “Well, you need to drink that water. I’ll head back up to the cockpit,” you tell him, really meaning to leave this time, the smile falling. Once again, as you stand and try to move, he grabs your arm. “I… I think I’m going to need help with that,” he admits, almost ashamed. “Please. Stay.” You nod, but then realize what it implicates. “No, Din,” you sigh, shaking your head. “I can’t do that to you, you and that helmet, it’s… it’s your everything, I couldn’t possibly-” “Please, cyare,” he asks in his native tongue again, and your heart melts. “I want you to see me. I need you to see me.” Heart pounding, you take a beat before you respond with a nod. You sit down once more, hands slowly tracing up his sides, then his chest and up to the base of his helmet. “You’re sure. Positive,” you ask. “Of course I am.” With a nod, you allow him to bring his hand to the side to unlatch the lock. Once it releases, he lifts his head just above the pillow and you slide off his helmet, catching the back of his head with one hand and easing it back down to the pillow. You make sure the helmet rests on the floor before you finally look at him. He’s gorgeous, truly. His tanned skin, which you saw when cleaning his wounds, is covered with dark stubble and a mustache on the lower half of his face, broken by two plush lips. Your fingertips trace his jawline as you take in his softly hooked nose, his dark eyebrows, his dark and messy hair, but most importantly, his eyes. His eyes are a beautiful chocolate brown, set gently into his face and looking at you like you’re a shimmering supernova, no, something even more beautiful. For a moment, you get caught up staring at him. “You’re absolutely beautiful, Din,” you mumble in Mando’a. He just gives a soft smile and murmurs his thanks. After you finish staring, you shake your head quickly. “Sorry, the water,” you chuckle nervously, turning to grab it from your other side. Din’s hand catches the side of your face. “The water is a secondary need,” he says softly in Mando’a, turning your face back to his. “I took this off for something else.” His eyes hold a question as he looks up at you. You bite your lip for a moment before breaking into a smile and nodding. The Mandalorian pulls your face down to his, and, ever so gently, your lips finally meet, real and warm and absolutely delicious. You sigh softly, putting a hand on the side of his face too. His lips are softer than you’d expected, while yours are just as beautiful as he dreamed about at night. You both continue for a moment, his hand drifting to your neck, completely lost in each other. A moment later, you pull back and giggle. “I have to admit something, Din,” you tell him and lovingly stroke the side of his face. “It better not be that you’re secretly engaged,” he asks teasingly, a soft smile on his face and raising an eyebrow at you. “No,” you laugh and run your hand through his curls, carding your fingers between the surprisingly soft locks. “That…” you gulp and look away before looking back at him. “Was my first kiss,” you admit and bite down on your bottom lip. He laughs softly but there’s love in his eyes. “A girl as beautiful as you never dated when you were younger? Never went out and flirted with her classmates?” You shake your head. “I was generally too busy at home, reading or teaching myself the language of the man who’d eventually be my first kiss.” You both laugh at that and you grin. His hand rests on the side of your face, gently sweeping his thumb across the skin beneath his fingers. “Of course you were. My little mirdal’ika,” he laughs, bringing your face to his to kiss you once more.